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shineesbackbitches · 15 days ago

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Lip Tint Stains and Hair Ties

౨ৎ summary: “He locked his gaze in front of him, unable to gather the wits to gauge your reaction. His round glasses had slipped further down his nose than he preferred them, but he made no effort to correct their resting place. Wonwoo’s vision had always been complete garbage, and the time he spent focused on video games had not served his eyesight for the better. His glasses were cute though, and you’d told him as much the first time he wore them around you. Overall, he felt neutral about his frames, but being able to clearly see the board at the front of the classroom, the leaves on trees, and the smaller details of your face he hadn’t noticed without them were enough to convince him to wear them consistently. (“Since when did you have like, individual eyelashes?” “You mean like, how everyone does?” “… Huh.” “You knew people have individual lashes. Wonwoo, you knew people have individual lashes, right?”)”

౨ৎ pairing: Wonwoo x Reader

౨ৎ genre: childhood friends to lovers, school, college, slow burn, fluff, one shot, peachesndreams

౨ৎ word count: 11.5k

౨ৎ warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, insecurities, high school sports (repulsive I know), orientation week bullshit, kissing, pretty tame making out, one gross incel, reader really grows into her menace (good for her), the tension between these two is enough to make Mingyu cry, fluffy hair Wonwoo our collective beloved, two brief mentions of choking but not in the sexy kinda way, Soonyoung and Jihoon bickering

౨ৎ author note: a little love letter for my fellow Carats <3 There, there Besties

From the time you began attending school, you always walked back home together— you and Wonwoo. Coincidentally, when clubs became a mandatory thing (something about the school administration promoting ‘holistic, well-rounded, there’s-more-to-life-than-grades-but-we’ll-pull-you-out-of-participating-in-your-club-activities-if-you-fall-below-a-B-minus-in-a-class’ students), you ended up in clubs that finished at the same time. You even ended up attending the same university, and would shuffle back to your dorms from late night library camp outs.

Wonwoo had always been a quiet kid, preferring to listen rather than contribute to conversations. He had no trouble entertaining himself either. You’d learned that it wasn’t that he lacked a personality— the guy was fucking hilarious— it just didn’t come out unless he was comfortable. He was just introverted and making friends wasn’t as easy for him as it was for other kids.

But were you really one to talk?

If you were in a self-reflective mood, you’d cop to being an eighth of a teaspoon more extroverted than Wonwoo. Large crowds were a major turn off, as were loud places. You needed to mentally prepare for a hang out with more than two other people. Going home immediately after school to co-exist in a room with Wonwoo was more appealing than joining a group of classmates to venture into the busiest shops your hometown had to offer for trendy Insta pics. It was safe to say you were as much of an introvert as he was— plus, the two of you lived nearby and there were no other kids close to your age in the neighborhood. It was only natural that you would gravitate toward each other. So you grew familiar with the little boy with rounded cheeks, rumpled dark fringe, and chubby yet abnormally nimble hands (probably from the hours he spent immersed in gaming).

The difference between the two of you was that while Wonwoo wholeheartedly embraced his withdrawn nature, kept his tight-knit circle of friends, and basked in the comfort of frequent solitude, you made the effort to become more extroverted. What if people thought you were standoffish if you repeatedly declined their invites to outings? Would your classmates not like you anymore? Would they distance themselves from you?

The fear convinced you to agree to more spontaneous ventures far outside your comfort zone. You admittedly had fun with your friends, but it didn’t diminish the dread curling in the pit of your stomach leading up to the outing or the absolutely wiped daze in your eyes when you returned. The brutal cycle of social gathering followed by exhaustion repeated at a pace that completely obliterated any opportunity of recharging from the realm of possibilities.

You lasted a little over two months before retreating back to the familiar routine of walking home with Wonwoo to decompress after the long school day. The frequency of your adventures out with your friends reduced to a few a month, which was way more manageable for your limited social battery. Wonwoo hadn’t brought up the short-lived attempt, instead resuming the pattern of meeting up at the side entrance where towering trees cast shadows that spilled out across the concrete, the occasional splatter of sunlight poking through the branches. The conversation always flowed naturally with him, from goofy things your classmates did to the books you were reading lately (“You already bought it? Nice! Can I read it after you?” “Yeah, just don’t tell Jun I gave it to you. He already asked to borrow it, but you read faster than him.” “You’re my most favorite person in the whole world, Wonwoo.” “I know.”)

It was here that you determined that you and Wonwoo were each other’s safe space.

Not long after, Wonwoo’s baby fat disappeared from his face nearly overnight, replaced by a sharp jawline and a thin, long nose that accentuated the intensity of his eyes. He sprouted up at an alarming rate in comparison to his peers and, despite his willowy bone structure, he began to unintentionally intimidate others. It could be attributed to your shy disposition, but if you hadn’t already known Wonwoo before, you didn’t think you would have had the courage to approach him either. A laughable notion, really, considering how timid and gentle-hearted he was. Still, while he didn’t comment on his newly-perceived scariness, you knew he wasn’t exactly fond of his reputation.

You had the kind of friendship where you did small favors for each other all the time, so you decided to work your magic.

If your classmates saw a little bit of his less guarded side, maybe it would help him seem more approachable. After all, fear comes from the unknown, and Wonwoo didn’t readily disclose much about himself. No matter; you figured things could only go up from here.

“Do you want to eat lunch together tomorrow?” You glanced to your side where he was walking at a comfortable pace, carefully observing for slight changes in his expression or body language that indicated he wasn’t feeling up to it.

“I need to finish my Korean homework.” The subject wasn’t difficult for either of you, but Wonwoo tended to leave it until the class period before it was due. While you admired the confidence, you couldn’t stand the apprehension repeatedly ringing the doorbell of your subconscious when you had an incomplete assignment.

“We can work on it together.” You tried again, this time earning Wonwoo’s mildly suspicious gaze. Despite recently getting a hair cut, Wonwoo’s fringe grew at a quick pace and was already a few inches shy of completely concealing his forehead. Due to his grown out fringe, you couldn’t see his eyebrows, but you knew there was a furrow to them that wondered what you were up to.

“I guess we can do it tonight then.” He relented despite knowing you’d completed the assignment in class today. Wonwoo studied your face for a few beats, not understanding your unusual demand to spend the lunch period together. Were you overwhelmed by your rowdier friends? Was someone being an ass to you? Sure, you were pretty bashful when given attention, but you weren’t the type to let someone walk all over you. If it was too much, you’d tell someone before it escalated. Wonwoo decided to drop the matter and wait until tomorrow’s lunch period to press further.

You sat on the floor of his living room that evening, Wonwoo’s gangly legs folded crisscross on a plush floor pillow while you laid on your stomach just out of arm’s reach. He used a textbook as a flat surface to write on and you pretended to double, triple, and quadruple check that your answers were, in fact, correct for a subject you had a perfect grade in. In reality, you were performing mental gymnastics to solve Wonwoo’s predicament. You doubted eating lunch together would really improve his reputation significantly, especially since you were far from being the poster child for outgoing. Inviting him to join your friends was out of the question—they were too much even for you sometimes and you would never subject him to that. Maybe there was something he could at least enjoy doing that would earn him some positive PR.

“What?” He demanded, lips pursed slightly as he caught your attention on him and not the homework spread out on the floor before you. You just smiled in response, a cheeky little grin that Wonwoo could not for the life of him discern meaning from. All he knew was that you were definitely plotting and that he’d just have to accept that he was going to be along for the ride.

“You should check number four again.” Wonwoo advised.

“It’s right.” You responded blithely, not bothering to glance back at the worksheet.

“You sure about that decimal placement?” He prodded further, pressing his lips together in a thin line to stamp out the smile that threatened to break out.

“Uh-huh,” You insisted, just as unshakable as always. You batted your eyes a few times before grinning a little toothier than usual. “Are you done yet? You swore you’d play New Leaf with me.”

The impatient tilt of your head and the thrum of your fingers on your folded up arms was entertaining. Wonwoo smirked before turning his attention back to his already completed assignment. “Did I?”

“I’m gonna go play with your brother.” You pushed yourself up to your knees, already bouncing up to stretch out your ankles. “Bohyuk! Wanna pl—“

Just as quick as you’d called for his brother, Wonwoo’s hands flung out, palms up in surrender and nose scrunched up in distaste. “I was kidding! Don’t invite that.”

Lunch the following day was peaceful— uneventful even— as you spread out the contents of your lunchbox as fair game and Wonwoo followed suit. You peeked up at him while he helped himself to the meat in your container, fidgeting with the strap that held your lunchbox closed and twirling it around your pointer fingers. Just before you could open your mouth to begin the conversation, Wonwoo beat you to it.

“How are your friends?” He questioned, expression trained neutral, seemingly in the interest of making small talk. Wonwoo fishing for information was about as subtle as a brick wall, but you seemed to perk up at the topic. Unknowingly, he’d made this much easier for you to bring up. The lanky fool had played right into your hands.

“Great!” You chirped, eyes bright as you leaned across the table towards him. “One of them asked about you actually! Wants to know if you’d play basketball with him.”

This is so not where Wonwoo thought this conversation was going. Still, he decided to entertain the idea since you seemed excited about it.

“Which friend?” He asked tentatively, utensils resting on his lunch box. He fought the urge to scrunch his nose up in distaste, lest he clue you in that he was planning on declining.

You blinked a few times, buying yourself a couple seconds to formulate your answer so it wouldn’t result in an immediate refusal. “Um, you know the tall, goofy one who choked when he tried to drink milk through his nose becau—“

“Mingyu plays basketball?” Wow, Mingyu had really made a name for himself and hey! That wasn’t an outright no! Sure, he was a bit of a dumbass at times, but he was a good friend and fun to be around. In small doses. Spaced out. Super spaced out.

He’d love Wonwoo!

And Wonwoo would… probably be okay.

“Yeah! He really wants another person to play with and you’re pretty good.” You were laying it on thick with the compliments, fanning the flame of his ego to convince him that this commitment would result in absolutely no regrets. Your hands balled into tight fists as you stared at Wonwoo hopefully, the reflection of the sunlight gleaming in your eyes.

His mouth pursed in contemplation and a thick silence blanketed the air in the room. Then, he retrieved his abandoned chopsticks from their place balanced on the edge of his lunch box and breathed out, “Alright” before digging back into your lunch.

With a satisfied nod, you scooped up your own set of chopsticks and immediately delved into the spinach salad Wonwoo packed. You hummed appreciatively, the corners of your lips tilting up in a satisfied smile.

In the following weeks, Wonwoo joined Mingyu a few times a week on the basketball court. Just as you suspected, learning that the tall, reserved, and intimidating looking Wonwoo enjoyed basketball was enough for your classmates to drop the narrative that he was unapproachable. That said— his social circle didn’t expand much, but he was quite compatible with Mingyu. The slight tension in his shoulders relaxed and the tightness of his jaw released once he wasn’t overly conscious of how other people perceived his choice to keep to himself.

Another unexpected outcome of this development was that when club activities became mandatory, Wonwoo didn’t have to agonize over what club to choose. He and Mingyu signed up for basketball together without much thought.

Meanwhile, you joined the volleyball club. In all honesty, Wonwoo hadn’t seen it coming. Absolutely zero shots fired about your athletic abilities, but he hadn’t seen you play. Like, ever. His loss apparently, because the team captain was over the moon about the talent you brought to the team.

“When did you start playing volleyball?” He inquired on your journey home. There was an oddly shaped jumble of unease that fought for space in his chest against his ribcage at the realization that there was something about you he didn’t know. He was an observant person. How could he not know that he had been friends with an ace volleyball player for this long? It was a major blow to his pride.

“I never really played,” You began your explanation with a light shrug of your shoulders. “Like, I helped a friend practice a ton and learned something I guess.” You reasoned uncertainly, a contemplative tilt of your head as you didn’t quite comprehend this skill you possessed out of left field.

Oh, okay. So he wasn’t inattentive. You were just a fucking prodigy. Good to know.

“Let me know when you have a match.” Your eyes darted to his at the unexpected request and Wonwoo curled his hands into the long sleeves of his jacket before continuing. “I want to see you play.”

He locked his gaze in front of him, unable to gather the wits to gauge your reaction. His round glasses had slipped further down his nose than he preferred them, but he made no effort to correct their resting place. Wonwoo’s vision had always been complete garbage, and the time he spent focused on video games had not served his eyesight for the better. His glasses were cute though, and you’d told him as much the first time he wore them around you. Overall, he felt neutral about his frames, but being able to clearly see the board at the front of the classroom, the leaves on trees, and the smaller details of your face he hadn’t noticed without them were enough to convince him to wear them consistently. (“Since when did you have like, individual eyelashes?” “You mean like, how everyone does?” “… Huh.” “You knew people have individual lashes. Wonwoo, you knew people have individual lashes, right?”)

“Okay.” You agreed easily, pressing your lips together lightly to stamp out the smile threatening to curl the corners of your mouth.

The attention awarded to you for joining club volleyball came from not just your own class, but others too. If you were aware of any of it, Wonwoo noted no indication of it— as far as he could tell, you loved the purely recreational sport and that was that. He didn’t doubt that you were a wonderful player, but a lot of the attention had been created by your team captain who missed no opportunity to boast about his team in general. According to other classmates, you more than lived up to the hype and Wonwoo wanted to see this unexplored side of you and support it.

It quickly became evident that other people were interested in seeing unexplored sides of you as well.

In a completely unsubtle way that only Mingyu could manage, he asked Wonwoo during basketball practice if you were talking to anyone.

“How would I know?” Wonwoo scrunched his nose in bewilderment. “She’s in volleyball now, not here.” He lunged for the basketball in Mingyu’s possession, fingertips just grazing the bumpy texture before Mingyu pivoted out of reach. While Wonwoo was one of the tallest at your school, Mingyu had hit a major growth spurt early on as well and stood a couple inches above him. Where Wonwoo was more lithe in frame, Mingyu was slightly broader. It was an interesting dynamic for basketball— Wonwoo’s speed and coordination against Mingyu’s strength and stamina— but it made the game entertaining.

An impatient groan ripped out of Mingyu, his head tossed back in irritation. “No, you—“ He sucked in a grounding breath, gathering his remaining shreds of sanity. In this moment, Wonwoo nabbed the ball from Mingyu, tauntingly bouncing it close enough to lure him to make a grab for it. “I mean like, does she like anyone? And I mean like like.” He quickly added on the clarification, unwilling to sit through Wonwoo’s journey of comprehension.

Wonwoo ceased dribbling, straightening up. He lifted a hand to dab at the sweat pooling around his temple and slicking his hair to his forehead to process the question. “How come?” He inspected Mingyu, a defensive edge narrowing his eyes and hardening his gaze. It was different from the steely quality he possessed while playing— while that one was impartial, this one was more personal and unnerving.

“A guy— well, a couple guys wanted to know.” Mingyu shrugged off the imposing weight of his stare, carefully noting Wonwoo’s reactions in turn. Wonwoo could tell by the twitch of his mouth and the rigidness of his spine that Mingyu wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Smart.

“She’s not interested.” End of conversation. Wonwoo resumed dribbling, faking the intent to try and weave past Mingyu’s arm that belatedly stretched out to block him, only to take the shot from right there over Mingyu’s head.

A clean shot.

“Man!” Mingyu whined, shaking his head in a way that spoke of betrayal and heartbreak. “Cold blooded.”

At least— Wonwoo thought you weren’t interested.

“You go on ahead,” You waved him forward, the strap of your school bag slipping off your shoulder and into the crook of your elbow. “I have a quick thing to do.”

Wonwoo turned back to face you, fists squeezed deep in his jacket pockets where his hand warmers were nestled. You hadn’t made plans with your friends— you would have left from school with them if you had. Were you meeting someone?

“I’ll come with.” Your eyes shifted nervously to the side and your teeth dug into your bottom lip. The tip of your nose was bitten red from the wind and your entire form quivered from the sting of the cold.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick.” You tried again, gesturing over your shoulder toward the way you were headed. Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed at your blatant attempts at evasion. It was fine if you were going to see someone, he just would rather you be upfront about it instead of hiding it from him. You didn’t keep each other in the dark and you certainly didn’t avoid each other either.

“Then let’s be quick.” Wonwoo insisted, already striding in the direction of your detour. You begrudgingly relented, huffing irritably and shuffling quickly to pass him and lead the way.

Wonwoo blinked at you, really wondering if his vision was actually bad enough to flat out hallucinate. He anxiously glanced around at the (blessedly) mostly empty store and back to your form seated on the tile floor in the aisle. Like, not even crouched to look at something stocked at the lower level— no, ass fully sat on the linoleum.

“What are you doing?” He breathed out, weight shifting back and forth between his feet nervously. You scrunched your long sock as far down toward your ankle as it would go, a handful of display products balanced in your hand in addition to a dozen q-tips. Wonwoo shuffled closer to you in an attempt to conceal your at best questionable behavior from the sole employee occupied with her phone at the checkout counter and the few wandering customers. From above, he observed you pop the lid of a tester, carefully collect some product with the q-tip, and hunch over to swipe it just above your ankle bone.

“Hey,” He hissed then, jerkily nudging you with his knee as a demand for your attention and answer.

“It’ll leave a stain on my wrist and I’ll get caught.” You explained, unwilling to be more cooperative with the guy who refused to let you make this trip solo. You tried to get him to go home, and now he had to live with his conces quencing. Neither of the two colors you tried so far stirred anything in your heart. You discarded the q-tip in the waste bin stationed near you and repeated your process.

“It’ll leave a stain when you wear it and you’ll get caught.” Wonwoo reasoned, a desperate clip to his tone.

“Not if I find one that’s close to my lip color.” You denied reality. Wonwoo paused for a brief moment to consider whether or not you heard yourself. There was nothing really wrong with shopping for a tinted lip balm (even though he would prefer you to do it standing— you know, be socially acceptable and all that), but your school didn’t allow students to wear makeup. When were you even going to use this? You’d never even expressed interest in makeup until today. Once again, nothing criminal, but completely out of the blue.

“Why do you want that?” Wonwoo prodded in an effort to understand the mental gymnastics of it all. If he was being honest, he was still stuck on you seated on the floor.

“‘Cause if it’s close to my lip color, I might not be—“

“No,” He interrupted, pressing his fingers slightly below a brow to ease the beginnings of a pulsing headache away. He was abruptly empathetic to Mingyu for some inexplicable reason. “Like, why do you want it in general?”

“I don’t,” You began, attention fixed on the array of products gathered before you. Wonwoo still hovered behind you, waiting for the remainder of your reason. “I don’t like how I look after volleyball.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Because literally who did you know that looked good after club sports? Disheveled and out of breath was kind of the standard across the board. Also, he saw you right after clubs finished to walk home together everyday. You looked fine. Sure, not quite as put together as you were during classes, but your mussed hair and flushed cheeks were kind of charming— lively and youthful, even. The only people who even saw you were your teammates and him, so—

And Mingyu’s conversation from the basketball court snapped the missing puzzle pieces into place. Multiple guys were interested in you and were sneaking in to watch you practice. They were going as far to ask around about you, to the extent that they’d approached Mingyu to really approach him and dig for information about you. There was no way your social butterfly of a team captain hadn’t clocked it and immediately leaped at the opportunity to fill you in.

Did you like, like one of them?

“Trying to impress someone?” Wonwoo prodded, not quite successful in keeping the judgement at bay. His teeth grit together, trying to maintain a neutral expression despite you facing away from him. All at once, he wished that he could see your expression while simultaneously feeling relieved that he couldn’t.

“No, I just don’t like people staring at me when I look like that.” You fiddled with the lid of the lip balm, snapping it in and out of the closure groove.

So you were aware of the attention— too aware of it, in fact.

For someone so uncomfortable with other peoples’ gazes, you sure weren’t doing you— or him for that matter— any favors by parking yourself on the floor of a beloved cosmetic store in the early evening. But now was not the time to vocalize that thought when he had just scraped an insecurity out of you with about as much tenderness as he would have used trying to knock out the last bit of peanut butter from the bottom of the jar. So yeah, he was going to keep that one in the drafts for now.

There also wasn’t really any way for him to solve your problem. When it came down to it, insecurities were a battle fought with yourself. He doubted that anything he said or did would really resolve your feelings about yourself. That being said, he wasn’t going to withhold his thoughts or actions that might encourage the feelings to fade. He was also more than willing to hold the door open for them to leave and slam it shut on their way out.

Fuck the dumbasses who kept sneaking in to watch you practice and ignoring the fact that they were making you uncomfortable. And a little bit fuck your team captain too for allowing it to happen and even somewhat encouraging the behavior.

Wonwoo squatted down, hooking his large hands under your elbows, and scooped you into a standing position despite your bewildered fumbling. Once you were hauled up to your full height and turned around to face him, he abandoned his purchase on your elbows in favor of sandwiching your cheeks between his warm palms. Or maybe it was your cheeks that were warm? Either way, you were focused on him, maintaining eye contact for the first time since you’d left school that day. Wonwoo lightly shook your head, your cheeks squishing and eyes scrunching closed under his ambush. Once he was satisfied with his work, he stopped, waiting until your eyes blinked away the disorientation and opened to settle on him again.

“You’re pretty.”

It was quick, definitive, and without room for discussion. Before you could even fully process the previous five seconds, Wonwoo cut off any protests, hiking up his long sleeve on one arm to reveal a forearm splotched with a particularly nasty navy colored bruise.

“Ah, shit.” He tugged his sleeve back down over his knuckles, then switched to his other unblemished forearm. Both him and Mingyu were pretty abrasive basketball players and, with their combined lankiness and Mingyu’s net negative coordination due to his lack of spatial awareness, elbows and hands were destined to smack into the wrong places.

“Here.” Wonwoo extended his arm out to you. “They don’t check guys for makeup because they’re sexist.”

You stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief. After a brief nod of encouragement, you quickly resumed your work. Your hand cradled his forearm, holding it steady as you brushed on ascending lines of lip product, tinting his skin various shades of pink. His skin was hot under your touch and felt fuzzier than the cotton swab. Eventually, after waffling between two shades that were essentially the same but actually just slightly different, you landed on your choice.

Wonwoo went to school the following day with an impressive gallery of stains streaked up his arm underneath his jacket, but only the two of you knew that.

You were caught wearing the tinted lip balm before the end of first period, your homeroom teacher demanding you scrub it off with a tissue. And as you inspected your appearance in the bathroom mirror, lips bare, there was an absence of inadequacy burrowing in your chest, instead replaced by a peaceful indifference. When you returned to class, the self-conscious slouch anchoring your arms to your sides had dissolved, but only the two of you noticed that.

Your team captain insisted that practices from now on be closed off to visitors, slamming the doors to the gym shut with no consideration for the students trying to sit in. He reasoned that the other students were a distraction and that if they were that interested in volleyball, then tryouts were scheduled for the third week of the next semester.

Wonwoo had been the one to make this request, but only he and your captain knew that.

Old habits either die hard or they don’t die at all, because even in university, your tradition of walking home together persisted. Freshman orientation was essentially hazing for introverts, and your silly orientation leaders decided to host a dinner for the incoming class— a thinly-veiled excuse to get fucking hammered beyond coherent speech. Plus, the schadenfreude of watching a group of kids experience their first and absolute worst time consuming alcohol was too good for them to pass up.

A little over an hour into the mandatory event, you were so beyond over the whole thing. You’d eaten your fill and stopped politely laughing at the upperclassmen who thought they were just so charming at least thirty minutes ago. Drinking was, as you expected, over-encouraged and heavily pressured. At one of the mentors’ insistence, you knocked a shot or two back and sent him stumbling back to the end of the table furthest away from you. It wasn’t your first time consuming alcohol, and you had no intention of exceeding your limit around a bunch of strangers. As far as you were concerned, they could suck it.

Wonwoo sat across from you, usually sharp eyes glazed over at an autographed picture on the wall of someone famous posing with the owner of the restaurant, jolly grins and peace signs thrown up. You shifted your weight, shuffling around in your seat to generate just enough movement in Wonwoo’s field of vision to snap his brain back from outer space. His blurred eyes honed in on you— he hadn’t participated in drinking with the upperclassmen either, also disinterested in drinking in the unfamiliar environment, yet cursed to exist in the moment all the same.

Slowly, intentionally, you blinked twice.

Want to ditch?

Wonwoo tilted his head to one side in what could have easily been a stretch of his neck.

Fuckin’ yeah, I do.

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering once to the door and back to him.

Sensational. At the same time.

Less then two seconds later, Wonwoo raised to his full hight while you swung your legs to the aisle created by the two long tables. He half-heartedly nodded to a few of the people around him that noticed he had stood, and you successfully slipped into an opening. Now that you were on your feet, the alcohol diffused to the rest of your limbs and head quicker than you anticipated— nothing concerning, you were just a little more buzzed than you planned to be. What a fantastic indicator that it was time to pack it up. With a brief flash of a smile and farewell to the kind-enough girl next to you, you made your swift exit to where Wonwoo waited for you at the end of the aisle.

The most genuine smile you had seen from him all evening quirked the corner of his lips up, and the dim, yellow lighting in the restaurant cast a warm glow in his dark eyes. He’d left his hair more rumpled than usual today, the gentle waves softened his appearance a bit, but still accentuated the crisp angles of his cheeks, jaw, and eyes. Gone were the last bits of gangly, awkward teenage proportions, instead developing into striking features of a charming young man. Since senior year of high school, Wonwoo had only sprung further upward, although unlike his middle school growth spurt, he had actually broadened considerably this time. The thing was— Wonwoo was kind of a walking dichotomy. He preferred oversized clothing that concealed the lines of his frame— it completely fooled everyone into thinking he was pretty lanky, but you knew that to be completely false. His form was large and imposing, both in height and broadness, but the changes in his build were only obvious when you stood this close to him. He chose to wear an oversized grey sweatshirt this evening that you’d seen many times before. The sleeves were stretched out from his tendency to tug them over his hands.

You trailed behind him as he blazed the path to the door. Wonwoo pushed the door open, a rush of biting night air dropping your internal temperature substantially. He stepped outside, holding the door open for you to pass through. Just as you moved to cross the threshold, the girl that sat next to you called out, “Get home safely!” You turned to acknowledge her, and your coordination must have been more influenced than you had initially realized, because your foot caught on the ledge protruding from the doorframe. You gasped and braced for unforgiving concrete and a banger of a concussion during syllabus week.

Wonwoo lunged— legitimately lunged— to secure your shoulders in his arms. The back of your head thudded against his chest and your back flattened against his torso. Your fingers latched onto Wonwoo’s sturdy arms suspending you just above the concrete and you huffed in deep breaths to regain your bearings. Holy shit.

“You okay?” Wonwoo’s round glasses had shifted down in the scuffle, balanced precariously at the tip of his nose.

Still disoriented and searching for your center of gravity, you breathed out, “Yeah, yeah— I’m okay.”

Gingerly, Wonwoo straightened into an upright position, bringing you with him. To your credit, you only fumbled slightly when searching for purchase with the soles of your shoes.

“Go a little too hard a little too fast?” He was joking, poking lighthearted fun at the circumstances of the entirely avoidable situation. His hesitant grin was partially contained by residual concern for your physical wellbeing— sure, he’d saved you from a cold greeting courtesy of the concrete, but did you twist your ankle on the ledge?

“Should’ve gone faster, harder.” You quipped, giggling at the absurdity of the last three hours. Wonwoo squatted down beside you, carefully taking your hand nearest to him and guiding it to rest on his shoulder for stability in the event that you toppled over for a second time that night. Despite the chill of the air seeping through your clothing, an unfamiliar heat sweltered in your bones. You wondered if Wonwoo could feel it pulsing at your fingertips where they pressed into the well-worn material of his sweatshirt, but his attention was preoccupied with your ankle. The bottom of your pant leg was rolled up a few times, and Wonwoo’s long, slender fingers prodded at the exposed skin with a tenderness that absorbed the strength in your knees— you’d have fully buckled onto his broad shoulder had you been fueled by anything other than spite to remain standing.

“How does this feel?” He peered up at you, the question visible in his dark eyes, all the while smoothing languid circles into your ankle with his thumb the same way he toggled on his game controller. The weight of his gaze seemed foreign, not quite suffocating, but somewhat sultry. It was an oddly sensual moment, and you didn’t know what to make of that. Probably the alcohol doing its rose-tinted thing.

“It feels good.” You answered more truthfully than he would ever know. But the street outside a restaurant overflowing with your peers was not the place to unpack that. He unrolled your pant leg, tugging it back into place before standing again and insisting that you two get going and escape the cold. You weren’t cold, and you could make out the slight glow of sweat on Wonwoo’s skin, but you chalked it up to the exertion of his impressive dive mere minutes ago.

In all of the years you spent with Wonwoo, you could count the number of times he’d caught you off guard on one hand. He was a man of habit and predictability— it was familiar and cozy, and you appreciated the reliability of him. He hadn’t changed, still the same in his careful, intentional movements, but he somehow knocked you completely off-kilter that night on the sidewalk.

Metaphorically speaking, in this instance.

You, on the other hand, were a bit of a wild card in Wonwoo’s eyes. He knew you well— like he knew the layout of his house well enough to slink to the kitchen in the middle of the night to get a glass of water without flipping any lights on. But every so often, there would be something that wasn’t present before. He would smack into it, take a moment to process the new entity, maybe feel around and familiarize himself with it, and then carry on as usual. To date, the discovery that you were an excellent volleyball player remained the most prominent surprise in his memory.

Nearly two months into your freshman year of college, you blew that one out of the water.

Wonwoo approached you from behind while you were perched at one of the large desktops in the library. He could tell you had a document open— even with his shit vision, there was no mistaking that layout and that obnoxious shade of blue that triggered every students’ fight or flight instinct. But you were missing the anguish of someone writing a paper, no tense hunch to your shoulders or irritated furrow of your brow. Instead, you seemed at ease, reclining easily into the back of the chair, expression focused but neutral. Your movements were unhurried as you navigated your screen with the pitiful library mouse held together by oddly crinkled scotch tape.

What the hell were you working on?

“Hey,” He murmured in greeting, conscious of the people working around you. But then he got a glimpse of your computer screen, and in contrast to your unbothered form, Wonwoo became the embodiment of immediate, deep, bottom-of-the-soul resentment. Pulled up proudly on display were screenshots of some of the most heinous, crude, and honest to god incriminating text messages he’d ever read. His jaw clenched, teeth gritting together painfully at the unimaginably inappropriate names and descriptions littered throughout the one-sided chat. Wonwoo’s eyes pierced the name of the sender exhibited at the top of the screen like he could somehow impale them through the bubble of their initial. He didn’t know them, but he was about to. At the beginning of the thread was a single message from you, a polite and firm decline of an invitation to “hang at his place.” The animosity simmered in the pit of his stomach, boiling up his chest and scalding his throat and tongue as he snarled, “What the fuck?!”

You twisted around in your chair, taking in Wonwoo’s rare hostility and the attention it earned you from other people in the library. His low timbre was always soothing to listen to, but the abrupt change from still waters to rough husk was a commanding force.

“Hi,” You beamed up at him, eyes practically twinkling, apparently unaffected by the images on your screen.

“Who the hell is this loser?” He bit, cheekbones more angled than typical as he hollowed his cheeks. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, a futile attempt at keeping the malice at bay. Wonwoo was many things, but above ripping this guy a new asshole? Certainly not.

“Oh,” You swiveled to glance back at the screen, sure enough, the incel vomit remained on the monitor where you left it. With practiced ease, you quickly resized the final screenshot in the series, enlarging it to a near comical degree. “Just a silly goose.”

Wonwoo stood stewing in silence as you clicked file and selected print with a too-cheerful click of the barely-holding-on mouse. He had maybe just short of a million questions firing rapidly internally. How did you even meet this guy? Did you have classes with him? Where did he live? Was he deathly allergic to anything? No, not for any particular reason, just curious. Does he walk home alone at night? How long had he been bothering you?

The only question he managed to voice was, “Why are you making these, like, gigantic?”

That was when he noticed that the sparkle in your eyes this entire time had been mischief. The grin you flashed was significantly wider than your natural smile, and possessed a rascality he hadn’t seen you wear before. It looked sickly saccharine and promised chaos. You looked ferocious. It looked good on you.

“How else is his grandmother gonna read it?”

Wonwoo’s heart swelled with pride. It pumped into the organ until it reached its maximum capacity and expanded until his chest ached in elation. Of course you were going to rock this guy’s shit. And in front of his family no less. Wonwoo physically could not contain the cackles that erupted from the bottom of his stomach, folding over at the waist from the force. He clutched at your shoulders in an attempt to remain standing and gasped in shuddering breaths. Eyes crinkled closed, nose scrunched upward, and smile lines on display, Wonwoo seemed to have unlocked a new level of joy.

“You are just fucking magnificent.” He praised in adoration, planting an affectionate kiss on your forehead. You short-circuited at the warmth that bloomed from the press of his lips on your skin.

This was new. You weren’t even sure it actually happened for a few beats, convincing yourself you’d simply imagined Wonwoo bending over you in the library to kiss you. Wonwoo kissed you. Like it was normal. And you couldn’t short-circuit in front on him because then it wouldn’t be normal.

Rapidly, you snapped back into the moment, coyly tucking your loose hair behind your ear. “Aren’t I just?” A large hand buried itself in your hair at the top of your head, giving it a playful ruffle. Wonwoo smoothed out the bumps he had created immediately after, delicately combing his fingers through and working out the minor tangles.

He was still going to rip this guy a new asshole.

After the incident outside the restaurant and especially after the moment in the library, there was an obvious shift in the dynamic of your relationship. Or maybe your relationship had changed before then and you just hadn’t picked up on it. Because while you were second guessing every action, word, and expression, Wonwoo seemed entirely in his element— unfazed even. It seemed that kissing your best friend was an entirely normal thing for him to do, despite having never done it before and generally not being all that open to physical affection.

You didn’t want to be uncomfortable around Wonwoo— he had been your safe space for as long as you could remember. But the once-clear waters of your relationship had turned murky and tricky to navigate. More disorienting was the fact that Wonwoo wasn’t uncomfortable. At least if he had been, you could acknowledge whatever this weird, new thing was and figure this out together. But you couldn’t bring it up like this and risk Wonwoo denying that anything was different between the two of you.

Things were different though. Like, was Wonwoo auditioning for the role of boyfriend or something? Because while he had always been attentive, things were escalating at a dizzying, heart-fluttering pace.

Wonwoo seemed to always have a hair tie around his wrist— always had since he witnessed you struggle to eat without your hair slipping into your face when you were kids and heard you grumble that you forgot one for volleyball. He’d offer you the hair tie and you’d gush out something appreciative along the lines of, “As expected, you’d never let me down.” Even now, he’d unhook the elastic from his wrist on particularly windy days, or when he’d watched you toss your hair back one too many times when you were studying, presenting it to you in his outstretched palm. You hadn’t thought much of the sweet gesture until now.

The escalation of this routine came when Wonwoo began tying your hair for you, wordlessly gathering your hair with long, nimble fingers and securing it low and loose out of your way; he always avoided wrapping it too tightly or too high, anxious of causing you a tension headache. The brush of his warm hands always brought you back to where you sat in the library, processing his kiss and affectionate touches. The tips of his fingers would sweep the sensitive skin of your neck from behind and you would still, anticipating the pressure of his lips against your heated skin again. But it never happened.

Overall, Wonwoo was more touchy lately— not exactly a high hurdle— and you just didn’t know how to act. You know— other than soak it up. You were more than receptive to being spoiled by his physical affection, be it platonic or romantic. After fumbling through the first week of the new development of sides pressed together, tender hands brushing hair out of your face, and the light pressure of his chin resting atop your head when he approached you from behind, you decided to return it enthusiastically and see if you could finally force Wonwoo’s hand.

You found him reading while leaving one of your classes, his form relaxed on one of the benches that lined the courtyard. His neck was craned down, attention focused on his class reading, expression neutral. Despite still being deemed intimidating and off-putting by those who never spoke to him, Wonwoo was undeniably dashing in his quiet confidence. The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw only became more accentuated during college (perhaps a result of the poor college student diet) and his already-penetrating eyes intensified when he chose to forego glasses for contacts— which wasn’t very often.

You detoured out of his line of vision to close in on his back, careful to keep your steps light. Successfully avoiding popping him out of his study bubble, you looped your arms over his wide shoulders, leaned into his back, and chimed his name in greeting. Immediately, he tilted his head up to meet your eyes with a lopsided grin, his eyes twinkling knowingly— Wonwoo could smell your shampoo wafting in the comfortable breeze as you neared. Now, with the close contact of your skin, he could smell the light moisturizer you had used since you were in middle school. He permitted himself a deep inhale, reveling in the clean, fresh scent.

“Hey,” He greeted, voice low and clear. The faint wind ruffled his hair— he had allowed it to grow longer than it’d ever been before, which still wasn’t very long, but the waves grazed his eyes in airy wisps. “Good class?”

You hummed affirmatively, taking the opportunity to card your fingers through his tousled hair with a practiced ease like you’d done it for as long as you’d known him. He dissolved into your touch, clicking his tablet off and trading his classwork for your attention.

“Vibe night?” He asked like you had ever previously declined or planned to decline a night spent relaxing together at one of your places. It was just like how you would retreat home from school to one of your living rooms to do homework, read, play video games, or whatever in each other’s presence growing up. The escalation here yet again entailed increased physical contact and noticeably domestic undertones. Some days you’d accompany one another grocery shopping for dinner and snacks before kicking the night off.

On days where the academic grind had vacuumed the life force out of the both of you, it was a detour to a restaurant to get takeout. You had your go-to spots that you rotated through, dependent on the weather and your moods. By now, the employees recognized your pair and your typical orders. One of the last times you’d visited during midterms two weeks back, the elderly owner of the Thai restaurant had been delighted when you stepped in, announcing joyfully that you had visited on couples night so he threw a dessert on the house into your to-go bag.

It wasn’t uncommon for the nature of your relationship to be misunderstood, so you began to gently correct the well-meaning man with a polite smile. Before you uttered a syllable, Wonwoo’s deep voice vibrated beside you, graciously thanking the owner and fluidly swiping the paper bag from the counter where your hand was stretched to curl around the handle. Instead, Wonwoo’s large hand not occupied with the to-go bag enveloped yours and on instinct, your fingers squeezed around his.

With a farewell and another ‘thank you so much!’ the two of you exited the restaurant hand-in-hand. You expected him to drop the act and by extension your hand once you were a decent distance away from the windows, but Wonwoo kept your hand secured in his the entire walk home— which you would never complain about. The temperature had dropped for the season and the sun had already set under the horizon, so you would soak up the extra warmth emitting from your joined hands, burrowed into his jacket pocket. You could always rely on Wonwoo to purchase the coziest clothing, always fleecy and pleasant against your skin. His coat did not disappoint, the fuzzy lining offering you an excuse for how overheated you felt with your hand engulfed in his.

But that was two weeks ago when you were still flustered by Wonwoo’s abrupt swell of affection. If you were being entirely honest, his affection still shot prickles down your spine and numbed your fingertips, but you at least knew to expect it by now. Now it was a matter of being capable of having the same effect on him.

“You already know.” You agreed easily, before tacking on. “Whenever and however you want me.” You were absolutely referring to what time he wanted to meet up and at whose apartment, but to pass on the double entendre was a wasted opportunity. Wonwoo’s form went rigid under your touch, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. The ‘error 404 Wonwoo not found’ pop up was clear in his abruptly vigilant eyes. Flashing him a smile that spoke of nothing abnormal in your choice of phrase, you wished him a good class, manifested him being let out early, and blew him a kiss in farewell, a bounce in your step as you retreated.

You got him. Was it enough to convince him to make his move? You’d fuck around and find out, you supposed.

Later when Wonwoo finished his last class— from which he did get let out twenty minutes early (“You are so welcome.” “We got out because we finished his material.” “Because I’m magic. You should be super nice to me and let me choose the game.” “You can choose the game because it’s your turn, not because you’re magic.”)— he trekked to the library where you were busting out an assignment at an alarming speed to gather you for the night. You snapped your laptop shut, reaching for your bag you’d hooked on the back of your chair, only to discover Wonwoo was already holding the edges open for you. With an appreciative grin, you slipped the laptop into the padded sleeve and zipped it closed. Wonwoo fixed the straps of your bag over his shoulder, ignoring your insistence that you could carry it yourself, and together you walked to his apartment. Tonight, you didn’t hold hands on the journey and there was no fuzzy electric charge to the moment. It was as it usually was, with soft laughter and quiet recounts of your days just like it always has been.

Everything was just like was before until you entered his apartment.

Wonwoo held the door open for you to pass through the threshold, slipping in behind you and hanging both of your bags on the empty hooks lining the entrance. You wiggled out of your well-broken-in sneakers without undoing the laces and reached for the shoe cabinet by the entrance, but Wonwoo beat you to it. He crouched before the cabinet and snagged your designated pair of slippers, wordlessly placing them by your feet. Once you swapped into the slippers, he threaded two fingers under the tongues of your sneakers and neatly set them in the cabinet. Then, he followed suit and changed into his house shoes. It was hardly anything out of character for Wonwoo—he was always considerate, but your blood pulsed ferociously in the veins of your wrists at the small gesture.

It would have made sense to venture into the apartment instead of remaining in the entryway, but you stayed and watched as Wonwoo turned to face you. Your eyes met and the static charge returned to your fingertips. You swore his eyes darkened as they flickered further down your face. The limited space of the alcove demanded you hover in each other’s personal space close enough for a slight shift in your weight to force you to unintentionally brush against each other. The slightest touch would result in a static shock, you were positive. Wonwoo hovered closer and your breath was trapped at the top of your throat— if he adjusted the angle of his head, then he’d—

“Hungry?” He murmured, low tone fluttering in the pit of your stomach. “There’s some of the spinach salad in the fridge.”

Fuck auditioning for the role of boyfriend— this man was fully auditioning for the role of husband. Acts of service and making sure you were fed? Sold! To the man with abysmal eyesight and the instinct to anticipate your needs!

Unfortunately, you were far too queasy to trust yourself to eat anything at the moment. A damn shame, because you really did love his family’s spinach salad. “Later,” You promised. He didn’t press the matter despite knowing you hadn’t eaten since early that morning due to your packed class schedule. Nodding in agreement, Wonwoo pressed a large, warm hand to the small of your back, encouraging you into the apartment.

Immediately, you padded over to the large couch in the living room, folding up into your corner and snatching your emotional support circular throw pillow to rest your wrists on while you gamed. Wonwoo passed by the entertainment center, retrieving your designated controllers from the cabinet and waking the docked Nintendo Switch before heading toward the couch. He maneuvered around an arm chair, nabbing the throw blanket draped over the back. Once close enough, Wonwoo settled the fuzzy blanket across your lap, fixing the areas that bunched up, and then passed you your controller.

The blanket hadn’t always been a fixture of the living room. It was during your third time over at Wonwoo’s apartment when the two of you were watching the last few episodes of a drama when Wonwoo noticed you curled up and shivering. You’d intentionally worn long sleeves that day because the apartment was a freezer box— full blame on Wonwoo’s roommate who liked to live in the arctic— but it wasn’t sufficient to shield you from the unrelentingly glacial winds generated by the air conditioning. The last time you were over and frostbitten, Wonwoo had swaddled you in one of his oversized sweatshirts that smelled like freshly-washed laundry and a hint of something muskier. The cuffs were stretched to conceal your hands, likely from Wonwoo repeatedly tugging the fabric over his own hands when he wore it. When he heaved himself off the couch and disappeared into the hallway, you expected him to return with another one of his sweaters, but instead he brought back a crème colored blanket that he’d evidently just bought based on the tag he wound around his fingers to tug off with a snap of his wrist.

“Sorry, I forgot.” He smiled, a little sheepish, and handed you the blanket.

Ever since, the blanket had been yours. Its home was in the living room of Wonwoo’s apartment, waiting for your return.

Now, he dropped into his place on the couch cushion next to you. With a few rapid clicks of his thumb, the jingle of the Nintendo Home Screen sounded through the speaker system. Already queued into the first slot was Animal Crossing because it was your pick tonight, and you’d always pick Animal Crossing. It was here that you knew that Wonwoo was always a couple paces ahead of you, and he always knew what you needed.

He sensed the weight of your unwavering gaze and turned his attention toward you, about to ask you something, but the words died before he could even think them into existence. The controller he gave you sat abandoned at your side, your hands instead curled into the throw pillow resting on your thighs. Wonwoo was always ahead of you, perceptive of your every need. The slight tremble of your bottom lip, the glassy haze in your eyes, and the shallow rise and fall of your chest told him exactly what you needed then. He wouldn’t make you ask twice.

After carefully depositing his controller on the coffee table, Wonwoo shifted toward you, keeping his attention on your eyes in search of any indicator that you wanted out. He’d back away if you wanted, go back to lounging on the couch and playing video games with you if you gave so much as a hint that it was what you wanted.

You didn’t. A comforting hand that had held yours in his jacket pocket for warmth, combed through your hair to tie it out of your face, and hoisted you up from the floor of a cosmetic store gently settled at the back of your head— his hands were always big and safe. You curved your lips into a small, reassuring smile, and Wonwoo understood. In a split second, his free hand snatched his thin, round glasses from their perch of his nose and tossed them onto the coffee table. Then, your eyes fluttered shut and he closed the distance.

The static sensation returned full force, numbing your body with that fuzzy feeling that made you lightheaded, but you could still feel Wonwoo. Everywhere he touched sparked your nerves back into functioning condition. You could feel his safe hand resting on your waist and the heat diffusing from it, gently rubbing small circles into your skin with his thumb— just like he had done to your ankle. You could feel the confident force of his lips on yours, firm and slow, like he was savoring you, drawing out the moment for as long as he’d waited for it— he’d stay here with you for even longer than he’d waited if you wanted. You wouldn’t stop him. Trading your purchase on the pillow for the shoulders of Wonwoo’s dark blue sherpa jacket, you tried to pull him closer, unsatisfied with how distant you felt despite your physical contact. Wonwoo seemed to agree with the sentiment, slightly pulling back from your lips so that your noses still lightly grazed with every minuscule shift.

Your eyes blinked open when you registered his sturdy arm coil around your back, only to fall breathless again. His sharp eyes possessed an intensity you hadn’t seen him wear before. It wasn’t intimidating, but your skin flushed at the fervor. His usually neat enough dark waves were fluffed up; you hadn’t realized you’d done it in the moment, but one of your hands had languidly trailed up the back of his scalp moments ago. With slick coordination that surfaced every so often, Wonwoo slightly lifted you, slipping beneath you and settling you in his lap. Much better.

You discarded the fuzzy blanket pooled on your lap off to the side—you appreciated Wonwoo’s sweet gesture, but it was only in the way now. He reclined into the back of the couch and you swayed right after him, abdomen flushed against him and your arms looping behind his neck. His build really was a whole lot more athletic than you realized now that you rested on his powerful thighs and his firm back shuddered under your palms. Wonwoo tilted his head up and to the side, a lopsided smile quirking the corner of his mouth, gums just barely peaking out— his bottom lip was more pigmented and puffier than usual. His high cheekbones glowed in the dimmed light from the TV, and you don’t think you’d ever seen him so rugged before. The expression could have been mistaken for being haughty— you knew him better than that though. It was still that same smile that spoke to his softhearted nature, the one that had him doting on you as easily as he breathed. You answered his grin with an eager press of your lips, relishing in the cautious pressure of his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

That was how Soonyoung discovered the two of you, rounding the corner that connected the hallway to the living room and damn-near smacking the back of his head on the wall in his haste to retreat. Then, Jihoon stepped out of his own room and approached him, disgruntled by Soonyoung’s hand spasming and smacking against his chest.

“Look at our boy.” He whispered, a proud gleam twinkling in his eyes, not missed by Jihoon. Uninterested, Jihoon poked his head around the corner, immediately regretting it and whirling to criticize his silly-ass roommate.

“Don’t watch them, you fucking creep.” He hissed. And with that and a nose crinkled in immense judgement, Jihoon crept back into his room, ignoring Soonyoung’s insistence that he hadn’t been watching.

“What made you tell me?” You asked, breaking the peaceful silence while you relaxed on the couch, still nestled together, then clarified. “Now, I mean.”

“I was sure you’d figure it out eventually.” Then Wonwoo huffed mirthfully at that adorably optimistic belief he held onto for over six years. “And then we were well into college and that never happened.”

Your blank stare and light press of your lips told him you were both unsatisfied with his answer and knew him well enough to call him on the probably half-true bullshit. No way did he just get impatient and go ‘fuck it.’ Unless something happened, Wonwoo was capable of waiting decades before making his move. He would have, had his instigation of increased physical affection been received uncomfortably by you. But he was always under the assumption that you weren’t interested in a romantic relationship and not that you were unaware of his long kindled affection for you.

All things said and done, there was no harm in waiting to pursue a romantic relationship with you. Wonwoo had always been a significant fixture in your life, whether his role was friend or romantic partner didn’t add or subtract from the quality of your relationship. The both of you had always had each other anyway.

“I met up with Mingyu,” Wonwoo admitted, a bashful grin tugging a corner of his lips up. “And he asked me how you were.”

You blinked, not quite following his line of reason. “Okay?”

“But he asked me like, ‘How’s your girlfriend doing?’ And I told him I hadn’t asked you out.” He spoke at a rapid fire pace, and if you hadn’t engraved his speech pattern into your chest, you would have had to ask him to repeat himself. “He lost his mind. Like, the disappointment was palpable.” He recounted with an exhausted droop of his eyelids. “Told me to pull my head out of my ass, that it was pathetic that I liked you for years and did nothing, and that he’d come visit himse—“

You stiffened at that information, interrupting him. “Wait, Mingyu knew that you liked me before I knew that you liked me?” Seriously, Kim Mingyu figured it out before you? Sure, you weren’t in grade school anymore, but according to Jihoon, Mingyu had very much not changed. (”I heard from a friend at his college that he almost choked at orientation because he tried to drink soju through his nose on a dare.”)

Wonwoo winced sympathetically, corners of his eyes crinkling in the same way they did when he physically could not contain his joy, and his hand moved to smooth the loose hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. “Yeah, I know. A bit of a low blow there, huh?” An understatement.

Your chin returned to its resting place on his chest, a self-reflective frown quirking the corners of your lips down, and sighed, “Man.”

A husky laugh huffed out through his nose before turning into hearty chuckles that heaved his chest up and down, taking your form relaxed on top of his with it. “Don’t sweat it.” Wonwoo reassured, thumb lightly brushing your cheek, a warmth in his dark eyes that you were slowly becoming familiar with seeing your reflection in. “I still love you.”

It wasn’t the first time Wonwoo had caught you off guard with his blunt delivery of significant information. He tended to come to conclusions early on and then fold them over a few times to stash them in his back pocket like he would a receipt. Out of sight, out of mind, but still always with him nonetheless. It was entirely possible that Wonwoo carried his love for you shoved deep in a nook he hadn’t paid much attention to for far longer than he, or you, or anyone realized.

Maybe he loved you when he intentionally packed a large serving of your favorite spinach salad his dad made for your scheduled lunches together in grade school. Or it could have been when Mingyu unintentionally let slip that you asked him to play basketball with him to improve his reputation. He had to have known it to be true when he willingly offered his skin as your canvas for lip products. Then it was reinforced by that abysmal orientation dinner you both bailed on. And again every time you surprised him, and when you didn’t, and he knew exactly what you were going to do or say or need. He loved you in the second controller he brought with him when he moved into his apartment, decorated with your favorite Animal Crossing villagers. He was never just giving you a blanket on the nights you spent curled up together in his apartment— he was handing you far more than that.

Wonwoo was content with you simply accepting the affection he offered, but your reciprocation was very much welcome and celebrated. With the way you cared for each other, he doubted much would change about your dynamic—he didn’t mind though. This was comfortable and warm, and as always, you were together.

You examined the lines of varying shades of pink swiped up your wrist, glistening under the fluorescent overhead light. So far, none of the swatches stirred anything in your heart. You slipped the tester back into the designated notch on the display and plucked the next one out of its home, twisting the applicator out.

A familiar hand appeared from behind you, cradling your outstretched arm in long fingers to steady it. Warmth pulsed under the pads of his fingertips and bloomed into your wrist. Wonwoo peered over your shoulder, thoughtfully surveying the array of glosses painted on your skin. Then, he tapped his index finger twice to the side of one of the samples, “I like that one.”

“Yeah?” You crane your neck to cast a coy gaze over your shoulder at him, fluttering your lashes for effect. “Buy it for me and I’ll let you kiss it off me.”

He knew you were absolutely serious by the mischievous grin and twinkle in your eyes. Wonwoo nodded in agreement, his eyes dark, and pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head. He adjusted so his lips lightly grazed the shell of your ear, sending that fuzzy feeling down your neck and spine.

“Pick three.”

౨ৎMasterlist

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x y/n #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fanfiction #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo fic #jeon wonwoo #fic: lip tint stains and hair ties #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo imagine #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #seventeen #shineesbackbitches #peachesndreams

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revelboo · 7 months ago

Text

Invisible Monsters Pt 2

Lost Light Megatron x Reader-forgiveness

• One arm still cradling the empty cube, the other stretched out over the bar so his cheek can lay on it, you’re caught in a mix of pity for Trailbreaker and indignant anger that Swerve had just kept serving him. You hadn’t known what to make of the fact that they could get drunk or that Swerve and Whirl both find drunk Trailbreaker hilarious. Most of the time. They’d both lost interest as soon as he made the inevitable buzzed slide to depressed muttering. You’d watched the whole mortifying show with the same horrified fascination usually reserved for truly awful train wrecks.

• And at some point, Whirl had ditched you. Leaving you with Trailbreaker since there’s no way to get off the bar top Whirl had plopped you on without a broken neck. The big mech’s been silent long enough that you think he might finally be recharging, but you still keep well out of his reach.

• Neck craning to stare at Swerve on the other side of the bar, you wait for him to remember you’re still trapped. Because the only way to get to him is by climbing over Trailbreaker’s arm and hoping you don’t get swatted in his drunken stupor. No thank you.

• You’re relieved as soon as you spot Rodimus entering the bar and you lift an arm to get his attention. That grin as his optics light on you makes your stomach drop, though. You know that look. Sure enough, the red and orange mech was looking for you. Probably for something you’re not going to like. A certainty that grows with icy dread as he comes over, reaching for you.

• For a heartbeat, you tense and seriously consider taking your chances with the passed out drunk. Shoulders slumping, you allow the co-captain to scoop you up. “There you are,” he says, voice cheerful which set off all sorts of alarm bells. And then he’s walking with you trapped in his servos.

• “I’m not going to like whatever this is, am I?” You ask, clinging to his servos as his quick stride almost makes you fall. A grin is your only answer and you groan. It’s going to be bad. Definitely bad.

• As soon as you spot the massive, intimidating form of Megatron on the bridge, you wilt. Especially as Rodimus heads right for him with a cheery, “Hold this for me,” and thrusts you at the huge mech. Heart nearly stopping as Megatron instinctively reaches to catch you as you fall a foot or so into his hands with a yelp.

• Surprised to say the least, Megatron cups his hands around the tiny form that’s just been dumped into his hands. “Rodimus,” he growls, as the human glares at the younger mech.

• Backing away toward the door of the bridge so Megatron can’t try and give you back, he folds his hands behind his back. “Remember that asteroid field I piloted us through?”

• “The one I specifically said not to fly through?” Megatron asks, servos starting to curl into fists when a little hand lands on one. Startled, he glances down at you in his palm and forces himself to relax before turning his attention back on Rodimus. “Yes. I remember.”

• “Oh, good. Great,” Rodimus’s optics dart to you in Megatron’s hands. “So on a completely unrelated note, apparently one of the engines is now inoperable. Gotta go.”

• And he bails, leaving you in the former warlord’s hands. That jerk. “Seriously?” You growl, anger faltering as Megatron looks at you. And sure, he’s been gentle with you so far, but he’s huge and Whirl’s told you stories. Horrific, traumatizing stories that don’t quite mesh up with what little you’ve seen of him so far. This mech isn’t some bloodthirsty monster. He’s just a perpetually exhausted adult having to deal with nonstop stupidity. And he is tired if the way he vents with a soft growl is any indication.

• Casting about, Megatron isn’t sure what to do with you now. Set you down and let you wander the halls or just wait until Rung or someone else remembers to look for you? Anything but hold you in his palms as you look up at him with wariness, but not hate. You should despise him for what he’s done to your kind and your world. So why don’t you?

• Seeming to resign yourself to being stuck with him, you curl your legs up under you. Make yourself comfortable in his grip. “He looks up to you, you know.” The soft words surprise him as he frowns down at you in his hand before heading to his chair. It feels almost blasphemous to cradle your warm, little body and feel the steady beat of your heart against his servos. Something soft that was never meant for him.

• “Hardly,” he says, tensing as you jump lightly from his palm onto the arm of the chair to look around. “They’re all afraid of me.” Like you should be. Such a fragile thing, you shouldn’t fearlessly meet his optics. The almost sympathetic, wry twist of your smile as you spread your arms and walk to the edge of the flat surface, cuts him.

• “Everyone makes mistakes,” you tell him, head tipped up to study the empty vastness of space. Huffing softly, he sinks back in his chair. You dare sum up all the wrongness as just a mistake? He can’t understand how easily you can forgive and move on, but maybe, short lived creatures have to be able to let go because of just how short their lives are. Maybe they can’t afford to cling to old grudges. Or maybe it’s just you in particular.

Previous Next

#transformers #idw megatron #megatron x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

I’m so sorry for this guys but

AITA for telling someone their horse was masturbating?

Basically does what it says on the tin. For those of you who don’t know horses can masturbate. It’s most common in male horses under the age of three who have not had their testicles removed and who are confined to a stall or small pen and get really bored. They typically grow out of the behaviour once they’re older or given more freedom. Some owners try to train them to stop it from happening but most just ignore it because it’s better than other boredom behaviours like cribbing and wind-sucking (both are SFW to Google btw).

Anyway, I’m a groom and stable hand, mid-twenties now but been working at my job since I was fifteen (part-time then, now full-time). The stable I work at boards horses and gives lessons but also offers training for young horses, so we get a lot of OTTB here – that is “off-the-track Thoroughbreds”, so ex-racing horses that people typically buy cheap and then retrain to be show jumpers or dressage horses or whatever. One such horse is Bert, who is the horse in question in this situation.

Bert has excellent bloodlines but he sucked as a racing horse so he was sold OTT. The man who bought him, I’ll just call him John, knows nothing about horses – he’s a total beginner in every way, has never ridden and pays other people (including me) to take care of Bert, but claims to be an expert in everything equine because Bert cost him so much money (I don’t know the actual amount but he’s in the section of the stable where the $20,000 Warmbloods are boarded so I’m assuming around that amount which is a lot yes but also not the most expensive horse we’ve had here).

Anyway the actual story – I’m at work cleaning out stalls when John walks past, he completely ignores me as he always does so I do the same and get back to work. A few minutes later he goes sprinting back in the opposite direction which I thought was weird but whatever, I kept mucking, until I heard him shouting for help. I went out into the aisle and he’s there shouting at another groom and demanding to know the emergency vets number (it was a weekday morning btw, so he didn’t need the emergency vet, he just needed the regular vet but that’s meaningless anyway). I went over to see what was happening and he tells me his horse (Bert) is ‘acting weird’ and needs a vet immediately, so I offer to go see Bert for myself and then call the vet if necessary.

So basically yeah Bert was masturbating. Had an erection, was rocking about rubbing it on his tummy, and did NOT want anyone going in his stall or touching him. John points at Bert and says something like “see, he’s sick!” and then tells me Bert tried to attack him when he entered the stall and I just, I dunno, I cough and say that Bert is fine and just wants some privacy right now, figuring that the obvious erection might be a giveaway as to what’s happening? But John turned to me and blurts out word for word “are you an actual retard” and then starts cursing at me and telling me I know nothing and Bert needs a vet etc and so on. I kind of blanked on everything else he said after he called me a retard to be honest because WTF? I don’t really know what went on in my brain in the next few seconds but I ended up shouting – yes, shouting, extremely loudly, it fucking echoed in the stable – “he doesn’t need a vet because HE’S JUST MASTURBATING” in John’s face and then walking back to the stall I’d been mucking.

As I got back to the stall I heard laughter from a couple of aisles over. Apparently my co-workers and some riders who were there had all heard me shout and found it hilarious, and that made me laugh too because it was so freaking ridiculous. I honestly kind of forgot the entire encounter afterwards because we had a horse who actually needed a vet a little while later and yeah, John and Bert just slipped my mind.

I didn’t remember until that afternoon when my boss came to see me and said he’d had a complaint from John who wanted me fired. I did not get fired but I did get ‘warned’ (just a formality, my boss didn’t actually punish me but wanted me to act like I had been if John questioned me later, which he never did). John complained that I’d treated him like an idiot, spoken down to him, and “acted above my position” (those were the exact words he used) causing people to laugh at him. I explained the entire situation to my boss, who also laughed, and that was that, nothing else ever came of it aside from my co-workers telling the story of me shouting HE’S MASTURBATING so loudly it scared a pony into jumping so suddenly that it farted to everyone they possibly could.

Since then John has ignored me even more than before which I honestly consider a blessing, and I would leave this situation thinking I’m NTA except that one of my co-workers brought their boyfriend to the stable recently and when they introduced us the boyfriend said something like ‘oh right, you’re the asshole who talks down to people who don’t know everything about horses’ and yeah. My co-worker was blindsided by that as well and we basically both said you don’t have to know everything about horses to know what an erection means, but since then I’ve been wondering if I am TA in this situation? Like, clearly there were better ways to tell John what his horse was doing, but he called me a retard and also I get paid to take care of horses not to teach the birds and the bees to fifty year olds so I don’t know. I’ll let Tumblr decide.

So, AITA for telling John his horse was masturbating?

Additional info: I'm on a rota with other stable hands so I sometimes groom Bert, muck his stall, attend to his vet/farrier appointments, give him worming paste, etc and so on. I am not his trainer and have no input into when he gets to leave his stall. I've mentioned to my boss a couple of times that he boredom stims and should be in a paddock with other young horses, but John refuses to agree to that for reasons I don't know. My boss has since spoken to Bert's trainer who is now trying to convince John to let Bert have more time outdoors.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #slur cw

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paperyowl · 2 months ago

Note

This is a weird ask. Feel free to ignore it.

But post breakup Buck staring at Rockon thinking Tommy has a date with this hot silver daddy (he ain't blind) and confronted them cos he's jealous to find out he was wrong. They bought him home for either a threesome (cos David never had one) or maybe just cuddles cos looks at the sad puppy and doting on Buck.

(what buck doesn't know is that Donovan is Tommy's cousin with a hilarious sense of humor who texted him the very next day to collect his man cos he ain't sharing his daddy with his cousin's ex no matter how pretty he is)

It's not weird at all. I love the idea! And I have two vastly different thoughts for this - lets go with this one for now. (I might have changed it a little bit - but I definitely need that threesome happening sometime still.)

+++

Pick up, idiot.

Calling me names doesn't make me want to talk to you more.

Tommy dropped his phone somewhere on the couch, not really bothering to check where it fell. He was not in the mood for his cousin's antics. His week had been so busy that Tommy was aching in more places than he knew he could. Maybe was is getting too old for this job.

Or perhaps he'd been slacking. Not eating well, not sleeping enough. These days, Tommy is usually good at taking care of himself. A hard-learnt habit, but he'd put in the work.

Not that it mattered now when his mind kept circling back to the rather sweet sentiment of someone saying, 'You don't have to do everything by yourself' and 'I'll take care of you'.

It was a certain someone with those impossibly warm baby blues that Tommy was trying very hard not to think about. (And failing miserably.) He deserved this. After all, he'd been the one to implode what they had.

His phone kept buzzing. After the third or fourth time - which frankly was ridiculous Don, what the fuck, get a life - Tommy hunted it down in the cushions and unlocked it.

Only to almost drop it when he saw the last message was a photo of -

"Hi, cuz," Donovan drawled, sounding deeply satisfied with himself. But Tommy wasn't focused on that at all.

"How do you have a photo of Evan? Is he there with you? Why is he with you?"

"Okay, first of all, ouch, I think I'm insulted-"

"Donovan."

Tommy heard his own voice rise and wondered since his fuse had become this short. Then he remembered that Donovan had always had this way of riling him up. That's why they hadn't talked in months. They'd been fighting about something; Tommy couldn't really remember what it had been about.

"Figured that pic would get you to call me," Donovan said. "No 'Hello, my favourite cousin, how are you doing?' It's nice to hear you, too, you know."

"Don't be mean, Rocker," another voice said in the background, one that Tommy didn't know. Or actually, he might - he'd heard it once before, and now he could remember what the fight had been about. But his focus was somewhere else completely.

"Hi. How are you. It's been too long. I miss you - is Evan okay?"

Donovan laughed at the way only one of those sentences ended in a note high enough to count as a question. Tommy hissed his name again, and finally got a 'yeah, yeah, alright.' before the phone was handed off to -

"Hi," Evan said softly. He sounded like he'd been crying. His sniffeling was hard on Tommy. "Your cousin and his partner are nice."

Tommy couldn't help but scoff. "Maybe they're doppelgängers."

There is a momentary pause, and Tommy is almost certain that the rustling he hears is a bit of a grapple for the phone. But it's still Evan on the other end when the noise dies down.

"I wouldn't know about that," Evan said. "You never mentioned them."

Fuck.

"Evan-"

"So we're back to Evan?"

"Bu-"

"Don't," Evan pleaded. "Just. Don't."

"Want me to go and rough him up a little? I still remember where he lives."

Donovan's offer sounded weak, and Tommy could imagine the way he had probably put a hand on Evan's shoulder. Or his back.

Evan didn't exactly laugh, but it was similar enough. The sound still unravelled something in Tommy's chest.

"Can we talk in person?"

"I'd like that," Evan breathed. "Just maybe not tonight?"

"Of course. Do you want me to text-"

"I'll take over from here," Donovan said, and Tommy vaguely heard the muffled noise of the receiver being covered. He checked his watch, aware that whatever conversation happened on their end took less than a minute, but to Tommy, it felt like ages more.

"You free tomorrow? Wanna come over for lunch?" Donovan asked without any lead-up, startling Tommy a little. "I somehow think you have a bit more of a reason to say 'yes' this time."

Tommy huffed a laugh.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm free," he said. "Is he alright?"

"Are you going to stop being an idiot?"

"Don."

Donovan sighed. "Listen, I know it's not really my place, but I know you, and I can make an educated guess what happened here."

"I don't like you," Tommy groused.

And like the total bastard that he was, Donovan only laughed and responded, "But you love him."

Like that was a normal thing to say. Tommy spluttered.

"Just be here tomorrow at noon, I'll cook" Donovan completely ignored Tommy's rather childish comment, 'You can cook?' and just went on. "And I'll introduce you to Deacon."

"The ominous partner that you wouldn't tell me more about when I asked?"

That was a rather shortened version of the outright shouting match of a phone call that they'd had all those weeks ago. There had been a lot of implications about very different, and Donovan wouldn't even tell him the name of the man who had him all secretive.

It was easy to read between the lines, and perhaps Tommy had been protective in exactly the wrong way. But he'd never been able to help that when it came to Donovan. The only family member that Tommy cared about.

"He just filed for divorce," Donovan told him. Tommy hissed in sympathy, starting to apologize for the whole fight, but Donovan went on: "And you wouldn't believe the things he can do with his tong-"

"Shut up."

Donovan kept laughing at him, and Tommy felt too exhausted to do something about it. And perhaps a little relieved.

"Noon, you said?"

He might have only imagined it, but Donovan softened a little after that. But he proved he was still an absolute asshole when he yelled out, 'Hey Evan, say goodnight to your daddy,' and like the absolute cheeky brat he was, Evan did just that. (Tommy almost choked on his own spit, but after hanging up, he felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in months.)

#tevan #bucktommy #rockon #tommy kinard #donovan rocker #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #deacon kay #ficlet #prompt #swat fanfic #911 fanfic

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bones4thecats · 1 year ago

Text

Being Married and Your Lives Together

Type of Writing: Poll Result Characters: Fellow Honest, Baul Zigvolt, and Kifaji Name: Being Married and Your Lives Together Original Poll Link: Here

A/N: This is my first times writing for all of these characters, so they may end up being a bit out of character, just warning y'all! Anyways, I do hope you guys enjoy this. I'm just gonna write each part of the poll as it goes, since it's pointless waiting daily on the next part. Now, enjoy my bubbles🫧

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🦊 Fellow Honest and you grew up together with Gidel by your side, working together to provide a decent life for the younger beastman, despite the hardships

🦊 Gidel adores you to the point where you were basically another sibling to him, which led to Fellow beginning to see you as a co-raiser of the cat-man

🦊 You and Fellow eventually began to work at Playful Land together, with the assistance of your younger brother

🦊 When your relationship started, you guys just began working at the theme park with one another, only using the relationship as something to put the walls of the visitors down to nothing

🦊 But, Fellow began to notice how when the visitors walked away with you guiding them around to show them the place so they were more at ease, he would glare at one of them if they tried something inappropriate

🦊 While you guys to eventually marry, not making it into any paperwork, obviously, you cannot allow your occupations to be let out, he still is protective over you, since fox-beastman have one partner for their lives

🦊 Your occupation working at Playful Land is very shady and if caught, can put you all in serious danger, which prompts Fellow to guard you and Gidel with his life, no matter the cost

🦊 Despite popular beliefs, Fellow does not want children unless he had a stable life with you and Gidel, he doesn't want his offspring to go through the same amount of pain he, Gidel, and you went through

🦊 If you and him had one unexpectedly, he would put everything into you, his brother, and his children, since you all were the most important things in his life, he could wait, you could not

🐊 Baul never saw any point for a relationship, but, when he met you at a young age, he saw more potential with you than he did anyone else

🐊 He has a fiery personality, but, unlike many, you adored that part of him. And, due to his more aggressive tendencies, he is a very protective and possessive husband, pushing you behind him during any threat

🐊 During the war, he kept you away from it all, and sending you as many letters as he could in between battles

🐊 Once the war calmed down, he found out you were pregnant and was having a daughter, the only child you would ever have during your long lives together

🐊 He raised your daughter with such high-honors that it was a hint overwhelming for the young fae, but, what did you expect from an ex-military member?

🐊 You are by far the more approachable grandparent of the Zigvolt family, you were the one that Sebek would come for to get advice, and you would always tell him to embrace what his father gave him, his humanity

🐊 While Baul and you have some rough-patches that you cannot seem to fully sand down, he always tried his best to keep his composure, and he had tried his most when your daughter brought her future husband and father to her children home to meet you both

🐊 He was horrified of Baul Zigvolt, who told him to only call him Mr. Zigvolt, while he was far more at ease with you, as you just said he could call you 'Mom'

🐊 It's basically the 'Cool and Intimidating x An Absolute Sweetheart' dynamic, and it's hilarious for your family and friends to watch

🕊️ You worked with Kifaji as a chamberlain for the Kingscholar family growing up, and he would just watch as you would help Farena take a small break from his homework to mess around

🕊️ Kifaji also would love watching you just try getting Leona to do something other than nap around growing up, it was quite amusing

🕊️ He and you were childhood friends, and eventual lovers who married and began to work alongside one another. Your husband then began to work for the Kingscholar family, with you joining him later on

🕊️ This guy gives me the vibe of a good father for some reason

🕊️ Due to this, he and you had two children, two boys to be specific, and oh boy does he adore his dearest boys to the end of the world

🕊️ He taught them everything they needed to know, and because of your ages, you had the first son around a year or so before Farena was born and then your second son when the oldest Kingscholar was a couple years old

🕊️ Kifaji tries to take some days off of work to be with you and his sons as they grew up, but as they aged and began their own lives, he tried spending as much time as he could with his grandchildren

🕊️ Leona loves to taunt you by being asleep in the most random places, prompting your husband to show, allowing the lion-beastman to get you flustered more

🕊️ Age comes with wisdom? Then he must have been 70 when he was really 28, and you would vouch for that, like I mentioned, this guy taught his children and the Kingscholar's children, what do you expect?

#Twisted Wonderland #Twst #Twst Side Characters #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Twst x Reader #Twst Side Characters x Reader #S/O! Reader #F! Reader #GN! Reader #Fellow Honest #Fellow Honest x Reader #Baul Zigvolt #Baul Zigvolt x Reader #Twst Kifaji #Twst Kifaji x Reader

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lvrsparadise · 2 years ago

Text

'JEALOUS' - M.S

Synopsis - She's always liked him.

Warnings! - Profanity, kissing, reader being jealous, Matt n reader being cute, fluff

A/N - Okay. I want to kms because I had originally written out something so beautiful for this. And then I accidently deleted something, and I forgot that if I press control z it ERASES THE WHOLE DAMN THING! So, this is a re-write. Enjoy!

Work was so tiring. I got cut from the floor at 7 instead of 9, when I was supposed to get off, because I had no tables. I made barely $40 in tips. And not to mention the weird drunk creep who kept asking my co-workers and I, very uncomfortable questions. I sigh as I clock out of the system and grabbing my stuff before saying bye to my co-workers.

I walk out the back to my car. I open the driver door and throw my stuff in the passenger seat. I just sit there and recollect myself before I put the key in the ignition, turning on the car.

Thee drive back to my house was quiet. I didn't have the radio on, I didn't have the windows down. I wasn't even on the phone with anybody. Today was that stressful.

'I'm going to have to ask my maneger for more hours next shift.'

I pull into my driveway and grab my stuff, turning off the car and walking to my front door. I open it and am immediately bombarded by my puppy, Sam, and my cat Mr. Murray.

I set my stuff down on the couch before walking upstairs to my room. I get undressed and hop in the shower. After my very refreshing shower, I throw on some comfier clothes - a pair of pink and black plaid pajama pants, a white tank top, and one of Matt's hoodies he left over.

I flop on my bed with a sigh. I sit up and open my phone, opening my messages app before clicking on Matt's contact. Matt is my brother's best friend. Well, actually, Chris is my brother's best friend, but I learned that they're a package deal. Get one, get all.

1 ring. 2 rings.

"Hey. Everything alright?"

I breathe out a small sigh of relief at the sound of his voice.

"Hey. Yeah, no everything's fine. I've just had a stressful day and I was wondering if we could go for like a drive or something?"

"Yeah, no that's fine. I'll be over in 10."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Always."

That's the last thing I hear before the line goes dead. Knowing he's going to be here in less than 10 minutes, I slip on my converse and head downstairs.

I love on and play with Sam and Mr. Murray for about 5 or 6 minutes before I hear a car pull in my driveway. I instantly recognize it as Matt's car. I grab my wallet, just in case, my keys, and my phone, placing all of them in the pocket of the hoodie. I hear a knock at my door and Sam barks. I yell out his name to get him to stop barking as I open the door.

There he is. Looking perfect as ever. Even in sweats and a hoodie. He's wearing that damn smile. One I return gratefully.

"You ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

I close my door behind me as I walk out, locking it as well before I walk over to the passenger side of the car. I get in and so does Matt. He pulls out of my driveway and starts driving around with no destination.

"How was your day? Why was it stressful?" He turns is head towards me as we're at a red light.

"Well, I got cut from the floor early because we were dead, and I had no tables. I made barely $40 in tips. I also had to work with that one girl I told you about. She made the day ten times worse. And this morning, Sam thought it would be nice to wake me up with a surprise next to my bed." I rest my elbow on the center console, resting my chin on my hand as I look out the window.

"Yikes." I hear him say as the light finally turns green and we start driving again.

"What about you? Anything fun happen?"

"Chris almost like, broke the ceiling in the warehouse."

"How in the hell?"

"I have no idea; I wasn't around when it happened. But Nick was and he kept making jokes about it reminding Chris that he did it. It was hilarious." He chuckles quietly.

"I bet."

"Oh shit."

"Hmm?" I turn my head towards him, his gaze switching between the road and the dashboard behind the steering wheel.

"I'm almost out of gas. I think I have enough to get us to that 7-11." He jerks his chin towards a 7-11 that's not too far. It's dark out, not many cars are on the road, the gas station seems empty.

He pulls into the gas station, pulling up to a gas pump. He turns the car off after rolling down the windows a little bit. He gets out and walks over to the pump, which is next to me because for some reason, the gas tank is on the right side of his car instead of the left. So, as he fills the tank up, he's also leaning on my window, talking to me.

"Did anything interesting happen in your day though?"

"Um, let's see. Oh, there was this older gentleman who tipped me $25 for being the best server he's had. He was celebrating his anniversary, but he said that his wife had passed away a few years ago. So, every year on their anniversary, he goes out and gets himself a meal. It was so sweet, it almost made me cry."

"Wow. That does sound swe-"

He's cut off by a girl walking up to him, looking to be around our ages, maybe a year or so older. She's talking with hi and flirting with him. I feel my blood run cold with jealousy at the realization she's flirting. Matt's hand is like holding onto the window, his hand partially in the car. I take advantage of that and I somewhat intwine our fingers, my own mindlessly playing with his.

Either she can't see me through the somewhat tinted windows, or is openly ignoring my presence, she asks him out to dinner. I squeeze his hand and he squeezes mine back. I hear him say 'Oh, I can't sorry. My girl is in the car' and my heart skips a beat. Multiple beats actually.

He finishes filling most of his tank and pays before walking over to the driver's side as quick as he can speed walk without running. He turns the car on at lightning speed. He starts to drive off to my house.

The drive is silent. Other than the really quiet hum f whatever is on the radio, there is not a peep coming from either of us.

About halfway through the drive back to my house, he reaches his right hand over the center console and grabs my left hand, interlocking our hands before resting them on his thigh. My chest is filled with butterflies. My head is empty. I feel my face heat up as I turn to look out the window next to me.

We pull up to my house. As soon as he puts the car in park, I'm out the car and making a b-line for my front door, unlocking it in record time. I didn't realize Matt was hot on my heels until I turn to close the front door, his hand stopping it. I sigh in defeat knowing I won't win. He pushes the door open and then walks in, closing it behind him.

"Were you jealous?"

"What? I have no Idea what you're talking about Matt." I place my wallet and keys on a table I have next to the door for that reason. Of course, I was jealous, but I would never admit it out loud. Especially to the guy I was getting jealous about.

He shakes his head and crosses his arms "Wrong. Were you jealous?"

I roll my eyes slightly "Matt- I don't get why you're asking me this. It would be the same if it were me-"

"No, it wouldn't."

"Wha-"

"A guy touches you? Jealous. A guy flirts with you? Jealous. Takes you on a date? Kisses you? I'm jealous. I'm jealous as hell. How have you not known? I'm not very secretive about it at all. Now I'm going to ask you one last time. Were you jealous?" His voice, despite being stern and angry, it still is soft and kind.

I sigh in defeat, crossing my own arms, mirroring his pose. "Yeah. I was. I was very jealous."

There is nothing said after that. And there doesn't need to be. Next thing I know, I'm being softly pinned against the wall and Matt's hands are on me. One on my cheek and the other on my waist. I try to look at the hand on my waist but the hand on my face makes me look into his eyes. He doesn't say much, but words aren't necessary right now. He leans in and kisses me.

The kiss is soft, tender, sweet, and everything a hopeless romantic like myself could ever want. I entangle my hands in his hair, closing whatever space was between us.

After what felt like hours, but was really 20 seconds, we pull back for air. Both of us are panting.

"I'm taking you out Friday. 6:00. I pick you up, with flowers, take you to dinner, then I take you to a 7:00 movie, then we walk on the beach before I take you back home and kiss you goodnight. How does that sound?"

Although my eyes are still closed, I hear the smile in his voice, and at his words I can't hold back a smile of my own. I open my eyes and look into his beautiful blue ones that look like they're the ocean. I swear I get lost in them for a few seconds before replying.

"That sounds perfect."

I don't have a taglist for the Sturniolos!

If you want to be in it, all you have to do is ask! <3

I love all of y'all!

#l writes!#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets #wow didnt know i had that in me #props to a tiktok lady for giving me the idea #wow im tired

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rebouks · 1 year ago

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Hi Alex!

I don’t think it’s stupid or cheesy to miss someone, I miss you too! Going back to normal after being on holiday is always horrible, especially after this one, and especially having to go back to school, I’m not a big fan! Do you go to school too? I wanted to ask if you did but I couldn’t… it’s nothing personal, by the way, sometimes I just can’t speak to people and I don’t really know why. I thought it was my decision if I did or didn’t before I met you but maybe not. My parents n’ the teachers at school call it selective mutism but I won’t bore you with all that crap.

I can’t see your new teeth but they grow fast so maybe next time! If they don’t maybe you could get some gold one’s like your dad has, unless you don’t wanna look like a pirate lol.. my littlest sister has four teeth now, and I have all my big teeth! I haven’t counted the twins though cos they’d probably bite me if I tried haha!!

Ava is the tiny one with the blonde pigtails! She’s cute but she still sleeps and poops a lot haha, she’s sorta chill though and definitely doesn’t cry as much as Wren and Byrd used to (have you noticed we’re all named after birds yet? I guess my parents thought it was cute since our last name is Finch) Wren’s the ginger one with plaits! She’s pretty funny but she’s super grumpy sometimes and likes to bite and kick (not me though, she loves me) I think it’s cos she’s tired a lot cos she never sleeps at night, kinda like dad.. they’re twins but Byrd is way different, I couldn’t get a picture of him cos he kept running off, he’s crazy like that but he’s super snuggly and loves playing doctor! He likes to pretend to break my legs so I can’t go anywhere then fix them for me haha. Brothers and sisters are fun but they can be a pain in the butt sometimes! We have a cat called Lou too, his full name is Toulouse and he likes to bring us leaves from the garden and scream about ‘em, and he loves stealing food when you’re not looking.

Dad’s been teaching mom how to cook cos she sucks at it (don’t tell her I said that though cos I always pretend it’s not THAT bad) she’s sorta getting better though so I suppose the whole practice makes perfect thing pays off eventually. I got a school project to make a lame volcano that I didn’t wanna do as well, but my parents made me do it anyway.. we all know that real volcanoes aren’t full of baking powder and vinegar though so I dunno if there was much point to it but they seemed to think it was important so I did it anyway, at least I got a picture of it “going off” I guess. No one likes homework, even if it’s supposed to be fun, right?!

It’s cool you set Amber free!! I’m sure she’s happier wherever she is now so I guess you could just think of that when you miss her? The rocks are way cooler anyway! My aunt Aspen has loads of crystals too, sometimes she even charges them in the sun or the full moon.. I keep forgetting to ask her why but I’ll try and remember so I can tell you next time!

Hahaa your poor dad with those birds! I’ll definitely keep the picture cos it’s hilarious, Wren found it the funniest but don’t worry, I’ll keep the picture safe from her sticky hands! I have a hiding spot in the attic for all the stuff I don’t want them touching. I guess birdwatching is sorta fun sometimes but you’ve gotta be quiet (easy for me I guess.. hah!) I’m not sure there’s any other birds round here other than seagulls since we live right next to the sea, those are the ones you can hear the most anyway cos they never shut up! My dad jokes that he used to be a seagull in a past life cos he’s loud and greedy like they are lol.. he’s been building me a treehouse too, I bet that’d be good for birdwatching!! It’ll be super cool once he’s finished but it’s taking ages cos he mostly does it all by himself, I try n’ help sometimes but I’m still too small to carry or lift most things.. I wanna be as strong as him one day, he can build and fix almost anything (he swears a lot during it though haha!) Do you ever think about what you wanna be when you grow up? I don’t really think about that sorta stuff cos working sounds boring, especially if it’s as lame as school!!

I’m ten, by the way! How old are you and when’s your birthday? Mine’s February 22nd. I don’t think I have a favourite food, anything my dad makes is amazing cos he’s a good cook and my mom makes the BEST pancakes! We’re always stuffed after dinner but dad says (lies) that pudding goes in a different part of your stomach so there’s always room for cake haha.. I think I like it best when he makes spicy food but Wren and Byrd hate it so he doesn’t make stuff like that too often. It’s fun to see how much you can eat before your mouth feels like it’s on fire and I’ve decided I’m gonna beat him one day so he better watch out!!!

I didn’t know what to write at first but I guess I sorta ended up writing quite a lot since I had some catching up to do! Are you and your dad on holiday in the tower or are you living there for now? It sorta sounded like you’ve been there a long time, where do you usually live? What kinda stuff does your dad dig up for work? It’d be cool if he dug up dinosaur bones!! I watched something like that recently and they were HUGE!

It’s hard to think of questions on the spot but you can talk about anything you want too! I probably owe you a million answers as well so you can ask anything you want too! I had fun reading your letter and I’m glad we can be pen-pals even if we don’t get to see each other! Maybe next time we meet in person I’ll be able to say something, but writing would still be fun too so I guess it doesn’t really matter, right?

Love Robin c:

ps. I’m keeping the funny photo of you yelling at your dad and there’s nothing you can do about it!!

pps!! I don’t have a way to print out photos yet otherwise I’d have sent some new ones. Dad gave me an old polaroid ages ago but it’s still broken, his friend said he might be able to fix it though so hopefully I can use that next time. Mom said you can have some of our old ones and the ones from her disposable camera whilst we were on holiday for now though so I’ll send those to you as soon as they come back!

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charliesarchivee · 8 months ago

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SPOILERS FOR CABARET 2024 I LITERALLY AM DESCRIBING THE ENTIRE SHOW

this is my initial rundown of cabaret scene by scene I just needed to get this off my chest then I can be normal again and have normal thoughts and be a cats fan on main

Willkommen: A celebration!!! Eddie redmayne is a delight on stage and Gayle rankin walking through the mezzanine is so cool

Train: the emcee freezes in a tableau of playing with a toy train on the rotating stage which is delightful. Also, I saw the understudy for Clifford Bradshaw (he was AMAZING.) and his hat fell off of his suitcase and kept rotating around and I think at one point somebody picked it up bcos it disappeared!

So what: Bebe Neuwirth is a legend. A legend. That is all. Also Frauline Kost was HILARIOUS

telephone song: yes I know it’s not REALLY the telephone song but emcee hanging off a pillar (there were four pillars around the round stage) and reaching for Cliff as the whole cast echoes (and I mean it they had echoes on their mics) WELCOME TO BERLIN… FAMOUS NOVELIST… sent chills down my spine and to my toes like I think that gave me more chills than Alan cumming standing on top of the set with his head up and his chest out as if he was possessed

Don’t tell Mama: at one point she flopped on her back and kicked her feet up and went WAA WAA I WANT MY MAMAAA and I wept this was so funny and some lucky gal in the front row got her stage cigarette that she threw into the audience. Also when she said the convent part she was like “yea i know right” and the France part she went “haugh haugh haugh” like French laughter

cliff and Sally telephone: cliff was like “and somejwere men are laughing and somewhere childrenshoutbutthereisnojoyinmudvillemightycaseyhasstruckout” which is SO canon and was SO funny. And Sally’s face dropping as she deadpans “oh you’re American.” elicited like lots of laugjter

mein herr: SLOW AND SCARY MEIN HERR SAVE ME SLOW AND SCARY MEIN HERR PLZZZ

outside the klub: Sally just undresses right in front of him which was funny. At my performance there was a laundry hamper behind her and she threw her don’t tell mama dress out behind her and it did not land in the basket which, planned or not, made everyone laugh. Also, when Bobby kissed cliff, someone in the opposite mezz screamed “YEAAAA!!” Which like truth

Perfectly marvelous: Sally came in with this GIANT pink floral suitcase which she pulls articles of clothing out to put on cliff which was rly funny and fresh. Also- WERE HER PRAIRIE OYSTERS REAL?? Her recacrion seemed so genuine omfg.. also she buried herself under his coat for “nearly invisible perfectly marvelous girl” which was so cute and yes canon. Also I noticed she hugs his knees a lot in this show so cute

Two ladies: YES!! and they invited everybody to jump out of Sally’s big suitcase and just love!! It was so good!! During the dance break everyone was rotating around just getting it up and Herman (there’s nothing funny about Herman) was just on stage with a deadpan look and a mop, going back and forth to the beat, literally going under people’s legs, etc. one of my fav moments that I noticed cos I was just mesmerized by his mop was that someone came around jacking off to a book and then they held out their hand to Herman and he just wiped it with the mop disgustedly. SO FUNNY. Also Eddie redmaynes tights had little eyes on them so even wjen his pants r pulled down you know he’s always watching eek. Also now would be a good time to mention that the people sitting at the tables near the stage had little tea lights that would turn on during the Kit Kat limbo stuff (like two ladies and if you could see her) and they would turn off if we were in the apartment or the street or whatnot. A lovely little touch that my dad noticed! Also also when he credits the Kit Kat girls he says “rose lulu frenchie texas fritzie and My Helga!!” And he seems to really take a liking to Helga which is so canon and yes

It couldn’t please me more: she has this little headband on that I love. And also, I was gauging how many people would be shocked after If You Could See Her in this number. My hypothesis was if many people were pleasantly surprised/laughed at the pineapple reveal, then many people would have the bomb dropped on them during if you could see her. So I was paying attention! Anyway at the end he gave her the bag to put the pineapple back in and I KNEW WHAT WAS COMING but he slowly licked his two fingers, opened the bag, and slowly placed the pineapple inside very smoothly. Then they went their separate ways but on the orchestta button they turned around, smiled at each other, and she reached out her hand and he gleefully ran and took it and they exited together. SO cute. I love this staging. It is SO fresh after watching so many sam mendes recreations (not to say those are bad I love those too!)

Tomorrow belongs to me: when Eddie redmayne came out and started singing my first thought was “this can’t be right!!” I had only been accustomed to emcees sitting over a record player, or writers in the klub bursting out in song. I’ve only seen one production of cabaret have the emcee sing tbtm, and even then they had literal strings attached to them being pulled by uniformed men. So this was completely different for me! And also the arrangement of the song was beautiful if the song wasn’t an in universe Nazi song I would suggest it in choir it was really good sonically! And the mic echoes ATE. And SPOILER the cast had little plastic figures up to my thigh of little blonde boys that they placed in a perfect circle around the emcee (who was on a raised platform) and they were rotating around as the emcee looked around at everybody like “yeah look at what happens now..” and he TAKES OFF HIS RED WIG and literal GOOSEBUMPS UNDER MY SILVER TIGHTS.

Cliff and Sally apartment: they are so intimate makes me happy! Also the delivery of “a horrid little German infant with a mustache ordering us around” was superb and got audience laughter

maybe this time: literallt in her head voice because she’s UP IN HER HEAD like YES SLOW AND INTIMATE MAYBE THIS TIME SAVE ME SLOW AND INTIMATE MAYBE THIS TIME PLZ

Money: I have been predisposed to the money choreo being about prostitution, but this felt way different to me. I think in this song (bear with me) the emcee IS money. He’s dressed very bedazzled, rhinestones on his coat, sparkly long nails, but also scary, with a helmet and stark makeup, because money can be scary! Also, all of the dancers, dressed in uniform rags, were constantly following the emcee around and reaching for him, and he would often lightly brush or peck them, which makes me think thag he represents money in that song specifically! I asked my dad about it on the way home and he said that money is just another reason people have to bury their head in the sand when important shifts are happening in their world. I agreed.

married: at one point in the sneaking around scene, Herr Shultz comes out wearing a floral cardigan and runs back going “oh this isn’t mine! This isn’t mine!” And frauline kost (and the ajdience) had a laugh. Also this song was so sweet and tender. Great job everyone!

engagement party: SCORE THING: the underscoring switch from the beginning of maybe this time to if you could see her as the party comes up was CHILLING. there was no scene in between married and the engagement party, so frauline Schneider had an impressive on stage quick change into a dress! Also, Herr Schultz getting tipsy on schnapps was hilarious. I had another hypothesis too here which was If a lot of people gasp at Herr Ludwig’s reveal, then a lot of people will have a bomb dropped on them at the end of If You Could See Her. And in fact, a lot of people did gasp! I literally felt a chill just descend on everybody as the weight of this sank in.

tomorrow belongs to me (reprise): SCARY. The emcee comes up at the end on a small raised platform in his money outfit (here I think he represents power) and he has a baton and he’s conducting everybody!!! Also he conducted correctly in 3/4 I was so warmed to notice that he wasn’t just flailing about like he did that right thank you Eddie redmayne for doing it right

—

Entracte: I need to make a seperate post about the prologue and entracte performances. Oh my lord. Words cannot describe. Just chills.

kick line: YES. I love any production that adds the German counting and I loved how they transitioned into the march in this one! Like they started by (in a ripple may I add) reaching out all inviting and then dramatically pivoting around to reach all inviting to the other side and then it slowly turned into a salute and a goose step!! And then the emcee comes out the center with a CLOWN COSTUME AND A COMIC ORANGE GUN with a little swastika flag in it and then he hands it to the last person on line who marches away with it. V scary. Props.

married reprise: there is a heartbreaking moment where Herr Schultz asks “how much time do we”- and then he breaks off and cries. Oh my gosh. Also the emcee is doing very slow magic tricks in the corner like producing an orange. And producing a glass. And then he stands up and shows the audience he’s putting the glass in a napkin like he’s about to release a dove and at first I’m thinking “oh instead of a dove he’s gonna throw a brick right?” But NO. He excitedly puts the glass down.. and at the very last minute HE REARS BACK AND STAMPS ON IT (like at Jewish weddings!) AND THE STAGE GOES DARK. Theres screaminf and when the lights come back up, the entire stage is covered in little triangles of white paper like broken glass. Those remain for the rest of the show. The emcee then goes to the middle of the stage, looks Herr Schultz in the eyes, and drops the glass and towel down this seemingly bottomless pit and then Herr Schultz gets really scared and runs away and then the emcee closes it up with a wave of his hand. I think in that moment Herr Schultz was face to face with the gravity of his situation.

if you could see her: chilling because the gorilla isn’t even a gorilla in a dress. It’s practically a real animal. It walks on all fours the whole number and sits and like picks at its fur or whatever gorillas do. And the emcee is tempting it with a banana the whole time. Now i seriously prepared myself for the last line here I was ready for very hesitant applause and maybe even gasps but NO Eddie redmayne delivered it like a punchline (not his fault the Nazis are getting more and more powerful so this would be a joke) SO a couple people around me LAUGHED before realizing snd they like cleared their throats. Also they used the rotating stage in this one and when it turned on he said “oh we’re moving my little one!” Which was a nice touch but is also this song so

Cliff and Sally apartment 2: cliff gets like visibly upset when Sally wants to go back to the klub he’s like leaning on furniture which is a nice touch! Also after what would you do when he said “you’re going a lot further than the Kit Kat klub you’re going home. My home. America,” somebody in the audience went “YES!”

what would you do: LEGEND. Bebe Neuwirth was phenomenal. The platform rose her up too it was amazing. What would you do hits something in me that I didn’t know was there.

I don’t care much: everybody knows this is my favorite song to ever come out of cabaret. I LOVE this song and it’s just dear to me. When Eddie redmayne came on stage in a suit and he was NEWLY BLONDE I cried I was like no way. And when he went WOORDS SOUND FALSE he frantically tied to get the pieces of glass I was just in shambles. And then he GRABBED SALLY BY HER WRISTS and practically spat the last “I don’t care” in her face and then SUFFOCATED HER IN A HUG and I feel like in that moment he was still a reflection of a changing Berlin, beating on people like Sally. I have a whole analysis of this

Outside the klub 2: the emcee is leaning on a pole and Sally starts to walk toward him to enter tne klub and then cliff walks in and is like “DONT GO NEAR HIM SALLY!!” And I don’t think the emcee is the emcee in that moment tbh I think he’s a pimp but anyway. When cliff gets beaten by Nazis Sally is sitting deadpan on the end of the stage with her back to everything. She doesn’t even flinch. She physically turns her back on everything

cabaret: no words in any language can describe how remarkable this was. That is all. Also when the emcee introduces her he comes up and poses and nobody clapped cos this was kind of a dark moment and he was like “…thank you..thank you..” all small and shaky and I think that nearly killed me it really did

Cliff and Sally apartment 3: when herr Schultz was like “I’m leaving” someone said “NO!” Which liek truth. This scene was just heartbreaking. Cliff like raised his hand to hit her and literally broke down and I BROKE DOWN JUST WEEPING ALL OVER MY SEAT

finale: YIKES. When cliff started singing wilkommen I also wanted to scream “NO!!” As well but I did not. The emcee yelled where are your troubles now? Forgotten? Right at cliff which scared me. And he had a baton and was conducting everybody again! Also also the entire cast mirrored the first ever tomorrow belongs to me and stood in a perfect circle all dressed in brown and at the drumroll hit the lights darkened immediately on the emcee but stayed dim on the rotating circle like saying “THIS IS YOU!!” Also the bows didn’t have music and were very solemn.

ok danke merci thanks!

#cabaret #kabarett #sally bowles #cabaret emcee #cabaret 2024 #cabaret at the kit kat club #the emcee #kit kat club #this really killed me it was SO GOOD AAAAH #never shutting up again #The Kit Kat klub in my head has a lot of new people in it

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eyneyke · 3 months ago

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Live reaction

Pairing: Max Verstappen x PewDiePie!sibling Summary: What if Felix had a genius brother who works as a RedBull's engineer and is also secretly dating Max part 40 of A Calm to my Storm Masterlist

It was a regular stream day for Felix and Jack. They were casually playing a co-op game, Felix talking about some random meme while Jack kept glancing at his second monitor, where he always had Twitter and some Formula 1 stuff pulled up.

Jack had been talking more about F1 lately — especially after hearing about the wild weekend Sam had had. He was a fan, though he tried to keep it on the down-low. But during this particular moment in their stream, something on his second screen caught his eye, and his jaw dropped.

Jack: "What the fucking shit—"

He ripped his headphones off, eyes wide as he stared at his other monitor.

Pewdiepie (laughing but also surprised at Jack cursing like that while they're live): "Woah, Jack! Chill, what’s going on?"

Jack (still cussing): "Sam, you sneaky little piece of—HE DIDN’T TELL ME!"

Felix looked at Jack, confused. His friend was freaking out, and while Jack could get animated, this was different. And did he mention Sam? Did something happen?

Pewdiepie: "Dude, what’s happening? It's just the game if that's bothering you. You are freaking me out right now. You have never been a sore loser."

Jack: "No, no, no, it’s not the game! It's... Dude! Sam—your brother— he was DATING Max Verstappen this whole time!"

Felix's confusion grew deeper. Sam... Max Verstappen? What?

Pewdiepie (frowning): "Wait, what? Sam and Max? They’re, like, just colleagues, best friends, whatever, right? Why are you freaking out? Don’t start shipping people, dude."

He shook his head and clicked back to the game.

Jack (frantic, shaking his head): "No, no, no! I’m not making this up! I just watched the post-race stream—Christian Horner, the team's principal slipped up, and just OUTED Sam and Max! They’re not just friends, Felix, they’ve been together! Max is Sam's new boyfriend!!!"

Felix paused mid-action in the game, the pieces finally starting to connect. He knew his brother had been dating someone, and sure, Sam talked about work, but this?

Pewdiepie: "Wait, what?! Like... Max? The guy driving the car fast? Dropping him off in private plane and makes internet crazy about Sam's horrible boyfriend is the actual boyfriend?!"

Jack (practically vibrating with excitement): "YES! That Max! The Max Verstappen! Your brother has been dating him and didn’t even tell us! I can’t believe this!"

Jack leaned back, still cussing and laughing at the absurdity of it all, while Felix was left dumbfounded.

Pewdiepie (stunned): "I… I had no idea. He, he didn't tell me... Why didn't tell me?"

He blinked a few times, absorbing the news. "Wait, Sam never even mentioned it? I mean, they’ve always seemed close, but dating?"

Jack: "Yeah, and the fact that this whole time Max has been roasting himself as Sam’s ‘bad boyfriend’ in interviews and NOBODY knew it was him!" Jack was practically beside himself with excitement. "I swear, Sam’s kept this from us on purpose! He knew we were worried."

Felix was quiet for a second, clearly trying to process all this new information about his brother.

Pewdiepie (smirking, shaking his head): "Well, looks like Sam’s been playing a long con on all of us. I’ll have to give him a hard time about that." He chuckled, clearly amused at, and over, the idea of his younger brother keeping such a big secret.

Jack (jokingly whining): "Dude, I just realised... Max Verstappen is your brother in law. That is so not fair, you don't know shit about formula and this happens? Leave Marzia and marry me so that I can celebrate Christmased and other big holidays with you guys."

Felix rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but laugh too. The whole situation was hilarious. Sam, of all people, had been dating the Max Verstappen and managed to keep it under wraps this whole time.

Pewdiepie (laughing): "Man, I’ve never even met the guy, and now he’s not only my brother’s boyfriend but and in-law already? What a day."

Meanwhile, fans in the chat were freaking out too, spamming the comments with excitement, shock, and laughing emojis.

Fan 485: "OMG Pewds’ brother is dating MAX?! WHAT!?"

Fan 486: "What's killing me is the fact that Jack was waching F1 stream while streaming lmao"

Fan 487: "Jack is all of us right now freaking out about Sam dating Verstappen!"

Fan 488: "Pewdiepie’s reaction is PRICELESS."

Fan 489: "I love how Pewds is just like ‘I didn’t know,’ while Jack is losing it lmao"

---

Pewdiepie (grinning): "Alright, alright, calm down in the chat, I guess we’ll have to ask Sam about it when I see him later. I can’t believe he’s been sneaky about this whole thing."

Jack (laughing): "You better! I NEED the full story. And ALL tth details."

The stream continued, but there was no hiding how much of a bombshell this news had been for both Felix and the fans watching. And while Felix may have played it cool on the surface, the wheels were clearly turning in his head — Sam had some explaining to do.

---

Meanwhile, Sam and Max were watching Felix's stream back at their place in London, laughing at the chaos they’d unleashed. Neither of them cared about the public finding out — they’d kept their relationship private for long enough, and if the world knew now, so be it.

Max smirked as he leaned back on the couch, watching Twitter explode.

Max (teasing): "So, when are you going to introduce me to your brother?"

Sam (laughing): "Oh, I think you’ll meet him soon enough. Just don’t burn toast when you do."

Max grinned. "No promises."

#fanfic #writing #max verstappen x male reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #funny #max verstappen x male oc #pewdiepie x brother!reader #pewdiepie x sibling!reader #pewdiepie #jacksepticeye

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kandisheek · 4 months ago

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FIC REC WEEK 53 – 2024 FAVORITES

Darling, Darling, Stand By Me by Carsonian

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 8,662 Tags: Romantic Comedy, Light-hearted, Oblivious Tony

Summary: Tony links arms with Steve, and the world wants to know if they're together. They're not, of course. But maybe they should be.

Reasons why I love it: I love absolutely everything about this. The dialogue, the characterizations, the plot, the humor, the tension, the conclusion – everything is perfect, 10/10, no notes. Treat yourself to some goodness and read this one, I promise you won't regret it!

Staying Sanguine by itsallAvengers

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 7,669 Tags: Whump, Protective Steve, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: They're trapped, and help is too far out to be helpful. Tony's dying. Steve needs to save him. No matter what, Steve needs to save him.

Reasons why I love it: This fic is SO GOOD. The action and gorey bits are just fantastic – tense and suffused with a genuine sense of fear through Steve's PoV that just tears at your heartstrings. And the romance is downright adorable. Poor Steve deserves every happiness in the world, just as Tony does. Check this one out if you haven't yet, it's brilliant!

Ground Untread by Anonymous

Pairing: fem!Steve/fem!Tony Rating: T Words: 5,431 Tags: Canon Divergence, Gender Identity, Jealousy

Summary: Eve Rogers likes to put the Captain first in this time, a hero who has a duty, who this body was made for. It's easier that way, and besides, after Rebirth there's never been a place for them both to co-exist. But the world has changed and for Eve it holds possibilities she never could have dreamed of before. Up to and including Toni Stark, who seems to need no extra effort to send her spinning into a whole new kind of trouble.

Reasons why I love it: This fic has a special place in my heart, not just because it was literally written for me as a gift but because it incapsulates everything I love about sapphic Stony. Eve struggling with her identity after rebirth, her being drawn in by Toni's raw magnetism, Toni's insecurities about getting to keep Eve – it's all fantastic. Definitely check this one out, it's amazing!

My light in the darkness by BladeoftheNebula

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 4,635 Tags: Pre-Serum Steve, Meet-Cute, Mothman Tony

Summary: Steve gets an unexpected nighttime visitor to his cabin in the woods.

Reasons why I love it: Neb never fails to make even the most outlandish concepts endlessly entertaining. And to say that Mothman Tony has my entire heart would be an understatement. Give this one a read if you haven't, it's as hilarious as it is sweet! And you don't want to miss the moth man smut ;)

Accusations False and Otherwise by Carsonian

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 7,768 Tags: After College AU, Getting Together, Misunderstandings

Summary: Tony hadn't meant to make a habit of reassuring Steve's partners that his relationship with Bucky was totally and wholly platonic. It just happened to fall to him once, and then kept falling to him; Tony simply went along with it. A couple years down, he had talking points and everything. So when Steve's latest partner asked to speak with him, he assumed it was (once again) because they felt insecure about Bucky's presence in Steve's life. Imagine his surprise when it turned out they felt threatened by him.

Reasons why I love it: Carsonian just can't go wrong in my eyes. Their writing style is impeccable, their voices for Steve and Tony are both very in character and hilarious, and this fic made me giggle so much I was practically kicking my feet. Definitely check this one out, it's as sweet as it is entertaining!

#marvel #fanfic #a year in fanfic recs #fic rec #fanfic rec #stony #ficrec #steve tony #fanfiction recommendation

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arrowfleur · 4 months ago

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✩‧₊˚ Redacted HC’s ✩‧

Part 8: Aaron and Smart-ass

Aaron looks so goddamn good with his hair grown out but he always keep it short because it’s easier to maintain

He lets it grow more tho when he takes vacation

And smartass is all over him

Aaron finds it really hot when Smartass where’s his work shirts

They did that a lot when they first started sleeping at each others houses

When they still worked together Aaron would go through scenario’s with different co-workers in place of smart-ass before he talked with them about things

He didn’t know how to act about them

And then they’d say something smart

And it was so natural with them

Aarons house is so organised yet so not at the same time

Like everything’s clean and everything has a place but sometimes that place is the little box next behind the desk in the living room

He knows where everything is though

Smart-ass memorises funny scenes from there favourite shows and if you say a word or phrase from them they will recite the entire thing

Aaron has a multitude of ties

Smart-ass leaves bobbles absolutely everywhere

They’re really really fun on a night out

Aaron never seems to know what to do with himself

Smart-ass was at every house party in college

Aaron likes it when the company pens come with stylus on the bottom

He never uses it for anything other than squishing but still

Smart-ass LOATHES laundry, they know it takes five minutes to put it in but they really can’t be assed

They have a large amount of fancy shirts/blouses

Aaron has a large amount of fancy ties

Smart-ass has their favourites, picking one out for him is part of their morning routine

Aaron genuinely finds it hard to sleep in, his body wakes him up at 6 am and won’t let him back to sleep

He has permanent bags under his eyes

Smart-ass still gets a frappe sometimes when the office does coffee orders

They’re convinced Aaron drink black coffee just cause it fits his aesthetic

seriously who likes that shit?!???

It took smart-ass a MONTHS to convince Aaron to let them pluck his eyebrows

When Smart ass finally did it he kept looking at them in the mirror through out the day

Not that he’d admit he liked it

Aaron collects cool shot glasses

Smart-ass has really thick hair and gets light headed trying to style it

Aaron learnt how to do it and now they have ‘hair wash days’ together

Aaron does a little subconscious shimmy when something makes him really happy

Smart-ass will NEVER bring it up in fear he’ll stop

Smart-ass wouldn’t speak for a couple years as a child

They just didn’t want to and then one day they did

Now they are spectacular and using their words

Aaron really likes to feel useful

Smart-ass really likes watching him figure out how to do things for them

One because it’s hilarious and kind of cute how he will never admit defeat and two because when he dies handy work he looks really good

They also love figuring out new ways to trick him into relaxing

They give him massages sometimes but he needs them to press so hard it hurts their fingers

He’s really heavy handed

Aaron can whistle, Elliot can’t. He enjoys that

They have artwork sunshine made hanging in their hallway

Another one of my top couples! Thank you for readinggggg xx

#redacted aaron #redacted smartass #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #arrowsqueue

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burntsaltsblog · 6 months ago

Text

tw: nsfw, mdni

Chapter Seven

Two weeks later

Sex, food, and sleep. That was all Butcher and I participated in. Rarely did we leave the bed, except for a daily shower, which Butcher insisted we take together. Though I was never one to complain, especially when he held me firm against the shower wall with my legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked me hard and fast.

"Good girl. Such a good girl for me," he'd praise as I lost control in his arms, gushing all over his length the second he told me to. In the past, I had been vehemently against taking directions from anyone. But, as soon as Butcher looked at me with his deep, hazel eyes, asking me if I wanted "Daddy to take care of me," I was putty in his hands, yearning to obey his every command.

Every night, we'd hear from MM, Hughie, Frenchie, and Kimiko, stating that they were ok and out of harms way. MM and Hughie had crossed the border into Ontario unscathed, except for Hughie's tragic fall, which I still found hilarious, and Frenchie and Kimiko had driven to New Jersey. Apparently, Kimiko had discovered the reality show, The Real Housewives of New Jersey and had begged Frenchie to take her to the state where it all takes place.

Butcher and I assured the rest of the group that we were safe as well, living as Ed's only guests in his small inn. And since we were his only tenants, Ed had taken the opportunity to show off his baking skills, making us anything from chocolate scones to apple tarts. According to Ed, he had learned it all from his late wife, Edna, and found comfort in recreating her original recipes.

Butcher wasn't one to coo over sweet stories from Ed's fifty-year marriage, but the baked treats kept him satisfied and uncharacteristically docile compared to his usual irritated personality.

"How much longer do we have to lay low?" I inquired on a Monday night during our third week at the inn. "I'm getting restless; I want to go see the town and walk around."

"Oi, Have I not been keepin’ ya’ busy?" Butcher asked, mildly insulted as he tore his eyes from the small TV in Ed's quaint living room on the first floor. We were watching reruns of old noir films, cuddled up on a pink settee.

My cheeks heated as I nestled further into his side, leaning my head on his shoulder. "No, you've done an excellent job at that...but I'm feeling a bit like a vampire. I miss the sun," I whined.

"Dontcha worry, Ella, you'll see the sun again." Butcher rubbed his hand up and down my arm, keeping me warm as a New Hampshire blizzard blew outside.

"Ella? Who in the hell is Ella? Fuck, I knew you had a side piece.”

"I'm talkin’ about the bird from that vampire show you and Kimiko watch all the bloody time," he replied.

I rolled my eyes as I breathed out a laugh. "You mean Elena? And the show is called The Vampire Diaries, for your information."

"Eh, Ella sounds better," Butcher shrugged.

I turned to him, a bemused look on my face. "Oh, really? Do you wish my name was Ella? No wonder you rarely call me by my name. You don't even like it."

"Come now, love. I see what you're doin’, tryin’ to get me all riled up. Well, it ain't gonna work unless ya’ want a very long trip over my knee."

I couldn't stop the way my legs rubbed together, seeking friction after hearing Butcher's threat. He'd already had me twice that day. But what can I say? I suppose Butcher was right, and I was insatiable.

"Sorry, Daddy," I said, pawing at his chest as I stared at him doe-eyed.

"That's it," he grumbled, standing from the small sofa and dragging me with him. "You asked for it, doll. Good luck sittin’ tomorrow."

I giggled in anticipation as we began to exit the living room, but Ed appeared in the doorway, halting us in our tracks.

"Oh, I was worried you folks had retired for the night. I just finished this fresh batch of brownies, and I simply could not wait for you to try them," Ed beamed, holding a tray chock full of chocolate squares with steam rising from them to prove they had just left the oven.

"Uh, sure. Of course. Sounds lovely, Ed. You're so generous, always offering us your wonderful sweets," I said kindly as Butcher and I retraced our steps back to the settee. Butcher discretely slipped a pillow into his lap to hide the tent forming in his pants.

"One for you, Mr. Butcher, and one for you, Mrs. Butcher," Ed said, extending the tray in front of us so we could each select a brownie. I still wasn't used to being called Mrs. Butcher, and I made sure to turn my head so Butcher wouldn't see how flustered I got.

"I'll tell ya’, Ed. If you keep feedin’ us like this, the misses and I will have to wrap up the honeymoon. I'm afraid she'll divorce me if I go up another size in me trousers." Butcher joked before stuffing half of the chocolate treat into his mouth.

Ed tittered," Speaking of the honeymoon, you all never told me about the wedding. Or how you met, for that matter. I'm sure it's a beautiful story."

I looked at Butcher to take the lead. We hadn't planned out a story ahead of time, so I was waiting to see what improvisation he had up his sleeve.

"Well, gov, where should we start?" Butcher asked, having already finished his dessert when I hadn't even taken a bite of mine yet.

Ed thought for a moment before his face brightened. "The engagement! Oh, tell me about the engagement. How did you propose, Mr. Butcher?"

I stayed watching Butcher as he brushed excess brownie crumbs from his lap and began to speak.

"Well, my girl here loves to see those Broadway shows. So, on the night of our second anniversary, we drove into the city to see her favorite one. What was the name of the play again, love?"

Realizing it was my turn to take the reigns, I sat up straighter, looking at Ed. "Phantom of the Opera. I always thought the show was so romantic, and Billy here definitely took advantage of that."

"That's for sure," Butcher chuckled, placing a hand on my thigh and rubbing it affectionately. "After the show, I took her to The Plaza for drinks. Then, I led her to one of their balconies, where I had hundreds of red roses set up. It was there on that balcony, under the moonlight, that I got down on me knee and asked her to be my wife."

"I didn't even give him a chance to finish the question before I was screaming, 'Yes! Yes!' over and over again," I laughed. "There was no need to think it through. I knew he was the one the moment I met him."

"Isn't that just precious," Ed declared, looking between the both of us with a wide smile. "I know two soulmates when I see them, and there's no doubt that you both were fated to be together."

"I certainly think so," I mumbled as Butcher and my eyes met. We gazed at each other as thick tension bloomed between us. If it weren't for Ed's constant feedback, I would've forgotten he was in the room with us.

A faint ding from the kitchen broke the bubble around Butcher and me, and he casually cleared his throat as I focused on eating my dessert.

"Oh, that's the oven timer!" Ed exclaimed, jumping up from his lazy-boy recliner. "That means my second batch of brownies is done."

"As it so happens," Butcher stood, stretching his arms. "Me and the misses outta turn in for the night."

"Of course, of course. You folks have a lovely evening, and like always, don't hesitate to come find me if you need anything at all."

Butcher and I nodded our thanks and watched Ed scurry from the room on a mission to rescue his brownies from burning in the oven.

"He's adorable," I commented as Butcher followed me up the short flight of stairs to the second floor. "I'm going to feel bad when we leave. He's going to be all alone."

"Dontcha worry, doll. He'll have other guests," Butcher assured me, holding our bedroom door open as I waltzed past him over the threshold.

I hummed faintly, thinking of poor, soon-to-be lonely Ed as I stripped off my clothes and readied myself for bed. A quiet settled over the both of us as I rummaged through Butcher's drawer in the dresser, looking for a shirt of his to steal.

When I turned towards the bed, donned in a dark blue Hawaiian shirt decorated with tall palm trees, I caught the man himself, standing on the other side of the bed, lost in thought.

"Everything alright?" I asked, pulling the covers on the bed back in order to dive under them.

"Yeah, darlin’. S’all good," he mumbled as he unbuttoned his shirt, letting it drape over the back of the desk chair.

"You sure?" I pressed as gently as I could. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I mean, if this relationship is going to work, we need to be able to communicate comfortably with each other. So, if there's something on your mind," I painted on a small smile of encouragement. "I'm all ears."

Butcher regarded me for a moment before turning around, and I surveyed the tension cascading down his back.

Concerned, I abandoned the bedding and circled the bed, coming to stand in front of Butcher.

"Don't hide from me," I whispered, "Please, Billy."

Butcher wrapped his arms around my back to pull me close, and I leaned into his chest and pressed a kiss over his heart, wanting to stop it from beating so erratically. He sighed at the affection and rested his cheek against the top of my head.

He didn't speak, so I took his lead and remained silent as well. If this was the comfort Butcher needed at the moment, then damnit I wasn't moving from this spot until my legs gave out.

Eventually, my eyes drifted close as I relaxed in Butcher's hold. I had come very close to falling asleep standing up when he finally spoke. I didn't know how long we had been standing there in each other's arms, but I disregarded that thought as I focused on Butcher's words, which were barely loud enough for me to hear.

"I stopped wearing me ring around my neck.”

He didn't continue after that, and I wondered if he was waiting for me to acknowledge his statement.

"Oh," I mumbled, my mouth muffled by his chest.

I didn't want to hinder the rest of his confession if there was anything left of it, that is, so I all but held my breath. It was like walking on eggshells, but even the toughest of men sometimes needed to be handled delicately.

"I took it off the night we got here after ya’ fell asleep. Didn’t think it was right to ask ya’ to be my girl when I was wearin’ it."

"Oh," I said again, feeling terribly lost for words.

"I don't-" Butcher hesitated. "I don't even know why I was wearin’ it. For safekeepin’, I suppose. But what was I keepin’ it safe for?"

"Do you ever wonder?" I asked cautiously, pulling back from Butcher's hold to look up at him. "If she'll come back? The police never found a body. Maybe, subconsciously or something, you were holding onto it in case she ever returned."

"She ain’t comin’ back, petal," Butcher whispered, stroking my cheek. "But it's ok. I've moved on. That's why I got rid of the bloody scrap of metal. How can I focus on the future if I'm still holdin’ onto the past?"

I nodded, contemplating what Butcher said as I bit the inside of my cheek. I wanted to ask if, in the extraordinary event that Becca came back from the presumed dead, Butcher would put his ring back on. They were married for eight years, almost a decade, for goodness sake. Why would he throw all that away for someone like me, who he's been in a relationship with for two goddamn weeks?

But I didn't want to beat a dead horse, and I had a feeling that that's I would be doing should I voice my concern. Butcher cared for me too much to admit that he'd leave me for his reincarnated wife.

"But speakin’ of movin’ on," Butcher stated, pulling me from my rambling thoughts. "I want ya’ to be the one I move on with."

"What do you mean?" I cocked my head. Isn't that what was already happening since he'd asked me to be in an established relationship?

"Well, I guess all that talk down there with Ed tonight got me thinkin’ about things. About us. About our future."

"Our future?"

"Yeah."

"What would a future for us look like?" I ran a hand down his bare chest.

"Well, after we kill every evil supe cunt that's ever walked this bleedin’ earth, I thought we could get married."

Butcher peered at me intently to gauge my reaction as he broke the barrier on the subject of marriage.

I rolled my lips together as my eyes nervously found his. "You're not like proposing now, are you? Because I've got to say, you really set the bar high with that bullshit proposal story you told Ed down there."

Butcher chuckled, "No, darlin’, m’not proposin’. What kind of a wanker proposes without a ring? All I'm sayin’ is that after all this shite is over, I want us to be together. Long haul and all that."

The side of my mouth curved up as I listened to Butcher describe his dreams.

"We could buy a nice fuck off house in the country somewhere, you know? So we can finally get some peace, and you can go outside and see the sun whenever ya’ like,” Butcher continued.

"And, if you're up for it, we could start a family."

I had to work hard at swallowing the lump in my throat as Butcher's hand came to rest on my lower stomach, both of us imagining what a little bump would look like there—proof of our devotion to each other.

"Billy," I croaked as my eyes burned with unshed tears.

"Ya’ don't gotta say anythin’ right now, love. I don't wantcha to feel pressured into-"

"No," I interrupted. "No, I want that, Billy. I want all of it. Everything you said. I want to marry you and build a home with you."

I placed my hand over Butcher's, which was still on my belly. "I want to have a baby with you."

I lost control of my tears, and they fell freely over my cheeks. I saw Butcher's eyes fill with his own emotion, and he swiped my tears away before bringing me in for a kiss.

"I love you," he whispered against my lips, and I inhaled sharply, pressing my mouth harder against his.

The kiss was heated, filled with emotions and confessions that we were finally letting free.

I drew back as I traced my fingers over every beautiful line on Butcher's face. "I love you too. So much."

"Fuck, I don't deserve ya’," Butcher shook his head, now swallowing a lump that was in his own throat. Unable to say anything, he brought his mouth back down to mine, wanting to express his feelings physically if he couldn't do it audibly.

"Want you," I plead as Butcher's mouth traveled down my neck, sucking and nipping to mark me as his. "Need you."

"I'm gonna ruin you," Butcher promised, voice like gravel. "I'm gonna fuckin’ ruin ya’ for every other fucking man."

I had no problem with that, and I jumped, wrapping my legs around his middle, groaning when both his hands groped my ass, kneading the soft flesh.

Butcher threw me down on the bed before unzipping his dark jeans. I followed his lead and unbuttoned my shirt, tossing the clump of fabric to the end of the bed, totally forgotten.

"Take them off," Butcher instructed, pointing a finger toward my white lace panties.

"Yes, Daddy," I obeyed, pushing my hips up to easily slide the underwear over my thighs and down my legs, never breaking eye contact with Butcher the entire time.

"Look attcha, followin’ Daddy's orders," Butcher uttered possesively, leaning over my frame, causing me to lay down on the bed so he could tower over me. "But s’not because you're a good girl, is it? No, it's because you're a needy little whore who's so desperate for Daddy's cock that you'd do absolutely anythin’. That's the truth, ain’t it, doll?"

I gripped the sheets as I felt my core clench around nothing, desperate to be filled to the brim.

"I think I asked ya’ a question, sweetheart," Butcher said, running his hand down my neck before wrapping his long fingers around my throat, physically stating his dominance over me.

"Yes, Daddy, it's the truth," I mewled, beginning to pant as if I were a bitch in heat, preening to be fucked.

"And what truth is that?" Butcher pressed, applying pressure to my neck, cutting off the blood flow to my brain. My head grew fuzzy, and a dopy smile covered my face as I gave Butcher the answer he was waiting for.

"I'm a needy little whore who's desperate for your cock, Daddy."

"Fuckin’ look at ya’.” Butcher observed my body. "I bet you'd let me do anythin’ to you, huh? Just Daddy's little toy who he can fuck however he wants."

I wrapped my legs around Butcher's waist and ground up into the hard-on he was sporting through his boxers.

"Did I say you could do that, princess?" Butcher reached around to smack the side of my thigh. The lasting sting caused me to moan, pressing harder against his covered shaft and relishing in the friction against my throbbing clit.

"Can't wait," I whined, blinking up at him helplessly. I was beyond the point of being embarrassed at how pathetic I looked.

"God, you really are a slut. I can feel ya’ makin’ a mess all over me fuckin’ boxers. Eh, drop your legs," Butcher slapped my leg again and I reluctantly let them fall against the mattress, but that didn't stop my hips from lifting off of the bed to find something to hump like a desperate pup.

Butcher slipped his boxers off and threw them somewhere behind him, not caring where they ended up, and wrapped a hand around his length, veins bulging and weighty balls hanging below.

"Show me your pretty cunt, sweetheart," Butcher said, and he barely got his request out before I spread my legs for me, pushing my sopping pussy up toward his face.

Butcher dragged his red tip that was already leaking pre-cum through my folds, and a broken sob left my mouth. "Please don't tease me."

Butcher repeated the same action until real tears began dripping down my face. "I'm serious, Butcher. Please, I can't fucking take it."

Butcher glared at me before grabbing my hips harshly and slamming his cock into my cunt. I gasped at the sudden intrusion and braced my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

"That's not my fuckin’ name, doll," Butcher whispered darkly in my ear as he began to fuck me harshly.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm sorry," I all but yelled as I hung on tight as Butcher rammed into me unrelentingly.

I reached down to circle my clit, and as a result, squeezed Butcher's length, letting him know that I was going to finish sooner than expected.

"Fuck, you're already close? My girl is more pathetic than I thought," Butcher chuckled.

I could barely process the shame from getting off on being so degraded due to Butcher slapping my hand away so he could work my clit himself.

"Are you gonna come, sweet girl? Cuz I'm gonna come too. And ya’ know what?" Butcher leaned his head down to whisper in my ear again. "I'm not gonna pull out."

My head slammed back against the pillow as my eyes screwed shut.

"I'm gonna come so fuckin’ deep in this cunt that you'll never question who ya’ belong to. You are mine. My girl. My wife. The mother of my children-"

Butcher's hips stuttered, and I felt hot ropes of his cum coat my walls.

My mouth opened wide in a silent scream as I pulsed around his cock, my slick streaming onto the bed sheets as I came, almost violently.

My body was covered in pins and needles as Butcher took deep breaths while coaching me on how to do the same.

"Breath for my, sweetheart," Butcher encouraged, rubbing a hand over my stomach.

"That's it," he said in approval when I took a full breath, filling my lungs with much-needed oxygen. "Good girl. Doin’ such a good job for me."

Butcher waited a couple of minutes before pulling his softening length out. Then, he climbed off the bed and pulled his boxers back on.

"Stay right there, doll. I'll be back in a jiffy." Butcher kissed me on the forehead, and I mumbled unintentionally in response.

He walked into the bathroom, and I heard the sink begin to run.

I didn't have to wait long before Butcher returned with a damp washcloth in hand. He knelt at the foot of the bed and pulled my legs apart, all sexual intentions gone, only the idea of aftercare on his mind.

The warm cloth against my skin was healing, and I felt a fatigue take over my body.

"I'm sleepy," I mumbled.

"Good. That means I wore ya’ out," Butcher teased, standing to take the used washcloth back into the bathroom.

I sat up and retrieved Butcher's shirt, slipping it back over my tired body, yawning as I did so.

When Butcher appeared again, he ducked under the sheets. I didn't hesitate to nestle up to his side, and I made a soft sound of contentment when he pulled me onto his chest.

My ear rested over his heart, and I smiled when I felt it beat slow and steady, unlike how it raced earlier. I was happy to know Butcher was at ease and void of his previous anxiety. And if I had something to do with that, well, I guess that would explain the butterflies tumbling in my stomach.

Butcher ran a hand through my hair, twirling the strands and lightly scratching my scalp as he attempted to lull me into a soothing slumber.

I was almost asleep when a bang rang out downstairs, and as a complete parallel to our first morning here, Butcher and I shot up in bed, gazing at each other, alarmed.

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abandoned masterlist

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sleekervae · 5 months ago

Text

New York Romantic 1.5

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: noelle practices ballet again

word count: 6,488

warnings: mentions of sex, bodily limits being met, exhaustion and fluff

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

Tom sat on the crate, script in hand, and stared at the words as if they might vanish off the page. His heart was hammering a little too hard, the walls of his tiny space closing in as the director’s note from earlier rang in his ears.

“It’s a quick, lighthearted scene,” they’d said. “More comedic than romantic—meant to break the tension, not add any.”

He’d nodded, trying to play it cool, but as soon as he’d walked out of the rehearsal, his nerves had crept back in. It wasn’t exactly a sex scene, he reassured himself—no part of him was going to be shown, and the whole bit was supposed to be humorous. But still, it was the idea of it. He’d never done anything like this, and he could already feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck just thinking about the cameras, the lights, the dozens of eyes watching him pretend.

He caught his reflection in a window pane and a crooked, nervous smile tugged at his lips. “Get a grip, mate,” he mumbled to himself. But even as he tried to laugh it off, another thought crept in, one that made his stomach tighten a little more: should he tell Noelle about this?

He knew it would only be fair—she would want to see the movie anyhow and it would be better to warn her ahead of time. And, knowing Noelle, she’d probably laugh and tell him he was being ridiculous, that he’d be amazing regardless. But still, a small part of him felt awkward, uncertain about how she’d react.

Would she feel uncomfortable? Would she be hurt? He hated the idea of her feeling anything but secure with him, especially now that they were so far apart.

He let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, pulling his phone from his pocket. The soft glow of her last message blinked back at him, and just seeing her name at the top of his screen eased his nerves. He grinned, feeling the buzz of that familiar warmth, the feeling that had pulled him through the homesickness, the long hours on set, everything.

With a deep breath, he typed out a message:

Hey, love. Can I ask you something a bit… awkward?

He stared at the message for a long moment, thumb hovering over the “send” button, before finally pressing it.

The message hung there, unread, as the minutes ticked by. Tom sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Of course, it was still early morning in America; she’d be fast asleep, her phone likely tucked away on her nightstand while she dozed, blissfully unaware of his message. He let his phone slip back into his pocket and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

The director’s voice call, the words muffled but unmistakably clear: it was time.

He stood, running a hand through his hair and giving himself one last glance in the mirror. You’ve got this. It’s just a scene, he told himself. And if Noelle were here, she’d probably be laughing at how worked up you’re getting over it.

The set was bustling as he walked in, lights and crew members filling every inch of the space. His co-star flashed him an encouraging smile, and he forced himself to smile back, though his nerves still simmered beneath the surface. As they positioned themselves, he kept his gaze forward, willing himself to focus on the absurdity of the scene rather than the nerves crawling up his spine. He felt like he was on autopilot, repeating the mental checklist of lines, marks, cues—all to keep his mind from spiraling.

When the cameras finally started rolling, Tom did his best to tune out the flashing lights and choked back laughter from the limited crew around them. It was a comical scene, meant to be awkward and clumsy, and he played it for laughs, trying to embrace the ridiculousness of it. Yet every now and then, his thoughts wandered back to Noelle and how she’d probably find his flustered performance hilarious.

After what felt like an eternity, the director yelled, “Cut!” Tom exhaled, feeling like he’d been holding his breath the entire time. Relief washed over him as the crew dispersed, and he could finally relax. His director gave him a pat on the back, laughing, “Not bad for your first love scene, eh?”

Tom chuckled, brushing off the lingering tension. “Let’s just say I’m glad that’s over.”

Later, back in his trailer, he pulled out his phone, hoping—half expecting—that Noelle might have seen his message. But her chat bubble was still empty, her name sitting there without a reply.

He was wiping away the last traces of his makeup when his phone finally buzzed in his pocket. He fumbled for it, feeling his heart leap a little as Noelle’s reply lit up his screen.

Morning! What's up?

A grin spread across his face.

Noelle groaned as she woke up, the sunlight streaming through the window feeling like an attack rather than a welcome. She rolled over, her head pounding in time with her heartbeat, the hangover from last night’s beach party making everything fuzzy and unbearably bright. She pulled the covers over her head, willing herself back to sleep, but her stomach churned in protest.

After what felt like an eternity, she managed to drag herself out of bed, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders like a cape and shuffling down the stairs. She made it to the kitchen, fumbling through the motions of making coffee with the single-minded focus of a zombie. Only when the coffee was brewed and the first sip dulled the edge of her headache did she feel coherent enough to grab her phone off the counter.

She unlocked it, squinting at the bright screen. A series of texts from her friends filled her notifications, recounting the bits of the night she could hardly remember, but it was Tom’s message that held her attention. The timestamp showed he’d sent it hours ago, and her curiosity spiked as she opened it, a faint smile already playing on her lips despite the throb in her head.

Good morning! Can I ask you something a bit… awkward?

She blinked, reading it over again. Her haze gave way to panic; was everything okay? Did something bad happen on set? Noelle read the message twice, her sleepiness and hangover abruptly shoved aside by worry. She fired off a quick reply, trying to keep her tone light.

Of course! Everything okay?

She barely had a chance to put her phone down before it started vibrating in her hand. Tom’s name flashed on the screen, and she accepted the call immediately, her voice coming out a bit sharper than she’d intended.

“Hey, is everything alright?”

She heard him exhale, a low, nervous chuckle escaping. “Yeah, sorry, didn’t mean to worry you. I just… remember before I left? You asked about... spicy scenes?"

Relief swept over her as his words sank in, and she managed a laugh. "Oh my goodness. Tom, did you film a spicy scene?"

"... Maybe..." he chuckled awkwardly. She could picture him now, sitting in a trailer, studio, wherever he may be, all flustered, red in the face and that dopey, adorable smile pulling at his cheeks. “And it’s meant to be a bit, uh -- stupid. You know, lighthearted, but still…”

Noelle couldn’t help but grin, the mental image of him trying to stay composed while blushing wildly was too good. “Like -- Deuce Bigalow type of stupid or National Lampoon stupid?”

“Um... maybe more mid two-thousands Michael Cera stupid,” he admitted with a groan. “It’s just weird. And I wanted to talk to you about it first but then I remembered you were asleep and then I had to go and... anyway, it's over now."

Noelle leaned against the counter, her grip relaxing a bit. “I see,” she said with a grin. “How’d it go? Did you survive?”

Tom gave a small laugh, though it sounded a bit forced. “Barely. It was… honestly, it was so awkward. They wanted it to be a bit ridiculous, like almost slapstick, so there was this whole bit where I’m trying to be cool but the character's a virgin and he's just… failing epically.” He chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness still.

She laughed, the image of Tom trying to act “cool” bringing a genuine smile to her face. “Sounds adorable. And hilarious.” She paused, hearing his silence on the other end. “You sure you’re okay, though?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied, sounding thoughtful. “It’s all part of the job, I guess. Just… odd to be acting like that when the only person I’d actually…” He trailed off, the words catching in his throat. Should he even be talking about this over the phone? Maybe not. Or maybe it was fine? The whole day had been so surreal, and now here he was, on the other side of the world, trying to figure out how much he should talk about sex.

Meanwhile, Noelle’s day was just starting, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. With a nervous laugh, he tried to shift the subject, but her soft voice cut through his hesitation.

Noelle caught onto his nerves instantly, her smile growing as she leaned against the counter, cradling her coffee. She decided to play along, keeping her tone light but warm.

“Don’t worry,” she said, amusement lacing her voice. “I’m sure you did just fine. I mean, you’re an actor, right? You know how to fake it.”

Tom let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… right. Faking it. Not like I'd ever fake it for real -- I mean. I'm a professional. Professional, through and through,” he replied, though he couldn’t help the embarrassed chuckle that slipped out. This was spinning so far and he was grasping to get a hold of himself.

"Tom, I think you're overthinking this," Noelle simpered.

"I think you're right." he nodded.

“And anyway,” Noelle continued, her voice softening, “I’m glad you’re telling me. I can imagine it's... a lot. Not exactly the easiest scene to jump into, huh?”

“Not exactly,” Tom admitted, feeling the tension ease a little. “But I always feel better talking to you.” He paused, the quietness between them oddly comforting. “It's been a weird day.”

She grinned, her tone playful again. “Well, hey! It's almost over. Just remember, the next time you have to film one of those scenes, you know it's a job and I know it's a job. I'm not gonna' get mad at you for doing your job. I mean... I might get a little jealous but -- ya know.”

Tom’s smile widened, and he sank back into his chair, feeling the weight of the day begin to lift. “I highly doubt you'll be jealous here.”

"I'll be the judge of that," she teased, a playful glint in her eyes. "If I've got to wait another month for you, I'd hope you’re still as flustered about me as you are about these ‘romantic’ scenes.”

Tom’s voice softened, a hint of a smile in his tone. “Oh, trust me,” he murmured. “There’s no comparison.”

Noelle couldn’t help but laugh softly, her lips curling into a smile. It was so endearing how Tom could go from being completely caught off guard one moment to so effortlessly collected the next. It made her ache in a way she couldn’t fully explain, a mixture of longing and tenderness that seemed to fill her chest. She hated how far away he was, how long it felt until she’d see him again. The days couldn’t go by fast enough. Every second without him felt like it stretched on for ages, and she couldn’t help but wish for the time to hurry up—just so she could feel the comfort of his presence again.

The rest of July passed in a steady rhythm of connection and longing as Tom and Noelle adjusted to the new normal of long-distance. Despite the miles, they both fought to keep things lighthearted and close, like with their attempt at a virtual movie date. They’d picked out a film to watch "together," but between her slow internet and his spotty connection on location, the night turned chaotic. Scenes cut out, their commentary got tangled, and by the end, they were both laughing more at the situation than the movie. Still, when the call ended, Noelle found herself smiling, the warmth of his voice lingering, as if he’d been right there beside her.

Tom, on the other hand, lay in bed afterward, staring at his phone’s black screen. He’d tried so hard to make it feel like a real date—timing the movie countdown, setting up his laptop just right—but it still hadn’t been the same. Even though it left him feeling closer to her, he couldn’t shake a nagging sense of distance.

Determined to bridge the gap, they each decided to send care packages, both hoping a physical reminder of themselves would make the other feel just a bit more at home. Noelle’s package arrived first—a small box filled with goodies and quirky gifts she’d hunted down with Tom in mind. Snacks he'd loved from New York, self care products, her favorite instant ramen packets, and a photo of them taken at the park just before he left. She’d tucked in a couple of handwritten notes, silly and heartfelt, hoping they’d bring a smile to his face on tough days.

When Tom opened the box, he chuckled, pulling out each item with a mix of amusement and nostalgia. It felt like he was holding bits of her world, as if he could feel her presence through the small tokens she’d chosen. Inspired, he quickly put together a package for her, slipping in some British snacks she couldn’t find in the States and a small, handwritten letter of his own. Noelle received it a week later, her heart swelling as she unfolded his note, feeling like for a moment, he was right there with her.

Yet the distance wasn’t always so easy to ignore. They tried calling whenever they could, often late at night, and more often than not, one of them was barely awake. Tom would find himself half-dozing, phone clutched in his hand, Noelle’s sleepy voice a comforting murmur in his ear. Sometimes, he’d jolt awake mid-conversation, feeling frustrated with himself for missing pieces of their calls. Noelle, too, grew used to the intimacy of their soft, half-awake conversations, but she often hung up feeling just a bit unsatisfied, missing the easy closeness of being together in person.

One evening, lying alone in her room, Noelle found herself scrolling through social media, glancing at Tom’s co-stars and castmates. They were friendly faces he’d mentioned before, all of them sharing updates from the set, tagging each other in stories and laughing at inside jokes she didn’t know. It was a harmless habit, she told herself, but a pang of insecurity crept in, reminding her just how much she missed feeling close, feeling part of his world.

For Tom, the separation felt heavy too, especially during the long days on set. He missed her laugh, her quick wit, the way she’d fit herself into his life so effortlessly. But each time they talked about reuniting, about the little things they were excited to do together, it kept him grounded. Soon, August would arrive, and with it, the end of their time apart. He started a countdown, marking the days until he’d be back in New York, back with Noelle.

Noelle, meanwhile, found herself clinging to the countdown, too, ticking off days with an excitement that bubbled up with each call. The ache of separation lingered, but it was softened by the hope of what lay ahead—a hopeful reminder that despite the distance, they were both still moving forward together, sharing a bond that felt even stronger as each day passed.

August swept into New York with a humid breeze, thick and heady with the scent of hot concrete and late summer rain. Noelle and Bianca dragged their suitcases up the steps of their apartment building, each one carrying the familiar anticipation that came with the start of a new school year. For the first time, though, that excitement was tinged with nerves—especially for Noelle.

Returning to Juilliard after a summer away always felt like coming home. But this year was different. She hadn’t been in a studio for weeks, not since her appendix surgery had forced her off the floor and into bed. Now, standing in the familiar space of the practice studio, the air thick with the faint scent of resin and sweat, she could feel the rust clinging to her movements. Her body responded slower, her muscles tight and resistant.

Across the room, Bianca observed her critically, arms folded, eyebrows drawn in concentration. Noelle took a deep breath, focusing on each move, each stretch, feeling her way back into the familiar steps she’d practiced a thousand times before. But Bianca didn’t miss a single slip, a single faltering point.

“Noelle, you’re turning too late,” Bianca pointed out, her tone blunt. “You need to hold your core tighter or you’ll lose your balance.”

Noelle flushed, lowering her arms as she tried to steady herself. “I know, I just—I’m getting back into it. It’s been a while.”

Iseul sat at the other end of the studio, she glanced between them. “Bianca, give her some slack. We all took the summer off. It's okay to be a little rusty!”

Bianca crossed her arms, an expression of thinly veiled impatience on her face. “The problem isn’t rust,” she said. “It’s that we’re heading into our third year. The stakes are higher now. We can’t afford to be anything less than perfect if we want to get scouted!”

Noelle’s stomach churned, the weight of Bianca’s words settling heavily on her. She knew all of that already, of course—every Juilliard student did. It was a constant drumbeat in the back of their minds. But hearing it from Bianca, someone she respected and considered a friend, made it feel so much more real. And urgent.

“I know what’s at stake,” Noelle said quietly, turning to face Bianca. “And I want this as much as you do. I just... I need to take it one step at a time. My body’s still catching up.”

Bianca met her gaze, and for a moment, her stern expression softened. But only slightly. “Fine,” she relented. “But don’t let ‘catching up’ become an excuse. The competition isn’t going to wait for you to get comfortable.”

With that, Bianca turned and began her own routine at the barre, the tension in the room palpable.

Iseul walked over to Noelle, her smile reassuring as she reached out to squeeze her arm. “Don’t let her get to you,” she whispered. “You’re going to be fine. Let’s run through something together, okay?”

Noelle nodded, swallowing hard. “Thanks, Iseul,” she murmured, grateful for the kindness. As they moved to the center of the studio, she glanced back at Bianca, who was already absorbed in her movements, the sharp lines of her form reflecting the precision she demanded of herself—and of everyone else.

Noelle sighed, steeling herself. If she wanted to prove Bianca wrong, she’d have to start by proving herself right.

Noelle trudged through the front door of her apartment building, every step sending a dull ache up her legs. Her feet throbbed in her pointe shoes, and she was certain there was a blister forming on her left heel. The scent of lemon-scented cleaner hung in the air, a faint reminder that Doris had been busy earlier in the day.

She had barely taken two steps toward the stairs when Doris’s voice called out from her desk. “Evening, Noelle! How was practice?”

Noelle turned, managing a polite smile despite the exhaustion pulling at her face. “It was fine, thank you.”

Doris waved her hand dismissively, gesturing for Noelle to come closer. “You know, ‘fine’ is what people say when it was terrible. You don’t look fine, honey—you look like you’ve been through the wringer. Let me guess, they’ve got you twirling like a circus monkey?”

Noelle chuckled faintly, though her patience was already thinning. “Something like that.”

Doris launched into a monologue about the latest developments in her favorite soap opera, her hands gesturing dramatically as she detailed a betrayal involving twins, a faked death, and an inheritance dispute. Noelle nodded along, her mind drifting as she shifted her weight from one aching foot to the other. All she wanted was to collapse on her bed and soak her feet in warm water, but Doris’s enthusiasm was relentless.

“It’s wild, I tell you!” Doris exclaimed, glancing at her watch. Noelle didn’t think much of it until Doris did it again a moment later, her gaze flicking to the staircase behind Noelle.

Noelle frowned slightly, unsure why Doris seemed so distracted. She was about to excuse herself, but Doris leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “And get this—the evil twin? Turns out he’s been working with the lawyer the whole time! Isn’t that something?”

“Yeah, that’s… something,” Noelle said vaguely, taking a small step back. “Well, Doris, I’d better—”

“And we haven't even gotten to the husband's faked death plot!” Doris cut in, her eyes darting at her watch before quickly flicking to the staircase again. Noelle felt the weight of Doris’s attention as she seemed to check for something—or someone—before turning her full focus back to her.

“Are you waiting for someone, Doris?” Noelle asked, a bit of suspicion creeping into her voice.

Doris’s eyes widened just for a moment, and then her usual expression returned, forced and casual. “What? Me? No, no. Just checking the time, sweetheart. Old habits. You know how it is.” She smiled brightly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Noelle frowned, her curiosity piqued. Doris had been acting a little off lately, but tonight something about her seemed even more unusual. The woman was normally full of stories, but now she was almost fidgeting in her chair, her eyes darting to the stairs every few moments.

She didn’t have time to puzzle it out, though. “Well, I really need to get upstairs and rest. I’m sore from practice,” Noelle said, taking a small step back, her mind still reeling from the odd exchange.

“Of course, of course!” Doris said quickly, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Don’t mind me, sweetie. Just… a little distracted tonight.”

Noelle gave her a polite smile, though her gut told her something was off. “Alright, Doris. See you tomorrow.”

With that, she turned and made her way up the stairs, feeling Doris’s eyes follow her.

Noelle hiked up to the third floor, the ache in her legs from practice still lingering with every step. Her feet were a mess from the day's grind, and all she could think about was the bliss of soaking them in warm water. As she reached the top, she glanced down the hall and noticed the faint glow of light spilling from underneath her apartment door. She froze for a moment.

She was certain she had locked it before leaving.

Her heart skipped a beat as a wave of curiosity and mild panic washed over her. Had someone broken in? She approached the door cautiously, holding her breath.

Noelle reached for the handle, slowly twisting it, her mind racing. The door was already slightly ajar. She pushed it open gently, barely making a sound as she slipped inside.

The living room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the stove in the kitchen. The smell that hit her first was what caught her off guard—something deliciously savory mixed with a hint of garlic and herbs. Her eyes darted around the room, still half-expecting to find an intruder.

But then she heard it.

A soft clatter of pots and pans, followed by a muttered curse, and her heart skipped.

Noelle peeked around the corner into the kitchen. Her eyes went wide.

Tom stood there, looking completely out of place in her kitchen, surrounded by a chaotic mess of pots, bowls, and ingredients. A half-open bag of flour sat on the counter beside him, with a dusting of it scattered across the floor. He was trying—unsuccessfully—to flip something in a pan, but it wasn’t going as smoothly as he hoped.

She stood there, completely stunned for a moment, her exhaustion forgotten in an instant.

Tom turned, a look of shock and sudden panic flooding his face when he noticed her standing there. “Noelle!” he said, his voice a little higher than usual, and he almost dropped the spatula in his hand. “Shit -- Hi!”

Noelle blinked, still processing the sight before her. Tom, in her kitchen, cooking? Home a week before he was supposed to be?

"-- Hi..." she managed, "You're back early...?"

Tom gave a sheepish grin before he went to turn down the heat under his pan, the smell of crackling food growing stronger, "Uh -- surprise!"

A smile slowly crept onto her face as she watched him try to regain some semblance of control in the midst of the chaos. Flour dusted the edges of his shirt, and his hair was slightly messier than usual.

Noelle couldn’t hold back any longer. Without thinking, she dropped her bag and rushed toward him, her arms wide open. Before Tom could even react, she wrapped herself around him in a tight hug, burying her face against his chest.

"You're back," she whispered, the relief flooding her all at once. She could feel his heartbeat against her cheek, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything seemed right again.

Tom was momentarily stunned, his hands hovering awkwardly before they instinctively found their way around her, pulling her close. He sighed, almost in disbelief, his chest rising and falling with the weight of the moment. “I’m back,” he murmured back, his voice low and thick.

The months certainly flew, but the distance between them, both physical and emotional, felt so much longer. The chaos of life, of school, of everything, had made it feel like an eternity. But now, with Noelle in his arms, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

He held her a little tighter, the relief of being back with her washing over him. “I missed you,” he said, his voice muffled against her hair. His hands slid up and down her back in soothing motions, the stress of the last few weeks melting away with each second they spent together.

Noelle pulled back slightly, enough to look up at him with a wide, relieved smile. “I missed you too,” she whispered, her hands still resting on his chest. “I didn’t expect you to be here already… I thought you were still filming.”

Tom chuckled, the sound warm and easy. “I wanted to surprise you. I couldn’t stay away any longer,” he confessed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Figured I’d come home early and cook you dinner… but clearly, I need some work in the kitchen.”

Noelle’s eyes twinkled with affection. “What are you making?” she asked, her tone teasing but full of warmth.

Tom hesitated for a moment, then gave a sheepish grin. “Well... I saw this ramen hack online,” he started, gesturing toward the stove. “You sear a steak, add it to instant ramen, and it’s supposed to be, like, next-level gourmet.”

Noelle raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Sounds... ambitious.”

Tom chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, it’s not going exactly as planned. The steak’s not searing right, the noodles are sticking together, and I think I might’ve overcooked the broth...”

Noelle walked over to the stove, peering at the pan where the steak was sizzling. “So... it’s not going well?”

Tom laughed, the sound a little self-deprecating. “Not quite the high-end dinner I was envisioning,” he admitted, his hands still hovering over the sizzling pan like he was trying to figure out how to salvage it. “I thought it’d be a cool surprise, you know?”

Noelle’s eyes softened as she watched him, her lips curving into a warm, appreciative smile. "You were gone for three months, came off an eight-hour flight, are jet-lagged to shit, hauled your stuff up here… and you're making me dinner?"

Tom's cheeks flushed slightly, but he grinned, his eyes lighting up as he met her gaze. "I thought it would be a nice gesture," he admitted, his voice a little sheepish but filled with affection. "You deserve something special. Even if it’s just a pile of ramen and an overcooked steak." He glanced at the pan with a grimace, then back at her. "I wanted to do something for you… but I might have bitten off more than I can chew."

Noelle shook her head, still smiling despite the mess in front of them. "I’m just glad you’re here," she said softly, taking a step closer, her fingers lightly brushing the sleeve of his shirt. "This is already the best surprise."

Tom’s grin grew, his hands gently cupping her face, pulling her closer. “You’re easy to please, you know that?” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

She tilted her head up, meeting his lips with a soft kiss, letting herself melt into the moment, the chaos of the kitchen forgotten for now. When they pulled back, her voice was barely a whisper. "Would you like me to help you?" She glanced at the sizzling pan, then back at him with a playful smile.

"Yes, please." Tom’s voice was a quiet, relieved sigh, as if he’d been waiting for her to offer. He gave her a small, grateful smile, then stepped back, motioning to the chaos of the kitchen.

Noelle took over the kitchen with an easy confidence, her hands deftly fixing Tom’s mess while he watched, slightly abashed but incredibly grateful. Together, they salvaged the dinner: the ramen soup had a rich, comforting broth, and the seared steak, though not exactly what Tom had envisioned, still held a surprising tenderness. As Noelle finished plating the bowls, she set them down on the small dining table, where the scent of the meal seemed to lift the weight of the evening.

The kitchen now looked a little less chaotic, and Noelle was smiling, a warmth in her gaze that Tom found grounding. With a soft chuckle, he followed her to the couch, the two bowls of ramen in hand, the warmth of the meal and their shared space slowly relaxing him.

Settling onto the couch, Noelle curled her legs up beneath her, and Tom stretched out beside her, grateful for the way the tension of the past few days melted away the moment he was with her. The ramen was simple but surprisingly good—Tom had managed to pull it together, and though it wasn’t perfect, it tasted like something they could both enjoy. The steak was a bit overdone, but the flavor still came through, and Noelle didn’t seem to mind one bit.

They ate in comfortable silence, the glow of the apartment’s soft lighting giving the room a cozy, intimate feel. There were no distractions, no urgent need to be anywhere else—just the sound of their spoons clinking against the bowls and the soft hum of the city outside. Tom felt a sense of relief that washed over him, the kind that came from knowing everything felt right, even when it wasn’t perfect.

Noelle raised an eyebrow as she took another bite of her ramen, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "How did you even get in here?"

Tom, still feeling a little sheepish but pleased with the way things had turned out, grinned. "Bianca hid a key for me," he admitted, his voice soft with a touch of guilt.

Noelle blinked, momentarily stunned. She had a feeling something was off when Bianca had been so reluctant to come home earlier. "So that's why she didn’t wanna come home," Noelle said, half-laughing and half-shaking her head. She leaned back into the couch, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her bowl. "I thought she was just mad at me."

"Why would she be mad at you?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

Noelle shrugged, the lightness of her tone betraying the exhaustion she felt deep down. "I don't know. Maybe she thinks I've been slacking all summer." She paused, staring at the half-eaten bowl of ramen in her lap, not quite meeting his gaze. "You know how she gets."

Tom frowned, his eyes flicking to the bandages wrapped around her left heel and toes. The fabric was visible beneath the hem of her leggings, a reminder of the toll her body had been taking. He could see how tired she was—her shoulders slumped in a way that spoke of more than just the day’s practice.

"Hey," he shifted closer, his voice soft but firm, "You've had a long summer, Noelle. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone—not to Bianca, not to me. Everyone knows how incredibly talented you are. I know how hard you work. But you have to know when to let yourself rest, too."

Noelle let out a slow breath, her fingers absently curling around the edges of her bowl as she leaned into him, his warmth and steadiness grounding her. "I know… I just feel like I need to make up for lost time. I don’t want to fall behind."

Tom’s expression softened as his eyes searched hers, feeling the weight of her words and the pressure she placed on herself. It tugged at him. "You won’t lose anything," he said gently, his voice steady. "You’ve got what it takes. Even if it takes you a little longer to get back into the swing of things, you’ll get there. I know you will. But you’ve gotta believe that too."

Noelle sighed, her head resting back against his shoulder. The fatigue settled deeper, but with it came a comforting sense of relief. "It’s hard to trust that sometimes," she murmured. "I feel like if I don’t push now, I’ll lose everything."

Tom kissed her forehead, the warmth of his touch grounding her. "You’re not going to lose anything," he reassured her softly. "If I can move to a whole new country, get a job, keep my grades up, and fall in love with an amazing girl like you—then you can do anything."

Noelle pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with surprise as she met his gaze. "You're falling in love with me?" she asked, her voice a little breathless, as if she couldn’t quite believe it.

Tom’s face flushed, and he shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. "Well, I -- I mean, it's not hard to do," he said, his words stumbling a little. His smile was sheepish, but there was a warmth in his eyes that he couldn’t hide. "You're very lovable, Noelle."

Noelle’s breath caught in her chest, her heart racing as she processed his words. She didn’t know what to say at first, the weight of his admission hanging between them like a sweet secret. She was still trying to find the right words when she noticed the sincerity in his eyes.

"Tom…" she whispered, her hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. She leaned in, her lips brushing lightly against his as she whispered again, “I missed you so much.”

Tom’s hands gently cupped her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek as he closed the gap between them. He kissed her softly at first, testing the waters, but then, as if the floodgates opened, he kissed her more deeply, pulling her closer. The warmth between them was overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but mumble against her lips, “I missed you more.”

She melted into the kiss, her fingers tangling in his shirt as she responded with an intensity of her own. The world outside felt distant, irrelevant, as if nothing existed but the two of them.

After a few moments, Tom pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling. He smiled softly and placed their bowls of ramen carefully on the coffee table beside them. “Fuck -- you're so pretty.” he whispered, his voice heavy.

Noelle’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, feeling the overwhelming warmth of his presence. She didn’t need to say anything in response—she knew exactly what he meant, and she felt it in her bones. She could stay in this moment with him forever.

Noelle’s chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, her heart still racing from the kiss. She felt the warmth of his body press against hers, grounding her in the moment. Without thinking, she leaned back, lowering her head onto the soft cushions of the couch. The cozy space around them felt small but perfect, the quiet of the room adding to the intimacy of the moment.

Tom followed her, his movements slow, as if he didn’t want to rush anything. He hovered above her, his eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. His body was close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him, his breath warm against her lips. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, the words between them unsaid but understood.

Noelle’s fingers slid up his chest, grazing his shirt. She didn’t know what she was expecting—what she wanted—but everything about this felt right.

Tom’s expression softened, his lips curling into a tender smile. He leaned in, his mouth finding hers again, this time with a deeper hunger, as if the kiss had become something more than just comfort. He moved slowly, carefully, crawling on top of her, his hands framing her face, fingertips lightly tracing the lines of her jaw. His body pressed against hers in a way that felt like home.

She let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing beneath him, and she tugged him closer, her arms wrapping around his neck. The weight of him felt comforting, like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Tom’s hand slid down her side, resting on her hip, as he kissed her again, deeper this time, with a soft, quiet urgency. His heart pounded in his chest, his body responding to the intensity of the moment, but he held back, aware of the space between their hearts—still careful, still tender.

Noelle’s fingers traced the line of his neck, feeling the slight tremor in his muscles. She pulled him closer, and his breath hitched, his body responding with a shiver of anticipation. He leaned down again, kissing her with more intensity, more purpose, feeling the world around them shrink until there was nothing but the two of them, tangled in each other’s warmth.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games x reader #original story #original female character #imagine blog

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amostimprobabledream · 7 months ago

Text

Falling in Reverse (Dazai Osamu x Reader) Part Two

I meant to write more of this like...two years ago? My bad. I hope you enjoy despite that! <3 -

This is fine.

You kept on thinking it as you sat there, trying to pay attention.

You told yourself to stop it. Stop nitpicking, finding fault with every little thing and refusing to live in the moment for a solitary fucking second. You could feel your fingers twitching with desperation to check your messages, and nearly sit on your hands in an effort to stop yourself. You poured your focus into acting normal instead, nodding in the right places, making encouraging noises, keeping your facial expression open and inviting instead of sliding into boredom or irritation…

It's a fucking lot of work.

The guy – his name was Ken-something, he said what it was when you sat down but the bar was kind of loud and the chance to get him to repeat it somehow slipped past you – was good-looking enough but he wasn’t especially interesting to talk to, and he kept looking around the bar like he was expecting something. He asked the basic questions, but you got the feeling he wasn’t really listening when you answered. The only time he did seem intrigued was when you mentioned your job. You kept it vague, since the Armed Detective Agency wasn’t popular with some people, and he’d lost interest when you clarified it was just a desk job.

“So you don’t get to get out much?” he asked, with a lopsided smirk like he’d made some hilarious sexual innuendo you hadn’t got yet.

“Oh, you know, I run errands sometimes.” You replied, pretending to think hard about the response. It's actually true – Ranpo had you bringing him so many snacks it’s like he thought you were the goddamn Easter Bunny, yet you could never quite bring yourself to say ‘no’ to him. “Thrilling stuff, I know.”

“That’s too bad. Maybe you need someone to show you some thrills, you know?”

A smirk accompanied that, and you dutifully waited for the butterflies in your stomach, or a flicker of intrigue, or something, but your ardour remained stubbornly cool. Frustration bubbled inside you, and you took a big gulp of your drink. It was like you were jamming keys you knew fit into the ignition of a car, but every time you turned it, the engine would not turn on, no matter how much you tried to will it to life.

But going home would feel like quitting. Like admitting defeat. Like you're really saying: I'm so obsessed with my co-worker who is both terrible and far too good for me that I can't give anyone else a chance. Sad, huh?

“Excuse me for a sec,” you said instead, flashing a smile you didn’t feel, rising to your feet. “I’ll be right back.”

He waved a hand in acknowledgement, and you could tell he was watching you as you headed for the ladies’ room, the heat of it making you strangely uneasy, knowing his eyes were going down your body, cataloguing. For sure he was looking at your ass in the dress.

The ladies’ room was blessedly quiet, and you splashed some water on your face, staring down your reflection, hands braced either side of the sink.

What am I doing here? You thought, and sighed.

It’s just a lacklustre date. You’ve gone on them before and usually put no further thought into them once you took off your makeup and outfit and slipped into bed. There are millions of people in the world, the odds of being instantly compatible with someone seemed like a rare enough thing not to take too personally.

But looking at yourself in your red dress, your hair washed and makeup still nice (if getting slightly smudgy – most of your lipgloss had already transferred to the rim of your glass), you didn’t feel like some kind of sexy badass like you’d been going for.

You just felt kind of stupid, to be honest.

You really thought you did something, didn’t you? A nasty inner voice sneered at you. You thought this was like a movie where you could put on a slutty dress, have an amazing date with a cute guy and magically cure your shitty life? You thought this would fix anything?

You hated that the bitchy voice was right.

“You stupid bitch.” You muttered out loud, your reflection mouthing the words back at you, and you shook your head and exited the toilets before somebody walked in on the stranger talking to herself.

Perhaps the drinks are hitting you a little harder than you thought, because a vague fuzz of light-headedness descended on you as you walked towards your booth, and you decided that you liked it. It took the edge of your self-consciousness and made you forget how this wasn’t the kind of dress you usually wore, or that you were going on a stupid date to get over your feelings for a co-worker who was literally a hazard to one’s health.

But then, just as you got back to your seat, younearly tripped over yourself in shock when you got to the booth and the back of the seated man’s head was definitely not the man you’d come into the bar with.

You’d know those fluffy brown locks anywhere.

“Dazai, what the fuck?!“ you said, then remembered to lower your voice into a hiss, anger coming to you in a sharp burst, like opening a bottle that’s been shaken up first. “You can’t just come in here and- “

Dazai turned his head and your ranting abruptly halted. His face was devoid of its usual playful smirk and the sparkle of mischief in his eyes, eyes that looked brown but when the light hit them just right, they got this golden sheen that looked just like honey…

You were distracted for a second, and Dazai’s voice cut through the fog.

“I don’t have time to explain, we have to move now.”

Something in his voice froze your anger – it had dropped an octave from his usual light-hearted, teasing tone he often adopted to annoy Kunikida or trick Atsushi into doing something for him. No, Dazai wasn’t playing around, and your stomach dropped when you caught the look on his face.

More questions teemed on your tongue, but he was standing up, up, out of the seat and away from the little booth, grabbing your arm as he rushed by. Your half-finished drink lay abandoned and unpaid for – you knew Dazai had a habit of dine and dashing and apparently he was putting it to good use now.

He dragged you through the kitchen, so quickly that the yells of surprise from the cooks were already far behind you as he opened the door to the back of the bar and you’d stepped into the cool outside air. Dazai didn’t pause in his stride or let go of your arm and you realised to your chagrin that you’d left your jacket behind in the booth. You could only hope some kind soul would hand it in to the place to hold onto, though they might not feel like returning it since you’d just disappeared without paying for your drink.

“Dazai, slow down-" you said, doing your damndest to keep up with him – you’re not exactly dressed for running. “What’s going on?”

“Your date isn’t just your average Joe, I’m afraid.” Dazai replied, grimly, apparently deciding that telling you something was more practical than refusing to go into detail and risking a mutiny. “I’m not sure where you found this guy, but he’s there to try and pump information about the Armed Detective Agency from you.”

Your stomach twisted unpleasantly – you barely had time to register the chilly sting of disappointment, like cool air from a fast moving vehicle whipping by you.

“What the fuck – how could you possibly know that?” you spluttered, before another, unwelcome possibility struck you. “Were you… following me?!”

“Of course I was.” He said, in a voice that sounded a bit more like his usual one – that annoying, teasy, I-know-something-you-don’t-know tone that usually got him slapped upside the head by Kunikida.

Your indignant squawk was cut off when he wrenched at your arm and suddenly, you’d stopped running and were enveloped in cool darkness. He’d found some kind of little snicket that somebody passing at a reasonable pace would probably have missed. You’re not surprised that Dazai was well-acquainted with hidden away little spots like that.

“Dazai-" you said again, frustrated and slightly out of breath – why was he stopping?

“Ssh.” He said.

In the distance you could hear the screeching of a car – no, more than one car – and an even more distant wailing of sirens. His arms caged you in and he was staring over his shoulder intently, like a fox that has heard the baying of the hounds.

“No doubt the Port Mafia’s goons are out looking for their little friend now.” He muttered, more to himself than you. It was like he’d forgotten you were there. “It’s for the best if this doesn’t get traced back to the Armed Detective Agency.”

Your mouth felt dry suddenly, noting the calculating look in Dazai’s eyes and unease crawled up your back. It’s so easy to forget that Dazai used to be one of them, that he knew the way they think and that he’s capable of switching back into that mode with frightening ease. Just because you’re co-workers didn’t mean you knew much about him, and you’re being made painfully aware of that fact right now.

“Dazai…just what did you do?” you asked, and you couldn’t hide the faint hitch in your voice.

Did he drag the guy outside and kill him? Was that why the police sirens were coming closer? If you pulled back the front of his coat right now, would his immaculate white shirt be splattered with still-wet blood? Does he think you told the guy something valuable? You didn’t think Dazai would hurt you – but you couldn’t be completely, one-hundred percent sure.

What did you really know about Osamu Dazai?

“Don’t worry. The Port Mafia don’t take kindly when you mess with one of their own,” Dazai said, seemingly able to discern your mounting fears with a glance, perhaps the look in your eyes or the tremor when you spoke gave you away. “He’ll live, but he’ll think twice before he tries using someone from the Agency like that.”

Thank god for that. You think – not that you would have lost too much sleep over one ex-Port Mafia member, but the thought of being stuck in a tiny space with a man who had just recently murdered someone wasn’t exactly the kind of exciting activity you’d hoped for tonight.

“So, we should get out of here,” you said, swallowing. “While they’re still swarming the bar.”

“Not yet. They’ll be looking for people running for public transport.” Dazai replied, his voice so certain that you didn’t question him further – why would you? This was all new territory for you, whereas Dazai had been doing this kind of thing since he was fifteen.

“So then what-?”

But you both fell silent as you heard something else – voices, drawing closer. Dazai swore softly under his breath, and he leaned in a little closer to you like he was trying to shield you from view with his body. You could feel yourself starting to sweat from the intensity of it, fighting back a grimace as you felt a trickle of it sliding down the length of your upper arm. Fuck.

"I'm sorry," Dazai said, after a beat, when the voices had drawn so close that you swore any second - any second! – they were going to find you and maybe kill you, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears.

And Dazai truly sounded regretful - he really was a good actor.

“I'm going to have to kiss you."

He didn't give you pause to process his words, which came to you as if from far away, floating to your ears, because the next thing you knew, long slender fingers were cupping your jaw, turning your face and his mouth was sliding over yours.

Most first kisses are awkward, fumbling affairs. Getting used to someone else's rhythm, trying not to do something awkward and mood-killing like clash teeth or bite the other person's tongue can slow things down, cause a few seconds where the spell is broken.

Kissing Dazai - or rather, being kissed by him, was nothing like that.

He kissed you like he'd been given a guide. Like he knew you, intrinsically and deeply, and knew the inner workings of your mind and mouth better than you did. One hand stayed cradling your jaw, the other one slid down, and his long, elegant fingers wrapped around your waist, pulling you in until you were pressed flush against him. It didn’t escape your notice that his crotch was also touching you and you were decidedly grateful his mouth was firmly joined with yours, or you might have actually whimpered out loud.

How often had you dreamed of this? Your nights had been full of sordid little fantasies of Dazai, of dropping your guard and confessing to him, and then, in your mind, he’d smile and tell you he’d always known, before he kissed you. Or depending on how raunchy you were feeling, other times you’d picture him just sweeping everything off your desk in a dramatic gesture and fucking you right then and there on the desk?

And all of it had seemed so stupid and pathetic than you’d be stinging with shame after your late-night fantasies reached their climax, lusting so hard over someone who probably barely noticed you were present in the room. Falling for Dazai’s looks was one thing, but you saw what he was like on a day-to-day basis, how he was lazy and unprofessional and sometimes kind of an asshole. But cold logic would not touch your yearning.

And now, in this cold, cramped little forgotten pocket of Yokohama, Dazai was putting your daydreams to shame. Your lips tingled as if you’d kissed something with a high voltage, heat surging along your bloodstream. Dazai’s touch was gentle but firm and the way he tilted his head, angling yours at his preference, sent a thrill chasing down your spine.

The voices were now right across from you, within arm’s reach, but Dazai felt you stiffen in fear and simply deepened the kiss, holding you tightly to him.

“Nevermind. Nobody’s here ‘cept some lovebirds.” A man’s rough voice said and it sounded so close, you could practically smell him, but you forced yourself to tune him out like someone deep in the throes of passion would, to sink into the sensation of Dazai’s hands on you, his tongue slipping into your mouth, the pleasant scent of him, sort of like freshly-cut wood and whisky.

“Come on, let’s go this way, they probably took the subway.”

The footsteps go the opposite direction, you hear one of the Port Mafia grunts swearing as he walks through a puddle, and the fear pricking you recedes. Dazai had one eye open, scanning behind you, before he finally breaks the kiss and pulled back. You felt bereft, but you were also seized by the abrupt urge to laugh at the sparkly smudge of gloss on the corner of his mouth.

“Nicely done,” Dazai remarked, his eyes cutting down at you, and his lips curved in a smirk. “Almost like it was real.”

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to sound ironic, but you sounded far too breathy to be sufficiently aloof. “Almost.”

Dazai’s hand had not left your waist yet and he stepped out of the hiding place, pulling you after him.

“Stay close to me,” he instructed, his voice husky. “We’re not out of danger yet.”

You nodded and wiped your mouth on the back of the wrist.

With Dazai, danger was a given. You just hoped you’d come out of it in one piece – in more ways than one. But your voice was steady as you answered;

“Then let’s go.”

#BSD Dazai #Dazai x Reader #BSD x Reader #Fanfiction #Writing #Bungou Stray Dogs #Reader Insert

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