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mysteria157 · 7 months ago

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Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Light Profanity, Light Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Fingering, Mentions of Cunnilingus, Public Sex (Sort of), Office Sex

WC: ~9.8k

Summary:

Nanami may be disconnected from social media trends, but he’s not oblivious. He’s overheard the crass innuendos and seen the tasteless memes on Yuji's phone. He knows the vulgar things some men say—about how excited they get when the summer begins.

It always seemed so stupid and dramatic to Nanami, who has never had a straying eye to actually see if the rumors were true. But now that you’ve come into his life…he gets it.

Oh, he gets it.

Sundress season.

Notes: Hello! Had a random thought this morning and decided to roll with it and practice writing Nanami some more. Anywho, I hope you all enjoy this one-shot.

This is a prime example of me writing smut when I feel like it. Please do not ask me for more related to this story and please do not ask me to write smut, the answer is no lol. This is just a one-shot of a random idea, please enjoy it for what it is lol. Thank you all for understanding!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune @arminsumi | Header: made by myself

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter |

The city summers are a different kind of hell. The humid heat clings to Nanami, making his skin feel instantly tacky as if he hasn’t showered in days. It wreaks havoc on his usual crisp suit and tie, causing the fabric to stubbornly adhere in unflattering ways. He thinks back wistfully to his bachelor days when he could simply escape such misery by holing up inside with the AC blasting, and then wait until the evening for a walk or to run errands. But that was before you came into his life like a vivacious sunbeam, all warmth and carefree laughter.

Now, he wouldn’t dream of depriving you of simple joys like strolling hand-in-hand through the park, watching you bask in nature’s dazzling seasonal shifts. The fragrant flowers blooming, the fireflies flickering to life as dusk settles, the earthy pre-rain smell you adore—he lives for the ease of these tranquil moments.

Throughout your relationship, Nanami has cataloged your ever-changing looks to match the passing seasons. The oversized chunky sweaters and leggings you’d cuddle up in during fall’s crisp breezes. The sleek peacoats and woolen scarves wound around your neck when winter blanketed the city in soft stillness.

But summertime is when your vibrant spirit and personal style shines. And it’s Nanami’s first summer with you when everything changes.

It always seemed so stupid and dramatic to Nanami, who has never had a straying eye to actually see if the rumors were true. But now that you’ve come into his life…he gets it.

Oh, he gets it.

Sundress season.

And it’s a season that has awoken something primal within him. Something in his gut stirs, something in his mind shifts and the more he notices, the more he feels like a lecherous old man instead of the well-mannered one in his late twenties. While his clothes stick uncomfortably to his sweat-slicked skin you get to slip into breezy summer dresses that let every inch of your beautiful body breathe.

As an event planner constantly on the move, you seem to live in the wispy, colorful outfits at all hours of the day. Like the buttercup yellow and candy pink number currently floating around you as you stroll together to the bakery during your shared lunch hour. It’s modest—cotton fabric that doesn’t stick to you, with ruffle short sleeves and a V-neckline that highlights your collarbones and the delicate diamond necklace resting between.

Nanami risks a sidelong glance, instantly regretting it when his gaze gets trapped by the way the bright floral pattern sways and twists with each step you take. The hem brushes the brown skin of your knees and while he can’t see much, Nanami knows the soft curves hidden underneath the airy fabric intimately.

While the caveman part of him can understand the underlying meaning of sundress season, it’s everything else that flares his want for you. It’s the wild curls that brush your cheeks and neck, the diamond earrings that reflect in the sun, the curl of your long lashes that kiss your lower lids when you blink. And yes—the gorgeous dress that you have on enhances everything about you—but in the most basic sense, you are beautiful.

“You’re staring.” It’s a playful accusation that you direct at him even though your eyes are admiring the tulips that you both walk past.

He quickly averts his eyes, sharp cheeks blazing a fiery red. “My apologies I…” Nanami clears his throat, struggling to regain his usual unruffled demeanor. “That dress looks lovely on you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, pausing so he can open the bakery door for you. “You think so? I just picked it up last week. Perfect for this heat, isn’t it?”

Nanami swallows hard at the teasing tilt to your tone, the innocent question feeling anything but. From the very first day he met you—that very first day you knocked back a glass of expensive whiskey and smiled at him as if it was nothing—he’s come to accept that you have no reservations of flustering him. You thrive on it, and for as stiff as Nanami is, you are a breath of fresh air that he never imagined would slide into his lungs.

Umber eyes watch you walk ahead of him and into the welcoming AC of the bakery, tantalizing calves flexing with each step.

“Very much…” is all he can manage, hastily ripping his eyes away again as his equilibrium dangerously shifts.

You laugh lightly at his sudden silence, the warm, rich sound simultaneously soothing his thundering heart and making it trip up all over again. “You act like you’ve never seen me in a dress before.”

“You know that’s not true,” he mutters, switching his gaze to the menu to avoid your entirely too-innocent smile. “I simply…appreciate fine things.”

The rich ring of your answering chuckle sends molten desire licking traitorously down his spine. “Is that so? Then I’ll have to acquire more of these stunning ‘fine things’ for you to appreciate this summer…”

He should have known better than to egg you on. Had he kept his eyes to himself and brushed off your knowing glances, he could have enjoyed you without your playful watch. But for as smart as Nanami is, for as observant and vigilant in his work as he is in his life outside of it, he can never wrap his head around how devious you truly are.

One day, the weather calms down enough for lunch at the park. It’s the perfect day to eat outside. The sun is high in the sky but the canopy of trees gives you both the protection you need from harsh rays.

“Need any help setting up?” You call out, shrugging off the ice denim jacket from your shoulders to reveal this summer’s newest addition—an angelic white sundress adorned with delicate lace trim.

Nanami’s throat tightens and he shakes his head, unfurling a blue blanket onto the thick grass below you both. “I can do it, love. Please just relax.”

He carefully arranges the picnic blanket, spreading the wrinkles free before you plop down on one side. As you dig into the large lunchbox, he admires the crisp white cotton that seems to skim over your frame, covering you but still unable to touch. Thin straps leave your shoulders bare, your skin glowing in the sun from your shimmery sunscreen. No necklace this time, so the square neckline dips just enough to offer a subtle hint of cleavage. The stretchy ribbed material hugs and accentuates every lush curve before gently flaring into an effortless, free-flowing skirt.

You purse your lips and furrow your brow in concentration, leaning more over the lunchbox, your back straightening to steady yourself before he watches free of shame as you arch just so.

When you turn to flash him that achingly fond smile, your curls falling over one shoulder, all traces of decency flee from Nanami’s mind. In that moment, he’s transported back to those dizzying early days of your relationship—entirely captivated, yet utterly terrified of somehow shattering this dazzling, undeserved connection between you.

“Thirsty?” You hold out one of the banana milk boxes that he’s grown to love since your presence, an impish quirk of your brow, clearly aware of his slow descent into hell.

Nanami nods jerkily and takes the milk box, unable to find his voice for a beat. As you settle down gracefully beside him, the skirt drifts up in a gentle billow, shaping to and showcasing skin. He has to tear his eyes away from the wicked flashes of toned thigh with extreme willpower.

Like the devil you are, you toss him a coy smirk, shiny lip gloss clear even though he knows it tastes like strawberry. “We gonna eat or are you just gonna gawk at me like a weirdo?”

He can’t help the scoff that leaves him as he pulls out sandwiches for you both. “I thought you liked when I gawk at you.”

“Not when I’m hungry.”

He shakes his head, smirking softly as he removes the cling wrap before handing you your half, your fingers brushing against his. Warm pleasure blooms in his chest at the radiant sight you make contrasted against the swaying greenery. It’s as if you don’t belong but he couldn’t imagine you anywhere else. You take a generous bite of your sandwich, a smear of mustard in the crease of your lips as you offer him a gentle smile.

As the scorching summer rages, Nanami can’t help but chastise himself. A mundane and childish social meme has become the representation of the hardest test he’s ever taken. Maybe he should have asked for tips from Yuji on how to better prepare himself.

He’s always prided himself on admiring from afar, on controlling his emotions in public and savoring them later in private. He knows your beauty and the unintentional way you drain the air around him. But he’s always been able to offer that soft smile, place a hand on your shoulder or your waist and offer a compliment to whatever you’ve chosen to wear for the day. But recently, in the face of your summertime wardrobe choices, Nanami finds that steely discipline faltering at an alarming rate.

Sinking deeper into the plush living room sofa, Nanami exhales a deep sigh and allows the tension thrumming through his shoulders to bleed away. Here, surrounded by the apartment’s climate-controlled sanctuary, he can savor these increasingly rare moments of solitary peace sprawled out with a good book. It’s a well-deserved shared day off for you both—free of schedules, obligations, or anything more strenuous than lounging around with each other. And more importantly, at home, you’re nothing but comfortable clothes and soft pajamas.

He’s safe.

A wry smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he imagines the look of feigned innocence you always sport whenever he gets too overt about appreciating your seasonal attire. As if you don’t know the absolutely devastating effect even the simplest hair toss or twirl has on what’s left of his challenging self-restraint these days.

It’s going to be a great day. He’s almost done with this book, just three more chapters and then he can start another in his pile that he wants to tackle this summer. That’s right, Nanami Kento is going to—

The soft pad of your bare feet against the hardwood floors has Nanami glancing up instinctively from behind the novel’s pages. And just like that, the world around him completely whites out as if he’s been hit over the head with a brick.

You’ve emerged from the hallway in a yellow sundress so vibrantly captivating, so deliciously clingy and effortlessly suggestive that he nearly swallows his tongue in surprise. The rich gold hue kisses the deep tone of your skin, as if you’re a sunflower blooming under the artificial lighting of the apartment. The dress accentuates your shape in the most brazenly tantalizing way—the thin ruffle straps on your shoulders, the sweetheart neckline hinting at full cleavage, the dress’ light hem hitting indecently high on your thighs in playful flirty wisps.

But it’s the stretchy knit fabric’s complete inability to disguise any curve or meaty swell that really has Nanami sitting up straighter on the cushions. It’s not layered well enough—almost transparent—and the snug material leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, from the outline of bright panties that cover the soft spread of your hips to the pert dusky points outlined beneath the bodice.

Absolutely devastating and on full, confident display and this isn’t fair because he has three chapters left.

He barely registers the “What are you reading?” you offer him over one shoulder as you stroll towards the kitchen area in that swaying, uninhibited saunter that never fails to ignite his senses. Nanami simply sits there transfixed—one hand gripping the spine of his book while the other claws restlessly against his own inner thigh. Each roll of your hips has that thin dress swishing and lifting in tiny torturous glimpses that have his imagination veering wildly into unrestrained territory. But he’s at home, that’s okay right?

That’s when you shift your weight onto the tips of your toes, your back turned to him, stretching up towards the top cabinets with one hand braced against the counter…and the entire world seems to judder to a halt all over again. Because from this new vantage point, Nanami can’t tear his eyes away from the call of your legs, the dimples on the backs of your thighs, up, up to the hem and—

A guttural sound wrenches free from low in his diaphragm, a mix of a groan and a growled curse. He looks back down to his book, searching aimlessly for where he left off, flickering back over to you just as quick.

He should look away, tear his eyes off of the gloriously indecent picture you’ve unwittingly created simply by existing. And yet…Nanami finds his stare burning an increasingly blazing trail down the bewitching ‘V’ between your shoulder blades, past the delicious dip of your arched lower back to the toned flare of your thighs and calves below.

At one point, you bend even deeper at the waist, hips tilting up as you struggle to reach a particularly elusive item on the high shelf. The filmy yellow skirt jumps and flirts up with the motion, granting Nanami a shameless eyeful of toned thighs and the flash of his favorite pair of panties—lilac with lace along the edges that squeeze the skin of your ass in the most inviting way. He very nearly drops the book from his suddenly slack fingers at the sight, hissing out a low curse between his teeth.

You huff out an adorable sound of frustration as you fail to reach whatever item you’re going for, and he knows he should step in to assist like the gentleman he is. But his stare remains rooted to spot, ogling and committing it all to memory so he can think about it later—alone.

“Let me get that,” he finally manages to scrape out, voice gone low and gritty with naked yearning despite his best efforts at nonchalance.

You shoot him one of those bright, beaming smiles over your shoulder in response—blissfully unaware of the effect your glowing, ethereal beauty has on him even without your intentional teasing. “Just grabbing the flour for dinner,” you explain sheepishly, leaning into his broad form as he comes up behind you and grabs the ingredient on the top shelf. “I always have trouble reaching.”

And isn’t that just symbolic as all hell? His curvy, tempting beloved constantly hovering just beyond his reach these past few weeks—unattainable without discarding every last vestige of control he has. It isn’t like you both don’t have sex. You do…often. There’s just always been a build up, never anything explosive.

Even in the privacy of your home, he’s never thrown caution to the wind. Nanami has always been one to savor every calculated build of pleasure in its precious sequence. You’ve expressed your satisfaction readily enough, reciprocating his passion with that same rapturous abandon you bring to all aspects of life. But in all the years of his tiring, overworked life, you are the first to show him what it feels like to never walk a predetermined line.

“This is…I’ve never seen you wear it inside,” Nanami manages, his throat feeling increasingly dry as his eyes trace the line of fabric on your shoulders.

You take the flour from him, shooting him a sly, knowing look from beneath your lashes as you turn to face him fully. “It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you think?”

He can’t stop the reflexive glance that rakes over every inch of you. “It’s sixty-eight degrees.”

You lean in a fractional amount—just enough for the swell of your breasts to brush against his shirt as you crane up towards his face. “Well, I run hot,” you murmur, voice dropping into the pits of hell, a throaty register that bypasses Nanami’s higher cognitive functions entirely.

He’s beyond undone. Frozen in place with desperate, rapturous hunger raging through his very marrow. This close, he can make out the small raised moles on your exposed shoulders, the genetic blemishes that are common for your skin tone. He gets a better view of the rigid peaks of your nipples straining against the thin fabric, practically begging for the heated and dripping touch of his mouth that he’s always more than happy to bestow upon you.

His fingertips clench and relax at his sides, held back only by tremendous reserves of willpower from reaching out to map and relearn every soft, silken plane of feminine heat and temptation currently being dangled in front of him like a prize he still can’t win.

You take in the undisguised wanting and torment written large across his features with a look of utter satisfaction. Then, before he can formulate some slurred plea for relief, you spin on one heel and saunter out of his reach—hips undulating hypnotically beneath that flimsy gauze of material in an alluring farewell.

Only once you finally disappear around the corner does Nanami manage to sag forwards—palms braced on the counter as he attempts to draw steady lungfuls of air back into his oxygen-starved body.

By the time he plops back on the sofa, and opens the spine of his book, the desire to read is gone.

You take pity on him for a few weeks after that searing afternoon in the kitchen. Your outside adventures are marked by breathable athletic leggings paired with loose tank tops that drape and show you off…but in a far tamer, less flagrantly teasing way than before.

Even at home, the soft cotton shorts and tees you lounge around in provide Nanami some solace—the casual fabrics leaving just enough to the imagination rather than putting every mouth-watering curve on display.

Your usual playful flirtations also seem to be dialed back during this oasis period. As if you’re allowing the poor man a chance to realign his senses and regain some semblance of control. It allows him time to resettle back into some of his usual regimented routines. Without you on a mission at the periphery of his awareness constantly, stoking those primal fires, he finds himself able to slip back into the role of polished, tired professional and attentive partner with relative ease.

Perhaps a bit too easily, if he’s being honest with himself. Because before he can even register the transition, that fleeting grace period seems to dissolve back into the heady summer ether as quickly as it had begun.

The warm evening air smells of charcoal and citronella as Nanami moves through the crowd, trying yet failing to focus on anything but you. All around him, friends and coworkers intermingle while indulging in ice-cold drinks and delicious food fresh off the smoker. He loves food, especially Yuki's cooking when she hosts a barbecue.

But none of it registers tonight.

Because every sensory nerve-ending in his body is completely captivated and overwhelmed by the vision you make in that deep red sundress.

The rich crimson chiffon swirls and caresses over your body in sinuous waves of delicious color. You’re bathed in red, as if rose petals have unfurled and stitched themselves together to form the beautiful dress on your body. It’s a maxi dress that sweeps down to your ankles and kisses the straps of your block heels. Scorching flashes of full thighs are visible through the flowing slits on each side. The deep v-neck dips in a daring drop that leaves your sternum and the inner sides of your breasts achingly exposed.

Each step you take has the delicate material clinging and drifting in the most hypnotic dance around your heavenly form. Nanami tracks the rhythmic sway of your hips with a burning stare, his control splintering a little more with every toss of your head that allows the deep brown of your skin to wink at him from the column of your neck.

Yuki is already three wine coolers in—not a lot for most, but more than enough for her to throw decorum to the wind. From across the backyard, Choso watches with an indulgent smile as his partner bobs off-beat to the soft music flowing from the speakers.

Choso's expression of pure adoration mirrors the way Nanami looks at you when he thinks no one else is watching. They share that unspoken understanding, that bone-deep contentment of being completely enraptured by the women they love.

At one point, the music shifts, more alcohol disappears, and Yuki is hauling you to the makeshift dance floor of the backyard. Nanami tries, he really, really does. But everything about you makes him stand at attention. Breathing, walking, laughing, smiling at nothing, and now—with just one rock of your hips to the music—his eyes are locked in.

You’ve never been a good dancer. But you’ve also never cared of the expectation to be a good one either. And Yuki is an extroverted pull that makes you sway more, that makes your shoulders roll and laughter to bubble from your lips as you watch your friend make a fool of herself.

Nanami runs a hand through his thick blonde locks, disrupting the careful part he made before you both left the apartment earlier in the evening. The other hand clutches a glass of scotch a little tighter, the condensation sliding against his fingers before he takes a generous swig, his eyes not once leaving you.

You can feel him before you even look over, and when you do lock with Nanami’s deep brown gaze from across the yard, you throw him a soft look from beneath your lashes as you slowly roll your hips. It’s the same motion of your hips that he got to feel last night with you straddling him, panting against his lips in the middle of the night.

Outwardly sensual in only a way he can recognize amongst everyone around him. But it’s your rapturous, carefree expression of pure bliss that simultaneously enchants and undoes the last tattered remains of his composure. With every movement, you embody the very essence of feminine energy—raw, joyful, and utterly free. You are a vision of untamed beauty, a wild goddess of the summer night come to life in a swirling dreamscape of rich ruby chiffon.

The erotic, carnal urge to chase after your swaying, taunting form and haul you away to some shadowed corner where he can divest you of that sinful dress is overwhelming. Swallowing hard, Nanami averts his burning stare for fear of literally combusting on the spot.

“You alright there, buddy?” Yu's familiar voice cuts through the lusty fog, tinged with the warm charm of a couple beers down. “You look like you’re about to swallow your tongue or something.”

“I…excuse me,” is all Nanami can grate out, the remark feeling like fragments of glass as he speaks. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply stalking off through the open patio door and into the thankfully dim and cool interior of Yuki and Choso's home. Anything to escape your enticing presence for even a single moment.

The music and laughter from outside feels muffled as he sinks down onto the living room sofa in the shadows—rubbing distractedly at his thundering chest. But it does nothing to get rid of the vision of you dancing so wantonly and on unrestrained display in that gorgeous ruby sundress.

Where are you even getting them? Online? Or is there a store that he doesn’t know about? He hasn’t seen other women in the city wearing dresses like you do. But then again…Nanami doesn’t really pay attention unless it’s you.

His fingers grip the plush armrest of the sofa until the knuckles strain white, breath sawing harsh and ragged from his heaving lungs. Nanami squeezes his eyes shut, forcing himself to visualize anything other than the way that lightweight crimson had drifted and kissed over your thighs that peeked between side slits, the growing sheen of sweat between the generous canvas of your chest, the exposed slope of your neck free of curls—a spot of concealer on the side to hide the mark he gave you last night.

A harsh exhale escapes him as he forces his eyes open, only to instantly regret it. The muted sounds of the party filter in from outside—sweet laughter, the low thrum of bass, the periodic high-pitched squeal of your voice crying out at Yuki to get a hold of herself.

Nanami’s stomach clenches raggedly at that sound, arousal stroking down his spine in sweltering waves. Through the clear glass of the patio door, he can see the way your face lights up in pure rapturous joy as you give in to yourself. The subtle shifts and gyrations of your body in time with the beat, each swivel of your hips like a siren’s call.

Against his volition, imagination melds into memory, replaying the countless times he’s buried his face between your thighs and simply drank in the celestial sounds of your pleasure until his name was a breathless gasp on your lips. That shrieking cry at Yuki almost the same towards him when he licks at your sensitive nerves one too many times. He forces his gaze away, leans his head back against the sofa and stares up at the ceiling.

The music fluctuates once more, that instantly recognizable intro to the next funky summer hit you adore cuing up. Despite the walls between you, Nanami can still acutely pick up the subtle cadence of your movements in time with that danceable rhythm. He knows the exact choreography of hips and legs that song inspires in you…and his slacks suddenly feel far too confining.

That’s when your voice cuts through the relative quiet like a bolt of lightning, somehow even closer now as you call out—half-playful chiding, half siren’s promise.

“Oh Kentooo…” The singsong inflection has his eyes squeezing shut even as his cock shamefully twitches against it’s restrictive fabric prison. “Where has my favorite salaryman gone off to hide? You know I can’t dance without my partner watching me.”

Gritting his teeth against the dark, full-bodied groan that tries to escape, Nanami hunches forward until his elbows are digging into his thighs. There you stand framed in the patio door, backlit in a devastating silhouette by the lantern lights emanating through the loud yard behind you.

You walk closer in that torturous dress, the double layers trailing languidly behind in currents of fabric that have his throat struggling to swallow. Your stunning frame is practically dripping in sensual confidence and self-assured power. He knows the power you have over him and would sooner swallow his favorite tie than give that up.

The rich carmine floats around you in sinuous waves as you sashay closer to where Nanami sits transfixed on the sofa. And with each step, all manners and decorum that have been taught to him fizzle away with the increasing ache in his jeans.

“Like what you see?” you murmur huskily once you’ve prowled to stand between his legs, allowing Nanami an unfettered view of your neckline, the long gold necklace between your breasts winking at him with each shallow intake of breath. You lift one leg to press a knee onto his powerful thigh—close enough for your perfume to slide down his nostrils and cloud his mind. The slit over your bent knee flutters open in an obscene gap, granting his hooded gaze a glimpse of skin his teeth ache to bite into.

“I asked,” you breathe out in a seductive timbre, near enough for Nanami to actually taste the addictive warmth of your presence on his tongue. “If you like what you see…”

The inhale that rattles through his powerful frame is involuntary. So is the compulsive way his fingertips suddenly flex against the cushion with the overwhelming urge to finally reacquaint himself with the soft temptation of your skin. Others be damned, mannerisms of being a respectful guest falling to the wayside.

Somewhere through the rapidly thickening haze of pure liquid arousal, Nanami manages a jerky nod—unable to summon even the most basic of syllables in response. He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing convulsively as you arch one delicious eyebrow in a silent challenge. With your beautiful curls pulled up into a high ponytail, he can see the slope of your ears that are adorned with the gold hoops he bought you last month.

Then, before he can gather enough of his scattered wits to chastise you for your behavior, you’re boldly reaching out and capturing one of his clenching fists in a firm grip. A soft grunt rattles up from deep in Nanami’s chest at the heated feel of your palm finally making purchase on his overheated skin.

But his breath hitches in a harsh inhale as you purposefully guide his splayed fingers towards your exposed leg—sliding his hand up excruciatingly slow to caress along the landscape of textures and planes laid out in offering. He expects the generous hem of panties he’s seen time and time again. He knows what they look like in his mind when he teases the edges before slipping inside to graze his fingers along your aching clit. But the calloused pads of his fingertips brush the thin string of a thong instead. And it’s just a single touch that has him wide-eyed, reeling—the edges of his vision dizzying into a hazy fog of aching, inexplicable need.

You should have come with a manual. Surely there’s a guide to get through the summer months with you? Some sort of text to explain the steps he needs to take to keep himself in control in public?

The rapturous throb of your saphenous vein leaps against his fingertips as you allow him to slant just a hairsbreadth further—close enough to feel the heat of the place he’s been countless times before—close enough to slide a thick finger along fabric he knows is wet.

Only for you to tear your hand away and drop your knee as the sound of Yuki's voice pierces the heavy sensual tension hanging between your bodies.

“There you are!” She calls out cheerfully from the sliding glass door. “My song is on, come dance with me!”

There’s a gentle tuft of laughter from you then—one tinged with dark satisfaction as you drink in the wrecked, wanton expression flaming across Nanami’s features. As if thoroughly enjoying reducing him to this strung-out state of desperation. You could rule the world if given the right resources.

“Yuki, let’s get you some water. You’ve had a little too much to drink…” your voice trails off as you disappear in a rustle of vermilion and sashaying hips with one last loaded look over your bare shoulder.

He manages a shuddering breath that feels more like sandpaper sliding down his abused lungs. The delicious scent of your perfume still clings to the charged air around him, the phantom-like caress of your dress along his knuckles, the sound of your throaty laugh disappearing back to the party outside. Each ragged exhale has his body subtly canting forward, giving silent chase to your retreating form as if by muscle memory alone.

This game…this deliciously maddening game you delight in playing has Nanami’s entire being teetering on the razor-thin edge of unraveling completely. Each new summer ensemble seems specifically designed to further tempt and destroy the decades of discipline he’s meticulously cultivated since he was a teenager.

Nanami would think after a relationship or two, he would have steeled himself against falling victim to seduction. And yet, not a single woman from his past could have prepared Nanami for the devastating combination of your radiant beauty and barely-restrained hedonism.

Your laughter calls out to him again, his eyes snapping up to see you smiling as Yuki chugs the glass of water Choso has pressed to her lips. Completely innocent and free of devilish qualities, the fact that Nanami knows that dark side of you makes him fold his arms across his chest, sagging against the sofa and glaring at your form as he wills his erection to go down.

It’s two days before summer’s end when Nanami feels the steadily fraying threads of his self-control finally unravel into oblivion. He’s tried every possible tactic these last few months to stave off the relentless fire of desire you’ve been stoking within him—going for runs, ice cold showers, avoiding you when possible. He’s even resorted to having you model your newest sundress purchases at home in a desperate attempt at desensitizing himself. It all seems incredibly dramatic, but Nanami has no idea what else to do. Nothing has worked against the intoxicating mix of your lively beauty and increasingly bold choices designed to torment him until he’s six feet under.

He had known from the moment he accidentally stumbled upon that fateful periwinkle dress sitting in your laptop’s shopping cart that it would be his undoing. He can still picture with perfect clarity the way the model seemed to shimmer and dance on the screen as he clicked through the product imagery—he pictured it with heart throbbing clarity how it would look on you.

And he still has so many more years left of his life to enjoy.

Without conscious thought, Nanami had swiftly removed the item from the cart—an invasion of privacy that left him nauseous, but a necessary decision if only to spare himself.

He was stupid to think it would actually work.

So it comes as little surprise to see you boldly flaunting that silken number tonight at the rooftop gala marking his company’s most prosperous quarter yet. The twinkling strings of lantern bulbs and hot summer breezes swirling all around you only heighten the flagging warning that this night won’t end the way he wants.

As you glide about the rooftop, the pale periwinkle seems to float effortlessly around your body. Like every dress before, this one is no exception, complimenting the deepness of your skin. The whisper-weight fabric lays against your hips and waist, simultaneously shaping and gracefully draping in all the right places.

The thin straps crisscross behind your neck, framing your graceful shoulders and collarbones. As you turn, the silk lifts and drifts around you in a mesmerizing swirl of decadence. It’s another plunging V-neckline, but this dress sits on your body and decolletage with an air of romantic grace. It’s not scandalous like that night at Yuki and Choso's.

But it’s the back—oh it’s the back that makes his gaze heavy, that makes the organ in his chest beat out of rhythm with every inch he uncovers. Try as he might, it’s absolutely impossible for him to look away from the delicate contours and valleys of your body put on full and enthralling display by this backless dress. From the elegant lines of your throat and shoulders left teasingly bare to the soft inward curve of your arched lower back—the dress is a cruel temptation showcasing every salivating inch of you that he’s spent countless nights worshiping.

It’s beautiful on you, truly and unimaginably beautiful, and it’s a terrible twist of fate that such a simple observation is destroying Nanami from the inside. All that discipline—the cold showers, the extra miles added to his runs, the attempts of desensitization—it’s useless. No matter how hard he tries, he will always notice something new each time he looks at you. And it will always wreck him and throw him off axis whether he likes it or not.

Because amidst all the warmth and sociability of this rooftop celebration, all Nanami’s rapidly sharpening focus can zero in on is the subtle glisten of perspiration trailing down the slope of your spine. Every imperceptible turn and cock of your hip amplified tenfold by the silk that gets to touch you while he watches. As if personally daring him to finally surrender every last shred of patience and simply take what he wants.

A soft chuckle escapes your full lips as Nanami’s boss leans in closer, undoubtedly regaling you with some far from amusing anecdote from the office. The charming sound has every thread of Nanami’s control taut like a bowstring. Because that sound means a lot for him nowadays—laughing at his dry humor, the movies you both watch together, the giggling stuttering into whimpers and moans of ecstasy when your back arches from his tongue.

Suddenly, the light summer breeze kicks up in and swirls around you, waving the hem of your dress and the two-day old twistout on your head. Instinctively, you reach up to tuck a lock of those dark silken twists behind one ear.

Time itself seems to slow as he watches those inky tendrils ghost across your bare shoulders and the exposed skin of your upper back. Nanami watches with visceral hunger as those wild strands make playful, meandering paths across the smoothly toned expanse of brown skin. His entire body instantaneously flushes with hot need and arousal at the simple, harmless image. The soft rise of your breasts shake as you offer a fake laugh to whatever drivel your boss has just said. And in that split second—the culmination of tonight, this dress, the entire summer of taunting and coy smiles— Nanami’s restraint finally shatters into so many useless slivers at his feet.

Before conscious thought can override anything else, he’s stalking across the rooftop with rigid, predatory intensity—adjusting the unique glasses on his nose, his mouth set in a grim line of single-minded focus. The gaggle of chattering coworkers and small-talk banter all fade away into muted static and white noise. All that exists in this heated vortex of Nanami’s rapidly narrowing universe is the coiling pull of you.

“Ah, Nanami!” His boss greets heartily, clearly surprised yet pleased to see the company’s best worker at last. “Your partner and I were just discussing a better way to spruce up the quarterly party for next year. Care to weigh in, my friend?”

The question lands on deaf ears. Because at the exact same instant his professional mentor is extending that olive branch of attempted small talk…your eyes are on his, a knowing, small smile pressed to the hem of your champagne glass as you take a sip. The sight of your jewelry, the fabric against your skin, the way you look at him…the desire that rips through his body is staggering.

“I apologize for interrupting, but I need to speak with you,” he grates out in a tone heavy with gravel and masculine focus. His palm finds the smoldering heat of your lower back without conscious thought, marking delirious patterns of desire against your naked skin. Your eyebrows furrow with a silent question at the rough timbre of his command…even though you see that undisguised storm of hunger and frustrated desire raging behind his tinted glasses.

“Of course,” you finally murmur and turn to his coworkers to wish them goodbye, setting down your glass on the table beside you.

He’s burning, raging with a fever that doesn’t even exist and each shallow inhale draws more of your achingly familiar perfume into his senses—only making things worse.

He guides you through the crowded rooftop party and towards the elevators with a molten intensity bordering on feral. Nanami’s palm maps possessive into the searing expanse of your back. Every step jostles his arm flush against the silk on your frame.

“Where exactly are we going in such a hurry?”

The rich, seductive rasp of your voice is designed to torture him further, but Nanami doesn’t rise to it, simply presses fingers more firm to your back, his other punches the elevator button with purpose.

“I said I need to speak with you,” he finally bites out. “That should be more than enough.”

You lean further into his touch and look up at him, your tongue darts out to toy with your plush bottom lip in a show of faux innocence.

“Is that so?” The melodic lilt coupled with the ghost of your warm breath fanning across Nanami’s jaw would have been enough to make a lesser man’s knees buckle entirely. Instead, it simply ratchets the tension coiling through his powerful frame into a downright maddening degree.

The soft chime of the arriving elevator makes you both turn in tandem, the mirror of the elevator doors casting your reflections—allowing Nanami to drink in the smoldering fire already blazing behind your heavy-lidded stare. There’s profound hunger glimmering there that matches his own. An unadulterated wildness reined in by the thinnest veneer of coy indifference. You’ve always been slick—but not tonight.

The mirrored doors slide open with a hushed mechanical shush, you both step inside, and the doors slide closed.

Nanami offers a silent apology for the violation of manners his parents instilled in him before he backs you into the far wall—the breath punching out of your lungs as your back makes shocking contact with the mirrored paneling. Now it’s you breathless, struggling to compose yourself as the masculine power of Nanami consumes you.

A subtle shudder ripples through Nanami’s abdomen as you wantonly tilt your head back, arching your throat in wordless invitation just as your fingertips rise to trail heated lines over his heaving chest. The lapels are black as midnight, the undershirt a crisp white, and he’s the handsome man that’s all yours even as he fights between what’s right and what he wants. One of his palms is cupping the slope of your jawline as the other maps out the silk of your dress. He bends slowly until the heat of his mouth is tracing the full curve of your parted lips—a heavy brush of sculpted male confidence against your teasing softness.

“You’ve pressed against my boundaries to a criminal degree, love,” Nanami warns in a dark rasp scorched with the first cinders of the firestorm yet to come. His palm slides up the bare inward curve of your back until his fingers are tunneling through the wild riot of your twistout at the nape of your neck. Tinted eyes slit in satisfaction as your head tips back farther on a shaky inhale—granting him access to the deliciously vulnerable length of your throat.

“Nothing to say?” he husks out in the open, admiring the flutter of your lashes as his voice hits you. Nanami’s mouth brands a hot trail from the sensitive juncture of your jaw up towards the shell of your ear. You whimper softly at the slow, torturous build—the same sound of rapture he has memorized and pulled from you countless times between the sheets. It’s enough to strip away any lingering reservations entirely.

With the strength he’s never ashamed to show you, hands slide under your thighs and he yanks you up. Your legs wrap around him on instinct, your arms winding around his neck, your head tilting back again to smack on the mirrored glass.

His tongue glides along the buttery curve of your throat, tasting the familiar tang of salt and vanilla on the tip and the smell of him, of pure Nanami clouds your mind enough to finally look down at him, your noses a hairsbreadth from each other. It’s a silent standoff, your eyes as teasing as they are filled with arousal, his eyes dark with something that makes you shiver against him.

And then he’s kissing you, deep and hungry, his hands roaming the bare expanse of your back, dipping lower, pulling you closer. You melt into Nanami’s kiss, your initial surprise giving way to a matching hunger. Your hands slip under his suit jacket, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. He groans against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, igniting your nerves, thrumming in your veins.

You don’t even hear the elevator doors open but you feel him walking, lips hot and demanding groaning into you as you slide your fingers into his golden locks and pull. Nanami knows these floors like the back of his hand, and he’s familiar with the abandoned break room on the thirtieth floor, his hand yanking the door open and shutting it hard, lips never leaving yours.

You gasp into his mouth when your ass lands on the old buttons of a copier, the machine groaning under your weight, the plastic buttons beeping in protest. As Nanami presses you against the copier, he can’t help but marvel at the feel of you beneath his hands. The dress, this damn dress, is like water under his fingers, smooth and cool and entirely too thin. He can feel every curve, every contour, every shuddering breath you take.

He punctuates his actions with a roll of his hips, pressing his hardness that strains against his slacks against your core. You moan, your head falling back, and he takes advantage of your exposed neck, his lips and teeth worrying the sensitive skin, his tongue licking the marks he leaves.

“How many more dresses do you have?” he growls against your throat, his voice rough with need. “How many more ways are you going to torture me?”

You gasp as his teeth graze your pulse point, your fingers threading into his hair. “T-that depends,” you manage, your voice breathy. Nanami’s chuckle is dark, dangerous, his hands trailing higher, dipping into the seam of your panties, his fingers brushing over your clit. He savors the way your jerk against him, a whimper leaving your throat as you pant into the dusty air.

“Is this what you wanted? To reduce me to this? A man so desperate for you he’d take you in a public place?”

“Yes,” you hiss, arching into his touch, your breasts pressing against the thin silk that covers them. “Yesyesyes...”

Nanami’s groan is part frustration, part desire. “You have no idea what you do to me.” There’s a hint of wonder in his voice, a note of awe at the depth of his own need. His fingers press more insistently, circling, gathering your slick to make each stroke more messy and impactful, driving you towards the edge. The buttons of the copier dig into your skin, the machine whirring and beeping beneath you, adding to the crescendo of sensation. He can hear the mechanical shuffle of papers being chucked out from one end, slapping onto the floor.

“Do you like this?” Nanami pants, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you like teasing me, driving me crazy?”

“Yes,” you admit, free of shame, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Please, Kento.”

He slides two fingers into your wet heat, savoring your wanton gasp, increases the pressure, the speed of his fingers, pushing you closer to the precipice. “Have you done this before?” he asks, his voice raw with emotion. “Teased other men like this, made them want you so badly they’d forget themselves?”

“No,” you moan desperately, your head thrashing from side to side, deep locks brushing your cheeks. “Never. It’s only ever been you, Kento. Only you.”

“Say it again,” he demands, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

“Only you,” you pant. “I’m yours, Kento. Completely.”

It doesn’t take long—countless strokes inside of you, a curl of his fingers, a twist of his wrist, and you shatter. Your cry of pleasure mixes with the beeps and groans of the copier, your body shaking, your fingers digging harder into Nanami’s shoulders that he’s sure you’ve broken the barrier.

He holds you through it, his lips on your skin, his murmured praises in your ear, soft litanies of words that has made you fall deeper in love with him each passing day. You don’t get a chance to come down fully because he’s on you again, pressing closer, pushing your panties to the side and digging his fingers into the meat of your hips. But the angle is wrong, you’re too high and the copier digs into his thighs and impedes him from getting to you the way he wants.

With a grunt of frustration, Nanami lifts you off the machine. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you to the conference table. He sweeps aside the accumulated debris with one arm, sending sugar and tea packets scattering to the floor. Your back hits the table, the hard surface unyielding beneath you. Plastic cups crunches and snaps under your weight, sugar and coffee creamer powder puffing into the air, settling on your heated skin.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, soaking in the radiance you beam up at him, “how many times I’ve imagined this? Pulling you away from everyone, getting my hands on you…not being able to do it because I’m better than that.”

You moan as he nips at your collarbone, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. “And yet here you are,” you tease, breathless with twinkling eyes that shine right through him.

He captures your lips again, the kiss deep and demanding. You arch into him, your hands throwing off his glasses—they smack against a wall—your fingers deftly undoing his tie, working on the buttons of his shirt. You need to feel his skin against yours, need to be closer, and he shudders at the feel of your warm hands breaching the open buttons, sliding up his bare chest.

As if reading your mind, Nanami reaches for the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down. The fabric parts, baring more of your skin to his heated gaze. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes roaming your body like a physical caress.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then his hands are on you, tracing your curves, fingers brushing your nipples before he gives them a pinch. A whimper shakes from you, your fingers pressing into his bare chest.

Dimly, he’s aware that he should stop this, that he’s in a public place, at a work event. But the heat of your body, the insistence of your touch, the mounting pleasure coursing through his veins—it all conspires to drown out reason.

Your hands fumble with his belt, your fingers shaking with need. He helps you, impatiently pushing his pants and boxers down just enough. And then he’s touching you, his fingers digging into your hips, sliding you closer to him until the tip of him presses to the sopping wet heat of your center, wet from your orgasm and still ready.

“Please,” you whimper, hardly recognizing your own voice. “Please, Kento…”pushing your dress further up your hips, trailing over your ribs, cupping your breasts until the skin spills between the gaps. His eyes widen at the sight, the base of his spine heating up. So many times he’s seen you like this in the privacy of your home, and now it’s in an old break room at his workplace, the consequence of you finally taking things too far.

He’s free of any feral energy as he kisses you, sliding into your welcoming heat slowly to acquaint himself again. Your fingers dig into his skin, your chest pressing into him as you adjust, the table creaking under your joined weight as you wrap your legs around his waist and dig your silver heels into his back. Soon he’s moving above you, within you, each thrust pushing you higher, each thrust fanning the fire within himself.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, begging again for the unspoken demand of more. And even though the roles are reversed right now—you the one being teased—he gives you whatever you ask.

He sets a pace that’s just shy of punishing, each snap of his hips brushing his zipper against the inside of your thighs. The room fills with the sounds of sex—the slap of skin on skin, your gasps and moans, his grunts into the air. He cannot believe he’s in this moment, doing something so scandalous.

“You reduce me to this,” he pants against your lips. “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” you gasp, your hands pulling at open lapels of his shirt, squeezing around the buttons, the fabric groaning. “I’m sorry.”

But you’re not, he can tell. There’s a hint of satisfaction in your voice, a touch of pride. And why shouldn’t there be? You’ve brought him, the ever-controlled Nanami Kento, to his knees. He loves you too much to ever want anything different.

“I’m a good man,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, curving his next thrust that he knows will brush against that spot you like.

“You’re an amazing man, Ken,” you moan in surprise, your hips lifting to meet his to seek more. “The best. Only the best for me. Only you, Kento.”

The praise makes him shake, the fire in his body raging like an inferno, burning his skin, breaking him into a sweat. He presses a knee into the table, throws one of your legs over his shoulders and savors the ragged way your name leaves his lips as he gives you everything.

“You feel so good,” he pants, his tongue licking the skin of your neck. He tastes the saltiness of your sweat, the sanitizing taste of perfume, the powdered creamer and sugar that sticks to your skin from the table. “So perfect.”

“Come on, Kento” you keen, your nails raking down the suit on his back. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. Couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He’s lost in you, in the feel of you, in the knowledge that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. Wanton, needy, completely undone.

Nothing else matters—not the party going on just floors above, not the risk of discovery, not the propriety you’re both abandoning. In this moment, there’s only you and him and the heat that’s consumed you both all summer, finally finding release.

Nanami’s thrusts become erratic, his rhythm faltering as the base of his spine tightens in a delicious way to let him know that he’s close. His hand slips between your bodies, past the silk of your rumpled periwinkle dress, gliding over your clit in well-practiced strokes and the leg over his shoulder tenses up, your head digging into the table, neck arching for him to see the flecks of sugar sticking to your neck.

“Ohhh right there Kento. Right there. Please, please I’m gonna cum—I’m—“ you smack a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, eyes shutting tight.

“Absolutely not.” Nanami hasn’t suffered for months just to be deprived of anything during this encounter. He yanks the hand from your mouth, pressing it hard into the table, and the shock on your face as you look up at him, the staccato of your breaths, the undeniable seriousness in his gaze even as he pistons into you, admiring the way your dress pools at your waist as he gives you more, harder, deeper until—

“Ohhhh fuck!” you cum with a long dragged out cry, your body clenching around him, walls locking around his cock to the point his orgasm is yanked from him as he falls over the edge with you, pulsing deep inside with a groan muffled against your neck.

He sags against you, both of your chests heaving against each other. He slips a hand behind you, trailing lightly up and down your glistening back as you lie beneath him, spent and satisfied.

As he slowly comes down, he presses a lingering kiss to your sweat-dampened hairline, the roots of your twistout beginning to frizz. There’s a hint of coconut from your leave-in as his nose brushes down to your cheek. So familiar, yet still so intoxicating after almost a year of smelling it. As if he could ever grow numb to the potent lure of your presence.

A ragged chuckle escapes him at that thought, the mirthful rumble making you pull up your head to look at him. Nanami drinks in the utterly debauched vision you make—beautiful brown sweaty skin, hair messy, lips swollen and smirking as per usual.

His arm tightens reflexively around the sensual curves of your waist, pulling you closer in a subconscious gesture of possession and longing. Because for all the delicious torture you’ve inflicted over the past few months with your endless parade of tempting summer dresses…he wouldn’t trade this hard-won moment for anything.

Nanami is many things—disciplined, regimented, a hardworking—albeit tired— professional. But he is also only human at his core. And you, his beautiful free-spirit of a partner, has a simply breathtaking talent for awaking the primal, unrestrained parts of him he usually keeps so rigorously leashed.

“You know,” you murmur in that velvety voice he loves so much. “The minute I realized the dress vanished from my cart was the minute I knew it would be the one.”

A sleepy chuckle breaks free from his lips at your words, the sound causing you to join in as well—a vibrant melody that coats his soul in pure contentment. Nosing closer, he peppers a line of feather light kisses along the line of your jaw. “You’ll never go easy on me, will you?”

“And rob myself of bringing down Nanami Kento piece by piece?” You snort, shooting him a look of pure, playful sin from beneath your lashes. “I might have to make sundress season a year-round thing.”

His answering groan is part growl, part disbelieving laughter as the palm behind your back glides along the elegant curve of your spine down to the bend of your hip. Ever the devilish temptress without even trying, even in the aftermath.

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“That’s a good way to go,” you tease, pulling him down for another kiss, sweet and sticky and full of promise.

His hands slide along the canvas of your body, fingers dipping into the ridges of the open zipper of your dress. He’ll make sure it’s dry cleaned so you can wear it next year. And hopefully he’ll be better prepared.

When you giggle against his lips and dig your heels into his back, he realizes that there will be no amount of preparation when it comes to you.

Thanks for reading!

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wingzie · 1 year ago

Text

Behind the Screen

The Beginning

On 20th September 2020 I posted my first ever Live Reactions on GCF in Tokyo. I was very nervous. In a world full of so much hate, would my attempt to go back in time to reminisce together and spread positivity be accepted? I wasn’t so sure. My idea behind the very concept of Live Reactions was because I was sick of so many fights about GCF in Tokyo. I wanted to show the true loving reactions to these moments, without all the drama that ends up going around in a vicious cycle. Thus, I started doing some research.

After I finished advanced searching on various social media platforms, I got ready to make the thread. I found myself quickly enjoying looking through old posts. It was fun and I think that’s a big part of why I am still making these now, nearly three years later. Plus the support. Once the thread was made, I posted it and actually hid my phone. I came back to it about an hour later and was very surprised to see such a huge response to it. At the time, it was one of my most popular posts and instantly there was a desire for more.

I decided to throw myself into it. If people wanted more, then I was happy to help with that! Especially when it was making so many people happy. I made a new Google Drive account and a spreadsheet to go with it, so that I could keep track of which Jikook moments I had already done or not. Over time, I would start formatting my posts properly and understand how the advanced search function worked on Twitter. I am a History and English major, so being accurate is very important to me. This gave birth to my second style of posts: Discussion and timeline threads. The Unexpected

Though these threads are well received and made with a lot of love, there was a dark side to this that I have never really spoken about before. The jikooker hierarchy is a strange one and is one that I try to ignore, but with that comes consequences and a certain isolation. A group of jikookers did not like that my account had apparently grown from out of nowhere and started spreading rumours about me, my posts and my identity. This hurt because I had never spoken to these people before. I would love it if we actually conversed, because I enjoy talking to people and I like to think that I am a pleasant person. But they were not interested and instead they continued to try and tarnish my name. I decided to come out to my closest friends and just continued what I was always doing.

I mostly ignored the bullying and it soon stopped once they realised that I was really not interested in the drama. I never have been and never will. After all, that was the main reason I started this journey of making threads. To try and counter the hate and drama, I just never expected it from my own side. It made me more determined than ever and I also made a promise to myself, to make sure others NEVER experienced what I did. A good friend of mine recently revealed that I was one of the only ones that would reply to their curious messages about Jikook. I feel like this is also something important: How we are seen from the outside. We want Jikook to be recognized for their bond and their talent. But how can we do that if all we do is fight or act better than others? I will always be here to talk or help others, it’s just in my nature to do so.

The Present and The Future

In the last few months or so my life has changed dramatically, in real life and also online. I have lost family members, got a new job and I am currently on carers leave. I decided to bring my laptop in the hope that I could work on some posts whilst everything was happening. I have (somehow) managed to find a balance between both and now have a loose schedule that I try to follow. I also try to not pressure myself whenever there is a new Jikook moment to instantly start working on it. I used to get really stressed, but now I am much better. One thing, however, is making this whole process rather difficult. Twitter. Or “X” as it’s now called. I can no longer just work on a post whenever I want to, I have to be time conscious. I currently have four accounts and have to rotate between them. Last night Jungkook went on We-live, with Jimin active in the comments. Jikookory happened. It was around 2am my time, but I’m still struggling to sleep in case I am needed. I decided to work on getting screenshots and it was hard. The search function does not work as well as it used to and my timeline is messed up on my backup accounts. There’s probably a case study that can be done here, but I just really wanted to work on a post without being restricted. I continued though, determined to show what others see. Sometimes we’re only aware of what is is happening in our own circles and not what is going on around us. Those that are in personal spaces with me know my deep frustration with all of this. On my Birthday, my main account got double limited and then my second account got locked. It was not fun. However, I refuse to give up. I have already completed my scheduled posts for August and September and am (very slowly) working on posts ready for November and December. Assuming that “X” is still around then. If not, I’ll post elsewhere or here. And for those asking why I haven’t been posting on here, my account seems to be bugged and won’t let me post links or videos in text posts for some reason. No idea why. Guess I don’t have much luck with social media platforms. With the way things are right now, this is a promise. I will continue to keep doing what I have been doing over all these years. It might be harder but I still have that same goal that I’ve always had: To spread postivity and appreciation for Jikook for all in a safe environment. Love you all.

#wingzie

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intrepidacious · 2 years ago

Note

hi! ok I just wanted to ask someone who knows how tumblr works haha

so I found someone who writes amazing content so I decided to follow them. I binged lots of their fics earlier today and when I checked their profile again later, their profile doesn’t show. It seems they might have blocked me and I don’t know why :( I commented that I loved their fics and the comments are removed. my profile has my age and I am decently active on reposting & commenting on fics. This happened to me one other time too so I just am confused I guess :( I tried to message them but it said it wouldn’t go through so that makes me think I’m blocked? I guess I don’t know why a couple people blocked me? Just kinda made me sad bc I really enjoy their work but now I won’t be able to see anymore ☹️😢

happy to!! 💛

first thing you gotta remember that in all likelihood, your getting blocked is nothing personal. reasons for blocking someone on tumblr include but aren't limited to:

you don't have your age (range) listed in your bio/clearly visible on your blog

the age you have listed doesn't adhere to boundaries a blog has set (f.e. you're a minor, or it only says "18+" which i know many writers don't accept)

your blog is completely empty i.e. you don't post/reblog stuff

you don't reblog other people's writing

you spam like posts

you've never changed the default icon/header to something else

people don't vibe with the things you reblog

your theme is a colour they don't like

a lot of the time, it comes down to everyone's preferences. god knows i've been blocked by people and didn't understand why, but frankly it's none of my business. most likely, you won't ever find out, either. everyone is creating their own online space, and sometimes that means having a quick blocking finger. i'm sorry that you won't be able to read those stories anymore but you have to accept creators' boundaries.

however, there are some things you can do and try to prevent getting blocked in the future. these are only a couple of suggestions around tumblr etiquette i've picked up on over the years; if anyone else wants to chip in here, please do!!

1. make sure your blog is, by all appearances, that of a human being

this might sound stupid because of course, you are a human, but with the recent bot wars it's all the more important to double check for red flags.

check your url. does it include a random string of numbers, lots of dashes, just a name and an adjective? all of these have been indicative of porn bots and people might block you on sight.

change your icon and your header. yes, both of them. there are lots of creators on here who make wonderful fandom related headers and icons, or you can create your own with canva. just be sure to follow creators' rules and preferably reblog their creation

change your blog title. if your account is new, it will just say "untitled", which is another indication you might not be a human. use quotes, song lyrics, anything you enjoy

add a bio. this is where you put your name or nickname (you can make one up) age, age range, links to second blogs (if applicable), more quotes, whatever. i prefer my bio short and to the point, but that doesn't have to be you.

important: do this for all blogs and side blogs you use regularly. if you have a second blog for reblogging fics, you need to put up your age there as well, or at least visibly link to your main blog so creators can see you're not a minor. the harder it is to verify that you're an adult, the more likely it is that you will get blocked

2. know the different kinds of interactions on tumblr and navigate them well

there's a difference between liking, commenting, reblogging, and reposting, and it's important. lots of people use reblogging and reposting interchangeably, but that's actually incorrect and can lead to serious mishaps. let's dissect them one by one.

liking.

you're familiar with the like from other social media platforms. you tap a post twice or hit the little heart at the bottom of the post and it's added to your likes. wonderful, right? well. tumblr is a little different.

tumblr doesn't have an algorithm. let me say that again. there is no algorithm on tumblr. i guess there is, on the for you page, but that doesn't count because it's really shit. the only important thing on tumblr is your dashboard, and your dashboard only shows original posts and the reblogs of those posts from people you follow.

no one cares about your likes. your likes don't do shit. that's why creatives on here keep talking about reblogs. you need to reblog things on tumblr in order for them to get seen. it's a snowballing effect. likes are nice and all, but they're private. they're not contributing to a story or an artwork being seen by more people. they're essentially empty interaction. what's more, should a post get deleted for whatever reason, that post is gone for you forever.

i know some people use their likes as bookmarks for things they want to look at later, but i would strongly urge you not to do that. people block serial likers, because most of the time it is, sadly, very unlikely that they will come back and actually interact with the post again. that's just the way it is. we can thank tiktok and instagram for that. again, tumblr doesn't have an algorithm. if you want to genuinely support and encourage people on here, you need to do more than liking.

commenting.

this is a step up from liking, because you're actually interacting now. a comment will show up in the activity of the person whose post you left it on and of the original poster (op)—more on that distinction in a minute. comments are encouraged especially on ask/answer type posts, or as a reply to an earlier reblog.

when it comes to fanfic, there are, again, pros and cons. you can only leave a comment from your main blog, which means that even if you have a second account where you reblog fics, there's not necessarily a link between the two. this can lead to your getting blocked if you've never reblogged a fic to your main blog. on the other hand, if people comment on your fic without reblogging it, but they do reblog other people's fics, that can also rub creators the wrong way because it creates a strange sort of hierarchy: why those fics? why not mine?

important thing to note: i am not saying that to make anyone feel bad about "just" commenting, i just want you to be aware that this might go on in a creator's head. it has in mine. i'm very aware that this is a me problem, but it's also a reason why people might get blocked out of the blue, which is why i wanted to bring it up.

reblogging.

ah yes, reblogging. reblogging is the thing that makes tumblr tumblr, and it's so easy to do. you just hit the little 🔁 symbol at the bottom of the post, and boom, it's reblogged to your own blog. everyone who follows you can now see it on their dashboard, and if they reblog it, their followers can see it, and so on and so forth. every time someone reblogs a post from you, you will get a notification in your activity, and so will the op.

reblogs are the heart and soul of tumblr. yes, original posts are (usually) individual creations, but the community aspect of this site is born through the reblog. there are different variations on how to reblog. all are valid, because all help spreading posts around.

the empty reblog is the quickest option. there's literally a quick reblog option on mobile: if you hold your finger on the reblog button for a second or so, you will see your icon appear. if you swipe in that direction, the post gets immediately reblogged to your blog. something similar can be done on desktop with the xkit browser extension. it's fast, it's easy, it gets the job done. it's perfect for when you like a post but don't have anything specific to say/reply.

the reblog with tags is the second fastest option. tags, on tumblr, are sort of the sotto voce version of comments. yes, you can use tagging to organise your blog and make your posts easily findable (is that a word?) but the real fun begins when little asides are added. you can keysmash in the tags. you can put your thoughts in the tags. you can go full caps without it looking overwhelming in the actual post. if you're just starting to comment on things, the tags are a great place to start, because the actual post will keep looking the same; the tags are just a little additional bonus for both you and the creator. this is what you would use for the majority of posts that aren't works of art in any way, too, like text posts you want to find again, polls, photographs etc.

the reblog with additions though? oh boy. that's the real stuff. imagine it as clipping on your thoughts to the post, right there for everyone to see. you can add gifs, and memes, and change the font, and change the colour, and scream, and keysmash, and ramble without limitations. it's like catnip for the op. if you reblog a fic, a moodboard, a piece of art, a gifset, whatever it is, and you put your thoughts underneath? man, it's amazing.

side note: if you're new to commenting on people's fics and you don't know what to say, i highly recommend referring to this post. (btw i linked my reblog so it can act as an example of the different forms of adding to a post: there were other reblogs before mine, and i've added tags. useful in its content and as an example!!)

reposting.

this is where we need to be careful. reblogs are great. reposts are theft. where's the difference? reposting refers to you copying another creator's work, whatever it may be, and creating a new post without any indication to the original person's efforts. even if you do include their url, you will most likely get reported and blocked. because now, you've become the op of this copied post, and the actual creator will get absolutely nothing.

you will most likely have seen banners in fic communities that state something along the lines of "don't copy or translate any of my work to this or any other site". that's what this refers to. this would also include the following:

posting another writer's story to ao3/wattpad/another fic site of your choice without their permission. you can absolutely never do this. "but what if"—NO. never. fullstop.

some creators allow translations of their work, but you can only ever share those with their explicit permission and proper credit.

saving a gif to use without linking back to the artist. this is maybe my biggest gripe. yes, i know this site sucks at making gifs searchable, but still, you can't do this. and no, "credit goes to the original artist" doesn't count, where did that bullshit even come from? it makes me so mad. that's not giving credit, that's being lazy.

3. be nice, and have fun

this is fandom, and it's supposed to be a hobby. this is supposed to be a good time. none of us are getting paid for any of this. yes, we're all passionate about what we do, whether we're looking at other people's creations or we make them ourselves. we're fans of that common thing, and isn't that great?

just a little more internet etiquette that's not really tumblr specific but could be a good reminder for everyone:

not everything is for you, and that's okay

if something's not for you, scroll away

if you don't like what someone is posting, ignore them. mute them. block them.

do not ever, and i mean ever, send anyone hate. you don't know who's on the other side of the screen. block them and move on. life's too fucking short.

don't correct people's grammar/spelling. only assholes do that. if you can't help yourself and they're a person you've interacted with before, shoot them a private message and be nice about it.

don't offer unsolicited advice. i don't care if you want to give constructive criticism to help the other person. unless they've explicitly asked you to do that, don't. you'll get blocked so quick, and you'll ruin someone's day.

if you're reading a fic that's not finished yet, don't ask for an update. yes, you're excited for the story to continue. but "part 2", "when's the next chapter out", "more please" and so on are all things that put pressure on creators whether that's your intention or not. it gives us the impression that what we've already put out is never enough. and that sucks. by all means, be excited about what comes next, but not like this.

read!! old!! fics!!!! the beauty of tumblr being the way it is is that there's zero shame in interacting with older posts. it's not like you're liking a seven year old post on instagram. in fact, if you're commenting on a seven year old fic/gifset/moodboard/artwork on tumblr, i can guarantee you're gonna make that creator's day.

i'm absolutely positive that i've forgotten something in this post even though it's longer than several of my wips, so if any of my moots want to add something that'd be great!! in fact i'm gonna tag some of you because you know what? if you've read all of this you deserve a kiss. have a wonderful day 💛

@marvelettesassemblenow @barnesafterglow @imaginearyparties @aphrogeneias @brandycranby @writing-for-marvel @foreverindreamlandd @sanguineterrain @demxters @wildlivelychild

#inbox

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maybege · 2 years ago

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may's candid and personal take on fandom

On a more candid note, I’d like to talk more about my experience as a writer in fandom. I spent a long time thinking about this (a better part of the last six months, on and off) as I am usually trying to keep my opinions to myself due to events that are long ago now.

I really need you all to be kinder to writers.

I have been here since sometime around May 2020 and I think it is telling that the fandom circles around the same problems again and again and nothing ever changes.

Interaction is really low and I am not the first writer to lament this, nor will I be the last one but maybe I have this naïve hope that if enough people read the same thing again and again, it will finally stick. I know I haven’t put out content on a regular basis for a long time now but while it is not directly related to the level of interactions these works get, that rhythm will for sure not improve if interaction stays as low as it is. It can be really disheartening to know you have over a thousand followers and the reblogs/comments on your works do not even exceed 50.

Obviously, the way tiktok and fast paced social media work have influenced how we interact with things on all kinds of platforms. But I really need you all to understand that a like on tumblr does not count the way it does on Instagram or maybe even tiktok. That is a bookmark at best. Do I mind if you serial like an entire series of mine? Of course not, I am happy to see that someone is actively reading something of mind and enjoying it. But please have the courtesy to maybe comment on the masterlist or the most recent part.

Fandom is taking and giving and I think it is unfair that it is somehow is expected of writers to pump out story after story without having to give them something (comments, asks, reblogs) for it. And when someone complains about it, suddenly we are deemed as ungrateful to the few that actually read our stuff.

Back in lockdown, there was more of a balance for obvious reasons. But now that I see that writers cannot post as much due to real life or maybe other reasons, it is like the number of notes has diminished across the board. Writers in fandom are people who are not (and cannot be) paid for their works. (Side note: If you accept fanfiction commissions or money for fanfiction, I will find you quicker than the mouse mafia because you will not ruin this for us.) On one hand, the expectation seems to be that writers should update ever single week without fail. On the other hand, it seems too big an ask of readers to actually comment/reblog the things that they read.

(Waiting for a new chapter for weeks, months, hell, even years, was never unusual in fandom spaces and I need this to be more common knowledge.)

Then again, the negativity in fandom has really fucking increased. It comes and goes in wavesand I will not pretend to be affected because I was so inactive this last year. (This is simply a side note but it is something that I think needs more attention: The way I see poc creators treated is despicable and while I do not write for PP characters anymore because of all the drama, people really need to reflect how they see Pedro Pascal as a human being instead of a sex object.)

For me, personally, I have noticed that if I get genuinely angry at something happening on tumblr, it is time for me to log off and really focus on real life and I think it is something that we all should take to heart. Sadly, the more time passes, the more I am convinced that this fandom might not even be worth it anymore and I genuinely understand many creators who decide to leave permanently. It often feels like people are just there to create drama or to vague or that important and serious posts about how we should treat each other and the actors we admire are simply ignored in favour of the “I don’t like drama.” line. Which, like, one is drama and one is not. (Spoiler alert: Discussions on fandom inclusion and racism within fandom are not drama.)

Anyway, Readers need to be more mindful of the power they have over writers and if you want to complain that so many creators have deactivated or become inactive, I would like to ask that you reflect on when was the last time that you commented on someone’s fic.

#fandom #idek if this makes sense #but i really need to vent this out #also yes you can send me your personal opinions but i ask that you be respectful because we are all adults here

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ramblingdisaster73 · 2 years ago

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“I haven’t seen anyone drag Rafa through the mud”

…still feel the same bestie?

People in this fandom are fucking awful, especially when they know how hard it is for him to be active on social media.

Obviously you can’t control the fandom, and neither can I. But the negativity has taken a life of its own. Sad that so many people in this fandom are so immature and toxic.

To be fair, at the time of posting that, I hadn’t seen anyone actually dragging Rafa through the mud – that has absolutely changed. I also don’t spend a ton of time on FB, Twitter, or Instagram & I don’t read all the comments on the posts of the people I follow, so it is easy for me to not see any mud dragging unless someone brings it up on here.

I wish more people could separate the actor from the character they play, one that they have little real creative control over. Rafa can talk to Tim about the storylines, try to make sure he is understanding the role – but at the end of the day the writers & Tim have control over what plots Carlos is involved in, not Rafa. Same with Ronen & TK.

There are a whole lot of people that need to spend a lot of time in a field full of grass. Unfortunately, they won’t. I don’t know if the people that are so intent on trashing the actor because of the character just have limited life/relationship experience, limited social skills/interactions, are young or immature, or just mean-spirited people that need to make others feel bad in order to feel good.

We all have things we obsess over, but when the thing you obsess over are real live humans, you are going to be disappointed at times – people do people things.

I do see the toxicity in fandom, unfortunately large groups of people just create it, especially when you have people that need to feel like the #1 fan of xyz, feel the need to compete with other fans for a useless fictious title.

Last night I had someone reblog a post & telling me that since I had reblogged a tweet of Ronen saying “Have I ever steered you wrong” with the tag of “Why yes sir you have.” that I didn’t deserve Ro & Rafa. I decided to look at the blog – the person had tagged & reblogged each person that had said something similar. There whole dash was just the same tweet with them being childish to each person they tagged. Like, what is the point? Who does that benefit? Why are they the deciders of who deserves what?

So, yes I absolutely do see a shit ton of toxicity in the fandom – Some people thrive on it. Those are the people that led Tim & Oliver Stark to get rid of their twitter accounts, led Rafa to deleting pics of Instagram. It’s sad, because like you said, he is already very particular with what he shares (as is his right and honestly I really respect that about him – if he wants us to know something about his personal life – he will tell it, he doesn’t owe it to anyone). I love his activism, how he uses his platform – I have learned a lot about things & areas that I never really thought about before.

The people that just want chaos and friction, the ones that can’t be happy unless they are making someone else miserable, the ones that think they have any business in a celebrity’s life are unfortunately not going away – but they can be ignored.

#anon #fandom discussion

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mybookplacenet · 5 months ago

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Author Interview: Paula Banks

Tell us about yourself.: Hey there, I'm Paula, a 46-year-old author of children's books. When I'm not busy writing stories, I juggle my roles as a wife, a mother, and an implementation specialist. Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing?: I hail from Rockland County, NY, which is situated right outside the bustling city of NYC. It was during my time there that I discovered my love for writing stories. Do you have any unusual writing habits? I don't think I've got any weird writing habits. I just write, and when I feel stuck or overwhelmed, I take a break for a day or even a week to clear my head. Then I jump back in and keep going. What authors have influenced you? I hail from Rockland County, NY, which is situated right outside the bustling city of NYC. It was during my time there that I discovered my love for writing stories. Do you have any advice for new authors? Just keep going! Whether you sell one book or a hundred, never give up on writing. Your stories are important, and I promise that someone out there will connect with what you have to say. What is the best advice you have ever been given? The best piece of advice I ever gave was to my boys, and it was simply this: follow your dreams, no matter what. Don't wait for the perfect moment; just go ahead and do it. What are you reading now? Steve Furtick, Sun Stand Still What's your biggest weakness? I believe that my biggest weakness is self-doubt. What is your favorite book of all time? The Autobiography of Malcolm X When you're not writing, how do you like to spend your time? When I'm not writing, you can find me hanging out with my husband, watching an old '80s movie, or listening to some hip-hop. Do you remember the first story you ever read, and the impact it had on you? The very first books that had an impact on me were the Baby-Sitters Club series. I was obsessed with those books, and they inspired me to become a writer. Ann Martin was the first author I was introduced to who made me think, "This is what I want to do." What has inspired you and your writing style? My writing style is heavily influenced by my personal experiences. I take fragments of my childhood and reimagine them the way I wish they had played out. In that sense, my writing is very intimate, as it allows me to rewrite parts of my life that I may have missed out on due to my shyness or insecurities. What are you working on now? At the moment, I'm busy writing the second book of the Peyton's Journeys series, which is set to release on June 4th! I'm excited to share that I've infused one of my passions, hip hop, into this book. It's very special to me, and I can't wait for readers to experience it. What is your favorite method for promoting your work? Social media has been a game-changer for me! Not only does it provide a platform to market my books, but it's also a great way to connect with other authors, particularly black authors like myself. Through social media, I've been able to form valuable connections and expand my network in ways that I never thought possible. What's next for you as a writer? The sky's the limit! I'm eager to discover everything that God has in store for me on this journey as an author. How well do you work under pressure? I believe that I work fairly well under pressure. Sometimes I perform even better when things get hectic than when they're calm. How do you decide what tone to use with a particular piece of writing? Given that I write for the age group of 4-8, I always aim to maintain an engaging tone in my work. I try to avoid being too formal or using language that children might not relate to. It's important to me to remember that, even though I'm an adult, I'm writing for the little ones, so my stories must be told in a way that they can understand. If you could share one thing with your fans, what would that be? While I may not have a huge fan base at the moment (but that will change soon, I am claiming!), To my current fans, I appreciate you more than words can say! Paula Banks's Author Websites and Profiles Website Amazon Profile Paula Banks's Social Media Links Instagram Read the full article

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sunnynardelli · 7 months ago

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MERROCK TASK #20

SOCIAL MEDIA - part 2

At what age did your character start using social media?

The internet might have been a thing when she was younger but social media really didn't start popping off until she was in high school. She was a teenager.

Did their parents monitor their use, if they were young?

Sunny's dads trust her judgment. They weren't overly concerned about it.

Has your character ever had fake identities or accounts online?

She hasn't really had any need for any of that. The idea of catfishing anyone is just lame. She does understand needing a second account to maybe hide personal from professional or maybe "research" people but she hasn't personally had to do any of that.

No shame: do they remember myspace? Did they use it?

She knows what it is but she never really had one.

Who would be in their top eight today?

She'd struggle with this because she loves all her friends. I do know Stelly would be one of the 8. She'd probably also have a mix of Bonne Merde people and folks she's grown up with.

What social media platforms do they use today?

Mostly instagram but she is still occasionally using twitter. She also has tiktok but she honestly views things more than she makes videos. She refuses to call it X.

Do they have public profiles, or go private?

She's on public because it just seems silly to hide who she is. If someone wants to stalk her, they are welcome to it.

How about their following? Are they pretty lowkey, or do they have a decent following?

She isn’t an influencer or anything by those standards but she tends to make friends easily and thus get a fairly decent internet following.

Do they tend to pick obvious usernames, ones with sentimental value, funny things? How do they decide?

When she was younger, Sunny would have picked clever usernames. As an adult, she’s sort of moved to a more professional/obvious sort of vibe. It was just part of the growing up process.

Profile pictures: the same across all platforms?

Some of her accounts are linked so if she changes one, it changes on all. If they’re not linked, they are likely different.

And just what profile pictures do they use?

They’re probably just whatever selfie she’s taken most recently that she thinks is cute or seasonable appropriate.

What kind of bio writer are they? Silly, cute, sweet, or just basic?

They’re normally brief but she will occasionally put a link to something she’s involve with or emojis.

How much time per day would you say that your character spends on social media?

She tries not to be on it too much but she doom scrolls when she’s in bed sometimes. There is just something about

Is there one platform that they visit more than others?

It’s probably TikTok and the doom scrolling. She just needs those funny videos sometimes.

If they have kids, do they use social media? How do they feel about that? If not, and they want kids, will they let them use it someday?

She doesn’t have kids. She probably will let them decide what they want to do when they’re old enough. She’s definitely not going to say no but she’s also not going to be one of those parents who sets up accounts for them from the day they’re born.

Be honest: have they ever created an account for something else, like a hobby, or… to try to make their cat internet famous?

No. All she’s got is business accounts.

Do they run any professional or business accounts?

She runs the Bonne Merde social media accounts.

Have they ever left a social media platform (or more than one) for any specific reason?

She has had a facebook before but she deactivated it mostly because it’s a bit much at times and she definitely doesn’t agree with some of the stuff they’ve allowed to transpire over the years. She also used to have a tumblr but she sort of outgrew it.

Do they plan on using social media into their older ages?

It’s part of being alive in this modern age. She’s sort of embraced that there is always going to be social media in some form even if the names an websites change.

Have they ever made any long-lasting friendships through social media?

She’s definitely made connections especially for her business through social media that have panned out.

Or on the flip side, gotten into any big social media beef?

No. The best she’s done is a little comedic rivalry with local businesses.

Have they ever felt negatively impacted by social media as a user?

As a teenager, it was a little rough at times. It’s definitely not what it is today but there were definitely times that she was made to feel lesser than .

Who is their favorite person / account to follow on social media?

She really enjoys the People of Merrock instagram that captures random photos/moments of things happening around town.

Would they say that social media has had an overall more positive or negative impact on the world?

Social Media has good and bad elements to it. For Sunny, it’s mostly good because of the boom to business and the connectivity. She’s definitely had moments (especially when younger) that she had to deal with idiots on the internet who had not so great things to say about her and her family but she’s learned not to feed the trolls.

And finally: a/s/l? (and do they know what that means?)

Yes. She might not have been part of the generation where it was used much but she was raised in such a way, it would have been something she was told about when talking about the glory days of the internet.

#merrocktask

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nikgannonphotography · 1 year ago

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Sydney Street Files: Natural Progression Part 1

Welcome back my fellow street photographers. I’ve lacked inspiration for this blog the last couple of weeks, which has been a regular occurrence while traveling on my creative journey.

The most important to remember is that your timeline is unique, and no two people will ever experience the same levels of motivation and creativity at the same time.

Your personal life, career path, societal pressures (COVID-19 and lockdowns, for example) can all affect your journey and can have a strong impact on whether you decide to go pro in a creative field or only practice art as a medium for expression.

While this is a photography-based blog, the tips below should apply to all creative fields. My goal in this article is to hopefully offer you some reassurance and remind you that nothing is ever concrete. You never know where life will take you so remember to relax, enjoy everything as it comes, and you will work out the steps to becoming a better artist along the way. A lot of mistakes will be made along the way but if you prioritise your enjoyment, you should see success sooner rather than later.

Get used to failure and re-evaluate your goals

You might find yourself at times envying or becoming jealous of creatives who have made it big, have done something you haven’t, or seem to have figured it all out. What most of these creatives will tell you is that they have made the exact same mistakes you have, that it’s not as easy as it looks and that not everyone will get to their level. Social medias a great place to promote your work and to gain recognition, but it can also breed a lot of negative self-thought on what you have made, what you can make and what your limit is.

The worst thing to do is convince yourself that because you aren’t at the level of someone like Peter McKinnon that you’re unsuccessful. Peter has said in his YouTube videos on multiple occasions how many times he changed career path, failed, altered his goals and did things that were uncomfortable for him to get to that level.

When I first started doing professional work, I hated some of the photos I was producing, but as each project was completed, I found myself getting more comfortable, working out the kinks, and finding out what worked for me and what didn’t work for me… and then there would be another setback. Suddenly, I’d have to learn something new again, I worked out the kinks, and then this cycle continued. This happens A LOT.

After lockdown #2 in Sydney, I decided my best way forward was to drop pro-work for the time being and focus on content I actually wanted to produce (which is how this blog came to be as I fall back into the street photography game). I have adjusted my goals and guess what – I am again failing! I haven’t been consistent with how many articles I write and put out and that annoys me, but I understand that it’s a part of the process. I know I will learn new ways of motivating myself to write and will eventually pick up a regular routine, but it’s about putting in the work, accepting my failures, and re-evaluating my creative goals at each point.

Get used to imposter syndrome – it’s inevitable

Every creator has felt it at some point – that anxiety you get when you post an Instagram photo with every tag possible just to get some exposure or posting something and wondering if it’s going to be well received or not, and then being disappointed when you get 5 likes on a photo you think is good.

Don’t let Instagram or other social media platforms define your idea of success. You need to look at each post as a moment in your own creative timeline because your audience will constantly shift. You never know if or when you will get noticed so take every moment as either a moment of success or as a learning opportunity.

It's also important to remember that marketing your products is a game, which I have approached differently at every level. I have learned a lot through failure, and I no longer see it as a personal attack on myself if my work doesn’t reach an audience. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and continue with what you’re doing because eventually, you’ll find comfort in the process.

Imposter syndrome pits you against yourself and can often be your downfall. Just know that working out what works for you is an uncomfortable process, but inevitably you will find what works best.

#curators on tumblr #fujifilm #fujifilm photography #photooftheday #fujifilm x t3 #photographer #photography #street photography #sydney #blog #protest #protest photography #life lessons #morals #blogger #photography blog #blog post

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hey-kae · 2 years ago

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Hi! I absolutely love your works✨✨ and I would like to ask you for an OS angst 😢 where Charles and reader end the relationship because of hate and comments on social media. I don't know whether to end with a happy or sad ending, that's your choice 🥰.

Hate and Love

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: the chaos that was japan, slight implication about Charles thinking of Jules’ accident, panic attack, talk of weight and body image, needs more proofreading.

a/n: i don’t think i’m that good with the whole hate trope as i struggle to write it without feeling like it’s turning out cringey, what explains how long this took me to write and i’m still not satisfied with it. But it’s yours to judge now ig…

When you've been swinging a hammer repeatedly over a frail sheet of glass, it's it going to shatter it. There is no way around that fact.

When you keep throwing insults at a human being, you're going to break them.

Whether these things are your intentions or not doesn't change the outcome.

Rarely do we ever see any exceptions for clear and particular reasons. Everything has a reaction or consequence that is to some degree, inescapable.

The crack in the glass made itself loud and clear on the weekend of the Japanese Grand Prix.

Excited about having some time off that would allow you to support Charles on the double header of Singapore and Japan and getting to see such beautiful and unique places, you had decided to accompany him on his two week trip, not wanting to waste any opportunity to spend highly valuable time with him.

The Singapore Grand Prix went okay and by the end of the weekend, the bags were packed and you headed to the airport with Charles.

On the lengthy flight, Charles fell asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, and it honestly didn't matter how long the two of you had been dating, long enough that you had a sparkling ring sitting on your finger, the sight of that and the feel of his soft brown hair tickling your neck and cheek quickly caused your heart to race. If anything, that was just another proof of how much this man meant to you, how much you devotedly loved him.

Wanting to secure the memory in your head and into existence, you fished your phone out of your bag without moving much so you wouldn't disturb him, and you quickly snapped a selfie that showed half your face, mainly focusing at the much cherished sight of your asleep fiance.

The picture was adorable. Charles looked so cozy and at peace.

You were smiling at your phone screen, debating whether or not you should share such a harmless picture with the world.

There lies the conflict.

If any of your social media accounts had been somewhat "normal", you would've posted it without any second thoughts like you'd done with previous boyfriends you had. Sharing occasional pictures of your relationship for your friends and family to see was something that should've felt natural, and it did feel like that in the past.

Then, Charles came along.

He was somewhat of a celebrity.

You knew that since the very first time you hung out with him. If anything, that was the only thing about him that made you reluctant about getting into a relationship with him. People's huge interest in him would inevitably transfer to his partner.

As you had expected, dating Charles reformed your understanding of social media. It was no longer a source of entertainment but a business place, a space for profit and advertising and never in your life have you wanted that to be the way you used social platforms.

Suddenly, everyone was so interested in your everyday life to the point where there was accounts literally dedicated to finding out where you bought each outfit from and while it was funny for a while, you were quick to realize that the whole influencer lifestyle was in no way your cup of tea.

It didn't help that anytime you shared anything that had merely any connection to Charles, your DMs flooded with message requests and your notifications got crowded with replies and comments. One night, out of sheer boredom while Charles snored beside you in bed, you went through some messages. From that point on, there was no return route, and it sure didn't help that the engagement shone a brighter light on your relationship and how serious it was, causing the hate to double.

While some of the messages were overwhelmingly sweet, some were also overwhelmingly cruel and inconsiderate.

You promised yourself that you wouldn't let these things affect you nor the beautiful and genuine connection you had with Charles, that you wouldn't even check the messages and comments again in the first place.

But as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat.

It turned into a repeated pattern, a compulsion you couldn't get rid of.

Therefore, you continued staring at the picture, you thumb hovering over the share button until Charles startled you.

"Tout va bien, bébé?" Everything's okay, baby?

You locked your phone and let it fall onto your lap before assuring him that everything was okay.

"Oui, cheri. Tout est bien." Yes, darling. Everything is okay. You smiled, wrapping one arm around him and allowing your head to rest on his, your eyes closing as you attempted to push out all the negative things and remarks, redirecting your focus onto the man by your side.

That position didn't hit the minute mark since Charles moved so he was sat a bit more upright and pulled you close to him so your head rested on his chest, his arm around your back while he looked down at you through half opened eyes.

"Tu sais bien que tu peux me dire n'importe quoi, n'est ce pas?" You know that you can tell me anything, right? He reassured, sensing that something about the way you were behaving was not quite right.

"Oui, je sais cela. I promise you, there's nothing worth mentioning." Yeah, i know that... You replied and tilted your head up to press a quick kiss onto his cheek.

With that, he let the subject go, ignoring the instinctive feeling in his chest telling him to make sure that everything was alright but he had no concrete proof that anything was going wrong so he forced himself to push the suspicions to the back of him mind.

That was supposed to be the end of that issue. You promised yourself to actually act normally and not allow stupid comments and remarks to taint your relationship with Charles.

It said a lot that you were engaged to Charles. You literally wanted to marry him, you saw your future with him and at this point, you couldn't really imagine a life without him by your side so you found it unreasonable and just plain idiotic to allow strangers who lived cities and countries away to interfere between him and you.

However, as the weekend processed and pictures of you with Charles popped up on the internet, that last thought seemed to be morphing. All you wanted was an escape, a break from the judgmental critics and the suspicious fans overanalyzing every move and post you made. With every passing hour, you were reminded why you rarely ever showed your relationship with Charles publicly and openly.

People knew you existed and they knew that you and Charles were engaged but when they aren't reminded of that, they tend to ease up a little bit on you. Therefore, it goes without saying that the opposite had been happening during those two weeks.

After qualifying, having watched the session from the pit box since Charles asked you to, you posted a quick shot of him as he was being photographed with Max and Carlos. You hadn't thought the post through, just supporting for your fiancé and wanting to share that openly. But as you laid sleepless in bed, the jet lag getting to you after Charles passed out of exhaustion, you realized that was a mistake.

Your DMs were flooded with messages, some positive and some negative but it seemed like you couldn't bring yourself to focus on the love you were getting, not when the opposing words were so cruel, hitting quite close to home.

People were going on and on about how you were like Charles' shadow. To them, it looked like you wouldn't let him breathe, that you followed him everywhere and limited his freedom.

Apparently, you were insecure about the relationship and you were essentially following him across the planet not to support him, but to supervise his actions, as if you would've agreed to marry a man you didn't trust.

Not only were they speculating about the relationship, the comments about your body were downright disturbing under some of the photos captured when you were spotted around the paddock. There were pictures of you eating and the comments under them were disgusting. Even the compliments were worded so crudely that it made your skin crawl as you read through them.

But what hurt the most is people saying you weren't enough, that you weren't worthy of dating someone like Charles, that you were forcing him to commit, that you were using him for fame when in reality, you hated every bit of unnecessary attention you got through dating him.

Everyone was preaching about the way he could do so much better, posting pictures of his exes and comparing your looks to theirs.

Looking through these messages and comments was overwhelming, even suffocating to a certain extent but for some reason, you couldn't put the phone down.

Does she have to always be there?!

Is it just me or is she gaining weight?

I wish Charles would wake up and see why she's really dating him

It's giving... attention seeker

ngl his ex was prettier and they were a cuter couple

The remarks went on and on and you lost yourself in the masses of words that night, forgetting where you were, forgetting that Charles was asleep right beside you, forgetting how much he loves you and how he always went out of his way to remind you of that. Your thoughts were hypnotized by strangers online and you couldn't think of anything else other than what you were reading, not even the words that made you cry when Charles had said them to you the night he went from being your boyfriend to being your fiancé.

You didn't even realize you were crying but the hot tears dropped onto your pajama pants when you sat up in a hurry, gasping for air.

You couldn't breathe properly, your lungs felt like they were collapsing, your hands were freezing and shaking out of control until the words on the screen of your phone and the pictures of Charles hugging you after qualifying turned into a streaky blur of colors that you couldn't even comprehend.

You needed a quick escape, some fresh air but you felt stranded, in a unfamiliar country where you had no idea about where you could go.

Suddenly, you were too aware of the sheets covering your body and even that felt too heavy to be bearable.

With wobbling legs, you pushed off the covers and stumbled onto your feet, even in this state making sure that Charles was still covered.

Nothing felt alright.

You felt like you were loosing it and instead of considering waking Charles up, you thanked god he was in deep slumber.

Tunnel vision took over, making the room darker and smaller than it already was. Your heart felt heavy in your chest. You could hear the rush of blood in your ears. Your body was tingling like if was going numb. Your throat felt dry and tight. Your tears were streaming out of control. You were was having chills all over as you broke out in a cold sweat. The loud noise from the street by the hotel felt so distant but somehow, the sound of Charles breathing was deafeningly loud.

You felt like you were loosing control.

With absolutely no clue of how you made it out of the bedroom, you burst through the balcony door, longing for a fresh breeze, the chilly night air feeling like it was waking up every nerve in your body.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." you kept mumbling as you allowed yourself to fall into the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you finally broke into sobs instead of the panicked, silent cries.

You were never confident growing up, always the calm sister, the shy cousin but really, you were insecure. For years, you worked on yourself until you finally got yourself to participate in social settings, to meet new people. Hell, it took years until you stopped reaching for a pillow to put in your lap every time you sat down, until you could walk in public without crossing your arms in front of you, until you found it in yourself to wear anything you wanted, until you could laugh without covering your mouth.

Therefore, it was undeniable that when you were met with such remarks, every past wound was reopened, and to be fair, the energy it took for you to build yourself into a confident woman was one you didn't have at the moment. You couldn't afford to go down that rabbit hole again. Once in your life was already too much.

You looked out onto the bright city lights, one striking thought now torturing your mind.

Charles.

Charles in your life meant curious eyes and endless criticism. There is no way around that unless he hid you from the world for evermore, and you weren't naïve enough to believe that would be possible, not if you wanted to marry him proudly and have your own little family with him.

That's when your heart broke and the sobs got ten times worse while your opposite hand wrapped around the diamond ring on your finger.

The man asleep a few feet away from you was everything you'd ever wished for.

He was the prince charming that you dreamt of finding back when you were a toddler watching princess movies, beaming over happy endings and escaping on a white horse. Charles was the one who satisfied that little girl's dreams during adult days that felt endless and hopeless and so painfully dull.

Middle school you who described the man she'd marry years down the road in excessive details in her diary would be in disbelief to see Charles exceeding all the impossibly high expectations she set, even after she ditched them when she was forced to face the real world.

He was perfect and you loved him beyond words, more than you ever thought was possible and you were just so ready to have it that way until forever and a day, until you grew old with his hand in yours.

Countless times, you imagined your wedding, the days after it, the look on Charles' face. You imagined having kids with him, watching him become a father and being the amazing dad you knew for sure he would be, holding the children you'd have and teaching them how to do anything and everything, maybe even how to race. Every detail that you were so sure would become true at some point had passed through your mind so many times, sending your kids to school, watching them grow up with the love of your life right by your side for it all, sharing every moment, milestone and event with Charles, happy or sad.

You wanted everything with him, the good and the bad.

But then, the image of the teenager you once were, stood timidly in front of the mirror, hating what she saw took over. You remembered when you didn't have the confidence to even present a project in school, when every little critic tore you apart and broke you to pieces.

The future was pushed right out of your mind as you let the past take over, dread washing over you like frozen water as you realized just how easily this situation you were in could drive you back to your old ways.

As the memory of crying your nights away and fearing the days came resurfaced, the face of younger you, so hopeful and full of life flashed in your mind and that was when you realized you couldn't fail her, no matter how flawless your relationship with Charles was, it was still breaking you.

As you came to the realization, the cries became too loud and even from your spot on the balcony, you were afraid to wake Charles up. You clasped your hand over your mouth, muffling the sobs and gasps, your eyes screwing shut as you struggled to catch your breath, the tears falling out of your eyes heavy and uncontrollable.

You couldn't afford waking him up right now, facing his gentle looks and caring words but No matter how quiet you attempted to be, it didn't work.

"Cherie," Charles' worried toned startled you, making you fumble to wipe away the tears, "what is happening?" He asked, crouching down in front of you immediately.

His hair was ruffled and messy. He was barefoot and was messily but warmly dressed for bed. His eyes were hazy with sleep and barely opened while his hands grabbed yours to pull them away from your face.

He was a bit too caring and it made everything hurt so much more.

Through your burning eyes and clouded vision, you glanced up at him adoringly while your heart shattered into a million tiny shards.

"I love you so much, Charlie." You sobbed, reaching over and hugging him as tight as you could.

Instantly, his hands were rubbing up and down your back, trying so desperately to comfort you, but he had no clue what was going on and he was too sleepy not to be confused.

"I love you so much as well." He kissed the top of your head, "mais tu veux me dire qu'est-ce qui se passe, mon amour?" but you wanna tell me what’s happening? He asked with the softest voice, taking advantage of the way your arms were wrapped around his neck to slip his hands under you and carry you back inside to the comfortable bed where he could hold you properly.

Once he had you wrapped in a cozy hug on the mattress, he got you to look at him and his heart plummeted at the sight of your swollen eyes.

"Oh, baby." He cooed, wiping the last of your tears off your cheeks with his thumbs, "What happened?"

You felt like you could crumble under his worried looks, immensely dreading tomorrow as your eyes looked with his.

"I don't know." You attempted to push out a chuckle but Charles knew you too much.

He got you to lay your head on his chest and began brushing his fingers through your hair, thinking about what could be the reason you were crying that hard.

"Honnêtement? Je n'te crois pas. You were crying so hard, bébé..." Honestly? I don’t believe you. You were crying so hard, baby…

The heavy concern lacing his still hoarse voice was too much and you could've lied to him, came up with an excuse for the breakdown you had but you couldn't do that, not to someone you loved so much.

"I just - i don't know, cheri. Je n'veux pas en parler maintenant." I don’t want to talk about it right now. You felt Charles nod. He knew he couldn't force you to talk about something you didn't want to discuss but he wasn't gonna be at ease, not knowing why you were so upset, not able to help you through it.

"D'accord..." Okay. he said, closing his tired eyes, "Demain après la course donc?" Tomorrow after the race then?

"Ouais. Demain." Your heart ached at that. Yeah, tomorrow.

With that last promise to discuss the issue tomorrow, Charles allowed himself to relax for now, hugging you close but making sure he wouldn't be falling asleep before you.

Meanwhile your mind raced with thoughts of your plans. You couldn't help but fear that Charles would think you don't love him anymore after he would find out what you did.

"Charles..." you waited for him to look at you, "Tu sais bien que je ne mens jamais quand je te dis que je t'aimerais jusqu'à mon dernier souffle, n'est-ce pas? Promets-moi de ne jamais oublier cela” You know that i will love you until my last breath, right? Promise me to never forget that.

"Alright, baby... I don't like the sound of that. Why are you saying it like this?" He lifted his head off the pillow to look at you, his hand stilling in your hair as he tried understanding what you meant by that, especially when you were crying minutes ago, when your body was still shaking against his.

"Please tell me what's going on." He asked again, the worry and dread in his chest increasing with every word you said.

"There's really nothing going on. I just want to remind you of how much i love you." You said with a sniffle, your eyes clouding again with tears that were threatening to spill again.

"I really don't believe you, not when i'm not understanding anything at all." He sat up a bit, unable to shake the uneasy feeling he had now.

"Charles, please. On a dit qu'on en parlera plus tard et tu dois vraiment dormir car il est deja très tard et tu dois te réveiller tôt demain matin. S'il te plait, laisse ça tomber au moment." We said we’ll talk about it later and you really need to sleep because it’s already so late and you have to wake up early tomorrow. Please, let it go right now.

Sighing, he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off, clearly not happy about this situation and making that clear to you by turning the other way and pulling the sheets right up to his neck.

You couldn't help but bite the inside of your cheek at that, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

"Charlie, please don't be upset. Je t'aime." I love you. You rolled onto your side, facing his back, hiding your face against it and hugging his waist as the tears started falling again.

“Bonne nuit.” Good night. He mumbled as a reply but you never let go of him, no matter how many minutes had passed.

You listened to the sound you were most grateful for, the soft thud of his heartbeat, letting it cut you deeper and harder because you were so hell bent on the fact that you deserved this pain, and once you thought he had went back to sleep, you allowed the quiet sobs and sniffles out, holding on tighter to the man you loved so deeply.

But Charles was everything but asleep. He felt your arms tighten around his waist, felt your hands clutching onto him for dear life. He heard you crying and laid there for a while, going over the past day in his head a hundred different times, desperately trying to understand what had unworldly upset you and crushed you this bad until his heart started feeling heavy with every sob that met his ears and at that point, he no longer felt like insisting on finding out what had happened. He just wanted to comfort you.

He sighed heavily and turned to face you, immediately bringing you to hide in his chest and between his sheltering arms, his hand on the back of your head securing you into this position that he knew you found so comforting.

The gesture only made you cry harder, this time the sounds muffled by having Charles so close.

"Shh, bébé." He kissed the top of your head while his heart felt like it was being torn apart, "I've got you, mon amour. Calm down."

That night you fell asleep for one singular reason and that way your eyes burning beyond comprehension, forcing you into slumber. Once your tensed body relaxed in Charles hold, he realized that you just exhausted yourself into sleep and that fact alone brought him so close to crying himself. However, he wasn't an idiot. He was well aware he shouldn't be staying up any longer, that he couldn't risk not being able to drive at a 100% in the conditions expected for the race, so he allowed his eyes to fall shut while making sure he had you held as close as possible.

When you woke up next morning, you were alone in bed and as soon as you checked your phone for the Japanese time, you realized why. The race was starting in less than two hours and you were still asleep.

With a worrying scowl on your face, you got up and headed for the bathroom, still trying to make sense of why Charles hadn't woken you up earlier. In the mirror over the sink, there was an unpleasant reminder of yesterday night: swollen under-eyes as your reflection's most prominent feature and even you couldn't help but to stare as you brushed your teeth.

Once done with that, you went back into the bedroom and found a note taped onto the closet door.

I didn't have the heart to wake you up cause you looked so tired but there is a key to a rental by your purse if you still want to go to the race. (I texted you a picture of which car it is.)

Je t'aime fort.

Without a second thought, you pulled on a pair of loose jeans, a cozy sweatshirt that belonged to charles and some shoes, grabbed an additional jacket, your purse and pass along with the keys Charles left you, applied some makeup to hide your swollen eyes and headed for the track, knowing that you weren't selfish enough to not even show your face at such an emotionally charged race for Charles.

It was pouring as you drove to the circuit so you put on your jacket, pulled the hood on and made a run for Charles' garage, hoping you'll catch him before he has to line up on the grid and you did but just barely.

As soon as he saw you coming up to him, his face brightened and he smiled. However, his eyes scanned over you as if to make sure you were alright.

"Good luck!" You attempted an enthusiastic tone after he had greeted you with a quick peck.

"Thank you. Tout vas mieux aujourd'hui?" Is everything going better today?

You nodded and dodged any further questions until he was luckily called over to the car and just like that, he was out of the garage, waving at you as he slipped into the cockpit and moved out into the pit lane.

You slacked in a chair then, feeling so guilty for even having the thought of leaving him, so guilty for putting yourself first. All you could think of was how you never in your life bothered prioritizing yourself and why did you have to start doing that now? When it came down to Charles and your relationship with him? But then another voice that seemed to come from a totally different side of your brain would remind you that it was either losing Charles or losing yourself again and forcing yourself into endless years of repairs and reconstruction.

Needless to say, by the start of the formation lap, your felt like you were loosing your mind as one thought contradicted the other, the scary conditions of the track adding another element to go crazy over with worry and before you knew it, chaos ensued and the race was red flagged when Carlos crashed and the recovery vehicle was employed while the cars were still on track and if you knew anything, it was that it would be disturbing for Charles to see that, especially when it was one of his friends, Pierre who was in the most danger.

You stayed in your chair as the cars made their way back in and watched Charles talking to the pit wall crew across from the garage where you were. He looked so visibly shaken up and you couldn't look at him and his tense posture for longer than that without backing out on your plan.

You turned away, grabbed your phone and booked a plane ticket home so there was no way out of this. However, that only increased the guilt you were feeling as Charles finished talking to Laurent and made his way to you, instantly giving you a kiss before reaching for his red Ferrari coat and shrugging it on to warm himself up.

If he didn't look visibly upset and worried and if you didn't feel like you were betraying him, you would've been obsessing over how adorable he looked with his hands tucked deep into his pockets as he took a seat by your side.

Suddenly, for the first time in years, you were fumbling for words around Charles but you saw him in staring into the distance before he heavily sighed and dropped his head back.

Everything was so close to collapsing, both on your side and his. Maybe you could rethink your decision.

"Bébé..." you turned sideways in your chair and faced him, "are you okay?" You asked and grabbed his hand in both yours.

"Yes, don't worry. Are you feeling better today?"

Only Charles would be more concerned about you when just minutes ago, his life and the life of multiple of his friends were literally on the line.

"Charles..."

"Please, they're already going to make me talk about everything in the media pen and i really don't want to do it twice." He rubbed his eyes angrily as he spoke, moving his hand between yours to intertwine your fingers.

Maybe you shouldn't leave. Not today at least.

You nodded and sat by his side in silence, watching your hands in your lap, his fingers toying with the ring on yours in a way you would've presumed absentminded but Charles found it incredibly comforting.

Eventually, after texting with the other drivers for a long time, all of them furious about the truck incident, he moved his chair closer and rested his head on your shoulder, allowing the two of you to chat quietly about almost anything that didn't involve racing: the food from the restaurant you went to in Tokyo, the old couple you saw yesterday when you went for a walk in the early morning, the wallpaper on your phone, paddock gossip... Anything to distract him for the current situation and the catastrophe that was this Grand Prix since you had a relatively clear idea of what he would be thinking at the moment.

"Cute hoodie, by the way." He smiled half-heartedly.

"It's cold and i don't have anything warm enough with me." You were quick to defend.

"I didn't say i mind it. Au contraire, je l'adore quand tu t'habille de mes vêtements." On the contrary, i adore it when you wear my clothes.

You couldn't even believe you were still considering leaving just a few minutes ago. How could you ever let go of this?

"Okay, okay. Don't get all cheesy now." You blushed, holding onto his hand tighter while you attempted to get a clear view of him.

He let out a small chuckle and brought your hand up to his mouth to press a kiss onto your knuckles.

"Merci." He smiled, "I know what you're doing and I'm so grateful."

You struggled to reply because of course he'd figure this out, so you settled for something simple, "Je t'aime, Charlie." You said and kissed his forehead mindlessly.

And it was like the universe hated you because right that instant, a big camera was directed right at you and Charles, capturing the moment at the perfect time and probably showing it on live TV.

It would be an understatement to say you immediately feared the outcome because you knew that a lot of people would find some ulterior motive other than comforting your stressed fiancé behind the gesture.

You still tried hard to act unfazed like Charles was but you remained highly uncomfortable until the lens moved in the other direction, filming the pit wall.

Somehow, through the seemingly endless red flag, you managed to forget that ever happened until Charles fixed up his suit and retrieved his helmet ages later, returning to his car as they announced the resumption of the session in ten minutes.

"Good luck once again." You smiled at him and watched him head out, back into the car and onto the track.

When Charles disappeared out of sight, you grabbed your phone and found endless notifications on the screen, reminding you of being filmed.

You couldn't help the heavy dread in your chest as you unlocked the device and clicked on the twitter icon.

You knew you couldn't allow yourself to have a breakdown in the middle of the garage with so many people who were well aware who you were surrounding you but you couldn't resist clicking on the notifications tab, gulping as you started reading through them.

It was the usual: the comments like "oh my god, they're adorable" and "at least she's there to comfort him" versus the opposing ones like "she's doing anything to appear on the stream", as if a kiss on the forehead was such an eccentric things to go.

Line after line, you read them and allowed them to build up in your mind until your breathing became irregular like yesterday.

You made a run for it.

You grabbed your things in a hurry, still trying not to attract unnecessary attention and hurried to the car.

You couldn't do this. You wouldn't survive staying in the spotlight that came with dating one of the most famous f1 drivers currently. You wouldn't make it out alive if you stayed with Charles and even though you felt so selfish as you turned the car on, you kept telling yourself that if there was any reasonable time to be selfish, it was now.

The drive back to the hotel passed in a teary, breathless haze as your mind carried your body on autopilot.

Before you could even register that you arrived to the room, you were packing up your bag and frantically searching the room for any pen and paper until you found one with the name of the hotel plastered all over it.

You only realized you were crying when the tear splattered onto the paper, distorting the ink as you shakily wrote.

Charlie, je suis infiniment désolée mais je ne peux plus faire ça. Ce mode de vie est quelque chose dont je ne pourrai jamais supporter.

Prends toujours soin de toi-même. I am so sorry.

Charlie, I'm very sorry but I can't do that anymore. This way of life is something I will never be able to bear.

Always take care of yourself. I am so sorry.

It felt like you were ripping away a part of you when your fingers wrapped around the engagement ring and you began sliding it off. It was physically painful to let go of everything so quickly but it felt like there was no escaping this.

Your eyes forcefully shut and sobs shook your body once the ring was in the palm of your hand instead of on your finger. You looked down at it, the diamond glistening brighter through your blurry, teary gaze. With your breath caught in your throat, you let it fall onto the paper on the nightstand then you were struggling to inhale at all, but you managed to call a taxi and rush down to the lobby with your suitcase and a heavy heart that was burdening you, avoiding at all costs allowing your mind to imagine how Charles would react to your unexplained and unexpected absence, let alone the break up in form of a paper with tear-streaked ink scarring it.

You just flew to your home country, not even to the apartment you shared with Charles in Monaco, leaving everything behind.

—

Such a short race shouldn't have felt so long but it seemed never ending as the gap to P1 grew with every lap, the tyres working completely against all the effort Charles was putting in.

Before he even knew it, the Redbull behind him was threateningly close and he was cussing out the whole world. He defended his position with everything he got, the only thing on his mind is finishing the race and falling into the comfort of his fiancée's arms but with all the stress that weighed down on his shoulders, the pressure of such defense caused him to exit the track and he knew he'd have to face complications because of that.

Getting dropped from P2 to P3 by a 5 seconds penalty felt like being dropped from P1 to P20, especially after all the effort he put in on track to keep the position but he took it without complaints and walked into the cool down room, already feeling like he was ready to collapse in bed.

He felt heavy and exhausted. He just wished he could skip the podium celebration and the interviews and just go find you but he knew that was impossible so he straightened up and put the brave, undefeated face back on.

On podium, his eyes scanned the crowd many times, trying so desperately to find the face that brought him comfort but to no avail. His shoulders slacked a bit lower as he realized you weren't watching the celebration and he was already making excuses for you as the national anthems played.

Eventually, he was handed a trophy and even though it was rather small, lifting it above his head took so much effort. He was so done with everything and just wanted to escape to you and hug you so tight. No one was ever able to cheer him up like you did and he was so grateful for that, for you and for the fact that he would be calling you his wife someday.

Forcing himself to stay aware of where he was for a few more minutes, he popped the bottle of champagne open and sprayed Max, congratulated him on the championship and eagerly got the hell out.

He rejoined his team, immediately asking about you but no where had a single idea where you were. Then, he was dragged out into the media pen where he rushed through all the questions, eventually resuming the search for you as soon as he was free to go. He checked both Ferrari garages, the team hospitality and finally his motorhome but you were nowhere to be found.

He started worrying, the state you were in yesterday adding to the situation.

He changed out of the suit, put on a jacket, grabbed his things and got going, his phone ringing against his ear as he attempted calling you while he was searching for Pierre to quickly check up on him before leaving. The phone kept ringing until he was met with beeping followed by your voicemail.

"Where are you, chérie? You're worrying me." He said and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he caught sight of his french friend.

—

Half an hour later, Charles was in the elevator in the hotel, going up to the floor the two of you were staying at, his heart beating fast with pure worry since he already called you many times on his way back and not once did you pick up.

He dragged himself through the hallway and unlocked the door in a hurry, immediately calling your name once he stepped into the suite.

Once, twice, three times... Nothing. Not a single sound in the room.

He walked further inside, expecting to see you overtaken by sleep on the bed but it was neatly made and the room looked clean and spotless.

That's when he panicked.

The room looked too clean.

The vanity facing the bed had absolutely nothing on it. Just this morning, it had your bag, your makeup remover, your jewelry box and a bottle of your perfume. It was completely clear now, and it could've been that you just put these things away but your suitcase had also been sitting on the floor next to it along with the spare pair of shoes you brought with you and those were gone too. Even your phone's charger was gone from the outlet above your nightstand.

The words you had said to him yesterday resurfaced in his mind, the fact that you were asking him to promise you he'd never forget you love him now seemingly bone-chilling.

What was going on? He kept asking himself because there was no way what he was assuming would be true.

He turned on his heels and began searching the other part of the suite, from the kitchenette to the small balcony to the bathroom, even checking behind the frosted glass of the shower.

Nothing. You weren't there and nor were your things.

"Non. Non, ça peut pas être." No. No, it can't be. He started mumbling to himself as he rushed around the rooms, retrieving his phone and calling you in a hurry now, as if that would make you pick up.

"Tu peux pas me faire ça. Qu'est-ce qui se passe? Où est tu? S'il te plais, répond au téléphone." You can't do that to me. What’s going on? Where are you? Please answer the phone. He said into your voicemail and tossed his phone onto the couch, heading back to the bedroom.

Maybe he was misinterpreting this. Maybe you just put your suitcase in the closet provided. Maybe you put your things in drawers. Maybe you left the race because you were tired.

So many maybes and what ifs clouded his thoughts as he pulled the closet opened, only to be deceived but the dull and blank wooden shelves.

"Putain." Fuck. He cursed and moved onto the drawers, not even closing the closet doors.

One after one, he yanked them open and every single drawer was empty, even the ones of the nightstand on the side where you'd been sleeping, leaving him with only the one on his side of the bed.

He rolled on the mattress in a hurry but froze in his sitting position as his eyes met a sight he never wanted to see, a sight he never thought he'd see.

It felt like he forgot how to breathe, like his heart was irregularly beating, skipping beats left and right as his eyes widened so much, they started burning.

"Non..." he shocked, gulping as he tried to make sense and of everything, "Why? What the fuck? Why?" He bolted to his feet, pacing by the bed with his hand against his mouth in pure shock. His mind was a mess of thoughts and feelings and words but most importantly questions.

He thought things between the two of you were as perfect as they could get so why was he staring at your ring sitting abandoned on the nightstand? He couldn't make sense of it. He kept asking himself why.

His heart shattered because it finally made sense how you were speaking to him yesterday night. You had planned this and still went to the race, sat by his side and comforted him when all he could think of was the potential tragedy that was the first few laps.

Nothing made sense. If you love him as much as you said yesterday, why did you leave him? Why did you bother with the grand prix? Why did you wear his sweatshirt?

Charles eventually froze in his spot but he could see a paper under the shiny band and he wanted to grab it. However, it felt like his arms had went limp and he suddenly couldn't move, his eyes still scarily widened, still trying so hard to wrap his head around what has happened today.

He was just so eager to come back to you after such a stressful race, after it became official that he lost the championship. He needed you right now that if felt like the world was closing in on him, but he came back to this, to a breakup through a paper, not even face to face.

Cursing again, he grabbed the paper and the ring and read the streaked ink scribbled clearly in a hurry.

A hundred times, he read and reread the words, until his tears joined the marks of yours on the paper, and not once did they sink in.

You gave up on the relationship that easily? He couldn't bear the mere thought of you leaving him and now he had to face that as his reality? Without any clear explanation or a proper end and all because of the lifestyle that came with dating him? How were you planning to marry him if that was the case?

He fell back onto the mattress, his hands over his face as he tried so hard not to break after such a bad day but the tears defied him and streamed down the sides of his face in a rush.

It felt like a mockery that when he received the penalty, he thought the weekend had no way of getting worse. He had the comfort of knowing he had you by his side and with the endless support you always provided, he knew he could overcome anything but now he feels powerless, broken and defeated and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

He just needed one of your hugs right now. He just needed for this to be a nightmare.

Just a few hours ago, he was twisting the ring around your finger and now it sat painfully cold in its loneliness in the palm of his hand.

He felt like tossing it out if the window but his heart couldn't take anymore hits today so he clutched it tighter and gave up on trying to push his emotions aside. He let them rule over him.

He loved you too much to be able to pull himself through this and come out unscathed.

This felt like the end of everything. He lost everything in a day and he didn't have to energy to face that just yet.

He laid alone on that bed, staring at the ceiling blankly, waiting for the shock to subside and for heartbreak to set in and when it did, every last breath was knocked right out of his body and he was left curled around a pillow, holding it so tight and crying into it, occasionally trying to call you again and again but not once did you answer and it enraged him.

He tossed the phone off the bed onto the floor with a frustrated scream that felt like it was cutting through his lungs.

Following that, he allowed himself to completely fall apart as it sank in that you really left him.

Charles felt utterly defeated and hopeless.

—

To say you were no longer used to waking up in your childhood home would be a major understatement, especially since you could barely open your swollen, burning eyes in the morning to see the room clearly, leaving you panicked because you weren't at the place you call home and very far from the person that felt like it.

However, the familiarity of the place was as welcoming as ever, definitely something you needed at the moment.

When you showed up home yesterday, everyone was worried but as they watched you drag the suitcase in with bare hands, the object tying you to Charles missing from your finger, they caught up quick enough not to ask any questions.

They let you sleep it off in your old bedroom but really, you were crying most of the time, questioning if you made the right decision.

Charles called you so many times and left so many voicemails but you were determined to stay off your phone, so you let it's battery drain until it powered off at night and you decided not to charge it as not to risk it.

Your heart ached all night long since the only thing you could think of was Charles returning to the vacant hotel room and discovering that you left without him, and as your woke up this morning and found yourself reaching for him in your half conscious state, what had remained whole from you completely shattered because he obviously wasn't there and you had made that choice for the both of you and he probably was clueless why you did it.

The smell of him was still engulfing you though, making you realize hours too late that you had taken off dressed in his sweatshirt still and you couldn't really tell if the fact that you were still wearing it was good or bad. You really couldn't bring yourself to care.

Once the morning light became too strong, you forced yourself to get out of the bed. However, on the first attempt, you only managed to sit up enough to scan the room. Your head was throbbing and your throat was sore and dry and you could barely see anything through your blurry vision.

You rubbed your eyes furiously and got up. Outside your door, you could hear your family moving about in the house and talking, the clatter of plates and utensils implying that they were probably having breakfast.

You felt guilty that you barely great them yesterday but you still couldn't bring yourself to go out and talk to anyone so grabbed some of your old towels from a drawer, your shower products from your suitcase and headed for the bathroom.

You avoided your reflection at all costs. You didn't want to face any of yesterday's various aftermaths. Instead, you stepped under the hot stream, immediately felt your shoulders drop as your head fall back, the hot water relaxing your tense muscles.

Then, the tears made a comeback and you welcome them with open arms, letting them stay as you washed your hair and body until you turned the shower off and padded back to your room.

Pulling open your closet, you were met with the memories of the last time you had stocked it. You and Charles and his family spent last Christmas with your parents. The two of you had been newly engaged and everyone was still gushing over that.

As the memories of that trip resurfaced, your eyes met the sight of a certain pile of clothes that didn't belong to you. That's when you remembered that Charles had felt a few items of clothing here, a change for hot weather and one for cold days, because he was so damn sure he'd come back to your childhood home at some point and so were you.

With your lips pursed, you betrayed your heart and grabbed his sweater instead of your own clothes and put it on along with some shorts.

Tensely, you fell back onto the messy bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling lost and withdrawn. You had nothing to do, nowhere to be , nothing to distract you and the only thing you could think off was Charles.

You just wanted to know if he was alright, if he finished the race safely at least, but you didn't want to face the fact that you hurt him without giving him any explanation, that you walked out on him during one of the heaviest races of the season. You didn't want to consider the possibility that he now understood why you kept reminding him that you love him and that he might find it confusing now since common logic was that you don't leave someone you love.

As the thoughts ate away at your heart, you impulsively jumped up and grabbed your phone to charge it. You had to make sure he crossed the finish line safely at least and you wouldn't have to give in and contact him for you to know that.

The few minutes that it takes for the phone to power on felt like ages and when it finally did, over 50 missed calls from Charles flooded in along with so many texts and voicemails.

That meant that he was well, health wise at least. However, the last missed call was hours ago.

Your finger hovered over the voicemail icon and you were so tempted to just click it, desperate to hear his voice since you weren't used to starting your day without talking to him.

You gave in.

The first one started by him just asking where you were and judging by the noise around him, it was clear that he was still at the paddock.

But as one recording ended and another played, his tone progressively changed and several of his words broke your heart.

"Tu peux pas me faire ça..." You can’t do this to me… is what you heard in the second voicemail and the last one in which he didn't sound like he was crying. After that, it was just heartache.

"Tu peux me dire pourquoi, au moins? Je ne comprends rien." Can you tell me why, at least? I don’t understand anything.

"Where did you go? Tu m'inquiète au point de la folie." I’m going crazy from the worry.

"Fuck. Fuck, just..." you heard a sniffle, "... please, je te supplie, come back. Please."

These sentences amidst rambling and incoherent french stuck with you, making you wish you never charged your phone again or that you never left, but even after hearing that, nothing could've prepared you for the last recording.

"I'm kind of loosing hope now that you will answer," he sighed, "i just needed you here today, and always, but today more than usual. The race was shit but somehow i don't give a fuck. Why?" There was a laugh of irony and a pause before he continued, "Because the person i wanted to marry just left me. Really, bébé? Quand même une petite explication à ce qui s'est passé! Un adieu! Même ça, je ne le mérite plus?" At least a little explanation for what happened! A goodbye! Even that, I don't deserve it anymore? He was crying and now, so were you.

"It doesn't feel nice, being dumped with a letter and not even knowing why et maintenant, je sais plus how to live without you à mes côtés. Pourquoi t'as fais ça? How am i supposed to continue believing que tu m'aime? Tu m'as détruit complètement, chérie. J'ai tout perdu today."

It doesn't feel nice, being dumped with a letter and not even knowing why and now, I don't know how to live without you by my side. Why did you do that? How am I supposed to continue believing that you love me? You destroyed me completely, darling. I lost everything today.

Heavy breathing took over for a few seconds and you could tell he had been trying not to make it too obvious that he was crying.

Your hand clasped over your mouth to muffle the sobs as you waited for Charles to continue, "Je voulais t’épouser. I was gonna tell you that we should start preparing for the wedding so we can get married in winter break mais il me semble que tu n'veux plus rien a faire avec moi et je n'ai aucune idée pourquoi. The lifestyle isn't something new et si tu était autant gêné depuis le début, you shouldn't have said yes when i proposed. Fuck, you really shouldn't have given me de l'espoir that i will get to call you my wife un jour, que je pourras passer le reste de ma vie avec toi, have our own children et notre propre famille à nous. Putain, tu n'aura jamais dû me laisser tomber si amoureux de toi if you knew you would leave at some point."

I wanted to marry you. I was gonna tell you that we should start preparing for the wedding so we can get married in winter break but it seems to me that you don't want anything to do with me anymore and I have no idea why. The lifestyle isn't something new and if you were so annoyed from it from the beginning, you shouldn't have said yes when I proposed. Fuck, you really shouldn't have given me hope that I will get to call you my wife one day, that I would get to spend the rest of my life with you, have our own children and our own family. Fuck, you should never have let me fall so in love with you if you knew you would leave at some point.

There was a long break after that and you could hear the sniffles and the rustling of sheets. You couldn't even imagine what he was thinking in these silent seconds.

"Je dois me taire, non? By the way, Max was announced champion, si t'en soucies même plus. I have to shut up, right? By the way, Max was announced champion, if you even care anymore. And... I love you still, a lot." He gasped the words out between sharp inhales and it made you want to go back to him just to hug him tight.

"Je sais plus si te veux que je t'aime ou non but that will never change the fact that i would die for you, même si tu pense that i don't even deserve a face to face break up. Je t'aime, even if i don't understand shit."

I don't know if you want me to love you or not but that will never change the fact that I would die for you, even if you think that I don't even deserve a face to face break up. I love you, even if I don't understand shit.

You locked your phone and tossed it aside, grabbing a pillow and holding it against your face, trying to muffle the crying.

You could've told him the reason this was happening but, knowing Charles, he would blame himself for everything. This, this was bad but he didn't have to feel guilty in this scenario. You were withholding all the guilt and you'd be happy bearing it forever if that meant Charles wouldn't be tinged by it.

No matter how bad this was, he would manage to get over it, even if after a while but you knew him and you knew he wouldn't cope well with knowing that he was the reason you fell back into the depths of your past insecurities.

A knock on your door interrupted your crying. You tossed the pillow away and wiped your eyes rapidly with the sweater's sleeves before saying "Come in."

You knew you couldn't avoid your family anymore. They were probably really concerned.

Your older brother peeked his head through the door with a cautious smile on his face.

"Hi." He started, taking just one step into the room and closing the door after him.

"Hey." You tried smiling back but teared up again at the attempt.

"Look, i'm not gonna be nosey." He said before he took a seat on the edge of the bed, "I just need to know if i need to kick some ass or anything. I don't really care that he's Leclerc in this case." He tried to joke.

"Please, if there’s any need to kick his ass i would've done it myself. I don't need any men to do it for me."

Your brother smiled at that, having expected that response.

"However, the only guilty person here is me." You continued and quickly wiped away the tear that escaped.

"Why?" He frowned.

"I left while he was mid-race." You clarified, your teeth abusing your inner cheek between words, "I just don't know how to live the lifestyle he has, you know?"

Your brother looked confused, "Yeah, i'm not buying that, the thing about life with him. You've been together for years, only now you realized his lifestyle? You live together, you're practically married so even when you do actually get legally married, there will barely be any difference." He started analyzing. "Something is off. What's the real reason you left?"

You caved in so fast but you didn't really have any energy in you to resist it.

"I've been getting so much hate, especially when I'm with him at races. I couldn't deal with it anymore."

Your brother, like everyone who knew you and Charles, wasn't a stranger to that. He nodded and appeared to be in deep thought about this.

"Did you try talking to him about it? Charles loves you so much, we can all see it, and i know he would be very understanding and helpful in this situation."

In your mind, the thought of opening up to Charles about this wasn't even present. After all, he also gets a lot of hate too. However, the criticism he received was mostly about his skills as a driver, in other words, nothing he couldn't control and improve. On the other hand, people hated you for you, for simply existing as Charles' partner.

"It's not that simple."

"Oh, but it is. Look, i understand it's difficult to read that shit but it's not right that you left him out of the blue, like you have no respect for what you have, or had, with him."

That angered you so fast, you quickly got off the bed to face your brother.

"Of course i have respect for him and our relationship!I'm- I was engaged to him, for fuck's sake!" The little correction you had to make pained you as it made this situation much realer.

"I'm sorry, but if my partner walked out on me like that, i wouldn't be okay with it. If you want to break up with him for such a vague reason, at least do it to his face. That guy loves you more than i've seen anybody love anyone before and i know you're my sister, but if you treat him like that, after such a difficult race as well, you don't deserve him."

Ever since you heard that last voicemail, there's been a part you've avoided thinking of.

Getting married in winter break, literally in a few months. Instead of that, you left him the ring and took off.

You knew he wanted to marry you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have proposed but the fact that he wanted to do it so soon was unexpected to you. It should've been the happiest surprise, instead it was tugging on your heartstrings.

"He wanted to get married after the season ended, in his winter break." You spoke in a whisper.

Before you could receive a reply, your mother's voice could be heard as she called for your brother.

"Look," he started as he got up, "just call him." He shot an accusatory finger at you, "He had a shit race yesterday and i think you'd be able to find some solutions to this together. " He kept talking until he was out the door.

"Wait!" You called for him, "What position did he end up in?"

"Defended P2 with inters turned into basically slicks but ended up P3 after a five second penalty for cutting a chicane in the last lap. I gotta go."

Needless to say, you couldn't bring yourself to actually call him but you did spend hours staring at his contact name, the little ring emoji you added to it a while back torturing you now. Eventually, you joined your mother in the living room, allowing her to distract you until your brother reappear, asking if you talked to Charles, to which you shook your head then watched him leave the house.

Hours later, you retreated back to your room, laying on your bed and scrolling through twitter again. The notifications had lessened compared to yesterday but there were still there, the hate still being a constant and an arguably increasing reoccurrence. Surprisingly though, it wasn't what you focused on nor what you cried about.

You had been letting the clip of you kissing Charles' forehead during the red flag replay for so long, you'd lost count of how many times it had repeated. All you could focus on was how comforting Charles seemed to find your presence.

Over the years, everyone kept telling you how you were the only person who was able to comfort Charles as more than just some temporary fix. When you were to one to receive him with open arms after an angering or disappointing moment, Charles would calm down within minutes. Even his mother had said that and even Mattia had noticed it, but you never saw it.

However, now that you were stood on the outside, looking into the relationship, you saw it clear as day. In such a stressful and traumatic place and moment, he looked content in a way and it caused you to break down crying, especially as you thought of him bearing the disappointment alone yesterday, only to face something worse when he found out you left.

Eventually, you fell asleep with the video playing.

The next morning, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house and woke you up. You expected your mother to get it but it rang again and again until you groaned and headed to check who it was while rubbing your eyes with the sleeves of Charles' shirt that you were still wearing.

You checked your reflection on the hallway mirror. Sure, the swollen eyes were still prominent but you hadn't been expecting them to subside any time soon so you sucked it up and padded to the door, swinging it open while tugging the shirt down to cover some skin as you just realized how short the shorts were.

Then, you froze.

All sorts of emotions ran through your body. First, shock because, how and why? Second was some weird sort of relief. Third, and most dominantly, guilt.

Guilt was eating you alive as you stared at the man whose heart you broke. You couldn't bring yourself to move nor to look away but you couldn't really look for any longer.

"Um..." you started fumbling for something to say, rubbing at the back of your neck awkwardly.

"Can i come in?" He asked and even though the sentence was short, it was still enough to show how hoarse his voice sounded.

You nodded and moved aside. Charles immediately made his way inside.

"How- um, why did- You know what i mean." You struggled while closing the door shut.

"You were getting hate and instead of telling me, you left?" He sounded angry and you wanted to strangle your brother for obviously contacting Charles.

"Charles, please... I can't-"

"You can't? Let's say you desperately want go break up with me, why didn't you do it properly? And really? Suzuka out of all places?" He asked, his hands gestures emphasizing his point.

He was right and there was no way to escape that so you fell back into the couch behind you, tugging on your sleeves and picking at the cotton.

Before you knew it, Charles was sat by your side.

"I wasn't really thinking. Everything i read was hitting so close to home and it was giving me some sort of panic attack and i - i'm sorry for leaving like that." Your eyes prickled with tears again.

"The night before, i asked you so many times what was wrong. You had me worried sick when i found you crying. You could've told me - fuck, you should've told me." He sprung back to his feet, rubbing at his face in frustration.

"I didn't want you to know." You spoke quietly.

"Why? I thought we trusted each other with everything! And it's literally something that i caused so deserved to know..." His voice rose.

"See? This is exactly why. You will blame yourself for it. You can't control what some asshole type out on their phones, even if they're your fans. There's nothing you can do to stop it and i can't handle it and revert to being an insecure person so i did us both a favor and left!" You shouted back.

Charles was gaping at you.

"You're giving up that easily on years of us and all the fucking future we've planned? Tout à cause de quelques connards qui se cachent à l'abri de leurs petits écrans?" All because of some assholes hiding in the shelter of their small screens? He was huffing in irony, "If some assholes you don't even know are able to make you insecure, then, je suis désolé bébé, but you've never been confident enough then." Knowing it was a touchy subject, Charles regained his composure and regulated his tone.

"Oh, really? You're telling me how i feel, Charles? You know me better than i know myself? Oh, wow! What a fucking catch i let go of!"

"That's not-" he attempted a reply.

"Shut up."

"Chérie, please."

"Shut up!"

He took his seat back next to you and tried to grab your hand but you snatched it away so fast, making him nod in defeat.

"Okay." He murmured and slacked against the back of the couch, his leg bouncing and shaking the whole sofa with it.

A deafening silence took over for long, painful minutes during which you reverted back to crying while Charles stared blank up at the ceiling.

"What about all the things you say to me after bad races?" He sniffled beside you, making you realize he was crying as well, "All that shit about how we can get through everything together? How we can always be each other's comfort and safety? That there's nothing on this world we can't overcome as long as we keep in mind that's it's us against the problem, not against each other? Why doesn't it apply when it's you that needs me? Why's it only me that shares the issues and problems i'm facing so we can solve them together?" He ranted, not stopping for a breath while he lost control over the tears, "I want to help you through this."

"Arrête, s'il te plaît." Stop, please. You cried harder, got up and started pacing around the room, sobbing into the sleeves, hearing Charles crying too.

You've always been used to solving your problems on your own and while over the years, you learned to share the burden of some issues with Charles, you still couldn't bring yourself to openly talk about things like this, not because you didn't trust him enough to help you, but because you've never been comfortable sharing so much.

You kept walking back and forth, hands covering your bloodshot eyes until you collided against who you knew was Charles.

His arms wrapped around you, even when you tried resisting his touch, pushing against his chest, wanting to get away before you caved in and he knew you enough to know that. Eventually, you broke down in his hold and he let you cry it all out.

"Talk to me, please." He cooed in your ear, dragging you to sit with him on the couch.

You tried not to but it got suffocating and so, the questions rushed out.

"You would tell me if i was annoying you during race weekends, right? If i was limiting your freedom."

With every word, and as he realized the cruel remarks you'd been reading, Charles' heart broke more and more.

"What? I want you by side everyday of my life, chérie!" Subconsciously, and maybe even somewhat protectively, his arms tightened around you.

"They're right, in a way... You could get sick of me faster if i went with you everywhere, and if i kept gaining weight-"

"Baby..." he interrupted, "I don't see a single reason for me to get sick of you. You have a fun and amazing personality, you are so beautiful and you understand me like no one ever has. Every day i'm away from you, i can't wait to go back home because life feels - i don't know the word for it - but it feels full and complete with you. And the weight thing, fuck whoever said that. I wish you would love yourself and your body like i do. You're beautiful in every state."

You cried even harder into his shirt, the words he was saying making you realize it was a huge mistake, allowing anyone to mess with your relationship with him, but him easing your worries wouldn't stop the hate and the both of you knew it.

"I love you, Charlie."

"I love you too."

You sat still in that position for a while and that left you thinking of the way things online would never change, dreading that in fact.

"I know what you're thinking. Oui, on pourra jamais les stopper, j'en sais cela très bien." Yes, we can never stop them, I know that very well. Charles spoke up and you gulped at that, "But you could use it for your entertainment. Listen here, all those things they say, it's out of jealousy. You're at a grand prix and they're saying you never leave me alone? They're jealous you get to go for free and that you're dating a driver. Fuck with their minds, post confusing locations, or rub it in their faces that you're there and they're not. I guess what I'm trying to say is have the upper hand because someone who hates on other people online will always be below them. Let them be the insecure ones and keep in mind, everything that is point out negatively is something that they envy so much that they noticed it." He was speaking and moving his hands up and down your back comfortingly.

"And if a certain comment gets to you, come to me and tell me about it and i will prove it wrong in hundreds of different ways. I don't know of you've seen it bébé, mais tu as tes propre fans même and they are way more than the haters. If anything, that just proves my point that you're just so lovable." …but you even have your own fans…

Charles smiled and tilted your head up so he caught a glimpse of your face.

"Just, please, give us another shot and be completely honest with me. Even if you hide those kinds of things from me again - if you decide you want to stay with me - i will now know to look online when things feel off, so i just want your honesty."

You smiled and nodded, agreeing to everything but slightly confusing Charles.

"Yes to what part exactly?"

"Tout. Je veux tout avec toi. Et je vais toujours être honnête avec toi. Everything. I want everything with you. And I will always be honest with you. But first, i owe you a big apology. What i did was cowardly, the way i ran away. I'm sorry i hurt you, Charles." You kissed his neck, "I'm sorry i confused you and left without even saying goodbye." The kissed moved further up his jaw, "And i'm so sorry that i wasn't there after that shitshow, especially since i knew how stressed the first two laps made you. I feel like an asshole." You sealed the words with a kiss to his lips.

"It's okay, bébé. I understand it now." He pressed your lips together again.

"Doesn't excuse how insensitive i was. Is everyone alright?"

"Yeah, the race finished safely."

You nodded, "That's good." Then, you sat up a bit to see him better, "And as for the championship, your are still my champion and you will be the world's one day. You've got it in you and everyone sees it." Assuringly, you traced your hand softly along his cheek while he stared at you lovingly.

"I'm so lucky that i found you, tu sais?" you know? He pulled you back onto his chest, "Je t'adore." I adore you.

"Je t'adore également, crois moi." I adore you just as much, believe me.

You heard him sigh and relax in relief but he wasn't still for long. Within seconds, you felt him reach for his pant's pocket, digging through it weirdly in this position.

"Give me your hand." Charles instructed and you complied.

"Me donnerais-tu l'honneur de t'épouser, mon amour?" Would you give me the honour to marry you, my love? He asked, holding out the ring.

"Bien sûr." Of course. You chuckled, "L'honneur est vraiment complètement le mien." The honour is completely mine.

The both of you watched your hand as Charles slipped the ring back on your finger where it belongs with a big grin on his face.

Now, everything felt right again and you realized that you'd be able to conquer the world and its critics with this man by your side.

a/n: idk how to feel about the note as a picture so be sure to let me know if it’s s cringey as i find it. Thank you for reading!💕

#charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 oneshots #charles leclerc oneshots #f1 x you #charles leclerc one shot

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kataraslove · 2 years ago

Note

Sometimes it makes me sad that Kataang is underrated and misunderstood.

idk it used to make me sad - especially when i was just getting into the fandom post-atla renaissance and stumbled across a lot of the bad faith interpretations and understandings, and wondered if we watched the same series. however, i came to realize over time that that is kind of what initially drew me to the ship? because of how underrated, overhated, and misunderstood kataang is in fandom settings, there weren’t a lot of people actively defending it. in all my years being part of fandom, I’ve never seen the main canon ship get quite as much as backlash as kataang. it dawned upon me - and I’m sure other kataang content creators can relate - that if i wanted to see the ship defended against misconceptions and bad faith arguments, i was going to have to do my part. i was going to have to make the meta. others decided that they were going to have to write the fanfiction, draw the fanart, create the edits, write their own meta. spite content is very much a thing - and it is glorious. i highly recommend.

out of the negativity, something wonderful emerged from my fandom experience. kataang is the first ship that I’ve ever created content for. other shipping fandoms I’ve been apart of, i just consumed the content (and nothing wrong with that at all). i’d say that i’d never be able to write and engage with meta to the level that i am if not for kataang’s overhated, underrated, and misunderstood reputation in fandom. with this ship, i feel like i could say so much and at the end of the day it still wouldn’t be enough. because it’s not; because antis are not going to change their minds about kataang either way. my content is not for those antis - it’s for the shippers who appreciate and enjoy the ship for what it is, who want to learn more about it, who want to see it being defended, who understand the nuance and the context and the importance of katara and aang’s relationship to the series. this ship has taught me so much about love and friendship in a way that no other ship truly has.

kataang is always going to be heavily misunderstood and disliked in fandom settings. that’s in part because it defies societal standards, and the other part being that it is the direct rival for the ship that dominates all fandom discourse. when it’s not actively hated, it’s going to be ignored. i’ve made my peace with that reality along time ago. but for what it’s worth, i have come to see the kataang fandom grow over time. others joining in to actively defend it and call out bad faith takes. i’ve made a lot of friends across multiple social media platforms just because of our shared love for kataang. i suggest that if you’re tired or upset from seeing anti kataang takes, to do the following:

turn off tumblr/twitter/whatever social media app and rewatch atla and remind yourself how much you adore the series

create the post, write the fanfic, draw the art, create the edit! and if you don’t have the capacity or the resources to do that, then feel free to support and participate in fandom in any shape or way that you can :)

#idk I hope that helps #like I totally get what ur referring to #the feeling of seeing ur fave ship so disliked and criticized #the double standards #but something wonderful emerged from that in my own experience #I don’t ever go back and think ‘i wish I never rewatched atla in 2020’#kataang

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pies-writes-and-more · 4 years ago

Text

infatuation

word count: 1,779

pairing: Bokuto Kōtarō x Fem!Reader

warnings: maybe some swearing, a sad boi Bokuto but just for a bit promise haha also i haven’t fully proofread this so im sorry if it makes: no sense LOL

a/n: i am falling more and more in love with this adorable himbo just look at him lol. This fic idea is honestly all thanks to @satan-ruler-of-hells because they are practically my muse in life so thank you satan ilysm <3 i hope you guys like it! Gif below is not mine - credits to the original creator!

haikyuu masterlist

Bokuto knew from the very second he laid eyes on you that he would love you with every cell in his body. He finally understood what it meant to be infatuated with someone (Akaashi had told him just the other week about the English and Japanese words for infatuation and almost immediately, Bokuto knew that that was how he felt about you). He looked at you and felt like his whole life had led up to this moment.

He spent weeks trying to get on your good side, though you just laughed a little at him and awkwardly slid away. But just like most people, you couldn’t avoid his happy-go-lucky attitude forever. He always seemed to leave you alone if you truly wanted him to, but he bounced around you like a golden retriever, grinning from ear to ear. You knew that Bokuto had quite the reputation to go 110% for anything he wanted to, and so you weren’t that surprised when a bouquet showed up at your desk before school after weeks of him flirting with you.

The volleyball captain stood awkwardly in the doorframe of your classroom as you stared at the flowers, a glow to your skin as you gently touched the petals. You liked him - you liked how honest he was about his feelings, how unafraid he was to show you, you liked that he talked so highly about his team members, that he even told you about some kids at another school that he had mentored for a bit. You really liked him, even if maybe you weren’t as enthusiastic in your actions. You turned to look at him, a smile on your lips making him sigh from relief. He shot you a wink and started to come into the class before Akaashi dragged him away, saying he also had class to attend to.

When Bokuto finally asked you out, confessing to you with a grin on his face, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but I really like you, Y/N-”

“Bokuto, you left presents for me every day this week and you’ve been screaming it across campus that you like me,” you pointed out with a laugh. “I think I noticed.”

Bokuto’s jaw had dropped but he still managed to pull off that wide grin of his, “Oh! Good! So you got my signals! Would you like to go out with me then? We can go anywhere you like!”

How could you say no to that adorable sweet smile?

Everyone was well aware that Bokuto was infatuated with you, he looked for you at each of his games, spun you around in tight hugs every time he saw you acting like it had been forever since he had last seen you, and you were the second most thought about topic on Bokuto’s mind (besides volleyball, of course).

He talked about you non-stop, sometimes enough to get on the Coach’s nerves and earn himself a few extra laps.

“-and then after practice today I’m going to go study with her because I’ve got that math testing coming up and she said that she would help me and-”

“Bokuto, you come off real strong ya know that?” Konoha chuckled, shaking his head slowly as he picked up another ball to practice serving with.

Bokuto tilted his head slightly, trying to decipher what his teammate meant, “Strong? What do you mean?”

Konoha just glanced at the team and smiled a little awkwardly, “I mean... don’t you ever think what you’re doing is a lot?”

The captain considered these words for a moment, a furrow in his brow the more he concentrated, “But... how is she going to know how much I like her if I don’t show her?”

“Just be glad she isn’t feeling suffocated by all your over-the-top acts of love,” Akaashi piped in, though almost immediately regretted it. His eyes glanced over at Bokuto, seeing the quick droop in his hair and expression.

“Suffocated?” Boktuo repeated with wide sad eyes. Could it be possible that you didn’t actually want him to do all the things he was doing? Could you actually hate everything he was doing and wish he would be different?

Akaashi tried to insist to his best friend that you obviously liked his actions enough to go out with him so he probably didn’t have anything to worry about, but it all fell on deaf ears. But the next morning, Bokuto decided that if it meant keeping you next to him, he would change how he was.

The next day, you were surprised to find no Bokuto standing at your locker with a smile and an eager story about something that happened at practice. You hung around just for a few minutes longer, wondering if he got held up somewhere, but eventually just shrugged it off, assuming he and Akaashi were busy.

But even throughout morning classes, you didn’t get any text messages, no memes being sent through any social media platforms, no snapchats of his bored expression when he was clearly supposed to be learning.

Was... something wrong? You thought back to the last time you saw him, just before yesterday’s practice, when he had covered your face with kisses like he always did and beamed when you told him you’d see him tomorrow. “I can walk you home if you’d like!” He had offered.

“You’ve got practice in like 5 minutes, Bo,” you rolled your eyes with a smile. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry!”

He had shouted some compliments at you as you left making you laugh more as you waved goodbye to him.

Had something been wrong then too as you hadn’t noticed?

Bokuto seemed to be dodging you during break times. You’d see a flash of his dyed hair and by the time you got to where he last was, he had disappeared again.

Was he avoiding you? Was this his way of trying to break up with you? Your expression tightened into a frown - after just a few weeks, was Bokuto trying to ghost you in the most immature way possible? Sure, you knew he was childish and didn’t like to hurt people’s feelings too much, but you never expected him to try and disappear from your life like this.

You knew he had practice tonight so at the end of the day, you waited by the gym, awkwardly giving smiles and waves to his teammates as they walked in.

Soon, Bokuto’s eyes caught yours and he froze, looking around for some sort of escape. Your heart dropped just a little - so he really was trying to avoid you.

“H-Hi Y/N,” he smiled nervously, slowly walking towards you and trying to see if he could maybe slip past you.

“Are you trying to break up with me?” You demanded, searching his eyes for guilt or sadness, or any sort of emotion really.

But Bokuto just stared at you with shock, his head tilting the way it did when he was confused (which was often, to be honest), “W-What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me all day. And you didn’t come find me in the morning... or at lunch... and you haven’t texted me all day. It feels like you’re trying to run away from me,” as you spoke, you felt a bit of shame growing in you. Were you just being clingy? Were you overreacting for no reason? Maybe Bokuto was just busy today. Maybe he just needed space. Maybe you had gotten used to him being around you had started getting too clingy to him and he needed to get away from you. “If... If you needed space you could’ve just told me.”

“I don’t need space! I thought you did!” Bokuto gaped at you, reaching out for your hand but hesitating and pulling his arm back suddenly. “I thought... maybe you thought I was too much. Or suffocating you with how much I like you. I know you’re very independent so... I didn’t want to chase you away because I like you so much.”

“Suffocating me?” You repeated in surprise. You hadn’t ever really considered that. Sure, Bokuto came on strong but there was a sort of confidence in it that you really admired. You loved that he told you what he thought with barely a filter sometimes, you loved that he showed you all the time how much he loved you because you were honestly sure you were unlovable for a while. But where you felt like you were the darkness, he was a gleaming sort of light. A happiness that you never understood but always envied, a courage embedded in him that you wanted to get to know more and more, a gigantic heart that you could never understand how or why it chose you. “Bokuto, I am... completely infatuated with you.”

Bokuto watched you, his eyes getting bigger and bigger as the seconds passed. He knew that word (now in two languages) and he knew that was exactly how he felt about you. He grinned and quickly picked you up into a hug, squeezing you tightly, “I missed you so much today. Trying to keep away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he whined, his smile not letting up the whole time.

You laughed and snuggled into his neck, squeezing him tightly, “Don’t go ignoring me like that ever again okay! I missed hearing from you all day. You’re the best part of my day,” you told him with a loving tap to his nose, making him beam all the more.

“Never again! I promise! I’m much too infatuated with you to ever leave your side again, I swear!” he laughed, emphasizing his fancy new vocabulary and making you giggle.

“Okay okay, go practice before you’re late. Then you can walk me home okay?” You told him and he jumped up excitedly, running off to make sure that practice went by quick so he got to be with you. You just watched him with all the love in your eyes, sitting in the gym and focusing on how he moved, how he soared, how powerful he was.

As practice went on, you couldn’t contain your laughter as Bokuto scolded Akaashi and Konoha for making him believe that he was too much and coming on too strong, insisting that you were the most perfect girl in the world so of course he had to show you how much he loved you.

His words just filled you up with so much joy, you could barely sit still. You were completely in love with Bokuto, but until you were ready for those words, infatuation really did seem to fit quite nicely.

haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@al0ehas @aurumk @neko-chii1 @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @livy384 @babyshoyo @jesssobs @b-bakana

#bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #bokuto x you

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tyongxnct · 4 years ago

Text

𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 - 𝐿𝑒𝑒 𝑇𝑎𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑔

pairing: Taeyong x reader

special guest: Jaehyun, Jungwoo, mention of Mark, Johnny & Yuta

summary: your relationship with Taeyong was falling apart and you knew that you had to let him go, but you loved him so much, so you chose to be selfish. You tried to ignore the fact that he was cheating on you, that he spend nights with someone else next to him in bed and that his lips tasted like her lipstick whenever you kissed him. Taeyong is perfect and he deserved someone perfect, that’s why you decided to change yourself for him, to make him stay and love you again, but no matter what, in the end you weren’t her.

song: perfect - Selena Gomez

genre: cheating!au, idol!au, angst

warnings: cheating, mentions of sex, self-doubt, 2 mini smut scenes they’re really short

word count: 4,1k

A/N: Here it is, the first short story! I hope you enjoy reading this. I really recommend you to listen to perfect by Selena Gomez while reading!

Different inflection when you say my name Kiss me, but your kiss don't taste the same Is it real or am I going out of my mind? Curious 'bout the company that you keep Cause I hear you talking 'bout her in your sleep And now you've got me talking 'bout her in mine

“Y/n,” Taeyong said your name as soon as you pressed the green button, “I’m out with friends tonight, you don’t have to wait for me.” You could hear a female voice in the background, but maybe it was just your imagination playing with you. You were curious, about who exactly Taeyong was with, so you closed your eyes and asked him. “Okay, w-who are you with?” you asked softly, scared of the answer.

“Oh, just with the boys, Jaehyun says hi.” You wished he’d say Johnny or Yuta, or just anyone else except for Jaehyun because you’re friends with Jaehyun’s girlfriend. When you talked to her earlier that day, she told you that she was going to the movies with Jaehyun, it was their date night.

“T-Tell him I also said hi.” Your voice was about to break, tears almost streaming down your face, but you held them in, you didn’t want him to hear you cry.

“Yeah - oh my god I was just about to say that-“ Taeyong was distracted and didn’t even hear what you just said. You heard the female voice talking before he hung up without saying goodbye.

You felt like you were losing your mind.

You weren’t sure If you misheard Jaehyun’s girlfriend, but when you checked your social media and saw her story with Jaehyun, hand in hand, you knew that Taeyong lied to you.

03:27am, You couldn’t sleep the whole night, you were still awake when Taeyong came home. “Why are you still awake?” he asked you as he took off his clothes to change to his pajamas. “Couldn’t sleep without you.” Which was true. He didn’t say anything, he hovered above you, pressed his lips for a second on yours and then he entered the bathroom to brush his teeth. Your hand was on your lips, the taste on his lips was different, the cherry taste on his lips left a bitter taste on your lips. His lips tasted unfamiliar.

Taeyong fell asleep, you were facing his back as you also tried to fall asleep. You wanted to know why his lips tasted like cherry, why he lied to you and why he didn’t love you anymore, because you could feel that you were drifting apart which scared you so much. Taeyong mumbled something while he was fast asleep, you could understand him better as he turned around to face you. “Miyeon.”

Miyeon?

Were you with Miyeon tonight? Who is Miyeon? How did you meet her? Do you love her?

Oh, and I bet she has it all Bet she's beautiful like you, like you And I bet she's got that touch Makes you fall in love like you, like you

Taeyong is the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen, and you didn’t even know why he was dating you. His face was perfect, every inch of his face was pure beauty. His mouth was slightly open, he softly breathed in and out. Your eyes landed on his lips. Did she kiss you with her cherry lips? Is she as beautiful as you are? She has to be, Taeyong deserved the most beautiful girl on this planet, but here he was, stuck with you. Did he fall in love with her just like you fell in love with him? Is she also an Idol just like Taeyong? She must be. You never shared many interests with Taeyong, you always thought ‘opposites attract each other’, but what If he fell in love with an Idol who did the same thing for a living as him? Who was also talented, with a perfect face and body? They’d share the same passion, dancing and singing whereas you couldn’t even remember the simplest steps.

Taeyong was probably attracted to someone who shared the same interests and passion, who was beautiful inside and outside just like him.

I can taste her lipstick And see her laying across your chest I can feel the distance Every time you remember her fingertips Maybe I should be more like her Maybe I should be more like her I can taste her lipstick, it's like I'm kissing her, too And, she's perfect And, she's perfect

The first time you saw them together was when you decided to visit Taeyong at the studio. You wanted to surprise him or maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see the woman he fell in love with. The woman with the cherry lips.

And you did. You saw them, Taeyong was laying on the couch with her on top of him and her head was on his chest, she was listening to his heartbeat, like you did so many times. You could see Taeyong placing his hands on her jaw and pulling her closer to press his lips on hers. You were secretly watching your boyfriend of 4 years making out with another woman. It was so quiet, you could hear your heart breaking.

You rushed to a restroom, tears streaming down your face, you didn’t notice that you were holding your breath, the walls around you suffocated you and you just wanted to vanish.

When you calmed down, you called Taeyong to tell him that you were on your way.

“I’m busy in the studio-“ he lied.

“I know, I mean, that’s why I’m bringing you some food. I cooked your favorites.” You smiled trough the pain.

“Fine, but you can’t stay, I have to, uhm, finish that one track I was working on.” Taeyong looked to Miyeon who was listening to your conversation.

“Okay, I’ll be there in two minutes. Love you.” Is he going to say it back?

“Yeah, bye.” He didn’t say it back.

After wiping away your tears, you put on your fake smile and entered Taeyong’s studio. Taeyong was sitting on the chair and was working on his laptop and Miyeon was still in the room, sitting on the couch. She looked as beautiful as you thought she would. Long blonde hair, skinny and a perfect face.

“Hey.” you acted.

“Hi, Miyeon this is Y/n. Y/n this is Miyeon. We’re working together on the new track.” Is that how he met her? Is that how he fell for her?

“Hey Miyeon, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that Taeyong had company, I didn’t bring enough food.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m on a diet anyway.” She checked you out, you didn’t miss her eyes going up and down you body.

You felt bad, really bad. You were in a pair of jeans and one of Taeyong’s hoodies and here she was, in a short skirt, her long legs looked tempting for Taeyong, he always asked you to wear shorts at home, but you felt uncomfortable with your legs and sticked to your sweatpants.

You wanted to know If Taeyong would kiss you next to her, so you leaned forward and pressed you lips on his. The cherry taste was back, and he didn’t move his lips. So he liked the taste of cherries, that’s how Miyeon tasted. Your kiss ended up as a peck and every passing second got painfuller. “I’ll leave you two now, don’t overwork yourself- I’ll see you at home.” You smiled at them, Taeyong couldn’t even look up, he felt bad for you.

How does she touch you? Can I try it, too? I know you're twisted, but baby, I'm twisted, too I wanna know if she can make a man lose his mind

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

You were pathetic, you knew that you were, but still, you tried to be like her.

You dyed your hair blonde, not exactly the same blonde as hers, but it was still a huge difference to your hair before.

After straightening your hair, you put on some make-up and your new red lingerie you had bought.

You felt uncomfortable, the lingerie covered almost nothing, and you felt cheap.

Were you really going to try to impress Taeyong with sex?

Did he even think that you’re sexy?

He was probably just going to laugh at you.

When Taeyong came home, he didn’t see you anywhere but when he entered your shared bedroom and saw you laying almost naked on the bed, only candles lighting up the room, his mouth opened wide. “Y-You’re blonde.” he stuttered, and you could see that he tried to stop himself from laughing. “I felt like I needed a change. Do you like it?”

“It looks so bad.” He busted out in laughter. “Did you dye it yourself? Oh god, it looks terrible.” Taeyong kept on laughing. You were half naked in front of him and he choose to mock you? You didn’t dye your hair yourself, you paid so much money to get it like this. “I can change it If you don’t like it.” You walked up to him. He didn’t move. “Yeah, change it back. Go to a professional.” He said as he watched you. You helped him taking off his jacket, his eyes following every move you make. Your hands were slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I will, but first, let me make you feel good.” You whispered as you pressed little kisses on his chest.

You softly pushed Taeyong down on the bed. Your hands were unbuckling his belt, you could feel him getting nervous, it’s been so long since you had sex.

While you were pushing his pants down, your mind travelled to her. Did she touch you like this? Did you touch her? Have you had sex already? Was she good? Better?

You pushed down his boxer briefs and wrapped your fingers around his cock. You started pumping his shaft and you softly licked his tip. Taeyong was stiff under your touch, even when you put his cock in your mouth. You started sucking and pumping his cock and a moan left his mouth.

“F-Fuck. N-No stop-“ he pushed you away. You landed on your butt and breathed heavily. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry it’s been so long that I-“

“No, no. I just- it’s… The boys are waiting, and we can’t- can’t have sex right now I’m gonna be late.” He pulled his boxers and pants up and nervously buttoned his shirt back up and he left without saying anything else.

He doesn’t love you anymore. He is disgusted, he doesn’t even want you to touch him. You felt so worthless and disgusting.

You entered your bathroom to shower, you wanted to rub everything off of you. When you looked at yourself again at the mirror, you felt uglier than before. You took your phone which was on the counter and threw it. The mirror shattered to pieces and you felt like you just watched an illustration of your life.

Just like the mirror, your heart broke into many pieces.

With the smell of her perfume I could love her, too, like you, like you And I can almost hear her laugh Curving on her back for you, for you

While you were crying yourself to sleep, Taeyong hurried to Miyeon’s apartment. “Taeyong? I thought you-“ he pulled her in for a kiss before she could finish her sentence. He pressed her against the door and his hands were all over her body. She responded happily, pulling him closer and moaning into his mouth. His tongue was exploring her mouth for the nth time, and he fucked her so hard that night, until you left his mind. Until he stopped thinking that it was you, until he moaned Miyeon’s name and came inside of her. The red marks on his neck and scratches on his back to remind him that he just wanted to fuck Miyeon and not you.

“Well, that was amazing.” Miyeon said exhausted as she poured herself more wine. “We never fucked like that, we should do it more often.” She laughed. “Poor Y/n. If she only knew how good you fuck me.” Miyeon giggled and pressed kisses on Taeyong’s bare shoulder.

He ignored her sneaky remark and closed his eyes. He saw your face whenever he closed his eyes, he wanted to get you off of his mind, and then he fucked Miyeon again, until his mind was full of Miyeon naked under him.

Taeyong came back home late that night again, he breathed in and out, his heart was beating against his chest, it almost hurt.

He thought that you were sleeping already, but you were wide awake, thinking about the events of the night and feeling ashamed.

You could feel the bed sink down next to you. This time, Taeyong was facing your back. He smelled different, Taeyong smelled like all the times he smelled after he had spent time with her.

You didn’t change your hair back. After hanging out with Jaehyun and his girlfriend, you felt a little more confident with it. Even Jaehyun had told you that you looked really pretty.

You didn’t even need to tell Taeyong that you were hanging out with Jaehyun and his girlfriend, Taeyong was also not at home.

You needed to spend some time with friends, you were drowning in your insecurities and in self-doubt, that you had to be with someone. Spending time with your friends helped you stop thinking.

“Oh, wait Taeyong is calling-“ you told them. “Yes?” you said, “Hey, uhm, I’m out with Jaehyun tonight, you know, boy’s night and stuff.”

Jaehyun was sitting right in front of you. “Oh okay, tell Jaehyun I said hi.” Jaehyun and his girlfriend looked at you confused. “Yeah, I will.” And you ended the call.

“But I’m sitting here with you?” Jaehyun said confused. “I know. He’s lying to me.” You looked at them with a sad smile. “Why would he lie to you?” she asked you. “He doesn’t want me to know about his affair.” You said casually. “W-What? Taeyong? Our Taeyong?” Jaehyun couldn’t believe what you just said. You nodded.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked.

You nodded again, scared that you’d break out in tears.

“Do you know who-“

“Miyeon, they’re working on a track together, I don’t know If that is true though.”

“But that’s impossible! I was with them a couple weeks ago, they were just talking about the track and they were so distant, and I-I just can’t believe that-“

“Jaehyun calm down, you’re not helping her.” His girlfriend said. “It’s okay.” You whispered. “I’m sorry that you had to find out about it.”

“What no! Why are you… Why are you still with him?” she asked you. “Because I love him. It’s okay, I understand that he needs to satisfy his needs… with someone else.” They looked at you with shocked expressions. That night, you talked to them about everything, you even told her about the night you wore the lingerie when Jaehyun excused himself to go to the bathroom. Her eyes widened in shock as she heard about the way Taeyong treated you. “I hate him so much right now.” She said. “No don’t hate him. Even I don’t hate him, so you guys should forget about what I told you and act like this never happened.”

They looked at you with sad eyes, “Are you still coming to the company dinner with him?” Jaehyun asked. “If he wants me there.” You shrugged your shoulders.

I can see her body rushing into you Crashing on your skin, burning within Burning so deep, deep on your skin, skin Next to me She's crashing on your skin, settling in Burning so deep, deep on your skin, skin While you sleeping

You looked breathtaking, but you didn’t know that. The dress you were wearing, hugged your body perfectly but you didn’t dare to look at the mirror, scared that you’d need to change again. Scared that you’d find another failure, no matter If it’s on your face or on your dress.

Taeyong looked perfect as always, his tuxedo was made for him and his hair was styled up, exposing his pretty forehead. “You look really handsome.” You told him as you entered his car. He muttered a thanks and focused on the street.

Taeyong’s colleagues and his group members didn’t know about Taeyong’s affair, so he had to take you with him since everyone thought that you were happily dating.

When you arrived, he didn’t even open the door for you. “Hurry up, it’s cold.” He said as he walked to the entrance with you trailing form behind.

It was a great atmosphere, everyone was laughing or sipping on their champagne. It felt like the first time Taeyong introduced you to his members, the first time he took you to such an event, but of course, your happy memories were destroyed by Miyeon who glanced at you and Taeyong.

You were chatting with Jungwoo, when you noticed Taeyong looking back at her with a small smirk.

“I’m going to the restroom.” He excused himself and you just nodded, knowing exactly where he was going. When he was gone, you saw Miyeon following him. You told Jungwoo that you had to talk to Jaehyun for whatever reason and went after them.

“I missed you.” You heard her voice. “I missed you too.” And then their bodies and lips crashed. They were so bad at hiding, anyone could see them making out If they just went to the restroom. “You’re so hot tonight, yongie.” She called him yongie. You called him yongie. “I need you inside me now.” She said loud enough for you to hear. “Patience, you need to keep your hands to yourself. She’s here.”

“I don’t care about her-“

Jaehyun accidently bumped into you. “Oh sorr-“

You hushed him, he looked to the direction you were looking at. He was about to move but you stopped him. His eyes were full of anger. “Please don’t.” you asked him. “Let’s go back.” The image of Taeyong kissing her was burned in your mind and now in Jaehyun’s too.

Taeyong came back and took his place next to you. Jaehyun was angrily playing with his food in front of him, as someone who was also cheated on by his ex-girlfriend, he felt so much empathy for you and you were his friend after all, he cared for you. “Jaehyun, you good?” Taeyong asked him. “Mhm…” Jaehyun mumbled. “You sure? You look like you saw a ghost.” Taeyong joked. “Not a ghost, no. I’m fine.” He whispered the first part, but Taeyong still heard it. He just couldn’t figure out what Jaehyun was talking about.

After a couple hours of fake smiling and acting like you were in a happy relationship, Jaehyun’s girlfriend asked you to stay with her for the night, she was worried and didn’t want you to feel alone.

“Yongie, I’m having a sleepover with Jaehyun’s girlfriend tonight.” Taeyong’s eyes light up. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow?” you nodded.

You left the party with Jaehyun’s girlfriend and talked to her about the thing Jaehyun also witnessed.

You woke up and your heart missed Taeyong. Did he arrive home safely? Was he alone? Was she with him?

Questions were floating in your head and you just wanted to go home and take a long hot bath.

You unlocked the door and entered your apartment. The second you stepped in, you knew what was waiting for you in the bedroom.

You slowly opened the door and the first thing you saw, were clothes messily on the floor. Your eyes stopped at the black lace bra, it definitely didn’t belong to you.

Your eyes wandered to the bed, she was laying on your bedside, naked.

They were both naked under the sheets, still asleep after last night.

He fucked her in your bed.

There was a wine bottle on the floor with two wine glasses.

It was over, you held onto something which was over for a long time now. Your luggage was in your closet, you pulled it out and started packing.

Taeyong woke up to the sounds of your sniffing and packing. He rubbed his eyes and looked to his side, Miyeon was next to him but the sounds didn’t come from her. He sat up and looked through the room and his eyes finally landed on your small figure. “Y/n?” he stuttered. You ignored him and when he finally understood what was happening, he got up and put on his clothes. “I-it’s not what it looks like… I-I… what are you doing? Y/n? Please listen to me.” He begged you as he bend down to you. “Stop packing… don’t do that please, just listen to me.”

“I’m not even saying anything, Taeyong. I am listening. You can say whatever you want, it’s just that you don’t have anything to say because it is as clear as water.” You still didn’t look at him as you continued packing.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry okay, it’s just a one-time thing, I was so drunk last night-“ he lied to you, nothing new. You scoffed, “And you still choose to lie. I’m not dumb, Taeyong. I know everything.” For the first time in weeks, you looked him in the eyes. “Y-you knew? W-Why didn’t you say anything?” his body trembled after your confession. “The actual question is: why didn’t you just break up with me?”

“I can’t break up with you- I need you! Please believe me.” He begged again.

“You don’t need me. Look at me Taeyong, I’m not angry. I understand. You deserve so much more than me. I tried to be like her, I really tried. But you don’t want me. You want her, and I understand. I’m sorry for holding you back-“

“No! Don’t- just, don’t say things like that! You’re so pretty and cute and…” he stuttered, it was his last chance to tell you that. “I need you please, please, don’t go. Don’t leave me.” He started crying. “Why are you crying? I’m not going to hold you back anymore. You finally got what you wanted.”

You left the apartment with all of your things that day. You didn’t even know where to go. The first thing you did was crying loudly in your car, the next thing you did was driving to Jaehyun and his girlfriend.

Two weeks later, you found a little apartment, far away from Taeyong. You moved in with the help of Jaehyun and his girlfriend.

Two months passed and you were hanging out with Jaehyun and his girlfriend again, even Jungwoo Mark and Johnny came to visit you. They were on your side and supported you fully. They never mentioned Taeyong, for which you were thankful.

But if you only knew how much Taeyong was suffering right now.

That day you left Taeyong, Miyeon listened to your conversation and knew that Taeyong would never love her like he loved you. He begged you to stay with him, even though he had promised Miyeon to leave you. Miyeon and Taeyong’s relationship ended the same day.

Every night, Taeyong looked at your pictures and cried himself to sleep. Your side on the bed was always cold, the space on the couch was always empty and even at work, he felt lonely.

One day, he and Jaehyun got into a fight. “You have no idea how much she suffered because of your stupid ass. You can’t act like you got cheated on!” Jaehyun yelled.

“I know that! I know that I hurt her- that I cheated on her… but I miss her, Jaehyun.” Taeyong cried out. “It’s not just about the cheating, Taeyong. You didn’t value her. She did so much for you but still, she wasn’t enough for you.”

“She’s more than enough- and I don’t deserve her,” he sobbed, “I’m a heartless jerk, and she’s perfect.“

SEQUEL: die for you

#taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong angst #taeyong x reader #taeyong x you #nct angst #nct #nct127 #nct2020 #nct taeyong #nct scenarios #taeyong scenarios #taeyong smut #selena gomez #nct songfic #nct 127 taeyong #nct127 angst

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jinxpologist · 3 years ago

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okay i know i’m late to the whole situation but i wanted to say: being rude and unkind to each other for how they handled this situation is not how we should go about things. being rude and unkind to content creators outside those directly involved is not how we should go about things. being rude and unkind to anyone is not how we should ever go about things. extend the grace to others that you would want extended to yourself in a time of stress. i’m seeing friendships fall apart and others point accusing fingers at others for posting/not posting about the situation. i said this before, don’t do that. be kind.

that being said. doxxing is always wrong. i don’t care who it is, doxxing is ALWAYS wrong, because even if you believe that the person being doxxed deserves it, there will be collateral (in this case, dream, and if you don’t care about dream, his family and the victim of the domestic violence case). i’m well aware that the people who perpetuated the doxx wanted to cause serious harm. i am not talking about them, i can’t say anything to change their minds. i am talking to the people who circulated the thread when it first appeared, because by perpetuating and circulating a doxx you allow more people to see it and put uninvolved people in danger. at some point, it had become such common knowledge that it barely mattered, but people had to spread it in the beginning. do not do this. never do this.

i hope this never happens again and that people understand that doing fucking background checks on others is incredibly fucking invasive. i hope we learn not to circulate every personal detail of someone’s life, even if it’s on public social media. we have all done things we aren’t proud of. while i don’t agree that abusers should have platforms, many people (and i’d argue that all) do not deserve this level of severe scrutiny, no matter what they’ve done, and digging up things done in people’s past that they no longer support is not the way to go about things. this is the behavior exhibited in the sbi thread taken to it’s logical conclusion. i do not support abuse, nor do i support domestic violence (both of which, yes, i have been subject to). but neither do i support this horrible idea that you must know everything, including private information, about someone. you are not entitled to that.

i’m not going to make a call on whether manatreed is an abuser or not. it is not my situation to make a call about. what i do want to say, however, is that getting angry at dream for possibly “housing an abuser” shows a VERY CONCERNING idea. everyone deserves housing. everyone deserves food and water and basic human fucking rights. to give these things to an abuser does not mean you support the abuse. to say otherwise gets into DANGEROUS territory. how do you decide who doesn’t deserve to live? how do you make that call? where do you draw the line? how could that line be pushed and pushed (because it will be pushed and pushed) on people who are increasingly more and more innocent? people make mistakes. these include violent mistakes. these include things that you would never even think of doing. understand that. i’m not saying to support abuse. i’m saying to realize the implications of what you’re saying.

protect your privacy. protect yourself. do whatever you have to separate yourself from your real life presence, just to be safe. here is a web page that shows you diy cybersecurity - and remember that all the information people found about dream and his family, manatreed as well, was completely public information. while it was horribly fucking invasive to go out and search it out, and it is still considered a doxx, it was all public. protect yourselves, private your instagrams, facebooks, etc. i love you all, please have a good day.

#op #abuse.#manatreed situation #i hope this is worded well i wrote it during break

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aomineavenue · 4 years ago

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Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 001. the unexpected.

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

↩ intro | the unexpected | a mother’s nightmare ↪

mia’s speaks:

Okay, so before we start the story. I’d just like to explain that this may be a slow burn kinda thing because I fully want everyone to understand yn’s point of view after she ran away six years ago. We will eventually enter Atsumu’s point of view along the story, but for now, I hope you guys like this! Let me know what you guys think!

It had been six years and to this day, it still haunts you. Well, what they say is true anyway. Everything you run away from will eventually continue to haunt you until you decide to face it head-on. Needless to say, you were feeling pretty pathetic. Six years later, and that is still what you felt to this day. Pathetically sad.

The cool air emitting from the air conditioner set up in the living room, mixed with the early morning cold winter atmosphere that engulfed most of Japan with its beautiful white coat, brushes against the patches of exposed skin causing you to shiver slightly, silently cursing to yourself for forgetting to turn the appliance off during the night before. You had awoken too early for your liking, the sun barely peeking as you left the comforts of your bed to grab a cup of coffee. You were never a morning person, only because it was the time where you were often left with your thoughts as the time slot was usually unproductive.

During such unproductive hours, your thoughts usually consumed you. If it weren't about work or the handful of people you hold close to your heart, it often leads you to thoughts of your life six years ago. You wondered what it would be like if you hadn't opted to run away from reality a few years back during your high school years. Your train of thought often wandered to countless possibilities if you had faced your problems earlier on. To you now, running away seemed almost petty. Well, sorta.

Would you have been happy? Would they have accepted things? Would you have grown apart? Would they have pushed you away?

Sadly, you'd never know. This is only because you fear the truth so you refuse to return and seek certain answers that no doubt will only lead to ultimate disaster. You fear the consequences of your actions. To simply put, you were a coward.

You move your gaze away from the hot cup of coffee on the kitchen counter over to glance out of the window from your apartment, watching the dark skies slowly fade away to signal a brand new day on the horizon, the sun painting the sky a bright calming hue. Any minute now, your friends that had decided to crash at your place during the previous night are bound to wake up. Your tiny space had become some sort of safe haven for when they needed to hide away from their own problems, or when they needed you to nurse their drunken states.

Despite it sparking irritation within yourself, you could never bring yourself to deny them. The group had been nothing but a solid help for you the past six years when you fled from Hyōgo and where you settled yourself in the comforts of your late father's best friend back in Kanagawa, Suwa Riku, reconnecting with one of your childhood friends, Suwa Reiji. The loving Suwa family accepted you with open arms, practically calling you their own despite the situation you dug yourself in. Honestly, if they had turned you away, you would have probably ended up in the gutter somewhere in Japan as you had no other place to go. It wouldn't have even shocked you if they were to turn their backs at you when you had first came knocking on their front door, practically drenched from the pouring rain, it was barely enough to conceal the tears.

However, despite the past they barely knew, they accepted you with open arms without an ounce of judgment. If they were curious, they asked politely, and if certain questions were too difficult for you to answer, they respected your need for privacy.

When you had left everything behind in Hyōgo, you wanted to forget. You had deleted your previous profiles from any sort of social media platform that you had and changed your number when you had the chance. To everyone in Hyōgo, you completely disappeared, a mere ghost that residents either often gossiped about or have completely forgotten, it wasn't as if you were well known within the community, but—still, your disappearance had quite the impact. However, since no one has found you yet in the past six years, it probably meant that your mother didn't care. You assumed the same for your handful of friends. You stayed with the Suwa Family in Kanagawa for at least a year and a half, time for yourself and to get adjusted to your new life before you convinced yourself to get a job that will lead you to a somewhat peaceful life, you needed it for support, now more so than ever. Once again, you are in debt when your childhood friend Reiji offered you a job as a manager for their group. Of course, how could you say no? Despite the busy schedule, you managed enough, sometimes giving you the ability to be flexible.

Ah, yes. Suwa Reiji, the lead singer for the famous boy band, Galaxy Standard. The two of you had been friends before you had moved to Hyōgo when you were eight years old. Despite the distance between the two of you, when your father was still around since your fathers were close friends, the two of you did keep in touch. However, as you grew older and found new friends in Hyōgo, the need to keep in touch disappeared almost instantly. Thankfully, despite years of not having any contact with each other, the two of you reconnected, happy to be back in each other's lives.

The past six years, as you tried to find yourself and finally settle independently, Reiji was there.

And despite the exhausting job of managing a boy band, you adored it. It kept you occupied. Despite the boys being famous, you opted to keep your social media platforms private, or rather secret, only your friends and a few of Galaxy Standard's fans knew of it. Although the fans knew of your existence, you wanted your personal life private and thankfully, the management and fans respected that with the help from your friends who are aware of your situation. You wanted to stay hidden. Accompanying the boys in certain events, despite being a girl where it was typical for fangirls to grow upset because of the close contact with their idols, the fans respected you and often held polite conversations with you.

Yes, despite the troubles you have, you wouldn't deny the fact that you were indeed happy, but lately, something in the back of your mind has been irking you, making you feel extremely uneasy for not knowing what it could be. It frustrated you to no end.

"Someone looks like a vein in their head might pop," you hear Reiji tease as he approached. You roll your eyes before turning your attention over to the man that intruded your thoughts. Bless him, you were slowly becoming crazy with all the thinking. However, you weren't going to praise him or anything, despite Reiji's calm and humble personality towards others, he was a completely different person towards you; often teasing, most days very playful.

You snap back playfully, "Good morning to you, too." He occupies the seat across from you, despite stumbling to your apartment the previous night completely drunk from a party, the man before you showed no sign of a hungover, you were used to it by now. "Seriously, you and Shizuma need to find some other place to crash. I don't even know how you roped him into drinking, he was absolutely thrashed when the two of you arrived. Normally, he'd be the responsible one."

"Yeah, but once he starts drinking, there's no stopping him. And Nah," he chuckles as he leans against the counter, a yawn escaping his lips as he spoke midway, "Your place is comfy but also because I get to see the cute faces of my favourite nephews almost instantly, it's a bonus."

"Uncle Reiji!"

"Where's Uncle 'zuma?"

Speaking of the little devils. Both of your attentions snaps at the two identical figures that stepped out of their shared room and into the vicinity that you and Reiji occupied.

The sight of their sleepy states warmed your heart at just how cute they have grown. Ah, yes. Your two boys. One of the two reasons why you preferred to keep your personal life, private. Of course, there was also Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro to think about. Your precious boys, your utmost priority. Everything you could ever want and more. They were the two that you could finally call home. As much as you know that your existence wouldn't be much of a big deal to the fans since you weren't entirely famous, you refused to let your boys get caught into any unnecessary drama that your friends have often got themselves into, so despite having famous uncles, you kept them shielded whenever you can. Of course, the fans of Galaxy Standard were aware of the existence of your little boys, often swooning when one of their idols were photographed with one of the twins. Needless to say, it always made the fans crazy, but you were grateful that the fans were respectful and never crossed the line whenever your boys were included.

Of course, the main reason why you wanted everything to be kept private was that you didn't want certain people to know the secret you've worked hard to stay hidden, but Japan was big, wasn't it? You often reassured yourself that it was impossible for paths to cross.

"Why are you looking for your Uncle Shizuma when I'm here?" Reiji asks, feigning hurt in his expression as both six-year-old boys approach, yawning and sleepily rubbing their eyes.

Atsuhiro, or rather Hiro, as he liked to be called sighs as he shakes his head at his uncle, "But Uncle 'zuma is the best."

"Now you take that back young man!" He scoffs as he playfully places his hands on his hips, "Who do you think raised you?"

The little boy tilts his head to the side as he watches his uncle in amusement of his antics, "Uncle 'zuma helped too! Mommy says he even helped out changing diapers which you didn't do!"

"But Uncle Reiji's the best! He always plays with us!" Atsuhiko, Hiko, retorts as he rushes over to his uncle to give him a high five, "Mommy, Uncle Rei said he's going to teach us some tricks like he did back then in Stride! Isn’t that cool?"

You send a glare towards the man that was mentioned by your son, who only avoided your gaze as he ruffles your son's hair, "Maybe something else. You can ask your uncles to teach you how to sing and dance like they always do, just not that dangerous sport."

Atsuhiko groans in protest while the other twin approaches you, wrapping his short arms around your leg, "Do you think they can teach us volleyball?"

"Oh yes!" Atsuhiko yells out happily agreeing with his twin, his dismay for his mother's earlier disapproval flying out the window as he looks at you with hope in his eyes, "Volleyball is so cool! Can we mommy?"

Almost instantly, a lump formed in the back of your throat at the mention of the mere sport, a reminder. It wasn't as if you were against the sport, but what caught you off guard was the interests your boys clearly showed. How ironic.

As you raised the two, whether at times you were alone or had help, you often pushed the twins away from certain reminders of your past. What was that? Anything that reminded you of your past in Hyōgo was pushed aside. It was rather petty, you knew that yourself but as the twin boys grew throughout the years, it didn't get unnoticed how their features screamed of the one and only Miya Atsumu. Well, you expected that—he is the father of your twin boys, but you silently prayed during your pregnancy and as you raised them that their features would come from your side of the family instead of his.

But of course, somehow you've upset the Gods for your pettiness. This was your consequence. A daily reminder. There's no denying of your love for your boys. They were your life and you wouldn't change anything because then they wouldn't exist. However, you've grown hateful of your past as years gone by. Your hatred for the awful memories had made it more difficult to forget.

You expected the interest in volleyball before they even mentioned it to you today. The clues in their shared room were enough for you to pick up that they were most likely to take after their father in a sense, not that they know of such.

Earlier, about two years prior when they first started in kindergarten, it was inevitable for such to talk about your families, you remember experiencing such back then despite it being foggy. They returned home, despite being young, they were smart for their age and bombarded you with questions without holding back; wondering about who was their father and where he was, or if Uncle Reiji or Uncle Shizuma were their fathers. Back then, you couldn't bring yourself to tell them the truth or even utter a single word about the man missing in their lives.

You experienced a whole week of silent treatment from your two boys because you refused to answer, their stubbornness hard as a rock. You refuse to answer their questions? Well, they, of course, fight back by refusing to talk to you. Oh, children, right? Of course, Reiji and Shizuma were a big help because to the twins, the two of your friends were practically the only father figures that they had. Since Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro refused to utter a word to you, they tried their best to talk to the twins, avoiding certain parts that they were too young to know about, and explained that when they grew up and they were ready to know, you would eventually let them know.

Bless the heavens because, after that, your two boys returned to their loving yet sneaky nature, never asking or mentioning about their father again. However, the majority of the conversations about their father were kept in secret between the two. Atsuhiro wanting to know more while Atsuhiko pushing the idea away, but not wanting to upset his brother, he keeps his dismay of their missing father from Atsuhiro, who grew more eager to find his father as years go by.

"What's with all the excitement at such an early hour? You two always have so much energy. What's this I hear about wanting to play volleyball?" Shizuma saves you from answering and you share a silent communication to send your gratitude for the interference.

Atsuhiro breaks out into a grin at the sight of his favourite uncle and immediately approaches him, "Uncle 'zuma, do you know how to play volleyball? Can you teach me and Hiko? Please?"

Shizuma chuckles in response, ruffling the little boy's messy locks, "I'm not that good but if you and your brother are serious about wanting to learn volleyball, I know a friend that may be of help."

"You do?" Atsuhiko asks, excitement in his voice.

You repeat, arching a brow in curiosity, "You do?"

"Well he's more of Asuma's friend than mine but we're good acquaintances," he answers with a shrug of his shoulders, "I'll see what I can do for my two favourite nephews."

"Yes!" The twins exclaim happily at the same time before running towards each other to share their routine handshake.

"Now that's settled," Reiji starts, clapping his hands together to grab the attention from everyone in the room, "Aren't you two supposed to be getting ready for your day with Grandpapa and Grandmama Suwa? You wouldn't want to keep those two waiting, I heard they have a really big day planned ahead for the two of you."

Ah, Grandpapa and Grandmama Suwa. Reiji's parents, and well—your substitute parents and the twins' substitute grandparents. Despite not being biologically related, they treated the three of you like a real family. They helped you throughout your pregnancy and at the same time raising your two boys. They did what any grandparent would do, discipline and spoil them. You wouldn't change it for the world. The love they had for your boys was overwhelming, and Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro completely adored their substitute grandparents just the same.

Atsuhiro releases a gasp from his lips at the realization of the big day, he had been excited, to say the least, rushing to get prepared whilst Atsuhiko frowns and stays rooted in where he stood, "But today's Uncle Asuma's birthday! I want to go too!"

"No can do, kiddo." Shizuma shakes his head, crossing his arms across his chest; an indication the twins are familiar with that meant it was not up for any negotiation. "You know this party isn't for little boys, your Uncle Asuma already told you this, but he promised to take both of you out tomorrow to make up for it. You and Hiro can celebrate his birthday tomorrow, I promise."

Atsuhiko releases a dramatic sigh, throwing his little hands in the air as he stomps his way to get ready, knowing that if he were to argue, he would inevitably lose. Oh well, he thought to himself, Grandpapa and Grandmama are the best anyway.

"I don't know how you do it, 'zuma." You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Those two have become spoiled to the core because of all of us, yet when it comes to you and their Grandpapa Riku, they suddenly become little angelic-slash-monsters who obey every command."

Shizuma lets a grin spread on his lips, "Some things can't be taught. Anyway, I'll get going. I have to help prep Asuma's party. I'll see you guys there."

"I'll get going too," Reiji declares as he stands up from his seat, "Don't back out of the party, I'll drag you there if I have to, I swear."

You roll your eyes at them, more so at Reiji than Shizuma, shooing them with your hands as you follow them to the front door, "Yeah, whatever. I'll be there. Stop worrying."

Dropping the twins at the Suwa Residence after eating lunch together was often smooth sailing as the twins always adored spending the day with their substitute grandparents. However, Atsuhiko expressed his dismay of being left behind once again insisting of wanting to attend his Uncle Asuma's birthday party, you had to pry his hands away from his grip on your leg. Thankfully, you had help from his Grandpapa Riku, and after waving goodbye to a smiling Atsuhiro and a scowling Atsuhiko, you were off to get a few errands done before heading to Asuma's apartment to celebrate his birthday, taking your sweet time to avoid your favourite, yet rowdy bunch of friends, only because they probably wanted you to help them set up the party, which you didn't want to take part in.

Honestly, you could have chosen otherwise but decided against skipping the errands that would most probably pile up despite the break Galaxy Standard was having. Plus, you may or may not have, forgotten to get a gift for Asuma and if you showed up empty-handed, well, you weren't going to hear the end of it.

Hours went by as you got through your list of errands, you were left with messages and certain phone calls that you ignored throughout the day, you were finally able to buy a suitable gift for your friend. All there was left to do was show up to the party that was apparently already in full swing. Thankfully, your friend's lavish apartment was around the corner.

You waited for the traffic lights to signal the safe journey across the busy streets, your grip on the neatly wrapped gift on one hand slightly tightening against you as you shiver from Japan's cool winter breeze bustling through the air, something you're still obviously not very fond of. For as long as you can remember, you hated the cold. It was a bitter reminder of the times you were utterly alone. You always preferred the warm temperature, whether it was from a fireplace or someone else, it kept you from going numb, made to remind you of reality.

The sound of your phone ringing startles you from your thoughts and you pull the device from one of your pockets, Reiji's name flashing across the screen. You grumble to yourself of his impatience before answering the call, bringing the device up to press against your ear. Before you could utter a word, he beats you to it in a demanding tone, "Where are you? You're late."

"Hold your horses, Rei." You answer in irritation as you look up ahead to check the traffic lights that still had the signal to stay where you were, "I'm almost there. Be patient." However, you couldn't process the words Reiji muttered next from the other line. Someone calling out your name catching your attention, your eyes widening slightly at the realization of who it was. Immediately, you cut off Reiji's rambling from the other line and ended the call, slipping the phone back into your pocket as you feel your shoulder tense at his presence standing next to you. "Osamu."

"So it is you," he blinks in disbelief, his eyes drinking your features bit by bit to check if he was dreaming or not, "You look different, I barely recognized you if it weren't for your voice, but it really is you."

You nod stiffly, "I suppose I would since it has been six years and all. What are you doing all the way here in Kanagawa?"

Suddenly, a memory flashes across your mind. A memory of earlier in your apartment, Shizuma mentioning a friend who knew how to play volleyball. No, it couldn't be, right?

"Ah, I'm actually checking a few spots around here for my business," he lifts his shoulders in a shrug, "So Kanagawa, huh? This is where you've been hiding all this time?"

Your lips press into a thin line, feeling uneasy under his gaze. Of course, you would, you're practically hiding a really big secret. "I'm sorry, I don't have time to chat. I have plans and my friends are already egging me on for being late."

The traffic lights save you from a painful conversation, signalling that it was safe to cross but before you could take a step away, you feel him grasp onto your shoulder to pull you back. You turned your head to face him, ready to fight him off but you halted your actions at the sign of sadness his features displayed. You took the time to examine his features, your heart practically leaping as you were able to take in everything unlike seconds ago where you were purposely trying to leave. Of course, back then when you were friends, you considered Osamu as handsome. I mean, why wouldn't you? You were practically in love with his twin brother who you found extremely handsome at the time. However, that wasn't what ran through your mind. You began thinking that Atsumu probably looked just as good, and suddenly you felt a shitload of bricks slamming right down on your shoulders, the feeling of panic surging through your veins, wondering if Atsumu was around too that you failed to notice Osamu pull out a small card from his wallet, holding it out for you to take. He seemed to read your thoughts as he spoke to reassure you, "Don't worry. He's not here, but..." He trails off, looking at you with hope in his eyes, "take this, it has my number on it. When you're ready, I'm here to listen. I always have been. I want to know what you've been up to. I want to catch up."

At Osamu's reassurance, you feel your shoulders slowly relax as you take the card from him, your eyes scanning the printed numbers and words, Ongiri Miya, making you realize that he hadn't pursued Volleyball like his twin often rambled on. You flicker your gaze up to meet his once more and he gives you a small smile. You slowly nod as you slip the card into one of your back pockets, "I have to go."

He watches you leave, the smile he had instantly morphed into a frown as he watches you walk away once more and eventually disappear from his line of sight. He silently prayed that you would contact him when you could, wanting to reconnect with you after all these years, to know why you left. He promises to himself that when you do decide to reach out, that you wouldn't mention anything to his idiot brother.

He noted the shift of your body, how your shoulders relaxed at the mention of someone not being around, he knew that you had thought about his brother. And it only confirmed his suspicion of you leaving because of what his brother had done six years ago, the last day people saw you in Hyōgo. However, something still was missing, he still craved an answer. You couldn't have left just because of Atsumu's actions. So what was it?

Either way, he was determined to find out. You may have not known it then, but Osamu cared about you a lot. However, due to you being blinded by his twin brother's light, you failed to notice. He wasn't going to let you go this time, he'll find a way to get you back in his life. His phone blares his ringtone, snapping him out of his thoughts. As he brings his phone up, he grumbles underneath his breath at the sight of his brother's incoming call. Speak of the devil.

"What is it?"

He hears his brother whine from the other line, "Can't I just call my brother once in a while?"

"You only ever do that when you're in trouble or need something," he retorts with a roll of his eyes.

Atsumu laughs in response, "How'd the shop searching go? Anything interesting so far? When you coming back?"

"Hold up, what's with the questions?" He laughs at the sound of his brother's enthusiasm. It's true, they often disagreed with each other but when it came to supporting each other's passion, they were always there for the other. He shifts his gaze over to where you stood moments ago, a smile ghosting his lips at the memory of the brief conversation the two of you shared. "Yeah, maybe something interesting here in Kanagawa after all." He listens to his brother speak excitedly over the phone causing him to shake his head at the ridiculous tone. "Oh? He's here? Maybe I can hit him up..."

After the encounter with Osamu, you practically quickened your pace to Asuma's apartment, your heart beating erratically. You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until you were gasping for air. Luckily, the majority of Asuma's guests were preoccupied that they hadn't noticed your entrance. You were sure you looked embarrassing looking extremely flustered.

You hear your name being called and as soon as you caught your breath, you notice Shizuma calling you over, Asuma and Reiji along with someone you seem to recognize but can’t seem place in your mind. Walking over, your lips curl up to a small smile as you extend your arm to hand over Asuma's gift, "Happy Birthday, 'suma. Here's my gift."

Asuma's eyes instantly light up, retrieving the gift from you, "I was going to get mad at you for being late but since you have a gift for me, I'll let it slide. Did the boys pick this for me?"

"Gee, aren't I lucky." You drawl sarcastically, a laugh being shared within the group as you shake your head, "No, you think those two would let me give them your gift? They said they'll give it to you tomorrow when you take them out. Hiko was upset when I left him with his Grandpapa Riku, though. He had this cute little scowl." Your three friends laugh, imagining their nephew in their heads. You flicker your attention over to the person who was watching you interact with the others with amusement, you smile at him politely. "I'm sorry. How rude of me."

"Oh, right!" Shizuma speaks as soon as your name slips out of your mouth to introduce yourself, holding out your hand for a shake which he grabs, "This is the friend I was talking about that can teach the boys volleyball."

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" He starts with a grin as he shakes your hand firmly, his enthusiasm infectious. Releasing his grip on your hand, he sends a little wave, "Bokuto Koutarou I'm a friend of Asuma's. Shizuma here was just telling me about your boys and how they were interested in volleyball and I wouldn't mind helping them out."

Asuma adds, "He's a professional volleyball player for Japan's V.League in Division 1. MSBY Black Jackals was it?"

You watch as the man who you thought kind of resembled a horned owl nod his head towards Asuma's direction, something about him oddly familiar. You hum along, eyes widening slightly at the information. "Professional? Wow, colour me impressed. Wouldn't you be too busy to train two six-year-olds, then?"

"I'll speak for everyone who knows her two boys that they're absolute devils," Reiji chuckles with a shake of his head, "Fast learners though. We'd teach them how to run like in Stride if we could but their mother over here refuses."

You scoff, "Because that sport can be dangerous!"

"Stride, huh?" Bokuto butts in, interested. "But yes, I have some time to teach. I'm sure they'll be okay. I owe Asuma anyway. I don't mind."

The corners of your mouth twitch to an unsure smile. You didn't know if you were going to go through with this if you were honest, but it isn't exactly something you can reject as your three other friends were present, and they would do anything for their favourite set of twins, spoiled rotten those two were.

"Don't worry," Shizuma claims, nudging you with his elbow as he gives you a reassuring smile, "They'll be in good hands, one of us will find the time to attend their little training. We're not as busy lately due to our little holiday anyway."

You hum softly as you continue to examine Bokuto under your gaze before something in your mind clicks, eyes widening ever so slightly. “I think I know you! Weren’t you at the Christmas Party last year that Reiji held?”

He nods with a grin, “I was actually. Asuma invited me and I went along with a couple of friends. Funny how we’ve crossed paths before and yet we’re only meeting now, ay?”

“Ah, yeah. I think I remember now, sort of.” you laugh, nodding your head in agreement, “That party was crazy anyway. I don’t think anyone wants to remember that crazy night. Especially Reiji.”

The man mentioned scoffs, rolling his eyes. “That’s why whenever I plan parties it’s never at my place anymore.” He shudders at the memory, “Drunk bastards doing the nasty at my place. And that model’s awful moaning could be heard even when the music was blasting.”

You scrunch up your face in disgust, “Thankfully I left early then,”

An awkward laugh escapes Bokuto’s lips as he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “Yeah about that...”

“That was you?” you and Asuma let out a gasp, eyes widening while Shizuma bursts out laughing. Reiji on the other hand, obviously not amused at the information.

“Dude, what the heck!” Reiji exclaims, brows furrowing, “The least you could have done was choose a guest bedroom rather than on my own bed!”

“Oy!” he laughs, holding his hands out, “I didn’t say it was me. I was just saying I know who it was. It was one of my friends, but I’d rather not say who.”

Asuma joins his older brother Shizuma in laughing at the side while you try your best to calm down Reiji by tugging on his arm. “Anyway, Bokuto. I think we should talk about the schedule of your training with my boys. I’m sure they’ll be excited when they find out someone will be training them volleyball.”

Somehow, a part of you was screaming at you, telling you that this wasn't going to end well. Of course, you didn't realize at the time that you would come to regret such a decision, not like you had any say against it either. Your little boys were spoiled rotten and often got their way whether through innocent means or their sneaky tactics. It didn't help that their group of uncles were wrapped around their little fingers.

Ah, yes. You hadn't realized it yet, but it was the start of a roller coaster ride.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu imagine #atsumu imagines #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #atsumu miya x reader #miya x reader #miya imagine #miya imagines

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