#is that going to be as helpful to you as to a white person in similar circumstances

[myclovernew]

hate you, love you [lee myung-gi]

⟢ pairing: myung-gi x fem!reader (basically replacing junhee as player 222 sorry jo yuri my queen)

⟢ fluff but a little steamy near the end...

⟢ word count: 4k

⟢ a/n: hai everyone this is my first ever fic here on tumblr and i haven't written anything in over four years so i apologize if the writing is terrible LOL squid game and myung-gi brainrot had me down BAD

the annoyingly cheerful music blaring at what felt like 7 in the morning woke me up. the last thing i could remember before falling asleep was getting into a white semi-van driven by a man in a red hoodie whose face i couldn't quite make out. so where in the hell was i now?

blinking a couple times before rubbing one eye, i slowly slid up to the point where i could feel the cold, metal backboard of the bed you were in through the thin polyester jacket i had on. that's when i realized i was in a completely different outfit than the one i had on the night before. looking around, i noticed others slowly waking, everyone in the same outfit as mine with only a slight difference. you were all numbered, and my number was 222.

a guy who was in the bed directly in front of mine started waking up at that moment, mumbling something incoherent to himself and then letting out a huge sigh. the number on the back of his jacket was 333. only when he turned slightly to his left is when i realized; i'd recognize that side profile anywhere.

"lee my-" before i could even finish calling out his name, the speaker sent out feedback indicating the start of something unknown. everyone was awake at this point, walking towards the center pool of people.

that's when an alarm went off, and an automatic door let in a group of eerily mysterious people dressed in pink jumpsuits, their faces covered by black masks with either squares or circles painted on them in white.

"i would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you," one of the square guards started. i was watching from the foot of my bed, trying to scan the crowd to navigate that piece of shit. i can't believe that asshole is here too, i thought to myself while half paying attention to whatever the square guy is saying.

"everyone here will participate in six different games over six days." games? what are we in, grade school? "those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize."

now that's what i wanted to hear. when that salesman looking guy approached me a week ago, he had me play a game of ddakji, which i was a natural at. so of course i beat him on the first round. he gave me 100,000 won as a prize and a rustic brown business card with only a number on the back. i debated on calling the ominous number for days on end, but the final straw was having all 58 of my calls to that asshole myung-gi ignored. he had "borrowed" 500,000 won from me to kickstart a stock he was investing in and just never paid me back. a couple of weeks after was when i found out his dumbass had led a bunch of his stream viewers to invest in the wrong coin, causing a lot of not-so-happy, middle aged men struggling to make ends meet to go after him.

anyway, i was determined to make him pay.

a couple of people from the huge crowd started yelling out remarks, demanding for answers.

"what happened to my clothes?" "did you kidnap us?" "why are you wearing a mask?" "show your face!"

then one person started asking for their phone, insisting that they had to check the crypto market.

"player 333, lee myung-gi," the square guard had declared. my head immediately snapped up, eyes glued to the screen that had just turned on. a video of myung-gi started playing and it was him being embarrassingly bad at the same game of ddakji i had played with the salesman. i couldn't help but laugh to myself as hundreds of people watched him get slapped, how humiliating.

"current debt levels, 1.8 billion won." oh you had to be joking.

that made the measly 500,000 won he owed me look like nothing. no wonder he was ignoring my calls, the loser had absolutely no means of paying me back, let alone getting rid of his own debt.

i lost sight of myung-gi when the guards had us line up and sign what looked like a consent form to play the games. it seemed a bit excessive, but i guess they had to keep it all professional. we then had our photos taken before being led up multiple flights of pink, maze-like stairs.

all at once, three giant doors opened up to a large, sand-filled area. the guards instructed us to go in and stand behind the red line drawn on the ground. at the very end of the field was an enlarged cartoonish doll. what could we possibly be doing here?

i looked around for myung-gi again, hoping to catch him by surprise when he saw my face afters months of ignoring me.

"the first game is red light, green light," a woman's voice iterated through the speakers. red light, green light? i hadn't played that since i was a kid. "cross the finish line before the five minutes are up. if you do, you pass."

this honestly felt like a joke. why were we getting paid to play children's games?

"everyone!" i squinted my eyes to see a middle-aged man, his number being 456, run to the middle of the crowd. "everyone, pay attention!" he was waving his arms like a mad man to try and get everyone to listen to him.

"this is not just a game!" what?

"if you lose, you die!" there's no way that was true. did he mean get eliminated? they wouldn't really kill us, would they? i looked around to watch everyone else's expressions. some started visibly shaking, others shaking their heads in pure disbelief.

at that moment, the robotic doll turned around and put her hand up to her eyes.

"let the game begin."

the first "red light, green light" was said and everyone began to move. as soon as the doll stopped to look around, i stayed as still as possible. the man from earlier was still yelling at everyone to freeze, and something in me started to believe in what he was saying about the game. as i froze in place, i scanned the people around me. 239, 009, 176, 028, and 333. found you.

the next "red light, green light" played and i ran towards myung-gi. he might've been a crypto bro who practically lived at the pc cafe, but damn he was a fast runner. the next couple of "red light, green light's" went off and i was just about a feet behind him now. that's when a loud "bang" echoed throughout the hall. a gun shot. more gun shots sounded, followed by ear-piercing screams. stay still, stay still, i thought to myself.

then it went silent. everyone who was still alive was frozen in their places, not even moving when the doll said "red light, green light." my eyes focused on myung-gi. he was breathing so heavily i could hear him.

"red light, green light." the man from earlier, player 456, was the only one to move as he ran past all of us. "red light, green light." he moved a bit further, with his back facing us.

"the doll detects motion," he yelled out as he had one hand behind his back, moving it around to prove what he was saying was true. so as long as the doll couldn't physically see me moving, i would be fine.

"we're running out of time. we have to move!" shit.

"red light, green light." everyone moved then, finding someone bigger than them to hide behind. i was still behind myung-gi, who i admit was shorter than most guys here, but then again so was i. we were almost by the finish line, with a little less than a minute left.

"red light, green light." we moved again in a synced matter. but just as the doll was about to turn her head, myung-gi tripped on someone's foot. he's going to die, i thought. without thinking, i put out my arm, and grasped onto the back of his jacket.

"don't. move," i whisper-yelled, my teeth gritting against each other. myung-gi didn't make a sound.

"red light, green light," i let go and he regained his balance, the two of us crossing the finish line. i bent over, my hands resting on my knees as i tried to breathe normally again.

"y/n?" myung-gi questioned. i looked back up to him, scanning his face. as much as he was confused as to why i was here, he also looked relieved to see a familiar face.

"aren't you going to thank me?" i retorted. i did just save his life.

"oh, yeah," he said, his hand reaching the back of his head, "thank you. seriously." i sighed and gave him a slight nod. frankly, i was too exhausted and too desperate to get out of this place to even demand for my money back from him right now. he opened his mouth again, like he had something to say, but got quickly distracted by the ceiling of the arena slowly closing in. the game was over.

the guards had us all walk back into the room we woke up in. it was eerily quiet; people were scared for their lives. i just wanted to go home. i didn't even care about the money anymore. why would any of this even matter if i didn't make it out alive?

everyone made it back inside as the guards followed behind the last couple of players, stopping in front of the door they first walked out of. some of the players ran down to the middle of the floor and started kneeling to the ground, rubbing their hands profusely, begging to be saved.

"we are not trying to hurt you. we are only presenting you with an opportunity," the square guard declared.

"clause three of the consent form!" i turned around to look at the player that yelled this out. it was the same man that was helping everyone in the last game, player 456. "the games may be terminated upon a majority vote. correct?"

oh thank god. we actually had a chance at getting out of here before they had us all killed.

that's when the room went dim, and a golden piggy bank was slowly let down from the ceiling. even i was mesmerized, my eyes glued to the stacks of money falling into it. the guard then explained there was a sum of 9.1 billion won in the bank, and if we all wanted to leave now, it would be split by all current players. murmurs erupted, some people wanting to stay and play more games for the sum to rise, while others still wanted to leave.

"now, let's begin the vote."

the guards started calling out player numbers, starting from the last number, 456. the first vote was an X. each player received a tag with either an X or an O, indicating what they had voted for.

"player 333." i watched as myung-gi emerged from the crowd, and walked towards the buttons. i swear to god.

the sound of the button went off and so did a flash of blue light. he picked O.

he barely even made it through the first game without my help, yet he wanted to stay and continue playing? i scoffed to myself, he really did only care about himself.

"player 222." it was finally my turn. i walked up to the voting stand, confident in my answer. i hit the X button and received my tag. walking back to the group of other X voters, i looked over at myung-gi standing on the opposite side who was also watching me from afar. i narrowed my eyes and made a face full of utter disgust and disappointment, then looked away. in that moment, i regretted saving him at all.

the voting ended shortly, the O's winning by one point. we really had to stay and play another game. it was absurd to me, all these people being blinded by the money after seeing firsthand how one wrong move could literally get you killed.

food service happened after the voting and each person was given a meal. i walked back to my bed and opened up the metal box to find a layer of white rice, topped with an egg, sausage, and picked radish. it honestly wasn't bad at all. i was eating peacefully before myung-gi walked up, holding out his box of food and resting his arms on the foot of my bed.

"you want the radish? i know it's your favorite," i looked up at him, mid-chew of a mouthful of rice and egg. the radish was my favorite, but i was surprised he remembered that at all. without saying anything back, because i was still mad at him, i took the pieces of radish out of his box and put it in mine.

"are you mad at me?" i looked up from my food again. he could not be serious. we were making eye contact now, but the purple-ish, blue ring forming around his left eye caught my attention.

"what happened to your eye?" i asked, ignoring his initial question. i don't even know why i brought it up, i could care less about this asshole.

"don't worry about it." say less! i went back to eating my food, myung-gi still hovering, waiting for the answer to his question. i gave him a "what?" look with a shoulder shrug and seems like he took that for an answer because he turned back around and started walking away without saying another word.

i looked toward his direction ever so often after finishing up my meal. he really was a loser and didn't have anyone else here, not even someone to team up with. he sat straight up on his bed, poking at the rice with his spoon. a couple of hours passed by, and it was soon bedtime. the lights in the room dimmed and everyone was in their beds by this point. i pulled the thin cotton blanket over me and readjusted my pillow so it was leaning a bit against the bed board. i lay there on my back with my hands intertwined across my chest, closed my eyes and desperately tried to fall asleep. but it was one of those nights where your eyes were sleeping, and your body wasn't. hours passed and i was still awake. i tried turning to my side, readjusting my pillow again, but nothing worked. at a loss, i just kept my eyes open and stared at the bottom of the bed above mine.

the older gentleman to my right was snoring like there was no tomorrow, and a woman in her mid-20s to my left kept turning around every 5 minutes. even if i did manage to fall asleep, i probably would've woken up because of one or the other. that's when i heard someone nearby talking, or it was more of a loud whisper. i sat right up on my bed to figure out where the noise was coming from, only to see the source was right in front of me.

myung-gi was talking... but to himself? i slowly peeled the blanket off of myself and threw both legs over the edge of my bed. i stepped on my shoes without properly putting them on, and walked towards his bed, making sure not to make anymore noise that could wake up anyone else. i watched as myung-gi continued to blurt out sentences and random words in his sleep, but i couldn't quite make out what he was actually saying. his eyes were fully closed, but his eyebrows were at a slight furrow with sweat beading on his forehead. he looked like he was burning up. without even realizing, i reached my hand out to his forehead, hovering just an inch above it. i didn't even need to make contact with his skin to know he had a fever. i retracted my hand and bent down to my feet to fully put on my shoes before walking over to the door that led to the restroom. a guard was standing by the door and it took me a good 10 minutes for him to let me use the restroom, finally convincing him by saying it was that time of the month.

i grabbed a long piece of a paper towel, folded it, and let it run under the cold water for a bit. i walked back out the door without the guard noticing the paper towel in my hand and made it back to myung-gi, who was thankfully still asleep. i reached out my arms to place the towel on his forehead, but before i could take them back, myung-gi's hand wrapped around my left wrist. his eyes were slightly open, but i couldn't quite tell if he was actually awake or not.

"stay," he croaked, his voice coming out raspy. i stood there unsure what to do and his grasp still on my arm. "please."

well it's not like i could fall asleep anyway. i used my feet to take off my shoes and climbed into his bed, using his arm as a pillow. i cautiously turned to slightly face him, but myung-gi looked like he had already fallen back asleep. i turned back around, closed my eyes, and without even knowing it, fell asleep right then.

i felt warmer than usual as i started waking up to the same music that played when i first got here. eyes still closed, i turned over to my right side and felt even warmer. it was a nice feeling and i wanted to stay here just for a couple more minutes.

the chatter from the people around me woke me up. vision still blurry, i blinked profusely to make sure i wasn't hallucinating. i was looking straight at myung-gi, our faces almost an inch apart. his eyes were still closed and i could even hear his heartbeat; we were that close. we were also under the same blanket now, not knowing how i even got to that position considering he was hogging the thing when i first laid down.

i didn't know what to do. i didn't want to move now because then he'd wake up and i'd have to confront him. i just kept looking at his face, focusing on the bruise from yesterday, which was now a little darker in color. he didn't look like he still had a fever, but something in me wanted to check anyway. i freed my left arm from my own grip and slowly raised it up to his forehead, but before i could even check, myung-gi opened his eyes. i quickly dropped my hand and closed my eyes, pretending like i had never even woken.

fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit, shit.

then i heard him starting to laugh, myung-gi was laughing at me. i peeked one eye open and he started to laugh even harder. now i felt myself heating up. guards please take me now, just take me now. as i was about to say something, myung-gi used the blanket to cover me entirely and pulled me in even closer.

"what the fuck are you do-" i tried to get out, but my voice got muffled by the blanket as he brought me in even closer. oh my god i thought i was going to explode.

"you hiding something under that blanket?" a voice questioned from outside. i took that as my queue to stay as silent as possible.

"no, why would i be?" myung-gi answered back.

"don't talk back to me, fucker. unless you want a matching black eye." oh, so this must've been the person that beat the shit out of myung-gi yesterday. myung-gi didn't respond this time, but i could feel his arm around me loosen as the footsteps got further away. i reached for the rim of the blanket and pulled it back down enough for my face to show. that was a bad idea, because i was just about touching his chest now.

"if you wanted a hug you could've just said so," he said sarcastically, a one-sided grin forming on his face as he looked down at me.

"in your dreams," i said, all flustered. i quickly pushed myself away before he could pull anything else and practically stumbled out of the bed. i didn't even look back as i put on my shoes and walked out to regroup with the rest of the players.

they had us get into groups of five for the second game, making it a game based on team effort. i teamed up with four older guys, one of them being player 456 from earlier. i was glad i didn't end up with myung-gi this game, because honestly i didn't know how to face him after last night. but i still found myself glancing over at him throughout the game to make sure he was still alive.

we both got through the second game, but it was still silence between us. i didn't go up to him and neither did he try and talk to me. i couldn't fall asleep that night either, but i didn't dare get out of my bed.

the next game came around quickly. i stuck with the group i had made during the previous game, and we quickly got the hang of this new game. we were placed onto a merry-go-round like platform and spun around until the music stopped. the speaker would blurt out a number and the same amount of people would need to run and find a room to stay in. if the room had more or less people than the number that was said, you would die. as a group of 5, we got through teams of 3 and 6 pretty easily. but then the speaker called out 2. i looked up as everyone paired up, and i had no one. my mind went fuzzy, everyone was running around screaming and looking for their friends. i felt like i was going to faint until i felt someone grab onto my wrist and started to drag me off the platform. i picked up on the pace and ran like my life depended on it, because it did.

we ran into a purple room and shut the door. my back was pinned to the wall as myung-gi still held onto my wrist. we were both trying to catch our breath, but then he leaned in closer. my body froze and we were only inches apart again. i was looking into his eyes, then panned down to his lips, just to trace back up to his eyes again. the door clicked shut and we were stuck in here. together.

in that moment, i felt his lips touch mine. i closed my eyes as i let myself melt into the kiss. he let go of my wrist and positioned one hand at my waist while the other creeped up the back of my neck. i could feel my shirt fleeting as his fingertips made contact with my skin ever so lightly. my hands made their way up his chest as i gripped onto his shirt and pulled him in even closer, deepening the kiss and eliciting a whiny moan from him. i wanted this to go on forever.

the door made another clicking sound, letting us know we could go back out. i loosened my grip before myung-gi could get his hand up any higher under my shirt.

"we have to," i let out, mid-kiss, "go." we both came to a stop then, realizing we had to go back out onto the platform. i quickly straightened up my shirt with my hands and reached up to myung-gi's hair which was looking all disheveled now to smooth it back out into his natural middle part.

"we're not done yet," he whispered into my ear as we walked out the door, parting ways once again.

that's when i knew i'd be getting a good night's sleep tonight.

[ipushhimback]

we were drunk, it happens - pt. 2

part 1: here

pairing: lando norris x verstappen!reader warnings: smut (marked with 3 red stars), oral (f receiving), p in v, no protection word count: 3k summary: Y/N attends a GP, saying if Lando wins he will be rewarded

Only a couple days later, Y/N got a message from Max.

The Monaco GP is next week. I know you are not really into F1, but I’d love for you to come, and I am sure Kelly and P would also be happy to have someone to spend their time with. What do you think? – Max

Y/N really hated Formula 1, but not because of the sport itself. She loved the fast cars, the races, how everyone wants to be the best. But her dad had ruined it all for her when they were kids.

She had always loved karting. Sometimes she was even allowed to drive Max’ kart, but when she told her dad that she also wanted to kart competitively, just like her brother, he had said she couldn’t. How could she even think of that as a girl. She would never have a chance in the sport.

Sometimes she thinks that her dad was right. She probably wouldn’t have come far as a woman, but she still would have loved to race.

Maybe it was for the better. Jos wasn’t known for being the best dad to Max. He had always pressured him. Punished him when he wasn’t good enough. And Y/N knew how it affected Max now. She didn’t know if she could have handled that as a kid.

So, from there on she had avoided Formula 1 as much as possible as it simply reminded her too much of her father.

But how could she say no to her brother. Moreover, it could be a great opportunity to spend some time with Lando. Even though they had agreed to no feelings. But honestly, Y/N didn’t know how long that would work. Or if it even could work. She had doubts.

I’m not sure. Is dad going to be there? - Y/N

No, I don’t think so. At least he didn’t say anything to me. But that doesn’t mean anything. - Max

Ok, then I guess I will come. Would you or Kelly pick me up? I don’t want to have to search for a parking lot. - Y/N

Of course. See you then. – Max

Somehow, Y/N was even looking forward to attending the Grand Prix. She didn’t know when the last time was that had happened. But now she just had to hope and pray that her dad wasn’t going to be there as well. Then she would for sure go home. She would just take a walk as it was only half an hour from her home.

She picked up her phone again and opened her chat with Lando. They exchanged their numbers before he left, so they could chat about when they could meet up again – but no feelings involved, of course.

Gonna be at the GP next week. You better win, Norris. - Y/N

She waited a bit, but Lando didn’t go online. He probably was at training, Y/N thought. But just as she wanted to out her phone on the coffee table in front of her, her phoned signaled an incoming message.

Really? How come I have never seen you at one before? But if I win, I wanna be rewarded… - Lando

Long story. But ofc you will. Why else would I tell you to win? – Y/N

K. Have to get back to training, bye. – Lando

Yeah, bye. - Y/N

Y/N couldn’t help but grin. Lando had interrupted her training. For her. To answer an unimportant message. She leaned back on the couch pillows, sighed and smiled to herself.

She sat back up. No feelings. He is probably an arrogant, rich person. She would just end up hurt if she fell for him.

She took a deep breath and got up from where she was sitting. The world champion’s sister made her way to the kitchen where she took a cup from the cupboard and made a huge coffee. The pill she took earlier did little for her headache, so she hoped that the caffeine was going to help.

Then she took her laptop and decided to watch some silly show to take her mind off Lando.

***

A week later, Y/N was ready to go to the GP. She was wearing a bright blue summer dress, her favorite. It had a lot of little white flowers printed on the fabric and it had a quite low neckline, which she hoped Lando would notice.

She actually thought about wearing something orange, in fact it had been one of her favorite colors to wear for quite a long time, but she couldn’t wear papaya-similar colors when she was there to support her brother – or when she was at least pretending to support her brother. Because even though she did not have feelings for Lando – no, really, none – she had been so horny the last couple of day, she just needed Lando to win this Grand Prix.

So now, Y/N sat in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water while scrolling through instagram and waiting for her brother and Kelly.

She watched her Labradoodle puppy trying to catch his own tail which made her laugh, so she got up to pet him.

Eventually she heard the doorbell ring. She quickly went to open the door, but instead of her brother or Kelly, it was P standing on the doorstep.

“P! Hey! What are you doing here? Are you going to drive me to the Grand Prix?”, Y/N was joking which made the five-year-old giggle.

“No, silly. I can’t drive. But Maxie said I could ring, and I have to tell you to hurry because we are late.”

“Ok, I just need to get my jacket from upstairs”, Y/N said.

“No!”, Penelope exclaimed. “You can’t. Maxie said we are late. Now come on.” P grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her outside and towards the Audi that was parked in front of her house.

The young woman new better than to argue with the little girl so she decided to just follow her. Who needed a jacket anyway. In the worst case she would just ask Max or Kelly for something warmer to wear.

An hour later Y/N was hanging around with Kelly and P around Max’ garage and she regretted that she didn’t come later. They have been standing around for what felt like hours and the race wasn’t even close to get started. The only thing that prevented her from going home again to sleep and coming back later, was P who was full of energy and Kelly who just couldn’t keep up with it anymore, being 9 months pregnant.

“Y/N, can we go to Lando? I wanna see him and tell him good luck. Can we go? Now?” P looked at Y/N with that cute little pout. “Please?”, she added after seeing the critical look on Y/N’s face.

“P… Lando is probably really busy, just like Max. Does it really have to be now?” If the Dutch woman was being honest with herself, she just really didn’t want to see Lando right now.

No. That was not correct. She wanted to see him. And that was the problem. She shouldn’t do that. No feelings. Just fun. That can’t be that hard, right?

Wrong. It can be hard. Not falling for a handsome guy with the curliest curls in the world, the cutest, widest smile existing on planed earth, the prettiest blue eyes that seemed to be green in different lightning and – stop.

“It really has to be now! If I don’t wish him luck, he won’t be good and he has to win!” P looked at her with these pleading look Y/N just can’t resist so there she was, walking with P to the McLaren garage.

“You know that Max would kill us if he saw us here?”, Y/N said jokingly. “By the way, don’t you want Max to win? Why Lando?”

“Maxie won too often. Now it is Lando’s turn. It is boring with Maxie. I like drama. And we don’t get drama when Maxie always wins. And Lando is great! He always plays with me and lets me do his hair. He has nice hair. It is curly.” P grinned happily while she explained to Y/N why Lando was so great.

A bit later they were standing in front of Lando’s garage and Y/N went to the first mechanic she spotted.

“Sorry, where is Lando? P wants to tell him good luck for the race. Is that possible?” Y/N just hoped that the mechanic would recognize P or her so she could go to Lando.

“I know her. Who are you? I am sure you understand that I can’t just let anyone to him.”

Y/N nodded. “I am Y/N Verstappen. You know, Max’ sister? Kelly didn’t come with us because, well she is pregnant and probably sleeping somewhere.”

The mechanic looked satisfied with the answer. “Ok. You just have to go straight there and then the third door on the left side. There should be his name on the door. Just knock. He will open if he isn’t preparing for the race at the moment.”

“Ok thank you. Have a nice day, bye!” Y/N looked at the five-year-old next to her who had a content look on her face.

Just a minute later they were standing in front of a wooden door, they could hear loud music from inside, so Y/N knocked again, even louder this time.

“God, how isn’t he deaf already”, she murmured more to herself than anyone else, but P commented it anyway.”

“Because he is Lando. He is not becoming deaf ever. He is great.” The older woman could barely hold the laugh that was threatening to spill over.

“Yes, he really is”, Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head at P’s enthusiasm.

Finally, the door was opening, and Y/N was standing in front of this handsome guy Lando.

“P!”, he explained.

“Hi Lando! I want to wish you good luck. Y/N said you were busy, but I had to because you have to win, ok?”, the girl asked in just one breath while falling forward and demanding a hug from the driver.

Y/N could only laugh. Too adorable was the childhood crush Penelope obviously had on the older guy.

“That’s great! Thank you, P! So, you are going to cheer for me? Isn’t Max going to be sad?”, Lando asked.

“No, he will understand. You will win. I know because I wished you good luck.”

Lando just laughed, and Y/N couldn’t help but admire how cute he was with Penelope. And that laugh… she could listen to it for hours and- stop.

***

Lando did in fact win. And Y/N couldn’t be happier about it. During the Podium celebration – Lando came in first place, Max in second and Oscar in third – she just stood in front of it, being impatient.

But then finally, Lando came to her, already changed into a hoodie and simple jeans, his hair damp from the shower he probably had.

“So… what about my reward? Should we drive to your place again or mine?”, Lando asked with that damn smirk on his face.

“Mine. I need to feed my dog.” Lando shot you a surprised look.

“You have a dog? Why didn’t I see him already?” Y/N noticed how disappointed Lando looked.

“I just got him like a week ago. He is super cute, but right now he is at my neighbor’s, and I don’t want her to spend even more of her time taking care of my dog.”

Lando just hummed and led the younger woman to his car. She let out a whistle when she saw how nice it was.

“I assume you won’t let me drive that beauty?”, she asked the brunette.

“You want to?” Y/N nodded enthusiastically.

“Go for it”, Lando eventually said, throwing his key in her direction and she caught it easily.

She let out a high-pitched squeal when she sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Carefully, she pressed the accelerator, and the car shot forward.

“This is so crazy, oh my god… I will steal that beauty from you.”

It only was a short drive to Y/N’s home, so she had actually thought about driving differently so she could enjoy the feeling of the car even longer but honestly, she didn’t want to. She knew exactly what would happen when they arrived, and she didn’t want to wait any longer for it.

But it turned out she did not know what happened next. Lando kneeled down and cuddled with her dog who seemingly enjoyed that as he fell asleep right in Lando’s arms.

“Can you leave Milo alone? He’s not the reward I meant…”, Y/N said a bit disappointed because she knew her puppy was cute, but she didn’t imagine Lando just playing with her dog for the next hour.

***

Eventually Lando set down the sleepy puppy who immediately curled up on the couch and they went upstairs, not wanting Milo to watch them do whatever they were planning to do.

“So… now I will finally get my reward?”, Lando asked, this stupid smirk back on his face.

“Oh, shut up! You were the one who needed to cuddle with Milo”, Y/N said before stepping forward and pulling Lando to her by grabbing the strings of his hoodie.

She tilted her head up and just a moment later, Lando’s lips were on her’s. Y/N hummed and opened her lips slightly.

Lando moved towards her bed, not breaking the kiss, until Y/N flopped on the mattress. He pulled back just enough to have access to her dress so he could pull it over her head, leaving her in just her underwear. Y/N then tugged at Lando’s hoodie, and he ended up helping her by slipping it off, as well as his pants. Y/N stared at his chest.

She knew she had seen it all before, when they hooked up after the dinner, but the memory of the night wasn’t too present anymore, and honestly, Y/N didn’t know how she could ever look at Lando and not think how hot this guy looks.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Lando kisser her again, rougher this time. More demanding than anything else did he press his lips on her’s. Her back arched off the bed which Lando saw as his chance to get his hands behind her back to open her bra.

“So gorgeous”, he whispered on her lips and pulled back just for Y/N to feel his mouth closing around her nipples, making her gasp.

His lips trailed lower until he stopped above the waistband of her panties. His index fingers hooked into it, and he pulled them down until he could throw them to where he thought the rest of the clothes already is.

His went even lower until his lips hovered just above her. Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked down at Lando who was spreading her legs. He looked up at her, his eyes dark and his pupils dilated.

The first touch of his tongue felt… electric and it made her back arch. He teased her with fast licks and gentle pressure which made Y/N move into his direction.

“Patience. Trust me”, Lando said, and Y/N would throw a pillow at him if it hadn’t felt this good.

But it wasn’t long until Lando grew more and more impatient, and he didn’t want to continue teasing Y/N.

His tongue worked not only faster but also firmer and soon she was teetering right on the edge. Her hands came down to grab his hair, pushing him closer to her and she couldn’t stop the loud moan from slipping through her lips.

Lando hummed against her and the vibrations just pushed her even closer to the edge. His fingers joined his tongue as he curled them in her, pressing into that sweet spot.

When Lando realized that Y/N was about to come he worked even more precise, rougher. And just like that she tripped over the edge, and she felt the release wash over her. Lando didn’t stop thrusting his fingers in and out of her until she rode out her orgasm.

Y/N felt her legs tremble and she slowly opened her eyes again just to see Lando over her. His lips were glistening from her juices as he moved to press a kiss on her lips. She tasted herself on his lips, the taste blending with the champagne he drank earlier on the podium and just the taste of him.

She pulled back just enough to mumble, “Need you, Lando. Please.”

Lando didn’t say anything just moved to get rid of the boxers he still wore. Y/N couldn’t help but stare at him, her lips parting slightly.

“Like what you see?”, he teased her though it was apparent that he wanted it just as much as she did. His cock was hard and leaking and huge. Y/N really didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of that.

“How did that fit the last time?”, she blurted out and wanted to take it back immediately when Lando chuckled.

“Wanna find out?”, he said and even though he was just teasing, Y/N knew that if she just said no, Lando would stop immediately, no questions asked.

But she nodded, wanting to finally feel him in her. Lando positioned himself between her thighs, teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock.

Y/N breath hitched as he pushed into her with one hard thrust. Her hands flew to his shoulder, and she was sure that her nails would leave marks on his skin, as she adjusted to the stretch. Lando stilled just for a moment before pulling out nearly fully before slamming back into her.

Y/N moaned his name which just seemed to fuel the Brit, and he started thrusting into her even harder.

“God, you feel so god”, he moaned, his hands gripping her hips and Y/N was sure she would have bruises by tomorrow.

Only after a few thrusts Y/N was already close again, still sensitive from her previous orgasm.

“Lando, I-“, her voice broke but Lando hummed, knowing exactly what she wanted to say.

“I know. Come for me.”

Her orgasm hit her even harder this time, her body still high from before and Lando came just a moment later, with himself buried deep inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moved but then, Lando slowly pulled away, collapsing onto the bed just next to Y/N.

She stared at the ceiling, her chest still heaving as she was catching her breath.

“Happy with your reward?”, she asked Lando.

“Very. This was amazing.”

Y/N rolled to the side to face Lando, a grin tugging at her lips.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Norris,” she said with a sly grin.

A/N: Should I write a pt. 3? I kinda want to but idk if anyone wants to read it

[viasdiary]

can you write inexperienced luigi asking the reader to get him ready for college, like taking his virginity

☆ be my first (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ word count: 2.1k

☆ warnings: smut, crying, overstimulation, unprotected sex, barely proofread

☆ inexperienced luigi who tutored you through high school asks you to take his virginity before he goes off to college.

it’s late afternoon, and you’ve just stepped out of the shower when your phone rings. you see it’s luigi calling, and you answer almost instantly.

"hey," he greets you, his voice warm and familiar.

"hey, lu," you reply, a grin spreading across your face. "it's been, like, forever since we talked."

"i know," he says softly, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice, maybe even picture the slight blush creeping across his cheeks.

"what’s up?" you ask, curious.

his voice shifts slightly, a little hesitant, like he’s preparing for something important.

"i was wondering if i could come over later… i just have something i need some help with," he admits, sounding almost embarrassed.

"yeah, of course," you respond, offering him a reassuring tone.

"thanks," he breathes out, sounding relieved. "it means a lot. i'll see you later, then."

the hours stretch on as you wait for him to arrive. time feels like it’s moving agonizingly slow. you try to distract yourself, but your mind keeps drifting back to the upcoming visit. you haven't seen luigi in so long. you lay on your couch, looking out the large front window at the setting sun, golden light streaming into your small living room.

when the doorbell finally rings, you get up, take a deep breath to calm your racing thoughts. you open the door, and there he is.

luigi stands on your doorstep, looking even more handsome than usual, his usual nervous energy written all over him. his dark curls are slightly tousled, and he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and baggy jeans. his nervous fidgeting only makes him more endearing.

"hey," you greet him casually, trying to hide the rush of emotions swirling inside you.

"hey," he replies, his voice a little shaky, but his smile is warm. he steps over the threshold, and you gesture for him to sit down on the couch. you sit next to him, maintaining a little space between you, trying to let the air settle between you both.

an awkward silence falls over you two. you both seem to be searching for the right words. then, with a small sigh, you decide to break the ice.

"so, what did you need help with?" you ask, keeping your voice light but curious.

luigi takes a moment, his eyes flitting around the room before he finally speaks up. "i was wondering if you could help me… with something personal."

you nod, trying not to look too puzzled, though a small knot of curiosity tightens in your chest.

"uh, sure," you say, your voice calm, but your mind is already racing with possibilities.

"what is it?"

he hesitates for a moment, then seems to gather the courage to say it.

"i want to lose my virginity before i leave for college," he blurts out, his voice barely above a whisper.

you're caught off guard. the vulnerability in his words hits you hard. you never expected him to say something like that, especially not about you.

all the moments you’d shared, those study sessions, the way he'd always been there to help—did they mean something more to him all along? you’re suddenly overwhelmed with a mix of confusion and honor that he’s chosen you for such a deeply personal request.

“where is this even coming from?” you ask, still reeling from the shock. luigi's cheeks flush, and his eyes dart nervously to the side.

"i've always kinda had feelings for you," he admits, almost shyly. "but i was too scared to say anything before. and now that i’m leaving… i just don't want to go without having experienced this with someone i trust. someone who means a lot to me."

your heart races as you process his words. all those times he’d gone out of his way to help you, to be there for you, had it been more than just friendship all along?

"are you sure about this, lu?" you ask softly, your voice gentle, your hand unconsciously reaching out to touch his arm. "this is a big step. i don't want you to feel like you have to do it just because you're leaving." he looks at you, his expression more determined now, his voice steadier. "i’ve thought about it a lot. i’m sure."

a mix of emotions swells inside you—nervousness, excitement, and something deeper you can't quite put your finger on. this is a big moment, but you can tell he’s thought it through.

"okay," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. you gently place your hand on his arm, a comforting touch as you stand up and guide him down the hallway to your room.

there's no turning back now, and as you walk together, you know this moment will change everything between the two of you.

once in your room, you close the door, and the air becomes thick with anticipation. he takes a seat on the bed, looking nervous and unsure, so you move closer to him, trying to calm his nerves.

"we don't have to do anything you don't want to," you assure him.

"we can stop anytime, just-"

"no," he interrupts you, sounding firmer than usual.

"i want this, i want you to be my first"

there's an unspoken need in his voice, and you can tell he's serious. he places his hand on your thigh as he speaks, looking you deeply in the eyes.

you bite your lip to hold back the words that want to spill out. you want him, too.

he looks at you, his expression a mixture of nervousness and need, and you can't help but smile. you reach out and touch his cheek gently, feeling the heat rising under your fingertips.

you lean in slowly, giving him time to stop you, but he doesn’t. you press your lips to his, the kiss soft and tentative at first, then growing more passionate as he returns it. his hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, and you melt into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck. he finds his way on top of you as you embrace him, his weight slightly pressing you into the mattress.

your bodies press together, and you can feel the heat building between you. your hands wander across his back, sliding underneath his shirt, feeling his skin warm and soft against yours. you pull his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor, then run your fingers across his bare chest, tracing shapes around his freckles. he shivers at the contact. you part your lips and break the kiss.

"is this okay?" you ask, a whisper against his skin. his voice is low and desperate, his words coming out in a rush.

"god, yes," he says, his hands moving over your body, exploring every curve.

he slides his hands up the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach. you lift your arms, allowing him to remove your shirt and toss it aside.

his hands continue exploring your body, and you feel a growing warmth between your legs. he cups one of your breasts, gently massaging the sensitive flesh. you arch into his touch, and he leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"god, you're so beautiful," he whispers.

you moan softly, your fingers tangling in his curls, pulling him closer. you move your hips forward, grinding against him, eliciting a groan from him.

"you know how long i've wanted to do this?" he breathes "god, all the times you were in my room studying, i was so hard just fucking looking at you"

"shut up," you say, feeling a grin spreading across your face.

"i'm fuckin' serious," he says smiling against your skin

he begins to plant kisses down your neck and along your collarbone, his tongue flicking across the sensitive skin.

"fuck," you moan, your hips bucking against him.

"i've been waiting. so. long," he says, punctuating each word with a kiss.

you grip his shoulders, holding him close. he continues his exploration, trailing kisses across your chest, his hands sliding up your back.

his hands find the clasp of your bra, undoing it easily. he slides the straps off your shoulders, tossing it aside. he cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing against the hard nipples, drawing a gasp from your lips.

"is this alright?" he asks, his voice low and uncertain. you bite your lip and nod, arching into his touch. he's a virgin, but he knows exactly what to do.

he leans down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently. you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. he moves his hands down, cupping your ass, pulling you closer.

"god, luigi," you gasp, the feeling of his tongue on your skin driving you crazy.

he smiles against your skin, his eyes dark and hungry. he begins to tug at the waistband of your pants, and you eagerly lift your hips, letting him slide them off. he tosses them aside, his gaze never leaving yours.

"so fuckin' gorgeous," he murmurs, his hands roaming across your bare skin.

he slides a hand down the front of your underwear, and you gasp as his fingers brush against your clit.

"luigi," you moan, arching into his touch.

"you want this, don't you?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle. you nod, feeling the wetness pooling between your legs. he presses his thumb against your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. you cry out, gripping his shoulders tightly. he slides a finger inside you, curling it slightly.

"yes," you gasp, your hips moving against him.

"tell me," he groans.

"i want you, luigi," you moan, your voice needy. "i want you so bad." he withdraws his hand, and you whimper at the loss of contact. he strips off his remaining clothes, and you admire his toned body and his delicately placed freckles. he kneels between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs.

he positions himself at your entrance, and you moan softly, desperate for him to be inside you.

"please," you whimper.

"i need you."

he enters you slowly, a whine escaping his lips. he'd never felt pleasure so intense before. you're both overcome with the feeling of each other. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"fuck," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. he thrusts into you slowly, taking his time. you're both lost in the sensation, your bodies pressed together.

"oh god, luigi," you moan, raking your nails down his back.

"you feel so fuckin' good," he says, his voice a low moan.

you feel yourself tightening around him. he thrusts harder, hitting just the right spot.

"fuck," you cry out, clinging to him desperately.

"god, i'm gonna cum," he gasps, his hips moving faster. you could feel his need, his desire for you, his love.

"let go, baby," you whisper, cupping his face in your hands. "i've got you."

he finishes with a cry, burying his face in your neck, his body trembling with pleasure.

"jesus," he says, his breathing ragged. he collapses on top of you, and you hold him close, running your fingers through his soft curls.

"did you finish?" he asks, still breathless.

"no," you reply, feeling a little embarrassed. "can we keep going?"

he looks down at you, his expression one of pure bliss.

"god, yes," he says with a soft chuckle.

he kisses you hungrily, his hands roaming across your body. he reaches down, circling your clit with his thumb.

"oh god," you moan, arching into his touch. he keeps thrusting into you, and you feel him shaking and overstimulated

"you're so fuckin' tight," he says softly.

you cling to him, the pressure building inside you. you're both teetering on the edge again, the sensation overwhelming.

"oh fuck, luigi," you gasp, your nails digging into his back. he's trembling as he pounds into you relentlessly, you can feel him crying against your chest.

"i love you," he whimpers.

"oh god, i love you too."

it hits you suddenly, the orgasm ripping through your body. you cry out, clinging to him, your entire body shaking.

"god, yes," he groans, his hips stuttering. he comes undone, spilling inside you once again.

you're both spent, sweaty, and breathing hard. he pulls out and rolls onto his back, his chest heaving.

"fuck,"

he mutters.

"god, you were amazing."

[gimmeamanateeaftermidnight]

Ya’ll need to get the church out of your head. As someone raised Southern Baptist with a history of self harm, I need to be so fucking clear about something.

You cannot heal another by harming yourself.

Self harm is not reparations. Maybe a victim wants the person that hurt them to suffer. That’s a valid, human reaction. But, ultimately, their healing is reliant on other factors, ones the person that hurt them usually can’t control. Timing, surroundings, seeking help. The person that harmed can help by physically distancing themselves from their victim, but that’s just about the only material thing they can do to mitigate further harm. They need to apologize if possible, but the victim may not be in a place to hear or internalize it. Something the the person that harmed, again, can’t control. Suffering doesn’t clarify or purify. It doesn’t bring justice, it doesn’t prevent injustice. It just means there’s more suffering and serves as a distraction from any actual progress.

You do not harm others by healing yourself.

In fact, I believe the best way to move forward is to build yourself into someone who would never do that harm again. Whether it was sustained abuse, sexual assault or just saying something unkind that one time. If you hurt someone and feel terrible, change. Because you can’t go back. Full stop, time travel doesn’t exist. You cannot undo these things. No one can. So think before you act/speak. The most responsible thing you can do is face the part of you that caused you to harm another. Where did it come from? Why is it here? How do I heal it? Because if you don’t, no amount of guilt is going to guarantee that it won’t happen again. Healing is the only thing that prevents harm.

This may be a bit rambly, but the black and white view of morality that ya’ll have reminds me of all the worst parts of church and it genuinely scares me. There is a difference between trying to do right and trying to be righteous. Humans are grey. We will each of us cause harm and be harmed. We will each of us have reason to rightfully feel guilt at one time or another and telling people that the only proper response is to freeze and sink and mire in their own self-hate is not sustainable or helpful to anyone. And if you yourself have never had reason to feel guilt, well…. I certainly don’t want to be around you.

the thing is, if your younger self was a bigot or an abuser, u can't make people forgive you. but you still gotta forgive yourself, like that's non-negotiable, dude. that happens before u can even ask the question of earning forgiveness from anyone lese

[ultravi0lence14]

SWEET ANGEL

dean winchester x angel!reader

2.5k | angst, enemies to lovers, spn level violence, szn nine

summary: with angel now living in the bunker, dean has to swallow his pride and realize not everyone is out to get him.

WHEN ANGEL FALLS IN LOVE

the drab walls of your room in the winchester’s bunker stared back at you, almost taunting in how their beige and gloomy colours looked around you. it was coming up on week four post fall, almost a month since you were locked out of heaven, and you seemed to be making absolutely no progress.

sam had tried to teach you about humans, explaining different types of slang and technologies that they had created. though, he decided to stop after his brief pop culture unit turned into a brutal argument stemming from your confusion.

it didn’t make it any better that you had no clothes. your white dress from the day you were found under the wilting willow was all you had; grass and mud washed away though the memories still lingered.

everything was starting to become unbearable. the scratchy sheets on your bed, the barren walls with no life or colour. your day to day routine wasn’t too bad. wake up, talk with sam about humanity and it’s customs, try a new snack, and then hobble away to your room where you’d indulge in copious amounts of youtube videos and pinterest boards.

there happened to be an old laptop of sam’s lying around, and after some grumbling from dean, both he and his younger brother helped you set up and navigate the device.

dean was a topic you wished to never bring up or even think about. the man stuck to his word, not talking to you unless you initiated first. even then he sometimes wouldn’t respond. when he did, it was always snippy responses that had you rolling your eyes, retreating to where you actually felt wanted; an enigma of a place that you created in your own company.

the internet was something you marvelled at. looking at a plethora of video content on youtube, and all different types of pictures on pinterest.

a sense of fashion was something you started to pick up on, looking at countless pieces online and even grabbing magazines from the store when sam would take you out with him.

your angelic roots peaked through in the fashion and aesthetic you gravitated towards. a girly vibe was always something you enjoyed, but you also seemed to like the more quirky and unique styles. skirts, plain and colourful tights, bright sweaters and form fitting tops seemed to find a way into your brain; the drab cotton dressed you landed on earth in going to shame as you looked at all the different patterns and fashion choices.

it finally dawned on you that this is what you needed. the boring walls, uncomfortable bedding, and borderline empty room just wasn’t doing it for you anymore. you needed to find yourself, express who you wanted to be without the chains of heaven wrapped around your body.

you needed to go shopping, and fast, but there was simply one problem. sam had left yesterday to go help some hunter friends on a case, leaving in their car and expressing how he’d be back in two weeks time. so, it seemed as though dean was the only person who could help you with your recent epiphany.

the plan was a lost cause, but begrudgingly, you got up from your bed and made the short walk to dean’s room. twirling your hair nervously, you found yourself stood in front of his door, hearing the faint sound of music coming from what you assumed to be his record player. slowly lifting your hand, you let a delicate knock linger on the wood; a drastic change from the intense music playing from behind the door.

music halted, a metaphorical record scratch being heard as heavy feet came towards the door. wind blew the front pieces of your hair back, and you were greeted with dean’s gloomy face as he stared down at you from where he stood.

“what do you want, feathers?” his words had a cadence of annoyance, like he’d rather be doing anything else but talk to you. it made you wring your fingers together, picking at your cuticles as you looked up at him through your lashes. “i have a favour to ask.”

if this were any other occasion, dean would say no. hell, he’d probably slam the door in your face. but those eyes, those goddamn eyes that stared into his soul. they were big, giving your already angelic features a doe-like look. dean was mentally kicking himself at how easily he was folding.

with a sigh, he cocked his head to his right, staring at you intently, a way to mask how your look was making him feel. “i’ll only say yes ‘cause sammy’s away — but tell me what it is first. i’m not going on some whack ass trip all ‘cause you batted your eyes at me all pretty.”

the words that left dean’s lips had your own parting in shock, eyes widening even more. he was so strange. one second he hated you and the next he was flirting like you were a girl he saw at the bar. but you decided a while ago to not question dean’s ways, for diving in too deep would be like swimming in the mariana’s trench.

with a light cough, you continued your recent proposal as dean looked down at you with a cocky grin on his face. “i want to decorate my room, get new clothes, really integrate myself into society. and before you complain, i’ve been wearing the same dress for a month; it’s time for a change.”

dean would love to say no, he truly would. he’d love to laugh in your face, tell you that your sweet and innocent act wasn’t working on him. every angel — besides cas — that sam and dean had come across left them with more problems then they started out with. why should dean trust you?

but over the past weeks, he couldn’t help but realize how unreasonable he was being. cas trusted you, and sam seemed to be doing just fine in hanging out with you everyday. dean had to swallow his pride and realize that someone wasn’t planning to hurt him or his brother, that all you had on your mind was reinventing yourself and not dwindling into psychosis by staring into your empty abyss of a room.

though it was dean at the end of the day, and he could never admit that for once he was wrong. so with practiced ease, he pushed down those feelings and huffed loudly, reaching across the door frame for his keys and pushing past you out the door.

“c’mon feathers,” he grumbled as you stood by his door shocked, not knowing how to react to dean actually wanting to help you. “hurry up before i change my mind.”

the car ride was tense, an awkward tension that had you smushing into the side door. dean’s music blared through the speakers, a testimony on the fact he didn’t want to talk to you. there was no place in your bones that had you wanting to talk to him, but after 2 hours in the car, you got confused on where he was going.

“umm, dean?” you questioned, turning your body towards his and watching as his jaw ticked from his side profile. “where are we going?”

he didn’t turn his head, didn’t look away from the road as his jaw tensed and his fingers gripped on the steering wheel. “minnesota.” your lips parted, confused on why he was going to a whole different state before he spoke again. “you’ve never been to the mall of america. i’m giving you important life experiences, feathers.”

dean watched as your eyes widened, pouty lips opening wide as shock filled your body. he honestly didn’t know why he was driving a whole ten hours for you to go shopping. it was unnecessary, but dean couldn’t stop himself from continuing his drive.

“oh.” your voice came out breathy, your head going down to your chest as you fiddled with your fingers. “well, i’ve never been on a drive this long. what do you do?”

what did you do? when he was with sam, it was like muscle memory. sit in silence for a bit, jokingly bicker back and forth, sam would sleep for a bit. but you had never done this before. so dean had to think of a whole new way to keep you entertained.

he truly was trying to work on his animosity towards you. so with a sigh he turned slightly to look at you. “some people sleep, some talk to the whole time. what do you wanna do, sweetheart?”

“can you tell me about your views on the world?” your words had dean fully turning his head to look at you. he briefly gave you a confused look before turning back to the road. why would you ask that? he understood you were an angel, a heavenly creature that didn’t know anything about her own father’s creation, but why did you what to know his views on it?

sensing his confusion, you backtracked as best as you could, shaking your head and staring out the car window at all the trees and fields melding together like molten lava. “i just mean, i’ve heard how sam feel’s about certain things, but i want to know how you feel. your favourite music, movies, what your dreams are. i don’t know dean, i just want to know more.”

he was shocked, not ever having someone ask him what his dreams and favourite things were. he slightly turned his head again, eyes watching as your hair curtained your face. tentatively, he pulled his hand away from the steering wheel so he could brush the strands away from your face. your cheeks blushed as he tucked it behind your ear, hand gracing your cheek softly as he let it fall down your arm.

“sure, whatever you want, angel.”

that’s how you two spent the rest of the drive; dean raving on about all his favourite things while you silently listened, inventively taking in all his interests. you noticed how over time he became more open, excitedly talking about his interests from childhood to now. it was nice, listening to all the things that made dean, well, dean.

it wasn’t even like he wanted to stop. this was one of the most relaxing drives he’s had in a while. you didn’t interrupt him, you just sat and listened. sitting in his front seat like the heavenly angel you were and looking more like a painting than a celestial being.

dean even drove through the night, not wanting to wake you as you slept so pretty in the car. he didn’t mind not getting any sleep if it meant not waking you up to go to a motel. he was also accustomed to not sleeping for days, so he was honestly fine.

the mall finally came into view just as your eyes peeled open. you were confused, not used to the notion of sleeping. it was like a massive weight had lifted off your chest, arising like snow white out of her bed of flowers. as you noticed where you were, you excitedly looked at the structure, eyes wide in awe as you scrambled out of the car and dashed towards the entrance.

you were like an excited bunny, hopping around from store to store as dean kept a close eye on you. each shop you came out with something new — god bless fake credit cards — and dean had to stop himself from thinking about how pretty you looked in certain items.

at first you needed to figure out what your size was, so dean would be succumbed to sitting in stuffed changing rooms with obnoxious pop music playing while you tried on tops and skirts behind a flimsy curtain. when you came out in your first outfit — a long sleeve black and white striped top with a denim mini skirt — dean almost passed out in the fucking store.

his breath almost lodged in his throat, making him choke on his own breath like a damn child. that white dress of yours never let him see how long your legs truly were. they exemplified the skirt low on your hips while your just as long torso helped the shirt fit perfectly.

he knew you were a tall person, but holy shit.

you were like a fucking model. dean had to remind himself of his forced hate towards you for if he didn’t, he’d push you into that change room with his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

when dean awkwardly mentioned that you probably needed to buy some undergarments, he sat outside the victoria’s secret as you toddled in with a perplexed look on your face and his credit card in hand. the bag you came out with was massive, and dean was enough of a gentlemen to not look inside or too close to it.

the rest of the stores were a blur. a plethora of bags filled with tight fitted zip ups — some knitted, multiple skirts, tight fitted tops, cozy and colourful sweaters, a multitude of coloured tights, brown and black suede boots, and even more dresses that dean swore that it wouldn’t all fit in the impala.

it didn’t make it any better that you even shopped for your room. floral sheets with ruffled pillow cases, a white comforter, multiple tall, thick and short candles to decorate the space, and a multitude of prints and paintings that had dean shocked by your artistic eye.

as you finished at the mall, dean decided that a couple of thrifts store wouldn’t hurt. you were enthralled, looking around and grabbing as many cool trinkets as you could for your shelves. he found you a used cd player, taking you to the section with cd’s so you could pick out some music.

sam had gotten you a spotify account, so you knew the stuff you liked. songs and albums from artists dean didn’t even know you knew about graced your cart. britney spears, alanis morissette, carrie underwood, abba, fleetwood mac, and other similar artists that dean didn’t simply like, but he’d buy them just for you.

he even saw you pick up old one direction and justin bieber cd’s, and decided to not even question you on it.

you were so excited, and dean didn’t want to dim the ravenous sparkle that lilted your eyes. you rambled on about how you were going to revamp the old furniture without even needing to buy new ones, how the art studio stool that you bought for the desk was going to be so much better than the uncomfortable wood chair.

dean promised he’d take you to shops around the bunker to get essentials like comfy clothes and pajama’s, but for now, it was time to go back home.

the ride home had dean’s heart pumping just like before. you kept asking him more questions, asking stories about his childhood and how long he’d been hunting for. you were so interested in his life, which sent a wave of electricity through dean’s bones.

he started to admit to himself that he may be an asshole. how could he be so mean to such a sweet angel like you. your innocence, darling nature, and soft yet exuberant aura left dean feeling like he was floating on a feather.

you just made everything simple, and dean realized that helping you become human was the best thing cas had ever decided for him.

TAGS: @floralscented @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @ostaramoon @haunteres @fallbhind @rubyvhs @foolinthera1n @taurus0queenie33 @vaiieydoii @jasvtsc @bitchykittenconnoisseur @angel-inspiredblog @galacticalllcafffeine @pascal-rascal424 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @fayeisuppose @geisterfvhrer @bluemerakis @si1ver06 @drqstqr @wh0s-ra3 @supernatural-bangtanboys @whump-loverz @mostlymarvelgirl @d3anwinchesterswife @youdontknowe @oceanolokys

*creating my perfect 2000s makeover montage in this chapter and living vicariously through it. also poor angel doesn’t know what online shopping is. she’s going to be a depop warrior tho i will tell you that much.

[writerastray]

Recreate

General Masterlist - Read this before interacting

Disclaimer:

⚠︎ My works are all protected. I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting. Please reblog if you want to share my work.

⚠︎ My work is only appropriate for adults over the age of 18. Ageless/blank blogs will be blocked.

-> Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/f!Reader

-> Word count: 4.2k

-> Rating: 18+→ Mature/Explicit

->Genre/Tropes: Romance, Mutual Pining, Romantic/Sexual Tension, One-shot, Fluff, Fun, (a sprinkle of angst), Smut. Other Additional Tags to Be Added. (Spoiler tags: Childhood Friends to Lovers.)

-> Warning tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Heartbreak, Writer's Block/Creative Struggles, Alcohol Consumption, Use of fake dagger? Other Additional Tags to Be Added.

-> Synopsis: Hyunjin, a successful author, can’t seem to write a decent romance scene anymore. When you, his childhood friend, visit him for the weekend and discover his creative block, you propose a bold solution: recreating the scenes together. The only catch? Hyunjin insists that you be his partner.

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The coffee shop was about to close.

The streets were a bit busy, as it was almost Christmas time. Most of the stores were filled with people rushing to buy last-minute gifts.

The cold wind carried the scent of witch hazel from the flower shop nearby, mixed with the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon from street vendors. Beneath the glow of streetlights, the snow sparkled like scattered diamonds, and laughter echoed as couples and families hurried by, their breath visible in the frosty air.

Your feet didn’t move as you saw Hyunjin at the counter, smiling at a young lady as he completed her payment. It hadn’t been long—just a year and a half, in fact—but it felt like years since you had last seen him. He reminded you so much of when he was younger: playful eyes, still flirty, and that sweet smile that never failed to make your stomach flip.

After countless copies of his books were sold, he still lived above the coffee shop. You remembered when he asked you to help him move there. You still had that bittersweet taste in your mouth after leaving Hyunjin by himself and returning to the countryside alone.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your bag and crossed the street. The bell above the door chimed as you entered, and warmth immediately wrapped around you. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee blended with the buttery scent of croissants and the sweet spice of cinnamon rolls. Your stomach growled in response.

You walked to the counter, and your gaze met Hyunjin’s.

His eyes widened briefly before a slow smile tugged at his lips. Surprise melted into something sharper, a piercing stare that almost stole your breath away.

Tilting his head, he asked, “Why is there a witch in my coffee shop?”

You smiled back. “If you don’t want to be cursed,” you replied, leaning on the counter, “I’d suggest making me something to eat.”

“So demanding,” he said, shaking his head. “Give me five minutes.” He disappeared into the kitchen. His voice echoed from inside, and you couldn't help but smile at his loud giggle.

Looking around, you noticed an empty table in the corner near a wall full of quotes. One caught your eye: “I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” — Alice in Wonderland. It used to be Hyunjin's favorite as a child.

Hyunjin returned five minutes later, carrying a plate of food.

“Here you go, my dear witch.”

He sat across from you, his gaze fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing he’d seen in years. His black hair was slightly tousled, and it had grown since you last saw him, curling at the ends. His white shirt was rumpled, and yet he looked just as princely as the first time you met him as a child.

“What? Missed me that much?” you teased.

His brow arched slightly before he asked, “How are you doing, Y/N?” in that soft voice of his.

“To be honest, I’m doing well. Life has been kind to me.”

It had been five years since you moved to the countryside to live on your own. It was your dream since childhood, when you lived with your grandma during the summers; and even though all your friends were in the city for college, you chose to stay.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he said. “And your grandma?”

“She’s on a cruise with my mom,” you replied, shaking your head in disbelief. “Can you imagine those two stuck together on a ship?”

He laughed, and you felt your heart race at the sight. His head tilted back, eyes crinkling into crescents.

“I give it two days before they’re at each other’s throats,” you quipped.

“Two days?” he said, still chuckling. “You’re being generous. Your grandma’s probably having the time of her life annoying your mom.”

The bell above the door jingled, and a small group of students entered, their chatter filling the cozy space. Hyunjin stood, brushing off his hands, still smiling. “Eat. You’re home—head upstairs when you’re done. They’re my last customers, and I’ll close up after.”

You nodded and turned your attention to the plate in front of you. The food was every bit as delicious as you’d hoped, and Minho hadn’t been exaggerating about the Tiramisu—it was the best dessert you had ever had.

After finishing, you gathered your things and started toward the stairs, only to hear Hyunjin call out. He jogged over, pulling something from his pocket. “Keys,” he said, his lips curling into a playful smirk as he tossed them to you.

You caught them midair, raising an eyebrow. “Still trusting me with these after all these years?”

He winked before turning back to the counter. “Always.”

His apartment was a blend of a library and an art studio. Bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with novels, sketchbooks, and scattered trinkets from his travels. Canvases rested against the corners of the room, some blank, others adorned with half-finished paintings. A faint scent of paint lingered in the air, mixing with the subtle sweetness of the winter jasmine that drifted in through the open balcony door. You chuckled. He hadn’t changed at all.

You walked to the guest room. It was simple, with just a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. You placed your bag in the corner and let yourself fall onto the bed. It was soft and smelled fresh—Hyunjin must have just put on clean sheets. You grabbed your phone and sent a message to your mom, letting her know you were at Hyunjin’s, and another in the group chat with your friends. You were here for your yearly winter reunion with your childhood friends. This year, it would be at Chan’s apartment.

The apartment door creaked open, followed by the sound of a lock clicking into place. Hyunjin’s voice carried through the quiet space. “Love?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a soft snort. His footsteps were nearly silent, but you sensed his presence before you saw him. He appeared in the doorway of the guest room, leaning casually against the frame, a bottle in hand. “Strawberry wine?”

The sweet wine slid down smoothly. It was dizzying in the best way, loosening muscles that had been tight since you’d stepped on the train to the city.

“So, the reunion,” Hyunjin started, swirling his glass of wine lazily. “Changbin’s girlfriend is coming. Nervous?”

Changbin had been your first love, and for a long time, you regretted ending things. You thought that if you’d been stronger, you might still be together. Maybe you could have fought harder, tried to make the long-distance relationship work. But you didn’t. Then time did its thing, and eventually, you moved on.

You met his gaze steadily, though the question tugged at an old scar. “He’s my best friend at the end of the day.”

This would also be the first time Hyunjin and Felix would be with the rest of the group in the same room.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said quickly. “Hard to believe, but I’ve moved on too.”

It was hard to believe. He had been a mess after his breakup. It was the worst you’d ever seen him.

You were at Chan’s apartment that evening, watching a movie on the couch, when the door slammed open. Hyunjin stumbled in, his face red, tears streaming down his cheeks. His chest heaved as though he couldn’t catch his breath, one hand clutching the fabric of his shirt over his heart.

“It hurts,” he choked out. That was all he could manage before his knees gave out, and Chan rushed to catch him.

You’d only seen him like this once before, years ago, because of his parents. He clung to Chan like he was the only thing keeping him steady, reduced to sobs that wracked his entire body; his fingers digging into his friend’s shirt as he gasped for air between cries.

For days, he stayed in bed, barely speaking. He’d stare blankly at the ceiling or curl into himself, clutching a pillow as though it could shield him from the pain. It took weeks before he could even crack a small smile, and months before that smile felt genuine again.

“So, what’s your new book about this time?” you asked, wanting to talk about something else.

He groaned. “Nothing.”

You frowned. Hyunjin’s mind was never without a story. “What happened this time?”

He smiled faintly. “If I tell you, will you solve the problem?”

“No,” you said.

He eyed you. “Maybe.”

His eyebrow arched. “Probably,” you gave up.

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re just like when we were kids, trying to solve all the problems in the world.”

“Don’t change the subject,” you said.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and licked his lips before meeting your gaze. “I know the story. It’s just... some scenes don’t feel natural. I think I don’t know how to write romance anymore.” Then, tilting his head with a smirk, he added, “Do you have a spell to fix it?”

You threw a cushion at his head as his laughter filled the night.

The next morning was a sunny Saturday. You stayed in bed for at least an hour before finally getting up. You hadn’t fallen asleep until 1 a.m., trying to come up with a solution to Hyunjin’s problem. You couldn’t help it; you loved solving them.

Eventually, an idea came to you.

Hyunjin was in the kitchen, wearing a white shirt so large it slipped off his collarbones, holding an apple in one hand.

“Isn’t it too early for you to bother me?” he mumbled.

You smiled at his annoyed tone. He had always been like that when he woke up at your grandma’s house after sleepovers.

“I thought about what you said last night,” you said, pouring coffee into a yellow mug and sitting across from him at the table. “About your writing.”

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Haven’t I told you not to bother with this?”

“Actually, no, you didn’t. Besides, when have I ever listened to you?”

He closed his eyes, his mouth opening and closing as if the words were hard to form. Then he rolled his eyes and said, “Speak.”

You sipped your coffee before continuing, “What if you tried recreating a scene? You know, live it out—get into the character’s head.”

He stilled mid-bite, his expression skeptical. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve heard a lot of writers do that. Whether it’s fight scenes or dance scenes, some even take classes to understand them better.”

“Tonight, you’re going back home,” he deadpanned.

You pressed on. “It can work. At least you should try it!”

Hyunjin was silent for a while before finishing his apple and taking a gulp of his coffee. He leaned back in his chair. “And I suppose the person I’d recreate it with would be you. Is that your way of telling me you’re interested in me?”

You looked away, embarrassed. “Of course not!” The warmth creeping up your neck betrayed your calm tone. “And it doesn’t need to be me. We can find someone you’re more comfortable with.”

He got up and came closer to you. His hands were in his pockets, but you felt caged by his stare. He looked up and put a hand to his lips, tilting his head slightly, until his whole body stopped.

His eyes met yours.

“It’s not you that’s the problem.”

“What is it then? You? It’s not me; the problem is you.” You sighed. “If your books are as cliché as you—”

“My books are good.”

“And if you want to write another one, you need to work on your field research.”

“Is that what you call making out with me?”

“It is now.”

He opened his mouth, then sank his teeth into his lower lip. For a moment, you couldn’t stop staring. When you realized you were mirroring his action, you looked into his eyes. He seemed to be searching for something, but then you saw his shoulders relax, and his eyes closed.

Hyunjin sighed dramatically, crossing the room to grab a notebook. “Fine. Let’s try it.”

“Wait—‘we’?” you asked, taken aback.

He turned, a sly grin spreading across his face. “You’re the one who suggested it, love. Field research, remember?”

Hyunjin leaned back on the couch, running a hand through his dark, disheveled hair. The faint glow of his laptop screen illuminated his concentrated expression. Next to him, you watched the rays of sunlight slip through the drawn curtains, while absently turned a fake dagger between your fingers—a prop he had picked up at one of his book signings. 

“So, they can’t be together, even if they have feelings for each other, because he’s immortal, and she has to die tomorrow for him to claim the throne and start a war?” you asked.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the screen.

“Got it.” But the truth was, you didn’t. Your hands were clammy, your heart pounding so loudly you wondered if he could hear it.

The way he avoided your eyes didn’t help. You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “If this makes you uncomfortable, we can find someone else—” 

“There’s no one else,” he answered, his tone firm. “And I’m not uncomfortable.”

You studied his face, looking for any hint of hesitation. “Are you sure?”

He nodded and finally met your gaze. His stare sets you ablaze. We’ll only pretend. Nothing more, you remind yourself. 

You licked your lips before asking with a small smile, “Not even nervous?”

He arched an eyebrow. His hand brushed your waist, and you saw the shift in his eyes—intense and almost hypnotic.

“I don’t think I’m the only one who’s nervous,” he said. His smirk deepened, and, in one swift motion, he pulled you closer. “Whenever you’re ready, little witch,” he teased.

With slightly trembling hands, you grabbed the dagger and placed it against his throat.

“You think I won’t do it?” you said, reciting the line from his book, though your voice wavered.

"You don’t have the courage," he said, his voice low and taunting.

"Of course I have," you lied, gripping the dagger tighter.

His breath hitched, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before snapping back to your eyes.

"So, do it," he whispered.

You don’t answer. Instead, you lean into him, your lips brushing his in a kiss that starts soft but deepens almost instantly.

 It took you to somewhere far from reality. Was that really happening? Were you really making out with your childhood friend for the sake of a book? 

His hand slides to the back of your neck and you tilt your head, pressing closer. He makes a low sound in his throat that sends a thrill through you.

When you finally broke apart, you were breathless, your lips swollen and your heart racing.  

Hyunjin’s gaze is heavy-lidded, staring at you, his pupils blown wide, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat.

Hyunjin’s lips twitched, his eyes darkening in amusement. “What’s wrong? Afraid to take the next step?”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “No,” you shot back, though your voice wavered. 

You hadn’t expected kissing him to feel so… right.  Like finally finding the missing piece of a puzzle.

Hyunjin’s eyes searched for yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it lingered, testing you, daring you.

“Then prove it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you again, but he stopped short. His gaze flicked between your eyes and lips. “What would they do next?” 

You swallowed hard, caught between the roles you were meant to play and the reality of what you felt. “They wouldn’t stop.” 

Hyunjin’s lips curved into a smirk, “No,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t think they would.”

He leaned forward, capturing your lips again, and this time, there was no hesitation.

Hyunjin’s hand slides from your neck to your waist, pulling you into him until you're straddling his lap. The laptop, once forgotten, slides, together with the dagger, to the floor with a soft thud. 

Your breath hitches as his lips leave yours, trailing a hot, open-mouthed path along your jaw, neck, and the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans, the sound reverberating against your skin.

“You’re so…” Hyunjin’s voice falters, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his words almost too much to say. “Irresistible.”

You feel his lingering smirk as his hands roam lower, gripping your hips and holding you in place as you rock against him.

“Hyunjin,” you breathe, your voice breaking on his name. You try to remind yourself that every kiss is just pretend. You are only recreating a scene.

He lifts his head, his dark eyes searching yours, his expression raw and vulnerable. “Say my name like you mean it, love. You know you want to,” he says, his thumb brushing your lips.

Your lips part, and you lean forward, kissing him again. Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, tugging it upward until he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. You pause at the sight of him—his skin smooth and warm, taut over lean muscle, the sunlight spilling through the curtains painting him in golden hues.

You reach for him, your fingers brushing the curve of his jaw and the dip of his collarbone; he shivers at your touch. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“Am I?” His brows lift, the corners of his lips tilting into a mischievous grin. “If I remember correctly, you once called me a frog.”

You laugh as Hyunjin’s hands trace the curve of your waist. His lips meet yours, tongue sliding against yours, deepening the kiss as he explores you slowly, savoring every moment. 

His fingers curl under the hem of your shirt, and he says against your lips, “Is this okay?” His voice is thick and unsteady for just a moment, making your heart coil inside you.

“Yes,” you whisper, trembling with anticipation. “Please.”

He bites his lips, eyes darkening; and then he’s pulling your shirt up, over your head, revealing your bare skin to the soft glow of the sunlight.

Hyunjin freezes for a moment, his gaze roaming over you like you’re... something precious. You need to remind yourself that it’s not real, that both of you are just pretending—for the sake of the book.

Hyunjin’s plump lips capture yours messily. "I dreamed about this," he says between kisses.

He leans down, his lips brushing the curve of your collarbone, then lower, to the swell of your breast. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts gently, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

You arch into his touch, your body instinctively seeking more, and he takes the hint, his mouth closing over your nipple. He sucks softly, the sensation sending a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there as he switches to the other, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak before nipping it lightly with his teeth.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, your hips bucking against him.

He groans, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he moves, pinning you against the couch. His hips grind against yours, the hard press of him sparking a heat that blooms low in your belly.

He grips your waist before sliding your pants down, taking your underwear with them, leaving you bare beneath him.

You feel exposed, vulnerable, but the way he looks at you—his gaze consumed by desire, his lips parted—erases any hesitation. 

He kisses his way down your body, his hands following the path of his mouth, brushing over your hips, your thighs, until he’s settled between your legs.  

His lips trail over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his breath warm against you as he moves closer, his hands gently spreading you. “You want me, hm?” His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “Tell me, love, what exactly do you need?”  

You moan, almost begging. “Stop messing with me.”  

He chuckles and finally leans in. Hyunjin’s tongue traces a path along your slick folds. Your body jolts at the sensation, back arching as a strangled moan escapes your lips.  

His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue circles, flicks, and plays with your clit. You can’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips, your hands holding his curls tight. 

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, voice high and breathless.  

He looks up at you, lips glistening, gaze burning with desire, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “If you keep doing that, love, I might not be able to stop.”  

Your hips buck against him, body chasing the building pleasure as he slips a finger inside, then another, curling them in a way that makes you see stars. He pumps them slowly at first, matching the rhythm of his tongue, then faster as your breaths come in short, sharp gasps.  

“Hyunjin, I’m—”  

You shatter, body tightening around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cry out, holding him against you as he guides you through your climax, his movements slowing but never stopping.

When you finally calm, your chest rising and falling with each breath, he traces his kisses back up your body, his lips lingering on your skin as though he can’t get enough of you. The firm length of his cock presses against your thigh, sending another rush of arousal through you.

His eyes search for yours, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “We don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to,” he says, his voice soft, careful.  

“I do,” you say, reaching for him, your hands finding the waistband of his pants. “I want this,” you add, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest.  

Hyunjin’s breath catches as he helps you push his pants and boxers down. You swallowed, taking him in—hard, heavy, and glistening with arousal. “I’ve never been more sure.”  

For a moment, he freezes, his eyes locked on yours, and you realize what you’ve just said. You silently hope he thinks it’s the character speaking and not the hypothesis that you might be way more into him than you thought.

His forehead drops to yours as he pushes into you, slow and steady, filling you inch by inch until you feel impossibly full. Your body stretches around him, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders.  

“Fuck,” he whispers, his voice a broken plea, “my goddess.”  

You can’t speak, can only nod as he begins to move, his hips rolling in a slow rhythm. His thrusts grow deeper as he leans down to capture your lips again. The kiss is fierce, almost desperate, his tongue sliding against yours before his lips suck, lick, and bite yours repeatedly.  

Your legs wrap around his waist; the friction between you sparking waves of pleasure. He moans into your mouth, his hands sliding under you to tilt your hips, fucking you harder.  

“Hyunjin,” you whimper. 

Your hands roam over his back, nails scraping lightly against his skin, and you feel him shudder above you. You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, each movement sending shockwaves through you. The pressure coils low in your belly as your body tightens around him. “Just like that,” you said.

Hyunjin’s hand slips between you, his thumb finding your sensitive clit. He circles it with just the right amount of pressure, matching the rhythm of his hips. Your vision blurs as you tumble over the edge.  

“I can feel you,” he moans, his voice nearly a whimper. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.”  

Your only response is a gasp, your head tilting back as you surrender to the pleasure. His lips trail down your throat, sucking and biting gently, leaving marks you know will linger.  

He moans, his rhythm faltering as your release triggers his own. His body tenses, a shudder running through him as he buries himself deep, his cum spilling into you. Hyunjin’s face nestled in your neck as he says your name and comes apart in your arms.

Both of you lay tangled together, your breaths mingling, your bodies slick with sweat. Hyunjin lifted his head slowly, brushing damp strands of hair from your face as he looked down at you. His thumb traced the curve of your lips, his gaze soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.  

“You’re incredible,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.  

“So are you,” you whispered, your hands sliding up to cup his face. You kissed him softly, languidly, savoring the moment.  

When he finally pulled away, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours as your breaths evened out. “I think I’ll have no trouble writing now,” he said, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips.  

You laughed, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. “I’d say we got into character pretty well.”  

Hyunjin chuckled softly, his fingers brushing over your skin as he lay next to you. “You know, I think I have a few other scenes I could work on…” His words trailed off as you suddenly pushed him off the couch.  

“And be late for Chan's party? Never.” You teased, raising an eyebrow.  

“What a witch,” he laughed, his eyes warm with affection as he got up and went to the bathroom.  

You watched him walk away, trying to ignore how your heart raced. For now, you pretended it was just a fleeting feeling, hoping—really hoping—that there would be more scenes to recreate.

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Author's note: Hi! I hope you liked this story. English is my second language, so please excuse my errors. Constructive feedback is always appreciated! I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting of my work.

Did you enjoy this? If so, please reblog it. Thank you for reading! Sending love 💕

Copyright © 2025 by Writerastray.

[heartsriki]

FLORAL SANCTUARY ⌇봄의 사랑

pairing ᝰ idol!sunghoon x fem!reader — featuring.. riki & sunoo | word count: 5.2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ fluff, tiny bit of angst, mention of Sasaengs, misunderstandings, assault attempt (not from hoon), kissing, reader is a florist.

synopsis — your life is turned upside down when a mysterious customer, later revealed to be sunghoon of ENHYPEN, starts frequenting their shop. As feelings blossom, they must navigate the challenges of love in the spotlight and a world of secrets.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Im not sure if I like this but :( I worked on it for a little bit of time so I might as well post it also don’t talk about me sneaking riki into every fic fr.. OH I hope yall like the bonuses under every fic as well <3 hope you like it enjoy fr!

The start of spring always brought life to the city. The air smelled of fresh blooms, the sun painted the streets in golden light, and your quaint little flower shop buzzed with new energy. Spring meant love was in the air, and for a florist like you, it was prime confession season.

The day, however, had been slower than you’d hoped. The usual flow of familiar faces trickled in—some grabbing pre-made bouquets, others chatting as they browsed. Earlier, a man wearing a mask and a baseball cap had wandered in, keeping to himself as he strolled among the displays. He seemed like the kind of person who was window-shopping rather than buying, so you left him to it, busying yourself with restocking and rearranging.

The soft chime of the doorbell broke the quiet rhythm of the shop, and you turned to see a younger guy, probably no older than 18, shuffling inside. He looked nervous, wringing his hands as he approached the counter.

“Uh, hey… What flowers are, like, good for confessing?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but smile. This was your favorite kind of customer—the ones looking for the perfect way to say something they couldn’t put into words themselves. “If you’re confessing love, red tulips are a classic,” you said, guiding him toward the vibrant blooms.

His face lit up as he picked a handful, and you wrapped them into a simple but elegant bouquet. As you handed it over, you grinned and said, “Good luck! I hope they say yes.”

“Thanks!” he beamed, waving as he left the shop.

You turned back to the shelves, searching for something to keep you busy when the man in the mask from earlier appeared at the counter. He stood tall, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, his face obscured by the brim of his cap.

“Can I help you?” you asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated like he was working up the courage to speak. “Yeah, uh… I heard you helping that kid, and I was wondering… what flowers are good to give to your mom?”

His voice was deep but soft, and something about it made your chest tighten. You pushed the thought aside and gave a little laugh. “For your mom? Gardenias are perfect—they symbolize love for family. But they’re a bit pricey.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “I’ll take one.”

You nodded and stepped away to grab one of the delicate white blooms. As you did, the radio in the corner of the shop switched songs, the upbeat melody of “Moonstruck” by ENHYPEN filling the air. You glanced at the man, noticing how he suddenly stiffened. His hands fidgeted at his sides, and his eyes darted toward the door.

“Here you go,” you said, returning with the flower wrapped in crisp white paper.

But as you held it out to him, he grabbed it hastily and bolted for the door.

“Hey!” you called after him, heart racing as you hurried around the counter. You chased him to the sidewalk, but he was already halfway down the block, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there, out of breath, staring after him. “What the actual hell…”

The next day, just as you were finishing up for the evening, you hummed to the soft tune of the radio while sweeping the shop floor. The faint ding of the bell broke the stillness, and you looked up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we’re closing,” you explained softly, leaning the broom against the counter.

The man who entered smirked at you, his demeanor casual but confident. “No worries, babe. I wasn’t here for flowers anyway,” he said, slowly stepping toward you.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Then what are you here for?”

“Your number would be a good start,” he said with a cocky smile, reaching out as if to touch your arm.

Before he could make contact, an arm suddenly pulled him back. Startled, you watched as his head snapped toward the figure standing behind him—the man in the mask and baseball cap.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the masked man asked, his voice low and commanding.

The cocky man’s confidence vanished in an instant. “Uh—nothing. Sorry!” he stammered before bolting out of the shop, the bell jingling violently as the door slammed behind him.

You huffed, rubbing your arms as you looked at the masked man. “Wow, that was scary. Thanks,” you said, your gaze now focused on him. Something about him caught your attention—his peek of black hair beneath the cap, his smooth voice, his familiar presence.

“Hey… wait!” you exclaimed, realization dawning. “You’re that guy—”

He tensed, hands raised defensively. “Wait, wait!” he interrupted, wincing as you grabbed the broom and swatted him with it.

“Why did you just bolt out of here with my precious flower?” you asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice softening. “Something… happened. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a card and held it out cautiously, still eyeing the broom. “Here, I didn’t pay for the flower. I came back to fix that.”

You took the card skeptically, lowering the broom. He had helped you just now, and honestly, stealing a flower of all things seemed odd for a thief.

Heading back to the counter, you swiped his card and handed it back. “So, did your mom like the flower?”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Oh, yes. She loved it,” he said, a shy smile creeping across his face.

You beamed at him, and your mood instantly lifted. “That’s great! I’m glad it worked out.”

The shop fell into a comfortable quiet as he glanced around. The soft glow of the shop’s lights bathed the room in warmth, the scent of flowers lingering in the air.

“Are you closing?” he asked after a moment, his voice curious.

You clapped your hands, laughing. “Oh! Yes, I am. I completely forgot!” Quickly, you disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with your bag slung over your shoulder and your apron folded in your hands.

“Follow me,” you said with a wave, walking toward the entrance.

He trailed behind you, watching as you locked the door and tucked your keys into your bag. The soft glow of the streetlights cast a warm light over you, and he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked under it.

“Well, this is where I say goodbye. Thanks again for earlier,” you said with a small smile.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “Are you heading home? I could take you.” He gestured toward a sleek car parked nearby.

You laughed softly, tilting your head. “I would, but I don’t think it’s smart for a young lady to hop into the car of a man whose name she doesn’t know.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair point.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. “But you can walk me to the bus stop over there,” you offered, pointing down the street.

His face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you began walking side by side, the quiet hum of the city filling the space between you. As you reached the bus stop, you turned to him with a smile.

“Thank you again for helping me earlier… and for coming back,” you said, your voice soft.

He nodded, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Of course. I guess I owe you for leaving so suddenly yesterday,” he said with a shy laugh.

As your bus approached, he stepped back, the glow of the headlights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Will you be stopping by again?” you asked, half-teasing, half-hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe.”

You smiled as you stepped onto the bus, glancing back at him one last time. Something about him intrigued you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on.

As the bus pulled away, you caught sight of him standing there, watching you leave, the brim of his cap tilted just enough to shield his face from view.

After that day, he started stopping by your shop around closing time more often. At first, it was casual—an excuse to chat or linger in the comforting atmosphere of the flower shop. But soon, it became a routine you secretly looked forward to.

You learned that Park Sunghoon was funny, sly, and much more interesting than he initially let on. He always seemed more curious about you than willing to talk about himself. Every time you tried to ask questions about his life, he’d expertly change the subject, steering the conversation back to you. It bummed you out a little—not knowing much about him—but the way he listened to you and genuinely seemed interested in your stories made it hard to hold it against him.

Tonight was no different. He strolled in just as the sun dipped below the horizon, setting the shop aglow with warm, golden light.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, dropping his bag onto one of the chairs near the counter.

You looked up from the bouquets you were prepping, he wasn't wearing his mask today. “Hey, Sunghoon.”

He leaned against the counter, watching as you worked. His gaze softened as you expertly arranged the blooms into delicate patterns.

“Why do you like flowers so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.

You paused, glancing back at him with the bouquet still in your hands. “Flowers help people express feelings they can’t say. I like to express my love and passion through them, and I think the different meanings of each flower are amazing.”

Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darting toward the bouquet you were holding—a mix of pink and red roses. “Yeah? And what do those mean?”

“Blooming love,” you replied, holding his gaze for a moment before turning to place the bouquet on display.

He gulped, his fingers nervously fidgeting. “Hey, so, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yes?” you asked a little too eagerly, stepping closer.

“Would you like to… I don’t know, go somewhere with me? Sometime? When you’re free?”

You tilted your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m free now.”

His eyes widened, and a faint blush crept up his neck. “Now? But I… I didn’t dress up or anything…”

You giggled, waving your hand dismissively. “Neither did I. It doesn’t matter. You look cute.”

He laughed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

With the shop locked up and the sun lingering just above the horizon, you and Sunghoon walked down the quiet street. The gentle buzz of the city surrounded you, and the scent of flowers still clung to you from the shop.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“I figured we’d just wander a bit, see where we end up,” he said with a small smile. “Unless you have a better idea?”

You shook your head, enjoying the spontaneity. “Nope, that works for me.”

As you walked, you found yourselves at a quaint park tucked away from the busy streets. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their pink petals floating gently on the breeze.

“This is beautiful,” you murmured, your eyes scanning the scene.

Sunghoon nodded, glancing at you. “Yeah… it is.”

You both settled onto a bench near the pond, where ducks paddled lazily in the water. A food cart nearby caught your attention, and you laughed softly. “Ice cream?”

He followed your gaze and grinned. “Absolutely. Stay here—I’ll get it.”

You watched him jog over to the cart, noticing how relaxed he looked for the first time. When he returned, he handed you a cone with a bashful smile.

“Vanilla,” he said. “I guessed.”

“It’s perfect,” you replied, taking a small bite. “Thanks.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. The warm light of the setting sun danced on the water, and a soft breeze carried the scent of blossoms around you.

“So, Sunghoon,” you said, breaking the silence. “Are you ever going to tell me more about yourself, or are you planning to stay mysterious forever?”

He chuckled, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I guess I just like listening to you talk.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s sweet, but it’s not an answer.”

He hesitated, then turned to meet your eyes. “Someday. I promise.”

“Can't I even see your full face?” You asked nervously.

He looked at you and thought about it. He has known you for a good bit of time now, you don’t seem to know him for who he is, so he took a risk he hoped he wouldn’t regret. He slowly took the baseball cap off and looked at you with caution.

You slowly smiled and him and looked down. “You shouldn’t hide a handsome face like yours, “ you said giggling.

He blinked and felt heat creep up his neck.

He looked at the bush behind the bench and plucked one of the flowers that was on it. “I don’t know what it means but I can tell It suits you,” he said softly, holding up the pink petal and placing it behind your ear.

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “Thanks.”

After finishing your ice cream, the two of you decided to keep wandering through the park. The cherry blossom trees seemed to create a magical canopy above you, the soft glow of lanterns adding a warm touch to the atmosphere. You noticed Sunghoon stealing glances at you as you walked, but every time you caught him, he’d quickly look away, pretending to admire the scenery instead.

As you neared a small outdoor seating area, you spotted a musician setting up his guitar. A small crowd began gathering, and you nudged Sunghoon with your elbow.

“Let’s sit and listen for a while,” you suggested.

He hesitated for a second before nodding. “Sure, why not?”

The two of you found a seat nearby. The musician strummed a few chords before launching into a soft, acoustic rendition of a pop song. You tapped your fingers against your knees, nodding along to the melody.

“You into music much?” Sunghoon asked casually, leaning back against the bench.

You shrugged. “Not really. I don’t keep up with social media or anything, so I don’t know much about what’s trending. I mostly just listen to whatever’s playing on the radio in the shop.”

Sunghoon froze for a moment, then shifted in his seat, suddenly looking a little too interested in the gravel path in front of him. “Oh… really? No social media?”

“Nope,” you said with a smile. “It’s too exhausting to keep up with. Why?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, no reason. Just… not many people are like that.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his sudden nervousness. “What about you? You strike me as someone who listens to a lot of music.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you could say that. Music’s kind of… important to me.”

“Oh? What kind of music do you like?”

Before he could answer, the musician transitioned into a song that made a few people in the crowd cheer. You tilted your head, listening closely. The melody was catchy, but you couldn’t place it.

“I think I’ve heard this one before,” you said thoughtfully. “Isn’t it by that group… what are they called again? En… something?”

Sunghoon stiffened beside you. “Enhypen,” he said quickly, his voice a little too steady.

“Yeah, that’s it!” you said, snapping your fingers. “They’re okay, I guess. Some of their songs are nice, but it’s not really my thing.”

He turned to you so fast that you thought he might have hurt his neck. “Okay?” he repeated, his tone slightly incredulous.

You blinked at him, surprised by his reaction. “Uh, yeah? I mean, they’re good, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to them. Why? Are you a fan or something?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it again, his expression caught between offense and disbelief. “I—uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, visibly flustered. “You could say I know a lot about them.”

You chuckled, completely unaware of his internal struggle. “Well, that’s cool. I’ve probably heard more of their songs than I realize. You know how it is—songs play everywhere, but you don’t always know who’s singing them.”

Sunghoon nodded stiffly, looking like he was fighting the urge to say something. Finally, he let out a breath and crossed his arms. “Enhypen is… more than just ‘okay.’”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Wow, you must be a fan. Don’t worry, I’ll give them another chance.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile.

The musician wrapped up his performance, and the crowd began to disperse. As you stood to leave, Sunghoon glanced at you, his nervous energy from earlier now replaced with quiet amusement.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said as you walked side by side.

“A deal?” you repeated, curious.

He nodded. “Every time we hang out, I’ll show you some songs, and you have to give me your honest opinion. But you have to promise to really listen.”

You smiled at him, enjoying the way his confidence seemed to return. “Deal. But only if you tell me more about yourself in return.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Deal.”

You and Sunghoon kept going on more and more dates after that first one.

He was always kind and attentive, never pushing boundaries or trying anything beyond the occasional lingering gaze or shy smile. But that’s precisely what started to bother you. You wanted more. You’d made moves to take things further, even inviting him into your apartment after he dropped you off one night. But he’d quickly dismissed himself with a polite excuse.

It honestly made you insecure. Was he just playing with you? Was this something casual for him? You couldn’t help but wonder, especially when he hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend yet.

Now, on yet another date, Sunghoon seemed even more cautious than usual, glancing over his shoulder constantly, his cap and mask firmly in place despite the intimate setting.

“Hoon,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone as you set down your fork. “What’s up with you?”

You were at a cozy dinner spot, the kind of place where no one batted an eye at couples sharing shy smiles over candlelight. Yet, Sunghoon seemed distant, his shoulders stiff, his gaze darting around the room like he was expecting something—or someone.

He didn’t respond immediately.

“We’re at dinner, for God’s sake. Why do you still have the mask on?” You sighed, leaning closer to him. “Seriously, can you just talk to me? What’s going on?”

“Listen, Y/N—” he began, but before he could finish, a loud squeal pierced the air.

You turned toward the source of the noise, only to be met with the blinding flashes of cameras. A group of girls was pointing and taking pictures, their excited chatter growing louder by the second.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened in panic. He grabbed your hand and bolted out the door, pulling you behind him as a crowd of fans followed closely.

“Sunghoon!” you gasped, struggling to keep up. “I can’t run much longer!”

“Just hold on! We’re almost there!” he shouted over his shoulder, his grip on your hand tightening.

After weaving through alleys and streets, he led you to a sleek black car parked inconspicuously. He opened the door in a hurry and ushered you inside, quickly jumping in after you. The driver sped off before you even had a chance to process what had just happened.

Out of breath, you turned to look behind you, watching the wave of girls shrink into the distance. Then you shifted your gaze to Sunghoon, who was fixing his disheveled hair.

“What the hell is going on?!” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and frustration.

“Sir, where to?” the driver asked calmly as if this were a normal occurrence.

“Her apartment, please,” Sunghoon replied quickly before turning to you with an apologetic expression.

“Y/N, please… I’ll explain everything when we get there. Just—just give me a chance to explain.”

You pulled your hands away from him as he reached for you, your trust shaken.

The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. You stared out the window, your thoughts spiraling. What could he possibly be hiding that would explain this?

When you finally reached your apartment, you stormed up the stairs, Sunghoon trailing close behind. You unlocked the door and threw your belongings onto the couch, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

“Y/N, please listen—”

But before he could finish, you grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, needing a distraction. The news channel popped up, and you froze when you saw your face on the screen, standing beside Sunghoon.

The headline read: “Park Sunghoon from rising K-pop group ENHYPEN spotted on a date?”

Your head snapped toward him, and his panicked expression told you everything you needed to know.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you asked, your voice dangerously calm.

He shook his head, stepping closer. “No… it’s the truth. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want it to change anything between us.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Didn’t want it to change anything? Sunghoon, if you’d told me this from the beginning, I could’ve understood! But instead, you left me in the dark, and made me question everything!”

His face fell, and he knelt in front of you, his voice breaking. “Y/N, you’re not a joke to me. You’re so much more than that. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid—afraid you’d treat me differently like everyone else does.”

“Is that what you thought of me? After all the time we’ve spent together, that’s what you got?”

He looked up at you, eyes wide with regret. “No, that’s not—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “I think you should leave, Sunghoon.”

The use of his full name hit him like a blow. He hesitated, looking as though he wanted to argue, but the coldness in your expression stopped him.

“Please… just let me make it up to you,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away. “I need time to think this over.”

He nodded reluctantly, standing and walking to the door. He paused for a moment, looking back at you one last time before stepping out and closing it softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs wracked your body. The room felt unbearably quiet.

A few hours after the incident with Sunghoon, there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, two men in sharp suits stood there, their expressions professional yet apologetic.

“Miss Y/N?” one of them asked, confirming your identity.

“Yes?” you replied cautiously, your grip tightening on the doorframe.

“We’re representatives from Sunghoon’s agency,” the man said. His tone was calm, but the mention of Sunghoon’s name immediately caused your chest to tighten.

“We need to discuss the current situation,” the other man added. “May we come in?”

You hesitated, debating whether to slam the door in their faces or let them speak. Against your better judgment, you stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

The two men sat on your couch, their serious expressions only adding to your unease.

“We’re here to inform you that, due to the recent media coverage and fan activity, it’s in your best interest to lay low for a while,” one of them began. “The situation has escalated, and we’re concerned for your privacy and safety.”

Your heart sank. “Lay low?” you echoed, already dreading where this was going.

“Yes,” the other man confirmed. “The company will compensate you for any financial losses during this time, including your shop’s closure. We’re prepared to cover all expenses until the situation deescalates.”

The mention of your shop caused a lump to form in your throat. “You want me to close my shop?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“It’s only temporary,” the first man assured you. “Once things settle, you can resume your normal routine.”

You nodded numbly, but their words offered no comfort. As the two men stood to leave, they handed you a card with a number to call if you needed anything. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out,” one of them said.

After they left, you shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The shop was more than just a job to you—it was your sanctuary, the place where you felt most at peace. The thought of staying away from it, from the vibrant blooms and quiet hum of your safe space, only added to the ache in your chest.

The weight of everything was suffocating. You’d already lost your connection with Sunghoon, and now you were being forced to step away from the one thing that gave you solace. It felt as though your entire world was unraveling, piece by piece.

As you sat on the couch staring at the card in your hand, tears welled up in your eyes. You didn’t blame Sunghoon for this—not entirely—but the situation had left you feeling isolated and lost.

Two weeks had passed, and there was still no word from Sunghoon. You knew this silence was your own doing—you had asked for space—but you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

After the incident, Sunghoon had left long strings of heartfelt messages apologizing, explaining, and pleading for you to hear him out. But after a week of silence from you, the messages stopped. The sudden quiet felt heavier than you anticipated, and you hated how much you longed to see his name pop up on your screen again.

The company still hadn’t given you the green light to reopen your shop, leaving you trapped in an endless cycle of isolation and overthinking. The emptiness weighed on you, and your apartment felt colder than usual.

As you sat on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through your camera roll, your heart tightened when you stumbled upon a photo from your first date with Sunghoon. It was a selfie of you both at the park. You were smiling brightly at the camera while Sunghoon, with his cap, pulled low, was looking at you instead of the lens. You couldn’t help but stare at the image, remembering the butterflies you’d felt that day.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at the door. Confused, you got up slowly, not expecting any visitors. When you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

There he was, standing in front of you with a bouquet in his hands and a soft, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice calm but nervous.

You looked at the flowers, then back at him. “Hi,” you replied softly, stepping aside to let him in.

Sunghoon entered, turning to face you as you closed the door. Without a word, you walked to the couch and patted the spot beside you, silently asking him to sit. He followed your lead, placing the bouquet on the coffee table before taking a seat next to you.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Y/N, I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am,” he began, his voice heavy with guilt. “I’m not great at expressing myself, but I need you to know that I never saw you as a joke. I wasn’t messing with you—not ever.”

You nodded, staying quiet as you listened, your eyes focused on him.

“Every time you tried to get closer to me, I… I panicked,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I kept thinking about who I am, about my life and how messy it can get. I was scared—scared that if we got too close, you’d realize how much baggage I carry and leave. I didn’t want to lose you.”

He looked up, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “But I’ve realized something, Y/N. I can’t just be your friend. I can’t pretend that what I feel for you is anything less than love.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and your heart swelled. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the love he was finally laying bare.

“Hoon…” you started, but he interrupted you.

“I love you,” he confessed, the words tumbling out quickly as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before a smile spread across your face. Without thinking, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Your faces were mere inches apart now, and his hands instinctively found their way to your waist. He gazed into your eyes before his gaze dropped to your lips. And then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and sweet, full of the emotions he’d been holding back for so long. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. As the kiss deepened, he gently eased you back onto the couch, his arm bracing him above you while his other hand cupped your cheek.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, he rested his forehead against your shoulder, holding you close. His fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your shirt as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Your eyes landed on the bouquet on the table, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

He lifted his head, confused. “What’s so funny?”

You gestured to the flowers. “What do these mean, Hoon?”

He glanced at them and scratched the back of his neck. “Well… I didn’t know which flowers to get, so I just grabbed all the red ones. I figured they’d all mean love or something.”

You pointed to one in the arrangement. “That one means death, you know.”

His eyes widened in panic. “What?! That’s not what Google said!” He quickly reached for the bouquet, inspecting it frantically.

You burst into laughter, clutching your stomach. It took him a moment to realize you were teasing him. He groaned, leaning back with a playful glare. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Still laughing, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It was a little funny.”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The day before, Sunghoon had been pacing in the practice room, his phone in hand.

“What flowers should I get her?” he muttered, scrolling through countless search results.

“Sunghoon, please, just pick one and go talk to her already,” Sunoo groaned from the couch, watching his friend spiral.

“You don’t get it” Sunghoon snapped. “Flowers are really important to her.”

“Then just get her roses,” Riki chimed in from the corner. “Simple but classic.”

“She deserves more than simple,” Sunghoon mumbled, still fixated on his phone.

“Sunghoon!” Riki and Sunoo yelled in unison, exasperated.

[forthelostones]

𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 ➺ 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢 #8

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. guys, you're awesome that's for supporting me. i've recently stopped using grammarly for a more real writing experience. so if things are wonky, just know thats why! no more ai help.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. want me by chloe x halle ♫

You stumble through Ms. Anderson’s living room to find a spare blanket hidden somewhere in the darkness. With the terms you and Ellie are on, it wouldn’t be wise to have her pick you up tonight. Especially since you hadn’t told her you were hired by Abigail as her assistant. Not that she had outwardly admitted she had issues with Abby, but you knew Ellie more than anyone else — she was jealous. It was going to come up sooner or later considering you will have to see her on site but for now, you just needed to sleep.

You check in the corner near the massive bookshelf to find an ottoman hiding a fluffy black comforter. You creep through the house to search for the bathroom but not before you check on her. So, as the door opens and you see a snoring Abby sprawled out messily on her large bed, hair flaring on the silk pillowcase, mouth open and one arm hanging off the bed. You walk to close her curtains and take her now empty water glass with you out of the room. You handle it carefully and set it on a countertop. You wanted her. You craved her differently than you did Ellie. It was foolish but when her eyes hovered over your body today, you knew she wanted something from you. You don’t think she even knew what it was, if it was sex, companionship, or both, it was something. Something you had to find out.

This often happened, you thought, a mature woman could increase your curiosity easily and swiftly. They forced you to compare your relationship with Ellie to them and wonder how was it truly to fuck someone who knew exactly what they were doing. And Ms. Anderson knew exactly what she was doing. Staring at your curves so intently, and piercing your soul with those heavy eyes every chance she got. It felt good to watch the handsome woman admire you and possibly reminisce about her former self. Suddenly warm, you linger on to find her bathroom and flickered on the light. 

The tiling was navy and white hexagons layered up and down the length of the room. On the left just as you entered was a wall with five inch deep shelving embedded in it. She was so organized, items sat in small matching boxes, not overfilled but just enough. It amazed you. All black boxes sat on three shelves neatly labeled with their contents: medical, personal, and hair. You close the door softly and pick through the first two baskets, trying to not disturb their contents. Beside the shelves on the opposite wall is a small window that is slightly open, probably to help with the moisture and it’s covered in privacy film. Her neighborhood was noisy with a variety of buzzing lightning bugs and cicadas.

Next to it is the wide shower encased in reflective glass spanning almost half of the rooms size. Inside were waterproof shelves holding more of Abby’s products and a wooden showering bench. Finally, you turn to the mirror that faces the shower directly and begin to wash your face off in the sink. The summertime was unforgiving and you started to feel it — sticky neck and a damp back was motivation enough to risk a shower and have her realize you never left. 

Your fingers trace Abby’s usual products, not that you were shocked but you did crack a smile at the common theme of vanilla. You fold your clothes and place it on the sink and begin to lather a small dollop of her body wash into your skin. The water pressure was lush and the heat alone was hotter than you were used to but it felt so soothing, so right.

What would it be like to shower with Ms. Anderson on the days you’d spend the night? Her wide, wet hands tracing against your spine and wrapping around your waist to pull you into her needy body. Spreading warm, bubbly soap over your breasts and gently wrapping her fingers around your neck. A soft sigh escapes you as you fantasize about the woman who owns this house — who practically built it. You could slip into her bedroom right now and confess. 

But what was there to confess to Abby? That you had a crush on the woman? Or that you saw how easy it was for her to lead and how much that turned you on… ridiculous. This wasn’t unusual, you had crushes in your life and you thought that was normal. The girl from Chemistry, the TA in Philosophy, or your English professor, it was interesting to see people differently and fantasize. But there was a different level with Abby, you thought about her, not just in the moments you see her but after. Pondering on the what-ifs, you wanted her to see you differently than she did now. 

You finally turned the water off and stepped out onto the fluffy shower mat, mirror evenly steamed up and a creeping realization that you were standing naked in your new boss’ home. The comfort was over and now the feeling became intrusion, you were out of your mind. A creaking noise outside of the door awakened your senses further, the noise in your head was your heart. Air-drying would have to do. Back in your clothes and in her living room asylum was found under the down-feather cover. It shouldn’t feel this good doing something this bad, staying without invitation, but you knew she wouldn’t mind. To wake up to a relaxed, totally open you on her couch because your safety was her main priority. 

A warm morning sun welcomed you out of a slumber of fantasies and one of reality. You were inside Ms. Anderson’s house, lying down as if you were at a sleepover. You sat up immediately once you heard a familiar step pad down the hallway to empty into the living room. Abby rubs her eyes awake and stretches. That tight, white shirt pressed against her body deliciously, exposing her frigid nipples that were punctured with rings. You blink ferociously, hoping you were awake and not dreaming. The protruding metal laid perfectly flush against the fat of her breast, outlining a small circle on each nipple. The sensation filling your mouth could only be described as mouthwatering. 

“Oh, hi?” She yawns. 

“Good morning, I slept here bec—” 

“It’s alright, I know. It was nice what you did,” she leaned on the door frame. “I don’t deserve it but I’m thankful, so thank you.” 

You begin to fold the duvet, your clothes were tucked in awkward positions, exposing thigh and shoulder, a chill carried over you. “It really was not problem, I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss your meeting this morning that you told me about, remember?” You flush. 

“Right,” 

The woman took a hand through her hair to clean herself up. Her stomach popped a bit over her waistband revealing lingering sprawl of light hair towards the center of her belly. Those thighs filled out her boxers wonderfully and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from them, hoping one day you'd be able to be crushed in between —

“Technically you don’t start until next week.” Abby covers her chest with her forearms suddenly feeling insecure. 

“I know but seeing you last night made me worry that you wouldn’t wake up this early.” You smiled. 

Abby just nodded her head, unsure of what to say next. 

“I’m sorry for that, it was completely unlike me.” 

The distance between you both felt vast, like you were on two opposing continents, like you did something wrong. 

“Clearly, you have a lot on your mind.” You mutter gently. 

Abby directs you into the kitchen where she opens up her small windows to air the house out and start a fresh pot of coffee, her gray fuzzy house shoes scratching against the hardwood. 

“Why don’t you come along with me today, to my client meeting? It’ll be training.” 

You stood with your back against her cool fridge and peered down at your current attire. It would be much better than walking around the neighborhood today with mom and a potential argument with Ellie festering. “That could be perfect but I need to wear something more up to par with you.” 

A laugh bellowed from Abby’s plump belly. 

“I wear ten year old cargo pants and tee shirts but whatever you say. You want a cup?” 

You just nod at the pure persuasion of the fresh, hot coffee infiltrating the air. 

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet though.” 

“Right, um I left one in the bathroom for you, extras from the dentists should do the job.” 

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

It hadn’t slipped out of your mind that Abby said her clients mom was interested in meeting her daughter. Abigail appeared as if she had fought a million hangovers before in her life, she was glowing. Her farce about cargo pants and t-shirts went out the window this morning when she slicked her hair in a low braid, perfectly french-ed onto her scalp. Although the outfit was a bit outdated, she looked as daring as ever, dark green button down top with cropped sleeves and black chino pants. She was actively trying to looking good. She was kind enough to take you back home to change and get ready for the day. It all worked out since she had to check up on the current project. 

“I really appreciate your family for thinking of me yesterday. It’s rare that clients think so highly of us construction workers. The most we get are drinks but no one thinks about the actual energy that we exert and how high our food intake is.” 

How were you to tell her it was mostly you, not your parents, they were just the willing party. 

“Of course, I’m glad you enjoyed it, seemed like you really need it.” 

Abby’s posture changed but her eyes stayed forward. 

“You’re a great chef.” She turned slightly to connect with you. She needed you to understand how deeply she admired how you took care of her, since the first interaction. She wanted to be clear about what her words meant, they weren't empty, or so you hoped.

“Thank you, hopefully I can cook for you again.” You say, poking an already anxious bear.

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 3

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability.

Word Count: 3811

Written: 5th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I'm not going to go into every detail of adapting to a prosthetic, there's a lot of stages. For anyone curious, MC uses a multi-grip prosthetic, that relies on electric signals from their residual limb to help communicate movement, using a specialised (fantasy) metal because it's adapted for their job. Also the general adaptive time for one can be up to a year, (even longer depending on how much it needs adjusting and how much active support you have). I'm cutting it down to six months overall (though they continue to learn better ways to use it going forwards). On account of the LADs world having stuff like... AI Robots that can have a conversation with you in the streets, and magic powers. I don't know how long this will be, or how many parts. I have a horrifying number of notes... I guess we'll see how long I can go before my brain shuts down.

Now Playing: The Line, by Twenty One Pilots

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous

You spend the next few days going through the motions.

You exist where you should be striving, and you breathe where you know you're supposed to laugh.

It's empty, but the angry beast in your heart doesn't snap and growl and howl. Demanding blood as recompense for an existence you cannot justify.

Looking in a mirror has become… difficult, so when you brush your teeth, or wash your face, too stubborn to let anyone help when your hand trembles, and you spill your things on the floor. You stare down. At the floor, as you go through motions you know like the back of your scarred hand.

There are moments when life bubbles up, but it is short and it is tired and you only feel it when you have others around you to bring it out. To ease life back into a hand that's become a claw. Smoothing the stretching torn skin, and tending to broken nails.

You go through the motions, because they wait for you on the other side of the door. If you cannot live for you, you will always live for others.

Sometimes it is all you can do, to motivate your broken heart to beat one more day.

Zayne comes with you to the hospital, to check in with your specialist. A warm older woman, who reminds you too much of Gran to not make you feel like you're seeing ghosts. It's a feeling mixed with guilt, and a small amount of fear. Unbidden but lurking. Everytime she, Meredith, touches you, an ache sparks in your heart.

A memory like static hits you, and you have to steady your breath and your heart with a firm hand before you can resume listening.

If you can even be said to be listening.

You're checked over, made sure that your injuries haven't been made worse by your isolation and lack of care. You're lucky, you're told. That someone found you, that they came to you, brought you back to the hospital.

You want to snap back that luck doesn't tear your arm from your shoulder.

That you're not lucky. You're not brave.

You're not anything.

Zayne is commended for his sutures, and his quick care, he barely responds, hand firmly in your one. Squeezing, loosening his grip, squeezing. Self comforting himself as much as he is comforting you. You return the gesture, staring out the window. Trying to take yourself somewhere else. Somewhere without white walls, and terrible motivational posters.

Somewhere where this ghost of your grandma isn't hovering over you. Where you're not hearing talk about next steps.

Somewhere warm maybe.

His hand grounds you, keeps you tethered. Part of you wants to release and let yourself float, the other is scared to disappear into the clouds without him. So you stay, and you hold on. Like you're a balloon he keeps around his wrist.

"Let's check your prosthetic fit. It will need adjustments going forwards as you learn to use it."

Static.

You're somewhere in the room, staring at yourself as you nod, a hand on your shoulder as your shirt buttons are loosened. As straps are pulled and tightened around skin. Even half aware they feel raw. Itching and burning against you.

Unwanted. Unwelcome.

It's a distant pair of eyes that gaze at the limb fitted into place, staring at the metal. You blink finally. Clearing your head to look. Just… look.

"Comfortable?"

You think back to the bathroom with Rafayel. His gentle hands soothing dirt from your skin, and his eyes glowing as they look at you. You think to a gentle hand stroking your head as you fall into sleep, starry blue eyes watching you carefully. You think about a crow bringing you snacks, of red eyes watching you warmly over a bowl. You think about a doctor's hand in yours, easing the scars over, like you've done to his.

You think about the pieces of you twisted and bunched and stuffed under skin that fits too tight. You think about the pain of waking up every morning now. Of avoiding your own gaze in the mirror.

You think of a limb you can still see the metal piercing through.

You aren't sure how to answer her. Too many things bundled up in your head, struggling to filter and file and understand which is which.

Zayne gives a gentle tug, looks down at you, forest eyes glimmering. Absently you think you see fear, like you're going to disappear, if he lets you go. Float away on a weak breeze.

It should shame you. Feeling this weak.

You're just so tired.

When he speaks, he soothes with his thumb, pressing into skin and drawing the infinity sign against you, "Is it rubbing painfully anywhere?" He clarifies the question.

The noise filters back a little, giving you a direct pathway to your answer, "The straps. They hurt."

The doctor nods to herself, she writes notes down and adjusts them. "They'll soften over use, you'll need to clean them weekly at least, leather conditioner can help ease the initial discomfort."

The raw rubbing softens a little, still too hyper aware of the feeling, you twitch away from her when she adjusts where the metal and sheath touches your skin. "Does it hurt?"

"No. Your hands are cold."

Her laugh reminds you of Gran too, and you can feel the walls getting closer. You have to hold it together. You have to keep it together.

You can't break down here. You can't. You have to be stronger than this.

It's like there's a lump in your throat. A feeling like you're going to be sick, maybe cry. Maybe both.

You can't be weak here.

"Can we take a minute, Doctor Rin?" Zayne asks, voice calm but cool. Like he isn't really asking, like it's a formality. Respect for someone who knows how to help you.

She leans back and nods, "Of course." She looks over at you and smiles, and it's too warm and kind to not make you flinch back, "Take a few minutes outside."

You can't respond because the lump in your throat is rising.

Don't cry.

With a steady hand on your back, Zayne leads you away from the room, steering you through the corridors of Akso. Out into the courtyards. Where it's quiet. Where no one can watch as you finally crack.

As you gulp, and cover your mouth. Trying to force it down as you hiccup and gasp.

There's a burning in your shoulder, everytime you feel the brush of metal, the chill through the sheath. You feel the cool straps, refusing to take your body heat. You reach up with your hand to pull them off but a hand takes yours. Holds it, as another releases the buckles. Removes the offending thing.

Gently. Carefully. Reverently.

He places it down on a bench, then pulls you closer. Rubbing warm circles into your shoulder and skin through your shirt. You cling to his, trembling until the feeling eases out. Relieved from your confines.

From the woman who brings ghosts to your door.

From the memories of ice cold pain and scorching blood.

"What do you need?"

You shake your head. Too much. You want this nightmare to be over. You want to wake up and things be easier. You want things you can't have.

You want to feel strong. Brave. Complete.

A hand, cool to the touch but accompanied by a warm gaze, turns your head. Looking up, as he wipes tears that have escaped against your will. "Do you want another doctor?"

Yes. No.

Maybe?

The ghost of Gran scares you as much as she comforts you.

Meredith Rin is top of her field. You know that. Logically it makes no sense, to turn down the woman who can have your back, get you through this.

If you want to move forward, you have to try. You have to.

"No." You choke out, shaking your head in his grasp, leaning into his palm, "No."

He seems relieved, face relaxing a little, "Very well, I've read her recommendations, testimonies from patients. I trust her abilities."

If he trusts her, you think you can too. You trust him right now, more than you can ever hope to trust yourself. Scared of ghosts and monsters lurking in the shadows.

Scared of yourself.

"Do you want to go home?"

Yes. You do. You do. You want to be anywhere but the hospital. You're so very tired of hospitals.

It is the feeling of fatigue. The feeling of knowing the corridors better than you want to. Of knowing the faces of the doctors. Of knowing the other patients who visit frequently.

It is not just Zayne that tethers you to the hospital, it is the heart in your chest, the illness in your life, the injuries from your job, and now the prosthetic on the bench.

"Darling." His thumb eases, soothes, wipes at fresh tears, "I'm here."

You think about hospital appointments that Caleb had joined you for. How he'd written notes and focused so you didn't have to. Keeping you tethered.

Zayne looks at you with warm, beautiful eyes, and offers you his stability and his brain to keep you standing. Where you waver.

So you shake your head, "I can do it." You can. You can do it. You're not alone, you can do it.

"If you need to leave, tap my hand twice, alright?" It's an offer to escape, but it's spoken with pride in his voice, as you stand a little taller.

Your nod is firmer than before, and this time when he picks up the prosthetic, you can look at it a little longer. Maybe soon you'll look at it and look forwards.

—-

Rafayel is trying to focus on his work. He has an exhibition coming up, that he would cancel if he didn't have some degree of guilt for the stress it would cause Thomas. He doesn't mind tormenting the man occasionally, but breaking promises… it's not something he can bring himself to do. He's not a hypocrite.

If he waited every year for you to return to that beach, he'll carry out the promises he's made to finish his art.

He's only half paying attention to his canvas, though. Paint on his brush drying in the air, because he keeps looking over at you.

You're sat with Xavier, as you work through exercises to help with balance. He can see the strain in your back. A loose vest worn so you don't rub at the shoulder. You wince, but push.

Rafayel's paintbrush is set to the side, sketchbook picked up, and he works.

You are a vision in charcoal, when you finish an exercise you exhale in relief, before moving on. Every hurdle cleared no matter how tall, has you stabilise. Visibly relaxing, flinching less when Xavier's hands touch you. The prince is careful, gentle and observant.

There's life to his page again, he isn't sure he'll ever show you the sketches of you like this. Scars on your skin, hurting, but he keeps it in case there is a day you ask. So he can show you that you live and you move. That stumbling and hurting is ok.

Rafayel records you in sketches because he values every version of you, and he hopes one day you see that, and believe it.

As you finish for the day, falling to the floor, lying down. Breathing heavily, and worn out fully. He hears a soft laugh, "I'll get some water." The prince heads off to the kitchen, while Rafayel puts his work down, closing the sketchbook carefully, and approaching you. So that he can look at you, upside down, nose inches from yours.

"Hey cutie. Nice work."

You hesitate before smiling. It's not the smile you've worn before, but it's not a fake one. It's just tired. He might not understand the feeling fully, but he knows how hard struggling is. How it drains you. He also knows that no matter how proud you can be, stubborn and biting at the bit to be strong, that he should commend every action.

Even if you huff that it should be a simple achievement. It is not, not some days. Some days, he watches you give in. Some days, you power through better than others.

Today you almost gave up, before getting fiery and angry at yourself. Growling and forging on.

So he will commend you, because he wants you to value the effort.

"You're cute upside down too."

This time you do exhale a laugh, hand reaching up to poke his forehead. You miss, frown, and try again. "You're silly."

He joins you on the floor, lying with his head at yours, his legs up on your sofa. Face turned to you. Neither of you make a move to sit up, it is comfortable to simply lie, and stare up at the dimmed lights. "You're doing well."

A shaky exhale is his immediate answer, but you nod, "I'm trying."

He wants to say that trying is enough, he doesn't know if that's the right thing to say, but instead he reaches over towards your hand, and takes it in his. He can watch as the furrow in your brow eases, frown easing a little. He thinks you're finally trying to rely on them. To find comfort in their presence.

To not feel alone.

"It's hard," You speak, guilt in your voice, like you're confessing a sin. He squeezes, so you continue, "I feel pathetic, and sometimes I feel angry. So angry." You look at him, eyes glistening and he nods, "I want to give up."

"But you don't." He offers, watching your eyes waver, you can't hold his gaze for long, but he knows you're still keeping focus on him. Grounding yourself. "I'm glad that you're working through it."

Your exercises exhaust you, movement is harder now so he watches you fray. You let them handle things, food, cleaning, so you can focus on recovery. Rafayel is pleased, smug almost, that his presence here allows for that. It's a warm heat in his chest, like he's watching the tides, because if he can help you stand up tall again, he'll do anything for you.

You don't speak for a while, simply breathing through, relaxing and calming yourself. He reaches his other hand over to brush hair from where it sticks to your skin, revelling in the small shudder he gets from the sensitivity.

He will always be too sensitive to everything you do.

Xavier sits then, on your other side, and he looks up as you look at the glass in the prince's hand.

You release Rafayel's hand, pushing yourself up, shaking your head at the offer of help, and lean over a little to take the glass. Xavier's hand stabilising your back.

As he watches you, Rafayel thinks about your impatience, to be useful again. Back in the field. To overcome the hurdles despite the fact you wish to give up, he returns to his sketchbook.

With a quick pen, a dagger takes pride of place in the centre of his page.

—---

"We are not eating fish every night."

"Who made you the boss?"

"Variation is important in a diet."

"Fish is good for you!"

"Except for one big one."

You leave your bedroom after a nap, to find Sylus, Rafayel and Zayne in the kitchen.

Sylus has instructions on his phone, as he chops vegetables, while Rafayel is sat on the counter, trying to… you assume sabotage his efforts.

Zayne has his head in his hands, trying to read what you can tell is your treatment schedule. "Can the both of you act your age?"

"Tell that to the fish."

"I have a name, crow!"

You feel the laugh bubble out of you unbidden. The image is so out of sorts, and so ridiculous. Sylus of the N109 Zone, and Rafayel the lemurian artist. Arguing in your kitchen. That's far smaller than either of them are probably used to.

While your doctor sits and grumbles at them, barely trying to keep them from killing each other.

They turn at the sound, three pairs of stunning eyes, focusing on you as you try to cover your mouth to keep the laugh from escaping.

It doesn't work though. You laugh, and you laugh, and you laugh.

It's almost hysteric. Like a collapse, like walls crumbling down, and foundations falling.

It's euphoric. A release of pent up feelings you keep struggling to let out.

It's relieving. Tears flowing with it. Hiccups starting, laughter into sobs, then laughter again.

It's stupid but it throws something off of you. A beast of a burden, clinging to your back. Trying to pull you down.

It settles at your ankles, clinging to you, but you can stand up a little taller.

The monster that lurks, that angers, that demands blood. The creature that tells you to give up. It silences itself, curling up, and slumbers. Not forever. It never leaves forever, but for a little while… it is chased away by the realisation that you have something still to see.

These foolish men, living their lives alongside you.

Sylus' eyes are molten pools of affection as he watches you, lips quirking into that small smile you know intimately. "What do you want, kitten?"

"Cutie will make the right choice!"

As you approach, sitting beside Zayne at the counter who wipes your face as you do so, you smile softly, "I want salmon."

Rafayel lets out a whoop, way too close to Sylus' head, who winces and glares at him.

"You truly are a cat, kitten." He tuts, but moves to the fridge to grab it from the groceries Xavier had picked up earlier before heading off for a mission.

Zayne had given him a strict list of food that are good to eat when you are in recovery… even if some cookies had snuck their way into the list.

You try not to think about how you should be out there with him.

Zayne lets out an exhale next to you, "Finally, that argument is over."

"The doctor was very unhelpful." Sylus inputs, raising a brow at the man.

"As long as it's healthy, I don't mind what you prepare." He pushes the schedule close to you, so you don't have to lean over to watch, "I've been making notes for what we can do at home to help alleviate the time spent in the hospital."

You blink at him, and he pushes his glasses up to smile, "Is that alright?" It's a small nod, you're not sure how to explain to him how seen you feel with them.

It's been a long time since there was security in your life. You wish it had come at a time where you also didn't feel like you're standing over the edge of the abyss… but the safety net you can see below you finally… well… going through the motions is looking less like a chore.

"When do you start your prosthetic training?" Raffy asks, swinging his legs.

You check the documents, because you truly can't remember much of what was said to you verbally, and you'd been avoiding reading them since you received them. "A week."

"I'll send a copy around to everyone, if you're alright with it?"

You nod, it's an easy thing to agree to. You think about them finding you curled up in the blanket. It can't get much worse than that…

"Is your exhibit going well, Raffy?"

The man in question jumps, and you think he looks a little guilty, "I have one more thing to finish, it's giving me trouble, but I'll get there. Promise you'll come see it?"

It's hard to promise anything, caught in jewel eyes, watching them like a shimmering luminescent sea. You don't want to let Rafayel down, if you can't go. If you're too tired. If you're sick. If you just can't bear to be out.

What do you want to do? Plays in a loop in your head. If you can, what do you want?

You think about how Rafayel holds to promises like they mean everything. You think about the feeling you have sometimes like you've broken one without meaning to. You think about how warm his voice is when he forgives you if you can't go out with him because you hurt too much or are too tired, long before now. In a way you can't fake your way through, despite how much you hate letting your body pull you down.

It's easy then. What you want… the picture is clearer.

"I promise Raffy." Because as long as you can, you will. Because he'll understand if you can't. If your body hurts too much, if your fatigue is too great, if you're drowning.

His smile is so relieved, so bright, you almost look away from him.

An artist could try to capture him, and fail a million times over. He is too beautiful, and too kind, to ever be recorded on paper or canvas.

"How come the invite wasn't extended to all of us, fish?" Sylus teases, flicking some water off his hands at Rafayel's face. Who instantly looks like a startled cat in response.

"Why would anyone want you there crow?"

"You doubt my eye for beautiful things?"

"I doubt your taste in anything but cutie."

The man laughs, amused and unbothered by the insult, "Perhaps you should paint them, I'll definitely appreciate the art then."

Despite your nap, as you watch them, as the room is warm, you find yourself leaning into Zayne. Eyes drooping, he adjusts himself to place an arm around your waist, "You should go to bed if you're still tired."

The disgruntled mumble makes him huff a soft laugh, but he allows you to stay leaning into his side, as he turns paper, and reads. "Your specialist's work is very clear." He hums in approval.

"Approval from Doctor Li." You manage to tease, "I'm in good hands."

"You are. Though it took a little while to convince Sylus of that."

The man in question half shrugs as he stirs a pot, "There is no compromise with your health Kitten, I'd drag a doctor from halfway across the world if I had to."

This time Raffy nods, as though it's an obvious thing. To have the money to do that. Or, you think in Sylus' case, the power to do that. You'd be a little worried about the doctor's state of mind though. Kidnapped by a criminal and dragged to Linkon.

"It'll be ok." You manage, though sleep is pulling you under yet again. The net is there, ready to catch you. You feel a kiss pressed against your head, but it is dim and it is far away, and you fall before you can respond.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Do you have any notes on hair and hairstyles by any chance?

Writing Notes: Hairstyles

Some writing tips to describe your character's hair:

Frame your character’s face with a hairstyle that reflects their story. A crewcut might signify a military soldier or someone who likes to be in control. A ponytail or pigtails might indicate a young character. Describe a character’s hair color—black hair, dark hair, brunette, redhead, blonde, gray, or white—in interesting ways instead of just stating the shade. It makes a difference whether your character dyes their hair or keeps it its natural shade. Describe the length of their hair. A confident businesswoman might have short or shoulder-length hair. A musician might have longer hair. Match your character’s hairstyle with their personality.

Make facial hair an element of a character’s style. How a male character keeps his facial hair is telling. If he’s constantly clean-shaven, he might go to a regular corporate job. A bit of stubble can signify a more casual career. From a beard to sideburns to a goatee, facial hair helps paint a picture of a male character and can help represent their life and what they do.

Write detailed character descriptions. Visualize a character in your own mind. Make them three dimensional by fleshing out both the character’s personality and physical appearance. Write down their physical details like hairstyle and hair color—do they have brown hair, blond hair, or dark hair? Describe how they move through the world and hint at what their body language and mannerisms reveal.

Here are some words to help you select more precise language and improve the clarity in your writing:

Descriptive Words to Describe Hair

Hair Texture. Relates to the circumference of individual hairs as well as the curl pattern and general state of the hair, with regards to how it looks and feels.

body, bouncy, bristly, brittle, bushy, coarse, crinkly, delicate, downy, fine, flat, fluffy, frizzy, fuzzy, glossy, lank, limp, listless, luxuriant, luxurious, medium, nappy, no body, puffy, rough, satiny, silky, sleek, smooth, soft, sticky, stiff, straight, straw-like, supple, touchable, velvety, wavy, wiry

Hair Thickness. This means the same thing as hair density. There are a number of terms for how thick a person’s hair is.

lush, scraggly, sparse, stringy, thick, thin, voluminous, wispy, wooly

Hair Styles or Cuts. Properly describing how hair is cut or styled is critical in describing the appearance of a character in a story or the subject of a work of nonfiction.

afro, a-line, angled, asymmetrical, bangs, beehive, blunt, bob, bouffant, bowl cut, braided, braids, brushed back, bun, buzzed, center part, chignon, chopped, choppy, clipped, coils, comb over, corkscrew curls, cornrows, crew cut, curled, dreadlocks, ducktail, emo, extensions, face-framing, feathered, fishtail braid, flat top, flyaway, french braids, french twist, fringe, Jheri curl, kinked, layered, long layers, loose, military cut, mohawk, mullet, natural, pageboy, parted, pigtails, pin curls, pixie, plaited, pompadour, ponytail, Rasta, rat tail, ratted, ringlets, shag, shaved, side part, slicked down, spiked, spiky, spirals, springy, stacked, straightened, swept back, swept to the side, swept up, teased, topknot, trimmed, twisted, undercut, up, updo, waterfall braids, weave, wedge, wings, wrapped

Hair Length. Hair can vary greatly in length. Choosing the right descriptive word for hair length helps readers get a better picture of the character or person about whom you are writing.

cascading, chin length, close cropped, cropped, ear length, flowing, long, medium length, mid-back length, neck length, short, shoulder length, tailbone length, trailing, waist length

Hair Color or Tints. Since there are many hair colors in different tones, some natural and some not, it’s really important to choose the right descriptive word for hair color.

ash brown, auburn, black, bleached blond, blonde, blue, bluish, bottle blonde, brown, brunette, burgundy, burnished, chestnut, coppery, dark, flaxen, ginger, golden blonde, gray, green, honey, jet black, light, mousy, multi-colored, natural blonde, oil slick, ombre, peroxide blonde, pink, platinum, purple, rainbow, raven, red, salt and pepper, silver, strawberry blonde, streaked, sun-kissed, sun-streaked, wheat blonde, white, yellow, yellowing

Treated Hair. There are a number of treatments people can use to alter the appearance of their hair.

bleached, body wave, brassy, colored, conditioned, deep conditioned, dyed,frosted, highlighted, highlights, lowlights, permed, relaxed, smoothing, tinted

Messy Hair. There are a number of ways to convey to readers that a person has messy hair. Whether the individual’s hair is messy due to a lack of care, general unruliness, or having been engaged in activity that caused it to become messy, choose the right word so readers will understand.

bad hair day, bedhead, clumpy, disarray, disheveled, drooping, knotted, matted, overgrown, shaggy, snarled, tangled, tousled, towheaded, uncombed, uncontrollable, unkempt, unmanageable, unruly, unstyled, untamed, untidy, windblown, windswept

Neatly Styled Hair. Some people take great pains to ensure their hair is the exact opposite of messy. Use these terms when you want to describe someone with neatly styled hair.

blown out, coiffed, coiffured, done, neat, runway-ready, tamed, tidy, well-groomed

More Ways to Describe the Appearance of Hair. The categories listed above aren’t all inclusive when it comes to describing hair.

beautiful, brushed, classy, clean, combed, damp, dirty, dripping, dull, elegant, enviable, fashionable, filthy, gorgeous, greasy, healthy, luscious, lustrous, nourished, shiny, singed, slick, soaked, squeaky clean, stylish, sweaty, trendy, vibrant, voluminous, wet

Words to Describe Hair Problems. There are a number of different hair problems. If the person or character you are writing about has a visible issue with his or her hair, be sure to choose the best word to describe it.

alopecia, bald, balding, bald patch, broken, damaged, dandruff, dry, flaky, fried, hair loss, lice, needs a touch-up, nits, oily, overly processed, pattern baldness, receding, roots are showing, shedding, split ends, thinning, thin on top, widow’s peak

Hair Accessories. Thoroughly describing a person or character’s appearance may require giving some information about hair accessories the person is wearing. Choose the best term to describe any items placed in or on the individual’s hair.

ball cap, barrette, beret, bobby pin, bow, butterfly clip, chopsticks, elastic, feather, flower, hair clip, hairpin, hat, headband, headscarf, kerchief, ribbon, scarf, scrunchie, side comb, snap clip, sweatband, tiara, tieback

Names of Hair Tools. When you need to describe what someone uses to style their hair, be sure to accurately describe the type of tool the individual uses.

blow dryer, clippers, comb, curling iron, diffuser, dryer, duckbill clips, fine-tooth comb, flat iron, hairbrush, hot rollers, rollers, round brush, scissors, thinning shears

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Facial Hair

Hope this helps with your writing!

[olenoidedserratuspilled]

That's a neat wall of text I guess. Doesn't actually relate to anything I actually said, though. I never said that calling men demons matters in and of itself, neither did I say that men are marginalized for being men.

What I did say is that TERFs like to use man-hating as a rhetorical trojan horse to push their own genuinely bigoted views, and that as such spreading man-hating rhetoric makes it easier for them to do just that. You're not going to read it, and I'm expecting you to block me after this, but I'll explain my point under the cut:

TERFs want you to believe they're defined by hating men, but in reality they are defined by hating women: trans women.

What TERFs want you to believe or not has nothing to do with what I said. What I did say is that the claim that "TERFs love men", cis or otherwise, is absurd to anyone who's actually seen TERF rhetoric in action.

I think a lot of people see TERFs calling trans women men and using their bioessentialist rhetoric about "males" and assume that TERFs hate trans women for the (in their eyes) crime of being men. The problem with that is that it's too rational.

Is it, though? Even if you agree that "All men are bad" is rational, the stance of "Trans women are men" isn't, and TERFs do very much believe trans women are men. That's where their irrationality begins, even if it isn't where it ends.

Bigotry is not logical. TERFs don't aggressively misgender trans women because they think being a man is the worst possible thing to be, they do it because they know how hurtful it is to trans women. The cruelty is the point.

The point is that they believe trans women are men, and they view aggressively misgendering trans women as correcting a slight against themselves personally and/or womankind at large. The cruelty may be the point, but they do very much justify that cruelty to themselves by rationalizing that trans women are both A) men and B) an especially evil, insidious and sexually deviant kind of man.

Despite their rhetoric, TERFs often pal around with cis men.

Cis white wealthy men, yes. I.E. the ones that help them gain political capital. They certainly don't pal around with any cis men that don't provide them with any political gain.

They'll post men are demons, but how often do they harass and threaten cis men the way they do to trans women? Men are powerful and threatening, trans women are a vulnerable minority and (as a class) powerless in society.

Notice how I never said TERFs harass and threaten cis men the way they do to trans women, or that trans women weren't especially targeted by TERFs. Again, what I said is that the notion that TERFs somehow "like" men is absurd, and that TERFs use man-hating to either justify their actual bigotry or make it look more palatable.

You've provided several examples of TERFs being racist and Islamophobic.

Yes, they are also examples of TERFs using man-hating rhetoric to justify why their racism and islamophobia are acceptable. The very thing that I am pointing out is happening.

It has nothing to do with hating men and everything to do with racism.

The specific examples I provided do have somethign to do with hating men because it's being used as a cover for why the racism is justified. The TERFs I showed are very deliberately going "Well I don't hate them because they're black/muslim, I hate them because they're men! (Just ignore the part where I say white men aren't as bad". Why did I provide these screenshots? Two reasons: 1) to show how the statement that TERFs "like" men is nonsense and 2) to showcase how TERFs like to use men-hating to make their actual bigotry look justified.

When you qualify every statement about misogyny with white men, how do you think that feels to women of color who are dealing with misogyny in their own communities? Marginalized men uphold misogyny, because they are men.

Cool, show me where I said you should qualify every statement about misogyny with white men. Show me where I said marginalized men don't uphold misogyny. What I did say is that TERFs have a habit of singling out POC/marginalized men (because again, the man-hating is a cover for their legitimate bigotry) and have no issue with making scathingly bigoted statements as long as they attach the word "men" to it.

The more popular view among progressives these days, however, and particularly on Tumblr, is that hating your oppressor is justified and should not be policed. Except when it comes to men.

In the US and the rest of the anglosphere, maybe. Where I live? The man-hating is very much still part and parcel of it, even if we don't have as much of a TERF problem. I also still see plenty of man-haing on Tumblr, too. None of that is to say that man-hating is an important issue of some sort, merely to say that the popular view among progresssives in my experience is still that man-hating is okay. If your experience is different then good for you I guess.

Talking about trans men the way you talk about cis men is perfectly fine, because they are both men.

Is the "Bomb that kills all Transmascs" post perfectly fine? Are the people receiving anon hate (up to and including rape threats - oh, I'm sorry, "forcefem jokes") perfectly fine? Is harassing transmen and calling them slurs perfectly fine? None of these are hypothetical. They're all actually happening right now as we speak.

Yes, trans men are men, and I am not opposed to the notion that trans men can participate in misogyny. But I'm certain you can understand how believing they're deserving of the same hatred that cis men deserve isn't just wrong, it's dangerous to trans men.

"Talking about men of color the way you talk about white men" is a rhetorical trap."

Yes it is. A rhetorical trap that TERFs use to make their racism look justified. The thing that I said they do and showed evidence of them doing.

If, however, you simply say "men are the devil" and don't specify race, you are "talking about men of color the way you talk about white men" because you are talking about all men the same way and only their gender (and, really, their role in the patriarchy) is relevant.

Except that is'nt what TERFs are doing. That's what they say they are doing, but they are very blatantly and obviously singling men of color out while making excuses for white men. This is what they mean when they say "talking about men of color the way you talk about white men". This is the kind of behavior they use man-hating rhetoric to excuse.

Additionally, it's a mistake to assume all women complaining about men of color are white.

Show me where I said that. Go ahead, show me. What I did say was that women who single out men of color for things that men of every ethnicity do are being racist (because they are), and that statements like "I want to burn muslims (male)", "I don't give a fuck how these ugly brown men are treated in the west" and most bafflingly "white women tears is a term black and brown men came up with to silence white women"(!!!) are racist, because they are.

Trans mascs are dealing with transphobia. There is a serious transphobic backlash in a lot of countries right now and while tumblr may feel like it's in a bubble sometimes, it is affected by the outside world.

Yes it is. There is no shortage of TERFs and garden variety transphobes on Tumblr. There is also no shortage of people who are using man-hating rhetoric to excuse harassing trans men at the moment. That is the phenomenon I am describing.

It's a serious problem and we need to protect our trans community members.

Yes we do. There is however an undercurrent of people who don't believe all of our trans community members deserve protection. They are a vocal minority that are going out of their way to harass trans men and people who wish to protect them.

A lot of transmascs need access to both HRT and contraception and have the potential to need access to abortion. American transmascs are getting hit twice, with anti-trans bigotry and restriction of reproductive freedom both being major projects of the incoming (and in many states established) right wing government.

Yes that's very much happening. Nothing to do with what I'm saying but yeah I do suppose you're right about that.

Women saying "I hate men" on the internet does not threaten trans men's lives the way the right--TERFs included--does.

Show me where I said it does. Go ahead, show me.

What I did say is that there are people using the sentiment of "I hate men" to harass and threaten trans men (if you want me to provide examples, I can, even if I know you aren't reading this), and that as such there are trans men who feel othered within their own community by this kind of sentiment.

Anyway, if you're done putting words in my mouth, I think it might be best if we stop talking here

Something I want this website specifically to reflect on! Are you mad at women for talking about men the same way you talk about cishets or neurotypicals? Why?

[parkersbliss]

Carry-On | J. MacTavish

pairing: soap x female reader (idk he calls them lassie so)

warnings: none just fluff 'cause idk this was cute in my head?

synopsis: something something meeting soap in an airport late for a flight

a/n: just had this random thought and I thought it was cute for soap like just imagine meeting this scot at an airport and he handles your luggage?? yeah thanks bye

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for call of duty!

--

Your feet pound mercilessly on the ground, eyes scanning the signs above your head and the ensuing clacking of wheels on the tile behind you. Inside your head, you can hear a clock ticking with every second you are trying to race it. 

This just had to happen to you, of all days and all people. It was (Y/N) starring in the no good, very horrible, everything gone wrong day. You grip your bag a little tighter as you stop in hopes of assessing your location. Your eyes dart all over the vastness of the airport. The skylights flooded the room with sparkling sun, the dull white and gray of beams crisscrossing in what was probably a modern design. Signs are located in every direction, with letters, numbers, and arrows accompanying them. 

People skirted past you, knocking shoulders, mumbling apologies, and even yelling to get out of the way. But by this point of the day, you honestly couldn’t give two shits. You had a flight to catch and it would be really nice if you couldfigure out where. 

“Attention all passengers: Flight UA43 is now boarding.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you curse loudly. You pull your phone from your pocket, fingers splaying over the screen to log in and view your boarding pass. In the meantime, your legs begin carrying you in the direction of where you believe the gate is. You make quick hurried steps, still checking your phone and dragging your small carry-on suitcase. 

It was your fault, really, when you collided with a brick wall and your phone flew to the ground, your carry-on toppling over, more crashing sounds, and a pair of arms around your waist. One hand splays across your back to keep you from falling and the other digs into the flesh of your waist.

“I got ya!” 

Stumbling a bit, you immediately grabbed what was in front of you. It turns out it wasn’t a wall, rather, someone’s shirt. You could feel the rippling muscles underneath.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry!” You usher out. 

At the same time: “shit, shit, ‘m sorry!” 

You stared straight into his chest, letting go of his shirt as he dropped the hand on your waist. Your face burned with heat at the thought of being so close to a stranger. You can’t help the cologne that floats off him like a whisper, begging you to come closer. He smells like bergamot and iris, a refreshing earthy scent that leaves you reeling. 

“I wasn’t paying attention,” You explained, both you and the stranger picking up your fallen luggage, and his hand left your back.

“Neither was I. My fault.” 

You pause when you stand back up with your phone and finally get a good look at him. It should be a crime the way whatever you were gonna say next falls completely silent as cerulean eyes pierce into you. It should also be a crime that you managed to forget about the flight you’re desperately trying to catch in exchange for a man who is jaw-drop gorgeous, with a mohawk and you think you heard an accent.

The intercom announces your flight again and you shake your head. “I have to catch this flight—,” You’re already moving in the direction of your gate. No way were you coughing up another $500 because of horrible time management. 

“UA34?” He asked, his suitcase clacking behind him as he caught up to you. 

You turn to look at him. “Yeah.” 

He gives you a toothy grin. “Seems we’re both a little loss then, aye?” 

You can’t help the way the corner of your lips turn up a bit. You weren’t going to be the last person on this flight. “You too?”

He nods his head in the direction of your gate. “C’mon, lassie, we got a flight to catch.” 

Without thinking, he’s grabbing your free hand and dragging you through the airport. He weaves through the crowd like an expert, dodging left and right and slipping through the spaces between two people. You’re stumbling behind him, both yours and his luggage clicking loudly against the tile. It’s a catastrophe of noises as you mumble apologies to passing people who gasp and shout. Yet somehow, you find yourself more focused on the warm hand in yours leading you to salvation. 

He lets go of your hand as you break from the crowd and can see your flashing gate number at the end of the stupidly long hall. You both break into a run, turning to face each other and laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Your bag swings wildly at your side as you race next to him to a flight you didn’t think you were gonna make. 

“C’mon!” He shouts, waving his hand forward. 

“This is crazy!” 

You nearly crash into a couple and their coffee, shouting an apology as you rush through the airport. He grabs your hand again when you start slowing down, clasping the handles of your luggage in the other. 

“We catching this flight, or not?” He teases, not nearly as breathless as you. “Haul ass, lassie!” 

You grip his hand a little tighter, something like a spark of determination that wasn’t there before arising as you let him pull you the final steps. 

“Well, you just made it!” The flight attendant said as you both fumbled to hand over your boarding passes. 

“Thanks,” You pant, flashing the stranger a tired smile. He matches it, blue eyes flickering with pride. 

“Enjoy your flight,” She said, tearing away the ticket and ushering you inside.

He lets you go first, still carrying your luggage that you’d honestly forgotten about. You weave between seats, searching for your row and number. You’re waiting for him to break apart from you, but he doesn’t.

You finally find it. “This is me.” You drop your hands to your side. 

He nods and with ease, lifts your carry-on into the compartment above your seat and then his. 

You fall into your seat, strapping the buckle across and taking a deep breath. You watch as he slams the compartment shut and you’re prepared to say goodbye before he sits down next to you. 

“Name’s Johnny,” He greeted, extending a hand. “But you can call me Soap.” 

You shake his hand, a little pointless for formalities as he had already dragged you hand-in-hand through an airport. “(Y/N). Why Soap?” 

Soap smiles at you again, all pearly whites and laugh lines you want to trace. “You’ve got a whole flight to find that out, lassie.” 

– END –

Read more, HERE. Never wanna miss a fic? Join HERE.

🏷 soap taglist: @looking1016 @Bitchyzombietaco @lilwinchester67 @crypticlxrsh @echo9821

[arcturusqww]

Claggor meeting shy! reader for the first time and having a crush.

Pairing: Claggor x shy! reader

Info: Fluff, cute, reader is shy and slightly intimidated by Clag, Claggor being a flirt and a cutie. AU! Claggor.

“Go.. save him from himself—” That’s when Claggor’s eyes lifted to meet the beauty before Mylo’s crush. His brown eyes widened slightly while he took in the sight of you, his lips parting ever so lightly and making a small gasp with no sound. When you gazed at his way and saw the quite big guy staring at you, it’s safe to say you weren’t exactly thrilled also adding the fact that he was too mesmerized to look away. You quickly averted your eyes, making him realize his mistake. The lightest shade of pink painted his cheeks as he returned to talking with the white haired boy in front of him— who also was too captivated by his own love to realize Claggor’s reactions.

Now Claggor had to continue his night, trying to forget about the beautiful person that he saw for the first time ever. Surely, you weren’t from Zaun, if you were he’d know you. He guessed you were perhaps a citizen of Piltover or a tourist coming to the city.. but well, if you were a tourist, you’d probably prefer to be in the better side of the city— Piltover rather than the under-city. It would be too embarrassing for him to see you again, not that a small part of him didn’t wish he would.

As the night went on, Claggor gathered information from there and there. You were a Piltover who came down to Zaun for the first time ever since the two parts of the city finally combined their ways. You became friends with a few people after bumping into them in the peaceful streets of the upper city, despite being a reversed person, now coming down for the celebration to meet more people. You also learned a few things about Claggor from your new friends— now being Mylo and Powder. He seemed like a big, scary man to be honest, from what they told you he was supposed to be a nice guy, really. But if anything, he felt condensing to you. So you hoped you wouldn’t have to cross paths with him anytime soon, at least until you became more comfortable in your new social cycle.

Now it was a few days after the celebration and Claggor was taking a walk in the whole of the city, taking a small break from his work which he usually enjoys, just not today. His gaze wandered around the calm of the streets, watching people, looking around the stands… his steps were random but still purposeful as he continued walking.

After hearing the yell of a mechanic seller, his face turned towards the voice and his steps slowed down a little before he felt a small crash towards his body, followed by a whimper. He quickly returned his face to the scene in front of him and looked at the ground to see you, on the floor, looking up to him with adorable eyes, he thought. His cheeks flushed and he quickly bend over to help you up, murmuring soft apologies.

“Sorry, sorry.. didn’t see you there..” His bigger hands wrapped it’s way around yours much smaller ones. “It’s ’kay..” Oh god, he could’ve died there, you sounded so delicate, almost like an angel in his mind. With the help of Claggor, you got back up on your feet, his hands still holding yours as a way to steady you. His eyes followed your face carefully just like nights before, though he quickly realized his repeated mistake after seeing your slightly red cheeks and avoidant eyes then turned his eyes to check any possible injury on you as well as letting go of your hands and letting them awkwardly stand by his sides.

“Are you okay?.. uh, do you need any help?— I-i’ll help you if you want.” He stuttered a bit, feeling shy to be so close to you right now. “I’m fine.. thanks for the thought..” You say as you brush the dust off of your clothes, with a small huff. His lips curled up slightly in a silly grin at your huff, almost finding your annoyance sweet. He takes a deep breath to gather up courage and confidence to make an official meeting between you two while you continued to see if there was any more dust on your clothes.

“I saw you before! Ah.. I never thought we’d cross paths like this. But, since we did.. may i ask your name, my lady?” He tried to keep a flirtatious and brave tone while he offered you his hand, holding it out as he bent over slightly to meet your height. “I?-.. Yes, i remember.. it’s (name)..” Your voice was quiet but still audible, eyes still avoiding to look up to him while you lent your hand in his, allowing him to grasp it gently. “..and you?”

“Claggor.. You must’ve heard from Mylo though.” He brought the upper surface of your hand to his lips and planted a light kiss before letting go. “Mylo?.. You’re brothers, right?..” You ask, now the blush on your face growing darker with the gesture. “Yes, adoptive.” He chuckled lightheartedly before continuing, “Are you interested in coming down to Zaun some time?.. I’m sure you don’t know much about it, i could show you around then maybe we could.. drink afterwards?” His heart was beating against his chest because of the bold words he was saying, slight pink tainted his cheeks. Though, not even close to the one on yours, your face was burning with embarrassment when you finally lifted your gaze to look up to him.

“T-that would be nice.. yeah, i’d like that..” You answer quietly as your gazes met, the gentle glint in his eyes making you feel more comfortable. “Are you free tomorrow?” He asked with a nod, now understanding your shyness and making an extra effort to help you feel relaxed. After you nod he continues, “Great. We can meet right here around 3?” He questions with the small tilt of one of his eyebrows. “‘kay..” You confirm before taking a step away. “Uh.. bye now, Claggor.” You wave your hand with the small curl in your lips. He smiles back, already feeling excited for tomorrow, “See you, (name).” He waves his hand back slowly as he watches you take small and quick steps away.

The sound of the wind picking up and pressing against people’s clothes was heard while the sun shone at their eyes and faces. Claggor was one of them as he stood, holding a mechanical flower he made the night before for you. It wasn’t something exaggerating, but not something so simple either. Its pollen had bright yellow lights that lit up with the button on the handle’s connecting part to the blades of it. The blades were the color of your eyes, he messed up with the paints to capture your exact eye color in his memory.

He was came earlier than you two agreed to make sure he wouldn’t miss you, he was waiting, though impatiently honestly. He tangled with the gift in his hands, but he was careful not to mess with it with his big hands, being gentle and delicate with his touch. The smile evident on his face as he thought idly about you.

“Claggor!” The shy voice that ringed in his ears was none other than yours, your yell only audible because of the not-so crowded place. He glanced at you, his eyes softening once met with you, taking quick steps like the other day, just towards him this time. “Hey.. you look beautiful. I mean, i like your outfit.” He says as he reaches his hand towards you, allowing you to grab it with the slight pinkness on your cheeks. A murmur of a small ‘thank you’ leaves your lips before he hands you his gift. “I made this for you. I hope you like it. I wasn’t sure what would be your style, so..”

You look at in awe as you take it in your hands and start to examine it, looking delightful after noticing the small details and seeing the effort he must’ve put to it. You look up to him with a grateful smile on your lips and the pinkness on your cheeks growing almost red. “I like it, you don’t have to worry. The effort alone is enough.” He looks content with your answer and reaches his hand towards yours, you hold the mechanical flower with one hand while grabbing Claggor’s hand with the other. “That’s good to hear. Now let’s go.There are a lot of places i wanna show you.”

You two spend the next hours wandering around, Claggor showing you his favorite places or important places in Zaun, giving you information and stories about them. He also introduces you to a couple of people and encourages you to talk to them to help you make new friends. The day was filled with laughter and fun as well as close touches and quick galen’s stolen from each other every once in a while.

As the sun started to set off, Claggor brought you to a quiet rooftop above the water and you two were sitting in the almost silence while you faced each other, your gift now next to you on the ground, the only sound your breaths and the hitting of waves against the walls.

“Thank you.. I really had fun today.” Claggor smiles before responding to you. “I had fun too, maybe we could do this more… often. Since we’re, uh, friends now.” He says the last part in an almost bitter tone though he thought he was still happy to be just a friend, he looked at you with hopeful and loving eyes. “I guess that’s fun.” Yoh murmur before hesitantly and suddenly wrapping a hand around his neck, your face burning with embarrassment as you pressed your lips against his.

Claggor was shocked at the sudden pressure on his lips before one of his hands found it’s ways on your hip as the other one moved to your cheek, cradling the side of your cheek with ease. He pulled you closer while he kissed you back allowing you to sit on his lap, his lips moving against yours. He closed his eyes contently with a muffled mumble.

After a few moments, you break the kiss and pull your face away, still on his lap. “yeah.. friends.” You mumble sarcastically and he lets out a laugh before getting up with you in his arms then settling you on your feet after your initial shock at his strength to carry you easily. “It’s getting late..” He starts and bends down to grab the mechanical flower from the ground and handing it to you. “May I walk you back home, my lady?” He continues with the happy smile apparent on his lips.

“I’d love that.”

[starbuttons]

Hi, while I agree with your reasoning on how kabumisu can have racist undertones in fanon and canon, I think it’s unfair to place all of that solely onto it when labru has the same thin line within its dynamic, and especially in some of the fan works I’ve seen.

At the end of the story Laios is literally in a position of power over Kabru, and while he willingly went into the position I’ve seen many fan works play up that aspect of their dynamic in sexual and sfw ways which can be uncomfortable too. Kabru being a dark skinned man means being paired with a white character is going to be difficult to navigate because any interaction could be seen as racially motivated/charged. Especially considering their canon relationships and what happens to them in the story.

I personally noticed that Kabru is the only other character in the manga that Laios continually forgets the face/name of and blatantly ignores during the course of the story until maybe the very end, and I always thought that was kind of racist since Laios is more attentive to literally every other character including Toshiro and the elves despite his social awkwardness. From what you’re saying it should only be allowed to ship Kabru with another visibly POC character like Rin or Cythis which doesn’t make sense.

When it comes to Kabru and Mithrun’s dynamic, it is in text that Kabru helps take care of his needs, but not to the extent that most fans portray it as. That being said, it is only implied to be racist and is mostly based on the mindset of the viewer. Something like how Dandadan fans reacted to someone drawing one of the characters black and saying it’s a terrible thing is actual fandom racism, especially after the Miku Worldwide trend that just happened but I digress.

Taking care of each other is an important part of kabumisu’s dynamic and it’s not inherently the same thing as being portrayed for the sake of looking like a “servant and a master”, of course they would be shipped together like I’ve seen characters be shipped for less. (And I feel like you have a personal disdain for kabumisu which is influencing the way you describe it? Kabumisu fans have a very different interpretation of the scenes you describe like the pep talk and the time he’s with Mithrun like how they help and influence each other during that time but yeah). There’s also the way Kabru is always making angry faces in his mind about things Laios does because he’s uncomfortable but this is ignored as well..I’m not saying so to discredit the ship, but I’m making a point.

I’ve also seen many disabled dungeon meshi fans express discomfort in the way Mithrun is talked about by fans who seem to dislike that he is disabled, and it shows in the way they treat his ships, mainly kabumisu. It’s more likely that this part of the dynamic is exaggerated because of the caretaking aspect being nice to see as well as its significance in their canon relationship.

In conclusion I am saying that kabumisu is not the only ship that has racial tension and many fans mischaracterize Kabru and insist everything he (a brown guy) does is to be with Laios (a white guy) him which feels just as racist to me as how he is portrayed in kabumisu works along with many labru fan works having deliberately racist overtones to it.

A healthcare worker’s take on Dungeon Meshi shipping discourse

Hiya y’all! As someone who has become a fan of Dungeon Meshi (honestly one of my favorite franchises at this moment) I’d just like to give more of a nuanced take on a shipping discourse I’ve seen. I’d like to clarify this with I am an NA. I’ve literally been recognized by the country I live in through the sunshine awards system on my contributions to my patients lives. All this to say, I know a bit about healthcare. And I also think that. Personally, people should be allowed to ship whatever they please. They shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for what they enjoy, especially if it isn’t hurting anyone.

I’d like to clarify what I am speaking on, this being the controversy surrounding the ships Mithrun and Kabru, vs Laios and Kabru. Both of which are valid ships in my opinion! I think both are great! And whichever you like you should feel comfortable and happy to indulge in it.

I work mostly with geriatric and bariatric patients, as I work on a cardiac unit. So, by proxy, I witness a lot of disabled people come through. This to say that these people HAVE partners. And their partners care for them. Such as feeding their partners if they need help eating, helping their partners feel safe if they have dementia, I have even seen someone clean their spouse after they had soiled themself. All of which are examples of love and affection, as partners. Not as a provider doing their job.

The argument i see many a time against the ship of Mithrun and Kabru, is that it is unethical. As Kabru would be a “provider” in this case, and Mithrun would be a “patient” to this I say, is Kabru being paid in this hypothetical? Is he following training he has been given? Is he following a code of ethics given to healthcare workers when he helps Mithrun with his disability? Disabled people deserve love. And they deserve a partner that cares for them. So the argument that the ship is gross is kind of… weird. Isn’t it? Again. Mithrun and Kabru as partners do not have to be your cup of tea, but that doesn’t mean that anyone who DOES ship them is gross or immoral. Helping your partner because they are disabled is an act of love, and completely different from a provider helping their patient.

Statistically, everyone will either die able bodied or live to become disabled. It happens to everyone. Disabilities are almost as much of a fact of life as breathing is. I am new to the Dungeon Meshi fandom, but the insinuation that someone able bodied cannot have a disabled partner is kind of horrible to actual able bodied/disabled partnerships? The dynamic is so common, and so to say that it is gross, almost implies that the dynamic in a day to day is gross.

This post isn’t meant to be inflammatory, there are so many dungeon meshi ships I love with all my heart. Some that are rare pairs, some that are common within the fandom. I just think that people should be more friendly with each other. Kabru has two hands guys it’s okay /j /lh. Just please be more friendly guys. Both ships are valid. But the way the fandom gets so angry over it makes me scared. And I imagine it makes other people who are new to the manga/anime a little scared too.

[marvelousels]

THROUGH THE STATIC | PART 2

(part 1 here) n small tags to whoever wanted pt2! @just-levyy @meluksis @zhivaxo

authors note — i guess we're doing a part two? since ppl like my first part and i hope u like this part, part three?? lmkkk xx

pairings: jinx x fem!reader (js freinds for now ig)

ON MY OWN — DARCI playing!

The days had started to blend together after Jinx had appeared in your living room. At first, you were startled, confused, and unsure of what was happening. But soon, you came to realize that chaos was her constant companion, and in some strange way, you had come to expect it. One moment, she’d be curled up on your couch, staring at the TV like she was trying to make sense of the world through someone else’s eyes. The next, she’d be tearing through the house like a storm, her energy manic and unpredictable, her laughter often laced with something darker.

And through it all, you found yourself drawn to her. Her wild, unpredictable nature. Her sorrow and rage buried beneath layers of manic joy. Jinx was never still, never quiet. The hurt was always there, just beneath the surface, like a ticking time bomb.

This evening, you found yourself trying to focus on something—anything—to distract yourself from the madness. But the telltale sounds of destruction started. You didn’t flinch anymore.

You walked into the living room, and there she was, kicking over the bookshelf. Books flew across the room, and her manic laugh echoed through the space. You didn’t even need to ask. You could already feel it—the tension, the darkness.

“Jinx, stop,” you said, voice steady, but there was an edge to it now. She didn’t listen.

“Why?” she snapped, her eyes flicking to you for a split second, wild and frantic. “Books are boring,” she growled. “All these words pretending they mean something. But not me. I’m the real deal. Explosive.” She threw another book across the room, her smile sharp and dangerous.

Something was different tonight. This wasn’t the same chaotic Jinx you’d been getting to know. This Jinx was colder. Angrier. More unstable.

You stepped closer, trying to keep your voice calm. “You don’t have to destroy everything. I’m just trying to help.”

“Help?” Her laugh came again, but it was darker, more deranged. “Help me? You think you can help me?” She turned to face you, her eyes narrowing, her fists clenched at her sides. “None of them could. Not Vi. Not Caitlyn. They never understood. They never wanted to. Vi—Vi was supposed to be there for me.” Her voice cracked, anger and hurt mixing together in a volatile mix. “But she left me. She picked Piltover. She picked that bitch Caitlyn. And I—” Her words came out in a rush, tinged with grief and fury. “I’m just the freak, right?”

Her eyes flashed, her face contorted in disgust. She was pacing now, the tension in the room growing thicker with every word.

“Caitlyn,” she spat, the name like acid on her tongue. “She wants me dead. She’s never going to stop trying to kill me, you know? After everything—I caused that explosion. Killed her mother. And now, Caitlyn wants to make me pay. She wants me in a cage. Or worse...” Jinx’s voice dropped to a low growl. “But I’m not going back to that hell. I’m not going back to their stupid rules.”

You stood there, trying to process what she’d said, her words hitting you like blows. Caitlyn had always been after Jinx, but you’d never heard her express just how deep that hatred ran. She was a target, hunted, cornered by everyone who thought they could fix her. And Vi... Jinx’s sister, the one person who should have stood by her, was now part of that world. Caitlyn’s world. Jinx’s eyes flashed with bitterness at the thought of Vi.

"Vi was supposed to protect me!" she shouted, fists clenched so tight her knuckles went white. "But no. She left me. She chose them. And now she's in Caitlyn's bed. Pretending everything's fine. Pretending I'm just some monster."

You felt a pang in your chest, seeing the hurt in her eyes. She wasn’t just angry. She was broken. She was lost.

Her breathing grew faster, more erratic. "And Caitlyn," she hissed. "Caitlyn... she’s just waiting for me to slip up. She’s just waiting for me to fuck up again. I’m a danger to everyone. I know that. But they don't get it. They never did. Vi never did. They think I’m the monster... But they—" She cut herself off, shaking her head as if the thought alone hurt too much.

You tried to get closer, trying to make sense of the chaos swirling around her. “Jinx...”

“No!” She spun to face you, her eyes wide and frenzied. “Don’t even! Don’t you dare try to fix me. I’m not broken! You hear me? I’m just... different. And they didn’t like that.” She was shaking, her entire body tight with repressed emotion. "You think I’m some fragile little thing, don’t you? That you can ‘help’ me? That you can fix this?” She let out a bitter laugh. “No one can fix me. Not Vi. Not Caitlyn. Not you.”

She was right there—just a breath away, her raw pain nearly suffocating. But instead of the usual chaos, there was something more desperate in her voice now. Her face was twisted, like she couldn’t decide whether to cry or scream. She pulled herself together quickly, though, masking it with that dangerous grin. But it was hollow, jagged, like a broken mirror.

"I don't need them. I don't need anyone," she muttered, falling back onto the couch with a huff. "I'm free, right? Free to do whatever I want. Fuck them." She looked back at the TV, her gaze lingering on the reflection of her own wild face on the screen. “At least I get to choose my own way now.”

You watched her for a moment, torn between wanting to reach out and give her the comfort she so clearly needed... and knowing that doing so might push her away completely. But you couldn’t ignore it. You couldn’t ignore her suffering.

“You don’t have to be alone in this, Jinx,” you said softly. “You don’t have to push everyone away.”

Jinx looked at you, her eyes narrowing for a moment, like she was trying to decide whether or not to let you in. But all she said was, “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, huh?”

Her grin returned, but it was colder. “There’s no fixing me, remember? If you try, bang goes your nice little life.”

Her words hung in the air like a bomb, the tension thick enough to slice through. But for a brief moment, her wild eyes softened. Just a little. “But maybe...” she trailed off, flicking a glance at you. “Maybe you’re not the worst person I’ve met.”

She looked away again, as if she’d just said something she shouldn’t have. You could feel the weight of her words, knowing that, deep down, she still wanted someone. Anyone. But she didn’t know how to ask for it.

She kicked her feet up on the coffee table and grabbed a bag of chips, shoving them into her mouth like she was trying to drown out the thoughts she couldn’t face.

“Whatever,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the chips. “It’s not like I want your help, but... you’re here. So, i'll deal with you ugh,”

You nodded quietly, though you knew better than to expect anything from her. For Jinx, trust was a slow burn, and you were just a stranger in her chaotic mind.

But maybe—just maybe—you were starting to understand the storm inside her.

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Starscream is given a bath, Part 5:

1083 words on this one. Had it done for a few weeks, only now posting it. Sorry for that delay, folks! The last part is MOSTLY done too, I just need to read it again one last time. Then I’ll have a vote on what Starscream thing to write next.

Part 4: here

——————————————————————————

The…

wings?

“If you’re alright with that?” She added, and Starscream flinched, those very wings pricking up as he returned to reality.

“You’re- you’re really dedicated, aren’t you?” He smirked, slowly but gradually shedding the panic from the vent cleaning and returning to his usual self.

“Hmm, yes. I think I will allow you to.”

Starscream, seemingly fully embracing the fact that he was being given a spa day and that he totally deserved it for some reason, sunk back into the water lying on his cockpit. His arms were crossed under his helm, knees bent back so that his lower legs sticking out of the water.

The human about to climb over the tub suddenly stopped, contemplated logistics, and decided she was too tired to care if this was weird before promptly climbing onto Starscream’s back. The seeker’s wings fluttered and he made a sound of surprise when she settled between them, but he did not protest. Lifting his head he tried to look over his large shoulders, quickly giving up and returning to his previous position with a sigh.

“There ya go, stretch them out.” The human instructed as she gently brushed her hand over the length of one wing to guide him, having to lean over to actually reach all the way to the tips.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Starscream muttered back, although there was no real bite to his voice. He seemed almost sleepy again.

They felt very solid, smooth as they glided under her fingers. Barely any seams or imperfections sticking out. Not even the fastest human-made aircraft had wings this smooth. Weighted and rigid in her hold, yet with an elegance about them at the same time. She moved her fingers all over the surface, being firm but not rough while trying to spread soap all over the jet’s wings, coating them in white and bubbles. As for Starscream, the worst of his tension seemed to have melted away. It had been a long time, and he was annoyed to admit that this touch made him feel almost nostalgic. It was difficult to give his wings a through clean, without a trine to help him tend to them. As proud of his frame as he was, this was something he would not entrust to, or ask of, just anyone.

“Why don’t you extend your flaps too?”

“Excuse me?” He replied, lifting his head out of the water, brows furrowed.

“Want me to get everything, don’t you? Come on, quit holding out on me.” She grinned, patting him on the back. He could tell there was a personal fascination mixed in with her desire to clean him up. This human was a flyer, after all.

“Hmph.” His wings flared back in exaggerated offense, sending bubbles flying around.

“Hey!“

“Who do you think I am? One of your common ‘training aircraft’? Asking for my wing surfaces so casually.” He questioned, head propped up on one arm and tapping a talon on his cheek. “A word of advice: You really should stop taking this view for granted, pilot. Don’t think your choice of seating has escaped my notice.”

That made her chuckle, and he chuckled too. Starscream shrugged and quickly admitted mock defeat, keeping up his smug tone.

“But, I suppose since you’re so desperate and eager, I will take mercy on you.” His words were emphasized with the fluttering of his wings, and he gave a pause for dramatic effect.

Finally, with a sly grin and a satisfied expression, the seeker relented and held his wings up high. His high-lift devices extended swiftly. It didn’t feel mechanical at all, the way he moved them. There was no delay, no struggle, only a slight click when they locked into position. They moved just like any other part of his body, and that reminded her just how alive Starscream was. Flaps trailing from the back, and slats from the front. Except since the wings sat inverted on his back it was actually the other way around. They looked bigger now, the new pieces fitting seamlessly with the rest of the surface.

“Thank you, my Lord.” She replied without taking her eyes off him, and it made the seeker feel proud despite knowing she was only joking. The human resumed her work now that she had access to the entirety of his wings, scrubbing, every now and then moving her hand lower to scratch at the base where they would connect with his back. She took notice of how the jet shivered when she did that. Ailerons twitching in a way that she likened to feeling tickled. Wings tensing, shaking ever so slightly.

“You really do have some beautiful wings, Starscream.”

If Starscream himself was aware of it, he was too relaxed at this point to care. His frame was vibrating so faintly she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been sitting on his back, and the soft purr of his idling engine was nearly drowned out by the rush of the water she was rinsing him with. But it was there, unmistakably so.

“Of course I do.”

The seeker allowed her fingers to stick into the joint where his wings met his back without much more than a startled hum, burying his face into his arms as he felt her rooting around in search of debris.

“You’re not completely terrible at this, you know. You’re obviously unfamiliar, but considering you’re a human… you’re not bad at all.” His voice was soft. Unguarded.

“You think so?”

“Hmmm, yes. I do.”

The seeker stood up, albeit slowly, allowing her to safely slide off his back.

“In fact, I think I’ll return for another wash sometime.” He added with a cheeky grin.

“Hang on, I’m not done rinsing the soap.”

“That’s alright, I will manage.”

He shook his wings gently, the movement brushing off most of the remaining bubbles and water- part of it raining onto her- before he leaned down to awkwardly give her a pat on the head. This was definitely the calmest she’d ever seen Starscream.

“You’re leaving?”

Starscream hesitated, wings twitching as his expression turned to one of contemplation. He’d intended to do so on autopilot, but hadn’t given it enough thought whether that was the best course of action.

“It is best if I do, yes.” he finally replied, stopping as if he wanted to say more.

“Thank you.” He looked down at her and forced the words out. They felt awkward out of his voicebox. Unfamiliar.