#i've been trying to post this for like three hours lmao

[bubbarnes]

“my first on-screen kiss? i wanna say, like, "tony n' tina's wedding"... probably gossip girl. yeah, maybe gossip girl. i don't know. i think so. i gotta remember it. happy valentine's day! be careful. protect your heart”.

[karmaphone]

tfw you're being extremely triggered by an innocuous thing that a mutual keeps reblogging but it's exactly the sort of shit that you can't reasonably ask another person to tag for

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. one (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 9,7k.

WARNINGS: eventual SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, crying, mentions of drinking and drug usage, mature language, petty behavior, insults, yunho and reader really hate each other i fear, pet names (princess), negative mentions of body image, panic attacks/panic disorder, negative??? (or so they think) tension. no smut on this part, it's an introduction to these two characters, their families and the chaos they bring to poor yunho's and readers life.

NOTES: hi everyone! i know i posted the hwa fic ten days ago or so, but i wanted to get started with this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE. there's mentions of the last installment plot so, if you're new around here, you can always find the rest of the stories on my masterist! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: september 14th 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68, @e3ellie, @alsomimi

masterlist. / part two / part three.

A trembling finger is all you can see in the still dim light of the room. 

It's quiet, very quiet. You haven't heard anything but your thoughts all night. It grosses you out, so you wait for the clock to turn to six and press the button you've been hovering on for, at least, half an hour.

Park Seonghwa is your only hope right now. 

The conversation doesn't go as planned. 

“No, I will not go to the party with you and no, I will not pretend to be your boyfriend.” 

Not even your great pitch could've turned him around to help you. Sighing, you replay the conversation in your pounding head. 

“This is very inconvenient for me but I hope you and the cool girl I saw yesterday are happy together… Even if it ruins my happiness forever!” 

Your happiness was probably ruined the day you were born. Sighing again, you turn to the window. 

It’s raining. 

You didn’t notice until you ended the call that was, if you’re being honest with yourself, your last resource. 

Brain rotting away the entire night, wine drunk and edible high, you didn’t even notice the rain accompanied you through your misery. 

The sound of the droplets hitting your studio window and the sun trying to break through the gloomy clouds adds insult to injury: You’re running out of time. 

Any time now, your mother is going to call you up to let you know you’re possibly getting promised tonight. Not engaged, but promised and presented. 

Like you’re some sort of property your parents can give away. 

Nails connecting with your glass desk, the noise syncs up with the rain pattering on your window sill and, to your tired mind, it also mimics the tic-tacking an old clock would make.

You figured, if you show up with someone on your arm tonight, they might finally leave you alone. 

And not marry you off to Jeong Yunho. 

There’s not enough hours in the day to plan a perfect escape, there’s not enough will left inside you to reach out to someone else and make everything seem genuine, organic, like you’ve known each other for years and kept it a secret all this time. 

There's not enough time to save yourself. 

Because there's this… unspoken agreement you’ve known about since you were eight. 

Your parents and Yunho’s parents are friends. Your mom went to school with his mom and your dad met his dad when they were teenagers and they all got married off respectively because it was what worked for their families at the time so, after hearing the superficial love story at the age of seven, you knew you were going to meet the same fate eventually. 

And the next year, you met Yunho. 

He was an hyperactive little kid with a lot of energy and facts about the earth you didn’t care to listen to because the second you started playing with him in his huge backyard and turned to check if your mother was watching you, you realized that was not a casual playdate. 

Smiling ear to ear, both your mother and his, it signaled to you that it has started. 

Your planned love story with Jeong Yunho had sailed smoothly in their eyes and there was nothing you could do about it. 

Naturally, you have hated him since then. But you were taught etiquette and were media trained since you turned three and could form complete sentences, so your hatred only really showed when you two were alone. 

Turns out, he didn’t really care if you liked him or not. 

He’s always been good at pretending as well. 

That chirpy personality, kindness and humbleness he exudes in front of everyone else? An act. 

And you were proud of yourself when you saw right through his bullshit when you were both eleven and left alone so he could show you around their new, bigger house. 

Gone too soon was that child who wanted to teach you about worms in his backyard and in its place there was this distant tween who’s smile disappeared as soon as your mothers were out of sight. 

“Listen, I don’t know why we’re being forced to hang out but I don’t like you.” 

Dumb kid. 

“Good, because I don't like you either but they can’t find that out.” 

He scoffed, crossing his arms and frowning at you “I’m planning on telling mommy that you… chased me around with a knife or something, so she can see how psycho you actually are and stop forcing me to be around you!”

Eyes lighting up, that was the first time you saw a possible escape from all of this “You think that would actually work?” 

Annoyed and a little freaked out, Yunho pointed at the smirk on your lips “See? That’s exactly what I mean: Psycho.”

And you both only grew hostile at each other since then. Sure, saving face in front of your parents and older siblings was necessary to not get scolded and revoked of your privileges (and you actually liked to be alone with him, only if it meant you could take a break from your mother and her judging gaze), but pretending to like Yunho proved to be more difficult than what you had imagined. 

Especially when you both outgrew the phase where you tried anything and everything under the sun to piss the other off. Not so harmless pranks were pulled and the petty behavior got you both in trouble with your oldest brothers a couple of times but, no matter how hard you tried, it never “accidentally” got to your mother. Or his, for that matter. 

So when you two stopped trying to get your point across and grew cold towards one another, that's when it got really ugly. Vile words cut through both of your egos harshly, family vacations that include his were uncomfortable and holidays were your personal hell. 

December thirty-first and January first have always felt like purgatory. Christmas was always spared because you have family living on the other side of the world who you travel to see every year but it's never truly enjoyable when you know that, in the next couple of days after that, you'll see his dumb face. 

But you have always smiled brightly at him and hugged him when he comes in with his unnecessary luggage at your home. You hold his arm and bat your eyelashes when you know your mom is watching from a distance and it all but confuses him every single time. 

Remembering the time you both were thirteen and you went through very sudden puberty makes you smile. The look on his face when your kitty heels helped show how tall you got over the summer was fantastic. 

“Look at what the cat brought in!” Scrunching your nose and squeezing his cheeks in fake affection, you noticed it took a lot for him to not swat your hands away. 

But you also remember noticing that he was blushing when you pulled away. 

“You look like a very ugly gigant,” he whispered with a smile, matter of factly and all “It doesn't really suit you.” 

He was a pain in the ass. A manageable pain in the ass, but a pain nonetheless. 

It all took a wrong turn when he caught up on your mothers plans by age fifteen. By that age, you've known for a while and the mercy you had on him, on explaining everything you believed to be true, was simply a way of keeping everything at arm's length from you. 

The second he put two and two together, your guesses had automatically turned into a possible reality you couldn't cope with. 

A reality that's about to hit you in the face and leave a bruise that doesn't really go with your polished image. 

The rain picks up and you close your eyes in hopes of coming up with a new idea. 

It only makes your headache worse. 

You really should get going with your day. 

There's appointments you need to get to, meetings you have to fill the space in because your brother is going to fail to show up as usual and you have to get your hair and make-up done for tonight. 

You really shouldn't be crying right now. 

Are you even allowed to cry? 

Your fate was probably decided the day you were born, five months and a few days after Yunho. 

“Shit.” 

Sobbing is useless, so you get in the shower. You do your skincare routine and plan the outfit you're going to wear to the office while you cover your eyebags and try to make it look seamless, natural even. 

If the struggle shows up in your face, you're going to get yelled at downstairs. 

Living with your parents might be a bigger nightmare than getting presented with Yunho tonight but there's really nothing you can do about that, either. 

Working in their company, gaining connections through them and being praised by simply having your last name attached to your first makes you completely useless when faced with a situation where you simply want to tell your mom to fuck off. 

“Y/N, I hope you already weighed down the options for the dress you're wearing tonight,” is what greets you when you enter the dining room, breakfast laid out perfectly across the table both your parents sit at. She's glancing at you in warning “And I hope you know that the navy blue dress is the best option. It's on theme and it's classy, it shows your figure too.” 

Fuck off. 

You might've been taught a bunch of things while growing up in this tinsel bubble but never ever were you taught how to stand up for yourself. 

It shows in the way you nod and smile and sit down on your designated spot next to your dad and in front of your mom. 

“Navy dress it is, ma'am.” 

The nod she gives in approval makes you nauseous. At least she's not saying anything about Yunho. 

“Excellent choice, dear.” 

You swallow the food on your pre-portioned plate with a tight throat and, after sipping your black coffee, you turn to your dad. 

Feeling a little delirious on lack of sleep and a little bold, especially when it comes to work related matters, you take the opportunity to press on the other thing that kept bothering you the entire night. 

“Father—” 

He sees right through you. 

“No, Y/N. It's not an open discussion, the deal is signed and sealed.” 

“It's not a smart choice.” 

“Kim Y/N!” slamming her utensils down on the table and making everything shake in the process, you barely flinch at your mothers warning “Are you calling your father dumb?” 

“No, of course I'm not,” you defend yourself immediately, the softness in your voice hanging by a thread because all you want to do is scream at her to stop putting words in your mouth “All I'm saying is that he's too generous. That company is not profitable and he gave them half a floor in the building and an initial investment that's going to backfire,” you calmly explain to her what you told him the day before “There’s not really a market for physical media anymore.” 

“And they're trying to bring it back,” your father returns, his eyes never straining from his food “I think it's a great idea. You said a couple of months ago that eighties and nineties style is coming back.” 

“As a trend,” you remind him with a tight smile “And trends tend to die down rather quickly.” 

“Soohyun approved it,” he finally looks up and his next words have you biting your tongue bitterly “You don't have a say on the final decision and you know it.” 

Damn right you fucking know it. 

“Are we clear on that?” 

Glancing at your mother, you notice how she's picking on her food to try and avoid sticking up for you. Not that she normally would but you think, as the years pass, the mistreatment must give her some sort of guilty feeling she can only escape if she avoids your eyes.  

Straightening your spine, you fix your face and smile with fake acceptance “Yes, sir.” 

The tinsel bubble brings in unnecessary amounts of money and privilege, but it doesn't really save you from tradition and misogyny. 

Soohyun is the firstborn, after all. 

He's also a complete fucking idiot. 

You love him a lot, but he's completely useless when it comes to this business. 

Although trained separately and for completely different positions, you always paid close attention to the company. 

You studied hard, you graduated early at the top of your class and went to business school as soon as you were able to. You even got to be valedictorian last year at your graduation and even then you knew you weren't getting your father's role once he took a step back from being the face of the company.

But you couldn't help but wish. 

Wishing and imagining was your way of coping with it. What if you were born a boy instead? You surely wouldn't be in this predicament. 

What if your brother wasn't pampered the way he was growing up? You surely didn't have to step in to save apparences with your employees.

Your day to day would probably flow so much smoothly if he actually wanted to do his job like he should. 

Heels clacking on the marble floor, you strut the hallway into his office to aggravate your headache just a bit more: The space is a mess and when you glance at the tree you started to paint on his wall when he asked you to help him quietly turn the space around but never got to finish it brings your mind to the man who declined your offer this morning. 

And the clock in your mind starts ticking again, faster and louder this time. 

Soohyun’s voice comes out of a corner in the big office, behind some piled up boxes   “Well that's not good.” 

Snapping out of it and turning to him, you cock your head to the side “What is it?” 

“You,” he comes out of his hiding spot, suit barely ironed and hair a little messy which makes you cringe “Usually, you complain as soon as you close that door,” he points at it with a tiny and concerned smile “So now I'm worried they cloned and replaced you, sis.” 

“Well, you made a mistake yesterday and there's nothing I can do now to cover it up so,” raising your arms before tossing your purse on the free loveseat that serves as his lounging area, you sigh “Nothing to complaint about today, except—” you squint your eyes, making a show of pretending to be thinking about it “Oh! I'm probably getting married off tonight.” 

The fake happiness laced in your tone makes your brother scoff. He walks to his desk, sitting down on his chair and shaking his head in disapproval. 

“It's not an engagement, Y/N. It's more of a… Public relations matter.” 

“Oh, so you agree with it?” Blood pressure skyrocketing, you quickly make your way across the space until you stand in front of him “You're fine with it?!” 

“Don't act like you didn't already know this was going to happen eventually,” leaning back, he gives you an apologetic look. That's how you know there's nothing he can do about it either “Jeong Tech is the largest investor, or primary partner and basically the first big successful business we helped to launch here.” 

The explanation is unnecessary. You know. You know he knows you know. 

“And after the stocks falling over that little… Hiccup they had last year—” 

“The selling clients information hiccup.” You recall with a tight smile. 

Soohyun gulps. 

“Yes, that, they need to rekindle their image with the press and, in the process, we gain a few reputation points in the market by association. You know how this works,” looking away for a moment, he bites the inside of his cheek before pressing on “And you two are loved and shipped by everyone online already. Grandmas swoon at the potential TVN drama they could make about your love story.” 

What fucking love story? 

It's more like a gruesome, slashy horror movie to you. 

“Okay, is that why they don't marry me to Gunho instead?” 

“No, Y/N, they don't marry you off to Gunho because he's in love and soon to be engaged to a complete nobody,” he responds right away with a shrug “Besides, you and Yunho—” 

“We hate each other. We—” 

“Now, I wouldn't say that—” 

“—Completely and utterly despise one another. He's the unwanted dirt under my Louis Vuitton heel, he's the bee I want to kill but can't because they are needed for the environment,” you continue without taking a breath “He's somehow needed to this environment,” meaning the company “Although he's attending a public university and detaches himself from his responsibilities because he already has a brother who actually takes care of it all, unlike me!” 

Soohyun doesn't seem hurt at that and you're annoyed he's not. That he knows you well enough to know you're trying to sink your claws into his pride because yours is flat lining as the minutes pass. 

That does nothing but fuel your anger. 

“Unlike me,” you repeat “Who has to take care of your responsibilities because you are too busy playing renovation simulator in your stupid office to attend your meetings! Because if you did attend them you would know yesterday’s decision was a mistake and—” 

“There it is!” 

“—You're going to cost us millions of won for nothing.” 

Soohyun sighs and the way the scowls at the scattered papers on his desk lets you know he's not about to entertain this conversation any longer. 

For the third time today, you are about to lose. And you're a sore loser. 

“You're not getting engaged,” he reminds you, standing up and fixing his hair with his hand, his expression kind and sweet like you didn't just yell at him “You don't have to marry Yunho.” 

You scoff “For now.” 

“Or never, if you don't want to,” rounding his desk, Soohyun pats your head softly like you're a child “Just pretend for a bit and then let him break your heart publicly so that the media doesn't treat you like a stoned hearted bitch.” 

“I am a stoned hearted bitch.” 

He shakes his head “You're not but even if you were no one has the right to call you that,” your expression softens and you kind of want to cry at that, but you don't “Except me. Now, we have a meeting to go to, don't we?” 

Duty calls, like it always does. Your brother steps away and rushes to the door. 

Grabbing your purse and following him out, you fix your own hair in the reflection of the glass separating the cubicles from the hall “Do you even know what it is about?” 

He smiles back at you “Nope but you're going to tell me on the way there anyway.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don't.” 

The call comes after the meeting, when the sun is finally breaking fully through the clouds and your headache is starting to go away. 

Only to come back in full force once you see Yunho’s face as soon as you make your way to your own living room. 

Wearing a formal black blazer with matching trousers and a white shirt, the asshole doesn't even spare a glance at you even when you're sure he knows you just walked in. 

The room started to fill with negative energy. He must have felt it, right? But he doesn't show it. 

He's on the phone, eyebrows almost melting together as he pays attention to what the person on the line is saying. 

“What do you mean he met this girl two days ago?” 

Oh, he's gossiping. Your eyes almost meet the back of your skull when you roll them and, with a sigh, you throw your purse at him. 

He catches it without making that much of an effort. 

Asshole. 

“End the call.” 

“Wait, wait,” he covers the microphone with his hand and frowns at you instead “Shut it up, princess, this is an important call.” 

“Princess? Who are you calling princess?” It's not hard to hear the person on the other line, a poor confused guy, talking back. 

“My mother's friend’s daughter,” he shoots back and gives you a tired look, putting the phone to his ear again and signaling you to close your mouth “Anyways, is Seonghwa sure he wants to introduce us to her? Isn't it too soon?” 

At the name, you perk up. Gears turn in your head, one by one because you're tired and your machinery probably needs another coffee to oil everything up there, but then it hits you. 

That's where you knew Park Seonghwa from. 

You were not proud of yourself for letting curiosity tickle you enough to check Yunho’s instagram page merely six months ago. On your burner account, of course, the one with a fake name and fake pictures so that people don't know you stalk them when you're bored. 

There's this picture on his finsta where they're all sitting around a bonfire. It looked cozy, like they actually love each other which is a crazy concept for you. 

All your friends are fake. Also, the concept of a bonfire is insane. Bugs? Acoustic guitars and careless laughter? 

Insane. 

But it seemed genuine the first time you saw it and it made you burn with jealousy of a life you could never have. 

And in that picture, Yunho was hugging Park Seonghwa. 

Huh. You wonder what would've happened if he accepted your proposal earlier today. 

“Well, okay, uhm… I probably can't tonight. I know I said— Yes, Wooyoung, I know,” he sighs deeply as you sit down right in front of him, one leg over the other with rehearsed poise “I’ll see you all at Hongjoong's gig this weekend, yeah? Okay, bye… I love you too, oh my god,” he giggles and you frown, disgusted “Bye.” 

You immediately go for it.  

“Your boyfriend?” 

“My husband,” his smile is fake and tight and it makes you want to punch him in the face “That's what I'm telling our mothers in fifteen minutes, by the way.” 

Rolling your eyes again, you let out a tired breath “As if that would ever stop them.” 

“So I reckon you know what's going on?” 

“You don't?” eyebrow rising inquisitively and expression turning into a pitiful one, you wonder if that's why he seems so laid back at the moment “Please, indulge me and tell me you do.” 

“Of course I know what's going to happen,” scoffing, he crosses his arms and looks at the living room double doors “Just trying to figure out if you're out of the loop so I can put you up to speed on our escape.” 

“Oh, please,” you huff out a bitter laugh “If you really wanted to escape you would have been out of the country by now. Don't pretend you're not a people pleaser, Yunho,” looking back at you, that familiar wrath burns in his brown eyes and it makes you smirk “Passing the opportunity to hang out with Park Seonghwa and the rest of your public university crew is not usually what you do. You were probably given an ultimatum by your mother and that's why you're here, isn't it?” 

Watching his expression shift from annoyance to confusion to anger in the span of seconds gives you the satisfaction your lost fights of the day took away from you. 

“She's really pretty, by the way. His new girlfriend, the mechanic,” you smile, moving your eyes to the ceiling like you're trying to remember something “Didn't catch her name, though. Tell her I say hi when you see her. Oh, and tell Mr. Park I say hi as well. You don't really have to explain to anyone how you know me after tonight anyway.” 

“How the hell do you know them?” he's full on frowning now and the corners of your lips twitch in amusement “Are you stalking me, Y/N?” 

“Wouldn't you like that, hm?” clicking your tongue in disappointment of his guess, you rest your arms over your knees and lean your weight on them, like you're about to share your secret “I always know everything, Yunho. It's my superpower.” 

He imitates your movements, jaw clenched and chest heaving “And here I thought it was being spoiled and annoying.” 

Shaking your head, you lean a little further now “You're so silly, Yun, you know that's yours… When will you stop projecting your shit on me?” 

“When you stop ruining my fucking life.” 

Oh, he's so easy to mess with. 

“Glad to know you think I have that much power over you,” you bite the inside of your cheek for a second and then sigh loudly and dramatically “Sadly, I can't control what my parents want me to do. Or do you really think I would choose you, the hypocrite who pretends to run away from his responsibilities, out of all the men in the industry?” 

That cuts deep. His face lets you know it does, you also know it's hypocritical on your side to criticize him for getting the treatment you wanted to get to begin with. 

He leans in a bit more “As if I would ever choose you, the most cold hearted snake out of the elite.” 

Fuck him. 

You lean in more, chin up “Mama’s boy.” 

Doing the same, he griths out: “Spoiled brat.” 

“Rakehell.” 

“Psychopath.” 

Laughing, you dismiss the fact that your noses are almost touching to shoot back “I hope you enjoy the way the media is going to tear you apart when it comes out that you cheated on me, asshole.” 

“And I hope you enjoy when Dispatch digs up what you did at that party four years ago, princess. Falling off a table for mixing your drinks and your drugs and yelling at the staff as they tried to helped you out is quite embarrassing, isn't it?” he returns immediately and it fails to intimidate you but the fact that he knows about that angers you and it sparks in your eyes, so he smirks “Not that I would ever leak that information, of course.” 

“You stupid fucking—” 

“Ah, good! You're both here already.” 

Pulling apart and standing up, you both try to regulate your breathing and conceal your flustered state as your mom and his walk straight towards you. 

They're here early, you think. You couldn't possibly have argued with Yunho for fifteen minutes straight. 

“I beg you save the public displays of affection for later, though,” his mom says and with a hand on your back she directs you to sit on the sofa Yunho was occupying before. You sit and he does too and you both make sure to leave enough space for the holy spirit and all deities in between you “We're going to need them for the cameras.” 

Uncomfortable, you fidget on your seat until the warning look from your mother forces you to stop. Yunho gulps beside you, probably just as uncomfortable as you. 

Both women smile brightly like they're not about to lay on you the saddest news of your life. 

“As you both know, tonight's gala is a celebration of the twenty years Jeong Tech and Kim’s Innovation have joined creative forces and built the empire we have the pleasure to see unfold today…” 

Is your mother reciting your dads speech? It sounds robotic, rehearsed, fake and forced and it's not something new from her but you hate it either way. 

“And in celebration of our families friendship, loyalty and alliance,” Yunho’s mom continues and you take in a breath “We're finally making your relationship public!” 

Finally? 

“Finally?” Yunho asks and you lick your lips “Mom, Auntie… We don't have a relationship.” He tells them plain and simple and you don't look at him when you nod in compliance with the statement. 

“Oh, you two have been in love since forever!” His mother dismisses what she just heard “It's only fair to finally let everyone confirm it. This way, you can actually be seen together without our public relations team having to rush to cover everything up.” 

That has never happened. You prefer to stay as far away from Yunho as possible when your free will is actually yours to live with. 

“Mom, we—” 

“We are friends, obviously,” you interrupt Yunho before he dives head first into the depths of hell and his head snaps to you, eyebrows creasing a bit “But it's very much platonic. I don't feel—” 

“Yes you do,” your mother interferes, tone stern and fake smile falling for a second as a result before she composes herself “You have loved him since you both were kids and he saved you from falling in the pool at you tenth birthday,” that never happened and slowly but surely you realize they have a whole story planned out for you “And you, Yunho, realized you loved her when she stayed by your side when you had the flu at age thirteen. When she cried over your high fever and came over everyday until you got better. Right?” 

The question floats in the air for what feels like eons and she has successfully shut you up for good.

You knew, when you first met Jeong Yunho, there was no way of escaping this. 

And he, ever so hopeful and foolish, can't seem to accept it the way you do. 

Standing up, he looks at his mother with so much hurt you wonder if you still have that amount of delusion inside of you “You can't do this to us!” 

“Dear, do not raise your voice at me—” 

“This is the stupidest idea you had yet! I don't care how many years you've been planning this, it's not fair!” He paces around the space and you sigh, looking down at your lap. His voice echoes around the living room and you can practically feel your mom scowl with annoyance at the recklessness “You can't marry me off to someone like it's the eighteenth century! This is ridiculous, I—” 

“You'll do it,” his mother stands up as well, voice firmer than you have ever heard. She's a soft spoken woman, a sweet woman even. She's never raised her voice in your presence and you don't let it show how by surprise it takes you “And you know what happens if you don't.” 

You don't know why you relate to the pained expression on his face. You really shouldn't because you two are, clearly, on two different ends when it comes to pleasing your family. 

His family seems loving, the way his mother treated him growing up felt so genuine you always wished you could switch places with him. Even at times where they thought they were alone in the room and you hid to witness the cracks on the foundation of their love, it never happened.

Until now, when he storms off and she seems rather unaffected by his pain. What she gives off is annoyance, just like your mother, she's annoyed that this didn't go as smoothly as imagined. She moves to follow him. 

“Jeong Yunho!” 

After she leaves the room, there's screaming in the distance, probably at the end of the long hallway. And then, there's silence until your mother breaks it. 

“Well that was an unfortunate mess.” 

Your throat feels like it's closing up but you push through it, standing up when your mother does too. 

“Mother, I don't really think this is the best way to—” 

She frowns at you.

“What are you wearing? A suit?” 

“W-what?” 

Dumbfounded, you look down at your choice of outfit that she saw this morning and then back up at her. 

“I understand there's really nothing that can be done about your body shape but wearing silhouettes like these makes you look very masculine, Y/N.” 

She's doing that thing where she belittles you into submission. Vulnerable because of what you just lived and what you just witnessed, you stand there and take it. 

“And are you wearing makeup? Your eyebags, darling… I can't believe you let Yunho see you in this state.” 

If only she knew you stayed awake the entire night trying to sabotage her plans. 

This triggers you beyond belief. It starts with your heartbeat picking up, with your inner child begging you to stand up for yourself and banging at the walls of the safe you locked her up so many years ago. 

When you both hear footsteps coming down the hallway, she looks down at her watch and your chest starts heaving. 

“You need to get your hair and makeup done in an hour and a half. No need to go to the salon, I arranged things and they're coming over,” she informs you camly, putting on her fake smile when Yunho’s mom sighs at the doorway and when she turns away from you to get to her and loop her arm around hers, you catch his eye as he makes his way to you “Now, how about I show you what they did with the garden, dear.” 

They walk away from the wreckage with a giggle that only raises your panic. 

The fire of it burns your pride, your self image and your capability of keeping it together in front of your sworn enemy.

It doesn't help that he comes in with full vengeance, ready to take out on you what he obviously couldn't take out on his mom. 

“Why didn't you say anything?!” his voice fills the room once again and you physically recoil, which makes him reconsider. He looks you over once and then takes a deep breath before pressing “Why did you tell them that we're friends? We're not friends, Y/N! You should've… You should've told them that you hated me, that y-you were in love with somebody else, anything!” 

Tears cloud your vision and you can only reply in a faint whisper that sounds far away “Yunho, shut up.” 

“Are you seriously letting them get away with this?” his index points at the door and he looks at you like he doesn't know you. He doesn't but he does know what your family is like, so you don't know why it surprises him “Are you seriously going along with this stupid charade?!” 

Air leaves you. You can't breath but you try to and you faintly hear him say something else but it sounds bottled up, like you're underwater. 

“I c-cant.” You try again but it barely comes out.

Breathing in with your mouth, you close your eyes and focus on the way your head pulses. Migraine in full force, it only aggravates the feeling of complete loss of control over your body. But your feet move before you can think, to the couch, to look through your purse because damn it if he finds out. 

He follows you. 

“Is this some sort of sick revenge against me or—” 

They're not there. Why didn't you bring them with you today of all days?

God damn it. Yunho is, somehow, still talking. 

“Because if we don't go out there and let them know that—” 

“Yunho, shut the fuck up! Stop it!” 

Turning around with tears streaming down your face and hyperventilating seems to shut him up for good. 

“What's wrong?” 

He stops, breathing hard with a confused look on his face and his eyes follow you when you quickly move around him to get out of the room. 

“Y/N, wait—” 

You don't wait to see if he's following you upstairs. You only know he is because when you trip midway, his hands are there to catch you.

Physical contact with him is so strange and unfamiliar that you have to push his helping hands away and, quickly and still hardly breathing, you make your way to your room. 

Neatly done by the staff assigned to ready it up everyday before you get home, the order gets destroyed by your panicked state. You look through your vanity drawers messily, full on sobbing and mumbling incoherently as you do and you slam your fist down on the thing when you fail to find your pills. 

“Where the fuck is it?!” You sob out, hand hurting and shaking until you fall to the ground.

You try to recenter, pressing your shaky palms into the soft material of the carpet and sinking your nails hard in it until it starts bunching up beneath your fingers. Eyes closed, you can't see when Yunho knees down next to you but you do jump in fear when his hand touches your arm. 

Looking at him, you see when he removes his hand until, hesitantly, he places it firmly on your shoulder “I need you to breathe with me, Y/N,” he starts demonstrating, breathing in once, holding it in for a few seconds and letting the air go next. You choke out a sob “Breathe with me so you can tell me what I can get you.” 

You want to scream at him to stop pretending to care and get out but you can't. 

Instead, you listen to him. You breathe in when he does, hold the air a second longer than him and let it out afterwards. You do a few rounds of this, just staring at him with tears still falling down your cheeks until the fog in your brain starts clearing. 

It's agonizingly slow and it pains you to let yourself be seen in these circumstances, especially by him. 

“Now, what were you looking for?” 

Coughing uncomfortably, you attempt to get up the floor but he stops you from doing so “You can leave, Yunho, I can get it myself.” 

“You're shaking, Y/N,” it takes for him so say it to look down at your hands, which are barely grasping the carpet now and just hovering above it as they tremble “What do you need?” 

“My pills,” you tell him in a murmur after a few seconds, closing your eyes because, to you, this whole thing is very embarrassing “I don't remember where I put them, m-maybe in my nightstand?” 

“Drugs?” he asks with a frown and you shake your head, too panicky to get offended at the insinuation “Ah, actual pills, I see, um…” He gets up and you open your eyes to him walking over to your bed, sitting down to open up the drawer of your nightstand “You have a lot of shit here. What do they look like?” 

“Prescription bottle, not a blister.  Translucent, white cap.” You're taking control over your own body now, breathing starting to normalize and mind syncing up with the situation again.

Your head hurts still, but it's better than five minutes ago. 

“Here it is,” you hear him say and he's on his knees next to you a second later. You take the bottle from his hand, unscrew the cap as fast as you can and shake it to get a pill out of it “It was behind a bunch of stuff. I'll get you some—” putting the pill on your mouth, you crane your head back and force yourself to swallow it “Water.” He finishes in a whisper. 

When you look back at him, he looks a little freaked out. 

“What?” 

“N-nothing… Do you still need some—” 

“No. Thank you for getting me these, you can leave now.” 

Your tone is cold. The memory of him yelling at you downstairs returns so now you're pissed off and still very, very vulnerable. He's not allow to see you this way or any way for that matter. 

But he just did. 

He stays still and you're about to ask him if he didn't hear you or what but then you follow his eyes and notice he's staring at the way you hands still shake a little while trying to get the cap on the bottle again. You presume he's trying to read the label on it, too. 

“How long have you had them?” 

“The pills? This is a new prescription, so like… A month or so.” 

He sighs, closing his eyes and sitting fully on the floor next to you  “You know what I'm talking about, Y/N.” 

Looking away, you hate that the cat is out of the bag. If only your mother didn't comment on your appearance maybe, just maybe, you could've keep the secret to yourself and take it to the grave with you. 

You hate that Yunho, out of all people, found out. 

But he helped you, so you decide to please him with an answer. 

“I started getting them when I was ten, I think. I didn't know what was happening for a while and then at fourteen I learned what a panic attack was,” you recall, tone sounding breathy and tired and a little annoyed. He nods “And then I got officially diagnosed with panic disorder at twenty, so not that long ago.” 

Eyes back at him, you see him frown and then nod again as if the information you just gave him is hard to digest. It's not, it's actually extremely normal for someone like you. 

It makes you wonder if he has ever felt the same. 

Taking another calming breath, you speak again “I would appreciate if you keep this in between us. Not tell your brother or anything,” you clarify before he can respond “Because your brother is going to tell my brother who is going to tell my mom and that's a whole disaster I don't really want to deal with.” 

“They don't know?” 

“Of course they don't know,” a bitter laugh makes it past your lips “If they knew, don't you think I would be the image of a visibility campaign against anxiety or something like that?”

“They're your family, though.” 

“Blood is thicker than water but I'm allowed to have my secrets,” it's pathetic, the way your vision clouds once more and tears trail their path down your face once nor3 “And you of all people know how exploitative they are, so don't tell them.” 

What happens next takes your breath away again. Not for the reason you expect but it does and, for the first time in your life, Jeong Yunho is able to make your brain malfunction. 

You don't really think he realizes his hand is on your cheek, thumb whipping away your tears so softly it turns to you to a puddle right away

The last time someone handled you with that much care was… 

Never? 

Unable to look away, you catch the second he notices what he's doing and, by the time he does, he already leaned in a fraction into your space. 

Snapping out the weird, dizzy moment you two just had, he lowers his hand and you clear your throat to try and shake your feelings, all of them, off. 

Off. Away. You need to get your shit together and work on depuffing your face before the makeup artist and hair stylist arrive. 

“Listen, if you want to mysteriously disappear tonight and miss the gala you can totally do it and I'll cover up for you. I wouldn't blame you and I don't really care if our parents take it out on me,” your words are fast and your tone lighthearted. Like you're making a joke but, also, you're totally not “In return for you to keep your mouth shut about this,” you shake the pill bottle “I wouldn't do it out of kindness, of course, after all I am the most cold hearted snake of the elite.” 

Scoffing, he closes his eyes and lets his head hang low for a few seconds “You’re so—” 

“Beautiful? Smart? Outstanding?” You offer. 

He looks back at you again “Insufferable.” 

You squint your eyes at him before your lips turn upwards in a sardonic smile. 

Yunho lets out a heavy sigh “I'll do it.” 

“Run away to Timbuktu and change your identity?” 

“Be there,” he corrects, clearly tired of your antics “I’ll be there tonight. We are up to our necks in this bullshit, both of us,” he reminds your “And I'm sure my mother wouldn't let me get far if I did try to run away.” 

The ghost of a genuine smile curls in your lips “Pussy.” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“See? Annoying as fuck.” 

Your smile fully widens at that. Finally, some sense of normalcy after whatever the hell happened a few minutes ago. 

“What dirt does she have on you to make you bend to her will all of the sudden?” 

“She—” 

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” both looking up at your door way, you try your best to hide the pills under your thighs as you eye the staff member suspiciously at his interrupt “But misses Jeong is calling for Yunho downstairs. She says that you have to leave to get ready and misses Kim urges you, miss Kim, to get a shower.” 

“Yeah, she smells kinda bad, doesn't she?” Yunho jokes but the staff member doesn't laugh at his quip. Instead, he earns a push from you before getting up “I'll get going then.” 

The guy bows and disappears at that. 

“Finally.” 

You feel like you have to thank him again for what he did. With words, not actions. But he doesn't look like he's expecting it and the words hang on your tongue without making it past your lips because it's against your morals to thank Jeong Yunho for absolutely anything. 

“See you tonight, Y/N,” he says and you make a face that makes him smile for some reason. He moves to the door but stalls and, as you get up, you see him turn to you one more time “Bring them with you,” he points at the bottle on your hand “Just in case.” 

You huff and close the drawers of your vanity, stashing the pills in one of them “Don't tell me what to do.” 

“I wouldn't dare,” mimicking the staff member, he bows dramatically and you groan “Goodbye, princess.” 

You close the last drawer with a little more force than you intend to as soon as he's out of eyesight and then whisper and amused: “Asshole.” 

Now that's a couple of hours later and your head allows you to lock back in, to focus on the matter at task and prepare for what's to come. 

Sitting in the car, your chauffeur takes the hill up to the Jeong’s so you can pick up Yunho and show up together to the event. 

Hair beautifully done and makeup beat to the gods, it irks you that your mothers have everything so planned out down to the last details. There's a tablet on your lap and you're rehearsing the backstory they put together for this made up relationship. 

As they told you earlier, you have to pretend you two have been in love since childhood. There's some paragraphs narrating how you supposedly felt like you owe him your life after he “saved you” from failing into the deepest part of the pool when you didn't know how to swim. 

Which is true, you didn't know how to swim at that age but Yunho never saved you from anything. 

Except maybe today, only after aggravating the situation to the point you couldn't help but break down in front of him. 

Pressing a finger down on your temple, you close your eyes and try to wipe the image of him helping you away. Instead, the way the washed your tears away pops into it and you groan, earning a curious look from your driver. 

“Is this hill endless?” you ask in a way to cover up your true grieving and he laughs a little, which makes you smile before complaining again, as a joke. Kind of “That's why they usually come to our house, it takes a whole business day to get here.” 

That seizes your driver's curiosity and you look out the window when their mansion comes in full view. It's majestic, it's modern and it looks really pretty from your balcony at night, when it's all lit up even when you know the probability of someone actually being there is scarce. 

His dad and brother are always at the office, his mom is always at a meditation class or the gym or the mall with your mom and Yunho, well, you can only assume he's never actually there. He seems to have a very active social life and you don't think his mom would necessarily approve of his public university friends being there. 

When the car comes to a stop in his driveway, you look back down and scroll to that part of the document: You're supposed to be supportive on his choice of avoiding a private education, call him humble and down to earth if the question gets asked but not praise the public education system because your dad endorses a really expensive school, the one he and your fake father in law graduated at. 

The one you graduated at. 

It was so freeing not looking at his face in the halls when you started uni and you, quite frankly, don't think about him often enough to wonder why he was allowed to attend the university of his liking and study what he pleases. 

Now you're curious but, as you see him descend the stairs that lead to his massive front door, you're not sure you want to talk to him outside of business for too long. 

He's all dolled up in a navy three-piece, color matching your dress and all. Hair done and out of his forehead, you hate to say it does more for him than the usual style he wears it in. You don't remember the last time his bangs didn't cover his eyebrows and now you're wondering if you pushed all the times you did to the back of your mind. 

It'll be hard to pretend you don't think he looks good because he does and you don't want it to show in your face, so you stay focused on the tablet as he makes his way to the car. 

The driver gets out and attempts to open the door for him but you hear Yunho telling him it's okay. 

“I'll do it, thank you, thank you,” he opens the door and so you hear him more clearly now and he slides on the seat next to yours with ease, a disappointed look on his face when he notices you “Ah, you're here.” 

“They didn't tell you?” sounding boring as hell, you scroll to the bottom of the document and pass the tablet to him, avoiding to look at him again “We're supposed to arrive together so the photographers waiting outside can start speculating and reporting to the media outlets that something might be going on.” 

He grabs the tablet, looks at the document for five seconds in total and then hands it back to you “Oh, yeah, I didn't read that.” 

Your driver gets in his seat and starts the car, maneuvering out of the driveway in seconds and so you have to brace yourself on the seat to avoid sliding down on it as you're driven down the hill. 

“You didn't read it?” your head snaps back at him and he shrugs “Yunho, we're supposed to pretend we're madly in love with each other and you didn't study?!” 

“We've been pretending to get along in front of our moms for over a decade, Y/N,” he deadpans “We're doing the same tonight, only at a bigger scale. It's not that complicated,” shrugging again, he looks out at the street for a second before looking at you again, a disgusted expression on his face “I hope you're not expecting me to be all over you because now that I can't fake.” 

“Because you're never felt the touch of a girl in your entire life? I know that, loser,” he's about to retaliate but you stop him with your index finger “You've been away from the spotlight for way too long. You don't know how ruthless and scrutinizing the people attending are, I do. So sit pretty and study this.” 

You shove the tablet back and he groans, looking through the document briefly again. 

“And how do you know who's attending?” 

“Page ten through twenty five. There's a detailed list with names, occupations and hobbies so you can have possible topics of conversation. I also took the time to highlight in pink the ones I want to avoid,” you point out and he moves his finger on the screen until he gets to the list, scoffing in amusement a second later “You should avoid them too. Especially the Hwang’s,” he gives you a look, asking for an explanation “They gossip too much, their friend groups are filled with snakes who can't take an NDA seriously and the girl is a little in love with you, so she'll flirt with you the entire night.” 

“I don't even know her.” 

“You don't have to, she's in love with the idea of you and your family's influence. Seriously, Yunho,” you let out an annoyed noise, crossing your arms over your chest “It's like amateur hour with you. You should know this.” 

“I live a normal life, princess, I don't know any of this because it's not important to me,” he states as simple as that and you shake your head in disapproval “It shouldn't be important to you or to anyone, really.” 

“Oh, but it is,” you return and when you look at him he's looking back. There's this electricity passing in the space in between you, something dangerous that's the tail tale of how different you both are and you start asking yourself how are you going to pull this whole thing off “And now, it is to you. You're about to enter a ballroom filled with people who admire you for simply being a Jeong, people who want to be you. It's hard and it’s pressuring but you declined my offer to not show up earlier today, so fucking own it.”

There's a pause where you see his jaw clenching, you see him shift uncomfortably and adjust his tie before presumably telling himself to relax. 

“And study as much as you can, I'm not covering up your mistakes.” 

The rest of the ride to the venue is silent and, when you get there, you exchange a look with your driver that's both apologetic and a request for discretion. You know your staff is discreet but you thank them every time you can because it's a lot of shit to handle. 

“Here you go, honey.” The pet name almost makes you gag but you take the electronic from his hand, lock it and give it to the driver to safekeep. 

“I prefer Y/N,” or even princess, because you're used to it “Don't try that inside.”

Rolling his eyes, he sarcastically lets out “Anything else your highness wants from me before we get off?” 

“Yeah, for you to shut up and leave me alone forever after tonight but that's not really going to happen, hm?” You can see through the tinted windows how people gather outside to try and see who's inside the car and so you fix your hair with your fingers and then turn to fix Yunho’s tie. He makes a noise of disagreement but you shush him “Oh and for you to open the door for me?” 

He levels you with his stare “Can't do it yourself?” 

“Fucking do it and stop asking questions, Yunho.” You say under your breath and he smiles a little, triumphant like he just won something only for pissing you off. 

Neither one of you want to lose the staring contest you suddenly have going on and it's, once again, electric. The tension is palpable and not in a positive way but you have to act quick when his brown eyes scan your face and linger where they don't need to. Hand still on his tie, it's tempting to try and choke him with it so instead you just tighten it a little more and it serves as a 

“Now, Yunho.” 

When he gets out of the car, you hear people gasp. He's not usually at these types of events because his mother must indulge him a lot. But also, he's usually seen with a frown whenever he does attend, so it must come to a shock to everyone he actually showed up. 

It came with a shock for you too, you're not going to lie. You fully expected him to back out on his word and leave you hanging to deal with the shitshow yourself, no matter what he said this afternoon. 

Rounding the car, he doesn't make the dramatic pause you were hoping for before opening the door and offering his hand to you. The gasps intensify once you elegantly get out, flashes going off and blinding you for a second before you take your surroundings in and loop your arm around Yunho’s. 

There's people screaming both your names, asking questions that you don't get to answer because it's not the time for that and this is not a red carpet you have to walk through. 

You wave your hand at the cameras, bow to the photographers and smile brightly when a girl behind an iphone tells you how pretty you look. 

That would be the first person to compliment you today.

You don't turn to see what Yunho is doing, probably handling the attention in his own weird, detached way like he normally does and when someone signals you both to get going inside, you follow the person until the doors of the venue closing behind you drown out the paparazzi noise. 

In the solitude of the initial hall, you see how Yunho lets his posture fall and lets out a breath “Well, I hated that.” 

Condescendingly, you smile at him “Poor baby,” you lean in a bit into him “We’re only getting started.” 

The horror on his face as he stares back brings out a nervous feeling inside you, but soon you're dragging him by his arm and following the staff member down the hall. 

And when she opens the door into the ballroom, you let the feeling overcome you for a second and you gulp because of it. 

Only getting started indeed. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. This is part one of three (possibly more if the story extends that far). Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[hunnylagoon]

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 4: The Sweetest Thing to Ever Scare You (Finale)

Ellie Williams x reader

I remember when I first saw you. I remember looking into your warm almond eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach. But soon, when I looked into your eyes, I no longer felt the same warmth that I once knew. It felt as though you had killed all of the butterflies inside my stomach but yet, I still loved you.

Premise: You and Ellie are childhood best friends until you drift apart. Funny thing about soulmates is they tend to find their way back to each other. You and Ellie try to end the tireless war between you.

Warnings: Angst / drinking / violence / not really religious mentions in this one

Part one here!

Part two here!

Part three over here!

Guys I thought I posted this two days ago but I actually just saved it to drafts. Sorry for being an idiot lmao

I think that I have unlearned how to love.

That’s not even a word but there is no other way to tell you that I have turned myself cold.

Without partying to distract me and religion to fill in gaps of emptiness, I isolate myself and begin to write once again. I'm almost certain that my body has been telling me to write, that I need to pour myself into art as opposed to a girl I was friends with a million years ago.

I figure that I need to create rather than destroy but it might take me a while to do so.

The morning after I abandoned my faith on the church floor, I had woken up and expected Ellie to be gone, however, she was wide awake and playing subway surfers on her phone. Her hair is messy and her eyes are half-lidded. 

She turns to look at me when she feels the shuffling of the bedsheets; despite her doing nothing more than smile at me it is like an understanding passed between us, war is over.

Almost.

It's like I've forgotten how to be soft, I can't manage to get the words out that I need to, and the thought of it alone makes me cringe. "Breakfast?" I ask, unsure of what else to say.

Ellie passes on it and I awkwardly excuse myself, saying that I got called in to take a brunch shift at work. Of course, this is not true. What I do is get into my car and drive and drive until I get mad at myself for burning gas. 

The war between Ellie and I had ended but it didn't register in my head, I almost fell in love with it. Without the constant arguing and passive aggressiveness, there was nothing to put a wall between us and I wasn't ready to be vulnerable again. 

So I begin to feed Ellie the ugliest parts of me; I show her everything I'm sure she will hate but she doesn't, she's patient and shows me the kindness I have been looking everywhere for. Still, I am cold to her, I don't know what else to do. 

I try to push her away all over again but this time, she doesn't let me. Ellie comes into my room when I'm studying to sit on my bed so that she can be in proximity to me. Sometimes she'll ask me if I want to go for a walk or a late-night gas station run, all of the things we used to do.

When I'm angry at her, she lets it happen, she won't escalate the fight all she does is apologize and does what she can to fix it. Everything feels like it's in order again, Joel even starts to send me little text messages to check in on me and sends me Facebook memes that make him think of me.

As of now, we are setting up for Dina's twenty-first birthday. The living room, typically a space for casual gatherings and movie nights, had undergone a transformation. Vibrant streamers adorned the walls, and an array of balloons in assorted hues scattered themselves along the floor "Are balloons too childish?" Abby asks as she walks out of her bedroom.

"They better not be after I just spent half an hour doing all of these," Cat answers, giving her a scornful glare.

"They look great, Cat," I smile and give her a thumbs-up from where I am in the kitchen dumping bags of chips into bowls. "Should I make a veggie platter?"

Cat furrows her eyebrows "If you can finish it by yourself, sure."

"Cat, we aren't children, adults eat vegetables," Abby takes a seat on the couch behind Cat, investigating the hard work she's put into making the living room look nice for just one night "Isn't it weird that Dina is organizing her own surprise party?"

I shrug, placing a wooden cutting board down on the kitchen counter "I don't blame her, I don't think we've always been one hundred percent reliable, me specifically."

"But it's not a surprise if she knows about it."

"So?" Cat asks.

"So why are we calling it a surprise party if it isn't a surprise?"

"Why not?"

"Well, why can't we just call it a party?"

"I don't think it matters," I cut in, I begin to peel carrots and slice them up into quarters. Ellie comes out of her bedroom, she took a nap after completing her physics presentation, her hair in a messy bun, and she's in her typical pyjama uniform of sweats and a hoodie. "Hey, Ellie," I smile at her.

She rubs some sleep away from her green eyes "Hey," Ellie walks over to the kitchen island where I slice and chop vegetables and sits right in front of me. Even half asleep she looks like a statue of marble carved by a skilled hand.

Abby raises an eyebrow, asking 'When did you guys become friends?' without saying it and then it hits me like the plane in Lost. Ellie still hasn't told anyone about our history, our sixteen years of friendship is invisible to the eyes of those who think they know us well.

I'm broken from my thoughts when Abby speaks up "When are you picking up the cake?"

My heart drops "I'm not?"

Cat and Abby cast one another side glances while Ellie snatches a cucumber off my cutting board "Dina was handing out duties and you said you would take care of the cake."

I freeze, unsure of what to say "Nuh-uh." I shake my head like a child denying blame for breaking her mother's favourite dish.

"Yuh-huh," Cat shoots back. "How could you forget that?"

My mind fumbles for an excuse and somehow I land on "I forgot because I went temporarily insane from Lyme disease," What am I saying? "I got Lyme disease because I go camping in secret," I don't camp "And I never told you guys that I go camping because I'm deeply ashamed of it."

Now everyone looks perpetually confused, Ellie included "What are you talking about?" Abby asks, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay-well," I place my knife flat on the counter by the wooden cutting board, ignoring the odd spiel I just went on "I'm going to drive to-

"You dropped your car off for a suspension repair yesterday," Abby reminds me.

"Ellie is going to drive me to get a cake," I correct myself "I will be back to finish making my veggie plate." I quickly rinse my hands before grabbing Ellie's keys from the little jewelry dish on the island and yank the sleeve of her hoodie to pull her along.

Ellie doesn't say anything, she slips into some Crocs and we walk outside to her car. "Where are we headed?"

"Uh, hang on," In Ellie's passenger seat, I go on Google Maps to look up the closest bakeries that are still open at this hour, there are two, one a couple of streets away and the other one is across town and closing in twenty minutes. "Infectious Confections," I wrinkle my nose "That's a weird fucking name."

While Ellie tries to make conversation in the car I only speak when giving her directions to the bakery. She knows something is up and I can tell by the way she keeps glancing at me. I just can't manage to get it out of my head that she's still keeping me a secret. 

She pulls up to the bakery and I get out before she even turns her car off, she pulls the keys out of the ignition and trails behind me through the doors.

The bakery itself was rustic and clean, there were two display cases and tills one of the displays held danishes, croissants, cookies, scones and whatever those little swirly flakey things are called. The other display had a big chalk menu above it that read 'Cakery' Though what was in the display case was very sparse.  

"Hi," I walk up to the till, putting on the friendly smile and customer service voice that I usually only use at work. "This is pretty short notice but I was wondering if you had any cakes left or if I could get one made for today?"

The guy behind the counter is a scrawny teenager who looks like he has had a long enough day of dealing with annoying customers "We close in half an hour, there's not enough time to bake and decorate a cake." He explains it like he's said this to a million people, he's bored of the same phrases that his manager has scripted out for him.

"Any shot that someone didn't pick up their cake?" I ask, fingers crossed in the hope that he says yes.

"Let me talk to my manager," His voice drags on, and he turns around and disappears through a commercial kitchen door. I wait patiently, hands balled together in front of me as I rock back and forth on my heels. A minute or two later he comes back holding a bright blue cake with pink detailing of bows and mustaches, there's text on it that reads 'It's a...' gender reveal cake. "This is all we have left, they cancelled last minute.

I look back at Ellie to get her opinion, her eyebrows are furrowed slightly "Maybe we good just get some of those cupcakes and smush them together and smear the icing so it looks like a cake."

I wave her off "I'll buy it," I say this only because it is 5:41 and with each passing minute I am growing desperate, also I don't want Jesse to be disappointed that I fumbled the cake and ruined his girlfriend's birthday.

Angsty teenager puts the bright blue monstrosity into a cake box and charges me an absurd total for it, I bitterly tap my card on the machine. 

As I walk back out to Ellie's car I take a brief moment to look at the sky, it's the same hue as cotton candy and looks as if it had been projected from a watercolour painting, even after I get back into the car and Ellie begins to blast her old dad rock songs, I can't tear my eyes away from it.

After five minutes of silence from my end, Ellie finally asks the question that's been burning into the forefront of her brain "Why are you being weird?"

"Why haven't you told anyone that we met before we moved in together?"

Her dark eyebrows furrow "You haven't told anyone either-

"Yes, I have."

"Who?"

"Yara, Stacy, Kayla, Mitch, Nigel, Carmen, literally everyone from my work," I admit "I just haven't told people who know you personally so it can't make its way back to you because you clearly don't want people to know."

She falls silent, searching her mind for the right words. She clutches the steering wheel tight and looks dead ahead at the car's bumper-to-bumper ahead of us. "I just know how to slip it into conversation."

"I don't think it's that hard, you can just say that we were friends, you don't need to give an intricate play-by-play of everything that happened."

"Why is it important that people know if we're cool again?"

I turn my head to slowly look at her "You are the one who always said 'If we don't have honesty, we have nothing at all'," I point out.

Silence strings between us again, I almost want to throw up.

'We're cool again' Nope, not anymore, we are so very far from cool. Instead of Ellie casting me little glances as she had on the ride there, she ignores my presence almost completely while I glare daggers at her. Was she embarrassed by me? When we went to lunch together why did she lie to Dina about where she was? When she slept in my bed why did Cat ask me if I knew why Ellie came home at eight AM with nothing, not even a key? Did she crawl through my bedroom window to walk around to the front door and pretend she was just getting home?

AND WHY DIDN'T I CALL HER OUT?

She was keeping me a secret and that realization hurt worse than any injury I had ever suffered. She hasn't even told her dead who practically raised me that we lived together. 

God, we weren't even anything and she was keeping me under wraps like I was some disgraceful secret that she would get shamed for holding. The very second she approached our house, I got out of her car, she hadn't even stopped it completely but cake in hand, I hopped out of her car door and didn't look back.

I think I've had my fair share of partying.

After that month-long bender I had where I went to clubs every night and replaced food with vodka, I never wanted to even look at another solo cup full of liquor. Instead of drinking, smoking, or doing karaoke, I hide from Ellie.

I hide from her in conversations and sometimes sneak into my bedroom just to get a bit of breathing room from all of the strangers in my house. Wherever Ellie was, I was not. If she was outside, I was inside, if she was in the living room, I was in the kitchen enjoying my veggie platter. 

Have you ever been the only sober person around in a group of people? If the answer is no, have you ever babysat a houseful of toddlers? Because it's just about the same thing.

When I'm not hiding from the girl who wriggled her way back into my good graces just to trip herself off the podium, I'm cleaning up, protecting our furniture, holding back hair as girls I've never met sob into the toilet, and stopping the drunk from doing stupid things. 

"Hey, buddy," I take my can of hairspray that this frat-adjacent man is holding behind an ignited lighter "I don't think you would look good as a burn victim," His friends moan in disappointment as I do so, they were very excited to see a makeshift flamethrower; I wasn't in the mood to have my house burn down, or have a guy with peach fuzz waste my thirty dollar hair spray. 

Thirty dollars?

Note to self for later: Make smarter spending choices (And smarter relationship choices!).

I felt a tap on my shoulder only to turn around and see Dina, she wasn't drunk, just tipsy "Smile!" She holds up a camera to her eye and clicks the shudder button before I even have a chance to react the flash goes off. A large Polaroid begins to print out, Dina snatches it and shakes it until you can see my silhouette, my eyes are wide, my hair flying behind me from the quick turn of my head and I'm holding a can of hairspray angled to look like I'm going to spray the camera with it "Cute!" She smiles, tucking it into her pocket for later "Wait, I want a group picture of the roommates."

Dina takes my hand and pulls me to one of the couches where Ellie and Abby sit with some guy, she shoes him to get up and drags Cat over to replace him, she stands me in between Ellie and Abby and lightly pushes me down to sit wedged between the two.

"Jesse, please do not do me dirty with this picture," She hands the pink Polaroid camera to her boyfriend and quickly ushers herself to the far left of the couch where she bends over to kiss Cat on the cheek for the picture. Ellie and I are stiff and awkward when the flash goes off. 

After the picture is taken, Ellue turns to face me just the slightest "Hey, I think we should talk-

"I think it's time for cake!" I push myself off the couch and usher myself to the kitchen. 

I pull the cake out of the fridge, looking at what I had done to salvage it; Below the part that said 'It's a...' I wrote '21 year old!' in chocolate pre-made Betty Crocker icing that I had in the fridge for months, it didn't look the best, but it could've been worse.

Dina, of course, cackles when she sees it. To her, it is the funniest thing she's seen all night. I stick the candles in and light it with the light I confiscated from peach fuzz frat boy and push the cake towards Dina after tucking the light back into my pocket, she is illuminated in the glow of iPhone flash all filming her.

"Make a wish!"

Age Sixteen- Grade 11

I think back to how embarrassing it felt to be thoughtful.

How fragile I felt when I would share my feelings and how frail I seem when I do it now. Ellie was always tougher than I was, in rugby, in fights, just in general. That's why I figured she would be taking it better than me when I cut contact, once again I have been proven wrong.

"Conner, can we please just leave?" I pleaded with my then-boyfriend. The night had started fine but after a couple of drinks Ellie and I were becoming increasingly hostile to one another, it wasn't my intention to speak to her but the universe forced my hand when we were shoved into a circle of our friends and made to converse around the bonfire at the beach.

The salty breeze carried the sounds of laughter and the gentle crashing of waves, the scent of roasted marshmallows wafted through the air.

 "What, you need your boyfriend's permission or something?" Ellie held a can of berry blast Smirnoff, staring into my soul from the other side of the fire, the sparks glitter through the night like fireflies. Her words don't feel too bad but they don't feel too good either.

I cast her a glare before I looked back to my boyfriend "Please?" 

He is getting perpetually annoyed with me he shrugs away from my grasp, "Fuck off, we just got here," He mutters, Conner must think I couldn't hear it. He had already downed three Bud lights and a couple of shots of cheap vodka, now he is nursing another beer in hand. 

"Excuse me?" I say, narrowing my eyes. Everyone around the fire pauses their conversation to tune into mine. "Come on," I stand up and try to pull him along so we can have a conversation away from the prying eyes of our friends.

I can't pull the mass of the 6'2 quarterback along with me but he obliges and follows me where I yank him. As I drag him along the rest of the group giggle and makes jokes along the lines of 'Trouble in paradise' but Ellie is the only one who doesn't jump back into mindless conversation, her unnerving eyes are still on me while I chew my boyfriend out by the shoreline. 

"Why do I have to leave just because you're feeling a little bummed out?" 

I'm almost floored at out someone can lack so much empathy "Because you're my boyfriend?" I can feel myself tensing up.

"Why does that mean you can't get up and leave on your own?" He defends "You begged me to come here and now I just wanna down a couple of beers and hang out with my friends."

"You've already drank like twenty!" I retort.

"It's a fucking party!" Conner says, raising his voice "It's a party and it's summer and you're seriously trying to tell me not to have fun?"

"Fuck!" I shout in frustration "Why don't you ever call me? Why can't you ever let me in?" The argument is quickly escalating "Why didn't you tell me that you kissed Tamar and why haven't you told me that you love me?"

"Because I don't."

My words fail me. I knew he didn't, I knew that he hardly even liked me. My dad had thought so highly of him, she said he was the type of guy to rescue a baby from a burning building but as I look at him now, I figure that he eats babies.

I almost open my mouth to say something different, almost, but I don't. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I didn't, I might've been able to salvage the rotting corpse of my relationship with Ellie but I didn't. "Fine," I say, voice calm and quiet "Let's stay."

Before that night I had never really gotten drunk but the second I got back to the bonfire, I was digging through the cooler and shotgunning canned Smirnoff. "Woah," Riley laughs "Someone's finally being a bad influence."

I got myself so shit-faced that when everyone else got up to dance to the music blaring through the Bluetooth speaker, I sat by myself at the shoreline, looking bitterly out towards to ocean while the tides crash at my feet and get sucked back into the ocean. For a moment I think about jumping in and letting my lax body get washed away and sink beneath the surface until I wash up as a water-bloated corpse that some nine-year-old will find when they're beach combing.

My mouth tastes like peroxide and blood, my lungs burn with a red-hot pain. The wind is becoming increasingly harsh and I ignore the hair that is tangled into my golden hoop earrings.

"Wow, you look awful," I don't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Can you just fuck off?" I say "I don't give a shit about you, just leave me alone."

She always had to antagonize me, Ellie went out of her way to stray from the group and bother me. It had something to do with the alcohol in her system. Despite her alleged hatred for me, she takes a seat next to me regardless.

"Fuck, you're so sensitive," She scoffs "I don't know why you're dating him, I'm not even sure why you'd want to fuck him unless you're too lazy to jerk off-

My hands think before my head and I deck Ellie right in the side of her face, getting a solid hit to her cheekbone. My hand flies over my mouth "I'm sorry, I-

Ellie doesn't waste any time in lunging back at me, she pushes me down by my shoulders until my back is in the shallow of the water that moments ago just splashed at my feet and takes a swing. The impact of her punch almost knocks me sober.

I take a sharp inhale, grabbing her elbows and pulling her down to where she was the one on her back and I was the one straddling her. I land one last blow to her nose, I hear a crunch and the panic immediately sends me scrambling to my feet. My eyes go wide at the blood dripping down, her face I turn to run but Ellie is faster, she grabs me by my hair and yanks me down further into the water with her. 

"Fucking cunt!" I cry, though my scream is drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud tides crashing on the shore "Get the fuck off me!" 

Ellie is better at fighting than I am, I had never been on this side of her before, usually, I had been the one to drag her away from fights but now I am the one who is going to stumble home numb from the devastating pain.

Frankly, I'm fucking scared.

She continues to drag me by my hair until I'm knee-deep in the water with her, she almost throws her entire weight into me, dunking me beneath the surface where her bony hands snake around my neck. My eyes have gone blurry with the salt water, they sting and burn. I can't see anything, all I can do is uselessly thrash beneath her. My hands push against her face, trying to pry her off my body. 

Eventually, I manage to claw her face with my fingernails, I dig deep enough that it breaks skin and she recoils just enough for me to knee her in the stomach and let me get out from under her. Just as I try to slip away she reaches for my hair again, but instead of tugging on my hair, she rips out my gold hoop earring. I screech out in agony, hand reaching for where the metal sliced through the lobe of my ear, I shudder in pain; my cries are now jagged and harsh.

This is the exact moment Ellie begins to regret what she's done. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." Her tone softens and she tries to approach me but I back away from her like a frightened dog.

"Get away from me!" Despite the pain surging in my body, I find the strength in me to hit her again, she staggers back tripping into the water. I hit her so hard that I feel a crack in my knuckle and I yelp out in the immediate shock of pain. 

I wasn't sure when the others had noticed this was happening probably because my vision had gone blurry from salt water and adrenaline but before Ellie could hit me again, she was being restrained by Riley and Kennedy while some guy who I had probably had two conversations with dragged my back to shore.

I keel over on my hands and knees and begin to start retching onto the sand. Laila rubs a gentle hand on my back, my hair sticking wet on my forehead. A seagull, disturbed by the commotion, took flight, its wings cutting through the charged air. 

Next to the pile of vomit I just heaved, blood drips down from my ear, pooling and then soaking into the sand. My neck swells from what is still the raw sensation of Ellie closing her hands around it. 

I look up at Ellie, there is blood that has dripped its way into her mouth, clinging to her white teeth. She has what almost looks like a cat scratch running down her cheek, blood begins to prick and spill from the lacerations.

She stares back at me and we don't say a word but we understand each other clearly, I never want to see you again.

"Let's go," Ellie grabs my arm as Dina begins to slice the cake "We're gonna fix this right now."

"Ellie, there are so many people here," I say in a hushed tone so people can't hear me.

"I don't mean here," She looks at me, face expressionless "Just get in my car."

"Excuse me?" I say, tone accusing "Did you just order me to get in your car?"

"Fuck," She sighs, dropping my wrist to rub her hands down her face "Please can you get in my car so we can work this through."

"There's nothing to work through," I retort "You're embarrassed by me or you still secretly hate me and that's fine, I meant what I said on winter break about the lease, the second it's up, I'm getting the fuck out of here."

"What? No, don't- just," She takes a breath, reevaluating what to say "I have a point to make but I can't make it unless you get in my car."

We stare at each other for a moment, I narrow my eyes and she is still unmoving. Every scenario runs through my head of what could be waiting for me in that car.

"Fine."

I sit silently in her passenger seat, my knees are pulled into my chest and I rest my chin on them. Ellie doesn't say anything either as she drives. I watch each traffic light pass me, every street name to try and make sense of where we are going.

I almost feel like I'm going to suffocate beneath the silence of everything going left unsaid.

When I spot the boardwalk up ahead, I know exactly where she's taking me "Ellie, why are we at the beach?" I give her a side glance "Do I need to take out my earrings?"

Heat rises to her cheeks when I say this, "Not yet," She jokes, getting out of her car and grabbing a tote bag from the back seat, and I follow in tow.

We walk past the boardwalk and onto the sandy beach, I'm already not feeling whatever she's doing; there is sand filling up my Converse and a slight wind chill, I'm really wishing I had a hoodie right now. "Can you tell me what we're doing yet?" I'm hugging myself in an attempt to stay warm "If we're still walking on the beach why couldn't we have just walked on the boardwalk instead? It literally has walk in the name." I'm already going off on one of my tangents.

She still walking ahead of me but she briefly turns around to face me "Can you just stop asking questions for a minute?"

"Okay, whatever," I mutter, trailing behind her still. I can hardly see in the night, the only light to guide us is the moon and the warm ceiling lamps from restaurants along the boardwalk. I can vaguely see Ellie's silhouette, she's outlined by the gentle glow radiating off the moon, I try my best not to stumble over things poking out of the sand that have been lost to sight by darkness. 

"Okay," Ellie stops, "Here we are."

"Where are we?" I ask "I can't see shit, I don't know where here is."

Ellie digs around in her pocket for her phone and turns on a flashlight and it reveals a small iron firepit that was cemented into a slab of concrete in the sand. She hands me her phone so I can keep the flash on her and she can see what she's doing. 

She pulls out some pages ripped out from her notebook "Can you hand me your lighter?"

My eyebrows furrowed, and I felt around in my pocket wondering if I even had one. I did, it had slipped my mind that I still had the bic lighter that I confiscated from Peach Fuzz. I hand the lighter to her and watch as she tucks the pages beneath logs that were in the firepit before we arrive, they are somewhat charred but still viable.

She flicks the lighter to ignite it and the paper catches immediately. The initial flicker grew into a tentative blaze, licking at the edges of the kindling. The crackling sound echoed through the night. 

Once she is sure the fire can survive without her feeding it, she steps away. "Alright, let's have it out."

"Like sex?" I scrunch up my nose.

"Oh my god, no, like let's talk this through." She pinches her nose bridge, taking a breath in before exhaling and putting her hand back down "We're gonna recreate the night of the bonfire how it should've been," Ellie reached back into her bag and pulled out two white claws "I snagged these from Dina's party, sorry this was kind of last minute."

I can't help the smile that grows on my face, I take one of the white claws and crack it open "I don't know how authentic this is gonna be if there isn't any canned Smirnoff."

I think back to exactly how that night played out and I take a seat on the sand, facing the crashing dark ocean. I sip my white claw, as expected Ellie takes a seat next to me, just what happened on the actual night.

"Wow," She says "You look really pretty and I'm an idiot for ever saying you looked awful," Ellie looks gorgeous illuminated by the orange light of the fire, and the breeze causes her flyaway hairs to drift in the wind. "I'm an asshole for pretending that I didn't know you, I was scared I would get hurt again and take it to heart like I did last time. I promise the second we get home that I'll come clean."

I don't know if I can deal with this sugary philosophy. She's being so sweet that it's rotting my teeth.

"Ellie," I say gathering my thoughts, it was so hard being honest with my feelings, it felt like I would get hospitalized if I showed any emotion. "I was so in love with you in high school that it killed me, and I was terrified that my parents would throw me out well, they did- but that's why I pushed you away and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret it." 

The surprise on her face morphs into a soft smile "What about now?" she asks "Do you still love me?"

I shrug, it's honest "I dunno, but I think there's room to try."

She looks from me to the ocean and the way the moonlight glitters off the surface "What happened next?" Ellie toys with the tab of her drink "Did you hit me?"

"Yeah," I say softly, following her gaze out to the waters "But if we're doing the night how it should've been, I'd rather just kiss you."

Ellie turns her head back to look at me. She shoves her white claw into the sand then takes my face into one of her hands and kisses me like it's her job, so tender and carefully like she's afraid I will break beneath pressure.

How weak have I become? My heart is so full of her that I can hardly call it my own.

A/N: Be grateful for this ending because I was very tempted to give you guys an unhappy one. Sorry that I forgot to post this lol, I’m sad this series is over but excited to show you all my next one which may be the angst-iest yet 👀

Thanks for reading!

Tag list: @elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliesaesp @melanie-watermelon @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @skylerwhitwyo @lmaoo-spiderman @joliettes @kittnii @taylorgracies @sameenatruther @mikellie @belles-hell @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @whosmica

[proverbsss]

reading you right (father paul hill/john pruitt x reader) -nsfw

Father Paul Hill, Midnight Mass

prompt(s): "Me. You. Bed. Now." [from this post]

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

anon: I had a normal amount of fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) i wanna do a pt. 2 because ofc i do,, honestly I got a lil hot n bothered lmao

notifs: paul hill is a tease!! ; shoe-grinding ; fluffy smut ; hierophilia ; you're father paul's dirty little secret ; denial ; reader begging ; reader's down HORRENDOUS ; terms used: good girl, slutty thing, pet

"You've been lying there moaning for ten minutes." Father Paul chuckles, trying to focus on his reading.

You feel your leg twitch as you lay on your stomach, looking a bit dazed across the room. A giggle escapes you. In your mind's eye a constant stream of images plays- every dirty thing you’ve done with Father Paul in the last 48 hours, a rare weekend’s reprieve from prying Beverly Keane, sitting bedside with her sister or aunt or who-the-hell cares on the mainland. It was too easy to sneak into the house behind St. Patrick’s, and too goddamn pleasurable to leave after the first night. A delightful ease of domesticity has settled over the two of you. And you’re even more whipped for the Father than you were when this whole messy arrangement began.

"I can't help it-"

"It's understandable to whine like a whore while I'm still inside you, but cooing like that when I'm not even touching you is a little ridiculous." Smug, he licks his finger and turns a page. "A man's ego can only grow so big."

“What are you reading?” you ask, completely uninterested, and your voice betrays it. You might enjoy a good book now and again, but something worlds more tempting is sitting before you. In his jeans and tee shirt, only his glossy ankle boots remaining, Paul is a rare sight out of uniform, like something sent from heaven. Or Hell. Both, somehow.

“You asked me that fifteen minutes ago. Or did you forget already?” He shoots you a disapproving, but playful look. He can hardly resist you more than you can him. Hardly. There is that last smidgeon of reserve that Paul prides himself on. He can’t be bothered to think of you as a sin, because life’s become far, far more complicated in the last few months than any one man can hold in his head, and because it feels like paradise to touch you.

Caught in your inattention, you abandon the ruse of asking about his book. "You fucked me too good...." You whine.

"You're going to complain about it?" He laughs at you.

"You're laughing at me." 

"Of course I'm laughing at you," he admonishes. Not to be taken in by your wiles, Paul's eyes trace the paragraph he's started unsuccessfully three times.

"You whine before I fuck you, you whine while I fuck you, and you whine after I've fucked you. You're silly."

The vision renews itself in your mind of last night creeping around in here, your excitement waiting in the antechamber of St. Patrick’s late at night, Paul sneaking up on you in the dark and taking you in that muggy little den where they keep the wine and spare things. You want him to grunt against your ear like that again, to fuck you like he needs you in order to breathe.

"I'm not silly!" You gasp out. He hears the difference in your voice and scans your body with his eyes. Grinning. He licks his bottom lip and pretends the fool. “I want it, please, I want it, I don’t caaaare…” Your caterwauling would be annoying if it wasn’t so bone-deep genuine. Paul could probably keep you here forever as a pet, a secret from innocuous parishioners, visitors from all walks of life, and you’d be satisfied as long as he used you from time to time. Fed you.

“Oh, that’s undignified.” He smiles, turns the page and hopes he can pick up without the aid of the passage his mind simply refused to retain.

You get on all fours and start to crawl over to him. You tug on the leg of his jeans, utterly debased.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” his tongue flicks and flutters around the word in a musical way that you know you could find better uses for. You nod. His voice. He could guide you anywhere with it. To make things worse, he imitates you. The facsimile of your lust in his voice is enough to make you jump him. “‘Father, I can't focus on my book....Father, please fuck me with your fingers, I can't without it, I need it...I told you pack things to stay because I imagined I’d be enjoying some downtime other than between my sheets.'"

You bite your lip, the adoring way you look up at him unfairly reminiscent of Biblical portraiture, the Madonna (too ineffably ironic), Saint Lucia, devout, suppliant little succubi. Paul’s heart breaks a little, and his cock twitches with interest, which he endeavors to suppress. 

“What’s that look for, child?” He plays up the religious bent of your dynamic, something that presses inexpressibly sinful and delicious buttons in your dirty mind. 

"I do need you."

You pout. Your words with Paul repeating them was enough to rev your proverbial engine. You shift just the littlest bit, yet the friction of the floor underneath you is enough to tease out a whimper. Not totally on purpose, but not totally by accident. John chuckles again. 

“Present tense?” He pretends to turn a page, but he’s not reading a damn thing now.

"I need you all the time you're not in me.” It’s filthy, but it feels true in these moments when all the thoughts are leaving your head empty. 

He smiles one of his private smiles. His eyelids crinkle as he reaches up to scratch his cheek. "Let's not be pornographic, huh?"

"I wanna fuck again..."

"What else is new?"

"You've ruined me." He looks at you then like you’re something to eat. The book is shut and put down. You have your beloved hot priest’s attention. His eyes ask, smoldering, what will you do now you have it?

“You have my boot. Or aren’t you smart enough to get yourself off.” His tone shifts and a shadowy, serious dominance settles in his countenance. Every behavior, every quirk of his expression, curve of his smile, owns and owns you. He may plead and beg to bury his head between your thighs from time to time, on one occasion he may have shown up at your door, his satchel a deceptive front for rope and ribbon, which you were to restrain and blindfold him with. Life’s too short for dynamics that don’t shift and change like the tides. But in this moment, this energy, you are his. And he intends to impress that upon you.

You gape at him just a moment, heady lust clouding your already addled brain. Then slowly, carefully, you adjust your position, grab the upper part of Paul’s calf, and hoist your lower body up onto his shoe, your pelvic bone bumping his shin. Any hesitations or embarrassment that linger in you drown in the deeper, sweeter excitement of feeling some real friction as you roll your hips. Oh. God.

This might be the senseless, reckless need talking, but fuck. Just the sensation of the toe of his shoe right between your thighs, exactly where you need it, makes you feel a little bit crazy. You look up at him in awe, and thank God he’s not picked up his book again but instead is sitting comfortably, his gaze dropped low to watch you, his groin thrusting the tiniest bit forward at nothing, too much nothing. He groans, and you chase your pleasure like a thing possessed.

Words slip out of your mouth without a shred of logic behind them, and Paul tells you to repeat yourself. He bites his bottom lip as he watches you. “Hello? Still a brain in there?"

“I said you make me so sensitive,” you mumble, finding a new groove in the contour of his shoe, where it meets his ankle, and leaning on his knee, shaking, groping for his thighs, all involuntarily. Your dripping, dripping on his shoe, and the thought of how uncivilized that is makes Paul bite his fist.

"Uh huh, so it's all my fault, then."

"Yes..."

"Yes, 'what'?"

"Yes it's all your fault, Father."

“It’s my fault you’re going to cum on my shoe?”

You whine again. Your soul’s leaving your body, want spreads through every inch of your body, intense and blinding, high, so high.

“C’n I cum, please, can I cum?” You pant, feeling his hands wrap around yours, warm and loving. 

“Look at me, pet.” He orders. You obey. His irises envelop you. You steady yours on them, trying to get a grip, breath filling your belly and leaving your parted lips in rapid gasps. “No.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise. Disappointment isn’t the word for it, desire lets itself out as a sound. You slow down, somewhere in a high place you hear him say:

“Stop grinding, slutty thing. Your Father told you ‘no.’”

You sink against him, laying your head on one of his thighs. He kisses the top of your head, and murmurs, “Good girl. Good girl, good.”

Fireworks are setting off under your skin, your thighs are trembling, every bit of you is sticky. “That wasn’t easy, I bet.” He says, voice condescending and sweet, but every bit as needy as you are. You make another noise in response. 

“I’m not done with you, you know,” he takes your chin into one of his hands, lifts your head. He kisses you again, with a fierceness that just sharpens your feeling. “I’m not even close to done with you.” He rests his in your neck, kisses you once, twice, up your jaw, on your cheeks, the ear he can reach. He bites your earlobe and almost hisses, “Me. You. Bed. Now.”

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

[magnifythesun]

Hiii so mexican salsa YES this post is a prompt! Feel free to change it to whatever you like, but I'd love a lil' story like this:

Ian and anthony are both very obviously in love and the whole smoffice knows it, but them lmao! I'd love this fic to be just text messages or slack posts or sth, where the cast and crew report of sightings of Ian and anthony doing very ianthony stuff and not realize it themselves. Maybe they come up w a way to show or nudge them in the right direction? But Ian and Anthony will still make it a bro moment (broment) bc they think the other one just wants to be bros LMAO ~ Japhan2024 💖

@japhan2024 FANTASTIC IDEA I have to believe that the Smosh cast legit has a secret group chat for stuff like this hahaha the looks on their faces whenever Ian and Anthony do something shippy is priceless

im going to wrack my brain for my favorite moments lolol I hope you enjoy!

(mid writing note: i first wrote basically all texts but it wasn't quite flowing the way i wanted it to so now there's a little more prose lol. this also taught me i do NOT know enough crew members' names)

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56346769

---

It took Erin less than ten minutes to create The Group Chat following the slapping video caress incident.

Erin: "okay so what the fuck"

Tommy: "i'm beside myself."

Angela: "SO WE'RE FINALLY TALKING ABOUT IT"

It began, and all hell broke loose from there.

Most of the cast and crew didn't know Anthony too well when he first returned, but everyone could tell Ian began to positively glow once he came back. It had started mostly with little under-the-breath comments about how big Ian had smiled at something Anthony did, or shared glances after they looked lost in each other's worlds. It's not that everyone wanted to speculate about their bosses, but rather that their bosses were practically giving them no choice.

The real watershed moment was the birth of The Group Chat, which finally provided an outlet for all ianthony incidents witnessed by the cast and crew.

---

Shayne: "Please tell me how Anthony managed to turn his smosh cast interview into an hour of us complimenting Ian."

Tommy: "i swear he practices in his car on the way to work"

---

Erin: "not them discussing deepthroating injuries for like three whole minutes..."

Erin: "while Anthony sucks on his rainbow lollipop......"

Chanse: "they are not beating the allegations"

---

Josh: "So this is I think the fourth video I've edited where Anthony has called Ian daddy??"

Josh: "WHAT is the thought process. I just can't put it together. is Anthony just like yeah I'm going to call my bro daddy about seventeen separate times with varying levels of seriousness and that's good and het and normal."

Erin: "Josh, istg you don't see the half of it. Come watch them film and pay special attention when the cameras are OFF."

---

Erin: "im losing it"

Arasha: "oh god. what happened"

Erin: "i am not fucking kidding right now anthony just called him submissive and breedable."

Keith: "WHAT"

Erin: "he said what he said."

Angela: "BREEDABLE????????????"

Erin: "in front of god and everyone."

Angela: "BREEDABLE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"

---

Tommy: "catching up on the main channel sketches and i just have to ask"

Tommy: "How many men can Ian date in his sketches until he realizes he'd like to date one in real life?"

Chanse: "don't SPEAK to me about it"

---

Tommy: "bicurious, hmm? Ian would you like to share something with the class???"

Chanse: "hes so deep in the mental closet his art is trying to scream it at him through his subconscious."

Chanse: "ive been there 😞"

Josh: "I've never been more prepared to edit a video in my whole life"

---

Angela: "Erinnnn not u directing them to stand closer together 😭😭"

Erin: "look I'm at my wits end. I'm thinking forced proximity might do it"

Keith: "if that could work they would have gotten it during kissing currency 😙💸"

Shayne: "@ courtney is this your thought process behind wanting a kissing video"

Courtney: "HA"

Courtney: "yes."

---

Courtney: "okay so if our plan at this point is just to make them read so many fanfics about themselves out loud that they spontaneously realize they're in love, we've got to find some fics that don't contain the word 'cummies'"

Angela: "what are cummies?? 😇"

Shayne: "ANGELA I SWEAR TO GOD"

---

As the incidents kept piling up, a plot began to form. Maybe Anthony and Ian were just so oblivious that they all needed to adopt a certain 'push-comes-to-shove' mentality, and do what had to be done. Everyone agreed, they had to find a way to put them in such a charged situation that this would all finally boil over, and the astounding tension that had plagued the office would be resolved. The ultimate achievement of this long-weary Group Chat.

Erin: "okay so one more time. everyone has talked with HR, yes? and everyone slated for the vid is comfortable with the concept of spin the bottle"

Angela: "what's spin the bottle? 😇"

Tommy: "STOP"

Shayne "1) Yes for the thousandth time, we promise. 2) What the FUCK are we going to do if this bottle never lands on Anthony and Ian"

Erin: "I will keep this shoot going as long as necessary."

Shayne: "That sounds like a threat?"

Chanse: "I'm suddenly regretting my decision. May I take my week's vacation right now?"

---

Erin: "how..."

Courtney: "did you see the look in their eyes????? :O"

Angela: "FATE WAS ON OUR SIDE. IT LANDED ON THEM THREE WHOLE TIMES"

Erin: "yes but,,,,,"

Tommy: "don't speak to me I'm still reeling"

Keith: "oh please don't tell me it didn't work."

Chanse: "i just have one question. how did they kiss THREE TIMES and still not realize."

Courtney: "they were both practically levitating from giddiness"

Arasha: "they just kept looking away from each other and laughing it off... they didn't see each other's expressions 😭😭"

Angela: "guys. guys"

Erin: "what"

Angela: "do u know what this means"

Angela: "now that we've pushed them over this hurdle... They're going to start bro kissing in their sketches"

Chanse: "oh my god"

Josh: "oh fuck you're right"

Erin: "that's it."

Erin: "im quitting smosh"

Amanda: "Oh hey guys! We have a group chat?"

Shayne:

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

NPD culture is feeling endlessly grateful when your friends make plans with you. You want us to eat pizza and watch stupid shit? Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you. Thank you. Please. Yes. I love you. You want us to go somewhere after school? PLEASE yes I love you I'm so happy thank you for suggesting that I hope your pillow stays cold on both sides FOREVER. Want us to play online games? YESYEYSYSYYEYEYDYZHS YJANKS FOR INVITINH ME YESYEYSYEYSYDYS YOU WANT TO HAMGOUT IYEUEYSYDY THSNK YOU THANK YOU

(Just remembered that post from some mental health resource that said giving narcissist supply is pointless and like filling a bottomless pit. lmao L wait until they hear I've been filled with joy and gratitude (and a bit of anxiety but that's the usual for me) for three hours because a friend asked me to play minecraft with them and praised me foe installing hamachi first try)

♠️

.

[lowkeyrobin]

I just read your mcyts x musical theater reader and it was so sweet. I was wondering if you could do something similar but instead of the reader doing musical theater, they do movie/tv acting??? maybe with slimecicle, niki, foolish, and quackity?

I can try I can try 🙏🙏 ; I wanna formally apologize to anyone who's sent requests that I've never posted, sometimes the lack of ideas just hits me like a brick and I physically have no more ideas and can't post them lol ; also sorry if any of this is a little inaccurate, this is just what I know from bts videos and dead meat / kill counts lmao

MCYT ; actor reader

includes ; nihachu, quackity, foolish gamers & slimecicle

warnings ; language

masterlist

NIKI NIHACHU

your biggest fan fr

she binges every single movie/show you've been in just for you

then afterward her tiktok fyp is filled with edits of your characters

her pinterest is filled with pics of your characters too lmao

she's got boards for all the diff characters and aesthetics and bts pics

you send her a picture of you hung by a harness and she's like "what kind of contraption are you in and why"

probably watches the movies/shows you're in on stream for first time reactions and commentary

if you have to wear a wig for a project you'll show her like a time-lapse of how the makeup dept puts it on and she's just like "how long does that take???" "an hour" "omg"

ALEX QUACKITY

liking, reposting and commenting on any edits of you/your characters

actually so down bad /hj

yk damn well he's always asking "hey any new movies or shows ur gonna be in soon??" "not soon enough for u to watch rn lmao"

always makes jokes in reference to media you've been in

asks what other actors are like bts and if they're actually nice or if they have a JLO type ego

always wants to match Halloween costumes w your characters and their love interest/best duo type friend iykwim

hides the fact he reads fanfiction about you and your characters

FOOLISH GAMERS

owns every single piece of merchandise related to your characters

owns every piece of media you've been in on DVD, and has most of the original scores on cd/vinyl

constantly making references and jokes to movie/show deaths you've acted out / traumas your characters have endured

his tiktok fyp is FILLED with edits of you

every like three scrolls it's another edit that he likes, reposts and favorites

he rewatches edits 24/7

also dives into fandom culture a bit bc he wants to talk to people who like your career as much as he does

also the type to ask "is ___ a good person or are they secretly a bitch?" lmao

you spill all the juice

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

has an actual checklist of which movies/shows he's watched and how many times he has

the gossip about other actors bts goes crazy

he's probably the one to show up to set the most to give you food or motivation lol

"whatre you guys doing with all the blood?" *cue him looking to giant gallons of fake blood*

"I, ___ & ___ are dying today"

"Oh, fuck, cool. can I watch?"

matching Halloween costumes with your characters 💯💯💯

he's obsessed with seeing edits of you and reposting the ones he finds on Twitter

"Holy shit you guys are insane (make more right now)

w boyfriend

[heeliopheelia]

"two years was not enough to get over you" (heeseung x reader)

genre: angst word count: 1.2k requested by nonnie <3

warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of cheating, reader got absolutely hammered, swearing

a/n: i know angst is not your favorite genre but i absolutely ITCHED to post this one for you guys lmao 💜 decided to post the fics less often not to drown your fyp with my drabbles!! anyways, thank you guys for all the appreciation i've been given during this event so far!! love you all <33

masterlist

You don't remember the party all that well which should be concerning considering the fact that you've only arrived here two hours ago.

The ungodly amount of alcohol you've been pouring into your body ever since your eyes met your ex's across the room start to take a toll on your system. Hence why you're kneeling in front of a toilet, spitting your guts out into it as the mentioned ex boyfriend holds your hair out of your face.

"Damn, 've never seen you this shitfaced, doll," he murmurs, collecting your locks into a makeshift ponytail.

When the gentle touch of his fingertips starts to make your already buzzing head even more hazy, you turn around and push his hands away from you. Pulling yourself back to your wobbly legs, Heeseung grabs you by your waist to stop you from tripping over your own feet and knocking half of your teeth out.

"Let go of me," you mumble quietly and he does just that, slowly inching his hands away from you.

Trying to leave the bathroom as quickly as possible, you stumble again and have to balance yourself by bracing both of your arms on the sink. Everything around you is spinning so you shut your eyes tightly, not even reacting to the feeling of his warm hand resting over your bare shoulder.

"Let me take you home," he says and you know he won't take no for an answer. When you don't respond, he asks again, "Please?"

He's always been hard to resist even back when you were dating - now, with you in such state, he's practically irresistible. So you nod your head and let him lead you out of your friends' house, hand firmly wrapped around your waist. He puts you in the passenger sit of his car and buckles you up, trying not to lose his mind at the fact that your shameful eyes never met his even once.

You drive in silence. He peeks at you from the corner of his eye every couple seconds, checking up on you that's slouched over the window.

And he just has to talk to you. He can't waste such longed for opportunity, even if that means getting his heart broken by your rejection. "You've always been a lightweight, YN. Did the masochist in you take over your senses tonight?"

You huff, slowly opening your blurry eyes. It's not easy – sitting this close to him, pretending as if everything is okay between the two of you. Like he hasn't broken your heart all those years ago. You've tried to convince yourself you healed yourself out of Lee Heeseung months ago but one stupid smile of his completely toppled down your certainty of it, and now you're not so sure after all.

"'s all your fault," you scoff, finger tracing random patterns on the window. "That's how much just seeing your stupid face riles me up."

Heeseung bites his lip, pulling up beside your apartment and shutting off the engine. He jumps out of the car, then unbuckles your seat belt and helps you crawl out of your seat. You don't even fight him when he asks for your keys, knowing it'll take him three times less to actually fit the key to the lock.

The both of you strip your shoes off and he basically carries your dead weight to the living room. He sets you down on the couch and walks off to the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, you throw your head back on the headrest and close your eyes. This is probably the worst case scenario for tonight. Getting yourself stupidly wasted and ending up with your ex in the same apartment with you. You fucked up big time.

"Here, drink this," he says and nudges your knee with his.

You take the glass from his hands and empty the glass with three large sips. "Fuck, didn't realize I this was thirsty."

Heeseung chuckles lowly. "That's what happens when you gulp down vodka like it's water."

"What do you want from me?"

With an unamused smile, you turn to him slightly, taking in his face. You don't even try to lie to yourself anymore about how much you've missed him.

And he voices your exact thoughts after couple beats of silence. "I missed you. Two years was not enough to get over you."

You let out a loud scoff, an upset scowl making its way on your features. "You gotta be kidding me."

"I'm not, though," he argues, looking you straight into the eyes, gaze unwavering. "Never thought losing you would leave such an impact on me, you know? I just feel... empty. It's lonely out there without you."

"Should've thought of that before you fucked that chick on your birthday party," you nearly snarl at him, attempting to stand up from the couch but his hand holds you down from doing so.

His eyes are screaming with desperation. "Don't you think everyone deserves a second chance? It's been such a long time – more than enough for me to think everything over. I won't take you for granted again, YN."

"Everyone deserves a second chance, except for cheaters like you."

"I'm sor-"

"I'm tired, Heeseung," you interrupt him, hand running over your exhausted features. You notice how he swallows hardly, so you continue before he can, "Can we just not do it? I'm fucking wasted, Heeseung. Do you really think this is the right time to talk about this shit?"

With a sigh, he nods at end of it all. "I guess you're right."

"I'm always right," you mumble before leaning your heavy head on his shoulder.

The feeling is so familiar that you feel tears beginning to push on your eyes mercilessly. But the both of you say nothing. You sit in silence, eyelids refusing to open from the exhaustion.

And it's alarming how much comfort you still soak from his presence alone after everything he's put you through. One would think that you'd want nothing to do with the one who cheated on you and broke your heart into pieces, ruining every other man for you. Yet you can't help but relax in his touch as his smooth fingers graze over your arms. You just... let him wrap yourself around his finger all over again.

You let the first and the last tear drop down your cheek.

"Please, be gone by the morning," you whisper into the silence with a tight throat, face pressing to the crook of his neck. Just this one last time.

And he listens, like he always does. And when you wake up, the only thing assuring you that last night wasn't a dream is door of the top cabinet in your kitchen left barely ajar yet still not properly closed – Heeseung's habit that used to annoy the living hell out of you.

The sudden flood of memories start hollering in your brain and you close your eyes, pressing your palms roughly to them.

Despite all of the voices in your head telling you against it, you reach for your phone laying on the coffee table. Your fingers automatically dial his number that you had memorized by the time of your fifth date and you dig your nails into the flesh on your thigh as you wait with anticipation to hear his voice again.

No matter how much you hate Lee Heeseung, you're self-destructive enough to love him even more. And as much as it hurt to admit to yourself last night, two years was not enough to get over him either.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk

[jebewonmorelike]

Don't Push It

wc: 1.5k pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: light swearing, flufff, i guess angst but not serious, jiwoong is jealoussss, slightly unsafe wielding of scissors lmao summary: you've been opening youth in the shade albums for hours now trying to find the photocard of your boyfriend jiwoong... you're trying to find your boyfriend jiwoong's photocard, right (y/n)? ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ I DID IT. I POSTED. FINALLY. HAHAHHA HELP i hate working. after pulling at least one jiwoong inclusion from every album i bought, i've decided to honor jiwoong's dedication to trying to become my bias with this fic. okay, now i'm gonna try to make a pt 2 for the gunwookie fic i posted at the beginning of the month. let's see if i can get that done this week :)

“Come on, come on, COME ON,” you shout, taking one of the blades of your scissors and slicing through the plastic packaging of yet another album. “If there’s a god, please. I’m begging you here.”

You throw your scissors down onto your kitchen table, tearing off the plastic wrap and not-so-carefully shaking the packet of album inclusions out of the booklet.

Having bought many groups’ albums in the past, you had to admit you were pretty impressed with WAKEONE’s packaging for ZeroBaseOne’s debut mini-album. They had managed to go above and beyond when it came to the details. Every item was printed with a logo or the members’ names or the album title and often with all three. Not even the posters were left blank on the back sides. There was a really cool thermal image on the cover of the Youth version and there were elegant transparent pages throughout each booklet. 

Nothing was lazily scrambled together and the inclusions were all safely secured in a sealed (and logo-embossed) pouch like the one you are ripping open with your teeth right now like a feral squirrel.

“COME ON, COME ON!” You shout in anticipation, emptying the pouch of its contents onto your table in front of you. Sifting through the various items, you search for the photocard-- breezing past a Hanbin standee, a Taerae transparent, and Gunwook’s (adorable) godawful coaster design, you finally spot the photocard.

You squeal, snatching the photocard that’s hiding under the sticker pack to reveal...

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groan, slamming the smiling picture of Gyuvin down on the table in frustration. You’d pulled the exact same photocard four albums ago.

You’re so engrossed in your fury of desperate album-opening, you don’t hear the bathroom door open-- your boyfriend walking into the kitchen with only a towel tied around his waist. Normally, you’d be quite distracted by this, but, right now, he might as well be a fly buzzing around your apartment.

The scissors are in your hand again, wildly cutting open the last Shade version album that you bought to "support your boyfriend". You’d preordered two sets of each album version, but after seeing a full template of all of the inclusions-- you’d bought fifteen more Shade versions and set out on a mission to pull one specific photocard.

“How’s my baby?” Jiwoong’s hands suddenly resting on your shoulders causes you to jump; having not even noticed his presence. He sees your surprise and kneads your shoulders soothingly. “Did I startle you? You didn’t know I was in the shower?”

You look up at him, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t even know you were home.”

“Oh,” Jiwoong says, a little pout forming on his lips. “Ouch.”

You giggle, but the sudden widening of your boyfriend’s eyes in what seems like fear causes you to frown. “What’s wrong?”

You follow Jiwoong’s gaze all the way to your hand-- to find you’ve accidentally been pointing the blades of your scissors at him for the past minute. You slowly lower them to the table, giving him an awkward smile.

“Honey, don’t you think you’ve gone through enough albums?” He asks, taking a seat next to you on the kitchen table bench as you begin to rip the plastic off of your last album. Seeing the pile of photocards with his face on them, Jiwoong sifts through them-- surely noticing that you have yet to pull the second photocard of him from the Shade version of the album. “You know I literally could’ve gotten you all of my photocards for free.”

“Oh, uh,” you stammer, balling up the plastic wrap in your hand and tossing it into the open trash can next to the kitchen counter. You remove the pouch of inclusions and cut it open with your scissors. “I know, yeah. But that would... Um... Ruin the fun! You know?”

“It doesn’t really look like you’re having that much fun,” Jiwoong observes as he notices the light sheen of anxiety-induced sweat glistening over your skin, the redness of your eyes from how much you’ve been rubbing them in frustration, and the slight unkemptness of your hair from the way you were scrunching it up in your fists angrily when you’d pull the wrong photocard yet again.

“What do you mean? I’m having a blast!” You try to assure your boyfriend, but in your attempted demonstration of elation, you forget the presence of scissors in your hand once more. The blades point towards Jiwoong threateningly, causing him to blink back at you nervously. You bite your lip and lower the scissors to the table again. “Sorry.”

“After you open this one, you’re going straight to bed,” he replies, standing up from the table and walking towards the refrigerator. “Unconscious. Where you can’t wield scissors at your loving boyfriend.”

You shake the packet of inclusions out onto the table-- so nervous you’re unable to look. Eyes closed, you touch the different paper objects on the table; having opened so many albums, you know what each piece is just by feeling them. 

Your heart stops when you find the photocard. As you lift it up in both of your hands, you take a deep breath and pray for it to be the right one. You hear Jiwoong walking back towards you as you finally open your eyes.

“YOU DID IT!” //// “NO GOD WHY!?”

You and your boyfriend’s overlapping but contrasting exclamations shock you both. Jiwoong’s brow furrows confusedly as he sits back down next to you-- snatching the photocard from your hand and examining it.

“This is definitely the photocard of me that you were missing,” Jiwoong says, grinning at you as he pats your head. “Did you not recognize it in all your excitement?”

“Um,” you stall, doing your best to hide your disappointment. “Exactly! Yeah, I thought it was the other one for a second.”

Jiwoong’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’re still not excited though. Why aren’t you excited?”

“I--... I’m just tired!” You answer, wrapping yourself around your boyfriend’s arm cutely. “You were totally right. All of that album-opening was exhausting! I should go to bed right now.”

“Right,” Jiwoong responds after a long moment. “Yeah, you should get to bed, baby. Go on-- I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

You lean in, kissing him sweetly before hopping up from the table and walking towards the door to your bedroom. Just as you’re about to head inside, Jiwoong suddenly calls:

“(Y/N), there’s another album you forgot to open!”

Running back towards the table in an absolute frenzy, you trip over the leg of the bench-- falling right into Jiwoong’s arms. 

He looks at you expectantly. “Now why would you be running that fast to open another album if you’d already pulled the photocard you wanted?”

Realizing that this had been a trap-- that there was no album you forgot to open and that your boyfriend had caught you in a lie-- you grimace sheepishly. 

“This isn’t the one you wanted?” Jiwoong asks with a pout, holding up the photocard you’d just pulled from the last album. 

You sigh heavily. “No. It’s not.”

He removes his arms from around you, causing you to fall to the bench. Folding his arms across his chest sulkily, Jiwoong asks, “Did you want this one at all?”

“Of course I did, I just...,” you try to soothe, but it’s no use. Jiwoong is already knee-deep in what you call a ‘Petty Fit’. Your boyfriend throws one at least once a week over the smallest of things and you usually find them incredibly endearing, if not also very funny.

But this time, his Petty Fit is undeniably justified. If only he’d let you explain.

“Do you want any of my photocards?” He asks, throwing his whole upper body down onto the kitchen table melodramatically. “Do you want me!?”

“Woongie,” you whine, grabbing his wrist as he starts to take the pile of his photocards in his hand and lean towards the trash can with them. “That’s enough.”

Jiwoong huffs and you can practically taste the metaphorical salt. “Whose photocard were you looking for?”

“Jiwoongie,” you whine again, but the adorable pout he’s giving you makes you weak. Reluctantly, you mumble, “Mattchu’s.”

“Which one?” He asks, like it matters.

“The one where he’s wearing a sweater,” you answer anyway.

“Can you hear that?” Jiwoong gasps, hand covering to clutch his heart. “It’s my heart shattering.”

Unable to endure this any longer, you throw your arms around your boyfriend-- hopping into his lap as he stares back at you through wide eyes. “I love you soooo much.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met-- nay, the most handsome man on the face of the planet!” You compliment, showering Jiwoong’s face in tiny kisses. He’s trying and failing to hold back a smile. “You’re perfect and I love your face and I love your photocards and I love your face on your photocards.”

“Okay, flattery might get you somewhere,” he says, avoiding your gaze to keep from grinning.

“And, if you must know, the photocard isn’t for me,” you confess, running a hand through the hair at the back of his neck. “It’s for my sister. She’s been obsessed with Matthew ever since she watched him in CAMP ZEROBASEONE and she doesn’t have enough money to buy multiple albums. I was just trying to get the photocard she wanted for her.”

Jiwoong meets your eyes again, his cheeks flushing a bit in embarrassment. “Likely story.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. “So you’re not thinking of leaving me for a dumpling?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond, before adding cheekily, “It would crush my poor sister.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Jiwoong echoes your warning, pressing his lips to yours before gently sliding you off of him and standing up from the table. Your heart skips a beat as you realize your boyfriend is still only wearing a towel as he runs off to your bedroom. “Give me one second!”

After about sixty seconds, Jiwoong reemerges from your bedroom; now wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and holding his arms behind his back. Making his way back over to the table, he sits down beside you again and produces a small rectangular object.

As it comes into focus, you realize what it is: the exact photocard of Matthew that you’d been searching for.

“Oh my god!” You squeal, snatching it out of Jiwoong’s hand. “You had it this whole time?”

He laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Your boyfriend has everything you need. Just ask next time, okay? Woongie’ll take care of it.”

“Yes, I’m so sorry for giving your company a ton of money,” you joke, kissing his cheek. “But I guess I should’ve known my boyfriend would have his boyfriend’s photocards.”

“They're not as good as my photocards, of course, but,” Jiwoong says, rolling his eyes as he grins at you. “If Mattchu will make your sister happy...”

You examine the photocard, smiling at the treasure you’d been hunting for. “He is cute though, isn’t he?”

“Don’t push it.”

[estiebestieban]

omg your tags were ABSOLUTELY PERFECT! you understood exactly what i was trying to say in my post and i truly appreciate that.

of course no one HAS to like esteban but whenever i see someone hate on him i just want to ask "why?". because pretty much 99% of the time their reasoning for hating on esteban is based off one of the narratives that has been thoroughly disproved, not just in my post (i don't think that highly of myself lmao) but in many testimonies over the years. i've even seen people say they don't really know anything about him and then just write paragraphs of lies to justify their dislike of someone they OPENLY ADMIT they could be wrong about! and if their whole basis for hating on a driver is based on a bunch of lies, then what's left once the falsehoods are deconstructed you know? (and if you're one of the 1% then go ahead - i can't stop you lmao!)

also i actually had written a line about how esteban's teammates, who have all been VERY TALENTED when it comes to getting the media on their side, have absolutely used this negative perception of esteban to boost themselves (i even had interview quotes from fernando and pierre at the ready and was trying to find some from checo) but i ended up removing it because i didn't want to be accused of using my post to hate on the aforementioned drivers. because of course my extensively researched and cited 1000+ word essay that i spent hours on and collaborated with multiple blogs was all written for a single line in which i "hate" on two drivers...

there are definitely times where i wish that esteban would play the media game and speak his truth (and i think he's actually testing the waters a bit with very reasonable statements). but that's not how he wants to approach things and i have so much respect for that. and considering all the team principals (including his very likely future team principal ayao komatsu) and other paddock members have vouched for him over the years, i think it was the right decision.

anyways sorry for another mini-essay in your ask box but i just wanted to say thanks again for your tags <3

You're so right for your post and you're always invited into my askbox for mini (or full length tbh) essays because you get it!!! (As do all other esteban stans I've seen on here cheers to like all five of us.

As a Dutch fan, the one question I get asked most is "Oh you must be a Max fan, right?" and when my answer is no, people go down the list of possible drivers I could be a fan of, but somehow they never say Esteban. When I say I'm an Alpine fan, the gut punch response is always "Oh, Fernando/Pierre, I get it."

While there is nothing wrong inherently wrong with assuming favourites, it's wild to me that even when I narrow it down to three possible drivers, Esteban still isn't even considered.

Even when I'm surrounded by major fans of the sport, the concept of Esteban having a genuine fan is foreign to people. I understand that most people around me view the sport through the lens of the Viaplay vision (and previously ZiggoSport) which favours Max to the extreme, and who couldn't give less fucks about other drivers. Esteban is hardly mentioned during broadcast, and when he is, it is always in a negative way (that's what happens when you take out the golden boy once I guess)

I've had this discussion time and time again, where I point out that Esteban drives in a similar style like Fernando - but where Fernando is praised for his balls and his attitude, Esteban is shoved aside as reckless and a danger. Where Max is hailed as the second coming of Christ, Esteban is deemed as a liability on track.

Why? Because he isn't considered charismatic enough? Even when he has countless fun and endearing interviews?

The media continues to cut Esteban out of the narrative wherever they can. An example would be people pushing the Pierre/Charles friendship for a dramatic tale of childhood friends turned competitors, but they leave out Esteban time and time again - like we don't have various images showing their closeness during their karting days.

Also, we forget way too often that Esteban and Max were rookies together in f3 in 2014 who both skipped f2 to go straight to f1. Only one of them won f3 that year, and it wasn't Max

[ohbo-ohno]

Hi Bo!! I hope you’re having a wonderful day so far 😊

I think I read on your blog that you were done writing for DLMLIYH, so if I’m right about that then please feel free to ignore this!

Just to start off, I fucking love that story. I absolutely love the way you write- it’s always such a treat when you post anything!

When I was rerererererere reading it, I just had a thought, and maybe I’m just a little stoned, but if I was in the readers situation, after the incident with Simon in the bathroom, I would have to ask if there was any possible way we could make this a little more pleasant, you know?

Hear me out: okay, you want to keep me as a pet, fine. I can’t fight my way out of here, obviously. But like, could we perhaps go to my apartment so I can get SOME of my stuff? Like any meds, comfort items, perhaps some clothes or at least my skin care junk?

Is there any universe where they’ll allow that to happen, if it’ll make the reader a little more cooperative? Okay love you bye❤️

hello!!! ily!

i've been finished writing dlmliyh since i marked it complete on ao3, but i'll probably always be more than happy to answer asks about it! i (like every person ever) love getting asks in general, so i truly truly do not care what they're about haha <3<3<3

if you scrolled to the bottom of my #dlmliyh tag (to like, a year ago lmao) i'm pretty sure i've answered this type of question before? but i dont mind talking about it again!

idk how ghoap would react to you outright asking smth like this, but they for sure want you as comfortable as possible

johnny is utterly obsessed with every aspect of you, and (outside of the bedroom) he'd probably be stressed if you even glanced at him without smiling. he's rubbing your feet, practically buying the entire catalogue of your favorite brands, and paying to have your favorite restaurants delivered. i'd say it only takes him two or three days to beg simon to watch you for a bit so he can go raid your apartment and bring damn near everything back

and shit, simon wants you happy to. for even the basic fact that it makes his life easier if you're not trying to escape once an hour & it calms johnny down, he also just doesn't particularly want to deal with a girl on the verge of a panic attack 24/7. that, and it gets the sadist inside him a little more when he can scare you/work you up a bit when you're trusting and comfortable <3

[johnslittlespoon]

ok okokk i may be pushing it but i just cant stop picturing barry circa 2012 with leaving!bucky. i just feel like theyd have the cutest dynamic ever. he gives art student vibes like maybe hes studying film or literature. theyre childhood bestfriends and maybe they were eachother's homoerotic-codependent-friendship canon event. UGHH theyd be so cute stfuu. and maybe bucky and gale are already established and curt is just yearning for a whileee like over a year of slow burn until the three of them are a throuple... idk i just miss curtbuckbucky. you dont have to change your canon for the long fic i just needed to share this idea lmfao

au post | NO ur not pushing it this is such fun world building teehee <33 genuinely this is gonna help me later for drafting! (FUCK MY LIFE HOW IS THIS 2K WORDS. i thought i only had a few thoughts... i was so wrong. my bad chief. enjoy/suffer ig)

ok so this is so funny because i've actually been thinking ab how sweet those two would be together, cute little nerdy besties, and how they'd meet because of course curt has to be in this fic!!

and the first thing my mind went to was the cliche homoerotic codependent friendship trope too LMAO. i'm feeling like maybe they meet on the first day of highschool; neither of them share their english class with any friends, and they end up sat next to each other, and john keeps side–eyeing him because curt looks... interesting. (ie: deep into his emo phase. the fringe. the smudged eyeshadow. chipped black nail polish, band shirts– all things john does not let him live down as they grow up.)

but his eyes settle on some pin on curt's jacket that has some character from his favourite movie or something, and the yap jumps out, john can't control it. blurts out a "you like ___ too?!" and curt's head snaps over and he nods nervously and john takes one look at those big sad charcoal–ringed blue puppy eyes and is like yup. this is the one. will protect with my life.

(tiny headcanon that rly won't have a big effect on plot or anything, but i feel like it just fits very well with john/his character in leaving– dude's got madddd undiagnosed adhd. he's written off as a loud mouth/troublemaker in his childhood, but he wants to be a good kid, his mind is just always going too fast and sitting still is torture and his parents get frustrated and don't look into the root of the problem, trying to discipline it out of him instead. i will heal my inner child by healing him alright)

they're attached at the hip from that moment on and it makes sense to no one because they seem like complete opposites, curt more inclined towards the arts and bookish things and his friends are all the same, whereas john is more inclined towards athletics and science and hangs around that type of crowd as well. but they both love video games and movies and music and they bond over never really feeling like they fit in anywhere particular and both groups of friends get along just fine when they all get together. <3

but yk time goes on, they learn things about themselves as they grow up, and curt and john are so close and spend so much time together that they're already a lot closer than regular friends– they just don't realize it. they think nothing of cuddling up on the couch watching movies together, or sharing a bed when john stays over at curt's place after he gets into a fight with his parents, or being much more interested in spending time together than pursuing girls.

and curt's pretty– john nearly mistakes him for a girl that first day they meet. the summer before their senior year, john practically spends the whole summer at curt's house, and curt's mom doesn't mind; she works long hours and is glad her son isn't spending the summer moping around indoors alone, and she loves john and gets the feeling that her home is a sanctuary for him. one day they're in the backyard lazing around, and they get onto the topic of first kisses, and neither of them have had a proper relationship outside of those classic week–long middleschool flings that don't actually mean anything, so there's not much to talk about.

but being dumb teenage boys, they start worrying about "what if we're really bad at kissing and no girls wanna go with us to senior prom this year" etc. and one of them pops the suggestion of practicing together, and thus begins a summer of sweet stolen kisses and hand holding and experimenting and dancing around calling it something. it ends when the summer does because they realize that they both work better as friends, but they're as close as ever and both definitely learn they aren't straight (and they probably make a cute pact– "if we aren't in love by the time we're thirty, we'll just marry each other.")

i don't see them really doing much together because they're young and shy and inexperienced, but it's enough for john to decide that yeah, he definitely likes guys too, but that's all that really amounts to (until he meets gale) because he's growing up in a small town in wisconsin and it's not the easiest/most accepting place to find other queers. john probably ends up dating a real sweet girl during his last year of highschool, but she's going away for college and john's going to a local one so it ends amicably at the end of summer, both of them staying close friends. (if we wanna get sickeningly wholesome, maybe she ends up pining for a girl while john's pining for gale and they share their little stories and give each other advice and facetime every week to catch up <3)

(++ curt ends up falling head over heels for ken, who he meets through john when curt and john's friend groups get together for movie nights or summer parties. john pretends to be annoyed at how lovesick they are when they first start crushing, but he ends up matchmaking and being the one to push them to confess their feelings after graduation because he loves his friends.)

BUT THEN, leaving this fic's 'canon' to elaborate on the throuple stuff you said! i miss curtbuckbucky too </3

in a separate universe, curt doesn't end up with ken, and as much as he loves his friendship with john and agrees that a relationship wouldn't have worked at that time in their lives, he spends that first year of college pining. when john starts talking about some guy named gale during their second year, he's a little sad, but mostly protective, because "what do you MEAN he's in his 30s??" and "he's a BIKER?"

but john eventually introduces him to gale after a few months of telling curt about him, probably once he and gale actually start seeing each other, and curt immediately gets it. and then he's in double–hell because not only is he a bit (a lot) in love with his best friend, but he's blushing every time said best friend's new bf talks to him, and they're gonna notice eventually if they haven't already and he feels so guilty.

more yearning ensues and john is dense and doesn't realize but gale picks up on it, maybe even notices john doing a bit of pining of his own that john's not fully aware of. and his heart twists because his mind goes to his own insecurities about how john should be seeing someone his own age, so he sits john down and opens up a conversation about it. john is adamant that he's very, very happy with gale, but he tells gale about his and curt's past and admits that he has always still had feelings for him, but insists that it's not something he'd ever pursue, that he values curt's friendship more.

gale throws him off by saying he wouldn't mind if john wanted to explore those feelings, and at first john gets anxious gale is calling things off with the two of them and this is his way of softening the blow, but gale reassures him that's not the case, that he's very happy with their relationship. he just encourages that if he wants to talk to curt and feel things out, he wouldn't be opposed to john and curt seeing each other as well– gale's often busy, after all, so it would be nice for john to have someone else, as long as curt's comfortable with that kind of arrangement and as long as john keeps gale in the loop.

they decide to kinda just feel it out as they go, but soon enough gale starts coming home from work every so often to find the two of them curled up on his couch together, sweet and innocent. curt's wary at first, always slightly detaching himself from john when gale's around, but gale is always friendly and doesn't change up his routine, settling on the couch at john's other side like it's not a big deal at all, wanting to show curt he's welcome there, not wanting john to feel guilty.

it's another scenario where lines just sorta start to blur over time, curt spending a lot of time over at gale's house, and gale sees the way curt looks at him, probably noticed it from the first time they met but chalked it up to nerves at the time. curt's an angel and he's grown quite fond of him, but he doesn't want to overstep, so he leaves it up to curt, thinking maybe the boy will mention it to john one day and john will in turn come to gale to talk about it.

and eventually that happens, just like gale thought it might. curt's just gone home and john's head is in his lap on the couch while they watch tv, and john asks "what do you think about curt?" and gale tells him that he's sweet and he loves how much john smiles when he's around him, the usual. "so you like him?" john pushes, and gale immediately has a feeling where this conversation is going, drags his eyes away from the tv to look down at john.

says "of course" easily, and lets john take his time forming his thoughts. john ends up telling him that he and curt were fooling around earlier while gale was at work (and god help gale for the images that puts in his head) and that he'd made some offhand comment about how curt better hurry up if he doesn't want gale to come home and catch him half naked on their couch. and john's all shy when he says "and curt, uh. y'know. that... did it for him" with a vague gesture LOL. gale never fails to find it amusing how certain things can fluster john to talk about after all they've done together.

"so, anyway. i asked him about it after, if it was a coincidence, and he was real shy about it, but he did admit after a whole lot of apologizing that he likes you." gale listens to him nervously get his words out, petting his hair encouragingly, waits for him to be done before he asks "how do you feel about that?" only to watch the flush return when john mumbles "it's hot."

this is getting sooo long i need to take away my own typing privileges, but basically that's how things would start between the three of them– john and gale agree that gale will let himself be a bit flirty with curt and see how curt takes it. obviously this goes a little too well when curt gets hot and bothered sat between john and gale during a movie night with john's hand on his knee and gale's arm resting on the couch behind him while he plays with curt's hair.

the movie is forgotten when gale's finger catches on a tangled curl and curt doesn't bite back the little whine that slips out in time and john's head snaps over and he mumbles a "fuck" when he realizes what's happened, and his lack of filter comes out to play when he turns to curt and asks "curt, can gale kiss you?" and curt turns to gale with big doll eyes and nods.

john ends up palming himself over his shorts as he watches gale coax curt into his lap, face hot and pupils blown as he gets to see both his guys make out in front of him, almost dizzy seeing curt get so shy and needy and pliant because when it's just the two of them, he and curt are both very balanced in their dynamic. they've been such close friends for so long that not much gets the other truly shy like that, and they're always quick to voice their wants and crack jokes while fooling around and all. so to see curt get so flustered in that way with gale has him lightheaded, and by the time they all collapse into gale's bed at the end of the night, john's convinced this is the best decision he's ever made.

there's a lot of pining on curt's end because for a while it's kinda just sex when it's the three of them, and he loves it but he also finds himself wanting more but feeling too scared to voice it because he feels like he's intruding. but eventually they all get their shit sorted out; curt fits into their relationship just right in a way gale and john never intended or expected, and gale falls for curt just as much as john has and curt does the same with gale.

gale's got two sweet things glued to his side now and man, do they ever give him a run for his money, and if he'd thought john had too much energy (and stamina) it's nothing compared to keeping up with both of them, but he wouldn't have it any other way. <3

throuple things won't be happening in the actual fic, but i do love the idea of exploring the dynamic the three of them might have in a spin–off of that au so this was rly fun thx :-) maybe i'll write a pwp oneshot set in that universe as an excuse to write more curtbuckbucky once the fic is done LOL we'll see!

[calistrae]

pillow talk. richarlison

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

pairing: richarlison x gn!reader

warnings: very slightly suggestive if you blink (just in case: minors dni!)

notes: i went to check my inbox and there were like five requests for richarlison and i kind of feel bad for not posting anything for him earlier lmao but here you are loves <3 hope it's worth the VERY long wait! and tysm for 300 followers, i really appreciate it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

as late hours of the night ticked away, you found yourself in bed, snuggled up under multiple blankets as the air in london was getting colder with each passing day. your boyfriend had left for training over three hours ago and you couldn't wait for him to return.

every minute of your day up until now had been rough - being on your feet all day and finally you were in the comfort of your soft, cloud-like bed. the only thing that would make this moment better would be his arms around you, keeping you close and drawing you into him. he couldn't be away for much longer, right? it had already been so long but time only seemed to pass slower. maybe it was your despair causing you to feel this way.

you had barely seen each other before he was headed out to training, the most you got was a gentle peck on the lips that promised to be back as soon as possible. it felt like an eternity away from the current moment but as if angels had answered your prayers, you heard the slam of your front door. not an aggressive one, just a slam. you heard him shuffle his jacket and boots off and it didn't take long until he was upstairs.

neither of you wanted to do anything but be in one another's arms, you could see that from the way he plopped down onto the matress, not even bothering to remove any of his clothes. "hi" you simply muttered as he wrapped his firm frame around your body, his head resting in the crook of your neck. "meu amor, you can't even imagine how hectic today has been."

"i've been running around all day as well, my feet are killing me." you admitted and he nodded lightly, which caused his hair to rub up against your skin and you couldn't help but chuckle a little. at this, his smile grew and he took a quick glance at your face "for someone that had a rough day, you still look awfully beautiful." he hummed and adjusted himself so he leaned above you, his hands supporting himself but he couldn't hold himself up for much longer as his arms gave out in less than half a minute.

"rough session?" you questioned with a small smile and kissed his cheek to which he nodded and sighed "coach was trying to kill us, i swear." you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, drawing him closer as if there was any space left between the two of you. just by touching him, you could feel the tension in his muscles and hadn't you been so tired, you would've given him a massage. instead, you opted for giving him gentle kisses on his cheeks and temples.

"i feel like my boss hates me. they're always giving me a hundred different tasks and i have to get them done by the end of the day even if they're not things that don't technically have to be rushed." you ranted and groaned quietly, looking over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still listening. and he was, his eyes on you as he slowly nodded along. sometimes this was all you needed, you didn't need him to say anything but you had reassurance that he was listening. your relationship had always been turbulent, so moments like this were so important.

just the two of you in each other's embrace, talking about your days while snuggling up underneath the cushions. nothing in the whole world could disturb how at peace and relaxed you felt.

"missed you so much too. really didn't help with the stress." you added as you were finally finished with rambling on about how difficult your day had been. "oh, amor. i missed you too. so much." he whispered and you felt him place his palm on your cheek, carefully pulling you in before he placed a kiss on your lips.

you weren't sure how long you had been laying there by now. you were now facing each other as your boyfriend's hand gingerly dragged across your features, a tired smile on his lips. "you are so beautiful." you couldn't help but blush, turning your face into the pillow beneath your head "you keep repeating that and it's making me blush!" you accused, which made him laugh.

"well, yes, meu amor. that's my job. but i can do way more than just make you blush." he pointed out with a mischievous smile and god, that grin looked so stupid. his comment made you roll your eyes and lightly, you swung your hand at his arm, giving it a gentle swat.

"if you keep doing that, i'll show you what i can do!" he 'threatened' as he pinned himself above you once again, caging you between his arms as he stared at you with a smirk dancing on his lips.

"mhm, and if you keep teasing, i'll show you my own skills and we all know you can't resist" you countered and matched his expression. in response, you heard a whine before all of his weight laid on top of you "don't tease. i'm way too tired for this." he groaned.

"you started it! and get off me, you're like a bag of rocks" you argued but went quiet when you heard a quiet snore.

oh boy.

[memberment]

morning!

I just slept twelve hours and I think I functionally figured something out and if I did just know I'm gonna fucking scream LMAOO

(4:59) HOLY FUCKING SHIT OH MY FUCKING GOD WOW OH FUCKING WOW

NO ONE IS STOPPING ME FROM DOING ANYTHING EVER AGAIN THIS IS YOUR SIGN THAT GAY AUDACITY IS ENOUGH

(5:49) when you're busy trying to ascend to godhood and you just randomly think of the end of hand in glove and fell ILL

BRUH.

(6:55) Yeah I've been up for less than three hours and I just won idk guys

(9:44) Is anyone watching the debate rn?? I'm fucking stressed. I got cucked into watching it as I code. I hate being alive, guys LMAO

(11:43) I completely tuned out after that update ngl. Anyways. I have created a yap fic for the Trin series where I talk about all the pure insanity going on throughout it all. I formatted it super fun which is WHY it took me so long to post it like I wanted it to be cute n fun like that. SOOOO THERE WE GO. anyways, watch me progressively lose my shit on the lorem ipsum fic if that's your flavor of memberment bc I am gen too terrified to mess with some of this stuff on my test ws that became my genesis skin LMAOOO