#its just crazy to me because it's so blatant and yet this is the first time ive seen anyone else bring it up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hazyange1s · 3 months

Text

Enshrouded

Summary: (abbreviated from the ao3 version because this baby is long enough 😂) MC is an Auror seeking refuge from the arduous nature of her everyday life, and finds it in a secret wizarding club hidden in London; where she has an unforgettable encounter with a strangely familiar, masked man.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC / Reader

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ MINORS DNI. — p in v, oral (f and m receiving), drug/alcohol use, semi-public, anonymous, little bit rough but nothing too crazy, mentions of violence/blood (mc just really LOVES her job lmao), lots of adult language oop, aged up characters (everyone is in their early 20’s)

Word count: 7.3k

A/N: this idea came to me in a dream… nah jk it came to me while watching Bridgerton (go figure). Started writing it months ago and after much self-doubt I present baby’s first published filth 💀

read here on Ao3 🌹

It was the mystery. She had long suspected that was what kept her going back for more, time and time again.

The risk of it all was enticing too, of course, but more than anything, she loved a damn good mystery. One complex and intricate, one that took time and effort to unravel. As an Auror, well, her life was chock full of such simple delights.

Regrettably, there wasn’t much joy to be had in solving the cases slapped on her desk by the Chief Auror - any satisfaction in making an arrest was often muddied by the names of the victims left behind. So she often sought out milder (but just as potent) forms of that heady adrenaline rush in order to scratch the itch - and her absolute favorite was Reverie. Unassuming enough as names go, and the facade would lead you to think so, too: its uniform brick painted a dingy gray just like every other shopfront along the shadowed, misty cobblestone of Knockturn Alley.

If any of her coworkers found out she frequented such a spot …oh, she’d never hear the end of it. Worse than that, her Chief might even believe such behavior warranted suspension; as wanton impropriety from a well known Ministry employee would bring her morals into question. Likely, she’d get an earful about the utter shame it would bring upon the Ministry itself if she were spotted.

But that was the glorious thing about Reverie: the moment you stepped through its doors, you became somebody else.

Or, rather, no one at all.

Attendance was by invitation only; delivered anonymously while the recipient slept soundly in their bed (certainly disconcerting, but how could she complain?). No letter, just a silken black mask.

Donning the disguise allowed its wearer to see past the heavy glamor placed on the building and step inside - without being apprehended by one of the black-clad guards on watch. Yet the mask’s hidden talents didn’t end there. It was the club’s signature secret: while it was true they merely framed the eyes, each mask contained a glamor of their own that completely concealed one’s identity - whether or not someone would recognize them without it.

(You could be staring into the face of your best friend and would never know it.)

Which, incidentally, was expressly forbidden inside the club’s boundaries (one of very few rules, mind); as strict anonymity was what kept the underground facility running, despite the fact that the Ministry remained attuned to the whispers of a taboo venue boasting all manners of rampant debauchery right under their noses.

Still, the sorcery that offered Reverie protection had held true for well over five years, and its owners were more than dedicated to ensuring it was always so.

Most well-versed and connected members of English wizarding society had at least indulged in rumors of an alternative establishment hidden in the city. They traded whispers of what horrors may lurk behind those gray walls - dark magic and blatant impropriety and dangerous indulgences…

They couldn’t be more right.

The air was already thick with the tang of whiskey and rank with perspiration by the time she arrived an hour after its Friday opening. With each step she took through the meandering crowd, heels clicking on the marble floors, curling smoke in every shade imaginable wafted around the room and blissfully chased away the odor with frankincense and mallowsweet.

But she hadn’t come for the medicinals tonight, tempting as they were after a week that had left her emptier than the glasses long ago abandoned by drunken patrons. Not even a goblet of Merlot or a shot of coffee liqueur (with a splash of cream) could chase away what ailed her.

No, tonight she sought only one means of release, and needed nothing but the tension simmering in her blood as fuel for the fire driving her to desperation.

Nights at Reverie were not for the faint of heart (or stomach), nor the chaste and mild. While technically not allowed in open spaces, more than half of the attendees usually found themselves with a partner by dawn; in one of the many private back rooms or curtained-off alcoves - or dark corners, even.

After all, what did they have to lose when the strings of your identity weren’t a factor?

Usually she’d been content to let the men and women come to her, and admittedly there hadn’t been a shortage of such… entanglements in the three months since she’d received her own mask.

But the time for coy shyness and drawn out flirtation was long gone. Leaning against one of the wall-to-floor Grecian columns at the edge of the room, she simply tossed back her hair and began to scan it for potential prey.

There was a generous sample size, it was true. A tall, lithe gentleman whose hair shone like spun gold, a flawlessly curved woman with rich brown skin, a broad redhead sporting a wide grin…

No, no, and no… none of them are just right.

She huffed with restrained frustration, tapping her foot to the string music playing a haunting melody that seemed to fill every space in the curved underground.

You know there’s only one person you wanted to find here tonight.

Perhaps she’d have to lower her standards - beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.

“There you are.”

Gasping, she pressed a palm to her satin covered chest, which heaved beneath the boning of her - possibly too tight - corset at the unexpected greeting. But what truly robbed her of breath until she was penniless… oh, gods.

They’d answered her prayers after all: the man standing behind her with a luminous grin was precisely the one she’d been hoping to see.

A regular, as luck would have it. She’d spotted him in attendance more often than not, but had never had the courage to approach (mainly due to the slew of witches and wizards who got to him first).

With her attraction being largely from afar, she’d assumed that his lack of…well, anything - other than a single dance lasting no more than five minutes - had meant he was uninterested. Though the smile he wore was genuine, not like the mask framing his dark eyes, and it sparked in the dim lighting cast from candelabras around the wide room.

“Here I am…?” She quirked a brow questioningly, hand lowering to her hip. “But, er, you must be mistaken. I’m not sure I’m the person you’re looking for.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you are.” His chuckle was somehow more musical than the quartet filling the air and more rough than smooth, but exquisitely rich - as was the material of his dark vest and the deep gray collared shirt rolled above his elbows.

“On account of the fact that I’d know that particular dress anywhere. We’ve never been properly introduced, as I recall.”

“You recall correctly.” She smiled - maybe coy was still in the cards, if only to spend more time with this handsome stranger.

“I suppose that’s frowned upon here really, so…I believe there’s a better way we could become acquainted, if you’d be amenable.”

She had to be impressed with his wanton confidence, if nothing else…though she got the sense there were many rather impressive things about him. Even more arresting was the boldness of his touch; broad hands reaching for hers to bring to his supple lips, where they lingered for a moment before releasing her gently.

Alright. He knew what he was doing.

But she had to play just a touch hard to get - if only to give him a taste of what he’d been dishing out for months (intentionally or otherwise). He’d been playing coy after their first and only real interaction; shooting her little winks and whispered hellos on random nights - only to disappear again amongst the all-black crowd without giving her a chance to respond.

Likely, he’d been going off to find some other witch or wizard for entertainment.

“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, a knowing smile playing on her own red-painted lips. “I don’t recall meeting you at all. Your face has a similar quality to many men here, you see.”

“Ah, somehow I doubt that.” Darkness collected in his dimples (how had she not noticed them before?)

“Saturday, precisely two months ago to the day, you were dancing in my arms wearing a red dress like you have on right now.” His voice was like honey and velvet as he spoke. With each word, he seemed to get closer.

And yes, of course she remembered. She was just surprised he still did.

It’s why she’d been stuck with a ridiculous, schoolgirl infatuation for weeks now; why she’d worn red each and every night in the hopes of catching his attention once more.

The brief escapades she’d busied herself with in the meantime had done in a pinch, but there was something about him she was positively dying to unravel. Perhaps it was the spark in those deep brown eyes - like the dark liquor she favored- that spoke of depths hidden far below the playful, self-assured surface.

Or maybe it was how he smelled from mere inches away, as he was now: pine, sandalwood, and a spicy scent akin to the smoke furling around him like a haze of fog.

“You’ve got quite the memory.” She mused, unable to stop her smile from bursting into full bloom. “I suppose that does ring a bell— you trodded on my foot.”

He groaned. “I’d had a lot of whiskey that night. I’m usually much more coordinated when sober. In fact…”

His fingers slid up her wrist, moving with slow caresses up her arm and shoulder until they came to rest beneath her jaw, angling it up to align with his gaze.

“Is it too presumptuous of me to ask…if you’d let me make it up to you?”

For a moment - just a breath, she hesitated. And why? This was exactly what she’d come for tonight, and with the man she’d lusted over for ages now falling right into her lap… what sort of woman would refuse?

It was something unidentifiable, intangible. A tug on her gut. Something that flashed in the white of his smile as it caught the candlelight. Like a sense of deja vu; there one second and gone the next, leaving her with nothing but the old itch crawling beneath her flushed skin.

“Presumptuous, certainly. But not unwelcome. Everyone deserves a second chance.” She purred, squaring her shoulders and allowing him to guide her to the edge of the room with one palm flat on her lower back.

What she’d expected was to be whisked away to one of the rooms tucked away in the back; filled with four poster beds and velvet curtains and enough firelight to be a safety hazard. Instead, he brought her up to the bar, catching the attention of its immaculately suited (and masked) tender with a wave of his finger. The movement distracted her while he ordered Merlin-even-knew what. She found herself watching the way his fingers curled and wrist turned with each gesture made, his palms visibly calloused - perhaps he had seen his fair share of combat, too - and the backs of his knuckles covered in freckles.

She had to wonder what constellations might be found if she dared to uncover the rest of him.

A glint of gold caught the light, mercifully returning her attention on the smiling eyes of the man who had taken to slipping a glass of red wine between her fingers.

“Shall we toast?” He asked, tilting his chin up in the direction of the raised goblet.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To…” his lips pursed thoughtfully. (Another startlingly distracting body part.) How pink and supple they looked, and how good they would taste when stained with burgundy…

“Liberation.“

Fitting, indeed.

“Santé.” She touched her chalice to his without breaking the meeting of their eyes.

“Slainte.”

The cloying bitterness of Merlot coated her tongue, filling her stomach with warmth - a taste she hadn’t encountered for years. One she missed dearly.

“How’d you know I’d like Merlot?” She licked wine from her bottom lip.

He spoke at the same time; thick brows arched high. “You’re French?”

They laughed, the sounds winding together into a hypnotic sort of harmony.

“You first.” He inclined his head.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m simply fluent in the language.” She couldn’t give away any secrets, not even the place of her birth.

“That accent was flawless. Nobody but a native could articulate like that.”

She shook her head coyly, though not without amusement.

“Fine.” A sigh that seemed almost long-suffering stirred the smoke coiling around them. “I prefer my women with a bit of mystery, anyway. As for your question, darling…”

Oh, he was a rogue through and through. His eyes greedily swept over every inch of her gown to settle on the curves and shapes he seemed to appreciate most before he even deigned to finish.

“It’s… bold. Much like you, if you don’t think me too audacious for saying so.”

He paused to take another sip, savoring the act of licking his lips as she had moments ago, and almost smugly noting her obvious interest. “And I’ve obviously noticed you enjoy the color red, even if that part’s a bit on the nose.”

“You could say that.” Her heart fluttered traitorously into her throat. His undivided and enthusiastic attention was not only a welcome surprise, but a conflicting one. It wouldn’t do to fall for a masked man - in the end, they could never truly know each other beyond the four walls that brought them together.

Reverie. A dream - that’s all. You’ll wake up in the morning.

She straightened her shoulders, resolved and refortified. “And do you? Enjoy the color, that is?”

Her voice was low, only audible due to the minute distance between them, the man tilting his head down towards her as one finger grazed the dip of her neckline.

“What’s not to love?” He mused. “Red represents… vitality. Danger. Passion…”

Her skin prickled in the wake of the trail he drew from collar to shoulder and down her arm, and when it found her free hand, their fingers threaded together with such ease that they could have done it a thousand times before.

He could hear her heart, couldn’t he? With that amount of surety behind his stare, there was no doubt she was being read like an open book.

“That’s why we keep coming back here, isn’t it?” He was near enough now that every word was felt as a cloud of heat gracing her wine-flushed cheeks.

“Because we relish danger, and need passion like air. We all come to feel… alive.”

“Hmm. It’s almost as if you prepared that line beforehand.” She laughed.

His was such a beautiful sound, bubbling like champagne and leaving her with a warm feeling as if she’d tasted it herself.

“Let’s say I did… is it working?”

”Absolutely.”

Whatever spell had allowed them to maintain a sense of decorum shattered after that confirmation, which said so much more than was spoken aloud. The look exchanged between them was another conversation in itself; a volley of traded questions and answers that sent pure lightning skittering up her spine.

“Come with me.” He said abruptly (though not without a dutiful incline of his head; dark hair shining with veins of red in the candlelight) before tugging her away from the bar, where their drinks were hastily abandoned.

It seemed he was just as content to curse restraint, pulling her along with such haste that she tripped on her skirts (more than once) - evidently forgetting his longer legs and her tall heels as she bumped into a distracted patron that was left with a spilled drink, a scowl, and a breathless apology she didn’t quite mean.

They paused at the mouth of the corridor tucked in the back. It was lined with nothing but identical doors of deepest mahogany: some tightly shut, some cracked, and others yet wide open.

The meaning behind each was simple enough: shut meant “do not disturb”, cracked meant “listen or join, if you dare”, and wide open meant “vacant”. The wizard gave her a boyish grin as they all but stumbled to a stop in front of one that remained ajar and beckoned with soft golden light from the candles within.

“What are you waiting for?” She panted.

Without waiting on so much as a blink, her hand fisted in the crisp white of his button down, guiding him through the threshold before the slam of wood against the frame echoed in the empty chamber.

“A witch who knows what she wants, I see.” He chuckled, his hands needing no invitation to wind around her waist until their bodies molded at each curve.

“Well, you’ve been taunting me for a while, haven’t you?”

She took advantage of her hold on his clothes, forgoing the ease of simply waving her wand when she could take the opportunity to feel every inch of skin she revealed by releasing the buttons on his shirt.

Freckled - just as she’d suspected, and with a neat nest of dark hair over the swell of his pectorals that her palms begged to rest on.

“Wait, wait.” He huffed, hands coming to halt hers before they had time to slide the heavy coat from his shoulders.

“No - not wait as in stop -“ he’d seen the crease between her brows. “Wait, as in… slow down.”

”You seemed rather impatient a minute ago when you were dragging me through the place.” She said wryly.

“Impatient to get you alone, yes.” His knuckle grazed her cheek gently, reverently studying what little of her face he was able to see.

“But…” It was as transient as a ghost, at first. A phantom of touch over the swell of her lip, and then firmer as his thumb outlined the shape. “I’d very much like to kiss you first. May I?”

That he even asked such a question - let alone made his intentions to savor the night clear - was enough to poke another hole in her notions of a one-night affair. What if she couldn’t stand to never have this man again when it was over?

Well… there was always the luxury of dreams.

“Yes, of course.” She whispered.

She’d been right earlier - the taste of wine clung to the corners of his mouth, somehow even sweeter when combined with a hint of peppermint cooling the sharp breath he took the moment their lips fit together effortlessly. Her tongue sought to part them in search of the buzz that the alcohol couldn’t take credit for; finding his and groaning with delight as he melted into her.

A soft tug on her scalp announced the presence of his fingers as they threaded through strands of hair with the sole purpose of eliminating any and all space between them. Eagerly he rolled their tongues together, smearing the red painted on her lips across his chin.

They only paused to share a breath that left her dizzy. The sight of his skin stained with rouge was more beautiful than any art piece hanging on the tapestried walls - and there would be more colors adorning it by the end of the night, if she had anything to say about it.

“Now…” The brunet exhaled when they broke apart, lips brushing with each word. “Now, you can take off my clothes.”

No need to tell her twice.

His vest slumped to the floor, giving her leave to continue her work on that long trail of buttons ending at the waist of his trousers. Before long it, too, was little more than a rag at their feet. When she was privy to every square inch of his bare torso, her hands took liberties to caress the panes of his chest, marveling without shame.

“If you’ll allow me the honor, I’d like to even the score.” His voice was near a husk as he watched her intently.

No complaints arose (alright, perhaps one — when he spun her around; effectively depriving her of the ability to keep touching him) as the skilled wizard sought the eye hooks at the back of her bodice, dexterous fingers releasing each one with a snap that seemed to echo. All the while his mouth found her skin - tongue laving over her throat, teeth nipping where it met her shoulder to plant a bloom of deepest red.

“Mmm… keep doing that.” She hummed appreciatively, head lolling to the side.

“You don’t mind if I leave you a few reminders to find in the morning?” He chuckled. By then, he’d succeeded in freeing her of the constricting garment, tossing it to the carpet by the fire before he started to untie her skirt.

“Not at all.”

”Good,” another kiss, just below her ear this time. “Because I want to be able to see that it’s still there next time we meet.”

If he wasn’t careful, she’d start to think he already had plans to do this again.

She didn’t wait for him to move her this time; taking control back once she was only clad in her underthings by going for the buttons holding up his bottoms. Oddly enough, her fingers took on a tremulous quality - one she’d rarely (if ever) experienced in an intimate moment since her very first.

He seemed to adopt a similar growing impatience that made him forgo the back and forth to slip the sleeves of her chemise down, guiding the garment over her figure.

”Gods, you’re a vision.” He groaned and reached for the curve of her waist, feeling out the shape only to travel upwards until he could cup a breast in each hand, thumbs teasing the peaks hardened against the air.

Even as she shivered when he leaned down to bestow a kiss on either one, she managed to get him out of everything but the long undergarments concealing that which she craved most. But when she went for them, he stopped her yet again - catching her wrist only to sweep the startled witch into his awaiting arms with a self-satisfied grin.

The mattress depressed beneath her weight, bouncing back as she blew away a stray lock of hair to look up at him. Watching the way his arms — corded with thick veins — flexed and his eyes narrowed. With barely concealed impatience he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his hands around her thighs.

“Quite the man handler, you are.” She giggled once he’d yanked her towards him so her legs fell open on either side of his knees.

That drew the attention of his wandering eyes.

“Somehow I doubt that was a complaint.” His mouth quirked in earnest. ”Nor do I envision you’ll have any after I’m done with you.”

He began to toy with the idea of removing her drawers - the last thing preventing her from losing her mind, potentially - by sliding his fingers beneath their frilly hems, nails prickling the skin of her thighs as they scratched up and down in a taunting rhythm.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered out of the clear blue. “Anything. The only things I know about you are that you’re French, love the color red and Merlot… oh, and you’re a much better dancer than me.”

Sharing random factoids wasn’t necessarily the foreplay she’d been expecting, nor the kind she was used to, but she couldn’t say she minded when his voice alone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Uhmm…” She had to think of something vague; a throwaway tidbit useless to anyone else.

While he watched, waited with wide and patient eyes, she sighed, “I can’t go a day without coffee. Never quite developed a taste for tea. And I drink it with three sugars.”

He blinked twice in quick succession. All the while he had yet to stop playing with the edges of her knickers, though he gradually let one hand inch up her covered thigh, as if testing the waters. But, she wondered… what was there to test? He had been so self-assured outside this room, yet now there was a hint of nerves beneath the cool exterior.

”So dark and sweet is the way you like it, huh?” He simply couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

The smirk she donned was enough of an answer. “Tell me something about you, then.”

”Me… well.” His mouth quirked before he shifted on the bed - lying on his stomach to greet the center of hers with a kiss. Then each of her hips with a gentle nip.“I love to read. Anything I can get my hands on, really. Fiction, nonfiction, magical and otherwise… I’ll devour it all.”

A slight pinch followed by the softness of his lips alerted her to another cluster of marks he began working onto her lower stomach, covering as much ground as he could on her thighs. His breath, heating her core as it came in little pants, was beginning to become a significant problem - one made her feel warm and heavy. Like sinking into a hot bath, if it were near-boiling.

“In fact, if I had to pick my favorite place in the world, it would be sitting in front of a fire with a good book.” His fingertip ever so slightly grazed the inner curve of her thigh.

“A man of charm and intelligence…how ever did I get so fortunate?”

He chuckled at her teasing lilt, the sound tickling her sensitive skin while he began to make way for the kisses left up the length of her thigh — bunching her drawers up until his fingers just brushed the soft nest of curls at the top.

“Although right now I have to say; I’m very much enjoying this spot, as well.” The wicked man smiled up at her.

“Well, if you’re waiting for an invitation, you’ve got it.” She tried to sound casual about it all, but truth be told, she was fighting every urge to rip his underwear off and throw him onto the bed herself like some sort of madwoman.

He might make her into one before the sun rose, anyway.

She was sure of it when he began pressing tortuously chaste kisses to her other thigh, and when his fingers slid lower to deliver a gentle stroke down the center of her slit had her shuddering with anticipation.

“And how long have you been this wet, love?” His deep rasp was muffled by the fabric of her underwear.

She chuckled. “Hmm…since the moment you took me to the bar, probably.”

He sat up with a distinctly prideful grin, slipping the soft cotton undergarments down her legs, his eyes alight as he settled back between them.

She could almost see the words hanging off his lips as he gazed up at her (that sight was enough to make her hips shift needily), but for whatever reason, they weren’t cut loose. No, he busied his mouth with far more important pursuits. After pausing briefly to indulge his eyes in an appreciative sweep of her naked body, he at last found the perfect spot to make her whine (and on the first try, too) with naught but a languorous sweep of his tongue.

It wasn’t nearly enough to quell any bit of the ache driving her into inevitable madness, but he showed her mercy by flattening the wet muscle against her folds and following a slow trail up until the tip of it lightly flicked her clit.

“Oh, please do that again.” She pleaded (had she been reduced to begging so quickly?), one hand inching towards her breast — seeking any more stimulation she could find — as the other slid through the silken waves atop his head.

He obliged. But with more pressure this time, and so, so slow, observing her reaction as if she were the most scintillating thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

It really was something about those eyes. With such unfairly long lashes that fanned over russet cheeks, and the way the candlelight flickering off the walls would touch them just so to light the near-black irises with a rich gold. His lips stretched against her skin, noticing her attention and giving her an approving hum that was met by the push of her hips towards his tongue.

“Mmmph —“ he grunted when her thighs pressed to his ears, entrapping him between them greedily. “Like that, do you?”

Her answering moan earned another grin followed by a gentle suck on her clit that only brought out another breathy, low sound.

“But gods, you taste so sweet…decadent, just as I’d said.”

Merlin, his voice…the way it rumbled with barely contained desire and pulled obscenities from her own throat was sinful.

Drowning in sin didn’t seem such a bad way to go, at present.

The possibility became reality once he re-added a finger to the mix; curling it beneath his tongue to trace the folds before sinking gradually into her awaiting heat.

“Oh, f—“

One of her own fingers rolled her nipple atop the breast she’d been playing with as she shivered. If he kept this up much longer, she would surely come undone right on his tongue; wrapped around that rough digit gliding in and out of her as it stroked her upper walls.

But that didn’t feel right. As wonderful as the softness of his lips enclosing around her clit was, she couldn’t imagine a proper substitute for the stretch his cock would provide instead.

“I need…” she had been about to voice her request when the tip of his tongue prodded her entrance. Both of her hands now gripped his auburn waves like they were keeping her tethered to earth, legs trembling with the effort to fight off the warmth swelling in her core.

“Need what?” He took an eager breath in, only to release it through pursed lips over the throbbing bud he seemed to adore. “I want to hear it loud and clear, lovely.”

An impatient groan parted her bitten lips. “I need more. I need you inside me when you make me come.”

“There you go. Gods, you sound so pretty when you ask to be fucked…” It took one last excruciating pump of his finger inside of her before he withdrew to push himself up onto his knees with a mess of her own making shining on his clean-shaven chin.

“First, though…” The finger coated with her fluids was sucked between his reddened lips. When it was pulled out with a slick, slow draw, he crooked it in her direction. “Come here. I want you to get a little taste, too.”

Don’t mind if I do.

On trembling hands she raised herself up on wobbly knees pressed into the soft mattress, sucking in a breath when she curled her fingers over the band of his underwear and waited for approval.

“Don’t be shy.” He coaxed gently.

It was difficult not to be at least a little intimidated by the proud shape outlined through his bottoms (and leaving a very telltale wet spot in the light fabric), but she pushed past it with a firm swallow.

Her breath whooshed out without prompting as she rolled them over his hips and the rather shapely swell of his backside. And, as it had before taking a sip of the wine he’d offered earlier, her mouth watered when she was rewarded with the view of his cock as it twitched at the first rush of air over the leaking tip.

Personally, she wasn’t much of an artist. She preferred a wand to a brush and blood over red paint, but there was something about him that begged to be immortalized on canvas. How satisfying it would be to perfectly capture the artful tapering from wide shoulders to a slimmer waist, or even to carve from marble the thickness of his thighs.

She doubted it would do him justice.

“Are you going to paint a portrait?” He teased, as if ripping those very thoughts from her mind.

“Just might. And could you blame me?” She answered with a bite of her lip. But there was too much bloody talk going on. In the spirit of action, she lowered her mouth to meet the curve of his hipbone and began marking a wet trail downwards.

The light scrape of his fingernail over her cheekbone made her lashes flutter as he tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, his breathing growing more labored when her palm slipped over the softness of his length — only to fold her fingers around it with gentle pressure. By the time she brushed her lips over the head — then her tongue to collect the salty fluid now leaking down the shaft — he was keening under his breath.

“Mmhmm…keep going, please.” he murmured.

As if she would stop. On the contrary, she wrapped her mouth around him, making a circle around the ridge of his cockhead with the tip of her tongue only to trace the length of him by following a thick vein. He was thick — stretching her lips wide when she took him in inch by inch, allowing him to prod the back of her throat to moisten her mouth.

“Just like that. You’re doing brilliantly, love; just perfect.” He said breathlessly, scraping her hair back into a haphazard updo with a broad hand.

Spurred on by the praise, she hollowed her cheeks for a better seal, dragged her mouth along his shaft until he rewarded her with a broken, guttural moan. She kept it up until finding a rhythm that his hips desperately pushed forward to match.

“I won’t… fuck, you’re going to make me embarrass myself…” he chuckled weakly.

Well that wouldn’t do at all. As much as the idea of swallowing his seed enticed her, there was a far better option in her mind. Which is why, despite his immediate protest in the form of a low grunt and a harsh tug on her hair, she gave one last slow lick before pulling away.

The increasingly flustered wizard tracked her movements with lust-glazed eyes. “I was hoping to drag this out, but I think you’re proper ready for me, aren’t you?”

Her enthusiastic nod spurred a laugh as he unfolded her legs from beneath her, wasting no time in hooking one around his hips and propping the other up to rest on his shoulder. The view was… magnificent, and he seemed to agree as his tongue darted out to taste her essence on his lips.

She’d expected another round of teasing. How relieved she was when instead, the blunt head of his cock parted her readily, sweeping through the slickness there with a stuttered, needy groan.

And just when she was about to insist —

A gasp tore through her dry throat as he pushed himself inside of her with little resistance. She was suddenly so full; though it wasn’t until he was fully sheathed that she let out a long, breathy sigh.

“Good? You alright?” He murmured, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing circles on the inside of her thighs. When she nodded, his mouth curled into a smile that she felt amidst the kisses left along her calf.

Oh, it was more than good — by the time he dragged his length out just to drive himself forward again, she was positively keening for more; her hands blindly reaching for some part to grab and managing to splay them flat on his lower back to force him deeper. He could hardly fight her, and it seemed like he didn’t want to anyway. The wizard’s eyes had grown hooded with lust, those sumptuous lips parting to make way for a moan that sent a shock down her spine. Her own eyes fluttered shut as he began to glide in and out of her in languid, practiced thrusts.

“Mm mmm,” he hummed chastingly. “I’d like to see those pretty eyes.”

His boldness — so wildly sexy.

Looking at him was almost a taboo in itself. Nine times out of then, her trysts had involved a lot of pleasure-filled sounds and heavy breathing; but conversation? Not so much. Some people didn’t even like to be kissed — and others found a prolonged gaze entirely too intimate.

This man didn’t just fuck. It was a different experience altogether, and it was bloody incredible. So, like the hopelessly besotted witch she was, she met his gaze and responded with a wanton moan at the sight of his head thrown back in pleasure while his hips made wide circles against hers.

“Gods, you fit like a glove,” his body shuddered with a stuttered exhale. “Feel so good…”

She canted her hips up to meet his in protest of his lazy pace, earning a broken chuckle before being rewarded with the head of his cock roughly probing her to its absolute limit.

“Godric…” she whined pathetically. “Again — right there.”

“Is Godric Gryffindor the one providing your pleasure right now?” He mocked. “No, I don’t think so.”

”Well, then tell me your name, and I’ll scream it as much as you want.”

Locks of mussed hair fell over his forehead as the man shook his head, ignoring her small pout, but soothing the disappointment by giving her something else she’d wanted.

Again, he speared himself nice and deep. And again; and again, until her nails were carving crescents into the muscle of his back and he was whispering streams of filth into her ears between husky groans. Just when she was about to warn him of her rapidly approaching release, he had to go and stop — worst of all, he dragged his length out of her.

“You must be joking,” she panted.

A wicked grin told her she was in for it, and her thighs squeezed together in anticipation as he twirled his finger midair. “Oh, we’re not done. Sit up for me, love, and turn around. That’s it… now put your hands on the headboard.”

When her fingers curled around the solid chunk of wood, the bed dipped and creaked as he came up behind her, chest to spine and fingers curling over hers.

“Make sure you’re holding on tight.” Without warning, he ripped a sharp cry from her throat by driving back into her lonely heat until his hip bones dug into her ass and she swore she could see the night sky in that very room.

“Buggering hell —“ she blurted. This new angle was sure to be the end of her, and he was well aware of it from the delighted chuckle he huffed in her ear.

”You’ve got such a mouth on you for a lady… damned if I don’t love it.” The wizard panted with pride.

He wasn’t taking it easy on her any longer. The sheer force of his thrusts was enough to rock the bed frame against the wall; the thuds as the headboard struck exposed brick likely heard by everyone in the surrounding rooms (not that she had any room to care in her sex addled brain). It was enough to wring every last coherent thought from her, rendering her a shaking, mewling mess and unable to do anything but meet each snap of his hips with her own — while holding on for dear life.

“Oh, yes…” he was on his way to leaving bruises on her hip from the force of his steadying grip, but the sparks of pain only led her to greater pleasure.

Well-attuned to the signs of her mounting release as it threatened to overwhelm her for the third time, he released her hand to reach around and find her clit, abandoning the precision and prowess from before. Those dexterous fingers worked tirelessly, and coupled with the uneven little pants warming her neck between his kisses…

“I know you’re close, love,” he shuddered. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

He threw every last bit of his energy into shoving her over the edge; and as his cock prodded that spot inside of her once more, she gave in and fell apart under his hands. Every unbridled, broken sound that tumbled out as she rode through her orgasm was met with an encouraging whimper from the wizard. Just when the last bit of pleasure was wrung from her body, he pulled out with a groan, releasing ropes of warm seed over her backside and spine.

There he rested for a moment. While he caught his breath, the man’s hands traced the shape of her body, slipping in the essence coating her with a proud chuckle. “Evanesco.” he murmured, restoring her skin to its unmarred state.

“Are you…” he gulped in a lungful of sex-scented air. “Are you alright?”

“Brilliant.” She panted, letting go of the headboard to turn and rest her back against it instead. “You?”

It was an understatement, really: all that stress pounding between her temples and tension in her shoulders had disappeared. She felt spectacular.

“Never better.”

He sank back to his knees, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he admired her with a lazy grin. How she wished she could peel the satin from his cheeks to see that smile reach his dark eyes…

“Only wanted to make sure. You were getting quite loud.” The question seemed more taunt than anything.

Walking might prove difficult for the next couple of hours (at the least), and her hair was likely in a right state (along with her marked-up skin), but none of that mattered when the lingering rush instilled her with a rare lightness.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Not at all. I was very much enjoying the sounds you made. Means I did my job well.”

She gave him a playful eye roll, rolling onto her side with the intention of returning to the solace of his arms before she realized — pillow talk and cuddling were sort of an unspoken faux pas when it came to casual encounters. Usually, her or her partners would leave the bed before the sweat had dried on their skin, and for once the expectation felt…lonely.

It truly struck her when he cleared his throat a moment later, gingerly untangling their weakened limbs to climb out of the bed seeking the various items of clothing discarded across the room.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, eyes darting to her before he located his pants. “Water, food..? Anything.”

Though appreciative, she waved his offer away with a quiet laugh. “I’ll be just fine. Though I’m sure I’ll need a hot bath at home.”

Sitting idly in bed while he already had a foot out the door picked at her pride, and so the Auror dragged herself out of it on trembling fawn’s legs. She managed to locate her underthings and slip them on before plucking her gown up from the floor.

“Oh,” a flash of gold caught her eye, and she bent to retrieve his trousers — as well as the shiny pocket watch that had evidently fallen out while they were distracted earlier. “Here, you don’t want to lose this.”

He was dragging his shirt over his bed head when she walked over to return it. She couldn’t help but admire the piece’s subtle artistry; the metal so perfectly preserved with intricate curling ivy etched into the rim of the case. Such a unique design…

So unique that she could easily recall seeing one just like it before.

And it, too, had been monogrammed with the letter S.

If he hadn’t snatched the watch out of her hand before the shock hit, she might have dropped and broken one of the last artifacts of the Sallow family.

Merlin, the irony of her asking for his name to say it in bed when she wanted to scream it in outrage now. And of course he had the audacity to take a step towards her, to soften his wide brown eyes (how had she looked into them and not known) and adopt an innocent frown; the one he had always used before begging for forgiveness.

She took a step back in turn and fixed him with a look that could have frozen the fire in the hearth. It was enough to confirm for him exactly what conclusion she’d reached.

“Blast it all, it is you.” He breathed.

“Sebastian?”

#the fear that just struck me #running away now #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow

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latimeria-fell-from-heaven · 1 year

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𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄, 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇

# day 2 — orgasm denial.

s. he's always had an attitude whenever you pointed out how much he stared at you. and of course, he's being a little shit when he's balls deep in you.

cw. fem!reader, orgasm denial, teasing, rough sex, cowgirl position, mutual pining, creampie, degrading, cervix fucking, breeding kink, wanderer being a little shit & implied multiple rounds.

wc. 3046

Wanderer has a serious staring problem.

You know that gut feeling you get when you can just feel someone or something staring at you, even when you can’t see them? Like you could physically feel their stare on you? Well, that’s what your current predicament with your companion is. His stare was almost that of a cat looking at its owner before it pounced, and you swear you could even see his pupils blown wide when he looked at you. It’s not like you find it unsettling or even annoying; the extra attention gives you that nice little ego boost and he wasn’t trying to be a nasty creep about it. But even you have to comment on how frequently you can feel his eyes glued to your form.

He always finds a way to tease you or just tch’s and roll his eyes when you point out his rather blatant staring. In the case of the latter, he just stomps off, grumbling some expletives with his cheeks all red and burning and glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. He more or less resembles an angry kitty when he decides to act offended, all bristled up yet too cute to even give much thought to.

Well, sometimes.

The weather outside is hot, unbearably so, and the occasional humidity waves don’t make it any better. So you’ve opted to start wearing those spaghetti-strap crop tops you bought a while back, and they hugged your chest juustt right, enough to give them that cute bouncy look. You had even been checking yourself, admiring yourself in a ‘wow my tits look hella good’ kind of way. And clearly, you aren’t the only one doing so.

Wanderer would stare at your now exposed cleavage, from little fleeting glances to outright stares that would linger for a bit even when you’d spotted him. Even with his cheeks all rosy and bright, and a hand over his mouth to partially hide his embarrassment away, he still couldn’t seem to bring himself to stop staring at you. But it seems like he doesn’t have the courage, for whatever reason, to make a move on you—even though he had plenty of courage to tell you that your breath stinks in the morning. You’d prefer it if he was upfront about what he clearly wanted, but you don’t mind having to make the first move yourself.

So you tease him a bit; raising your hips and rolling them ever so slightly when he’s behind you, giving him a nice view of your ass, and standing up straight with your back arched (it pushes your chest forward and even makes you look more confident too!) so he can have a nice view of your chest, but not enough so it can leave much more to his imagination. After all, having on some revealing clothes was a lot sexier than having none at all.

And it’s pretty clear that your little plan is working, because—

“Alright, what are you up to?” He’s got you cornered now, palm flat against the wall as he glares at you. His cheeks are blooming red again, and it’s pretty obvious that he’s trying (and failing) to not stare at your boobs like he’d been doing all day.

“Hm? What are you talking about?” An innocent flutter of your eyes and he scoffs.

“Don’t you play dumb with me, smart ass. You know what I’m talking about. What’s up with,” he gestures to your chest with his eyes and purses his lips. “This.”

“Oh, this? It’s pretty cute, right? Makes me look pretty sexy too. Why, you got a problem with it?”

“What—no, that’s not what I meant,” he groans in exasperation. “You know what I meant. Acting like a fuckin’ tease all day and riling me up. It’s driving me crazy.”

“I dunno sounds like a you-problem Wanderer. I’m just doing what I’d do around anyone else.” His expression sours at that, clear annoyance being plastered all over his face. Seriously, could he be any more obvious in showing what’s going on in that little brain of his?

“So you’re saying that you’d do this to anyone else that just came along?” He spits, lips pulled back in a grimace as if the very thought burns him like acid. “You’d give them a little show just because they seemed nice enough?”

“Hehe, sounds like someone’s jealous~♡” He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, but that’s a part of his charm. Guys like him who act all tough and teasing but crumple once they’re on the receiving end of it are the cutest, so you can’t help but taunt him a bit!

He chuckles dryly, a bitter smirk on his face. “Yeah, I’m jealous. Just thinkin’ about other guys seeing you like this and even touching you makes me jealous. Happy now?”

You’re grinning stupidly now, practically shivering in excitement as you snake your arms around his neck to pull him in real close. “Then why don’t you do something about it? Go on and fuck me, fuck me so good that I can’t get off without your dick and no other guy can satisfy me like you can~♡”

That’s how you’re in your current position, straddling him as you lowered yourself onto his cock, moaning lewdly as he brushed up against your g-spot. Fuck, his cock was just the right shape for your pussy; not too long but the tip still manages to peck your cervix lovingly and not too thick but he stretches you out enough to feel good instead of in an overstimulating painful way. It’s like you were both made for one another, perfectly aligned to fit like a puzzle piece; hehe, your pussy would even start molding into his cock’s shape, a perfect fit for him and him alone~♡

“You like my dick that much, huh? You slut.” You could feel the smug smile on his face; even with your eyes closed in bliss, you could practically envision his haughty expression. But you can hear the little pants and whines he’s trying to suppress. For how much shit he likes to talk, he’s just as bad as you and can’t seem to get enough of your cunt.♡ “It’s so wet, you wanted my dick that badly didn’t you?”

“Mhmm, I wanted you s’badly~♡ Wanted you to t’fuck me like you own me~♡” Leaning back with your arms behind you to balance your body, it gives him a perfect view of your needy cunt swallowing up his cock and drooling all over it. And he clearly likes it, because he attempts to roll his hips into the welcoming heat and hisses when your walls clamp onto his cock. “But you really suck at making a first move and kept me waiting.♡”

“I do not.”

“Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that. We both know I’m right.♡”

Wanderer scowls, then pistons his cock up to brush the tip against your cervix like a clumsily-aggressive kiss and you respond with a cry of his name. “Yeah, and we both know that you’re a slut for my dick. I’ve barely done anything and you’re already moaning like that.”

“Hehe, y’got me~♡” You breathily moan, too focused on grinding down on him and making sure that he’d rub up against your g-spot perfectly. “Why don’t you make me moan even louder then, hmm? Make everyone else hear just how big of a slut I am for your dick~♡”

“Damn, you…” Wanderer starts, but he’s soon grinning cockily up at you. Oh, looks like your smug companion has a thing for other people knowing just how big of a slut his pretty girl was for him~♡ “I’ll make sure you eat those words.”

His movements start off a bit awkward, what with your body weight grinding down into his crotch and having to use his pelvis muscles to actually move, but he gets the hang of it. He works into a rhythm of slow deep thrusts that occasionally have him griiinding up into your cunt right as you push down, and you two share a collective moan from the depth of his movements. Fuuckk, he was hitting so deep that it almost felt unhealthy with how far he reached, but it just felt so good that you couldn’t be bothered to really even care. If he kept fucking you like this, then your pussy wouldn’t be able to love anyone else’s dick but his; all shaped for him to use and fill to his heart’s content.♡

“Fuck, you’re so damn tight, m’so close…” Wanderer throws his head back on your bed, eyes clenched tight as he bites his lip while your pussy massages and assaults his cock all over. You’re so fucking wet for him, pretty cunt hungrily drooling and swallowing him up to the point where he could feel your slick oozing down to his balls. You really weren’t kidding when you said you loved his dick.

If this kept up, he’d end up finishing inside you and—

—Huh?

You stopped. Why did you stop moving? Why?

“Wha—I was so close, you bi—” You quickly shush him with your finger against his lips. Geez, must he resort to name-calling all the time? Especially right now?

“Ah-ah, watch your language sweetie~♡” The scowl on his face gives him an unpleasant look, but you could hardly take him seriously when he’s got such a cute little face! Ugh, he’s just sooo cute! “There’s no point in cussing me out y’know. It won’t get you anywhere.”

He clicks in his tongue in response, clearly not in the mood to be lectured, not when he’d been so close to bursting. “Don’t you, ngh, dare lecture me. Just move your hips already damn it.”

“Aww c’mon, can’t you just play nice for once?” You pout when he gives you a deadpan look as if to say ‘Are you stupid?’ “Fine. I won’t move until you beg for it~♡”

“You—!”

You hesitate a bit to pull him out because you really do love his cock so much, but he’s being a little shit even when he’s balls deep in you, and you’re not having it. But you work yourself off his shaft inch by inch until the tip just barely remains tucked in past your velvety folds. And you have to admit, you really like the dragging sensation of his cock slipping out as it rubbed along your ribbed walls. You’re really tempted to shove yourself back down and lift yourself up again just to feel him dragging along your walls, but he doesn’t deserve that. Not until he begs of course.

“C’mon, just beg for it. You know you want to~♡” Since you wanna tease him, you do move your hips down, letting your soaked cunt swallow up just a bit more of his cock, teasing him with the addictive heat that hovers just out of his reach. He’s trying and failing to keep his cute moans in, drooling all over himself like the needy little pervert he comes off like.

“Shit, don’t do that,” he rasps, watching in agony as the rest of his shaft goes untouched by your pussy, feeling your juices dribble down and cool against his warm skin. This is torture for him. But when he tries to buck his hips, you just move away, threatening to pop his swollen tip from the confines of your tight wet heat. “Don’t tease me like that…”

“Then just beg for it. It’ll feel good for the both of us.”

“Damn it, just, j-just move already… I can’t take it anymore, I want your pussy so fuckin’ bad—”

“Mmm, that’s good enough, hehe~♡” Well, he could always beg some more, but you’d rather not push him to the point where he’s actually so impatient that he gets turned off. You’ve learned that Wanderer needs a little shove with just the right amount of force so he can do what he’s told. So, lowering your hips back down, your pussy greedily swallows up his cock aaalll the way down to the base.

“Fuck!”

This time his movements are much more desperate, more frantic like he’s a dog in heat. He’s even looking the part too, tongue lolled out to the side a bit, breaths coming out in hot steamy puffs, and occasionally whining with a high-pitched strain. You can only imagine that this much motion must be exhausting for his hips, but the fact that he’s ignoring any possible strain just to pound straight up into you says a lot. All you’re really doing is just rolling your hips, but damn is he doing a good job of fucking you like his personal slut.

“F-fuck, m’so close, m’gonna, inside…!”

“Say it.”

“Huh?”

“Say you want to cum inside of me,” you say with a sweet smile, making sure to squeeze up your walls reeaal tight to bully him. “Or I won’t let you~♡”

You even stop moving your hips for good measure, this time keeping him tucked inside your cunt. He looks frustrated beyond belief, having had his orgasm stopped twice and having to beg for it like some needy dog. Well, you suppose it can serve as a bit of payback for his bratty attitude since he clearly doesn’t learn until you have to fuck it into him just so he can get the message.

“I-I wanna cum inside you, I wanna make your pussy all mine, please just let me cum inside..!”

You giggle in satisfaction, feeling a rush of satisfaction all throughout your body. Getting Wanderer to beg to cum inside you was such a delicious treat, and you’d be sure to savor it fully. Who knows, you might even get him to do this again some other time.

“Good boy, Wanderer~♡”

You seem to catch him off guard when you finally begin to really move your hips, making sure to wiggle them rapidly when he’s sheathed inside down to the base so as it urge on his orgasm. And it works, because he starts moaning a breathy high-pitched noise while he desperately pistons his cock up into your cunt with his hands squeezing your ass, kneading the soft flesh like he owns it. You don’t bother stopping him, since he’s just soooo cute when he gets all desperate for your pussy like this and starts fucking you with rabbit-fast thrusts.

“Wanderer, you’re s’cute, such a cutie, how’re you s’cute?♡” Your jumbled praises come bubbling out like soda pop, as your juices come gushing out with intense fervor, coating his cock with your slick until it oozed down enough to coat his balls. But you keep grinding down, riding out your orgasm for as long as possible.

“Fuck, don’t—don’t move your hips like that!” He likes it when you do it, though, because that thick vein rubbing against your walls pulses a lot more rapidly. You were still coming down from your high, but it wasn’t doing anything to stop you from enjoying how nice his dick felt in your pussy. There was pleasure in being filled.

It only takes a few more seconds of frantic movements from both of you before he follows suit with a whimper of your name, still fucking up into your messy cunt whilst he pumped you full of his thick seed. You have to place your hands on his chest to keep yourself still, giddily smiling as warmth pours into your belly. It was like he was trying to breed you, fill your womb up with his cum until it was full of his babies. Oh, maybe you could tempt him with that next time; get him a little jealous and riled up, encourage him to knock you up then become his breeding bitch until his seed was dripping from your ass to the sheets.♡

Despite having finally reached his high, that didn’t seem to stop Wanderer one bit as he continued fucking his cum deeper and deeper till it reached your womb. He seems determined to truly make your pussy all his, to push his seed so deep inside that it might take root and stay buried within you forever. Hehe, maybe he really does wanna breed you badly; and make you into a mommy, even if he might be acting on those hidden fantasies subconsciously.

Once he finishes fucking your pussy like his personal cocksleeve and giving it all he has, he sinks bonelessly into the soft mattress. His length finally goes soft, even despite the tight squeeze your walls have on it and his breaths become deeper as he calms himself down.

“See? That wasn’t too hard, now was it?” You press a soft little kiss to his sweaty forehead, and he just hushedly groans in response. He doesn’t even bother swatting you away like he usually did when you displayed your affection for him; guess this really had taken quite a lot out of him. Seeing that you’re also feeling incredibly sore yourself (all that arching and hip grinding had done a real number on your back muscles), you snuggle yourself up against him, soaking up the intimate feel of his skin pressed up on yours.

His softened cock was still inside of you, keeping you wide open and making this position a bit uncomfortable, but you’re too busy basking in the afterglow. But if it’s uncomfortable for Wanderer, then he doesn’t show any signs of discomfort. Or maybe he’s just too tired to really notice you yanking his dick about—or maybe he just likes how it feels inside of you.

“Feels like you just drained my fucking balls,” he mumbles tiredly, lazily tossing an arm over your back as you nuzzle into his neck. “Seriously, felt like you were gonna squeeze me dry back there…”

“Hehe, oopsies~♡”

“Don’t you ‘oopsies’ me, you damn sex fiend,” he hisses, delivering a weak slap to your back. “Is it always going to be this way with you?”

“Hmm, I dunno, why don’t you find out? D’you think you can go again?♡”

Upon seeing your flirty grin, he groans in defeat. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me one of these days, y’know that?”

🏷. @lakeside-paradise @shrooms-go-brr @sakurakiko

#lati's kinktober #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut

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shoezuki · 5 months

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Theresbeen many a drunk headcanon and they be fun and funky but it got me thinking bout clumsiness outside of bein drunk.

Gepard seems very sure-footed. He's the captain of the guard, always leading, never showing hesitation lest it brings nerves upon his troops. I don't think he's some sorta balance god but I do think he's a steady guy that isn't really bumping into anything.

Sampo gives off cat vibes to me, I can imagine him scuttling up a wall jus to tiptoe across its top as if it was nothing. He's doin lil hops and skips just to show off a little. Whilst Geppie is strong in his stance and motion, Sampo is graceful but not really in a delicate way? He's got the smugness of a cat but his grace is more akin to an elk. It's got weight behind it but you can tell he's not fallin anytime soon.

But I like to think he's extremely used to having everything mapped out. He has places for everything and whilst it doesn't at all look neat, he knows exactly where everything is.

His coffee table is always crooked but he simply bends out of the way as he walks past, head in a stack of documents. There's stuff all over the floor but he's tiptoeing between them without hesitation. He has cabinets full of anything and everything, look in them and god knows what his file sorting system is but you ask for something specific and he makes a beeline for the bottom left drawer, stuffs his hand to the back and pulls it out instantly.

With Gep, he's also orderly. He knows where everything is but because it's neat. Even his pens are organised by colour and use. He's not a neat-freak, he's just grown up to always put things back where he found it when he's done and having shared sleepin spaces for so long with fellow soldiers, knows that keeping everything in its place makes things less stressful.

He knows better than to mess with Sampo's files or move any of his 'work' stuff but he's defo moving tidbits off the floor and pushing furniture back against the wall. Like, why is the sofa in the middle of the room??? How does someone do that in the first place???

So now Sampo, as aware and confident as he is, is now tripping over everything. He's knocked his shin on the coffee table 3 times in one day. He's stubbed his toe on the sofa and fully fallen to the ground, he's gone to grab something off the floor (where it usually is) only to realise it's no longer there and just stand in the middle of the room, looking lost, staring into space for 5 minutes.

He feels like he's been invaded. Never had to shrug off Natasha's questioning so often when she comments on a new bruise or scrape. He's not even getting them on the field!!!! That stool was perfectly fine in front of the cupboard. That's where he liked it.

But like hell is he gonna tell Gepard that. He's tried to some extent but it's only led to long circle talk. After all, it's unsurprisingly hard to explain that you like your furniture layout to look like someone's lost a fight in your home and having things not in the way is mildly disturbing.

This was meant to be about clumsiness. They're gettin away from me again XD

~ 🥃

YesyesyesYES SBGDV god they both have like. Theyre own sense of order. Like gepard's is the most blatant. Hes got a Schedule ok he has an order to how he does things and when he does things and where stuff goes.

But sampo seems Chaotic. Like his things seem to be a mess and all disjointed and over the place but To Him he has like. A System. He has no fucking clue what that system is and can Not explain it whatsoever but hes got it. Sure its a mess and no one knows how he can possible operate like this and especially concerning his bomb making its crazy he hasnt blown himself up yet but it Works.

Them living together is Hilarious cuz if this. Like gepard needs things where theyre 'supposed' to be, while sampo shifts his things n environment according to Him. Mfers in a silent war cuz they keep moving shit back to where They think its sposed to be. Like sampo keeps shifting the coffee table to the left and at a bit of an angle so that he can rest his feet on it from the sofa but gep keeps moving it back cuz its Supposed To Be Exactly 2 feet from the sofa and Right in the middle of the fucking rug, sampo. Every late night sampo moves the dishes around seemingly randomly so that his favourite bowls and mugs are easily reachable while he cooks and every morning gepard gets up and reorganizes the cupboards by size and type of dish while he makes coffee.

Theyre engaging in domestic psychological warfare

#fight FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT #does belobog have dishwashers. cuz if so they absolutely fight over how the dishwasher should be loaded #🥃#anon #sampard

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scrooges-greasy-toes · 2 months

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ooooooooooooh THIS.

Getting to the end of dt17, and I’m going crazy over this impending doom. It is becoming ever more clear that the duck family are NOT THE GOOD GUYS. It’s been iv dripped to us the whole time. The property damage has been brought up, and brushed off. The whole “playing in to the bad guy” role during The Rumble For Ragnarok being not so different from how Scrooge is regularly. Bradford’s remarks about perspective at the end of Let’s Get Dangerous. Just… all the little details in the series, masked by the blatant overpowering themes… trust, working together, all the little episode lessons that have been leading up to THIS. And yet Scrooge is still greedy. He’s selfish. But the writers have been revving up to tackle this. The Forbidden Fountain of the Foreverglades used Goldie as a foil, showing how Scrooge has grown and come to have a sound moral compass, compared to how he “used to be”. They’re not the ducks they used to be, after all. This gets me extra excited for ep.22, The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck. I have ten episodes left to watch. They WILL tackle Scrooges character and his development. He will be punished for what he’s done. But what happens to his family? His friends and allies? After all, it’s Dellas fault the moon invaded, isn’t it? (At least from an outside perspective, it is.) Most, if not all the family has caused massive damage, it’s not just Scrooge. And it’s not for nothing that it’s pointed out in Escape from the ImpossiBin that Scrooges allies are the most “dementedly dangerous minds”. Dewey himself says it. “Is it weird that the most ‘dementedly dangerous minds’ are all friends of ours?” Even if we ignore Gyro, it is true. The Duck family and its allies have SINNED. I have never been more excited to see a series pan out. I get more anxious with every episode, every hint. The Duck Family’s disregard for others wellbeing’s will be the thing that opens the door to tackling their selfishness.

I’m so terrified of the end. In order to mend their selfishness, they need to put others first. Which, essentially, means an end to adventuring. Every attack on the city is because of them. We know this. And yes, they may fix it, but that doesn’t mean they’re not responsible for the damage they caused while doing so! The only way to stop this cycle is to end the adventures. Cease taking the risks. Scrooge won’t go down easy, but it will happen. After all, this show has been about the end this whole time. Fountain of the Foreverglades makes us see Scrooge no longer values the profit of the adventure over his family. And some of the nostalgic themes… at the end of the Trickening, when the photo of them is shown looking so old, in the worn out house I cried. Why that nostalgia and ache for the past if we’re not building up to the end itself?

#dt17 #ducktales #I honestly am SO STOKED #NO SPOILERS IF IT DOES OR DOESNT PAN OUT THIS WAY #but the series finale HAS to tackle this #I mean it’s what they’ve been building up to!#ooooooooh I love this series and how it’s written #This will tear my heart out and throw it on the ground and stomp on it won’t it?#Of course it will #I’m dying over here

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saintmeghanmarkle · 9 months

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Did WME Create and Fabricate the 'Dior Talks' PR Campaign by u/Cocokay1234567

Did WME Create and Fabricate the 'Dior Talks' PR Campaign It has occurred to me thinking more in depth about what really went down with PR blitz back in June that TW was supposedly 'in talks' with Dior for a 'mega' brand deal. I couldn't help but wonder if WME is involved in playing the same underhanded PR game as TW when it comes to the blitz/manifestation/attaching TW to Dior. So I did some digging. According to The Sun (linked below), a Dior source came out and said "There is no truth to the claims that she will partner with the French fashion house," also a Dior insider said its team was "nonplussed as to how the story came about". Hmmm... "nonplussed"?! Meaning they were surprised and confused how this story came about? So in other words, clearly they were NOT in talks with TW or doubtful even Harry for that matter because they would have said otherwise. So the question is, how DID this story that was nothing but a massive lie come about?I suspect that early on (prior to when all the crazy PR blitz went out saying TW was in 'talks' with Dior), TW caught wind that Dior was quietly looking at royals and others for brand deals/the new face of Dior. Really, this HAD to have come directly from WME (or someone in the know) because you can be 100% assured that exclusive brands at this high level have very strict confidentiality agreements and hold this information very closely who they are considering/negotiating with so other brands don't poach before a deal is signed. So after TW found out what Dior was doing, a PR blitz campaign was launched to spin/lie that TW was being considered in talks for a 'Mega Deal' with Dior was created and launched. BUT.... Dior clapped back almost immediately and said NO, it wasn't true. Also in June, WWD (Women's Wear Daily) reported in regard to where the story came from that "The narrative spun by many news outlets was that Markle’s talent agency in Hollywood, William Morris Endeavor, was pursuing a marquee fashion deal in a bid to blunt negative publicity surrounding her and her husband’s strained relationship with the British royal family, and their split from Spotify." So, I read this as a nice way to say that WME 'created' this story to offset the negative publicity. So in other words, it is believed among the media that WME fabricated the story. So with all of that said, THEN we get the story today in Deadline that that H&M believe that RF blocked the Dior deal THAT DIOR CONFIRMED NEVER EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE. So is this WME again with today's fabricated story or is this just TW gone rogue or both? I usually believe TW goes rogue because I can't imagine such a highly well respected firm like WME would ever put out such fabricated stories and spin but I think the truth is now clear. Furthermore, what kind of firm that is supposedly one of the best talent agencies in the world would base a PR campaign on such a blatant fabrication, risking getting caught (see WWD story below) and risking working with the brand and others in the future. Did they not think Dior would immediately call Bullshit? I can't imagine Dior was happy with all of this, especially since deals had yet to be signed at that point and the stories outed that they were in negotiations. The Sun story: https://ift.tt/1VK5Hw4 Wear Daily story: https://archive.ph/kFK1j post link: https://ift.tt/6MUOybu author: Cocokay1234567 submitted: December 16, 2023 at 09:33PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

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layover94 · 2 months

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remembered i can disneypost on here to my heart's content. well.

Very excited to log on tomorrow and see a bunch of twt and youtube reactions to (and informative posts about) today's union march on harbor blvd as hype for the impending union vote on striking. iirc the vote will be on the 19th among 14k dlr union members, out of ~35k total cast members… if you ask me the ratio of unionized cast members should be so much higher and i think that's part of the point of running a march/protest on disneyland's anniversary, to wake up the cast members who are too bought into the lore and magic and Walt's Legacy of it all… i read that today's march intended to go from harbor to the main entrance of disneyland but dlr security and anaheim pd didn't let the protesters onto the esplanade. Lmao. i really hope that the union gains a lot of members and definitively votes for a strike on the 19th bc it's very deserved, it's insane how little cast members make while being expected to perform above and beyond literally any other service worker you've ever met in your life lmao and that gap only gets worse and worse in current year amid budget cuts to entertainment, hours, even concierge and guest complaint services… a drop in cast member service/attitude has been noticeable to us and we literally don't even mind it lmao because in the early 2000s the pay was way better so expecting a crazy disneyfied level of service was more reasonable BUT nowadays there's blatant cost-cutting and evil behaviors everywhere so i don't fucking care that the random cast member bringing me some french fries this year wasn't hyper-courteous and outperforming every mcdonalds worker i've ever met in my life, because in current year i know that they're not even making any more than a donowslave while being held to an exponentially higher standard…

if disney has any hope of maintaining its brand reputation ESPECIALLY parkswise then it better fucking listen to its union members and start improving things. widely-reported low crowds from non-locals and non-diehards this summer should be showing them that they can't keep price-gouging people forever… my last visit a few weeks ago was literally the first time in my ENTIRE LIFE that disneyland closed before 1am in the summer. it was literally like disruptive and disturbing, bc leaving the back of the park at 12am to then meander through the main street shops until 1am has been the habit SINCE I WAS BORN but this year, disney is so desperate for a high profit margin that they're cutting hours, cutting services, hiking prices, etc even during their peak travel times. hello? fuck you? literally anyone can look at your stock price, your box office gross, your ticket prices vs hours served, to determine disney's overall profit margin and yet you still shamelessly act this way. disney adults exist for a REASON and it's because there used to be a standard of service and quality offered to barely-middle-class and up families that gave them unbelievably memorable experiences that made them want to keep coming back and chasing that high for the rest of their lives. i love disneyland because i've loved it since i was 6 years old and most of it hasn't changed since i was 6 years old and in the intervening years i've grown to appreciate with adult eyes the creativity and engineering feats and Also the childish whimsy that has gone into creating the things i've loved ever since i was 6 years old. but when it costs over a hundred fucking dollars to spend one day in the park, when i vividly remember (even as a child with little sense of money!) it costing much less than $100, it just feels like ticket scalping lmao and to know that clearly those price hikes don't even go to the cast members who make the everyday operations of the park as good as they are? instead it all goes to the execs who keep closing and fucking up all my favorite rides? oh i'm out for blood. i truly hope that every single union member strikes and that disneyland SUFFERS immensely trying to stay open and ignore the strike. i hope it's a bloodbath and utterly humiliating for the company. cast members deserve everything, execs deserve nothing

#💀

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starkiller-009 · 1 year

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Hello!! I love love love your arts. I feel like a lot of them have a sense of 'movement' which contrasts a lot of very polished artworks.

I love works with meticulously planned composition, layers, highlights, etc. I love works with a certain kind of loose yet purposeful application of value and colors. (The Two Cakes thing in the fandom). And I noticed that your arts belong to the latter category which I can rarely find!

If you don't mind me asking, do you have any artists or artworks that you're heavily inspired from? Do you draw on a pen-tablet, IPad, or other media? What application are you using? I feel like three questions are already too much for one ask so you don't need to answer them if you don't want to. I enjoy scrolling through your blog either way!

Hiiiiiiiiii dear anon!!! thank you soo much for sending this message! it made my day 🧡🧡🧡 Loose but thoughtful art is what im striving for so its really make me happy to hear that i have some success in that Answering your question i draw using some cheap old model of genius pen-tablet. Bought it 10 years ago as my first device. Still running. Heard a lot of shitty comments about quality of genius tablets at that time, but even more only about Wacom in recent years i think (fuck them. Wtf with pen's tips that are constanty erasing. For who this product is made for. Ew). as for the apps, i use clip paint studio, for studies - heavypaint (great thing). There are AMAZING artists on tumblr who inspire me heavily with their works. like. i follow ~400 ppl here. because i like to stare at art. so. im gonna talk about my favorites! @crowthis - king. queen. i dont know the pronounces sorry. they draw magnificent things i love their style SO much, its such an inspiration. sometimes i just visit their blog to go through art tag and experience all that beauty. (half of their wrks i have downloaded on my desktop) It's loose, quite 'chaotic', but SO atmospheric. The mood, composition, texture, everything. Themes. I like black and white drawings as much as the ones with colours, it so bright and blatant\bold in a way, but it works perfectly, it gives your the right sense of the work. Even tho usually i prefer more calm colours, it makes me go 'wow!' And their works looks really simple and intuitive but as an artist you know that haha no its fcking hard to do things like that. it takes skill and knowledge. loose work is tricky

@frozensoba - idk how much time i could stare at their recent fish drawings like jesus christ. i wish i could do that. i want to be able to do that. my ass is ready to work every time i see it and drawings like these really inspire me to draw simple things and non-humans bc i feel like you can draw beautifully everything that exists. you just need to know how. Colours, texture, rhytm, lines... everything on its place. I love colours especially. Its very gentle kind of harmony going on there, and the palette is huge, intricate.

@nerdyhideoutphilosopher-2 - going crazy over their works. honesty dont know what to say. go look and see. unique voice Artists id like to mention as well: @dynasoar5 - i mean. just go and look at that. i love how loose and messy kind of rendering is but it looks amazing. and overall. simply amazing drawings fuck yes @jadenvargen - just go and look at his works. i see no point in talking. simply beautiful. looks easy but also hard as fuck. the colours are so bright and rich and very bold but somehow everything is right on its place. it leads you where it should. just wow. the skill i respect @snippit-crickit - once again. beautiful. i really love their studies and how they render things, the colours. @sen-art-acc - LINE WORK. LINE WORK. go check it out. LINE WORK!!!! and i simply like how tidy and clean the drawings look like with colours. i cant do stuff like this. i have zero patience to be this accurate and precise. Also if you love loose artwork i should recommend you those artists for sure @shican, @dude-standin i love as well @wuntrum and @cordspaghetti works a lot. I followed both of them because mcr fanart i guess? tho never was into mcr and stayed for the drawings alone Also, if we're speaking about more "pro" (dont like this term either, forgive me) kind of artists i have some huge inspirations as well (tho my art not in any way reminds of them im afraid lmao. but i hope maybe in ten or ok 30 years or more ill be somewhere). There are a ton of artists i like, but its for another post i guess. To much talk. So here we go Sergio Toppi - he's an amazing at working with lines and composition. I have his comic books on my bookshelf. I open it everytime i want to get energy to draw. You cant look at his drawings and NOT to get inspired. He's incredible. The rhytm, the shapes... damn. i can look at his drawings for hours. And he was the main inspiration to work with lines and composition more, to play with it more. I dont have a lot of line-work on this acc (last quiobi drawing, some year\two-old dghda drawings, eugene one) but i actually exercise it a lot. Lines are extremely powerful tool. And as for composition... The shapes, negative spaces, love it. And he's extremely good at working with colour too.

Francis Vallejo - he's illustrations are so good... he's incredible with composition and rhytm his drawings have. Negative spaces, one again.

Anders Zorn - i adore his black and white graphic drawings. Angles, framing, line work. Spent a lot of time looking at his works. Cant get enough of it. The way he draws people, the plot, themes. What he chooses to portray, the way people look, what they do. There is such a special mood to his drawings, there is something extremely psychological about it, isn't there? he's a master im mesmerized by

Bernie Fuchs - composition, rhytm, once again. I love it when you want to look at something for more then 2 seconds, because the rhytm of the drawings leads you into different places and opens its plot in parts. No matter where you look u'll find something interesting and even though there is lot of going on its still not a mess and looks and feels fucking awesome. And i love his colour palettes too. He's very good at setting the mood (check out his less commercial works)

As for the colour here's a few i love. (Though they're still extremely good with everything else)

Hovsep Pushman - the man is a mystery. His work with colours, light and texture is beyond me. Also it has disco elysium vibe to it. I dream of being capable of something like this when im sixty or so (im not gonna be)

Mead Schaeffer - simple but powerful. Looking at his works like eating a tasty ice cream.

same goes to Dean Cornwell - though its a bit more complex, his composing. You need to pay more attention

I'd like to mention one other artist - Jamie Wyeth. his works are something else entirely, i dream of drawing like this one day. Loosiness, themes, mood. Ill probably cry if i see those ones in real life one day, somehow special to my heart, relates

He has these series - "Seven deadly sins". Ive been in love for some time

As for the inspiration drawings on itself - thinking about it im coming back to dragon age tarot cards. Not all of them, but i still go 'jesus i want to draw like this' at some, through years. This one especially.

Soooo Thats it i guess! I mean. I love to talk and talk about art especially. I probably could write ten more posts like this no problem. I actually heavily into landscape painters since... Well. Nature. Ice, oceans, sky. I sadly havent really tried to get into the genre myself, i do not draw lots of backgrounds as you can see. Should work on this probably, life's short. But im always happy to share my fav artists! So hit me up whenever. dm or send an ask! And a beautiful work for the ending

#ask

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the-kings-strumpet · 8 months

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I think the crazy thing about people justifying the plagiarism in Palworld is like, we know Gamefreak employs crunch time. You'd think people would be outraged that artists who are already being exploited by this are having the fruits of their labor be used by another company to make a quick buck (as well as the few designs that are suspect due to resembling Fakemon too closely like Arsox vs Flairees from Pokemon Sage). And yet, because Gamefreak is a bigger company it's suddenly fine for Palworld to steal.

Did we learn nothing from hbomberguy's plagarism video a month ago? Did everyone collectively forget the horror and outrage felt for employees when people found out Sword/Shield was made with crunch time for the first time? Between AI and the reaction to Palworld being it's fans accusing anyone uncomfortable with the blatant ripoffs of being Nintendo bootlickers, it's a crazy time to be an artist rn.

I think what makes it worse is that some Pal designs that aren't complete ripoffs (as far as I am aware anyways), are actually quite decent and I think they look good! Anubis is clearly based off of Lucario, but has enough differences to not be a complete ripoff. You could draw comparisons between Eeveelutions and Nox, but it's still plenty unique. Leezponk could be compared to the Scraggy line since both wear their skin like clothing, but again much like Anubis vs Lucario they're plenty distinct.

Chillet, Woolipop- I could point out a few others, but they seem to be unique to Palworld and look cute enough. The designs that are merely inspired by Pokemon, even if you can immediately go 'Oh that's based on X' without being almost identical (Luxray and Boltmane) with a few differences honestly make the game more frustrating to me on an artistic aspect.

If inspired yet ultimately unique designs like Anubis exist, and seemingly unique designs like Quivern then there is clearly no excuse for other Pals directly stealing from artists- both Fakemon designers and those at Gamefreak. But I guess since Gamefreak has been in hot water for a while people will accept anything as long as its ammo to 'dunk' on it, even at their employees expense. :/ Make it make sense (and sorry for the text wall)!

Oh man never apologize for a wall of text, especially when you’re right! I agree completely, it’s galling for people to have this defensive reaction to plagiarism when hbomberguy JUST kickstarted this huge conversation about plagiarism. I felt like as a community we were getting smarter about plagiarism but the Palworld stuff is very disappointing. The gaming community is notoriously easy to make drop their principles if it’s for a game they really want though (see the Harry Potter game), so it’s not surprising.

Hard hard agree on people dismissing gamefreak as acceptable targets for theft, despite us knowing that they are being exploited. There’s this prevalent idea, especially among AI people but I think even subconsciously among people who aren’t super into ai art, that if certain conditions are met (artist’s work is famous enough, artist makes enough money, artist /company associated with artist has done something people dislike) that art becomes public property, and to these people, Pokemon’s overwhelming success as a franchise makes Pokemon designs public property. They don’t see plagiarizing Pokemon designs as stealing from exploited artists, they see it as the little guy taking crumbs from a rich man’s table. It’s another insidious way that the public devalues creative work, particularly creatives in gaming.

It’s also annoying that people are using Gamefreak’s “refusal” to make games the way fans want as a reason to excuse plagiarism. Kind of a, you weren’t doing anything good with this anyway, so somebody else deserves to take your stuff and make something we want with it, sort of attitude. Another way people devalue creative work and make excuses to see that work as public property. The entitlement is repellant.

There’s probably more I could say but I really need to go eat breakfast lol Thank you for the thoughtful ask!

#asks #palworld #plagiarism #art theft

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notnctu · 4 years

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backseat chronicles - n.jm | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, fluff, lil angst wordcount ➠ 8.5k details ➠ fem!reader, streetracer!jaemin, badboy!jaemin, college!au ━ where Jaemin brings you to his club races as his arm candy. warnings ➠ explicit language, overstimulation, flirty banter, pet names, softdom!jaemin, car sex, praise kink, hittin it raw (y/n on the pill), oral, daddy kink, slight corruption kink, fingering synopsis ➠ There is no reasonable explanation as to why or how you always end up in the backseat of Na Jaemin’s beloved car. Almost routinely, he picks you up around ten in the evening with the stereo blasting the raunchiest lyrics for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. The entire night remains purely friendly, a dabble of flirtatious comments because well, it’s Jaemin for fuck sakes. But all it takes is one suggestive gaze from his dark, lustful eyes and a drop in his voice that rumbles your core to have you climbing over the seats to get to the back. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo ; @yunoyeol ; @lanadreamie ; @ta3ilmoon ;

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! thank you for over 1k notes on this series, im beyond impressed by the amount of attention this got! it really blew up and its so crazy!! i wrote this one with more of a romantic plotline i realized its too hard to keep it pwp with all the story building and characterization i have :)) it’s almost over yall! pls pls leave me feedback im sorry it took so long to write ):

While college lecture rooms are too big to interact with other students, discussion classes are there to ease the difficulty. A classroom for about twenty students from a three hundred person lecture. It’s administered by a clueless TA, who barely began his second term in graduate school.

Unlike lecture, attendance is mandatory for participation points. You show up every time without a fail, so it came as a shock to you when a certain blue haired student finally appeared from the list of absent students.

Na Jaemin. The notorious playboy with looks that kill and partakes in some illegal racing club. It’s as if every person in the room fawns over his aura, Jaemin drips with an inexplicable alluring confidence. You didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he never shows up for class and rumors about how he’s slept with the entire cheer squad.

But he’s drawn to you like a magnet: always sitting in the available spot next to you, asking about your day before the TA arrives, developing an odd staring problem. You don’t feed much into his attention, minding your own business when he starts with his notably flirtatious greeting.

“You just take my breath away, (Y/N).” Jaemin cocks back in his seat with legs stretched wide in an overly comfortable manner. The smug smirk on his face cannot be ignored, he’s doing the absolute most to get you to pay the smallest attention to him.

“I didn’t do anything in particular to do that, Jaemin.” You respond bitterly, pulling out your notes for today’s discussion class. The TA enjoys wasting the first twenty minutes going over the past lecture slides and running through the most obvious topics.

You pay no mind to Jaemin peering over at you with the single handedly most dreamy eyes and smile --- stars shining in his dark orbs and a dazzling twinkle in his wide toothy grin.

“That’s why you’re so amazing. You do nothing and it still leaves me breathless.” His sneaky eyes examine your clothing choice for the long day. On this warm afternoon, the short tank top does nothing to hide much of your skin and the denim shorts that ride up a little too well drive Jaemin insane. And when you cross your legs together, he swallows the spit that pools in the back of his throat.

Your ears catch onto the murmurs of the rest of the class, the midterm is next week. The wretched midterm that is half of your grade dooms you, it is going to take an endless amount of completely undistracted dedicated hours of study--- “On a more serious note, can you help me with this class?”

His voice shatters your inner panic, if anything, adds to the stress that already beats down on your shoulders. You look up to glare at him, but you’re entirely taken aback by the new styling of his hair and the exposure of his tattoos.

The sweet blue cotton candied strands are ruffled lazily above his brows, messy from him constantly running his hand through them. Jaemin sits relaxed in gray sweatpants that are extremely baggy on his slender figure, hands are shoved casually into the pockets.

But what has you staring for longer is the long sleeve of tattoos that wrap around his left arm. Not that you’re surprised that Jaemin has tattoos, let alone a whole sleeve, but this is your first time seeing it as this is the first time he’s come to class without his leather jacket on. Something about the intricate lines and shadowing make Jaemin seem much cooler, almost more attractive.

When you meet his eyes, his lips curl slowly into a sly side smile and he’s practically eating you up under his gaze. He definitely knew that you were staring and what comes next out of his mouth will haunt you for it. “Like what you see, beautiful?”

“I don’t have the time to help you.” The best way out of this situation is to simply ignore it. Jaemin is overly adored and admired by many, he’ll find someone else to help him.

“Jaemin, do you want to study together?” There you go, folks. The random girl snickers with her small huddle of friends in the upper corner of the room, like a crowd of crows, they’re all waiting around for Jaemin to accept her offer so he can be easily integrated into their little group.

However, you watch how his glances bounce between you and her. The most sickly sweet, kind smile is almost too fake to consider it to be genuine. His final choice surprises you, “thank you for offering, but I only want (Y/N)...”

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat as you hope for him to finish his sentence, the drumming of your heart distracting you even more. Jaemin wants you? While the thought is flattering, it puzzles you greatly.

“... to help me with my studies.” Jaemin finishes his sentence after a rather long pause, his eyes finally resting upon your figure shying away and finding any way to seem uninterested in the conversation. “Is that going to be okay, (Y/N)?”

“What do I get out of it?” You can’t believe that you are actually considering it. But this is a man that only wants you to help him. Jaemin is an impossible, yet charming man and whatever comfortable attire he is wearing today is really aiding in his request.

He lights up, ears perked up and eyes attentive. His hands fold together on the empty desk, leaning forward towards you. “Dates with me.”

Rolling your eyes, you groan slightly at the arrogant answer. “I don’t care about that. I want something that benefits me.”

“I’ll make sure you’re well fed.” There is a tiny plea in his tone, a remarkable shift from his cool aura. “What do you want? I’ll give it to you.”

“I guess I can’t turn down free food…” there is a hang in your sentence as you contemplate what chaos you’re about to dive into and what life changes are about to be explored with Jaemin.

“Before you agree,” Jaemin chuckles, “there’s one more thing I’d like you to do for me.”

You’re quick to shoot a daggering glare at the overly enthusiastic boy, “why do I suddenly owe you favors?”

“Because I say so.” He deadpans, a chill running down your spine at the deep dip in his octave. The playfulness that was present all this time suddenly vanished, a serious look that intimidates you, but sexy enough to where it erupts something in your core. He blinks at you with dark clouded eyes and you nervously anticipate what he is going to ask next of you.

“Accompany me to my races.” He speaks lowly as if he’s afraid of someone else eavesdropping in the conversation.

Here’s your issue with that request: you’ve never really been part of that scene. You’ve lived pretty mundanely, even in college. It’s simple, you like to stay within the boundaries of what you enjoy to do and what you have to do. But you’re always open minded and willing to try something to determine whether or not you’re fond of it.

Partying and drinking copious amounts of alcohol weren’t your favorite things to do, especially to the point of forgetting your nights. You wanted to remember your nights as much as you do your days. The youth isn’t here for long, why waste them by blacking out in the middle of a large party? Also, whoever said that alcohol goes down smooth is a blatant liar.

Illegal racing could possibly be an extension of people who participate in those things, which is fine, but does place a crippling fear of coming off too boring or unrelatable inside your nervous system. But just because you don’t do those things doesn’t mean that you’re not as cool, right?

Since when was your status based nonsensically on how often you spend your nights in socializing crowds full of sweaty bodies and how much cheap booze you can drink? It had to be all in your head --- you’re just dreading any awkward socializing with people who race cars when it’s absolutely illegal.

“Why me?” It’s a genuine answer, possibly stemming from your insecurities of not being on the same level of charm as Jaemin exudes. You’re not a fool, you’re well aware of the many different people he comes across on campus so, why you?

Jaemin doesn’t hesitate to answer, “why not you? You’re just my type. Hot and smart. Cute and a little shy. The greatest duality, if you ask me.” His words seem so genuine that it has you believing these things about yourself as well.

Nonetheless, you’re taken aback by his observations and his choice of descriptions. “We’ve barely ever talked. How can you say these things so confidently about me?”

Jaemin slightly pulls your chair closer to his own and you yelp in response to the sudden movement and lack of space that separates the two of you. He leans into you, breath hot on your skin and obvious eyes darting between your shocked ones and pretty lips.

“So let’s get to know each other. I can already tell that it’ll just make me fall for you even more.” His finger lightly traces your jaw, stopping at your chin to give it a small lift to meet his focus. Jaemin loves how you squirm underneath his intensity, you’re too cute to let go. “Plus, my boys will love you. I’m sure of it.”

The TA rushes in quickly and is utterly distressed from the traffic that had pushed back his schedule. “Sorry, I’m late everyone.” He rummages through his things to find his notes, but groans to see that the monitor of the computer is off. It’s going to take him another ten minutes to input all his credentials.

But your attention doesn’t stray from Jaemin, especially with his delicate touch at the bottom of your chin. His gentle smile enacts nothing but a soft love, and a peak of interest. Na Jaemin, the one and only. He’s like an adventure waiting to be explored, an open bottle of fun for you to take a sip.

“What would I have to do?” Your voice comes out shaky.

“Just be there as your pretty self.” Jaemin comes off as the type to always have women around him, “you’ll be my lucky charm. For some reason, I always feel better around you.”

The escalation of this conversation is possibly more action you’ve had to handle in the last two years. Jaemin drops your chin and falls back into his own seat with his arms crossed. He is about to turn your life upside down and whether that be a good or bad thing, you don’t mind. You’re excited for the new thrills that come with being by Na Jaemin’s side.

Jaemin’s hot hands lift your shirt quickly, throwing it towards the front seat of his car. His lips return to your soft neck, nibbling at your skin tenderly and with love bites that will remind you of his gentle touches. The streetlamps outside flicker impatiently as you feel the eagerness soaking your panties and he lifts you up to take them off.

“My sweet girl,” his voice is light and airy that it becomes almost lost in the heat of the car. “You’re excited tonight. Did you miss me?” The devilish smirk can be felt upon your collarbones.

“Yes, I haven’t seen you for almost five days.” A peculiar whine settles in your pout and Jaemin’s low growl sends shivers down your spine. The only barrier are his own tight jeans and your hands are fast at unbuckling his belt. Jaemin relaxes back, forearms resting on your soft thighs and watching the neediness in your expression and the speed of your hands. He smiles to himself seeing you this way, wanting him so badly that you can’t wait to get him out of his jeans.

Throughout the two months that you and Jaemin finally became well acquainted, he’s fallen inexplicably into your trance. His friends made it very clear to you that he doesn’t keep the same girl around for more than a few weeks. But he’s brought you to almost every race so far and despite the initial shock of your appearance after the third time, you didn’t let the passing comments phase you.

Why he hasn’t replaced you is unknown and truthfully, there is no reasonable explanation how you always wind up in the backseat of his car by the end of the night. It’s become part of your routine. Jaemin picks you up around ten in the evening with raunchy lyrics blasting out of his personalized car for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. More often than not, Jaemin has food ready for you to devour and a cozy blanket for your exposed legs.

You’ve learned a bit more about him through your backseat chronicles. Jaemin is possibly one of the only people in your life with a heart bigger than his own body, while also being as carefree as he can. Oddly enough, he cares about you as his friend and as his companion. Not to mention the ridiculous, yet endearing nickname, “Lucky Charm”, that he has coined upon you.

Jaemin has been the best adventure you’ve had in ages. While he takes you on intoxicating thrill rides on the leather of his back seats, every street race has been more than unforgettable. He shares one of the same values as you --- wanting to remember the present. You both know that you’ll remember each other enough for it to transcend into your next lives.

You have him to thank for your youthful experiences, to learn and dive into this new found world of mischief under his care. Jaemin treats you extraordinarily well, he’d never hurt a soul. He showers you in appraisal and carefulness, he’s attentive to your behavior and remembers your favorite things. And he reminds you almost every time you see him that he’s so grateful to have you in his life.

“Have you been touching yourself?” Jaemin’s bold question catches you off guard as it causes your hands to shyly hover over his unzipped jeans. When you glance up at him with soft innocent eyes, as if you’re guilty of a crime and wish to beg for forgiveness, his facial expression is serious and intimidating.

“Continue, baby. You can be honest with me. Daddy isn’t going to punish you if you did.” His tone is sweet and light, but his eyes are dark and piercing. His lips are drawn tightly into a thin line, no curve in sight.

His finger grazes down your cheek gently as he admires your slightly parted lips and the way your eyelashes dance every time you blink. However, his other hand urges you to continue your previous action of getting him out of his restrictive jeans.

You nod, while rubbing his erection through his gray briefs that hug him so tightly. There’s a sharp intake of breath when you pull the waistband of his underwear down and his cock stands against his lower abdomen. “Do you think of me when you do?” His voice gets caught in his throat when you take him in your warm hand.

“Always.” You kiss his jawline and fix your position above his dick. Your slick pussy presses down against his shaft, coating it in your juices and rubbing his tip to your clit for a delicious sensation. Jaemin groans, his gaze dipping between your lower bodies and back to your face.

“My sweet (Y/N) thinks about her daddy fucking her senseless while she touches herself.” Jaemin chuckles darkly, grinding his hips harder against you. There is a shift in the atmosphere as he grips your hips and slowly enters your dripping hole. “That’s cute, baby.”

You hold onto his shoulders as his raw dick fills you to the brim, stretching you out like past nights. Gasps leave your body when he starts pulling all the way out to only have you sink back down. “Daddy, please just fuck me.”

Jaemin picks up his speed, knowing that you have a quiz due at midnight that you scolded him for forgetting earlier. The grip on his shoulders tighten as this man navigates your body all too well. He knows you like the back of his hand, fucking the spot that causes your body to lose control.

One of his favorite sights in the world is the view of your lips parted open with loud whimpers falling effortlessly. Your eyes roll back into your skull as his hips roll deeper into your walls, the tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

“You’re always the best girl for me, aren’t you?” His hand wraps around your neck when you throw your head back, choking you lightly and your walls grip around his shaft. “I know you’re close. Cum on my dick, baby. Be a good girl.”

Jaemin’s tattoos shine under the moonlight when you peer down at him. His hooded eyes are intoxicated by the pure image of your fucked out body and he’s truly in love. “My good girl, come on baby.” He continues to encourage, his other hand giving you a smack on your ass when he drills mercilessly into you.

The familiar bubbling occupy your lower half and the feeling of release unravels all so suddenly. You fall forward, Jaemin lets go of your neck to hold your limp body close to him, your head on his shoulder as your orgasm overtakes you. He grinds his hips into you to prolong your shaking climax, cooing sweet nothings in your ear as his other hand takes a whole handful of ass to squeeze.

He bottoms out, filling you up to the rim to cum deep inside of you. Jaemin moans loudly, his cum spilling all over your walls. You two sit like that until he grows soft, pampering your temples with gentle kisses. Jaemin remembers to take care of you, no matter what.

While you’re in his arms, he reaches for sanitary wipes in the side compartments. He lifts your hips slowly to pull out and you sigh at the emptiness. Gently, he swipes at the dripping cum from your pussy and makes sure that you’re all cleaned up before getting dressed.

“So, you want to tell me why you’ve been MIA for the past five days?” Rolling your eyes, you pull up your panties and fix the last decency of your hair.

“Car meets that are too far for me to take you.” His thumb rubs your chin lovingly and Jaemin’s eyes are so bright and mesmerizing, you find that it’s hard to look him in the eye at times.

“Not because you’ve been hooking up with other girls?” There is a tinge of sarcasm that laces your rhetorical question and though you don’t expect him to give you an actual answer, you take note of his reaction. Jaemin raises an eyebrow, clearing his throat and looking out the window away from you.

“And if I was?” Truthfully, that question hurt you more than your’s hurt him. His hand rests underneath his chin as he patiently waits for your answer. He admires the clear night sky and the rundown abandoned liquor store that stands all by itself.

“What do you want me to say?” Question after question, a stiff tension replaces the sex of the car.

“I’ll take you back now.” Jaemin crawls back to the driver’s seat, completely ignoring your confused figure. He has always been quite like this: going aloof whenever he wants to dodge something. However, it’s been happening more frequently the past times you two have been seeing each other.

The truth is simple, yet entirely complex at the same time. You and Jaemin aren’t dating, despite always going out together and him posessively introducing you to other men. You and Jaemin aren’t dating.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop you from growing feelings for him and you can tell that this happens too often for the attractive boy. He can’t have a fuckbuddy that won’t fall head over heels for him. But who could really blame you? Even if all this time Jaemin was pretending that he cared about you, he still pampers you like a princess; he still tells you he does.

But when it comes to discussion about advancing into something more, he hides and grows silent. This has you wondering, maybe this entire thing to him is all sex? And he can’t love you back the way you do.

No one knows his heart, not even himself. He’s never wanted to complicate his life, it’s always been about two things: racing and having fun. There is no easy way to explain it all, the thoughts that flood his mind and heart, so he chooses every way to ignore it. Overall, he’s genuinely lost. You are one source of stability in his life that he isn’t willing to let go, ever. But just because he won’t let you go, doesn’t mean that you won’t take the chance to leave when you’re fed up with him.

This has him wondering, how far can he push before he pushes you too far?

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just walk.” Tonight is unsettling, it usually doesn’t end like this. Jaemin locks the car doors and turns around to reach for your hand. “Jaemin, open the door.”

“I want you to say that you hate when I sleep with other people.” Jaemin confesses all too wildly as his hand lightly squeezes around your wrist. “And I want you to mean it.” He’s only speaking words of truth that haven’t had the time to process in his own thoughts.

“I hate when you sleep with other people.” And you do mean it. You mean it more than anything you’ve ever said to this man. Jaemin just sighs, bringing your wrist to his lips for a lasting kiss.

“Can I drive you home?” Jaemin asks softly, eyes dipping down to the leather seats and avoiding all need for eye contact.

“Yes, Jaemin.” He pulls you back into the passenger seat and drapes the soft blanket over your exposed legs. “Hopefully, I still have time to take my quiz.”

“Can I come inside?” Jaemin coolly turns his marble wheel to reverse out of the parking space, a hand resting on the shoulder of your seat as he does a double take behind him for any pedestrians, even if you two are far out in the middle of nowhere and there isn’t anyone around; Jaemin knows you have the hots for him when he does that specific move.

“What do you mean? You’ve already cum inside.”

It’s the sound of disappointment as his tongue tsks at you and he flicks lightly at your forehead. He steps on the acceleration, revving the annoying engine that roars throughout the peaceful night. The multicolored lights illuminate around his stereo and at your feet, creating the Rainbow Road right out of Mario Kart.

Jaemin isn’t like the others who pay close attention to the details of his car. His motto goes, “if I like it, I’m going to have it.” Whether or not anything matches goes beyond his worries.

In some ways, his car is a mirror of his own personality --- wild and free, colorful and welcoming. And his skills as a driver? Safe, no matter how far the speedometer goes, Jaemin always makes you feel safe.

“I mean come inside your room for aftercare. You know how much I hate leaving you without a proper cuddle.” He pouts and almost immediately his cute baby tone comes out with his beg. Almost subconsciously, Jaemin lays his right palm open facing up to invite yours in. Almost routinely, you lace your hands to complete his hold. Getting Jaemin to smile has never been easier as his hold grows tighter.

“You can’t stay over tonight though. My housemates are doing some Single Girls Only house event tomorrow and it starts immediately when we wake up.” You laugh as the ridiculous words fill the air.

“And you’re participating in that?” Jaemin mindlessly asks and you’re unable to differentiate his implications from the question. Is he asking because the idea is horrendously nothing you’d like to do or he’s implying that you’re not single?

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sounding rather harsher than intended, Jaemin finally realizes how poorly he had worded his previous question. Yet, a part of him feels disappointment whirling in his chest and a desire to feel wanted by you.

“Doesn’t seem like something you’d like: wallowing in your singleness.” He chuckles, remaining lighthearted and playful.

“I really don’t.” Jaemin brings your knuckles up to his lips for a lingering kiss, his eyes darting quickly on the road ahead now that you’ve entered the metropolitan areas and his speed drops significantly to avoid getting ticketed.

“I’ll come pick you up. Instead of being single tomorrow, you’ll be on a date.” When you turn to examine his facial expression, the serious tension in his jawline and focused eyes alarm you. Your stomach twists into knots and if he couldn't already tell, your palms grow sweaty at his offer.

“That’s such a slap in the face to them.” Pulling your hand away from his, you cross your arms and lean your head against the cold window. “I don’t think I can do that to them.”

“I have a race tomorrow.” He starts, his head tilting over at you with his round gorgeous begging eyes, “at least, come to that with me.”

“Okay, but only because I want to see Haechan.” As if it wasn’t moments ago, Jaemin was the one balls deep in you and now you’re spewing enthusiasm for another man. It’s all a joke, a way for you to conceal your undying attraction for Jaemin.

You still remember the first time you met the sunshine that is Haechan and the jealousy that seeped from Jaemin’s words when he noticed the exchange of flirtation. Haechan is someone you’d knowingly gravitate towards: a man with a loud personality that just knows how to conduct every personality in the room. And at that moment, Jaemin couldn’t tell if being more observant was a good or bad thing.

Jaemin never saw himself as outgoing as his other friends, staying more kept in his own circle, but he had the confidence to fake it. He’s bold, rather impulsive and slightly narcissistic, Jaemin knows how to use his strengths very well.

However, when he saw the soft smirk on Haechan’s face and your shy mannerisms, a small tinge in his chest ignited a died out flame. He didn’t realize it before, but that was the very start of his long tumble of feelings for you.

“Do you say those things to purposefully get me jealous?” Jaemin rests his hand on your thigh, giving it a harsh squeeze. His eyes never leave the road and his tone reverts back to his dominant tone.

“Well, are you jealous?” It’s like you two dance in circles, answer questions with a question does not stop.

And as bratty as your tone is, you don’t expect the quick “yes” that answers back and the smoldering look he gives you briefly before focusing back on the drive.

“Then good.” You huff, ready to hop out of the car after the odd, yet sensual tension. Jaemin pulls up to your house and double parks the car to lean in for a nightly goodbye kiss.

“You’re not coming in?” You try to read his facial expressions, but he hides his emotions too perfectly.

His lips curl into a smile before saying, “I think it’s better I cool off tonight.” And you mindlessly give him a peck, but he holds your face to deepen it. Through the kiss, you can feel the neediness by the way Jaemin shoves his tongue into your mouth. The taste of lust against your palette is difficult to ignore, but your academically responsible mind screams at you about your forgotten quiz.

Your hand lightly taps at his chest and he pulls away, his eyes drinking up your swollen lips. “I have a quiz, Jaemin.”

“I know, sorry. It’s just so easy to get lost in you.” Jaemin kisses your cheek once more before you exit. You smile back at him as his words have grown a strong effect on you lately. Bidding him goodbye, he wishes you sweet dreams as he patiently makes sure you’re fully inside your house.

“Is the music too loud?” Jaemin checks over at your hunched figure in the passenger seat. You’re diligently flipping through your thick textbook, a yellow highlighter in one hand and the other comfortably holding Jaemin’s.

The worst part of college is the never ending midterms that are given at any time. Studying in his car isn’t a rare sight, if anything it is more expected than you not doing anything related to your academics. But Jaemin genuinely doesn’t mind, even being mindful about his own actions to ensure an optimal studying space for you.

He really is an ideal guy. Like his first promise, he keeps you well fed and never once asks you for any monetary pay back. Jaemin adjusts the car temperature before you even step into the vehicle, knowing that you prefer wearing less clothes rather than more. Though he isn’t academically responsible, he still makes the effort to try and understand enough information to pass his classes.

The sole flaw would be the lack of open communication. It’s genuinely difficult for you to read his emotions or intentions. Jaemin always has a dazed look in his eyes whenever he looks at you, and it’s an internal fight about whether or not you’re being delusional.

“Music is fine, honey.” The mindless use of a pet name slips from your lips, but your concentration on neoliberalism and globalization doesn’t allow for you to notice.

Nevertheless, Jaemin catches on immediately to the usage. While he showers you in ridiculous nicknames, you’re not one to do so. “Honey?”

“Yes?” You answer back carelessly, not entirely actively listening to him as you highlight an important concept in your book.

“No, you called me honey.”

Looking up from your page, you blink at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. “I did?”

Jaemin chuckles and finally pulls into the overly crowded parking lot, a whole mass of fanboys cheering at the arrival of his flashy vehicle. Everyone just loves Jaemin.

This familiar scene plays like a reel --- several high beams cast light under the dark sky due to the lack of functioning street lamps, dizzy multicolored cars that blaze the tracks, and the all too distinct smell of musky cologne in the chilly air. Oh, and the wide eye admirable stares when you get out of the car.

“Hi, you’re stunning.” A bold new recruit blinks at you in complete awe and awkwardly clears his throat once he realizes his rash comment.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him, then at how you plan on handling the situation. You’re flattered, nonetheless, but know that Jaemin didn’t bring you here to flirt with other men. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy your membership in the Ridin’ Club.”

The gracefulness in your delicate voice has the youthful recruit swooning and subtly giddy as he runs off to join a group of others that have been eying you across the parking lot. Jaemin casually drapes his leather jacket over your exposed shoulders, knowing the temperature change is going to result in you most likely catching a cold and because you never bring a jacket despite his plea.

“The power you hold.” Jaemin winks at you before pulling you into a larger crowd to socialize with more impressionable recruits.

“Ah, so you’re (Y/N)!” The stranger is unrecognizable, but you giggle to acknowledge his confident statement. “We haven’t met before, but Jaemin was talking about you the other night at our motorcycle meet.”

Your eyes light up, as if you’ve unlocked a new fun fact of Na Jaemin. “You drive a motorcycle too?” You’re truly shocked at the talent of this man.

Jaemin snakes his arm around your lower waist to draw you closer to his side. “Yeah, but I can’t fuck you in a motorcycle, can I?”

Before the other men can comment on the obvious sexual tension that Jaemin created, he leans in to whisper into your ear. “Actually, I can, but we’ll save our decency from unwanted exposure.” His hot breath grazes against the shell of your ear and you just know where you two are going to end up tonight.

“Bro, you guys probably fuck in the backseat of his car.” One of them chimes recklessly, punching at each others’ chest playfully as if he made a decent joke.

“Why don’t you stay to find out?” Jaemin retorts and the grip on your hip becomes tighter. You’re too flustered to add much into this odd form of competitive banter, distracted by none other than the way Jaemin keeps glancing over at you with a delicious gleam in his eyes.

“So what? You don’t care about us now?” You’d know that bratty tone from anywhere as Lee Haechan pushes past everyone else to rush over to the both of you.

“Aw, are your feelings hurt?” Jaemin sticks his tongue out at his friend before cordially sharing a handshake with him.

“Just slightly.” Haechan looks over at you with a wide grin and playful eyes, “hello, my pretty girl.”

“Drop the possessives, Haechan.” Jaemin rolls his eyes with an irritable twitch on his lips.

He hates how obviously jealous he gets. It’s something too difficult for himself to control, he’s exhausted his efforts to bite his tongue whenever it comes to other people’s flirtations. The thought of someone else calling you theirs doesn’t sit well with him.

“I understand your jealousy, Jaem. If someone was flirting with (Y/N), I wouldn’t be able to stand it either.” Haechan fixes the falling jacket on your shoulders. “But she can handle herself, I know those pretty lips have a mind of their own.” His gaze drops momentarily, yet obvious enough for you to grow shy at how strong Haechan is coming off tonight.

“Stop trying to corrupt her, that’s my job.” Jaemin playfully pushes at Haechan’s chest and they both break out laughing.

“I haven’t said one thing and you’re both talking about me as if I’m not here.” Your small pout is literally the cutest thing to Jaemin. He physically has to stop himself from planting the sweetest kiss on it.

It’s blatantly clear that you’re hot stuff. You’re the perfect example of a head turner, your captivating aura has its ability to suffocate those around you. However, Jaemin has seen all sides of you, but overall finding you so entirely cute. And oddly enough, Jaemin has a knack for cute things.

“Is that (Y/N) I hear?” Huang Renjun engulfs you in a hug, showing clear affection and doesn’t mind doing so. “How did your project go?”

“It went well. You accomplish a lot when you don’t procrastinate.” Renjun gleams at your statement and if Jaemin is delusional enough, he’d probably mistaken the twinkle in his eyes for infatuation instead of admiration.

“You’re so responsible, why are you messing with Jaemin?” Renjun sighs and though his question is more of a joke, there is some truth behind his words.

Your friendship with his friends differ immensely compared to other girls who have come around. Like Jaemin had said before, his boys were going to like you and they do, a lot. Sometimes making it obvious that you’re too good for him.

Jeno comes up from the side, an unidentifiable bruise on his neck and a new cut on his brow. Lee Jeno being such a rough character, his appearance speaks well about how his day has been.

But when he lays his eyes on you, it’s as if all his pain is replaced with joy and security. “(Y/N)! I haven’t seen you in so long!” The enthusiastic boy rushes over to greet you with a warm smile.

“I’m pretty sure I was here a week ago.” You laugh, but welcome him in your arms for a tender friendly hug and pat his head out of habit.

“It’s been a week?! That’s so long.” Jeno narrows his eyes at Jaemin and flicks his forehead.

“Ow!” Jaemin exclaims while rubbing the pain away. “You act like she doesn’t go to the same school as us and therefore, can see her any time you want to.” The tone in Jaemin’s voice raises some eyebrows as they all exchange glances to each other before bursting into laughter.

“Like your jealous ass would allow for that?” Haechan remarks and Jaemin doesn’t outwardly react. However, Jaemin’s hand is squeezing you so tight that you’re more than certain he’s bothered by the comment.

“Oh, stop it. You all know I’m Team Jaemin. He does have the most wins this past month.” You only know that through Jaemin’s proud boasting, anything else in the racing world is unknown to you.

Jaemin situates you in between his legs as he slightly sits on the hood of his car. His arms wrap around your middle and chin rests on your shoulder. Public display of affection isn’t a problem for him, and you learned much earlier that Jaemin can’t keep his hands off of you.

Renjun scoffs at your whimsical fact, in absolute disbelief. “It hurts more hearing you say it. I’m getting my car upgraded, but once it’s done, I’m going to blaze his ass on the tracks.”

“Are you racing today?” Jeno asks the blue haired fellow that clings onto you like a koala.

“Yeah, against a newbie. Apparently he’s really good, so I’m not too sure I’ll win.” Jaemin mumbles into your hair.

“You say that every time, yet you win!” Renjun crosses his arms, weight shifting to his left leg as he pops his hip out. There is always a sense of competition between anyone with Renjun.

Jaemin perks up behind you and when you turn around in his arms, you’re face to face with a beaming smile. “That’s because I have you.” Eyes lock with yours, he isn’t saying that directed to Renjun. Na Jaemin has you wrapped around his pinky, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach are too hard to ignore.

“Alright, lovebirds. Get in your car and let’s start this shit.” Haechan groans and claps his hands to draw the crowd’s attention. Cupping them around his mouth, he roars into the starry night, “let’s roll!”

During the race, Jaemin’s number one priority is to keep you safe. While you’ve sat in his car for a number of times now, it’s different once the loud bang goes off and he’s hitting 100 mph. Tonight’s track is much more dangerous, with twists and turns that can have the vehicle flying weightlessly if he’s not careful.

“You trust me, right?” Jaemin has both hands on the wheel and the engine rumbling as you both anticipate the start of the race.

Spectators watch on the sidelines as if it’s the ultimate battle, but Jaemin doesn’t pay them much mind. He’s more concerned about you instead. “Of course. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. You’ve proven yourself that you’re an excellent driver, so let’s win this.”

Jaemin smirks at your encouraging words, feeling a warmth spread across his chest. “I’ll tap out any time you want me to, okay?”

You nod and the initial whip of the car is so intense that you didn’t even register the sound off. It’s not your first race, but it’s been awhile since the last one. When you adjust to the pressure, the lanes in front of you cause a slight queasiness in your stomach.

It’s a two lane windy road that wraps around the mountain side and Jaemin happens to be in the outer lane. All it takes is a second of lost control and you two will hit the metal railings that guard the cliff below. Despite your inner panic, Jaemin guides you through the pooling anxiety that leaves you restless.

“(Y/N), look up and out the window. We’re coming up on the cliff side view, I’ve always wanted to bring you here.” Your eyes land on the dazzling glitter that dances on the ripples of the lake. It’s so vast, the moon high up in the sky is reflected on the water below. It’s a romantic scene of melancholy and bliss. Suddenly, you feel at peace in the middle of this high speed race.

“It’s beautiful, Jaem.” You whisper calmly and he’d reach for your hand to hold, but races take too much wheel control. And he’d turn to look at you, but races take too much concentration on the road ahead.

But throughout every obstacle, he hears the gentleness and the solidarity in your cadence in the midst of all the high stress. He, too, feels peace. He feels calm knowing that you’re simply by his side, even in the face of danger. So, he can finally admit to himself… he genuinely developed feelings for you.

Before you know it, you’re thrusted side to side from the sharp turns and the adrenaline kicks in when the other racer catches up right next to Jaemin. “Fuck,” Jaemin curses underneath his breath and steps harshly on the acceleration. “Baby, I’m going to go a bit faster so hold onto something.” He warns and your hand finds the grab handle. It’s neck and neck at this point.

Usually, you squeeze your eyes shut to avoid becoming too overwhelmed by the sights in front of you. Tonight is different, not entirely knowing why, you’re observing every element that circles around the perimeter.

The finish line is up ahead, but there is no sign that the other racer is slowing down. Then, you see it: the fatal mistake that can cost you both of your lives if you didn’t catch it. “Jaemin, watch out!” You yelp when the other car inches dangerously close, your warning allows Jaemin to make a controlled swerve away from a possible hit.

Jaemin shakes his head and tsks at the recklessness. “Now I know why he’s good. It’s foul play.” He blows his bang out of his eyes and casually says, “thank you for warning me. This is why I need you by my side.”

He makes it to the finish line barely before the other, winning the race by half a second. Jaemin brakes smoothly, tire marks scrapping the concrete below, and you both exit the car to celebrate with everyone else.

But before the mass of eager shouting men make their way over to you two, Jaemin hurries to your side to pull you into a steamy, rewarding kiss. The scene is just like the movies; his hand on your lower back and yours on his chest lightly. His lips taste like triumph, like he had won more than just a simple race against a random stranger. He’s won the best person he could ever have.

You two fled the scene after cussing out the other racer. It was a rare sight to see: Jaemin being all bothered and angry, practically fuming after scrambling back into the driver’s seat. However, your mind had mischievous plans of its own and all it took was one look from his hooded eyes for you to announce that you wanted him --- badly.

Back in your usual abandoned parking lot, Jaemin pauses before following you to the back seats. With the engine off and the dead of the night being absolute silent, the tension remains thick around you two. “(Y/N),” Jaemin is about to confess something he never thought he’d admit. He turns to you sitting in the middle seat with just your panties on and a curious look on your face.

His heart burns and despite being so incredibly aroused, he controls his urges enough to be able to say, “I’m into you.”

“I know you’re into me, that’s how we ended up like this in the first place.” You giggle cluelessly to his words, still not understanding the odd shift in mood and intentions. It’s always his unclear, messy intentions.

Though he can’t entirely figure out his puzzle pieces, he has plenty to connect the dots. “I like you. I want to be in a relationship with you and call you my girlfriend.”

You’re stunned. Did Jaemin just confess to you as you sit in your panties ready to fuck? This softness is different from the sides you’ve seen of him. It’s similar to a lost bunny, wandering grasslands to find a purpose. He looks so fragile, one intense stare and he’d crumble. This softness is vulnerability.

“So do it.” The boldness catches him off guard, but switches on the dominance in him. “If you want me, come show it.”

He climbs over the middle console to push you into the leather seats. “Not acting shy anymore, are you?” Practically ripping your shirt off of you, he cups your breast lightly and flicks at your nipples. Your immediate reaction results in a rush of wetness down your core.

“Before I forget,” sitting up, you share a passionate kiss that you’ve held back long enough. You give it every ounce of feeling you have for him. “If it isn’t obvious enough, I like you too.”

“It’s obvious, baby.” Kissing your nose, he wraps a hand around your throat to lightly push you back down. “But hearing you say it out loud makes me happy.” Jaemin smirks, hand still choking you gently and pampering your jawline with soft kisses.

His free hand reaches down into your dripping panties, circling your clit with your wetness. The sensation causes you to whimper for more. “Daddy, give it to me.” You wiggle in his palm, knowing that the nickname is more than effective.

“My sweet (Y/N) wants to get fucked?” Jaemin rolls your underwear off and rids himself of his own bottoms.

“Yes, please.” Through the darkness, his hard dick stands proudly. Jaemin lines himself up as he thrusts into you without another second of hesitation. He waits for you to adjust to his size, his tip barely grazing your sweet spot. “Fuck…”

“You take me so well, my pretty baby.” Jaemin starts moving his hips, slowly at first to build a rhythm. Taking your legs, he presses them into your chest to fuck you at a deeper angle. And you feel him practically in your guts, his cock pumping against your walls deliciously and bumping into your g-spot. “Do you want more of me?”

Your train of thought is in utter shambles and whatever Jaemin is saying to you barely processes. You’re overwhelmed by a pleasure that fills every system, every part of your body. To answer him, you let out an incoherent noise of approval.

Jaemin pulls your hips down while thrusting forward into you, maximizing every inch of his strokes. This single action causes you to scream and grip onto the headrest. “Who knew my sweet girl could be so fucking dirty?” Jaemin chuckles darkly, his cadence dropping several decibels. “When I first met you, I wanted to ruin you.”

All of his filthy words edge you closer to your release as he continues to repeat his previous motion. He holds your hips in place to grind into you, the feeling of his tip rubbing your walls has your eyes rolling back. “Do you want to cum, (Y/N)?”

“Yes!” You yell, the tight ball in your lower abdomen is bound to break any minute. “I want to cum so badly, please.” You beg and moan, the arch in your back lifts you from the seat of the car. Jaemin snaps his hips into you, drilling you quickly to reach your high. And you break. An euphoric cry fills the air as your walls clench around his length. You hear the extra wetness create a slick noise, but Jaemin isn’t done with you yet.

“You wanted to cum so fucking badly. I’ll reward you with one more for being such a good girl for me.” His thumb flicks at your clit and you convulse into spasms from the sensitivity. Your violently shaking legs can’t hold themselves up anymore and Jaemin rests them on his shoulders. He lines kisses along your ankle as the pleasure overtakes you.

“I don’t think I can do it.” You whine, your fingers twisting and toes curling.

“You are going to try, okay baby?” He coos, but it’s most definitely a demand. He sits back on his knees to pick up more speed, fucking endlessly into your swollen pussy and thumb rubbing fast strips against your bud.

“I’m going to snap, Jaem.” You cry, tears rimming your eyes and before you know it, a second wave hits you. Your second orgasm is ruinous and has you squirming around to regain some sense of control.

“Oh fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Jaemin slows down as your walls grip around him again, tighter this time. “I’m going to fill you up with cum,--- watch it drip out of you.” He grunts while releasing into you, his dick twitching and spraying your insides with white.

He pulls out as hot, white cum spills from your pussy. You take this moment to catch your breath and relax your legs. However, Jaemin coats his two fingers and shoves the cum back into you. “Jaemin!” You exclaim at the sudden intrusion.

He curls them into your plushy walls and finger fucks you into another oblivion. “Wait, again?” Your hands wrap around his wrist, but Jaemin moves too fast for you to catch it.

You’re a moaning mess again, louder than before. Jaemin leans down and flicks his tongue against your overstimulated bundle of nerves. Your back arches automatically and a low animalistic scream rises from your throat.

He observes your body lines underneath the moonlight and the last remaining light the broken street lamps have to offer. Your face contours and you’re so far out into ecstasy that you don’t notice how intensely Jaemin watches you lose yourself.

“It feels too good!” With one last thrilling orgasm, you almost pass out and you see small stars of dizziness. He soaks up every last bit of your cathartic reaction and festers a small sense of pride that he can make you feel all this pleasure.

“Such a good girl. You’re beyond impressive, baby.” Jaemin pulls his fingers out to lick them clean and finds some wipes to help you out of your sticky situation.

“Now that you’re my girlfriend, can we cuddle at any time now? Not just as after care.” He peers up at you and the one word enacts a burning warmth to spread across your chest. That is the best nickname he can call you by.

“I think the Singles Girls Only house event is still going on, but after that, yes a million times.” You laugh and wrap your arms around him into a big loving hug.

Jaemin feels right at home. All the long years of living carelessly and wild, he’s finally found someone worth the extra mile. While Jaemin was a thriving adventure to be explored, you were his comfort to run back to.

It is through the intimacy of your backseat chronicles that Jaemin was able to fall deeper for you. You’re his lucky charm, for some reason, he always feels better around you.

#neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct smut #jaemin #nct #jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #na jaemin #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream smut #nct imagines #nct dream series #ridinclub

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stxleslyds · 3 years

Note

You always seem down on the idea of the Batfam. I mean, it is hard to take seriously when writers make Bruce hostile or downright abusive towards his kids, or when Batfam members never interact. But do you think the concept itself is good, and it's just been the victim of bad writing? Or do you think the Batfam is a bad idea that can never work?

Hi there Anon! Thank you for the ask!

Hmm, this is a difficult question. Maybe I can answer this better if I do it in parts because the concept of “Batfamily” is used in different ways currently. A way to separate them can be, DC’s Batfamily, Fandom’s Batfamily and Fandom’s Batfamily lore being introduced in comics’ canon.

DC’s Batfamily:

My rejection of this version of Batfamily comes from all angles, it is not a good concept within comics lore anymore, it’s badly written and used to hide and move on from truly horrendous actions done by Bruce towards the rest of the family, and DC uses the concept of “Batfamily” that fandom has become so attached to, so they can profit off of it without writing anything of real essence with it.

Why did I say that the Batfamily isn’t a good concept anymore? Well, because the Batfamily that I first came across in comics included, Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Barbara, Tim and Cassandra. It was rather small and their books interconnected and had pretty solid relationships with one another. Dick and Tim got along and spent time together, Barbara mentored Cass so she could become Batgirl and so on and so forth. The family was smaller and more connected. But they still had problems and bad habits then. So, I liked them as a group of people that worked together and the name they received was “Batfamily” as a way for DC to profit from it.

Right now, the Batfamily is huge, I don’t know if you have seen those splash pages with all the members of it for Rebirth and Infinite Frontier, but those promotional pages were crazy big, characters like Harley and Clownhunter are now considered part of the “Batfamily” and all that. Then there is the kind of characters like Cass, Steph and Kate who are all connected to Batman but that haven’t been appearing in books for very long, so putting them on that page really feels like DC is trying to prove that their “Batfamily” actually has women on it, but it’s just for show.

And then there is Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian, the most recognizable faces of the Batfamily aside from Bruce and Alfred (but Alfred is dead now so he doesn’t really count), all of them have had issues with Bruce or are indifferent to the existence of one another. Yes, Tom Taylor has included Tim in Dick’s book but here is the thing, it feels like he put him there just to make fans shut up about the lack of content with both of them acting as they used to do. But its false and lazy, Taylor just brought Tim to the book but we don’t get to see Tim and Dick interact in ways that can explain why they drifted off, it kinda seems like all those years where Dick and Tim were pulled apart never happened to DC and that makes me think “cash grab”. I would have loved to see them interact again if it meant that we would have some solid story for them to develop their relationship once more.

At the end of Rebirth, Damian was pissed off at Bruce and they had a fight and Damian left the manor completely. Bruce beat up Jason, then gave him a hug but still told him that he was banned from Gotham and all that abuse and manipulation was swept under the rug when DC came out with Urban Legends: Cheer, all they did with that story is lie and made-up stories about Jason wanting Bruce to go on a killing spree so Gotham can finally be the home to his beloved family (lies, lies, lies).

On top of all that we have the neglect, abuse and manipulation that Bruce had going on with Dick, ever since Bruce manipulated Dick into joining Spyral his actions haven’t faced any consequences (the family still believes that Dick was the one who lied about dying). And as recently as the end of Rebirth, Dick suffered from a head injury that left him amnesiac and Bruce absolutely didn’t care enough to look after him when he was so vulnerable and alone. DC had the audacity of having Bruce say that he was looking after Dick while Dick went from one villain manipulating and hurting him to another, and if we look at Batman’s run, we can see that he spent some of that time in a weird pit or playing catch the pussy with Selina in a tropical island.

So, taking all those things into account, I honestly believe that the Batfamily is a concept that absolutely does not belong in comics. If it were to be taken seriously then DC should come up with (organic, not forced) stories that make these characters connect once again, but they have to be careful, just because they can connect it doesn’t mean that everyone gets along and they have group chats and eat dinner together of Fridays, that would be a blatant lie and just too out there for their kind of dynamic, so, they should take things slow, start re-building what once was an make it better (if they want to make it work and feel like less of a cash grab).

I heard that there is a book with Cass and Steph being mentored as Batgirls by Barbara coming out in December, that to me is a good thing, what was done in Robin #5 was awful, Jason didn’t have or want to be there, Tim, what the hell was Tim doing there? The only ones that have gotten along with Damian and have had a solid relationship with him were Dick and Steph. Dick had a very nice moment with Damian in that issue, but Steph didn’t, they preferred to have Jason wanting to hug Damian instead (what the actual hell was that?).

Fandom’s Batfamily:

Fandom is a place where people can take any concept from anywhere and transform it into whatever they please. This fandom is just like any other in that matter, but I have noticed that sometimes the Batfamily Fandom tends to blur the lines between what’s fanon and canon. Their lore is so deep and established among people that they sometimes (willingly or not) make new readers or other people believe that how things and perceived in fandom is how things actually are in comics, and that is a huge problem.

Things like “Dick sent Jason to Arkham when the Joker was just a cell away”, “Jason has pit madness and when he gets mad his eyes turn glowy green”, “Dick was a horrendous brother to Jason before Jason died”, “Jason would be good friends with Tim and Cass”, “Jason is the only one that sees the world differently from Bruce and the other robins because he is the only one that comes from a life with no luxury” and so on and on and on…

All of those things are sometimes treated as the absolute truth by fandom and no matter how many times people have debunked and explained that those things aren’t part of comics’ canon because they are simply not true, fandom stills treats those things as the basis of their Batfamily lore.

That lore would be actually fascinating if people didn’t lose sight so easily of the fact that at the end of the day none of that lore can be applied to comics’ canon.

When you enter this fandom things can be extremely confusing and the way some of the characters are characterized are completely different to their canon characterizations, I knew that the Dick fandom was writing about was not real, but I had no idea that Tim being a coffee addict that hasn’t slept in five months and is an absolute genius in everything and anything that he does was completely out of character for him, I just thought that was true to his character in comics too. Something like that happened to me when I took a peek at Jason’s side of fandom, by that time I had read Red Hood/Arsenal, UtRH and New 52 RHatO (yeah in that order, Red Hood/Arsenal wasn’t finished yet though), with the already conflicting characterizations of those books, the first look that I had at fandom’s Jason confused me even more. After considering all those I decided that the Jason that I wanted to see and actually looked appealing to me was UtRH Jason.

Not all people in fandom read comics and that is ABSOLUTELY VALID, I have zero problems with people not liking the comic characterizations of the “Batfamily” characters, but that in itself also creates a rift between fans themselves.

Fandom’s Batfamily lore being introduced in comics’ canon:

This is obviously the intersection of the other two points and this is the biggest problem that I have with the Batfamily concept. The fandom lore has been leaking into comic’s canon for a while now but right now we are kinda drowning in it. Decisions that have been made recently in DC like, Jason giving up his guns, the group chats in Nightwing issues, the family dinners that were hinted at in Cheer #6, and Bruce having had at the ready a Red Hood suit for Jason with a Batman logo in its chest, have been proof enough that DC is planning on skipping any kind of solid writing for these characters to actually get along. We are never going to see these people sit down and talk about their differences and respect each other’s work ethics.

We are never going to get stories of actual essence that prove that these characters understand and care for each other, we are just going to be told that “all is good” and now everyone loves one another and they will build from there.

That is a problem for me.

And it also takes away duality from Gotham’s vigilantes, I know I say this too much but it’s the truth, putting all these characters under the ruling of Batman makes them all bland. Jason shouldn’t be part of any sort of group that involves Bruce! My god, I don’t want to see them interact anymore! Bruce has been absolute trash to Jason ever since he came back from the dead and I am tired of DC trying to make them be on good terms!

Jason and Bruce not getting along can co-exist with the fact that Jason isn’t a villain to Batman’s legendary hero. Jason is his own character, with his own morals and he doesn’t need a bat symbol on his chest or book logo to be relevant. Same with Dick, Tim and Barbara, let them be characters that can stand on their own because they have already done that!

Barbara as Oracle worked WITH Batman if she wanted, she had her own logo and had passed on the mantle of Batgirl because he had grown out of it.

Dick is Nightwing and has become an even better hero than Batman could even aspire to become, he has contacts with everyone in the DC universe, has led countless teams, he doesn’t NEED a batman logo on his book or to be constantly dragged back to him just to make the Bat more compelling.

Jason, my sweet Jason, he had his own logo! It was gorgeous and then Lobdell had the audacity to stamp a Batman logo in the middle of the book name and in Jason’s chest! Have we gone absolutely mad? Why did they do that? Lobdell’s constant back and forth with Jason and his feelings for Bruce, he respects him and he doesn’t, he kills and he doesn’t… each issue felt like a new take on the character! It was crazy!

And that has happened with everyone in the “family”. I will end this by saying that Bruce/Batman being at the centre of this “Batfamily” dynamic is the most laughable thing in the DC Universe. Batman isn’t family to any of the people that they constantly surround him with, he is a piece of shit.

Anyway Anon, I hope this answer doesn’t ruin your day and that you understand that even though I really don’t like the “Batfamily” concept, you and everyone else are allowed and encouraged to think differently!

Hope you have a marvellous day Anon!

#jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #damian wayne #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #asksss

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chocosvt · 4 years

Text

⚬ pairing: joshua x reader ⚬ word count: 5040 ⚬ warnings: mentions of alcohol ⚬ genres: FLUFF, shallow angst, guitarist/bandmate!joshua, some annoying neighbour tropes, a little bit of pining, wintery pizzazz, joshua is a hopeless romantic :(

✧✎ synopsis: somebody new just moved into the upstairs apartment. they’re loud, irritatingly sweet, and unfortunately, very pretty. but you’re not looking for a new relationship, even if it comes in the form of joshua hong.

✧✎ a/n: oooUUooouu YES! this is a gift to my lovely secret santa, @luvshuas !! ♡ in my first ask, i learned that dani liked using paint by numbers, AND I THOUGHT THAT WAS ADORABLE so i helped use it to create this fic! dani, you are such a joy to talk to AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS XOXOXO !! :D

Last week, someone new had moved into the empty apartment one floor above yours. You didn’t know who. Not their name, not their face, just that they occupied the once vacant space of room 24D. Supposedly, their next-door neighbours had already brought them some housewarming gifts. A watering can filled with flowers, a wreath of white candles, and an old sewing tin now converted into a container for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

All closely resembling the gifts you received during your first week at the apartment complex. It made sense though, considering most rooms were home to very elderly couples. At first, you planned a brief gap in your day to visit this stranger and welcome them to such a small complex. Find out if they were old or young, endearing or irritable, sensible or flat out crazy. But you never visited room 24D, because you were currently in a moat about your ex-partner.

An extremely deep, inescapable moat.

Not only had they broken up with you on the day you planned to introduce them to your parents, they decided it would be most efficient to do so through a stupid text message. From Monday to Friday, you’d been moping in a curled-up ball on the couch, blowing into tissues and flicking through the holiday romcoms even though they were all so cookie-cutter and dull. To make matters worse, it had been snowing all week, shutting you indoors as a draft built up outside the windowsills.

You had completely forgot about the newbie who’d just moved in upstairs. Until one day, when they decided to make their presence known in the most jarring way possible.

That particular morning, you were finally feeling stable enough to not eat dry, stale cereal straight from the box. You were feeling well enough to avoid another twelve hours moulding into the couch. While a cold wind blew against the windows and rattled the glass, you poured yourself some tea with the new teapot your mother parceled as an early present. And that’s when you heard it: an eruption of electric sound from the floor directly above yours. It sounded like a guitar, if that guitar were plugged into a massive amp and its chords were being plucked by one thousand fingers.

Coincidentally, you spilt tea, scalding and runny, all over the countertop. It started dribbling down your cupboards and creating blotches on the tiled flooring. At random, the sound stopped.

By lunchtime you were unwinding in the shower, your eyes shut as the water poured onto your face and streamed toward the drain. When you squeezed out some shampoo onto your fingers, you heard the chord progression again. This time louder, if that was even possible. The bottle flung from your wet hands and crashed against the floor, startling you half to death, a trail of wasted shampoo then painted to the wall. But the sound didn’t stop immediately. Unlike last time, the stranger railed on their guitar for half an hour at least.

Yet the last straw didn’t come until evening.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a water jar next to your elbow, you were using your new paint by numbers kit. You had been waiting all day to try it, brushing in the mesmerizing colours of a watery-purple landscape. For the last time that day, you were jolted by the riff of an electric guitar, causing you to jerk a huge, thick streak of black paint right across the paper, effectively ruining it. How horrible. How Terrible.

And you were not going to let the incident slide.

Room 24D.

The room directly above yours. After banging your fist rather inhospitably against the door, you couldn’t lie that the face which greeted you was a definite shock. A young man probably in his early twenties, with curly, brown hair styled neatly yet in disarray, and these wide, glass-like eyes that felt so penetrating you were afraid to glare him down. In fact, you were a bit nervous.

“I don’t know where you stayed at last, b-but at this complex, people don’t usually slam on their electric guitars.”

But so what if you were nervous? You had grown accustomed to sharing this complex with seniors. The thought of someone this young (and admittedly – quite beautiful) had somewhat stunted your brain. The stranger looked at you as though he had nothing to say. He started bobbing his head and shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I’m guessing it doesn’t happen ‘cause everyone here is over seventy and crochets scarves until bedtime. It’s not my fault you’re the only one who’s still got decent hearing.”

Your eyes narrowed; your brow heavily creased.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

He hesitated at first, then replied, “Joshua.”

“Okay, Joshua, I’d rather have everyone in this building crocheting scarves out the damn window if it meant not listening to a stupid electric guitar all day. You ruined my paint by numbers kit.”

Joshua laughed. “Your what?” He then flashed a grin which suggested he was holding back a satirical comment.

“My paint by numbers kit!” You repeated, feeling your nervousness dissolve into irritation. “It’s ruined, and I’m blaming it on you because it’s your fault. My whole week has been awful and you just made it even worse. So there. I hope you’re happy.”

For some reason, Joshua leaned his shoulder against the doorframe like someone who had all the time in the world. He appeared way too comfortable. Something about it irked you while simultaneously pulling this weird, fuzzy string in your chest. The boy folded his arms and raised a curious eyebrow.

“Why was your week awful?” He questioned.

There was a sweetness to his voice which hadn’t been there before, and you absolutely weren’t going to fall for it, even if it sounded like he ate a spoonful of honey and might taste just as good.

“No. Forget it,” you sighed, waving a dismissive hand, “I said what I had to say. Just be quieter, please.”

You turned around sharply, making your way toward the elevator based at the end of the corridor. Those magnetic eyes of his seemed to be glued to your backside, an almost palpable feeling.

“Okay!” He called out. “Great chat! Nice to meet you too!”

The boy was being wholly sarcastic of course. After returning to your apartment, you cleaned up the kitchen table, sweeping away your paint by numbers kit into a drawer just in case you were one day struck with the motivation to fix it up. Probably not.

“Uh—excuse me? You called me, remember? So don’t go shifting the fault like always. I just can’t believe how immature you are! And, you know what, I’m hanging up now! Don’t call back!”

Smashing your finger against the phone screen, you ended the call, silencing the aggravated voice that had pounded through the line just a second before. An unfortunate misdial resulted in your ex phoning you at the supermarket. The interaction immediately turned south, prompting you to hurry outside into the snow, wedging the brown paper bag of produce underneath your arm and against your chest, all while you barked into the phone with the other hand.

Snowflakes were brimming the edge of your wool hat; your fingertips numb and stiff. Your pacing, impatient footsteps were stamped across the white ground. Things had been difficult enough without your ex invading even the most boring parts of your life, and now a mundane stop at the market had left you intensely unsettled.

As you huffed a web of your breath into the air, you spotted something unexpected: Joshua helping Mrs. Akané load the groceries into her small silver-bullet car. She lived alone on the bottom floor of the apartment complex, one of the kindest old ladies in the whole building. Every winter she had knitted you a pink pair of mittens. When Joshua opened the car door for her, she gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder and her patented rosy-cheeked smile.

Since you scorned him for his abrasive guitar playing, it only happened less often, though it was never any quieter. You realized that he belonged in a band. From time to time they would take the stage at the downtown bar, engendering a space so packed it was nearly impossible to wriggle to the counter for a quick drink. Joshua invited you to his Friday night gig – which was tonight – and while you had contemplated the decision to attend, the disheartening encounter with your ex had officially soiled the mood.

Joshua noticed you, probably looking cold and mad.

“So,” he began, “are you coming tonight?”

Adjusting the groceries underneath your arm, you shrugged, meanwhile the hollow nature of your eyes screamed a blatant no. If anything, you wanted to be back on that living room couch, eating an entire tray of frosted shortbread cookies and dabbing at your tears.

“Seriously?” Joshua frowned. “You’re gonna pass? It is ‘cause you’re still mad about the guitar playing? I’m sorry, okay.”

“No,” you shook your head, “no, no. It’s not because of your disruptive, loud guitar playing. I’m just not having a good day.”

Bits of snow began to powder Joshua’s brown hair. His cheeks were blushed and his nose rosy.

“No offense,” the boy laughed, “but it seems like you’re never having a good day.” He then shook his head, scattering the snowflakes from between the fibres of his hair. “How about you come to our little concert shindig thing, listen to our set – which is great, I promise – then we can talk about it, back at my place.”

For a moment, you paused, and this perplexed expression briefly eclipsed your features. Did he just subtly attempt to persuade you into some sort of… Date? No, it was too soon for anything like that. He was probably joking anyways (despite his straight face).

“I don’t know… I’m tired. Maybe another time.”

You started carrying the brown bag of produce to your car, parked just down the street. Joshua chuckled and tagged along at your side, the snow crunching softly under your feet.

“When’s another time?” He asked.

Throwing open the car door and sliding the bag inside, you sighed. “Another time is another time. It’s self-explanatory.”

“So you’re not coming?” Joshua questioned in finality.

“No.” You replied, rubbing your cold fingers together, attempting to spark some warmth. “I’m not.”

It was then that Joshua took your hands in his, a gesture that completely flicked you off your axis, and started to squeeze them, kneading your skin with his thumbs until you felt the uncomfortable stiffness gradually wear off. He brought your hands close to his face, pursed his pink, very pretty lips, and started to blow on them. A sensation fizzled to life in your lower tummy. Not only were you heating up significantly, but you felt too hot. Scary hot.

“That’s a shame.” Joshua said, releasing your hands carefully, like he’d just touched gold. “But I can wait for another time.”

You couldn’t sleep that night.

Most likely because you were regretting the decision to not attend Joshua’s gig at the bar. The fact that no matter how hard you pushed, memories of your past relationship would still linger like a heavy mist, preventing you from being happy, from detaching, from forming new connections. Wet drops of snow tapped against your window. And then, at around one in the morning, you heard a knock at your apartment door.

Joshua. Evidently intoxicated. His guitar case slung over his back. A foggy sort of look disrupting his usual countenance.

“Hey there,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eye, “couldn’t get into my room. Think I could crash—” the boy stopped midsentence to yawn and hiccup, his face flushed pink, “crash here?”

“Did you walk home from the bar?” You asked, disregarding his inquiry.

“No, Jihoon drove me.” Joshua answered, bracing his hand against the threshold. “Pretty please? Can I stay?”

“Fine.”

You took the dark green guitar case from Joshua’s back, stamped with numerous luggage stickers that made it seem as though he’d flown all over the globe. After settling the case beside the couch, you helped Joshua lie down, though he flopped rather ungracefully with his face squished into a pillow.

For an awkward moment, you were just standing there, twiddling your thumbs as Joshua squirmed onto his back.

“Do you want a glass of water?” You proposed.

Joshua carded a hand through his brown locks and further dishevelled them. His face seemed to glow and the manner in which his eyes softly shut had you feeling oddly sympathetic. Like you needed to take care of him.

Rather than answering your question, Joshua sighed.

“I can’t believe you flaked on me.” He said. “I looked forward to seeing you there all week. I told my friends about you.”

Your toes dug into the carpet; teeth fastened into your bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if he was rambling drunken nonsense or being wholly truthful. Joshua titled his head to the side, nestling his cheek comfortably against the pillow.

“Like I said, there’ll be another time.”

“Can I have a blanket?” He mumbled sleepily.

Disappearing into your bedroom for a moment, you grabbed Joshua a spare blanket which often lied next to you on the bed, just in case it got a little too cold at night. Your heating was fairly shabby.

“Here you go.” You said, dropping it on him.

After pulling the fabric up to his chin and spending a minute getting comfy, Joshua started smiling, lashes long against his cheeks.

“Appreciate it.” He replied. ”Kick me out early if you want.”

When Joshua scheduled his next gig at the bar, you made sure to be there, settled near the back at the cocktail counter. As you anticipated, the space filled up quickly, and you kept tucking in your legs whenever someone scooted by to use the washroom or find a better vantage point. You didn’t mention that you were coming. It was supposed to be a surprise which had oddly excited you. Like you were someone important to him, even though you probably weren’t.

You enjoyed his band’s performance. While sipping at something syrupy and a little too cherry flavoured, you couldn’t help but smile behind the glass, shake your foot even, as Joshua strummed down on the electric guitar. There was a pink-haired drummer seated behind him, and a bassist with a dashing, heavenly smile. Eventually, the tone of their music shifted near the end of the set. Joshua exchanged his electric guitar for the acoustic one kept in that dark green, stickered case. And when he started to sing a slower, more sentimental song, you felt something cotton-like in your chest.

How could his voice be this soft? How could it turn so sweet? How could his eyes switch from a powerful ripple to calm water? And why were you heating up all over? The glass hit your knee as you continued to watch Joshua sing, as though you’d fallen into a trance, like a sailor caught by the lullaby of a siren.

But then, as your eyes scanned the crowd for a brief moment, they attached to some who looked awfully familiar.

Goddammit. Of course.

Why did your stupid ex have to be everywhere?

Why did they have to invade every aspect of your life? Especially the enjoyable parts? Once the stage ended and Joshua began thanking the crowd for an energetic reaction, they turned around and grabbed their friend excitedly. Yet, the thrill on their face disappeared the second they noticed you, glaring bitterly, angrily, still clearly hurt. That’s when you decided to leave.

You were halfway down the block when you heard your name being shouted. Pausing beneath a street lamp, you attempted to peer through the heavy flurries sweeping down from the night sky. A silhouette began to take shape. Joshua finally pressed through into the light, without his jacket, his equipment, or even a damn sweater.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” You questioned him, wondering how cold he must be feeling in that white t-shirt.

Joshua took a few more steps forward. “I saw you there,” he replied, still trying to catch his breath, “but then you just stormed out. I nearly threw myself down the back entrance trying to catch up with you, y’know. How do you walk that damn fast?”

“I just—I wanted to beat the crowd home.” You lied.

Joshua took in another big breath, then nodded his head. “So, what did you think? You like the music?”

“It’s cool… Why did you leave without a jacket? I mean, it’s snowing like crazy. You’re gonna get hypothermia or something.”

“Well, I didn’t want to let you get away.” The boy laughed, brushing off some flurries compiling on his shoulder. “It was great to see you there. But, why didn’t you tell me? Why the secrecy.”

You shrugged. “Why should I tell you?”

At that, you weren’t expecting Joshua to have a response. Maybe he’d be a little puzzled and have to think about it. Instead, he seemed to be formulating a surprise of his own.

“Because I have a song for you,” Joshua revealed, “I wrote it with Jihoon. It’s an acoustic thing. But I could turn it hard rock too.”

It felt like someone had turned the table. Ironically, you were the one struggling to reply, your brow furrowing in the dim light as you stared at this boy with his glowing cheeks and his hair disrupted by the flakes of snow. You sniffled, cold air hitting your lungs.

“Why would you write a song about me?”

No one had ever done such a gesture for you before. Not that you had been acquainted with many musicians or lyricists. You felt strange, but also warm, and heart-fluttery, and like you were possibly falling for someone harder than ever before. Joshua approached you tentatively and grabbed your hand, his eyes soft.

“Probably because I like you.” Joshua murmured. “A lot.”

Your heart started to pound, and it felt like someone was banging their fists against your chest. Even if you had denied it in the beginning, the truth was that you liked Joshua too. And yet, those reciprocating words somehow fell to the bottom of your feet. Because as much as you wanted it, you still weren’t ready for someone new.

“Joshua…” you squeezed his hand and looked into those endearing eyes of his, “I-I can’t right now. I was in a relationship not too long ago, and now that’s over, but I’m still trying to get over it. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

The boy shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry.” Joshua answered, running his thumb between your knuckles. “You’re not ready, I get it.”

Breathing out slowly, you smiled at him.

You were yanking open all the drawers in the kitchen, trying to remember where exactly you had stuck that little metal whisk. A bowl of unmixed cupcake batter was waiting to be stirred. Each year that it was open, you signed up for the Complex Gift Exchange, and it just so happened that sixty-five-year-old Miss Dupont really liked vanilla cupcakes. You pulled out the drawer that had been hiding the ruined, stained paper courtesy of your paint by numbers kit.

Rolling your eyes, you slammed it shut, only to realize you’d left the whisk sitting behind the big bag of flour on the counter.

Even though you had turned down Joshua that one night in the snow, he didn’t act spiteful or weird about it. And somehow, you two had grown closer since. Joshua was very easy to talk to. He was a good listener. No matter how many times you ran into each other on the elevator, or at the supermarket, the letter boxes in the lobby or at the car lot, Joshua always made time to listen to whatever mishap had bothered you that day. He still railed on his electric guitar every now and then, though you were beginning to accept it. Baby steps.

Apparently, one of his bandmates was visiting today.

You knew exactly when he’d arrived too, because as soon as you pulled the cupcakes out from the oven to cool, this wave of intense sound; drumming, symbols, guitar, everything, exploded from the floor above, like someone had just thrown a clump of instruments into a hurricane. You stared up at the ceiling winsomely and sighed.

Dressed in a long, thick winter coat, you went outside the complex to visit the garden, now blanketed by snow and sparkling white. You brushed off the bench that had once sat before a fiery pink row of petunias and took a seat. It was much quieter.

“Hey!”

Or so you thought.

Turning around, you gazed up at the apartment complex, spotting two familiar faces hanging out from a fourth story window.

“What?!” You shouted back.

Joshua grinned, then cupped his hands around his mouth as an amplifier. “Were we being too loud?!” He asked.

“Yeah!” His friend yelled. “Were we too loud?!” You had learned the other face was Jihoon, the band drummer, his hair now a rusty shade of crimson. He helped write most of their music.

“No, I’m just sitting out here in the wind and snow and below zero temperatures because I want to!” You replied at the top of your lungs.

Waving at you apologetically, Joshua kept smiling. “Sorry! I’m gonna kick him out soon!” He pointed at Jihoon. “If you want, you can come up here and listen to our last rehearsal!”

Jihoon shoved Joshua’s head out of the way.

“Don’t come up here!” The drummer exclaimed. “It’s not even close to ready yet. He’s just saying that because he’s in—”

A hand clamped swiftly to the boy’s mouth, muffling the remainder of his sentence like it was top secret. Joshua then dragged him away from the open window. Quirking an eyebrow in confusion, you stared at the vacant space until Joshua reappeared a moment later, scratching the back of his head and looking sheepish.

“Sorry about that!” Joshua called. “We’re almost done!”

“I’m in no rush!” You answered, turning back around.

It was true. There weren’t too many pressing things you needed to get done today, besides making the buttercream frosting for Miss Dupont’s cupcakes. The weather wasn’t even as terrible as you made it seem. The wind was light, and the shining sun helped mitigate the usual bitterness of winter. It was quite nice out.

Until about ten minutes later, when Joshua threw a snowball at your back. You spun around quickly, glaring at the boy who was dusting his hands clean of snow, standing near the complex doorway. In that moment, you wanted to be angry at him. But, to be honest, you felt like laughing instead.

“Shouldn’t I be the one throwing snowballs at you?”

Joshua shrugged. “If you could even hit me.”

“Keep your eyes open tonight, Joshua Hong.” You comically threatened him. “Where are you going, anyways?”

“I have to get my person a gift for the exchange thing.” He said, pulling a hat over his hair. “And a new guitar pick.”

“Have fun with that.”

Then, waiting for him to turn around, you hastily packed together a snowball and threw it against the back of his coat.

Miss Dupont somehow figured out who was responsible for her gift. She asked you to give her the cupcakes early, because she swore, she was had been able to smell them baking through the air ducts. Maybe you added too much vanilla. Everyone was supposed to exchange their gifts tomorrow, leaving them by the door or delivering them in person. You didn’t have a clue as to who could be preparing your gift. As long as it wasn’t another candle wreath to collect dust in your closet, you figured you’d be fine with it.

Tonight would be your last opportunity in a long while to watch Joshua’s band perform at the downtown bar. You’d missed their last show, ruminating over the possibility of encountering your ex again; feeling those horrible emotions which were nothing more than poison in disguise. After the New Year, Joshua was planning to visit South Korea with his bandmates for a few weeks. It would be awfully strange to not hear another symphony from his electric guitar, or Jihoon’s drumkit. Jeonghan never really stopped by much.

It was at least an hour or so before Joshua was scheduled to perform. So, you decided to walk down the street to the lane of trees now wrapped and curled with lights. There were small, twinkling white lights. Large, blue lights shaped like hanging icicles. Some blinked in a specific pattern while others morphed colours. At night, it made quite the spectacle. Many people had stopped, much like yourself, to admire the aurora and pull their significant other a little bit closer. You huffed, hating this lonesomeness inside you.

But then you felt a quick pair of fingers dance up your back, and immediately recognized his eyes shining like stars.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you at the lights.” Joshua remarked, zipping up his jacket. “They’ve been up for a while now.”

“It’s always a magnet for couples.” You told him, glancing around at all the handholding and heads leaned adoringly on shoulders. “And I am—well, I was, standing here alone.” Inside your coat pocket, you played with a piece of lint, realizing that perhaps you finally felt ready and significantly healed to consider another relationship.

Looking at you from the corner of his eye, Joshua nodded.

It seemed as though the lights were a place he visited frequently, even amongst all the couples. To you, Joshua seemed like someone who was inspired by love. The not so subtle nature of awkward yet enamored eye contact which made people giggly. Holding onto the very tips of someone’s fingers because you couldn’t let go of their hand even for a second. Pressing an ear to a comfortable chest, listening for a rhythmic, thumping heartbeat. You bet he liked kisses too. Quick kisses on cheeks and gentle kisses on noses and slow, warm kisses to the mouth which could set a fire in your belly.

Out of the blue, you asked him something personal.

“How fast do you usually fall for someone?”

Joshua’s eyes traced the twinkling lights of the tree, all the way to the very top.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it.”

Kicking at a lump of hard snow, you sighed. “I think I fall too quickly. Maybe that’s why my last relationship ended the way it did. I just… I don’t know, it could be that I jumped in without knowing what’s beneath me. I don’t want that to happen again.”

The boy glanced at you, snowflakes already beginning to stick in his hair. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with taking things slow. I mean, there’s always going to be some chance in a relationship. You don’t know until you’re in it.”

“I guess so.” You replied. “When I think about it, anything’s better than getting text message-dumped right before a family dinner.” Joshua wasn’t a stranger to the humiliating affairs of your past relationship. One night, after one too many beverages at the bar, you introduced him to the entire story.

“Bad luck.” The boy said.

“Bad taste, more like.” You sighed. “I mean, what was I thinking?”

Joshua shook his head, his hand rubbing your shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up. Seriously, the right person will come along.”

Short laughter burst through your nose, and you looked at him with a knowing, lighthearted grin. “Are you supposed to be that person, Joshua Hong?”

“I’d like to think I am.” He chuckled, his cheeks getting rosier. “But I know you’re not ready. I can be patient, though.”

“So, you’re going to wait for me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joshua nodded. “For you, and you only? Of course.”

At that, something deep in your chest began to stir. The feeling robbed you of your words and left you breathless. Afraid of what you might do in the silence between you, quickly, you changed the subject.

“Am I going to hear that special song you wrote? Or have you scrapped it already?”

“You’ll hear it.” Joshua said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an ivory guitar pick. “Save your applause for the very end, though. I know you might be tempted to start cheering, come up on stage in front of everyone and try to kiss me or something.”

Rolling your eyes, you started to laugh, your breath becoming a thin cloud in the still coldness of winter.

“You wish, Joshua Hong.”

He sighed, a faint smirk on his lips. “You’re right. I do.”

At approximately five o’clock in the morning, you were awakened by a fist banging at your front door. For a moment, you believed it was nothing more than part of a fuzzy dream, and simply tossed over in bed as your arms dug further under the pillow. However, the banging resumed almost instantly, and though it was very muffled, someone was calling your name.

Groaning, you dragged yourself from between the sheets and into the washroom, taking a quick sip of water before splashing some to your face. In a loose pair of shorts and a poorly adjusted tank-top, you stumbled to the front door, throwing it open while yawning.

“J-Joshua?” You mumbled, rubbing circles to your eye.

He stood on the opposite side of the threshold with a glimmery-red gift bag in his hand. For some reason, he was dressed in his jacket, those dark brown locks of his seeming damp or partly soaking as they were brushed back from his forehead. His cheeks and mouth were rosy, eyes glistering, and he was breathing deep.

You thought he looked gorgeous.

“Hey!” He exclaimed a little too loudly, as though he’d forgotten how early it was. “So, uh, weird news. Turns out we’re leaving for South Korea today, and we have to catch this seven-am flight. We’re kinda pressed for time. Jeonghan’s been helping me throw all my shit into these suitcases and—anyways, besides the point.” Taking in another breath, Joshua then held up the pretty red gift bag. “I got you for the Gift Exchange. Well—not really. But I made Mrs. Akané switch with me. This is for you.”

The sudden splurge of information had for feeling even more disorientated than when you first awakened. Joshua had to leave already? Had he been packing ever since you walked home together from his show? He pulled strings to get you for the Gift Exchange?

Reaching into the bag and pushing around some tissue paper, you pulled out a rectangular-shaped kit. It felt fairly heavy.

And then you realized just what he’d gotten you.

“Really?” You smiled, letting the bag drop to the floor because all you cared about was the project in your hands. “Another paint by numbers kit? I didn’t even know they sold these here!”

Joshua nodded, brushing some melted drops of snow off his cheek. “It wouldn’t have arrived on time if I ordered it online. Trust me, it was a process. I had to get Jeonghan’s grandma to make some calls because she’s friends with this craft store lady.” He half-sighed, half-laughed. “I just remembered you were so upset about it when I met you. About a lot of things. And I never stopped feeling sorry. I know I laughed at it and everything, but I thought it was cute.”

You brought the project to sit on the dinner table. Looking outside into the street light, you were shocked at how heavily it was snowing. Huge, fluffy clumps. No wonder Joshua’s hair was so damp and his skin so flushed. You couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago, you were sitting on that barstool near the back of the dim room, listening to him sing and feeling like you were starting to love all over again. Now, Joshua was being whisked away.

“I should really get going.” Joshua said, rubbing his pink nose, “Jeonghan and Jihoon are waiting for me down there.”

“W-Wait!” You exclaimed before the boy could disappear.

Joshua paused, though you could read the look of urgence coloured to his face. It was merely a few seconds you stood in that spot, fiddling anxiously with your fingers and struggling to take another step, yet it felt as though time had stretched itself out like plasticine.

And even though it was slightly terrifying, you had never felt so warm and full of thrill until you had crossed the space to kiss him. Your hands pushed against Joshua’s chest, searching for stability, as you experienced the soft sensation of your lips pressed so desperately to his. Joshua grabbed your cheek in his cold hand to tilt your head a little more left. He stared at you with a hazy, sort of dreamlike look, just for a moment, before kissing you again.

“Am I making you late?” You laughed breathily in between the heated breadth of another kiss.

Joshua shook his head, taking your face in both his hands, moulding his mouth against yours in a smile.

“They can wait just a minute longer,” he answered, “I can’t believe you’re doing this right when I have to leave. You’re really screwing me over, here.”

“Then finish it when you get back.” You smirked.

This time, you were certain of something: you hadn’t jumped too soon. You weren’t going to crash. You were falling in love.

✧✎ a/n: the end the end!! happy holidays !! <3 honestly think it’s kind of the dream to get joshua as ur apartment neighbour xoxo. HOPE U LIKED THIS DANI AND THAT IT GAVE YOU SOME SMILES heheh. i actually haven’t written for joshua in quite a while so i rly appreciated getting to experiment with this. i also love the idea of joshua in a band and being a sappy romantic who always writes abt his future muse ;_; i’m not a huge fluff person BUT I WILL GLADLY GIVE UP EVERYTHING FOR THAT!

#caratwritersclub #joshua scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #joshua fanfic #joshua hong #seventeen fanfic #svt fluff #joshua fluff #svt x reader #joshua x reader

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

title. “it’s armani, not polyester.” | m

pairings. ceo!jimin x secretary!reader x ex-boyfriend!director!jeongguk

inspired by. conan grey’s heather.

genre. e2f - f2l , office romance, sugar daddy-baby-esque.

words. 10.6k

warnings. explicit content (obviously). mentions of alcohol use.

concept. a retelling of conan grey’s heather in its future days.

story time.

“that’s your ex?” wendy blinks once before proceeding to openly ogle the - as per jennie’s excited text - ‘tall and handsome as hell cutie’ who’s in the middle of speaking to irene who seems to be sporting a larger-than-her-daily smile as her body moves as she nods and laughs and nods again, “i mean - i was expecting some hobo looking guy with spectacles bigger than his head and snot running down his face.”

with a cringe, you shoot her a much needed side eye, “okay first off - ew,” throwing your gaze back at jeongguk, “second off, we only dated for like three months before everyone started sleeping with everybody.”

“like orgies and shits?” this time, it’s her turn to cringe.

“no,” you roll your eyes, “i mean we had our first fight, he slept with my best friend so i slept with his brother who was dating that best friend.”

“oh,” you can almost feel the way her eyes shift from you ex to you as you continue to type on the computer, “guess no more family dinners.”

“it gets better,” you feel a creep up your face as you turn to meet her wide eyed gaze, “me and his brother got into the same college and we decided to stay friends and now his mom knows me as taehyung’s best friend instead of her second child’s ex-girlfriend.”

by the end of it, wendy’s jaw is quite literally on the floor, missing her chance to greet the cutie who’s obviously led here by irene. standing up, you fix the man who seems to have turned into ice, “thank you, irene, i’ll take it from here,” without even missing a beat you give jeongguk a once over, admitting his worth of the nickname he’ll soon forth be known as in the office, “mr. jeon, mr. park is thrilled to meet you.”

jimin didn’t exactly say that - he only yawned when you briefed him about the interview with the possible new tech guy before dozing off in the passenger seat for the rest of the ride.

“you work here?” thawed from his initial shock, jeongguk hurriedly tries to catch up to you when he sees you walking towards the double doors of your boss’ office which is just twenty feet away.

“oh no, i just deliver pizza and happen to know where the ceo’s office is,” and that marks your second eyeroll for the day to which jeongguk’s lips tuck into a blatant sneer.

before he even finished his “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed”, you’re already knocking twice on the door before strutting into the room where jimin’s face lights up at the sight of you before returning to its unsmiling state when his eyes lands on something over your shoulder.

“mr. park, mr. jeon is here for the interview for the management information systems director position,” you hand him the ipad with jeongguk’s resume opened and ready for inspection.

jeongguk pretends not to see your feigned smile as you pass him but before you manage to exit the room, a voice stops you, “oh, miss ____, do you mind telling irene to make me an extra strong coffee?”

“i can make that, mr. park,” you announce, eyebrows threatening to weave themselves together at the peculiar order.

jimin only chuckles, “miss ____, you and i’s definition of extra strong is vastly different,” but before you can debunk it, he’s already complementing his insult with a praise, “you make the nicest chamomile tea though.”

all while jeon jeongguk stands in the middle of the way yet he’s the last thing you see and probably the last thing jimin notices.

“that’s fair,” with a nod and an amused smile, you leave through the door, knowing full well jeongguk is more than able to distinguish between what’s a facade and what’s not.

and he may very well be the first to call bullshit on your too respectful interactions with your boss.

jeongguk gets the position. naturally, he would - he graduated at the top of his class, became valedictorian, dished out an inspiring speech to which taehyung showed you a video of when you were having your trimonthly meet up a year a ago.

he was a cutie with brains and brawn. his department sucked him in as their new director and colleague in no time. the news of the new tall and handsome as hell cutie who apparently looks better than most people in suit has spread to every other department with wendy and irene liasing between the rumors - considering the fact that they take the ‘first interaction’ privilege.

perks of being part of jimin’s secretary trio, you suppose.

the aforementioned man peeks up at you with a smirk, his leather black salvator snaking up the side of your black mesh pantyhose as you stand in front of him and just until five seconds ago, were briefing him about his meeting with the representative of the manufacturing company for the new chip.

“miss jisoo will be here in two hours and she’ll be discussing the direct materials cost, direct labor cost and manufacturing overhead - that’s where i’ll need you to pay attention because maque it is known for their concrete bargains but exceptional product outcome.” you inform.

“mr. park,” his eyes snap to yours, “my eyes are up here.”

you’re not sure what he sees, but it may or may not have something to do with your unyielding force but flirtatious tone - either way, he lets out a surrendered chuckle.

“i got it - bargain, get the cheapest overall cost but the best production,” he says before guiding your hand that’s under his chin to his mouth, taking your pinky finger between his pearly whites.

“good, call me if you need anything else,” you nod in approval, lips curling into a satisfied smile before summoning your hand back to your side.

the sound of your heels reverberate against the walls as you make your way to the doors but before you manage to step one foot out, he’s calling out for you, “____,” voice unsettlingly calm but his words couldn’t have been any more overbearing, “i expect the same amount of dedication for your... other line of work.”

you would have let that smile tuck into a knowing smirk, would have given him something to look forward to - enough to keep him on his toes for the rest of the day but not enough to be a distraction to his tasks. if not for the sight of a flock of wavy black hair and darkest brown eyes.

“mr. jeon,” your voice may have rose a pitch higher but you’ve managed to school it into a pleasant smile, “how may i help you?”

jeongguk’s eyebrows falter just the slightest bit as a flash of confusion mixed with suspicion crosses his face before he plainly says, “i have something to discuss with the ceo about my work.”

“i’m not sure how things work at your previous company but you need to schedule a meeting with mr. park before anything else but i’ll be glad to navigate you through your scope of duty since mr. park will redirect me to you anyway,” you say simply, noticing how the man’s eyes flit towards the tinted grey glass with three horizontal parallel line down the middle where one can distortedly see jimin’s body turned towards the glass the way it had been when you last saw him.

clearly, he’s watching this unfold through the same see through space.

“it’ll just take a sec - i promise,” jeongguk sounds halfway annoyed with your insistence.

when he takes a step to the side, you take another to the same side, “mr. jeon, this kind of behavior - and on your first day, at that - isn’t something you need on your record and i didn’t make that policy, it was mr. park,” with a the slightest tilt of your head, you let the smile turn into a snide one, “and since you’ve been going around chatting with your new coworkers, you should know a thing or two about how seriously mr. park values one’s descipline during work.”

he shoots you one last pondering look, tongue forming a gentle protrusion in his left cheek like he’d unconsciously do when he’s debating to do the opposite of what he’s told by first agreeing and then finding another way to get what he wants.

“fine,” his shoulder line jolts as he shrugs, hands shoved into his pocket as a strand of hair falls over his forehead, “i need a list of names of the people in my department as well as the last twenty year’s worth of projects held by the company.”

the smile you have on threatens to split into a disgruntled sneer at his ridiculous demand. ten years is the maximum amount of time someone would take to review and understand the workings of the company. fifteen is a stretch because there’s a chance of a change of policy. but a record of the past ten years means you’ll have to do some digging in the storage room since not all files were digitalized and being the new director of the IT department, jeon jeongguk is not oblivious to that very fact.

“i’ll have them on your desk by thursday,” you announce and he reiterates, “i need them by tomorrow.”

and that’s the last straw for you - letting out a sound between a scoff and a snide laughter, you place your hand on your hip, “huh, are you crazy?”

“i mean, as the new director, i need to learn the ropes of the company asap, no? don’t tell me you can’t even do that?” a smile creeps up jeongguk’s face, one that mimics that of a predator who’s caught his prey walking straight into his trap, “and all that talk about discipline.”

the contemptuous chuckle at the end is what boils the blood in your veins and before you know it, you’re spouting out words that you instantaneously regret as soon as they come out.

“of course, i’ll have them on your desk by tomorrow.”

“achoo!”

you curse underneath your breath as you sniffle from the remnants of the sneeze. fourty-three minutes in and you’re already on your nth sneezing fit. index finger flitting across the labels on the box, it takes you three nose scrunching and five boxes down the shelf to find a light blue label with ‘1998′ written next to a ‘september’.

well, that’s the second month of the year 1998 that you’ve managed to locate. the process repeats itself for a good twelve more minutes before you hear the screech of the in-need-of-oiling door and the echo of footsteps against the quiet walls before a tall, black haired figure steps into your periphery.

he’s looking as fresh and crisp as the tie hanging around his neck while you’re pretty sure your updo hair is halfway to giving out to gravity with how you’ve been moving boxes of files around.

“so what are we looking for?” jeongguk begins unnervingly calmly.

but you’re not one to turn down a hand, “anything blue with a label of 1990 up till 2010 - oh and they come in months.”

instead of complaining or at least making his displeasure known, the man simply starts searching the shelves five feet apart from you.

and so it goes, your file searching journey with your ex slash newly appointed coworker. multiple scenarios rushed through your head when you first heard jimin’s excellent review after jeongguk left. the elder man had been typing away on his mac when you’d come to pick up the empty mugs of coffee when he’d passingly say, “you know, there’s something about him that the other candidates lack - where’d you find this guy?”

but you never thought that being stuck in the files room alone would ever come up with this outcome-

“i heard you were the one who recommended me,” that voice of his is as sweet as the first drop of nectar but instead of the boyish tint, it’s tinged with a taste of wine and masculinity.

it’s familiar yet foreign all at once.

“then you must know all three secretaries were required to pick someone to recommend the job for,” with that, you twirl on your heels, a partially full box in your hand as you strut towards the desk where its blue shaded comrades awaits.

“so i’ve been told,” and that’s how you know jeongguk’s initial casual nature was just a facade to conceal his guilt-ridden conscience, “why didn’t you tell me? you didn’t even sign your name in the email - you never mentioned anything -”

“it’s nothing personal, guk,” you cut him off, back on him you pretend to rummage through each individual file of the recent box you’d found, “we needed a new IT director and you fit the criteria but if i gave out any indication that i was the one who reached out to you, your decisions might be affected by that - even just the slightest bit and that’s the last thing i want,” you say simply, “not to mention we pay better - so you get it, right?”

when you twirl around to face him, arms crossed over you chest, ass leaned up against the desk whilst your left knee slants to rest over its right counterpart, you finally meet the man’s curious doe eyes. they’re marred with the signs of life but still as exuberant and beautiful as the first day he stopped you in the hallway. his smiles are more expensive now and he doesn’t shyly look down before talking to you but he’s still the same high school heartthrob you’d had the fattest crush on.

and that’s the thing about high school and the matters of the heart - they’re meant to stay in the past as a fond yet foolish reminder of the things you would do when you were 16.

“i can’t have my guy prancing around the office like an uncivilized raccoon and ji- mr. park is extremely particular about time,” you sigh, throwing your gaze to your blood red soles if only because you can’t hold his gaze longer than this, “trust me, i don’t do things to inconvenience you just because i should have some kind of personal vendetta against you - i don’t.”

“wonder why i have been getting the opposite vibe from you ever since i came,” his shoulder line jolts slightly as he shrugs, eyes rolling but the tiniest smile on his face tells you that it’s all a good natured jest.

“i’m sorry - every time i look at you, it feels like i went back to being that high school girl who lashed out at everyone and everything,” it’s the way his eyes sparkle like stars at your words that drives you to quickly add, “my therapist told me to take a step back every time i feel like saying something mean to you because it’s just my own defense mechanism - i’m still working on it.”

“oh,” is all he says before a blanket of silence wraps around the both of you. it goes on for the longest moment with jeongguk’s unfocused yet heavy gaze on you.

he does that - staring off at something when he’s processing information and knowing his ex-girlfriend who he cheated on now goes to therapy, isn’t something one hears everyday.

“well, let’s get these,” you light tap the box on your left, “to your office - i’ll have the intern pick the rest later.”

“oh-” almost as though snapped from a daze, jeongguk blinks. one. twice. until he’s rushing to your side to get at least two boxes, one piled on top of the other, in each arm while you choose to only carry two.

when he finally finds his words, the first thing he says it -“you don’t have to get me all 20 years of record - 10 is enough and if you walk me through how things work, i’d be really grateful.”

you scoff, a smile on your lips before he mimics yours, “are you like, concerned about me cause i told you i’m seeing therapist -”

“me? concerned? about you?” his body moves along with his eye roll but his tone lacks the sarcasm he’s intending, “not in a thousand years.”

jeongguk is concerned. he tips toes around you like you’re the thinly veiled ice over a lake of emotions. as though one wrong move and you’ll break. and that’s how you know you’re not the only one who’s changed and grown with the years you spent apart.

the jeon jeongguk you knew couldn’t care less if you’d fallen into the darkest depth of your ruins - only because you’d hurt him just as much.

though you haven’t got to the point of having lunch together like wendy and irene and the entire team from his department had, you’ve had moments in between coming back from lunch with jimin and just before lunch hour is up where you’re in the pantry with ice cream in your hand and your phone in the other.

while you’re sure no one would be coming around this time of the day, jeon jeongguk finds away to surprise you with his sudden appearance. strutting in as if he doesn’t notice you, picking up the instant coffee packet only to place one newly stirred coffee cup between you and him as he sips his own that he made with the one he’s apparently gifting you.

“why?” you narrow your eyes at him, suspicion filling every inch of your curled lips.

“oh you know,” his shoulder line shrugs and you realize he’s grown a few inches taller because his shoulder fully past your head, “cause i heard you like your coffees with cream too.”

“how do i know it’s not poisoned?” still dubious, you keep your eyes on him like a hawk - nothing can get past you, not even a nervous gulp.

but instead, he throws his head back, sighing, “___, you literally saw me make them.”

“i don’t know, you’re acting kinda sus, guk,” you insist, phone screen long dead as you take one last bite of the ice cream before tossing the stick into the trashcan.

“sus? me?” his free hand comes flying up to his chest as he looks at you in disbelief.

“give me yours,” you finally announce, hand struck out with your palm facing upwards.

“whatever, idiot,” he shakes his head still, despite failing to hide the tiniest smile that begins to tuck on the corners of his lips before placing the cup he’s been holding on your awaiting hand.

“yay,” you grin, delighted before taking one long sip and breathing out in satisfaction, “i live another day.”

and so it goes, the light banters between moments in time. luckily for you, jeongguk is all round charmer that makes anyone and everyone - men, women and non-bonarys alike - who’s talking to him smile from ear to ear from something he says. possibly a compliment, possibly an agreement to what the other party was saying.

nobody suspected that either of you knew each other prior to this and that’s one less office rumor to look out for. you offer to help jeongguk settle in, murmuring names of the people who greets him so that he’d greet back with their informed name, seeing their faces light up a bit more at the realization that their new boss’s recognition.

“aren’t you with park 24/7? how do you know everyone in this company?” he asks one fine morning after you both got to his desk.

“i’d say it’s talent but i basically had to memorize them overnight right after i joined,” you shrug, “it wasn’t easy but you realize the difference it makes in everyone’s performance when they think their boss knows who they are.”

“so that’s the kind of person park is,” jeongguk nods whilst clicking on the ‘transfer files’ option on the screen of his computer.

“mr. park isn’t like the devil boss from hell - he’s just really self-disciplined,” you correct.

“if he was then why did he make you memorize the names of his employees?” he shoots you a look, one that says ‘you know i’m right’ to which you only roll your eyes.

“the same reason why he needs three secretaries to do his bidding - he’s too busy,” you shoot him a ‘no, you’re not’ look before sticking out your hand after the files are finish being transferred.

“how come i only get one?” his eyebrows knit together in a mixture of dissatisfaction and confusion as he places the usb drive into your hand, not quite showing any signs to take his own hand off just yet.

“maybe ‘cause you’re not that important?” you shoot him a similar ‘you know i’m right’ kind of manner and before he can even say anything, you’re curling your hand over the drive before twirling on your heels.

“ouch, you know that kinda hurts,” a voice comes up behind you and almost like a tidal wave, your apology comes in a second too soon, “really? sorry, i went too far-”

before you can even finish your words, you’re left rooted in your spot. a few feet away from the glass encased room where most of the executives and their secretaries are seen stepping in.

it’s the chuckle that reverberates against your eardrums that washes away your initial guilt like sand on shore, “you’re so-” jeongguk pauses, staring at you with eyes you can’t quite decipher and a flash of emotion you have never seen him make, “you’re so soft, you know that?”

“that wasn’t funny, jeongguk,” you fix him a hard stare, arms crossing over your chest.

“sorry - what i meant is,” and that’s the thing about the two of you - ever since you’d admitted your faults, jeongguk has followed your lead to apologize first. pride seems to be the last thing standing between the two of you at the moment - and it’s times like these, where you’re willing to listen and he’s willing to explain, that you think you might just escape that dark dwelling you call your past.

“miss ___,” a familiar voice drums in your ears, a hand on your lower back pulling your attention from the man in front of you to the attractive devil that’s on your side. the infernal spark in those dark eyes of his disappears as soon as he turns to - “jeongguk, i take it miss ____ has been a great help with the presentation you’re about to show us?”

“yes,” the aforementioned man nods, a look of unadulterated confidence making its way to his face as it replaced the lingering stare where jimin’s arm disappeared behind you, “i couldn’t have finished it this fast without ___.”

at jeongguk’s words, jimin lets a smile slip onto his strong features, making him look less like the unapproachable man he’s known for, “i’m looking forward to it.”

it’s only after jeongguk is walking a few steps ahead towards the open doors of the meeting room and jimin’s hand has long left your body, does the man murmur under his breath, “i’ve received applications for jeongguk’s secretary position, do you mind looking through them for me? though... i left them at my place - if you could come up with me to pick them later after work, it’d be great.”

“really?” you quickly say, before realizing it’d come off too excited for a request of overtime so you clear your throat, looking around the vicinity to see if anyone noticed, “i mean, yes, i can do that - i can drop by for a few minutes.”

“perfect,” his eyes disappears into crescents as the corners of his lips tuck higher before you part ways - him taking the seat at the end of the oval table while you head over to the computers connected to the projector, shoving the drive you’ve had trapped in your hand into its port.

“i’ve heard some things,” jimin’s honey voice is barely the subject of your conscience as you watch his lithe fingers working around the buckle of his belt until one end hangs loose before he pulls on the other, the sound of leather against fabric cutting the air like knife.

after jeongguk’s presentation which was met with praises and positive responses by the board, jimin had easily approved of the proposed updates on the - as the first would call it - a tad bit out dated data base. when the wendy, irene and the rest of his team was about to head out for dinner to celebrate their well earned success, you’d belatedly told them that you couldn’t make it because you had to drive jimin home.

seeing as it was a norm for the head secretary to also take on the role of the ceo’s chauffer, nobody questioned it.

nobody but the latest addition to the company.

jeongguk looked like he wanted to say something, stared at you a little longer as you fixed him and the rest of your leaving coworkers a ‘have fun, guys!’ kind of wave. but you suppose that could wait.

“i didn’t think you’d be one to pay attention to rumors,” you manage to say, swallowing heavily as you tear your gaze from jimin’s apt hands that are looping the belt into its buckle.

“this one’s a little bit interesting,” the chuckle he lets out is sinfully innocent compared to the way he slips the looped belt through your head and pulls on it, forcing the leather material to envelop your neck like a collar, “something about you and jeon having a special relationship.”

“that’s-” the words gets stuck in your throat when your heart leaps up at the slightest tuck on your neck, almost as if he’s saying to ‘choose your words carefully, dove.’

“it’s a matter of the distant past,” you say, sending a grateful prayer to the gods for allowing your voice to sound unbothered.

“didn’t seem like what the rumors are saying,” his breath fans your face as he whispers against your ear - you have to clench your fists together to stop the shivers from wracking through your body, “but that’s alright - at the end of the day, it’s my name you’re screaming.”

a moan escapes your mouth when a pair of plump lips press against yours. sparks in your veins and passion in your heart. before you know it, you’re blindly grasping onto the zipper of of jimin’s trousers, salivating at the thought of a part of him you know too well.

“please, daddy, let me suck your dick,” you plea, eyebrows knitting together with a sort of yearning and frustration from how achingly patient the striking blonde man in front of you is.

if it were up to him, you’d be soaking up the carpeted floor with your arousal throughout the night and he’d still manage to edge you on until you’re begging to come.

but that’s the thing, either way, you’re going to be begging for him. and you’d learned earlier on that you gain less from holding onto your pride than holding onto jimin’s dick.

with your mouth, that is.

it’s the morning after that - that you curse yourself for not putting any restraints to your carnal desires. in your defense though, begging and pleading jimin to push you to your limits seemed like an irresistible option at the time. that is, until you’re digging out what clothes you have in the drawer in your allocated room only to find most of them catering to the neck-to-just-above-the-cleavage-reveal kind of look.

so you opt for scarves - the bruises aren’t bad but the first days are always the hardest. and jimin notices the way you’re craning your neck from side to side as you keep your eyes trained on the red light that’s about to turn green anytime soon.

“does it hurt?” the saccharine sweet voice drips with honeyed concern whilst his hand goes to massage the back of your neck.

you hum in appreciation, “that feels good.”

“maybe i should’ve been gentler,” the tinge of remorse in his voice doesn’t go past you.

“that’s not even where it hurts most,” you giggle, feeling the familiar tingle in between your legs but you manage to push it to the back of your mind as you say, “but you know i like it when you’re rough.”

jimin only laughs, head shaking at your blatant confession. and so the mini massage session continues until the car starts rolling into motion. you go on with your morning routine of reminding him of the list of things he’ll have to do and people to meet for the day.

it’s only after you’ve parked the car and turning off the ignition that your phone dings with a notification of a ‘you received 50, 000 dollars from park jimin’.

squealing, you hop out of the car, heels click clacking against the concrete as you mini run towards the blond who’d slipped out of the car a second earlier.

“thank you, daddy!” you grin, hands wrapping around his arm as he chuckles softly, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

“i booked you a session at lotus nirvana for the weekend,” he says a minute later as you stand in front of the elevator.

“oh my god,” you gasp, jaw hitting the floor, “the lotus? really?”

“and you can bring a plus one,” he boops your nose with his index finger, making you scrunch it because of the ticklish feeling it leaves.

“you’re the best!” you stand on your tip toes, placing a kiss on his cheekbone just before the elevator stops one level below the ceo and chairman’s parking level, revealing none other than jeongguk in a dashing cobalt blue louis vouitton suit.

you’ve managed to detach yourself from the now-unsmiling ceo who shoots the newcomer a brief smile as a greeting when jeongguk takes longer to look between you and his boss before finally stepping in.

“morning,” you greet with a wave, hoping to brush off the elephant in the room.

the man echoes back your words but nothing else - at least until you reach the 19th floor where jimin turns to you, hands in his pocket, “miss ___ i need to discuss something with you in my office,” just before you’re about to point out the sunken eyes in the younger man’s appearance.

“yes, mr. park,” you say in a heartbeat, before mouthing a ‘catch you later’ to the brunette.

in the next few days, you’ve opt for a variety of scarves to match your outfit. but more importantly, to hide the darkening bruises around your neck as you style your hair to hide what the scarves can’t.

it’s times like these that you keep your distance from people, choosing to stay in front of the computer unless jimin calls for you. whether to ask for if you’re up for having lunch with him, to inquire about the meeting he has or simply to just say “i miss your chamomile tea.”

at that, you can’t help but let the giggle break through your iron wall of a facade, “that’s what you called me for?”

the man’s eyes flit to the right for the briefest second, as though in search for a better answer which he finds none of before meeting your own, “yep, that’s what i called you for.”

“you’re so cute, daddy,” you gush, before placing you ipad down on the desk, hands coming up to frame around jimin’s cheeks as they turn round from the smile that slips onto his face, “i’ll make some for you tonight!” but then your shoulder line falls, eyebrows coming together, “wait - i have dinner with jeongguk tonight.”

“you mean jeon?” he raises an amused eyebrow to which you nod, hands falling away from his cheeks.

“i’ve been avoiding him these past few days and i think he’s getting a little suspicious about us spending so much time together - he thinks you’re... forcing me to do things,” you sigh - just this morning, the black haired cutie caught you in the middle of your way to your desk, pulling you to the side with a set of concerned eyebrows knitted together, “are you okay?”

you took a moment, eyes roaming around the vicinity as though it’d help spot the reason to this abrupt intervention before looking back at him, smiling cluelessly “...yeah, i’m fine.”

he let go of your arm to push his soft tresses which seemed to be missing its usual slick gelled look today, “the ladies have been saying park tends to work you to the bones every few times a month - like right now, and that’s a normal thing here?”

and because it wasn’t the kind of question you got asked often - people just accepted and were even glad that it wasn’t them that jimin was calling to his office every hour throughout the day, you had to take a moment to ponder on your answer “...yeah, it’s normal.”

“and you don’t care?” jeongguk’s blinked, mortified.

“i mean, that’s my livelihood right there so...” and you shrugged.

“i don’t know, i don’t like him,” his shoulder line tensed as he turned his body towards the wall sized window, eyes casted towards the neighboring skyscrapers.

“why?” was all you said - you’d understand intimidating. strict. unapproachable to describe the words jimin is, but no one’s ever confessed to outright disliking the man. but then again, you are the closest person to jimin in the company, no employee would risk getting fired because they blurted out their dissatisfaction towards their ceo to his head secretary.

“there’s just something about him that rubs me the wrong way,” instead of shrugging like what 17-year old jeongguk would have done, this older version of him didn’t even stutter.

you suppose one’s confidence and sense of reasoning - even though there wasn’t any particular reason for him to dislike jimin-

“...something about a ceo calling his head secretary ‘miss’ while he casually address everyone else by their name but never really talk to anyone beyond business matters while nobody’s has a single bad thing to say about him,” when jeongguk’s obsidian eyes fell on you, it was as though the background faded and you found yourself trapped in a glass cage - unable to run away from the truth he seemed to possess, “especially the person he’s overworking the most.”

“well,” there’s this habit that you do - laughing in the face of crisis and this was damn well a crisis because, “if you feel that way then you feel that way.”

“is there something you want to tell me?” he pressed on, speaking under his breath, “if you need help, you can always come to me.”

and that was when the laughter broke into a fit and you’re holding your stomach and his shoulder with your other hand, “jeongguk - i’m fine, really,” there was a tremble in his eyes as self doubt crept up his conscience, which meant whatever you were doing was working, “listen, how bout we go for dinner tonight with wendy and irene? i’m late but i wanna hear how your first staff dinner went.”

you managed to escape jeongguk right after his ‘...yeah, sure’ before mrs. yoo came up to you to ask about the arrangements of the seating for the upcoming corporate dinner. it’s in five months but preparations must be made in advance.

“if he’s starting to notice that means i’m not the only whose got his eyes on you,” the sweet honeyed voice pulls you out of your memories, almond shaped eyes staring at you with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

and for some reason, you felt the need to clarify where you stand and where jeongguk stands, “we were kids when we started dating - we know better now that both of us clash like two magnets on the opposite poles if we go beyond what friends are.”

“you know i have the utmost respect for you,” butterflies set flight in your stomach when jimin guides your right hand to his lips.

the place you end up going to is called han chu where it’s most famous for its variety of chicken-based cuisine which happens to be irene’s boyfriend’s family’s long standing business. it’d been packed with people, mostly those who’d got off work like yourselves but apparently, they have a different room for adhoc visitors who popped up out of nowhere.

“irene’s taking a long time at the washroom,” wendy announces, a small, jealous pout on her lips as she sticks her chopsticks into the rice bowl before you and jeongguk exchange a knowing look with each other.

since her boyfriend works here, you’re pretty sure that everyone in the room knows irene, in fact, did not go to the washroom. and wendy isn’t too secretive about her want for a man she can call her own to which, two bottles of soju later, she slams her glass against the table and confesses, “i’m so lonely, i want a boyfriend!”

by then, irene’s already back and chiding the younger woman about how she needs to stop drinking so much because apparently, at jeongguk’s congratutional dinner, she was that coworker that drank herself silly and might or might have not blurted out something about jeongguk’s exceptional proportions in front of the entire IT department.

“___! you’re single, right?” the way jeongguk’s hand seems to be take longer to pick up one of those spicy-sweet chicken even though he was gobbling them up like there was no tomorrow just five seconds ago, doesn’t go unnoticed by you, “let’s go to a mixer! i’ll text my friend to include our names for one this weekend.”

this time, the way jeongguk’s visibly tensed shoulder line is no coincidence.

“i’m good, thanks,” you chuckle, patting the woman’s shoulder.

irene on the other hand, looks increasingly worried about her fellow coworker as time passes. it’s when wendy starts to gulp down the soju straight from the bottle that you step in, swiping it out of her hands and placing it back down on the table.

“alright, that’s enough for tonight, let’s get you home” at that, you shoot irene a signal with your eyes, counting a short ‘1,2,3′ before you both hoist her up to her feet, directing her arm over your shoulder while irene does the same with the other one.

“i’ll get the car - you ladies wait at the front of the restaurant ” jeongguk announces, just as you step out of the room.

“thanks, guk,” you fix him an appreciative smile, grateful for not having to drag the half-conscious woman’s body all the way to the parking lot.

“you know, he’s been staring at you the whole night,” a voice giggles - and seeing how wendy can barely even open her eyes, that could only mean that it’s the only other woman that’s holding her up that also decided to let out such absurd statement.

“that’s cause i was sitting next to wendy - who by the way, isn’t exactly a quiet drinker,” you roll your eyes, before a separately realization hits you- “you didn’t drink.”

“well, i can’t really at the moment,” the brunette’s voice takes a gentler turn as you watch her free hand clasp her stomach.

“oh my god,” jaws on the ground, you’re not sure if you’re even blinking, “you’re pregnant? how long far along are you?”

“a month, me and jae were discussing how we’re gonna tell our families,” she meets your wide eyed gaze half-heartedly, “and if i’m going to continue working after i give birth.”

“either way i’m so happy for you,” you reach out your free hand that’s not wrapped around wendy’s waist to which the elder woman accepts, squeezing your hand just hard enough for you to feel her fears and excitement and overflowing joy flow through you, “you and jaebum are gonna be the best parents.”

“i never really said it but you helped me a lot when i just started,” the tears in her eyes makes them look like sparkling stars in the midnight sky, “and you’ve always been so supportive - seriously, ___, thank you.”

“stop,” you squeak in between holding your breath and holding back your tears, “i’m gonna cry.”

“if you cry, i’ll cry,” irene is already pulling her hand away and fanning her face, glimmering eyes turned to the sky.

it’s a moment later that a car rolls to a stop in front of the two of you. the window rolling down, revealing an extremely concerned jeongguk, “what happened?”

the “it’s a girl thing” comes a few moments later, particularly after you slipped into the passenger’s seat next to him while irene sits at the back with wendy’s head in her lap.

by the time you reach wendy’s apartment building, irene announces that she’s staying over at the first. if only to look after the drunken woman and make sure she’s okay.

“are you sure?” you ask to which she nods, murmuring something about how wendy couldn’t survive without her hungover soup if she didn’t stay and make it.

wendy manages to sober up and walk with irene holding her hand. and with the way she’s slow-waving at you, you take it as your cue to leave too.

“call me if you need anything, okay?” is the last thing you say before the two of them step through the clear glass door.

the rest of the ride is filled with silence, save for the faint sound of low volumed music in the background.

that is, until one of you decides to break it with a kind of heartwarming concern you thought already left his mind, “so are you okay?” he peeks at you from the corner of his eyes, as if to check if the tears were still there, “you were crying just now.”

you can’t help but laugh, “don’t worry - they were tears of joy.”

“oh?” only then does he allow the smile to tuck on the corner of his lips, “what about?”

“i don’t know if i can say it,” you feel your own lips curling, “not my story to tell.”

“okay,” he nods, “as long as you’re okay.”

and so the silence returns but this time, it’s no where suffocating or makes you want to hop out of a moving car just to get away from the man you thought you could never stand to be alone with five months ago.

at first, you told yourself that it was for the good of the company - that you didn’t need to be friends, civility was enough. but then you had that talk in the storage room - both equally tensed but both grown out of their youthful impatience into someone who was willing to listen and learn.

and you realized that you work well together - too well, in fact, that jeongguk’s own secretary would come to you even after four months of working with him, just to ask you if he’d prefer his coffees black or with cream.

but you suppose it was because this was her first job after graduating - you were used to taking notes of the littlest of things jeongguk did because that was what worked best for jimin. that, minus the already known facts about jeon jeongguk that you’d gathered during your two years of knowing him and three months of dating him.

and it’s almost as though the plants and the stars align, as the car comes to a stop in front of your apartment building and as he pulls the brake before turning his upper half towards you, “i had a great time tonight.”

“me too, guk, and thanks for driving irene, wendy and me home - you’ve become quite the gentleman,” you chuckle to which the corners of his lips upturns, while his eyes casts itself down to his hands before they meet yours again.

“it was the right thing to do,” but then you can’t escape his eyes - those obsidian eyes that seem to reach through the windows of your soul effortlessly.

“well,” the smile may have been forced but it’s still comes from the heart, “i better go in.”

“yeah - yeah you should,” he nods and you thought you’re just imagining things - irene’s initial observation might or might not have gotten to you.

but just as you’re about to open the door, hand on the handle, jeongguk speaks again, “i was hoping,” at that, you turn to him, “you and me,” you can only hope he can’t hear the sound of your pumping heart, “we could try again, you know?”

you’d like to believe that you’ve gone past that part of your life where you hurt and you hurt others back - the ones that tried to help you, pull you out of that darkened cocoon that you grew so accustomed to.

like to believe that it took a bit more nudging for you to break through the cocoon and that was okay - everyone needed a little bit of help at some point of their life. yours happened to be when you were sixteen hitting seventeen. and even now, you still need help to fly - to let your wings flutter through the wind without breaking and hitting the hard cold ground.

but all of a sudden, you find yourself that same cocoon you thought you abandoned with the ugliest dark brown and maroon walls - the color of the school mascot that seemed to be the symbol of the baseball team’s undefeated victory throughout the year. and all because taehyung’s brother, jeongguk just joined the team.

and you were just one of the many girls who had her eyes on the ace. except your best friend was dating the captain so you sometimes joined her as she watched him practice. until jeongguk noticed you. until he lift you up and broke you down.

“jeongguk,” you say, heart erratically clawing against your chest - obsidian is the color of jeongguk’s eyes as he waited for your answer with bated breath, a rap song is playing in the background, smooth is the material of the handle of the door under your fingertips, marc jacobs is the perfume that faintly wafts from jeongguk’s collar and sweet is the taste of peach soju you had, “i think it’s best to maintain a professional working relationship instead.”

almost as though being pulled from a trance, jeongguk recoils, eyes blinking once before he blurts out a “yeah,” then, a moment later, “yeah, that’s probably the best - sorry for-”

“it’s fine,” you shrug.

“-making everything awkward.” he finally stops.

“i’ll see you on monday,” you say - not so sure if it’s the right thing to say, but jeongguk nods, echoing your words, “yeah - see you monday.”

and with that, you slip out of the car, heels clicking against the ground as you tread towards the door without looking back.

monday turns to tuesday and then tuesday turns to an abundant of weeks. your interactions ceased to a strictly professional, work-based relationship. jeongguk talks to you only when he needs clarifying where his own secretary can’t give him an answer.

you go to him when his secretary is doing a job that requires her to go mia for the day. wendy and irene are well aware of the sudden shift in your dynamics but if you’d gladly told them jeongguk was your ex-boyfriend then you gladly told them what you told jeongguk that night.

your only regret was taking away their own friendship with jeongguk. none of them went out for dinner with him because they were torn between their loyalty to their colleague-turned-friend and the boss whom they were halfway to befriending if not for your complicating the whole thing up.

“but you decided to keep your peace instead of the peace around you and i’m proud of you for choosing yourself first,” jimin had told you as he traced patterns on the dip of your back.

and you might or might not have cried and fell asleep in his arms that night before cancelling your appointment with your therapist with the next day and choosing to have it at the end of the month like you were supposed to. ever since then, your relationship hadn’t been all that physical.

“i think i need time for myself,” you’d told him in the middle of getting stuck in traffic with unmoving cars on either side of you, “but i also still want to see you.”

jimin who’d been staring out of the window mindlessly had turned to you - instead of asking you to repeat what you’d said because he barely caught it, he’d fixed you the warmest of smiles, “it’s been over a year, ___, didn’t it ever occur to you that i wanted more than just sex from this? from us?”

if there was something park jimin was, it was arcane. mysterious - just as you thought you figured out his wants and needs, he makes a 180 and surprised you in ways you never would have seen coming.

“doesn’t it bother you that i’m... this?” there was no word for it - for being yourself but also feeling like someone entirely different all at once.

“no, it doesn’t,” he’d look straight at you as he said it, “i know you probably don’t feel like it right now, but let’s go on a walk by the han river.”

and that was where you talked about your feelings and what you could and couldn’t give while you nibble on the fish shaped bun that was wafting with heavenly scent throughout your walk until you found the stall.

jimin still wanted to pay you for the times you’ll be spending together even though there won’t be sex invloved.

“we still have another few months of the contract, if i don’t pay you then i’d be breaching it,” he’d argued with crescent shaped eyes and the most beautiful smile.

“alright but i’m paying for dinner and lunches from now on,” and there was no changing your mind.

so it goes, you work in the day and leave with jimin for the night. he’d steal away your mac and you’d steal away his but for the most parts, you’d do work in the same room. he’d stop and stepped out only to bring you a cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows and you’d pay back with chamomile tea.

then came the annual dinner which marked five months since that night. he’s decked in a stylish cut black tux with a blue sheen reflected under the light. paired with a glass flute of white wine, he’d probably already won at least three hearts only an hour into the commencement of the dinner while your teeth clamor at the low temperature of the hall.

you’re halfway ready to curse yourself for foregoing your crop blazer in jimin’s car all because you remember been too warm in it - but that was last year and the air conditioning needed fixing - when something warm engulfs your open shoulders.

“jimin,” you blink, recalling the last man talking to a board member just a moment ago before you’d stepped out.

“you should’ve told me you were cold,” he chides and only then do you notice the lack of blazer on his vest-hugged body.

stealing a glance into light poured room, you briefly stand on your tip toes, hands wrapped around the man’s arm as you pull him down to meet your halfway.

“thank you, daddy,” with that, you step away, feeling the rush of heat on your cheeks and the thrill of adrenaline in your veins.

“you’re welcome, dove,” and as soon as he goes back inside, he’s swarmed with other guests who must have wondered where the star of the night went.

and you would have turned to the cityscape if not for the glint of light trapped in glass.

“jeongguk,” your voice is strained, so you clear your throat and put on a smile to cover it up, “how long have you been there?”

a scoff follows your inquiry, “you’re not 16 and a guy giving you his jacket doesn’t mean jack shit, ___.”

at the uncalled for response, you subconsciously tug on the center front of the blazer, “first off, it’s armani, not polyester,” you say, not missing the way his eyes twitching at the comparison - he used to lend you his jackets and sweaters back when you were dating, “and whatever i do with my personal life is none of your business - i don’t have to explain myself to you.”

another scoff hits the air as he steps out of the shadow and into the sliver of light that pours from the hall and onto the veranda, “so all that talk about maintaining a professional relationship were just excuses? because you couldn’t get over the past?”

“the p -” you almost choke on your words, “the past when you cheated on me with my best friend all because i said taehyung was in the right for getting mad at you over you ruining his only chance to get into one of the best theater school in the world?”

“it’s cause of you!” the fact that his voice rose doesn’t go unnoticed even to him as he looks around and only after making sure that nobody was listening, does he continue is a hushed but harsh tone, “i slept with heather because you pushed me to her. if i wanted someone to point out the many list of things i did ‘wrong’ i could’ve just went to my parents.”

you sigh, “that’s the problem, guk-”

“don’t call me that, you don’t get to call me that,” he shoot backs.

“jeongguk,” you rephrase, fingers fiddling with each other until you’ve hit the ten-second mark, “what we had was toxic. we needed so much work on our self-esteem and personal traumas but we turned to each other hoping the other could fix it and all we did was make it worse.”

“please, you were the one who was so insecure about heather - you think i don’t realize how you look at her? how you compare yourself to her when all she did was be your friend?” it takes everything in you not to flinch at his choice of words, “what personal trauma,” he laughs dryly.

“that’s what i’ve been working on but i’m not the only one flawed -your parents,” you say, choosing to ignore the first part of his retort, “them constantly paying more attention to your brother just because he was older and achieved a little bit more than you did. and everyone else who compared you to taehyung’s ‘legacy’. so you turn to the only girl who noticed you,” there’s a flash in his eyes, one that burns bright with anger - just like it did all those years ago.

but you pretend not to notice, “and i was so caught up with the idea of a boyfriend of my own - a guy that didn’t choose heather over me that i did everything i could to keep you. i was toxic to you because i agreed with everything you said, i put down others while i lifted you up but as soon as i tried to fix what i’d done,” you heave out a sigh, “one push - that’s all it takes for you to fall right out my arms and if that wasn’t enough i hurt you by sleeping with taehyung.”

the last thing you see is the boy the with maroon and brown jacket, staring right at you with eyes prickling with tears and face flushed pink but no words come out from his clamped mouth.

so you turn you back on him like you did five years ago. you turned your back on jeongguk and you don’t look back.

you find jimin somewhere amidst the crowd, conversing with a guest from your rival company.

“mr. park,” his eyes focus on your tight-lipped smile as soon as he sees it, you don’t even have to say another word when he excuses himself and you, not even sparing a glance at the guest before his hand finds itself on your waist, guiding you through the room and into the empty hallway since all the guests have arrived and jimin was supposed to deliver the opening speech before you took him away from it.

you barely remember the ride to his place and how he’d sat you down on his bed, kneeling right in front of you with eyes overflowing with concern.

smooth is jimin’s skin under your fingder pads when you touch his face. plump is his lips that you kiss and sweet is the taste of his mouth from the red wine you’d seen him down at the beginning of the event. the woody scent of bleu de chanel that you got him for his birthday last year is what fills your senses.

but they’re gone too soon.

“are you sure?” jimin’s eyes bore into yours, searching for something - something you can’t pinpoint.

“jimin, please, i-” and that’s all it takes for him to press his lips harder to yours, one hand groping your breast while the other pushes the weight of the jacket off your shoulders.

the room is silent.

save for the tapping sound of your fingers across the keyboard. that is, until another pair of hands capture them and brings them across your chest in a hug whilst you giggle at the ticklish sensation of deep violet strands brushing against your cheek, “let’s have dinner together tonight.”

at that, your mouth clamps shut, body recoiling to the side to meet a pair of almond eyes, “don’t you have dinner with chairman of samsung tonight?”

from the way jimin’s lips purse together into a pout, it seems like you hit the nail right on its head, “you quit being my secretary - you should let me lie to you and say i’m free so we can have some ‘us’ time.”

“nope,” you shake your head, breaking free from the man’s grasp before looking at him pointedly, “you’re not going to skip a meal with one of the most influential person in the world.”

“how’s the website going?” he attempts to change the topic, eyes focusing on the sequence of letters and numbers on the screen of your mac as if he understood what the codes say.

yet you humor him, “it’s going okay, though i can’t seem to figure out how to configure the servers.”

it’s been six months since you’ve quit the job. three since you permanently moved in with jimin and one since you’ve got the paperworks done to open up your own joined business with irene. she decided to follow your footsteps to quit even though wendy was basically clinging onto her legs when she came over to pick up her belongings with a growing belly and a sort of radiance on her face.

naturally, the position for co-secretary was opened and applications were flooding in, so much so wendy had to beg you to meet with her somewhere just to review them together.

“i don’t know how to read people,” she lamented, “i do the technical stuff and you do the mind games - by the way,” something flashed in her eyes as her voice lowered into a whisper, “how did you to it?”

she meant, the explosive and tea-worthy news of how you and jimin came to be.

nobody knew about you and him until much much later. when you were free to go out to dinners and social events together with your hand on his arm and him strutting in with a never-before-seen smile. more jaws dropped that afternoon than the money raised for the event.

jeongguk is still the director of the IT department - you left to keep your peace but you’d also hope to keep his. because that’s the thing about past loves and open wounds. they hurt and they bleed with just the right words as knives but it’s how you choose to treat them that heals you.

and though your way of healing is by tearing a piece of yourself over and over again until you grow a new, steeler part that doesn’t mean you loathe the parts you’ve chosen to cut off.

as such, you don’t hate jeongguk - you still want him to live life to his fullest potential. you still want him to thrive like a wilting flower after a rainstorm.

you just didn’t want to - can’t be part of that life.

“my father used to say, ‘if you find yourself in a dry spell of ideas’, take a break,” jimin’s voice is laced with a sort of playfulness as his eyes disappear behind crescent moons, “particularly in mauritius.”

“you did not book a plane to one of the most beautiful islands in world,” you can feel your cheeks hurting from the growing smile that creeps up your face, “did you?”

“our flight scheduled to leave at 2 in the afternoon tomorrow,” he sweeps you up into his arms like you weight nothing at all.

“jimin!” a yelp escapes your lips in between him twirling around and the background moving too fast whilst your arms find their way to his shoulder, “you know i can’t hide a whole ass romantic getaway from my mother! what am i going to tell her when her unemployed, supposedly single daughter starts missing our daily calls because i was too busy vacaying?”

“a month,” jimin adds, head bopping against yours - you’re not quite sure when he stopped twirling, “we’re staying there for a whole month.”

“oh my god,” at first, excitement flashes across your face, then worry follows a second later, “what about your schedule? it’s gonna get pushed back - the phone calls wendy’ll have to make!”

“lisa’s in charge of the phone calls,” he means the new addition to his line of secretaries.

“doesn’t make it okay to give her all the work!” you say, not quite as passionate about someone you’ve never met as he gently lowers you, arms still banded around your waist whilst your foreheads touch.

“after we come back, i’ll make arrangements so your parents could come here - so i could meet them,” he steals a kiss from your half-open mouth.

“you’re kidding, you’re gonna meet my parents?” you echo, halfway into believing that you’re hearing things if not for the way his recently dyed hair bounces as he nods.

“i need their blessings first, don’t i?” he says, chuckling.

“after banging their daughter into the bed every single night, you’re gonna need a whole lot of those,” you pat his hair, in a ‘good luck’ kind of manner - your father isn’t the most welcoming and your mother won’t be as pleased to hear the out-of-the-ordinary ways you fell in love.

a bout of chuckles later, he’s swiping you up in his arms again as he carries you towards the familiar hallway where your shared bedroom lies while you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“but daddy, it’s still morning,” you giggle.

“didn’t stop you from begging for my dick yesterday, did it?” the corner of his lips curve into a smirk.

note. story time (a short post where i talk about the background of the fic eg. why i decided to write it, the overall message of the fic etc.) is already up (queued along w the fic)!

i’m aware that armani is a brand and polyester is a clothing material so it technically can’t be compared together but in a deeper sense, armani’s material is more comfortable than polyester so it works (pls make it work) ahahahahahaha

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stephspurs · 3 years

Text

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

here is the second last part besties wahhh I'm so sad its coming to an end!! I'm also so sorry about this part, it'll break a few hearts :'( Love always, Steph xx

Part 11 | parte undicesima

warnings; heartbreak, swearing & angst - i'm sorry in advance. word count; 2185 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. final update; Wednesday 18/08 5pm AEST. tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

A few days had passed since the Villa match and Amelia had heard from Jack when he returned to Birmingham. He sent her a simple text to let her know he made it home. That’s it. The two went from previously not going more than 24 hours between FaceTimes or calls or memes to a simple made it home a few hours ago, thanks for a good time x.

No “speak soon”, no promise of a FaceTime , no double kiss at the end of the text that would have typically been there otherwise. If anything, she was more mad that he made her feel like a side piece; like one of his instagram girls that she knew he entertained throughout the week. Amelia knew that she, for lack of better terms, fucked up. She fucked up their friendship, and was praying to all of the Gods that would listen to help her not fuck things up with Ben, too. However, the fact that she didn’t go to church as often as she should have is probably the reason that Ben refused to make eye contact with the girl. It was either that or…he already knew.

“Benj, hey, wait up.” She called as he walked out to his car after a particularly long day at Cobham.

“Don’t call me Benj,” he coldly stated without turning around, continuing his stride.

“Okay fine, Chilly. Wait up will you!”

“Don’t call me Chilly either, that's reserved for friends.”

“Okay, if I can’t call you Benj, or Chilly, what can I call you?”

“The best mate of the guy you fucked multiple times on Saturday night” He spat out at her, as he finally turned around, ready to see the shocked look cast over Amelia’s face as she stood a couple feet away from him. He wasn’t expecting to see Mason at his car, just across the way or Jorgi at his, a few cars down. But they were there and it didn’t matter; they were going to find out sooner or later, anyway.

“He told you.”

“He told the group chat, Amelia. The fucking group chat! How does that make you feel? He’s already bragging about it. Your bed isn't even cold yet! It probably doesn’t bother you that much though - you’re just like him.”

“He fucked you when he knew exactly how I felt about you, having gone to him for advice as to how to apologise to you. I called him on Friday after I left your house and gushed to him like a bloody little girl because I was so happy you forgave me, and that we had kissed. And then, just like that, you let him weasel his way between your legs.”

“I know I should be taking this out on him, and I will don’t worry, but you knew what you were doing also. You knew exactly how I felt about you. I was ready to commit to you that night and you said you wanted to be friends, that you needed time to heal or whatever. So I hope you’re happy and are healing, because I take it all back.” With that, Ben turned around and got in his car, driving away from the girl who felt remorse worse than she ever has in her life.

Witnessing the whole exchange, Jorgi gave Mason a nod to say “go check on Ben, I’ll look after Amelia” and walked up to the girl from behind. Without scaring her, he firmly grabbed her around the shoulders and pulled her to his chest where she let go of all of the emotions she had been keeping inside. With every stab of the knife that was Ben’s words, she felt herself becoming more vulnerable and exposed than ever before. She refused to let him see her cry. That wasn’t something she was willing to let anyone see; she didn’t realise all she had been holding together until she no longer had to, until she had the physical support of Jorgi holding her up in the middle of the training ground car park.

Ushering her to his car - she could collect her own another day - Jorgi put her inside before any other first team members - or worse, staff members - could see the distraught girl and drove them both back to her place where he spent the rest of the evening comforting the girl and letting her know she wasn’t alone. He had even made a desperate call to Fede, asking for advice on how to cheer the girl up. Of course, her Italian ex-lover had been worried the moment his national teammate had told him that the girl was inconsolable and was just about ready to board a flight to her, but Jorgi had calmed him down too. Fede’s advice of coffee, warm pyjamas and clean sheets had done the trick of putting the girl to sleep for the night.

The next few days had come and gone, and the two heartbroken almost-lovers were back to the beginning - Ben ignoring Amelia and Amelia trying to get Ben in a room. But it wasn’t to be. Towards the end of the week, Amelia had received a phone call from Mr Mancini, formally inviting her back to the Italian National Team staff for the upcoming friendly matches and preparation for the 2022 World Cup. Without any hesitation, she accepted her role and began to prepare the necessary procedures that would need to be implemented or maintained during her time away with the Italian side.

Sharing the news with her fellow Italians, Jorgi and Emerson, she decided that she wanted to be the one to tell Ben. She wanted him to know, whether he cared or not, that she wasn’t running away from him and that she would see him soon.

“Chilwell, please stay behind after the session.” She decided it was best if she requested it in the company of the rest of the first team and also the staff members. She was being selfish but she didn’t want him to run away from her again.

He remained sat in his seat as the rest of the team and professional staff left for the evening. Arms crossed, slouched down, looking at everything else in the room but the girl who was nervously wringing her hands together.

“I’m leaving for international duties tomorrow morning.” With that sentence, he stopped tapping his left leg and looking at the cornice details. Instead, his attention was focused on her.

“But we don’t break up for internationals for another week.”

“I know, but Mancini has requested I come earlier to settle back into things over there.”

“It’s only an hour flight away, how difficult could it be?”

“I thought you’d be happy to see me go.”

Silence. Ben didn’t have an answer for her. Of course he didn’t want to see her around Cobham on the day-to-day basis they currently had to endure, but that doesn’t mean he wants her to go back to Italy. Even if it was only for a couple of weeks. Especially if it meant she was around Fede again.

“Well, much to your dismay I'll be back here in 3 weeks. And, Italy are playing England in the last friendly match of the break.”

With a slight nod of his head, Amelia presumed that their conversation was done with. She turned to gather her paperwork and heard the chairs behind her move, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. She sighed into her hands. How did she let this happen? She preached to Ben how much she didn’t want to be selfish with his heart, and that's exactly what she did. But hey, it takes two to tango. Deciding there was no time like the present, she dialed the contact that once made her smirk but instead only made her furious to look at.

“Amelia, hey, how are you? Sorry it’s been a hectic couple of weeks.”

“Cut the crap Jack, you never intended to keep this friendship after you got what you were after.”

“Excuse me? You wanted it just as bad as I did.”

“You’re right about that, I thought I wanted it. Now, though, all I feel is regret. You know Jack, I knew from the moment we met that you were just my type, the kind that only calls me late at night. I knew a guy like you, and he treated me more or less the same. I gave myself to him, over and over for the better part of 3 years, and it was only when I left that he decided I might have been worth it... worth him.”

“But not you, you couldn’t help but run to your group chat and brag about your latest conquest, about how you made me feel wanted, only to rip it all out from under me the next morning and every day since. Honestly Jack, I think it's time you grew up a little. For Ben to confide in you how he was feeling and for you to just have blatant disregard for your so-called best mate. I can’t believe you would stoop so low. I know I'm in the wrong here too, but you are his best mate for crying out loud! How could you do this to him?”

“I don’t even want to hear what you have to say, I just needed to get that off my chest. Lose my number Jack, find some other hopeless girl that you can lure in with your foolish words and sweet nothings because I’m done. I’m done with whatever this was to you.”

______________________________________________________________

“You’re probably not going to believe me, but you have no idea how happy I am to see you here,” I heard from behind me, spinning around on my heels to see the ever-charming, boyish grin I used to love with my whole heart. This time, it's a different kind of love - it's an unconditional love shared between two people that are glad to exist together in the same crazy world.

“Federico, amore mio.” (Federico, my love) I stood up from my place on the bench at the Technical Headquarters and Training Ground of the Italian Football Federation, bringing the taller, heavily tattooed man into my arms. A gentle rock from him, side to side, to let me know that he can feel the weight of my moral compass.

“Vieni, cammina con me” (come, walk with me) He looped our arms together, and we strolled around the perimeter of the pitch that I was using to visualise my plays for the upcoming games. By the time we made it to the first set of goals, Fede had had enough of letting me mull over my own thoughts.

“Tesoro, Jorgi called one night a couple weeks ago. As smart as he is, it turns out he is hopeless at calming down an emotional female. While I'm not proud of knowing exactly how to calm you down, being that it was more often than not my fault you were inconsolable in the first place, I had to get some information out of him as to who upset my favourite girl in all of England.”

So I launched into the story, telling him everything from Mykonos to that fateful night a few weeks ago. Fede being Fede, he wanted to know everything, but I stopped just short of letting him know how many times Jack took me to paradise (much to his dismay). By the time I had wrapped up, we must have walked the pitch at least 3 times in its entirety, before retiring to the centre circle where we sat on opposite sides of the half way line staring at each other.

“I’m sorry that I ruined you for any other man,” Fede spoke solemnly.

“Fede, no - it was my stupid mistake to sleep with Jack.”

“No, let me finish amore. I’m sorry that I made you love me so deeply, and convinced you that the way I treated you was the right way, that the way I was with you was what you expect in every man to come after me. This Jack, he sounds just like me about 5 years ago - before I met you. But Ben, he sounds like the man I am trying to better myself to be, to be the man that deserves the kind of love you have to give.”

“I want you to listen to me. You need to fight for Ben. From what I have heard from both yourself and Jorgi-”

“That boy cannot keep his mouth shut to save himself,” I muttered under my breath.

“Amelia, you have a heart that deserves to be loved. Open yourself up to Ben. Tell him how you feel. From experience, you are very hard to ignore when you’re so vulnerable. Be honest with him, apologise, make him feel wanted, not like a second choice. Let him know how much you care for him, and equally how much you want him to care for you. He will see your sincerity and realise just how truly irresistible you are.”

Part 12. | la parte finale

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scarlet-star-witch · 3 years

Note

I loveee the flashbackssss. Would you write about din and lella first time? ♾

I got you babe xx

I wrote this after a bottle of wine while listening to Lana Del Rey so I hope this is coherent. Enjoy this pure, shameless smut! xx

Pairing: Din x Iella (Female OC)

Word Count: 2513

Fade Into You Masterlist

Din watched as Iella got ready for bed for the night. Each movement, though trivial, seemed to set his nerves on fire, just because it was her.

His thoughts about her soon turned anxious as the hurdle they had yet to cross loomed over him greatly. They’d done everything else there was to do, expect for… that.

It wasn’t a big deal to most people, but to him, with his creed and his touch-starved past, it was a big deal. He wasn’t embarrassed about his lack of experience, Iella had never once judged him or thought less of him because of it.

But his greatest fear, the thought of not giving her the pleasure she deserved, was a prevalent thought, one that had kept him from taking the next step. But tonight… tonight he was ready for the next step.

He wanted to be close to her, he wanted to love her and he wanted to show her just how much he cared for her.

He’s been sheltered all his life, but with her he could be free.

He began to strip his armour off slowly, his eyes flitting over towards her frame every few seconds.

“Are you feeling ok after today?” He asked her, wanting to make sure she was physically ok after the excruciatingly long hunt they’d just finished.

“Yeah, walked away with only a few bumps and bruises. We’ve definitely seen worse. I think Xi’an got the worst end of the deal than anyone.”

Din rolled his eyes under his helmet at the reminder of the annoying Twi’lek. She was the last person he wanted to think of now.

Iella walked back into the room, brushing her long hair out, the movement of her violet waves capturing his attention so captivatingly.

“Din?”

“Huh?” He snapped out of his daze, suddenly realizing she was looking at him questioningly.

“I asked you if you were ok. You’ve been quiet all night.”

Din cleared his throat, reaching into his bag for something they had used before, but never for this.

“I.. uh… wanted to ask you something.” He started nervously.

Iella looked over at him, realization washing over her as she saw the blindfold in his hands. A soft smile grew as she felt heat flooding her cheeks at his insinuation. At the beginning of their relationship, he’d been so nervous, so scared to initiate anything.

She was relieved to see him finally take the leap.

“Oh… well, you know I would never say no to a little bit of fun.” She drawled, biting her lip playfully as she sat on the bed next to him, slowly crawling towards him.

She hoped she looked seductive and not like an idiot, like she worried.

“Well…” He cleared his throat nervously, her sultry gaze making his throat dry, making him almost unable to get any words out. “I wondered… if… maybe we could-”

“Din, are you ok?” Iella asked, interrupting his rambling.

“I want you. All of you.” He finally said straightforwardly.

Iella’s face smoothed in realization, a shy smile growing. “You have me. You always have.”

Din let out a loud breath, relieved by her answer, as if he worried she would refuse. Iella closed her eyes, motioning for him to place the blindfold over her eyes.

“Are you sure it’s ok like this? I can keep my helmet on if that would make you more comfortable?”

“No, no, it’s ok.” She assured him as darkness overtook her. “I want to feel your lips on me.”

He let out a shuddering breath at her words, squeezing his eyes shut to try and ground himself. He couldn’t lose control before it already began.

With shaking hands, he removed his helmet, his eyes taking in every inch of her before him, relieved to see her without the filter he usually saw her through.

Sensing his nervousness, Iella reached out blindly, letting out a slight laugh when she met nothing but air.

“Where are you?”

Din smiled adoringly and grabbed her hands, guiding her to his bare face. Her hands rested on his cheeks, making him close his eyes at the unbelievably incredible feeling. He let out a loud exhale, trying his best to ground himself from her dizzying touch.

“There you are.” She whispered, her hands tracing his features that remained a mystery to her.

She could practically feel his nervousness and hesitation.

“Din, it’s ok. I want you. I want this.” She assured him.

Without wasting anymore time, he crashed his lips to hers reverently, the moan she let out causing goosebumps to erupt over his entire body. Like always, he felt a wave of calm wash over him as he kissed her. He felt like the planets were realigning, like everything was suddenly right in the galaxy.

She always had that effect on him and he hoped it would never dissipate.

Iella gripped onto his hands, tearing the gloves off him, desperate to feel his touch, his real touch on her skin.

One hand cradled her cheek as his eagerly made its way down the length of her body. Without any question, she helped him lift her shirt up and he quickly pulled it over her head, allowing his eyes to hungrily roam over every inch of her exposed skin.

Her breathing increased, her heart beginning to race at his desperate touch. Their kiss became more heated, his tongue dominating hers so effortlessly as he gripped her hips tightly. Din pulled away, just for a second, to rid himself of his clothes as quickly as he could.

His lips were back on hers in an instant, dominating and vigorous, his desperation suddenly reaching a peak. He let out a gruff moan as he kissed her so bruisingly, his hands beginning to frantically tug at the remaining clothes at her waist.

Iella could feel his body trembling against hers, she could sense his anxiety, the cause of his frantic movements, and she pulled away, placing a hand on his heaving chest.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m right here, you don’t have to rush.” She whispered to him.

She cursed herself slightly as he pulled away abruptly. He stared down at her, his wide eyes closing, his face twisting in anger at himself.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out, shame washing over him. Iella reached out, her hands sloppily finding his with her covered vision.

“It’s ok. Don’t be sorry.” She told him reverently. “If you’re not ready, we don’t have to-”

“No, no. I want to.” He assured her without hesitation. “I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted. I want to be close to you.”

Iella knew he meant more than just physically close. Being emotionally close to others was something Din struggled with and over their time together he’d become much more comfortable. She wanted to cross that final barrier with him.

She smiled softly, winding her arms over his shoulders, bringing him down to press against her body. “We’re ok. Just take it slow.”

He nodded, despite the fact that she couldn’t see him. Taking in a few long, deep breaths. He reached out again, his hands softly grazing her thighs, slowly making their way upwards to the sleeping shorts she was wearing, the ones that left little to the imagination, the ones that drove him absolutely crazy.

“Are you sure?” He asked her again. She nodded eagerly, her hips squirming, a silent plea to remove what separated them.

Din swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and slowly pulled off the rest of her remaining clothes.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he hovered over her, placing a soft kiss to her hip bone and slowly making his way up the length of her body. “So perfect.”

She let out soft moans with every kiss he planted on her skin, her want reaching new heights. “Din, please. I need you.” She begged breathlessly.

Din groaned softly, the sound of her voice, pleading for him was becoming too much to handle. He reached down, beginning to thumb at her clit, her wetness, her blatant need for him swelling a pride within him he never knew existed before he met her.

The loud moan that escaped her at his touch had his own soft groan leaving his parted lips as he watched her body writhe beneath him.

“Do you need me to-”

“No, no, I need you.” She panted, her hands trailing down the length of his chest before gently grasping his aching length.

Din tensed, his shoulders raising, his head dropping as his face creased with the effort it took to hold back. He quickly grabbed her wrist, stopping her movements on his cock. His heart was racing in his chest, but he found no anxious thoughts, no self deprecating worries.

He only thought of her.

“I love you.” He breathed out, placing frantic kisses along the curve of her neck before he reached her lips. She eagerly kissed him back, her arms holding tightly to his shoulders, her fingers finding their way into his hair.

“I love you.”

With shaking hands, he gripped his length and slowly guided himself inside her. He immediately stilled, his mouth falling open with a silent moan. He gripped the sheets below her, curling them in his fists.

“Din?” She called out, worried as to why he stopped so suddenly.

“I’m… I just… I need a second.” He panted, forcing his eyes that had screwed shut to open slowly. “Are you ok?” He asked, his voice tense and low.

Iella bit her lip at the sound, bliss already overtaking her body and she nodded eagerly. “I’m perfect.”

Din’s chest heaved and he began to move his hips slowly, thrusting in and out of her carefully, fearing that he would hurt her if he went any faster.

Iella moaned softly, her nails digging into his shoulders as he moved. He felt incredible, but she needed more. Her hips gyrated, looking for the friction she desired.

A choked groan escaped him, her name leaving his lips in a breathless pant as he inched even deeper inside her at her movements.

“Fuck! Stop, stop, please.” He begged, his hands anchoring themselves to her hips, forcing her to still before he lost all sense of control, which he was hanging on to by a thread.

“You ok?”

He nodded frantically, his gaze locked onto her fervently. He gently moved a strand of hair that was hanging in front of her face. He wished he could take that blindfold off, that he could see her eyes in the throes of passion.

He wished he didn’t need to hide himself from her.

Din kissed her fiercely, moving past his reservations, and began to thrust into her slowly again. A loud groan sounded from him, forcing his lips off hers as she moved her legs to wrap around his waist and he found himself unable but to move even faster, his hips meeting hers at a rapid, more frantic pace.

Iella’s head fell back, her lips parting with a cry of his name. She held onto him tighter as white lights swirled in her vision as he moved with vigour.

Breathless, desperate moans fell off his lips without any regard, her name choked out amongst what she could barely understand.

“Please, please.” He panted.

He didn’t know what he was begging for, all he knew was he felt weightless, a soaring feeling bubbling within him he had never felt before. It overwhelmed him, it soon became too much. He gripped onto her hair tightly, his forehead leaned against hers in the most erotic keldabe kiss they’d ever shared.

He needed something, anything, to anchor him to reality, but it was quickly becoming a failing effort.

He could no longer control the coil inside him that grew tighter and tighter, only seconds from snapping altogether.

He looked down at her, watching with hunger in his eyes as her back arched beneath him, her hands coasting down the length of his back, her nails casting a pleasurable ache that made his jaw clench as he tried his hardest to stifle the noises he seemed to have no control over.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…. oh, it’s… too much.” He panted breathlessly, slightly disbelieving what he was feeling.

Iella could feel tingles erupt over every inch of her body, down from her head to her toes that curled in ecstasy. Din’s movements were frantic and slightly sloppy from inexperience, but it was enough to make her head spin.

The grunts that escaped him sent shivers down her spine. The way the muscles in his back fluttered and tensed under her hands as he moved had her repressing a shiver. She wished she could see his face, she wished she could see what he looked like in pleasure.

The slack jaw, the wide eyes, the pure bliss the covered his expression would’ve been her undoing if she could have seen.

“Din… uh, yes, yes, please!” She breathed out blissfully.

His eyes closed, his face turned into a grimace as he felt himself beginning to slip over the edge. He quickly moved his hand, his fingers finding her clit as he began to rub in circles, desperate to get her over the edge with him.

The build up was slow, a feeling stirring in his stomach, before he was hurdled over the cliff so quickly, it left him unable to utter any words except a shout of pure relief as he reached ecstacy.

His body trembled, a shuddering gasp of her name escaping him as he made sure to keep the movements of hips in a desperate attempt to make sure she wasn’t left wanting.

Hearing his pleasure sent her over the edge.

Iella clung onto him tightly, her body arching, her forehead rested on his shoulder as she became rigid in her final moments.

Her mouth dropped open, a cry of his name echoing in the room as she reached her climax.

The fluttering of her walls around his twitching and spent length made him whine and he wrapped his arms around her, only holding her tighter when he felt her body shaking against his.

The only thing heard in the room was the echoing pants of the lovers wrapped in each other’s arms, refusing to let go of each other.

After a few minutes, as they both came down from their highs, Din raised his head, looking down at her blindfolded gaze. His hand twitched, his brain telling him to rip the thing from her eyes and look into the spacy gaze of her pleasure he was so desperate to see with his own eyes, not just from behind his visor.

He cradled her cheeks and leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to her lips which didn’t last as long as they would’ve hoped due to them both being out of breath still.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” He whispered.

The breathless Mando’a she whispered back sent shivers down his spine and he tightened his grip on her, suddenly feeling entirely overwhelmed by the love he felt for her.

*Hides face* Enjoy xx

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