rentoany

[cuubism]

thoughts had while traveling turned into a ficlet

[E]

-

After university, Hob had always kind of assumed they'd end up in the same place. He doesn’t know why he was so foolish as to think that. But he was always foolish about Dream.

Hob had stuck around in London. He liked traveling, liked seeing new places, but London was home. And it was nice to feel like he had roots somewhere. Like he was maybe sort of building a life.

Dream, meanwhile, had essentially vanished.

He’d picked up some kind of remote editing job that he could do anywhere on top of his writing, and took full advantage of it to bounce all over the globe. Hob didn’t even know all of the places he’d lived, Dream moved so often.

He’d been in Los Angeles for a while and apparently hated it. He’d been in Singapore for about six months at some point. Then he’d been in Istanbul— or was Istanbul before? At one point he’d been in a rural village in Slovenia.

(Hob got emails about these things.)

Then at one point, he’d been in Paris, which at least seemed to suit him a tiny bit better. Still hadn’t last long, though.

Now, Hob’s not sure where he is. He tries not to take it personally. Tries not to take it like he wasn’t enough for Dream to want to stay. Dream just had some things to figure out, he thinks. That’s all.

One day, seemingly at random, he gets a FaceTime call.

“Hob.”

Hob squints at the screen. It’s very bright. He can barely make Dream out. “Where are you?”

“Rhodes,” Dream says.

He pans the phone around to show Hob what must be just about the most gorgeous beach he’s ever seen. It’s a little cove with fishing boats bobbing, water still and sun-drenched.

Dream turns the camera back around. He looks like he’s been crying, eyes red-rimmed, eyeliner smudging. He’s sitting on the sand, phone propped on his knees.

“What’s wrong?” Hob asks, alarmed.

“Is it better,” Dream wonders, “to be full of despair on a beautiful beach, or does it not matter?”

“What d’you mean?”

Dream wipes at his eyes. “I. I thought if I just went. Somewhere. That it would get better. Death even said. Try changing your environment. I did. I did.”

“You did, you went to a lot of places, didn’t you?”

Dream nods, and sniffles. “Why didn’t it fix anything?”

“Oh, darling.” So that’s what it is. He’s just running away from himself.

“What is wrong with me,” Dream continues, “that. I am sat watching the sunset in one of the most beautiful corners of the world. And I feel nothing.”

“It’s not the corner of the world that's the issue,” Hob says, and Dream sighs, sniffling again.

“I want to go home,” he says, despondent.

“Come home, then.”

“Is that still with you? After all I’ve put you through?”

“Yeah, Dream.” To my peril. But Hob will never be able to turn Dream away. “It is.”

Dream nods. “Okay.” Then he stands. “I suppose I may as well go for a swim, while I am still here.”

“Not going to drown yourself, are you?”

Dream huffs. “No.”

He risks the fate of his phone taking Hob with him, though. Holds it above the surface as he treads water, hair increasingly fluffy and clumped together from salt.

“It really is gorgeous,” Hob tells him. The water is so, so blue and the sky so wide. “You’re making me jealous.”

Dream smiles faintly. “You would enjoy it better than I.”

“Maybe. I’m enjoying watching you though.”

“Oh?” Dream raises an eyebrow. Only his throat is visible above the water, but it’s enough. Hob can imagine the rest. His attraction to Dream’s never wavered. “Tell me more.”

“Come home and find out instead, idiot.”

Dream smiles. “Hmm.”

“Oh yeah, hmm.”

Dream’s smile widens. God, he’s so gorgeous. “You’re making me want to leave now.”

“Do it then.”

“Okay.” He starts swimming back to shore, and Hob laughs.

“I missed you, you maniac.”

“I missed you,” Dream echoes.

“S’gonna be okay, yeah?” Hob tells him. “So Rhodes didn’t fix anything. It’s alright.”

“It’s alright,” Dream echoes, eyes looking misty again.

“Just come home.” Hob can’t promise to fix anything. But he can promise Dream a home.

“Yes,” Dream agrees, sea water flowing around his throat, sunset in his hair. “Yes.”

-

Hob half-expects Dream actually won’t. That the flash of melancholic clarity will give way to his usual method of running, that Hob will get an email that he’s now in Samarkand or somewhere and isn’t actually coming “home.” Maybe London isn’t really home for him. He hasn’t been there in years anyway. Maybe.

But one day Dream wanders into the pub they used to get Friday drinks in, the pub Hob’s taken up bartending in, partly for the extra cash, partly to feel closer to Dream.

Hob drops a glass when he sees him, Dream flinching at the crash where he stands in the doorway. Hob ducks behind the bar to clean it up, heart pounding. God, he’s actually here. After three years.

When he stands again, Dream is standing right before the bar, looking uncertain. He’s terribly underdressed for the weather, hair damn from the rain, black t-shirt sticking to his shoulders.

“Um,” Hob says, wringing a bar towel in his hands. “Get you your usual?”

Not that Dream’s usual is necessarily the same, after all this time—

Dream leans across the bar and hugs him.

“My usual,” he says, voice so close to Hob’s ear now that he shivers. Dream’s damp hair tickles his cheek. Hob ought to get a towel and dry him off.

He hugs Dream back, leaning awkwardly over the bar. “Missed you.”

Dream hums, finally releasing him. He takes a seat on a bar stool, a faint smile on his face now. On instinct Hob takes off his sweatshirt—New Inn branded—and gives it to him.

Dream takes it, gaze lingering on Hob’s face as he pulls it on. He immediately looks less frigid, though.

“Is it still the driest red on the menu that you want?” he asks, and Dream laughs.

“Yes.”

Hob pours him one, sliding it across the bar. Their fingers brush. It feels, almost, like no time has passed at all. Nothing changed.

“So,” Hob says, grateful there are no other customers awaiting his attention. “Rhodes?”

“The last of many,” Dream says wearily.

“Looked beautiful?”

“Yes,” Dream agrees, and sips his wine.

“So.” It’s hard to ask what he really wants to ask. Are you actually back? Are you actually here for me? “Are you. You have somewhere to stay?”

“I am not wandering the streets,” Dream says with a half smile. “I have a hotel room. For now.”

“Still itinerant,” Hob says, before he can think better of it, and Dream’s smile turns sad.

“Yes.”

“Learn anything?”

“I learned that moving about doesn’t fix anything when the problem is inside of you,” Dream says. Hob winces at the phrasing of it. There’s no problem with you, he wants to say. But he understands what Dream’s getting at. “I do not know what does fix it,” Dream continues.

Hob doesn’t either. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be in Dream’s head. “Try staying here, then,” Hob says. “What’ve you got to lose?”

Dream studies him. “Indeed.”

It really does feel like nothing and everything has changed between them. But maybe not everything. And maybe it’s okay.

He rests his hand against Dream’s on the bar. “Finish your wine,” he says. “And come home with me.”

Dream takes a final sip of his wine, eyes locked on Hob’s over the rim of his glass, and licks the red droplets from his lower lip as he takes Hob’s hand.

-

Hob has him bent over on the bed, bobbing his head on Hob’s cock, before they’ve had the chance to pass more than a few additional words. Dream seems not to need words, anyway. His expression is finally slack and peaceful, neck craning, eyelids fluttering, as he takes Hob’s cock down, down, down, Hob’s grip tight in his hair. He hasn’t lost any of his skill in these intervening years, apparently. Or his enjoyment of it.

“Yeah, that’s it, darling,” Hob praises, thrusting up into his mouth. “Good. You’re so perfect at this.”

Dream whines, the vibration traveling through Hob’s body, reaching awkwardly around himself to press needy fingers to his own hole.

“I’ll do right by you, darling, don’t worry, come here.” Hob pulls Dream off and hefts him up, sitting back so he can settle Dream in his lap. “Don’t worry, love.”

Dream looks down at him with wide, dark eyes, breathing hard, mouth open and wet. He swallows, says, voice thready, “I need you in me.”

Hob’s heart thumps, hard. It hurts. “I know.”

Dream pushes his cheek into Hob’s temple, lips smearing saliva over his skin, clutching so tight at Hob’s shoulders it hurts. “Hob.”

“Shhh.” Hob holds him close as he works him open, Dream crying out and clutching at him with each touch. God, Hob remembers what he was like. He really hasn’t changed at all.

When he finally sinks Dream down onto his cock, Dream lets out a long moan, then goes slack again as he shivers. Hob tries to breathe evenly and stay still, letting him adjust, no matter how good it feels to be buried in him again.

“It has been too long,” Dream says, when his breathing’s evened out.

“Didn’t have tons of adventures on all of your travels?”

Dream shakes his head. “Not the same.”

It’s not the same. No one Hob’s hooked up with in the intervening years has been the same, either. No one else makes this feeling rear up in him, like he would do anything for the man in his arms, like he would dash himself to pieces just to have him. It might not be a good feeling but Hob wants it nonetheless.

He doesn’t say all that. He says, “It’s not, no one takes me like you do, I’ve missed how gorgeous you are bouncing on my cock, missed how perfect it feels to fill you.”

“Yes,” Dream says. “It’s so good. I missed that. Please, Hob.”

Hob hefts him in his lap, bouncing Dream on his cock. Dream cries out, holding to him tight. “Yes—!”

Fuck, he feels good. He’s so pliant and wanting, need burning in his fingertips and his wet panting breaths by Hob’s ears. Hob would give him anything in the world.

“Came back just for this, didn’t you?” he says. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes— I missed— oh, Hob!” This as Hob nails his prostate, Dream wailing and clutching at him. Yes. Hob remembers exactly how it feels to make him feel like that. God, it’s everything to make him feel like that.

“More,” Dream begs. “More, harder.”

Hob will give him more. More and more until he’s full up on it, until it’s enough for him to feel satisfied, enough for him to cease his wanderings and stay.

He fucks Dream harder until Dream’s reduced to incoherent wailing, throwing himself into Hob’s touch like to feel nothing and everything is a relief. And Hob feels everything, too: the tight heat of Dream’s body, the dig of his fingertips, his wet panting breaths—and more than anything, the overwhelming want. He wants Dream. He has always wanted Dream.

Dream comes first, pushed over the edge with Hob’s hands on his waist and his cock rubbing over Hob’s belly. He cries out, and then wraps his arms around Hob’s shoulders, holding tight as Hob chases his own completion in his body.

Hob closes his eyes as he comes, just floating in the feeling of having Dream around him. He’s missed that so much. He’s missed Dream so much, in these years he’s been left behind.

He doesn’t realize how emotional he’s gotten about it until he feels Dream’s fingertips tracing over his cheeks, wiping away tears.

“Sorry,” Hob says, voice choked, holding Dream close even as he gently slips from his body.

Dream strokes his hair. “Perhaps I ought to go,” he says quietly, but makes no move to get up. “I fear I am being unfair to you.”

“I’m the one that told you to come back. Wanted you to.” Even if it just breaks his heart all over again, when Dream decides he still isn’t happy, and can’t stay.

“Even so.”

Still he doesn’t move to get up. Hob runs his hands up and down his back, just feeling him.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Dream continues some time later, still stroking Hob’s hair. Hob’s long since buried his face in Dream’s shoulder. “How you. Can feel content.”

Hob barks a laugh. “You think I’m content?”

“Are you not?”

“I don’t know, Dream.” Content to be here, in London, maybe, to not need to uproot himself, chasing some nebulous sense of better, but content? While knowing Dream was out there somewhere?

“My mistake,” Dream says. He rests his cheek on top of Hob’s head. “Perhaps there is no contentment, then.”

That makes Hob laugh for real. He finally lifts his head, looking Dream in the eye. “You’re the most dramatic bitch I’ve ever met. ‘There’s no such thing as contentment'? Dream.”

Dream smiles, then leans in to kiss him. Hob sighs into the brush of his lips. There is such thing as contentment, he thinks.

“What if I don’t leave this time,” Dream says, when their lips part.

“You mean it?”

Dream nods, forehead leaning against Hob’s. “I am. Tired. And this. Is the first moment I have not felt fatigued in longer than I can remember.”

“I’ll have to tire you out better, then.”

“Hob.”

“I’m kidding you, love.” Really, all of Hob is leaping in cautious joy. Could Dream truly mean it? “I want you to stay. Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

Dream nods, and lets Hob help him up. They make their joint way to the bathroom, where Hob pulls Dream into the shower with him, and they hold each other close under the warm spray, and Dream washes Hob’s hair with careful focus, mindful of tugging it. Afterwards Hob gives Dream some pajamas to borrow, for all of Dream’s things are still in his hotel room. Dream cuddles up to him in bed, hesitant at first, until Hob opens his arms and assures him of his welcome.

The feeling of Dream laying his head down on Hob’s chest is heavenly. It’s dangerous. But it’s so good.

"I'm sorry," Dream murmurs, into the dark.

“For what? Leaving? You don’t have to be. It’s your life.”

“I don’t know quite what for,” says Dream. “I feel I am wavering about and dragging you along with me.”

“Maybe I want to be dragged along.”

Dream lifts his head to give him a look. “Precisely,” he says, and Hob feels skewered. Seen in his pathetic wanting. Like if he had more self-respect, he’d hold his inconsistent friend at a distance, not invite Dream right back in to break his heart again.

Dream’s decision to leave the first time wasn’t even about Hob. They weren’t really together, more on again, off again, falling into each other and then away. “Friends with benefits.” Only Hob had always cared more about the ‘friends’ than the ‘benefits.’ Maybe if he had made it clearer, Dream would have stayed.

Maybe he needs to stop making it his fault, when it wasn’t about him.

Only. The fact that it wasn’t about him also means that it was.

“Why didn’t you stay?” he asks, grip tightening around Dream’s shoulders.

“I wasn’t happy,” Dream says. The words feel like a shove to the chest. “I didn’t. I did not know how to fix it. I tried to leave. Then I tried to leave again. Only. You can’t leave yourself.”

“What makes it different this time?”

If London— if Hob— didn’t make him happy before—

“Maybe nothing,” Dream admits, quietly, still lying on Hob’s chest. “Maybe it was a futile chase from the start. And I should give up trying.”

“Dream—"

Dream plows on, as if he needs to get it all out. “I called you because. I was staring out at the ocean. I felt nothing. But I thought, ‘Hob would like it.’ And when I showed you, that did make me happy. For a moment. And when I told you how I felt… that made me happy, too.”

Hob wants to say something, but his throat is too tight. God, Dream always finds new ways to break his heart.

“I think that maybe contentment is not… for me,” Dream adds, fingertips stroking lightly up and down Hob’s side. “But the closest I've felt, in fleeting moments, is when I am with you.”

“Dream…” this time it comes out as barely a breath. “My love.”

“Still?”

“Yeah. Always.” Maybe Hob doesn’t have very good self-preservation. But it’s Dream. It’s always been Dream.

“For me as well,” Dream says, and Hob lets out a long, heavy breath.

“Now you’ve got to show me Rhodes in person,” he teases, to break some of the heaviness in the air.

Dream’s smile curves against his skin. “You will like it.”

“I’m sure.”

“I think I will like it more with you there,” Dream adds.

“Yeah?” Hob says.

“Mmhm.”

“I think you just want to ogle me on a beach.”

“If I’m to be in a beautiful place, I ought to have a beautiful man as well,” Dream says. The feeling of his rare smile still pressed to Hob's chest is devastating.

“Completes the picture?” Hob asks, chest tight.

“Yes.” Dream wraps his arms around him and cuddles in close. “I believe it does.”

[gothicgaycowboy]

✦ Aegon ii Targaryen NSFW alphabet ✦

My modern Aegon’s parents are Rhaenyra and Alicent and he’s bisexual <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you’re in a relationship he can be very affectionate. Making sure you are well taken care of after intense sex or even just getting water and a snack after gentle sex because he can get pretty hungry after it himself. It’s hard work.

However if you’re just a casual hookup he’s not nearly as concerned. He’s confident in himself enough to know you are satisfied after all is said and done but he’s a bit of a dickhead. He’ll give you a sloppy kiss and a pat on the ass as a goodbye but that’s about it. You’ll know he had a good time if he leaves you his number before heading out the door.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Honestly, his cock. He loves how you look taking it and how you moan when he pushes it in for the first time. He’s also a big fan of when you praise it specifically ‘your cock feels so good aegon’ ‘your dick is so pretty’ etc.

When it comes to a partner he’s an equal opportunist when it comes to tits and ass. He loves to suck on tits until they are dripping with his saliva and to watch them bounce as you ride him. For your ass he’s a big believer in smacking in and outside of the bedroom, as well as gripping it while he pounds into you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

He’s open to cumming wherever you want him to but he’s a big fan of cumming on you. Your ass, your tits, your face, you name a part of your body and he will cum on it. What can he say, he’s always been artistic and painting you with his cum is no exception.

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to be pegged desperately. He’s fucked many guys before but he’s never loved bottoming as much as topping.

But the idea of you in a cute little lingerie getup and strap-on railing him while you sing sweet praises in his ears? That’s a whole other story. He’s jerked off to the idea many night in a row but he hasn’t quite gotten the courage yet to ask you. Maybe someday soon.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Let’s face it Aegon is a slut. You think of gender a identity and he has been with them more than once and does that experience ever come in handy with you.

He’s got you crying from pleasure night after night and never seems to tire of it.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying, may include a visual)

Reverse cowgirl all the way. The visual of you bouncing on top of him, hips rolling, ass jiggling with your back arched, his hands on your tits, is the fastest way to make him cum. He also loves pulling your face towards him so he can still kiss you.

Extra points if you do it in front of your mirror so he can watch you fall apart and see your breasts bounce with your movements.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

Depends on the moment.

If either of you make a strange noise, or accidentally injure yourself he’s not too pompous to laugh it off and make a joke about it in the future. But he’s not going to ruin the heat of the moment by creating a comedy special in the middle of it all.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes?)

He doesn’t really have to shave downstairs to be well groomed. Targaryen’s don’t have much body hair and what they do have is soft and thin.

He does like to grow out his facial hair occasionally and it’s a good look on him. When he’s grown it out he tells you to ride his moustache often.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

There’s two different types of sex with Aegon, the kind you started out with in the beginning of your relationship and still have: nasty, dirty, spit in your mouth kind of sex, and the kind you can only recently do: love making (even though he hates that phrase.)

He can be surprisingly romantic. He’s a fan of kissing during sex, holding hands, and eye contact.

He’s got all the duality you need.

J = Jack Off (how often do they do it? how do they feel about it?)

24/7 365. If you’re not around to help him he will absolutely be indulging himself. He has a locked album on his phone filled with pictures and videos of you in compromising positions.

His favourite is the video you sent him of you playing with your pussy, legs spread, tits pulled out of your dress, knickers pushed to the side as you ride your fingers and moan his name. It makes him feel like you’re right there in the room with him.

K = Kink (what are they into?)

What isn’t he into is a simpler question.

He’s a versatile man in general so when he’s in dom mood he likes slapping you on both sets of cheeks but not enough to seriously hurt you. Because he never grew up with a father and the word means almost nothing to him he loves to be called daddy. A little bit of voyeurism. Overstimulation is also a good way to get him going without even having to touch him. Nothing brings him as much pleasure as watching you squirm and whine as he makes you cum over and over again. He also likes to be a little condescending when he’s in charge: ‘what did you say baby? I can’t hear you over the sound your wet little cunt.’

When he’s feeling subby it’s a whole other ballpark. He loves being edged for hours, knowing he’s completely in your control. He’s a fan of being manhandled, chocking, slapping, scratching, anything is on the table for him if you’re up for it.

There’s much more he’s up for but at the end of the day all he wants is to be praised no matter what you two are doing.

L = Location (favourite places to have sex)

For how kinky he is his favourite basic location is his bed. He’s up to do it truly anytime and anywhere but nowhere feels better than his soft mattress.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going?)

Almost anything will get him going. He’s turned on most of the time. But seeing you taking interest in something he enjoys will always push him over the edge. He remembers going on a rant to you about his favourite album and he glanced up to see you looking at him with genuine interest, and love in your eyes and he doesn’t think he’s gotten harder faster in his.

Looks-wise he adores the sight of you in nothing but a t-shirt and knickers. Morning breath be damned if he sees you wearing that it’s game over. You’ve told him many times you’d be happy to put some sexy lingerie on but he always reassures you he’s just as turned on seeing you in that.

N = Nope (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He never wants to actually hurt you. The first time you had sex and cried you had to reassure him it was from pleasure and not pain so he would touch you again. Any bodily fluids besides spit and cum is completely out of the question.

Also he’s got two moms so calling anyone mommy is a no-no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves both.

When it comes to giving he could do it all day long. The image of you either sat on his face or lying above him is something he couldn’t describe with words how hot it makes him feel. Your legs as earmuffs is the greatest gift he could ever get. He’s incredibly skilled, his tongue (which is pierced by the way) and jaw never seeming to get tired.

He swears you are the best head he has ever gotten. Your lips wrapped around him makes him understand why people can believe in the afterlife. He also love the sight of you looking up at, eyes wide as you swallow him down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? )

It can go either way depending on his mood.

After a bad day he will most likely take out his frustration by pounding into you until both of you can’t remember your names. The grip he has on your hips leaving bruises the next day. One time he even managed to break your bed frame (don’t worry he paid for a new one).

Morning sex tends to be much more tender and romantic. Slow kisses and shallow thrusts before both of you have to go out into the real world.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often?)

Whenever there’s time for one he’ll make it happen. He doesn’t care how inconvenient it is, if he has opportunity to fuck you he will take it 100% of the time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

He’s lived his life by the motto of try anything once. He even has a whole day dedicated to it.

When you were about 3 months into your relationships you took it as your chance to bring up experimenting and he was so excited. You tried roleplaying, bdsm, wax play, and exhibitionism all in 24 hours.

After that you both decide that one day a month if the other person brought up something they wanted to try you would try it, and anything else that came to mind for both of you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

You swear there is nothing that can stop Aegon when he’s horny. Your personal record together is 3 and a half hours with no breaks.

Sometime you tap out before he does.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s got a collection in his bedside drawer: all different types of vibrators, butt plugs, dildos, and fleshlights in all different colours.

He was always up to using them on you especially the vibrators and butt plugs. Pushing them into all your holes as you moaned into his mouth. And you using them on him? That was a wet dream.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease?)

He likes to be teased more than he likes to tease you. The fun in sex for him (other than the fact that it just feels amazing) is watching you succumb to pleasure, not to deny you anything.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make?)

He’s pretty vocal. Moans, grunts, gasps all leaving his mouth in the moment. He also gets vocal with his words praising you in all the ways you like.

‘You feel so fucking good darling’ ‘you were made for me only, right?’ ‘I want you to cum for me, please baby’

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon)

He really wants to have a threesome with you. He’s been a little shy to bring it up because he doesn’t want you to feel insecure, or think the reason he wants to is because you aren’t satisfying him and feel pressured to do it. But the idea of you making out with some other guy/girl while he fucks you really turns him on.

X = X-Ray (what’s goin’ on under those clothes?)

His cock is pretty average in size, around 6 inches and decently thick but it’s a beautiful sight. Pink tip with juicy vein running down the underside. Every time you see it you just want to put it in your mouth.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Once he starts he can’t be stopped. There’s not a day you’ve been together when you haven’t fucked. (Of course he’s up for period sex.)

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He usually gets a burst of energy after sex. He likes to make a nice snack after you’re done. If you’re feeling tired he’ll rub your back until you fall asleep and usually watch some television on a low volume after you’ve passed out before curling up next to you.

[jlheon]

୨୧ — led me to you (psh)

pairing. bf! park sunghoon x fem! reader genre. est. relationship + angst + fluff wc. 1200 notes. mentions death ( hoon's ex / reader’s friend are dead ) library.

🗯️ extra peng note. @junislqve sent me tiktok and i was gonna make it super sad but i decided to make it a happy end because i wish i had a bf like hoon!

synopsis. you’ve always wanted to ask sunghoon about his first love

as your one-year anniversary with park sunghoon approaches you can’t help the immense relief and guilt this event holds for you. 

maybe guilt isn’t the best word, but you feel content that he loves you enough to stay with you for all this time despite his past. 

two years before you, park sunghoon was dating a gorgeous girl. they had dated for four years.

you met park sunghoon at the cemetery.

not the most ideal meet-cute. 

no, you didn’t see him while you were visiting your childhood best friend, nor while he was visiting his late girlfriend. rather on the way out.

sunghoon was a gentleman. 

he had seen you crying on the sidewalk and handed you his handkerchief he always kept handy. you graciously accepted it and wiped your tears with it. 

“lose someone recently?” sunghoon breaks the silence. 

“yeah,” you sniffled. “my best friend.”

“i’m all ears if you need someone,” he offers. “it’s nicer to talk to someone who doesn’t know anything about it.”

“i’ll take you up on that,” you give him a small smile. “are you busy right now?” 

“i’m going wherever you are,” he chuckles.

you and sunghoon sat at a booth at your favorite dinner. he orders what your best friend used to order but you don’t comment on it. 

you tell him absolutely everything since he asked of course.

always asking him if you can keep going since he still was a stranger at the end of the say. he’s a good listener, a great one even, he nods and gives you his advice whenever you pause. 

and lastly, sunghoon doesn’t just say “i’m sorry for your loss” like everyone else.

that phrase has always frustrated you since what could they possibly be sorry for? it’s not like your grief is their fault. you don’t want to be constantly pitied. 

it’s refreshing, how he understands everything you say, probably because he relates since he just lost someone too you assume.

you ask sunghoon about who he was visiting at the cemetery and he tells you to not worry your pretty little head over it. 

numbers are exchanged and you quickly fall for park sunghoon hard. 

it becomes a weekly thing for you to meet up with him and hangout. whether it’s talking about your grief because he’s the only one who understands or just walking around town. you like sunghoon.

it takes him a while to reveal who he’s grieving the loss of but when he does your stomach drops and you are unable to form any words.

“i know i should have told you earlier,” sunghoon apologizes. “but you’re my escape.” 

you cry that night when sunghoon drops you home.

you feel horrible for crushing on a guy who lost just his long-term girlfriend. you feel horrible for getting so caught up in your crush that you’ve rarely been grieving your friend.

you know this is what she wants for you, to move on and feel happy again, but you can’t help but wish you’re miserable for as long as you are without her. 

sunghoon won’t let you think about it this way though. 

you told him about everything. you told him you liked him, that you’re sorry because you know he just got out of a relationship, and that you feel horrible for feeling happy for the first time since your friend's passing. 

he hugs you and tells you it’s all going to be okay. he tells you that it’s been two years since his late girlfriend passed and the day you met was because he was visiting her while he was in the area.

sunghoon asks you out on a real date.

since then you two have been going strong. but you can’t shake off the fact you’re his first girlfriend after she passed away.

maybe you’re too curious for your own good.

“hoon?” you ask, picking your head up from where it rested on his chest. 

“yeah baby?” sunghoon shifts his gaze from his phone down to you who is already staring at him.

“can i ask you something?” you start, sitting more upright in his lap. “you don’t have to answer if i’m crossing the line.”

“sure,” he shuts his phone off and puts it aside to give you his full attention. “go ahead, baby.” 

“what was she like?”

“who?” sunghoon quirks an eyebrow.

“your ex,” you whisper, scared you might strike a nerve and ruin the only good thing you had in your life.

“oh,” you feel him tense underneath you. “why?” 

“i feel like we always talk about me,” you pout. “i want to be a good girlfriend and be there for you too.”

“you’re already a good girlfriend,” he kisses your cheek. as good as her? is what you want to ask but bite your tongue.

“sorry for asking,” you frown, ready to return to lying in silence. 

“i can tell you if you really want to know,” sunghoon says with his eyes closed, opening to you nodding, and urging him to continue. 

“we dated for four years, but i knew her since childhood. she was my best friend before my girlfriend. even after getting together, she was still my best friend,” sunghoon’s lips broke out into a smile recalling his late girlfriend.

“she sounds amazing,” you lie, feeling sick at the sight of the stars in his eyes while he talks about his ex. 

“i think you two would get along well,” he chuckles. “she was the best, truly. she understood me well and was always patient with me. i was quite the shy teenage boy. i can’t believe she stuck with me for so long.” 

“you’re the perfect boyfriend, hoon,” you reassure him, resting your head against his shoulder as your eyes brim with tears. “do you miss her?”

“of course i miss her,” sunghoon answers, rubbing the small of your back. 

“sometimes i feel mean,” you sniffle. 

“how could you ever be mean?” he dips his head to catch a glimpse of your wet cheeks. 

“like i stole you from her,” your voice cracks as you avoid eye contact.

“why would you ever think that?” sunghoon raised a hand to your face to dry it. 

“well, you guys never technically broke up,” you reply. “i kinda just came into the picture. i feel selfish for it.” 

“you’re not selfish baby,” he holds you closer. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” your tears falling onto his white shirt, wetting the fabric. 

“i like to think she led me to you,” sunghoon explains, stroking your head. “like she knew you were going to be there that day.”

“you think so?” 

“i know so. she led me to the most perfect girl,” he plants a kiss on your forehead. “we both healed together, didn’t we?” 

you hum in response. tears still cascading down your face and onto your boyfriend's shirt. 

“i know we don’t talk about my feelings a lot,” sunghoon cups your face, making you look him in the eye. “but you saved my life. i don’t know if i would still be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“i love you, hoon” you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“i love you more.”

[xokohaneazusawa]

Could I request Isagi, Chigiri, and Kaiser getting jealous of their s/o's plushie collection of them?

-> Definitely didn’t write this when I should have been doing my photography work ✋ but whatever I mean I was literally just sitting outside so decided to make the most of it

Isagi

-> Having a famous football player as a boyfriend was nothing to sneeze at, I mean the paparazzi and the fact that he was never really around, but the good thing was there was a lot of merch of him all over the internet, and one day when you were alone in your moods you decided that you were gonna get some of the merch you found and eventually you had a whole collection of stuff

-> It wasn’t until much later that Isagi finally got home from one of his games and came to visit you just to see his normal spot, cuddling with you was now filled by one of many plushie versions of himself

-> Merely chuckled and took a couple of pictures at first before trying to take it out of your arms but that’s when he realized that you were not letting it go, and that’s when he started to get a little jealous of Mini him

-> It wasn’t until the morning that you realized that he had gotten home and were super excited to see him only for him to be a wee bit upset and wouldn’t tell you why, but you figured out pretty fast when he kept side-eyeing the plush versions of him sitting on your bed and desk

-> That’s when you got to laugh and hug him while assuring him that they were not there to replace him, but just to keep you company when he wasn’t around.

-> But knowing him he just suggested that you should just call him wherever you were about to go to sleep so he could still be with you no matter the time difference.

Chigiri

-> MAN IS SIDE-EYE CENTRAL OVER HERE

-> Will REFUSE to tell you why he’s so upset even after coming home to you after winning a game

-> He will never admit to being jealous over an inanimate object, but he knows on the inside that he may or may not see it go flying out of the room later on

-> When he got home and saw you cuddling with a tiny version of him all while reading one of the many books from your bookshelves and surprisingly in where he would normally sit, he was a little pissed

-> It wasn’t until you decided to go to bed and through finding out by his side eyes that he, in fact, did not think plushie was a good replacement as you phrased it, you decided that instead of cuddling up to him like you normally would you instead cuddled with the plushie which only made him roll his eyes and end up throwing it somewhere else in the room, saying something along the lines of why would you need a stupid not real version of him when he was here right now

Kaiser

-> Definition of LE GASP

-> How could you cuddle with a mini him when perfectly good-sized him was right in front of your face?! Ness would never

-> Would throw it and cuddle into you the second he could get his hands on it, no matter what you were doing. Studying? Not more important the love of your life (as he likes to call himself)

-> Will steal all of them and hide them in places where it’s either out of reach from you or somewhere that you will never find no matter how hard you try (Petty Bitch)

-> Refuses to tell you where they are until you either reject giving him cuddles or kisses

-> Another one who will throw them if he finds you cuddling with them when you could totally be cuddling with him, a disgrace really

-> May or May not get a call from Ness later on shaming you for making Kaiser upset with a plush version of himself

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (7.5)

chapter 7.5: limbo

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; minho's pov; non-explicit smut, kissing, grinding, implied unprotected sex; alcohol consumption, non-linear storytelling (jumps around a few random scenes before we get back to the present that picks up from the end of chapter 7), cursing, the final line :-?; not that unedited i am so so sorry lol word count: 5.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / series masterpost / taglist

Wishing fountains, we pray for change in the dark Moving mountains, we end up right where we start The world’s not falling apart But you and I, baby we are

Wishing Fountains - Bad Suns

“What does it say?” Minho asks.

You sigh, your eyes trailing the words on the small piece of paper in your hands before you shove one half of the fortune cookie in your mouth. It seems dry; you look like you can barely swallow it.

“Bullshit,” you say simply, a little bitter before you hide behind a mask of indifference, turning to him as you ask, “Yours?” 

He breaks his own fortune cookie in half, pulling out a similar piece of paper that reads, “‘Jeg elsker deg’ means ‘I love you’ in Norwegian.”

You're both lying on a fluffy rug on the floor of your bedroom, with an empty bottle of rosé sitting somewhere near your head. “That’s... random,” you say, casting your eyes to the ceiling. “But I mean, at least it’s kind of educational. Now you know a phrase in Norwegian.”

“Sure,” Minho laughs, testing out the syllables in his mouth and butchering them in the process. “Who would I even say it to?”

“Impress your future girlfriend with your worldly knowledge. Or say it to Hyunjin, I’m sure he’ll swoon and blush like a schoolgirl.”

“That’s the last thing I want. He’s already clingy enough as it is.”

“Alright. Well, your loss then.”

He only hums in response. “You’re really not gonna tell me what yours is?”

“I told you. It’s bullshit.”

“Wanna tell me why the fortune cookie is evil at least? I’ll fight it for you.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder with a playful scoff. “It just got me thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

It takes a minute for you to gather your thoughts into one semi-cohesive pile. 

“Just… reminds me how I don’t really fit into anyone’s life,” you start, your voice coming out a little small and timid before you seem to let the alcohol give you enough confidence to say what you want. “I don’t feel like I’m worth anyone’s time. Everyone’s going to outgrow me eventually, if they haven’t already. Their lives will only get bigger and bigger, and they’ll have to leave me behind at some point. All that space but none for me.

“I think I’ll be stuck like this forever, in this fucking… limbo. And I know it’s dramatic because we’re still young and we’ve got our whole lives in front of us and whatever else that people say. But it feels like wherever I go and whatever I do, my life will always be this small while you all move on. Chan and Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, Felix, even Hyunjin and Jisung when they’re not too busy being idiots. Everyone’s got everything all planned out, and they have other things to fall back on if those plans don’t work out. If I fall, I think I’ll just keep falling until I hit rock bottom.

“And you… you’re gonna do great things too. You’re gonna live your life and it’s going to be a good one, and you’ll forget about me too. A few years from now, when everyone’s already moved on, I’ll just be a girl that you used to know. I’m just a stop along the way.”

Then you pause, and the laugh you let out afterward is choked up and not at all sincere. You rub your hands down your face, groaning a little when you say, “Ugh, that was depressing. Sorry, it’s the wine. Forget I said anything.”

You have beautiful eyes, that’s what Minho has always thought, the kind that holds all the universe’s sparkles and all its sadness too, a bittersweet balance. The kind that makes one want to stop and admire for a while. He loves when they light up before the joy gradually spreads across your face, like watching the sun peak over the horizon before it colors the sky with ethereal pinks and purples and blues. You’re a wonderful sunrise, his favorite part of every day.

He even loves your faraway gaze when you’re here but you’re elsewhere simultaneously, hiding in your eyes musings that are privy to nobody else. You’d stare into the distance and he’d watch you the whole time, wondering if any of the thoughts that occupy your mind are about him.

Minho has an urge to take you into his arms and hold you tight and tell you that everything’s going to be okay. That no one’s going to forget about you because you’re not someone who can be forgotten so easily, let alone be forgotten by him. That he isn’t going anywhere if it’s not by your side, that he wants to be in your life until you decide you’re sick of him, not the other way around.

He wants to tell you he loves you because that’s the truth. He was gone the minute he saw you at that stupid party years ago when you had walked in shyly with Chan and Jess. You had tried to make yourself smaller in a roomful of strangers, but you’ve always been the only one Minho could find in a crowd.

Years and years from now, when he thinks back to his youth, the highlight reel that will pop up in his mind will be of his idiot friends and the good memories they’ve shared with one another. How they laughed and cried, how they fell and got back up together time and time again.

And at the center of it all will be you. Green grass, blue skies, his golden days and you, the focal point of his youth.

He loves you. Would it help, or would it scare you?

He doesn’t let himself debate that question for long. Regardless of what the answer is, now isn’t the right time. So instead, he says, “For what it’s worth, everyone’s just taking it one day at a time, even if they seem like they have it all planned out. You’re not falling behind. You’re going at your own pace, who cares about other people?”

You turn your head to stare at him, your cheeks flushed with a rosy tint from the wine you had shared and a pensive look on your face. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but he holds your gaze anyway.

“And I can’t speak for anyone else, but you’ll always have me. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

A quiet moment passes. If Minho focuses hard enough, he thinks he might be able to hear the faint beats of your heart.

His gaze flickers to your lips for barely a second before it returns to your eyes, quick enough for it to escape your notice.

Then, you’re holding yourself up on one elbow and shuffling into his orbit until you’re right by his side. He doesn’t move a single inch; he only watches as you get closer, and closer, and closer until there’s no more space between the two of you. He blinks, and in that split second he misses the way you let your eyes shut as you lean down to press your lips to his.

He’s surprised, but pleasantly so.

You taste like rosé, like something he’s always known that he wants to chase.

It stuns him enough that he forgets to respond, his mind focused solely on the feeling of your soft lips on him, the scent of your jasmine perfume and how you’re so warm pressed against him like this.

Maybe it’s the stillness of his body that shocks you out of it, because you pull away after a few seconds with an instant look of mortification in your eyes, trying to scramble back to your original spot on the rug like you’ve just committed an unspeakable sin. Running away, he thinks, is your first instinct.

But Minho is just a tad quicker than you are. He doesn’t let you stray very far when he props himself up to cup your face with one hand and bring you back to him.

He’s kissing you again and for a brief moment, he feels like he could die.

You don’t break from him this time. Instead, you’re kissing him back just as deeply. You let him lower you back to the floor as he holds himself up above you, his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips while his thumb strokes your cheek softly, keeping you there in his loose hold so you could still run if that’s what you want to do.

But you stay with him, your hands trailing up the expanse of his chest to find purchase on his shoulders, your legs parting so he could perfectly slot himself into the space that you’ve allowed him.

When he rocks his hips into you experimentally, you bite on his bottom lip, a whining sound from your throat comes out muffled against his mouth.

He strays just long enough and far enough so he could look into your eyes, with your pupils blown much darker than they had been at the start of the evening.

He says your name, the gentlest sound in the world, then a question. “What do you want?”

Minho half expects you to overthink your answer and come back to your senses, to choose flight because it would be the easier option.

But you don’t. There’s a dazed look in your eyes as you lock onto him, and there’s something underneath the pool of lust in your gaze that leaves him breathless and wondering.

“You,” you say quietly, “I want you.”

And it’s with this simple answer that you pull him back to you again, not the other way around. You kiss him more fervently than before if that’s even possible. When he slides his arm around your waist, you let him pick you up to cross the few steps it takes to get to your bed, his lips never leaving you even after he has laid you onto the mattress. They follow the path where your jawline leads down to your neck, then where your neck meets your collarbone, and he savors every little whimper that you make for him even though he’s barely touched you yet. There’s hardly any patch of skin that he leaves unkissed, and when he reaches where your shirt begins to hide the rest of you from him, he only looks up at you, quietly asking for more permission.

You don’t give him a verbal answer. You take matters into your own hands, lifting your top over your head and flinging it somewhere on the floor.

Then your bra follows to join your shirt, wherever it may be. Minho assumes they’ve landed on the bottle of rosé, only guessing by the sound of the glass being knocked over and rolling around. He’s not sure but he doesn’t care about it enough to look, not when he’s got you right here under him, so beautiful and so willing that it makes his head spin.

He’s imagined this before, just a few times whenever he's drunk enough to let his mind wander without the guilt that comes with it when he’s sober. He has wondered before what it would feel like to kiss you breathless and have you kiss him back, to touch you in ways that no one else ever has, to taste how sweet you are and feel your warmth. None of it is appropriate, not at all platonic. He’s well aware of it.

It's been years, ever since Minho met you at that party when he was 19 and you had been too awkward to start a conversation. Years of walking with you in the rain after class, sharing umbrellas that are too small to shield the both of you but it’s okay, because he doesn’t mind leaving half of his body exposed to the harsh weather as long as the rain doesn’t get on you. Years of making sure you get home safely after nights out with your friends, years of insisting that he sees you walk inside your building and up to your floor whether it's 11PM or 4:30AM. Years of lingering glances, of pretending he isn’t bothered whenever Felix offers to introduce you to someone, of smiles sent your way that are far too endeared to mean nothing at all.

Years of loving you in silence because he’s your friend first and foremost, and his friendship with you means more to him than the feelings he has for you.

And yet...

He’s here in your bed, watching you with mesmerized eyes as you take off the rest of your clothes before helping him discard his, as you kiss him just as deeply as he’s wanted to kiss you for the longest time, as you keep pulling him into you even when he’s already as close to you as humanly possible. His lips on yours, his heart pressed against the other side of yours. His fingers intertwined with yours when he slips inside of you, and how your hands stay interlocked the entire time you’re wrapped together. You cling to him so tightly, as though it would hurt you if he were to ever let go.

It’s the way you look at him, like he’s the only person that exists in your universe. It’s the broken moans that you give him, the nonsense babbles that make his chest swell with pride at the knowledge that he’s making you feel so good that the only thing you know how to say coherently is his name. It’s the heaven between your thighs, absolutely divine and infinitely better than any fantasy that he could ever let himself indulge in.

Just for tonight, Minho can pretend that you're his, even though he knows that he’s already been yours since the first time you met. He’s been yours for as long as he can remember, even if you don’t know it yet.

Later on, when he’s collapsed next to you on the bed, there’s a safe distance between your tired bodies and a certain tension in the air that’s heavy with the consequences of your actions. When he takes your hand, the one that’s shaking as you grip the sheets between your fingers, it alleviates some of that anxiety.

“The fortune cookie, what did it say?” he asks, like you’re simply continuing the conversation from before.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Seriously?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Seriously.”

You purse your lips as you look at him for another second before you cast your eyes to the ceiling again, like you’d done just an hour ago. “It said ‘You’ll be loved.’”

You are, he thinks to himself. You’re loved.

“Open wide.”

You give him a look, to which he only responds with a shrug and a sly grin. 

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you say, but you take the spoonful of chicken soup that he offers you anyway. You can’t focus on the taste but it’s warm and the relief you feel is instant when it soothes your throat.

You’ve practically been on bedrest for the past three days, slowly rotting away in your apartment with a bad strain of the seasonal flu until Minho came over and unleashed his inner mama bear on you. Now here you are, wrapped up like a burrito on the couch (Minho insisted; he wouldn’t have it any other way) while he spoon feeds you homemade chicken soup.

You were stubborn about it at first, as one could probably imagine. When you told the group chat that you wouldn’t make it to movie night at Chan’s place last weekend, you were adamant that you would be able to sleep it off and bounce back in no time, despite Minho offering to make you some food and bring over some meds and cough drops.

The symptoms worsened overnight though, and you developed a fever along with a cough that’s worse than any you’ve ever experienced. When Minho called you to make sure you were still alive, you could barely even speak.

He hates your cavalier attitude when it comes to taking care of yourself. He hates himself even more for believing in your nonchalance and not bulldozing his way over sooner.

“I’m enjoying this because I was right,” he says, feeding you more of the soup. “I told you instant ramyeon wouldn’t cure you.”

He lets his I told you so triumph go easily, even though he suspects that you have much more to bite back at him if you could get through half a sentence without wanting to hack your lungs out. You make a noise, and he isn’t really sure if it’s one of agreement or protest but it’s most likely the latter. He thinks it’s cute that you close your eyes after every spoonful, lazily eating like one of his cats back home whenever they’ve run out of energy. You’re probably tired and can’t wait to get into bed.

When the soup is finished, Minho fetches you your meds and a glass of warm water. He doesn’t know if the scrunched up face you make after every pill is because you hate the bitter taste or if the tablets keep dragging against your already sensitive throat on their way down, but he strokes your hair all the while you wash it down with water, a gentle hand on your head as if to say You’re doing well.

He tucks you in bed not long after, despite your weak protests as he carries you to your bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you had managed to croak out. “I’m not that helpless.”

“I know,” came his response and a teasing smile. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

You’re pliant once you’re laid gently on the mattress though, idly watching Minho as he wraps the duvet around your shoulders and fluffs your pillows just the way you like. This is awfully domestic, he notes, and he can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to your forehead, not when he’s absolutely endeared by the way your tired eyes try to keep themselves open just so you could look at him.

When his lips leave your warm skin, he thinks he might’ve imagined the blush that colors your cheeks.

But he blinks, and you’re still flushed, your lips slightly parted as you stare at him, mild surprise evident in your drowsy gaze.

Something passes over the two of you, a kind of silence that he isn’t accustomed to when he’s with you. It isn’t bad, it’s just… strange.

One beat, then another. “Want me to stay with you?” he asks.

He knows you’d say no, and yet he can’t help the disappointment when you tell him, “You don’t have to. Go home, Min. Thanks for taking care of me today.”

“You sure? I can take the couch. It’s fine.”

“I’m sure. Chan and Jess said they’re coming to check on me in the morning.”

Minho lets out a hum, and purses his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you look like you want to.”

“Just… y’know,” he starts, gauging your reaction all the while, for any signs of physical discomfort or otherwise, “I like you like this. You’re not hiding when you’re like this.”

“You like me frail and on the verge of death?”

He rolls his eyes, pretends to flick at your forehead. “You know what I mean.”

When you giggle, it’s immediately followed by a wince, like the movement is hurting your sensitive throat. “Do I hide when I’m with you?”

“Sometimes.” He moves his hand to caress your face, gentle fingertips tracing the apple of your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him, if only for a little while. “It feels like you’re always ready to leave.”

“Are you worried I’m gonna run away?” you ask, covering your hand over his to move it away, but you still let his touch linger when you only lower his hand to your neck, where he starts twiddling your hair between his fingers. It feels like you want him close, close enough that it matters, close in a way that still lets you have control over how it matters. “I physically can’t. I’m sick.”

“Does that mean you’ll run away when you get better?”

You seem to ponder the question for a moment. You’re holding onto his wrist and Minho is almost certain that you can feel his pulse. He would do so many things for you if only you’d let him.

When you answer him, you keep things light but your tone is soft, gentle in a way that tells him your sentiment means more than the words you cherry pick on the surface.

 “No, I have finals in two weeks.”

The first time that Minho gets to wake up next to you, nothing feels real. Not the pleasant scent of your shampoo greeting him the minute he opens his eyes, not your soft breath fanning his bare collarbone where you lay with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, not even the feeling of you in his arms, safe and warm, as though this is where you’re meant to be. None of it seems like anything other than a dream.

When memories of the previous night come rushing to the surface, it also brings back the annoyance he felt watching Yeonjun openly flirt with you at the party, and the bitter feeling that accompanied the reminder that Minho couldn’t even really do anything about it but stand idly by. 

But you stir in his arms, and all of the annoyance and bitterness goes away. Because you’re here with him and not anybody else. There’s a certain ego boost knowing that he’s the one you kiss, the only one you allow in your most personal space. To know you is a privilege, and it’s one that you grant no one else but him.

Last night, something happened. Something changed, he felt it when you were the one who asked him to stay. You let him put his shirt on you, let him hold you as you slept, even welcomed his embrace and snuggled further into his body in a way that you’ve never done before.

How you kissed him just hours prior, how you looked at him… God, he thinks he could just spill all of his secrets if you did it again.

But when you open your eyes, Minho is already pretending to be asleep again. How would you react? He’s curious to know. Would you scramble away the second the realization kicks in that you let him break your rule? Would you leave his side and act all nonchalant about it when you inevitably have to face each other later? He’s willing to bet that you would.

But you surprise him again. He feels you watching him for a moment, then your touch ghosts upon his features. It almost makes him falter in his act, your gentle fingers tracing his temple, his cheekbones, the slope of his nose down to his lips. There’s a sigh that you exhale, and he misses your touch the very second it leaves his skin. He itches to bring you closer to him again.

So that’s what he does. Minho keeps the facade going, pretending like he’s now just waking up with his limbs stretching out. You stiffen when he hugs you tighter, but you soon relax after he starts stroking your hair. 

Nothing has changed for him, but can you say the same?

“Dude!”

Minho flinches into action when a voice calls his name right by the car window, loud enough to startle him even through the thick layer of glass. When he turns his head, he finds Changbin’s face all pressed up against the window, struggling to hold three bags full of supplies that are threatening to spill out. “Help me with these!” his friend says.

It’s the week of Jisung, Felix and Seungmin’s birthdays; you lot tends to go all out for the quadruple birthday bash every year (Chan’s birthday is only 11 days later after all). Seungmin’s family has a lakeside cabin a couple hours from the city, that’s where everyone goes to unwind for a long weekend with plenty of food and even more drinks. This year, it’s no different.

Minho and Changbin are on drinks duty, tasked with picking up all of the alcohol and refreshments for the weekend ahead. He doesn’t really know what the rest are doing, just that you and Jeongin are babysitting Hyunjin to make sure the latter doesn’t deviate from the proposed budget and go way overboard when getting snacks and decorations. You sent Minho a text a while ago, a video of you facepalming and rolling your eyes before you flip the camera over to show Hyunjin and Jeongin bickering like children over a mega pack of chips.

Once everything is in the car – cases of beer safely loaded into the trunk, bottles of water and soft drinks set in their designated plastic bags in the backseat, Changbin comments from the driver’s seat, “You looked weird. You were smiling.”

Minho only stares at him for a moment, a neutral expression on his face as he blinks those typical Minho blinks, before he turns his head to the other side to lean against the window.

He was thinking about the first time your tradition started, the first year Jess had to drag you on the trip. She used to do it often; you were shy in the beginning.

He’s got a favorite memory of you, and it wasn’t you and him sitting together on the bank of the river during the sunset, while the others were in the water, splashing around and having the time of your lives (you two were the only ones who couldn’t swim, but it was okay, you didn’t feel like you missed out on anything because at least you had each other).

His favorite memory of you wasn’t running into you in the middle of the night when he went into the kitchen for some water and you were out by yourself on the adjacent balcony, sitting with your chin resting on your folded knees and the crescent moon for company. He stayed there for a moment, dazed, wondering if he was still dreaming or if it was just you. When Minho finally made his presence known, you told him you couldn’t sleep and he suggested that you break into Hyunjin’s secret ramyeon stash, because going to bed with a full stomach always made him feel better whenever he was restless. 1:58AM, you ended up almost burning your hand on the stove, too busy trying to keep your giggles down when he made a stupid joke.

Minho’s favorite memory wasn’t of you falling asleep on his shoulder on the drive back either, with you squished in the backseat between him and Felix, and your light snores reminded him of Soonie whenever the cat would doze off on his chest. It wasn’t any of these moments, even though he thinks he might’ve loved you in every instance.

His favorite memory of you was the evening before that trip had to come to an end, the last night you all spent together before you had to leave your safe little bubble. It was after dinner and some drinks, everyone was buzzed and the air was crisp, chilly every now and then. When you were gathered on the dock overlooking the lake, each holding a sparkler that Jisung had prepared, you were laughing. Everyone else was laughing too, but yours was the only sound Minho could focus on.

“Be quiet. I’m gonna take a nap,” he tells Changbin, ignoring the comment entirely as he closes his eyes. “Wake me when we get to Chan’s.”

The lights, and your friends, and the moon hanging high up in the sky like a guardian angel back then.

You were watching how it all reflected so beautifully in the rippling waters below. He was watching you.

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

His question hangs in the awful silence as you stare at him. Minho can see your nails digging into your palms where your fists are clenched, your glassy eyes and the frown between your brows, like you’re trying your hardest to hold back tears. Why else would you be so upset?

He’s known about it for a while, or at the very least, he’s had an inkling of how you feel about him. He knows he isn’t in over his head when he says there’s a certain glow that radiates from within you when you’re together, a side of you that’s tender and at peace, one that he’s never seen you show anyone else. The way you look at him, it’s the same way that he looks at you even if you don’t realize it yet, or maybe you just don’t want to admit it out loud.

It hasn’t been one sided for at least some time now, he knows it.

But it’s frustrating to watch you try so hard to fight it. He’s the only one holding on, and you’ve been willing to let go at every turn.

“See what?” you challenge.

This isn’t how he planned to ever say these words, but the moment is here whether he likes it or not. It’s staring at you both in the face even if you are doing your best to hide from it.

Minho holds your gaze for a few seconds before he steps toward you again. This time, you stand your ground.

“You asked me if things changed for me and I said no. That was the truth, I never lied to you. We’re friends but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you as something more from the beginning.”

He pauses there, watches your eyes and how you take it in. They soften a little, filling up some more as you process his words. There’s surprise in the look that you wear, sure. A little confusion, yes. But most of all, you just look sad. When you call out his name, he can tell by your tone that it’s a warning, that you’re about to run away for real this time if he presses on, and yet he can’t stop until he says his piece.

“If you want me to spell it out for you, I’ve had feelings for you since we first met. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you, and it drives me crazy that you don’t see any of it. The thing that makes me even crazier, do you know what it is? I think you feel something for me too, but you won’t admit it to yourself and you always resort to shutting down instead of facing your feelings. How much longer are you going to run away from me?”

When the first tear unintentionally spills over from the corner of your eye, Minho knows he’s struck a nerve. He wants to reach out and wipe away the tiny stream that rolls down your face but you beat him to it, wiping at your cheek in angry motions.

“You’re wrong.” Your voice is tight when you tell him, “I don’t have feelings for you.” It’s the only thing that you address.

Sometimes, he searches for your answer at the bottom of a glass, or on the other end of looks that seem to linger just a beat too long. But as he’s standing here, right now, he finds it in your hesitation to speak, in the lie you give him when you finally do.

It’s the answer he’s always wanted and yet, the knowledge brings him no satisfaction at all. It only lodges a lump in his throat, an overwhelming sense of dejection when he sees how hard you’re trying to fight this.

“I know you,” he sighs after a moment, a little defeated. “I know when you’re lying.”

“Maybe you don’t know me that well after all.”

You’re stubborn. You’ve always been stubborn.

Minho takes another step forward. It feels like it’s a step closer to the end as you both know it, because how else is your relationship going to come back from this? He sees the slight shake in your shoulders that you try to suppress, but he’ll always be the one to notice. 

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he says quietly, his final resort. A challenge but it sounds an awful lot like a plea. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that things can take a turn for the worse in just two weeks’ time. The last time you both were here, you’d kissed his endeared smile and held him so impossibly close to you. Now, everything is falling apart, the seams coming undone one by one. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Minho meant what he said, about how loving you drives him crazy sometimes. Even when you’re breaking his heart, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. A noticeable sting settles in between the cracks of his ribcage at the sight of your quivering bottom lip, your balled up fists and his own reflection in your glassy eyes.

“Do you want me to say it so badly?” you ask, and he can only stare at you when your voice comes out harsher than it was before, though it cracks toward the end as you try to keep up with the facade. “Fine, I’ll say it.”

It’s not what he asked, but it’s confirmation nonetheless. It’s acceptance but not how he wants it to be. Acceptance that you do love him, and yet, you say it in a way that he’s never expected to hear from you.

“I don’t want to love you.”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.08.2024]

[ode2rin]

if his tendency to spend all of his money on you (not that any purchase could make a dent in his massive empire) wasn't annoying enough, reo had developed another endearing yet infuriating habit—one that left you torn between feeling adored and wanting to throw the nearest pillow at his face.

said man is currently in the kitchen with you, attempting (albeit with some struggle) to be useful by following your every move. tired of his constant hovering, you assigned him a simple task to keep him busy: taking out the groceries from the paper bags.

here came his habit again. the first time he did it, you brushed it off, assuming he hadn't heard you well due to the distance. the second time, you noticed his subtle perks and pouts. now, for the third time, you were determined to catch him.

“reo…” from where you’re standing, you could see how he perks up at your call, “can you pass me the apple?”

silence. 

you’re right. you tried again, just to be sure.

“reo.”

another beat of silence. this one followed by an affectionate sigh and a wry smile on your face.

“love, can you pass me the —”

“here.” 

almost instantly, reo materialized beside you, a beaming smile adorning his face, looking at you like his gaze meant to say, ‘yes. i am love, that’s me.’ he extended the requested fruit with a graceful motion, his fingers gentle as he offered it to you.

this man, really. “so, you can hear me properly after all, huh?”

“yeah? my hearing is fine.” 

“oh, is it? i couldn’t tell because i called you twice, and you weren’t responding. why is that?” you teased, a fond smile gracing your lips as you start slicing the apple you washed.

he pouts, his go-to theatrical gesture that's hard to ignore. “you know why,” he mumbles.

of course, you do. you had used that endearment once, and now, suddenly he insists on being called by nothing else. it had been a slip of your tongue, a phrase that felt like it was custom-made for him and him alone. looking at how his smile nearly outshines the sun when you address him as such, you can't help but consider that maybe love—both the word and the emotion it embodies—is all about him, for you.

you love that smile more than anything, so if it means a simple endearment could paint it on his face, you're happy to oblige. well, not without a few playful teases first.

“what if i’m on the brink of danger — like a crocodile is chasing me, and i’m about to die, and i call out your name like ‘reo!’ are you still going to ignore me? because i didn't call you love?” you turn to face reo briefly, then return to your task of slicing apples, the motion fluid and familiar. 

it's always been the scene – you doing kitchen work and him watching you, because your boyfriend is a little helpless when it comes to knives, pans, and a stove. or in simpler words, anything to do with what a kitchen is for.

“first of all, that's an incredible imagination and such a realistic situation, given that we live in a city far from any vicinity of swamps, marshlands, brackish waters, and wherever the hell crocodiles live,” reo counters, his voice amused and suddenly defensive. 

as he was about to start explaining his second point, you interrupt by placing a sliced apple into his mouth, a light-hearted gesture of “shush” as you hear him out.

but reo is not reo if not stubborn, so even with a muffled voice, he continues. “second, is that what you think of me? you know i will come flying to you!” now, that’s an honest and valid point.

“and lastly, you call everyone a cute pet name. last week, you called a kid sweetie. yesterday, you called a stray cat darling and lovely. then you’re here calling me reo? just reo?” his tone is laced with disbelief, his volume slightly lowered, revealing a hint of embarrassment at his little rant.

a chuckle escapes you as he concludes his argument, prompting you to turn around and draw closer, your arms finding their place around his neck, while his arms encircle you instinctively, holding you close against him.

“reo is my favorite word, though. it’s too bad that you don’t like it.” you murmured.

reo knows what you’re doing. “you’re distracting me.”

“is it working?”

of course, it does. reo isn’t just helpless in the kitchen, but he is a much worse case of helplessness when faced with your warm gaze and soft charms.

he nodded in affirmation, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your back, “have i told you i love you?” he asks, swiftly changing the matter.

“only everyday, love.”

reo began again, ever stubborn and persistent, always eager to prove his point. “that’s not enough. i think i should do it every hour—”

“i love you.”

another beat of silence, again, for the third time. 

if it wasn't evident before, it's undeniable now – reo is really helplessly in love with you. such testament to that is him now gaping and at a loss of words for your sudden declaration.

reo needs you to go back to your usual teasing self; your affectionate version might just give him a heart attack.

smiling to yourself because you caught him off guard, you took your chance. “now, go there and sit. as much as i love having you around, you are an awful cook, let alone an assistant.” you gently pushed his chest, guiding him toward the couch.

“that's not how you speak to your loved one, though.” he mumbled in response, seemingly recovered from your sudden i love you that almost knocked the air out of him.

“are you saying something?”

“i said, off the couch i go.”

you shook your head, a fond smile gracing your lips as you watched him, before heading back to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

your loved one, huh? that’s him, definitely. 

reo and love, to you, it’s the same thing.

note. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY LOVER (i swear i planned something better pls forgive me) i'm late i know but it's still august 12 here :P i don't know what this is but pls take it away from me. reo i love you i love you i love—

[seuonji]

彡on a variety show w your svt bf!

๑ idol!svt x idol!yn secret relationship series! no storyline, just fun.

one ๑ two ๑ three ๑ four ๑ five ๑ six ๑ seven #mlist

notes ๑ variety show 'my alcohol diary' has mentions of drinking & getting drunk.

your group plays esports (valorant, leave of legends, apex, etc) against svt as a hybe special!

wonwoo gives you a look when you both sit at the end of your respective tables, you on the right, him on the left making you two sort of beside each other.

as you both play, the host points out that your skills are extremely good. your group member brings up the fact that recently you’ve been spending a lot more time gaming in your free time to which wonwoo rests his head on his hand to cover his smile knowing that he’s the reason you’ve been gaming more. the host adds on that your play style is a bit similar to wonwoo giving both groups chills. “perhaps it’s what’s adapted after a long time of playing,” you calmly respond.

on the other hand with soonyoung— he keeps messing up, at one point he shot one of his members, “the keyboard isn’t following what i want to do.” and you’d fr just face palm yourself. the host mentions, “even yn is getting tired of your antics.” “what antics!? im really trying.” you hope he can make it when technology evolves further. after filming you meet up with him. “wasn’t i cool earlier?” he asks. “i think my baby cousin can beat you.”

jeonghan would be such a menace in this scenario cause omg he would target you. like if he spots you he will not stop shooting and chasing until he gets you— your group member watching all of this go down would try to shoot jeonghan yet somehow he’s dodging and still hunting you down— “let me breathe!?” jeonghan shouts at your member. “you’re not letting ME breathe?” you shout back.

๑

random play dance! (random song is played and you have to dance the correct choreography)

beforehand you'd ask seungkwan to help you with the dances but he was not about to help you out while you were in a different group! until in one of the rounds where you looked lost, seungkwan comes to the front and dances clearly as a way to help you. "you're helping the other groups! get to the back," competitive seungcheol would shout. "sorry i got excited," seungkwan laughs it off. being fr tho how does that man know that many choreographies.

i imagine seokmin/mingyu would whisper to you, "i got you, just follow me," and then he would be one of the first to be eliminated.

vernon keeps on looking at you and copying your dance— you can’t help but laugh at his facial expressions when he doesn’t know the dance but also somehow he’s surviving.

wherever you are in the arena, chan always ends up beside you.

๑

youngji's program 'my alcohol diary'

you’d go alone to promote your groups album. your episode was relatively short— they covered it up with 'yn got drunk super fast' but actually, whether you have a high tolerance or not, in the end when you got drunk, you just kept on gushing about your boyfriend. (bf can be any member)

when youngji asked you to teach her the dance of your song you went through it step by step until a certain part, “oh soonyoung choreographed this part and i gave it as a suggestion and it made the cut to the official choreo,” you said with a big smile. // “my boyfriend likes this part,” you danced the bit then nonchalantly continued to teach youngji but she’s standing, there still in shock of everything she’s heard.

after filming, your boyfriend would pick you up and take care of you till you sober up.

the next day youngji would message and reveal something to you.

yn: im so sorry for the short episode run-

youngji: if it makes you feel better, seungcheol/soonyoung/mingyu/minghao talked about you way more than you did about them.

๑

chinese whisper game as a mini game (there’s a given word/phrase and the word is passed on through all players, last players needs to shout it out word for word)

you’re standing in front of jeonghan/minghao and he keeps on blowing into your ear before he starts actually saying the given phrase—

but if it was the noise cancellation version (have to read lips or body actions to get the word/phrase)

seungcheol pouted at you when you couldn’t understand what he was saying which a lot of viewers found weird since he would usually only do that with his members.

you almost hug jeonghan/joshua/wonwoo when he got the word correct—

jun/wonwoo/jihoon keeps on giving you high-fives every round.

you consider choking soonyoung when he can’t get the word correct for shit.

you and minghao/chan kept on bickering over the way he would execute the word. the staff and your members would be more interested on how you guys fight rather than the word being finally passed over to the last person.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬, 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗠𝗬 𝗪𝗔𝗬 kimi räikkönen x fem! photographer! reader (fluff) “. . . you try to capture kimi's smile but you capture his heart instead.”

( main masterlist ) ( requests )

joining formula one

Bustling. That's what he'd describe the track on such a day. Pushing through the people, Kimi didn't have the patience and to stop and apologize. You didn't neither, but you still repeated the same phrase trying to squeeze through the crowd with a polite smile.

You looked . . . Kimi was to busy watching to think about that. His eyes followed you as you clutched your camera, trying to frame a moment before your dead line. You had this . . . bubbly-like aura that kimi couldn't quite put a finger on. The way you smile and apologized, the way you helped give people directions or explain things even though your clock was ticking.

He's heard about you from his mechanics. The new intern who seems to be practically towing the joy and warmth sun behind wherever she goes. He had to agree with them on that, you sure were . . . something.

Click.

He was too concentrated to realize it was him you were pointing the lens at until it was too late. And he didn't like that. A bright smile made its way to your lips as you looked down at your product, proud of the moment you captured.

You looked up, ready to push yourself in the direction of where you last saw the Finnish boy, only to find him gone already. He'd walked away without sparing you a second glance.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Kimi!" You tried to get his attention. Well you did, but not long enough for him to make eyecontact with the camera lens. You smiled nonetheless at your product. "Still no eyecontact?"

You yelped in surprise at the new voice only to relax upon realizing your new friend. "You know, I'd look in the camera and pose for you any time." Fernando Alonso said cheekily as he leaned his shoulder on the wall next to you, watching you blush as he gently held your chin.

Kimi did not like what he was seeing. Watching you pull away from Fernando, shyly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. But why? Was it because he knew the Spaniard's intentions were only going to take away your innocence. Or maybe because he wanted to keep the joy you radiated all to himself.

You were aiming to get his attention after all. The only thought that now ran through his head was that he also wanted to see the pictures you took.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"BOO!" Kimi turned to look at you unamused as you tried to get his attention ( successfully ). A squeel rang through your throat as you jumped in place from excitement. Finally!

The sun was practically in your eyes as you stared at the new addition to your camera roll, feeling mesmerized by the beauty of a singular man. Unaware of his presence, Kimi stood behind you also staring at the pictures you took, putting a hand on his waist sighing deeply.

"I like this one." He pointed, pointing at the screen. You jolted surprised, looking up at the finish man with a shy blush. He raised an eyebrow waiting for you to reply or do something but you didn't. "Are you going to keep staring at me or . . . ?" He tilted his head waiting.

You could feel your face redden even deeper as you looked up at him. "I— I was thinking . . . You'd look way better if you took those of. Cause you know— you have—" You stuttered over your words as you gently reached and pulled his glasses off gently, staring deep in his eyes. ". . . Very pretty eyes." You found yourself whispering, like it was a secret.

Kimi hummed, titling his hear the other way, staring deep into your sole which only made you shrink and tense further. "I'll think about it." You couldn't catch it, but the smallest curl of a smile made its way to his lips as he took his sun glasses from you softly, his skin brushing against yours as he tool his leave.

God you loved Finnish men. Blond Finnish men. Blond Finnish men who drive fast cars. Blond Finnish men who were Kimi Räikkönen.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Kimi didn't like early mornings. At all.

He grumbled as he walked down the semi-empty paddock with his hands in his pockets. The sun was blazing brightly and he didn't like the new see through sunglasses.

Well, he didn't like them until he saw you sitting on a motor home's roof ( how you got up there he didn't think he wanted to know). He stood there, watching you swing your legs and hum a song's melody as you cleaned your disassembled camera.

He didn't want to interrupt you, but he also wanted your . . . attention? It took you a few moments to look down confused at the none moving human. All it took was your wide smile and laugh to make Kimi Räikkönen feel lighter and brighter as he waved up at you hello.

"You got new glasses!" You cheered, throwing your hands up happily. Oh how you loved his eyes. This would do nicely, you thought as you dismounted. You couldn't stop the giggles as you jogged to where kimi was standing waiting for you.

"Do I look camera worthy?" He chuckled, the smallest smile curving on his lips as he leaned a hand on his hand on his hip, tilting his head down for you to get a closer look.

"Camera worthy? I can get you an a magazine." You giggled happily, holding your hands together. The sun shone brighter and Kimi smiled all the way, gently ruffling your hair as he continued his walk through the paddock.

You found that smile on his face time and time again each time he noticed your camera pointed at him. He didn't bother looking away and smiled at you, watching you work and jump in excitement with each perfect shot.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He lost the glasses ( on purpose, but you didn't need to know that ) and shrugged about it when you asked about it. "It's better for you." He waved off, ruffling your hair and patting your back ( gently ).

You watched as he pushed power cameras and hid his face from them. But to your camera, he presented himself, posing even. Giving the smile that induced your own. The smile that was only for you, genuine and heart stopping. You were his designated photographer at this point. Not only in formula one but in commercials, marketing businesses, and third party events.

He was never that far from you, always by your side, watching you go through the camera roll from a top your head. You enjoyed the small smile and hearing his chuckle from behind you as you held up the screen to show a photo you personally liked. But he wasn't watching them, he was watching you.

You felt your heart flutter and face redden as he offered simple gestures. You'd often find Kimi brushing your hair out of your face or typing it in a loose ponytail, sometimes putting his team cap on your head during sunny days. The way he pulled you to walk under his umbrella when it rained or helped apply the sunscreen to your back when he invited you to out to his yacht in Monaco.

Kimi wasn't big with words or conversations, but you knew what he was asking you when asked you turn around. You felt him gently drape the expensive necklace around your neck with KR7 pendant, clipping it into place. You loved the soft smile that covered his face when he leaned down to connect your lips with his.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

thank you, formula racing

"Kimi, love." You held his hand, pulling him still in his tracks. He gave his immediate and all of his attention to you. This was unusual. You weren't smiling or radiating your halo of joy and warmth. You were dragging along a cloud atop your head, with an uncertain and hesitant look.

Kimi didn't hesitate to cup your cheeks, turning you right and left and around, checking for injuries or bruises. "What happened? Whats wrong?" You closed your eyes, leaning into his soft hands that you've come to love so much.

"I— Remember that magazine photo shoot about 'Schumacher's nightmare'? I . . . I Got a job offer with hypercar. My boss is forcing me to go."

That was great news! Hypercar! Endurance races, night races, 24 hours of le mans! Porsche, Ferrari, McLarwn, Mercedes and more! More money and experience! Lots of new things! Different circuits and calender as well!

. . . different circuits and calender.

You didn't dare to open your eyes and see your boyfriend's reaction. But the way he ran his thumb across your cheek, you couldn't look away from his eyes.

He was stoic. The same way you saw him for the first time. Same way he didn't give a shit about anything outside you. You furrowed your eyebrows, silently begging him to say something.

But this was kimi we were talking about. His hands slowly pulled away from you, and if you closed your eyes, you could still feel him. He hesitantly and simply nodded, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You eyes teared up as you looked down at his open palm. You tried blinking your tears away as you shook his hand gently before watching him pull away and carry on with his previous task.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

welcome home

"Kimi." You whispered. You missed his name on your lips. The quiet man snapped his head up at the familiar voice. Kimi found himself smiling widely upon finding your face, leaning his head on your hand. He could recognize your voice anywhere, in a crowded room after years of being apart.

The gaze in his eyes said everything as you waved a hello and he mounted back one to you. You weren't holding up your camera but Kimi still found himself looking and smiling at you.

You were still beautiful and innocent, your halo and warmth were still intact. Especially your smile, oh how he missed your smile. The way you made him feel, relaxing as he stared at you like a teenager in love. He hasn't felt this at ease in years, and he was glad you were back.

He didn't get the chance to catch you after the press conference, but he found you sitting on the balcony of his garage, legs swinging down the edge. He stood behind you, listening to you hum a melody as you looked at the pictures from today.

You must've been too into your little word to notice him crouched behind you, looking through your pictures with you. A soft smile on his face as he admired your concentrated face. "Baby," He held your chin gently turning you to face him. "Look my way."

Pink dusted your cheeks as you looked at him shyly. "Hi." You whispered barley loud enough for him to hear. "Hi." He glanced down at your lips, not giving it a second thought before leaning down upon seeing the necklace he's gifted you years ago.

[silversodas]

Interesting Alastor Insights

I think I may have figured out what was up Alastor’s ass in Dead Beat Dad. On one hand it may be a deeper issue that I am missing some context for, but I actually think it’s a little simpler then we think.

Even before Lucifer arrived, Alastor was clearly not happy about him coming over, and yes Alastor was 100% full of shit in the dad off song, BUT! Something note worthy is that he was not only being possessive of the Hotel (claiming to be its host and even greeting Lucifer as the master of the house does) but is also weirdly possessive of Charlie

And right down to the “fuck you” to Lucifer’s face it was projecting “get your feet off of my damn coffee table and get outta my house” energy. At first I was wondering what crawled up Alastor’s ass and died, and then Hell’s greatest Dad starts playing and..

“Who’s been faithful as a Nun? Who’s been here since day one?”

And it dawned on me and I was like “Alastor, why are you acting like your being replaced?” And Charlie is just as confused at Alastor’s behavior, like this came out of nowhere. Apparently Alastor was determined to show Lucifer who the Genie of this bottle is. But I didn’t believe it at first, I was like “nah it has to be something else” but then Mimzy gave some VARY interesting insight

When Mimzy first arrived, Alastor has a look that says (oh this is all I need right now) but he still seems happy to see her

Like holy shit, he happily reciprocates the hug, but that’s not to surprising if you know who Mimzy is if you have been fallowing Viv for a while

When she mentioned that he frequented the club (speakeasy)that she preformed in I was like “oh! They are drinking buddies!” Drinking Buddies are someone you generally only know the fun side of because you only hang out together at the bar, but Mimzy highlights a different side to their relationship

“Put on some Jazz, and pour a few fingers of Rye, and he becomes a kitten”

This gives me insight that while they were alive, she wasn’t just his drinking buddy and dance partner, she was his comfort zone. The way she phrased this sentence, made it sound like this was something she used to do for Alastor when they were alive, maybe she was a soothing presence as well as an entertaining one in Alastor’s life. But bar friends can sometimes be pretty high maintenance friends outside the bar, actually I think a lot of us have had something close to a friend like Mimzy in our lives. Apparently she is so bad that even Husk is concerned enough about Alastor to try and talk to him about her

“You and I both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs something. That bitch is trouble, and who knows what demon she fucked with to come running to you this time”

Alastor’s response threw me for a loop

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, don’t worry Husker, who would cross me?”

So Alastor is not immune to having toxic friends? I always assumed he would just drop anyone who became to much trouble, this is an interesting surprise. And on top of that he’s…an enabler!? Huh…that is super interesting to know. Putting a pin in the rest of this interaction for another post because there is a lot to unpack with husk and alastor. Except for the being on a leash thing because it made me realize something.

What if the reason he felt upstaged by Lucifer was not because Lilith told him to keep him away (yeah I am subscribing to the Lilith theory, it’s to much to Be a coincidence) but because he is legitimately afraid of no longer being needed by Charlie? What if, if he isn’t needed by Charlie then he has to go back to wherever he was the last 7 years? Everyone assumes he is free because he acts as such, but is he? Like real question, what if he was a straight up gift to Charlie in a way? Even if it was a “look after my daughter” command I would still call that sending a gift.

And oh man, what if he was suppose to tell the whole truth to Charlie but gave the whole, “I am here for entertainment” speech instead.

And your probably thinking, Charlie wouldn’t tell him to leave. Yeah but does Alastor know that? And he probably thinks Lilith might call him back anyway if he is not needed but just hanging out. But as we have seen, he cant even except his own situation

I will unpack this whole encounter later, but for real I don’t even think he is that mad at husk, he was mad at the reminder that his soul doesn’t belong to him any more. Like look at his face, it’s the most upset we have ever seen him, and it’s so detailed. He looks enraged, but also hurt at the same time. He and Charlie are not friends, yet, but I think he does feel some what safe at the hotel and maybe that’s enough for now

I also think there is some stock in Alastor hating that Lucifer is a bad dad theory, because that contempt was so raw and he did calm the fuck down a little bit during the “more then anything” song

But those are my random insights of Alastor, there were more but this is already to long I just hope it’s coherent

[spngi]

My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue | part 1 | part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 |part 5| part 6

Part 7

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings:Grammar mistakes, mentions of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating, sexual content, angst.

I watch the man lying on my bed, Carlos is in the same position as the night before, breathing high and I can smell the alcohol of perspiration infesting the room. I open the curtains and windows and let the sun enter along with the breeze to clean the smell of the room.

The man doesn’t move, still too drunk to wake up and I know that an infernal hangover awaits him.

“Wake up” I pinch the skin of his shoulder and he just murmurs leaving me with no patience. “The phone doesn’t stop ringing and if I have to solve any other problem with ports and tax I’ll throw the phone at you, carlos”

He just grunts, opens his eyes slowly and regrets it immediately.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, hoarse voice.

“Good morning” I approach him and extend the cup of coffee with the medicines for him.

“What’s going on?” I watch him scratch his eyes and face me, his eyes stopping when he sees the green nightgown I’m wearing.

It was good to provoke Carlos, even more after everything he told me yesterday, it was good to leave him desperate the same way he left me. The green piece was just a good detail to add to Carlos’ punishment.

“That idiot from the Port of Brussels does not stop calling, I have already solved the situation but it seems that he is too incompetent or just can’t stand to receive orders from a woman” I murmur to Carlos “me and Charles are solving this, but your accountant is also calling to talk about taxes, and we have to leave in a few hours for your cousin’s wedding preparations.”

“I can just...” he breathes, closes his eyes. It’s a lot of information for his head exploding and I could even laugh if I was in the mood. “Lay down for a while? Lie down with me, let’s forget all these calls”

This time I can’t help laughing, Carlos’ words funny enough for my state of mind. As if nothing had happened, as if that was his way of fixing things.

“Get up, Carlos! We still have to pack our bags” I murmur to him, leaving towards the closet.

“You look beautiful in green” his voice resonates groggy around the room.

“I know”

...

It’s strange to share the joy of creating a bond from a new family when mine was falling around. Although I still didn’t know exactly what to do, and the presence of carlos behind me wherever I went like a shadow left me stunned, the word divorce kept returning to my mind.

Maybe it was time for me to give up after all.

The excitement of being with the sainz family, the effort I had in buying the best wedding gift that this couple could receive, the joy in the eyes of the bride for knowing that she would soon carry the surname sainz as well. None of this was able to cheer me up, and I felt like an intruder taking off the luck of the couple.

I had once read in a Lima Barreto book the following phrase “we did not understand each other, their joys were not mine, my pains were not even perceived” and I never felt so represented.

Carlos seems to want to surround me, fill me with his attention, with his affection but that only makes me more uncomfortable, because I know that morning he didn’t choose me when he received that phone call, didn’t even think of me twice or doubted that I had done that. I think I could only really get over it by hearing him apologize, real apologies as an adult man and not that drunk show he gave the other night.

The shared hotel room becomes small enough for me, suffocating with the presence of Carlos. And the game of teasing each other ends up becoming a fierce trap.

I regret having started this game the moment I realized that I couldn’t get away from Carlos here, miles away from our house sharing a normal size hotel room. So every time I showed up before getting dressed or just in a towel after the shower I needed to hear him begging so that he could have me or just touch me, and for most of the nights I need to sleep frustrated with all the words and promises that I don’t let Carlos fulfill.

It is on the night of the rehearsal dinner, the day before the morning of the wedding that I let myself be defeated, maybe if I just let things flow I would feel better, I would remember what it was like to have a happy marriage and Carlos has always provided infinite amounts of pleasure.

I wait for Carlos to get out of the shower, sitting on the end of the bed, watching the TV passing an old movie, waiting and hoping that Carlos will continue begging tonight and don’t leave me a desperate mess today.

When he finally appears in only sweatshirt pajama pants and watches me, sitting, wearing only the old Real Madrid t-shirt of Carlos that became my pajamas a long time ago.

“You’re beautiful, I don’t get tired of saying that” he speaks, hoarse voice and body leaning on the door stop. “Please, cariño! Please let me show you how much I appreciate you, that I love you”

His voice comes out desperate and when he calls me cariño I can’t avoid the chill crossing my body. He realizes and takes the opportunity to get closer to me.

“Please” he whispers, kneels in front of me, brown eyes never breaking the contact, his hand is content to hold my ankle and kiss the area there. “Let me just be with you again, prove you, please I’m begging”

“Why did you do this to us?” I ask him, the same foot he holds I use to move his body away from mine.

“Because I couldn’t see you grow up and be like me,” he admits, “And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, I know that words will never fix this but I want you to know that I will do everything for us”

I loosen the strength of my leg against him and let him get closer.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

“Don’t make me regret it” I murmur to him who doesn’t waste time, the big hands pull me by the waist and the mouth joins in mine. He is desperate and anxious after so much time away and provocation.

Carlos’ hands explore the sensitive skin under the t-shirt, the light touch of his fingers making me more anxious for him, pulling the black curls of his soft hair in the form of retribution. He takes the T-shirt off my body in a single movement when he separates the kiss, his hot mouth going down kisses around my neck, lap and letting himself play with my nipples, his teeth rubbing on the sensitive skin, he is still kneeling between my body, his hands holding my waist keeping me still with his grip, delivered to him.

“Carlos” I call his name, lust flowing from my voice.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take care of you” he murmurs, his mouth slipping through my body, one of his fingers caressing the already wet fabric of my panties and I hear him moan along with me when he realize that I’m already like this at his slightest touch.

I kiss him again, my hands firm on Carlos’ back probably leaving nail marks, he bites my lip and I moan, my panties going to the ground in a quick gesture coming from him, his right hand playing with the proximity of where I want him the most.

He separates the kiss, arrogant smile on his face before bending down to where I need him the most, leaving small kisses on the sensitive skin of my thigh and getting even closer, and when he arrives in my pussy I let myself lay my body on the bed, my breathing already heavy with the slightest touch. Carlos’ mouth explores my intimacy, my feet resting on his shoulders, one of his hands squeezing my chest while the other focused on provoking my entrance with his fingers, his tongue leaving me a mess crying out for him and after all this time I didn’t know if I was still prepared for all the pleasure that carlos could provide.

He devours me like a hungry man, making me squirm in the hotel bed, my hand trying to cover my mouth to stifle the unnecessary amount of moans coming out of it. Although Carlos had a provocative nature, today he had no patience for this, he wanted to catch up on lost time, leaving my high getting bigger and bigger, and the closer I get the more I move.

“I need you to stand still, mi reina” he murmurs, his head tilted up slightly, his mouth swollen, his thumb making slow and torturous circles on my clitoris. And all this vision makes me moan even more his name, he laughs and uses both hands to hold me against the bed, the strong squeeze in my ass. He continues his exploited, knowing that I wouldn’t last much longer that way, the way I pull more and more of his curls leaving him alert of how close I am.

He continues with slower movements even after realizing that I finally came, my head is in an eternal wheezing due to the pleasure I felt and when I open my eyes I slowly observe Carlos, now standing on the end of the bed watching the work he did, he licks his lip and then his fingers and only this action makes me squirm in bed.

“God how I missed you” he murmurs still standing.

“It was you who put yourself in this position” admirably I still have the strength to answer.

“I know, and I regret it every day” he puts one of his knees on the bed and leans over to my body, his hand caresses my disheveled hair “I will never be able to be grateful enough that you insisted on me”

I know that his words are true, I see in the back of his eyes the emotion this time, it is exciting at least to know that he is opening up to me again, to know that I can read his eyes as before and not the icy astonishment he stared at me in recent months. But, again, the memory of knowing that I didn’t put myself in this situation, that I wasn’t my husband’s first choice makes me nauseous. Then I pull him again for a kiss, more delicate this time, without all urgency and hurry, just showing each other’s devotion.

Not even after the four hallucinating orgasms and the most intense fuck I’ve ever had in one night, and after sleeping like a little angel, full of endorphins and in Carlos’ warm arms I wouldn’t be prepared for what would come next. Even after the morning sex, intimate and slow, full of caresses and whispers, declarations of love spread everywhere. I still wasn’t prepared for the weeding day.

I didn’t know I wasn’t prepared for the wedding ceremony, I didn’t know I would feel terrible at every step.

When I joined the bride for the preparations, and I looked at her, wondering if maybe the future that awaited her would be like mine, I wonder if I forgot some tradition during the wedding for it to have lasted so little, Carlos had never seen the wedding dress I wore, I wore a veil, I had a wreath on my head, I had my new piece, an old one borrowed and I had the blue too, I did all the right things and I still envy the innocence of the future Mrs. Saiz in front of me.

I laugh when they comment on how lucky I am, and how the men of the sainz family have the motto of being gentlemen and romantic and I imagine that mine certainly came with a factory problem.

The worst part is the ceremony, and my tears that I can no longer hold mix with those of the other guests who cry with emotion. I watch Carlos on the other side of the altar, next to the other godparents of the wedding, he smiles at me. He doesn’t understand the real reason I’m crying, his eyes seem nostalgic and maybe he’s remembering the day we got married, how he cried when he saw me at the altar, how my dress made me absolutely angelic as he repeated so many times on that special day, how we couldn’t help but smile with the realization that we were finally married.

My heart breaks with every word prophesied by the priest, with every vow I hear the bride and groom speak, with every good memory I had and was destroyed.

“I carlos oñoro sainz, receive you, Maria, as my legitimate wife. I promise to be faithful, love you and respect you. In joy and sadness, in health and disease, in wealth and poverty, for all the days of our lives. So receives this alliance as a sign of my love and my fidelity” the groom recites the vows, the most sacred laws of a marriage and I can only think of how they were all broken.

In how there was no fidelity, support and unity, in how Carlos and I managed to ruin everything, to break something so sacred.

I feel suffocated in the pink dress that matches that of the other bridesmaids, I clean the controlled tears that run down my face before I become a mess.

And it didn’t matter the way Carlos held my hand during the reception, or how he danced romantic songs with me and made slow and passionate love to me at the end of the night, I was already decided when I left that church.

I just didn’t imagine that it would be at a wedding that I would decide to end mine.

We are coming to an end 😭

I don’t know you were waiting for this or what your bets for how things will end but let me know, I love receiving your opinions and I can’t post nos because it may contain spoiler lol 😂

Thank you all ❤️❤️❤️

[gay-dorito-dust]

❛ c’mon, we’d look cute together. ❜ promt with Aegon! I feel like he would be a little shit even to the ones he likes.

Summary: Aegon has been on your ass for a while now, so you barricade yourself within the library for a moment of reprieve.

Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, bane of your existence and a pain in your fucking backside. The twerp was like a thorn lodged in your side, too fickle to be removed by traditional means. For as long as you could remember Aegon had been your shadow, following you wherever you went whether that be the gardens, courtyard, library, kitchen, even to your own fucking chambers, Aegon was there with a smug smirk that you’d love nothing more then to wipe off by the means of your first to his face. His entire existence annoyed you to the point that you intentionally hide from him in whatever room was within the closest vicinity.

Once you hid in the library for an entire day knowing for certain that Aegon wouldn’t ever dare step foot in there; Especially when Aemond was known to occupy the library as though it were his chamber. The younger brother was made more then aware of Aegon’s incessant pursuit towards you by how often he would see you rush into the room; Slamming the door shut behind you whilst looking as though you had just set one of the dragons loose within the castle. “I have never, not once, ever seen my brother so determined about something before.” He said as he quickly finished reading a passage out of his book. “You haven’t slipped anything into his drink by any chance.” You only gave the prince a glare, “ha ha, very funny Aemond, don’t you think I would’ve done that just if it meant getting him off my arse for a fucking second?”

“Considering that this is Aegon we are talking about, I’m certain he’d rather be in your arse then on it.” Aemond put it bluntly, his lips graced with a small smirk when you groaned in annoyance, “all joking aside, I have never seen him this determined in perusing someone. It’s quite frankly horrifying to see him up so early.” Aegon was known to be a heavy sleeper, more so during his ventures out to the streets of silk; So seeing his brother get up anytime other then midday brought a lot into question for Aemond. The answer to all of his inquiries was currently attempting to blockade the door with a chair. “Well tell him to quit it or find another, less invasive method in perusing me before I end up hitting him where his future kids will most definitely feel it.” You replied, stepping back to view your work before turning your attention to Aemond who’s eye was gleaming in amusement.

“So your telling me there’s an slight window of opportunity for you to accept my brothers advances?” He hummed, his chin resting within the palm of hand as he caught onto the look of realisation that flash across your face as you recollected the phrasing of your prior words. “No I didn’t.” You curtly answered. “I’m afraid you did, sweet y/n.” Aemond taunted, thoroughly enjoying what he was now learning, “your putting words in my mouth.” You hissed as you turned to addresses the prince who looked about as smug as a cat in his chair. “Am I? Or are you in denial of the possibility that you do, in fact, like the attention my brother has been giving you recently?” You knew what Aemond was doing but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin, edging you to the point of an accidental confession; Mind games have always been his forte.

So you did what you could’ve done in that situation, change the subject and put him in the hot seat. “Why are you so invested in your brothers love life all of a sudden Aemond? Normally you wouldn’t give two shits with whom he fucks but right now your acting as though you were a gossiping lady of the court.” Aemond scoffs, fully aware of what you were doing. He didn’t blame you, forcing to admit favouritism towards his brother’s company was damming to one’s pride indeed. Even he has a hard time finding anything remotely favourable out of his brother’s company, especially ones that didn’t involve chasing him down the streets of silk and flea bottom whenever he were to allude his duties. “Oh please why would you-“ just as Aemond was about to finish his sentence, a voice from the other side of the door belonging to that of Ser Criston Cole.

“Prince Aemond, the Queen Alicent requests your audience.” You knew that Alicent didn’t liked to be kept waiting, so you walked over to the door and dislodged the chair from underneath the handle before suspicions were raised. “You wouldn’t want to keep the Queen waiting.” You told him, you see his eye linger on the stack of books on the table he was occupying and you sighed, “I’ll clear away your books, just get going.” Aemond wordlessly got up and crossed the room to the door, though not before casting you a thankful gaze before leaving the library with Ser Criston hot on his heels. With nothing else to do and no one else to talk with, you began clearing up and putting away books to their proper shelves which took you a substantial amount of time, and before you knew it afternoon had already fallen upon KingsLanding.

“I think I’ll head down to the gardens for a bit, just to stretch my legs and get some fresh air.” You told yourself for no other reason then verbal confirmation of what you were planning on doing as you stepped out of the Library, making sure to shut the door behind yourself before you were greeted with a pair of mischievously beautiful lilac eyes and a head of short platinum locks. “Aegon.” You breathed out, “what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine afternoon.” You continued through gritted teeth when the prince only smirked in response as he proceeded to grab a hold of your arm, linking it with his own before leading you both down the hallway. “No need to act so cordial towards me, I merely wanted to spend time with you today but couldn’t seem to find you anywhere. Little did I know you were tucked away in the library with my brother.”

The way Aegon’s voice seemed uncharacteristic towards the end made you look at him properly, just in time to see his lilac eyes darken with insecurity as his jaw subtly clenched whilst his grip on your hand tightened over yours absentmindedly. You almost completely forgot that underneath the facade was a boy born into a loveless family and crippling expectations; You almost felt upset for ignoring him, only to be rudely remembered that this was the same boy that tripped you over into a mud puddle and faked innocence along with the time he stole your clothes while you were bathing. How he had gotten in without you hearing his heavy ass breathing still alludes you and frightens you simultaneously. “Apologise my prince, I didn’t know my absence would affect you as much.” You replied, squeezing his hand.

“You can make it up to me by walking through the garden with me.” Aegon quickly suggested and when you didn’t reply fast enough for his liking, he began to whine and lean his weight into you. “C’mon, we’d look cute together, strolling through the gardens, hand in hand, arm in arm. Don’t you think?” Aegon at this point was on the brink of desperation. He hadn’t been lying when he said that he had been trying to find you, almost turned the red keep upside down in the process throughout the duration of his search for you. All he wished for is that he got to have your company even if it was for a short period of time. Aegon just wanted to let his guard down and the only way he could do that was whenever he was with you. So when you sighed and agreed to accompany him, the prince was practically dragging you do the hall with his long strides as you struggled to keep up.

Despite regretting your easy acceptance towards his offer, you found yourself looking upon Aegon’s face to see that the shadows of doubt and regret have retreated from his features and the worry lines usually seen across his forehead had subsided for far happier ones. If Aemond’s words from earlier were to be believed and that Aegon had been determined in being within your presence and how your body receipted to his…peculiar advances. Then yes, you might’ve favoured Aegon’s undivided attention being on you and solely you. The mere thought of being desired and sought after to the point it drives that person into desperation because of how sorely sought after you were. It made you feel things. It made you feel wanted. “You’re a brat you know.” You said softly as you rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the muscles within his body tense at your words, “however I’d rather you be my brat then anyone else’s. I’d want you to be my problem to deal with for the rest of my life.”

“As long as you be mine in return,” Aegon replied softer then usual, pressing a kiss to your head, “for now and for always.”

[fakeboycorrection]

Fakeboy story time! Back in action for all you fakeboys.

It actually started off in a kind of boring way. You'd been dating your boyfriend for about a year now. When you met him, you were already out as a trans man, so there was never any confusion, never any misgendering, nothing like that. In fact, if anyone called you by the wrong pronouns in public, he was actually the first to stand up for you. That's why you were kind of surprised the first time he brought it up when you were in bed.

"Wouldn't it be kind of hot if you wore lingerie while we fucked?" He said while you were kissing his neck lightly. It wasn't the weirdest request in the world. Plenty of men wore stuff like that for fun with their partners.

So you gave in. He picked some out online, it arrived a few days later, and that night, the two of you had the best sex you'd ever had.

The fact it was so good should have been a warning sign to you.

It started out with just lingerie. Then, he started having you wear some lipstick, telling you it was just so you could leave lipstick marks on his neck when you kissed him.

Then it moved on to him groping your tits during sex. You'd told him never to do it, it made you dysphoric as hell, but there he was, doing it anyways. In the heat of the moment, you were too horny to complain, but afterwards you brought it up, he apologized, and you thought that would be the end of it.

But it wasn't.

The next time the two of you started fucking, he immediately started to grab your chest. You pushed him away, protesting loudly, but you were met with a smack in the face.

"You're mine. You don't get to tell me what I can and can't touch." The seriousness in his voice scared you, but the dominance turned you on, flooding your hole with wetness. You decided to go along for the ride, letting him touch wherever he wanted, getting off harder than you had in years. Afterwards, you didn't even think to bring it up. It felt natural, so it must be okay.

The next time you two fucked, things went further. Maybe too far.

Just a few minutes into pounding you from behind, your boyfriend lent in behind your ear, practically growling the words.

"You're such a good girl for me."

And the crazy thing is, you didn't even say anything back. You didn't complain. You didn't remind him that you were a man. You just moaned. Like a good girl.

After that, everything changed. It was clear he didn't see you as a man anymore. You came home the next day and found him in your closet, throwing out all of your manly clothes and replacing them with feminine ones, ones that showed off the tits you were so "dysphoric" about, ones that said things that went against all of your beliefs, labelling you as "Daddy's Girl" and other objectifying phrases. He'd bought you sets of makeup and left them on your dresser, ready to be applied, right next to a paper saying you were scheduled for breast enlargement surgery. And what did you do? Stand up for yourself? Declare your manhood and show him how wrong he was? Kick him out for doing so much harm to your trans identity?

No.

You knelt down on the ground right then and there and gave him the best blowjob that a real man could ever ask for, sucking gleefully as he moaned your real name.

You were never really happy as a man, you can see that now. Because you were always meant to be a dumb, cock sucking bimbo.

[rachalixie]

a/n: eid mubarak! i hope this reaches the people that i want it to :) i tried my very best as i don't celebrate personally, but i think that eid is an absolutely beautiful holiday and deserves to be appreciated by all. special thank you to @astraystayyh and @lino-nyangi i love you two so much i hope your celebrations are magnificent and that your tummies are full of good food and you eat lots and lots of sweets <3

chan arrives in a flurry of excitement, giggling as your younger cousins and siblings flock to him and hang off of his legs. he ruffles their hair, telling them how much they’ve grown since he last saw them, and finishes it off with folded bills that he presses into their hands along with a gentle kiss to the crowns of their heads. one by one, he gains their favor and they squeal about how he’s their favorite uncle - a thought that makes him blush and intertwine his fingers with yours. 

minho helps you cook dish after dish, porcelain and ceramic serving plates stacking up as you cook together. the air in your kitchen smells absolutely divine, spices and saffron and nutty rice steaming away as the two of you flirt around each other and exchange kisses over the sink. he always enjoys learning how to make new recipes, but learning the foods you used to make with your mom as a child is something dear to him.

changbin takes the time to learn things - asks your father what he’s supposed to do because he wants to make sure he’s doing things perfectly. he cares less about the formalities and more of the hidden things he can do, wanting to surprise you just to see that pleased look on your face. you’re making that look now, as he approaches you after having coffee with your father and uncles, and he hands you his empty cup. it’s full of gold chocolate coins, and he sheepishly admits that he didn’t have real gold but he thought it would do. the way you lean up to kiss him, keeping his body between yours and the door so no one can see, tells him that he did just fine.

hyunjin revels in your beauty; though he thinks you’re gorgeous all of the time, something about seeing you in traditional clothes with threads of gold woven into colorful fabrics makes you glow in a way he can’t get enough of. he puts on the finishing touch, sliding intricate jhumkas into your ears, the weight of them a comforting reminder of his fingers brushing against your lobes. he tells you how beautiful you are countless times, whispering it to you so only you can hear, but everyone knows from the blood that rushes to your cheeks in turn.

jisung spends weeks after weeks in secret learning arabic, or rather trying. he stumbles upon his letters, syllables that make no sense to his tongue, but he practices over and over until he can say one thing that he whispers to you just as the clock strikes midnight. eid mubarak, he mumbles as he brushes his fingers across your brow, his eyes shiny in the moonlight as he keeps his gaze fixed on you. he’ll repeat the phrase to your family and friends later, but his clumsy pronunciation and small smile make this first one so special to you.

felix revels in the act of charity always, but sharing it with you brings a lightness to his heart that he can’t get enough of. he’s more motivated than you are, dragging you to homeless shelters and daycares and wherever he can find to volunteer and give back. on the last day, he shyly shows you a list of charities he’s donated to all month, in your name, and you tackle him into a hug with tears in your eyes.

seungmin fits in like he’s been celebrating with you for years. he stuffs his belly full with delicious food, chats with your parents with a wide grin on his face, plays with the children like he raised them himself. he does everything perfectly, knowing when to greet people and when to participate in prayer and where to go. it surprises you in a delightful way, in the same way that he always does when he knows something about you that you don’t even know yourself. you discover later, when you unlock his phone to take photos of him laughing across the room, the extensive research on eid traditions that he has open in his browser.

jeongin is so nervous to meet your extended family for the first time. he fiddles with his hair for an hour, making sure that not a single strand is out of place. he smooths down his clothes when he gets out of the car, and stares at the front door of your parents’ house with wide eyes and an open mouth, and you have to press his jaw up with gentle fingers as your mother opens the door. you watch the nervousness fizzle out as he’s greeted with warm welcomes from everyone, treating like he’s part of the family already. 

[tyttamarzh]

Missasinfonia, songs and QSMP…

Hello!! Well, since we all continue to miss Missa, I want to share a little thought.

I don't know if it has already been talked about here, but in the Hispanic fandom of Missa we have his songs very present and some people have not been able to avoid talking about how some of them adapt perfectly to the QSMP.

I want to talk about two in particular whose lyrics I think are perfect for describing Missa's relationship with his family.

The first one is called "Privilegios" (privileges) and I think it describe what Missa is currently going through with Philza. Well, it talks about the anxiety of feeling insufficient for the other and trying to improve but feeling afraid of moving forward (the young Missa from 2014 wrote very deep lyrics). I remember that in a stream he told us about how several of his songs came about and said that he wrote "Privilegios" thinking about us, the people who follow him, because he didn't feel enough for us and is why he always try to do things better. Either way, I think he's perfect for describe his situation with Phil.

The song:

Lyrics

Sometimes I forget my sorrows and things I should do Because ideas slip away, they do not allow us to see Well creating something new means forgetting I would like to be like before and go back to the past

I know how to write the word mature very well But my thoughts don't let me act I don't want to forget, I don't ask for your mercy Because honestly I can fix it.

Chorus I don't know what to do if you're not okay (you're okay!) I don't know whether to lie to me or throw myself at your feet I wonder if I can deserve you Because I didn't earn the privilege.

How can I destroy damn anxiety? If outside my mind is my reality It is not so easy to wish others ill. just so I can free myself

The second song I want to talk about is called "Tarde para el plan B" (Late for Plan B) and I think it could be a message from Missa to Chayanne, some of the things he mentions remind me of what Missa told him in that day of fishing before travel to Japan. He talks about how it's okay to fail and that he shouldn't be overwhelmed by his mistakes, and encourages him to keep going and get better. There is also a phrase that I like to think is very much theirs, since it infers that even if they are not together, he will always see him. Now every time I hear that song I think of them and I can't help it u.u (It's a song created 10 years ago, but I think it's fits perfectly).

The song:

Lyrics

Have you ever wondered… what could happen if after the years, you could come back to the past? Would you have the chance to see what is wrong the bad memories you would be able to erase.

Enjoy moments you didn't see coming feel from the beginning what you should feel but remorse can cut you and repenting would be the final act

Look for alternatives, see how to improve May you know how to handle your situations You don't always get a second chance. you must take advantage of what time gives you

If they give you their hand, don't take our foot don't ask for the moon when it's barely dawning You don't run when you want to calm down do something your soul can bear

[PRE CHORUS] And it's not that it's bad, it could be worse. What doesn't kill you makes you better.

And listen to me, here I will be, watching your actions wherever you are.

sometimes the reasons chase me but they don't want to catch me Sometimes actions are what will count, but you won't count. I prove that what I say is true It's your problem if you don't want to change but honestly sometimes everyone can fail

In the hope that everything is fine There are ideas within your being that grow and create the bad decision than wanting to correct what has already happened

Do what you need to make you feel better. Defeat your demons, destroy that pain Errors exist to know what someone else could fall into

and it's not that it's bad, it could be worse What doesn't kill you makes you better

listen to me, I will be here watching your actions wherever you are

My favorite phrase from this song is: "don't ask for the moon when it's barely dawning" (I just like how deep it sounds xD)

And that's all for now, I've never created a post here, I hope it's okay. Thanks for reading my crazy thoughts. Greetings!!

[slxsherr]

Tonight I Feel Like More

read part I here and part III here

pairing: charlie walker x bimbo!fem!reader

summary: you attend your first ever stab-a-thon, and finally make it through all of the movies, so charlie gives you a reward under the guise of keeping you warm.

wc: 2014

warnings: fem!reader, cursing/swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of oral sex (m! receiving), public sex, unprotected sex (p in v), mentions of crying, creampie

a/n: reader is described as being taller than charlie while wearing heels i'm sorry if you're short just pretend you're wearing ridiculously high heels 😭

Since your first movie night with Charlie, it’s been his mission to finish all of the Stab movies with you. Which wouldn’t be so hard if you could get past Stab 5, but the whole time travel plot confuses you, which means you get bored, and Charlie has come to realize that your boredom manifests in a rather, promiscuous way. 

The first time you only lasted twenty minutes before you were pulling down his pants and busying yourself with his cock, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks until you were swallowing his load. After that, the last thing on either of your minds’ was the movie. 

He tries again and again, but somehow, someway, you get lost. He thinks he should feel lucky, having a girlfriend as frisky as you, and for the most part he does. But he’s worried, with Stab-A-Thon coming up he knows you’d want to go and support him at his last film festival. 

What worries him is that at some point throughout the night you’re gonna get bored, and then he’ll have to find a secluded area of of wherever they decide to throw the party to fuck you silly. A problem he never thought he’d have, but he keeps it in mind while discussing venue options with Robbie. 

Eventually they settle on an abandoned farm, far enough to not be bothered by adults, but not too far to the point where the drive is a hassle. They scope out the farmhouse, making sure it’s not too rundown for a gathering of drunk teens. It’s their last year of high school, last year running Cinema Club, last time throwing Stab-A-Thon, and Charlie and Robbie want to go all out. 

On the day of, a few more involved club members help Charlie and Robbie set up for Stab-A-Thon, handling decorations and seating while Charlie and Robbie focus on the audio and visual. Before people start arriving, Charlie adds some yellow police tape to the stairs leading up to the hayloft, spewing bullshit about not wanting a drunk idiot to fall when someone asks, not wanting to say the real reason. 

As soon as the sun falls over the horizon cars start to pull up, teenagers filing in with drinks, talking over the loud music as they wait for the movies to start. You arrive with Kirby and her friends, visibly annoyed by Jill and Trevor fighting behind you, most likely having had to listen to them argue the whole ride over. 

You find Charlie before he spots you, quickly making your way to him through throngs of people, desperate to get away from relationship drama, not wanting it to rub off on you and Charlie. The closer you get to him, the easier it is for him to notice you. You’re dolled up more than usual, pretty makeup and hair he’s gonna feel guilty about ruining later, a short dress barely reaching past your ass, and matching heels that have you standing taller than him. 

Most guys would probably be upset by that, but he can’t find it in himself to care when you slot yourself at his side, leaning in to give him a kiss. Your lipgloss is sweet, strawberry or cherry if he had to guess, a thin layer sticking to his own lips when you pull away. Your smile is even sweeter, eyes shining when they meet his, and he’s reminded of the phrase ‘the lights are on but no one’s home’, a perfect description of what goes on in your head. 

He can tell you planned your outfit for fashion over function, which is the case for most of your outfits. If you’re not whining in his ear to sneak off he’s sure you’ll be complaining about being cold. But he lets those thoughts fade, focusing instead on your warmth at his side, offering you a sip of his drink. 

“What time do the movies start?” You ask, face scrunched up at the bitter taste of whatever alcohol was poured into the jungle juice. 

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Charlie answers, pulling his hand out of his pocket to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to him. 

“Actually, we should probably get up there and do our kickoff,” Robbie says, seeing the seats mostly filled in. 

“Be right back,” Charlie whispers to you, following Robbie to the projector screen. 

Their introduction is short and sweet, poking fun at the franchise’s clichés, while also promoting underage drinking. The crowd cheers, ready for the movies to start, quoting the iconic opening scene as Charlie and Robbie make their way to the back of the crowd to the projectors. You’re sitting on some bales of hay set up for seating, thin blankets keeping the itchy straw from irritating your skin, confusion etched in your features when you see Charlie walk out of the room instead of joining you. 

Before you can follow him, Robbie takes a seat next to you, going into a rant about the movie that you only half listen to, convinced Charlie has given you the same rant during one of your private movie nights. You don’t have a chance to interrupt him and ask about Charlie though, jerking away when you feel an arm around your shoulder. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Charlie laughs at your reaction, sitting down next to you. “Got you a drink,” he says, offering you a red cup. 

“Thank you,” you say, beaming at him, leaning in for another kiss. 

“Uh-uh, watch the movie,” he says, refocusing your attention to the screen. 

You roll your eyes, but do as he says, watching the movie silently. The two of you sip on your drinks, moving closer together as more people join you on the bales of hay. By the time the second movie starts, you’re forced into Charlie’s lap after getting up for refills and losing your spot. Not that you mind, sat sideways on his lap and tucked into his chest, you’re surprisingly able to focus on the movies for once. 

He entertains you, imitating the killer’s voice and repeating the dialogue for only you to hear, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers the lines. Your giggles are muffled by his chest, his playfulness and the steady beat of his heart comforting you through the jumpscares and violence that you’re still getting used to. 

The two of you allow yourself to relax into one another, comfortably watching each movie as the crowd slowly dwindles. You’ve traded your jungle juice for soda, caffeine and sugar slowly sobering any tipsiness as dawn approaches, eyes blinking slowly as you both fight off sleep. You’re so close, the closest you’ve ever been to finishing all seven Stab movies, and he can’t help but bounce his leg nervously, your whole body shaking from the force of his movement. 

“Stop that,” you mumble, and he does, but it’s not long before his leg is shaking again. “I thought you’ve seen all of these before, shouldn’t I be the nervous one?” You tease him when he still doesn’t stop. 

“Shh, pay attention,” he scolds you, because it’s the final act of the last movie, and you’ve come so far. 

You don’t put up a fight, attention easily grabbed as the kill scenes get messier and the main cast dies off one by one. Charlie’s buzzing with excitement during the last few minutes of the movie, watching for your reaction. Your reaction is dampened by your exhaustion, but even the slightest tell of shock has his lips stretching into a smile, holding you closer as the credits begin to roll. 

“Wow,” is all you say, stretching out in his arms. 

“Well, how do you feel?” He asks you, leaning over you as you lay back. 

“Scared, tired, a little cold,” you answer, his hair tickling your skin as his face nears yours. 

“Hm, well let’s go to bed then,” he says, sitting up and pulling you up with him. 

You follow him to a set of taped off stairs, a thin blanket dragging on the straw covered floor behind him. He holds your hand all the way up the stairs, not wanting you to trip in your heels, spreading the blanket out over the loose stack of hay. The two of you fall onto your makeshift bed for the night, or early morning, laying on your sides as he pulls your back to his chest.

“How about now?” He asks, arms holding you close to him. 

“Less scared, less tired, more cold,” you answer, wishing you had also grabbed a blanket.

“Let me warm you up then,” Charlie says, an impish smile on his face as one of his hands moves between your thighs, tickling your skin as his touch trails up.

“Really? Right now?” You ask, and he can’t tell if you’re excited or not, words slurring from exhaustion. 

“Only if you want me to,” he answers, teasing your inner thighs, pushing the hem of your dress up. 

“Of course I want you to,” you say, his advances reassured as you open your legs for him. 

Since your first night together, both of you have learned a lot about each other’s sexual preferences. Although Charlie doesn’t have much experience, he found that it doesn’t take much to turn you on. You’re rather needy, and despite being the one guiding him most of the time, he’s the one doing all the work. Not that he minds.

When he dips his fingers past the waistband of your panties, he’s not surprised to find that you’re already wet, teasing your clit with soft circles as his other hand gropes your tits over your dress. Your hips buck in pleasure, thighs closing around his hand as your leg falls from the force of gravity, ass barely grinding back against him as you seek friction. 

“You did so good tonight,” he says, undoing his jeans to pull them down. “Finally watching all of the movies like I asked,” he says, thick head of his cock stretching your slick walls as he pushes into you, your panties merely pulled to the side. 

“Anything for you, baby,” you say, pushing back against him, needing to feel him deeper.

His hands hold your hips in place as he thrusts into you, building speed and tempo as he stifles his groans by marking your neck. You bite your fist, painfully aware of the people asleep just beneath the hayloft, struggling to keep your voice down. It’s unfair, Charlie thinks, how good you feel wrapped around him, milking him as you get closer to orgasm. 

“What’s that?” He asks, hearing you mumbling something through your fist. 

“Harder, please,” you moan, hiding your face in the blanket.

He holds you against him tighter, hips bruising your ass as he fucks you harder. It’s almost like you’re running away from him, grasping at the straw beside you, failing to silence your moans. He has to move one of his hands over your mouth, hearing your voice begin to echo, his other hand holding your hips in place. 

Where once the cold nipped at your skin, you’re now sweltering, Charlie’s body heat warming you up from the inside out. With the way he’s pounding into you now, there’s not much you can think about aside from the way the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each thrust, how it makes heat flare in your belly, and that you’re so fucking close. You don’t realize you’re crying, your vision having gone blurry a while ago, but now you’re seeing stars, hurtling over the edge as he chases his own pleasure.

You’re limp, twitching in his hold, drool and lipgloss smeared against the palm of his hand. It doesn’t take long for him to finish after you, grinding his release into you as he fills you with his hot cum. You whimper from the overstimulation, breathing heavily as both of you ride out the high.

“Goodnight, baby,” Charlie whispers, arms relaxing around you as you both begin drifting off to sleep, still buried deep within you.

[cenorii]

Quotes from re5 | Meaning

Today I'm going to try to get a handle on what might be behind Chris and Wesker's phrases in re5. A lot of what is said may have a double bottom. And here I will share what I see.

"Wesker doesn't give a damn about anybody but himself." Who does Chris think Wesker should be thinking about? About others or perhaps about him (Chris)? With these words Chris could reveal the side of his attitude towards the former Captain, which he doesn't reveal even in private. Because his consciousness rejects all the good things, he once thought about Wesker. This quote is Chris's subconscious wish that his enemy is not. There is both hope and sorrow in his words, because he realizes that will never happen.

Wesker has a vulnerable quote that makes his sincerity break out. "No! This can't be!" With that phrase, he gives away his real, and almost tearful, frustration. There is no arrogance here, no acting, just pure emotion. It can be taken as "I can't do this anymore, I can't do it", his self-confidence is shattered and all that remains is the despair he's been harboring deep within himself all along.

"Only those with superior DNA will be chosen by Uroboros. Only those fit for survival will be allowed to carry their genes into a new age!" "I don't need anyone else. I have Uroboros!" Wesker is more aware of how the world works than anyone else. Corruption, betrayal, human vice and filth. He had to participate in it to achieve his goal, had to go through a lot of disgusting people for the sake of getting benefits, himself to sink to their level. Seeing this, he has become disillusioned with people, so he wishes they would disappear, giving way to someone more "worthy" of life. He also renounces everyone, entrusting his fate to his creation (Uroboros). He's desperate.

"War and pestilence wherever you go! Nothing but loathsome humans!" - fits the previous transcript, but here Wesker's emotions about humans are more open. Here he openly expresses how much he despises all the people he has met along the way. And for sure the fact that he hasn't killed Chris so far could mean that he doesn't categorize Chris as a "loathsome human". It could also be said that Wesker is disappointed in humans again. He has experienced the fragility of human bonds and has never felt solid of these, he has never been in the shoes of someone like Chris and he has never had someone like Jill by his side.

"I can't lose! Not to you!" For Wesker, losing to Chris means that the ideals he fought for are wrong, and that Chris was right. But Chris, in Wesker's mind, can't be right. He is the one who does not understand the correctness of the former Captain's decisions, the one who only hinders him on his way, but not the one who will turn out to be smarter, more capable, more right than Wesker. Defeating Chris is now a matter of honor and these words underscore how important it is to Wesker at that moment.

For now, those are all the phrases that have caused me to have train of thought. If any RE games have interesting quotes of Chris or Wesker and you're wondering what my transcript on them is, you can post them in the comments and I'll take them for my next analysis.