#it's because of these conversations that the third part is actually almost done!

[bloggerspam]

Jazz feels a migraine coming on. 

She rubs her temples, trying to breathe slowly and deeply. 

It was typical of Danny to dump problems on her, and being in their ~30s did not change that. 

She knew that the field trip was a bad idea! They were toddlers for Ancient’s sake, the whole point of this program was to help the more Liminal children grow into their erstwhile powers so that they could hide.

Not get rowdy at the Metropolis Art Museum and get caught by a meta working for the government!

She also strongly suspected that the meta in question was actually not a meta at all but an alien. Specifically Superman. 

Seriously, seriously, glasses and a hunch for a disguise? How did that even work?

Though, considering Danny’s disguise was white hair and being dead maybe she shouldn’t judge. 

In her defense, those are way more compelling of an argument than glasses and ill fitting suits. 

At least the NDAs were solid, and the Justice League wouldn’t come raining down on them. The GIW was already a handful to deal with and they were mostly incompetent. Hopefully they don’t give any reason for Superman to inform his buddy Batman about them. 

A knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts, and she took a deep breath before pasting on a professional smile. 

“Come in!” Okay, Jasmine. Meta school. I can do that. In and Out, steady heartbeat. He can hear it. Walk around the truth. 

The door opened, and Superman--Clark Kent walked into her office holding a struggling 3 year old. Presumably, Jon Kent. Cute. 

“Hello, Miss Fenton. Say hello, Jon!” The child in his arms harrumphed, but properly raised his hand with a happy little ‘i!

Clearly, H’s were still a work in progress. 

“Hello Mr. Kent, and hello to you too, Mr. Kent! Are you ready for your first day?” 

“Clark, please. I’m sure Jon wouldn’t mind you using his first name too, isn’t that right champ?” Jon seemed to finally settle in his father’s arms, clutching at the baggy plaid shirt and looking at Jazz confusedly with another i?

Well. We’ll work on that too.

She grabbed a clipboard before directing the Kents out the door, walking down the hall to Danny’s class as Jazz went over the game plan for the day once more.

“As I said when you visited with your wife last week, you’ll be sitting in on Teacher Danny’s class today, for about an hour. You’ll only be joining for circle time, but if necessary he could also join for lunch time right after. We have some extra portions set aside just in case.” They arrived at a bright neon green door that was ajar, one of the only two in the building, decorated with a variety of snowflakes each holding a child’s name. 

Billy’s name was already moved to the door opposite, which boasted large yellow stars instead. At the top of the door was Danny’s name with a little crown sticker pasted over the D. Star’s name on the opposite door had a little Moon over the a and r. 

“Oh no, that’s fine, we’ll be heading straight to Grandma’s after this,” Clark smiled at the doors, seemingly charmed. She smiled and gestured them inside.

“Circle time in our,” she glanced at Jon, “special needs classes are focused specifically on familiarizing the children with their...abilities.” Clark froze for a moment, before nodding at Jazz’s explanation.

“For the most part, we try to encourage the kids to feel safe inside the school, with parents encouraging the same inside their homes. We don’t want to constantly limit them, when it might backfire and cause them to lose control.” That seemed to surprise Clark, which had Jazz smiling a little sadly.

“We don’t want the kids to feel scared of their powers, just to be aware of them. The teachers mostly focus on limiting any possible dangers than the kids using their powers.” 

The room was empty and a little cluttered. A large circular rug with a snowflake pattern lay in the middle of the room, and on one side there was a kitchen-esque counter and sink. On the other side sat a low table with tiny chairs surrounding it. 

“Could you be more specific on what you mean by encouraging the children regarding their abilities?” Clark asked, seemingly a little confused. He set a squirming Jon down near the cubby area, where big colorful bins were filled with a variety of toys.

“Well, mostly when the children exhibit their abilities we don’t scold them or tell them to stop unless it’s dangerous."

There was a door that lead to the outside, the playground area, where the children currently were. Though she could already hear Danny and Star gathering the children to come inside. 

“They’re about to come back in, so you can probably just see for yourself soon enough. It might get a little loud--you said Jon’s hearing was fairly mundane?” Jazz brought up her clipboard to check the freshly printed page listing the children and their known abilities. 

Georgie - Flight. Minor telekinesis. 

Jon - Flight. Advanced Strength. Invulnerability. Possible Heat Vision. 

Jordan - Invisibility. Minor Ecto-manipulation. Possible advanced hearing.

Luna - Intangibility. Advanced Jaw strength. 

Marina - Flight. Esperanto. 

Clark nodded, “So far, it seems to be by normal human standards.” 

“I know it’s only been a week, but per protocol I need confirmation that nothing has changed since the last time we spoke--Kids tend to change quite rapidly at this age, as far as we can tell.” 

“Just one thing--he uh, he fried the shower curtains 2 days ago when he didn’t want to do bath time,” Jon gave a little giggle at that, as if proud. Clark, in contrast, just sighed.

“Ah. The heat vision developed huh?” Jazz chuckled, crossing out the “Possible” on Jon’s power list. Just then, Clark faced the door. A second later it opened to the squeal of children piling in. 

Jordan came barrelling in leading the pack, before abruptly stopping at the sight of them causing Luna and Georgie to crash into him. The three of them tumbled down into a tiny pile of children.

“Aaaand that’s a strike!” Danny chuckles from outside, before stepping in. Little Marina, as always, follows behind him, tugging on his apron strings. 

“Ya’ll okay?” He asks, though the children don’t answer and simply scramble to hide behind him after he closes the door. Marina finally notices the strangers as well, and starts screaming. Right. She doesn’t like men.

Jazz steps in front of Clark, asking him softly if he could put Jon down and kneel onto the carpet for a second, explaining that Marina doesn’t like men.

“Hey hey, whoa it’s okay! Remember what I said this morning? We have a new friend visiting today! That’s just his dad, he’s really nice.” Danny soothes, scooping Marina up and crouching to face the children. 

Marina stops screaming, hiccuping, but she’s mumbling in Esperanto now. Great. It’ll take a while for her to come back from that, but thankfully that’s a Danny problem. 

“They’ll be joining us for circle time, we’re gonna play the name game, remember?” Danny’s soothing must work, because most of the children are clapping their hands and squealing happily, save for Marina. 

Danny ushers the children over to the circle rug, gently placing Marina between Luna and Georgie, and makes his way over to them. 

“Good morning, I’m Teacher Danny! Welcome to the Special Snowflake Class.” Danny winks, shaking Clark’s hand and crouching down to Jon’s eye level. Jon nibbles on his hand, clutching and hiding behind his father’s pant leg with the other. 

“Do you want to come join circle time with us?” Jon looks over at the rug and hesitantly nods. He glances up at his dad, who nods encouragingly, before toddling his way over to a free space between Jordan and Luna on the rug. Danny gets up, grabbing the paper from Jazz and glancing at it. He nods at what he sees and folds the paper into his apron pocket then addresses Clark. 

“Been a while huh, Mr. Kent? Sorry I was so, uh, scattered that day.” 

“No need to apologize, Teacher Danny. I did sort of just drop a bomb on you.” Clark chuckles, waving away his apology.

“Right, well, you can join us on the rug, or you can grab a chair--there’s one folded up in the kitchen area--and sit wherever you like. Participation is entirely optional, though we would prefer you let us handle most of the work so you can see for yourself what and how we do these things. You can totally interact and talk with the other children if you’d like, and feel free to ask me any questions!” Danny explains quickly, waiting for Clark to acknowledge his words. 

“Got it. I don’t think I’ll join the circle, but I can sit on the floor.” Clark says, before both men look at her.

“I’ll join this time Danny, if that’s okay? It’s been a while and this one is a bit of a special case after all.” Danny nods, before they all make their way to the circle rug. 

Clark and Jazz make themselves comfortable on the soft floor outside the rug area as Danny claps his hands to grab the kids attention from where he stands in the space between Georgie and Jordan, closing the circle. 

“Alright, what should we sing today? Let’s sing....bumblebee!” Danny makes his hands into fists, rolling them one over the other, and the kids all copy him. It takes Jon a moment, but he catches on.

“Bumble bee bumble bee can you say your name for me?” Danny sings, before pointing at Jordan. 

“Jordan!” the boy yells, flinging both his hands up. Danny smiles as the children clap, before rolling his fists again.

“Bumble bee bumble bee can you say your name for me?” Danny says again, pointing at Marina. She covers her face with her hands and starts giggling in esperanto, so Danny answers for her.

“Marina! Bumble bee bumble bee can you say your name for me?” He points at Jazz this time, which makes her chuckle before she answers. 

It goes on like that, with each child answering in their own way with Danny filling in any blanks. 

An almost howl-like “Luuuuuna!” for Luna, an excited “Juhji!” for Georgie, an indulgent “Clark!” from Clark, before he points at Jon. 

“Jon!” Jon is bouncing now, except he floats, clapping his hands excitedly. Clark blanches, about to reach over, but Jazz stops him. 

“Uh oh, feet on the floor Jon!” Danny says, with Jordan laughing and falling over. Luna reaches over to tug on Jon’s pants, only for her hand to go through and making her pout. Jordan screeches with more laughter, Georgie and Marina joining in at a lower volume.

Jon looks at Luna very confused, but he at least floats a little closer to the ground. 

“Peepers creepers, peepers creepers,” Danny starts singing, putting his hands over his now glowing eyes and opening them to the tune. “Make sure they don’t glow!”

The kids start following along, though Jordan smacks his face with every excited motion.

“You don’t want the Guys in White to know!” Georgie’s eyes flash brightly, and impressively he manages to stop the glow much faster than usual.

“Stomp your left foot! Stomp your right foot!" Danny then gently stomps his feet to the tune of the song, the kids following along.

"Both feet on the ground!” The kids, including a now not floating Jon, jump down on both feet at the same time as Danny, before he stomps each foot one at a time for the next part.

“Step by step, make sure you only walk around the town!” Danny finishes the little dance with a spin, to which the kids clumsily try to do with varying degrees of success. 

“Good job everyone!” Circle time continues like that, with Danny leading the kids into little songs and dances.

Some of them are classics, like Head-Shoulders-Knees-and-Toes. Some of them are the ones they designed to help the kids keep their abilities on the down low. 

Clark leans over once, to ask about the Guys in White that come up in some of the songs. 

Jazz pauses to think through her answer, because she doesn’t want the Justice League to be involved. They’ve worked hard on their anonymity, incompetent GIW aside, and bringing the attention of Superman is bound to make problems. But what to say? And how to bypass Superman’s lie detecting hearing?

“We have these bad guys in our stories. The Guys in White. It helps introduce the kids to why they have to be careful about hiding their powers. The Guys in White are easily recognizable to the kids because they dress in all white suits. Eventually, as the kids grow older, we’ll start to incorporate other such...stranger danger ideas to them. They’re the...gateway bad guys, if you will.” Jazz says, thinking about the little picture books Sam made for the school with Star’s help. Not a lie. Just not the whole...truth.

Clark thankfully accepts that answer, which makes her significantly relieved. 

Lunch Lady comes in, then, thankfully walking through. When they asked her to provide lunches for the kids, she was more than happy to accommodate their request of walking like a regular human inside the school to encourage the kids to not use their powers that often. Equally thankfully, during the day her green glow isn’t that noticeable; she just looks like a pale old lunch lady.

She drops off the food onto the table, and walks straight out with a smile and a wave to either go back to the Zone or serve Star’s children if she hasn’t already. 

“Alright kids, the food’s here so let’s say goodbye to our new friend Jon!” The kids all wave, even Marina, some even saying a hearty buh-bye Jon!

Clark scoops up Jon when he toddles his way over, and he and Jazz start walking out the door as Danny bids his children to wash their hands.

“That was amazing. I was especially impressed by the feet on the ground song!” Clark is beaming, brushing the hair away from Jon’s eyes. Jazz smiles, proud.

“We’ve worked hard on this program, when we discovered some of our kids were affected by an incident their parents were involved in.” They make their way back to the lobby of the school leisurely, Jon humming and swinging his legs happily. 

“It’s great that you guys have this. It really means a lot to Lois and I. We were struggling quite a bit, since none of us have experience with a toddler having powers like this before...” Clark trails off, sadly. 

“Well, we’re glad to have you here. Part of the reason Danny and I petitioned for this was because Danny didn’t have anyone when his powers manifested. Just his two best friends who were equally out of their depth. We just wanted to make it a little easier on both the parents and the kids.” Jazz admitted, making sure to skirt the hows and whys. 

“That’s very admirable of you. It’s very impressive that you managed to create this program for them. I...I wish I had something like this when my powers manifested.” Clark confesses. 

“Thank you, that’s very nice of you to say.” Jazz smiles proudly, and they arrive outside the school in the drop of zone.

“We’ll see you tomorrow at 7:30am, then? Teacher Star is in charge of drop offs tomorrow, so she’ll walk you through the process before directing you to Danny’s classroom for the first hour.” Clark nods along, adjusting Jon onto his shoulder. 

“After that, we’ll have some paperwork for you to sign. There’s a coffee shop down the road you can wait at for the second hour while we see how Jon is on his own...” Jazz says, offering her usual spiel, before pausing and remembering they live in Metropolis and can get here by flying. 

“Then again, you could just pop back home I suppose.” They both laugh at that.

Clark looks around to see if anybody is around before bidding Jazz a goodbye and just. Flies away. 

She chuckles as she waves, before walking back to her office when they disappear into the sky.

She slumps into her chair, empty clipboard clacking on the desk, and sighs.

This will certainly be interesting, she thinks. A thought suddenly pops up.

Suffering Spooks. She’ll have to make sure Danny makes the ghosts stay away from Amity Park for at least a week.

She wonders if the Observants would consider Danny Royal Decreeing the ghosts away as an abuse of power.

Maybe she could petition the ghosts to hinder the GIW if they make any attempts on the town? Val and Sam seem to have it in hand, but you never know....

Well. It’ll keep ‘em on their toes, at the very least.

Preschool teacher Danny au

Danny takes his class on a field trip to a local museum and makes sure the kids keep a hold of the safety rope. Well things go slightly wrong when one of his students starts floating so he rushes to get him back on the ground which does require a little floating on his part. He thinks no one saw him since they were in a blind spot for the security cameras until he makes eye contact with Clark Kent and is immediately trying to figure out how to bribe a country boy reporter while Clark is low key freaking out at seeing a whole potential class of metas with a meta teacher

.

[wonryllis]

after hours, i can be whatever you want me to be ⭑ ( lhs. )

⭑ FEATURING horrendously down down bad lee heeseung x kinda naive philophobic fem!reader. where heeseung has no intentions of escaping your cages, forever remaining under the spell of your love. ( ARCHIVE? )

⭑ GENRE & WARNINGS fluff, toxic situation, almost kissing, mildly suggestive WORDCOUNT 0.834k

she's crazy but i love her.

heeseung's steps are slow and calculated, eyes glued on your figure trying to make your way to his car. stumbling and wobbly in heels you (kind of) seem accustomed to, feet clicking against the pavement in a hasty stride. he's worried. you were out with friends past midnight on a weekday, called him all drunk to pick you up from the bar and now you are barely able to walk straight, ankle on the verge of twisting at any given moment but you wouldn't let him hold you. he's worried sick.

"angel please just hold onto me hm?" he pleads rushing over when you visibly slip on an uneven part, hands almost gripping around your waist as you manage to keep your balance, staggering back into his arms in a couple of steps.

"you! who are you!" your hands push against his chest as you turn around startled. there it goes, again! heeseung sighs knowing what's to come. it's the third time in the last fifteen minutes, going over this exact conversation word to word.

"it's heeseung, your cousin's friend and your friend," he makes sure to emphasize on 'your friend' trying to stop this before it gets further into the loop.

"where's my cousin?" you ask, looking around the rather empty parking lot.

"he working," heeseung's explanation is dry because he knows you'll cut him off before he can say anything more,"and why are you here?" just like that. he remembers the first time this happened, when you were actually sober and met him at your cousin brother: jay's workplace. you showed up out of nowhere, without any notice and jay was going bonkers at how he'll get you back home when he has the most important client waiting for him in the next room. heeseung hadn't thought much when he offered to drop you off, a favor for a friend that was all it was to him.

"because you called me, angel," but god was he wrong, for he swears the moment he laid his eyes on you he was a goner. you were too darn pretty to be just a favor. you were younger, a party girl always running out to frat and sorority gatherings, bars and clubs. often calling jay to pick you up to avoid letting your parents know of your shenanigans.

"why did i call you and not my cousin?" everytime he had wished it was him and not jay, even though ultimately he was the one who went. carrying your cute drunk ass to your mansion and getting you to your room as discreetly as possible. you are a rich girl, two worlds apart and heeseung has felt it in many ways than not.

"because i'm your cousin's friend and you know me well," heeseung never thought he'd ever be more than just your cousin's friend to you. at least he hopes he is more. you have done things with him that you'd definitely not do with just your cousin's friend. a space curtaining acquaintance and lover, he hangs dangerously cold and heedless.

"so where's my cousin?" between days left ghosted and nights you throw your arms around him he stands unsure of his place in your life. at times he feels you know he's the one who could treat you better than any of the guys you cry for. yet there are moments when there's this sturdy wall you build, holding him away for the sake of not losing him like others. afraid of love is what you refuse you are but heeseung knows your conceptions of it are a little too twisted, broken he dare say. and his love for you is so far and conflicted to the things you have experienced, he understands the lengths and the time it will take for you to recognize and accept him.

"you know what, i'm getting you in the car myself," in an instance his hands grip at the back of knees and the curve of your waist, hauling you up in his arms. he walks quick to his car parked at the far end, smiling through the constant pouty mumbles of yours. eyeing you every two seconds, not being able to resist that pretty face of yours.

it is absolutely not in him to ever resist that pretty face of yours, your pretty eyes and your pretty lips as they graze against his own in gentle brushes. arms looped around his neck and thighs resting on the soft matress of your bed, albeit on each side of his own, yet again. sitting on his lap, so close, bodies pressed. "heeseungie, please stay," your voice a sultry whisper of a whine, a naive vixen, if that's even a thing.

lee heeseung knows he will never have the power to refuse you, he will be whatever you want him to be for how ever long you will want him to be.

you make him crazy and he loves you for that.

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @okwonyo @enhabooks @jjunae @criminalyun @enhacrumbsss @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @mxxnintheskyreblogs

[hxltic]

pt.2!! (i know that cliffhanger was menacing) 800 followers hello?!

part 1 | part 2

It was weird. It felt weird.

You sat with your chest bare, Kenma contemplating his own conscientiousness and conscious before you. Should he have any integrity, he would turn you around and fulfill what you came to do.

But he doesn’t. Intrusive thoughts win, so he dives straight into you to suck on your tits like a fucking baby.

Just watching in amusement as he tugged and nipped, it looked like Kenma was genuinely enjoying himself when he licked the bud in a single stripe, cat eyes gazing into yours devilishly by the way he could feel your back has a slight arch to it. His pale hands roamed from the small of it to your shoulder blades.

Your manicured fingers tread through the black locks that cover his tinted cheeks and reveal his long, black eyelashes. You mentally curse him for having them. Your upper back begins to stray away; Kenma just follows.

You connect strands of hair behind his ear (which he greatly appreciates you for) because he needs to see you, your curves, and body in all the bright rainbow light from the edges of his setup.

He removes the slim shirt entirely and discards it randomly in the room. He couldn’t care less where it landed. He grasps—literally grasps— both tits in each hand before looking up at you ordinarily, but in an anticipating manner.

“Take the rest of it off.”

“Say please,” you announced. Yes, you asked first, but you could still have a little fun (and refresh his manners).

“You do realize you’re literally in my hands right?”

“…So?”

He just blinks up at you and rolls his eyes in obduracy.

“Please, take the rest of it off.”

You tap a fingernail to your chin, “Hmm… say it like you mean it.”

If you could describe the ravenette’s face right now, it would be the most unamused you’ve ever seen him.

Kenma grabs you and roughs you off him, twists you around, and adroitly unbuttons your jeans from behind you. Done with your shit, he peels them down and brings your panties along. He then pulls you back down to him backwards.

“See? Easy peasy,” he comments.

Slightly embarrassed from being absolutely manhandled, you shuffled against his front and dug your head into his sweatshirt on his left shoulder.

“Are you shy now? Not too long ago you were asking me to—”

“Shut up- Shut up.”

A giggle sounds behind you and lengthy, soft fingers trail up to your plush thighs anyway, then leads more inward. He pats twice to ask you to open up for him. You comply in spite.

With two delicate fingers he spreads you open, a third experimenting by dipping into your wetness. You were already getting throbbing having thought about it all day. Your friends constantly conversed about what their partners did and how good it felt, so you want as close to that as possible, but the problem is that you’re doing it while being unaware of how skilled Kenma actually is. You’re starting to question whether he was the right person or not. Or whether it holds up to its name. Or if you can do it at all.

He caresses you, rubbing the pad of his finger in circular motions against your clit.

“Okay,” his chest rises and falls, “just relax and think about whatever boy toy you want.”

You ignore his taunting. Your eyes trail downwards. He was going so slow, but if you thought you’d have Kenma pawing at you by the end of the night you had to be on something. So, you do what he asks of you and shut down any tense nerve in your body.

“There you go,” as you soften against his front, now two of his fingers locate your nub and continue the circling. Your thighs are spread apart on each chair arm, facing the dark idle screensaver Kenma had, the plush actively being kneaded between his free hand. Your center was tingly but not the trademark “oh my god!” tingly. It felt good but you weren’t screaming just yet.

Almost in time, he curls his hand farther forward and dips a finger into you. It was very slowly done for reactive purposes, and with your sight deactivated, the reaction he expected from your chest was granted. He sinks deeper and deeper until his palm is flat against you. Thanks to his patience, you were definitely wet enough.

He stills inside.

“I can’t do anything if you won’t breathe.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, and let out a breath you had no idea you were holding. His thumb reddens your clit even more while the other hand releases your thigh and slides up your body to tighten on your breast. You feel used with his hands all over your body, but in a good way.

Your regular breaths graduated to heavy ones, and those graduated to groans. Your voice wasn’t very high pitched anyway. When does the good part come?

The inactive hand rotated to your clit, while the other focused mainly on gyrating through your walls. His long finger reached places yours couldn’t, and adding a second would only increase the chance of him finding that single pile of nerves that could make you go haywire. He was close but he didn’t think to resort to that just yet.

Two of his hands meet around your front like a hug. His articulated digits roll inside you, each roll a tug on your resistance. A little to the left or a little to the right. His hand curled somehow even deeper on the hunt for your g-spot, so he takes a mental note: up and to the right.

“Oh shit,” your hips slightly stutter.

He smiles, “Right there?” and pesters the previous patch. Your hips lift off him the tiniest bit and your hand reaches up mindlessly. Really you just needed something to occupy yourself. He goes at it again and again, your tummy folded yet moving with him as he’s still going too slow when your body is screaming for more.

You rub his nape in an attempt to focus on anything else. Your arm is geniusly wrapped between the two of you by journeying under his neck. Your reflection in the screen is unbeatable, Kenma working you like it was his millionth time doing it. Everything had a job and you just had to sit and take it.

“That’s definitely you,” he mused. He kissed under your ear on the right side. You could say you weren’t feeling much all you wanted, attempting to lower his ego, but your contorted expression spoke differently with inaudible words. At some point his speed increased.

You unintentionally grind on him as your hips falter halfway. He tries his best to ignore it and keep your high ecstasy going because it was: A, the meaning of this entire operation; B, you’d be sore anyway, better to make the best out if it; and C, had he acted on it you would’ve squirted all over his dick. Which option C isn’t necessarily a problem, it’s just he’s almost certain you’d like to see yourself do it.

“Feels good Ken,” you mumble. The squelch sound could now be heard, and you both listened as he slotted himself in the crook of your neck and your head was thrown back on his shoulder. It was dead silent in the apartment, so silent you could hear your own thoughts and maybe even each other’s.

It sure seemed that way, because Kenma persisted with a finger and stimulated you simultaneously. Your head rolled back and forth, your calves flexed, and your pretty pink toes hung off the chair arms. The clip in your hair hadn’t bothered him one bit.

“Kenmaaa,” you insisted.

“I’m here, tell me,” he indulged. Your breaths were practically weights, yet shallow at the same time.

“G’na come soon.”

“I got you. Just let it happen.”

Kenma knew you were close before you did. Hell, he was a part of your body now. Obvious signs were shown like when you tighten around him and your muscles contract, informing him everything was already in motion. The orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, taking you and your brain out to sea, but not your body. In fact, it left your disappointment behind too.

Nothing happened.

It took you a second to realize this though—considering it was still one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had—but also because Kenma hadn’t stopped.

“Please,” unaware of what you were calling for, you turned to his face, but he was already so close like he was waiting for you there. He’d slowed only a bit, but this makes little difference already being hypersensitive. Once again, you’re grinding on him, it’s just rougher now and more effective at getting him any harder than he already was.

You talked face to face and couldn’t decide what eye to look in. His lips were so close, and so very inviting. You kiss him.

Soft lips unite with yours meaningfully. You hadn’t known it would progress to this, however, Kenma now occupies your entire body, being, and mind. If you could dismiss how hard he was overstimulating you, just maybe you could kiss him with the passion you desired—but that was reaching because you couldn’t find the strength to kiss him back at all. Your lips were open yet hushed in all attempts to return the gesture, but your body fails you under the hands of lust.

You felt another coming. Your eyes had this faded look to them as if you weren’t here, so Kenma brought it upon himself to whisper to you.

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” His voice was soft in the air.

You respond with a light headed moan. Fuck all that shit about your voice not being high and you couldn’t pornstar moan, because to some extent it was and you really could.

“K-Ken I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupts, “anything you want baby.”

Your hand quits fidgeting with the loomed bracelets adorning his wrists to move down to holding the both of his that were working you. The attempt is futile, because even if you did manage to get one hand away, the other would still be toying with your pussy. The veins that stretched from his muscles all the way to his forearm could be seen clear as day. Kenma adds another finger, and doubles into you as it sinks up and to the right.

“Oh fuck, Kenma, Kenma-” you repeated. You tried pushing him off, except you wanted him to continue, except that you were in no state of mind to make decisions. Your back arched impressively and you were on the verge of crying. This quick?

He constantly acknowledges you, “Uh-huh.”

Kenma almost triples in speed. He continues to whisper to you. “Do it. I know you can. Show me how you come for me.”

You don’t feel it, but Kenma plants his feet and swivels the chair around as your mouth drops. You were pushing outward more than downward, and as Kenma pistons into you, there was no way you weren’t about to squirt. Just preferably, not on his monitor. He kisses at your face now turned away from him. “Just like that, you’re almost there. Open your eyes.”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god-!” you breathe.

Kenma quickly runs back and forth over your clit encouragingly and doesn’t let up. This wasn’t a wave that rolled over you this time, but one that came up to shore first, dragged you along into sea, and sucked you under. It felt normal until it didn’t and you were releasing all over his carpet.

“You look so fucking good like this. Knew my girl could do it.”

Your hair was fucked from rolling on it. You had came so hard your body tensed and slightly cramped, rendering you idle as he continued until you were done. The clear liquid rolled down your own leg. You felt as if you were underwater. Your head bashed like there was no oxygen. Kenma was a man of few words but after you got what you deserved, he didn’t have shit to say.

He gripped your thighs, lifted them, and slowly lowered them to his. A darker color stained his sweats. Was it from you, or him? Neither of you know. His hand pets your forehead gingerly.

“Your girl?” You ask lazily.

“I think we both know you wouldn’t have let anybody else do this,” he establishes. He was right.

sorry if it’s not as good as first!! it was supposed to come out earlier but my dumbass queued it for the wrong day 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ also did you catch the easter egg😏😏 (I made this a little shorter to match up with the time it takes to…yk… that’s why all of my fics that aren’t penetration are shorter)

@iwouldbangchan @hislaevv @butterflyk04 @lilmisskreideprinz @ahahadumbo @bontensbabygirl @ninefuckingoneone @hwangsyunho @privthemis @anonymoussimper @frenchinator2sickk

[aleskie-hischier]

I SEE YOU | Quinn Hughes x Reader SUMMARY: Quinn sees you. Always.

Word Count: 993 Warnings: standard hurt-comfort fic

You don’t know what possessed you to pursue a Master’s degree. You want to hit your younger self for thinking she’d be able to handle this. What, just because she graduated a semester early, she suddenly thought a Master’s could be easy? Well, she was wrong. And you were left to deal with her life choices. 

You were on your third draft of your thesis and you predict it was going to take a million more to get it approved. You had gone into today’s meeting confident, thinking you had finally nailed it, only for your advisor to rip into your work. “The structure is there, but your arguments aren’t clear. There are too many ideas that aren’t well-developed or explained.” And then the nail on the coffin. “I still don’t understand the point of this research.”

You’d been passionate about this topic. You thought it was interesting. New. Fresh. It was hard to not have someone see that. It was hard to have your work grilled and picked apart. Their words, though constructive, blurred together as you nodded mindlessly, part of you zoning out of the meeting, your mind already spinning from the endless bulk of changes you’d have to make. 

“You’re a smart one,” your advisor had said, “But this just isn’t cutting it.”

It echoed in your head. This isn’t cutting it. You’re not cutting it. You’re not good enough. You spent the entire drive home replaying the conversation, the sting of rejection and doubt clawing at your insides. You had done your best—why wasn’t that enough? Would it ever be enough?

You’re hanging on by a thread, on the brink of losing it, by the time you get home. The walls of the apartment are a small sanctuary, but it still feels heavy. Everything feels heavy. You open the door, slip your shoes off, and flip on the lights—one of them flickers. Of course. You swallow the sob threatening to escape your throat, but it rises anyway. Hot tears spill down your cheeks. You crumpled against the door, burying your face in your knees.

At least the apartment was empty. Quinn had training—he wouldn't be back for a while. You could break down in peace. Or so you thought—until you heard the soft thud of footsteps approaching.

You look up to see your beautiful boyfriend’s face, brows furrowed and eyes filled with concern. 

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, moving closer to meet you at the door. He joins you on the floor, arms wrapping around you, warm and secure, pulling you close without hesitation. You bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—your body wash and his cologne mix together to form a scent that’s distinctly…him. It’s almost enough to soothe the hurt that’s been growing all day.

He holds you tighter, his hand gently drawing circles on your back. “Rough day, huh?”

The rest of the emotions you’ve been bottling up finally spill over, your breath catching as frustration escapes in shaky, stunted sobs. Quinn holds you firmly but gently, soft reassurances falling from his lips. “I’m here, I’ve got you. You’re alright. Just let it out.”

After a while, he stood up effortlessly, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the bed. You curl into him, seeking warmth and comfort in the steadiness of his presence. His arms are a protective hiding place, and gradually, your breathing evens out. After what feels like an eternity, you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your face still streaked with tears, a small pout playing on your lips.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I keep trying and I’m doing my best but no one sees it.”

He pulls you in closer, resting his chin on your head as you sling an arm around him. “You have this look on your face when you’re focused,” he says, “You scrunch your nose and bite your lip—pick it apart, actually.” He chuckles. “And you smile so wide and move your hands a lot when you explain your research to me even though you know I won’t understand much of it. You prefer to work in the living room. It doesn’t matter if I’m there watching a game or something else, you stay there and I think it’s because the noise calms you down.”

He moves to look at you, his eyes filled with love. “You like to wear that old UMich hoodie of mine as you write and you always have a bowl of trail mix next to you and you have an iced coffee with three shots of espresso to get you through the long nights.” He places a kiss on your forehead. “I see you. Always will.”

Tears prick at your eyes again. How did you get this lucky? 

“Hey,” he whispers, placing another gentle kiss on your forehead. “Let’s get you into something comfy, yeah?” 

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

“Then we’ll order your favorite takeout,” he continues, “And we can watch as many episodes of that vampire show you love. How’s that sound?”

Another nod. The thought of curling up with him on the couch and watching cheesy TV brings the first bout of peace you’ve felt all day. He places another kiss on your forehead, then leads you to the closet.

Before you know it, you’re wrapped up in one of his oversized hoodies, the fabric smelling like him, and curled up on the couch with Quinn snug behind you. The day’s chaos fades into the background as the dramatic music and over-the-top dialogue of your favorite show fills the room. His chest is pressed firmly against your back, his arms securely around you, and every now and then, he presses soft kisses into your hair. Wrapped in his arms, feeling his quiet, steady love surround you—it feels like nothing else exists. 

Right now, everything is perfect.

And that’s enough.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

may I request a really really really smart villain. but somehow the hero manages to outsmart them, and even though villain is completely dumbfounded, they find it incredibly hot???

gl, if you wish, but im fine with anything !!

“You’re scared,” the villain whispered. “I know what that feels like. I know what it can do to a person.”

Their fingertips traced the hero’s clavicle gently, as if they attempted to calm a startled deer by stoking it.

“It’s not a pleasant emotion. It certainly isn’t one anyone should be used to. So I’m curious, do you need my help?” the villain said. Their eyes scanned the hero curiously. Almost as if they could absorb everything about them just by looking at them.

Something about the hero seemed to pull them in, something seemed to fascinate them on a grand scale and the hero couldn’t tell if they loved the challenge or the attention.

“Would you mind?” the hero asked. They nodded towards the villain’s fingers on their body and clearly, the villain received their message. They pulled away and smiled. Curiosity seemed to be their big weakness.

“I apologise, of course. I’m fond of pretty things.”

“As every crow is.”

“That’s a compliment.” The hero didn’t answer. They knew the villain was toying with them; they were fully aware of their sweet words and their kind smile.

The villain wasn’t easy to understand and that was a big problem in this whole mess. Incompetent people proposed a threat to the city because of their lack of intelligence. They weren’t easy to understand, they were unpredictable.

Usually, the hero could argue with smart people, could get into their minds and understand their motives but the villain was a complete minefield. Their unpredictability came from several unrelated plans that intertwined and altogether made up a whole picture.

They were ten steps ahead. Always.

Suddenly, a missing professor, a burning bakery, a sick child and a stolen book were parts of a chain that would make sense to the hero much, much later. Ordinary things could play huge parts in these reaction chains, something they liked to call “controlled butterfly effect”. It made the hero think of all the details, all the little crimes in the city. It made them overanalyse every little conversation they had with the villain.

Was the villain giving them clues?

Was there a way to decipher these riddles?

How could anyone be at ten different places at the same time?

How was it possible to get information you’d have to torture out of people without actually talking to anyone at all?

“I’ll have to change my address for the third time this month,” the hero said. “You should apologise for that as well.”

“It’s not my fault you make it so easy for me.” The villain looked around the hero’s living room and in some weird and strange way, the hero felt superior to them, now that everything was done. It would’ve been foolish to say they were relieved. In fact, the villain was right. They were terrified. “New choice of plants, I see. You like orchids?”

“Why exactly are you here?” the hero asked. They assumed the villain knew about yesterday. They also assumed the villain was here to talk about that. “So you can make fun of me? Humiliate me in my own home?”

“Without an audience? Please, I thought you knew me.” The villain’s eyes found the hero’s again after what they deemed to be enough observation.

“You like it more intimate. You like it when it’s just us.” Now, the villain looked intrigued.

“Touché,” they said, almost as if the hero had defeated them with a single word. The hero wished it had been that easy.

“Again. Why are you here?” The hero crossed their arms in front of their chest. It was getting quite chilly in just a shirt and underwear.

In response, the villain took in a deep breath and sat down on the hero’s couch. They lounged.

“When Hannibal crossed the Alps, do you think he was scared? I mean, all that responsibility on his shoulders? It was dangerous, he could’ve lost his entire army.”

“Is this supposed to be some metaphor for me being Hannibal and you being…what? The Roman Republic?” the hero asked. Sometimes, it was laughable where the villain’s mind went. It was hard enough to keep up with them already but the amount of knowledge the hero acquired from talking to them alone was insane.

It was the type of learning experience that required failing repeatedly to get to the answer. The hero didn’t enjoy it.

But the villain only chuckled.

“I was trying to say that being determined and scared can coexist. You did something that demands great courage.” They tilted their head. “And yet, it is a very scary thing.”

With slow steps, the hero approached them until they were close enough. They sat down on the villain’s lap. Unsurprisingly, their nemesis didn’t protest.

They weren’t proud of what had happened, they weren’t proud of what they’d done.

“How can a person obtain information no one dares to whisper?” the hero asked. “How can that person receive it within seconds?”

“You tell me,” the villain said. An invitation. It would’ve been illogical to decline.

“You had two helpers. Someone who can teleport. Someone who can turn invisible. I don’t know how you convinced them but they were heroes once.”

The villain nodded.

“The Romans had to learn the hard way how important spies are. They learnt it from the Carthaginian. Like I learnt from you years ago,” the villain said. It was difficult to imagine that all this was the hero’s fault. “Now, tell me what you did when you found out.”

The hero was quiet until the villain’s palm brushed their thigh softly. The villain seemed unfittingly euphoric.

“I knew they wouldn’t be easy to keep in a cell.”

“So?”

“So I killed them.” The villain nodded.

“You killed them,” the villain agreed. “Did you know crows wait for other predators to tear open their prey?”

The hero waited. The villain wasn’t angry. They were fascinated. It hadn’t even occurred to the hero that this was the solution up until yesterday.

And still, even though this was a major success when it came to stopping the villain, it wasn’t satisfactory. Killing two of their own people hadn’t been pretty.

“Did you know curiosity killed the cat?” the hero asked back. Behind their back, they clenched their fist to stop their hand from shaking.

Within seconds, several red laser dots pointed at the villain. With the hero on their lap, pressing them into the couch, there wasn’t anywhere to go. The sharpshooters wouldn’t let the villain move a muscle.

And behind the shocked expression, the hero saw something they weren’t sure if they loathed or liked: a certain admiration for only them.

[daengtokki]

𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 11k

rating: mature/explicit ಇ

comments: thanks everyone for the likes and reblogs and feedback! (´︶`) knowing someone is enjoying my fics makes writing seungmin so much easier. technically this is the last part, but not really...

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ｡ ⋆

→ Blind Date

→ Second Date

→ Third Date

Part 4 of 4

Seungmin goes quiet after that, relaxes against the arm of the couch. You’re on the opposite side, doing the same. You watch each other carefully , but nobody makes a move, and nobody starts to speak.

You wonder if there was something you could have done to avoid all of this drama. Four and a half months of wondering; of being so down you can barely make it to work some days. Both of you have been really bad at this.

“Yes, I know it’s complicated.”

-

Counting the days and weeks until Seungmin comes back to you has been excruciating, sometimes anxiety inducing, and the only thing really keeping you together.

As of today it’s been 136 days since you spent the night with him. Twenty weeks, almost, since you looked at him face to face—touched him, kissed him, desperately wanted to confess how you’ve already fallen for him, and you never want to leave his side again.

But he did text you three days ago.

A part of you feels like giving up, because maybe this has gone on for far too long.

It’s nothing that Seungmin has done. He hasn’t said anything to you about things likely not working out. He talks to you in the same sweet, cheery way he always has when he actually has time to text, or call. You don’t resent him for his lack of communication, ever, because you know his lifestyle is worlds away from yours.

But the part of you that’s crazy about him sits and thinks: he can call for a five minute conversation, ask me how I am before I completely fall apart. You think…why hasn’t he messaged back? It takes a few seconds.

You hate having these thoughts. But you’re only human, and you have so much empty time to think about him.

It’s just not the same for him. It might never be the same for him.

Right now you’re staring out of your classroom window, completely lost in thought. The kids are working quietly, and it’s honestly the first time all day where you’ve been truly alone in your head.

There’s a loud knock on the door, and it makes you, and your students, jump.

“Come in…”

The door opens slowly, and the face that peeks through the door is a familiar one.

“Hey,” Choonhee waits a moment, then enters and closes the door behind her. She grabs a chair and finds a spot to sit directly in front of, across your desk.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“I’m on my way out, but I wanted to see you before I left. I keep missing you, and you’re not answering my messages.” The look she gives you is a little bit questioning, and a little bit irritated.

“Sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind. I’m trying to get out of this slump.”

“Slump? The same one you’ve been in for the last…” she gestures vaguely at nothing, “month? Maybe longer, I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” you manage, but it comes out shaky. You feel your throat tighten, and the air is pushed out of your lungs. Your eyes sting with tears. You can’t do this here.

“Hey hey, I’m sorry.” Choonhee starts to stand, “go pull yourself together, I’ll watch the class.”

You inhale deeply and make your way to the restroom. Luckily you have it to yourself, because when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, tears are starting to stream down your cheeks. The result of bottling up until you explode.

Talking to Choonhee about this was always an option, but you haven’t. For some reason, you didn’t want her know how deep the cut is that Seungmin has made in you.

Her blind date was probably never supposed to turn into this; something serious, something you want, maybe more than anything you’ve ever wanted. You feel stupid and childish about it, because you know who he is. Sometimes you have to remind yourself that it was him that initiated date number two, and three, sort of, otherwise you’ll convince yourself you somehow forced him into all of this.

It takes far too long for you to finish crying and clean yourself up, but she’s still sitting there waiting when you return.

“I’ll be over tonight, and we’re going to talk it out. Okay?” She says.

You nod, eyes still red, makeup probably giving you two black eyes.

“I have to get going, I’ll see you later. Your phone went off while you were in the bathroom.”

You watch her as she walks out, then look to your students. In a few minutes, they’ll be dismissed. And you can go home and finish the crying that you’ve started.

First, you sit and poke the screen of your phone. It’s just a text message.

No, it’s not just a text message. It’s Seungmin. Choonhee probably looked, but all she would’ve seen is the contact name for him; SM.

Weeks ago, you almost changed it to Minnie, but you didn’t. The impersonal, secretive SM remained. You unlock your phone and open it.

I hope you had a good day. You’re just leaving work, I think…if I have my time right

And just like that, he pulls you back up, and back in. He says the right thing at just the right time. Although today, he he did miss it by a few minutes.

Now you battle with whether or not you text him back immediately, or wait until you get home. Neither feels like the right thing to do. You stare down at the message until it’s time for you to dismiss your class, thinking of what to say to him.

It’s personal. He took note of the time, and remembered when it is you usually leave.

Part of you feels like crying again, but your heart is fluttering. You hate this.

———

“I got your favorite!” Choonhee starts unloading the bag of food she brought with her. “Don’t look so defeated over there.”

She let herself in while you sat folded up on the couch. You’re still looking at your phone, trying to figure out what to say to him. Should you keep it casual and tell him your day was alright? Lie?

No, you could tell him the truth; that it was a rough day, and you’ve had a lot of days like this lately because you haven’t seen him in such a long time. But you have no idea how he’d react to that. Maybe he would feel guilty about not texting more, or feel bad because he’s been too busy to see you when he is in Seoul.

Or maybe he would feel overwhelmed by it, and decide enough was enough.

Seungmin—the Seungmin you know, at least, has always come off very laidback. Open when he needed to be, but not overly so. He’s a little bit reserved, but so many moments with him have been…cute.

And Chicago. It’s been so long since Chicago—long enough that the memory is fading a little. You have to think back on it and keep yourself there, in that moment, to remember all the detail. It’s all still there, in your head.

Finally, you start to type.

“Hi Minnie. I had a rough day today…I hope I get to see you again soon.”

You stare at it until Choonhee clears her throat in an attempt to get your attention.

You read it once more, then send it.

“Okay, dinner is served. Eat and tell me what’s been bothering you.”

You set your phone face down on the table and take a few bites before getting into it. Starting the conversation will be the most difficult.

So you just start.

“This is a little bit my fault, isn’t it?” Choonhee listened quietly, but you could tell she wasn’t expecting this to be about him. “I pushed this on you. I knew he spoke to you back in…June? I think it was June. But I didn’t know you saw each other again after the first date.”

“Yeah, there was a second date. And a third. And, well…ya know.”

Her eyebrows raise, “what? Fourth, fifth?”

“No, we slept together.”

She’s silent for a long moment, but her eyes remain fixed on you.

“When I went home in July. Remember?”

She’s still silent.

“I haven’t seen him since then.”

“Seungmin doesn’t like opening up to people. He doesn’t do that. Or he didn’t, at least. Are you sure you didn’t just…dream it?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I didn’t dream about having sex with him and then convince myself it really happened.”

Choonhee throws her hands up and waves your remark away, “okay I’m sorry, I’m just…surprised. I mean, even the multiple dates is a little surprising.”

“Then why did you even set us up?”

She shrugs, and then struggles to find the right words, “I don’t know…you were both here, and alone. I didn’t want you to spend the holiday by yourself. I thought you’d like him…I guess I was right. I’m not usually good with matches.

“So…are you saying I should just move on?”

“No, absolutely not! Text him right now, and tell him you want to see him when he gets home. He doesn’t get to fuck and run. I don’t care who he is.”

She goes quiet for a few seconds, but you can tell she’s frustrated and deep in thought. “I knew you’d like him. I’m sorry, I made this mess. If he doesn’t get himself together and talk to you like he should, I’ll go find him myself.”

———

By the time your text message gets to Seungmin, he’s home, undressed, and about to hop into a very hot shower. He smiles when he reads Minnie, because in the far too few messages exchanged, you’ve mostly called him Seungmin. His smile fades when he reads the rest.

He knows he’s been bad at this. Not just bad, actually—he’s been pathetic. He’s ghosted you, and strung you along for weeks.

No, he thinks. It’s been months of sporadic texting. Every time he was home, or close to home, he ignored you. Not maliciously, of course, and ignored is a strong word. He messaged you, but it really was the bare minimum. Especially after the last time you were together; you gave yourself to him, and Seungmin took all that he could.

Now he can’t admit to you how much it scared him.

He sets his phone down for now, and climbs into the shower—because once again, his mind, body, and everything in between is tired.

He’s so tired, he feels like he could cry. Maybe if he just let go, let himself wrap around someone and cry into their chest, he would feel better.

———

“When did he text you last?” Choonhee is cleaning up the table, throwing things into the sink, and generally doing a terrible job of tidying. But she means well, and you let her at it. “Has it been a while?”

“Three days ago, before today. He sent a message while you were in my classroom earlier.”

“Oh, is that who the buzz was? Did you answer back? Maybe you should just make him wait around.”

“I replied right before we ate, only because it took me a while to figure out what to say.”

You’re back on the couch now, phone in hand, eyes staring at the stagnant message thread. Figuring out his schedule is tough sometimes, and you try (and usually fail) to stay off of Twitter and fan sites. Right now you’re sifting through them, though—looking for anything new.

You pull up a few airport photos from earlier today. Seungmin is hidden behind a mask and a hat, but you can see his eyes. He looks tired.

It makes your heart sink. You return to your message thread again and read through the last few texts; they feel more and more impersonal as time goes on, and that makes your heart sink, too.

Maybe he is pulling away from you.

“I know saying this won’t help, but do not let this take over. Don’t let him get into your head like this.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Choonhee grabs your arm and shakes it furiously, “he’s just a guy!”

———

Seungmin is flat on his back, covers fluffed up all around him, a pillow under his head, another under his feet. No matter what he does, he’s uncomfortable. He desperately wants and needs to fall asleep, but it’s alluding him. His brain won’t shut up.

The room is chilly, and that’s usually what does the trick. Cold room, warm bed, and he’s out like a light.

He picks up his phone and reads your text again.

Hi Minnie. I had a rough day today…I hope I get to see you again soon.

If only he could figure out what to say back to you. There are so many things he wants to say, and so few ways he can think of to type it out.

Even if he were to see you face to face, he’d be lost for words. Seungmin is not one to let people in, but he has already let you in.

And now he’s stupidly pushing you away.

He pulls up a photo of you and stares at it. This wasn’t the way he planned on relaxing, but his hand is finding it’s way under his shirt anyway, touching his stomach, slowly moving downward until reaches the waistband of his sweatpants.

Thinking of your one night together, somehow still vivid in his head after all this time, is enough to get him hard. And looking at you…he runs his hand down the length of his cock, grabs tight, and strokes himself slowly. The breath he lets out is shaky. He has to be quiet.

———

“Is he?” You look at her, only slightly defeated. “…just a guy?”

“You slept with him, you should know.”

“He’s not.”

The look she gives you is almost enough to make you rethink what you just said.

“I promise you, beneath everything, he’s like any other guy you’ve dated who got too close, freaked out, and disappeared.”

You shake your head. Then your phone buzzes in your hand, and the feeling makes your heart jump to your throat, and your stomach sink all at once. You don’t immediately move your eyes to the screen—you can’t.

“Was that him?”

Now you look. SM. You nod.

you still want to see me?

You will see him again, and you’ll tell him exactly how you feel.

“What did he say?”

You turn your phone so Choonhee can read the message. She rolls her eyes.

“He sounds like a guy. I’m sorry I got you into this…but, you are going to see him again I assume.”

“Yeah, of course.”

———

It’s not until you’re in bed, hours later, that you open his text in an attempt to answer. But it might be better to do this in the morning, because sending one and waiting for his reply is going to keep you up all night.

You stare anyway, trying to get your thoughts in order; your words, your feelings. Do you want him to know how you really feel now, or when you have him in front of you? Can you even get the right words out when he’s in front of you?

You open your notes app and begin working on a reply.

You know I want to see you, Seungmin. I’m trying to be patient and understanding, but it’s so hard when you’re on my mind every day. I hope you’re getting some rest, and I hope you’re doing well. And I hope I can see you before you leave again.

You fall asleep writing. And in the morning, there he is again. One text message sent at 5am.

I’m so sorry. I should have made time for you in October, but every time I wanted to ask you, I froze, I don’t know why, I have no excuse

For a moment, you think you accidentally sent the rough draft of your text in your sleep. You didn’t. This was just him, awake before dawn, finally giving you something sincere. Now you have to rethink your reply.

The typing notification pops up while you’re reading over his message again. Still awake at 6:45.

I remember you telling me you wake up at the same time every morning... Good morning

You feel like crying again. But not like yesterday.

“Good morning” is the best you can come up with this early. He’ll have to wait.

———

Seungmin falls asleep, eventually, but not comfortably.

He gets up from bed to clean himself up, change (he’s warm now, so he opts for less clothes), and hopefully he’ll still be a little bit tired by the time he hits the bed again.

At 4:45am, his body decides he’s had enough. Now he’s awake, eyes still closed, bed far too warm. He throws off the blankets and flips onto his back.

Immediately, and not surprisingly, Seungmin’s thoughts turn to you. You’re sleeping soundly, he hopes, unlike him. He imagines you in the bed he’s never seen; curled up, tucked in. Maybe if he was there with you, he could sleep.

Every time he gets back home, he tries to push himself again, and he fails. He did it in October, and then again in September, right before his birthday. He knows he can’t keep doing this to you.

He pulls out his phone and opens your message thread.

…I hope I get to see you again soon

Seungmin stops thinking and just types:

“I’m so sorry. I should have made time for you in October…”

He stops and reads it. October. He was busy with the album release, but if he looks back in his messages again, he can count the number of texts he sent on one hand. You sent just as many…well, one more than him. That last message he didn’t even reply to. You must have been fed up with him and his lack of communication. And you had every right to be.

“…but every time I wanted to ask you, I froze, I don’t know why, I have no excuse.”

This part is true. Seungmin is almost freezing again right now.

“I don’t know how to explain…”

Now he thinks.

“…how all of this is making me feel. Maybe I’m…”

Seungmin backspaces the last sentence before he even finishes it. And then he hits send.

At 6:45, he’s still wide awake. He remembers you telling him your alarm is always set for this time, so he sends one more message.

And you reply. He was right, you were awake. Just a good morning, though. He’s sure it’s far too early for you to deal with his wishy-washy bullshit.

———

When he doesn’t text again by lunch time, you decide he’s waited long enough. And you can’t waste time, really. He might not be in town for long.

“I want to see you, and I will see you. Today, tomorrow, it doesn’t matter. But I need it to be soon. Neither of us are allowed to be nervous anymore.”

It’s better, you decide, than whatever you wrote last night.

He’s silent as you drift through the rest of the school day (you assume he’s having trouble thinking of a reply to that), and right as the class is gathering their things and leaving, another teacher sneaks in and approaches you. Then you realize it’s not a teacher, but you recognize her. She’s a secretary you’ve spoken to a few times before.

She nods to you and smiles. “I know you’re on your way out, but there’s a visitor for you, a parent who insisted I bring them right to you. It seemed important.”

You have very specific times for parent/teacher visits, and this is not one of them. And there is nobody else who would visit you. You’re confused. “Okay, send them in…I guess.”

You look down at your phone—you doubt it, but maybe you missed a text message or a call. No, nothing.

“Hello.”

The way his voice floats over to you almost knocks you out, and when you turn to meet his eyes, your throat refuses to let you release the air in your lungs.

“Your last text was very insistent. I know this probably is not the best approach…but I haven’t been doing a very good job of anything lately.”

Still you just stare at him, lost for words. You look around your classroom, then down at yourself. This is not how you wanted to see him again, but do you have any room to complain?

He takes a few steps toward you, “was this a bad idea?”

You manage to shake your head and swallow. And then you realize your legs still work, with some effort. Two steps later, your arms wrap around his waist, your face disappears in his sweatshirt, and you squeeze.

His tiny, relieved laugh is music to your ears, and then his hands slide across your back until he’s fully embraced you.

You keep him there for a long time, and he doesn’t protest or try to pull you away. When he does speak again, it’s a question.

“How was your day?”

You slowly release him, but making eye contact is a bit of a challenge. “It’s better now.” So you fall apart when he does show up; no strong words, no looks of disbelief at his absence. You knew this would happen.

“Where can I take you? Home? Or…anywhere you want.”

“Home is good.”

“Okay, there’s a ride waiting for us.” He moves his hands up and over your shoulders, and he rests them on either side of your neck. “I understand if you’re angry with me, and if you stay that way.”

“I am. I don’t want to be.”

Seungmin leans closer, and he moves painfully slow, but eventually he makes it to your mouth. His kiss is light and short, but he keeps going back to peck at your lips, over and over, until you open up and hold him there.

Finally, clear memories of Chicago fill you up. His scent and his touch pull you right back, and you hope he remembers it like you do.

———

It feels like your first date. A quiet car ride, a slow ride up the elevator, an awkward, unsure walk down the hallway to your apartment door. Then walking into your messy living room.

“Are you hungry? I can order something for us,” he says as he’s carefully removing his shoes. “And we can talk while we wait.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll make some coffee.”

Seungmin doesn’t follow you to the kitchen, like he’s done a few times before. Instead, he sits on the couch, situating himself so he can still see you.

You try not to look at him as you work, but you fail, several times. He smiles every time your eyes meet, but it’s a sad smile. It’s not one you’re used to seeing.

“No small talk,” you tell him as you hand him his coffee. “I’ll lose my mind.”

“No small talk.” He nods.

“Where have you been?” You start, staring down at your mug. “Not physically, I know that already. I mean…in every other way.”

“Uhm—“ Seungmin thinks. His face twists a little, probably in confusion. “Where have I…”

“Mentally,” you can’t take your eyes off of him now. “Emotionally.”

“Oh, okay I understand.” He clears his throat, adjusts himself. “It’s been hard to keep my thoughts organized lately. It’s not just that I’ve been busy with work…I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I’m sorry.”

Seungmin shakes his head, “I could’ve fixed it, I’m sure. If I would’ve just talked about things with you a while ago, I probably would have slept easier.”

“I kept you up?”

“Yes. Well, thinking about you. I do think about you, all the time, even if I haven’t kept in touch. But I’ve been over complicating things, I think.”

“Talk to me now. Please.”

You think you can see his cheeks turning pink. His eyes are wide and shiny, but he’s unsure.

“I know, Seungmin…it is hard. It’s been hard for me, and I feel like it’s been a little more difficult for you. I kept everything to myself all this time, up until yesterday.”

He gives you another questioning look.

“Choonhee forced it out of me.”

He nods, sets his coffee down, and swings his legs up on the couch. Something about him making himself more comfortable puts you at ease. You remember him mentioning before that he felt relaxed being here, alone with you. "I don’t feel any pressure here." You hope he still feels that way.

“Tell me what you told her.”

“She did most of the talking.”

“Then what did Choonhee tell you?”

“That you’re just a guy, and I shouldn’t let you get to me like this.”

Seungmin actually nods at that—but he’s not looking you in the eyes now, so maybe he’s just…thinking about it. Or maybe he’s agreeing. You don’t know where this is going yet.

“I am just a guy, she’s right. I don’t want to be just a guy, though. Not to you.”

“Oh…”

“I thought I knew what was going on when we were together in Chicago, and I thought I knew what I wanted. I’ve been thinking all this time that if this couldn’t be a normal, traditional relationship, you would not be happy, not satisfied. And you’d tell me you weren’t interested in me anymore. I thought you would tell me you couldn’t do it.”

You almost interject; tell him that’s never what you expected of him. You wouldn’t never do that. Why didn’t you say that before? Instead, you used the hypothetical “if you weren’t who you are” question on him. You remain quiet, though, hoping he continues.

“…what I’ve been doing isn’t much better than what I’ve been afraid of. But you’re very smart, and I always knew that.”

You just smile at him, waiting for more.

“That’s why you were so worried when you found out who I was. You know this is much more complicated than that.”

Seungmin goes quiet after that, relaxes against the arm of the couch. You’re on the opposite side, doing the same. You watch each other carefully , but nobody makes a move, and nobody starts to speak.

You wonder if there was something you could have done to avoid all of this drama. Four and a half months of wondering; of being so down you can barely make it to work some days. Both of you have been really bad at this.

“Yes, I know it’s complicated.”

He’s biting his lip. Tapping his foot. It’s almost touching you, and you want to stretch your leg out until it does, but right as you tell your brain to do it, his leg slides back. He sits up and leans forward, falls to his knees, and crawls across the couch.

Before you can squeak his name out, he’s straddling you, arms on either side of your waist. And then the full weight of his body is on you. Seungmin sets his head down gently against your chest and relaxes.

You freeze for a few seconds. You have fallen asleep on this couch with him before, but this feels like much more.

He doesn’t say anything, not even when you set your hand on his head—rake your fingers through his hair, wrap your other arm around his shoulders. He sighs, though.

When it feels like you’re drifting off to sleep, he finally speaks. It’s muffled against your shirt.

“You just want me, right?”

“What?”

“Even if nobody is allowed to know. And we can’t go out in public, and I have to pretend you don’t exist.”

“Seungmin, I know that we can’t have a normal relationship. I just want you…and to know that you want me.” You say the last part under your breath.

“I do.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I promise I’ll be better. And that I won’t be afraid to talk to you, and tell you too much.”

“You can tell me whatever you need to.”

“I don’t usually talk much…to anyone.”

It never occurred to you that he didn’t have someone to talk to when he was feeling down, or having a bad day. A bad week. He’s been bottling everything up, just like you have. Maybe for a very long time.

“You can talk to me about your bad days, Minnie, or when you can’t sleep. And about your good days. I would like to be that person.”

“Am I the reason you had a rough day yesterday? Have you had a lot of those?”

“Yeah, I have had a lot of bad days because I missed you.”

“You can tell me about your bad days, too. Even if they were bad because of me.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Seungmin laughs, and it shakes your whole body. “Good.”

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The next morning is almost normal. Your alarm goes off at its regular time—6:45, and you’re tired, which is also normal. The room is chilly, and it’s so warm under the blankets that getting up is nearly impossible. An ordinary morning. The one thing that makes it different is that Seungmin is there when you open your eyes.

The alarm doesn’t even make him stir, but when you finally turn it off, he groans.

“I’m sorry, go back to sleep.”

“Are you going to work?” He asks, eyes closed, voice raspy with sleep.

“No, not today. I found someone to cover for me.”

He smiles and reaches his arm toward you, and he feels blindly around where he thinks you might be. “Why are you so far away?”

You move closer and grab his arm, “I’m right here. Go back to sleep.”

“I’ll try.”

…

Sleep eventually finds both of you again. When you wake back up a few hours later, he’s still there, breathing deeply, melting into your bed. You need to get up, but you wait a little longer. You really don’t want to wake him right now.

When he eventually wakes up on his own, he’ll feel better.

You close your eyes. And again, you fall asleep.

…

Something warm against your forehead wakes you up for a third time. Your eyes open and all you see is skin; Seungmin’s neck, his shoulder. The collar of his shirt is loose enough that you can see the start of his chest.

You pull him closer and push your face into him. He smells good. He smells like sleep and sweat and whatever leftover cologne is still stuck to him from yesterday.

Part of you still wants to keep your guard up. He’ll be gone soon, and then you’ll have to wait and see if his confidence and trust in you remains, and if he’ll really feel comfortable telling you the things he doesn’t tell anyone else.

“I can start,” you say, face still in his chest. You move up toward his neck and set your lips against his skin.

“Start what?”

“After we were together last, in Chicago, and we didn’t…use a condom. I did get a morning after pill, and I took it.”

He pulls you away so he can look at you.

“My period came really late after that, so I thought it didn’t work. And I was really scared. But I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell you because we hadn’t talked very much that week, and you didn’t need that on your mind anyway.”

“I��m sorry you had to deal with that alone.”

“Everything turned out okay.”

“You can talk to me any time you need to, even if I’ve been quiet.”

You nod, and you really want to believe him.

“Too soon for babies.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear him. He has a little smirk on his face, but he’s avoiding eye contact and staring at the little bit of space between you.

“You want them?”

“Hm?” Now he makes eye contact, and his ears are slowly turning red. “Uhm…yes, I always have. Do you?”

Having kids isn’t something you’ve thought about much (aside from the scare you had in July), because you haven’t met anyone you would want to have kids with. Well, until now, because looking at Seungmin and the sweet smile on his face is making you want them immediately. But you know that’s not possible for him.

“With the right person, yeah.”

“I’m sure someday I’ll be able to do that. Have the time to be there, for both of them. You and baby. I couldn’t be gone all the time and leave you alone.”

He stops for a second. You wonder if he’s even hearing himself speak.

“…Seungmin?”

“It was my turn to tell you something personal.” He brings his hands up to his face and rubs his cheeks, then his eyes. “Just in case I’m the right person.”

The conversation feels like too much, too soon. But you like it. He’s only been open with you like this once before: on your second date, when he admitted to being worried you’d like his friends more than him. You thought that was silly then, and now…you’re not sure you could like anyone more than Seungmin.

“…and if I’m your right person.”

Seungmin smiles and hides his face in the pillow.

———

As the day goes on, you wonder how long he’ll be here with you. Every time he looks at a message on his phone, you assume that will be his cue to get going—to start saying goodbye. But he’s still here, and he seems content.

It was his idea to stay, and he insisted on making breakfast.

“What do you normally do on your days off?” is what he asked as you sat and ate.

So it’s been a regular day off, aside from the fact that Seungmin is also here with you…eating, cleaning, sorting laundry, watching tv, and eventually, catching up with schoolwork.

He sits down next to you on the couch when you open your binder and pull out a stack of papers. He watches quietly as you shuffle though them, putting the pages in order before you start to look them over properly.

He picks the next one up before you get to it. “How old are your students again?”

“They are eight…a few are nine.”

“I don’t remember my English classes being this complicated when I was…older than them.”

“You should see their math homework.”

“Oh, I was very good at math!”

“Yeah?” You look at him, give him your full attention. “There’s so much I don’t know about you.”

“Not even what’s on the internet?” Seungmin leans back against the couch, and pulls you with him.

“I’ve read a few things. But I’m sure you’re a lot more complicated than your fun facts.”

“I hope so.” He grabs you around the waist, “what were you good at in school?”

“English…” you laugh. “And I did pretty good in my German class, and history.”

“Do you speak German, too?” He’s holding you tight, head resting on your shoulder.

“No, I’ve forgotten almost all of that.”

“Why did you come here, to Korea?

You turn yourself to look at him, disturbing his resting head. But he keeps his arms around you.

“So close to Samseong-Dong?”

“I felt like I needed to start over after I graduated college, and this seemed like the perfect way to do it. I actually almost went to Japan.”

“Why didn’t you? Where did you go to college?”

“Northwestern University. And I missed a deadline. Luckily, I already had applications submitted to a few different programs here and nearby.”

“And you chose here?”

Seungmin’s hands wander throughout the entire conversation, stopping when they reach just below where the hem of your shirt hits.

“They chose me.”

“That’s very lucky.” They slide underneath and up your back, “maybe we were meant to meet each other.”

“I’m not sure I believe in things like that.” You move yourself closer to him, until your face is inches from his.

“I don’t either, really. Fate, and soulmates. I’ve been called a…uhm, I don’t remember the English word. A negative person.”

“A pessimist?”

“Yes. Maybe sometimes I am, but…not always. I can be positive. I just like to be realistic.”

“A pragmatist.” You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Mhm, both of those P words. I did get lucky, though.” He pushes forward, gently coaxing you to your back.

“Was it there before?” You ask. He’s hanging over you, studying your face. “Before Chicago, after I asked if you would date me?“

“Was what there? You mean, did I like you?”

“Yes, but…more than that. Or was it spending the night together?”

“It was before that. That’s why I wanted to spend the night with you.”

You nod, trying hard not to beam up at him. But his hands are on your sides, and his fingertips are moving so delicately over you, you can’t help but smile.

“When was it there for you?”

Your heart starts beating a little faster. You have no answer ready for him except the truth.

“When you gave me Pochacco.”

“On our first date? At the coffee shop?”

You throw your hands over your face and nod, “yeah, at the coffee shop.”

“I felt kind of silly giving him to you, I thought you would think it was silly, too.” He pulls your hands away so he can see your face again.

“It wasn’t.”

“So PuppyM wasn’t silly either?”

“No, I love him. And your denim jacket you left, that’s hanging on my bedpost. I love all of your gifts.”

“Oh, I forgot about that jacket!”Seungmin comes down and settles himself against you, face in your neck, hands wondering more.

“You can have it back, if you want.”

“No, you keep it. But I do need something of yours to keep with me.” His hands slide under your shirt and across your stomach. He tickles your side again, then stops when he reaches your hip.

You’re surprised at his restraint.

“I’m sure I have something for you.” You set your hand over his and slide it up his arm. Then back down.

His fingers twitch and push under your shorts. As ready as you were, and as much as you wanted him to make that move, your breath still catches in your throat.

He props himself up with his other arm and looks at you. His fingers touch lightly over your underwear, taking his time, getting himself where he needs to be.

But you’re not taking your time. And it’s Seungmin touching you, so your body is already on fire. You push your hips up and push his hand harder against you.

His fingers slide up and sneak beneath the fabric. He moves slowly, and he’s watching you carefully, as if you might protest.

But of course you don’t. You grip his arm and slide your hand from his bicep down to his wrist, moving with him as his fingers slip inside of you.

“Am I doing okay?” He leans closer and whispers. He doesn’t wait for an answer before pulling out and sliding back over your clit, making you choke on your answer.

You manage a shaky mhm and Seungmin giggles into your ear. His fingers stay put, making soft circles around you, keeping his touch as delicate as possible. Then he takes them off again, and he pushes back inside.

The reach of is fingers is enough to hit just the right spot, and when you jump from the pressure, he does it again and again until he gets a moan out of you.

You lift your hips into his touch and pull him down for a kiss. Your grip on his arm tightens and he eases up, but barely. His mouth is working its way across your neck now, leaving you free to moan.

“Do you do this a lot?” He says as he nibbles across your ear and cheek. When he gets to your lips, he hangs above you and holds your gaze. His thumb slides over your clit again, like he wanted to remind you of what he was talking about.

“Uhh…hmm?” You slide your hand up and grab a handful of his hair. “Yes.” You laugh and knead your fingertips into his scalp—it makes his eyes roll back. He’s in your neck again, savoring his little massage.

“Do you think about me when you do it?”

His question sends another wave of pleasure through you. His fingers slip inside again, pressing hard. His thumb is on your clit, wet and sliding easily and hitting everywhere you need it to.

There’s hot, heavy breathing in your ear, and a sweet whisper, “do you think about me, hm?”

“Every time,” your climax hits fast, and Seungmin knows he’s succeeded by the way you’re pulling at his hair.

He holds himself up just enough to watch you squirm beneath him. His touch softens even more as you start to relax, and when you stop and stare up at him, he comes down and kisses across your forehead and down the side of your face. He lets you catch your breath before moving to your lips.

“Really?” Seungmin blushes and tries to stifle his laugh in your neck.

You nod slowly, “that was…very good.”

“Thank you.”

“Too good, maybe.”

“I did some research.”

“You did not.” But when you think about it for a second, it does seem like something Seungmin would do. “Did you?”

“Just a little. In case I’d get to try it out on you someday.”

———

Seungmin looks carefully across your desk, touching the books stacked there, the loose sheets of composition paper, the notes and pencils. He sits in your chair and opens the drawer—inside are a few notebooks, all used and full. He shuffles things around a little, searching every inch.

Now he gets up and moves to your bookshelf. It’s more of a trinket shelf, though. Seungmin only runs his eyes over this, until he catches sight of a snow globe. He picks that up and shakes it. Inside is the Chicago skyline.

He stares at it for a long moment, then returns it to his spot. His attention turns to you, on the bed.

You just smile at him. He keeps looking around.

The next stop is your bedside table. You sit up when he sits down on the edge of the bed, run your hand down his back. As soon as he opens it, he whispers an ooh, and reaches inside.

“What did you find?” You laugh.

“Me,” he holds up three photocards with his face on them.

You take them from him and fall back on the bed, “you”, and look deeply at paper Seungmin.

“Hey, I’m right here…” he pushes your hand away and bends down to kiss you. “Real me.”

The next thing pulled from the drawer is a journal. He looks it over, but doesn’t open it.

“That’s you, too.”

Seungmin points to it, and his head tilts, “this is me?”

“Yeah, almost every page.”

His face goes from confusion to understanding, and then it falls a little.

“You should add one more page.”

“I will.”

The journal goes back in, and then his fingers close around something small. When he pulls it out, it catches the light and throws a reflection across the room.

“Oh, I haven’t worn this since last time.” You sit up and Seungmin hands you the bracelet. It’s only a tiny gold chain, but at the very end of it is a star charm.

“This.” He says, and he watches as you unclasp it, wrap it around his wrist, and close it again.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

An hour after Seungmin left your house the last time, he sent you a text that just said “I’m home”. That was a first, and it felt like a good omen. But only time would tell. He never really had a good start with keeping in touch.

But he also said goodnight. And then he said good morning. And sometimes he called just to tell you instead of texting.

Actually, this morning, almost two months later, he called early in the morning, when you were still asleep. You caught his name on the lock screen before you picked up, but you still lacked the energy for anything more than a groggy morning Min.

Luckily, he can make up in enthusiasm what you lack some days.

“I’m sorry, you’re still asleep,” he whispers.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just being lazy. What are you up to this morning?” You also caught sight of the time before answering: 10am, way too late for you to sleep in.

“Catching a flight home, from Thailand. Waiting around.” Now you can hear the sleep still lingering in his voice.

“Oh right. I forgot you were there…I did see some photos. You looked very handsome in your safety glasses.”

“Thank you,” he laughs. “I was calling to…uhm, say good morning, and also to see if you would be home tonight.”

“Minnie, I’m always home.”

“That’s true, but it would still be rude to just show up unannounced.”

“I give you permission to show up unannounced.”

“Can I have a key, too? Oh, that reminds me…uuh, well, actually I’ll just talk to you about it later.”

“Okay, don’t forget. And yes you can have a key.”

———

This is the first time you’re not nervous about Seungmin coming over. Well, not as nervous as you typically would be. You’re still a little on edge—a little worried about how you look and about how your food is going to taste.

He didn’t mention anything about coming over hungry, but you’re taking the initiative anyway. If anything, he’ll have something to take home with him.

A soft knock at the door. You know his soft, steady knock, and you never have any other visitors, so it’s him. But for some reason you stand there stupidly, not moving, not saying anything, because you know it’s really him on the other side of your door.

Finally, after a few seconds, you take a breath. “It’s open.”

The door swings open.

“Hi,” Seungmin closes it quietly, takes off his shoes and looks at you from across the room. “It smells very good in here.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten so…”

“No, nothing since lunch.” He takes a few long strides toward you. Big blue sweatshirt, matching sweatpants, a big smile. “So I’m very hungry,” he embraces you and squeezes you tight against his chest. “How have you been?” He relaxes, but he doesn’t let you free.

“I’ve been okay...I’ve been good.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t visit around Christmas—oh!” He bends down and kisses you.

He kisses for a long time—long enough that you think you might end up in bed before you even eat dinner. But he slows down, and then releases you.

“Happy new year! A little late.” He comes down again for one more kiss, and then makes his way to the kitchen. “What did you make? Something American? It smells like something American.”

“Yes. It’s very American.”

“Should we eat first, or talk?”

“I’m sure we can manage both.”

———

The two of you stare at each other from across your tiny kitchen table. Seungmin sips his tea. You just watch and wait, because this is his conversation.

“Do you want me to start? Something about you having a key to my apartment?”

“Ah, yeah. Yes, I should have a key, but I was thinking of a different apartment.”

“Oh, like yours? No, you don’t have an apartment. Or do you?” You lean a little closer, “secret apartment?”

“No, no secret apartment,” he laughs. “But I thought it would be nice if you lived closer. Closer to the city, and closer to me.”

“That would be nice, but I’m not sure something closer is in my budget.”

“I know,” Seungmin smiles—there’s always something so clever and knowing about his smile. “I figured you might say that. I could help.”

“You want to help me with rent? Expensive rent. That’s kind of serious.”

“I do! It is serious. I am serious.”

“You are?” You sit back in your chair and study his face. He’s still smiling and nodding at you.

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it for…almost two months. And I found somewhere I think would fit very well.”

“Closer to you?”

“Much closer. I could walk to you.”

You’re thinking, but you’re not really thinking. The obvious answer to this is yes, even though it’s hard to just come out and say it. The idea of someone else helping with rent, or helping with anything, is foreign to you. “I would like to be closer to you.”

Seungmin looks at his phone, pulls something up on it, and then slides it to you across the table. “How is something like this?”

You trust Seungmin’s taste and judgement, but you still want to look it over thoroughly. Distance, yes, but also the size, the layout. And you do not have enough windows in this apartment. You’d like more windows. If he’s as serious as he looks, it might as well be worth whatever money you’re both going to put into it.

“How about this one?” You pull up a different listing.

He looks it over, “still very close. Oh, two bedrooms. Maybe the extra space would be nice.”

“It is a little more, sorry (Seungmin shakes his head when you say that), but it has a bathtub instead of just a walk-in shower. And it’s own laundry.”

He laughs, “I could do my laundry faster if I bring it with me. And the kitchen is nicer.”

“I miss having a bathtub.” You hand him his phone back. “But are you sure this isn’t too much? I know you said you were serious—“

“I am…I want you to know that I’m very serious. I think this is a good way to show you. And it’s also very practical.”

“You seemed so unsure before. I just want you to be…good. I want both of us to be good.”

“I’m very good.”

“This is a little crazy, isn’t it? All of this.”

“Yes, it is. I’ll call about it tomorrow.”

“No, I can. Let me do that, at least.”

———

“Minnie?”

Mmhm?

You sat on the couch after dinner, and it didn’t take much time before he had you on your back. He lifts your shirt as far as this position will allow, letting his fingers dance over you—making you squirm a little from how soft his touch is.

Forming the words you want to say is much harder than you thought. They’re dancing around in your head; you’re moving them back and forth, but every way it comes together feels like too much or not enough. Maybe right now just isn’t he time.

“What’s wrong?”

You pull your shorts down, open your legs for him, then shake your head. “Nothing.”

Seungmin reaches down and feels you, slips his fingers inside, then slowly pulls them back out. He smiles against your mouth and pushes in again, just to feel how wet you are. “Are we okay here…are you comfortable?” He asks sweetly. His fingers are still inside, moving delicately.

You nod, but suddenly you remember that you are not good, and you’re not ready. “Shit, no we’re not good. We need a condom this time.”

“Oh right, we should be safe. Tell me where they are,” he adjusts his sweatpants and very carefully lifts himself off of you.”

“In my black bag, under my bed.”

You listen as he slides it out and digs around. The contents of that bag are a mystery, but the condoms you bought back in Chicago, both boxes, have to be in there still. You’re not that bad at unpacking, but if it’s something you don’t use, you’re definitely going to forget I’m about it under there forever.

When he comes back in, he has one in each hand.

“I’m….not sure which one is for me.” His voice seems a little dejected. He’s looking down at them as he approaches you.

“Oh Minnie, they were both for you. I bought these a while ago, when I didn’t know which would fit you better.”

“Oh,” he finally makes eyes contact again. His face softens a little. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay, come here.” You spread your legs again and wait for him, “I’ll put it on for you.”

He crawls back onto the couch, settles between your legs, and opens both hands, palms up, in front of you.

You take the right one and rip it open. Seungmin looks like his mind is suddenly full. His eyes are big and soft.

“Min, what’s on your mind?”

His hands are already on his sweatpants, pulling them down his hips.

“You are.”

You touch him, slide your fingertips down, and then back up. The condom goes on easily. “Does it feel okay?”

He nods and adjusts, makes himself comfortable, and lifts your legs until he has more room. He pushes in a halfway, then leans over until you’re almost nose to nose.

“Minnie?”

“Hmm?” He sets his forehead against yours.

“There’s only you.”

“Just me?” He pushes his nose into yours, “only me?” Pecks at your lips.

“Just us.”

“Only us.” Seungmin pushes the rest of the way in, waits a moment, then begins to fuck you slowly and deeply, “you’re all mine.” He whispers in your ear as he drags his lips over it.

It takes you a second to pull yourself together. Each thrust sends you upward and knocks the breath out of you, but you manage a nod.

“Tell me,” he quickens his pace. The couch shakes the end table, and you can hear the clatter of things falling to the floor. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

It comes out shaky, and it’s not good enough for you. But Seungmin is still smiling. You try again

“I’m yours,” you grab the back of his neck and hold him still, “I only love you.” Your hand grabs hair and pulls—lips close on his before he has a chance to speak.

But he sighs into the kiss. He slows down, and it feels like he’s melting into you more and more with each thrust. What little skin is exposed between the two of you slides together, damp with sweat, and Seungmin kisses every part of you he can get to in the position he’s in.

He tries to get rid of your shirt, but he can’t stop, and he has to stop to make any progress—so you clumsily lift it, and your bra, until you’re free.

His hand slides up your ribs and his fingers graze over you, but for now he just watches how he’s making your body move under him. He seems hypnotized, but eventually he blinks, and then his eyes are fixed on yours again.

The room is quiet—no ambient noise from the tv, no music, nothing. The only sounds are the heavy breaths and soft moans you’re sharing. The condom is slowing him down, keeping him here much longer, and everything feels good in this position; good enough that you’d be satisfied staying like this as long he needs it.

He made you come last time, and now you want to do the same for him.

You lift him off of you until you can see him better.

He looks you in the eyes again, satisfied and smiling. “You feel so good,” he’s back down again, mouth on your chest, kissing down until he can close his lips around your nipple. He licks and works his way back up, stopping at your throat and staying there, his warm breath hitting you. “You love me?”

Your heart jumps. It was already racing, but now you feel it everywhere. In your throat, your chest, your head. You don’t think you’ve ever told anyone that before; not so soon. It’s been a year, but tonight is only the sixth time you’ve seen him and touched him. Everything else has been texts, phone calls, video calls.

It doesn’t matter. You said it because it felt right, and it still feels right.

“Yes.”

Seungmin slows his pace. His exhales turns into a string of soft, dulcet moans. He lifts himself upright and holds your hips as he rolls into you. He comes quietly. You wouldn’t have even realized if you weren’t looking right him.

The satisfied look on his face makes your stomach swirl. You watch Seungmin smile before your eyes close, and you can hear him whisper something to you while you’re coming down from your own high.

He pulls out and carefully brings your legs together.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything, love.” He sits you up next to him and pulls your t-shirt over your head, “I was just…” he pulls you close, “nothing, it’s not important right now.”

“Will you stay here tonight?”

“Yes, I’ll stay.”

———

It’s been a long six weeks. You’re a little stressed out, but you’ve been holding yourself together very well, you think.

This apartment has been your only home for more than three years, so packing your things up and preparing to leave has been a little bit emotional. Almost everything is out of here and all that’s left are a few things you’re taking along on the last car ride.

Before this, everything was moving in slow motion and it was killing you. Now, it won’t slow down. You’re happy, and you’re grateful for everything that Seungmin has done for you…and it’s still sometimes hard to believe he’s doing it all just for you. But it’s so much all at once.

He told you he would stay tonight—your first night there. You haven’t received a text telling you otherwise, so you’re hoping he will be there when you arrive. You do have to remember that you’ll be there alone most of the time, though.

Some things will remain the same.

———

The elevator ride up is long, and you think back to you and Seungmin—your first date, bringing him home with you to your 5th floor apartment, thirty minutes out of the way, just to have him to yourself.

That was probably a good indication that he liked you. You just didn't realize it at the time.

You finally stop at the 17th floor.

The original apartment you looked at was unavailable when you called the next morning, so Seungmin insisted on taking everything into his own hands while you were at work. He knew what you were looking for, but he went overboard.

This apartment has the windows, the bathtub, and laundry room, but it also has double the space—and three bedrooms. When you asked what you were supposed to do with all of the extra room, Seungmin shrugged and said we’ll figure something out.

You don’t even own enough to fill up half of it. Everything that required any sort of muscle; the bed, the living room furniture, it all stayed behind. Most of the things in this apartment are new, or they will be new.

Before you have a chance to explore any further than the kitchen, you hear a very faint, soft knock on the door. You know it’s him and you run to open it, but he punches in a code on the doorknob, turns it, and peeks in before you get there.

“I tried to beat you here.” He smiles.

“You almost did.“

He closes the space between you and pulls you into a hug. “How was your day? Did the movers get everything here?”

“It was alright, and…I think so, but I haven’t gotten any further than this.”

“Just alright? I know it’s been a lot lately.”

“I’m better now that I’m here, and you’re here.” You take his face in your hands and squeeze his cheeks, “let me see, smile.”

Seungmin smiles widely and dramatically, and then bends down to kiss you. “How do I look?”

You pull him back for another one, “still handsome.”

He picks up the bags he walked in with and sets them on the kitchen chair. “I brought us dinner, and a few things to make you feel more at home.” Seungmin is pulling the food out of the bag, piece by piece. “So you didn’t see the bedroom yet?”

“Not yet, why?”

He shakes his head and smiles, “we’ll see it later.”

“What did you bring me?”

“Oh, let’s see!” He starts digging in the other bag.

You watch as he carefully places an assortment of things along side the food. There’s a candle, two candles, a small picture frame, but you can’t see the photo from where you’re standing. A stuffed dog. Another stuffed dog. One of them is Pochacco, the other is a mystery, but he does look familiar.

“That’s all for now but I do have more stuff to bring.”

“Well, we have plenty of space to fill.”

He beams at you, grabs one of the stuffed dogs, and pulls you against him. “This wasn’t mine, but I have one just like it.”

“I like him, he looks like you.”

Seungmin laughs and looks at Daengmo, “yes, he kind of does.”

———

When the sun goes down, and you’re both full and relaxing, you begin to feel even more nostalgic for the conversations you had and the memories you made with him at your old place, on your old couch. You have to work on new memories now.

He’s facing you on the new couch, eyes closed, slow, steady breaths. The flicker of the tv is hitting his face, making his cheek and the soft brown of his hair glow.

Very slowly, you reach your foot out and touch his.

Seungmin’s eyes open, and he gives you a sleepy smile, “how was dinner?”

“Good.” You sit up and move closer to him, “we should go to bed while you’re still sleepy.”

He groans and shrugs his shoulders.

“We gotta go see the bedroom, remember?” You grab his hand and pull a little, and he immediately gives in.

The bedroom is warm and cozy, like it’s already been lived in. You know Seungmin came in at some point and made it this way; the curtains are pulled, the soft amber lights are clicked on, and one of the candles he brought is lit on the bedside table. Both of the stuffed dogs he brought, and your PuppyM, are already laying on top of the pillows.

The bed is made, but not too made. The blankets are loose and fluffed up, ready to crawl into.

“How does it look?” He sounds a little more awake now.

“It looks perfect, come on.”

He shakes his head, “If we don’t brush our teeth now, we will never get back up to do it.” He smiles and kisses you softly.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

———

The lights are off, the candle is out. Seungmin is facing you in bed.

“Are you awake? Did you lose your sleepy?”

“A little.”

He scoots closer until his arm can drape over you. The bedroom is bigger, and the bed is bigger, too. You’re sharing one side just to be close to each other.

“It will come back soon.”

You set your forehead against his chest and feel it move steadily with each breath. It's quiet for a long time, and now sleep is really escaping you. You should be able to relax like this; you’ve shared a bed with him a few times before, and you haven’t slept as well since. And you’re tired—too tired. Maybe too exhausted for sleep.

You wonder if he’s awake, or if he’s quiet because he thinks you’ve finally drifted off.

You run your hand gently over his arm, waiting for a reaction. At first, he doesn’t make a move or a sound, but when you slide your hand back up, he moves his leg against yours.

“Can’t sleep?” He whispers

“Did I wake you?”

“You didn’t.”

“Then no, I can’t sleep.” You prop yourself up on one arm and look down at him. It’s dark, but you can just make out the details of his face.

He flips onto his back and pulls the covers away. “Are you uncomfortable?” Seungmin asks and places his hand on your cheek. He’s warm, his eyes are warm. His mouth parts slowly and turns into a smile. It’s a tired smile. “New bed.”

“New everything.”

“Except for me.”

Your hand closes around his, then you turn your head to place a kiss on the inside of his wrist. “Thank you for being here. I know you’re on a tight schedule.”

Seungmin pulls you down on top of him. His face is in your neck, kissing playfully and lazily, but the way his hands are exploring you is anything but lazy.

“You’re cold,” he stops, wraps his arms around your waist, and holds you there. “You need to be warmed up.”

You get your hands underneath his shirt, “you’re warm enough for both of us.”

“I can share.”

“Can I ask you something stupid?”

“Yes, I would love that,” he laughs softly and disappears in your neck again.

The stupid question bounces around in your head. His warm lips on you are starting to make your head fuzzy, and you wonder if you should just forget it. But now he’ll get it out of you somehow.

“Will you sing for me?”

He pulls back to look at you. Seungmin’s face lights up. It could light up the entire room. “You want me to sing for you?” If he was sleepy at all before, he’s not now. You’ve managed to wake him the rest of the way with a simple, stupid, request. But it wasn’t stupid at all.

“I always have, it just never seemed like a good time.”

“Right now? Should I sing now? Maybe it’s too quiet, and the walls might not be very thick.”

“In the morning?”

He nods, “yes, I’ll sing for you in the morning. What should I sing?”

“Surprise me.”

“We talked about singing together before, remember?”

“I remember,” you wrap around him and pull the covers back up in an attempt to get him sleepy again. “But I’d rather just hear you.”

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Idol!Kim Seungmin x F!Reader TW : assumed cheating ; general angst ; fluff at the end ; Word Count : 5.1k Request : pls pls pls angst/fluff w seungmin 🙏🏼

5… “She’s coming down the hallway right now…” 4… “I don’t think they look good together either…” 3… “Can’t believe he actually invited her to the show tonight looking like that…” 2… “He could do so much better…” 1… “Do it now.” …

You turned the corner to go into the dressing room where he was and there she was, sitting on his lap, his hands on her hips, and neither of them looked particularly uncomfortable… It almost seemed like she had been sitting there for a solid few minutes before you had even walked in. You didn’t like the sight of it, but you also couldn’t seem to look away from it either. Your heart felt like it had dropped into your stomach, the sudden weight making you nauseous. 

You were never the kind to make a scene, you weren’t vocal about anything that upset you, and maybe that’s why your life always seemed to go to shit once things finally went well. That’s why you quickly turned away, your head hung low as you moved in the same direction you had just come from. “Hey… You alright?” Jeongin asked as you ran right into him, but you didn’t even care to respond, side stepping out of his way and walking faster until you were out of the building. 

The makeup artist was always so… touchy… And Seungmin honestly hated it. He hated having to get his makeup and his hair down, he hated the way she’d look at him way too long. It was part of the job though, and he knew that in order to do what he loved to do, he had to endure it, and that’s the only reason he didn’t bring it up to Chan or any of the staff members. 

At least you were coming tonight, that thought alone had him dealing with all the annoying shit that came along with having to go on stage. You had finally been able to get off work to come to one of his shows, and this one was a pretty big deal, it was the third comeback show, sadly you couldn’t make it to the first two, but he told you that making it to even one was good enough for him. Having you in the crowd was important though, he wanted to look good for you, he wanted to do good for you. 

“Your skin is always so clear, you make my job so easy.” The stylist said, her hands running over his cheeks as she looked at him. It was honestly so annoying, but he forced a smile as he looked past her, staring at himself in the mirror. “If it’s so easy, then why do you take so long?” He muttered, and while he didn’t exactly want to sound rude, he was hoping that maybe she’d get the hint and stop touching him and just do her job. 

He absolutely hated when other people touched him, it felt wrong, especially when it was another woman, and the only reason he even allowed this to be done was because it was for work and you, being the amazing, understanding woman that you are, had told him that it was okay since it was job related. 

“Really?” She was talking on her phone, and he tried not to let the loudness get to him, instead closing his eyes and leaning his head back in his chair to just let her do what she had to do so he could get the hell out of there. “I just don’t know how anyone would think they look good together. They’re like… complete opposites.” Was she always this much of a bitch or was he just really intune to her bitchiness today? It seemed like the more he tried to ignore it, the louder she got though. “What’s she wearing tonight? I bet she looks like shit. She doesn’t deserve to even be seen with someone like him.” 

The one thing he hated more than people touching him though… People who thought that they were better than everyone else. He knew that he could be somewhat of an ass sometimes, but hearing the way she was talking about whoever this poor girl was… It made him feel guilty for even being in ear shot of this conversation. He was sure that whoever the guy was that she was talking about would never choose someone like her, especially if he was already with someone else. 

“Now?” She asked, and then before Seungmin even had the chance to question what she was talking about, he felt the weight of her crashing down on his lap, his hands instinctively shooting out to her hips, not to hold her, but to push her off. That’s what he was trying to do, but it was like she was holding herself there, letting gravity take over completely. “Oh gosh… Sorry… I tripped.” She said, trying to sound innocent, which only disgusted Seungmin more. 

“Can you get off of me now?” He said, trying his best to keep his cool, but he was beyond frustrated and he was pissed and he just wanted to take a breather. He knew that you’d be there soon, and all he wanted was to see you at this point and appreciate just how much of a bitch you weren’t. “Seriously, get up.” The composure was slowly starting to slip away, and he finally was able to push her off after what felt like the longest minute of his life. 

“I must have tripped over the cord for the straightener…” She said between giggles. “I wrinkled your pants, let me just-” 

He immediately grabbed her wrists to stop her before she could even get close to him. “Don’t touch me.” He quickly stood up from his chair, letting out a heavy sigh. “Does anyone know if Y/N made it here yet? Did you even let her in? Jesus Christ…” You were the only person at this point who would be able to help calm him down and for some reason you weren’t there yet even though you had texted him more than 15 minutes ago that you’d be there soon. 

Just as he was about to start looking for you, Jeongin walked into the room, his eyes narrowed as he stared at Seungmin. “Did you and Y/N get into a fight or something?” He asked, and Seungmins eyes lowered to match the look on the maknaes face. “She walked by, she didn’t even say anything when she ran into me. She looked really upset… or really sick… Is she okay?” 

Were you okay? Fuck if he knew, he hadn’t even seen you, the only person that he even liked seeing and he finds out that you were already gone? What the fuck happened? As if he weren’t already agitated enough today, now this? “She left left? Like… Where was she going?” Seungmin asked, his fingers raking through his hair as he tried to keep his cool, but his patience was slowly dwindling as the youngest shrugged his shoulders. “Cool, thanks.” He snapped, making a mental note to apologize for it later as he walked out of the room. 

“Seungmin~” The stylist called out behind him, and even though he tried to quicken his steps, he felt her fingers grasp at the back of his jacket, tugging him back and keeping him from going forward any further. “I’m not done with your makeup yet! You go on in like… 30 minutes! Where are you going?” 

30 minutes. It wasn’t that long when counting how much time he had before he could go on stage, but it felt like too long when it came down to leaving you on your own and not knowing what was going on. Seungmin had priorities, and of course his job was one of them, but you were his top priority. “Let Chan and the rest of the staff know that I won’t be at this show.” He said, and it had been his first choice, his only choice in this matter. He wasn’t going to leave you alone, no matter what the problem was, he was your boyfriend and he was going to be there for you. 

“What?!” She gripped onto his jacket tighter, and he truly was on the verge of completely snapping. She had been getting on his nerves all day, and he was finally at his last, and she seemed to be finding a way to get on that one as well. “Why? You can’t miss a comeback stage… This is ridiculous. Chan will be pissed. Do you know how hard I worked on your-” 

He shrugged out of the jacket before whipping around, his eyes like daggers as he glared at her. “I don’t care. There’s more important things for me to worry about than the third show. They’ve seen me twice, I’m sure they’ll get by without me this time.” He stormed off, leaving her absolutely stunned, but he couldn’t care less. He didn’t care about anything but you right now. 

You sat in your apartment, sipping on an hours old cup of coffee that was colder than the drinks that you had in the fridge. You hadn’t even been able to finish it this morning, you had been so excited to just get to the studio and see Seungmin. Your hair hadn’t been done, you didn’t wear anything fancy, Seungmin had said many times that he loved the way you looked when you weren’t even trying to dress up for him, when you weren’t even trying to look good… That’s when you looked your best. 

Walking down that long hallway to get to his dressing room, it felt like it took forever, and all the words that were whispered amongst the staff members felt like they were being directed towards you. Maybe it was the fact that they weren’t saying any names, and it just seemed like they were all staring at you… You tried not to think too much about it, thinking only of the fact that you were about to see Seungmin and that in itself made you happy, it allowed you to completely ignore the offhanded insults that were being thrown around you. 

That happiness that had pushed you forward was immediately gone when you saw the girl sitting on Seungmins lap. He didn’t even let you sit on his lap in public, not even around the other guys… And then came the barely muffled snickers from the female staff behind you, the soft murmurs of how cute the two of them were together. How were you even supposed to process what was going on in that moment? You could barely even begin to process it now. 

The pouring in of texts had your phone vibrating non-stop, that mixed with the random calls that were thrown in, and soon enough your lock screen was completely filled with notifications. All of them were from Seungmin, but you didn’t know what to say to him. Was he cheating on you? You weren’t sure if it had gone that far… yet… But clearly they were closer than any of the other guys with their staff members. 

“Y/N?!” Your name was shouted from the other side of the door, you heard the doorknob jiggle. You had locked it, but he had the keys to your apartment, it was just one of the signs that you trusted him… Maybe you shouldn’t have. “Where… Fuck… Y/N! I left my keys back at the studio… Can you open the door?” 

You were shocked that he had even noticed that you were gone, that you hadn’t come in to see him considering he seemed so invested in the stylist. How could he be so open with it when he knew that you were on your way. You had just talked to him to tell him that you were not even five minutes away. Did he really think that you were going to be okay with that? Was it because he was an idol? He had never striked you as that kind of person, but maybe you had read him all wrong. 

“Jeongin said that you looked sick… Are you okay?” You heard a loud thump against the door and you questioned whether it was his fist or his head, but judging by the loud groan that followed soon after, you felt like you were right to assume that it was his forehead. “You’re really scaring me right now… You haven’t answered my texts or my calls, and I don’t want to have to do it, but I’ll break through the door.” 

Would he actually break through the door? You weren’t sure… But the uncertainty had you quickly getting up and undoing the lock. Not because you wanted to let him in, but if your door ended up damaged at all, you’d be the one paying for a new one. “I’m fine. You can go back now.” You mumbled, turning away just as fast and heading back to your spot on the couch. 

“Clearly you’re not fine. You haven’t responded to me at all.” He walked over to where you sat and dropped down onto the couch beside you, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and turning it on to see all of his unanswered notifications. “Are you sick? Did something happen on your way in?” His hand reached out to touch your forehead and you jerked your head away, turning in the complete opposite direction of him, not wanting to be touched by the hand that had just been holding onto another woman. “Hey… Are you mad at me?” 

“I don’t know what I feel toward you just yet… I just know that I’m upset.” Was truly the only reason that you wanted to give him, that you could give him, but then he let out a little “huh?” and it was even more upsetting that he’d try to play stupid. “Maybe you’d understand how I feel if I just sat on Felixs lap and he had his hands on me. Or maybe you wouldn’t… Clearly you don’t care enough.” 

“Excuse me?” He practically shrieked, grabbing your chin and turning your head so you’d look at him. “You’re not sitting on anyone else’s lap… You’re not being touched by anyone that isn’t me. The hell are you talking about?” You could feel his body shaking ever so slightly with anger at the thought of one of his members being disrespectful enough to touch you in any way knowing that you were his, but again, his complete lack of understanding, or the false act of not understanding had you rolling your eyes. 

“Seriously Seungmin, just get out.” The words were breathed out in an exasperated sigh. You tried to get him to get it, but he just didn’t, he refused to, and that in itself was tiring. You were just emotionally drained, you couldn’t put up with this, you didn’t want to. 

His head shook fast before his eyes were set on yours once more. “No because now I’m really fucking confused and I’m even more scared than I was before… Is there something going on between you and Felix?” His voice was laced with panic and frustration, but your jaw dropped at the assumption. How could he even think that? It’s like he completely brushed over the fact that it was a hypothetical, that you were trying to make an example. 

“No!” You almost shouted, tears of anger stinging your eyes. “Don’t you get it?! I’m talking about you!” His head cocked to the side, like a confused puppy as he pointed at himself, questioning you once more. “Just go be with your fucking stylist, Seungmin. I’m sure she misses you and your lap is getting really fucking cold.”  

His mind had been so fogged with worrying about you that he had almost, although he would rather it have been fully, forgotten about the incident. You had already gotten up off the couch, motioning rather sternly toward the door for him to leave, and that’s when it finally clicked. “Wait… No, Y/N. I didn’t… That… I didn’t want that. She did that!” The words rolled off his tongue faster than any rap that the older guys had done before. “Mmhm” Was all you said in response, but his eyes were like saucers, wide and dark brown, but so glassy as his own tears began to well. “I’m serious! I was trying to push her off and she wouldn’t move! I swear!” His hands were clasped together in front of his chest, like he was praying for you to listen to him, to believe him. 

“Seriously Seungmin… just… just go.” You huffed, your thumb and pointer finger coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose. Everything that had happened, you just felt weak, you were tired, and truth be told, you just wanted to be alone. You motioned towards the door once more, breathing heavily through your nose as you tried to fight back your tears. “Leave. Please.” 

It hurt, it was devastating to walk out the front door, to leave you behind knowing that once that door closed behind him you’d be crying by yourself. You didn’t want to see him though, and he knew that if he had seen something like that, if you had been sitting on Felixs lap like you had said, he would feel the same way. 

You wouldn’t do something like that though, he knew you wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t do something like that either. Of course right now your mind was too frazzled to even think straight, and it was so early in your relationship too. The two of you had only been together for 8 months, he was well prepared for small bumps in the road, but he wasn’t prepared for this. He loved you, and while he knew he didn’t say it enough, he hoped that you’d know that he loved you enough, he loved you too much to do something like this to you. 

It took a couple minutes for him to get himself together as he stood outside of your door, and by getting himself together, it was just him switching from being devastated about being kicked out to pissed at the stylist. She did this, she caused this. As he walked out of your building his mind replayed the moments that lead up to the stylist landing in his lap, the call that she was on, who she was talking to. It was all clicking now. 

The phone call, the way she talked so disrespectfully, the way it seemed like whoever they were talking about was right there… She was talking about you… People were talking about you like that… and now his blood was boiling as he climbed into his car and slammed the door shut, whipping out of the parking spot and speeding down the road back towards the studio. 

“You’re back for the performance?” One of the male staff members asked and Seungmin walked up to the building, his head only shaking in response to the man's question, making a b-line straight to the room where everything had happened. “Is everything okay? Did you for-“ 

Seungmin turned to look at the man, violence burning bright in his eyes, and once again, he’d have to make a mental note to apologize to the man who hadn’t truly done anything to him, he was just mad. The man’s mouth snapped shut as he backed away, his hands up in front of him as he continued backing up until he went around the corner and was out of sight. 

As he got to the room, he could hear the stylist and a couple other people talking, all of them females, and he stood just off to the side of the door to listen. “He just ran off, can you believe that?” “Because fucking Jeongin came in and told him that his girlfriend looked upset.” “I’d be upset if I looked like that too.” “Can’t believe he’d actually chase after her. Is he even worried about his reputation? His image?” “He’d look so much better with you noona, just give him time.” 

Blood boiling wasn’t even close anymore, it had all but evaporated now as he listened to them talk about you, about himself… As if she ever had a chance in hell. Of course, violence couldn’t be used, but god, he wished it could be. He wanted her gone, he wanted all of them, every single one that had spoken wrongly about you, he wanted them jobless, out on the streets, he wanted them to suffer. 

He pulled his phone out, knowing that they were too stupid to stop talking, too deep in their disgusting conversation to just let it end. He started recording, doing his best to keep from plowing through the cracked door and going off on each and every one of them. This was the evidence he needed, not just to show management, but to show you that he was being honest, that he didn’t want any part of what had happened. 

“What did he do when you fell on his lap? I thought the two of you looked adorable when I saw you through the mirror.” “He got really fucking mad. Can you believe that? He told me to get off? Like… hello? Has he even taken the time to look at me? I’m way better.” “Did he… you know…?” “Pfft… no! It’s like… he has a thing for ugly girls.” “Don’t worry, if you keep doing it enough, she’ll just dump him and then you and Seungmin will be together. Yay!” “Shut up! Don’t say his name… What if someone hears?” “No one is going to hear, there isn’t even anyone around right now.”

That was enough, and while he was sure they’d keep talking until someone walked in, he couldn’t stomach hearing anyone talking about you like that. You were such an amazing person, the best girlfriend, the sweetest and kindest person he had ever met. You were his perfect match, completing him in a way that no one else ever could. 

They wouldn’t keep working there, they wouldn’t be there to upset you anymore, and he surely would make sure they’d never try to ruin your relationship ever again. Just as he was about to walk away, the woman filed out of the room, a shriek of excitement leaving the stylist. “Seungminnie! You came back!” She squealed, running over to him and hooking her arm around his. “I knew you would. You still have time to be on before the show starts.” 

She was walking along beside him, and he was gritting his teeth the entire time, breathing deeply through his nose, but then her hand lowered and he felt her fingers brush against his thigh and he couldn’t stay quiet anymore, stopping to look at her but all he saw was red. 

“Stop.” He said flatly, grabbing her hand and pushing it away from him. “I know what you’re doing, I know what you’re trying and it’s not going to work.” He moved closer and closer to her until she was backed up against the wall, her eyes wide as he got in her face. “I don’t like you, I will never like you. You’re disgusting and you’re ugly, no amount of makeup will ever fix your personality. Also, you’re fired.” 

“You can’t fire me.” She whispered, her hands folded in front of her as she tried to look as innocent as possible just in case anyone walked past. “I didn’t do anything… you’ve got it all wrong.” She really thought she was smart, and that had Seungmin scoffing as he pulled his phone out and started playing the recording, watching as her eyes went wide. “Wait…” 

“I don’t want you near me, I don’t want you in the same building as me, I don’t want you touching me even if it’s for work. I want you gone. You’re not worth the destruction of my relationship, and if it makes my girlfriend happy, I’ll make them fire you right this minute.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket, taking a step back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Today is your last day, so pack your shit up. I’m being nice enough to give you the time to do that.” Her mouth fell open and she quickly ducked away from him, running down the hall in the opposite direction, her overly dramatic sobs slowly getting more and more quiet until everything was silent. The other staff members stood around, their eyes wavering as they looked everywhere but at Seungmin. “Don’t think you’re all off the hook… I heard each and every one of you.” 

He didn’t have the time or the patience to get into it with them though, leaving it at that, leaving them to worry just as he had, just like he still is right now about the looming outcome of his relationship. They can worry about their job, and he can hopefully fix what they had messed up. “Hey Seungmin!” Bangchan called, and he could hear the heavy footsteps of the boot clad leader running down the hall to catch up. “Jeongin told us you had to leave… Is everything alright? Are you still gonna be able to make it now?” 

Seungmin shook his head, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “No… I just forgot my keys to the apartment back here in my rush over…” He quickly patted his pockets, rolling his eyes and sighing loudly. “Almost forgot them again, thanks for making me remember.” He patted Bangchan on the shoulder as he sprinted past him to grab his bag from the dressing room and then running back out, just barely brushing past Chan. “I promise I’ll tell you about it later! I’ll tell you all of it!” 

The audio clip came to an end… for the third time. The first had been when Seungmin promptly came back to your apartment, tears in his eyes as he let it all play out, and then begged you to believe him. The first listen had ended in you both hugging and crying as you apologized profusely for doubting him even for a second, and he apologized for making you feel that way. Many kisses were given to make up for the almost 2 and a half hours of worrying that you both put each other through. 

The second listen was when he had sent the clip to his managers and then decided that he wanted to listen once more just to try to imagine how they’d react when they heard it. It didn’t take long for Seungmin to get a message back, more apologies for him having to put up with staff members like that, and then apologies to you for being put through something like that. The girls involved were in the process of being reprimanded and fired for their behavior. 

The third listen, the one you had just gone done with, was when Seungmin had gone to the dorms and decided to take you with him. He had promised to tell the guys about what had happened and why he didn’t perform today and the little recording served as the perfect explanation. “I knew something was wrong!” Jeongin exclaimed, his hands clapping together loudly as he motioned to you. “If you would have told me I could have told you all about how much Seungmin hated his stylist. The amount of times he’d come home ranting about how annoying she is… Ugh. So glad she’s gone.” 

You nodded in agreement to Jeongins words as Seungmin draped his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. “This wasn’t about me… It’s about Y/N.” He said firmly, although his touch was soft as he ran his hand up and down your arm. “I’m just glad that she’s so understanding…” 

“Did you cry?” Minho asked, and Seungmin was thrown off by the question, looking around the room at all the guys that were now staring at him awaiting his answer. “I bet you did. You cry when you have to spend late nights at the dorms instead of at her apartment with her.” 

“No I don’t!” Seungmin quickly tried to defend himself. “It’s just that the dorms are kind of dusty and they make my eyes water and my nose runny.” 

“But your eyes aren’t watering and your nose isn’t runny now…” You quizzed, holding back your giggles, and he let out a groan before burying his face in your hair. “You’re so cute… If you want to move into my apartment all you have to do is ask.” You pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head and Minho made a sound of disgust. 

“You two are disgusting, get a room.” Minho grumbled, jokingly tossing a pillow at Seungmin, making sure to completely miss you, before getting up off the couch and heading to the kitchen to help Felix with dinner. 

Jeongin snickered mischievously before calling out to Minho. “Remember! The dust makes him all sniffly! That must be why he’s got five boxes of tissues and the mega bottle of lotion. He must be really dry!” All the men cracked up and you could feel Seungmins body rise about 20 degrees with embarrassment. 

Instead of continuing to hide in your hair, he jumped up, practically diving across the living room to tackle Jeongin who was still laughing hysterically. “It’s not funny! Shut up!” But even you were laughing now, watching as Jeongin pushed Seungmin off of him and the two started to chase each other around the room. 

“I’m glad he’s found someone like you.” Bangchan said once he had walked over to sit beside you, taking the time that he had to really talk to you. “He loves you a lot, I’ve never seen him more panicked than he was earlier today when he thought he was going to lose you. I just hope you’ll stay… That you love him just as much…” 

You took a moment to look around at the chaos unfolding around you, Seungmin and Jeongin fighting each other with the decorative throw pillows as Changbin recorded and Jisung narrated it. Hyunjin sat off to the side, watching with amusement and clapping whenever one of them landed a hit with their pillows. Things were absolutely crazy right now, but you loved it, you loved all of them. You had started with Seungmin, your amazing boyfriend who would do anything for you, and in the span of 8 months you had gained 7 brothers who protect you like their own sibling. “I don’t plan on going anywhere…” You murmured, a smile on your face as you sunk into the couch. There was nothing that anyone could do to split you and Seungmin apart. You were staying as long as he wanted you to, and you hoped that it would be forever. 

[bbagelbitch]

Assorted Nekoma headcanons: (just for funzies)

(they've been sitting in my archives for YEARS)

First years:

Lev actually managed to get a girlfriend at one point about halfway through first year, she asked him out because she thought he was cute, broke up with him a week and a half later after realizing he’s a dumbass and a bit of a weirdo

Shibuyama is one of those people who you’d think he’s just listening to Taylor swift or something but he unplugs his earbuds and its like- little darkie or some screamo heavy metal LMAO

Shibuyama has a helicopter mom which feeds his anxiety to the point that he carries pepper spray with him sometimes

Tamahiko has a pet tarantula

Inuoka is the kind of person who’d wear shorts when its snowing out

Inuoka and lev will both unironically do Fortnite dances during practice

Shibayama totally has a bunch of allergies and is a picky eater

Inuoka and lev are basically just human garbage disposals (will eat ANYTHING)

Lev can’t swim

Biblically accurate lev Haiba (gets the worlds WORST sunburns every time he goes outside)

Lev has low blood pressure and will randomly faint when standing up too fast (Kenma has the same problem but refuses to admit it)

Inuoka is one of those people who types in all caps the majority of the time. Every literature and language teacher he’s ever had has told him off for using way too many exclamation points. (He can’t help it he’s just a happy little dude)

Lev texts constant updates about what he’s doing t the team group chat to the point where he’s been kicked off of it more times than he can count. (Usually for talking about taking a shit) (see Charles Boyle from B-99 for reference)

Second years:

Fukunaga and Kenma rarely have actual text conversations but they’re constantly sending memes back and forth to each other

Tora actually has fairly curly hair and it was a borderline afro when he was in elementary school (he’s part latino in my mind argue with the wall)

Kenma listens to almost exclusively video game soundtracks (skyward sword is his favourite)

Tora totally listens to girypop rap (he is 100% a Flo milli Stan sorry)

Tora has asked kai for advice on how to talk to girls SEVERAL times and the information that you should just talk to them like they’re normal people blows his mind every time (how does kai do it? Is he a witch? A demon?

Fukunaga owns at least 3 cats and they all have weird names (inspired by my friend who’s cat’s name is Fax Machine)

Kenma is the world’s driest texter (canon actually)

Also fukunaga uses :3 constantly

Fukunaga and kenma constantly bully Tora about his obsession with looksmaxing and say shit like “he can’t talk he’s too busy mewing” LMFAO (you either drip or you drown taketora)

Tora knows how to braid hair cause he’d help akane with her hair when they were younger

All of the second years used to bite people when they were kids

Third years:

The third years have done group costumes for halloween since their first year

Kai is basically the team’s dedicated tutor (Kuroo is too snarky and yaku is too impatient)

Kuroo listens to western (English) music cause he thinks it makes him seem cool and he developed a superiority complex about it. “Oh you haven’t heard of Radiohead?”

Also kuroo and yaks have pretty similar music taste (a lot of modern rock) but the key difference is Kuroo likes arctic monkeys and yaku likes the strokes (they argue about which band is better constantly (yaku is right, its the strokes))(cause they always have to be arguing about something smh)

Kai also totally has a longtime girlfriend in high school bro is possibly the only person on the team who’s done ANYTHING with a girl (probably one of the only people on the whole damn SHOW)

Kai defo knows martial arts I would not want to face him in a fight

Kuroo still uses emoticons instead of emojis :3 ;D and whenever he does, yaku makes fun of him and tells him to “get with the times”

Yaku 100% repeats what Kuroo says in a mocking tone whenever the opportunity arises

Kai is the type of person to say “personality” when asked if he prefers tits or ass

Miscellaneous:

Nekoma is the most neurodivergent team in the whole show bruh like come on 

(autistic: Lev, Kenma, fukunaga.)(kenma totally also has ARFID)

(ADHD: Inuoka, Yamamoto, (both textbook cases of ADHD in guys) Kuroo, fukunaga) (Fukunaga my AuDHD king)

(OCD: Tamahiko, shibuyama (I just get vibes ok leave me alone) 

(Yaku isn’t neurodivergent he just has anger issues lmao) 

Kai is the only sane one on the entire team

Kuroo is also 100% one of those kids who got diagnosed with adhd really young so he appears mostly normal thanks to being medicated from the age of like- 6

Every single person on the team is oblivious as to when someone is flirting with them (kai is the exception)(girls pull out the wow your hands are so big and you’re so tall all the time and NOBODY reads into it)

Kai exclusively smells like a mix of vanilla and sandalwood and on the other side of that spectrum, Yamamoto reeks of axe body spray and b.o. No matter how many times Kenma tells him that axe actually drives girls away, Tora never listens.

Akane becomes manager of the boys volleyball team once she reaches high school (the first years will be third years by then)

The team all protective as HELL over akane (canon tbh)

[forestmossling]

okay. oh my fucking god. oh god, okay.

this is INSANE. this is absolutely fucking crazy. what i’m about to recommend you is absolutely fucking mind-bogglingly pants-shittingly bonkers in its brilliance, so y’all better read closely.

it’s always the fics with the shortest, least descriptive summaries ever, the ones you absent-mindedly stashed in your “marked for later” and forgot about them, isn’t it?

anyway, this is a masterpiece. in every definition and understanding of the word. there are too many great points about what’s going on in this fic and why you absolutely have to read it, so forgive me if i’m gonna be pretty incomprehensible and incoherent rn, okay?

first of all, the way this fic just ties the whole of the st universe together, the way eddie munson doesn’t just spawn out of nowhere in the beginning of s4, but actually exists in hawkins all this time. the way he witnesses all the crazy going-ons in town from the sidelines, and still has his own opinions and thoughts on them, even if he didn’t actively take part in them. just, love to see it.

second of all, different “first” meeting. oh my god, but how i love thee. obviously it wasn’t really the first meeting here, but steve and eddie coming together before the original timeline is something i will never get enough of, and it was done brilliantly here. the way their first conscious interaction happens when steve comes to apologize for being a piece of shit, and the way the narrative, from eddie’s pov, never lets you downplay and just forget that steve was, in fact, a douchebag in high school, is also something i love to see. yes, he’s forgiven, but not because he wasn’t that bad in the first place, as a lot of fics love to make it out to be (which, i don’t blame them, that’s also fine), but because he actively works to become a better person. we see him, time and time again, actively holding himself back from sliding into the “king steve” persona, owning up to the shit he did and proving that he has changed, and it’s beautiful. and it’s also nice to see here, because eddie doesn’t even find out about all the upside down shenanigans in this fic, so for him, steve isn’t a better person now because he saw him in his heroic martyr era and was impressed. he’s better because he doesn’t just let these objectively heroic and admirable actions automatically absolve him of all his sins, but actively works to repair the damage he did before he committed them. which also happens in canon, i guess, but i really love how it was shown here.

third, eddie. characterization in general, but eddie’s in particular, because oh my fucking god. he’s absolutely insane in the most humane and captivating way possible. the way he has so much history that made him the way he is, the way we see this past overlap with the present and realize how it affects the decisions he makes, the interactions he has with other people. and the way his past was written in general, the way it flashes him out so deeply as a person is absolutely brilliant. and the way he sees the world around him, the way his perceptions of the moments we catch him in is so deep and full of volume, dimension. it’s like one second you’re with him, listening to the conversation he has with another person, and another - in a wave of sound and music he taps on his leg with his fingers, in the songs he hears reverberating through every feeling he has. and the author is so masterful with throwing you around from one plane of reality to another, the way eddie is in his brain, and it’s so much it’s almost overwhelming, but they catch you just on the edge in the last second and keep your brain from being torn apart from trying to comprehend the absolute insanity going on in eddie’s head.

it really felt like this fic was repeatedly slapping me across the face and all i could do was deliriously ask for more.

and, while we’re on the topic of characterization, literally every character and every interaction between them are so real and so fitting for who they are in this universe. the way even through eddie’s warped perspective of him, steve’s actions and views fall into a perfectly functioning justified mechanism for the reader, not a screw out of place. the way through simple, and, on the surface, absolutely mundane conversations about the horror and romance genres, about the characters in the book eddie’s writing (he is, btw, and it’s also brilliant), we see the whole of who these characters are, how they see the world and themselves in it, their deepest fears and desires. and even aside from steddie, a personal stand-out for me was jeff, because he has a whole life outside of eddie’s narrative, and still manages to contribute to the plot and give insights into eddie and himself while not being a cardboard cut-out, only existing for the benefit of pushing eddie’s story forward. and the rest of hellfire - past and present - while mostly serving the purpose of showing how precious steve’s attention and care for things they didn’t get about eddie is, are still their own people.

whatever the next number is, i’m losing count, - the language the fic is written in. it’s just so fucking clever. the dialogues are witty and captivating without stinking of made-up-ness, the metaphors are so deep and colorful and voluminous without being pretentious and over the top. the words of this fic are something you have to chew on before you swallow, let the author immerse you in the picture they’re painting without breezing from one predictable trope point to another (which, they aren’t really predictable and expected here, which is another huge pro) in the everlasting greed for cheap escapism, as i am prone to doing. and that’s another thing i’m really grateful to this author for - making me sit with the words i’m reading for a second, instead of just gorging on them in my haste to get to the end and start another story, frantic to keep my brain occupied.

also, this fic genuinely had me endlessly invested in the fate of the characters, scared shitless or elated for them. it yanked me right out of the usual safety of predictable plot tropes which usually makes fanfiction so attractive for me, but i really wasn’t complaining. on one of the most stressful and deciding scenes of the fic (no spoilers tho), i genuinely started crying. i felt eddie’s resignation and anguish so deeply and personally, i couldn’t hold back if i wanted to. and that’s another thing i’m extremely grateful for - the absolute rollercoaster of emotions i went through before i got the reward of the happy ending.

i would also like to say that i was floored with how period-typical homophobia and other social issues were presented in this work. obviously, i can’t really vouch for it being realistic or not, because i’m not american and wasn’t even alive during that time, but i can say that it did feel very very real. in a lot of other works that talk about these issues the homophobia and societal judgement seem like such nebulous, far-away concepts, that are obviously real and have a tangible impact on the characters, but it’s like their still escapable, still out of reach (which, again, is not a bad thing). but here i felt like the repercussions for being who you are were physically breathing down my neck, incapacitating me with horror. and, on that note, just, the author’s overall attention to detail and period-fitting pop-culture and other little things that painted such a larger picture of living in that time period, tying the fictional story so tightly down to it. it felt so grounded in reality, that i felt like a person could tell me their older relative had gone through this in the eighties and i would believe them. but, as i said, i’m obviously not an authority on that topic for aforementioned reasons.

and also, aside from the reader’s perspective on the work, as a person who tries to write myself, i realize that this is the level of writing skill i’m aspiring towards. this is what i want my works to feel like to a reader, and i’m really not there yet, but seeing works like these inspires me so much to grow.

also, i would’ve absolutely loved to see a little bit more of robin there, to find out how this change in the canon narrative would affect the events of the s4, to see how steddie’s relationship would develop and transform with the upside down thrown into the mix. and that’s definitely not a slight against the fic for not including this things, but more of a testament to how greatly invested the author made me in their version of the story and how hard it is for me to let go of it. this fic is perfectly complete without those things, but, once i got a taste, i couldn’t help but want more and more, even though this story definitely isn’t in any way lacking or in need of those to feel whole. but that’s mostly my selfish desires speaking, don’t mind me.

and, here, have a couple of snippets with no particular reasoning behind them, just because they made me giggle:

i’m getting real rambly and i’m genuinely afraid this whole post is absolutely unreadable with how frantic and jittery i am in trying to get this off my chest, but when i’m telling you i was buzzing with this word-vomit, almost frothing at the mouth with the need to express the absolute glorious hellscape this fic left me in after i finished it, i’m probably underselling it.

so, in conclusion, please read this fic. please please please read this fic. if not for my sake or the @fabelds-blog’s (who got criminally little recognition for this masterpiece), then for your own, because i can guarantee you that not one second of reading this work will feel like a waste of time or a disappointment. *me, pointing a gun at you with shaking hands while tears stream down my face* please, PLEASE read this fic, because it’s absolutely worth it.

so, yeah. i don’t think a number large enough to rate this work even exists, but my closest approximation is 999999836526272910018172654244536384847635526728190199986553781010018654463892010197654272458499900909261379/10, am recommending. and, obviously, it’s up to you if you’re going to actually read the fic, but if after this madman’s rant you still opted not to, i regret to inform you that that is, in fact, the wrong choice, and i’m strongly urging you to reconsider.

[galactic-rhea]

how do you think anakin (or your anakin) would take clovis? i found those episodes to be really ooc😭

Oh boy, I knew this day would come,,,the day in which someone asked me about these awful episodes, thanks user @songspirits now this conversation won't have to wait any longer NKLJnjfdf

To quote a friend of mine that only watched the movies when I told her the summary of the Clovis arc: "I think Anakin would've asked padme to held her wig instead while she personally goes to fight that guy, the anakin i know at least"

Jokes aside, I'll have to break this down on a few points because there's just,,,a lot going on in these episodes (to be clear I don't intend to change anyone's mind in the matter, since i already know many ppl believe these episodes to be good for anakin's ehh,,,going-evil characterization). This will get long.

So first of all: The very first episode where Clovis shows up is just alright, could've been done much better but seriously I don't have many issues with it.

The problem arises with the new ones in season 6. The why I feel Anakin is out character in these episodes is because his very, very well known and yet somehow missinterpreted flaw is that he reacts with extreme violence, especially when scared, scared not for himself but for someone he cares about.

So him reacting badly and going directly for a bloody fistfight against Clovis wasn't the problem of the episodes. It was how he treated Padmé. Like, literally telling her he would leave her in jail if she kept mentioning Clovis, lmao. Also the "You have no say on this" yadayada. I think the writer for these episodes was probably taking their confrontation at Mustafar as a reference point, which...No, that shouldn't have been the case bc in Mustafar that guy literally turned evil (literally!) and he had lost touch with reality. And also the stakes were higher. And also his anger was completely different there.

But, at the same time, if I play the devil's advocate, I can see some...eh, explanations there. For example he had recently lost Ahsoka and one of his men, the War was on the third year, and Padmé was decidely working with someone that already almost got her killed once, and she wasn't listening to him. They didn't even actually discussed the situation very well. And when Anakin says that "as your husband, I ask-" he turns around and is completelly unable to look at her in the eyes, so it could very well be that not even himself believed that, he was mostly throwing onto the table every single card he had. And one could argue that there's no way he didn't hear/notice/sense/ whatever that Padmé wasn't okay with that kiss.

But even then, the writers were clearly going for your very average possesive-sexist-angry-jealous- boyfriend, which isn't Anakin's problem, like I said, his problem is how deeply scared he is of Padmé being hurt. So Anakin's main concern shouldn't be that he's being cheated on, but that Padmé could be hurt, and they kinda touched on that but they failed at portraying that well, and I think it's because:

a) This episode shows us an extremelly common trope in shows with many episodes and many one-time-plots: The classic add-another-person-so-main-character-gets-jealous-. And almost always this type of episode gets us very ooc characterizations, no matter the show, because this society usually can't see any other reaction that isn't angry-possesive-violent jealousy. He also treats Padmé quite badly even before she decides to keep working with him, which is a no-no for me.

b) The shows forgets that Anakin does, actually, has a lot of faith and trust in Padmé's abilities. Yes, he worries, a lot, but he still is very confident on her being a more than capable person. He doesn't want to keep her in a cage or something, part of the reason he's so in love with her is because of how capable and intelligent she is. In ROTS is different because he quite literally had a prophetic vision that proved to be true before, and there's very little to do in this case, it had nothing to do with abilities or someone else. Also, if AOTC tells me anything, is that they're fairly talktative aka they communicate fairly well. Even in previous episodes we see that Padmé is great at communicating and discussing (look at how she reassured Ahsoka when Ahsoka was worried about her. Or that little bit where she's concerned about a party.); in this episode there was none of that until after Anakin almost kills a guy.

c) I think they simply, and flatly, just wanted to show Anakin being dangerous and darker and have Padmé concerned and all of that. And what better way to show a man becoming evil than being a jealous boyfriend. Isn't like Anakin has already murdered a lot of people, amirite. This is a bit of a problem with the simplification of a character. If they're bad or becoming evil, they also surely must be hyper jealous and possesive, there's no other way.

TO SUMMARIZE: I don't think Anakin was handled well, at all. Because the episodes were rellying on a very basic trope, which needed them to break the characters to fit the cookie cutter. However I can see some attempt at deepness there. It's like if it was the characters pretending to be more cartoonized version of themselves, if you know what I mean.

HOWEVER,,,,that said, the biggest sin for me isn't Anakin being OOC...IS HOW PADMÉ WAS TREATED.

They seriously had to put her into a sexual harassament plot, only for it all to be about how Anakin is evil (tm), and not have her respond at all? They really had her to put up with a creepy rapey dude just because.....What is even the narrative trying to tell us at all, that Anakin was actually was actually right, but overreacted? The plot is so contrived, Lmao.

She was the one that got harassed and yet she had no say on it, she's extremelly passive in the whole arc (which we all already know isn't Padmé's personality, even Anakin tends to follow the narrative in more passive way than she does). Then they also had to have her on the trope of "If a woman is going to be a spy, then she must use all her goods and being a femme fatale", and then they didn't even made her fatale. They could AT LEAST give us a moment of her reflecting about having been lowkey assaulted? No? Huh,okay.

Also, Padmé is actually very good at, let's say, handling Anakin. Or more like, reassuring him/discussing stuff with him, and I say this because of bits of the novels I have seen. She's more self-assured and confident, and experienced with social stuff, she's definitely not naive, and can stand her ground fairly easily, and she knew what type of guy was Clovis, so yeah, it's just...she was badly written here, she lost almost all of her agency. I'm not saying it was her fault or anything, or that it was her responsability to calm down her clown of a husband, but it goes against what we know Padmé is like.

Also apparently throwing himself onto the void was Clovis' apology for...almost getting her killed several times, kissing her without consent, being a creep and also using her as hostage. You know, so he's more of a deep character, I guess.

The good points for this arc though, are:

° Ol' Sheev doing what Sheev does best, and actually having some interesting stuff going on, they should've focused on that.

° They (miraculously) remembered a bit of Anakin's and Padmé's actual personalities, and when she told him to back off and that she needed a time, he accepted her desires to leave her alone and looked like a sad wet cat, like Anakin tends to look like. Also thank god they had Padmé's behaviour being nothing like the one of what you would expect from a victim of abusive relationships (Anakin was making his ooc scene and she just looked like 'bitch,what the hell has gotten into you', she had the audience's response, which is 'anakin? what?', which at least tells us this isn't Anakin's normal behaviour at all, i guess?)

° Obi-Wan and Anakin talking a little bit. Also Anakin's room had a poster of the Boonta's Eve race, he also had a little ship-toy, showing us that Luke really takes after his father, lol.

°...Idk what else to highlight from these episodes 😭😂 Did I already say Sheev's scheming? Uhhhh,well, uhh, idk, Padmé taking Clovis to the opera in an attempt to get info from him is kinda ...Ironic.

[myseungsunglove]

Broken Promises | Bc

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Warnings: fluff - despite the title, this is actually just a feel good little story.

Word Count: 1.8k

𖠫Summary: Sometimes you can make all the promises in the world to yourself, but life has other plans for you. Working closely with Bang Chan turns out to be a challenge in which you never really stood a chance.

✎a/n✎: this was just a random ass thought I started writing. No idea why. My brain is just finding every way possible to avoid writing part 4 of the master of flirting at this point. And Chan’s lips may have caught my eye and my mind may have wandered into writing this fic. Who knows, really. Edit: in re-reading this, this is one of the shitiest things I’ve ever written. 😭😭 I’m not even sure why I published this. 🤦🏼‍♀️🫣

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「© September 29, 2023 by mysweethannie」

You promise yourself when taking the job, you won’t fall victim to Chan’s charm like every other person on the planet seems to.

The minute Bang Chan’s laugh is directed at you, his eyes crinkling in laughter and turning into tiny crescent moon slits, you’re done for.

It is then you break your first promise, falling hard for Chan’s charming laugh and beautiful smile.

You promise yourself that you’ll never let tiny glances and brief touches affect you. It is your job to do his makeup, of course you’d be close in proximity, touching him more than pretty much anyone else.

It had been 2 months since you replaced Chan’s previous makeup artist. Every time you walk into a room, he notices.

“Y/n! My favorite artist,” he declares, striding up to you and spreading his legs so that he can be face to face with you for easier access.

“Mr Bang,” you tease.

It has become a running joke between the two of you at this point, you calling him Mr. Bang. You crowd into his space, brush in hand as you set to work. After applying the base makeup, the more intricate details require you to be even closer to him. You step in close, your chest bumping against his slightly and his hands reach out, landing on your hips to steady the two of you.

Your heart flutters in your chest and you curse yourself silently. When he doesn’t remove his hands the rest of the time you’re doing his makeup, you can’t help but be a little overjoyed.

It is then you break your second promise, wondering when the next time he is going to dare to touch you will be.

You promise yourself you won’t develop a school girl crush on Chan.

The day he brought you caffeine and breakfast after he knew you had a long night, you start noticing all the little things he does for you that the other boys don’t do for their make-up artists.

He texts to make sure you get home safely. He seeks you out in a crowded room during down time just to chat. Even if he doesn’t need a touch up. He calls you when he is in the studio because he just has to tell you about this idea that he has for a makeup look for the song he is writing. You never actually talk about the look, but he tells you all about the song and eventually the conversation moves away from writing and music to more personal topics. Before a performance, he works quietly in the same room that you are in whether you’re doing his makeup or not. He texts you almost every morning, even when you don’t have a schedule with him. Your fluttering heart realizes you’ve definitely fallen for Christopher Bang.

It is then that you break your third promise, the school girl crush taking hold of your not so schoolgirl heart.

You promise yourself that you will not get involved with an idol. Especially one Christopher Bang.

You’re walking home one day after a particularly long schedule with the boys. Your car had broken down a few days before and it was a nice enough day, so you set off for your apartment that wasn’t all that far from the venue you had just left. It was a lucky coincidence that today’s schedule was close to your home.

You don’t make it far when suddenly the once bright and sunny day clouds up overhead, and you can feel the atmosphere shift, a summer storm approaching quickly and seemingly out of nowhere. You should have known better than to be walking home in the middle of monsoon season. The pretty clear sky days typically give way to much gloomier and rainiers days with little to no warning. You had been sure you could make it home when you left the venue, but as the clouds opened up and rained down on you, literally, you realized just how wrong you were.

You are soaked to the bone in no time, nowhere close by to seek shelter. You are running down the sidewalk, your backpack lifted over your head as you stomp through the puddles of water that are already forming. Suddenly a car pulls up beside you, the door thrown open haphazardly.

“Y/N,” Chan yells from the back seat. “Get in!”

Your brain takes a second to process that Chan is offering you a ride, or that he is there at all on the side of the road on a now rainy evening.

You dash to the door and crawl in, immediately shivering from your wet clothes, tossing your bag on the floor of the car. Chan immediately pulls his hoodie over his head.

“Take this,” he says, handing it to you. He turns away from you and you’re confused at first. “Take off that soaked shirt and throw my hoodie on. It’ll be better for some of you to be dry at least,” he explains as if he can see you staring at his back, confused.

“Oh, yeah. Okay,” you agree and pull your wet shirt over your head and set it on the floor beside you. It’s then that you realize that Chan is the only one in the back of the vehicle which is unusual. “Where is everyone else?” you ask, slipping the hoodie over your head and wrapping your arms around yourself, rubbing your arms rapidly trying to warm yourself up.

Chan turns back around, figuring he has given you enough time and speaks.

“I saw you leave the venue on foot and I asked for my own car. Haven’t you learned yet that you don’t go for a walk in the middle of monsoon season?” He chuckles at you. “I was hoping we would catch up to you before the skies opened up,” he sighs apologetically. “C’mere, yeah?” He says, motioning for you to crawl into his warm embrace. You’re too cold from your wet pants and hair to really think twice about it.

His arms immediately engulf you, wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his warm and firm body. His arms rest on top of yours and rub gently, generating some heated friction to help ease your chills.

“God, I hope you don’t get sick,” he murmurs against your head as he leans back, keeping his arms around you, pulling you with him.

You settle against his chest and sigh. You inhale and immediately your senses are filled with his smell. It’s a comforting, woodsy smell you know you have smelt hundreds of times, but there is something distinctly different about it when you are wrapped in his arms. You practically burrow into him, your eyes fluttering shut. You feel Chan’s hold on you relax, and he sighs contentedly.

“Hey,” Chan says, shaking you gently. At some point you had fallen asleep on the short ride to your apartment. “We’re at your place.”

“Oh,” you startle awake, pulling away from his embrace and scrambling for the door. “Thanks for the ride Chan,” you stumble out, climbing out of the car a little embarrassed that you fell asleep in Chan’s arms.

As quickly as you are scrambling out of the car, Chan is hot on your trail, following you into your building.

“Y/n, wait!” He manages as you step into the elevator, eager to separate your racing heart from Bang Chan. You will not get involved. You promised yourself.

Just as the door goes to slide shut, his large hand stops the door and he steps in, the door quickly shutting behind him. You’re alone with him in the small space.

“I just…” he breathes, his hands coming to rest on your face. “Can I?” He starts to ask you a question, but his breath seems to be caught in his throat. He is staring into your eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as his brown eyes flicker down to your lips. That seems to help him finish his sentence. “Kiss you?” He finishes.

Without your brain giving it permission, you nod your head in approval and Chan’s lips are on yours. Warm, plush, and inviting. He presses himself against you as his strong hands hold your head in place, his nose bumping against yours as your lips move in sync. The door dings and you both pull away, a little lost for words to see someone standing there waiting for the elevator.

Chan grabs your hand and pulls you off the elevator, mumbling a quick apology to the person waiting.

You can’t help but giggle as Chan wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into him.

“Which one is you?” He asks, looking down the hall.

“1003,” you say, willing your legs to move down the hall, your brain still not processing what is going on. You reach your door quickly stopping to wrestle your key out of your wet jean pocket.

“Can we talk?” Chan asks beside you as you open the door. “I’d uh,” he fumbles over his words as you push open the door. “I’d kind of like to take you on a date,” he says, his words tumbling out of his mouth almost faster than he can say them.

It’s your turn to grab his hand and pull him into your apartment, closing the door behind you.

“How about a dinner and a movie date right here,” you suggest, gesturing around your apartment. You aren’t sure what you’re doing, but you’re going for it, whatever it is.

He chuckles.

“Yeah, okay. I like that idea,” he agrees, kicking off his shoes. “Let me just let the guys know I’m gonna be out for a while,” he adds, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“I’m gonna go change. Make yourself comfortable,” you say, pointing to the couch as you turn to pad down the hall.

Chan’s hand reaches out for your wrist, barely catching it before you are too far away. He pulls you back into him, his lips finding yours once more and you melt into him and his comforting embrace.

It’s then you realize you’re going to break your last promise. You are absolutely getting involved with Christopher Bang.

Who knew that broken promises could feel this good?

[idyllicdrop]

fridays - second touch. | child! fushiguro megumi / child! nanami’s sister! reader

- content - y/n and megumi have become quite familiar with each other. gojo makes a discovery, and nanami is in denial. (~1.6k wc)

- cw - gojo; the tooth fairy/inaccurate culture; slightly ooc teen nanami?; megumi gets a bit overwhelmed; not proofread.

- 2/6 - previous - next (wip) - full series (in progress) -

- - -

“too slow!”

with a hard thud, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer once again tripped over a child that stood at not even half his height. gojo could only point and let out a nasally laugh at the fallen, young megumi fushiguro,

“shut it,” megumi dejectedly mumbled, quickly moving to get up off the ground, “you said i was improving last time”

“hmm…” the mentor’s voice went an octave lower as he continued, “and i used that exact same maneuver last time.”

megumi did not dare to say a word now. it seemed like gojo was genuinely scolding him - a first since they’ve started training. the young boy almost wanted to get angry since gojo’s most recent disappearances played part in this delay, just almost. megumi figured it was actually good to know gojo was getting serious instead of-

“you’re distracted~”

that sing-songy tone made megumi lose all hope; it was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. it seemed gojo actually isn’t taking things seriously. rather, he was planning to do something truly irritating to his mentee’s livelihood.

- -

“gojo-san left again?! that’s the third time this month!”

you stared in disbelief at megumi, who just arrived to your brother’s desk and opened up a familiar red notebook,

“it’s like this every month.”

megumi seemed to pay you no mind in favor of focusing on his homework. in reality, he couldn’t stand to say more words than necessary to you. otherwise, that ‘panic’ feeling from 4 weeks ago comes back, which he would rather avoid. especially in front of nanami, someone who megumi respected and was silently filling out paperwork across from you two.

“really?! when do you ever have time to train then?”

“he’s normally more free on saturdays.”

“oh! i seee…” your genuine curiosity was something he could easily entertain. the questions you posed were mostly direct enough to give a quick answer.

“are you sure you’re okay with going alll the way to saitama by yourself today?”

your concerned expression, and memories from a week ago caused megumi’s face heat up now: memories of you being awfully persistent about joining him on his almost hour long journey home, which while nanami disapproved of for your safety, megumi also declined because he’s ‘done it many times before.’ the odds were up against you, and ultimately you settled with walking him to the torii gates of jujutsu tech and ‘no further’ - a request he personally made.

“i-i’m sure.”

“but fushiguro-san, doesn’t the train at least get boring??”

the palms of megumi’s hands began to perspirate, and he realized he may have been too active in the conversation today. he was sure that if he attempted to reply to your question, his words would trip and stumble. while the young boy was mentally deciding if he should take that risk, the worst voice of all called out from behind,

“megumi-chan~ time to get to work!”

you gasped, stood up, and sped walked out of megumi’s field of view to greet the face you were long due of seeing,

“gojo-san!”

“y/n-chan!”

standing right before the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of the modern era, your head cranked up as you pointed to your mouth,

“i lost another tooth!”

“ooo, well remind the tooth fairy to pay her dues!”

“that’s what i’m doing right now.”

nanami and gojo stiffened as the latter awkwardly continued,

“oh- uh… megumi!” the targeted young boy finally tilted his head in his mentor’s direction, “you need to be at the north field in 5 or i’ll tell y/n about your biggest secret!”

“ehh?!”

gojo’s deflection skills worked like a charm. you stood there dazed, thinking about whatever megumi's secret could be, which allowed nanami and gojo to not confront the fact that you found out the 'tooth fairy' was just gojo. another thing that crossed your mind was the cruelty of gojo for putting megumi on the spot like that.

megumi, who was now swiftly walking out the office area, kept his head turned down. his messy black hair over his face was purposefully obscured from the visible spectrum, but a certain six-eyes user could see beyond that.

“bye fushiguro-san!” you called out to your friend, not particularly expecting a response. as soon as he seemed out of earshot, you pouted at gojo and accused, “that was mean.”

“oh c’mon, aren’t you curious?”

“nope! if fushiguro-san has secrets he wants to keep, then there’s no reason for me to know if he doesn’t want me to!”

gojo let out an exaggerated sigh as he crouched down, quickly pulled something out of his pocket, and then discretely extended a crisp note out to you before whispering,

“just go get yourself some treats before nanami notices.”

“yay!”

you giggled, purposefully breaking the intended secrecy of the exchange. before nanami could say anything, you sped walk away, knowing your favorite vending machine was just outside the building. from a distance, you called out, “you are forgiven now, gojo-san!”

“gojo-san, i already told you not to give her sweets,” leaning back in his desk chair, nanami stared up at the ceiling while pinching the bridge of his nose and saying, “it’s not healthy for a child.”

“well if you’re so concerned about her than you should be interested in little megumi’s secret!”

“no i should not.” nanami immediately recognized gojo’s redirection tactics and tried to go straight back to the topic at hand, “please just do not give her-“

“megumi-chan’s got a crush on your sister~”

this time, gojo was successful. visible confusion filled nanami's expression right after. the blonde teenage paused for a moment to consider gojo's statement, before he then tiredly responded,

“they’re kids, gojo-san.”

“and one’s in love~”

“fushiguro is eight.”

gojo clicked his tongue and placed a hand on his hip before quipping back,

“you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed the signs!” gojo's other hand was now dramatically placed on his heart as he continued, “little megumi is always willing to talk to her. do you have any idea how hard it is to get him to talk to me??”

nanami sighed before noting, “that is not exactly an exclusive experience when it comes to you.”

“not to mention, he gets all red like a tomato around her!”

that nanami didn’t know how to reason away when gojo initially acknowledged it. he’s no doubt noticed, but also just never thought much of it...

“fushiguro doesn’t seem to have many friends…” nanami's new train of thought allowed him to regain composure, “especially of his own age. y/n is the only one around and they just started being friends. it makes sense if he gets nervous sometimes.”

with a cheeky smile, gojo turned around and started heading out, “i’m now 6 minutes late to training because of you! also, don’t get mad at me when the love birds start sneaking around behind your back!”

with renewed reassurance in his own stance, nanami easily brushed off gojo’s claims, and went back to paperwork.

- -

next friday, gojo satoru was called away, again.

“no homework today.”

you forcefully shut the red notebook before megumi could even fully open it. as he stood in momentary shock, you continued,

“gojo-san told me you haven’t seen the whole campus yet, so today i’m gonna show you around!”

that’s how the two of you ended up sitting by a koi pond, alone. most of the tour had been dead silent on megumi’s part. besides pointing out the names of different buildings, you talked nonstop about memories you’ve had around campus with other jujutsu sorcerers, students, and staff. you have had far more interactions with them in all of your brief and few visits over the years, compared to megumi's constant and prolonged ones these last couple of months. the dichotomy was telling of your different personalities.

the almost two hour walk around campus ended at your favorite spot: a koi pond. it was rather secluded and brought utmost peace. you ceased to speak for a few minutes when you arrived, simply enjoying the scent of fresh water and clean bamboo stalks. save for a buzzing bug here and a small splash from one of the fish there, a comfortable silence held the two of you now resting on a bench-shaped rock.

“i love it here.”

your interruption gave megumi awareness of the situation. you two were alone, quiet, and that felt comfortable to him, for a few fleeting moments. but then, that one panicked feeling was now slowly creeping - a contrast to its usually violent arrival. you continued in a soft tone,

“nii-san said this is the most beautiful place on campus.”

beautiful. something about that one word caught megumi’s attention. especially as he had the courage to now look at your tranquil expression, noticing your pupils constantly shifting as they tracked a koi swimming down below. all of a sudden, a conspicuous smile stretched across your face before you blurted out,

“y’know you can say something if you want, right?”

little fushiguro megumi immediately felt a lump lodged in his throat as he froze and stammered,

“um, i…”

the two of you were unknowing that a pair of teenage boys were now approaching your direction. one with a permanently plastered grin and the other with furrowed and tight eyebrows. the latter asked,

“was there even a point in asking me to help you find them if you already knew where they were?”

gojo only playfully hummed in approval as the two rounded the last corner to their destination. from the beginning of the small path leading to the pond, they could see the two children they were looking for. the two were sitting side by side, separated by only a couple inches of empty space.

one was stuck gazing at the other, mouth slightly dropped open, and the young boy spoke just loud enough for the girl beside him to hear,

“i-i like it here too.”

the teens observed that after megumi’s mouth finished moving, y/n’s posture perked up and she turned her head towards him. in the process, she noticed the audience out of the corner of her eye, and made a point to lean in, hand resting in the space between them, finger tips slightly grazing his before she whispered,

“i like being here with you, fushiguro-san.”

- - -

- the tooth fairy cw was mostly bc i didn’t think to look up if japan even has a tooth fairy child’s myth until after i already wrote the scene (and i love said scene very much). anyways, apparently they do not. whoops, my bad.

- also, in my mind, y/n uses gojo-san not to specifically respect gojo, but to mimic nanami :)

- also this is the last of them as little kids! megumi’s ‘troublemaker’ teen era is next.

- taglist - @hisheadismountfuji (feel free to ask to be added!)

[johnwickb1tsch]

Enigmatic Stranger ~ Part 4

a young!John Wick x fem!Reader roundrobin fic… by my awesome babez @sweetwolfcupcake , @treedaddymcpuffpuff , & this weirdo @johnwickb1tsch

part 1 part 2 part 3

Part 4 

johnwickb1tsch

You remember the first time you met Donaka Mark, at a party in your father's house.

Your father had urged you to get yourself out of your room and mingle with people, do some networking, live a little. It was ironic, maybe even hilarious in some dark twisted way, that you decided to fulfill that directive by talking to the tall gentleman in the immaculate dark suit who seemed set apart somehow from the other guests. You’d actually felt sorry for him. He’d seemed as incapable of enjoying himself in this frivolous setting as you were.

Looking back now, you assume that innocent bungle had proved the crucial moment of your undoing. You were awkward--Donaka Mark was not. He knew how to lead a conversation, even if he had an intense manner of doing so. There was something hypnotic, but unsettling, about his dark gaze weighing on you. Withstanding that handsome, older man’s attention was up to that point in your life, one of the bravest things you’d ever done.

Little did you know the chain of events you’d set into motion–but that bell could not be unrung.

By the time you’d excused yourself from him you had chills, and an uneasy sense of forboding. You knew your father occasionally associated with some unsavory characters, but no one had ever given you the creeps quite like Donaka Mark had.

The second time you ran into Donaka Mark, he just happened to be in the street near the office building where you work, and invited you to lunch. You'd politely declined, because you were meeting your boyfriend. It had even been true–at the time.

The third time you crossed paths was in your father’s study, Donaka’s knuckles stained with his blood. He’d looked at you with his shirtsleeves rolled up over his powerful forearms, and a primal hunger burning in his dark eyes.

“There’s the dutiful daughter now. Y/n, your father has a bad habit of not paying his debts. What would you be willing to do, to save him?”

You knew your father had a gambling problem in the past…but that was supposed to be under control. Yet when you looked at the man seated in the chair who raised you, and he shook his head, mouthing the words, “I’m sorry,”--you knew your life was changed forever.

Sweetwolfcupcake

"(Y/N)."

You blink, mildly startled as you return to reality. The once-steaming breakfast in front of you does not look very appetising anymore. But you don't want to be ungrateful, so you scoop some vegetables into your spoon.

"Sorry, I zoned out." You manage a small smile, glancing up at him briefly before your gaze drops to your plate.

You used to live in constant fear of Donaka finding you, but now...Now you are almost paranoid about his men breaking into John's house, hurting him and dragging you back to the hell you escaped from. By now, you would have been in some other country. But John has no intention to let you go.

You don't understand. Why is he so hell-bent on helping you out? It's like bathing in blood and waiting for the tiger to find him. And you don't even see a trap laid out. All you can see is this man alone---awfully confident and terribly stubborn.

He even locks the bedroom at night.

He fucking locked you in. You realised it when you woke up today before dawn and tried to slip away.

You realise that there's silence from his side a few moments later, and when you look up, his eyes are already on you--observing, contemplating.

"What was he like?"

You frown at the sudden question in confusion. It takes you a moment to realise that he is referring to Donaka. You gulp and tell yourself that it's the food.

"He..."

You will never forget his eyes.

"He had an intense gaze, and he..."

He always leads the conversation, and leads it to where he wants it to be. People kneel before him, you have been foolish enough to stand there awkwardly and look up to his eyes---no reservation, no knowledge, nothing. And here you are.

"Go on..." You glance up to meet John's unreadable gaze.

"He...He just gets his way, anyhow."

-------

You knew the way to your workplace by heart. Each passing street and building was familiar to you. But you watched them with a keen interest anyway. You would rather watch them than face the man seated beside you.

Two days after his 'visit' to your house, he returned. You were afraid that he was there for you--to take you away, dragging you by the hair. He did not even touch you. Yet. But he managed to send chills cascading down your spine.

"I thought I would drop my fiancee to work this morning."

There wasn't even a hint of a question. It was a demand. There was no choice anyway, so you simply glanced your father's way briefly before letting Donaka lead you into his car. The fact that he drove through the exact road you took every day did not dawn upon you initially, because all your focus was on getting out of the car.

Relief washed over you at the sight of the familiar building---you never loved your workplace more. You were ready to practically sprint out when the car stopped, earning glances from passersby due to its apparent luxurious status.

You were quick to reach for your seatbelt, but unfortunately, it wasn't quick enough. His hand grasped yours midway. That made you look up to him.

"What's the hurry?"

That was the thing about Donaka Mark, he never raised his voice, never showed aggression or desperation. His voice never showed anything at all---it was neutral, low, calm and had a rasp to it. But it had nothing assuring or calming about it. Even if he tried to lull you into any false sense of security, it was too late, you had seen his eyes already---hungry and dark. Donaka Mark was not a good man, and you had only begun to find out about that.

"I--I have to report on---"

"There's still time."

"I still need to go." You insisted.

He stared at you for a long moment, and with each passing second, you felt the thudding of your heart while you waited with a bated breath. Waiting, just waiting. Perhaps he could sense your fear because you saw something akin to a glint in his eyes---they seemed almost amused.

"Of course." He sounded poised as ever, like a lion toying with its prey. He didn't let go of your hand though.

"Uh, my hand---"

"Give me a kiss first."

"Excuse me?" You hissed.

A smirk curved his lips.

"You heard me. Give a morning kiss to your fiance and then you can leave for work." He sounded like it was a simple transaction.

Nothing was simple with him. You froze.

"I--I can't"

"That is all I could think of after we first met, along with your eyes, of course. Not seen much in my world."

You frowned, unable to decipher his words completely but you could smell fascination. You were, after all, his new, shiny toy---one he had decided to keep.

You did not want to kiss him, but you weren't keen on knowing what would happen if you refused to either. One consequence was right in front of you in the form of your hand in his unrelenting grasp.

"What's wrong? You are engaged to me now, if you've forgotten."

This was the most emotion he had shown you. He was getting impatient, and you did not want yourself or your father hurt. So taking a deep breath and trying to think of something else, you leaned towards him, aiming for his cheek.

But he surprised you when he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you to a proper kiss. A deep, searing kiss that erased all your current thoughts. You were stunned, not completely by the suddenness of it but by the way it felt. It was the most intense kiss you had ever experienced with the pure intention of seduction. Even the traces of tenderness to it were calculated.

Whatever it was, it felt electrifying. It was all from lips to your abdomen but missed the heart and the soul. But it was there, with its undeniable seductive presence. Prickling sparks that left a titillating sensation behind.

When he finally pulled away, you were relieved, yet there was a part of you that almost chased his lips. His thumb gently caressed your lips once before he undid the seatbelt himself, followed by the distinct click of the car doors.

"Be good." 

You did not respond to that, instead jumped out of the car and rushed inside the safety of your workplace, deluding yourself with a false sense of security.

----

You let out a sigh and sink further into your pillow. Fisting the comforter with the hope of soothing the chill that ran down your spine. It was your first kiss with him, but not the last.

Yet the memory haunts you often. It was so easy for him to extract that kiss from you, to get what he wanted.

Donaka Mark always gets what he wants and he had wanted you. He even got you before your successful escape. And now, you know he spends his days preparing, and his nights plotting. He rules with terror and his fiancee being able to flee right under his nose must have bruised his fragile little ego.

You should be somewhere far, with a new identity, with the hope that he will never find you again. And even if he does... Well, you have nothing for this. You don't know what he'll do if he gets his hands on you. Nothing pleasant, this much you know. But for the first time, you are worried about someone other than your father--John. You are worried about John.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff

Besides the kidnapping, John is obscenely respectful while you’re in his house. He’s a busy man, it seems, and most of the time he leaves you in solitude as you’ve come to prefer. However, lately you find yourself looking longingly after him when he goes, heart aching for some company.

Humans aren’t meant to be cloistered creatures. The earlier that children can socialize and integrate into society, the better off they’ll be. Your upbringing can’t be considered sheltered, despite the ridiculous and expansive time spent alone during it—it wasn’t your father’s fault, that you had trouble with people, relating and understanding and whatnot. 

Then, him.

Donaka Mark treated you like a normal person instead of a banshee. Well, no, not normal. Unless picking your outfits and hair and makeup and even hiring people to come and do these things for you was normal. Unless buying you a fancy sports car and only permitting you talk to certain individuals he deemed worthy was normal. Unless specifically requesting that only open toed shoes and feminine garb be worn in his presence as a show of subservience was normal. 

But, other than all of that and the numerous other rules about your own body he was so concerned and strict about, he talked to you like you were a human, and even an interesting one. He laughed at your quirky little jokes, he argued with you about politics and social structure and which breads paired better with what wines and who the best author of your century was. 

Yes, it usually ended with you stripped and bound, tears sluicing down your face as he kissed them away…

You shake yourself as John enters the kitchen with bags of fresh groceries, debating on whether or not to help him put things away. Even though he looks like he’s more than capable of doing it himself, you feel bad about just sitting here while he does. 

“John,” you say, trying to level your voice instead of screaming and crying some more, “I really want to go.”

He gives you an almost amused look, and you imagine the irritation stat bar over your head climbing into yellow. 

Hell hath no fury, even Enigmatic Stranger, who can hold you down with one lazy hand, knows that, so he starts in. “Do you have everything you need? Is it too cold in here? Too hot? Do you need me to get anything specific for you? Is the bed comfortable?”

You sigh and put your head down on the cool table, annoyance turning fast into a migraine. “There’s something I need, yeah…”

“Okay?”

“To leave.”

You contemplate the pros and cons of telling him how lonely you are, but keep that to yourself. You learned from Donaka that being free is better than being wanted and included. Freedom. Autonomy. You can taste it, smell it just on the other side of the windows and doors, calling to you like an old, safe, endlessly trusted friend. The only thing that has never let you down, that has never led you astray, despite the loneliness that inevitably comes with it.

[benedictscanvas]

be still, my foolish heart [3] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k (we're getting into it folks)

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: you're still enjoying this?? you're a mad lot, you are. in all seriousness, i'm writing like i have a new lease on life so i'm really glad so many of you are liking this as much as i am. jamie is really torn, the poor boy, but i've got 12 chapters planned in total so strap yourselves in for a slow(ish) burn <3 <3 <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he’s terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

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chapter three - if i could hold you for a minute

“That’s a wrap, thanks boys, you were both great.”

Jamie nodded his thanks, giving his mate Rife a pat on the back that seemed to pass as a hug around here. Rife was quick to run off to the pitch behind them, getting back in on the passing drills, but Jamie hung back. Of course he did. He always fucking did, and he was getting quick sick of himself.

In the last week of being at England camp, he’d taken part in around 10 PR opportunities, all of which were open to volunteers, none of which he was obligated to do. But there were so few of them willing to take part and the smile on your face every time he hesitantly stuck his hand in the air was worth whatever embarrassment you might put him through. And, most of the time, you weren’t big on embarrassing PR moments. Mostly wholesome conversations with the team and stupid challenges that he’d found himself quite competitive with. When he won the competition to roll the 10p coin into a fork yesterday, he was buzzing.

The spelling bee had not been his finest moment, but you’d been very reassuring that people loved someone relatable, and what was more relatable than not being able to spell ‘mediterranean’?

You’d only been able to reassure him as such because he made a habit of sticking around afterwards. Asking if you needed any help taking down the camera equipment, because Tiff still hadn’t come back to work but you’d kicked Brian to the curb days ago. Now you seemed to be doing it all by yourself, and sometimes the way you rushed around made Jamie’s chest ache.

“Hey,” he said softly, gently touching you on the shoulder to get your attention. You turned from the equipment you were taking apart and boxing up, your whole expression changing for the better when you saw who was disturbing you, “Can I get that one?”

He points a thumb over his shoulder at the other camera and is rewarded for his kindness when he sees you physically sag with relief.

“Lifesaver, you are. Thank you, Jamie.”

You didn’t call him Just Jamie anymore. He missed it at first, the silly nicknames that had made you feel like fast friends, but then he’d realised that the way you said his actual name, soft and thankful a lot of the time, was better than any stupid nickname he could come up with.

“Nah, you’re good.”

He gets busy putting the camera away, following your lead as inconspicuously as possible by glancing over at your handiwork when he’s not sure where to put something. When you’re finished, he’s almost done. You come over to take the heavy case from him and he holds it out of your arm’s reach.

“As if. Lead the way, boss.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly at him, then protest when he also snatches the box you’re carrying from you with his free hand. He tries to convince you to let him carry the third, tiny microphone box over his shoulder too, but you simply flip him the bird and lead the way to your office.

He’d carry you there, if you’d let him, because he knows the walk of a woman whose feet are hurting in her heels - Rebecca had taught him the signs. You were walking solely on the balls of your feet, trying to keep a normal rhythm but failing.

“You think Gareth will tell me off when he realises I’m using one of his star players to carry my shit around the place?”

He wants to argue that he’s not one of the star players around here, but he’s already learnt where self-deprecation gets him with you - an argument. Instead, he basks in the glow of the compliment inwardly as you open the door to your office and usher him in.

“I think he’ll wonder why the fuck nobody’s been hired to help y’ out,” Jamie says, then sees the determination in your face and course corrects, “Not that you can’t do anythin’ you set y’ mind to, of course. Sorry. Just hate seeing y’ rush about the place with your feet on fuckin’ fire.”

There’s definitely a visible wince on his face when he’s put the equipment down on the right shelves and turns to find you staring at him in disbelief.

“How do you know my feet hurt?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think just anyone would notice,” he’s quick to reassure you, then hopes that doesn’t sound like he’s only one who notices anything about you, “It’s just that one of my mates taught me to notice when someone’s struggling on heels. Can offer her me arm then, like.”

“Hm.”

You look thoughtful, but he’s already put his foot in his mouth enough for one day. He can’t seem to stop when you’re around. Yesterday, he’d tried to ask you about your day but all he’d said was the word ‘day?’ as a question. He was still getting over that one.

Deliberately not flirting with you was getting harder and harder every time you fucking smiled at him.

“Anyway, you’re steering me off topic. I hope Tiff’s back soon,” he says sincerely, hovering by the door. Already, he feels he’s outstayed his welcome, cluttering up the place, “An’ if there’s anythin’ I can do until she’s back, then…”

Just let me know? Shout and I’ll come running? Let me convince Gareth to give you a day off so you can relax?

He doesn’t know what his intended end of the sentence was, but you nod like he finished it anyway. You’re looking at him pensively, not saying goodbye yet. Eventually, after a few moments of what looked like an internal debate, you flop into your office chair and stare up at him ruefully as you kick your shoes off.

“I’m so thoroughly fucked Jamie, you have no idea.”

There’s a thought in the back of his head that he’s supposed to be training right now, but he doesn’t even think about leaving. He won’t be able to stay long, but he’ll be damned if he leaves you when you’re pouting like that. He kicks the door closed and walks closer to your desk.

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, hoping its soothing not patronising, “Ted always says something like…a problem halved is a problem shared or somethin’. Lay it on me.”

Again, you’re looking at him pensively. He’s not sure he likes you studying him so closely, like you’re searching for something. He gives you a shrug and a smile.

“Okay, but I’m only taking two minutes of your time, I promise,” you sigh, “Really shouldn’t keep you from training with the fucking England squad for this.”

It’s the first sign of self-deprecation he’s ever seen from you. He hates it with a passion. Briefly, he wonders if this is what you feel like when he does it, if that’s why you always argue against him. Maybe if he plays this right, he can leave this conversation safe in the knowledge that the two of you have become proper friends.

“Oi. None of that, alright? If I’m not allowed, you’re fuckin’ not either,” he insists, firm as he catches your eye. You look surprised, but you nod with a small smile that he’s over the moon to see, “Good. Right. Let’s problem halve then.”

There’s a laugh on your lips that you’re keeping in and he definitely hasn’t used that expression right, he knows. Maybe part of him likes that, though, because he likes the amusement that’s creeping through the exhaustion that radiates from you.

“Gareth’s asked for Saturday to be ‘team bonding’. Something fun but also compelling, you know, pictures to get the public on side. I’m drawing a fucking blank, because I normally bounce stuff off Tiff, but now all I’ve got is a big empty office and no ideas.”

It all comes out of you in a rush. A totally new side of you he hadn’t expected to be let in on when he offered to help with the equipment, but somehow it felt like a privilege. You’d spoken every day for a week, yes, but just small talk, stupid talk that he often walked away from annoyed with himself. Still, he couldn’t have been doing too badly at trying to be your friend if you were willing to open up like this, and the thought made him proud.

Jamie still didn’t think he was very good at making friends. Maybe he could go home with a new one (if he could make himself forget how pretty you really were).

“Y’ literally couldn’t have asked a better person for this,” Jamie grinned, trying to alleviate some of the stress that had collected between your eyebrows, “Answer’s staring you in the face, you know?”

You glared at him. Okay, not the right thing to say. He hoped you’d forgive him when he pointed behind you and you turned. The back wall of your office was entirely made of glass, a window that overlooked the huge indoor swimming pool that the training complex housed. When you turned back to Jamie, you just looked confused.

“The pool?”

“Not just the pool. Pool party. Footballers go fuckin’ crazy for ‘em, trust me. Y’ can’t lose, cause you’ll get a load of pictures of us lookin’ relaxed an’ fun an’ shit. Never know, some people might enjoy the fact we’ll be half naked. Win-win.”

You nodded slowly, still thinking. The furrow in your brow was lifting. Jamie wanted to high five himself far too enthusiastically.

“I’m not one to exploit you lot for your looks…” you begin, and yeah, Jamie knows he maybe shouldn’t have added that bit. Maybe that part of him he was trying to bury wanted to fluster you, “But the rest of what you said was good. Really good.”

“It was?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, Jamie! Thought you footballers were meant to have massive egos, huh?”

He knows you’re kidding around, but even the insinuation that he didn’t have a massive ego would have made almost everyone back home laugh. A lot. He liked glimpses into what you thought of him.

“Yeah, well, I’m hidin’ it under me hat,” he joked, a shit joke that you still laughed at, “If you get us some of those floaty things too, the ones kids have at their birthdays? Fuck, do you think we could get an obstacle course?”

He hears how childish it is when he says it, feels the pink blooming across his cheeks. He’s expecting a response that he’d usually get, something kind but placating. Instead you jump up and round the desk, giddy.

“Yes! The ones with a slide at the end, you’re a genius! Thank you so much, I really mean it, I’m going to go and run it by Gareth right now,” you’re already grabbing a notebook and pen, your diary, ready to rush out of the door. He might not have found a solution so quickly if he’d known it would cut your conversation short.

“Might want your shoes, love.”

That nickname just tumbles out of him. Now his face feels like it’s gone up in flames. You don’t react, not that he can see with you rushing back to put your shoes on with a muffled thanks spoken under the desk. You’re rushing out of the door when you shout back to him.

“Find me later and I’ll sneak you an ice cream!”

He chuckles, left alone in your office. It takes him a few moments, but when he catches himself stood there grinning to himself, he’s quick to jog out and in the direction of the pitch. There’s nothing like penalty practice to take his mind off the butterflies in his stomach.

---

You were true to your word. Even though you hadn’t been able to source him any ice cream later that day, much to your own annoyance however many times he told you it was fine, you’d found him in the hotel first thing Saturday morning with a Mr Whippy.

“I snuck out to an ice cream truck to finally keep my promise,” and you look so excited, that Jamie eats his Mr Whippy at 8am in the morning and enjoys it immensely. He begins to ask what ice cream trucks nearby are operating at 8am, but you shut him down immediately.

“I think you’ll really enjoy the pool party later,” you say once you’ve both finished your ice creams, because of course you got one for yourself too. Watching you eat your ice cream so quickly made him wonder if your promise had been for him or for yourself, “Pulled out all the stops. Gareth was thrilled with the idea.”

“Yeah, he pulled me aside yesterday about it. Y’ didn’t have to give me any credit, y’ know?”

“Uh, yes I did. It was your idea, idiot.”

It hadn’t even crossed his mind at the time that you might tell anyone he’d thought of it. Gareth had been really nice about it yesterday, said something about leadership qualities that Jamie wishes Roy had been around to hear.

You rushed off again after that, but he was pleased to notice as you speed-walked away that you were wearing flats today. 

Jamie spent the rest of the morning with some of the lads he’d gotten on with best so far. Even though he’d sorted things with the City boys and spoke to them often, he was surprised to find that the ones he’d become closest to were the others from the smaller clubs in the league, lads who’d also come to camp on their own without any club teammates. Rife was one of them, even though he was West Ham, along with Pattinson, or Patty, and Gondo. The four of them would sit in Rife’s room, cause it was biggest, and just piss about really. Patty had ended up flooding the bathroom once.

After a morning spent playing Mario Kart on Gondo’s switch, which Jamie was fucking great at, even if he said so himself, the four of them made their way out of the hotel and walked over to the training complex.

“I heard it’s a pool party,” Patty said, eyes lighting up, “Hope so. Fucking class idea, that.”

Jamie could feel himself talking before he registered it.

“You know Y/N? Think she’s the one who planned the whole thing,” he supplies, watching as the three boys nod appreciatively. He hopes at least one of them will thank you for your hard work at some point during the afternoon. Rife gives him a funny look as they enter the pool, but Jamie takes no notice.

They’d clearly gotten carried away with their Grand Prix, because everything was in full swing by the time they’d gotten changed and entered the pool area. There were unicorn rubber rings that some of the boys were jumping into the water with, a huge obstacle course over to the left that people were racing on, both the team and some of the backroom staff were joining in. Jamie was amazed you’d been able to put all this together in just a few days and he was proud of himself too, for the idea. It was something he thought he might text his mum about later, so she could be proud of him too.

It didn’t take him long to spot you, likely because he was actively looking for you. You were stood by yourself over by the inflatable obstacle course, holding something on the wall, but watching the scene in front of you with a bright smile. Rife nudged him in the back of the shoulder and looked over at you.

“Fuck off,” Jamie mumbled, but he was walking over to you anyway and he knew Rife was decent enough not to say anything to the other lads and turn it into a whole thing. It wasn’t a thing anyway. He was just trying to do the right thing, like he always was nowadays, by going over to thank you for putting on such a fun time for everyone.

“Pool party, eh? Musta taken some kind of hotshot genius to come up with that one,” he says as he comes to a stop next to you against the wall. You screw your eyes shut like you’re thinking.

“Think it was just a run of the mill genius, if I remember,” you tease, and your bright smile is always blinding but he can’t help but wish it was only ever directed at him, “A run of the mill genius who is late, I might add.”

“Ah, you know it takes a lot of effort to look this good,” he says, gesturing down at his bare chest and black swim trunks. He hopes, because you didn’t know him during his prick days, that you know he isn’t being serious as he would have been a few years ago. There’s still a tiny whoosh of his heartbeat in his ears when your eyes travel down his body and back up again.

“I can only imagine,” you say, a blatant lie when you look as good as you do in your wrap dress, Richmond red this time. He’d think you were doing it on purpose if that wasn’t outlandish, “Now, go on, go and enjoy it! We’ve only got the obstacle course for three hours and no one’s been able to pry King away from it.”

Sure enough, when Jamie glances over, King is pulling Gondo over to race him because ‘no one’s ever gonna beat my record’. Even though that’s his cue to stop spending his team bonding time chatting to you, he can’t help but let his eyes drift to the air hose that you’re holding against the wall.

“Is ya arm not crampin’?”

You try and angle your body so he can’t see your arm.

“All good!”

“Excuse me language, but what the fuck are you holdin’?”

Your sigh comes out frustrated and you relent as you turn and switch arms, shaking out the other one vigorously.

“It’s the air pipe or whatever you call it. For the inflatable. It has to go through this window to the pump on the other side at this exact fucking angle otherwise it doesn’t stay inflated. Found someone with a cheaper rate and this is what I get, the little fucker.”

He has to really fight not to chuckle when you spit out the last bit, because you’re clearly enraged about this very fun pool party. However funny he finds it, however, he can tell that you won’t take any jokes well, so instead he holds up a single finger and legs it out of the pool area.

It’s only a short jog down to the dressing room, where he finds a roll of duct tape in the first locker he checks. Footballers have all sorts of uses for the stuff. He practically sprints back to you with it in his hand and the prospect of solving an issue for you has him floating through the corridors.

He enters the pool area again and knows that he’s bounding over to you like an excitable puppy.

“Hold still, yeah?” he says, more out of breath than he’d hoped, but you’re staying still because you look a stunned by his sudden exit and return. He takes the opportunity to start wrapping the duct tape around the pipe, securing it to the wall with a few small pieces, then strengthening it with a longer ones. He takes one glance at your face, far closer to his than its ever been before, and decides he shouldn’t look at you.

Not with your parted lips and sparkly eyes and-

“Right, try takin’ your hand away, if ya would?”

You do so slowly, but the pipe holds in place, same angle, the obstacle course finally self-sufficient. The sound you let out can only be described as a squeal of glee, hands clasped in front of your beaming face.

“Running out of adjectives for you, Jamie Tartt,” you say happily, reaching out to push him in what he assumes is an affectionate gesture. He’s consumed by the sparks that follow your touch, so much so that he doesn’t correct his balance in time, and the floor around the pool is wet. A startled yelp leaves him as he falls backwards into the pool, arms flailing in what he assumes is not a sexy way.

He sees you with your arms stretched out, reaching out for him with your face an absolute picture, when he surfaces, running a hand through his hair as he gasps. When he looks around, most of the team is laughing and he joins in, shaking his head at some of them who are pointing.

“Hope one of you fuckers got that on camera,” he calls out to the other side of the pool and he gets a thumbs up along with more laughs from his teammates. He turns back to you as all the laughter dies down, sees you sporting a look that’s 50% guilt and 50% amusement.

“I’m so sorry, Jamie,” you breathe out, but it’s followed by an immediate giggle that you try to cover up. If you were in a swimsuit, or a bikini, god forbid because he might actually lose it, he’d pull you right in after him. As it is, he just tamely splashes your ankles.

“I’ll getcha for that. An’ after I just helped you, too.”

You grin.

“I’ll make it up to you. Right now actually,” he sees a new mischief on your face that scares him, “Hey! Make sure you don’t get this one, alright? I fucking mean it!”

The cameraman you’re gesturing to nods and looks scared, pressing buttons on his camera. Jamie’s still looking up at you from his spot treading water in the pool, a mixture of anticipation and pure fucking awe on his face.

“It’s a pool party, right?” you grin, then jump into the pool next to him, still in your dress. The whole place cheers as you come up to the surface, laughing and flicking your hair out of your face. 

Jamie feels like all his breath has been stolen from him as he watches you try to keep the skirt of your dress from floating upwards too much. He’s totally transfixed. Can’t believe his luck when you’re looking at him again. “We’re even?”

He can’t find words, so he just nods. You swim closer to him, taking a glance on your way, at everyone else presumably to check the attention had turned elsewhere. When you’re sure it has, you whisper to him.

“I know all you’ve done since getting here is be my personal knight in shining armour, but could I ask one more favour?”

Again, no words. He wants to reach out and curl his finger into one of your wet strands of hair. Wants to dunk you under the water. Wants to kiss the living daylights out of you.

Oh fuck. He just nods again, dumbstruck

“Think you could give me a boost? I didn’t think about getting out of this pool gracefully.”

You gesture to the side of the pool. Jamie wonders if he’d died on the way over to the complex earlier and now he was in heaven.

“Uh, yeah. If you’re sure?”

“Please,” you confirm, swimming over to the side and he follows, just like he always does, watching as you brace your arms against the side. He gulps as he places two tentative hands around your waist, then tightens his grip as he pushes you upwards until you can turn and sit on the side of the pool. The hem of your dress brushes his chest in the process and he almost swallows some of the pool water.

Once you’re sat on the edge, feet dangling, he’s just a few inches away from being able to rest his head on your knees as he stares up at you. He feels like his heart is running away from him. You lean down to thank him softly before you stand up, wringing the water out of your dress as you strike up a conversation with one of the coaches on the sidelines about your recklessness.

Those fucking butterflies are fluttering up a storm in Jamie’s stomach, crowding his chest, getting in his head. Yeah, he’s found you attractive from day one, wanted to be your friend from day two. Now he’s that stupid word that Colin always uses to describe Dani when he has a new girl, but he just can’t remember it.

It comes to him when he’s staring at his bedroom ceiling late at night, thinking until he makes his head hurt. Smitten. He’s fucking smitten.

next chapter

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if you read this far, as usual, i fucking love you <3 also, this chapter is partly based on something the actual england team did before the euros a few years ago, if anyone knows what i'm on about i love you even more ahaha

[writingreadinglurkingandsmirking]

The Greatest of Luxuries - Sarah Cameron x Reader

Dear Reader Duology: Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Your relationship with Sarah isn't new. Far from it. You love your girlfriend more than anything, just as you know that she loves you. But this new trend of her being almost...embarrassed to be around you? That is new. For fuck's sake...she dropped your fucking hand.

Word Count: 3.7k+

TWs/CWs: She/her pronouns used, adult/profane language, descriptions of relationship issues/relationship deterioration, mentions of a sick family member (not super specific or drawn out)

Note: I had to just throw this out there and be done working on it so sorry if it's bad lolz. Part 1 of the Sarah Cameron installment of the Dear Reader duology series I have going on here on Tumblr. I was inspired to pick this back up because I saw Ms Swift last weekend and was reminded how much I love Dear Reader. Plus, it's pride. So go lesbians, go. Part 2 of Sarah's should come up very, very shortly. And if I'm lucky I'll get Kie's out before pride month is over.

Your relationship was not new. You’d been dating Sarah Cameron for over two years now. You knew that your girlfriend cared about you immensely. She’d never been hesitant to show it before. In fact, she’d always been touchy and doting, going well out of her way to make you feel special. The first time that Sarah had kissed you in the middle of the conversation, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Truly. And the way that she smiled at you afterward and told you that she thought you’d never be interested? She had you. Hook, line, and sinker. So, in truth, the past two years had been nothing short of bliss. Even when there were rocky times, even when you were fighting, you two were strong together. And you loved her. You really did. More than anything.

So no, the relationship was not new. But this? This…this was.

Over the past few weeks—nearly a month now, actually, when you thought about it—Sarah had been acting…strangely. She was far less touchy, a fair bit more distant, less attentive, harder to get a hold of. In essence, she was displaying the whole arsenal of warning signs that something was going horribly wrong in your relationship. Except you couldn’t place what it was. Couldn’t think even slightly of what could’ve caused it. The first week you convinced yourself that you were crazy…just imagining things. The second week she canceled plans on you twice, citing an emergency with Kiara…who then called you half an hour later asking if you wanted to hang out with her because JJ was sick and she was bored. So, at that point, you knew you definitely weren’t crazy and that she was hiding things from you. It made you physically ill to think about so you pushed it away. You hadn’t confronted Sarah for the lies she’d told the week prior. You hadn’t said anything about you hanging out with Kie the week before when she was supposedly doing the same. You hadn’t even made a comment about how weird she’d been acting. You’d been giving her space like you knew she needed. You’d been letting her breathe, not suffocating her like she so obviously hated in her prior relationships.

But, that all brought you to the third week of this incessant hell. To this week. And you felt like you were going crazy and you couldn’t even say anything about it. The churning anxiety in your gut seemed unending. You were a strong, adult woman. By legal and literal standards you should be able to get through this. Or, at least talk to your friends to get help getting through this. But you were keenly aware that this wasn’t something you wanted to broach. It wasn’t something that you wanted to talk about. That’d make it more real. The last thing you needed was to make this worse on yourself. But, it didn’t matter what you wanted. Because this was starting to take a real, substantial toll on you. You were losing sleep at this point which just felt stupid and you felt like there was no one you could turn to. Your appetite was tanking, your focus was shit. And while normally you’d turn to your girlfriend in times of woe, this time, she was the one causing the upset.

There was no way to win.

Despite this, you did your best to remain as normal as possible when you were around anyone else. From Sarah herself, to your friends, to your parents and co-workers, you made painstaking efforts to appear like nothing was wrong. You knew it wasn’t exactly the healthiest of coping mechanisms to completely ignore the problem. But, it was all you could bring yourself to do right now. The only solace you found was in the back room at your workplace. Your parents were the premier florists in the Outer Banks. Their flower shop was a family business that stretched back three generations now on the island as insane as that felt. Standing in the back, tending to the blooms, and making bouquets were the only times that you felt like you could completely shut down the madness of your brain. Even so, a shift could only last so long. Especially without making other people suspicious of why you were working so much.

After the ten-hour shift you’d been on closing your parents’ shop, you could only be grateful that it was summer, so the sun was still shining pretty damn brightly when you headed out at 8 that evening. You made your way to the apartment that you shared with Sarah, a strange sort of dread pooling in your stomach that you did everything to ignore, and felt exhaustion coil around your very being as if trying to choke the life out of you. You trudged up the stairs, trying to paint on the most composed look you could, and unlocked the door, stepping in.

“Hey,” you heard from behind you as you closed the door. You nearly jumped, startled at the presence, and turned your head.

“Hey, Sar,” you greeted with a half-smile as you skirted around her to place your bag and keys down. You took your shoes off and made to go into the kitchen when you noticed her staring at you. You stopped dead and looked at her. “What?”

Sarah’s face contorted in a grimace for a moment. “Did you forget?” she asked, sounding almost hesitant.

The words felt like a punch to the gut. You took a long, measured breath in and looked at her. “Forget what?” I asked cautiously.

She sighed, looking down. “Never mind,” she murmured.

“No, angel, no. What’s up?” I asked. The words felt forced, exhausted. I felt like I could crawl into a hole and sleep for a year or thirty five and would still wake up tired.

“John B’s party is tonight in less than an hour. We’re supposed to be going together,” she said, staring at her hands as she played with her fingers, avoiding eye contact. “Don’t worry about it. You had a long day. I can go alone.”

That stung even more. “No,” you said immediately, an ugly combination of angry jealousy burning in your stomach at the thought. She’d been spending more than enough time with John B lately, as bitter as it was to think so. The last thing you wanted was a night of her hanging out with all your friends—including her ex—at a party while you sulked at home just because you were tired. “I’ll go with you, Sar. Of course I will. Sorry that I forgot it was tonight. Just been busy.” You ran your hand through your hair. “It’s at the beach right?”

Sarah gave you a bright smile that, for a moment, convinced you things were normal. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. She moved forward and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, body pressed flush against yours. Habitually, your arms wrapped around her kissing her back and hugging her. The pair of you remained in the embrace for a few moments even after you broke the kiss. You could hear the smile on her voice as she spoke again. “Thanks for coming. Feel like we haven’t been able to do anything in forever.”

“Yeah,” you said, struggling to keep your voice from cracking. “I know.” You inhaled shortly. “Of course. I’ll go wherever you want me to. Okay?”

“I love you,” she said, reaching a hand up to trace your cheekbone delicately. She looked into your eyes and you, again, remembered why it was so easy to love Sarah so goddamn much. You gave her a half smile and broke away, knowing that the longer she looked at you the more likely it’d be that she’d see just how upset you were. “Hey…you okay, peach? Something wrong?” The nickname made you nauseous. And if you had less control over yourself, you were sure you’d have already devolved into tears.

“No, I’m okay,” you denied, shaking your head. “Just gotta get changed.”

Sarah frowned. “You sure? You’ve been quiet this week,” she said.

You nodded again, resisting the urge to laugh at the hypocrisy of that statement. She’d have to have been around more to know if you’d been quiet that week. “I’m sure, Sarah,” you assured her, tone falling just a touch flat. “Just been busy, that’s all. And I don’t wanna make us late. So just give me like twenty minutes to clean myself up.”

To her credit, at this moment, Sarah was being her normal self. Her attentive, doting self. The self that had been gone all month. “As long as you’re sure,” she said, sounding unsure herself.

Instead of replying, you nodded and fled to the bathroom. And in the bathroom, you spent a few minutes pulling yourself together emotionally before getting your shit together physically so you could leave. And 20 minutes later, after changing into more casual-party-on-the-beach appropriate attire and throwing some stuff in your bag, you were ready to leave.

“Wait, did you eat anything for dinner yet? Do we need to stop?” Sarah asked, pausing as you were gathering your bags.

“I’m set. Why? Are you hungry?” you asked, not glancing back at her as you finished fiddling with your bag.

Sarah paused. “No. I’m okay,” she said eventually.

You looked up again. “You sure, baby?” you asked, reaching out your hand to rub up and down her arm.

At that, Sarah smiled. She melted into your touch a little and nodded. “I’m sure, yeah. John B will probably have something there if we need it. If not we can head out early and grab something,” she said. She gave you a cheesy grin and an exaggerated wink and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. Your heart lightened a bit as you laughed and Sarah practically beamed at the sound that she hadn’t been hearing much of the past few weeks.

You offered her your hand. “Ready to go, love?” you asked her.

She took it. “With you? Absolutely,” she said, squeezing your joint hands.

“Who is actually going, again?” you asked as you got into your car ready to drive over to John B’s where you would park before going to the beach.

“Uhh, the usual. Kie and JJ. Pope and Cleo. John B. I think maybe some other people. Didn’t really ask this time,” Sarah replied, shrugging as she pulled down the visor in the car to adjust her lip gloss. She looked over at you and smiled. “Why? Do you want something bigger? Smaller?”

“Nah, nah, I’m good,” you replied, laughing slightly as you backed out of your spot, starting towards John B’s on the road. “Just curious. Haven’t been able to hang with everyone in a while. Hoping it was gonna be the whole group, is all.”

Absent-mindedly, Sarah reached out and grabbed your hand, nodding at your words. Then, as you began your drive, she began to talk about her day, catching you up on some of the stuff she’d done and dealt with. You listened attentively, feeling some of the stress melt away as you finally got to spend a tiny sliver of alone time with the woman that you loved. It was, for the time being, peaceful. Relaxing. You felt like a calmer, fixed sort of future might be truly possible. The way that she rubbed her thumb along your hand as you held lovingly onto each other. The way that she looked over at you with a soft, adoring expression. The way that she leaned over and casually fixed a piece of hair that had gone rogue from how you’d styled it earlier. All of it was the Sarah that you knew and loved.

Even as you parked the car, you felt like you could’ve been floating on Cloud 9. When you parked and got out of the car, Sarah came quickly around the car, all but pressing you against the door to kiss you breathless. She then dutifully smiled, fixing the lip gloss that she’d transferred over to your lips, then hers again. After that, with a cheeky grin on her face, she linked hands with you again and started pulling you towards the beach. You walked in amiable silence from John B’s property line all the way to the edge of the beach. As you breached the tree line you could see your friends all sat around a bonfire that would, doubtlessly, steadily grow throughout the night.

Kie was the first to spot the pair of you, crying out a loud cheer. That prompted all attention over towards you two as you approached. As everyone’s attention turned, Sarah dropped your hand. Not casually. Not unnoticeably. But, she practically threw your hand away from hers and stepped a few inches away. You audibly heard your breath catch in your throat and felt your face fall. The only reason that Sarah didn’t was that she called back an equally boisterous, loud hello. Sarah practically started running towards your friends and you were left to pick up the shattered pieces of your heart and pride that had been scattered together along the sand of the beach from a tiny, stupid fucking action. Largely, the group didn’t seem to notice the way that you faltered. Not at all. But, you could tell that Kie and JJ were looking at you real funny for a moment there.

When you walked over to them, Sarah was already talking to everyone as if she’d been there all night. And she practically threw herself into hugging everyone. JJ and Kie. Then Pope and Cleo. Then John B. It wasn’t hard to guess which one would last the longest. And you hated the way that your brain lingered on the hug between Sarah and her ex. You knew she didn’t have feelings for John B. At least…not anymore. At least you thought she didn’t. Refusing to linger, you pasted a smile on again and greeted your friends too in turn giving short hugs that you excused away by being tired.

As JJ brought you into a hug, one of the last two you were giving one to, he held you for a moment longer. “You good?” he murmured seriously, low so no one else could hear.

“Yeah, J. I’m good,” you replied, tired. You shrugged when you pulled back, not meeting his eye. You knew full well that he’d call you out for lying, regardless of who it was in front of. You pretended to stretch your back for a moment to cover the obvious avoidance and then gave him a lazy grin. “You good, man?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” JJ said, voice flat and unimpressed. Even without seeing your face, he knew damn well something was really off.

“Hey,” Kie greeted, interrupting before JJ could say something else. She brought you into a tight, warm, lingering hug, refusing to let you pull away. “Haven’t seen you in forever. Where the hell have you been?”

“Flower shop has been busy,” you said, shrugging. “Not gonna leave my parents hanging. You get it.”

“You and those damn flowers,” Kie laughed, hugging you tightly still. You found yourself relaxing into her arms and hugging her tightly back, some of your tension decreasing again.

“I just care about the dahlias,” you joked.

Kie groaned, bumping your hip with hers, loosening her grip just a little while she grinned. “Trust me we know you love your dahlias,” she said.

“Hey,” Sarah said, practically materializing by your side.

You jumped slightly and turned, Kie’s arms falling. Sarah looked unhappy, brow puckered as if she just tasted something particularly gross. You reached out to take her hand and she pulled it back, making it look natural even though everything about the movement was anything but. And you knew it from the way her shoulder jerked, even if her arm didn’t betray it.

“What’s wrong, babe?” you asked her, struggling to keep the hurt from your voice, but miraculously managing.

“Can you and JJ go get some wood for the fire while we start to get it growing,” Sarah requested, a sweet but strained smile on her face.

You raised a brow looking over at the fire. It was blazing strong and high, burning brightly. And there was a small pile of wood next to it too, ready to be thrown in when needed. You felt your heart stutter. You pursed your lips even as you nodded, patting JJ’s shoulder so he didn’t make a snarky comment.

“Yeah, sure,” you said shortly. You craned your head towards JJ. “Let’s go man.”

“I’ll come with you,” Kie said, suddenly, looping arms with both JJ and you before pulling you in the direction of the woods you’d practically just emerged from. You frowned but let yourself get pulled along, a fake smile slipping off your face with each step, leaving nothing behind. When you were a few paces behind Kie looked over at you, and you refused to look back. “What the hell was that about?”

“Nah, what the hell was any of that?” JJ added. “Why is Sarah acting so weird right now? Fuck’s that about?”

“Not a clue,” you replied, shrugging, pulling away from the pair of them to move a few paces ahead. You ran a hand frustrated on the back of your neck then shook your head. “This is so…whatever.” Again, you shook your head and cleared your throat. “Don’t even worry about it. Just some weird shit, guys.”

You saw them exchange a glance out of the corner of your eye, but you steadfastly ignored it, refusing to let yourself even acknowledge it. Deny, deny, deny. That was the ongoing chorus in the back of your head as you kept walking. Kiara said your name in a tone that you were all too familiar with. In a tone that dictated she would get an answer out of you whether you liked it or not. You slowed your steps, hands balled into fists at your side. You turned your head over your shoulder.

“Kiara,” you said, voice cool.

“Talk to us,” she said.

The beeping of your phone from your pocket saved you from having to answer immediately. You shook your head, frustrated, and tore your phone from your pocket, starting to unlock it. “Nothing to say,” you mumbled. Your mother had texted you. Repeatedly. Within minutes. Your eyes narrowed and you then widened as you read the words. “Oh my…” You blinked rapidly at the news.

“What’s up?” JJ asked, sounding deeply concerned at the sudden change in my affect. You didn’t answer, just re-reading the texts over and over and over again, trying to force them to sink into your brain. JJ said your name twice and still you didn’t answer. You felt Kie and JJ both at your shoulder, reading the texts over them.

“Shit,” Kie muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“I gotta go,” you replied, shoving the phone in your pocket and shaking your head.

“Hey, hey, wait,” JJ said, catching your arm. “You good to even drive? Do you want me to run and get Sarah?”

“No,” you said, extracting your arm immediately from his grip. “Don’t ruin her night. I don’t fucking care. I’m good. I gotta go.”

“Do you want us to tell her?” Kiara called as you started to rush towards your car.

“Don’t care,” you called back immediately, body feeling cool.

You got into your car, calling your mom as you peeled off of John B’s property as you started racing towards not your apartment but the ferry. When your mom answered, you heard not a greeting first but her chattering rapidly on the other end of the line sounding exhausted.

“Mom?” you called.

“Honey, you got ten minutes to get on the last ferry of the night,” she replied.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Your aunt collapsed. It’s not looking good,” she said quietly.

You cursed. “I’ll be at the dock in five,” you said. “Are you guys with her? At the hospital?”

“Yeah,” your mom replied. “We’ll see you soon, honey. Is Sarah with you?”

“No, Sar’s not. She’s in the middle of something. I haven’t told her. I gotta go. I love you, Mom,” you said shakily.

“Love you too. Drive safe,” she said firmly. You could tell there would be more questions in the realm of Sarah later, but you knew that your aunt would take precedence. You shook your head and started driving, hands shaking even as you held the wheel in a death grip. Your phone started to ring again. And on your car’s dash, you saw Sarah’s name and contact picture show up. You shook your head and declined the call, immediately putting your phone on airplane mode for the moment.

By some sort of miracle, you got to the dock in time and got yourself a ticket before the boat left for the mainland. On the boat, you turned off airplane mode, switching it to Do Not Disturb, making it so that none of your friends could contact you. So that Sarah couldn’t contact you. As you did so, you got rid of the notifications that remained. The last was a double text from Sarah.

My love, you’re scaring me. I hate to think that you’re out there overwhelmed like this and that you’re alone.

Please talk to me, peach.

You loved her. You did. You loved her more than anything. But the past month had been too much. And if you weren’t enough for her anymore like her actions had been suggesting? Well, then this was a good excuse to get the fuck out of the Outer Banks and get your head back on straight. To figure out what you want if things aren’t going to work out with her.

All you could do was take out your phone and fire off a single text of your own. To Kie, not to Sarah.

Tell her not to come.

You put your phone away.

You’d waited all month for Sarah to talk to you. It was her turn to wait now. Your family would come first. And if that meant that your relationship would end? If that meant that you’d be the one in the wrong? Then whatever.

Deny, deny fucking, deny.

[rrenzwrld]

if you catch my drift III

third part, second part here

you may or may not have questions

Once Reiner came back with his bag, the two of you made it to his truck. It was one of those tall country boy trucks that looked like it must’ve been rotting from the inside out under a tree. But when you got inside, it wasn’t nearly as wrecked as you thought.

“I’m sorry about the ride. If I could treat you to something better, I would.” You didn’t see a problem with it but you were looking around a lot.

“No, it’s.. nice. I like it.” It represented his personality perfectly. A small smile crept onto Reiner’s face but he quickly dismissed it, not wanting to seem creepy or anything.

“I saw that.” You didn’t know you were staring.

He cleared his throat and looked to you as he was starting up. “Saw what?”

“Your smile. It’s very pretty.” Reiner felt his ears getting hot.

“Thank you, you’re um.. very pretty too.” He tried to speak quietly but his voice didn’t allow for it so you still heard him. You didn’t know what to think. Your crush called you pretty, very pretty but you thought it was all for the wrong reasons. He was a guy after all.

The two of you made some conversation on as the ride progressed but you only got but so far since the two of you were still very shy around one another. But Reiner finally pulled up to your dorm building which meant that you could be at some peace.

“Thank you again,” You said as you grabbed whatever you brought. “And I’m sorry if it was an inconvenience.” Reiner got out the truck as well.

“No, not at all. I don’t mind doing a good thing.” He opened your door and offered his hand to you so you had something to hold on to as you got down. You never knew he could be such a gentleman and thought it was only another part of your fantasy. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

Once the two of you made it to your door, you actually didn’t wanna leave him. You didn’t know what came over you. But it was the same for Reiner but he knew why.

“I really enjoyed watching you play and talking to you.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him because you knew you’d freeze and embarrass yourself. But that didn’t stop Reiner from looking at you.

“I hope this isn’t the last time…”

“It won’t, hopefully.” You looked up for a quick second and smiled, which made him smile, which made you smile even harder.

To get rid of his tempting thoughts, he cleared his throat and prepared his mindset to leave.

“I’ll see you around, Y/n. Thank you for coming to see me, really means a lot.” More than you knew.

“Sure..” You entered the building and once you got in the dorm room, Sasha was no where to be found

The following Monday, Sasha had taken the whole day to profusely apologize to you but your mind was too clouded with Reiner to be mad at her anymore. You could almost thank her for nearly leaving you stranded.

“Y/n~” She whined. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry? I feel like you’re not even listening to me.”

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“Reiner called me pretty. Very pretty. What do I do about that?” That’s when Sasha knew, or she thought she knew something.

“Oh why didn’t you tell me sooner? I thought you were still mad.” You shook your head.

“No, just thinking—“

“Bout your man?” You shoved Sasha playfully but she reacted as though you nearly pushed her out the seat.

“He’s not my man but I wouldn’t mind…”

“Have you seen him naked?” You looked at her like she was crazy.

“Uh no, what the fuck? Have you seen him naked?” Sasha looked around and took a while to respond. “Oh?”

“I haven’t done anything with him, promise! But last year there was a sex tape going around and literally everyone saw him naked. He almost got kicked out of school but he brings the school money playing football so they gave him another chance.” Information was dropped on you without asking but you had so many questions.

“So.. who leaked it?”

“A bitch he was fucking with and she wanted to be his girlfriend but he said no because he didn’t want it to get in the way of his football. Plus, she was crazy. That’s probably why she leaked it, to ruin his career. He was gonna graduate early and everything.” You knew Reiner was only a sophomore last year so it was a big deal if he could’ve graduated earlier and he must’ve been pretty smart. But you also felt really bad because you didn’t even know if this stuff was true.

“Oh…” And now that would be in the back of your mind.

“It’s big, don’t worry.”

“Sasha!”

tags: @luvvsnae @wlwfunnn @tacobellfreshavocado