#i’m stuck doing a job that i hate with a company i hate even more???

[t-nd-rfoot]

.

[zweiginator]

oooh sobbing over the thought of CEO!patrick seducing you, the daughter of his business rival. he takes you into a private room at some fancy gala you’re both attending, shoves his hand up your designer ball gown and fingers you until you’re shaking, knees giving out, cumming over and over again. he has you pressed up against the door, rattling it with each thrust of his palm onto your clit. just after your third or fourth orgasm, you both hear your father walking down the hallway outside. your eyes widen. patrick is quick to shove his free hand over your mouth, press his body up against yours, and curl his fingers into that spot. he nips at your throat and shushes your muffled moans as you cum again "don't want daddy to hear his little girl give up some easy pussy like a whore for a zweig, do we?"

oh i gasped.

and its 100% a carnal desire for patrick. but its also to spite your father. he’s wanted to have you since your father showed the shareholder meeting a photo of you, his prized eldest daughter. he had told you all how proud of you he was. about to graduate with her bachelors and go off to her first big girl job.

patrick fucking hated him. wanted to take his investors away all for his shitty company with old-school systems and geriatric board members.

he was cutthroat, but so was patrick. even though he was pretty young for a CEO, just 34. your father thought he was much too arrogant. didn’t know the traditional values of business and pleasing customers.

but patrick knew more about user interface, coding. how people function in the twenty first century.

it seemed like your father’s and patrick’s companies were always neck and neck. served the same purpose, but acted like a war of generations, old money versus new.

and now he’s stuck at a gala with his fucking business rival, the old piece of shit. and you, his eldest daughter. so prim and proper and pretty.

patrick shakes your hand and you take a swig from your champagne flute. you introduce yourself and he says he knows exactly who you are. you apologize.

“i’m sorry im not sure who you are exactly. please forgive me i meet so many people.”

“i wouldn’t expect you to know me. your father wants me dead. patrick zweig.”

you swallow the last of your champagne. “oh i’ve heard plenty about you. a CEO at your age? he despises it.”

but there’s a playfulness in your tone and patrick bounces off it. charms you the only way he knows how. subtly shows off his body; it’s clear he’s fit even underneath his suit. and, he flirts. not just with his banter but with his eyes. the curl of his lips in a smile. how he manages to get you somewhere more quiet. it’s much too loud out in the open like that.

he tells you your dress is gorgeous. he spins you around in it. and when you lose your balance, he catches you. it’s like a fucking rom com.

and then you’re in a separate, smaller conference room. patrick has had meetings at this hotel before, over shitty coffee and the promise of a cigarette after.

but he presses you against the wall. catches your lip in his mouth and licks inside. hot and messy and your leg wrapped around him. you sign and moan into his mouth because he’s good at this. of course he is, he’s ten years older than you. you pull his hair, his collar, his tie. and you feel how he smiles against your lip. your father would fucking hate this. his pretty little daughter hanging off him, squeezing his bicep for purchase.

you tilt your head back for him to kiss his neck and he bunches the skirt of your silk dress around your waist. you’re wearing a red thong. patrick smacks your ass. the sound reverberates and he presses a finger to your lip as if it were you who voluntarily made the sound.

he pushes his fingers into your mouth. tells you to get them soaked for him and you do, holding his wrist in place for him. there’s a tent in patrick’s pants but he wants you to cum. wants you to be his little plaything. have to bite your tongue when your daddy asks you if you have a boy in your life cause you could never tell him his sworn enemy just fingered you at the annual big investment gala.

he splits your cunt open with his fingers. and you’re already so wet for him. he clasps his free hand over your mouth and you don’t know how to be quiet because he’s cooing in your ear about that perfect, perfect pussy of yours.

“oh she likes me.” he strokes that special spot inside you that makes your knees buckle and you nod. tell him you’re cumming— but patrick just keeps going faster.

you’re being loud now. the sounds of his mouth devouring yours is lewd. your red lipstick is all over his neck, his cheeks, his own lips.

“dirty little girl. daddy’s wondering where you are right now. probably realizes he hasn’t seen me in a minute either. the toasts probably starting in a minute and here you are spreading your pussy wide open for me.”

patrick’s hand is around your throat. it all makes you cum again. your legs shake and patrick muffles a low, ‘shit’ because the doorknob is rattling and how are you going to explain how your makeup is on patrick’s suit jacket?

[triple-7-heaven]

ONCE AGAIN

thank you for waiting for me, readers. i do hope you enjoy it ♡ my first aespa fic, awesome! i've been going through it, thus the lack of content, but things are looking up for me. take care of yourselves, until next time :-) pairing: male reader x winter; words: 6.5k ; categories: aespa, winter, reader insert, smut, slightly storyline heavy

Back in high school, there was a girl who shone above the rest, but wasn’t necessarily popular. A girl who was a member of the math club, the photography club, and the dance team, whose evenings were filled with activities, who made many friends, but wasn’t fawned over by the student body in the way the true popular kids were. 

One evening, you were at school pretty late, tutoring in the library. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice the time passing, until the janitor came in and told you he’d be needing to clean the library up, so you’d better scram. Backpack full of books, you rushed out of the library, and quickly made your way through the dark hallway. You turned the corner and nearly collided with a small girl, who grabbed onto your arm to steady herself. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” you said, and the girl looked up at you. Oh, perfect… “Minjeong, shit, I’m sorry…” 

“Hosang, what are you doing here so late?” Minjeong asked. 

“Uh, tutoring… You know my name?” you asked incredulously. She smoothed out your sleeve, folded the collar of your shirt down, and tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“You know mine, too,” she quipped and giggled before running to catch up with her dance team friends, leaving you without room to explain yourself. To explain that no, I promise it isn’t weird, everyone knows your name, Minjeong, I’m not a crazy stalker, and I’m not here to spy on you through the gym windows while you dance. But you never got to explain yourself. To be fair, you did admire her from a distance. In the halls, at lunch, you wouldn’t deny that you looked at her with heart-shaped eyes. As pretty as you thought she was, you didn’t ever talk to her, something you would eventually regret. 

Minjeong dropped out, and you didn’t run into her again. After graduation, you headed off to Seoul to learn how to fly, and soon, you realized someone else had come, too. Billboards, advertisements, you name it. For a solid month, wherever you looked, you saw her. 

The same Kim Minjeong who you nearly sacked in the hallway that night, who, instead of yelling or being upset, straightened your clothes and wished you a good night; who knew your name when you were nobody. She was Winter, now, styled with gorgeous long, blonde hair, imposed over ethereal backgrounds and colors. You had to give it to whatever company she was running with, they made that old crush of yours flare right back up again with the way they marketed that girl. Financially stable enough under an air charter company flying small private jets, you decided you’d buy a set of the group’s albums when they debuted. Sitting on the floor of your apartment, pulling the photocards and posters out of those albums, you felt the full force of the regret from your school days: if you’d only talked to her in high school, you could have her number in your phone right this minute… But you were resigned now to being a fan, and a strongly biased one. That’s all you could be. 

-

Charter piloting has benefits. Loads, surely. You’re essentially a glorified taxi driver, charging rich business people and celebrities $20k for a one hour flight from Incheon to Jeju. It’s morally wrong to allow a sucker to keep his money, right? As good as the pay, benefits, and overall experience are, the clientele… Well. Nothing you hate more than a stuck-up diva, and it’s even worse when you’re trapped in a flying metal tube with them. But you make do; the idol sightings you get on the job make all the asshole corporates worth it. From old school stars your parents might know, to drama actors and actresses, to the newest generation of idols, you welcomed a ton of each aboard, more than you could ever remember if you didn’t write it down. Unforgettable guests come along now and then; a trio of Twice members one weekend, some big-name producers behind insurmountably popular groups for a surfing trip, and the casts of award-winning shows on celebratory benders. Unforgettable loses its meaning when your secretary hands you today’s clipboard. 

“This is mine? Thought it was… Uh…” you trail off and your eyes widen. The secretary laughs behind the desk.

“I knew it! You’re her fan, right? You always talk about Aespa. And I know you have her photocard in your wallet,” she winks at you as your face fills with an embarrassingly deep blush. 

“It’s not just that, Jihye. I knew her in high school,” you say hesitantly. 

“Oh my God, it’s like a reunion!” the girl squeals. “Wait, were you cool in high school?” she laughs. 

“Uh… I don’t-” 

“Yup, I knew it,” she says matter-of-factly. “Let me guess, the lame, nerdy guy had a crush on the cool-chick future idol?”

“No! Well, I don’t know,” you say. Your mind is too busy racing to think properly. The young secretary giggles to herself as you walk to the hangar. Preflight routines are difficult to complete when your mind’s racing faster than a Blackbird. Would she recognize you? Should you say something? Nah… You’re kicking tires pretending to be busy and the door opens. The trail end of a conversation… 

“-ng is going to be your pilot. He’s a great aviator and an even better tour guide, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to show you around the island,” Jihye says. That damn secretary. 

“Hosang? I feel like I’ve known someone with- oh, hi,” Minjeong stops abruptly when Jihye walks her around the aircraft to meet you. Long, wavy, dark hair, with bangs curled and blown out to mathematical perfection. Fair, unlined skin of a small and cute face. A simple and comfortable black sweater, a modest manicure, and plain, natural eye makeup. You bow shyly and wave. 

“All good to go?” Jihye asks with the most annoying smile in the world. 

“Yep,” you answer. Jihye departs and you welcome Minjeong to get comfortable while you finish up. A strange look occupies those perfect features as you give her a quick safety brief, then turn to enter the cockpit. Before the door closes behind you, “if you need anything, let me know.” 

Why are you cold with her? Why are you nervous? You hardly smiled at her or asked what she was traveling for… Pure white clouds roll calmly underneath you. You resolve to be nice to her, even if she doesn’t recognize you, because let’s be real, it’s not her fault for not recognizing you. She meets tons of people. You’re just some not-cool kid from high school who had a crush on the cool-chick future idol. A pilot report over the radio snaps you out of it as you enter Jeju International’s airspace. Gusting winds and vertical movement, it’ll be a bumpy ride down. You reach for the intercom. 

“Hey Minjeong, forgive me if I startled you. Looking at some rough air on the way down, but we’re about 20 minutes out. I’d sit down and belt in if you aren’t already, okay? Call if there’s any issues, and think of what you’d like for dinner.” You toggle off the intercom and wonder where the hell that came from. What, Jihye said you’d be happy to show Minjeong around the island, right? So you’ll show her. Your inner autopilot (funny…) takes over and you idly nudge the yoke for your approach phases. Wheels on the ground, hangar door shut, you stand and exit the cockpit. Minjeong looks up at you sleepily, and you sit across from her on one of the bench-style seats. 

“So… dinner ideas?” you ask. Minjeong stands up and points at you groggily, shuffling towards you until her finger pokes the center of your chest. 

“You. You went to my school, didn’t you?” she says, tiredness dripping from her voice. You nod and meet her eyes. “How come you didn’t say anything?” 

“I didn’t think you’d recognize me…” you say softly, honestly. She moves her hand to your shoulder.

“Well you’re bigger, yeah, but… I recognize you. Bigger and taller. Same face,” she says. The smile can’t be kept off your face, unfortunately, and Minjeong smiles too. 

“You sound really tired. Let’s get going,” you say. After a quick post-flight and signing off with the hangar staff, you face her and say: “Gonna change really quick, then we’ll head to dinner.” You slip into the FBO restroom and drop your duffel, then slip out of your annoyingly stiff white uniform shirt. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, then pull on a plain black t-shirt before swapping your slacks for black jeans. One careful ruffle of the hair later, and you’re leaving the restroom to meet Minjeong in the hallway. 

“Alright, ready.” You carry Minjeong’s luggage and she trails behind you, much like a puppy, on the way to the parking lot. The modest rent car’s parked right where the staff told you, so you open the door for Minjeong and she shoots you a confused smirk. You smile back, and hop into the driver’s seat. 

“So what’s the occasion? Family in Jeju?” you ask. 

“Honestly, I… When I get time off, I run a secret travel blog… So I take vacations, and take pictures and stuff,” she says quietly. “I dunno, it’s kind of silly.” 

“How come it’s silly? Sounds fun to me. We’ll have to go to some really cool places so you can write a good post, huh?” you reply. “Now, dinner?” 

“Mm. I’m too tired to think,” she mumbles. Great, now the pressure’s on you to pick something perfect… 

“How about Black Pork Street? Could make for some good photos, and it’s really as good as people say it is,” you say and put the car in gear. 

“Sounds good…” she trails off. Really, really sleepy. But she makes an effort to talk to you. She makes an effort to keep the focus off of herself, and more on you; she asks you how graduation was, since she didn’t go, and you really had to reach deep into your memory for that one. She asks you about flying, about why you chose it, about your life in Seoul, and about how you never ran into each other in the city. You hold yourself back from saying ‘well no, Minjeong, we haven’t run into each other in a city of 10 million people, with about 9,999,999 of those people being more interesting than me.’ When you arrive, Minjeong is lively and excited, telling you about her camera and asking what’s next after dinner. You kick yourself when you start wishing for a specific sort of dessert. Quit being dirty-minded, idiot… 

“Let’s go! I’m hungry,” Minjeong says, dragging you out of your thoughts. She looks perfect taking photos on the street, pointing her camera at the sky, at signs, storefronts, plants, street cats. The way her eyes light up when she takes a good photo, runs over to show you, insists that you take a few of her; she’s not much different than she was back then, huh? A person with a good heart. A person whose heart you’d like to learn. 

“Is it our honeymoon? First date? Must be a first date, you look nervous,” the dorky waiter says, nodding to you. Minjeong laughs, and you blush; the difference between you. 

“Uh… J-just high school friends,” you manage to say. Minjeong jots notes and snaps photos throughout the meal, and as you’re serving up some pork belly for her, she takes a few photos.

“C’mon, make it look nice,” she whines. 

“You’re serious about this, huh?” you laugh. 

“It’s… It’s my baby. My project. My travel blog is like… I dunno, it’s a way for me to be creative, but not be Winter. It’s a way to just be Minjeong,” she slowly explains. “To have a space that’s all my own. Where I can talk about stuff I like, and not worry about press, or netizens, or fans, or anti-fans.”

“I get it. A space of your own. I should call you Minjeong then, right?” you say, nodding your head a bit too fast and a bit too much. She smiles and nods. But she nods like a regular person, not like you. 

Dinner passes without incident. If we can ignore the waiter thing. Do you look like a couple or something? Maybe you do compliment each other. Maybe you seem like high school sweethearts. Maybe you could be. 

“Hosang?” she says as she leans forward. “You in there? Let’s go to the hotel!” You snap out of it for the second time and hop up to lead the way to the rent car. The paperwork Jihye gave you had most of the information listed for Minjeong’s trip, and the hotel she’d be staying in was, of course, the Lotte City Hotel. No less grandeur for the princess. The GPS gets you there quickly, and you pull up to the front doors, leaving the car on as you grab Minjeong’s suitcase. Just as you’re rounding the front of the car and waving goodnight, she makes a confused face.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” she whines. Minjeong the kid… 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I was gonna head to the motel near the airport, that’s where my room is. Did you need something else?” you say. 

God, why do I sound like a customer service bot? ‘Did you need something else?’ Seriously? 

“I… I dunno, I guess I just wanted someone to hang out with,” she replies.

Oh. To hang out? 

“Oh, of course, Minjeong. Let me park, I’ll meet you,” you say. And she’s waiting for you in the same spot once you return to the front door; she didn’t even go inside. Her long, dark hair’s ruffled by the wind. Cute. 

NO. Not cute. Not cute or pretty or hot. She’s my client, my customer, my responsibility; not my crush, my girlfriend, or my next body. Look at the ground or something, for the love of God, Hosang. 

But looking at the ground can’t keep her legs from your peripheral view. She walks through the sliding doors and you follow behind with her suitcase in your hand, and your duffel on your shoulder. Long, slender, perfect legs, and you’re looking right at them. You snap your gaze to the windows and pretend to be looking at the skyline through the windows while Minjeong checks in. After a moment, she turns to you and smiles. 

“Do you have a swimsuit?” she asks. You shake your head. “There’s shops on the bottom floors, go and find one, okay? Meet me on the sixth floor. There’s a pool! The pictures are gonna be perfect!” 

She shoves a room key into your hand and takes the bags from you. You’re left in the lobby, dumbfounded, wondering how you should navigate this. A bellhop whistles at you.

“First night with her? Sheesh,” the young man says. “Score!”

“Weird situation, man. Weird as hell,” you trail off as you walk away, still shaking your head, more so to yourself now. Okay, shops. Swimsuit. You begin to feel insecurity nagging at you. You’re lean, sure, but not perfect. Not as perfect as… Well, nevermind. Quickly, you make your way through the shops, and find a pair of rather plain, mid-length black trunks at a duty free shop, changing into them in the restroom and leaving your shirt on. The elevator ride lasts forever. And ever. And ever. Until the robotic voice announces,

Sixth floor. 

The doors open and you walk quietly out to the open area of the pool. You see one figure in the water already. She’s facing the city, hugging the edge of the pool and gazing at the skyline. The water laps at her back, just below her shoulder blades, and the silky smooth skin of her back is laid out for you, with only thin bikini straps to cover it. Her arms and shoulders are small, toned, but soft. Fancams and jacket shoots could never do justice to the sculpted angel right in front of your face. 

“How’s the temperature?” you say. She turns around. Her top is composed of white strings and back fabric; conservative, but form-fitting to her chest, that Goldilocks chest, the perfect balance of size and shape. Her collarbones are distinct, curved, beautiful. Hell, every curve you can see is perfect, from the angle of her jaw to the base of her neck to the gentle taper of her arms. 

“It’s heated,” she giggles. “Come on!” Insecurity. Nagging. Loudly. 

“Are you sure? I can just hang out and take pictures for you up here, it’s not-”

“Come onnn,” she pleads. You turn away from her and slowly drag your shirt off, then kick your shoes and socks off near where Minjeong left hers. The water is slightly warmer than room temperature, and a welcome change from the chilly air. You sit yourself down on a ledge in the pool, and Minjeong swims to your side, sitting right next to you. Not close enough to touch. 

“See? Isn’t it nice up here?” she says.

“It is. Ever been to Jeju before?” you ask.

“Nope. I think it’s even nicer with a good tour guide.” 

“Ah, come on. I’m not all that.” 

“You’re…” she trails off and sighs. Her hair tickles your shoulder when she leans into you. “I wish I’d talked to you more back then.”

“Hmm? Don’t worry about it, that’s way past us,” you mumble.

“So… If I said I wanted to make up for lost time… What would you say?” she says and you feel her fingertips smoothly run over your leg under the water. 

“I think I’d ask where that idea came from,” you say breathlessly. She moves her hand to your waist, arm around your front. 

“I always liked you. I just didn’t think you liked me, you were always so quiet,” she says. Your hand, now, meets her waist, and your eyes meet hers. 

“Is this okay? I mean… Can you do stuff like this? Now that you’re all famous and everything,” you say, struggling to form any words at all, overwhelmed by the electric sensations of skin on skin underwater. She cups your cheek with a wet hand and nods to the camera bag. 

“Can I get some pictures for the blog? Before… Before I forget,” she finishes cautiously.

Before you forget, huh… Gonna make me take an impromptu bikini shoot of one of the most beautiful women ever. No big deal. 

Minjeong disentangles from you; she tosses you a towel and you dry your hands, then power on the camera. Eyes fixed on the camera’s display screen, you start shooting. She moves through pose after pose, and you can feel yourself hardening. How could you not? A perfect, slim, pale Minjeong, body covered with water droplets, her skin shining in the flash of the camera. 

“Would you check and see if those ones are any good?” she calls to you. You begin scrolling through the photos, and sure, they’re great. It would be hard to take a bad photo of her. 

“Yeah, these are good,” you say. 

“Let’s take a few more, then we can relax a bit,” she says. The camera display switches back to photo mode, and you look through; this time, your heart stops. The screen shows you that Minjeong has shed her top, and now, the camera focuses on her bare breasts, nipples erect in the cold air, water streaming down her chest. Her hourglass shape is all the more prominent now, and you wonder how it would feel to run your hands all over her wet body. You begin to lower the camera, but she shakes her head. “These are just for me. Please?” 

“J-just for you?” you mumble, mostly to yourself. Her poses grow more erotic. She squeezes her breasts together with her arms, grabs them with her hands, and leans over for you to capture a shot of her from the side with her back arched. Now you’re definitely hard, no question about it, but at least now there’s no way she could be mad at you for it. It’s her fault. She moves towards you, and you set the camera on the ground next to the pool. 

“How’d they turn out?” she asks. Her arms reach around the back of your neck, and yours wrap around her waist. 

“You’re evil,” you say into her neck before planting a few kisses there. 

“Oh, how could you say that? It seems like you had a good time,” she says. Her hips grind forward against your cock; she wants you to know that she knows how hard she’s gotten you. “You know, to be really honest, Hosang, you’re the first guy I ever thought about while touching myself.” 

Really? 

“Why?” 

“You’re an idiot- Oh, God,” she’s interrupted by moans as you kiss further down her neck. “I just like you, okay? 

“Well I just like you, too. Always did,” you say. 

“I hope so. Otherwise this could be kind of awkward,” she giggles. You withdraw from her neck to place a kiss on her temple, and finally, on her lips. She tastes so sweet, lips so soft, tongue so aggressive. Her hand grabs onto your hair and she forces your head to turn so she can deepen the kiss. Minjeong seems hungry, desperate. You sit back on the ledge with your high school crush in your lap, her legs around your waist. She’s got both hands on your face, and she observes you like some sort of specimen. 

“What’s, uh, what’s up?” you say, eyebrows raised.

“Your face… As different as it is, it almost looks exactly the same as the face I fell for back then. And I think I’m falling for it again,” she says. You begin to speak, but she places a finger over your lips. “I know what you’re gonna say. Just don’t think about it right now. Don’t. Think. About anything.”

Between her words, she’s taking your hands in hers, and moving them to her bare chest. You swallow. Hard. She’s right. If only for tonight, for this weekend, for a week, you have to just let it go. Her breasts are soft, and she whimpers when you squeeze them. She giggles and moans through a toothy smile when you roll her nipples between your fingers. Minjeong is clay in your hands, melting under every single touch, and it’s your job to make this trip unforgettable for her, to mold her into shapes of pleasure she’s never felt before. 

“You know there’s a sauna,” she whispers through gasps.

“Good idea,” you reply. Water falls from both of your bodies when you stand up with her still wrapped around you, clinging to you like a koala bear to a tree. A quick jog from the pool to the sauna, but the wind still manages to chill you both to the bone. The sauna, though, is comfortably warm. Minjeong in your lap again, you sit on the wooden bench and she devours your neck. Her tongue and breath are hot against your skin and the steam begins to make you sweat already. She stands and takes hold of your hand, beckoning you to follow suit; you stand close to her and she looks up to meet your eyes. Small hands make their way to your waistband. 

“Can I?” she asks softly. You help her slide the trunks down your legs, and your cock springs out, painfully hard, smacking your stomach. Her hand wraps around it immediately, and she moves in to kiss you again. She moves her tongue slowly against yours and her hand works your length all the while; her delicate fingers find the precum dripping from your tip and spread it generously. Delicately, she kneels; cautiously, she licks your cock from the base to the tip before latching onto the head and giving gentle suction. She looks up at you with her deep brown eyes and you place your hands on her head. You’re gentle with her. Your fingers make their way through her hair, and you keep your hips as still as you can, so as not to overwhelm her. You feel the back of her throat suddenly, and a moan escapes your mouth briefly, before you slap your hand over it. Minjeong backs off and strokes you with her hand.

“Don’t… I want to hear you,” she says. You feel your cock twitch, and you let out a sigh. A soft moan when her strokes speed up. “Good…” 

“What if someone-”

“If someone hears? They’ll leave. Don’t worry,” she says. She gives you a few more seconds of suction, tongue massaging your head, then stands back up. You switch places with her, only now, she casually strips her bottoms off and sits on the wooden bench. Her toned thighs spread apart slowly while you stand back to take her all in. 

After all these years, there she is; imagine telling high school Hosang what’s happening right now. Forget moaning her name while I jerk off… She’s right there. 

Beads of sweat roll down your face and body. Minjeong, too; she’s covered in dewdrops of her own. Somehow you think they must look better on her than they do on you. A deep breath, and you step towards her. Her chest rises and falls rapidly under your hands when you give her pert breasts some more attention. You’re on your knees, now, watching her face contort and listening to her voice catch in her throat. If she never wore a bra again, you’d surely be happy. Kisses planted down her body, from her sternum down her stomach, halting at her hipline. You take a moment to stroke her thighs softly with your fingertips, and they shudder. More kisses for her legs, from her ankles up her calves to her inner thighs. Her sweat is salty and sweet. How will the rest of her taste? You look at her again.

"What do you like?" you ask. 

"I… I don't know."

"When you touch yourself, how do you do it?"

"That's embarrassing…"

"When you're using your hands, imagining they're mine, what do you do?"

"..." 

"Show me, so I can do it for you." Minjeong’s eyes are half-lidded, lust-laden. When you look down at her perfect, trimmed pussy, it’s dripping; your words got to her. She takes hold of your right wrist and places your hand on her stomach, thumb on her clit. 

“Slowly,” she whispers. You oblige, and slowly make circles on her clit, spreading her wetness over the sensitive nub. Her next move brings your left hand to her mouth. She sucks on your two middle fingers, taking them deeply into her mouth. Wet enough now, she moves your hand, palm up, near her pussy, and nods. “Inside.��� The walls of her pussy are so hot, so scorching hot, inch after inch engulfing your fingers. One curl of your fingers and she’s cursing, moaning, bucking her hips. Poor girl must be starving. 

“Is that good for you, Minjeong?” you say. Your voice seems like it’s dropped an octave and slowed down about half a measure. It doesn’t matter; she can’t answer you, anyway. She’s busy stuttering out your name. Temptation gets the best of you and you move your thumb away. Minjeong whines, but it’s soon replaced by a near scream when your thumb is replaced by your tongue. As expected, she tastes incredible, some remnants of salt water from the pool, but overwhelmingly sweet underneath. She clenches around your fingers a bit.

“F- Oh my fucking-” Minjeong stutters. Her eyes roll back in her head. Her delicate fingers grip your hair, not so delicately. Rapid, shuddering breaths cause her toned stomach to rise and fall quickly, her arms and legs jerk, and the salty and sweet flavor floods your tongue. Unlatched from your hair, Minjeong’s hands grab your face and yank you up towards her face; as you stand, the tip of your cock grazes over her clit. 

“Whoops,” she whispers. Her lips are warm and smooth when they lock onto yours. And you feel her hand creep down your abdomen. Your attempt to break the kiss is foiled with Minjeong’s arm around the back of your head, and her other hand moves up and down your shaft. She’s devious, smiling into the kiss as you fill her mouth with moans, tightly gripping your cock and twisting her hand with her up and down motions. 

Kim Minjeong from high school is jerking me off. Kim Winter from Aespa is jerking me off. 

It’s a mindfuck. She kneads the back of your neck and sucks on your tongue. You can’t fuck her in a public sauna… Can you? 

“Minjeong…” you whisper against her cheek. She looks at you innocently. Like someone who isn’t driving you crazy. 

“What?” she giggles. 

“How about we go to your room? Could be bad if, you know, someone sees us,” you mumble. 

“How about once here, and a few more times there?” she says with a wink. “It’s late, baby… No one will come up.” 

‘Baby.’ 

Minjeong guides you towards her pussy with the hand that had never left your cock. Her legs rest on your shoulders, and you grip her pillowy soft thighs to brace yourself for impact, for entry. Her heat begins to swallow your length, quite easily due to how wet and aroused she is, and she makes the hottest noise she’s made the whole night. And now you’re hilted in Kim Minjeong in a hotel sauna with an unlocked door. Her nails scratch at your chest and shoulders frantically. 

“God, so full…” she moans. 

“You want me to fuck you now?” you put the sultry voice back on. She nods. “When you’re using your toys, imagining they’re me…” 

“Please, Hosang, just fuck me,” she pleads. “However you want. However you need.” It’s all you need to hear, certainly. You pull out nearly all the way, and watch your cock disappear inside of her with a grunt. Your thumbs nearly touch as you wrap your hands around her small waist to pull her down around your shaft with every thrust. All inhibitions are gone, any restraints have been lifted; you’re slamming into her hard, and the both of you moan loudly enough for the reception desk to hear. Minjeong’s tight abs contract and relax under your hands, you look at her face to see her drooling with her eyes rolled back. Like, actually, really drooling. 

“Fuck, babe… You’re really enjoying this, huh?” you say gruffly. You swipe your thumb over her chin and she leans down to suck on it instead. Lustful eyes meet your gaze and your thumb pops out of her lips. 

“I’ve been waiting so long,” she says. A quick sigh to punctuate her sentence. “So many years…” 

“Well-” you try to speak, but she clenches herself around you. “Fuck. I don’t think I can wait any longer than I already have-”

“Pull out baby,” she sighs. “I want to swallow you.” 

Regretfully, you withdraw from Minjeong’s tight hole, but the steam keeps your cock rather warm while she kneels down. After a lick from the base to the tip, she takes you all the way into her throat. She takes your hands and places them on her head, looking up at you sinfully. With fistfuls of her dark hair, you pull back, and thrust in again. She gags and coughs, but she never gives up, and soon, you’re shooting rope after rope, nearly convulsing in pleasure. She strokes you into her open mouth, wringing every drop out of your spent cock. When she’s satisfied, she swallows and stands up to kiss your neck and chest. 

“How about… How about we go to the room?” she says. 

“You want me to stay with you tonight?” you ask. She laughs a bit. Her laugh is fluttering and adorable, a sharp contrast with the noises she was making moments earlier.

“Of course.” 

-

After getting dressed and gathering Minjeong’s things, you head upstairs. In the elevator, you stand behind her; she grinds back onto your groin and brings your hands to her chest. Floors fly by and the number on the small screen goes up as you massage her chest and her delicate moans get you painfully hard once again. She rushes in front of you to the room, giving you another view of those creamy, toned legs, and you do your best to catch up. Once inside, she sits on the bed in front of you and waits. Her hands travel slowly from her hips to her knees, and even slower she parts them with her hands to reveal the glistening skin peeking out from her bikini. Her breath hitches when you step forward and gaze down at her. 

“I showed you what to do last time,” Minjeong whispers. “I want to see what you’ll do on your own.” 

“No pressure, right?” you joke, and she smiles. Her thighs are soft and malleable in your hands, and her neck softer under your lips. You untie the bikini top and cast it to the side, then kiss further and further down her neck. Kisses travel down her neck, over her collarbones, down to her sternum. There’s still salt from the pool on her skin, and you lick towards her nipple before giving it a bite. Minjeong jumps slightly and closes her fists in your hair. Your mouth works on one nipple and your hand kneads the other breast, perfectly sized for your hand. After switching sides once or twice, you kiss her stomach. Her hands move to your shoulders as you kneel on the floor in front of her.

Minjeong’s legs are wide open. You slide your fingers into the waistband of the swimsuit and slowly drag the bottoms down. More kisses travel from her knees across her inner thighs and up to her hip bones. She’s still dripping for you and you drag your tongue upwards over her pussy slowly to savor her. You spit on your fingers and slip them inside of her easily. 

“Ohhh my God-” she whispers and bucks her hips. “Go faster…” 

“Mm, so impatient, Minjeong,” you reply. Your tongue returns to her clit and makes smooth circles. She tenses around your fingers when you curl them back towards you, her moans growing louder, grip on your hair growing stronger. Taking her by surprise, you withdraw your fingers and stand up. While her hands work automatically on pulling your swim trunks down, you take a moment to just gaze at her. Her ruffled, semi-wet hair, strands sticking to her forehead and swaying wildly as she kisses up your thighs. Her flushed, glistening skin, cheeks inflating and deflating with the waves of pleasure coursing up your torso as your length disappears into her mouth again. Her pretty shoulders and arms. Her nose buried in your stomach.

Fuck. 

“You’re really good at that,” you moan. With a yelp Minjeong is scooped up into your arms and tossed, more or less, onto the pristine hotel bed. She pats the bed beside her, and you get the message. You lie back and let her mount you. She guides your tip to her entrance, and once in line, she slams her hips down aggressively. You’re content to let her ride. Her body moves in mesmerizing ways as she grinds on you, seeking the best angle for your cock to rub against all the right places. Just as soon as you begin thrusting into her, your phone starts ringing. 

“Dammit, sorry, Minjeong,” you curse and remove the girl from your lap. Fucking spam call? Really? With the phone silenced, you turn around to see her lying back on the pillows. 

Like an animal, you crawl towards her; you feel like one at least, with the way your cock is throbbing. She pulls her legs up for you, and you guide your tip towards her dripping center. The warm feeling envelops you again and you sigh, eyes closed. Your hands find her waist and keep her torso still while you begin to drive into her. You almost can’t even hear her whines anymore, her voice punctuated by each thrust, curses and iterations of your name following every other sound.

“-nside me,” Minjeong’s voice fades in as your stupor breaks a bit. You lean forward and make a confused expression. “Cum inside me. I want to feel you fill me…” 

And something about the way she says it just obliterates any second thoughts you may or may not have had. Her high, airy voice, begging for such an impure action, intensifies the warm, wet pleasure surrounding your cock. It only gets warmer and wetter as your cum dumps into Minjeong, deeper and deeper inside of her, coating your shaft, dribbling out onto the sheets. Your thrusts slow down, but your dick stays inside; you’re tired. You wrap your arms around her waist, and lie down gently on top of her with your face in her neck. She administers gentle scratches to your scalp. 

“You came so much, Hosang,” she whispers. Her legs settle around your back. 

“Drained all my energy,” you laugh weakly. 

“You’re heavy. Can we switch?” she says. So you do; you roll onto your back. Your cock slips out in the meantime, and you both laugh about it. She fits in your arms like she was made for them.

For a long while you lie there. The cold air condition and the crisp sheets are a welcome contrast to your steaming hot skin and the panting, sweating furnace lying on top of you. Minjeong painstakingly brings her hand to your cheek and kisses the other with soft lips. A slow blink. A thought in your mind. 

Is this what it feels like?

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. She knows. 

“How do you feel about me?” you reply. Her expression is mixed.

“How do I feel… I feel like there’s a reason we ended up on this trip together,” she answers. Her body rises as you take a deep breath. “I mean I feel like something brought us together.” 

“What do you want to do about it?” you ask. 

“I want to find out why. There must be a reason this happened, you know?” she says. A small yawn. “Like… There must be something waiting at the end of a journey we can take together to find out. Or something.” 

Together? A journey? 

“Think it might be time for you to go to sleep,” you whisper. Her baby hairs stick to your face when you kiss her temple. The sheets are smooth and cool when you pull them up over Minjeong’s body and yours. She falls asleep quickly. You don’t. You’re thinking about IFR plans and what to say to her in the morning. Your fingers trace along the smooth skin of her hips and lower back for a while. The softness is comforting. And you fall asleep. 

Is this part gonna go in the blog post? 

[multifandomwriter56]

As It Was

A/N: Hello! I know I've been MIA for a long time. Life has been crazy and going back to college while having a full time job has taken a lot of my time. But I'm hoping to get back to writing on this blog. I've missed it and I have missed everyone so much. I make no promises but I'm going to try.

Summary: Arthur and Y/n have always been super close; but when the boys get back from the war, things have change.

Characters: Arthur Shelby, Tommy Shelby, Sister!Reader

Warnings: language, mentions Arthur's attempt at suicide

Word Count: 2,698

*gif is not mine*

The rumor about the men who came back from the war are not the same men that left; It’s true. No one came back the same after the war. Not a single soul.

But it wasn’t just the soldiers who changed. Those who were stuck at home, waiting for their loved ones to return. They changed too.

Y/n couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she changed. She just remembers one day realizing she’s not the little girl who loved to draw rainbows, horses, and flowers anymore. Or the little girl who taught Finn how to aim at a moving rat, even though their Aunt Polly despised them touching guns. Not even the little girl who would take walks with her favorite brother, Arthur.

Y/n would never say she has a favorite brother aloud, but she knows her family sees how close the oldest brother and youngest sister are. There may be eighteen years difference between them, but they would sometimes act like twins.

Y/n enjoys John’s company and loves his jokes. Finn, she will always protect and care for. Ada, well they clash on fashion and boys, but they would kill for one another. And Tommy, well, the two siblings have never been able to get along. Tommy had big dreams that didn’t include his baby sister. Greta wanted to change the world and wanted Tommy to help her. Y/n wanted Tommy to help take care of the family instead of spending all his time at the docks waiting for the young woman to show up.

Even at a young age, Y/n knew it would always be Tommy who would provide for the family; be their leader. She loves Arthur, but he’s more of a follower than a leader. Tommy has always had ideas and Y/n knew those ideas would help them rise in Small Heath.

So with the boys off fighting in the war, Y/n made sure to follow her brother’s orders on how to run the shop.

Polly was the only one Y/n would let stray from Tommy’s list.

“You’re ten years old, Y/n. You are not the boss and know nothing about bets.” Her aunt admonishes.

“I know enough, Polly. I have Tommy’s list and Arthur’s notes.”

“So now you’re an expert at running betting shops?”

“I wasn’t saying that.” The ten year mumbles.

“Then you’ll do your best to remember who is in charge of the business.”

Y/n knows when to stop when it comes to her aunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

Y/n will admit, she learnt a lot from her aunt; not just business, but women’s business.

But now that the war is over, Y/n’s noticed how more involved Tommy is; how he keeps adding to the business.

Arthur is less present when it comes to his baby sister. They don’t go on walks anymore.

The fourteen year old moved into Arthur’s home when they came back. She wanted away from her very controlling brother and closer to the brother she knows best.

Except now, it seems that she understands Tommy more than she does Arthur.

The war may have changed all of her brothers, but something broke in Arthur. His nightmares keep her up at night and the one time she tried to wake him up, he almost choked her to death.

After that, she would either lay in her bed, listening to his screams or she would get John if the screams lasted longer than ten minutes.

“You shouldn’t be at Arthur’s alone.” Tommy tells his sister as he lit a cigarette.

“I’m not alone. Arthur is there.”

“You know what I mean, Y/n. Arthur is struggling and you being around isn’t helping.”

Y/n scoffs. “Actually, I think I help Arthur more than you can ever imagine trying to help him. You just hate that I’m not under your roof and you can’t boss me around.”

Tommy points his lit cigarette at her, his eyebrows raised in warning. “You will do as you're told or I will turn you over my knee.”

Y/n once again scoffs. Tommy has never disciplined her, he wasn’t ever around to take her in hand. That dirty task was left to their aunt. “Not only am I fourteen years old, but you have never raised a hand to me. Why start now?”

“Don’t push me, Y/n.”

Yeah, he’s bluffing, Y/n thinks. She stands to her feet. “Yes sir, Sergeant Major. If that’s all, Sergeant, I would like to finish my studies. Wouldn’t want to show up to school without my work now would we?”

Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to keep arguing with his sister. He, instead, waves his hand in a dismissive gesture without even glancing up.

The day Y/n dreaded came. Arthur had tried to commit suicide by hanging himself after he fell for their father’s con. She had found him at their home, raging and destroying the room. She skillfully dodged his swings and shouted at him.

“Arthur! It’s me! It’s Y/n!” She ducks when he throws an ashtray at her head. “It’s Y/n, brother!”

“Y/n?”

The broken voice has Y/n on the verge of tears. “Yes.” She nods her head. “It’s Y/n. I’m here.” She makes her way to her brother as his knees buckle and he lands on the floor. She holds him close, his chin digging into her shoulder as he sobs.

Y/n doesn’t know how long they stay in this position but she loses feeling in her left shoulder and feet.

When Arthur finally is able to compose himself, he stands to his feet, rubbing a shaking hand through his hair.

“Arthur, what happened to your neck?”

The older man covers the deep bruise around his neck. “Nothing.”

Y/n starts to shake her head, the pieces falling together. “No, no. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave me here.” She stops talking but her head is still moving side to side; not wanting to accept that her brother, her hero, tried to kill himself.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I-”

“No!” She sharply cuts him off. “Don’t apologize. I just need a moment to process.” She sits in a chair that he hadn’t flipped yet. “I need to figure out what to do. I need- no you need some of Polly’s ointment, and a drink… yeah, yeah.” She stands to her feet, ignoring the concerned look coming from her brother. “Sit down, Arthur. I’ll pour you some whiskey and get some ointment to help with the bruising.

“Y/n, I don’t- fuck.” Arthur curses when she completely ignores him and heads for the kitchen.

Only a few minutes pass until Y/n comes back. She hands the glass of whiskey to him and starts applying the ointment.

Y/n stayed with her brother until he decided to go to bed. She heads up to her room. In the morning, she’ll tell Polly. Fuck knows what Tommy will say if he hears about this. She never knows if he will help Arthur or make it worse.

In the morning. Y/n told her aunt and she should have known her aunt would tell their fearless leader. So she wasn’t surprised to see him walk in as she hands Arthur a cup of tea.

The look Tommy sends her is clear.

She smiles softly at her eldest brother. “I will be up in my room if you need me.” She tells him, her invitation not extending to the other brother.

She heads upstairs but does not go into her room. She sits on the top step, listening as Tommy belittles their brother. She rolls her eyes. She should’ve known Tommy would never express real feelings.

“Just use a fucking gun, man.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Y/n shouts as she storms down the stairs. “That’s all you have? Next time, use a gun?”

“Leave it be, Y/n.”

Y/n glares at Arthur. “No, Arthur, I can’t just leave it be.” She turns her glare back at the brother she is upset with. “I know it’s hard for you to express feelings now, but I would rather you not say anything at all than talk to our brother that way. He deserves better.”

“Y/n, that’s enough.”

“Fuck off, Thomas!” She shouts as she steps in his space. “You only care about having Arthur around so he can beat and kill people who piss you off. That’s all that matters to the all powerful Tommy Shelby.”

The slap echoes throughout the whole house, each sibling frozen in their place.

Y/n holds a hand over her now stinging cheek, staring at the man who has never raised a hand to her. Her and Tommy may not get along but she never thought he would physically harm her. Never.

She turns to Arthur, wondering how he will react. To her surprise he’s staring at her in disappointment.

“You shouldn’t have spoken to Tommy like that, Y/n. You were out of line.”

“I was out of line?” She snaps. “What am I supposed to do, Arthur, eh? Am I supposed to stand at attention and wait for the sergeant to bark orders? Huh?”

“Enough.” He doesn’t shout, but his voice still booms, causing his baby sister to flinch, preparing for another blow.

The guilt had already come, but seeing her flinch made Tommy feel sick to his stomach. “Y/n, I-” He reaches out to comfort her but stops when she steps back.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. I hate you.” She looks at Arthur. “I hate you both.”

“Let her go, Arthur.” Tommy orders when the eldest Shelby stands to follow Y/n who ran out of the house.

***

For a month, Y/n stays with John and his kids; but as much as she loves her nieces and nephews, she refuses to stay there another night.

Lizzie Stark, who’s been helping her brother with the kids, tells her to go back home, to work it out with Arthur.

“And Tommy?” The fourteen year old asks the older woman.

Lizzie smirks. “Tell him to fuck off.”

Y/n smiles at that. She hopes her brother doesn’t wait too long to give Lizzie the ring he’s been hiding.

Knowing exactly where her brother will be, Y/n heads to the Garrison. Taking a deep breath, she knocks on the locked door.

“We’re closed.” Is the muffled response from the barmaid.

“It’s Y/n Shelby.” She knows that’s all she has to say for the doors to open. Grace has been kind to her since she’s started working at the pub, and Y/n appreciates that, but she doesn’t trust the barmaid. She’s not sure why, but she has a hard time believing this Irish woman just decided to move to Birmingham without a real reason.

When the door opens, she smiles politely at Grace before squeezing past her. She heads straight to the back room, knowing her eldest brother will be attempting to balance the books.

She comes to halt mere centimeters from the entrance, her heart racing. What if he really is on Tommy’s side? What if he thinks she really did deserve to be slapped? What if she’s completely lost the only person to ever love her for her?

“Gracie, is that you? You ready to help me with these numbers yet?”

Y/n laughs quietly through the breath she was holding. Who is she kidding? Arthur is one of the kindest, loving people she knows. How could he hate her… right?

“It’s me, Arthur.” She barely gets that short sentence out above a whisper.

“Y/n?”

She steps fully into the room, her arms behind her back. “Hi.”

Arthur just stares at his baby sister, the anger, the pain of not seeing her for days, and the guilt… the guilt that has literally eaten him alive, rises to the surface. His loyalty to his brother clouded his love for his sister and he will hate himself for the rest of his life.

Being a Shelby makes it hard for them to express their emotions through words. No matter the emotion, the words usually fail to spit out, but actions, they’ve never been a problem for a Shelby.

So instead of saying the words, “I’m sorry” Arthur jumps to his feet and pulls the young girl into his arms, holding as tight as he can.

And since Y/n is not only a Shelby but also able to read her brother like a book, Y/n returns the hug and her anger disappears.

“You’re coming back home, ain’t ya?”

Y/n smiles, glad she was right. “My bag is already back in my room.”

Arthur squeezes her one more time, dropping a wet kiss on top of her head before releasing her. “Good.”

Y/n goes to ask him about how he’s been but a familiar voice stops her.

“Arthur, Tommy told me to get you. Family meeting in ten.” Finn turns to his sister, hope in his eyes. “Are you back?”

Y/n had kept in touch with Finn, having him fill her in on everything that was happening while she was gone. Finn didn’t know much, but she was able to fill in the gaps on most of what he told her.

“Yes, I’m back.”

Finn smiles. “Good. Arthur’s been too emotional and Tommy’s about to shoot him if he hears him complain one more time about you not being at the family meetings.”

Y/n laughs at Finn’s blunt statement; laughing harder when Arthur spouts profanities as he takes off after the youngest Shelby. She follows the duo, figuring it’s time for her to show her faceto the rest of the family.

Her smile stays in place as they make their way to Watery Lane, listening to her brother banter back and forth about what to tell and what to keep to yourself. So far, Finn’s winning the argument.

She can feel her smile start to get smaller the closer they get to her old home; and the smile completely disappears when Arthur opens the door for her. She comes to a halt at the threshold of the betting shop, her eyes immediately on the Peaky Blinders leader.

She’s thankful he hasn’t noticed her yet, but that little comfort quickly disappears when her aunt tells him to shut up as she makes her way to her niece.

Y/n easily accepts the hug from her aunt, the woman who practically raised her, but winces when she gets a clip to her ear.

“A month is too damn long, girl.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers as Polly releases her; a small smile appears when her aunt gently caresses her cheek.

Knowing she needs to face the elephant in the room, or more commonly known as Thomas Shelby, Y/n peels her eyes off her aunt and stares straight into her brother’s eyes, hoping he can’t see the fear in them.

Compared to the other family members, Tommy is a mute when it comes to emotions. The only time words and emotions are mixed together is when he’s angry. He doesn’t say “I love you”, “I need you”, or anything that is remotely tied to emotions.

That said, the man is a master at showing his emotions through actions. One look can tell you so much about the gang leader. You just have to know how to read them; and Y/n is a master at this skill. She’s almost as good as their aunt.

So when she sees the barely noticeable nod of approval, and watches as Tommy pulls out a chair; she knows she has been welcomed back by their fearless leader.

And after she sits, he gently kisses her cheek, the same cheek he hurt a month ago, and she knows he’s asking for forgiveness.

She grasps his hand before he can pull away, giving it one good squeeze, so he knows he’s been forgiven.

They will never have a relationship like her and Arthur, or like him and Ada; but they can coexist together in their family; and that’s enough for them both.

Peaky Blinders: @psychkunox @theshelbyclan @lilymurphy03 @findinghisredrighthand

Forevers: @desiredposion @theseakrakence @simonsbluee

[rorywritessmut]

You hate your asshole boss. So, after an interview you two decide to take something for a spin

Kinktober 2023: Hate Fucking

As usual, minors DNI. Please interact with this if you liked it ❤️❤️ Enjoy!

You hated Bakugou Katsuki. He was arrogant, entitled, and full of shit. You wouldn’t let him know he got under your skin, though. You knew that would boost his ego to know the super positive and happy person you were, hated him. He was also your boss. Being the number 2 hero was already inflating his ego. Always going on and on about his obsession with beating Deku.

You are a people pleaser. Even when that person is your self absorbed boss.

So, you spent every day of your life kissing Bakugou’s ass. “Yes sir” this and “Please, don’t, sir” that. You are his relations manager so trying to control him was a pain in your ass and was wearing on your patience. You begged your company to let you be Chargebolt’s assistant when he harassed the other way. You’d rather be flirted with than yelled at constantly for using your quirk.

Gentle Touch is the name of your quirk. This entailed that just a gentle touch could calm down the most anxious person. You were also in school to become a therapist for traumatized civilians after Villian attacks. You needed a job to pay for school and your company scooped you up and paired you with your current pain in the ass.

Your quirk was used often when it came to the explosive man that is Bakugou Katsuki. You took a lot of pride in showing him how to calm the fuck down from time to time. His gravelly voice telling you to quietly “Fuck off” would make your entire day better.

Today, you broke. Bakugou had an interview with some popular gossip channel and your quirk was all used up before the first 10 minutes of it. Bakugou was pissed about the interview and the two of you almost didn’t make it on the ride over to the building.

“So, Dynamight, any special ladies in your life?” The hostess leaned over and you got a good whiff of her perfume.

“Just this bitch right here.” Bakugou pointed a finger at you, “Keeps me in line and shit”

“Oh-ho-ho, you’re in a relationship with your relations manager?”

“No!” You quickly interjected, “He means that there are no women in his life other than the women he works with, respectfully.” You always did this. You always had to clean up his crass language to keep the gossip media out of his business. Frankly, you were sick of it.

“Yeah, whatever she said.” He crossed his arms aaaand he was gone. While he was physically there, he was emotionally gone. This usually meant that you were going to be stuck answering his questions.

“Not even your mom?” The hostess teases.

“That hag-”

“No, Dynamight loves his mother very much.” You physically put your hand on his shoulder, signaling him to shut up.

“Ah, you two seem close. Tell me about yourself, oh great Relations Manager.”

“I have a useful quirk that calms Dynamight down so I was hired to keep him in line.” You regret saying that when the hostess raises her eyebrow.

“I see, so, you keep him in line and he pays your way through school? Sounds like a sugar daddy exchange to me.” She sneers, how did she know you went to school and that Bakugou paid for it??

“Listen,” Bakugou growls but you make a low sound.

“Ma’am, my desire to go to school has nothing to do with Bak-Dynamight,” You take a deep breath in, “I am just his relations manager.”

“A bitch too.” Bakugou sneers at you, narrowing his ruby red eyes at you.

“Looks like we have an enemies to lovers situation-ship!” The hostess is covering her mouth as you stare at Bakugou.

His lips quirked ever so slightly at the sight of your rigid body. You wanted nothing more than to walk off set and never see him again. Every damn time your relationship came up, Bakugou’s answers became more and more vague making it seem like you two actually engaged with each other beyond work.

“I’m done.” You clipped off your mic set, threw it on the ground, and stormed off.

You could hear Bakugou right behind you, stomping through the corridor. He called your name a few times and you felt tears come to your eyes. This job was ruining your life, if you were being honest.

“You’re not done.” Bakugou snapped and grabbed your wrist. You were brought back to reality.

“Get.Off.Me”

“No”

“Bakugou Katsuki, I am done with this job. I went on two dates with a guy and when I asked why he ghosted me later it was because he didn’t want to be involved with “Dynamight’s Girl,” what the hell does that even mean?!” You’re pushing on h8is chest with your finger, getting up in his face.

“It’s because you are my girl,” He sneers and corners you in the hallway. His arms are on both sides of you, trapping you.

“Since when?!” You’re looking up at him now.

“Since you first used your quirk on me”

“You don’t even know me” You push him with both hands and storm to your dressing room.

Of course, he follows you into the room and locks the door behind him. He stalks towards you, something unreadable behind his eyes. You back away from him until the back of your legs hits the desk behind you. You’re reminded of why you hate him so much. Of course he thinks you belong to him. He thought he was entitled to everybody around him.

“Listen to me,” He starts but you’re not having it.

“No! I am done working for you, I’ll find a different job and get myself through school.”

“No, you won’t,” He grabs your wrist and yanks you towards him. He pulls said wrist to his lips and kisses it. Never once did he break eye contact with you. You’re left speechless at his actions. “Now, quit being a brat.”

“Stop telling me what to do!” You scream and trash against him. “I don’t like you. I hate you” Venom laces your voice and you see something dark in Bakugou’s eyes.

He takes off his mask and ear pieces with one hand. He tightens his grip on your wrist and he pulls you impossibly closer. He leans in and licks a stripe from your collarbone to the shell of your ear.

“You hate me?”

“Yes, I hate you so much.” You whisper, closing your eyes. You’re losing control of yourself and you can feel your sex dripping with sudden need. Sudden need for your asshole of a boss.

“I can smell you, you know, dripping with desire,” he whispers in your ear, “I want you to turn around, pretty girl.” You stay put. When Bakugou notices your disobedience, he grabs your shoulders and turns you around.

Now, you’re looking into your eyes in the Vanity. You flicker your eyes up to Bakugou who has a Cheshire grin on his face. Your chest is tight and your thoughts are running a million miles a minute. It’s obvious from the way he’s tracing lines along your bicep, that he’s not going to hurt you. You can’t help the sudden feeling of dread and desire pooling in your stomach.

“Now, quit being a brat and listen to me,” He’s talking to your reflection in the mirror, “I always get what I want. What I want is to fuck you until you’re a blubbering mess.” You swallow something thick.

“Bakugou-”

“Katsuki. If you’re going to be my little fuck, at least call me by my first name.” Bakugou coos and runs a finger down your neck and along your collarbone.

“No. I fucking hate you, I won’t call you anything.”

“What happened to Yes Sir?” Bakugou teases.

You look at his reflection and suddenly he’s gagging you with his pointer and middle finger. Your eyes go wide and you can’t find it to be scared. Instead, you’re insanely turned on and pissed off. You bite down on his fingers and he jerks them out of your mouth. The asshole grabs your jaw and forces your hips against the vanity. You can feel his erection against your back.

“Bitch.” He sneers and you smile at the name calling. “I won’t do anything you don’t want. I am a man, though, I want to fuck you.”

You contemplate for a second, did you want this? The traitor between your thighs begged for him to fulfill his promise. Your brain though:? It was still unsure of what it wanted right now. Suddenly, you felt a tapping sensation on your temple. You looked at Bakugou and saw it was him tapping on your head.

“Don’t think too much. Just go with your gut.” Easy for him to say, your guts wanted rearranged. Slowly, you nodded your head.

“I warned you.”

“I’m going to tell you this won’t happen again,” You sneered at him. “You’re probably a pathetic fuck anyways.”

“I’ll prove you wrong.” You snorted at that remark.

With all this tension, he grabs your jaw and forces you to look at yourself in the mirror again. You grab onto the vanity and prepare for the worst dicking you’ve gotten in a while.

“I am going to tell you one time and one time only, keep your eyes on the reflection in the mirror.” You quirk an eyebrow as he begins to disappear behind you.

It doesn’t take long before he’s pushing your skirt above your hips. You try to crane your head back but you receive a swift slap to the ass. You yelp and turn your attention back to your mirror image. Bakugou makes haste by pulling down your underwear. He groans at the aroma of your gushing arousal.

You’re not prepared for him to lick from your clit to your asshole. A moan escapes from your plush lips and you feel your face heat up at the sound. Grabbing onto vanity with a vice grip, you’re prepared for the second lick. Bakugou doesn’t spend much time assaulting your clit from this position. Instead, he opts to tongue fucking the apex between your thighs. You try to not let his pride swell by wantonly moaning every time he hits something right. Which happens to be a lot.

Bakugou taps your ass cheek and teases your lips with his fingers. Is he asking for permission to finger fuck you? You make a whining sound to confirm that you need something inside of you.

“Good girl,” He praises and plunges his fingers past your labia.

“Fuck” You curse.

You can feel him smile against your sex as he slowly inches towards your tight hole with his tongue. You gasp at the sensation of his fingers curling inside your spongy canal and the assault on your asshole. Moaning his name, you look at your face and you’re surprised at the look that’s there. Your lips are torn from biting them to keep the sounds to a minimum. Your eyes have tears brimming in the corners. Bakugou continues to lick and thrust, driving you mad.

“Please,” you beg, “Please fuck me.” You can’t believe you are actually begging him to fuck you. The very man you hated so much.

“Have you been good enough? Want to see yourself fucked out of your mind? Bakugou stands and grabs your jaw. You nod your head with the little movement you’re allowed. You hear Bakugou shed the rest of his hero attire but you don’t dare turn to look at him.

“Hurry,” you plead.

Bakugou wastes little time in lining up with your entrance and beginning at a brutal pace. Letting out a strew of curse words, you let out a long drawn out moan. Using a staccato beat, Bakugou grips onto your hips to lift you up off the floor and changes the angles. He sets yet another brutal pace and you drop your head in pleasure. Bakugou slides out and pulls your hair by the scalp, making you look at yourself.

“I said to keep looking,” He growls out and you lazily look up at your image in the mirror.

You’re definitely fucked out of your mind. Your hair is disheveled and saliva runs down your chin. Your breasts have come out of your bra and shirt, nothing like you’ve ever seen before. Bakugou hums in your ear and slides back in. He thrusts and thrusts until you’re almost screaming in unison with them. There’s a tension building in your core that is threatening to snap. You grip the vanity as hard you can before your tipping point is reached.

“Katsuki,” You cry, “I’m coming.”

“Fuck, me too.” He grunts and you’re both moaning as you come down from your high.

Everything is silent as you clean up, head out, and go your separate ways. You leave in the same car but never say a word to each other. Soon, you’re home and you pass out from exhaustion.

The next day? Well, gossip gets around quick.

[acti-veg]

Hey.

I just needed a place to…process this, I guess.

So, my workplace almost got shut down by the health inspector (mouse problem because our trash doesn’t get picked up by the company often enough, not enough people to deep clean often enough, etc). In addition to doing some deep cleaning, we’ve also got the really inhumane glue traps. I get that, with the humane traps, there’s a risk of them coming back, but…I saw a mouse struggling in one of the traps. I threw it away as gently as possible, because I didn’t know how to end its suffering. But…I already hate this work place, I’m looking for another job. I hate that I’m now involved in dealing with these really inhumane traps. Watching the mouse struggle is gonna fuck me up for a while.

I don’t know. I don’t kill the spiders in my house. I just really hate this.

I’m sorry anon, I’ve been in a similar situation and I know how rough it is to deal with. For your part, you can advocate for humane traps, the idea that mice automatically come back is largely rubbish, so long as you release them in a suitable grassy area with some shelter, somewhere that isn’t just around the corner. You aren’t supposed to leave them overnight though as the mice panic, but even that is better than them getting stuck in a glue trap.

When my workplace did this years ago, I first emailed the site manager and HR to tell them why glue traps are cruel, unhygienic, distressing for me personally due to my beliefs etc. After they dismissed that with platitudes (we acknowledge your deeply held beliefs but don’t care) I just consistently sabotaged the traps, stuck them to each other or just threw them away. They knew I was doing it but they didn’t do anything about it, either because they didn’t want that battle or because they couldn’t prove it. They eventually just stopped putting them out and the deep clean did the job by itself.

I did that to make a point though, the more subtle form of sabotage is to pour cooking oil, KY jelly or WD40 on them, which makes them useless. It just depends how much you need this specific job and whether you feel you are essential enough to get away with doing it, or if you are confident you have plenty of opportunities to sabotage the traps without being caught.

If none of that is an option for you, I’d advise looking for another place to work. If they’re doing this long term, it’ll have a big impact on your mental health seeing that over and over. I hope you manage to get out of that situation either way anon, it is a horrible thing to deal with.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 36

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It's not home. You don't really have one of those anymore, but you're relieved to be back at Lloyd's. He diligently perched you on the couch with a dozen pillows and some blankets before he left. The television keeps you company as you snack on caramel corn. The doctor's orders are that you rest and try not to move too much.

It's difficult as you're restless. You usually go for your walk about now or sit in the garden.. The curtains give a peek of the lush green and the blooming tulips Harlan helped you plant. Sigh. You hate feeling like this, helpless. It's probably why you hate Lloyd so much too.

Your life with Colin wasn't the greatest or the easiest, but you had your own job, your own schedule, and you did stuff. You roll up the top of the bag and toss the caramel corn across the distance to the coffee table. You feel nauseous and you're not so sure it's the baby.

You're sick of this life and the one awaiting you in only a few months. You're unprepared for any of it. You might have the best stroller and the best crib, but none of that matters. You aren't at your best, you're not sure you've ever been.

You heave out a loud sigh. You could scream. With Lloyd out of the house, off on whatever errand he lied about, you could do anything you want but you're stuck. Trapped in your own broken body.

Kid, why'd you have to fuck this up even more? You think as you rub your stomach. Just one more problem to add to the heap. You shake your head and groan as you shift on the couch. This can't be real life. The more you think about everything, it feels like one long nightmare. You have to wake up soon, right?

Your spiral into doom is interrupted by the chirp of the gates. You huff. He's back. Already? That was like half and hour. You were hoping for a bit longer. His constant hovering since the doctor's lecture was almost as grating as your slipped disk.

You recline heavily on the pillows and stare at the TV as the audio fuzzes in your ears. Just a little longer and you'll be back on your feet. You can't be stubborn anymore. Not like that.

You hear a car engine and the subsequent steps that stride up the walk and onto the porch. To your surprise, the lock doesn't beep and signal his entrance. Instead, the doorbell rings, echoing around the foyer as you peer over curiously.

Lloyd wouldn't ring his own doorbell, as dumb as he is. So who would it be? Who would have his gate code? Harlan and Dottie, back already? Well, you can't really answer it, can you?

"Come in," you holler as you cup your hand beside your mouth. The effort of your shout aches in your spine. Shit.

The doorbell chimes again. You don't think they heard you. You wiggle and shift but the pang in your hips makes you think better of getting up. You exhale heavily again and gather your strength to yell again.

The doorhandle jiggles and you hold back your voice. They have the gate code but not the door code? Weird.

You brace the arm of the sofa and grunt as you push yourself to a sitting position. You lower your legs over the edge and lean back, breathless. God. Even if you wanted to drag your ass up to let them in, you can't.

You hear some beeping, but not the six short blips that signal the door code. It's a furious steady beeping, like a meter building up, then finally a loud buzz and the winding of the latch as it slides back. The hinges whisper and you crane to glance over the back of the couch.

"Shit, Lloyd," you hear the mutter of an unfamiliar voice, "always make everything so goddamn hard, don't you?"

Soft steps scuff across the foyer as you angle yourself around to better see the unwelcomed guest. A woman with short sandy blonde hair and dark roots appears in the archway as she zips up a black bag slung from her shoulder. Her eyes widen just as yours do.

"Oh, hello?" She stops short.

"Hello," you echo back in confusion.

"Who are you?" She asks with a curled lip.

"Who are you?" You counter back.

"Uhhhhh."

"Uhhhhh."

You stay in a deadlock as you both drone out cluelessly. You let your voice drift off and grimace. You rub your lower back and do your best to hold back the agony as you drag yourself off the couch. You bite down on your tongue as you face her again.

"Well, if you're going to murder me for something he did," you begin, "better get it over with. I'm kinda impatient to be done with it--"

"What?" She scoffs, "no, I... you're..." she tilts her head, "uh, I didn't know Hansen was... it's his?"

"Christ, unfortunately, yes," you sneer as you waddle around the sofa, "no immaculate conception for me. Maybe if I believed a little harder--"

"Shit, Jesus, god," she rambles in the same fashion as Lloyd, "I didn't think anyone would be here so--"

"You broke in. Yeah, sounds like a friend of his."

"He's not answering my calls."

"Yep, definitely his friend," you roll your eyes, "so, what next? He's not here and I'm not really dressed for guests."

"Fuck, talk about me. You're definitely a good fit," she clucks, "the mouth on you."

"Probably has something to do with it," you cross your arms over your stomach, "well, you got me on my feet so can I get you something? Water? Non-alcoholic wine?"

"Uh, I think you should sit down," she says.

"Bah, I'm tired of being cooped up, just help out to the garden and I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

You give her a sharp look and she raises her hands defensively.

"Got it," she approaches you, "uh, er…"

"Just give me an arm," you reach for her and hobble closer, "there's a chair out there, think it can still hold me."

"Mmm," she hums as you latch onto her.

She keeps her pace even with yours and bring her hand to the small of your back as you puff. You hate how weak you are. Oh well, you can't stay inside any longer.

She helps you down off the porch and over to the garden. She's reticent and awkward as she offers her hands and you cling to her. You drop into the chair and it reclines under your weight, the footrest popping up under your legs. It's not too bad.

"He'll be back," you shade your eyes with your hand, "might as well pull up a chair."

💎

"So," Suzanne, the intruder, giggles, "somehow the dumbass finds his way into a sewer–" she can't help but fall into cackles as you do the same, propping the cold glass of water against your bump, "comes out covered in shit like he went through Willy Wonka's chocolate river."

You're almost sobbing as you laugh. Your back wracks with pain but it's too amusing. You can just imagine how Lloyd lamented whatever designer loafers he had to wear into the underground.

Your mirth is interrupted only by the sudden beep of the gate. You glance over as Lloyd rolls through, rolling his window down as he watches you through dark sunglasses. He pulls up and stops violently, only an inch away from Suzanne's Jeep.

He swings the door open and hops out in a furor. You see his anger in his gait as he stomps over, the round sunglasses giving him a rather douchey look. Suzanne quiets her laughter and sips her toothless chardonnay. You both stare at him calmly as he blusters to the edge of the garden.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Lloyd jabs his finger in her direction.

"Hansen, long time, no see," she answers.

"And you," Lloyd ignores her, "you should be inside. How the fuck did you get out here?"

"I'm not a cat, Lloyd," you rebuff. "I'm fine out here. No moving, got it."

"What is this? What the fuck is going on?"

"Oh, chill out, Hansen, I was just getting to know your… wife? I thought anyone crazy enough to marry you would be just as intolerable but she's actually cool. Dunno how you scored her."

She stands coolly and takes a sip of the wine. He furrows his brow and flips up his sunglasses. He crosses his arms like a bratty child and huffs.

"So what? You just stroll into my house–"

"I didn't touch anything, don't worry. But you were ghosting me and that's not how this works–"

"Tell me how it fucking works. Give me a number and if I like it, I work. That's how it goes. Don't act like you're my fucking boss."

"Well, figure you might need some extra cash with a baby on the way–"

"I got all I need, cupcake," he sneers, "you come into my house again, even look at my wife wrong, and I will–" he nearly chokes on his anger, "and you let her come all the way out here? You made my pregnant wife with a broken fucking back come all the way outside–"

"She didn't make me do anything. And it's not broken, Lloyd–" you argue.

"The doctor said," he hisses and grips his forehead, "Suzanne, fuck off out of here so I can deal with my wife. Go find some other fuckhead to do your dirty work."

"Actually, she's not going anywhere," you interject, "she made dinner so–"

"Peaches, she's leaving. Now."

"Honey," you say sourly, "didn't the doctor say not to stress me out? This is my house too, isn't it? I can have friends over."

"Friend?"

"Oh, yeah," you smirk at him, "we really hit it off. Ta." You flick your fingers at him dismissively, "so, tell me about Paris. You said you were there last month?"

Lloyd's shadow lingers for just a minute before he sighs. He turns and stalks off with a grumble. You smile at Suzanne as she sits back down. The front door slams and you both burst out in laughter.

"I love you," Suzanne says, "I've been dying for years to see someone put him in his place."

[foundheavenly]

“I've missed this” [1]

Disclaimer: English is not my mother tongue so please be nice

Words: 1368

Plot: In which you see again your workaholic ex-boyfriend

Pairing: nanami x reader

Theme: fluff, ex-lovers, comfort

A tired sigh leaft your mouth as you took a seat in the subway. It has been a busy day, you worked harder than your daily routine, and the usual stress got worse over time. You got so caught up in the task that you forgot to eat lunch or have any breaks. You have worked for more than 12 hours today, it was beyond what you usually do.

You looked around the wagon, observing attentively every person, then you saw a familiar face. Your heart almost exploded. It was him, he was just in front of you after all this time.

It's been two years.

The rush of memories hit you like a tidal wave and your heart raced with a mixture of emotions. You had hoped that time would have dulled the lingering feelings but as you watched him walk through the bustling crowd, you knew it wasn’t the case.

Damn.

You both had an intense history in the past, but none of you could tell if it was a good one or not, especially in the end of it.

His gaze hold a mixture of surprise and recognition. It was as if time had momentarily frozen. You met his stare, unsure of what to say after all these years.

Nanami approached you with a tentative yet determined expression. You felt your heart beat even more at each steps he took. You tried to compose yourself but your palms got sweaty and your breath stucked in your throat. The familiar scent of his cologne wafted through the air.

You had convinced yourself that you should hate him, that you should be over the late night he spent at the office, the missed dates, and the emotional distance that had driven you apart. But seeing him right now...well everything came back and you couldn’t deny the flicker of longing that danced in your chest.

“Kento?” You called out, your voice carrying pure uncertainty.

Your eyes locked. And a warm smile formed on his drained and marked face.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” He asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

His voice was as sweet yet low as before. You had missed hearing it. You missed everything about him actually.

You nodded, a small smile forming at the corners of your lips. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, two years” Kento replied, his eyes searching for any sign of affection in yours. “How have you been?”

He was just a few steps away from you, standing in the middle of the crowd while you are still seated.

You hesitated for a moment, grappling with the emotion wave threatening to surface. After all, you couldn't say to him that you had missed him and that you only wanted to pull him into a tight hug. “I’ve been good” You replied, opting for a neutral answer. "What about you?"

There was moment of awkward silence before he spoke again “Same for me, thank you. So, hum, I heard you left, got a new job in a different city”

You nodded again and you immediately understood that Shoko and Satoru must have told him about you moving out. It was necessary. You needed a break from everything, so you went to Shibuya and got into a new company.

Even if you both broke up and you were not from their world, you still stayed in contact with the others. But they never spoke to you about your past story or about Kento.

“Yeah, I did. Life changes, you know”

His eyes softened and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. “I’ve been trying to slow down a bit” He admitted. “Work consumed me, and I realized I was missing out on a lot.”

You couldn’t deny the truth and the sincerity in his words. Your past had been marked by his relentless dedication to his career and it had taken a toll on your relationship.

“I wished I could hate you” You admitted, surprising even yourself with your honesty. “But I never really moved on. The feelings are still there”

Nanami’s gaze softened and he kneeled down to your height, holding carefully the rope. “I’m sorry for the way things ended. I should have prioritized us over work” The sincerity in his voice stirred conflicting emotions within you.

The subway doors slipped open and you both stepped out into the bustling city.

“Do you mind walking with me?”

The suggestion of a walk around the park lingered in the air and you found yourself surprisingly willing to go along with it. The park had always been a place of warmth and peace for you during your time together. So coming back, with him, was something you would cherish for a long time.

“Sure, a walk sounds nice” You smiled and Nanami’s eyes lit up.

You both walked through the busy streets until the cityscape gave way to the tranquility of the park. The familiar sights and sounds brought back more memories, both joyful and challenging. The autumn leaves crunched beneath your heels as you walked along the winding paths.

“I didn’t expect to run into you today. It’s almost like fate brought us together” He broke the silence, his voice filled with sincerity.

You smiled at his words, acknowledging the irony of the situation. “Yeah, it’s a small world”

Suddenly as you were walking side by side, his fingers brushed against yours and you almost had a heart attack. Nanami cleared his throat and put his hand in his pocket. That’s when you saw he was wearing his usual beige suit with his white shirt and his usual tie.

He’s so handsome, it’s so annoying.

Nanami talked again, his tone reflective. “I’ve had a lot of time to think these past few years. About us, about myself”

You look up at him, gripping on your black purse, and waited for him to continue.

“I realized I was so caught in the pursuit of success that I neglected the things that truly mattered” He admits. “And you were one of those things”

His honesty caught you off guard, but you appreciated the vulnerability and the tentative. You stopped in your tracks, the sound of your heels stopping, and you looked at his back. Nanami followed your movements and turned around to observe you.

“It’s never too late to make amends, Kento”

He sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair. “I know, I’ve been trying to change, to find a better balance. Yet I can’t change the past”

“No one can” You replied, your gaze now fixed in the path ahead. You looked around the park, feeling the sun hitting on your face and seeing it setting down behind the buildings. It’s a beautiful scenery.

You didn’t know but Nanami felt like he was looking at the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and it was an understatement. You were the most beautiful woman in his eyes, you always were and you will always be. Back in the days you were together, he saw himself building a future with you, getting married in Malaysia just like he always wanted and even having a little family with you, but his work destroyed everything. And he hated himself for this.

“But we can learn from it and make different choices moving forward”

Gosh how much he wanted to hold you again, to have you around all day, to come back to you at the end of the day, to have special dates and just to love you.

Nanami nodded thoughtfully and looked deeply in your eyes. The world around you disappeared and it was only him and you. He was the love of your life, you knew that. And he knew the same about you.

“I’ve missed this” He said. “Talking to you, being able to share”

Your heart exploded inside your chest and you smiled “I missed it too”

You walked again side by side, enjoying the comfortable silence. Then Nanami looked at his watch and he seemed to realize the time. He hesitated to say anything because he wanted to stay with you, to spend more time again with you. But he needed to get back home and to finished his papers.

“I should get going” He said.

You sighed then nodded. “Yeah, it’s getting late”

There was another moment of hesitation before he spoke again. He took a few steps closer to you and leaned in to press his soft lips against your right cheek. Your eyes widen at the contact and you knew you were a blushing mess right now. Even after all this time, he had the same effect on you.

“I’m glad we ran into each other today. Maybe we can do this again. Sometimes”

You smileed at him, a mixture of nostalgia and excitement in your eyes. “Yeah, we should do that. You still have my number, right?”

He smiled warmly and nodded. Then he turned around and walked towards the exit of the park. You stayed there, looking at his back, and you sighed.

Damn you, Nanami Kento.

[agendabymooner]

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (2)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: It's 2014. Tilly fills up the position temporarily as Red Bull's Communication Liaison and meets the man she spoke to all those years ago in Dubai... only for her to realize that he's her best friend's Team Principal. Lewis Hamilton is more than amused with her situation, if anything.

Content warning: Age gap, mentions of an absence of a father figure, brief use of explicit language, mentions of nepotism, discussion of mental health and burnouts. Platonic!Lewis Hamilton content, Platonic!Daniel Ricciardo content. Fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). One character is fictional but came from a family (Ford family). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: This is actually my demon time. I took a break from posting too much Danny Ric even if I love him sm (this fic needs attention a little bit). Should I make him go feral and chaotic again? I dunno. But anyways, here's for the Toto stans. Please tell me what you think in many ways - reblog and reply even! Enjoy xx

ii. tilly marie wants to go to hell

Tilly Marie. 

That is the name that hides everything that relates to my life and purpose. Truthfully, everyone knows who I am, but I act like a stranger to everyone who works in the location during the races. Everyone has heard of my name but never really knew what I look like. Of course, they would know who I am. I’m sharing my surname with the man who partially owned three teams— all through his shares. 

Julius Hearth is a billionaire who invested much more in motorsport than he should have in his racing career. Instead of becoming a professional driver, he remains a billionaire, relatively close to creating a monopoly in the racing industry. 

A greedy man, they call him. He dislikes the idea of being unable to control his businesses. He could have sold his shares before, yet he keeps a tight grip over each of his holdings and keeps his position in each team as an executive. He’s not even the one at the race right now. He has his daughter act on his behalf and play his part in keeping his teams popular. 

The surname Hearth is practically engraved in each team’s zones. I hate it. Wherever I go, even if I hadn’t attended a grand prix for a while now, eyes would settle on me. Everyone knows my name. I hate it. It should have been Ford instead, maybe I would have allowed it.

And so I stuck with Tilly Marie. Tilly Hearth catches the eyes of everyone in the racing industry. Tilly Marie is just a woman with access to three zones and additional pit access from her friend. Tilly Hearth is for business— for handling problems and solutions in media outlets and communications.

Now that I think of it, I remember considering quitting my job before I was even told to attend the British GP. Have you ever been so exhausted from doing what you love? Or is that something not really something you desire?

I enjoy writing fashion and design articles for everyone’s entertainment. But to be told you’ll be given a better angle on the following magazine issues and still drooling after that promise? Now that’s just an embarrassment. 

Everyone I’m close to knows how badly I am treated at the company. Their sympathy came with advice to leave the company. Yet, despite the gratitude that I felt, I refuse to resign. I have faith in my career. They’ll give me a better angle soon enough. Or not.

One of the many people who told me to quit is here standing behind the gate. His tightly braided hair is covered with a branded cap. His chest is covered in a white polo. He stands there with a cheeky grin as he holds his arms out. Lewis Hamilton never failed to make me smile.

He engulfs me with a tight embrace and lifts me slightly in joy. We have not even exchanged words yet, but I am already smiling widely. 

“Oh, Tilly, I thought you wouldn't come!” Lewis exclaims once that he puts me down. I straighten my slightly wrinkled skirt and look at him with a questioning frown. “You’re going to watch me win in person this time!” 

“You act like I don’t see you almost every month,” I scoff, shaking my head at his pout.

“You haven’t attended any of my races for almost six years,” he points out, referring to his championship when he was in McLaren. That’s how we met. My father was bored and had decided to buy a part of McLaren, Lewis’ first team. I hung around him more often during the past few seasons while I consulted with my father’s other teams - Scuderia Ferrari and Red Bull. Lewis values our friendship more than his team, as we remained friends after he departed from McLaren. 

I was going to protest and defend myself, but he cut me off before I could even talk. “You were working hard at Vogue, I know,” he rolls his eyes before he wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as we walk down the Mercedes zone. He still has an assistant with him, and she’s nice enough to ensure that Lewis isn’t doing something stupid like getting our photos taken by paps while his arm is around me. I can see the headlines we’ll make if they see me.

Tilly Hearth’s Comeback Spiced Up by Forbidden Romance as She Snuggles with Mercedes Driver

The Lifestyle of the Rich and Famous: Lewis Hamilton Seen Cozying Up with the Hearth Group Heiress

He continues, “I love you. You know that, right?” 

I nod as he playfully scolds me, “Then why aren’t you listening to me? To your three sisters, even? You’re writing a smaller piece in a magazine for how long? Six years? Why don’t you quit and find a better opportunity?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” I frown, slightly shoving him away while his arm remains wrapped around me. I try kicking him in the leg, but he quickly avoids my attack as he laughs. People that walked past scowl at us. “I knew I should’ve stayed on the Red Bull pit.” 

“In my year of winning? At the British GP?” He scoffs haughtily. “You wound me, Tilly Marie.”

“And while I’m against the idea of staying in your paddock, I’m glad we can agree on calling me by that name so I'm staying because I love you that much,” I grin, kissing him on the cheek as we arrive at the Mercedes hospitality. 

Indeed, I haven’t attended a race for a while now. Putting more time into my job would give me a way to a promotion or an opportunity to publish a meaningful piece in the magazine. But as years go on, I’m slowly backing away from that optimism. So being in this event… yeah, I think I’ll choose this lifestyle once more over that god-awful thing I call a career. 

Still, why haven’t I quit yet? I have little faith in them. I might as well resign. But this advice came from other people. It didn’t come from me. They cannot change my mind, and I wish I’m not this stubborn and stupid. I wish Lewis would bang my head against the wall to get me to quit. 

I know that I have more options if I quit. But even then, I know my options will come straight from my surname and father. Nepotism follows me wherever I go; even if it’s inevitable, I try to control the fire before it spreads. I know that using my name will not help me learn more. 

Even Lewis knows how much it’ll affect my career in a different industry. One that isn’t racing. It’s bad enough that everyone knows me by name, but to use it proudly? Yeah no. Lewis keeps me humbled by calling me Tilly Marie. I love him because of that. 

All of those thoughts have left me alone when I hear a voice ring out behind the two of us. One that calls for Lewis, which has my friend turning around. Out of curiosity and instinct, I immediately turned around to see who called for him. 

Would it be a shame to admit that the man you met eight years ago looked as handsome as before? No. Maybe not. 

My eyes respectfully move from his attractive face down to the polo that he’s wearing. Slight chest hair peeking out from the unbuttoned collars as my eyes finally look at the title on his chest. 

Team Principal

Mercedes AMG Petronas

While it’s not something to be ashamed of, admitting that the older man is attractive will cause bloodshed. One that would begin with Lewis. 

I must admit the man in front of me makes me nervous now that I have grown older. My legs will turn jelly if I hear his accent again. 

“Ah, you have a guest,” the older man smiles at me almost charmingly. 

My legs didn’t turn into jelly. But I wish I had gone to hell earlier than expected because of the heat I can feel on my face. All because of this man. 

Lewis doesn’t catch the reddening of my cheeks. Instead, he nudges me with a grin, saying, “Of course I have. You know how I want people to watch me win.”

“I like that confidence,” the man chuckles, probably still staring at me while my eyes remain on the floor. 

Lewis nudges me again, leaving me to clutch the strap of the bag that nearly fell off my shoulder. I glare at him, and he doesn’t see it as he introduces me, “Tils! This is Toto Wolff. He’s the Mercedes team principal. Toto, this is Tilly Marie. She’s a friend.” 

I can’t longer avoid his eyes as I look up at his dark eyes. I have forgotten how to speak briefly before I clear my throat and greet the man, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wolff.” 

His stare isn’t intimidating. That’s what I think, but my body says otherwise. Suddenly, the hospitality feels 30 degrees celsius hotter because of his look. 

But he doesn’t say anything about my obvious situation, and with Lewis not saying anything, I assume he doesn’t notice. The team principal then extends his hand in my direction as his accent leaves a tingling sensation in my ears with the words, “It’s lovely to meet you. Miss…?” 

Oh um. Shit. 

Suddenly the roller coaster in my stomach fades as I stammer, “Hearth. Tilly. Tilly Marie.” I immediately reach for his hand to shake as I shudder slightly. God, those hands are cold. I still shake his hand like a fan excited to meet her idol. Lewis, god loves him, has immediately put a stop to it by putting an arm on my side. 

Not realizing I'm still holding his hand, I immediately pull away and offer Toto a sheepish smile and apology. I’m 28, turning 29. I’m not 18. I’m still acting like a child. 

But my internal dialogue is interrupted by a hum coming out from Toto. He watches me move in one place, assumingely unable to reply for a moment. He's thinking of something and it's unnerving.

The silence doesn’t last long as he finally asks, “Are you Julius Hearth’s relative, by any chance? You look a bit like him.” 

I immediately answer, my voice slightly cracking, saying, “Yes. Yes. I’m the eldest daughter.” 

Knowing my family history, Lewis winces at the title I used to describe myself. Even he knows that this is a sore spot for me.

“Ah,” Toto hums in understanding, nodding at the response while he looks around. It seems our surroundings don't interest him, all while people around us are beginning to whisper at the drop of my name and relationship with a prominent figure in the racing business. 

Nevertheless, he ignores the whispering and instead tells me, “It’s surprising to see you here, Miss Hearth—“ 

“Just call me Tilly,” I immediately interrupted him with the insistence of a worried person. “Tilly works just fine.” 

He doesn’t blink at it, even if I can tell he has a question or so at my insistence. He continues regardless, “Well, Tilly, it’s surprising to see you here, in a rival team’s hospitality.” 

I only laugh at that. I laugh at him like he’s an idiot. Or the other way around. He’s calling me an imbecile in his head now, I tell myself as I watch his brows wrinkle slightly.

I tell him, “I’m here as a friend of your driver, Mr. Wolff. And I can hardly be biased about teams seeing as Julius purchased some shares from almost each. There are no playing favourites in my book.” 

“Is that right?” He asks with amusement in his voice. 

“I like to play fair,” I shrug and offer him a grin, “besides, I’m not as good at interpreting races as he is. I’m only here to keep their head checked before they can lash out in front of the cameras.” 

He likes that response even though I mentioned I have limited motorsport knowledge. He chuckles again, nodding in my direction and at Lewis, who I have almost forgotten is with me. 

He doesn’t say anything to me anymore and tells Lewis, “Remember your interview.” 

“Yes, sir,” Lewis nods at him. 

Toto looks at me again and suggests, “Miss Tilly, you should be in our zone more often.” 

For once, my face hasn’t flushed. I offer him a grateful smile and joke, “It’s a bad idea to give me such a privilege. I suppose you’ll see more of me then, Mr. Wolff.” 

“Call me Toto, liebling,” Toto tells me with a wink, “besides, I won’t complain if I see you here— I might as well snatch you up from Red Bull and McLaren, hm? Or is Ferrari also a competition I have to fight for?” 

He turns around and leaves the premise, walking away from us with a big smile while Lewis and I remain silent. 

There’s a scoff that leaves Lewis’ mouth. I watch him shake his head and ask, “What? Did I do something?” 

“No, no, love,” Lewis answers, chuckling in disbelief as he says, “I can’t believe I just watched my boss hit on my best friend.” 

“Who says you’re my best friend? Sylv, Steve and Aims are my best friends,” I scoff. 

“Stevie, Sylvie and Aimee are your sisters, love. There’s a big difference–whatever, you were just flirting with my boss!” He exclaims, making other people look at us at the abrupt loudness.

I wish I had gone to hell earlier.

[givemea-dam-break]

Not a prompt unless you want it to be, but you’re the only one who will appreciate -

George/Reader (or OC) where Reader is a Database Analyst for Fittes. Enemies to lovers.

Reader dedicates her life to making information more accessible/understandable/traceable and George can begrudgingly accept that. They make appointments with each other to argue over the merits of digitization, tagging systems, etc and if these arguments spill over into meal times, maybe they grab a bite and keep arguing, and oh no does everyone think we’re dating??

Anyways <3

a/n: RAHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH!!!! i know essentially nothing about technology though so i’ve probably butchered that part of this but i hope you enjoy!!! and thank you to @ikeasupremacy you really helped this go from a 2 page long flop that contained literally fuck all to a 5 page decent piece of work pahaha

warnings: mild language, mild angst words: 2.8K taglist: @neewtmas @locklylemybeloved @aayeroace @gotlostinfiction @waitingforthesunrise @mirrorballdickinson @mischiefmanaged71 @magicandmaybe @wellgoslowly @ettadear gn reader

Nice To Meet You - George Karim

“You know that, on the whole, this will make life way easier for you?”

“Since when do you want to make life easy for me?”

Taking an angry bite out of your sandwich, you say, “I’m not doing this specifically for you, twat. This is quite literally the purpose of my job, so it’s for everyone.”

George Karim sits back in his chair, glaring at you through the green reflections on his glasses. “And what exactly is the benefit of digitalising all of it?”

“Going over this again? Right, well, for one, there’s going to be new computers put into the Archives meaning more people can use them. Have I lost you yet? No? All right. For two, being able to search up what you want in a database is way easier than pacing for hours trying to find an old newspaper that someone might be using already. For three, multiple people can read the same file at the same time. You can’t do that with the musty old paper copies.”

There’s a moment of silence and an air of tension thick enough that you could cut it with a knife. The only sounds beyond George’s annoyed huffs of breath are the jingle of the café’s windchimes and chatter from other customers.

If you had your way, you wouldn’t even be sitting here discussing your plan of action with him, but your supervisor told you that you’d best talk about it to other agencies and their members to see what their thoughts are. Of course, the one time you head to Lockwood and Co. with the intention of speaking to them on purpose, hoping and praying you’d at least be speaking to Anthony Lockwood himself; you were sent off with his second and by far the most infuriating boy in all of London, George Karim. And, well, as you already know, he is a tough nut to crack.

“Why are you so stuck up on physical files, anyways?” you ask. “It’s not like we’re going to burn them on a pyre and force you to use a website. They’ll still be there. It just seems much more convenient to click a few buttons and have what you need.”

“They hold a particularly warm place in my heart,” he says with a hint of sarcasm. “But, fine, okay, life will be made easier for everybody with this new system. So why is it only being implemented now? Smaller agencies could’ve done with this years ago while Fittes and Rotwell and all the big companies have had it this whole time.”

Though you hate it, you can only shrug. “The big companies don’t want to have to compete with the smaller ones.”

“You’re saying this, but you’re working for Fittes, the biggest of the big companies.”

You grip your sandwich harder, pretending it’s George’s throat. “Yes, well, better pay than a smaller company. Some of us don’t get offered a bedroom when being accepted into a job. Besides, as much as I don’t like the big companies making a huge profit off of the Problem, I don’t have a choice. They’re the only ones with the resources I need. And, don’t forget, that’s where you used to work, too.”

Surprisingly, George doesn’t have a quip for that. He takes a thoughtful sip of his tea, glancing out of the café window and onto the busy street just beyond. The sunlight hits the lenses of his glasses in such a way that they shine a reflection down onto the table in front of you.

“So, this would be accessible for everyone?” he asks. “Not just the big agencies and their lackeys.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this to make you believe it, but yes. If that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

Quite frankly, you’re not surprised about having to repeat things over and over. Every single conversation you’ve ever had with George, no matter how fleeting or filled with irritation, has seemed like he had the personal mission of finding flaws in everything you do. Holding your rapier wrong – you absolutely did not, if anything, he was holding his wrong. Pronouncing a word wrong once. Taking a moment longer than him to spell a ridiculously long word on a report.

Now is no different. It’s as if you can see the cogs turning in his mind, working overtime trying to find an issue with this plan. But there’s nothing, that much you know from you and your team’s extensive planning and the look of mild horror on his face.

You can’t help the proud smile that parts your lips. “Go on, then, Georgie. Thoughts?”

He gives you a scathing look that only fuels the pride burning in your chest. “I think…”

“Yes?”

“I think that…”

“Carry on. I need to hear you say it.”

“Oh, shut up. I think that it’s a good idea.”

“Hmm? What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You’ve never seen such anger in a person’s eyes. “I think that it’s a good idea. Happy?”

“Very. That’s all I needed to hear.”

George opens his mouth to say something, probably something insulting, but a waitress breezes over. She’s a sweet middle-aged lady with a contagious smile that even has him easing up a bit.

With a twinkle in her warm eyes, she asks, “Is there anything else I can get the lovely couple?”

And that does it. If you weren’t so shocked yourself, the horrified expression on George’s face would’ve cracked you up. It looks as if someone stepped on his puppy and then tried to feed it to him. Then, amongst your own disgust, you realise that the expression is at the thought of dating you, and no matter the animosity the two of you share, you can’t help but be a little offended.

“Oh, uh, we’re not –“ You purse your lips. “Nothing else, thanks.”

She leaves momentarily, and your table lapses into an entirely uncomfortable silence. You can’t look at George. He can’t look at you. There’s a weird pit in your stomach. Nausea. Right? Because… Ew.

“I told you we shouldn’t have continued this conversation during my lunch break,” you grumble.

He hums in agreement, finding particular interest in his swirling tea. “We should probably go.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh, we’ve covered all bases. Of the plan, I mean. Not anything else. The plan. My job.”

But, even still, you’re both sitting. You’re not moving. Why? Maybe you’re paralysed with disgust. Maybe the mere thought of people thinking that the two of you are dating is debilitating. Maybe, maybe, maybe… You’re considering it?

God, no. That’s horrid to even think about.

“I, um, are you heading back to the Archives, too?” you ask.

George takes a moment to respond, as if lost in a daze. “Oh. Yeah – Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

As soon as you stand, George is on his feet, enough money slapped on the table for the two of you, and heading over to the exit. And, well, as much as you want to let him head off on his own, here comes that realisation that it’s a little insulting that he is the one trying to escape so quickly.

What a little prick.

You’re out of the door almost as soon as he is, insistent that you will be the one ahead. Yeah, sure, you’re heading to the same place and could try to be amenable, but will you? God, no. You want him to know that you can leave just as easily and are just as horrified by this prospect of a relationship as he is.

Why wouldn’t he want to date you? Beyond the constant arguments you have, you’ve always figured you’re a pretty decent person. Smart, but not arrogantly so. Friendly. Funny. Good company. Caring. What’s not to like? How dare he be disgusted!

But he seems just as determined to reach the Archives first. It’s only a few corners away, but it feels like a miles-long race between the two of you. But if the prize is your dignity, then to hell with the distance – you’d go actual miles to preserve that, especially against George.

It comes to a halt when you’re forced to wait at traffic lights, unable to even slip across the street before they change from red to green merely because of the amount of coincidentally flooding traffic.

For what feels like hours, you have to stand beside him, listening to him breathe and mutter and tut as if this is the biggest inconvenience in the world. Hey, if he didn’t think a relationship with you was such a horrible idea then this wouldn’t be taking place!

No matter that you think the exact same. You’re allowed to feel like that.

Do you feel like that?

The beeping of the pedestrian crossing jerks you from your thoughts, and you’re rushing across the street before you know it. And, oh, curse his long legs! He’s getting ahead of you.

There’s an anger building up in your chest now, one that probably isn’t fully justified. Perhaps it stems from deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy you’ve not had the mind to think about for a little while now. Or even just out of pure spite of George Karim that has been pulsing through your veins for years now. Why has it been there? Because of him. Because of his incessant need to find flaws in your work and you, and his need to huff at anything you say or do. Like your existence is a bother.

Either way, the anger forms words before you can think to dismantle them. “What’s your issue with me?”

George pauses, near the side of the pavement, with the Archives in clear view behind him. He’s frowning over back you, dark eyes narrowed and bouncing with golden sunlight. Why should someone that hates you so be complimented by the sun? It’s entirely unfair, especially when it’s only blinding you.

“What?”

You stop a foot or two in front of him, panting a little from walking so fast. “What exactly is your problem with me? What did I do to you? Because, far as I know, you’ve hated me ever since we first met.”

The words take a minute to process, and it looks as though he’s trying to figure out some hidden meaning behind them. There’s nothing hard about what you’ve asked. Nothing harder than admit you feel ashamed to have even asked it.

“I don’t –“ George’s frown only deepens, taking complete notice of the frustration on your face.

“Forget I asked,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. Stupid question anyways.”

But, when you start to walk away, a hand on your wrist stops you, pulling you back slightly. When you  look back, George is there, hand wrapped around your arm and staring at it as if it isn’t his own skin on yours. You expect him to pull away, disgusted at the thought of touching you, but his grip only softens slightly.

“I don’t hate you,” he says.

Scoffing, you say, “Yeah, right, and I’m Penelope Fittes. Let go of me.”

And, to his merit, he does. But your feet aren’t cooperating. They won’t move. Why, why, why won’t they move?

“I’ve never hated you,” he murmurs. His gaze is fixed on yours, something you’ve always noticed he’s steered clear of doing, and you feel frozen under it. “Intimidated, yeah.”

“Intimidated?” You roll your eyes. “George, come on. I was trying to be serious, but you’re just making a joke of it.”

The look in his eyes at that moment is a mix of desperation and exasperation. “I am being serious. Do you know how hard it is to be regarded as the smartest person someone’s met, to rely on the intelligence as your only form of worth to people, and then find someone smarter than you?”

Words try to form in your throat, only to crumble like chalk beneath too-strong fingers.

“And I’m sorry it’s made me lash out at you,” he continues. “I know it’s a horrible thing to do, but it’s like my mouth doesn’t want to cooperate with my brain. Truly, I regret how I’ve treated you. You’ve never deserved it.”

Your throat feels thick, and it’s hard to swallow. “Georgie, don’t lie.”

There’s a flicker of a smile on his lips then. “You know I like it when you call me that?”

“You told me you hated it when I call you Georgie,” you say, but it feels like your voice is dwindling.

“I told you that so you’d call me it more,” he admits. “(name), I really, truly have never hated you. And, again, I am so sorry I’ve treated you the way I have. I admire your intelligence and your insistence of sticking up for yourself. I just wish I had started things differently between us.”

The anger is back, burning a hole in your chest. “You’ve had years to tell me this. Why? Why didn’t you?”

He’s breathing rather heavily. “I was scared. I was trying to figure things out – my feelings, your feelings. But, more than anything, I couldn’t bring myself to change from the person you’d begun to see, because what if you hated the real me more than this one you know so well?” Now, his eyes tear away from yours as he stares up at the sky, looking for guidance from some divine being. “Even when you insulted me, I enjoyed it because it was from you. How lucky was I to even be able to speak to you, never mind hear you come up with all these unique names? There are millions of people who have never heard you speak, who have never had the pleasure of speaking to you or will never have it again, and I didn’t even want to chance becoming one of them.”

With that, the flames roaring inside your chest are extinguished. Instead, now, there’s a strange, unfamiliar feeling in your stomach that inches its way up your body and into your mouth, holding your tongue and stopping your ability to speak.

Despite all the quips, the need to find faults in what you do, he has never meant it. How horrible does that make you, saying all of these things to him because that was how you genuinely felt?

Do they count, seeing as they were formed on the basis of a personality that doesn’t truly exist?

Your fingers hurt from tearing at the skin around your nails. “You really think I’m so bad that I wouldn’t like the real you? Georgie, there is no way I wouldn’t have preferred it.”

He laughs at that, and the sound only bolsters this strange feeling in your stomach. Not quite butterflies, but almost. More melancholic. Could you have had the opportunity to hear that laugh for years now? To cherish it the way a person does a memory? The way an artist does a creation?

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you how sorry I am,” he says, and you swear he inches slightly closer. “About the way I acted. The fact it’s taken me this long to admit this to you. All of it. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

And you don’t. Not really. Not when it’s left a hollow feeling in your chest, left by the realisation that everything you said was unfounded and cruel and based on a person you had no true conception of. Not when this is how it has been for years between you both. Weeks, you could understand. But years?

There’s a part of you, though, that could potentially forgive him, given the chance. George may be quick to criticise or provide information for something, but he has always kept his emotions at arm’s length, that much even you know. So, for him to come and outright tell you all of this takes insane courage.

Even still, you can’t fully comprehend it all.

“Well,” you say, “you paid for my lunch. So that’s a start.”

He smiles then. A flash of white teeth and an insurgence of unfamiliar fondness in your heart.

“We could restart,” he suggests, pushing his glasses up his nose just so.

Despite the hollowness, you nod and manage a small smile. “I’d like that.”

Not even a second later, his hand is hovering in the air just between you both. “George Karim. Nice to meet you.”

It shouldn’t make your smile grow, it really shouldn’t, but it does.

“(name) (last name),” you say, clutching his hand in yours. “Nice to meet you, too.”

And, somehow, that smile of his, one you’re sure you’ll grow more accustomed to, adds a small piece of filling to the hole in your chest.

[nburkhardt]

Having those sad thoughts, now putting it on the boy 😔

It’s moments like this that makes him want the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Everyone is gathered today for the first time in a while, he doesn’t even remember the last time he even saw some of them. He’s been working so often and still lives in Hawkins, unlike most of the group now.

It’s good, things are good. He’s pretty happy or well, okay. He’s good though, pretty content even. Life is fine.

It’s just, standing here having only needed a few minutes to get them caught up in his daily life.

(Wake up, get dressed, eat, and go to work. Come home, relax, maybe call Robin or Eddie. Feed himself and repeat.)

Everyone else? Robin? Nancy? Hell, even Dustin? It’s been an hour and Dustin and Claudia won’t stop talking about how good school is going and they’re waiting on the letters for colleges! “Can you believe that Steve?!”

Nancy’s well on her way up some journalism company, can’t wait to get her own spot in the newspaper! There’s some course Robin’s in the middle of that’s been keeping her up at all hours. Oh and didn’t you hear? Jonathan’s thinking of moving back to California for photography!

“- and today, El got accepted as a volunteer at the new animal shelter! It’s such wonderful news, don’t you think Steve?”

He forced a smile and nodded, about to open his mouth when Joyce patted his arm with a “oh! Karen’s here, hold that thought I’ll be right back!” Before walking away and he gets to drop the smile.

Wishing he could just leave the party but he’s Robin’s ride and she’s definitely having fun catching up with everyone. He’s already said his piece to those he asked.

“eh, life’s pretty good. Been just saving up to get an apartment with Robs. Ya know?” And “I haven’t thought about it much, college just didn’t- seem right? I’m just focusing on work right now”

He can’t even take an hour talking about himself now. It’s over and out within minutes. None of the here adults really want to hear him go on a rant about basketball and he can go on forever about his car, but no one wants that information. Robin and him talk about those daily, even if she doesn’t understand half of it.

So, he’d really like for everyone to stop asking things or bringing up accomplishments of others, “I’m just so proud of my boy, my little genius!”

“Will’s painting is really taking off! Jonathan’s photography skills is so much better now, look see!”

It’s really getting to him and he wants to leave. Doesn’t feel like anyone is even listening when he does get to talk about himself, which is dumb because he loves these people.

The thing is, he just feels stuck. Feels like a has been, like he was this once amazing toy that got thrown outside and forgotten. He hates this, hates that his life isn’t anything to talk about, hates feeling like he’s doing nothing with his life.

How is he goddamn twenty-one years old and feel like nothing about him is good enough to talk about?

Robin reminds him daily that his brain is being dumb, that he’ll figure things out soon. It’s just not the right now for him, that he’s only twenty-one and there’s so many more years ahead of him. It’ll hit even eventually, that to stop comparing people.

He knows that, really he does.

It’s just, a lot. Okay?

Ending it there before I ramble myself into a rabbit hole.

Welp I had thoughts and now I’m feeling a bit better but goddamn I’m seriously feeling it. There’s no tears or anything but even with music blasting in my ears + my edible hitting, my brain won’t shut up about how I’m twenty seven and stuck.

How I’m still working a retail job, holding myself back from getting the GED I need to even apply to a cosmetology school. And that whenever anyone asks me for an update all I can say is ‘well I just bought this cool new funko!’ Or ‘nah I’m just taking walks and nope, still haven’t changed my mind about kids’ and sure, yeah we shouldn’t compare ourselves to others because that’s just shitty thinking but I can’t help it 🥲

I’m stuck and even when I do start talking hobbies or thinks I like, everyone just doesn’t care? Or well they do but they don’t understand and sometimes judge me on what I do.

Idk I’m just feeling things and venting using my fave person. Just venting and getting this out.

Also I’m sure I’m not alone in this feeling. So if you also feel this, I’m sorry 💜 our time will come!!

[timkontheunsure]

I’d like your opinion on a debate I had on twitter about what verosika is probably doing in apology tour. I argued that what shes doing is overkill and unnecessary to host a concert roasting blitz. Another fan said she had every right and blitz should ‘be held responsible for his actions’ by this. I don’t see hosting a show hating on her ex is holding him responsible. I’m not downplaying her pain, but the show seems overkill and more of an excuse to trash her ex. What does she have to gain by hosting this? Blitz admits what he did, at most he should apologize, if he hasn’t tried already, which I doubt she’d accept. Blitz saying, ‘hello we’re in hell everyone’s shitty’ after she calls him shitty has fans up in arms saying he deserves this roast, which I argue is unfair. I can’t argue against what verosika does without being called a victim blamer or defending an abuser

I come down on the side of overkill.

They broke up around 6 years back, and she still hung up on him...

It fine to still be annoyed about the thief, or be sad about how it ended. But she's doing stuff that's more normal for just after a break up.

She crossed out his name on her tattoo, instead of getting a cover up. She could have had his name covered by having colour of the heart be slightly darker. ❤️ She choosing to keep his name or her. It's just pretty weird.

Then there's her marketing her shows as hate festivals, like you said, which is pretty creepy.

She misnames him every chase, which is just a fundamental lack of respect of someone as a person.

She also takes pains to antagonising him whenever she can. Like at Ozzie, Blitz spots her there but don't bother doing anything.

As soon as she sees him see joins the dog pile.

It's also fairly likely that she chose the spring break jig to get a chance to mess with him.

Verosika's a big deal, and this is a couple of weeks job in a condemn building, with a company that don't even have their own parking space.

They also only need to move floors down from the sucking floor, (that sounds like it's customised for succubai businesses) only while Verosika's working there?

Even Vortex chuckles about it like he doesn't believe it either.

Then there's the thing that's kinda bunnyboiler... she makes a dead body cake of him as to kill in effigy.

But mostly she just seems stuck. 🙁

In the last 5 year Blitz has adopted his daughter, started a business and started a very complicated romantic relationship.

And well she's only really done rehab, and left before getting well enough to do so.

I really hope they do talk. I hope Blitz apologise about what he did wrong during their relationship, so she can get some closer.

(Hoping she apologize too because they seem like they were a bad fit more than anything, and it's unlikely to be all one way).

[haihaihaitani]

You Look Perfect ~ *Shinichiro Sano*

Summary: Your unusual closeness with Shinichiro has been spotted by the tabloids. While he’s freaking out, you’re blissfully unaware. Now he needs to decide if he should shatter the fragile peace between the two of you...

Pairing: Shinichiro Sano X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Oneshot

Word Count: 2349

Warning: teasing siblings, sexual innuendos confronting your feelings, hurt to comfort

Tokyo Revengers Masterlist

Taglist: @soulangel​

A/N: THIS IS A PART TWO TO Do I Look Okay? YOU SHOULD DEFINITELY READ THAT ONE FIRST.

It was all over the tabloids:

RISING STARLIT’S NEW BEAU!

FOOLING AROUND WITH PROTECTION!

JUST WHO IS SHINICHIRO SANO?

If this was the paparazzi’s way of getting him to sweat, then they really knew how to do their job well. His hands were clammy and his bottom lip was raw from how often he was chewing on it. He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t used to seeing his face plastered all over the tabloids. That was your department.

Speaking of you, Shinichiro’s anxiety increased tenfold. What were you thinking about all of this? Have you seen the tabloids in the first place? He didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. You probably hated him. You were probably going to have him fired and he’d lose the best thing to ever happen to him.

But he deserved it. He got too close. That’s why all of these tabloids were reporting on your supposed relationship. He told himself to stay away from you, to keep things strictly professional. But you were so alluring, you just kept drawing him in. He was foolish enough to fall for your temptations.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t want to answer it. It could be anyone. You, giving him his termination notice, the company, also telling him he was fired, or it could be another tabloid asking for an exclusive interview. But he knew that he couldn’t run from this forever. So with a long, depressed sigh, he opened his phone to a text from his brother:

Call me. Now.

And then his brother was calling him. Shinichiro had no choice but to answer.

“He-”

“TELL. US. EVERYTHING!” His sister shrieked through the phone. “I NEED ALL THE JUICY DETAILS ABOUT EVERYTHING!”

“Emma, stop shouting.” Mikey lightly scolded her. “We’re asking him if he’s okay.”

“I know that! But he’s finally dating THE Y/n L/n! I need to know how all of this happened and who made the first move!”

Shinichiro groaned. “Guys, not you too.”

Mikey snorted. “Well, it’s not our fault you’ve been fooling around with your boss. At least the point of this call was to ask if you’re alright. From your response, I’m sure you’re getting harassed.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. And now from my own siblings.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And no, Emma, we’re not actually dating. It’s just a scandal created by the tabloids.”

“Ha, likely story.” She chuckled. “What’s sex with her like?”

His eyes widened. “I do not feel comfortable sharing my sex life with my younger siblings.”

“So you have had sex with her?!”

“NO NEVER!”

“Emma, please.” Mikey groaned with disgust. “Seriously though, are you okay? Do you need us to come kidnap you or something? We can do a little sibling getaway to, like, Okinawa or something. Wait till the heat dies down?”

He thought about it. What he was suggesting, it sounded nice. A chance to get away and spend some quality time with his siblings that he didn’t get often. It could be really nice and relaxing. But what about you? You couldn’t just dip out because the heat was too intense. You would be stuck going through this scandal alone. And even if it meant he’d get burned with you, he still cares an awful lot about you. No, he couldn’t leave you here by yourself.

“Nah, don’t do that. Y/n, she needs me now more than ever. I’m not walking away to let her fend for herself.” He explained.

Mikey tsked. “You really do love this girl, don’t you?”

He couldn’t admit it outloud. Admitting it outloud made it real and it just couldn't be real. So he hoped his brother could interpret his silence.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Seriously Shin, you need to ask her out! You love her so much and I’m sure she has the hots for you too!” Emma squealed. “Just sweep her off her feet all heroic like, you know like in the movies she’s in! And then tell us all the juicy details!”

“Emma!” Both brothers shouted.

Shinichiro chuckled. At least moments like this weren’t ruined by his unexpected fame. It made him feel better knowing that his family would always be there for him, no matter what. And that spoke volumes about loyalty.

“I have to go, but I’ll talk to you both soon.”

“Just keep your head down and try not to get into any more trouble.” Mikey said. “I’m sorry but I can’t be the responsible brother.”

“You got that right.”

“Would you shut up, Emma?”

Again, he laughed as he hung up on their bickering. That was the Sano’s for you: always fighting but when times are tough, they band together to get through it together. He didn’t know what he would do without them in his corner.

As soon as his phone call ended, your front door opened. Despite the storm circling around you from this scandal, you didn’t look worse for wear. If anything, you still looked positively radiant. Shinichiro felt his breath catch in the back of his throat, but he pushed down his feelings of awe. You didn’t need him being a lovesick teenager right now. You needed a pillar of strength, or even a shoulder to cry on. He needed to be there for you before he addressed his own feelings about all of this.

“Oh, you’re here.” You seemed genuinely surprised he was here, but your smile only brightened. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I-” He paused, surprised you’d be asking. Surely you knew, right? “How are you?”

You shrugged. “Hmm, can’t complain. Been better, been worse, so on and so forth. How are you? You look like the world is ready to collapse around you. What happened?”

Again, he was tongue-tied. How could you not know? Someone had to have told you right? For the past couple of days you’ve been booked solid with photoshoots and commercial shootings. Someone on the staff had to have shown you all of the articles claiming you both were in a relationship. Was this your way of ignoring the problem, hoping it would go away? If so, it stung more than he thought. He thought you’d at least let him down gently.

You noticed his eyes flick to the tabloids spread across your coffee table. “Oh, those! I don’t think I’ve seen that one! I hope the pictures are good. The last magazine someone shoved in my face had the most awful photos of us. I was wearing that nasty green dress I had you burn three weeks ago. I mean if they’re going to expose our relationship, they could at least pick decent photos.”

Shinichiro was effectively frozen in place as you skimmed through the magazines. His mind whirling at a trillion miles per hour as he dissected your words. Did you just say what he thought you said? Our relationship? What did you mean by that? A flutter of hope told him that you believed the tabloids, that you both were in a romantic relationship.

But the pragmatic part of him scolded his wishful thinking. You couldn’t have meant that. It was a slip of the tongue, that was all. It had to be. You were much smarter than that, to even think about pursuing a romantic relationship with him. You knew it would destroy your career that you worked so hard to build. He cursed himself for being so foolish in thinking you liked him like he loved you.

“I-” He started again, but he couldn’t continue. He didn’t know what to say. What did you say in situations like this? You’ve never been caught in a dating scandal before, always so careful with who you interacted with. Well, except for him. But even so, he had no idea what to do now.

You glanced up at him, your big, innocent eyes making his knees buckle. “Hmm? Oh, thank you by the way. I definitely needed to see this. After the day I’ve been having, you have no idea. These pictures are much better. You really have an eye for good photography.”

“Ah, what?”

Your giggle practically made his insides turn to jelly. “C’mon Shin. Take a compliment for once.”

He shook his head. “No, I mean, what are you talking about?”

Tilting your head so cutely to the side, he almost fell forward. Seriously, you had to know how much you were driving him crazy! If you didn’t stop soon, he knew he’d lose all self-control. “I’m sorry? Ah, now I’m confused!”

“What, what did you mean by our relationship?” His voice wavered as he tried to directly ask you about the situation. But being direct with you was never his strong suit.

“Oh! That!” You laughed. “Well, I mean, it was no secret, right? I’ve practically been draped across you for like a year now. I’m just surprised it took them so long to figure it out.”

“Wait.” He sat down in front of you, one hand rubbing his forehead. “Are, are you telling me that you think we’ve been in a relationship for a year now?”

“Well, yeah.” There was a slight pause, causing him to look you in the eyes again. Your sweet smile had dipped into a cute frown. “Did, well, didn’t you think so?”

He sighed. “It’s all news to me.”

Standing up abruptly, you put your hands on your hips and glared at him with a cute pout. “Dammit Shin! What do you mean it’s news to you? Like I said, I’ve been hanging off you for a year! I haven’t made my feelings for you a secret! How could you not have seen it? All the dinners we’ve had, the premiere’s we’ve gone to, the car rides around the city? Tell me you didn’t notice it then! Hell, do I have to spell it out for you? I. Love. You. Do you get it now? Do you get how much I am absolutely head over heels in love with you? What do I have to do to get it through your thick skull, huh?”

All Shinichiro could do was stare at you as you went on your tirade. In all honesty, this wasn’t how he imagined hearing you loved him for the first time. If anything, he thought he’d manage to gather enough confidence to confess to you and then he’d hear you say those three little words. As per usual, he didn’t know what to say.

Before he could even open his mouth to attempt words, your face fell further into a deep sadness.

“Unless… u-unless none of that actually meant anything to you. Unless you don’t actually love me like I love you.” You sank back down into your seat, your head in your hands. “Oh God, I messed up. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve kept up the act, playing innocent. I’m such an idiot. Damn…”

“No.”

You glanced up at him, your pretty eyes wet with tears. His heart lurched in his chest. This wasn’t what he wanted.

“What?”

“No.”

Shinichiro punctuated his one word answer by practically crawling over the coffee table that separated the two of you and pressing a firm kiss on your lips. He was frozen stiff and your eyes were wide with shock. But he kept pressing and you eventually gave in. Taking his face in your hands, you guided him through the kiss, moving your lips delicately against his. His heart somersaulted erratically in his chest, but he’d give you all his breath and all his love to keep from pulling away from this moment. It was perfect. You were perfect.

You were the one to pull away first. You were breathing heavily and your lips were puffy. But you still looked beautiful. Pressing your forehead against his, your eyes remained closed and your fingers stroked his cheeks lovingly. You were just so perfect.

“Shin,” You breathed. “You need to work on your kissing.”

He let out a slight huff. “I’ll try.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Good. Thank you.”

You chuckled. “I can’t believe we waited this long to kiss. It was amazing.”

He nodded. “It was extraordinary.”

Pulling away a little more, you looked him in the eyes and he almost kissed you again. The love in your eyes was so inviting and sweet. He had only dreamed of you looking at him like that. And now it was his reality. He couldn’t believe it. It all felt like a dream still.

And he needed to shatter it before he fell too far.

“But I have to know. Are you okay with all of this? If we keep pursuing this relationship, it’ll destroy you. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are and I know you want to go further. I don’t want to get in the way of that. If I have to sacrifice my happiness to help you, I-”

You kissed him again.

It wasn’t as desperate and needed as the one before. It was softer and kinder. “Shin, I would do anything for you. I’ve had my taste of fame and fortune. If something as silly as the two of us dating ruins me, so be it. I won’t give you up for the world. I swear it.”

“God, I love you.” He breathed before tumbling into another kiss. For what felt like hours, the two of you made out, slow and sweet.

And of course, all sweet things must come to an end far too soon.

You jumped when you heard a knock at your door. Shinichiro went to see who it was. He sighed when he saw it was a couple of your friends. When you saw them, you smiled brightly.

“Let them in, please. I’ll explain everything to them.”

He nodded, his hand reaching for the doorknob.

“Wait.”

When he looked at you, he noticed you fidgeting with your clothes and hair. With desperate eyes, you asked, “How do I look?”

With a soft smile, Shinichiro pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

“You look perfect.”

[minastras]

a match made in heaven jake sim's brain // heeseung

Your best friend Jake Sim has been trying to set you up with his floormate Heeseung for months. You finally agree to let him introduce you both at his fancy college’s party, but things don’t quite go as planned.

at a glance: gender-neutral reader, university au, fluff, zero plot

words: 6.8k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, date-rape drugs (no one gets drugged)

——————————

You usually liked studying with your best friend Jake — he was good company and you helped each other out — but sometimes he was in a chatty mood and refused to shut the hell up. It made it hard to focus. Today was one of those days.

“I cannot possibly stress enough how much I don’t want to go,” you deadpanned after his third attempt to invite you to his party, trying to sound firm but coming across more like a petulant child than anything else.

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” Jake said, holding out his pinky finger to you over the table. You stared at his hand in distrust, but he was undeterred. He added, “and Heeseung will be there.”

“Who?”

“The guy I’m setting you up with? Keep up,” he chided, snapping his fingers. 

You put down your pen and held up one finger in protest. “I heard you. I meant I never actually agreed to that. You just suggested it.”

Heeseung was one of Jake’s friends who lived on the same floor as him. You’d never met him before — you didn’t run in the same circles — but Jake had been talking your ear off about him for the last two months. About him being “your dream man”, which made you mime throwing up every time Jake said it.

He grinned smugly at you. “And then you lost our bet,” he said, confident, knowing he had this argument in the bag. It wasn’t even a good one either. You two had bet on, of all things, the goddamn weather.

You sighed, much more dramatically than necessary, and locked your pinky with his. “Fine. I’ll go.” Curse you and your stupid code of honour that didn’t let you go back on your word.

——————————

Every step you took towards Jake’s college imbued you with more and more regret. Why did you always give in to him?

Jake was the last person you’d expected to become friends with. On the surface, he seemed like your stereotypical residential college, or resco, kid: smart, sociable, and rich. Before you met him, you’d never met a resco kid you liked. Maybe you were too judgemental, but you felt justified in your dislike of them. They were all bratty, entitled, stuck up, and painfully unaware of their privileges. Except him.

When you first met him, you were having a breakdown on the curb outside the diner where you worked. Your boss was cutting back your hours and you were a tenth of a GPA point away from losing your scholarship. You were starting to think you should just drop out. He was walking by with a few of his resco friends, and, out of the whole group, he was the only one who stopped to ask if you were alright. And he gave you his number.

You texted him when you got home that night, as he’d made you promise to do, thanking him for listening to your tragic tale of woe and apologising for the trouble. You didn’t really expect anything to come out of it. But by the next day, he’d secured you a second job picking up shifts at the campus bookstore. So, you thought as you arrived at his resco, that’s why you always gave into him.

The building was massive and ornate, with a perfectly landscaped front garden complete with a three-tiered marble fountain and a private tennis court. No matter how many times you visited it, it always stunned you. You steeled yourself and walked through the front door.

Instantly, you started searching for Jake. He’d promised he’d only make you stay long enough to meet Heeseung, and, if you really hated him (or the party), he’d bring you to McDonald’s.

“Y/N!” Jake emerged from the throng of partygoers and ran over to you with a can of beer in his hand. You felt your shoulders relax at the mere sight of him. He was beaming as he pulled you into a quick hug. “You came.”

“Of course I did. I promised,” you said. Before you could say anything else, the amorphous blob of partiers began pulling him back in. At least three different girls were trying to get his attention. You held your tongue and bit back a laugh.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he said apologetically, looking pointedly at one of the girls.

You took the hint. “It’s fine. You don’t have to babysit me,” you said, desperately wanting him to babysit you. He quickly disappeared, absorbed back into the crowd. You made your way to the kitchen, which seemed to be the least populated room on the ground floor. It was empty aside from one guy making himself a drink and two drunk girls whispering to each other at the kitchen island.

“Hey,” the guy said. It took you a while to realise he was talking to you. “I’m Hyeongjin. Can I get you a drink?”

You smiled. “Oh, I’m alright. But thank you.” Behind him, another guy had walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“Are you sure? You look like you could use a drink.” He was clearly ignoring you because he’d already started pouring you something, although he seemed sober enough.

“No thanks. I don’t drink,” you said politely.

Hyeongjin took a step towards you and handed you a cup. “I made it just for you, so you have to take it,” he insisted, winking. This was why you didn’t like resco kids.

“I really would rather not,” you repeated, taking an equal step away. Your back hit the kitchen cabinet.

He forced the cup into your hand. “At least try it.”

The fridge door abruptly slammed shut. “Jin, they said no,” the fridge guy said firmly, subtly positioning himself between you and Hyeongjin. He took the cup from you and set it down on the counter. “Don’t drink that. He put something in it,” he told you, evidently having been observing this entire exchange. You weren’t going to anyway, but you nodded all the same.

“Fuck you, man. No, I didn’t,” Hyeongjin retorted, immediately turning combative.

“You did. I saw you.” Fridge guy reached forward, too quick to be blocked, and snatched a small blister pack of pale green pills out of Hyeongjin’s jacket pocket. One was missing. He held it up and set his jaw. “Are you done yet? Or are you going to keep denying it?”

Hyeongjin’s gaze flickered from you to fridge guy and then back to you. He looked like he was itching for a fight, but he soon left without another word. You exhaled.

Fridge guy turned back to you, all the anger in his eyes evaporating in an instant. You’d seen him in the foyer earlier with Jake. He was cute. Strikingly so, actually, enough to make you nervous. “Are you alright?”

“I’m good. Thank you for your help,” you said. He dismissed your thanks with a wide smile and a flick of his wrist. He’d looked scary earlier, cold and intimidating, but his smile was instantly disarming. “Sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know Jake Sim? He dragged me here tonight, and I don’t really know anyone else here.”

He laughed. “I think he might be in the games room. I’ll help you find him.” Fridge guy led the way, all the while checking on you constantly to make sure you were still following him. “So, why did Jake drag you to this party?” he asked, making conversation, opening the door to the games room. Alas, it was empty. There was an expensive video game system and massive TV, driving rig, billiards table, and walls lined with shelves and shelves of games.

“He’s been trying to set me up with his friend for ages,” you replied. You kind of wanted to just stay here, hide, and wait out the rest of the party by yourself, but fridge guy had already closed the door and you were too shy to say anything.

“Oh? Who’s the friend?”

“Some guy called Heeseung,” you said with a shrug.

Fridge guy smiled sheepishly and folded his arms, leaning back against the wall of the narrow corridor outside the games room. He was standing close enough to you that you were acutely aware of his presence. “Oh, in that case, hi. I’m Heeseung. You must be Y/N.”

You were going to murder Jake Sim. How had he managed to pester you incessantly about this guy for months and not once mention Heeseung was the best-looking man you’d ever see? Better question: why did he only show you the ugliest possible pictures of someone he was trying to set you up with?

“I guess Jake fancies himself quite the matchmaker,” Heeseung mused, laughing to break the tension, and you quickly realised you hadn’t said a word in well over twenty seconds. You buried your head in your hands, feeling the heat in your face. You got flustered so easily; it was one of your least favourite things about yourself. “Did he make you promise to stay until you met me?” he said mercifully, saving you the stress of having to continue the conversation.

You took a small breath to try and compose yourself. “Yeah. I’m guessing he told you the same thing?” you asked. He nodded. You started to think you wouldn’t ever get around to murdering Jake because you were going to die of humiliation first.

Before your embarrassment could spiral, however, Heeseung cleared his throat to get you to look up at him. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his black jeans, which gave him a nice masculine posture. He was so tall.

“Well, since we’ve both fulfilled our promises to Jake,” he started hesitantly, suddenly sounding a little unsure of himself, “do you want to go for a drive?”

——————————

Heeseung led you out to the driveway through the back exit and to his car. He didn’t open the passenger door for you, which you liked. You sat with your hands folded neatly in your lap as he checked his mirrors, rolled down the windows, and turned on the engine. There was something weirdly intimate about being in another person’s space — their house, their car, even the zone of the library they studied in the most — and watching the way they moved around in it. The familiarity, the assuredness, the practised routine motions. Or maybe that was just you. It was past midnight by now and slightly too cold to have the windows down.

“Which college do you stay in?” he asked, pulling out of the driveway. 

“Oh, I’m not resco,” you corrected, “I live on fifth near the west lawn.”

He apologised swiftly, turning out of the cul-de-sac and onto the main road. “Jake told me you’re a scholar, so I guess I assumed.” He had stacks of silver rings on his fingers, and you couldn’t stop staring at them as his hands moved on the steering wheel.

It was a cold night, and the air was sharp and crisp. Both of you fell silent for a while, him focusing on driving and you watching the empty streets whiz past, leaning out of the window slightly to feel the wind on your face. Like a dog. You retreated and put your seatbelt back on. He smiled at you, amused. You looked at him questioningly.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head and turning back to the road, “you’re cute.”

You were sure you were blushing — you could feel your cheeks burning — but you prayed it was too dark for him to notice. “Thanks for getting me away from the party,” you finally said after a while, “and for earlier.”

“It’s really fine. You looked like you needed some fresh air, anyway,” he said, dismissing your gratitude for a second time. Neither of you mentioned Hyeongjin. “Should we just drive around, or do you want to get a bite to eat? I’m not sure what’s still open.”

“There’s a diner two streets over that only closes at two,” you suggested. You knew that because you used to work there; that was where you and Jake met. Three weeks after your boss cut your hours he’d let you go completely, and how it was even still up and running you didn’t know. You hadn’t been back since.

“The one Jake found you crying outside of?” Heeseung asked, seemingly without thinking. “Sorry,” he added hastily. “Jake has never told me anything ever.”

“The one and only,” you smiled in your own self-deprecating way, pointing in the direction of the diner. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

You were really starting to regret not bringing a coat or jacket with you. He noticed this immediately. “Are you cold? Hold on.” As soon as he put the car in park, he shrugged off his black jacket and handed it to you. You put it on with a thank you while he switched off the engine. It was soft and warm and smelt like soy wax and sandalwood.

The diner was completely empty aside from the single employee on the clock. You didn’t recognise him; he must have joined after you were sacked. Aside from him, though, everything was exactly how you remembered it to be. Outside, it had started to rain.

Heeseung let you order for him since you were the expert (his words), but he didn’t let you pay. You made yourselves comfortable in a corner booth while you waited. The tabletop was slightly sticky, the window overlooked an extremely picturesque back alley dumpster, and the fifties-themed decor was more cheap costume party than retro. Yes, the diner hadn’t changed at all.

“Nice view,” he said sarcastically, looking out the window. What had begun as a drizzle had swiftly evolved into a downpour. He fiddled with his wallet as he spoke, his hands and rings distracting you more than you would like to admit.

“Yeah, in hindsight this probably wasn’t the best place to bring you to,” you acquiesced. Strangely enough, though, the longer you looked out the same window, the more the view started to become pleasing to the eye. The rain-slicked cobblestones and brick walls glistened and shone as they reflected the amber light of the streetlamps overhead, lending even the dingy alley an almost other-worldly feel.

“It’s actually perfect,” he said, watching you instead of the view now. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing. His eyes were warm and brown and doe-like, the kind of eyes that made you feel like he liked you a bit better than anyone else when he looked at you.

The employee arrived with your order right then: two plates of apple crumble with vanilla ice cream. His name tag read Dylan, but you knew the diner only had six nametags and rotated between them. Whoever clocked in the earliest had first-dibs on their identity that day; you usually ended up being Alex. 

“Please tell me Jake’s told you things about me that don’t make me sound pathetic,” you joked, rolling (or struggling to roll) up the too-long sleeves of Heeseung’s jacket.

He set down his fork and gestured to your hands. You held them out and he rolled the sleeves up for you, making you blush again. You must’ve looked surprised because he immediately apologised and let go of your wrists, as if he hadn’t realised what he was doing. He smiled sheepishly and started apologising.

“It- it’s fine,” you stuttered, bottom lip between your teeth. His fingers had felt cold against your skin. He apologised again and began fiddling with the silver chain of his one long dangly earring while you pretended to inspect the salt shaker (you didn’t want to look at him, he made you nervous). Even in the dimly-lit, mildly dingy diner, the rings on his hands caught the light.

He watched you stare at the salt for a polite length of time, amused by your shyness, before asking, “What are you thinking about?”

You coughed and dropped the salt shaker. “About what I was like when I used to work here. My freshman year, really,” you replied. “It’s a weird feeling, growing up.”

“I get that. It must have been difficult,” he said thoughtfully. You shrugged, not really knowing what to say. “I had a hard enough time adjusting to resco. I can’t imagine what you and Jake went through, having to move countries on top of that.”

You were just about to reply when his phone rang. “Speak of the devil,” he remarked.

“I lost Y/N,” Jake’s panicked voice cut cleanly through the background noises of the party around him over Heeseung’s speakers.

Heeseung looked up at you and smiled, conspiratorial, holding a finger to his lips. You nodded in agreement. “Well, hello to you too,” he said. 

Jake didn’t even acknowledge the provocation. He was a good friend. “Where are you? You gotta help me look for them.”

“I barely know what they look like because you show me the shittiest pictures of them. How am I supposed to help you?” Heeseung countered. So it wasn’t just you, then. 

“Hee, I’m serious,” Jake pressed. The worry in his voice immediately made you feel bad about messing with him.

“I’m safe, Jakey. We’re at the diner,” you interjected.

The fact that you and Heeseung were together, and together at a secondary location, didn’t seem to register for Jake. His concern for you was sweet. “I’ve been calling and texting you non-stop for twenty minutes! Why didn’t you answer?” he chastised.

“My phone is broken as you will recall, seeing as you were the one who broke it,” you retorted. He’d dropped your phone over a balcony and straight onto hard concrete two days ago when he was playing with it. It had fallen four storeys and practically disintegrated on impact. Heeseung suppressed a laugh by shoving his last bite of apple crumble into his mouth.

“I forgot,” Jake whined, relenting. But he quickly became serious again. “I couldn’t find you. I was really worried.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m safe, I promise,” you assured him. “And thank you for checking up on me! I love you.”

Jake sighed, but he seemed to have calmed down. “Love you too. Love you, Hee.”

“Love you more, Jake,” Heeseung echoed, and then hung up. He turned back to you, giggling. “I don’t think it even occurred to him that you’re with me right now.”

You laughed. “Me neither.” Not-Dylan came to clear your empty plates, an obvious hint to tell you to get the hell out so he could start closing up. It was about one in the morning, an hour before closing. 

Heeseung glanced at his watch. “I’m surprisingly not tired at all,” he said vaguely, playing with his earring again, like he wasn’t ready for the night to end but didn’t know how to ask you not to leave.

You followed him out of the diner, feeling shy. “I don’t want to go home yet either,” you admitted.

——————————

“I know a place we can go,” Heeseung said as you both climbed back into his car and he started the engine. He didn’t roll down the windows this time and turned the heat up high (it had gotten much colder). You felt a little guilty for taking his jacket, but he’d refused to take it back when you had offered.

“By all means, lead the way.”

The place was a grassy hill behind one of the other rescos. He pulled up at the base of it and hopped out, taking the blankets and plastic tarp he kept in the backseat with him.

It was a three minute climb up to the top of the hill overlooking your entire university town. Although the streets below were gleaming with light, filled with pinpricks of white and yellow that beamed through the windows and curtains of houses and shopfronts, the sound didn’t carry. From atop the hill, you couldn’t hear any loud music from the multiple parties that were surely raging on, any talking from the groups of drunk students wandering from club to club, or any cars weaving their way down roads and alleys. Barring the occasional whistle of the cold breeze and the quiet rustling of autumn leaves the breeze brought, it was quiet.

“Here it is,” he announced, with a sweeping gesture and a slightly nervous giggle, “the best view in town.” You didn’t have much to compare it to, but you were inclined to believe him.

“I didn’t even know this place existed,” you told him, helping him spread the tarp out on the wet grass. It was more than big enough for the both of you. “Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes, when I need to be alone,” he answered, passing you one of the two blankets in his arms. You both wrapped up to shield yourselves from the biting winds, much fiercer up on the hill than they had been at street level, strong enough to make your eyes water.

The thing about Jake having tried to set you up with Heeseung for so long was that you already knew all the basic details about him: his age, his major, his hobbies, his hometown, and even whether or not he had siblings. How were you supposed to make casual conversation with a stranger with whom you were already so well acquainted?

“It’s a nice night.” Not like that, that’s for sure. You laughed despite yourself, admitting to him, “I don’t know what to talk about.”

Heeseung rested his chin on his left hand. “I was just about to say the same thing. Jake might have shot himself in the foot a little there.”

His shoulder was almost touching yours, albeit separated by two thick flannel blankets. He smelled faintly like soy and sandalwood, just like his jacket. His eyes sparkled, tearing slightly from the wind, large and captivating as he looked at you. He was so close.

“I’m sorry I said the thing earlier about you crying outside of the diner,” he said after a few seconds. “I didn’t mean to.”

You shook your head and glanced away, because you could feel yourself starting to get nervous again. “No, don’t be. It was funny.”

“Do you know how worried Jake was about you that day?” he asked, playing idly with his rings.

You and Jake rarely talked about how you met after the first few weeks or so of you knowing each other, mainly because he knew you felt like you owed him for his help and he didn’t like you bringing that up. “He stayed up for two hours calling people to get you that job. I think you reminded him of himself when he first moved here.”

When you didn’t say anything in response, he pulled at his earring, stared up at the night sky, and sighed. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“It’s fine,” you said, evidently much worse at controlling your expressions than you thought you were. Or perhaps he was just good at reading people.

There was a long silence. “You don’t have to feel bad that Jake helped you. He did it of his own accord,” he pointed out sagely.

This was a familiar conversation for you; you had it with yourself all the time. “Did Jake tell you to say that?” you asked.

He was still watching you; you could see him doing so out of the corner of your eye. His gaze was intense, and you were squirming under it. “No, I just thought you needed to hear it,” he said.

“Oh. That’s really sweet. Thank you.”

Both of you fell silent again. Then, he lay down and pulled his blanket up to his chin, like he was in bed.

“What are you doing?” you asked, bemused.

He looked up at you with a boyish grin. “Stargazing. Come join me.”

So you lay down on the tarp right beside him, surprised that there were even any visible stars upon which to gaze. The moon was full and bright, and the night sky was clear enough to see at least a few dozen stars. 

“I had fun today,” he said after a few seconds, staring up at the sky, “much more than I usually do at parties.”

“I did too.” You turned to look at him, but he caught you staring and you immediately looked away, changing the subject. “But I thought you liked partying.”

“Not really. Not everyone in resco is a party animal, you know,” he said in mock-offence.

You laughed, counting the stars. “I saw you with Jake in the foyer, though! You looked like you fit right in.”

“That means I’m a good actor,” he joked, before becoming serious, turning onto his side. You did too, coming face-to-face with him. He glanced down at your lips, not pointedly, but obviously and for long enough that you noticed it. “No, I just tend to go along with it. It makes things easier.”

“I get that,” you nodded, looking away momentarily so you could think. He was staring right into your eyes, and, with his face just inches away from yours and eyes that mesmerising, it was a little too much for you to handle. You wondered if he was as flustered by the eye contact as you were. “So what do you actually like to do?” you asked.

He turned your question over in his head, propping himself up on his elbow. “Music, mostly. I spend a lot of time in the studio. Jake told me you do too.”

You hesitated for a bit before suggesting, while trying and probably failing to sound casual, “Maybe we can hang out together in the studio someday.”

“Yeah, let’s. It’ll be fun,” he smiled, leaning in ever so slightly. He wanted to do something, to make a move on you, maybe, but he didn’t get the chance because it abruptly started raining again. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mumbled under his breath, while the rain pissed down around you. For all of his flaws, Zeus did have great comedic timing. 

Part of you wanted to kiss him right then and there, and it seemed like he wanted you to too, because neither of you moved or made any attempts to shield yourselves from the weather for at least a few seconds. Then, you sneezed. He laughed, and so did you.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you said breathlessly, stumbling to your feet. You and him draped your blankets over your shoulders in a desperate attempt to stave off the cold. He picked up the tarp, gestured for you to come closer, and wrapped the tarp loosely around you both. You were both already absolutely drenched, so it wasn’t doing much to keep you dry, but at least it shielded you from more rain.

“Is this alright?” he asked, his arms around your shoulders, chest pressed against your back. Something about the way he looked down at you made you feel warm even as you shivered, chilled to the bone by both the downpour and the howling night winds. You nodded.

It was only mildly challenging to make it down the hill, now slick and muddy with rain, bundled up together in the tarp. Neither of you could stop giggling at the absurdity of your situation even after you’d made it back to his car. He couldn’t unlock the doors fast enough.

Rainwater dripped from your hair and formed puddles under your feet as you sat there for a minute or two, the heater on full blast. Your teeth were chattering.

“Is your car ruined now?” you asked, warming your hands on the nearest vent.

“It’s fine. I’m junking it soon anyway,” he said, wiping his hands on his t-shirt so he wouldn’t get the leather of his steering wheel wet before putting his car in drive. He was shivering. “I’ll take you back to resco. The party should’ve wound down already.”

You leant forward to tilt one of the vents towards him. You hadn’t even noticed he’d pointed both of them at you earlier. “Jake’s going to have a lot of questions,” you remarked.

He unlocked and passed you his phone, keeping his other hand on the wheel. “You can call him and let him know we’ll be home soon,” he said. Jake was saved as ‘the jingling fool’ in his contacts — you called the right person only because you knew Jake’s number by heart — which made you smile. He picked up on the third ring.

“Hee, buddy, where are you? Are you coming home?”

“Hey Jakey,” you greeted, putting him on speaker.

His confusion was palpable. “Y/N? Huh? What? Where are you?” Heeseung threw his head back and laughed gleefully, leaning over the centre console to say hi.

“We’re on the way back,” you said, laughing too, not bothering to explain yourself. “Is the party over yet?”

Jake was still processing. “Uh- wait- well, there aren’t many people left, so we’ll chase them out in a bit. I’m about to head upstairs myself. Are you with Heeseung? Like, Heeseung Heeseung?”

“Yes, they are. Keep up, man,” Heeseung teased, shaking his head in mock disapproval even though Jake couldn’t see him.

“We got caught in the rain,” you added, nonchalant.

“What- okay,” Jake sighed, lost. “I’ll get some towels and clothes ready for you.”

——————————

Heeseung and Jake lived on the highest floor of the resco in a private apartment rather than regular dorm rooms which they shared with two other students, Jay and Sunghoon. You’d met them once or twice, but Jake usually came over to your place to hang out, not the other way around. Jake lent you a change of clothes and let you use his bathroom for a hot shower.

By the time you returned to the living room, Heeseung was already sitting on the sofa with Jake, the pair deeply engrossed in what appeared to be a serious conversation. When they heard you close Jake’s bedroom door behind you, they looked up in perfect unison and pulled apart immediately, as if they’d both been caught doing something wrong.

“Hi,” Heeseung greeted, seeming slightly and uncharacteristically awkward. His hair was wet and messy and adorably stuck to his forehead. He was now in a black t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay. The shower helped,” you answered, “you?” You weren’t sure why both of you had suddenly become so stiff and uneasy, and you also didn’t notice Jake giggling into his hand as he watched the two of you.

“Yeah, I’m all good too,” Heeseung smiled, again weirdly stilted. You gave him a thumbs-up, mentally kicking yourself for that even before you'd raised your hand. A thumbs-up? In this economy? Whatever they’d been talking about earlier, he turned to Jake and unsubtly changed the subject. “So, how was the party?”

“Yeah, Jakey, how was the party? You looked pretty popular with the ladies,” you teased, grinning. Of course that didn’t surprise you — Jake was handsome and sweet and had charisma coming out of his ears. 

“Ew. Don’t say ‘ladies’. It sounds sexist,” Jake said, deflecting. You laughed but continued waiting for an answer, not willing to let him off the hook so easily. So did Heeseung, who wiggled his eyebrows at him in anticipation. Jake capitulated, throwing his hands up in the air. “Fine, whatever! Nothing came of it. The girl I was talking to ditched me when her ex-boyfriend showed up.”

Heeseung winced. “Sorry, dude.”

“It’s her loss,” you said.

Jake waved away your concerns, putting his arm around your shoulder and messing up your hair. “Yeah, well, I got to spend tonight babysitting my idiot friends instead, so it all worked out in the end.”

The conversation lulled for a bit, but it was a comfortable silence. Heeseung broke it when he nudged your shoulder with his to get your attention. “Do you want to get dinner with me next week?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, and then turned to Jake expectantly.

Jake snorted at your obliviousness. “I think Hee was just inviting you.”

“Oh. Right.” You felt your cheeks heat up. Heeseung took a sip of his drink and nodded in confirmation, not once breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m really good at this. Should I start a matchmaking service?” Jake asked, smug. He was going to tease you mercilessly about this later.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, cupid,” Heeseung said, before turning back to you. “Are you tired? You look exhausted.” You weren’t sure how long he’d been watching you try to keep your eyes open, but it made you shy all the same.

“A little,” you conceded. “You must be too. It’s been a long day.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Jake offered, standing up. You looked at him quizzically. His gaze shifted slowly from you to Heeseung and then back to you before he realised. He coughed, awkward. “On second thought, I am really tired. Hee, maybe you can walk them home.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Heeseung agreed, pretending not to have noticed to save him the embarrassment. “I’ll go grab my keys.”

While Heeseung dipped back into his bedroom, Jake turned to you. “I told you,” he said with a shit-eating grin on his face, pulling you to your feet. “I told you you’d like him.”

“I didn't even say anything,” you said, feeling defensive and very perceived.

“You’re giving him gargantuan heart eyes,” he countered, punching you lightly in the shoulder. “Although to be fair, they are mutual.”

“Gargantuan,” you echoed mockingly, rolling your eyes, but you didn’t even try to refute either of his observations.

He punched your shoulder again. “Shut up. I’ve been working on my stupid paper for a week. Every time I close my eyes I see a thesaurus.”

“Ready to go?” Heeseung asked you, returning from his room, spinning his keys around one finger. He had a forest green sweatshirt in his hand.

Jake grabbed you by the shoulders before you could answer, stopping you from turning around. “He really likes you too, Y/N. Don’t get in your head,” he whispered to you, suddenly solemn. You knew he was being serious, for once. You thanked him before you left.

——————————

“You live on fifth, right?”

“Yeah, it’s ten minutes away that way,” you said, pointing down the road. Your shoes were still wet, and you didn’t have any socks on (the ones you had been wearing were in a holey plastic bag on your arm with the rest of your clothes that was currently dripping on the pavement as you walked). It was a highly unpleasant sensation. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Of course. Here, it’s cold,” Heeseung said, offering you the green sweatshirt in his hand. You realised only then that he’d brought it along with him for you.

“You should wear it. I have this,” you said, holding up the strings of Jake’s hoodie. It was fleece-lined and surprisingly warm. He looked slightly dejected, although he tried to shake it off. “But thank you!” you added in haste.

When he was done putting on his sweatshirt, he began, “Can I ask you something?”

Before he could ask his question, you stopped him and gestured for him to lean down so you could fix his hair, not really thinking straight. It only took a few seconds, but by the time you were finished, he was blushing furiously. He turned away from you to fan his face.

“I’m sorry, I-” You’d practically jumped his bones. Your face was burning too.

“No, it’s fine!” he said, rushing to reassure you. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

You looked away, wondering if you’d be strong enough to pry off the nearby manhole cover by yourself so you could jump down into the sewer like the rat you were. As the two of you walked, him on the outside of the pavement next to the road, you snuck a glance at him. He had his hands pressed to his reddening cheeks, the sleeves of his green sweatshirt half-covering his fingers, and a huge, shy smile on his face. He was adorable. And he’d caught you staring.

“So what did you want to ask me?” you asked, looking away and playing with your hoodie strings and feigning innocence.

“Uh- well, it might be a weird question,” he prefaced, rubbing the back of his neck. You gestured for him to continue. He cleared his throat. “Is there anything going on between you and Jake?”

It wasn’t that weird of a question. Weird for him to ask, maybe, given the circumstances, but it was a question you were rather accustomed to getting. “Everyone always asks us that,” you said, amused.

“I mean, you are wearing his clothes right now,” he pointed out.

“Touché,” you conceded, before you realised you still hadn’t given him an actual answer. “We’re just friends. I’m always with him because he’s the only friend I have here.” It was true; since you’d moved here a year and a half ago, you’d collected your fair share of acquaintances but never managed to make any real friends apart from Jake. You were always too busy studying or working, and you were well aware that you weren’t exactly the easiest person to get to know.

You’d reached your apartment building. He stopped walking. “But you don’t have feelings for him?” he asked, hopeful.

“No, never,” you replied, placing your hand on your heart in a faux-serious display of honesty. He beamed. 

“Perfect.” He placed one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, closed his eyes, and leant in. You froze. When he felt your muscles tense up under his hands, he easily pivoted and kissed you on the cheek instead. “You okay?” he whispered, watching your expression closely, still smiling.

You looked away. “Yeah, I’m good, I- sorry.” God, you were such an idiot.

Now he was concerned. He smoothly tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch feather-light on your skin. “Too much too fast?” he said.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, and although the feeling of his hands on you was nice, you stepped away from him. He was going to think you were blowing him off, when in reality you were just- well, whatever you were.

If he was upset, he didn’t show it. He held out his hands to you, open, palms up, non-threatening. You placed your own on top of his, lacing your fingers together. He had taken off his rings. “Can I kiss your forehead?” he asked. You nodded. He took a small step towards you, running his thumbs over your knuckles, and gently pressed his mouth to your forehead right under your hairline before letting you go.

There was a strange feeling in your chest, like you were buzzing with light, and it was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. “Wait,” you blurted out. He glanced back at you. You reached for the crew neck of his sweatshirt, stood on your toes, and pulled him closer to you, bringing your lips to his. His mouth was as cold as his hands, but so were yours. 

After you pulled away he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again, deeper this time, before leaning down and resting his forehead against yours.

“Hello,” he said playfully.

You giggled. “Hi.”

“Jake would be proud of you for making the first move,” he mused, his hands still on your face. He wanted to move them down to your waist and hold you closer to him, but he decided not to push you too far.

You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t want to think about Jake right now.”

Heeseung smirked. His breath fanned your face as he spoke. You had one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest, with his lean, broad-shouldered frame curled in around yours. “Yeah? What do you want to think about?”

You paused, biting your tongue, but you ultimately chose to say it anyway. “Whether you want to come and see me at work tomorrow,” you said, already wincing at the corniness of your words.

“That was so smooth,” he teased, making you blush even harder. “I’ll come. Are you still working at Think Tea?”

“How- oh, Jake told you. Yeah, I am,” you told him. “I’ll be on the clock the whole day tomorrow.”

He took your hand that was resting on his chest and brought it up to his mouth, pressing a small kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll be there,” he promised, smiling, still gently holding onto your wrist. He really did have a beautiful smile. The way his round eyes crinkled and narrowed, the way his cheeks rose, everything.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you said again.

“Of course. Good night.”

“Good night, Heeseung.”

You headed up the porch steps to the front door of your apartment building and turned around one last time. He was still standing on the pavement, hands in his pockets, watching you. You waved, he waved back, and you let yourself in.

——————————

thanks for reading <3

-minastras

[jimothy-hopkins]

Too lazy to draw him but this is Dennis Todd’s ref sheet!

Info About Dennis-Todd!

General description:

Dennis-Todd is a tall and lanky individual. The most striking feature he has are his eyes, which are two separate colors. His right eye is blue, while his left eye is brown. Dennis-Todd doesn’t have much muscle, and is on the skinnier side. He wears wire framed glasses and has blonde hair down to his shoulders. He is exceptionally pretty for a guy. Dennis-Todd also has a thick Louisiana accent

Dennis-Todd, despite being at the bottom of the social hierarchy, stands up for himself quite frequently. He has an attitude and is not afraid to throw insults. Dennis-Todd has a sarcastic sense of humor, and can definitely be backhanded with his words. The majority of the time he is very kind. Dennis-Todd treats everyone he meets with respect, even referring to peers as ma’am or sir. He was raised to be a gentleman by his parents, and Dennis-Todd knows a little kindness goes a long way at Bullworth.

Interests and whatnot:

Dennis-Todd rode horses before he left Louisiana. He competed in pole-bending and cowboy mounted shooting. He was exceptionally talented at shooting.

Before he moved Dennis-Todd also hunted. He hunted gators and deer with his father and brother. Dennis has an impressive pair of antlers mounted on his wall that belonged to a large buck. He also had a pair of boots and a belt made from gator skin.

Dennis-Todd has always loved human anatomy. He enjoys learning about how the body works. He is very interested in taking a job in the medical field, more specifically radiology.

From a young age Dennis-Todd loved music. He loved walking the streets of New Orleans and hearing performers play on the street corners. He plays the trumpet and enjoys jazz and the blues. Dennis-Todd is a very talented player, and is apart of the marching band.

Reputation:

The jocks seems to be oddly hot and cold with Dennis-Todd. Some members hate him and others avoid him. This is majorly due to the fact he is in a not-so-secret relationship with one of the players, Denton. (For context, Denton is my partner’s OC)

The greasers think Dennis-Todd is a stuck up little prick. They don’t like his attitude and generally think he’s a bitch.

Dennis-Todd does not mind the preps. They do get on his nerves when they say things that are completely out of touch. He corrects them on it a lot. Dennis-Todd is on very thin ice.

The bullies try their hardest to aggravate and harass Dennis-Todd into giving up. He doesn’t take any of their shit and usually bullies them back though. On one occasion he made Wade Martin cry.

Dennis-Todd is in very good standing with the nerds. He helps them in their academic and dorky endeavors. H appreciates their company. He is close friends with Bucky and Cornelius, as well as Beatrice. Earnest hates Dennis-Todd because he feels like he’s being replaced by him.

Quotes:

“New day same ol’ bullshit.”

“Lower your tone when you talk to me.”

“Not even science would want your body!”

“If I have to get in that rank ass mascot again I’m gon’ rip my hair out!”

“This is why we can’t have nice things y’all.”

“Sorry I have to go help Denton with his math homework.”

“Yeah and that’s why you built like somebody’s meemaw!”

“Does Mr. Galloway even know where he is?”

“Yeah and that’s why you ain’t got no bitch Johnny.”

“Derby that’s a lotta shit comin’ from you considerin’ you look like somebody’s failed art project.”

“Jimmy shut up talkin’ to me like that and tend to your hoe posse.”

“I wish you would!”

“Hey honey how are you?”

“I am NOT gettin’ in that pool Coach Burton you can kiss my ass!”

“Darlin’ is he givin’ you trouble again? I’ll go settle that out for you real quick don’t you worry honey.”

“Her? Oh don’t be too hurt now honey that girl’s taken more turns than a keyhole.”

“Bless your heart.”

“Here, let me help you with this real quick. This subject’s hard I know.”

“Shh, honey don’t cry. If you cry I’ll cry, cause I’d be damned to let someone be upset all alone. C’mere.”

“I’m pretty sure whatever Edna’s cookin’ up in that kitchen will be our LAST supper, let’s go down to the pizza shop.”

[swampstew]

Hiii I hope you know your one of the greatest unappreciated writers I’ve ever seen and your very nice 😊

I’m kind of shy so I’ll make this quick since I’m not the best at this if you want to write for yandere luffy maybe you could write this you don’t have too platonic/romantic fluffy headcanons of yandere luffy having a shy timid soft s/o who’s nerdy and smart? But they try to match his energy in a cute way? Like being cheerful and not so fearful? And hug him more because they want to make him feel loved? Feel free to take your time or ignore have fun!

Hi anon ~ that's so sweet and kind of you to say <3 Sorry I took some time on this but this is now the kick off on my Yandere Content Week! Thank you for your request, I gave it my best shot below and hope you like it👉👈

WC: 661 CW: SFW; not-gender specific reader; Yandere Luffy; kidnapping reader; maybe stockholm? sorry if it's awful or too OOC or not Yandere enough I am just a little lady trying my best!

Bless both your souls. You thought he was just really friendly, and you’re not wrong he is – just uhhh he doesn’t really take no for an answer and he reeeeeallllyy wants you to join his crew. What does he have to do to convince you to go with him? Job or education? No need when you’re a pirate! A resume is more important than a diploma (no offense Robin). Worried about your safety? Don’t! What else are you saying? He can’t hear you over the sound of the whistling air as he yeets you from your island on to his ship. Why would he do that? Well cause if you had it your way, he’d have to fight every person you cared about to keep them from holding you back from him. Man, woman, child, he does not give a shit, square up!

The ship is already in motion so you’re stuck with the Straw Hat crew. The others seem mildly surprised, something about Luffy not hyper focusing on any one person so long that he resorts to kidnapping (often) but stranger things have happened – moving on. You’re lucky, all things considering. Luffy is literally the best pirate from the Worst Generation to be snatched by. He’s goofy by nature and generally kind. But oh boy is he selfish. Well, you would know now wouldn’t you?

Luffy can be selfish but he would never want you to be unhappy so he’ll do anything to make sure you’re having a good time. Want to fish with him? Catch bugs with him? Explore a thick jungle and see what wild creatures you’ll come across? You find yourself running after him, he is pretty fun and honestly, reckless, and constantly needs your help getting unstuck from wherever he ended up wedged in. When you’re travelling on the sea for weeks on end, Luffy keeps you company as you read Robin’s books, or as you watch and ask Franky questions about himself and his robotics, he doesn’t care – he just likes spending time with you. Especially since you’ve started coming out of your shell lately.

Luffy was afraid at first that you hated and resented him for taking you. And you did but even you had to admit that being around the rubber man wasn’t as bad as you initially thought. Just, your consent would have been cool first, that’s all. Nevertheless, Luffy brought out the best in you – without him, you wouldn’t have known how exciting life could be, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to be so in sync with you. It’s like he always knew what you needed before you did. Or maybe it was the crew pitching in and giving him an edge but all you knew is that you’ve never been treated as kindly or as well before. Luffy gives you all his attention, he listens with enthusiasm as you share the things you enjoy or the new things you discover. He goes the extra mile to make sure you get whatever you want. In return you also reciprocate the enthusiasm and attention.

Luffy’s content with the relationship never getting physical or even romantic, it does not really matter to him all he wants is you, on his crew but specifically with him, and for no one else to ever have you. That works perfectly for you, your feelings on him are still mixed. Over the course of several months, your personality transforms from a shy, self-proclaimed nerdy person to a more confident version of yourself. Luffy teaches and instills you with empowerment, assertiveness, even cockiness! You went from being stiff and awkward around him to sneaking him hugs from behind, letting him intertwine his fingers with yours, and more often than not, sneaking pokes to each other’s side to elicit maniacal laughter and sharp cries of protest. Neither of you show mercy during these tickle wars, just another trait he rubbed off on you.