#it went from This is a good song to -> i need this song to swallow me whole in the same way a storm does

[bananayuyu]

Come to Mine

Pairing: idol!Yunho x backup dancer!reader

Genre: fluff and smut

Word count: 6.3k

Summary: You didn't plan for it to be this way. You just couldn't help being attracted to each other.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetration, safe sex (condom woo), it's very sweet and clumsy

A/n: This was such self indulgence, I hope you enjoy if you read <3 I can't believe the comeback is tonight! I hope everyone is having a good day <33 (sorry for any typos, I didn't feel like editing today)

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You couldn't believe your eyes when you received the email.

Congratulations, you've been selected as one of the dancers for Ateez's upcoming comeback. Rehearsals start next Monday, August 2nd. Please look out for our next message, which will contain the full schedule with dates and locations. We look forward to working with you!

You'd worked with several other Kpop groups over the last few years. You'd actually made it as a dancer, much to the surprise of your family. You'd like to say you were surprised too, but in truth you weren't. You had felt it in your bones that this is what you were meant to do and would be doing, ever since you first watched a Girl's Generation MV on your shitty middle school laptop.

Working with Ateez felt like the absolute pinnacle. You were only several years in, but you knew from hearing the chatter, from watching their performances, that backup dancing for them was a true honor, and a challenge. You'd gone to the audition with an open mind, not riding on the fact that you'd be selected. They told you all they wanted twelve girls total, a smaller number than you'd expected. And most of the girls you went with were more experienced, or had major connections within the industry, so it really was a shock you were selected. It made your whole body buzz, your confidence skyrocketing. If they believed you could hang with the best of the best, you'd do everything you could to prove them right.

Sitting on the hardwood floor at the end of your first rehearsal, it all just felt right. The group was working together so well already; most of these girls you'd danced with before, and you realized looking around that if you'd ever had the chance to select a dance team yourself, you would have made almost the same selections they did. Everyone was a dance nerd, a true artist, focused, dedicated. Everyone took good care of themselves, was smart, driven, and so hardworking. You all spoke amongst yourselves after rehearsal, anticipating your first rehearsal with the boys, wondering what they'd really be like in person. You'd all followed them closely for years, and were all big fans. You couldn't not be, given just how talented they were, just how dedicated to their craft, the same way you were. But you all vowed to be as respectful as possible, and keep the giggling and ogling to yourselves when the time came.

It was comeback season for them, their schedules incredibly full. The next album was almost entirely finished already though, and you had no doubt they were already beginning work on songs that would make future albums too. It was still six months until the comeback you'd be performing in, the time feeling indescribably far away. Many of the other girls, like you, still had smaller projects to work on in the meantime. This was the beginning of a long journey, one that would begin slowly. It was high pressure, you could feel it. You needed your absolute best to show here, for the sake of your career.

You'd never have guessed how it would feel finally meeting them all.

Sweaty and exhausted, they all came in after their final music show performance. They'd been up since the early hours of the morning to film, and now it was closer to midday. You'd slept in, spending the morning stretching and readying your body for this important rehearsal. In hindsight you hadn't needed to, the first day with the members being more of a meeting, followed by an attempt to brainstorm what formations would be possible with the twenty of you. Then you each had to introduce yourselves, going down the line of twelve, each repeating your names and where you were from.

After saying your name, after bowing, your eyes caught on Yunho's. And in that moment you knew it was all over.

All you could think in that moment was, 'fuck, I don't need this.' Truly, you didn't. There was too much else to focus on. Life had been hectic for so many reasons, but now you were just trying to focus on being present, there for your friends and family, focused on your work. You'd been single for almost two years now, and it had been the best time of your life. The time with your friends had been beautiful, fulfilling, peaceful. The success you'd had with dancing had been all you could have dreamed of. But you knew in that moment that something was about to change, something you doubted you could put any stop to. It felt written in the stars, like it was meant to happen. It had to. You could tell.

He'd noticed you right away. You were the shortest of the girls selected; they'd skewed more towards choosing taller girls, so that the height differences wouldn't be too severe. You weren't tiny, but still he'd noticed right away that you were shorter than everyone else. Your big glasses, your messy wavy hair, your baggy sweat pants. You stood out amongst the rest of the girls, but not because you were flashy. You were almost too relaxed in your appearance. He loved it instantly. And he could tell it affected you when he looked your way, your eyes darting fast to the floor when he pierced you with his gaze.

He watched you intently over the next few rehearsals, seeing immediately how talented you were. You picked up everything with such ease; but you weren't cocky, weren't throwing it in anyone's face. You helped other girls when they needed it, and you spoke up when an instruction wasn't clear, helping the main choreographer realize their mistake. You were quiet, mostly, except when you needed to be loud. You seemed so put together, almost boringly so. Some of the other girls were chaotic, which made the boys or other dancers gossip. But as Yunho listened to it all he realized none of them really mentioned you. From the outside in you seemed unassuming, and he knew people thought the same thing about him. So he knew that just like him, there was something more under the surface. Something juicier, freakier, stranger. Every time he looked you right in the eyes, the few times you'd let him, he could see it written in your pupils. And the way you always looked way, like you'd just had the wind knocked out of you, made him think he was probably right.

It really didn't help that he was such a good dancer, so confident and technically gifted, with a certain quality to his movement that you could not put into words. You became mesmerized from the first moment you saw it in person. You'd been impressed with his dancing abilities for a while, but seeing it in person in front of you, seeing his massive tall body move with a level of control that should not have been possible, had you completely entranced. You couldn't help the giddiness you felt when heading to work, the excited texts sent to your best friend. Your crush was forming fast, threatening to inflate inside of you and make you float away. He was all you could think about when you laid in bed at night, awaiting the next time you'd get to be in his presence, and say the few words you did to each other.

Then one day, it changed.

"Y/n, could I go over the middle section with you?"

His voice came from behind you, as you carefully retied your shoes during a break in rehearsal.

"With me?" you asked, turning around to find him standing behind you.

"Yeah, I've been watching everyone in the mirror and you seem to know that section best. I missed that rehearsal where we first learned it, so I think I'm missing the timing a bit." He reached out a hand to help you up, and you took it automatically, the touch between you sending adrenaline through your heart and making you shiver.

"I think you've been doing it just fine. What part is confusing?" you asked.

"I'm wondering when the arms come up, when we're turning around. Is it on one, or the and of one?"

"It's on the and. Here, do you want to do it slowly together?" You couldn't believe the words were tumbling out of your mouth, so naturally from your years of helping assist dance classes at your high school.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Yunho replied, getting in position beside you. You began counting slowly, you both dancing crudely through the counts, reaching the confusing section with hesitation. "See, one and," you threw your arms up, spinning around and turning your back to the mirror, your hands coming out beside you. "They're not back down until the and of 2."

"Ah, that makes sense. So they're delayed compared to the shifting of our feet there," he said, and you nodded in agreement, watching him step through the moves himself, flawlessly.

"Yeah, that's perfect," you smiled at him.

"Thank you, that was really helpful. I'm worried I'm messing things up cause I missed that rehearsal," he smiled back, arms locked behind his back. It looked like he was nervous, to you, which endeared you even more to him.

"Your dancing looks perfect to me," you said, standing still and awkward, your nervousness also showing.

You both stood staring at each other, and this time you didn't flick your eyes away. It all felt like things were clicking into place, and any feeling you had to resist this little thing was all gone. Not that there really was much to begin with. But you were nervous at first, so unsure of his interest. You couldn't bring yourself to assume that someone like him would want to be friends with someone like you. You had to wait for the confirmation from him.

Easy conversation followed the next few rehearsals. Talking about the choreography was always an easy in, and Yunho took to using it as much as he pleased. He complimented your dance skills more than you thought he should, because you worried the other dancers would find it strange or have something to say about it. But no one said a word to you. You felt this thing happening, the two of you magnets pulled together, but it seemed like no one around you had any clue. It was normal enough for him to want to talk to a dancer about the routine, and so what if in those conversations things turned more personal, more jokey, more flirtatious. He complimented your glasses early on, you remember that, and it stuck with you for weeks. You couldn't get it out of your head, the way his head tilted to the side when he said it. His tone of voice, the look in his eye.

Then there was the rehearsal in the gymnasium. You were all sectioned off, the main focus of the day being how the background sets for the MV would fit around the group of you dancing. The director was there, talking with all of ateez and the head choreographer, as they all stood around on the floor. The rest of you were told to wait in the stands, as they set the exact measurements of the set pieces, needing you all on stand-by at a moments notice. It was times like this you realized just how big the budget they had was; they were paying you all to be here today, even though most of the day you spent just sitting there, your fellow dancer sitting next to you almost falling asleep on your shoulder three separate times.

He saw you as soon as you came in, your hair up in a messy bun, your hoodie swallowing you. Your socks didn't match, your shoe laces partially untied. You pushed your glasses up your nose as you stepped inside, nearly bumping into the girl in front of you. Unassuming. Clumsy. For some reason, everything he wanted.

He craned his neck to watch you sit down, waving when you finally looked in his direction. You waved back, the sleeve of your hoodie pulled over your hand. He stood amongst his members, wishing he could somehow say something to you. Everyone was discussing the slight differences in the placement of something, but he'd stopped listening as soon as he saw you enter, so he really wasn't sure what it was. He reached for his phone, wanting to shoot you off a quick text. But then he remembered, the managers had taken them today so the boys would be focused. Also, he still didn't have your number. He knew he needed to remedy that problem as quickly as he could.

You zoned out for a moment, everyone around you buried deep in their phones as soon as they realized they'd be stuck in the bleachers for a bit. But it didn't take long for your gaze to sweep back down, settling on the person you couldn't keep your mind off of. You were met with a surprise, holding a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

Yunho was holding up a piece of paper in your direction, the word HI written in big bold letters. You weren't even sure where he got the paper from, much less the marker, but god did it make your heart constrict. How fucking adorable, how totally and completely cheesy. You were like Taylor Swift and her crush in 'You Belong With Me,' holding out written signs to each other and reading them through the window. Well, you could have been, if you had any paper of your own. You smiled, his action absolutely heartwarming, but you couldn't help feeling terribly disappointed that you couldn't reciprocate the gesture. That was until you remembered the back of your hoodie had the word HELLO written across it, right above the smiling sunflower. You held your hand out to him, beckoning him to wait a moment, as you turned and lifted up the hood to make sure he could see the white letters, that you hoped contrasted enough against the blue fabric that he could see them from so far away.

You turned to find him smiling, his shoulders jumping for a moment like he was laughing. It was just far enough away that you couldn't hear well, so you had no idea if he really was. The moment passed, and your heart was beating remarkably fast, but yet again it seemed like no one around you noticed. You blinked around, looking over your shoulder at your fellow dancers. Right then it hit you, that maybe you shouldn't be so openly doing this, whatever this was. You'd been warned time and time again that being involved with an idol was bad news, that plenty of dancers had done it and payed the price. One of your favorite fellow dancers had dated an idol, and you'd heard her horror story before over drinks one night. You knew people had complicated feelings on the subject.

But you also knew your own feelings weren't so complicated, at least when it came to him. Finally you all were beckoned down to the floor, the sets put in place. You all danced in front of them, the director trying out his camera movements, asking you to repeat certain sections so he could try different angles, see how the composition would look with so many bodies in the shot. You'd said hello to each other when you came down, but quickly you had to get to work, everyone's focus held on your dancing. It wasn't until you all wrapped up for the day that he said anything else.

"Hey, I've been meaning to get your number so we can text if we need to, like today," he said. Your stomach dropped; you couldn't believe the words you were hearing. Was he really asking for your number, here in front of everyone?

"Yeah, that would be great," you smiled, waiting for him to pull out his phone and hand it to you.

"My manager has my phone, do you have yours?" he asked.

"Uh, it's up in stands with the rest of my stuff. I'll have to go grab it," you responded, smiling apologetically.

"Yeah, no worries-"

"Everyone we need to clear out, we're supposed to be gone in five minutes! Let's get going!" the lead choreographer cut him off, calling out to the whole room.

"Yunho, I've got your bag, and the car is out front, we need to leave now," his manager came running up, placing a hand on his shoulder. You didn't know where he was headed, but it was probably another rehearsal, or interview, or photoshoot. One of the thousands of things they all had scheduled every week.

In the chaos you scrambled up the stairs, grabbing your stuff before dashing out the door, not wanting to get in trouble. Yunho waved to you from the car, it pulling away as soon as you exited the building and started your walk to the subway station. It had all happened so fast, and you hoped he didn't think that you'd forgotten. His question stuck in your mind over the next three days, until you had rehearsal again. And that time you walked in with your phone already open, pulled up to a new contact entry. You didn't even greet him that day; you just placed your phone in his hands, and looked up at him with big eyes. He blinked a moment, but it wasn't hard for him to know what you were asking. He put in his number, handing the phone back to you, and you sent off your first text of many.

🌸: hello :)

You waited that night after rehearsal, meeting up with your best friend for dinner. You could just feel it again, you knew he'd say something, if you had just a little patience.

🐶: I hope rehearsal didn't kill you today. They really didn't give you guys any breaks :(

Immediately you squealed, shoving your phone into your friend's face.

"How cute, he's so concerned for you," she laughed, poking your cheek.

"I can't believe he already texted," you sighed, grabbing another bite.

"He obviously likes you," she said, making your mind spin.

"Don't say that, you're getting my hopes up," you replied, shaking your head.

"Why else would he ask for your number?" she asked.

"To talk to me about work stuff, dance stuff, I don't know?" you replied.

"Did he ask for anyone else's number?" she asked.

"I don't know, he could have," you said, raising your shoulders.

"I doubt it," she smiled. "Look at you, you've caught yourself an idol. Better be careful, my girl," she joked, finishing off her drink.

"I wonder if this is a bad idea," you pondered, staring off into space and letting your mind wander.

"Don't overthink it. How often do you come across people you like? If he likes you two, you should go for it. You don't have any reason to hold yourself back from this. I mean, be careful of course. I don't want any death threats coming your way," she chuckled, reaching over the table and grabbing your hand. "Connecting with another person is a special thing, and it sounds like you two really have. Don't under sell that."

You left the restaurant and wandered home, a warm feeling in your chest. Hugging your friend goodbye you thanked her, so grateful to have someone you know you can tell anything to. As soon as you made it home, you pulled out your phone and responded to him.

🌸: It was fine, I just got very sweaty. my hair was a frizzy mess 🐶: you still looked so pretty 🌸: you are very sweet to me 🌸: why is that 🐶: I like you, that's why 🌸: you like me? 🐶: I want to see you outside of work 🌸: I want that too

You breath caught in your throat. It was everything you could have hoped to hear and more.

🌸: how can we do that tho 🐶: we'll find a way 🌸: you could come to my place. it's very small. I live alone

He could have guessed that was the case. You never mentioned having roommates, or parents, or anyone else you lived with in the brief conversations you'd had.

🐶: can I come this Saturday? 🌸: okay :) 🐶: are you sure? 🌸: be here at 7 🐶: will do

You had two days of filming for a different group's music video, a huge group dance with nearly fifty dancers. You be finishing it up Saturday morning, and hoped that things ran on time. You wanted to have the time to get yourself ready, take a shower, pick out your clothes. Even though you'd just be at home, surely just lounging around. You wanted to wear your favorite sweats, and the black tank top you had that sat perfectly over your figure. You two wouldn't be going on dinner dates out, or to the bar for drinks, or to the cafe or farmer's market or any other place where Yunho could be spotted. He didn't have to explain that to you; you'd worked in this industry long enough to understand. He'd have to do everything he could to avoid being seen entering your building. If this did become a romance, it would be one conducted in the privacy of bedrooms, apartments, hotels. You couldn't walk out on the street holding hands, or even just walk down the street side by side. But then you reminded yourself of the if. You still didn't know what he wanted, exactly. You'd still never been in the same room just the two of you. The nerves gnawed at you as you showered, as you carefully set out the clothes you would wear as you dried your hair. You'd wear no bra with your tank top, you decided, and you'd wear your favorite bikini cut black underwear. You didn't like lacy thongs, you didn't like most women's clothing period. But you wanted to feel sexy when he arrived, wanted it to be clear to him what you were after.

🐶: I'm heading out now, I should be there in 17 minutes, according to google maps 🌸: see you soon :)

Your adrenaline surged, your body sweating despite the cool temperature of your tiny apartment. You scrambled around, cleaning every surface one time over again, making sure your dirty clothes were tucked away in your closet and not strewn about anywhere. You gave yourself a final look in the mirror, your glasses looking comically huge on your face. Your hair was a mess, but it always was. You'd never learned how to properly take care of your waves. The black tank top looked as good as you'd hoped though, so you shrugged. It was good enough.

You'd only sat on your couch for about thirty seconds when the doorbell rang, and you physically jumped. Opening your door you found him in a loose button up shirt, casual baggy pants, a baseball cap covering his nut brown hair, and a mask.

"Hi, come in," you said, your heart beating faster than it did even during your most difficult dance numbers.

"Thank you," he said, stepping inside, his jacket held over his arm. He pulled off his mask, folding it and shoving it in his pocket.

"Would you like some water?" you asked, awkwardly. You didn't know what to say, the two of you standing feet apart in your tiny living room.

"Sure, that'd be great," he said, looking around, taking everything in.

"You can sit on my couch, or on the floor, if you'd like. Sorry there aren't more options, my apartment is tiny," you said as you filled his glass. You decided to fill one for yourself, realizing now that you'd completely forgotten to eat dinner or drink any water this afternoon because of your nerves.

"It's perfect. I really like it," he said, sitting himself down cross legged on the floor, on the small rug that surrounded your coffee table. It was the only table you had here, the one you always ate your meals at. "Is this the rug you always lay on at night?" he asked as you came and set his water in front of him.

"Oh, no, that one's in my room," you smiled, sitting opposite him on your couch, cross legged too.

"I was gonna say, this is pretty small for laying on," he laughed.

"My other one is small too, I guess," you laugh in response.

"Can I see it?" His eyes have a mischievous glint to them as they meet yours.

"Sure," you say, smirking back at him. You're trying to put on a confident front, because you swear you keep seeing his eyes trail down your body hungrily, but as soon as you start walking towards your room your legs are shaky. Yunho reaches out and grabs your shoulder from behind, steadying you for a moment.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, just tired. Filming ran long this morning, we had to go over this one section like fifty times. I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow," you say.

"Do you have a foam roller? It's helps me a lot when my legs are cramping up on me," he says, as you open your bedroom door, revealing the tiny room to him. It only has room for your full bed, your dresser shoved into your closet.

"I should really get one," you say, turning to face him. "There's the rug," you smile, watching intently to see his reaction.

"That's the one you lay on every night?" he asks. You nod your head, chuckling. "That's even smaller than the one out there," he laughs, pointing in the direction of your living room.

"I wonder if you'd even fit," you laugh, looking down at the small strip of floor that isn't taken up by your bed frame.

"Let me try," he says, kicking off his shoes and setting them on your shoe rack outside your door. He crouches down, settling himself on his side, his legs bent up to make it possible for him to fit.

"Wow, so comfortable," he quips, sarcastically.

"It is if your my size," you pout, looking down at him with your arms crossed.

"You really lay here every night before bed?" he asks.

"It's my favorite spot in the world," you nod.

"You think we could both fit?" he asks, pulling off his hat and tossing it on your bed, holding out an arm to you.

"Maybe..." you trail off, stepping over towards him, carefully setting yourself down in front of him. You're on you side too, your face maybe a foot from his, your back shoved up against your closet door. You stare into each other's eyes, still not having touched, the whole scene potentially still friendly and innocent.

A yawn hits you, a wave of exhaustion washing over your whole body. You really should have remembered to eat a good meal before this.

"Tired?" Yunho asks, you his eyes not leaving yours.

"I guess so. Sorry for yawning," you say.

"Am I boring you?" he jokes.

"No, not at all," you shake your head, smiling back at him. And then you both just stare, a good minute passing, your heart racing and racing in your chest, your body aching for something, anything.

"Can I kiss you now?" he asks, but still doesn't move. So you do instead, pulling yourself closet to him, your legs entangling as your lips finally meet, the first moments of the kiss awkward and stilted in that way it always is with a new person. But soon enough you've found each other's rhythm; you can tell he likes sucking on your bottom lip, and likes it when you open your mouth and let out those breathy moans, allowing him to dive his tongue inside, feeling over the plush softness of your tongue. It's heated so quickly, your arms desperately grabbing at each other, a sexual excitement awakened in you in a way it hadn't been in so many years. You got lost in it; you couldn't have even remembered your own name in that moment, because all you knew was his mouth and his hands, his tongue on your neck, the way your clit felt rubbing hard against his thigh, your climax reaching you so fast you don't even realize it until your hands are cramping up. They do that when you're too stimulated, when your whole nervous system has too much input and can't process it all. He senses a change in you, pulling back to see you holding your hands, trying desperately to calm the spasming muscles.

"What's wrong?" he asks, gently holding your hands in his own.

"It just happens sometimes, when I come," you whisper into the cool air of your bedroom. "My hands lock up like this." You start to giggle, a blush creeping over your face at the look he's giving you.

"You came?"

"Yeah, I know, I'm insanely sensitive," you laugh, still rubbing at your hands.

"Fuck," he groans, shaking his head back and forth, and you laugh again at how affected he is. "Are your hands going to be okay?"

"Yeah, just give them a moment. They'll be fine," you say, putting your face up to his again, your lips connecting and fire shooting through you once again.

Before you know it he's on top of you, kissing you hard, his hands snaking underneath your top to feel over your hard nipples, grabbing hungrily at your body. "Can I taste you?" he whispers through ragged breaths, and you nod into him, whispering yes on his lips. He moves down, pulling at the waistband of your sweatpants, and you lips your hips to help him. When he grabs at your panties he drags them off slowly, shoving them in the pocket of his jeans, moving his mouth down your thighs and licking up to your core. He swipes his tongue up your slit slowly, giving firm pressure to his movement, making you moan and arch your back in response, your knees falling wide and hitting the wall and bed you're caged between. Yunho hums at the taste of you, the heady sweetness better than he could have even imagined, his tongue swiping again and again up your entire slit, taking in as much of you as he can.

"Fuck you taste good," he whispers, before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking gently and making you squirm, your knees jumping up to cage in his head. Then he's adding a finger, and then another, slowly pumping them into you while he keeps sucking on your sensitive bud, ripping another orgasm out of you in seconds. He keeps touching you through your after shocks, making your moans high pitched and sharp as you feel overstimulated, but then as he keeps going you slip back into pleasure, and another orgasm builds faster than the first.

"Fuck, fuck," you scream, your hand in his hair, snaking through and grabbing hard onto it. It makes Yunho moan, the vibrations radiating through your core and sending you over the edge once again, your pussy fluttering around his fingers. This time you push him up, your body wracked from coming so hard and fast.

"You can come multiple times," he states, his lips and chin glistening from your slick. You just nod coyly, breathing hard, trying to regain your sanity as he moves on top of you again, kissing you hard. You moan at the taste of yourself, and at the way he's smothering you so entirely. "You like how you taste?" he asks, smiling into you as you nod your head yes, your lips not able to leave each other for more than a few seconds.

"Can I fuck you?" he asks into your ear, his low voice shuddering through you.

"Please," you whisper, grabbing at his pants to help push them down, laughing as he tries to stand and bumps his head on the door handle to your closet.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, holding his head for a moment, scrambling still to pull of his pants and finally get to what he's wanted all night. "You're making me so desperate that I'm hurting myself," he jokes, slipping a condom over himself with finesse, finally collapsing back onto you, rubbing his hard dick up and down your slit, attaching his lips to yours once again. Slowly he pushes in, testing the waters, watching your face as he stretches you out. He's loving your reaction, the way that just him putting his cock in you is making you so overwhelmed with feelings and pleasure.

"You're so big," you cry into his shoulder, grasping onto him for dear life.

"I know," he chuckles, his face in your hair, taking in the scent of you.

"Shut up," you giggle, hitting his shoulder playfully, holding back a moan from ripping out of you. He's just barely bottomed out, holding tight onto your hips to anchor himself.

"You okay?" he whispers, placing gentle kisses on your forehead temple, keeping himself still until you give him the okay. You nod against him, your face still buried in his shoulder, holding him to you.

"Please move Yunho," you beg, your body needing more from him now, even if the stretch is hurting. He slowly pulls himself out, pushing back in with care, the wet sounds loud and embarrassing. You're so wet it's starting to drip down your leg, and he slides in so easily, even though you're tight against him.

"Does that feel good?" he asks you, setting a slow pace, watching your body intently. You babble and nod against him, and he picks his pace up, hitting something so deep inside of you that it makes you head fly back against the ground again. Thankfully your rug is there on the floor, but it isn't the thickest, and the actions till hurts.

"Ow," you mutter, your eyebrows scrunching up in pain.

"Careful, careful," he coos, grabbing the back of your head in his large palm, slowing his movements. "Why are we on the floor when your bed is right there?"

You chuckle, blinking up at him with blown pupils, your walls still clenching hard around him.

"Let's move up there," he smiles, slowly pulling out of you, standing gingerly and helping you up carefully, too. You pull at his shirt, unbuttoning some of his buttons, making him pull if off over his head. He's completely revealed to you now, and he grabs at your top too, pulling it over your head and throwing it over the side of the bed.

"Your head okay?" he asks, moving on top of you again, cradling it in his hand.

"Yeah, it's okay," you laugh, staring up at him. "How's yours?"

"It's fine," he chuckles, kissing you deeply and grabbing at you, unable to stop himself. "You're driving me crazy," he whispers, and in a moment he's sheathed himself inside of you again, resting your head against your pillows as he starts fucking you hard, his mouth on yours as your tongues swirl around each other's mouths. He's hitting that spot inside you again, over and over sending waves of pleasure through your abdomen. You feel like you're being split open, like your entire body is filled by him, by everything he's meaning to you. The care, the attention, the perfect angle of his hips as they snap against yours, has your mind floating on a cloud of pure joy. God, it's never felt this good, and you don't want it to stop, don't ever want this feeling to end. You know you're stuck now, you're addicted, you've had one taste of him and you'll never want anyone else.

"Yunho," you whine against his lips, as you feel another orgasm building.

"Fuck, don't say my name like that, you're gonna make me come," he groans, lifting his head up to deepen his angle even further, fucking you even harder. "Are you close?" he asks, and you whimper in response, moaning high pitched and holding tight onto his biceps. "You're so fucking perfect," he says, his upper body falling down on top of yours again, as he holds you close. You come, the warmth and safety his body is giving you making you release, every part of your being comforted by the man above you.

"Yes, fuck that feels good," he groans into your ear, feeling the way you're squeezing so hard down onto him, your moans like screams again, stroking his ego in such an addicting way. "I'm never gonna get enough of you," he groans, finally releasing his load, his orgasm washing over him hard as his hips stutter, his face scrunching up in pleasure as he finally comes. He collapses on top of you, holding you close as you both come down from your highs, your breaths hard and fast and totally in sync.

"You're amazing," he mumbles, stroking a hand through your hair.

"No, you're amazing," you giggle, your head floaty and calm in your post orgasmic state. You poke his side, giggling into him when his body jumps.

"Don't you dare do that right now," he grumbles, tickling you back and twice as hard, making you shriek and laugh beneath him.

You stay cuddled up all night, not able to sleep cause you keep kissing, Yunho's large warm body making you feel safe in a way you didn't know you were missing.

"I should have taken these off before I fucked you," he laughs as he pulls of you glasses, placing them gingerly on your side table.

"Eh, it's okay," you laugh, snuggling into him closer. "They're always on, I'm used to it. I keep them on even when I dance most of the time, which is weird."

"I noticed," he said. "They're so fucking cute."

"You really like them?"

"Y/n, you're fucking perfect. Every thing about you."

[urarakasgff]

come here, babydoll.

Synopsis: Vi x f! Reader. Based on the song Babydoll by Ari. Even though you were just friends, her drunken words definitely made it seem like there were some hidden feelings underneath her intense demeanor. Not proofread.

It was late out at night, the wind crashing against the walls of your apartment, the moon brightly illuminated the night. You stayed in your warm sheets, tossing and turning as the night went by. That was until you heard a knock at your door.

You slowly opened your eyes, it was around 4am, you knew it had to be Vi if anyone was coming to your place this late. You shuffled out of your bed, trying to stabilize yourself on your feet, then making your way to the front door with half opened eyes.

As you slowly opened the door, Vi stumbled her way in, making eye contact with you, but you were both slightly out of it, for two entirely different reasons. 

“Vi..? What’s going on, why are you here so late?” You said gently, grabbing onto her arm and leading her over to your bed for her to get a place to just sit. The mix of alcohol, her cologne and sweat lingered.

Her being drunk wasn’t something that was unusual. She was a pit fighter after all, and this girl would constantly get drunk and get into the ring without a second thought, no care in the world for her own safety. But, for her to make an appearance this late at your place? That was unusual.

“Nothing cupcake. Just, needed you around.” She said, slightly slurring her words, the alcohol clearly had already taken over. She slowly sat down on your bed, slightly manspreading as she leaned her head into her arms, probably from how exhausted she was.

You stood there, just looking at her with concern. She was one of your closest friends, and to say you felt nothing but just friendly emotions towards her would be a lie. But feelings aside, and whatever they were, You were still beyond worried about her. These constant fights and drunken states could not be good for her, whatsoever.

As she slowly looked up at you to make eye contact, she opened her arms a bit. 

“Come here, babydoll.” She said in a lower tone, quite literally almost as if she was demanding for you to come over. A hint of affection and want in her eyes.

You looked at her, and luckily the mostly dimly lit room did an amazing job at hiding the blush that crept onto your face. While it wasn't unusual for you two to be close and even flirty sometimes, she was being a lot more blunt, direct even.

You walked over to her and grabbed the hand that was slightly reaching out for you, and she pulled you into her lap. “Darling, I’m falling, fucked up over you.” Her voice was a bit wavering, a hint of need and desperation. But, it wasn’t what you’d expect.

Vi isn’t one to just open up about her feelings, much less about romantic ones. She wasn’t sober, at all, her mouth was running on autopilot, leaving her a bit vulnerable and honest.

“Vi, you- you aren’t sober right now. And as much as I'd just love to-” You said gently, trying to almost avoid the conversion. She interrupted you by holding onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together.

She called out your name, almost as if she was pleading for you to try and understand her. “I don’t care, I mean it Cupcake. Fuck, I didn’t want to wait this long to tell you, but I can’t stand it. The thought of me losing you, all because I couldn't say it? Because I couldn't tell you?” She cupped your face, trying to keep the eye contact steady, still keeping your fingers interlaced with hers.

“And fuck me if im wrong, but you feel it too don’t you babydoll?” She said, smirking a bit, knowing she was right. 

writer’s note: TBH didn't know how to end this (could you tell) and I had to go study for an exam, so enjoy this little drabble <3

[viennakarma]

The Lucky One (2)

Part 2 (of 2) of The Lucky One | Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Summary: Formula One had been your dream and your goal ever since you were a kid, and you did all you had to in order to achieve it. Between ups and downs, Sebastian becomes a steady presence despite being your complicated frenemy relationship. Until everything comes crashing down. Formula One gives, but Formula One takes.

Word count: 5.5k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, reader is mirrorball coded, coming of age, cursing, romance, both are assholes, smut, +18, complicated feelings, rivals to lovers, crash, major injury, medical innacuracies, bittersweet ending, not beta read; t.w: brief christian horner scene.

Relationship: Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Note: This is fully inspired by the song, and throughout my writing process I realized it also fits mirrorball. This one may require some tissues (especially in part 2). Everything is fictional and I mean no disrespect to Sebastian or his family (they don't exist in this story). I'm sorry it took me forever to come back to it, but there it is, hope I don't disappoint Not proofread. Comments and feedback are welcomed.

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Ending whatever complicated fling was going on with you and Sebastian was the right, rational call, you knew that. But your body, your heart, regretted it every couple of weeks as you laid awake in bed, plagued by memories, need and longing.

You decided to just do your best during that season. You couldn’t fight for the championship anymore, but you still wanted a great season since the following year would be your last in the current contract with Red Bull. A great performance could secure a renewal or even the interest of other teams.

Sebastian and you still saw each other frequently during race weekends, your eyes always finding each other across the crowd. He was consumed with guilt, of having been blinded by his own privileges that he didn’t see the struggle that was being a woman in Formula One. He vowed to never be so far from reality like that ever again.

He wanted to stop you, to talk to you again, to try and fix things, but there was this constant mix of shame and uncertainty about your reaction if he tried reaching out again. Sometimes he would look at you from afar, and he’d see something in your eyes, something that felt like the same longing he had. Some other times, you looked at him like you hated him.

Eventually in the third race to the last in Bahrain, he couldn’t take it anymore. There was this string tugging at his heart, begging to see you and talk everything through. During the Friday afternoon, between Free Practices, he marched around decidedly, looking for you. He walked into the garage and no one seemed to mind his presence as he went straight into your driver’s room. He barged in, not bothering to knock. You were sitting on the couch, drinking Red Bull and going through some papers. You frowned and stood up as you saw him.

“What are you-”

“Stop…” He interrupted with both hands up, “don’t say anything just yet.”

You frowned but didn’t look particularly angry, your frown softening into a stunned silence. Sebastian sighed, breathing slowly, he had a plan and a speech when he was marching there, but now, looking at your face, your pretty eyes, he had lost all sense of reason.

“We’ll talk about everything, rationally, like adults. Okay?” He offered, and you slowly nodded, unsure but also willing to try, “Not now, because the race and everything. But- this monday, okay? After the race, after we get a good night’s sleep. We’ll go to a nice restaurant, and we’ll talk over good food. A real date this time, no hiding anymore,” He said, his words pouring out fast, like he wasn’t truly thinking about what to say, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement, “Monday night?”

“Monday night,” You nodded, no anger in your eyes, just a glimmer of hope.

“Good,” He nodded and just left.

You stood there, speechless, but with a disbelief smile on your face, looking almost silly. Despite the anger you felt the last time you two actually spoke, there was this undeniable magnetic pull between you, and you didn’t seem to be able to be away from him just as he wasn’t able to be away from you.

The whole weekend, you felt that nervous energy, almost bouncing up the walls, you attributed it to the race, but you knew it was more than that. The car had been great the whole week, you qualified P2, your first real possibility of win in a few months, which would be a blast to finish the season winning one of the last races.

You were smiling as you waved to the fans during the driver’s parade, your first hopeful and excited pre-race interview in quite some time. As you put on your gloves and helmet, you couldn’t help but feel some sense of purpose. You would give your very best in that race.

You just didn’t know it would be your last time behind a Formula 1 wheel.

The race was great, it started alright and most of it you kept your P2, even after a failed attempt of undercut, you still managed your P2, but then came the moment, the point of no return in your career, the very moment that changed the trajectory of your life forever.

After turn 15, you had finally managed to catch up to the P1, less than half a second behind him, and despite his car being fast, you could try and overtake him with the DRS. You pushed the fastest you could in the straight, closing and closing the distance, almost succeeding in overtaking, but as the DRS zone ended, you realized you’d have to wait another lap to try again. But then, as you pushed the pedal to brake and slow down into turn 1, the car kept going. So many things happened in the span of mere seconds, but they felt like ages to you.

“I’ve got no brakes,” You said into the radio as you tried braking. Then you tried engine braking and the security system braking. None of it worked.

With quick thinking, you decided to face the turn that way and bear it. You'd probably lose a lot of grip with the rear, but if you hit the curbs it’d help you slow down and just drive to a stop. You kept trying the brake pedals all the way to the turn, when suddenly, the tyres locked up and everything happened really fast.

You weren’t able to turn, the tyres locked and you had no way to slow down the car. All you did was brace as you went full force straight into the barriers, the impact so hard it made your car split in half. You blacked out for a couple of seconds and then came to again, a ringing in your ears as you tried to situate yourself, a mix of excruciating pain and numbness, pulsing hard, almost keeping you in and out of it.

Pain. Numb. Pain. Numb.

You tried to stay awake, hearing your name being called in the distance, the numbness giving each time more space to the excruciating pain but you couldn’t identify where it came from.

“Talk to me! Are you okay?” You were only half aware of the voice in the radio, and you blindly reached for the button with shaky hands.

“H-help,” your voice was shaky, hoarse and so unlike yourself.

You couldn’t move, you couldn’t bring yourself to even reply again, even more aware of the pain now, barely keeping your head up and your eyes opened. Teary eyed, a distant, cold part of you knew it was over. It was over forever.

Then you blacked out.

-

“Sebastian, red flag, red flag,” His engineer called, as if he had not seen all the red flags throughout the circuit.

He drove back to the boxes, hopping off the car as he saw other drivers do the same, he marched into the Ferrari garage, worried.

“Is everyone okay? Who was it?” He asked, as he removed his helmet and balaclava.

The grief faces around him didn’t help, and Sebastian felt a sense of dread as he turned to the closest screen showing the live coverage of the race. The transmission was a helicopter shot of your car into the wall, or a better description would be two piles of wreckage of your car as the marshals rushed towards it. He felt like he could puke, despair spreading through his chest.

“What did she say? What happened?” He asked anyone willing to answer, his eyes glued to the screen. As if on cue, a replay of your crash played out on the screen.

“S-she asked for help. She didn’t reply again after that.” Someone said, somber, and a lump lodged in Sebastian’s throat.

He kept staring at the video, then a replay of your radio also came through, the despair as you realized you had no brakes, the urgency in your engineer’s voice as he asked you to try other means. And the faint “Help” you said after one of the ugliest crashes Sebastian had ever seen. He had never been a religious guy, but at that moment, he prayed. His eyes glued to the screen as the marshals started removing pieces surrounding you and the car, and the ambulance arrived. They started checking you and were about to pull you out of the wreckage.

Then, the cameras were cut off, showing the drivers and everyone in the garages. Sebastian knew that for the transmission to stop showing, it meant the crash was really bad, it meant that however they were pulling you out, it was ugly. Sebastian felt a shiver up his spine as he thought about the possibility they were removing your dead body from there.

With that, he marched out of the Ferrari garage and towards RB, and he found other drivers were already making their way there too, everyone desperate for any news. A few minutes later it was reported that you had been taken by helicopter to the nearest hospital. Sebastian breathed again as they reported you were alive, but unconscious.

The race was interrupted officially a few minutes later, Sebastian and Lewis along with a few other drivers were still waiting by the Red Bull garage for more news on you. Slowly, everyone was sent away when the news came from the hospital that you were hurt, but not in a life threatening situation and you’d stay in the hospital for observation.

That was when Sebastian finally left, a little shaken as he went through his post race duties.

The following morning, after a tossing and turning almost sleepless night, the official representatives confirmed that you were alright but had unfortunately fractured a leg, and would not take part in the remaining two races of the season.

Even after he got news on you, and there was this sense of relief that you’d recover, the knot in his stomach remained, his gut saying that something was off. But he brushed it off, thinking it was just lingering anxiety from the accident.

He wanted to talk to you, see you. He got your number from Lewis and texted you but you never replied and he kept trying. A few days later, Lewis commented with him that you hadn’t replied to his text either. And later they found out you actually had not replied to any of the drivers or anyone from the Formula 1 teams.

After Abu Dhabi, when the season ended, he got a hold of your manager, leaving an office in the Red Bull garage. He stopped her, gently taking a hold of her arm.

“How’s she doing? Do you have any news on her?” He pressed.

“She’s alright, still recovering.”

“Why hasn’t she answered her phone?”

“She’s recovering and took a break from social media and the internet, so she hasn’t been able to communicate well. I’m sure once she’s fully recovered she’ll get back to you.”

“Do you have a home telephone, e-mail or even an address where we can reach her? See her?” He asked, almost desperate.

“I’m sorry. Just give her some time, I’m sure she will come around.”

With that, your manager left quickly, holding a small stack of files with both hands, the “classified” stamp boldly branding it. Sebastian kept trying to contact you, failing miserably each time.

When the Prize Giving ceremony came, he was bouncing with nervous energy, hoping and praying he would get to see you again. If anything, just to know you’re really okay and well. You didn’t show up to the ceremony, but suddenly you were awarded the Personality of the Year award.

Then, your face showed up on the big screen, and Sebastian felt his breath stuck in his throat. It was a simple, regular video of you, you were wearing a pretty dress and your hair was in an up-do. Your face had makeup like you always wore in these kinds of events, pretty eyes and big lashes, and a scarlet lipstick. Your face looked healthy, despite your eyes lacking its usual brightness.

“Hi, everyone!” Came your recorded voice with a smile, “It’s such an honor to receive this award. Thank you to everyone who voted for me and congratulations to all other drivers on the season. I’m well and recovering, and I’m grateful for all the well wishes all of you sent me these past weeks, I truly appreciate them.” Your smile faded almost imperceptibly, but Sebastian noticed as you inhaled softly, like you were resigned to something, “I will take this opportunity to let you know that I’m retiring from Formula 1 from now on. I’m grateful for all the opportunities, all the dreams achieved and the amazing people I got to know and work with. Thank you very much.”

As the video cut off, there was a stunned silence since absolutely no one saw that coming. No one expected you to announce your retirement like this. So suddenly, especially considering you had one more year of contract with your team. And you were also very young, just 28.

The event went on but Sebastian couldn’t move on from your video, from seeing your face and hearing your voice again. He went through the motions for the rest of the night, and at some point, Lewis stopped him to chat about how glad he was that you looked healthy. But Sebastian couldn’t shake off that pit in his stomach.

The following week, once he was done with his postseason duties, he called Lewis and a couple of the drivers you were the closest with. Still, none of them had any news on you, no text, no calls, nothing. He went digging further and found out you lived in Monte Carlo, in the same building as a few other drivers. Desperate for anything he went there personally to look for you. After giving your name and being recognized, the staff member checked on their computer for a moment.

“Unfortunately, she moved out of this building around a week ago.”

“What…?” Sebastian whispered to himself, shocked, “S-she… um, do you know if she moved to another place here in Monaco? Or she moved to another country or something?”

“I don’t have that information, sir,” the woman replied, looking at him with a smile apologetically.

Sebastian nodded and left, helpless.

Time went on, the world spun, and he never heard about you again. The holidays came and went, and a new season started. People still spoke about you, whispers about your retirement and the accident, many conspiracies theories about why you had disappeared. But oddly enough, the FIA and the F1 representatives never spoke much about you.

Not seeing you again was eating him alive, especially whenever he remembered the last time you had talked, the promise of a future that never came. One time, he went to the Red Bull to try and get any information about you. He kept bothering the staff for months, everyone including Christian, who was the one to put a firm stop to his nonsense of bothering the team’s staff about you.

“I need to talk to her, it’s important,” Sebastian pleaded.

“Have you considered that maybe she doesn’t want to be bothered? That she doesn’t want to speak with you or anyone for that matter?” Christian said, “This stops now, Sebastian. Stop bothering my team about this or I’ll have to go to Todt.”

Sebastian deflated, feeling defeated, only nodded, walking away.

He still talked about you on occasion, mentioning a battle in passing, or whenever the only woman to win a Formula 1 championship was mentioned. Sometimes he hoped you were watching, that you could see the longing in his eyes, that you’d feel something and reach out to him. And then later, he felt silly, stupid for wishing so.

Late at night, he stared at the ceiling, trying to commit to memory everything that had ever happened between you. The fights, the shouts but even more the chats, the making love and the silly conversations you two had late at night, your naked bodies covered by a thin blanket as you chatted about anything and everything. He always thought about your hands mindlessly drawing on his skin, you two drifting off to sleep, and then one of you sneaking out in the middle of the night. No goodbyes to make it easier.

And now the lack of goodbyes felt like an open wound for him.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five years passed and Sebastian believed he had learned to deal with your absence, with the lack of closure. But it was a lie he kept telling himself, even if every year, he kept trying your phone number, your email, sending texts and notes, until your phone number was discontinued and probably sold again, for a new owner and your email stopped receiving and his letters would not go through. He never changed his own number, expecting you to eventually call.

When he announced his retirement, a small part of him hoped you’d reach out once you got the news. You never did.

After his announcement, he decided to resort to desperate measures and hired a private investigator. And finally, after a couple months since the end of his last season, he got news on you.

Ben, his P.I., got an image of you in a café in a quaint little town, you sitting down, sipping some coffee and reading a book. The image was a little blurry, probably taken from a long distance, but it looked like you.

Now, Sebastian was retired and had free time, and he immediately packed a suitcase and went to the town. He arrived there on a friday morning, and after checking in at a small but comfortable inn, he went straight to the café. Ben had told him the photo was taken in the late morning, so since very early, he went to the café and decided to wait for you. Ordering a coffee and a muffin, he waited.

And waited. And waited.

Hours and hours and a bunch of coffees and muffins later, the staff were looking at him strangely, and one of the ladies looked at him with pity, warning they were about to close.

“Were you waiting for someone, boy?” She asked.

“Yes, uh- a friend,” He sighed, standing up. He said your name, and the woman seemed to recognize the name, “She’s this tall,” He gestured, showing your height, and gave a brief physical description of you, and the woman nodded.

“I know her! Very sweet but also a bit stubborn.”

“I thought I might find her here, but…” He shrugged, giving his best puppy look to the older woman.

It didn’t take much for the woman to give him your address, and despite the urge to go straight there, Sebastian knew it was late, signaled by the café closing and he knew small towns like this usually went to sleep early. So he went to the inn, taking a shower and going to bed, trying to sleep, trying to get to the following day.

But his racing heart was making it impossible to sleep, and he laid on the bed, thinking of you, going in and off sleep, dreaming of you.

In the morning, he had breakfast and went to your address in a moment that wasn’t too early in the morning. Your house was a medium sized family looking home, cozy, a big front and backyard. It looked like somewhere to have a family in and to grow old.

He walked up to your porch, drying his hands on his jeans and before he could hesitate, he rang the doorbell.

He wondered if you would welcome him, at least as a friend. His nerves wondered if you had gotten married, had a family, and he was just a pathetic and creepy guy for never moving on from you. He wondered if-

You opened the door, freezing the moment your eyes met his. Sebastian looked at your face, still as stunning as ever, showing small signs of aging, but they suited your face beautifully. Your hair was longer, natural, and your face looked healthy, with a beautiful sunny hue to it.

“Principessa”

“Sebastian…” You said, shocked, “What- How…?”

“Can I come in?” He asked. You nodded, awkwardly scooting away from the doorway so he could come inside.

“I- do you want some tea?” You offered, unsure of how to feel with his presence so out of the blue.

“Yeah,” He nodded, following you inside and sitting on an armchair as you signaled him to. A small teapot on the coffee table between you, “I’ve been looking for you. Why did you disappear?” He asked, his voice almost tinged with despair.

You tried to think of what to say for a moment, pouring two mugs of tea to gather your thoughts, to grapple with the fact that Sebastian Vettel, your rival, lover and friend was there, suddenly, after five long years.

“What happened to you?” He asked again, his voice almost in pain.

“That crash happened…” You said, hands around the warm mug.

“It was worse than they made it seem, wasn’t it?” Sebastian said, a knowing look on his face when you nodded, getting up and slowly walking to a drawer on your bookshelf, he noticed how you favored one leg. You pulled a file from the drawer and walked back to the couch, handing it to him.

Silently, Sebastian opened the file, going through medical reports of you, all dated back to five years ago on that fateful night. You looked like you were avoiding looking at the files, busying yourself with preparing tea for the both of you. Sebastian read through the papers, and what caught his eyes were an x-ray of your knee, the one you were limping now, and a transverse fracture of your spine.

“Oh, my god…” Sebastian whispered, horrified. He stopped on a picture of you laying in a hospital bed, eyes red and puffy from crying that weren’t the main focus of the image, instead it was your knee, immobilized, held in place by a lot of metal pins, “What did they do to you…?”

“The crash, it bursted my knee. I almost lost my leg… Fracture, torn ligament, it was hanging by a thread. And my spine, a fracture that could’ve hindered me to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. It was brutal, my knee took the brunt of the impact, and my back was the split car…” You explained, almost robotically, like you had rehearsed that speech, your eyes were wet as you fought the tears, “They said I was lucky. Lucky I didn’t lose a leg, lucky I didn’t end up paraplegic…” You sighed, swallowing the tears, “They said I could never go back to a racing car again, because the G Forces could put too much strain on my injuries, not to mention, if I injured these two spots again, it would be risking more permanent damages. I was lucky I pulled through.”

There was bitterness in your voice, and how could you not feel bitter about that? How could you not feel angry and sad and mourn the life you once had. A life where racing had been everything to you.

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian reached for your hand, his expression completely crestfallen, “We had seen how that car was completely unreliable, how sometimes it worked and sometimes it was a hazard to you. I never thought it could end this badly…”

“And… I’m sorry I disappeared. I know you tried contacting me for a while, but… I just couldn’t see anything related to Formula 1. I couldn’t be near all that without feeling a gut wrenching pain, without feeling anger for anything related to motorsports… I just had to get away from all that.” You explained, looking lost and Sebastian could understand your pain. Despite the times he felt angry and sad for your disappearance, now that he knew about your reason to leave completely… he understood, “I’m sorry. I know you and some other drivers tried reaching out, but I just… I wasn’t in the right mind.”

“I understand. I can’t even imagine what you went through…” he said, his voice so understanding that a lump lodged into your throat, “how was recovery?”

“About a couple of years between the back fracture and the knee… A few surgeries, lots of physiotherapy. Lots of pain and sleepless nights…”

“Did you think about fighting, suing…?” He asked softly.

“I did… I was so angry. I wanted to sue all of them, the team, the FIA, the president. But then…” You paused for a second, “It’d drag out for god knows how long, they would surely bring all the weapons, smear campaigns, defamation, and… My image as a driver, as a person, would just be even more exploited. And I was so tired, I just wanted to heal away from all that.”

“I was so worried for a while. One day I saw your manager leaving the Red Bull hospitality…”

“There was a deal. They offered me an absurd amount of money for me to not sue them, to not bring to light what happened. They also paid for all my medical bills. I also made sure they would review the safety regulations, so no driver would have to risk their life like that again. And I know you’ll say it’s not fair, that they got away with it, but… I was just so tired. I spent my whole life playing a role, being the image they wanted… that tragic ending to my career was all I got? I genuinely wanted to disappear for the longest time after that,” You said, voice cracking for a moment, “Racing was my driving force and suddenly it was ripped away from me.”

“I wish I could’ve been there for you.” He whispered, which made your eyes water for a bit, but you looked at the ceiling, willing the tears away.

“I was a mess, there would be nothing you could do for me…” You said with a devastatingly sad little smile, “And I kept myself completely blocked from Formula 1.”

“Do you still feel pain?” He asked suddenly after a few seconds of silence.

“Physically?” You shook your head, “Sometimes a little discomfort when I’m in places where the weather is very cold.”

“And emotionally?” He whispered and you looked away, swallowing.

“You’re a racer, you can imagine…” That’s all you said.

Sebastian nodded softly, he couldn’t imagine being stopped from doing the one thing he loved the most right in his prime, in the heights of his career like you. And in one fleeting moment having that all stripped away. Your ability to do what you trained your whole life for.

“How-” He cleared his throat, deciding to change topics, “How are you living here? Enjoying?”

“Yeah, lots of free time and new hobbies…” You said, looking grateful for the change in topic, “Wanna see my garden?”

“Sure,” he nodded and you both stood up, he let you lead, his eyes dropping to your slight limp, and the constant sound of the cane hitting the floor with your steps.

You took him around your garden, where there were plants, flowers and even a small cultivation of vegetables. Everything was well cared for and groomed, there was even a small greenhouse where you guided him inside. He could barely look away from your face, your pretty eyes, your lovely lips and beautiful face that only got prettier with time.

“And here…” You stopped inside the greenhouse, “Some plants that are a little more sensitive… Tomatoes, some strawberries…” You grabbed a small clipper and handed him a fresh strawberry.

He stared at you, a silly smile on his face, watching as you grabbed a strawberry and took a small bite, the juices coating your lips in a pinkish color. His eyes dropped to your hand, noticing the absence of a wedding ring, or an engagement ring.

“Do you have a significant other?” He asked, interrupting your ramble for a moment, which made you blink, blushing slightly.

“No, I-” You paused, timid, “No…”

He walked closer, entering your personal space, his hand on your jaw, holding gently, his thumb slowly wiping the leftover strawberry juice on your lower lip.

You looked at him, tempted, looking like you wanted to risk everything. But then you scolded your face, walking away from him and back to your house. He just followed you, until you two were back in your living room. He went after you, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Sebastian,” you sighed, unsure of what to say.

“What about us?” he asked, and there was so much unsaid, but you didn’t need words when you could see it all in his eyes.

And despite wanting so badly to give in, to give a real shot to something you never got the chance to explore, you also knew you were still a mess, and being away from Formula 1 for so long, you didn’t want to bring back all the bad feelings you had regarding it. It would put an even bigger strain on you two.

Things were so complicated now, you didn’t tell him you never stopped thinking about him. That you were haunted by what-ifs, that you would have vivid dreams of a family and a future with him. You didn’t tell him about all the sweaty nights when the memories of your shared passion kept you awake. And you didn’t tell him the last thing you saw before passing out after the crash were his shiny blue eyes.

“I’ve been away from motorsports for so long, and I don’t know if-”

“I retired. Last year,” He interrupted you, “and it won’t matter to us. We have so much else to explore…”

“Sebastian… I’m a mess. I look okay now, but I still have bad days. Awful days. And it’s ugly.” You said, voice clipped. Like you weren’t allowing yourself to want, to just take a leap and do what you have yearned for so long.

“I don’t care, don’t you see that I lo-”

“You need to go,” You said walking to the door to open it, as Sebastian paused like a dejavú, “Leave, Sebastian.”

He swallowed, remembering that time you said the exact same words that sent him away. That time he did exactly that, respecting your wishes instead of his own. Gulping, Sebastian took a step forward and turned around on your porch, walking away. He stopped midway to his car, looking over his shoulder. You were still rooted to the spot, watching him. He looked down at his own feet.

“Fuck it,” He muttered under his breath.

He marched back, long strides up to your porch, so fast that you could barely register when he wrapped his arms around you and picked you up in a hug, his face nuzzled into your neck, breathing in.

“No,” he whispered against your skin, “I’m not letting you go again. Ever.”

And then finally, finally, you hugged him back, tightly around his neck silently because there was no need for words, a silent understanding of finding each other again. Of having someone like him, who fought for you, to find you even when you thought you shouldn’t be found. When you broke the hug, Sebastian held your face with both hands, his thumb gently wiping the tears you had shed during the hug.

“I love you, Principessa.”

“Even now? Even after all this time?” You asked, voice shaky but your eyes with a glimmer of hope.

“Even after all this time,” He nodded, blue eyes shining in happiness, a barely contained smile on his face.

“I love you too, by the way,” You said, shyly and hiding your face into his chest.

“No, that won’t do,” He laughed, a playful cocky chuckle, “I need you to look me in the eyes when you say it,” He tangled his fingers on your hair at the nape, tugging gently so he could make you look up at him, when you did, there was this playful look in his face and you almost melted right there.

“I love you, Sebastian,” You smiled, feeling silly. Sebastian nodded, leaning forward to peck your cheek, his lips slowly descending your jaw and neck.

“Let me stay,” He asked, his lips brushing your skin and making you shudder, closing your eyes.

“Only if you stay forever,” You smiled, and he started walking you backwards, entering your house again, his hands on your hips helping you stay up as he gently nipped your neck.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He said, kicking the door closed behind him, “You also owe me a date, Princess. Remember?” He gently laid you down on the sofa, slowly laying down on top of you, “And I intend to charge it, with all the interest fees…” He joked, pressing a soft kiss to your chin.

-----

TAGLIST: @ririgy @ironmaiden1313 @w4ltmeister @vellicora @hopefulsophie @chloeannabelle @rebelatbay @crashingwavesofeuphoria @zoeyjadetice2010

[mellowyellow236]

APT by rosé and bruno mars has been looping like crazy in my head so can i request for reader vibing to the song with the first years? Platonic or romantic is uty but this song just feels like it'll be so fun to scream and dance to with friends

Thank you so much for requesting!! ~80 words per character/drabble. Sorry it’s so short, I couldn’t figure out how to extend it without repeating the same words/phrases a lot. :(

The First Years Dancing (To APT) With Yuu/The Reader!

Ace Trapolla -

Ace and you were jumping around in your room, screaming your lungs out. Laughing, dancing, and running around, hair a mess and the hem of his shirt untucked. He laughed, jumping onto your bed with you, holding your hands. He spun you around, picking you up for a moment. He moves your hands together to his face, scream-singing “RED HEARTS, RED HEARTS, THAT’S WHAT I’M OOO-ON~!” He giggles, smiling wide and spinning around, bouncing on your bed together. “COME GIVE ME SOMETHING I CAN FEEL! OOH-OH-OOOOHH~!”

Deuce Spade -

Deuce spun around, holding a wooden spoon in his hands, the larger end held up to his mouth. “KISSY FACE, KISSY FACE! SENT TO YOUR PHO-OONE, BUT!” He laughed, as you slapped his hand back into the cake batter, trying to get him to mix again. “I’M TRYIN’ TO KISS YOUR LIPS FOR RE-AL~! RE-AL~!” He hip-checked you, getting some dough on your apron but happily laughing when you plucked it off and smeared some onto his nose.

Jack Howl -

Jack smiled at you, spinning you around to get you away from a near accident with the catus in his room. “DON’T YOU WANT ME LIKE I WANT YOU- BA~BY?!” You scream-sang, as he went along with you, softer but laughing all the same. “DON’T YOU NEED ME LIKE I NEED YOU~ NOW-OW!” He rose in volume with you, moving you a bit further away from him before pulling you close again. Not a very good dance, but a fun one to have with friends nonetheless.

Epel Felmeir -

Epel “SLEEP TOMORROW’, BUT TO-NIGHT, GOING CRA-AZY~!” You sang, his accent coming more as he grew more excited, giving you a ride on his broom as you blasted music. “ALL YA GOTTA DO IS MEET ME AT THE-” He took your hands, swaying them back and forth with the object in the air, “아파트, 아파트, 아파트-” He spun around the broom a few times, laughing as you nearly fell off and he had to hold you tighter. “Uh- Uh- Oooooh!”

Ortho Shroud -

Ortho couldn’t technically sing, but he could play the back of track for you to do so. A little call and response between the two of you, his robotic voice reaching as the “IT’S WHATEVER~!” You say, “Whatever!” He called, the backup to your proformance but still happy to do so. “YOU LIIIIIIKKE!” “WOO!” He screamed back much louder, starling you a bit with the noise before quickly returning to your laughter and song, this time with him playing the track with both his speakers and voice.

Sebek Zigvolt -

“HEY, SO NOW YOU KNOW THE GAME- ARE YOU RE-DAY?” You cried, and Sebek, who didn’t quite understand the human concept of screaming along to music responded in his usual fashion. “YES, HUMAN, I AM!” You laughed, patting his head and shaking your own. “CAUSE I’M COMING TO GET YA! GET YA! GET YA~!” He nodded, spinning you around and dipping you low. “VERY WELL, HUMAN! BUT IF THIS GAME CAUSES YOU ONE TO GET THE OTHER, I WILL SURELY BE THE VICTORIOUS ONE!”

[cierraonline]

Missing the podcast real baddddd

EP 1 - No Mean Girl References! Does Billie Like Her Gf's Family? Kimora Has Short Term Memory! You Are The Asshole!

Chapter one : podcast episode #1

Warning: none

Masterlist | next chapter

"Hey you!" Kimora points to the camera, "Were you bored scrolling on TikTok, ended up on YouTube, and realized you have a 'TikTok bird ass brain' that can’t focus on one thing for more than ten seconds? Did you see this thumbnail and think, 'Oh, there’s that Kardashian girl; let’s stare at her face for ten minutes and theorize what plastic surgery she's had'? If so, you’ve come to the right place." Kimora stands straight, looking at the camera with a smile, giving her best five-star hospitality attitude. "Hi, I’m Kimora West, daughter of Kim Kardashian and Kanye West—but you may know them as ‘Culture Vulture Gold Digger’ and ‘That once-good producer before he went... you know, crazy.' I now have a podcast with my girlfriend of four years, Billie Eilish." Billie slides into view and does jazz hands.

"Hi, I’m Billie Eilish, singer, songwriter, and more importantly, her girlfriend," the now-brunette says her short n' sweet line.

"We hope you guys enjoy," Kimora smiles, tilting her head to the side. "Or don’t—we still get paid either way, thanks to YouTube."

XXX

"Sup,kisses and hugs! It’s Kimora, and today is Wednesday, so of course, we’re wearing pink," Kimora says, showing off her baby pink tee and hot pink textured sweatpants. "And over there we have Janis..." The camera slowly slides to the right, revealing Billie in an oversized black shirt and oversized jean jorts.

"Billie," Billie smiles, then turns to her girlfriend. "I thought we agreed on no 'Mean Girls' references."

"Asking me not to make 'Mean Girls' references is like asking me not to be me," Kimora states, before looking back at the camera. "First on the list, a fan question for Billie. Billie, your fan, billiecanslutmeout, wants to know: ‘Do you like the Kardashian family outside of Kimora?'"

"Skip," Billie shakes her head, not wanting to answer because she feels it’s confrontational and doesn’t want to risk upsetting her partner or attracting hate from the 'Kar-Jenner' fanbase.

"Nope," Kimora emphasizes the last syllable. "Answer."

"We’ve talked about this before," Billie begins, but Kimora cuts her off, giving a direct answer.

"She doesn’t like them and is currently in her head trying to find a way to sugarcoat it."

"I didn’t say that," Billie throws her head back, laughing.

"You literally made a song about it—'Overheated,'" Kimora squints her eyes.

"I... I love you and every luxury pink baggage that comes with you. I have love for your family because you’re a product of them. And you are my favorite person in the whole world," Billie says sincerely. "But as someone who promotes body positivity, I don’t support the negative body-image messaging that is part of your family's brand, and there's the constant need for relevancy and exposure, which I’ve developed my own opinions on from behind-the-scenes stories you’ve told me about filming for the TV show."

"Smart answer," Kimora nods. "Now, what about my dad?"

"I honestly think your dad hates me," Billie shakes her head.

"He doesn’t hate you," Kimora insists, knowing deep down that her father actually appreciates Billie’s positive influence on her.

"He literally posted on Instagram that if I didn’t apologize to Travis Scott, he’d cancel his Coachella performance, which led his fans to flood my accounts with hate. I never even mentioned Travis—I was just helping a fan at my concert!" Billie exclaims, eyes wide.

"Yeah, he did do that," Kimora nods awkwardly, acknowledging that her father had actually done it without provocation, putting both girls in a difficult position. For Billie, it was a choice between saying what she truly felt and risking being bullied off the internet by his fans—or staying silent to avoid hurting Kimora. For Kimora, it was about deciding who would get hurt: Billie or her father. "Sorry."

"It was hurtful, but I think you handled it well, especially since it happened in our first year of really being together," Billie reassured her. "Like, as soon as you found out what was going on, you called me while you were driving over with my favorite food to make sure I was okay and could sleep that night."

"I just didn’t want you to feel like…like you and your mental health weren’t a priority for me," Kimora struggled with her words, trying to explain her motivations. "Because I know how my dad can get, and at the time, he’d been spiraling for a few days already. So for me, you were the top priority on my list. I didn’t want to just do nothing and make it seem like his actions were acceptable—because they weren't. I-I-I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wanted you to know I’d be there for you, even if it meant going against my family."

"Yeah," Billie smiled at her with ocean-clear blue eyes meeting warm chocolate brown, speckled with caramel, filled with love and adoration. "Even though we didn’t say it out loud at that time, that was one of those moments when I knew I was in love with you. You stayed with me that whole week, making sure I was okay and taken care of…and even called your dad to apologize to me and ask him to take down the post."

“Aww, you loved me only three weeks in?” Kimora gushed, leaning forward to offer a kiss. Billie smiled and leaned in as well, their breaths mingling in the close space between them. Gently, Billie lifted her left hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Kimora’s ear before tracing her fingers softly along Kimora’s cheek, savoring the velvet-like feel of her skin. With a delicate motion, she moved her fingers from cheek to chin, then closed the distance and softly pressed her lips to her girlfriend’s.

“I love you,” Billie whispered, her eyes still closed, their faces barely a centimeter apart.

“I love you, too,” Kimora replied with a smile, then leaned in for one more tender kiss.

"Do you remember how we met?" Billie asks after the ad, now reclined on the couch with Kimora laying across her, leg draped over her waist.

"We met through a reference from Justin, because he would always say we absolutely had to meet. Hailey was like, 'You two would be perfect for each other if you were to date, because you're opposites with a cohesive middle ground,'" Kimora recalls, remembering her conversation with the Biebers. They were very persistent about wanting the two young, popular stars to either befriend each other—or, in some cases, get married immediately.

"So when did we officially meet?" Billie smiles, playing with Kimora's curls.

"In the Met Gala bathroom," Kimora answers with a smile. "I was coming out of the stall, and you were staring at yourself deeply in the mirror. I told you, 'You don’t have to worry about your appearance anymore. By now, everyone is probably drunk off their rockers because the food sucks, so you could be butt naked and no one would even notice.'"

"I’m surprised you remember that," Billie kisses her forehead. "You’re terrible at remembering things."

"No, I’m not," Kimora pouts, playfully slapping Billie’s thigh.

"You literally forgot we were filming today and almost went to work, even though you scheduled the day off," Billie laughs.

"I have a good memory," Kimora insists. "I’m just busy with the new Skims launch, aka Skims by Kimora." Kimora sits up, looking directly at the camera. "Get your favorite new set for 40% off with code 'GirlsInPink,' no purchase minimum."

"During lockdown, we got hooked on Reddit’s 'Am I the Asshole' stories," Billie smiles, back in their original positions on the burnt orange velvet couch.

"I don’t have blood pressure issues, but these stories drive me nuts. Like, why even ask if you're the asshole when it’s so obvious?" Kimora frowns. "For our first Reddit submission, please welcome Georgina!" Billie holds up a pink square remote, and clapping noises fill the room.

"Heyyy!" Kimora pouts at the remote in Billie’s hand. "I was supposed to be Sam in this podcast."

"Well, now you’re Carly," Billie teases, sticking out her tongue.

"No fair," Kimora crosses her arms, playfully sulking.

"You’re acting like a baby," Billie rolls her eyes with a grin.

"Ok, and?" Kimora glared. "If anything, I'm a cute baby..." She turned her head away from her girlfriend and looked to the right, making eye contact with her best friend, Georgina Miller.

"Alright, first Reddit submission is...‘I am a mother of five, 3 bio-Brooke 22, Will 18 and Iris 16 and 2 bonus sons-Sam 26 and Jack 23. All of my kids are currently living at home with me and my husband for various reasons. Sam's girlfriend Tori 21 and Will's girlfriend Mary 18 also lives with us full time, and Jack GF stays over a lot.

We have a pretty good relationship with all the kids, we don't charge them rent but everyone contribute to the household. We have a couple basic rules-input on utilities, maintain the common areas, etc but one of the rules is no babies, we don't expect our kids to celibate. But we do expect them to be careful.

On Friday, I found a receipt and saw someone brought a pregnancy test. I immediately took a picture of the receipt and put in the family group chat, I figured the culprit would out themselves. No one confessed, so I said that all girls that live in or visited are taking a pregnancy test because I suspect someone is pregnant. They pretty much lost their minds and told me no and messaged that I was being weird and invasive.

That is when I got upset and said that if anyone refused a test, they would have to move out. Everyone freaked out and told me that I'm being emotional and crazy. They decide no one would take a test. I think they assume I will not kick everyone out, but I will because I feel like I'm being gaslit. My youngest Iris is the only one I don't suspect because she is gay, not openly, but I know. I have 

given everyone the entire weekend to calm down because everyone has been avoiding me and giving me the cold shoulder. I have tried to discuss the situation repeatedly but I have been ignored in person and over phone.

At this point, I am ready to evict everyone because someone is blatantly lying and all of the others are backing a lie while living stress free in my house. My husband thinks I should let it go for now because the test might have been negative and if someone is pregnant we will know soon. But I feel it a larger issue now of my kids disrespecting me by lying to me. Am I being the asshole?”

“Yes,” Billie answered right when Georgina was done with reading the submission. 

“You’re not an asshole… but you are,” Kimora answers. “I can see the problem from both points of view.”

“Same, but I think what makes her an asshole is how she’s handling the situation now that she didn’t get the answers she wanted,” Billie explains why she thinks the writer is indeed an asshole.

“Yeah,” Kimora agrees. “Like, I get it, you’re upset because your boundaries were stepped on, and that’s unfair to you. But at the same time, you can’t force someone to take a pregnancy test just because you want answers right now.”

“Exactly. Even though it was negative, that person probably needed time to think and process the results. They could’ve been reevaluating what to do better to prevent another scare,” Billie adds.

“Oh my God!” A thought hits Kimora's brain full force. “I have another day off—remind me to register to vote.”

“Baby,” Billie looks at her with concern. “You registered last week at the same time as me when my mom was doing hers and asked if we wanted to come do ours.”

“Ohhh.”

“We’re gonna work on your memory, don’t worry,” Billie rubs Kimora’s thigh with sincerity.

“Anyways,” Kimora brushes off the awkward moment. “At the end of the day, you own the house, and if you feel gaslit and your boundaries were crossed, then kick them out, I guess. Just be prepared for the consequences that come with that action. Because at the end of the day… you literally said you don’t care if your kids are having sex, as long as they’re protected. And the pregnancy test was negative. I just feel like you can be protected and still have scares. I mean, Billie and I use a fake penis, and we still get scares. It comes with the territory.”

“They didn’t need to know that!” Billie looks at Kimora with wide eyes, shocked by her girlfriend’s impulsive thoughts.

“They were probably already thinking it,” Kimora shrugs. “You’ve literally done an interview talking about masturbation. Me saying we use a dildo isn’t anything new or shocking.”

“Just end the video,” Billie covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Now, please.”

“Hi, it’s me again,” Kimora awkwardly waves her hand. “Did your TikTok bird ass brain develop and actually let you stay to watch the whole video? Did you like what you saw or heard… or both, for the privileged? If you nodded your head yes or weirdly answered talking to a screen, then you should subscribe to this channel. We update every Wednesday and Saturday, so don’t worry if you don’t have actual friends to hang out with. Instead, come watch me and my girlfriend, Billie, talk about useless shit, vent, and argue about things we’ve done in the past with a couple of inappropriate touches that you shouldn’t be seeing, but our editor is too blind and lazy to take out. We love you, Lisa,” Kimora shouts out her editor at the end. “Bye!”

taglist @billiesrighthand @bilswildflower @bilsluckyheart @billiesgoodgirll @billsvip @billieshrry @dandelions4us @factsbybriggs @rhearipley-69 @cierraonline @amberg1998 @crystalblue88 @mercurylvd @saffsblog @ihavenoideayimhere @umadirectioner @harajukub4rb1e @sun81rise @jamiemundy7773 @cyberdreamlanddeer @steampunkprincess147 @zendayasredbottoms @efemerous @lady0ftheflowers

[lehnsherrrr]

Mitski + Cherik

I have a playlist of every single Mitski song ever made playing constantly 24 hours of my day for the past 2 years, I also went to see her live. I’ll be damned if I don’t make this post. (Also this has been in the drafts for like 3 weeks now)

So, at first, I was listening to Mitski and was like whoah the song “old friend” is perfect for cherik. And then the song “Eric” came on and I was dumbfounded, so here’s an explanation of lyrics and how they apply to Cherik.

Also I suck at making edits so this is technically the same thing but using your imagination instead.

“We nearly drowned for such a silly thing”

Charles diving into the ocean to save Erik. But this could also mean drowning in their decisions, they almost lost each other because of their beliefs. Such a silly thing to loose each other over.

“Someone who loves me now better than you”

This line makes me believe this song is from Erik’s perspective, either talking about Charles, or Magda. However I like the idea that it’s Charles he talks about since it’s the very start of the song. It might even be implied that “better than you” is implying Shaw.

“And that pretty friend is finally yours”

100% talking about Moira, boy is bitter. All of this so far is talking from the future looking on the past, so that previous line may be talking about Magda after all.

“I’ll be around on Sunday, if you’ll meet me at the blue diner, I’ll take coffee and talk about nothing baby”

Erik meeting Charles at the end of Dark Pheonix. Isn’t it nice to talk about nothing for once, instead of arguing about mutant rights or trying to save the world. They can finally relax together and just be people.

“At the blue diner, I’ll take anything you wanna give me, baby”

Switch to Charles perspective. Agreeing to stay with Erik.

This song is short but wonderful, I’ve only focused on the first half of the song because it fits far too well. The other part fits too but this was too specific.

The way it starts with how they met, then when they left eachother for other people, and then ending with them rejoining. Perfect few lyrics almost like they were made just for them.

And to top it all off, it’s called Old Friend. Thats CRAZY.

“Sorry I can’t take your touch”

Erik leaving at the end of pretty much every movie, the touch being Charles love and want for him to stay with the xmen, with him.

“It’s just that I fell in love with a war”

Erik’s constant belief that there’s a war coming and he needs to fight it first. He chooses this again and again over Charles, one could say he loves it more than he loves Charles.

“Nobody told me it ended”

Still fighting for the war he believes in, even though Charles has been working so hard for mutant rights and has done a lot of good work.

“And it left a pearl in my head, and I roll it around every night, just to watch it glow. Every night baby that’s where I go.”

That anger and sadness that stays within him, stuck in his brain, part of him. Memories of Charles, hating him, loving him. He sits with it every night, going over everything again and again. Also visual of Erik floating them little metal balls.

Beautiful song, good lord. This is all about Erik choosing the war over Charles, there’s also something about the imagery of sitting with a ‘pearl’ in his mind is so very Erik.

“But how long, how long can we play this way?”

Playing as in going back and forth, fighting, making up, fighting again. This is definitely from Charles perspective.

“I’m tired, I’m tired of not loving you”

Charles is tired of not being able to show Erik how much he loves him, he just wants him home.

“My heart, my heart wants to hold you”

All he wants to do it is be with Erik, he wants to comfort him again and show him he’s not evil, that there’s good in there too.

“But I know, I know, I know the rules”

But he knows the rules of this game, he knows they couldn’t ever be together. Be it their opposing beliefs, homophobia, or just the way they are. Perhaps also the rules as in the movie won’t allow it, their writing won’t allow it.

Painful. Other lyrics in the song are more sexual, which also fits if you’d like it to. First line of the song is “you like control, well I do to” and that would be a killer title for a dark cherik fic. They both control their environment in different ways.

“One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I’m on, baby”

Charles telepathy, could be from any of the students, especially those from the first movie who later died. However it’s painful to think that it’s Erik saying “You’re a telepath Charles, you can convince me of anything.”

Also on that note, the ledge could also refer to delving deeper into his dark side, it would take one mean word from Charles and he’d get so much worse.

Or perhaps he means the ledge in which he’s raised himself to as a super villain, and he knows Charles could bring him down from it.

“Tell me don’t so I can crawl back in”

See my other post about Erik subtly begging Charles to control him. He knows he’ll always pick his cause over staying with Charles, he wants Charles to force him to stay. Get rid of his option to choose so he can crawl back to comfort. Be gone with his righteousness, and just be simple and safe with him.

The title of the song being First Love/Late Spring hurts me. Was mitski an xmen fan or what Jesus.

Left this one until last cause I don’t want to teach a grandma to suck eggs here, I’m sure you already know what’s about to go down. Nonetheless, it would be criminal for me to leave it out. Ready for some Charles angst? Too bad!

“Baby, my baby,”

Raven, Angel, Darwin, Banshee, Havok, adopted into the xmen with nowhere else to go but return to their unfortunate lives.

“Tell your baby that I’m your baby”

The first xmen looking on to the current, looking at who Charles ‘replaced’ them with.

“I bet on loosing dogs”

Charles putting his trust into those first kids, knowing they were young, but it was the last hope. He better is all on them.

“I know they’re loosing and pay for my place by the ring”

He knows they couldn’t stand a chance, but there was that hope. Perhaps if he trained them, gave them the right motivation, they could survive.

“Where I’ll be looking in their eyes when they’re down”

He’s with them the whole way, in their minds, in their spirits. These kids had fight in them, but they were still kids.

“I’ll be there on their side, I’m loosing by their side.”

When they loose, he looses with them. The xmens fate stands on the strength of those kids. Charles grief over loosing these kids makes him catatonic, wishing he had died instead. He was with them all the way, and yet he still hears “Where were you Charles” “You abandoned all of us”

[solkwan]

Wonwoo suddenly shares his location with you.

He was in the middle of a park.

He texts something about going on a date. An off handed comment about how he’s having a good time.

He’s in the middle of tour. . . . And he’s on a date?

You think, ’have I not suffered enough? not only did I lose you, now I have i watch you fall for another?’

He tells you about the long walk he just took through the park.

He says, “the trail was longer than expected,”

You reply, “.”

And you turn your read receipts off. Having had them on for him so long ago.

Desperately, you start looking for any evidence he’s on an actual date.

Turns out, it’s a date w his members. A simple text from hoshi confirms it. He answers your sneaky text without any hesitation and he unsuspectingly tells you the park him and his members are at is very nice.

The relief that floods your body is embarrassing, to say the least.

Then you think, ’is Wonwoo trying to make you jealous? Couldn’t possibly be, right? What could he possibly gain from lying to you?’

He keeps telling you about the park.

You text, “wonwoo.” And “stop.”

Suddenly, “why did you like me?”

His true thoughts linger in the air. ‘What was so special about him?’

Unspoken and doubtful.

You ignore it at first. It’s been months. You’re over him. You’ve spent the better half of the past year struggling with your feelings. With your loss. Your best friend, no longer able to call him that. You lost Wonwoo.

And you have this thought and text it.

“doesn’t matter. doesn’t change what happened,”

Wonwoo immediately reads it and that’s that.

But his text racks your brain. You think. And eventually, hours later—you reply.

“You’re kind. It’s what got me first. It was the way you remembered the little things—my lunch orders, important dates, my favorite bands.”

Your kindness went beyond words. I was always grateful to see you. You made my day without knowing it. I was comforted by the mere thought of you. You, who treated others so sweetly. You, who spoke softly, but never hesitated to speak your truth. You were confident, but always humble. You, who I saw in your suffering and you let me in,”

Made my heart constrict in my chest to the point it started hurting,”

Your eyes twinkled, even if you didn’t know it,”

The way you looked at me, I was able to convince myself you felt the same. Those nights we spent under the stars, tracing constellations with our fingers, laying next to each other, your phone playing whatever song you knew I was obsessed with at that time. Your smile permanently etched into my mind. You emitted more warmth than any blanket ever could provide. Your happiness was my own,”

And having you? Being by your side? Even if it was just at the ends of my day?”

God, it was more than I could ever ask for”

I knew you didn’t feel the same way. You were starting to drift from me. But, I knew I couldn’t keep It within myself for any longer. I had to tell you the truth. I had to come clean,”

Wonwoo, I loved you. More than I could ever express with my words. More than you or anyone could ever imagine. I didn’t care that you always saw me as a second priority, that you never put me first,”

I was happy to have you in any way I could. That’s how I knew I would never recover from this unrequited love. Recognizing that, and saying it aloud, nearly killed me. The pain in my chest whenever I saw you started to spread to the rest of my body,”

My mind. It racked for an explanation and it accepted excuse after excuse. It told me lies,”

Wonwoo I loved you and even if that hurt me, especially so, I was so terrified of losing you that I pushed that love deep within me. Hidden. Always lurking,”

But the thing about love is it can never be hidden for very long,”

You pause. He’s reading text after text. Your messages are full of typos and rushed commas. Each bubble changes from delivered to read. You don’t care. You need to say this now or you’re afraid you never will.

“The thought of having you for the rest of my life lingered in me. I wanted to see your glowing. I wanted your light in my life. I wanted every side of you. You were more than a love to me. You were you, and that’s why I loved you,”

And he leaves you with those thoughts and never replies back.

Pain. It’s all you feel. Disappointment. Embarrassment. Hate. You hate him. You hate him for bringing these feelings up after so long. If you had just talked it out then, would things have been different?

You fall asleep dreaming about the stars that night.

I keep having dreams where Wonwoo and I are exes. Wrote this after waking up from another dream. Proofread on the train. Is it possible to hurt from something you never had? I’m not sure. But the ache that lingers in my chest after I wake up? Yeah, I’d believe it.

[sunnysidesevenup]

HII IL YOUR OC SO SO MUCH CAN YOU YAP A LIL ABOUT THEM??? (I NEED MORE CONTENT)

ALSO NEW MOOT?? 😭❤️🫶 MAYBE??❤️❤️❤️🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

NEW MOOT, HI OMGGGG YOUR ART IS SO COOL

and YES ABSOLUTELY I can yap about my guys 😭

Yuichi:

- my beloved magicless prefect lol. He’s probably the most normal of my oc’s in the sense that his problems are like, average family problems, but also he went to another world and was basically like “omg I get to start over and never talk to anyone I previously knew ever again!” so maybe not that normal.

- He’s actually got similar problems to Riddle! He doesn’t realize his family being that controlling is abnormal until he meets Riddle, either—so he’s also having a crisis. When the gang is learning about Riddle’s mom and situation he went “yeah but isn’t everyone’s parents like that? haha” to which Ace and Deuce stared at him like “NO??? WHAT???”

- he didn’t have any friends in his old world, mainly because 1) his family kept him so busy with massive expectations, studying and work and 2) he’s very undiagnosed autistic lmao.

- him and Malleus are not shipped together but please know that they have the absolute most romantic friendship possible. It’s 100% platonic. they just say lines to each other that sound like they belong in an otome game with complete platonic sincerity

Arlo:

- probably the oc I post about the most at this point lmaooo 😭 and yet I’ve never spoken about his backstory or problems or anything somehow,,,,

- he falls in love easily. I mean, like, people are nice to him and then he immediately has a crush on them. It’s something he HATES about himself—and it caused him a lot of problems growing up. Every single person he’s ever liked payed ZERO attention to him, in favor of other people (usually his siblings). He’s not playing second best, he’s not even on the scoreboard.

- he used to be really sweet! which was mostly him just trying to get people to like him (and his parents to pay any attention to him). He eventually figured out that being mean to people got attention quicker, and it felt more natural to him (also it’s hard to fall in love with people when they hate you, isn’t it?)

- he fundamentally believes he’s not a very good person, so he would NEVER confess his feelings to Neige.

- his unique magic is called Siren Song! like the name implies, it causes people to fall in love with him and be willing to do anything for him for 24 hours. It’s the type of unique magic he was desperate for as a kid, but now he HATES it. It’s just a reminder to him of how pathetic he was (his words).

Elio:

- he’s so sweet and I love him so much. despite all the grief he’s felt throughout his life he tries his best to be happy and optimistic, and he’s never tried to close himself off from connection.

- despite how easy going he initially seems, he’s VERY pissed at Sebek lol. The guy spoke bad about humans a few too many times around him, might have said something about his family, and now he gives him the Disappointed Upperclassman Stare whenever he enters a room😭

- he’s in the board game club! he likes games a lot, but he also has unnaturally good luck. Azul and Idia lowkey ban him from games of chance sometimes. (Also… Idia occasionally forces Elio to do gacha rolls for him. His luck is just better, and he wants that new character!!)

Ithel:

- his personality is actually pretty dramatic and sarcastic lol, he says funny stuff constantly but under his breath. very studious as well!!! he’s very smart

- when I say he’s experiencing trauma, I MEAN it. like. constant nightmares of dying, panic attacks, etc. the two years when he’s separated from Elio while he’s at school are what push him over the edge. Despite this, he outwardly seems to hold it together pretty well.

- he’s an amazing actor! If he wasn’t as freaked out, he might actually be able to get a role in a movie or something—it would make him happy.

- he teases Epel for being “cute” constantly, just because he knows it bothers him. despite that, they get along fairly well. The type of friendship that roll their eyes behind Vil’s back and then giggle at each other, and then immediately get caught lmao.

[till-the-end-official]

As soon as Till heard that whistle, he immediately went to punch Ivan in that stupid face of his... until he was paralyzed by Ivan's voice. Till thought he was going to hate hearing Ivan sing this song, he was singing a song by someone who had provoked him after all, but it instead felt like he was singing to Till. He wasn't reciting words on a screen, he was singing them for Till. And his heart couldn't stop racing.

When the pair started to dance, Till surprisingly didn't feel the need to pull away, he instead just leaned closer into Ivan. His thoughts were starting to get hazy as he focused on the sound of Ivan's voice and the warmth emanating off his body.

'Okay, the alcohol is for sure taking affect now.'

But did Till care? Not at all. The feeling of being in Ivan's arms felt like two puzzle pieces being put together, as if reuniting two pieces to become whole once again. Till has never felt this way about anyone before, but the alcohol was overriding his fear and instead focusing on how good it felt.

"You're an ex-idol, of course you're good at dancing."

Till's words came out slightly slurred, but he didn't care. The warmth from Ivan's body was completely clouding over his mind. He wanted to drown in it forever, it made his mind buzz more than any alcohol ever could. Eventually, Till attempted to pull back from Ivan's grip, wanting to sing some more.

"Let me sing All-In. Management asked me to do a cover of it, so I might as well get some practice."

Ivan paces around his room as his sister stares at him in lesbian judgement. He really doesn't want to hear it from her, but she speaks anyway.

"Ivan. Till is not going to care what you wear on this date. Till already dresses like Adam Sandler on a regular basis. His idea of 'dressing nice' is probably being fully punked out. I think you'll be fine."

Ivan groans into his hands. His sister was right, but he'll never say that out loud. He sighs and goes back into the closet (lmao) and just picks his favorite outfit. He even got a matching cap and sunglasses for the outfit to hide himself in public.

"Noona, do you think he'd kill me if I took him somewhere too nice?"

"Yes."

Her speaking without hesitation definitely meant that she was 100% sure and also correct.

Ivan pouts and grumbles under his breath. He then gets a brilliant idea and gasps out loud.

"Oh my god, karaoke! It's literally that easy. Both of us are good at it... or well good at singing- and we can also order drinks and book a private room."

Sua regards him with vague amusement. She huffs fondly before standing up, making her way out of the house.

"Yeah. That works, just don't start making out in the booth. Unfortunately, there are cameras. Me and Mizi found out the hard way."

Ivan's face lights up in flames at the idea of making out with Till before the rest of the comment registers in his head.

"Wait you and Mizi-?!?"

Sua's already booked it out his apartment. Ivan has half the mind to chase her, but he has a date to get ready for.

Till, on the other hand, was freaking out. He was on call with Mizi, practically hyperventilating, as he dismantled his entire closet.

"Till, calm down. You're overthinking this. Ivan finds you so attractive as is- he would find you attractive in a potato sack. Calm down."

These words did not assure Till at all, his mind was set into panic mode. He threw outfit after outfit onto his bed, making his bedroom seem like a clothing store was blown up. He had NEVER put this much effort into how he looks, and it was reminding him just how simple his outfits were. He wasn't one to care about what he wore on dates, he usually just threw on whatever he felt like, but this time it was different. Everything about this date felt different.

"I-I still want to look somewhat presentable! Just because he may like whatever I wear doesn't mean I shouldn't put any effort into it!"

Till has never sounded more distressed in his life, and Mizi only ended up giggling as she watched her senior freak out over what to wear. She knew that deep down, whatever Till chose Ivan would drool over him in, but it was very sweet seeing Till put this much thought into his outfit.

"How about the outfit you wore to the Beat Rider event? The one with your black ripped jeans and leather jacket?"

Till had no energy to think of anything different, so he decided to go with that. While he was grabbing his clothes, he also grabbed some silver rings and earrings to go along with it. He threw on a simple blue crewneck, quickly putting a silver chain and another necklace with a lock around his neck before throwing on his hooded leather jacket. He put on his pair of black ripped jeans before quickly lacing up his Doc Martins.

"Do you think this looks good?"

Till asked, turning his camera on and showing Mizi the outfit. Mizi gasped, despite it being the outfit she suggested, and nodded excitedly.

"You look great! I'm sure Ivan is going to love it."

Right as the pink-hair actress said that, the sound of Till's doorbell going off could be heard.

"Speak of the devil... Thank you, Mizi."

"No problem at all! Just remember to be safe!"

Before Till could ask what she meant by that, Mizi hung up. He groaned quietly to himself before quickly grabbing a facemask and a pair of sunglasses just incase he needed them. He quickly ran out of his room, shoving his phone in his pocket before opening the door.

As soon as Till registered Ivan, he slammed the door on his face, his cheeks flushing up as he had a mini gay panic.

'Oh my god- we're going out and he looks like THAT?! I might have to wear my mask the entire time oh my god. He can't just SURPRISE me like that- I knew he was attractive but like I've never slammed the door before- wait! Oh shit!'

Till hurriedly opened the door again, cursing under his breath as he looked at Ivan. His face was even hotter than before he slammed the door, so he must look like a fucking apple right now. God... he felt so embarrassed. He would be surprised if Ivan didn't mistake him for a sundried tomato right now.

[c-kiddo]

fave song at the moment so ill share it anyway . but also perfect song for the last track of my asha playlist :''''')

[slightlytoastedbagel]

Glad we finally have the Exact Face Akito made when he learnt Hatsune Miku was real and in his phone.

[shepards-folly]

WHO NEEDS GOD WHEN YOU CAN BE WORSHIPPED LIKE ONE?!

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[timegays]

Guys drawing is hard

[witchinatree]

"sometimes you gotta change, even when you dont want to. even when it hurts" - trucker in a81 left of the dial 'trucker's atlas' god im so sick of having the most hard hitting lines come out of nowhere like guys i was not ready for that!! i was not ready for the sentient truck that i barely understand to say the deepest shit ever!!!

[gruesome-beauty]

it’s touché album release day let’s fucking gooooo