#might just copy and paste their personality onto new dudes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moominnyu · 3 years ago

Text

oblivious [kevin moon]

🧸🎀 — pairings: kevin moon (the boyz) x gender neutral reader

🧸🎀 — tw: none.

🧸🎀 — wc: 3751

anyone who knows kevin to a personal level would be sorry for the guy, frustrated in his behalf even.

now, don't get me wrong, he's a handsome young man with a sweet personality, a nice car and good friends. he's a member of one of the hottest, on the rise k-pop boy groups, with a honeyed voice and great dance skills. he could probably bag anyone he wanted with minimal effort on his part, whether they work or not for the same industry as him. but the problem for kevin moon starts around someone who has little to nothing to do with the idol world.

you're kevin's friend, his little childhood friend from back when he was in america, and current best friend even here in korea. kevin's childhood friend who's only an university student, and knows as much about idols as you know about calculus— that is, nothing—, kevin's childhood friend who works part time in café, and still gets allowance from your parents, kevin's childhood friend who lives just three blocks from his dorm, who is so used to be by his side that you practically live at his dorm alongside his members. kevin's childhood friend who is... just his childhood friend and nothing more.

he's been on the unrequited love side of the spectrum for too long that his problem no longer relies on the fact that you guys are friends probably since you were both fetuses inside your mothers' wombs. he already felt this way about you when you lost your first tooth when you were six, even when you smiled at him with an incisor missing. he already felt this way about you when he taught you how to ride a bike at the park when you both were nine, even when you fell on your face and had a big bruise on your left cheek that remained on your skin for two weeks after that. he already felt this way about you when you turned fourteen and you stopped being a tiny shrimp and started looking more like what would later become his ideal type. he already felt this way about you when you guys were seventeen and he was starting his little youtube channel with one of his friends, and you would watch his videos with a genuine excitement that matched his. he already felt this way about you when you moved to korea together, not even knowing what was ahead of you but knowing that you had each other whatever happened.

he's been in love with you for way too long, so long that he already had every single inner monologue, argument, discussion and debate he could possibly have with himself about how absolutely wrong and criminal it is to have a crush, or rather, be in love with your best friend.

he won in absolutely zero of these arguments against himself, as he always came to the conclusion that it was wrong, you two were friends and that's it, that you probably saw him only as a brother, if anything. but he had received his very needed push in the back by his members, now close friends of both of you, that insisted that it was normal: you were attractive, funny, sweet and a perfectly viable choice for him due to your closeness, anyone in his situation would probably be the same, and he would be a fool if he let go of the opportunity. with your looks and personality, you could get a partner anytime you wanted, and time was ticking for kevin, which, in turn, prompted him to act with you in mind, courtesy of sunwoo who mentioned he'd be the one making the moves if kevin didn't do it first.

and, so, it started, the tortuous process of courting.

he didn't outright tell you he liked you, as he wanted to test the waters first, so he started with simple and minimal things, things that would go completely unnoticed by you unless you saw him as something more than a simple friend, unless you saw him in the same light as he saw you.

hugging you a tad bit tighter and longer when he greeted you, getting leaves out of your hair or clothes for you, tentatively holding your hand when he wanted to guide you somewhere, placing his hands on your waist on hips when he walked past you; all little things that made his pale cheeks burn up a crimson color and his stupid, traitor heart beat uncontrollably against his ribcage... all little things that you remained completely apathetic to.

“don't be afraid to up your game, hyung,” haknyeon had offered some advice, and as if it served as comfort to kevin, he had friendly palmed his back to show empathy for him, who sat with his head down, face hidden in his hands, “i think y/n is great! they definitely haven't noticed yet, and that's why they haven't said anything!”

it was another one of those nights where he was overcome with feelings, when the tug on his chest became too heavy and when the feeling of urgency became desperation. none of what he did was working out the way he wanted it to, and everytime he was left with more questions that answers: did you really blush when you brushed hands while reaching for the salt, or was it his mind playing tricks on him? were you really staring at him with such dreamy eyes when he was sketching or were you just spaced out? he could never tell.

“well, that's obvious,” sunwoo retorted, plump lips on a straight line. he scratched his head and nudged kevin on the ribs, “you're the one who knows them best, you should that y/n had never had a partner before, it's likely they're just oblivious to your advances,”

an imaginary lightbulb flicked on on top of kevin's head at that moment when he realized sunwoo was right.

in all the years he's known you, you've never showed any kind of romantic interest in any person. it wasn't that you were short of suitors or admirers, quite the contrary, actually, you've had that sweet tendency to smile at everyone that happened to make eye contact with you since little, offer your help whenever needed and an ability to make friends with anyone in a matter of seconds. kevin was sure, during all his high school years, that the reason why he was liked was because of the halo effect, produced by the fact that he was always by your side.

but, you, even with many suitors and secret admirers, never once brought up the topic of dating and crushes in front of kevin. he thought it was better that way, honestly, he's a bit more mature now but back when he was still a teenager, he was sure he wouldn't be able to take it if he heard you talking about another guy, all starry eyed and blushing. but that didn't mean he didn't feel curious about it.

one time, against his own mental advices to just mind his business in case he ended up with a broken heart, kevin asked you about a guy in your class who he overheard your classmates teasing you about.

“oh, yeah, you mean james, right?” you sat on the floor of his bedroom, copying the answers from his textbook onto yours. you had bit your pencil and narrowed your eyes, thoughtfully, “i tutor him on sundays. nice guy.”

“i know who he is,” kevin answered, matter of factly, as he reclined back on his desk chair. he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as some form of idle distraction from the unsteadiness of his heart, “i'm asking you why were your friends making kissy faces at you when he was talking to you.”

he had sounded more stern than he intended, but, then again, that moment was the very first time he ever saw you blush and fix your hair in front of a dude, the first time he saw you act shy around someone.

“he invited me to prom last week,” you answered, continuing to write down on your notebook with your cute, pink gel pen, “and my friends think he likes me because of that.”

“how are you so sure that he doesn't like you?,” it's obvious he does, kevin thought, otherwise he wouldn't look like such a fool, stuttering and scratching his nape like an idiot everytime you two interacted. not that he's one to talk, though.

“because he's just being nice to me,” you frowned, “he always is. he walks me home when you can't, invites me to get coffee after tutoring, he saves me a spot next to him when i'm late for class,” you didn't lift your head from your notes or ever stopped writing, that's how trivial james's acts of ‘kindness’ were for you, “he even gifted me chocolates last valentine's.”

that's crush behavior, kevin wanted to say, but he didn't. he didn't want to implant the idea in your mind, making you overly conscious about it and forcing you to end up confused about your own feelings. if you liked him back or not, he decided, was for you to find out on your own, unprovoked.

“do you like him?,” but there he was, having to open his big mouth out of morbid, masochistic curiosity.

you lifted your head, finally looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, “no?”

“then why were you blushing when he was talking to you?”

“because julia was making a big deal out of it,” you said, frowning with certain annoyance and embarrassment, “and because noah kept telling him we look so cute together.”

“no, you don't.” kevin chimed in, perhaps too fast for his liking.

“that's what i'm saying! we're just friends!” you sounded a bit exasperated, probably tired from all the teasing, “just like you and me.”

thanks to sunwoo, remembering that useful, albeit painful, conversation served kevin to switch his approach around you. thinking about it, back then, it should have been his first clue about your lack of awareness. he discarded as simple, intentional obliviousness— he thought that james was so obvious about his crush, you might as well were just trying to ignore it and not acknowledge it to avoid having to awkwardly reject him; but this obliviousness of yours lasted even much, much after that, when you guys moved to korea together and the people you met there were equally interested in you but ended up receiving the same treatment of complete lack of interest. even eric had, at some point of your early friendship, when he had a pitiful crush on you that lasted a couple of months.

with a new, more direct approach in mind, kevin moon hadn't given up yet.

he began to make his hints a bit more obvious so that the wouldn't fly over your pretty, little head like the ones before did, and he was pleasantly surprised to find out that it worked with great efficiency.

complimenting you every chance he could, both looks and personality wise, often mentioning how you're the only person to make him this happy, how his day gets better when he sees you.

and alongside the not so subtle flirting, your reactions began to grow in intensity as well. instead of the usual, coy nudge you'd give him when he complimented your appearance, you'd purse your lips and look down when he'd say that he thinks you're absolutely stunning. you'd bite a smile, cheeks heating up, when he'd, purposely on accident, casually sit close to you while watching movies, both of your sides pressed against each other. when he'd press an unassuming kiss to your temple after dropping you back at your place, you'd lean into his touch for a bit longer than usual, and you'd look a blushy mess of shaky eyes and pursed lips once he did pull away. even when he wasn't trying, even when his focus was on something else entirely, the amount of times he'd catch you staring at him and then move your eyes away as soon as he noticed were too many for them to be a simple coincidence.

all of these interactions made him hopeful, made him think that he did the right thing by slowly approaching you in a way that you felt comfortable with. by the time he decided to finally confess to you, he was so sure you were, at least, confused about it, that you were seeing him in a new light now and that you weren't sure how to act around it, and that was enough for kevin, he just needed to go past that friendship relationship and then he'd work the rest, with you.

and with this realization came yet multiple other inner debates about how to go around the confession. should he prepare for it? invite you to a picnic at the beach and confess to you when you both are enjoying the sunset? or should he just be spontaneous? you've never liked anything too flashy, after all, and you valued honesty over anything else.

he chose to just do it one day, chose a time when you two are alone and tell you normally like he would do with any other thing. after all, you two were best friends who could tell absolutely anything to each other with no shame, and his feelings for you didn't change this.

but, whenever he thought about finally doing it, whenever he practiced his exact words in his mind over and over again until he was confident enough he wouldn't stutter, the moment would get interrupted by outside forces. like younghoon deciding to watch a movie in the living room where you guys were at, just in time when kevin had said he had something to tell you, like sunwoo coming uninvited into his room when you two were finally alone, saying that he was bored and asking if you wanted to play mario kart together. or that one time when kevin had managed to build momentum in his favor, mentioning how much he appreciates you and how lucky he is to have you by his side unconditionally, and just as he was about to utter the three important words, your mom had the inopportune need to call you, at three a.m. in the morning, because she had a nightmare about you being swallowed by the kraken.

being stuck in this predicament didn't dishearten kevin, though. he's wanted to tell you how he feels since forever, he wasn't gonna give up over a few unfortunate interruptions.

the perfect time to do it comes spontaneously, unprepared, just like most of those peaks of inspiration he feels out of the blue somedays.

tonight, you're staying the night at his. you had went grocery shopping earlier in the afternoon, and kevin bought the ingredients to bake you some brownies after your insistence and pleads, clinging to his arm and pointing at the deliciously looking pictures of them in the premade mixture boxes, so now you're sitting on the counter of his kitchen while looks for the ingredients in the frige, reading the recipe out loud for him from your phone while swinging your legs up and down.

“a double boiler?”, kevin leaves the fridge door open when he walks up to you and leans in so that he can get a look at your screen, “what the heck's that?”

“it says here that it's a fancy term for a... small saucepan filled with an inch of two of water set over low heat,” you read out loud, then lifting your head with a confused grimace, “huh?”

“i don't know,” kevin kicks the door closed after retrieving the butter, shrugging and trying to pretend he didn't notice how you stared at his lips just a second ago, “i'm just gonna make that one old recipe, the one we know and adore.”

“yeah, i don't know why you felt the need to change it,” you set your phone down and hop down the counter to give him more space, “you know i just eat whatever you make.”

“you like your brownies a bit more fudgy, don't you?” he takes a bowl out of the cabinet, and places it right beside where you're standing. he offers you a smile, a bit shy but genuine, “and i like to spoil you.”

at that moment, sunwoo walks into the kitchen. he makes a small gesture of acknowledgement to you and walks past kevin to get to the fridge. you follow him with your eyes.

“hyung, i'm heading out,” sunwoo grabs a water bottle and closes the fridge again. he stands by kevin and points at the bowl where he's wisking the eggs, taking a short sip of his water, “can you save me some brownies?”

“i'm not making these for you, you know,” kevin sighs.

“just one, then,” sunwoo insists, eyebrows up and pout on his lips, “you know i love brownies.”

“i'll save you some,” you smile at the younger guy lightly, “where are you heading?”

sunwoo shrugs and scratches his nape, “had the sudden urge to go to the movies.”

“alone?” you inquire, trying to supress a laugh.

“don't judge a man for his hobbies, y/n,” sunwoo flicks your forehead with little force, and kevin hates that ugly feeling in his gut when you giggle and poke your tongue at him, “gotta go now, i've already purchased my ticket.”

and with sunwoo leaving, everyone else out on individual schedules and chanhee dead asleep on his room, you both are, technically, left alone in the dorm for once and for all.

kevin pretends to be too preoccupied with spreading the thick batter in the baking pan to notice that the perfect opportunity to do it is just unfolding in front of him. he knows that the reason why he keeps getting interrupted is because he likes to take his sweet time with it, dragging it out as much as he can so he can prepare his heart for it. he decides he's not gonna do that tonight.

just as he opens his mouth, your phone dings on the counter. kevin busies himself with putting the baking pan in the oven while you reach for your phone with the spatula he used in your mouth.

“who are you texting?” he asks once he notices your wide smile and soft giggles.

“yurina, one of my uni classmates,” you lick your lips after you're done licking the batter off, tossing the spatula into the sink, “she's happy because she asked her crush to be her girlfriend,”

“and did she say yes?”

“well, she wouldn't be happy otherwise, don't you think?”

there's an one-sided awkward silence when kevin rests against the counter while staring at you intently texting back and forth with this girl from uni.

a moment of doubt crosses his mind. should he really do it? something tells him he shouldn't, that he should just keep quiet, but he's been walking through this desert for so long ago that stopping now feels wrong when he can practically see water in front of him.

love gives him a push in the back.

“what about you?” he asks, and he internally cringes at the way his voice cracks a little at the end. he clears his throat, “i mean, are you interested in anyone?”

your thumbs stop typing suddenly, and you remain frozen for a moment, staring at your screen. you're blushing a little when you slowly lift your eyes towards him, and he mirrors such expression when his hopeful heart does a little flip.

“why—why are you asking all of a sudden?”, your voice sounds tiny and you look a bit doubtful of him.

“well, you never tell me about stuff like this,” he scratches his eyelid as he looks down at his shoes. the awkwardness is almost painful, and he's sure he isn't the only one feeling it right now, “is it someone you can't tell me?,” he makes a small pause in which he lifts his eyes from the ground and looks at you, “a close friend, maybe?”

silence fills the kitchen. the hen shaped cooking timer clicks as it counts down the minutes for the brownies to be ready, hour phone pings with new upcoming messages, the tv in chanhee's room makes deaf noise in the backround, yet, none of you talk.

when you refuse to meet his eyes that come looking for you, biting the inside of your cheek and looking down, kevin realizes he's going to be the one who breaks it, unfortunately.

“did i hit the jackpot?,” perhaps he sounds hopeful, or perhaps the silence was too loud that his voice now seems to over-volume it.

you finally look up from the floor, “why am i the only one being interrogated?,” you sound a little more like yourself when you block your phone and cross your arms on your chest, lips pouty and the tip of your ears a little bit red, “you also never tell me anything about stuff like that!”

“i'll tell you if you want,” he murmurs, trying to analize your reaction, “if you tell me first.”

in the heart fluttering moment, odds are in his favor, he knows. it's on the way you look at him through your eyelashes, shy and maybe even a bit flustered, the sugar rush on his veins at the sight of your blush, ever telling of your feelings. because he knows you so well he knows that his hunch is right, it's because of your connection that he can feel that it's no longer one-sided, that, as much as he feels for you, you feel for him.

“why don't you,” you make a small pause to press the back of your hands to your hot cheeks, “why don't you say it first, then?”

“how about we say it at the same time?,” even in his certainty there's still cautiousness, as if he needs confirmation even if he can read your heart, “at the count of three.”

“okay,” you smile at him with warmth, gentle, still laced with a shyness that makes your eyes a bit glossy, and it's the prettiest thing kevin has ever seen, “one.”

“two.” he says, his heart on a frenzy, mind a bit hazy with quiet excitement for what's about to come.

“three!” you both say, and there's a small pause before any of you continue:

“you!”

“sunwoo!”

#the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #kevin moon x reader #the boyz #tbz #kpop x reader #idol x reader #fluff

72 notes · View notes

thenamesseven · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Lee Donghyuk x Reader

Genre: Comedy, romance.

Warnings: None, just some swearing.

Word count: 6.2k

Plot: You didn’t know how your best friend had managed to convince you to go to this blind date, you hated the idea and you knew it was not going to be succesful since the very beginning, specially since she refused to tell you who the guy was. If only you had known it was Lee Donghyuk, the only person in this world that seemed to hate you, you wouldn’t even have bothered to get dressed up in the first place.

Check out the NCT masterlist here for more oneshots and stories!

A/N: This is a part of an event I wanted to participate in! You can check the event’s masterlist here to see more upcoming oneshots!

Sitting on the passenger seat of your best friend's car you stared ahead at the american styled cinema, where the blind date she had organized for you would take place in. You kept internally swearing at yourself, trying to remember why you had agreed to something like this in the first place. Yuna had been insisting about this for an entire week and you had grown tired of her whining at some point so you had accepted that the only way to make it end had been accepting the blind date and here you were, having a mental breakdown while desperately trying to calm yourself down. You couldn’t lie though, the idea of opening the car door and running away before she could catch up to you had crossed your mind more times that you would like to admit but you knew Yuna would ran you over with her car to stop you if she had to, she had no mercy when it came to things like this.

Dates had never been your forte and you didn’t need to be a genius to guess blind dates weren’t going to be suited for you either. It was not that you were socially awkward, in fact, you had always been the kind of person that attracted everybody’s attention unintentionally, your big, bright smiles always lighting up the room you were in. The cheerful yet easy-going aura that surrounded you 24/7 lifted up even the worse moods and your positive mindset gave you this chill flow that turned contagious, people basically loved to be around you.

Although the little confidence you seemed to have around your friends was quick to vanish when you found yourself alone with someone that was of the opposite sex. Compliments made you stutter, innocent caresses made your eyes zero on the ground underneath your feet and flirting turned your face red. Everyone thought it was cute, guys kept muttering how their heart melted when you turned so shy around them but you honestly didn’t like it, in fact, it only made you feel even less confident when any of those things happened. Nobody noticed it made you feel uncomfortable, that the constant fidgeting that you unconsciously did when all of those things happened wasn’t because you were too shy but because you wanted to get out of there. You tended to avoid all those kinds of interactions at all cost and that implied avoiding dates. Being single is alright anyways, you didn’t feel an urgent need to change that.

So again, why the hell were you here then?

“Ah-ah” The sudden voice of Yuna, the one to blame about your current situation, made you jump on your seat, not having expected her to speak up out of nowhere. Your hand moved away from the door handle as if it had burned you and your eyes closed defeated while you slumped back against the leathered seat “Don’t even think about running away” Her warning made you whine, face scrunching up in dislike which earned you a strong slap on your arm.

“Ow!” You screamed shocked, opening your eyes to look at her in disbelief “What was that for? I wasn’t going to run away!”

Struggling to keep her serious face on, Yuna glared at you “You’re going to ruin your make up if you keep frowning so much!” She scolded, rolling her eyes when you lied at her “Please (Y/N), we both know you suck at lying so let’s just ignore you were trying to open that door and started running as if you were possessed”

“Please Yuna?” You asked quietly, almost ready to kneel down on your seat and start seriously begging “I’ll do all the house chores for a week, I’ll even do your laundry” When Yuna shook her head, you sighed in frustration, knowing she was determined to make this blind date happen no matter what. “What’s so special about this date that you’re not letting me back down from this?”

“I’m doing it for you, I’m sure you’ll have fun in this one” Yuna said gently, her smile turning sweet as she faced you, reaching out to rest one of her hands on your shoulder so she could give it a soft squeeze “Trust me, I’ve never lied to you, have I?”

“Well” You said quietly, giving up as you relaxed, a smirk appearing on your lips “Actually…”

“Get out of my car!” She screamed, not letting you finish the sentence that would refutate her last question “Take your ass into that cinema and have fun tonight, you’ll tell me all the details later!”

Opening your mouth, you were about to let out another little rant full of complaints and whines but Yuna, who had obviously seen this coming, sped up and left you completely alone in the parking lot. A cold breeze blew right on time, making your body shiver as you slid your sweaty hands in your pockets, your brain still trying to weigh the decisions you had in hand.

Enter the cinema and attempt to enjoy your blind date or be painfully murdered by Yuna.

You were too young to die, your daily life was awkward enough so why not add a bit more of it for a few hours?

“I’m seriously going to kill her when I get home” You muttered out loud, fixing your jacket as you forced yourself to start walking in the direction of the cinema. One step at a time, moving against your will.

Right when you approached the door and reached out to pull it open, someone else pushed it from the inside, almost hitting your face with it. Ready to scold whoever had been so careless, you put your baddie face on and rested your hands on your waist copying the position Yuna used to scold you whenever you did something wrong. Although it was a couple who walked out, hands intertwined and eyes too focused on the other to even realize you were standing there. You opened your mouth to say something but your heart clenched just in time to stop your own voice, feeling bad for almost interrupting the little moment they were having. You could only look at the both of them as they walked away, a quiet sigh exiting your lips when you felt a spark of jealousy in your chest, being single might not be as fun as you wanted it to be, if only dating was simple as that couple made it be....

"Get out, I'm late!"

Interrupting your train of thoughts, a presence behind you and apparently willing to head inside the cinema at light's speed pushed past you without even looking back to see if he had made you fall down.

"Hey!" You shouted, stumbling back but luckily resting your hand against a nearby wall to steady yourself, frowning at the masculine figure that ran inside the cinema. He was now the new target of your inner frustration, which had gotten so much stronger that you didn’t even realized that voice didn’t belong to a stranger but to someone you fairly knew. You caught a glimpse of his long black coat and his fluffy hair but it still didn’t ring any bells to you "Ugh, why so-"

Dusting off your clothes, your eyes landed on the watch you had chosen to wear tonight and when you saw the time, your heart literally stopped beating. You had arrived fifteen minutes earlier, how were you late all of a sudden?

"Excuse me!" You exclaimed as you ran past the cute couple, barely managing to dodge them as you rushed inside as well. Their complaints were cut off by you closing the cinema's door behind you but you weren't fast enough to stop your own feet before walking into the guy that had made his way in before you, the one that ran into you like a freaking rugby player.

"Ow!" He jumped away when your face slammed the back of his coat, sending waves of pain through your nose. Your hands flew to your face and you bit down hard onto your lower lip to not start swearing like a truck driver. "Dude, watch where you're going!"

"Where am I going?" You said in pain, still covering your face as you tried to get rid of the couple of tears that had appeared in your eyes "What were you doing standing there like a creep?" You heard him groan and the sound only seemed even more familiar but you still couldn't guess who he was.

"Wait" Surprised by the sound of your voice, Donghyuk turned around so fast that he almost hurt himself. His eyes opened wide and his mouth opened and closed as if he was a fish out of the water. "(Y/N)? Is that you?" At the sound of your name you couldn’t help but peek up curiously, willing to see who was the one to blame for almost breaking your nose.

The first thing you saw were the white and spotless adidas he was wearing, they seemed new unlike the ones you had at home which were totally worn out from how much you’ve been wearing them. Then your eyes moved up without missing the way his black tight jeans hugged his legs, leaving little to nothing to your imagination as the white oversize shirt he was wearing left you wondering what could be hiding underneath it.

“Are you checking me out?” Donghyuk asked scoffing, still looking at you “Gross”

“D-Donghyuk?” His name came out of your lips in a quiet whisper, stuttering it. You sniffed quietly, rubbing your nose one last time before putting your hands back down into your pockets “What are you doing here?” Your question brought frowns up to both of your faces, this was why you tended to avoid dates, what kind of question was that in the first place?

“I could ask the same thing to you” He replied smugly, shrugging as he turned his full attention on to you.

Getting slightly self-conscious, you gathered all the courage that was still remaining in you and crossed your arms over your chest, slightly raising your chin a little so you would look a bit more intimidating instead of looking like a lost puppy.

“I’m here because I’m going on a blind date” You said, your lips unconsciously scrunching up in a cute pout “Why?”

Donghyuk and you weren’t best friends, you didn’t even know if the two of you were even close to be friends to begin with. He was in most of your classes which had forced the two of you to interact a couple of times but he always seemed to be kind of unwilling when it came to maintaining a conversation with you. You didn’t know why but you always assumed he just didn’t like you, your parents had always told you not everybody was going to want to be your friend and he, apparently, was one.

“A blind date?” Donghyuk started laughing at your words, looking at you as if he had just heard the funniest thing in the universe, hands resting upon his stomach as he slightly bent down a little bit. After almost five seconds where you were seriously considering he might have lost his mind, Donghyuk’s smile disappeared and was replaced by a straight line. “You’re kidding me, right?” Blinking, you could only stare at his face feeling extremely confused, was he mad now? How did he go from laughing his lungs out to look as if he wanted to punch you?

“Are you bipolar?” You blurted out, not even thinking before making the question.

“Are you dumb?” He reached out to knock on your head gently, making you flinch underneath his knuckles every time they met the side of your skull “Sounds empty to me so yeah, you might be”

“Ow!” You pushed him away, not willing to be knocked on the head again, throwing daggers with your eyes at him “What’s wrong with you? Did you lose your mind or something!?”

“Please tell me Yuna did not set you up for that date” He whined, stomping one of his feet down onto the floor as he ran his fingers through his hair, kind of messing it up a little bit. Stress was evident on his face now and you were too busy wondering how could he go through so many emotions in such little time to remember you still had to answer him “(Y/N)? Are you even listening to me!?” He snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, bringing you out of your short trance to meet his once again.

“She did….Why?” You replied, slightly tilting your head, looking at him expectantly to see which emotion will you be able to see on his face this time.

It was frustration.

“Why? Why!?” He exclaimed, resting his hands on his hips, eyes as open as ever as he stared down at you “Mark! I’m so going to kill him” He fumed, not answering your question, confusing you even more with his random answer.

“Mark? What does your best friend have to do with this?” You asked, reaching up to scratch the back of your head, feeling extremely lost in this conversation.

Donghyuk whined once again “You’re really are dumb, aren’t you?” He said looking like he was about to cry from how angry he was “Mark and Yuna are dating, they obviously set us up on purpose!” The lady at the front desk flinched a little bit when he raised his voice even more, you smiled apologetically at her and bowed your head lightly, apologizing for his behaviour.

Now it made sense why Yuna had refused to even tell you the name of the guy you had to meet.

“Don’t you trust my taste?” She had asked with a cute pout, one she knew you wouldn’t be able to resist “He’s a good guy! You’ll have so much fun with him” Yuna giggled mischievously, reaching out to grab both of your hands so you could keep your attention on her “And he’s quite handsome too, you’ll thank me for this”

“How would I find him in that place though? I don’t even know how he looks like” You had complained, looking at her, knowing she already had an answer for that.

“You’ll know when you get there, don’t worry about that!”

Yuna’s giggles and words hadn’t been suspicious back then but now that you replayed the conversation in your head, you saw the obvious signs of her pulling you into one of her naughty plans. She was surely going to hear a good scolding from you as soon as you set one foot into your apartment, oh, she was going to regret this so hard.

“Quite handsome my ass” You mumbled pouting, voice so low that Donghyuk didn’t even hear you over his own frustration. Glancing at him, you couldn’t help but laugh quietly at his angry typing, if he kept touching his phone screen that hard the phone would end up breaking for sure.

“He’s not picking up or answering to my texts” He told you, sighing defeated, pinching the bridge of his nose “He’s so dead when I get home”

“Yuna’s not going to pick up either, don’t bother to try” You informed him, standing there as more people walked inside, willing to have the fun you had wanted to have until you found out who was supposed to be your companion for the night.

“And what are we supposed to do now?” He asked reaching down into his pocket and fishing out what seemed to be two tickets for a movie “I already bought the tickets”

His words brought a frown to your face “What if I didn’t like the movie you chose?” You asked pouting at him. You had been dying to check out the new comedy romance that came out not too long ago in which your favorite actor, Cha Eunwoo, starred as the main male character. Donghyuk didn’t even think about choosing that one for sure.

“Yes, thank you Donghyuk for buying the tickets, I could have paid for mine” He said in a high pitched voice, trying to imitate yours “I didn’t know you were the one I was being set up with, I would have made you pay for everything if I had-” Not letting him finish his sentence, you used your purse to hit Donghyuk’s side as hard as you could. “Ow! What was that for?” Donghyuk complained, watching you stealing one of the tickets from his hand as you walked inside the cinema without saying something else, not even waiting for him “(Y/N)! Hey! Hey!”

The people around you probably thought you were having a lovers quarrel….

If the only knew.

----------

Plopping down onto your designated seat, you leaned back against it letting out a soft sigh, keeping your eyes glued to the huge white screen situated in front of you while Donghyuk occupied the seat besides yours.

“If someone we know sees us together, you’re dead” He grumbled, tapping his foot against the floor at a speed that surely wasn’t human “I can’t believe we’re doing this” Donghyuk whispered, shaking his head, looking disappointed in himself.

“You already bought the tickets” You answered shrugging “You would have wasted your money if we had decided to not watch it”

“At least you got popcorn” He muttered without even glancing your way, automatically reaching out to put his hand into the popcorn you just bought.

But before he succeeded in stealing some, you managed to move it away earning another glare for him, if looks could kill, you would have been buried already “I bought this” Despite your words and your strong feelings against him eating the popcorn you bought, you quickly regretted saying it when you remembered he had bought the tickets before you could even think about paying for yours. Besides, he looked as if he could kill you right now and you weren’t going to take the risk of eating something he wanted while sitting in a dark room for two hours more or less.

“Thank you” He said quietly, turning his glare into a fake sweet smile, shoving a bunch of your sweet and delicious popcorn into his mouth and absolutely ignoring the glare and pout on your face as you looked at him.

“What movie are we watching?” You asked him, keeping your eyes on the screen as you also started eating, at this point, there would be no popcorn left when the movie started.

“I told Jaemin to get me the tickets for that Eunwoo’s movie, I know all girls are crazy about him and knew my date would have enjoyed watching it” He explained shrugging, surprising you, he had definitely put more effort than you had expected him to for this date.

After that, Donghyuk and you stayed quiet. The snacks the two of you bought were enough of a distraction to not feel awkward with the silence that had settled down between the two of you while you waited for the lights to turn down. There was no conversation when the popcorns were almost over either so you busied yourself with the trailers that were being played, getting hyped at some movies, thinking you would definitely have to come with Yuna to see them if you didn’t murder her tonight.

A few minutes later the movie started playing and you had to admit you were kind of excited about it. Even if it hurt your ego to admit it, Donghyuk had been kind of sweet, choosing a movie that would surely bore him out instead of picking a horror or an action one that would have put you to sleep in seconds. He had known a romance movie was a safe choice for a date and you silently gave him credit for that, whoever ended up going on a date with him after tonight’s disaster was surely kind of lucky.

Although things started getting kind of weird and alarms started ringing in your head when you were almost thirty minutes into the movie and Cha Eunwoo, who was supposed to be one of the main characters, hadn’t appeared yet. The starting had thrown you off a little, there was no high school and no girls falling in love with Eunwoo and you definitely accepted the two of you were sitting in the wrong movie when the guy that showed up seemed to be running away from something supernatural that ended up killing him.

Damn, you would have been in tears if that had been Eunwoo.

“Uh…” You didn’t know if you should point it out but one glance at Donghyuk told you he seemed to be as uneasy as you were about this entire thing “I think we walked into the wrong room” You whispered, avoiding to lean closer to him. However, when he didn’t even glance your way, you assumed he was either deaf, ignoring you or too into the movie to realize you were talking to him. Moving as quietly as you could, in order to not disturb anyone around you, you leaned in closer to Donghyuk’s ear, making sure he would hear you this time “Donghyuk” You called him out again.

He didn’t shout but his body moved faster than you could react and in a second, all the popcorn that had been left in the container placed between the two of you rained down on your heads. Donghyuk had flinched too hard and his arms had automatically reached up in the air, making the container fly and spilling its content on the two of you just right when one of the ghosts that were apparently haunting his home scared the main character.

“What the fuck (Y/N)?” He asked, serious as ever as he turned his head to look into your eyes. You could feel tears gathering in your eyes as you bit your lip as hard as you could, avoiding to start laughing your lungs out at what you had just seen. You should have recorded it, Donghyuk scared was the funniest thing you’ve ever seen in your life “Are you trying to murder me or something because I ate your popcorn?”

“Maybe” You only said, afraid that if you spoke for longer you would inevitably started laughing and get your ass kicked out of the room.

“Well you almost accomplished your mission” He said letting out a soft sigh, placing his hand on his chest as his heart kept pounding incredibly hard “Jesus, hanging out with you is not being good for my health at all” He whispered, shaking his head, looking down at his knees.

“Didn’t you get the tickets for that romance movie though?” You finally decided to ask, still close to him to keep your voice as quiet as you could, Donghyuk’s eyes were already back on the screen, his hand eating the popcorn that had fallen on him “I don’t see any romance going on here”

When he turned around to face you, his face was in a mix of still offended by his previous yet faint heart attack and a silent ‘are you dumb?’ question “Well the guys wanted to organized this entire thing, I trusted them and right after I saw who Mark had paired me up with I knew Jaemin hadn’t bought the tickets for the movie I wanted either”

“So you’re telling me I have to seat here and-”

“SHHH” Someone from the seats above yours interrupted your sentence, probably fed up with your chatting.

Donghyuk looked over his shoulder and just when you thought he was about to defend you he opened his mouth and surprised you -not for the best- once again “I know right, she’s annoying” You couldn’t hold yourself back though and slapped his arm, ignoring the way he frowned and glared at you while you accommodated yourself back on your seat.

“Idiot” You whispered, rolling your eyes, letting him devour the popcorn YOU bought for YOURSELF, deciding to just focus on the movie and on planning how you were going to get rid of Yuna’s corpse once you killed her.

When your eyes returned to the screen, the main character was currently going downstairs, lights turned off and a flashlight in his hand. You rolled your eyes at the cliche situation and again mentally thought why always people in horror movies thought it was a good idea to check a weird noise without carrying something that could help you defend yourself. In fact, if it was you in that movie, you would have locked yourself in your bedroom and yeeted yourself out of the window.

No murderer or ghost was going to end your life. Not if you were managing to get through this horrible date.

---------

“Can we grab some food?” You asked as soon as the two of you were out of the movie room, ignoring the way the rest of the couples glanced your way and chuckled, obviously amused by how the two of you had behaved during the entire movie. Donghyuk would never admit it but he had been as scared as you, miraculously none of you had shitted your pants.

“No” Donghyuk quickly rejected, not even daring to look at you “Let me just take you home and end this horrible date, please?”

“But I’m hungry” You pouted behind him, using your whiny voice to get on his nerves even more

Donghyuk stopped walking suddenly, making you walk straight into his back once again. This time though you managed to get a quick whiff of the cologne he had chosen to wear tonight, to say he smelled nice would be a total misunderstandment. If it wasn’t for his shitty attitude towards you, you would have to admit that he could have totally stolen your heart away with his looks and that killer smile he always carried around when he was joking with his friends. Unfortunately, his dislike towards you was enough to let you know the two of you would never end up having a relationship like that, you would have to settle with him standing you throughout the rest of the night.

He was quick to turn around though, placing his hands on your shoulders to stabilize you in case you lost your balance “You’re not going to stop whining until we get something to eat, right?” He asked, eyes looking straight into yours.

“Exactly” You replied with an innocent smile on your face before you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to look as intimidating as he did.

Although, in Donghyuk’s eyes, you only looked even cuter.

Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair before he turned around again to start heading to the parking lot “Alright, we’ll get some food before going home then”

“You’re the b-”

“But you’re paying” He quickly interrupted, walking away even faster before you could start complaining about this newfound information.

---------------------------

”If you drop ketchup on my leather seats, you’re walking all the way back home”

Donghyuk warned as he stopped the car in a deserted place, leaning back against his seat comfortably once he had turned off the ignition. You hummed quietly, letting him know you heard his threat while you also started taking his order out of the paper bag carefully, trying not to drop any food in his precious car. You were kind of far from home and knew he wouldn’t hesitate to make you walk all the way back.

“I won’t, I won’t” You replied with a small smile, breaking the paper bag to put it down on your lap in case some of the sauce of your hamburger dripped down and stained something while you ate it.

Just like it had happened in the cinema, a new silence settled down between the two of you now that you were too focused on eating your food, it wasn’t uncomfortable though, you just preferred eating in silence rather than arguing constantly. While you ate dinner, you noticed a few other cars had parked around his, keeping enough distance to not be able to see who the people inside the vehicle were but still making you frown with curiosity. It wasn’t until you took another look around the place that you finally recognized where Donghyuk had parked.

“Isn’t this the place where people come to make out?”

Donghyuk choked on the fries he was eating.

You hadn’t really done it intentionally, you didn’t even know he was eating when the question had suddenly flew out of your mouth. He kept coughing as you reached out to pat his back with one of your hands, holding your drink with the other to not drop it in the car and make the situation even worse than it already was.

“What kind of question is that (Y/N)? What the fuck?” He asked, voice hoarse as he cleared his throat, still feeling the food stuck in a place it shouldn’t be.

“Are you planning to make out with me?” You asked jokingly, wiggling your eyebrows at him. Maybe it was the lack of light but you thought you had seen a hint of a smile in Donghyuk’s face when you said that, however he was quick to turn his face away and look out of the window, avoiding any kind of eye contact.

“You’re nuts” He muttered, successfully hiding the amusement in his voice, doing it so well that it actually made a frown appear on your face.

You had been thinking about this for the entire night and even though you had tried to play his comments off as jokes, his dislike and rejection towards you was starting to be a little bothering. You hadn’t felt that bad during the date, you haven’t even felt as awkward as you usually did so the time you spent with him hadn’t been that bad. Did he dislike you so much that he couldn’t even bear the thought of making those kinds of jokes with you?

“What? Am I that ugly?” You were supposed to sound amused, your words had been a simple joke in response to what he had said but Donghyuk couldn’t ignore the soft sourness in them, the way you scoffed just told him he had said enough for tonight. “I guess I crossed a line there” You muttered with a sigh

“What are you talking about now?” He asked, turning around again to face you, this time with a frown on his face, a sincere one.

“I mean, I know you didn’t expect to go on a date with me and that our friends were only trying to prank us but you could at least try to hide your discontent a little bit” You confessed, eyes glued to the front glass even though you could feel him staring at you from the driver’s seat “Like I tried my best to be nice and all you did was shove me away, this didn’t need to be a date, we could have just tried to hang out as friends”

Donghyuk knew he had fucked up big time as he listened to your rambling and his attitude had ended up hurting your feelings when he never had any intentions of doing that. He actually couldn’t help but feel bad because of it, staying quiet for a few minutes before he finally decided to say something.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was being that big of a jerk” He said quietly, looking down at his lap before he took the fries he hadn’t eaten yet “Want to eat my fries?”

You didn’t know if he was either joking or being genuinely serious and honestly, you also didn’t know which was worse “I just want to know why you hate me so much” You scoffed tired of beating around the bush, ready to face the explanation you were finally craving for.

“You’re kidding me, right?” He huffed, suddenly looking offended “Like this has to be the ultimate prank of the night” Donghyuk actually turned around on his seat so he could face you with most of his body, eyes dead serious as if he was planning to stare straight into your soul “Why would you think I hate you (Y/N)?”

You blinked confused “Uhm...Do you want me to narrate with detail all the reasons you gave me tonight or….?”

“I don’t hate you” He said sighing, true that he might have been an absolute jerk but he had his reasons “I mean how did you expect me to behave right after you rejected me?”

“What?”

“Especially after how you did it” He kept rambling “I mean, maybe I expected a ‘I'm sorry you’re not my type?’ But not for you to throw the letter away without even giving it a second glance”

“A letter?” You asked, your brain searching for any memories that would resemble something similar to what he was talking about. It only took you a few seconds before you remembered something, it had happened at the beginning of the year and you hadn't paid too much attention to it. During one of your classes, when you opened one of your books during a class, you had found a note but what was written in it had made you assume it was a joke. “Wait, are you talking about the note that said...I like your smile, I like your ass, you should date me, I’m a guy with class….Go out with me, you won’t forget, I’ll buy you food and spoil you to no end?” When Donghyuk stayed in silence as you recited the poem you had found, you guessed he must have been the author behind it. “i thought it was a joke Donghyuk”

“Well, the guys helped me write it and….” Now that he had listened to it from another’s person mouth the poem didn’t sound as good as his friends had made it sound “I-”

“I didn’t even know it was you” You said exasperated “Like Haechan? I’ve never heard somebody call you like that?”

“My friends do?”

“And I should know that because…..?”

Donghyuk had to admit his strategy to ask you out had completely sucked and he could now understood why you thought he had hated you, you didn’t even know you had rejected him in the first place “I’m not listening to the guys again” He muttered under a whisper “Not in my life” He added with a deep sigh

“Yeah, I think you should avoid doing that” You replied with a small smile, watching him drown in embarrassment as he leaned his head back against the seat to stare at the car’s ceiling “So all this time you just thought I rejected you?”

“Well, what was I supposed to think?” He asked hiding his face behind both of his hands, making sure you wouldn’t see the soft blush that was creeping up his neck, you couldn’t help but chuckle at that

“You guys are such huge idiots” You finally said, deciding to break the tension in between the two of you as you started laughing, really amused by the entire situation.

Donghyuk peeked at you through his fingers, feeling even more embarrassed but also kind of relief now that you didn’t seem to be as upset as you were before. He was still shy and felt like a complete idiot for everything but your happiness was just as contagious as ever and he found himself smiling behind his hands, shaking his head in embarrassment.

“Please let me take you out on another date? I promise it will be way better, at least just to make up for this horrible hang out?” He asked mortified, groaning as he hit the back of his head against his seat again.

“You’re kidding me, right?” You asked back, repeating the same words he had used a few minutes ago.

“Was it that bad? Did you really hate it?” He removed his hands from his face to look at your face, he really did seem like he was regretting everything he had said tonight “I promise I won’t let the guys plan it again”

“I’m kidding, I’ll go on another date with you” You said chuckling, watching him visibly relax “But next time…”

“Mhm?”

“You’re paying for the food” Donghyuk allowed himself to finally smile at your words, shaking his head as he chuckled. He nodded at your condition, going back to eating his fries.

“And we’ll make out in here” His so unexpected words made you choke on the drink you had been sipping and the fact that you tried your hardest to not spit it out your mouth only made it worse because it ended up coming out of your nose and unfortunately, staining his leather seats.

“(Y/N) WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST TELL YOU!?” He shouted alarmed, throwing napkins your way, making some of them land on your face.

“IF YOU HADN’T SAID ANYTHING I WOULDN’T HAVE SPILLED THAT THROUGH MY NOSE” You shouted back, breaking the calm and relaxed atmosphere of the place, unknowingly interrupting multiple make out sessions.

If someone would have told the couples around you that the two of you were on your first date, they would have surely replied ‘You’re kidding me, right? Those two hate each other’ but in fact, time would tell that the joke was actually on them and nothing, not even Donghyuk’s leather seats getting food stains, would tear the two of you apart.

#haechan #haechan x reader #kafenetwork #kafevalentine21 #haechan fluff #lee haechan #lee haechan fluff #lee haechan x reader #nct haechan #nct haechan x reader #nct haechan fluff #lee donghyuk #lee donghyuk x reader #lee donghyuk fluff #kdiarynet

124 notes · View notes

evie-the-kiwi · 4 years ago

Text

the discord i sent this to said i should post it. tubbo analysis pog./rp

Description: 5 screenshots of discord messages by user Tubbo Lore On Main {evie}, some of which have reactions attached generally conveying the anguish of their server mates. messages copy pasted/transcribed below:

The Nukes. he is decommissioning them, obviously, as he's said, because he would rather not hurt anybody, but they Work. and it's not some kind of Chekhov's gun, and i'm not saying it is, but it has become a perfectly potential plot point for tubbo to completely fucking obliterate something. Now, tubbo is a distinctly not lore streamer. he doesn't act beyond semi-scripted bits, mostly. when having conversations about semi-in character plans, he'll stick to what his character thinks, but he wont really Act. so i feel as though its possible that people have not caught onto his character's current mental state so we gonna talk about that first. c!tubbo's mental state was, i believe, fundamentally altered by his time as president. of course it was it was a terrible time for him. the creation of the nukes in the first place was for the main purpose of self defense. Everywhere tubbo's ever lived before snowchester has been burned, destroyed, raided, etc. at least tommy's house has stayed and is easy to rebuild. so, obviously, hes gone for the prevention approach. he knows he can't beat his perceived main threats in pvp. if techno or dream wanted snowchester gone, then it would be. so to compromise, he's created weapons of mass destruction. if you're going to take my home, then i will take yours, but bigger, and Worse, because its the only way he thinks he can be safe, and respected, and Allowed To Live. In his time as president, it was drilled into his head that No one could be trusted. couldn't trust the retirement, nope hes gonna come back, we have to deal with him. can't trust dream, he never actually thought you were any good and only used you to get to tommy and the disks. can't trust quackity, he's repeating the festival. can't trust phil, he's helping techno. lists go on for reasons tubbo should probably not be trusting literally anyone. but he does! but i have 100 characters left. so hold on im not done but new message

Tubbo trusts people because he knows better than to go bitter over betrayal. he's seen firsthand what that does to a person on this server. but he doesn't totally trust anyone. he needs to be able to trust them. so he's nice. and he's kind and lovely just like always, so no one Wants to betray him. but now, if they do? there are consequences. he focuses on dream because he knows that he, personally, hasn't done shit to dream, and if dream does something to him well, that's unprompted, get nuked, but i think tubbo trusts people because while he hasnt threatened anyone, he knows, that they know, that Now? Hurting him has Consequences. you don't get away with fucking with tubbo anymore, because No one can get away with fucking with the dude with the nukes. He genuinely believes i think that him being powerful makes him safe. so thats the explaination of the nukes and Why nukes. moving on to "Aha, i am completely accepting of my death for some plastic my friend wants" and then the. the actual point. we arnt even there yet god

pov you are told consistently by people who you trust and who are your friends and who you thought were your friends that you're Stupid, and Evil, And A Tyrant, And Just Like The Guy Everyone Hated, You Know That Guy? Who Drank Himself To Death And Executed You? Just Like Him, And A Monster, and Less Important Than An Inanimate Object, and A Pushover And A Yes Man And A Follower And A Pawn, now imagine that every angsty fanfic written about that compounded into a full and complete internalized self perception because the amount of those things you were told that have been argued against were,,,, the yes man one, the follower one, and the pawn one. and you might have some proof that you're more important than disks, because you got chosen over them but he still got them back and he still had you go fetch one as soon as everyone was there to protect you. so. who knows. anyways. tubbo is apathetic to his fate because while i dont think he thinks people will be better off, i do think that he's internalized the thought that really, he's not all that important, every choice he makes on his own is evil, apparently, and the rest of the time he's a yes man, so does it matter? it's not like he Wants to die, he'd rather not, but. Since When Was He Important, for anything other than being used to hurt tommy or following someone else's instructions? so that's the Fate Apathy as i see it.

Anyway the Nukes!! the nukes. Why Would Tubbo Set Off A Nuke. the answers are simple and based off of possibility alone. probability plays no role rn. 1. in some way, he is harmed. a given, because that is what the nukes are for. their primary purpose is to prevent the harming of tubbo himself as well as his home and those who live there. 2. the egg problem gets out of hand enough that tubbo feels personally threatened, or that the things and people he cares about are threatened. he's totally willing to nuke the fuck outta the egg i know it. that thing fucks with him, snowchester, or, god forbid, tommy? it's gone. 3. Tommy Dies. do not come for me i will explain. were we speaking of pre-president tubbo, or even president tubbo, this would not be on the list. but we are talking post-president tubbo. post president tubbo who thought he indirectly caused the death of his best friend, who has had everything else he cared about Die or leave him. who doesn't actually seem to care much beyond what's expected of him about things that are not tommy and Maybe ranboo, and Maybe Sort Of Possibly Jack Manifold, and Snowchester. i have not run out of fingers on one hand. just like his own fate, he's apathetic to the fates of most around him. it would be Lovely if they were alive, and it would sorta suck if they died. that's it. he's still friendly with everyone but it's clear from the way he spoke about the nukes that while he doesnt want to hurt anyone, if he has to, he will. it's taken all the worst parts of his original pragmatic viewpoints and given them a weapon of mass destruction and a disregard for his own life. Genuinely, i think that if tommy dies. and he has to die, it cant just be something bad happenign to him tommy wouldnt want him to blow it up. i think that tubbo, having lost his best friend and constant? would raze the server to the ground. tubbo is stable, but in the way a grocery bag is stable. the paper handles will rip off if the weight increases just a lil

i ended that with 0 characters [5:37 PM] im not done hold on [5:37 PM] gonna talk abt jack

Jack. underestimates how shaky tubbo's stability is, and overestimates what it would take to push him over that edge. his hatred of tommy also keeps him from seeing how much tubbo cares about tommy. Again, Tubbo Doesn't Want To Die. but he was Willing, for the disks, a chance for tommy to be happy. he spent what he thought was the last few minutes of his life comforting tommy and telling him that it was okay, and that he would be fine, and that without his tubbo, he's still tommy. "yourself." Jack says he hopes tubbo would be able to get over it, but i know. I'm Sure. he wouldnt. maybe he would have before. as president or before that. maybe he would have kept going and been happy eventually. but now? now, with how he puts tommy over himself, with how little he cares about himself? that would be it. that's the final straw before Full Wilbur. If I cannot Have What I Care About. If I Cannot Have What I Love. No One Can. [5:47 PM] AND ITS DONE IM DONE [5:47 PM] thank you for coming to my ted talk i will be here all week, there are drinks in the lobby-

#tubbo #dsmp #dream smp #tubbolive #c!tubbo #long post #i spent like an hour on this.

213 notes · View notes

isabellitah · 4 years ago

Text

Title : Our Wife

Pairing : Sakusa Kiyoomi x Female!Reader x Miya Atsumu

Warning : blood ig, curse words, attempted rape, torture, and mentions of death

Credits : to the artists regarding the drawings of Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu found on the banner- i saved them from pinterest I think.

Note : do not copy or repost this anywhere else. I do not write Haikyuu!! fics anywhere else.

Y/n Miya-Sakusa was scared. No- scratch that- you were terrified.

You wouldn’t show it to your captors though- your husbands taught you to never show fear- but Jesus Christ- you were terrified not only for yourself but more so for your unborn child- a child you didn’t even know existed until half an hour before you got kidnapped from your own room. For the past hour that you’ve been tied to a chair in the middle of the room, they haven’t touched your body. The same couldn’t be said for your face. Half of your face was covered in slightly dried blood; blood that came a wound you got when they slammed your head against the edge of your beside drawer to knock you unconscious, and a spilt lip that was still bleeding slightly from when they punched you when you spat at the face of the person who demanded your husbands’ locations and the locations of all your warehouses. The thought alone made you scoff- you’re no rat. Unlike whoever the hell gave your home’s location away. Your husbands were going to be so pissed when they find you gone and your shared room thrashed about.

Sitting on the wooden chair was become a pain in the ass. Literally. You couldn’t even escape because of the metal cuffs attached to your wrists, forearms, and ankles and they took your daggers away. You’re stuck and all you can do it wait. Wait for either your husbands to burst through the door or wait for your promised torture session and possible death.

Minutes- hours- who knows how long later, two men in black barged into the room, startling you from your daydream carrying knives with guns in their holsters. Well... looks like your Omi and Tsumu are too late huh...

“Ready, Princess?” thing 1 with an eyepatch said with a smile, showing his yellow teeth, “Boss said we gots to kill ye before yer husbands get here. Ye know, so they barge in ‘ere only to see yer bleeding body. Even better if they get to see yer naked corpse, doncha think?”

“Boss said not to rape her tho-” thing 1 interrupted thing 2, “what boss doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘im. And besides- I wanna leave Miya a surprise for stabbing my eye.”

And just as thing 1 started moving towards you, a scream was heard from outside the door and echoed into the room, sending shivers down things 1 and 2’s spines. You, on the hand, smiled. They’re here... fucking finally.

“What was that?” Thing 2 looked around nervously. Huh- he must be new to the business. Poor guy he won’t make it far at this point. Thing 1 shrugged, “eh who cares? There’s no one we can’t kill.” he boasted. Dumb overconfident pig.

Another scream rang through followed by a shout of terror, “THEY’RE HERE!” that was cut off as a loud gunshot echoed through the walls followed by a series of bangs and clangs. The familiar sound brought you off guard- they brought everyone? You were sure that that clang was from Michinari’s favorite weapon- his metal bat. Where were you and who took you that they felt it necessary to have everyone here? You were brought out of your train of thoughts when you realized that all of a sudden everything and everyone was silent. All you can hear was your own heartbeat.

“Ah fuck it-” thing 1 looked at your form with a crazed look in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

“Dude what are you-”

“Well it’s obvious we won’t make it out alive-”

“Wait what?”

“-might as well have fun before we die, ey?”

With that said he closed the gap between you two. You felt your mind blank as tears started forming in your eyes. The moment he ripped Atsumu’s shirt from your person, the tears fell along with the loudest scream you could muster, “OMI! ATS-” you were cut off as thing 1 smacked your cheek with the butt of his gun, “shut up ye lil bitch. Yer not leavin til I get my f-”

Thing 2 was suddenly down- a hole on the side of his head. None of you even heard the door open so that meant Shinsuke was here- well him or Rintarou since they’re the stealthiest in your family.

Thing 1 suddenly stood up straight and placed his hands up with his palms up and blocking your view from whoever was with you two in the room, “hey uhhh I was forced to do this, mates- it- it wasn’t anything personal, yea?” Sat on a wooden chair in just your undergarments and the remnants of one of your husbands’ shirt, you let a small smile appear on your face. They’re here. You and your little bean are safe now.

Rintarou stepped out of the shadows and from his voice you could tell he looked bored, “so... where is she?”

Thing 1 shook his head, having lost his voice the moment his eyes met the bored yet malicious ones of one Suna Rintarou- one of the deadliest assassins of the Inarizaki family, and prayed that the fox wouldn’t notice your bleeding form behind him.

The moment you let out a sob, he pushed thing 1 away and squatted in front of you. And he was not happy with what he saw was done to you-

He saw your bloody and bruised face. He saw your shaking hands and the tears you let flow from your eyes. But what angered him the most was the fact that someone he viewed as his little sister lost the brightness is her eyes.

Any chance the idiot had with reasoning with him was gone.

“Congratulations, idiot. You’ve secured a spot in our personal dungeon.” Rintarou smiled as he heard a sharp thump before the telltale sound of a body hitting the ground, “you didn’t hit him too hard, did you, Shinsuke-san?”

“Not hard enough.”

“Ok- let’s get these off of you before your hubbies come in here,” with that said both men started unlocking the cuffs trapping you onto the chair. After freeing you, you were immediately hit with the feeling of fatigue and let your body fall onto the person closest to you. Shinsuke caught your semi-limp body and immediately became worried but calmed down as he felt your breaths. He arranged your position so that you were laying across his lap, facing the roof of the cell. Rintarou settled himself beside Shinsuke after texting Kiyoomi your location- receiving an immediate reply that they’ll be there as soon as Atsumu is out of his blood haze. Shinsuke brushed his hand through your hair but immediately stopped when you whimpered, “hit- t-table- home.”

The two men exchanged worried glances when you stared up at them with your eyelids slowly closing. Rintarou tapped your cheek, “Y/n-chan, stay awake- how do you feel right now?”

“Aish of all the questions Rin-”

“B-baby...”

“Kiyoomi-san and Tsumu will be he-”

“M-my baby...” their eyes widened as you shakily placed your hand onto your tummy before falling limp in Shinsuke’s arms. He refrained from panicking when he saw your chest still rising and falling in patterns- you probably fainted from exhaustion.

“Holy shi-”

“Y/N!”

The moment the two saw your limp body they assumed the worst- but as Atsumu was about to yell out his rage and sorrow, Osamu appeared from the shadows and hit the back of his head, “she’s breathing, you moron.”

“I knew that, shitface.”

“Who ya callin’ shitface, ya pig?”

“Who ya callin’ a pi-”

“Aran,” Kiyoomi calmly spoke as he turned to face the hitman- ignoring his husband and brother-in-law, “lead the way out- make sure that there will be no delays. We must take Y/n to Motoya immediately- we don’t know the extent of her wounds- however they look... less than favorable as of the moment.”

At the reminder of your current condition, the twins shutted up, “Osamu,”

“Yeah, Omi-san?”

“Bring that thing with us.” was muttered with great disdain while his finger was pointed towards the unconscious thing 1.

And so they left the building covered in blood with neutral faces.

They may not show it but they were livid.

They didn’t miss your tear and blood stained face nor the the fact that your shirt was ripped right down the middle.

They knew what was going to happen to you had they been a second late.

“Hitoshi and Heisuke are already tracking the rats- we’ll have them in the basement by tonight,” informed Kiyoomi’s trustworthy gunsmith, Tsukasa Iizuna.

“They better- only question now is who gets first dibs on the assholes.”

As they settled into the car, Shinsuke told them the news of your latest surprise. He knew that they’d go even more ballistic were they to find out during the check-up from Motoya. But since they were in a closed and moving car with you on their laps, they couldn’t really do much except stiffen and let their rage grow stronger- and he looks forward to seeing what they’ll do to the bastards tonight. Shinsuke, above all things, is a man of honor- and what he hates above all things, are traitors.

“PLEASE! I’M SORRY! PLEA- AHHH” Thing 1 screamed as Kiyoomi dug his dagger deeper into the man’s shoulder- forming a hollow hole of sort.

“Just a little more... I want to see if your bones are clean or if they need to cleansed as well-”

“Omi-omi~ I want my turn !” whined Atsumu as he crossed his arms and pouted at his husband.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, “you had your turn five minutes ago when you spilled acid onto his legs- it’s my turn now.” with that said, Kiyoomi ripped his dagger from the man’s flesh without a warning and grabbing a bowl from the prisoner’s ‘meal’, poured the bowl of scalding hot soup into the hollow flesh.

And as the man wailed, the two traitors squirmed in fear as they awaited their turns.

“We don’t usually go to this extent but what can we say...”

“No one messes with our wife.”

please reblog if you liked it hehe 🥺🥰

#hq!!#hq x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu mafia au #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #miya atsumu x reader #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi x miya atsumu #poly

585 notes · View notes

existslikepristin · 4 years ago

Text

What A... Bummer

Desc: The fic that (sort of) started it all. Sorry for the funky formatting, as this was mostly just copy/pasted from Discord, where I ran the polls. You may also find it here if you prefer AFF: https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1462191/what-a-bummer-aka-i-m-so-sorry

Tags: TheLounge, Gfriend, Eunha, Yerin, maleOC"you", mostly butt things, angry bunny, vote story, backlog story

~~~~~

You knock on the dressing room door. Just inside is your Gfriend... as in "good friend" Eunha. Today is a very exciting day, and it's been a long time coming. She released her first solo album at midnight and she was at the first show where she would perform it live in front of a camera.

The two of you have been close... "good friends," as they say, for a while now. And you managed to convince security to let you in so you could give her a gift before she goes on stage. After all, you're proud of her accomplishment!

You hear shuffling inside the room and know she's on her way over. You really hope she likes the present!

What was the present again?

Options: 1. Champagne, baby! You got the expensive stuff! 2. A basket of healthy fruits! You're wholesome as fuck! 3. Your buddy Yerin! Can't celebrate without a good laugh! 4. (Picked:) A buttplug?! Who the fuck do you think you are?

~~~~~

You hold the box behind yourself as the door opens. Just inside is your buddy Eunha, all by herself. Not a surprise since you saw her manager downstairs earlier.

And she looks awesome. Her hair is cut short again, just to her jawline, but instead of curling in like her normal bob, it flares out at the bottom. She's got on a white shirt, cut low enough to just tease at her cleavage (even though you happen to know she's hardly got any cleavage without the pushup). Below she's wearing a super short black skirt, with a slit on one side that nearly reaches her hip bone, but her safety shorts hide the real goods. You know she has some tall black heels for this outfit since you were there when her stylist picked them out, but she's barefoot for now, nails on her fingers and toes painted all black.

She shouts happily and jumps up to wrap her arms around you as soon as she sees you. You barely manage to keep her from dragging you down to the floor, putting your arms around her too. "You came!"

"Of course I did!" you shout, "Congratulations!"

The top of her head barely reaches your chin while she's on her toes. She nuzzles her head into your neck. Her hair dresser would flip her shit, but it's okay if it's just for a second, right?

She suddenly grabs the box from your hand. The sly little idol.

"Yerin told me you were bringing me a present. I thought she might be lying, but..."

Eunha tears the wrapping off the box. You'd be a little offended, but you did the same thing to the last birthday gift she got you.

"Now... what am I supposed to do with this thing?"

Eunha holds up the butt plug. You grin, recognizing the excellence of the thing. Stainless steel, polished like a mirror, a bright red gemstone embedded into it (and yeah, you got a real gem for it), and big. Real big.

Options: 1. (Picked:) "You keep it inside you, once I help put it there." 2. "WOAH. That's not what I thought it was, I swear! Yerin tricked me!" 3. "How the fuck should I know?"

~~~~~

"What are you supposed to do with it?" you ask as you take a couple steps forward.

"You keep it inside you, once I help put it there."

Eunha puts the butt plug up to her mouth. "Like this?" She licks it and puts it in her mouth, as far as she can at least. She looks up into your eyes, looking as innocent as she can. You would almost buy the stupid act too, but you know she's got somewhere to be.

You grab her by the shoulders and spin her around. Then you drop to your knees so your face is directly next to her ass. It takes up your whole field of vision. But still, there's no time to waste. You grab the sides of her safety shorts and yank down. As expected, there's nothing underneath and you can instantly spread her glorious cheeks to be greeted by...

Oh damn, she's already got a plug in.

Eunha giggles above you. "Don't worry. I like yours better. Help me swap them and you can keep that one."

Not a bad solution.

The plug takes a little work to get out. Eunha half-moans, half-laughs as you wiggle it back and forth to get it moving. She reaches back to spread her ass cheeks to give you better access and a fantastic view.

And eventually, with a little pop, the plug comes out. It's much smaller than the one you brought, made of silicon, and much more boring.

You stand and hold it in front of Eunha. She instantly sticks her tongue out to lick off the lube.

"It's almost like you've done this before, isn't it?" you ask with a smirk.

"It's almost like you know that personally," she says over her shoulder.

You take the brand new butt plug out of her hand and get back on your knees. Eunha instinctively spreads her ass again. You can still see some of the glistening of the lube that was there for the last plug, so it's probably at least safe to put the new one in without anything extra. Then again, the new butt plug is pretty big...

1. (Picked:) Stick it in rough. This might mess up her performance, getting you a punishment later. 2. Give her a good lube up with your tongue first. You know from experience that she loves this, and you'll be well rewarded later.

~~~~~

You know, you and Eunha have been good friends for quite a while now. How bad would it really be if you messed up her performance just this once... And besides, her cute, tiny little asshole just needs a real good stretch sometimes right?

Right.

Eunha waves her ass from side to side, bent over a bit, mostly for the presentation. "I'm ready for it. What are you waiting for?"

Well, she said it! You line up the top of the plug at her lube-short hole, earning you a sultry giggle from the idol. You give it a slow twist to one side, the other side, brace your elbow, and shove like you've never shoved before.

You're not quite sure whether or not you were successful. It seems like time slowed down... You felt the tension of her ass resisting the plug up to the widest part, followed by it giving way as it tapered back down. But that only took a second or so, and Eunha didn't react. The dressing room is dead silent.

Then, Eunha falls to the floor. To her knees, then onto her hands. You're more than a little worried, so you move to her side to see her face. Her mouth is open like she's screaming, but there's still no sound, until she whispers, "What... the f-f-fuck... is wrong with you?"

Her eyes slowly turn in your direction so you give her your biggest, winning smile. But there's fire in her eyes. You're suddenly feeling like you may have made a bad choice.

There's a knock on the door and a voice comes through, "Eunha? We'll be starting your stage in five minut--"

"I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!" Eunha screams. You hear the PA muttering as they walk away.

You open your mouth to say something, but you forget what it was when you get smacked in the jaw. Eunha is still holding herself with one hand, but the other is floating menacingly next to your face, nails looking beautiful but also ready to tear you apart.

Clearly trying to compose herself, Eunha lowers her head and whispers again, "Go find Yerin... and wait for the stage... now."

It's probably best not to argue. You get up and and make your way to the door. You turn back to look at her though. She hasn't really moved, and you get a great look at her thicc ass sticking into the air with your plug poking out from between her cheeks.

You know for sure you're going to get punished later, but you think maybe you should say something?

Options: 1. Apologize. You can admit, you fucked up. You'll still get punished, but maybe she'll go easy on you? 2. (Picked:) Never mind, say nothing. You'll obviously just make it worse. 3. Just laugh. Eunha doesn't have connections to any hitmen, does she?

~~~~~

For the sake of your personal safety, you think it's probably best to just go. You slip through the door quickly so nobody can see through the door and make your way to the stage.

Yerin is pretty easy to pick out of the crowd for you, as she's wearing her usual thick sweatshirt, plain jeans, tennis shoes, hat, facemask, and glasses that make it impossible for her to be recognized in public. She's in the back of the crowd, holding a gigantic sign that says "I LOVE YOU EUNHA I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES" as a joke. You remember the first time she said that was when Eunha was fucking her with a strap on. It looks like everyone in the crowd is too busy practicing their fanchant to really notice the overtly sexual (and nonsense) sign.

"Yo slut," you casually say as you walk up next to her.

"About time you got here whore," she says back, clearly grinning mischievously behind the mask. You smirk back.

"So, did she like her gift?"

Your smirk fades, "Uuuh. You know, she will probably have to tell you that herself."

"Mmm, I will. And then I'll take it out of her, put it back in and lick all around it... ugh, I'm so wound up. Hey. If I masturbated while we watch the stage, would you keep an eye out so I don't get caught?"

Options: 1. "Of course! I've always got your back my dude." 2. (Picked:) "You want to do it yourself? But I'm right here." 3. "Woah, Yerin. Don't be so weird. Just enjoy the show like a normal person. Sheesh."

~~~~~

You give Yerin a smirk and move behind her. She points at her eyes and swings her hand in a circle, her nerdy way of telling you to keep watch. You get the feeling she'll enjoy what you have in mind.

After a couple of minutes go by, the fans scream as the stage hands walk off and the lights go dim. You and Yerin join them in the cheer, welcoming your hot little buddy into the spotlight. Yerin holds her sign high and shouts her support.

As the lights come back up, you see Eunha, cool and calm like the professional she is, with her backup dancers. You're a little surprised (and slightly disappointed) at her exceptional composure.

The first note of the song hits and the crowd instantly shuts up, ready to fanchant like hell. That's when you seize the chance to shove your hand down the back of Yerin's jeans and pop the still-lubed butt plug (the one you took out of Eunha earlier and never did get rid of) into Yerin's ass. It slides in like butt...er.

Eunha jumps into her dance and Yerin jumps up and down with the music with no regard for your hand down her pants. You feel like you might get a rash. But either way, you soldier on and reach in further, until you can touch her clit.

There's one move in Eunha's dance that draws a big gasp from the crowd, where she bends over and presents her ass. Her safety shorts hide the butt plug... for anyone who isn't paying close attention. They aren't especially good at hiding how deep the crack of her ass is, and there's just one very slightly bulged out part.

Yerin moans back at you, "Holy shit, she is so fucking hot up there," as she grinds herself down against your hand, drowning your fingers in her juices. "I just want to sit on her face, pull her legs back and pump a dildo into her helpless butt."

You smile at the thought. Maybe Yerin will be on your side if Eunha is still angry when you meet back up, considering that she also wants to destroy Eunha's asshole.

Yerin doesn't quite cum before the song is over. You take your hand out of her pants just in time not to be seen by all of the fans turning around to leave. She groans in frustration.

"Let's run to the dressing room and see if she can finish me off. I was so close!"

Options: 1. "Hey wait. She might be a little mad. I may have done something a little mean..." 2. (Picked:) "Yeah, definitely! Let's go get those shorts off her!"

~~~~~

You confidently walk through the halls next to Yerin. The whole time, Yerin bounces up and down, distracting you with the constant thought of ass. A couple times she even turns her head, sees you staring, winks, and spanks herself. You forget entirely about the confession you considered making.

Once at the dressing room, you see that the door is already open. Weird?

Yerin jumps through the door and shouts "YEAH EUNHA!"

The display of enthusiasm is met with silence. Yerin scratches her head and walks further into the room. "Maybe her mic got stuck in her hair?" she ponders.

You walk in too. You're about to comment, but there's a sudden sharp pain in the back of your neck. You attempt to put your hand up to slap at whatever bug got in here, but your hand just falls limp. So do your legs. And your vision goes dark as you vaguely feel yourself falling to the floor.

* * *

"He's waking up," you hear a garbled voice say. All you can see are blurry shapes as you open your eyes, but they come into focus very slowly.

"Don't stop!" another garbled voice shouts, making you suddenly feel a pounding in your head. Did you go too hard on some vodka?

The voices (or just one voice really) start clearing up. You hear Yerin moaning, turning slowly into a scream. And eventually your eyes confirm it.

About ten feet in front of you, Yerin's face and torso are pressed against a bed, with her butt held up against Eunha's face. Her legs are trembling wildly. Eunha's hands are gripping Yerin's hips tight, her eyes are closed, and her legs are folded underneath her. They're both entirely naked, and you have a side view of it all.

It would be a little more exciting if you weren't chained by the legs and wrists to a wooden chair.

And you look down to see that you're naked too, other than some kind of device locked very uncomfortably around your dick.

There's a thud as Eunha drops Yerin onto the bed. Yerin is apparently exhausted by the orgasm she just had, because she's not moving.

Eunha shakes her head to refluff her hair that was being pressed against her cheeks and looks at you.

"Good morning," she says blandly.

You try to respond but your tongue feels weird and doesn't move properly so you kind of just blubber.

Eunha slides off the bed and takes a few steps to stand right in front of you. A tiny drop of her cum falls from her pussy onto your knee. Damn, they must have been at this for a while.

Her entire body is bare in front of you, practically on top of you, and it's so incredibly sexy. Under normal circumstances, this is when she would sit down and ride you for hours. But she isn't sitting down, and your dick is being painfully stopped from getting hard by the contraption it's in.

"So... do you have anything to say now?"

Options: 1. Yup. Apologize. 2. (Picked:) Yeah, you enjoyed her solo debut! 3. Nope. Nothing to say. 4. Yes.. BeGONE, THOT

~~~~~

You smirk, ever so slightly unsure of yourself, or if what you're saying is a good idea. The corner of your mouth trembles as you say, "Yeah, I really liked your solo debut. You did great up there."

Eunha leans over, putting her hands on the back of the chair you're tied to. It would be a great chance to stare at her perky little titties up close if her threatening gaze wasn't holding your eyes. Her face comes in closer. You can feel her fuming hot nose breaths on your forehead. Your own breath is caught in your throat, and your lungs start to burn with how long she stares you down.

"Be glad I'm a professional. And thanks," she says, very flatly.

As she stands back up and turns away from you, and you release a huge sigh of relief.

"Yerin, over here please. I'm going to need your tongue in my ass."

With a groan, Yerin rolls off the bed and crawls to Eunha, kneeling between her and you. Eunha leans forward, putting her hands on the bed for support. If there was any question about what your punishment was before now, it was pretty clear now.

Eunha spreads her ass, her perfectly painted black nails creating a frame for the asshole you love so much. It's only a few feet away from you. You can feel your dick trying to harden but the cage just makes it... well it doesn't hurt, but it's extremely uncomfortable.

And then Yerin's head appears between you and that beautiful butt. Her hands grip onto the backs of Eunha's thighs, squeezing the flawless flesh as if she were trying to hold herself up on the edge of a cliff. You know the exact moment when Yerin's tongue meets Eunha's ass. The shorty has a very characteristic half-squeal-half-moan that comes out of her every time something wet touches it. You might have thought you could look away to stop the discomfort in your cock, but that sound brings back too many memories of your entire face being buried in those cheeks.

"Oh... Oh yes. Good girl."

You watch as Eunha slowly pushes back against Yerin's face, over and over. It lasts for hours? Days? You could never tell. Her squeals and encouragement get louder, more urgent. You can't help but let out a quiet groan of your own.

But like the rabbit she is, Eunha heard. She twists her upper body to look at you without disturbing Yerin. "What was that? Do you want to fuck this ass? Do you-- fuck..."

Her eyes screw shut as a brief shiver of pleasure runs through her body. You can see her legs quaking for a moment. She's close.

"Do you want Yerin's pretty little mouth to dip up and down on your cock to lube you up for-- fffuck!"

Again, a shiver. It's longer this time, and Eunha almost falls, her feet sliding a few inches farther apart before she catches herself. There's a loud slurping noise as Yerin moves to accomodate the change and gets a much needed breath of air.

One of Eunha's hands shoots to her inner thigh and you can barely see past Yerin's shoulder that she's squeezing herself tight. She would often remind you about how she would do that to make her orgasms more intense, so now you know exactly what (or rather, who) is coming.

Even so, she manages to gasp out nearly a full sentence, "You want my ass clenching around your cock when--" The last word melts into one long squeal and trails off from there into a silent scream. Her whole body shakes violently except where Yerin is holding her down tight.

You could swear it lasts for a whole minute. Agonizing for you and Eunha in different ways. But when she collapses face first onto the bed, her knees hitting the floor softly as Yerin guides her down, it's over. Except for the few extra twitches when Yerin gives her ass a couple of licks. You release a long breath that you didn't even realize you were holding.

Yerin climbs up to cuddle Eunha from behind, kissing her neck, shoulders, and back. The two of them giggle lightly at the gentle touches, making no move to point their beautiful, still-wet asses away from you.

"Time for your fanmeet?" Yerin asks softly after a minute or two.

Eunha sighs and pulls herself away from Yerin. "Yes, I guess we should get going."

As you expected, you're not getting any. At least not soon. You casually watch the members making their way around the room, collecting their clothes and getting dressed back up.

And notably, not untying you.

"That sure was amazing," you say, suddenly nervous, "Maybe I should help set up the chairs for the fanmeet?"

Yerin chuckles, "They're already set up, man."

"But... the audio right? You know? Do some mic checks?"

Eunha stands in front of a mirror, brushing her hair to get it back to looking presentable. "Oh that's fine. Manager's taken care of it."

You struggle to think of something else to say, or to think of what's about to happen.

"But don't worry," Eunha struts over to you and pats your knee, "SinB will be coming in after the fanmeet to let you go."

You groan. SinB rejects you any time she thinks it would be funny, which is literally every time. She probably won't even unlock the cage on your dick.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Eunha smooches your forehead like you're a pet she's leaving home for the day, and then drops a key down her shirt and into her bra. It's not hard to guess what the key is for. "And when I do, I'll have cheered up, and I'll bounce on your cock harder than you can imagine."

Yerin draws in a sharp breath somewhere behind you. She's probably planning on being around whenever that happens. You can't help but look forward to it, though it sounds like twenty-four hours of torture for you until then.

The lovely ladies zip out of the room before you can get in another word, leaving you to the inevitable humiliation SinB will have for you... in an hour or two.

THE END

#gfriend smut #kpop smut #eunha #yerin #male reader insert

133 notes · View notes

basicjetsetter · 4 years ago

Text

The Fall of Deus

♡ Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x BlackFemale!Reader

♧ Setting: The Terrace Room in The Plaza Hotel, New York

♤ Warnings: Heavy Suspense, Language, Adult Themes, Violence, Gambling, Drinking

♢ Word Count: 6.5k

☆ A/N: No joke, this took me about two years to conceptualize. Two freaking years. But I can 100% say it was worth it to write every word. This is by far one of my most creative works and I love that I get to finally share it with you all. Please hit like if you enjoy it, leave me a lil’ comment and a reblog if you love it. Happy reading!

You couldn’t help but notice and admire how pretty the sky appeared when it was tinged in the auroral haze of an autumn morning and backdropped by the twinkling glass panes of New York’s notorious skyscrapers. Though autumn’s end isn’t for a couple of weeks, the lukewarm season allowed Manhattan a preview of winter’s frigid air. The city's constant roar hummed down to a distant lullaby as you walked up the steps and in through the doors of the Metropolitan Detention Center.

It’s an impressively modern building, one you’ve become intimately familiar with in the past couple of years. Everything inside screams order, from the plain white, bleach-scented linoleum floors to the rows upon rows of caged boxes containing a range of one-time offenders, serial criminals, and constant jailbirds. The first time you ever entered the establishment, it struck you just how much the atmosphere felt devoid and depraved, almost as if hope and happiness got stopped, frisked, and turned away at the door. You never liked staying more than necessary.

None of the four guards stationed along the main lobby walls paid you any attention as you marched up to the reception desk. Their inattention didn’t spawn out of contempt but out of fear. They knew who you were here for.

The receptionist, on the other hand, wouldn’t care if the Queen of England herself hop-scotched through the front entrance, bowed, and bestowed him the coveted Royal Crown on a jewel-encrusted platter.

He certainly never took an interest in your frequent visits. The first time you set foot into this building, a bright-eyed attorney anxious to speak with her first client, the oaf of a man merely grunted at your carefully constructed introductions and waved you off like a pesky fly. On a typical day, your exchange of words consisted of him curtly asking you to state your business while he half-listened to your response and stabbed at his keyboard with blunt fingers. Detaching his gaze from the monitor might have required exhaustion of his half-assed energy.

Today wasn’t unlike any other day. Phillips told you your client's location, even though you both knew the area by heart. Third floor. Cell Block E. Number 7. Always Number 7. Lucky Number 7.

Most of your ordinary clients got shipped to this facility and locked up with the rest of the inmates until you picked up their case. Unlike this particular client you planned on springing today, those other men lacked the say-so to determine their cell. None of them came close to his status. They didn’t have the power nor the money to hire a personal attorney, and none of their crimes could ever match those of the calculated, cunning man who controlled all New York's avenues and boulevards.

In the streets, he’s known as Deus. Depending on how close you are in his circle, he's either Parker or Pete. The name in the system is Peter Benjamin Parker. Your fiancé.

| Last Evening |

“Stop fidgeting with your collar, Peter.”

“This fucking bowtie keeps… shit… it keeps choking me.” He growled out his frustration. “I’m going to fire that damn stylist.”

You threw him an exasperated glare as he ripped off the accessory. “Maybe if you hadn’t told him to pick any old bowtie, you wouldn’t be whining so much.”

“Remind me again why you're forcing me to wear this, anyway?” He paused for effect, placing his hand under his chin like Rodin’s The Thinker, and then snapped his fingers in dramatic realization. “Oh, right! Because Stark is a pretentious asshole, who thinks tuxedos are mandatory at all events thrown in his honor.”

Peter may hate the idea of wearing a formal tuxedo for the whole night, but you were going to enjoy every last minute of him in that attire, mainly because he resembles a model who stepped right off the page of a GQ cover. The low-lighting in this limousine certainly did its best to heighten your mood, highlighting the sharp angles of Peter’s clenched jaw. You’d have to remember to send Pepper a Thank You basket for planning the event as Black Tie.

“Can you at least pretend to get along with Tony tonight?” To see if his jaw could tighten any further, you coyly add, “He is the new Governor of New York, after all.”

Mission accomplished. Peter leaned his head back against the headrest and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, the light that glinted off of his platinum Rolex creating a scattered array of lights against the black leather seats. You pried your eyes off the extension of his neck as he spoke. “Great,” he huffed. “That’s exactly what I need right now. A gloating Stark who’s now legally duty-bound to hound my ass. One more thing to think about.”

As the limo pulled up to a slow halt in front of the Plaza Hotel, you grabbed one of Peter’s hands and held it until his eyes met yours. You gave him a reassuring smile and said, “Everything’s going to be alright, baby.”

The driver opened the door before Peter could speak and held out his gloved hand for you. You’ve been to the Plaza Hotel on many occasions, mostly business, and yet the sight of the château-styled building at night, with its myriad of lit windows and its luxurious lobby never ceased to leave you breathless. The view effectually took your gaze away from Peter’s tux, but not for long. The moment he stepped out of the limo, bathed in the golden light of the building, you felt transfixed all over again.

Peter discreetly tipped the driver and then turned to face you, clearly not as impressed with the Plaza Hotel as you were. He placed his warm hands on the swells of your hips and pulled you in front of him. His eyes appraised you, from your stiletto heels to your tight-fitted, off the shoulder evening dress, traveling up to your chunky Senegalese twists elegantly laid over your shoulder. He let out a low whistle and said, “If looks could kill…”

You straightened his collar and opened up the top button of his gingham dress shirt for both your sakes, then swiftly leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. “You’re not too shabby yourself, Mr. Parker.”

He wolfishly grinned as you quickly detached yourself from his borderline caressing hold. You knew he’d want more than a short kiss, but you couldn’t afford to get sidetracked tonight.

“Behave,” you chided.

“And if I don’t, future Mrs. Parker?” he prodded, a huskiness in his tone that sent a delicious shiver through you. His steps slowly brought him closer and closer to where you stood, and you weren’t sure if you’d have the will power to move away again. One proper kiss wouldn’t hurt…

A disembodied voice groaned in your ear. “Book a room!”

Peter chuckled unabashedly. “Sorry, Ned.” Though he tried to appear unaffected, Peter made an effort to clear his throat and tugged at his collar. “You ready on your end?”

“Yeah. Mic’s clear. Computer’s up and running. I’m all set. Can’t say the same for you two.”

You glance accusingly at Peter, who waggled his eyebrows at you. “We’re ready. Sorry about that. You know how Peter gets when I wear twists.”

Ned verbally shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I still refuse to sit on my couch, by the way, even after washing it four times! You owe me a new couch, dude. For my trauma.”

Peter half-heartedly grinned at the ground and said, “Dude, if we pull this off, I’ll buy you a whole new furniture set.” The one half of his grin faded away, replaced with a grim line of determination and sobriety. “Where’s he at?”

A few clicks rang through your ear-piece, then Ned replied, “Not far. About twenty minutes away, on Queens Boulevard in Elmhurst. Might be a while before he reaches the Plaza, though. There’s a jam on the bridge.”

“Cool, thanks. Keep us updated.” Peter didn’t want you to catch his expression, but you didn’t need to directly see it to realize he’s in business mode, cold and calculated, little to no warmth or playfulness left in his brown eyes.

Copying your move, he took your hand and held it until you both stared at each other. Briefly, with your eyes locked in place, he searched for any sliver of doubt, giving you one last option to ditch and save face while he executes the plan solo. You did not doubt that he and Ned could somehow pull it off without so much as a hiccup. Odds always work in Peter’s favor. For the past three years that you’ve known him, he’s never lost a gamble. Tonight, though, the gamble must include you, a new piece to his complicated game—a variable. If anything were to head south, the last thing Peter would want is to implicate you.

You understood the risks: the potential loss of your career, your squeaky clean record, and possibly your life. You wouldn’t be here, with him of all people, if you didn’t trust the plan. So you didn’t sway, letting your eyes confirm where you stood on the matter. I’m sticking with you. This exchange passed in absolute silence, ending with a small nod and a lingering kiss to your palm.

It’s always surprising to see Peter without a trace of humor or good-nature in his eyes. It took you a while to acclimate to his night and day demeanor and even longer to trust which emotions were real and which served a purpose. As he slides a cocky smile back onto his face, one that graces every part of his features, and holds out his arm for you, you knew. He’s in his element.

The game’s begun.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

Not even five seconds into the Terrace Room and your jaw hit the floor. Pepper sure knows how to out-do herself.

The room displayed the same historic French charm as the outside façade, but much more grand, decorated with multiple crystalline chandeliers, large stone semicircular archways, and classical art adorning the ceilings. Somehow, Pepper’s touch of cream-colored table cloths, bouquets of immaculate white peonies, golden napkins, and floating candle holders added the perfect ambiance for Tony’s celebration.

True to his fashion.

The Man of the Hour is currently giving his speech at the head table as the Maître D’ checks your reservation and prompts a server to escort you and Peter to your table. It’s located not too far away from Tony's, near a stone wall and a divider separating the other tables. You weren’t entirely familiar with the three people who were already seated, but they graciously offered quiet nods of welcome. Peter grabbed your chair for you and smoothly pushed you in before taking his seat next to you while you strained to catch the last bits of Tony’s speech.

“… and I can truly say that without you, my amazing colleagues, friends, and organizers present tonight, this win would not have been possible. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And um, yeah. Thank you, all.” Tony lifted his champagne flute into the air with a flourish and a winning grin. Peter rolled his eyes. “Here’s to an awesome four years as New York’s new Governor.”

Everyone stood up to give him a round of applause, Peter’s claps more grudging than encouraging, but you were glad he put in some effort. When he looked your way, you flashed him a loving smile and mouthed Thank you. He rolled his eyes again, playfully this time, and quirked his mouth up in an amused grin.

Live music picked up as soon as Tony took his seat, soft jazz that blended well with the onslaught of muffled chatter and clinks of silverware against glass plates. Servers incrementally brought out the main course of roasted beef filet dressed in tomato tarragon sauce and a side of arugula salad. Peter stifled a chuckle as he heard your stomach growl when a server placed the plate of food in front of you.

As another server leaned in to pour you a glass of wine, you held out a hand and gave him a polite smile. “No, thank you. May I just have some water, please?”

The young man nodded, but Peter piped up before he could head off. “Got anything stronger back there? Bacardi? Whiskey? Rum?”

“We have Vodka, sir,” the server stuttered out.

“Excellent. I’ll take a whole bottle of that,” Peter grinned and pressed a couple of $100 bills into the man’s palm. Peter’s effect on people never got tiring to witness. He and the server appear to be around the same age, somewhere near the 25-year mark, yet Peter's vibe reduced the server to stutters. You’d say the tux assisted with his air of importance, but you’ve seen Peter have that same effect on businessmen while wearing a shirt that read “I lost an electron. Are you positive?” and plaid pajama bottoms.

The server vigorously nodded. “Right away, sir.”

“Don’t drink too much,” you cautioned in a tone low enough for only Peter’s ears. “You know how you get, and I don’t want Tony to have an excuse to place cuffs on you.”

Peter scoffed and mumbled around a bite of salad, “If I looked at him wrong, Tony would cuff me.”

“Now that’s a little presumptuous, ain’t it, Petey?”

You jumped up from your seat and wrapped Tony up in a hug he warmly returned. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you, Governor Stark.”

Tony waved a hand, yet a big smile remained plastered on his face. “Ah, come on. It was bound to happen. Policy is the new name of the game, but I’ll sure miss that courtroom. You missy, on the other hand, deserve all the praise in the world. Best and youngest attorney in the whole state. Mentored by yours truly.” He trailed off, glancing in Peter’s general direction. “Though I question why you waste your talents on the likes of him.”

Now sitting ramrod straight in his chair, Peter slanted his eyes toward yours as you silently pleaded with him to be cordial. Once he brought his eyes back to Tony, he jerked up his chin in recognition. “Stark.”

Tony nodded at Peter. “Baby-faced Criminal.”

“Hey, now!” Pepper swooped in, pulling Tony back a little so she could see you better. “Just look at you! Always a beauty in everything you wear,” she gushed, then put on a stern face for Tony and Peter. “No roughhousing, tonight, boys. I mean it.”

“I was just making a valid critique on my star pupil's decision to become the Personal Attorney to a well-known arms dealer, is all,” Tony defended. He threw up his hands and drew up an innocent expression that might have worked had it not looked so derisive.

Pepper, pursing her lips, nodded sagely. “Right. Okay. So you were being an ass?”

“Pep!” Tony protested incredulously. Peter didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smirk.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. Oil and water can never mix, no matter how hard you try. No, Tony did not take the news of you becoming Peter’s PA well, and he’s made sure to rake you over the coals bout it every time the chance arises. You’ve been Peter’s attorney coming up on two years, and there’s not a sign from either of them that the grudge will ever be let go, not even for your sake, though they do try when threatened.

“I want you two to say something nice to each other and then let the rest of the night go on in peace. Go ahead,” Pepper ordered, indicating for Tony to go first.

Tony took in an excessive amount of air, then puffed it out. “Alright, Parker. Um… I like how you ostensibly don’t know the rules to a Black Tie Event.” He ended with a gesture to Peter’s lack of a bowtie. The poor thing lies in a mangled heap on the floor of the limousine.

Peter ticked up his eyebrow. “I like how the stick up your ass seems to reach new heights every time we speak, Stark.”

Pepper sighed and grabbed Tony’s arm. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but I’ll take what I can get. Come on, you. There are many more guests to greet.” She tugged him along, throwing you an apologetic smile over her slim shoulder as they walked away.

Almost out of earshot, you could hear Tony say, “He calls himself Deus, for Christ's sake!”

They left you two in heated silence. Peter refused to meet your glare, instead choosing to chug down the freshly set out champagne flute filled with Vodka. He immediately flushed as he poured himself another glass full.

“Peter—” you started.

“Don’t say it. I tried, alright?” He slumped against the back of his seat, then shot you a surly frown. “You didn’t even mention our engagement to him. Again.”

You looked down at your untouched food, suddenly not hungry.

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Were you ever going to tell him?”

An anchor of guilt plummeted to the pit of your stomach, chasing away the desire to eat anything for the next few hours. Your answer came out sounding whittled and nearly swallowed by the music. “Pepper knows.”

“And that tells me all I need to know,” said Peter, pushing away from the table and taking the bottle of Vodka with him.

You tried to stamp down the rise of startled panic by clearing your throat and evenly asking, “Where are you going?” A high octave managed to slip in on the last word.

“To socialize. Play some cards. Place a few bets. Criminal stuff. You want in?” He didn’t wait for you to answer, moving further and further away as a wave of hot anger replaced your shame. “Oh, my bad. Sorry. I forgot you probably don’t want your mentor seeing you ruin your perfect image with, what was it? The likes of me?”

He swaggered off, not a mere hint of his hurt evident in his show of arrogance.

You gingerly sat back in your seat, careful to ignore the inquiring stares from those who caught most of the argument. Your nails came close to puncturing your palms, and if your jaw clamped any tighter, it would snap. An annoying, persistent inner voice chimed out, He’s right, you know. It was probably Ned.

You understood Peter enough to know that Tony not being clued in on your engagement wounded him. He told everyone in his life about you—told Aunt May the second you finally agreed to go on that first date with him, nearly shouted to all the rooftops in Queens “SHE SAID YES!” when he proposed three months ago. Yet here you are, dragging your heels on telling Tony, one of the most influential people in your life, that you’re marrying the love of your life. He wouldn’t understand. Or, rather, he would, and he’d abhor your decision.

You’re not sure you could ever explain to Tony how Peter is your favorite star in the night sky. A big, glowing ball of light you spend hours upon hours admiring and appreciating. One that just burns brighter than all the rest.

Your engagement ring sparkled at you, winking as you moved it side to side and marveled at the simple yet elegant details of the inlaid sapphires and diamonds. Peter told you he picked it out a week before the proposal, but you knew he carried it around in his pocket for months, biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. When he asked, you couldn’t say yes fast enough. At that moment, Tony and his aversion to Peter never crossed your mind, but it’s lingered ever since.

Guilt returned as a salve for your anger.

“Trouble in paradise?” asked a woman sitting at your table, a slight accent in her voice. She appears to be young, almost too young to be at this function. The glimmer in her eye and the hitch in her smile denoted a wise person. Goddess braids sat on top of her head like a crown, and she’s wearing a simple black dress with pearl studs that nicely accentuates her dark brown skin.

You uncurled your hands and blew out a held-in breath, kindly smiling back. “Something like that.”

She held out a hand. “Shuri Udaku.”

That name came with an inkling of recognition, but you couldn’t quite place it. You shook hands with the young woman, giving her your name. When you momentarily looked at your clasped hands, your eyes dropped down to catch the jewelry on her wrist. They weren’t pearls like her earrings. They were onyx and emblazoned with ivory symbols on each bead: Kimoyo beads, a technological revolution currently sweeping the nation, manufactured only by one woman. The realization hit you hard. “Hold on a second. The Shuri Udaku? Founder of Vibranium Tech, Shuri Udaku?”

“The one and only,” she answered, her smile growing wider.

This confirmation launched you into a field of questions and acknowledgments. It turns out she knows of your work as New York’s youngest attorney, but you know a bit more about her line of work because Peter always voiced his interest in her growing business. On the surface, Vibranium Tech is like any other technology company, issuing out new and improved ways of communication and medical treatment. In the underground, there’s been rumors of her interest in creating weapons—technological weapons unlike any the arms dealing business has seen before.

You didn’t want to bring up that facet of knowledge just yet. The normal conversation worked wonders on you, loosening your tense muscles and clamped jaw, all of them singing sweet relief once your body naturally released the tension.

“So, did I hear Tony correctly when he said your partner is the Deus?”

You winced and found yourself searching the room for a glimpse of your fiancé. He’s commandeered a table in the back of the venue, showing off his black and gold deck of playing cards to a group of interested guests itching to play a hand.

“Yeah, that would be him.”

“That’s so badass,” Shuri mused, leaning in conspiratorially. “Is he like the mob bosses in TV shows and movies? Like does he have henchmen? Bad-temper? High-speed car chases with the police?”

You genuinely laughed. “Not exactly. Henchmen, kind of. Bad temper is rare. And he’d never shut up about having a high-speed car chase with the police. No, he’s a little more lowkey than all that.”

Long ago, back when you were innocent to the life Peter led, you assumed that that’s precisely what it entailed—an exhilarating life of high stakes, exorbitant amounts of money, strong-armed goons, and reckless shoot-outs. That might be the case for a few bosses, but not Peter. He’s too strategic, and the ins-and-outs of his trade are too complicated to pin on just one person.

“Well, I, um…” she stopped, considered her words. You unconsciously drew in closer. “I may have a business offer for him.”

You kept your smile on, but it felt more commercial-like than friendly. “What type of offer?”

Shuri gulped down a generous amount of her red wine, then darted her eyes side to side before speaking lowly. “Would he be interested in high powered weapons?”

You raised your eyebrows but kept up your cool front. “Depends. In exchange for what?”

“Protection.”

A voice in your ear announced, “He’s here.”

You ignored it, focusing on Shuri. “From who?”

Shuri peeked around again to make sure no one paid any attention to your private conversation, but her examination stopped at the entrance. “From him.”

You cautiously slid your eyes to the main entrance, heart hammering a thunderous rhythm in your chest.

Brock Rumlow. Peter's rival and leader of a group named the Scorpions. A peddler/enforcer for the East Coast's largest mob: Hydra. Of course he’d try to pressure Shuri for the weapons.

He didn’t come dressed according to the occasion, opting for his usual tight-fitted black Tee and gray tactical pants. The visible half of his tattoo, a scorpion’s tail curling out from the cuff of his shirt, stood out against his tan skin. Two other men stood behind him, wearing almost identical clothes to Rumlow and sporting the same scorpion tattoo on their right bicep, not exactly hiding that they carried concealed weapons. All the voices in the room hollowed out to stiff silence, and even the band took its cue to halt. Your eyes found Tony in time to see his jaw tick for the briefest moment, and then he slid right back into a restrained version of his good cheer.

“Hey, hey! This is still a party, people,” Tony called out, addressing the guests. “Eat, talk, have a good time.” He signaled to the band to pick up the music, then crossed the room to chat with Rumlow. You’ve never seen him so keyed up.

You touched Shuri’s hand comfortingly, not taking your eyes off Rumlow. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She deflated gratefully. “Thank you.”

You nodded, already out of your seat and rushing to the back of the room, stopping short once you arrived at Peter’s table. He’s thoroughly invested in this round of poker, glancing back and forth from his cards to the nervous twitches of the five men and one woman at the table. You recognized four of them: Judge Nicholas Fury, Lieutenant Steve Rogers, Manhattan’s Chief of Police Sam Wilson, and District Attorney Natasha Romanoff. Sweat is perspiring on Steve’s forehead, Sam’s leg can’t stop bouncing up and down, and even Natasha, a woman known for keeping her cool while in the line of fire, is chewing on her lower lip. Fury's not fazed. He just seems tapped out.

From what you can estimate, about six hundred dollars lies in the middle of the table.

Sam and Steve speak at the same time. “I’m out.”

The other men followed suit, muttering their defeat. Fury dropped his cards down on the table facedown.

Peter wickedly grinned, zeroing in on Natasha. “Got any last words?”

Natasha squinted her eyes at his taunt. “Kiss my ass, Parker.” She put her cards down face up, showing her hand, and quirked up an eyebrow that dared him to top that: three Queens and a pair of twos. Full House.

Peter laid down his hand. Four 3’s and an ace. Four of a Kind.

A chorus of fucks circled the group as Peter cleared the table of the crumpled bills. Two new bottles of opened Vodka sit on the table as well, along with seven shot-glasses. Steve’s glass remains untouched, but the others look like they’ve drained two shots each.

“Bucky’s gonna kill me for losing so much money,” Steve muttered, twirling around his wedding band.

Sam sadly shook his head. “Dammit, man. I thought we had him this time, too.” He eyed Peter with suspicion. “What you got, kid? X-Ray vision?”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, causing a few curls to escape its sleek style. “Nah, jus’ luck.”

“Yeah, well, here’s to hoping your luck runs out,” said Fury, raising his shot glass and slamming it back.

You inched closer to Peter’s side. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes are glazed over. You wonder how he’s even capable of sitting up, let alone playing people out of their money.

“Peter,” you whispered, putting your hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t shake you off. “Rumlow’s here.”

The remaining people at the table began to disperse in a collective gripe of loss. Peter didn’t say anything, only jerked his head in acknowledgment.

Your hand itched to slap him back into reality. “Peter, baby, listen. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I should have told Tony about our engagement.” Desperation sapped into your words. “It was stupid and childish not to, and as soon as I get the chance, I’ll tell him. But for the love of God, this is not the time to—”

“Well, well, well! Look who we got here! Deus, in the flesh!” boomed a disturbingly baritone voice. Rumlow, shadowed by his two men, plopped down in one of the empty chairs, sitting right across from Peter. He glanced at Peter first, then languorously landed his gaze on you. “And who’s this pretty lady you got here?”

“My fiancée,” answered Peter monotonously. He said it as if the words synonymously meant: just some chick. A dull kind of ache slashed through your chest as you dropped your hand back down to your side and took two steps away from him.

Rumlow pretended to miss the interaction, appearing to be in deep thought, and then clapped his hands once. “Oh! The attorney. I don’t believe I ever formally introduced myself.” He offered his large hand to you, grinning with his whole teeth on display. “Name’s Brock Rumlow.”

You reluctantly let him take your outstretched hand. His skin is blazing hot, to the point where your hand nearly felt suffocated. He brought it to his lips for a small kiss that twisted your stomach in knots. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rumlow.”

Rumlow winked. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart. And call me Brock.”

“Fuck do you want, Rumlow?” Peter bit out, picking the cards up off the table and shuffling them.

“Ooh,” tsked Rumlow. He made sure to lay another grin on you just to irk Peter. “Come on, Parker. Can’t a guy just enjoy some company once in a while? It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong.” He watched Peter’s movements, the cards haphazardly sliding back and forth from one hand to the next. “Playing cards, huh? You up for a quick game?”

You butt in with a pressed laugh. “Actually, we were just leaving.” Drunk Peter is overly confident. If Rumlow found that out, you knew he’d take Peter for everything he’s worth.

“So soon?” Rumlow glanced down at his watch. “It’s not even ten yet. What’s the rush?”

Peter cut you off. “No rush. I’m staying. You play Draw Poker?”

“ ‘Course I play Draw Poker, but that seems too simple for you, Parker. Don’t you wanna make it hard for me? A little Texas Hold ’em?”

“Draw Poker,” said Peter, splitting the deck against the table and flexing the cards enough to have them rapidly collapse into place. “Take it or leave it.”

A dark, mischievous smile brewed on Rumlow’s face as he watched Peter fumble with the deck and, at some point, entirely losing his grip. You discreetly watched him size up his opponent, dismayed to find that he likes the assessment. Hair is stubbornly falling into Peter’s eyes, eyes that anyone a mile away could point out are bleary and bloodshot. The flush from earlier deepened on his neck and flashed scarlet across his face—an easy target for a skilled player.

“Deal me in.”

The first game played out exactly as you feared it would. Rumlow and Peter agreed on a $100 ante to get the ball rolling, both pulling out a single bill from their pocket and placing it in the middle of the table, then they settled for a pot-limit. Though Peter’s shuffling skills lacked his usual finesse, he expertly dealt each of them a hand of five cards.

You leaned against the back wall with your arms crossed over your chest and watched the game unfold. Rumlow processes his hands at the speed of a bullet, snapping his eyes to his cards once he’s drawn, and immediately discards the ones he doesn’t like when it’s his turn. Other than the minutest crinkle in the corner of his left eye, you couldn’t tell when he felt confident or when he bluffed. He gave nothing away, not even an involuntary scratch to his five o’clock shadow. He was so in the zone he began to partake in the Vodka bottle close to his side of the table, swigging straight from the mouth.

On the other hand, Peter moved as if a millisecond was the equivalent length of ten years, scanning his cards more than several times with pursed lips, looking up at Rumlow, scanning his cards again, once, twice, three times, then reluctantly discarding some. He frequently shoves a hand through his hair to keep it out of his eyesight, but the same unruly strands find their way back to impede his vision. He scratches the shell of his ear when he’s about to draw, and Rumlow’s picked up the tell.

Rumlow never even had to do more than call. The confident drunk in Peter always raised.

The pot increased to about $1400 before Peter folded his hand.

As Rumlow collected his winnings, he suggestively lifted his eyebrows at Peter. “Care for round 2?”

Confident drunk Peter never backs down, even when he’s the dumbass who can’t remember that he’s brought fists to a gunfight.

You step back up to the table and put a restrictive hand on Peter’s wrist to keep him from picking up the cards. “Enough, Peter. You’re done. Let’s go home.”

“No, I’m not done,” he said, snatching his arm away from your touch. “Go talk to Tony or somethin’. I’ve got this.”

Rumlow caught your bewildered stare and shrugged his broad shoulders, a gesture that didn’t match his cocky smile. He has Peter right where he wants him, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him because Peter is a willing participant running on alcohol and no critical judgment.

You should have left right then and there, but your feet stayed rooted to the floor. You couldn’t leave Peter like this. Sighing, you pulled up a chair to the table and sat beside Peter.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on him,” said Rumlow, putting on a smile too sardonic to be comforting. Too artificial to be genuine.

His lie didn’t surprise you. The hole Peter dug himself did.

The second round went similarly to the first. Flash decisions from Rumlow and molasses-like contemplation from Peter. This time, though, the ante came up to $200. As far as you knew, Peter is only carrying about $2500 in his pockets.

By the time the fourth round started, Peter’s Rolex lies on the table. The ante is up to $1000. Somehow the pot-limit became no-limit.

By the fifth round, Peter made paperless bets. Ante is $10,000. Rumlow knew Peter’s pockets went deep, and he’d keep at it until he struck gold.

Nothing you said stopped him. Peter hadn’t won a single hand. He’s desperate for at least one good hand; he’s got something to prove.

Rumlow kept drinking with each win.

By the seventh round, a crowd is around the table, watching in horrified interest as Peter raises the bet to one million dollars. The most significant amount you’ve ever seen him bet. So far, he’s held this hand for three draws.

Peter’s hair lost all semblance of its previous style, hanging over his forehead in disarray. He’s hunched over in his chair, his jacket’s off, and he’s rolled up his dress shirt’s sleeves to his elbows. His group’s signature tattoo stands out stark against his inner wrist: a roughly sketched spider.

Rumlow, eyes now as bloodshot as Peter’s and face just as flushed under his tan skin, asks, “Think you got something, Parker?”

“Do you?” Peter countered.

“I just might.” Rumlow ran a finger against his bottom lip, then smiled at his hand. “Why don’t you say we make this last Showdown a little more interesting, eh?”

A terrible queasiness wrapped around your gut.

Peter listened intently, his silence Rumlow’s indication to continue.

“$10 million. And the best trading routes. Including foreign connections. I want everything you got.”

You turned to Peter, placing your hand on top of his until he finally looked at you. Your eyes begged him to listen to you for once tonight. “Please don’t do this.”

His reply sounded tortured. “But I can. I have to.”

“Is winning really worth losing everything?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Rumlow chuckled ominously. “Oh, that’s not everything, sweetheart. We both know what’s left.” He gave you a meaningful stare.

Your eyes widened in disgust.

Peter snapped his gaze to Rumlow. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“No, but I want her. Imagine having New York’s best attorney in my arsenal. How many charges has she saved your sorry ass from, Parker? Five? All felonies, right? You lucky son of a bitch.” Rumlow’s smile is sinister. “Not that lucky tonight, huh?”

Peter spoke through gritted teeth. “Back off, Rumlow.”

“To have Deus wrapped around her finger, she must be pretty damn good. Is she, Parker?” goaded Rumlow, ignoring Peter’s warning. “Is she any good?”

Instinct controlled your hands as they seized Peter’s cards before he launched himself over the table and landed an ear-splitting blow to Rumlow’s jaw. Rumlow must’ve known the punch was coming. Still, he hadn’t expected the impact to be that forceful because his eyes blinked in astonishment. The two men behind Rumlow didn’t react fast enough, missing Peter as he stood above Rumlow, grabbed the handgun hidden in the waist of his pants and pressed the muzzle deep into Rumlow’s temple, finger on the trigger.

Rumlow shifted his eyes up to Peter. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Peter’s voice is lethally calm. “Say one more goddamn word about her and you’re dead.”

“Put that gun down, Parker!”

Tony. Shit.

Peter squared his jaw, never taking his eyes off of Rumlow. About six off-duty policemen and the venue’s guards have their weapons trained on Peter.

“I said put the gun down! Now!” Tony had pushed his way through the crowd, Sam and Steve right behind him. You didn’t notice until now how quiet the room became, everyone holding in a collective breath.

“Put it down, son,” Steve gently ordered. He spied Rumlow’s men, their hands tightened on their guns, and shook his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

Peter didn’t move a muscle. His chest rapidly rises and falls with each breath.

Sam, holding a pair of cuffs in his hand, tried getting through to him. “It’s over. Drop the gun, kid.”

A slow grin spread across Rumlow’s face.

“Peter,” you spoke softly.

His red-rimmed eyes met yours.

“Everything’s gonna be alright. Just put the gun down, okay? Please.”

Two heartbeats passed before his grip on the gun slackened, and he begrudgingly lowered his arm.

Steve and Sam seized on the opportunity. Steve disarmed Peter while Sam restrained Peter’s arms behind his back and tightened the cuffs around his wrists.

Rumlow massaged his injured jaw. “Guess that means I win, Parker.”

Sam yanked Peter back before he could charge at Rumlow. When Peter looked your way, he saw you still held his cards. “I’m still in play.”

“Wait,” you protested. Sam began to guide Peter up to the entrance. “Peter, I can’t—”

He nodded his head furiously, talking over his shoulder as Sam lead him away. “Yes, you can. You know you can, baby. Play the hand.”

You stared helplessly at Peter’s retreating form. It was all on you.

Rumlow watched, unperturbed; his cards still held tight in the hand that wasn’t nursing his jaw.

Slowly, you lowered yourself down into Peter’s chair, sitting directly across from Rumlow’s smirking face. Tony stared at you incredulously. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him rendered speechless. The room’s chatter never recovered, either. All eyes stay glued towards the standoff.

The game is in your hands. Exactly as planned.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #mob!peter parker #peter parker au #mob!au #marvel fanfic #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #black female reader #the fall of deus #peter parker x black reader #black reader

128 notes · View notes

pikapals16 · 4 years ago

Text

Just When It Gets Better, It Gets Worse (not finished)

tw: non-con, abuse, self-harm, sensory overload/panic attack, suicide attempt (these were planned tw's so not all of them are in this draft, but just to be safe)

A summer day spent at the mall with her visiting family should've been fun. It probably would've, excluding her past and her parents' denial that anything of any sort happened.

This isn't the case if you couldn't tell.

Kat's family was walking through the mall center when a group of people catches her eye. It's not like this group came together, they're all gathered up and definitely staring at something. Normally Kat would just walk on pass, but the sound of distress convinces them to sneak into the crowd.

After scooting to a place where she can observe, they see the subject of curiosity is a girl, about her age, and who's clearly in a sort of panic attack. Her hands are clamped and pulling at her hair, her body rocking back and forth.

The girl in pink watches as someone tries to approach her before someone else yelling back.

"Don't get close! She's probably one of those weirdos with autism." Kat pushes down their anger at the offhand comment. This girl doesn't deserve that, she's already in distress. Kat looks around for anyone the girl could've come with, as it is very unlikely that she'd have come alone

She sees two men, mid to late fourties, frantically looking around for something, which puts them as the most likely possibility. They consider going up to them to inform them of the situation, but she figures they already know, explaining the distressed look on the their faces (and assuming that they are who this girl arrived with).

Kat digs inside of her bag, looking for something that might help ground the panicking girl. Nothing that'd be remotely helpful, and she never brings their stress ball or fidget cube with their parents around. Something about disbelief in non-physical diseases, but she'd rather not risk it.

What they do take out though, is one of those toy rings with googly eyes. To be frank, Kat isn't sure why she has the old toy in her bag, but perhaps it will help the girl calm down? It's not like they have anything else to use.

Slowly, Kat slips closer to the girl, choosing to ignore any comments made, and sits in front of her, making sure to maintain distance to not make her feel uncomfortable.

Admittedly, they haven't been in a situation even remotely similar, but they've read some articles that give her an idea of what to do. The rest, she's just winging it.

Slipping the ring onto her finger, Kat raises their hand.

"Hi, I'm Mr. Goggles." Kat opens and closes her hand to imply that it's the one speaking. As it does, Kat can see the girl look up in curiosity. They guess that it seems to be working. "What's your name?"

Kat cringes a bit, this girl is probably a college student, she doesn't need to be dumbed down.

"C-Cathy." Cathy's eyes seem to light up at the character. Although her hands haven't moved from their position, they've stopped pulling, and her rocking looks like it's slowing down. Kat smiles at her, hoping she recognizes it.

She takes the ring off of her finger, and holds it out in their palm, offering it to her.

"You can have it." They say just loud enough for Cathy to hear. The latter looks at her in confusion. Why would the pretty girl be giving this to her of all people? She doesn't even know her. "It's okay, really."

At this point, Cathy's hand have since released from her head as she contemplates this. Hesitantly, she reaches out, causing Kat to scoot forward so she can hand it to her.

Cathy curiously spins and shakes the toy before putting the ring on her finger, like the pretty girl had. She opens and closes her hand, and her heart seems to flutter--at both the shaking sound of the googly eyes, and the little character that appears on her hand.

Kat smiles when they hear quiet coos coming from Cathy's mouth. What she did seemed to work, and she's calmed down.

Speaking of which, they should probably go and find their parents before she gets punished. Again. Yet, there's something that draws her towards this...stranger. She can rule out love, as she identifies as demisexual, but they're tempted to stay here in their little bubble.

Without any outside influence, just them-

"Oh my god, thank you." The two middle-aged men briskly walk over, one of them kneeling to communicate with Cathy through what looks to be sign language, and the other turning his attention to Kat.

Feelings and memories are shoved down into the archives of Kat's mind. She doesn't need or want to remember, and this guy shouldn’t have to worry over another panic attack.

”Thank you so much for calming her down. My husband and I really appreciate it. Not many people have enough patience to deal with our daughter’s autism.” The thought of these two men being married and raising a child calms some of Kat’s nerves, but just some.

”You’re welcome. Does she go to school here?” Kat curses at themself for asking that, but surprisingly the question isn’t taken a wrong way.

“No, we’re just visiting friends.” The other husband mentions as he helps Cathy up. “But thank you for being so kind. It’s rare that people listen.” Oh. Kat would know that firsthand. The countless times it’s happened.

“Yes, for sure.” Is what she settles with. They don’t need to know. “I should get going though. Wish you all the best!” With the goodbye, Kat runs off to find their family, praying they didn’t notice her absence.

But of course, they did, and while she’s being scolded at, Kat lets her thoughts take over for a bit. It’s not like it’d end any differently. It’s always the same punishment and Kat hates it each time.

They’ve felt nothing for the past couple of years but today just seemed to be different. An unlikely meeting, yet Cathy seemed to have an effect on them. And they only met for a couple of minutes if anything.

They don’t know why she’s putting so much thought into this.

What are the odds of them meeting again anyway?

Kat walks up to their meeting spot for lunch. She doesn’t have friends, acquaintances really, but they eat with them to trick themselves into thinking they are her friends. That she’s not completely alone. To distract herself from other things.

Right before they sit, Kat sees someone else, seated by themselves. People walk past without so much as a second glance, and Kat can’t take their eyes of them. They have brown curly hair, and they’re wearing a blue hoodie, which in itself is a bit odd for August.

Kat fiddles with their pink crop top. She sees herself in this mystery person. The emptiness and loneliness. Perhaps if they help the other, maybe they’ll feel less damaged as well.

”Do any of you recognize them?” Most of them don’t, but someone claims to have seen her in their creative writing class, and another claims that she has ASD. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

The girl in pink sees the strange looks from their lunch mates, but like she’s done before, it goes ignored.

"Hi." The girl on the bench looks up at the new voice. "Can I eat lunch with you?" The brunette scoots over and pats the empty space for her to sit. As Kat sits down, the other can't seem to take her eyes off her. She's pretty.....and someone she hasn't gotten the chance to thank yet.

Quickly the girl in blue digs through her bag, looking for a certain item that a certain someone had given her on a certain summer day at the mall. She shakes the rings back and forth to get the pretty girl's attention.

"Oh. Wait." Kat takes a better look at the girl she's sitting next to. No wonder she felt familiar. "We met over the summer. Cathy, right?" Cathy nods, smile growing on her face. "Well, I never told you my name, so I guess I'll do that now. Hi, I'm Kat. She/they pronouns."

"She/her." Cathy points to herself as she speaks, to make sure that Kat didn't think that Cathy didn't support their pronouns. "And thank you." Kat tilts their head in confusion. "For Mr. Goggles and helping me during my meltdown. You kinda saw me at my worst."

"Oh um, it's nothing." Lie. "Hold on, I thought you were just visiting?" ..Not a complete lie, she put some pieces together.

"My dad got a job here and my pop didn't want to be more than an hour away from me because....you know." Cathy realizes she's been stimming, but doesn't stop her actions, rather glancing at Kat to see her reaction. Nothing. Kat's eyes never leave Cathy's, well really her head since the latter isn't a fan of direct eye contact.

And that's another thing. Kat doesn't force eye contact like the other's experienced so many times before. Cathy's met very few people who are similar, and she holds them all close to her heart.

"Yeah."

The two talk for a little longer before departing for their separate classes. 'Two' honestly refers to Kat leading the conversation and Cathy commenting when prompted, but neither really care. They make sure to exchange numbers, but little did they know how much they would end up depending on each other.

She was minding her own business, honest. Cathy was never one to go into crowded places alone, for obvious reasons, but this is the easiest and closest place for her to meet with her new friend.

The ever so increasing volume of the area starts to bother the blue girl, so she takes out her headphones, blocking out most of the noise. She checks her watch again. Kat’s still not here?

Her initial thought is that Kat blew her off, but they’ve made it very clear that she’d never do something like that, not without explanation. To steer her thoughts away from becoming too overwhelming, Cathy plays with her fidget cube inside her pocket.

It’s never completely gone, but Cathy’s certainly learned how to handle her ASD better. Or at least, so that she can prevent any public outbreaks.

Unlike some people who just haven’t grown up from high school behavior yet. This particular guy thinks it's funny to copy her very subtle stimming. Just your typical jackass.

"Dude stop, she hasn't done anything to you." And that, would be the arrival of her friend. Kat turns to Cathy, tilting their head in the direction of her dorm, and the pair starts walking away. "He didn't make you uncomfortable, did he?"

Cathy shakes her head, and the two walk in silence. The silence isn't all that bad or foreign, but rather a comfort to the two. Of course, until the unsuspected thunder. Seriously, they don't know why they bother listening to the weather reports at this point.

In instinct, Cathy takes off her jacket and wraps it around Kat before pulling the both of them into the dorms.

"Cathy, you can stop running, we're inside now." Cathy doesn't stop. She doesn't want anyone else to see what she's done. No one's seen it. Not even her parents. She keeps her same pace until she's navigated the halls to Kat's dorm.

Only then does she let go.

And she immediately regrets it.

"Cathy...." Without the long sleeves as a cover, Cathy's scars are exposed. Even as she tries to hide it with her hands, they're still visible. She does nothing except curl in on herself, soft noises coming from her mouth. Kat does nothing except open the door, trying their best not to stare so hard.

Thank goodness her roommate is out of town, that would've made for some awkward conversation. Kat and Cathy walk in, the latter with a brisk pace, the former with a moment of hesitation.

"You did that yourself, didn't you?"

and that's where i gave up, basically, where i was going with this was that cathy opens up about the self-harm, then kat opens up about her trauma yea, they're friends! cathy is a year older than kat, so she graduates and although they still talk, it's not as often as kat would like. long story short, kat starts to feel lonely and depressed again, and they feel so disconnected from the world that she kills herself by overdose. little does she know that cathy and her friends were just on their way to surprise them, but see kat just in time for it to happen. cathy runs up, and begs kat to stay with her (the others are calling an ambulance) and kat's like "shit no, wait, you're here" then black out.

whether or not kat survives is up to interpretation! or....would've been hehe. idk, i'm kinda rambling now, but yea here's an abandoned oneshot

#six the musical #six fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

jiminsfault · 5 years ago

Text

Gamin’ for love 0.1 | jkk

— pairing: gamer!Jungkook x escort!reader

— genre: smut, angst, a little fluff, crack maybe

— word count: 8.5k

— summary: if love was a game, even Jungkook wouldn’t know how to win. Ordering an escort might help.

— warnings: a lot of mentions of dick and pussy, Jungkook being a horny airhead, oral (f), dom!Jungkook, mentions of sex work, name calling, degradation, cursing, protected sex, fingering, squirting, he’s wearing a condom but he’s pulling out, Jungkook being sad, mentions of pathological liars, manipulation, emotional attachment, emotional unavailability, truth hurts should be the title track of this

— A/N: this was supposed to be a pwp but I did an oopsie :~) I hope you'll enjoy! The second part will come out soon.

— Special thanks to Heath (@maptoyoongi) for helping me so much with this fic, I honestly wouldn’t have been able to do it without her. I love you boo❤️

moodboard | part one | part two | masterlist

Jungkook often felt lonely. His profession being a twitch streamer meant constantly sitting in his dark room, playing his favorite games and entertaining others, not making for a lot of free time or opportunities to leave the house and socialize.

He rarely got to meet up with friends because of the lack of those, which meant that he rarely got to go out and meet a few new lady friends. After his relationship three summers ago failed at just four months, let’s just say; his soul hasn’t been very happy.

Neither has his dick.

Granted, Jungkook realizes that he could’ve done a lot of things differently to change the outcome of things, he just didn’t at that time.

He’s sad, to say the least. Yes, he’s glad that he can just turn on his webcam and play video games to earn his pay. But constantly being hunched over a keyboard or a controller isn’t helping the state of his dick.

The important part of a relationship shouldn’t be just sex, he constantly hears from his best friend, a chaotic author, who’s always screaming about the newest drafts he wrote down on his travel with the subway. A lot about sex as well, so Jungkook doesn’t really get his point there.

If sex wasn’t as important, why always write about it?

“It’s just fulfilling fantasies, stoopid!” It’s always the same thing. “It’s not there to be realistic! You can’t just go get coffee and meet a girl that’s willing to go home with you and fuck! It’s not meant to be realistic!”

Jungkook isn’t happy with that at all. He doesn’t have time to invest into a relationship. Neither motivation. The break up three years ago has left him with trust issues after he caught her cheating on him. Seeing the messages of one of his own best friends on his girl’s phone wasn’t really the greatest of feelings.

The reason why his ex cheated on him was because the nineteen year old teenager couldn’t stop playing video games. He didn’t pay enough attention to her, she wasn’t feeling appreciated. So she got it from someone who was willing to give up his time for her.

But guess what? The twenty-two year old manchild still can’t stop playing video games! And the fact that Jungkook’s stream blew up one day and from then on money was made easily, didn’t help that at all.

It would just be the same outcome anyway, if he tried to get into dating again. Girls always complain about these kind of habits, not paying attention to them and such.

“If you just want to get some pussy, then a girlfriend shouldn’t be what you’re looking for,” his friend states. “Fucking pay for it like everybody else does!”

And that’s how that happened.

It was just a little click, he guessed. The idea wasn’t bad, paying to see some pussy. It’s what he wants and he has the money.

It’d save time too, no going out and finding a pretty girl to talk to. He wouldn’t get a guarantee for sex from the girls in the clubs or bars either. It’s a 50/50, going out and trying to flirt.

Jungkook has never been that kind of dude, too, just going up to a girl and flirting with her. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be successful.

So it just made sense to him, paying to get his dick wet.

It’s decided, he thought. He pushed himself off of the couch and made his way to find his phone with a bounce in his step. It was still laying on the kitchen counter, left there from earlier when Jungkook made himself some ramen noodles. The gamer life, he guessed.

“How do I google this, now?” he murmured into the empty room. Shrugging, he decided to just go crazy and went with the first thing that popped up when typing in ‘escort girls’.

WE HAVE THE BEST PICK OF THE BEST BITCHES IN TOWN! IT’S YOUR DECISION! ;)

Is what greets Jungkook instead of their website. He just wants the phone number, goddamn.

After closing all of the annoying porn bot ads, he finally found the number, copy pasted it into his phone and went on dial.

“Hello, Aphrodite’s Erotes on the phone, how can we serve you today, Sir?” a warm, female voice greeted him.

“Uuh, I would just like to pay to see some pussy I guess, hah” Jungkook laughed. How else would he approach this?

The warm voice giggled, obviously not expecting somebody to order an escort in such a way.

“Do you have any preferences? We have thick girls, skinny girls, tall girls-” she starts to count out the different varieties of girls, but Jungkook only furrows his brows.

“I really don’t mind any. Just has to have a cute pussy, I guess.” the woman on the phone hummed in acknowledgement and asked Jungkook to wait a little, she would check for available girls.

“Would you mind telling us your address and name? We’d send her on her way then. Y/N is said to have the best services we can provide.”

With bulging eyes and maybe already a little bit of a bulging dick, Jungkook confirms his personal information and couldn’t believe he was actually going through with this.

After five years of sad dick life, he was finally going to dunk into the sweet juices of a wonderful female being. A wonderful female being with the name Y/N, who was going to grace his ugly one bedroom apartment in less than thirty minutes, if the woman with the warm voice on the phone told the truth.

Then it hit him; he still had to clean up. No, he wouldn’t need to make a good impression on this escort but he’d at least want the girl that’s blessing his dick with her presence to be comfortable around his place.

“If I go around in zoom zoom speed, maybe I’ll make it in time!” Jungkook was confident he’d make his chaos disappear before you arrived.

Additionally, he still had to shower as well, he’s been neglecting that a little over the last five days. So that’ll be the first thing, the apartment can wait.

You couldn’t judge him for that though, he is a very busy man, constantly having to cook up ramen between gaming streams and Netflix marathons.

Yes, he has to admit he does keep himself fit in the gym too, how else would he still be able to move with the way he’s eating? it’s just that he likes to seem like a pig when describing his life sometimes.

Constantly having a conscious eye on the clock, he was getting himself a little clean around the edges, he blow dried his hair until it wasn‘t dripping onto his white, a little tight tshirt anymore. He threw on his favorite grey sweatpants and went commando under it. He doesn’t expect to need any underwear anyway.

Jungkook was nervous, to say the least. He never ordered an escort and he doesn’t even know if he’s a good fuck; his last time was so long ago, he actually couldn’t remember if he made his ex girlfriend cum that last night. Perhaps that’s why she broke up with him?

Actually, his ex did tell him that he was the worst fuck she ever had, she told him that if he would’ve at least had a good game in bed, maybe she wouldn’t have to cheat. Yeah, that hurt a lot. Didn’t really help with his insecurities either. Yikes.

There wasn’t much more time to dwell on the thought, his doorbell rang the usual tone and while rubbing his hands around each other he walked over to the door.

What would you look like? Suddenly he feels like it’s christmas morning and he’s getting the present he's been begging for all year. He couldn't wait to unwrap your beautiful body.

His nervousness slowly began to dwell down and excitement took over his form. He hoped you would be nice, he couldn’t bare if you were mean about his dick or the way his apartment looks.

Maybe you’d like to watch some Netflix with him? Is that included in paying for an escort?

Jungkook shook his head, the fluffy, a little longer and still damp hair swinging with the motion.

Deep breath, in and out. He can do this, it’s just sex. Right? Opening the door in the most casual way he could and leaning against the frame, it is.

When his eyes meet yours, he’s stunned. You looked breathtaking, to say the least. Your hair was pretty and your make up seemed to be just light and natural, the dress you wore layed smooth across your skin and enhanced your beautiful curves.

Maybe Jungkook felt his dick twitch a little when his eyes zeroed in on your boobs, they were squished together by the dress and the way it was cut just added to expose them.

But the highlight was definitely your face, the prettiest girl he might ever have seen just stood in front of him. The way you smiled at him softly and put your hand up to wave at him was cute, but at the same time the sexiest thing a woman had ever done.

“You must be Jungkook?” you asked, your voice sending him up into heaven, as well as his dick.

“Hell yeah.” His eyes glossed over as he lost focus while staring at you and he doesn’t realize his reply. What he does pick up is your giggle, god does your giggle sound angelic.

“Do you wanna pay me for standing outside of your door or are you gonna let me in?” Is what ripped him out of his cloudy state.

“Uh.. yes, yeah of course, come in.” At that you took a step towards him and he opened the door wider to make the way.

A few quiet moments went by as you sauntered around his living room, taking a peek at the kitchen and then turning around to look at Jungkook with an expecting expression.

“So, where do you want me?” you purr, giving him an alluring gaze and your most subtle smile you could manage. You found it quite funny, the way he was acting. He clearly hasn’t had an escort over before, otherwise he wouldn’t just stand around and stare at you like a deer caught in the headlight.

“Wh- oh, uh,” he stammered. Where does he want you? His gaze crossed the room. Did you not want to get to know him first?

You realised that he’s unsure of what to do, so you walk over and take his hand in your own to pull him towards the small corridor with two closed doors.

“Which one is it?” practically hearing the gears in his head turning, “your bedroom, baby,” you remind him. His eyes grew big as he got it and hastily nodded in understanding.

“This one,” he pointed and went to grip the door handle to the right door. Opening it, you saw a dim room, the blinds rolled down. It was still enough light flowing in for you to make out the bed, a dresser and a tv on shelves. Decorations aren’t visible except for the silhouettes.

Both of you walked in, Jungkook went to turn on the light but you stop him.

“It’s alright.” With a smile you reassure him, feeling his hands shaking slightly.

You’ve been an escort for about three years, so new customers aren’t something unknown to you. In fact, it’s always pretty enjoyable, the regular customers aren’t much fun anymore. There’s a routine settled already, they know what they want and they know they’re gonna get it.

So having a big, broad man standing in front of you, still holding onto your hand and seemingly growing smaller with every passing moment, does intrigue you.

“Should we maybe just talk first?” He suggests. You grin and hold back your chuckle, he surely must know that that’s not what you’re here for.

“Jungkook, baby,” you purr. “If you’re nervous about this it’s okay, but all I’m here for is to fuck you for your money, you know?” Stating the obvious seemed right.

“You can go wild, do whatever you want with me. For as long as you’re willing to pay, I’m yours.” That seemed to stir him into motion. He nodded and took a breath.

“Then.. sit down on the bed, please.” Jungkook knew that he didn’t have to ask, he knew that this was your job and that he could treat you the worst without consequences. But that just wasn’t him.

In this house, we respect women, Jungkook just wasn’t that kind of man. Yes, he’s got some preferences in bed, but before sex, respecting women always came first.

As you sat down, he joined you as well, leaning back on his hands and throwing his head back to move his bangs out of sight.

“Can we kiss? Like, is that alright?” He didn’t want to just go ahead, maybe you have boundaries? But he needed to get over his nerves, he wanted this. He just didn’t expect you to be this pretty, is all. It made him shy to think about sleeping with such a beautiful woman.

You nodded once, getting ready to straddle his lap. He was surprised from your sudden movement but you could tell that it was very much needed. Helping to spur him on is the least you could do.

“Say… should I dom you tonight? Do you prefer that?” You murmur. He just gave you the energy, even with his big built.

“No, I’m not a sub.” With a stern look in his eyes he reached his hand behind you and pushed you towards him. Fixating your lips, he quickly made eye contact to reassure himself if you consent for this and swept your lips in one move.

His lips were soft, tasted like cherries. They were puffy and he moved them agonizingly slow. Gladly accepting the sudden braveness from the man, you relaxed on his lap. His large hands held your waist tight and you felt incredibly small against him. At the image of the tall man, who’s hands started to roam your body, you let out an involuntary sigh.

Jungkook started mushing his lips against yours, nibbling on your bottom lip. His left hand moved up to your hair, pushed it back from your shoulders and held you by the back of your neck. The other one still gripped your waist, kneading the flesh. He pulled you closer, causing your middle to rub against his crotch while your dress kept riding up, so your panties were even more exposed. He looked down your bodies and groaned when he saw your lace clad pussy, firmly placed onto his lap.

“So that means I can’t get to know you first?” He dropped the question all of a sudden. You, not expecting any customer to ever prioritize getting to know you before getting off, let out a surprised chuckle.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me, what do you need to know about me other than my body and my name?” You purr and let your hands run across his broad chest. The perks of getting a young customer from time to time is that maybe, you’ll be able to get off from this too. Jungkook is a very attractive man, his facial features gorgeous and his body built like Adonis himself would be sitting under you. The muscly thighs just spur you on to grind down on him, even through the loose sweatpants, the girth of them wouldn’t go past you.

As your mind went into detail about how good it would feel when his thighs would clap against your own as he pounded into you well, Jungkook let his hands roam over you more, his right hand slipped from your waist down to your ass and the left situated itself right under the swell of your breasts.

“If you mind it that much, I will at least take my time to get to know your body, then. Go lay on the bed and be pretty, baby.” The sudden boost of confidence and the not missed radiance of dominance threw you off a little, to say the least. He said he wouldn’t be submissive, you just didn’t expect him to be this dominant either.

Before you obeyed him, you made quick movement in getting rid of your heels, assuming they wouldn’t be needed in the comfort of his bed. It was freshly made, as far as you can tell and the covers and pillows smelled like laundry detergent, not too intrusive of a smell. Laying down in the middle, you get comfy and look at Jungkook, who stood up from his place on the edge of his bed.

With his gaze fixed onto your form, he grinned and pulled his tight tee over his head from behind. The anticipated muscles didn’t disappoint at all, his pecks very much there, chest puffed and you see a happy trail disappear into the secrets of his loosely hanging sweats.

You wanted to just crawl over there and take him into your welcoming mouth, but the roles were clear and you didn’t want to go against him this early on. Instead, his knee pushed down onto the bed, his eyes seemingly darker and his arousal very clear if you looked at the outline of his hardened cock. Jungkook made his way to you and your breath hitched as he had you under him.

“You’re gonna be good and let me take off that pretty little dress of yours?” He grinned, taking one hand to slide up and down your upper arm and onto your shoulder. Two of his fingers slid under the strap and slowly pulled it down to expose your collarbone. He bends his head down and let his mouth glide across your skin, barely touching you. Your hands fly up to grip onto his forearms, the tension he built up getting to you. His smile wasn’t visible to you but the little exhale of breath as he huffed amused was still there.

“Jungkook..” you gasp when his lips finally touch your neck, “please.” Not knowing what you’re asking for, he still manages to excel. Carefully he bites into the skin just under your jaw and pulls it a little bit, kissed it after to heal the stinging. Laving his tongue up to the spot behind your ear he sucked the sensitive skin into his mouth, the fingers that were just resting next to your arm slowly creeping under you in search of the zipper.

You helped a little bit, curved your back and automatically pressed into Jungkook’s chest with that. He’s warm and his skin seemed soft. He found the zipper and in contrast to his continuous, slow kisses, rips it down quickly.

He seemed eager to discover more of your skin.

With more vigor he unstrapped your other arm and, lifting up from his arms, he kneeled above you to shimmy your dress down your body and onto the floor. Your own arms fell down next to you from his movement, but you did not even stop to think of covering yourself up under his burning gaze.

“Beautiful,” was his only remark to this, his eyes roaming every inch of newly exposed skin. Your dress didn’t require you to wear a bra, so all you were wearing now were the innocently beautiful lace panties clinging to your pussy. A groan rumbled out of Jungkook’s chest at the view he got when he zeroed in on your middle. Your arousal was made visible through the wet spot and he dropped his hand down to your hip. His thumb barely ghosted over your lips and you shivered.

“Need to eat you out, baby.” He stated, licking his lips in anticipation. With a whimper you nodded, strongly agreeing to this. You needed him to do something, anything. He made you this affected, now he has to finish the job. With a look into your eyes he dropped down onto his forearms, kissing your lips eagerly.

“Wanna touch all of you, your body is so gorgeous,” Jungkook whispered into your ear, taking your earlobe in between his lips but still paid attention so that his teeth weren’t biting down, just grazing the soft skin. You reached up to dive your fingers into his soft hair and settle your hands on the back of his neck.

“Jungkook, I really need you. Please j-just-” you gasped when he pushed his knee against your groin.

“I wouldn’t call you good, seeing as to how impatient you are, hm?” His tone was clearly teasing, his eyes glinting as he looked at your trashing form. The pressure was nice, but just not enough. You needed friction.

“Look at you, grinding on my knee like a bitch in heat. I was trying to treat you like a princess,” he shakes his head in a demeaning way, “would you rather be treated like the bitch you are, then?” His chastising voice made your tummy feel heavy, the way he was talking to you making you feel so small.

“N-no, please.” Jutting out your bottom lip on instinct made Jungkook laugh, you looked unbelievably adorable. “If you wanna be worshipped, baby, you gotta earn it,” he reminded. You nodded, wanting nothing else other than for him to finally do something, but he won’t unless he deemed you behaved enough.

Happy with your compliance, he flashed a toothy smile and bent his head down again to peck your lips, before he kissed down your chin and neck, to the valley between your boobs. With his lips he trailed over to your right breast, circled your nipple with his tongue and you whimpered his name. Smugly, he grinned and took the bud between his teeth to pull at it a little. Your mewls got louder and when he was satisfied, he repeated the actions on your other nipple as well.

Your breathing started becoming heavier while Jungkook continued to leave sloppy kisses along his way to your tummy and finally, he was at your middle. Not done teasing you though, he started mouthing at your clothed slit, the touch barely there but still noticeable. Your hands went into his hair and you pushed and pulled at his soft strands.

The sweet moans you let out only spurred him on, he kissed over your hip bone and down to your thighs. The kisses trailed a little bit down to your knee until your trashing increased so much, Jungkook felt like he had to discipline you. So with one quick movement, he lifted his hand and let it collide with the inside of your left thigh. The sound was loud and startled you, but not as much as the feeling. You gasped in shock and your grip in his hair tightened for a few seconds.

“I said behave, you impatient little slut!” His voice boomed as he looked up at you with sharp eyes. His hand, still laying where he slapped your thigh, started kneading the smarting flesh. Without minding your ogling eyes, he moved up a little and presses his nose into your crotch. He inhaled deeply and fixed you with a strong look.

“Was just gonna tell you what a nice fucking pussy you have, but maybe you don’t deserve the praise?” He questioned harshly. You keened at his action, loved that he’s all over your body.

Just as you were about to apologize, trying to get Jungkook to do something, he harshly tugged your panties aside and took a good look at your wet slit. He let out an airy laugh.

“You’re really this wet already? Poor thing must feel so neglected, hm, pretty?” You blushed at his words, from shyness because of the nickname and shame because yes, you already were soaked without much foreplay. You mewl and try to push Jungkook away from you when he didn’t retreat after a few minutes, but suddenly he delved right in.

Licking a fat stripe up your folds, he left the teasing for another time. With your glistening, perfectly pink pussy right in front of him, he couldn’t have possibly held himself back for any second longer than necessary. He took your mound in like a man starved and slurped up all your juices. Running his tongue up and down your slit and twisting it in figures on your clit made you scream out, your grip on his scalp like iron and your legs squirming around next to Jungkook’s upper body.

He grips your thighs and throws them over his shoulders, holding you down with his hands on your tummy. He pressed his thumb down on your clit with his right hand and started pushing his wet muscle in and out of your tight hole. He moaned into you and let you feel the vibrations, getting you to throw your head back into his pillows and moan out loud.

“F-fuck! Like that, please, Jungkook! Oh-” you can tell that he was grinning, his ego pumped to the hill from the noises he coaxed out of you. Even though he’s loving a full face of your pussy, your juices wetting his face from nose to chin, he lifts his head up for a short moment, intently looking at your withering form.

“So, Y/N what’s your favorite color..?" Jungkook purred before he took another long swipe of your pussy making you gasp in pleasure.

“Jungkook are you serious right now?” You almost scream out, upset at how he even stopped to circle your clit with his thumb. Looking at him, you saw that he wasn’t going to continue until you answered his question. You exhaled and sank back into the cooling pillows.

“I like yellow..” he piqued up at that. “Oh wow, me too! I see, we’re getting along very nicely, pretty.” With a wink and that damned grin he lowered his head again, finally soothing the clammy feeling of need on your clit.

He seemed almost desperate, groaning into your lips as he slurped up your juices, slipping his tongue in and out of you and making you gasp. He continued to hold you down to stop you from squirming up the mattress and you felt like his prey, at loss of your expense and slumping on the bed as you hold onto his hair with weak hands.

“Jung-kook! Fuck!” Your gasp for him only spurred him on, he pressed his open mouth and flat tongue onto you and moved his face from side to side. “I’m gonna- nhhgg-“ an almost sadistic laugh rumbled through him and you shuddered. You could feel yourself get closer, his nose rubbing into your clit providing extra friction and your breath starts to get short. The heat built inside of your abdomen and you almost got pushed over when Jungkook removed himself completely off of you.

Left with no touch your eyes ripped open and you stared at his smug face with disbelief.

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” You groaned. He just laughed, wiping your glistening juices dry on his chin and nose with the back of his hand.

“You’re not going to cum unless it’s on my dick, baby.” He shrugged, “just to be clear, I decide everything around here.” Not wanting to admit how much you like the idea of him controlling you in such a way, you frowned and let your head fall back into his pillow.

“Understood?” He suddenly was on you, his eyes dark and lids heavy. You gasped but hastily nodded, whimpering when his unnoticed hand dragged over your sensitive clit. “Good girl,” Jungkook purred and mushed his head into the crook of your sweaty neck, mouthing at your skin and tickling your face with his hair that’s pointing in different directions after your rough pulling.

After assaulting your tender neck for a few quiet moments in which you were able to calm your breath, he got up on his knees in front of you, grabbing your underwear and, with a little help from you, dragged them down until they were off and tossed away. With a twinkle in his eyes he started soothing his hands up and down your legs.

“Ready for me?” He asked, his tone soft and hushed. He smiled at you and you were so delirious that you almost forgot your most important rule.

“Wait!” You sit up with wide eyes, flushing when you realized how sudden you were and saw Jungkook’s doe eyes staring at you in shock. “You.. you need to put on a condom, sorry.”

Expecting a complaint like from every other customer on how he’s clean and he’ll pull out and all that, you were surprised when he complied instantly and reached out to his nightstand to rummage through the drawer. With a smile he retreated a foil packet and held it up proudly.

“I just recently went and bought some!” He exclaimed happily and went ahead to rip it open. After hastily removing his sweatpants and boxers, leaving you ogling his hard dick, he was able to pinch the tip and roll the condom over his erection without much trouble, rubbing over the length of it to make sure it’s on properly. You gulped at his movements, can’t seem to remove the image of him at his desk, rubbing one off to some cheap porn he found on the internet. You already knew some of the pretty sounds he makes, groaning deeply when he tucks on his cock.

“Ready?” He checked in with you, ripping you from your little daydream. But why dream about him when you have the full meal right in front of you? He was more than ready to devour you in any way possible, never have you felt this good with a customer before. You nod, biting your lip. With his size, it would be a tight fit.

Impatiently but still collected he rubbed his head between your lips, dragging it through your wetness and applying pressure to your clit. You gasped and raised your hips, not wanting to be teased like this when you could be welcoming him into your warmth already.

Wrapping your legs around his petite waist, you urged him on, “hurry, Jungkook! Just fuck me alrea-“ your words morphed into a squeal with the pressure his tip brought. He pressed it against your opening, slowly making way for him and as you start to swallow him he panted and looked up from where you’re connected.

“Your pretty pussy is so tight, baby. I can’t fit,” he gasped, shocked with how tight you actually are. It’s a nice snug feeling for him, your walls tightening around him when the first inches finally dip into you. You both moan in ecstasy when he pushed further and your pussy gripped him like a vice.

Pushing your head backwards and curving your back, you gripped his covers and mewled. “You’re so big, Kook, make me feel so full!” The sentence slips out, wasn’t even practiced. You didn’t have to fake the feeling you had right now, he was fully satisfying you and you had no problem admitting to that.

Ragged breath and slowly working up a sweat, Jungkook held himself atop your figure, pushing his hands into the bed next to you and holding his hips for a little to let you get used to him.

“Can I move?” He carefully asked, sincerely looking into your eyes. Once again, you just nodded, not able to form any words because he felt so nice inside of you.

Having your go, he started to pull out and you felt the drag on your walls. With more strength he pushed into you, slamming his hips against your buttocks and making you shift up the mattress a little. You moan loudly, his power took you by surprise and his girth, that stays consistent until the very end of his shaft, filled you completely. He was thick, you already knew that but with the length he has on him his head was snugly laying against your cervix, just kissing it and you clench around him when the tip brushed your spot as he pulled out again.

Jungkook continued at a slow pace, hard slams into your pussy that dragged on your walls and made you keen. Not able to keep your eyes open, you squeezed them shut and gasped out his name. “Please, take me how you want to, I’m yours to play with. Use me, Jungkook!” You spurred him on, partly for your own advantage. You were close again quickly due to your neglection earlier and with his dick sliding in and out of you, you wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

It had its intended effect on him, he fell down onto his forearms and pushed his forehead into your shoulder. His hot breath was on your skin and you moved your hands into his hair, noticing that he enjoyed it being played with.

“You’re close.” It was not even a question, he already knew how much you want to cum and he knows you’ll be there soon. “Cum for me, baby. If you wanna be a good little slut, then cum.” His commanding tone made you shudder and you reached one of your hands down his body to where you meet, starting to rub at your clit but he catches your wrist in his hand.

“No touching, I know you can cum just like this. All you need ‘s my dick, hmm?” and fuck, yes it was. With a few more slams of his hips you were shaking around his form, one hand clamming onto his shoulder, the other still in his hair, now pulling on his roots. He moaned heavily into your ear, gasping when you clenched hard and sank your nails into his flesh.

“Mmh, knew you would be able to do it, so proud of you,” he praised, heaving himself up a little to kiss your lips and lick into your mouth. You whined when he pulled away, chasing after his soft lips.

With caution he started to move his hips again, building up a rhythm and pushing himself up on his hands again. His eyebrows were knitted together, face full of concentration and he let his tongue slide over his lips to wet them.

“Such a good cunt, you’re such a fucking slut, letting me fuck you like this. God baby, I’m gonna cum soon.” You moaned at that, anticipating his release, wanting to please him as best as you can. You were already gasping and panting again, nearing your second orgasm slowly.

“Please, Jungkook, make me cum again” you whine, “so close!” He grinned at that, his confidence boosting with every whimper that leaves your mouth because of him and what he does to you.

He loved seeing you come undone for him like this, laying under him and grabbing at everything you can grasp. His thrusts were so hard that you needed to hold yourself close to him, otherwise you would just ride up the bed and into the pillows.

Your hands were clamming at his arms, eyes blurry with tears threatening to fall. Your entire body felt like you were on fire, your cunt clenching around Jungkook and trying to keep him in, milking him for all he’s worth.

“Such a cockhungry whore. Can’t get enough of my dick, huh?” his hips rammed faster into you, he stopped sliding out and almost didn’t remove himself from you anymore. “Need to fuck until you can’t even think anymore, hmm?” You nod, looking into his eyes and moaned loudly.

“You fuck me s..so good! Want you to cum on me, cum all over me, please!” You begged, couldn’t handle the pressure in your abdomen anymore. “Jungkook.. pleaseplease!”

“Ffuck! Gonna cum all over you, baby,” he pushed himself off of you and pulled out, ripping off the condom and quickly rubbing over his cock. He bit his lip, eyes zeroing in on your shaking body and with deep groans of pleasure, let his seed spurt out onto you. The first few shot up to under your breasts, Jungkook kept tugging on his head to squeeze out everything he’s got. Most of his release ended up on your tummy and a few drops on top of your mound.

Jungkook moved his thumb to rub your clit with it, loving the milky tint your skin got from his cum. You mewled at the touch and pushed your hips into him.

“Wanna cum.. please..” you murmured, looking into his strong eyes and pleading him to get you off again.

“Need me to fill up your tiny pussy again, slut?” All but eager you nodded and wiggled your hips with a wicked grin. “Please, make me cum so hard I forget everything but your name, Jungkook.”

That seemed to convince him, because suddenly he lowered his head again, licking his cum off your clit with tiny wiggles with just the tip of his tongue and pushed three fingers inside of you. You startled and gripped his hair again, pulling and pushing, not sure if you want him to stop or continue. He took the decision off of you and started to curl his fingers, rapidly pushing in and out of you, precisely keeping his fingertips on your sensitive tissue.

Your thighs started shaking, tears actually streaming over your cheeks and your body contracted fast and hard. You were scared you had to pee but suddenly your ears made a shrill sound and you felt wetness around you. Your sight went white for a little and you felt yourself slump down, taken by a wave of pleasure. You were heaving and moaning loudly and your hand went limp in Jungkook’s hair.

“Shit, baby..” you faintly hear his voice and wonder why he seemed so far away.

Slowly your hand started to tingle and you felt yourself being moved around. Your body came back into your control after what seemed like an eternity and when you opened your eyes, Jungkook was right in front of you, still between your legs.

“That was so hot!” He exclaimed, the short moment where you could see a bit of worry on his face fading and fascination adorned his expression.

“What the fuck.. happened..” you whispered, in shock. “You squirted! That was sick!” You what? You’ve never done that before!

Your eyes widen and when you put your hands under where you laid, you feel the wetness soak the sheets. Starting to blush, your first instinct was to apologize but Jungkook made quick work of leaving a kiss on your lips, “no need to be sorry, baby. Best experience in my life, thought it was just a myth!”

“Guess these are the Gamer perks, huh? Can move my hands really fast,” he smirked and the cocky tone was prominent in his voice.

Without being able to process anything, you only saw his head disappear again and felt him lick softly around your lower lips, still wet with release. “You taste really good, could eat you all day long,” he stated, mumbling into your slit.

When he noticed you squirming, he figured you were sensitive, so he moved up again. Laying down beside you with one arm around your stomach, Jungkook exhaled and snuggled into the pillows.

“Let’s shower? We made a mess.” He chuckled, moving to stand up from his bed but you shook your head.

“I don’t think we should.. uhm..” you weren’t sure how to tell him that after fucking him, you didn’t feel comfortable enough to shower with him. You’re not here for aftercare, just for him to fuck and pay you.

“Ah well, let’s cuddle for a while then. We can shower later.” Hearing the smile in Jungkook’s sleepy voice hurt you for an odd reason, a bad conscience nagging you.

“Cuddling isn’t included in service, Jungkook.” You tried to sound serious, cogent but he just put his head on your chest and smacked his lips in a lazy manner.

“I’ll pay for it. Just stay a little, alright?” You feel bad when you noticed that you really wanted to stay. Not for money, but because his company was very soothing. Thinking about it, never has another customer offered to care for you after they got off. Before you could think about it too much, you pushed him off and sat up.

“Not during working hours, kook.” There was a cold tone lacing into your words, trying to make it clear where his limits were. Looking around, you only spotted your dress, no panties.

Deciding quickly, you pulled your dress on, zipping it up only halfways and stood up. You can just get new underwear, but right now you needed to leave before you’d get all soft on him and stay for cuddles.

Putting on your shoes, you tried to sound nice when saying, “I will take cash.. you kinda need to pay me right now..“ slowly turning around, you find him lying on his bed, one leg propped up and his head resting on his hand. He was looking at you tiredly and only nodded somberly.

“Right, yeah. Hold on, I‘ll get it.” Awkwardly waiting in his bed room, you fiddled with your fingers. Not after long, he came back with a stack of cash and let you count through it. When you knew you had all the money your work is worth, you nodded and gave him a small smile.

“Alright, thank you, Y/N. Get home safe.” The soft tone made your heart ache, how sweet of him to tell you this. With a little wave you turned around and left the room, ultimately closing the door to his apartment and leaving the building.

Jungkook was able to hear your steps click on the floor in the hallway, until these too, faded away.

Yawning, he stretched his spent body, settling on just wiping his dick and lower region instead of showering, too tired to do that much. He’ll do it later at night, after he took a nap. A stream for his subscribers was deemed necessary anyway, so he’d have no choice other than getting up again after a little rest.

Laying back down, this time with a new pair of boxers on, he tried to get as much sleep in as possible, but you wouldn’t leave his mind. Your noises and your pretty face, that wonderful body of yours and how you’d say his name over and over again.

You felt so good against his skin and fit perfectly against his body and — was he really swooning over an escort right now? Shaking his head, he tried to think about anything else.

After tossing and turning for about half an hour, sleep slowly took him in. But your sweet smile and cute voice still hung in his thoughts as he drifted off.

“Y/N! Your customer’s waiting!” Your coworker and best friend in this little hell of your own stormed in screaming. Rolling your eyes, you finished munching on the olives meant to be served with the drinks.

You were working almost every day, needing the money. And this customer of yours is one of the regulars, a special guest. He chose you as his new favorite plaything and now you have to suffer. He’s very touchy, very clingy.

He gets attached once he found a liking in one of the girls and if they want to stay, they have to endure it. When you just came in he already was sat at one of the lounges, talking to his rich friends who also frequent this club. Aphrodite’s Erotes is a famous club for many things. One of the more incautious ones, you must realize, considering that you had a website advertising the escorts, a number put onto it, accessible for everyone.

You don’t know how this club still exists, really. Police has come in often, checking the workers and building to see if they were right in assuming this was a whorehouse. Everytime your boss was able to get them to believe his lies. He’s good at that. Made you believe his lies too, once when you were still hopeful of graduating high school, attending college, building up a perfect suburban life.

You were silly, to believe the bullshit he was spewing. Luring you in, telling you he loved you. He spent more than a year with you, acting like a sweet, caring boyfriend. And then, when you were fully sucked in, he made you work for him.

He told you you couldn’t survive in the heights of the academic, education would fail you and you’d end up on the street, throwing your life away. And you trusted his words, no matter how much they hurt you.

When he came in one day, putting on a show of crying, telling you that people were after him and he was to get killed if he wouldn’t come up with a hell of a lot of money in the next month, you were willing to do anything to save him and the love you both have. He explained how he was trying to buy you a ring, make you his and love you forever, but he scammed them and now they want their money back.

Being the romantic you are, you believed everything he told you.

So you started working in this club, no idea that it was your boyfriend who owned it. Not until after a month, when you gave up all the money you earned for him, he told you.

You were devastated, crying and screaming. That night you were trying to leave him, his apartment you moved into, but he convinced you to stay. He told you everything was going to be alright and eventually he’d quit running the club and the two of you would run away together. Over time he made you dependent on him. You didn’t know who you were without him, attached but hating it.

After another month he strolled into the club, a different girl to his side. He broke up with you that day, but you weren’t able to leave. Your boss took in almost all the money that you earn, your piece not enough to afford a living without his help. He’s willing to buy you everything you desire, but won’t let you get away from him. You guessed he found pleasure in seeing you wither away in his own four walls.

Taking the drinks with you on a tray, you put on your best smile and walked out to the lounge. The rich men greeted you heartily with a smile and your client opened his arms to invite you into his lap with a grin.

You put down the drinks and walked over to him, welcoming him and slinging your arms around his broad shoulders.

“Y/N, my angel. Glad to see you again.” His eyes roamed over your body, clad in a tight dress that’s riding up your thighs. His big hands smoothed over you buttocks and your hips to pull you more into him.

“I was waiting patiently for you, Taehyung,” you fake giggled, smiling into his face and making him coo at you.

“I know you were, little doll.” Very content with your obedience he sank into the pillows of the soft velvet couch and took his cigar into his ring clad hand.

“Where were you last time we came here? We were asking for you but your little friend said you weren’t in.” Taehyung’s companion, Jimin, asked you with a sceptical look and furrowed brows. He looked intimidating when he wanted to, big rings on his fingers and whiskey in his hand.

“Had a customer,” you murmur. Even though Taehyung knows what you do, he takes loyalty very serious. You see him scowl when you look over. He tsked and tapped your butt a little.

“Was he fun? Fucked you good, hm?” He taunted. It was humiliating, to be sat on his lap and pushed to talk about the work you do. Taehyung expects you to tell him that he would always be better, that Jungkook didn’t reach up to his level. but you wouldn’t lie.

Jungkook was the first guy who treated you like a woman and not just a toy for him to play with. He made sure you felt comfortable and left with an orgasm of your own. Never once did one of the men visiting this club ask about you, your favorite color. It annoyed you at that moment, his teasing wasn’t timed very well, but it felt real. Taking the money afterwards wasn’t an act you were proud of, feeling dirty almost with what you do. And he was nice about it as well. Ugh.

“He did..” you admit, quiet, because you know that your answer wasn’t welcome. The man around you broke into laughter. Mocking almost, they held their drinks up, congratulated you for the good sex.

“You keep forgetting your place,” Taehyung whispered into your ear, bit your earlobe and chuckled. You wanted to leave. Just wanted to go home, lay in bed and feel warm. But even there you wouldn’t feel comfortable, living with your boss, not able to get your own place. Home felt like a prison of your own.

“Ah, the man of the house!” Seokjin, another rich man and friend of Taehyung exclaimed. The men moved to stand up, you and another girl that sat next to Seokjin getting up with them. Your boss stood there, smiling proudly when he saw you.

“Taehyung, if I could borrow my sweet Y/N for a moment?” The men exchange a handshake and Taehyung nudged you towards the other, “hope to see her back later, I’m not here to drink and chat.”

He nodded and took your wrist in his hand. “You got a call, I’ll drive you over.” It wasn’t a nice offer, it was him controlling you, his tone made his intentions very clear. Rolling your eyes, you pull your wrist out of his grasp.

“No need to. I’ll walk.” Your protest enraged the man. “Whatever, quit being a bitch. Taehyung complained about how you’re not into it enough. If you keep going like this he’ll look for another whore to fuck.” His words felt like a slap into your face. You weren’t willing to keep listening to him, so you turned around and walked to the bar.

Your coworker already saw your aggravation on your face and gave you a pitying look. “There you go, baby. It’s the new customer from last week.” She told you, handing you the note with his address. “Jungkook, was it?” with a puzzled face, you nodded. Never would’ve expected him to call again, let alone ask for you.

“Should I give you a ride?” She offered, interrupting your schoolgirl-like excitement. Exhaling, you nodded, thankful that you wouldn’t have to walk or pay for an uber yourself.

909 notes · View notes

zoe-oneesama · 5 years ago

Note

Serving up some LOOKS! I love Mylene's Ivan sweatshirt! Would you be willing to talk about what sort of style elements you use for each character? (If you already have and I haven't found it, please ignore the question, that's on me)

I mostly did this for Mendeleiev’s class back when Punch was starting Leave for Mendeleiev, and I did a small run down for how the Main 5 fashion will change in Scarlet Lady, but not Bustier’s class sooooo:

Marinette -[I’m copy/pasting from an earlier ask]- When she likes a color, she sticks with it. She has a versatile wardrobe, but pink must always be present. She has the hardest to nail style because she experiments all the time, but no matter what she doesn’t feel comfortable unless she has an outer layer. Summer, Winter, Shorts, Pants, she needs to the comfort of a jacket - for Tikki to hide in when her purse isn’t appropriate.

Adrien -[Also C/P]- Basic B*tch. He thinks he’s fancier than he is. Oh sure, his clothes are well tailored to him and fit well, but they’re basic as hell. Gabriel isn’t as “innovative” as he thinks he is. Most of his clothes have the Gabriel logo and he sticks to the brand…because Adrien has no fashion sense whatsoever. Oh, he knows in theory what works and can put an outfit together, but he doesn’t want to. If it were up to him, he’d wear tshirts with physics puns and cat themed jackets. But alas, when one is an icon…

Alya -[C/P]- Mom Vibes. Fashion is not her priority. She knows enough to do good for her figure, but otherwise can’t really be bothered. Flannels and jeans in varying heights and a snappy tshirt are all she needs. But she is drawn to things that remind her at least of superheroes or superpowers. Her ridiculous high tops with the spiky tongue? She thinks it makes her look fast. She’s also the one who’s going to embarrass Marinette by wearing trendy but “garbage” fashion: fanny packs, Jellies, ugs with sweatpants. Dammit Alya, you’re a beautiful human being, do you mind NOT dressing like a hobo on vacation?! (Secretly her favorite outfits are from Martinique, but she saves them for special occasions).

Nino -[C/P]- Precious trash goblin. Wash your shirts and the neckline won’t be so worn out! He likes graphic tees with his favorite bands and DJs logos on them (he’s partial to ones without the name of the band or DJ so he can find other fans) and prefers things to be loose. He’s also drawn to colors and he’s super chill when his “garbage” girlfriend rolls up to a date looking like she’s going to an amusement part with her four kids, because it means she can’t dump on him for not looking “put together” (she would never!). He’ll try to dress up every now and then for a fancier date or when Adrien manages to snag him a spot at an event with him, but it’s pretty clear he’s uncomfortable without his hat and headphones. He has a few Moroccan outfits that he brings out in the Summer.

Chloe - Expensive Fashion Forward Chic. She made a staple out of shaming anyone else who dared to wear her favorite color yellow over the years. She was extremely smug about being the first in her grade to experiment with makeup that she never bothered to get good at it. Her clothes are expensive with just a smidge of impractical - only someone with cash to burn would constantly wear white pants! She’s also the kind of person to put off dressing for the cold as long as she can- if she puts on all these jackets and layers, how will these peasants see my brand name clothes underneath?! A lot of her fashion decisions are based on long forgotten advice from her mother - gold over silver jewelry, always have something on your head, brand or nothing. She’ll only abandon a well worn trend if her mother directly contradicts it.

Sabrina - Nerdy, geeky, almost like she’s wearing a uniform. She’s preparing to be Chloe’s assistant best friend for life so she has to look the part. She’s long abandoned any hope of shining next to Chloe, so being flashy and showy is out of the question. Luckily, Chloe isn’t drawn to patterns, so that’s a field of fashion that Sabrina can claim for her own. Doesn’t matter where it is, something she’s wearing needs to have a pattern. Leggings are her favorite accessory and she’s taken to collecting Chat Noir merch (though it’s less out of admiration for the hero himself and more for her “role” with Chloe. It reminds her of the rare times when Chloe acts like they’re friends.)

Mylene - Bohemian, and a touch artsy. Peace is important to her and her vibe reflects that. She’s not super up for showing a lot of skin, but neither are a lot of girls in her class. She leans towards a muted color palette so that her hair doesn’t clash, though she usually tries to match one piece of clothing to some color in her hair. Her accessories are a bit childish and kitchy, like her monster head bead, and she has a huge collection of hair accessories, like bandannas and headbands. She has a lot of different passions with various levels of seriousness, so she’ll come to Marinette for advice on how to use her wardrobe to fit the level of professionalism she wants.

Alix - Sporty but on the lazier side. Fashion is such an anti priority. She’s the one Marinette will go to for her more out there ideas because she has no recoil to pants made of buckles or shapeless over shirts, but that’s as far as it goes. Her clothes are made to be weather resistant and easy to slip on (and so that her dad won’t be pissed if she wipes out and rips something). If it were up to her, she’d just shop out of thrift stores and pick out all the color blocked 80s windbreakers, but when your whole squad is held together by a fashion designer, you can only get away with so much. Her nicest clothes are made by Marinette for her professional races and competitions and her favorites have nods to Egypt mythology and history.

Ivan - Punk but like…beginners guide to punk. Let’s be honest, when you’re built like a brick house, shopping is hard - or at least not that much fun. Ditto when you’re a dude that just…doesn’t particularly care. Ivan has a bunch of cargo pants because they fit, they’re grungy, and they’re practical. SO MANY POCKETS!!! Beyond that, like Nino, he prefers to wear band shirts of his favorite groups. His hiking boots are the nicest things he owns and he has a few bracelets that he only brings out when he’s “dressing up”. The most colorful thing he owns is a hoodie/pants set from the Cartoon Monster Show that Mylene’s hair bead is modeled after.

Kim - Sporty and Serious. Sweatpants and running shoes. That’s the make of his wardrobe. After all, you need to be able to challenge anyone to a race at ANY TIME!! Dressing up for him means putting on a pair of jeans, and he’s pretty much always under dressed but also completely oblivious to the fact. Red is his favorite color and he’s partial to that one brand of sports wear that’s on his hoodie-shirt and sweatband. If something is waterproof (and therefore, sweatproof) he’ll give it a try AS LONG AS IT’S REEEEED!!!

Max - Geek Fashion. Max dresses like he’s already 65 years old, and with his best friend being Kim? He might be. He has invested in some good walking shoes because when your bestie is running off at any and every moment, you gotta do SOMETHING to keep up. His pants are higher up than most guys and his shirts are always tucked in. He prefers sweaters over sweatshirts and cardigans to jackets. We are comfortable in this house, not trendy!

Juleka - Electro Goth. Black is the main attraction, but she likes that punch of something neon - purple, green, even blue (Rose can tell she’s feeling romantic when she puts on some pink). She’s tall and likes clothes that accentuate that and she’s a fan of the details - shoulder cuts, lace inserts, epaulets. And despite covering half her face, she’s really into makeup (and she’s way better than Chloe). Does she have colored contacts? She’ll never tell.

Rose - Decora Kei is probably the best shortcut to describing her look, followed by Kawaii Fashion. Doesn’t matter if she burns to look at, she IS the embodiment of soft and cute! Obviously pink is her favorite color, bu she also likes pairing it with some other bright colors. Rainbows. Are. EVERYTHING. And she’s a sucker for bunnies and strawberries and angel wings ^^! How else is she supposed to have an amazing day if she’s not decked out in sunshine?!

Nathaniel - Basic but like Colorful Basic. He definitely hopped the skinny jeans phase and will continue to do so until he finally grows a bit. He holds onto clothes pretty long because there’s only so many times you can buy new shirts after getting paint and charcoal on them before you just stop caring. He aims for durability instead of fashionable, but also collects clothes with the logo from the show he likes. (And no one knows about his secret Ladybug merch collection that he only wears around his house).

Lila - Gyaru was the search term I used. She’s one of the few with a not super saturated color palette, sticking to dark neutrals. She’s drawn to patterns, like polka dots and zebra prints, and tries to balance it with neutral colors. Plus anything that makes her seem “exotic” and foreign and more interesting, she’ll wear (as long as it’s stylish enough for her.) She cleverly toes the line between fashionable and trashy, showing just enough skin or using a just flashy enough pattern. Every piece she wears she’s crafted a whole story around how she got it, like her bracelets being a gift from street kids in Belize or her earrings being a prize she won when impressing an East Asian Prince.

#fashion #ask zoe #ml #miraculous ladybug

588 notes · View notes

goliath-de-senfina-sango · 4 years ago

Text

Teller of Tales

The trio head through the portal to explore Danny's brand spanking new Sanctuary and are a little awed by all that he managed to make. They meet a facinating new ghost, who has a deal for them.

ao3

When Danny took Sam and Tucker through the portal and into his Sanctuary, he was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one floored by how much of it there was, or how complex it had turned out. “I don’t think I’ve ever even made a drawing this complicated and detailed before,” he said as they reached the roof of the main portal building and house. It was at the heart of what looked to be a town or maybe even a city, which was surrounded by a dense forest, with a mountain to one side, a massive body of water that Danny would call a lake but that looked so vast an ocean felt more appropriate on the other, and even misty clouds of every kind of color he could see passing by a point of brilliant light. “I’m glad it’s been keeping Walker out as much as it has, and every other ghost too. That means we can explore it!”

“Danny, this place is magnificent!” Tucker wrapped him up in a tight hug and squeezed nearly hard enough to crack his back. “Dude, you made a whole ass town that’s almost as big as Amity Park! I wonder how stocked up this place is. You’ve got copies of our hoverboards here too, so what are we waiting for?”

“I say we take a look at that forest, it’s practically screaming ‘enchanted and full of mystery’, and maybe we can even figure out what all goes on in that head of yours.” Sam poked Danny’s head with a laugh and called up her own backup hoverboard, hopping over the ledge and onto it before Tucker could catch up. Tucker, of course, swerved off to see if he could find anything substantial in the town, which meant splitting up, which had Danny reaching out to grab them both.

“Guys hold up! Are we really gonna go into a freshly made place that I made mostly subconsciously while in ghost form and do it while splitting up? Are we the Scooby gang?”

“Take full offense from this but you’re baby,” Tucker said with a snort. “Your subconscious mind didn’t come up with anything that might hurt us.”

“Maybe not on purpose, but I might’ve made some parts of this place uninhabitable to regular humans, but perfectly safe for a ghost to be floating around in.” After all, a ghostly mind set deeply into a Passion could easily forget things like safety regulations for squishy humans. Young Blood wasn’t even malicious or Obsessive and look at how he’d turned out.

Sam rolled her eyes but circled back around to the boys. “Fine, we can stick together and tour your McMansion together, you lil show off, but if so then how about we take a look at the edges to see what we can learn about how well defended this place is? It’s meant to be your Sanctuary, so you’ve gotta have some way of keeping ghosts out without just shotting at them.”

“We can work our way through the town and out into the forest, guys, you know that right? We’re literally starting from the middle.” Danny sighed, shaking his head. “The defenses are clearly working because nothing’s actually done anything to us yet, they can wait.”

It took a bit of back and forth but eventually, they all decided on a direction to go and headed for the lake instead of the mountain. After all, if the water was safe for humans, they could all go for a swim. The trio set off and found what looked to be empty homes, some buildings that could be shops, a few restaurants that just needed stocking up and customers, and other places that looked all but ready to be populated by people stuck on the ground and people who could fly. There was a warehouse full of Focuses, cameras, and replicas of every robot or project that Danny and Tucker had ever put together before, along with a few that stored Fentonworks non-violent products too. “This place looks like someone’s fantasy dream town where you can sit, relax, chat up a ghost, and then head off into the unknown in your very own - oh wow, Danny is that the Specter Speeder?”

“Well, I may have gone over Mom and Dad’s blueprints a while back for it, but only because I wanted to see if I could develop ya know, a space ship from it.” Danny felt his cheeks burning and gave Tucker’s shoulder a light punch to try and wipe the grin off his face. “Shut up.”

“Actually, the closer we get to the forest, the more ‘port town’ vibes I’m getting,” Sam mused. “Danny, didn’t you say you wanted to be a pirate once when you were a kid?”

“Shut uuup, noo.” Danny pulled his hood over his face, even as he turned invisible. Ok, so maybe it did look like the perfect place for a pirate who hit land on an undiscovered island to have set up their own little town. That proved nothing.

Just as Sam opened her mouth to keep teasing him, Danny popped into visibility and transformed entirely, shooting into the air with plasma gathered in his hands. It felt like the pull of some massive celestial object focused on him and his sanctuary alone, getting closer and closer, and Danny was all but certain he couldn’t do much on his own against it. He reached into his Sanctuary, felt it reach back, and begged it to hide . The partly cloudy sky went dark, the clouds now stretching over the whole expanse of the island, and in the mountain, Danny could feel the hum of railguns warming up and ready to fire like Danny couldn’t on his own.

The clouds were parted by something vast and incomprehensible that sung every song never known by mortal ears, and looking at it was looking upon all that had ever happened throughout the whole of humanity, listening to every story ever told to another person, and Danny nearly unraveled before he could look away. Something like a bell tolled and that massive shape resolved itself into something steadily smaller and simpler, while a voice called out to them - when had Tucker and Sam joined in him in the air? - with a deep baritone voice. “ A̸̢̦̮̥͚h̴͉̟̳͙͈͎̩͡, my sincerest apologies! I hadn’t expecte d any mortals or bridge spirits to be here and so came to investigate this lovely new place in an old er form. Perhaps this is easier on your minds and senses?”

The being settled into the shape of a male presenting person with grey skin, a white shirt, black pants, and a purple trench coat. They were also wearing glasses over eyes that were green at a glance but any lingering eye contact showed every shade of green and violet that could be thought of, and Danny struggled to keep his gaze on the center of the being’s forehead. They smiled with shark-like teeth and held out a hand. Danny, after likely too long, regained enough sense to shake their hand and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, this is uh, this is a lot easier. Hi. I’m Danny.”

“Hello Danny, I’m recently going by Ghostwriter! And who might you all be?”

“I’m …. Tucker Foley. Tech master extraordinaire.” Tucker shook off his awe quickly enough and gave the Ghostwriter some finger guns and a grin, shaky as it may have been.

Tucker’s joke seemed to snap Sam out of her own stupor and she shook the ghost’s hand warily. “Sam Manson, curious to meet you.”

“It’s always good to be curious! I came here sensing both a new place to learn about, the gateway to this lovely little planar system, and also I sensed a curious mind like my own seeking new fascinating secrets to uncover. Considering only one of you is capable of creating a Sanctuary, I imagine it’s you, Danny?”

Danny nodded and scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, about you coming here, can I ask uh, what was up with that mind-melting form you were just in?”

“I’ve never properly understood Lovecraftian Horror’s until now,” Sam muttered with a shiver. Tucker elbowed her in the side.

Ghostwriter tapped their chin with a hum and looked around at Danny’s spooktacular bachelor pad and clapped his hands with a grin. “I propose a trade! If I tell you about myself, as the answer to your question is best answered with story, then you all tell me about your selves. Deal?”

The trio looked between each other and nodded, Danny holding out his hand to shake. “Deal. Can we take this to the cafe down there though?” Danny pointed exactly to one of the cafes in his Sanctuary and slowly relaxed his panicked grip on the place. If Ghostwriter wanted trouble he clearly didn’t want any with Danny.

They sat down, Danny found some tea, coffee and all the things required to make hot chocolate inside, and offered everyone. Tucker accepted some iced tea, while Sam and Ghostwriter got coffee, and soon Danny sat down with his own hot chocolate and everyone else’s drinks. They appreciated the drinks and took big sips before the Ghostwriter began to speak.

“Oh, but where to start, where to start? If you have time, I can start even at the very beginning of it all?” The trio looked between each other and shrugged; it was the weekend, they had plenty of time. Ghostwriter seemed delighted by that. “The very beginning it is!” Music began to play, soft and mysterious in their minds.

“Before all that you see around you, before the swirling mists and oceans of darkness, before the very concept of Being, nothing was all that was. No past, present or future, no light or darkness, simply a blank nothingness.” On the table, a portion of the air became… empty, in a way that Danny felt in his soul, and he ached to fill the void. “Now, no one, not even myself or my siblings, knows why what happened happened, but for whatever reason or unreason, something began to Exist. Now, the very first something is what some call ectoplasm, others magic, and countless other names, but my siblings and I simply refer to it as the Realms themself being born.” Green light shone in the center of the void and quickly expanded to fill it up, accompanied by glorious and triumphant music.

“Now, while the Realms were the Something to all the Nothing at its edges, it still had just about nothing in it. So, it got to making things within itself from itself, and after a bit of experimenting with half-formed ideas like any creative soul, the very first Realm - the first universe was created. Inside of this universe, there was a great deal and the forces that be happened to be rather proud of themself but had no one to share their creation with. So, they created a soul, and a vessel to house that soul in so that someone could experience what they had made. There was, however, the issue of longevity, which was solved somewhat easily enough, by moving the soul into yet another vessel.”

The shape of a person appeared, surrounded by others, and a light slid out of one as they fell, before being nudged into the next, back and forth. “Now, what with the flexibility of how the Realms interact with time, the soul of their creation was able to hop from mortal vessel to mortal vessel, back and forth across history. Each time the soul left a body it simply went to the edges of the universe before being guided to its next life. And so it went until all the mortals were gone, but the soul was now so complex from experiencing life as every mortal that it could fit in larger vessels from which to appreciate the world. So, they became each planet in turn, and then each star, and each galaxy and cluster, and black hole, until that universe finally went dark, and the being had been everyone and everything in it across its lifespan.”

The light grew brighter and brighter with each leap it took until it burrowed down deep enough to contain that light, and the images Ghostwriter showed them zoomed out to show a solar system. And from there, the light flowed all around it, even jumping to other systems, until the light was too bright to contain in those planets and so it became all the light there was. Abruptly there wasn’t any light at all. An emptiness that the soul grew and grew to fill.

“And so in the cold, dark, quiet of the seemingly dead universe, the being that experienced Existing in a way the Realms could not did what it hadn’t the chance to between all its various lives with their fresh starts and clean slated beginnings: remembered. They experienced all that they had gone through, the scope of their life unfolding to be felt in its entirety in a way that could only be done when unbound by flesh and stone and plasma confines.”

The darkness shrunk as the grey light grew, and then the darkness was a ball within a green expanse. “And then they Were, and the universe ended with a bang, as they who I call mother and you can refer to as Queen Death, was born into the Realms properly.” The ball cracked and trembled before exploding in all directions, the bits of the cosmic eggshell being tossed to the edges of what they could see on the table. A being outlined in grey that held every color there was within, spun around in excitement, and reached out, taking one of the fractured shells of her egg and molding it like clay into another ball, then doing the same with another.

For a long moment, the trio stared at the little queen Death making universes all around her, Tucker sipping his tea as he did so. While Danny was still processing and Sam struggled to find her words, Tucker set his cup down and cleared his throat. “So, there’s a lot to unpack there, and I presume that you’re one of those souls that finished maturing inside of their universe - what are your pronouns by the way?”

“Ah yes, those, I go by he and him for now.”

Tucker nodded and hummed. “So there’s a Queen of the afterlife then? Queen Death?” Ghostwriter’s face fell from that of an eager storyteller to something sour, bitter, and full of grief.

“Not anymore, sadly. Once Mother had adjusted to Being, she realized that she too could create in this wonderful place from which she came. She crafted for herself a lovely palace made half from concepts rather than stone or metal or wood, though it was made from all that and more too.” Death was shown molding the very mist around her into an intricate and beautiful landscape and building, before stopping and sitting cross-legged in her throne, tapping her chin. “But Death knew something was missing from her experience, something she’d had once before: companionship.”

Death was shown leaving her castle to go and gather the broken bits of her eggshell, and took them into her palace, before splitting one shell chunk in two and twisting the two into eggs. Green light gathered in each of her palms and flowed into the shells. “Mother made my eldest siblings, who would go on to name themselves Entropy and Peace. Unlike with her own experience with being guided into each new life, mother decided her first children would have a less lonely experience.” Blue light flowed from one egg and golden to the other and back, with the guiding hand of Death.

“Peace and Entropy would know each other in a way few still living gods do, for they were each other at times. And when they emerged, they gazed upon Death’s palace and kingdom with wonder, and they were a happy family.” Blue and Gold silhouettes hatched from their eggs, both donning violet. The three laughed and hugged and danced, crafting and playing. “And Death, and the Realms, decided to create again, and this time they would act together. And this time,” Ghostwriter said with a chill in his voice and his drink boiling, “the Realms would act on their fascination with balance.”

A violet light appeared as Death molded an egg all her own, and it pulsed and dripped with what felt to be oddly malicious. Entropy and Peace went about exploring their mother’s world while this happened and even took a few discarded shells to craft a universe of their own. Death and her children soon went about covering the table in art and Realms, along with Realms simply spawning from nowhere. The dark purple egg hatched, and the other universes shook.

“What if I told you that the force that brought Existence into Being made mistakes? What if I told you that gods can die?” Ghostwriter gestured to seven eggs orbiting each other, bands of light flitting between them all. “The third child of Death called himself War, and he was the first to disrupt things and give Peace a job to do.” War walked over and flicked the bands of light between two of the eggs, forcing the soul out into the Infinite Realms early, and it grew into a small green being. Peace flew over, and gently nudged the being back toward its egg, but not before drawing from within a blade and cutting through the tiny being. It returned to a ball shape and flowed back in.

“Ghosts of the dead, as you might call them, are souls set adrift from the path between lives, and Peace made it his job to take them back where they go. Sometimes War did this many times at once, and I, curious, asked Peace to allow a few to stay. After all, they were going to end up here again anyway, weren’t they? And so, we tried that, and due to the boundlessness and chaotic nature of the Realms these ghosts found themselves evolving and mutating over time, some of them fulfilling a passion from their previous life and finding their way back home into the next life, while others stayed here and grew and grew and even figured out a way to reproduce - sexually and not. Those ghosts born in the Realms from the dead we call Deathless because they never died.”

“So you’re the reason we have ghosts and stuff?” Sam frowned at the Ghostwriter and the story unfolding before their eyes froze. “Because you wanted to see what’d happen?”

“The name I first took was Curiosity, my dear, and actually I was the first ghost, made rather curious for a reason. It was something new. If I may?”

“Sorry.” The writer waved it off and the story continued.

“Peace forged a sword within himself that he used to set free souls that had gone too long outside of their shells, their minds dissolving under the pressure of an eternity they weren’t mature enough for yet. Many of the elder Deathless he granted such Peace granting tools, and so when a ghost went mad with age they were cut down and their soul returned to their egg. But if that were the last of War’s troublesome and destructive actions, this tale would have a happier ending.”

The violet War wrapped himself in black and red and forged within himself a ring and from that ring beat drums and played bagpipes and ripped chords that called out to something burning hot inside of Danny that had his chocolate evaporating out of his cup. “A god or a ghost can craft from themselves an artifact of power that embodies their very self, their greatest passion. Peace acted as a knight to Queen Death, while Entropy became the watcher over things, and War… War crafted his own place, a fortress beyond our immediate sight, and started taking ghosts there.”

War took the tiny green ghosts far from the others and brandished his ring at them, and from it a sickly purple light seeped out and infected the ghosts, turning them a toxic looking blend of green and purple. Danny shivered, and Sam set down her coffee, looking pale and furious. “Before we knew what he was doing, we thought of War simply as seeking conflict, as his name implied. But war, oh war is not just violence, it is imperialism, it is slaughter, it is conquest it is a͜ h҉un̵g̸er̶ ̸th҉at ca̴nnot be sat̶ed ųnt͜i̷l ͜all͢ i͏s͝ c̸o̡ns͢umęd ̕an͏d̴ ̕li̷k͝e͞l̢y̕ ev͜en͢ ͟not t҉he̛n.” The sickly purple and red light spread further and further, seeping into the ground and choking the air.

“When the dead forge artifacts that outlast them, they make them from the ectoplasm of the Realms and have them resonate with that ghost’s soul, thus allowing any Dead, Deathless, or even a living mortal with the same soul or at least born of the same soul as the ghost who made it to use it. When one of us does it though, well, we’ve got a universe worth of energy to work with, replenished by the Realms, so we reach inside and forge our relic from our own soul, and a bit of ectoplasm. Queen Death made her crown of Fire as a light to keep back the darkness, and to assist her in managing the ebb and flow of souls across the cosmos.”

The palace courtroom came into view and violet War marched forth toward his mother, his purple and red, and black ring pulsing with the beat of wrath. “As her Majesty Queen Death put to work her latest project of making systems out of Realms that would regulate themselves, her third eldest child marched into her throne room with a ring made from the collective heat and metals of stars within him, his malice, his corruptive hunger that would take and steal and conquer, and he stole from her what was her own, the Crown of Fire that lit the darkness of the Infinite Realms, and with a sword stolen from a Peacemaker he earned his most hatefully spat title, the Filthy Mother Killer.“ The kaleidoscopic crown atop Death’s head turned sickly and purple-green. A sword the color of bone pierced Death’s center and the whole Sanctuary shook with a screech.

“Peace ran to mother's palace to ask what had happened, for all the Realms felt it when Death died, and oh, how realization crashed down upon that which could call itself the Realms themself, and oh how it wept and oh how it raged, as the sword that would cut free the souls lost and tangled in obsession too deeply to pass onto their next lives alone and gave the infant Realms peaceful deaths was used to reach into Peace itself and oh how the Realms wailed with fury as the Fright Knight was forced into being under the service of the Usurper, and struck even his sibling Entropy, now Clockwork, giving them their famed scar.” Gold was encased in bone white armor and it’s violet cloak ignited. They struck blue Entropy and soon the gods all over clashed, and the tabletop was swallowed by a rainbow of violence and dripped with emerald blood.

“And so, the Corrupter of Worlds threw the Realms into the most horrific war, beyond mortal comprehension, as the gods grieved and raged and fought with all they had, but could barely scratch their elder brothers. Until finally, finally, Clockwork sealed Fright Knight away in the nightmares his sword now caused. And finally, Entropy itself rallied their brothers and sisters and we sealed away the vile Mother Killer in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.” Ghostwriter banished the images, his eyes burning amethyst and crimson and he took deep breaths, while the teens leaned back, wary and filled with their own impotent rage.

When finally he seemed to calm, the Sanctuary not writhing and rumbling with the force of his rage, he did a little gesture and the mist coalesced once more into a little stage. A foundation of stone formed and over it lay an ocean and from within it grew a tree of bark and steel, surrounded by breezes likely large enough to dwarf Jupiter’s red spot, mold growing at the bottom of the tree while a star roared to life above it. “Though War was locked away, the Realms did not know rest. So they set to work putting together their daughter's last project: a planar system. And ages beyond time passed, until one day, every god and spirit woke to the sound of a scream. And that, my dear Bridge Spirit, is where I believe your story begins.”

Danny sat there, turning over the story that he’d just been told in his head, and tried his best to process it. He wasn’t sure how to do that, though, with the enormity of it all. So, Tucker cut in for him, like always, but with a rap. “Yo, Danny Fenton, he was just 14-“

“Ai dios- stop!” Danny snorted a laugh and shoved Tucker’s face, and the trio descended into a fit of giggles. “Alright, my story isn’t as much as yours is, but, well.” And so, taking turns picking up where the others didn’t know, they told their story to the Ghostwriter. They could process the meaning of life later.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Tucker Foley #Sam Manson #The Ghostwriter #Clockwork mention #Pariah Dark Mention #Fright Knight mention #Lore #Lore dumping #Rexy Writes #fanfiction #Phanfiction #phanfic #fanfic #fanphiction #fanphic #phanphic #phanphiction

36 notes · View notes

thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 4 years ago

Text

Better with you

This is the way of things:

Riley falls in love with Harper. Harper breaks her heart. Harper falls in love with Abby. Harper marries Abby. Abby has a friend. Riley falls in love.

In retrospect it both annoys and amazes her how Harper conditions so much of her life. If she imagined her life in the form of roads as complex, as confused and as diverging as the lines on her palm, there are probably multiple signboards that have Harper’s face on them, with some strange quote written beside them along the lines of “Hey! Been a while since you thought of me, the girl who ruined most of your life hasn’t it?”.

Riley hates it.

Okay, so in all honesty, she hates it until she crashes into Maya.

*****

Here’s the thing about Riley: She’s stupid around the people she loves.

How else does one explain all her major life decisions? She stays quiet when Austin Thomas spray-paints “Dike” all over her locker (even through the shaking, and the trembling and the huddling in a bathroom cubicle in the morning, what has her more concerned is what it’s probably doing to Harper. Well, that, and the fact that dyke is hilariously misspelled). She watches Harper from across the corridor, biting her lip, holding onto her left arm with her right hand, and hates that she still wants her so badly that she can’t breathe. She hates herself for loving Harper, hates her heart for betraying her in this very fundamental way, hates it for not being able to think rationally enough.

(The thought makes her laugh. What brand of love was ever rational?)

Even after she’s adequately moved on, has fallen in love a second time, the third, the fourth, she can never really bring herself to do that. The thought of Harper will evoke all forms of insufferable feelings ranging from sorrow to nostalgia. Not fury, though. Never fury.

She walks out of high school with excellent grades, graduates med school top of her class, gets into the one of the best residency programs in her state, all in a misguided attempt to compensate for this huge cosmic failing she’s somehow been saddled with. If life handed out academic report cards, chits of paper with affirmations engraved on them, then the ones she would give her parents would read Your child is doing great; She’s sorry she’s gay. Your child is trying her very best. A tiny PS at the bottom right corner would say – Love her. Please.

And she comes back, every year, to those stupid White Elephant parties, combats side-glances with polite smiles, off-hand comments about how her peers are heterosexually married to their heterosexual partners with grimaces. Brevity helps, and so does a glass of wine on her at all times.

And then Harper brings Abby, one Christmas.

*****

She’s not going to deny that she has a little bit of a crush on Abby.

Come on. It’s Abby. She’s a lesbian dreamboat with some serious hair-game and the gayest sense of dressing she’s ever seen on anyone. How is a girl supposed to not like that earnest smile and deep, soulful eyes?

(But Abby’s earnest smile unfurls like a ribbon when it falls on Harper, and her eyes tell stories that seem to end at Harper, and Riley knows that in some rudimentary way, Abby has always, and will be always belong to her girlfriend.)

“Dude, we have to stay in touch,” Abby says, the morning after the party, when they run into each other. “I’m gonna need support at the White Christmas party next year. So, I don’t accidentally use the wrong fork and then embarrass myself.”

She laughs, enters her number into Abby’s phone. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to text all the time, because, well — hospital hours. But I will try.”

Harper, standing beside Abby, shoots her a tiny, strained smile. Things will never be great between them; there’s too much spilled blood, and angry tears that lie in this chasm, but this is maybe a tiny start to bring matters back to the way they were when it all started. Polite. Nice.

Abby texts her — “I can’t believe I survived the Caldwells” five days later, and Riley has no idea at the time, but good things are on their way.

*****

“Please, please, please, please, pleeeeease,” Abby begs her over the phone. Riley is pretty sure she’s actually holding her hand out in supplication.

“Can’t you just give her flowers and chocolate like a normal person?”

A dog barks on the other end, and Riley imagines her walking dogs on the streets. “But I know this is something she really, really wants!”

“An obsolete book that’s only found in a bookstore in New York?”

“Yes!” Abby replies. “Wait, hang on. John, tell her how important it is.”

Some muffled noises, then John’s clear, deadpan voice is audible. “Hey Riley,” he says, sounding disinterested as always, “How are — wait, lemme at least ask her how she’s been, how life in New York has been, if there are any cute guys in her hospital—”

Riley stifles a laugh.

“—yeah, yeah, okay. Fine. Riley, this woman really wants it, God knows why. So I’ll be in New York this weekend. I’ll come with you to that store and then bring that book back.”

“So why do I have to come?”

“Because,” Abby sighs, like it should be obvious, “I don’t trust John.”

Weekend. Sleeping in. Riley closes her eyes, whispers a Rest in peace to a previously perfect weekend.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

*****

The woman nearly scares her out of her wits.

She’s split up with a still-woozy-from-his-flight John as he’s set off to find the book, and thumbing through the random paperbacks on the Fiction shelf, when a voice interrupts her musing.

“I wouldn’t recommend that one,” Riley hears, and whirls around, wide-eyed.

A woman steps out of the dark corner, hands held up as if in warning, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, awkwardly, “that I — I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Riley shakes her head, waves a hand to tell her it’s alright. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Pretentious. Definitely sat with a thesaurus. Too many men.”

The tiny detective that sits at the back of head, the one that registers women, and says “It’s elementary, Watson” every time it sees behavior that might be not-heterosexual, goes off with a ding.

“Too many men is a problem,” she admits, wryly, broadcasting her own message in case there was a willing audience. I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay. “What would you suggest?”

The woman steps into the light, slow enough so Riley knows she’s going to enter her personal space. She picks out a book from the top shelf easily, holds it out in front of her.

This close, Riley can’t help but stare. She’s taller, with dark hair that falls just past her shoulders. She’s wearing thick glasses, and behind that, her eyes are tiny and smiling. Riley smiles back, a little awkwardly. Looks at the book, then laughs.

“Sorry,” the woman chuckles, pointing to the copy of Midnight Sun that she’s just handed over, “Little joke.”

They’re still smiling at each other, when John ruins it all by exclaiming “Maya!” from behind her. And that’s when Riley discovers how easy it is to manufacture meet-cutes. And that she really, really hates Abby Holland.

*****

“How dare you?”

Abby sighs on the other end. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

John, who is currently scarfing down a hotdog, mumbles his apologies into the speaker.

“I tried.”

“You didn’t even try,” Abby retorts. “What was the one thing I told you? Don’t let her on to the fact that you know Maya. And what did you do?”

“My best.”

Riley snatches it from him. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird of you to be setting up your girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend with your friend?”

(Just saying the whole thing aloud makes her head hurt)

“Harper doesn’t mind,” Harper’s reserved yet slightly amused voice comes, a little muffled. “Because Harper thinks it’s hilarious.”

There had been three rules, three rules that she had laid out for Abby at the very beginning, when their friendship was still in its tentative stages. One, no weird conversations about Harper. Two, no weird medical questions about fingers. And three, no setting Riley up on blind dates.

Riley had dodged Abby’s attempts to break rule number three about five times already.

(Who knew one could have so many single, willing and Sapphic friends in New York city? Part of Riley was annoyed; the other part was impressed)

“It’s not going to happen, you hear me?” she enunciates. “Absolutely not.”

*****

Riley doesn’t know why she’s back at the bookstore.

Well, she does. Officially, that is. As she had told John already, she hated the idea of things being so awkward, and that Maya must’ve felt that she was rude for clamming up after the whole story came to light, and that she definitely ought to go clear things up with her, let her know very politely that it wasn’t in the cards. John had uh-huh-ed and mm-hmm-ed and nodded until she got annoyed at herself for overexplaining. It was simply a courtesy call, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing else.

(If part of the reason she wants to go back is because, after a long, long time, she went to sleep with someone’s face in the back of her mind that night, kept replaying that certain someone’s voice over and over, it is none of John’s business. Or Abby’s, for that matter.)

It was crazy. Crazy. They’d had one conversation, and part of it had been after Riley had found out she was supposed to be set up, and thus had been filled with Maya trying to ease things over. There was no reason she needed to be thinking this much about someone.

(Not that she was. Thinking that much. About a woman. Just a regular amount)

“So wait, let me get this straight,” Maya looks right at her, “You came all this way to tell me that you don’t want to go on a date with me?”

Well now Riley just feels stupid. “Yes.”

Maya tilts her head a little. “Okay,” she says, “Just out of curiosity, what’s your problem with being set up with people?”

Oh, this she can answer. “One, the general awkwardness with your friends if it doesn’t work out,” she ticks off on her fingers. “Two, too much pressure to make it work. Three, I’m not—”

“—yes?”

Lovable. Bearable. Worth it.

“—looking to date?”

“What qualifies as a date to you, though?”

“A meal shared with romantic intent. Holding doors open, pulling chairs out. You know, the drill.”

Maya seems to be mulling it over. “Alright,” she says, nodding slowly. “What if.... what if two people were to spend time together with no food, no holding doors open or pulling chairs out? Technically that wouldn’t be a date, would it?”

Riley has to bite at the inside of her cheek to smother the smile that’s threatening to set up home on her lips.

“No,” she replies, “It wouldn’t.”

*****

This is what not-dating Maya is like.

It’s tired half-hour phone conversations at odd hours of the day. Riley doesn’t have a lot of time free, but she doesn’t go to sleep without talking to her at least once. She falls asleep to Maya nerding out about the books she’s read, about how she wants to own a gay café, about how she saw the ugliest shirt on a discount store window, bought it, and couldn’t wait to put it on. Wakes up to texts that read “Okay I know you fell asleep but I can’t, so I’m just gonna rant about random shit you can read about when you’re up, okay?” followed by some inane discussion on whether her pillow would be a salad or a sandwich if it could be eaten. It’s stumbling on the streets, half-carrying a drunk Maya as she navigates the confusing maze of New York avenues, and insists on having pizza wherever she goes. It’s bright smiles shot across coffee shops, tired rants before bed. It’s easy.

It’s so easy that Riley has no idea what to do.

“Can you keep a secret?” she asks John on the phone, right before she tells him what’s been happening the past month.

To his credit, he listens to the whole thing before he says something monumentally stupid.

“A whole month and you haven’t had sex? I thought you had game.”

“Oh, fuck off. It’s not like that.”

“You don’t want to have sex with her?”

She’s blushing. “I — I do,” she says, feeling hot all over at the very thought. “I just — it’s not — not what’s important.”

“No, I mean, seriously” he says. “What do you guys even do? Stare at each other’s faces all day?”

“I wish I could stare at her face all day,” she says, before she’s even thinking about it. “Her face is all.... nice. Pretty. Oh God.”

“Oh God is right, darling,” he sounds amused. “You got it bad.”

“I do not — got it bad.”

“You do.”

“I do not — ugh fine.”

“Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you do got it,” he proposes. “What are you going to do about it?”

Riley takes a deep breath, lets it out. She has no answer to that.

*****

The next day, Maya says, sheepishly — “I guess you finally told Abby, huh?”

“Wait, what?” she’s confused. “Told her what?”

Maya blinks, awkwardly, waves a hand between them. Realization dawns.

“I told John!” Riley tells her, furiously. “That asshole must have told her.”

Maya shrugs a shrug that seems to convey how stupid it was to trust John with keeping secrets from Abby of all people.

“But also,” Riley frowns, “I thought you must have told her already.”

“Nah, I hadn’t.”

“Why not?”

Maya shrugs again, hands in her pockets. “I didn’t know if you wanted her to know.”

And see, it’s this consideration that leaves her lacking for words. Maya is effortlessly considerate, to the point where she wouldn’t say something even if it was bothering her. She’s constantly putting Riley’s needs in front of her own, constantly worried about how she feels and Riley is just. She’s just—

(The word grateful, smitten pops into her head. Refuses to exit)

“You’re nice,” she says, because other adjectives would be too revealing. You’re amazing. You’re beautiful. You’re probably the light of my life.

“I’m only nice to you, Riley,” Maya admits, very frankly. Riley kind of wants to ask her why that is. She’s kind of scared to ask her why that is.

*****

“Just ask her out, already, jeez.”

“I — I can’t,” she tells Abby, sitting at the park, phone in her hand.

“You like her,” Abby states. “She likes you. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“She likes me?” Riley asks, knowing that she’s probably giving away all her hope in her voice.

(Okay, in some weird, convoluted way, she knows Maya likes her already. She’s not completely useless, contrary to popular lesbian stereotype. Just an—

“-Idiot,” she hears, a deadpan chastisement that she rolls her eyes at, “What are you even waiting for?”

“I — I’m not — I don’t know, okay? I’m not—”

The ghosts of her ex-girlfriends in the background, go — Good at being emotionally available. Good at being committed. Good at loving people. Good.

Abby stays quiet.

“I don’t think I can make her happy,” Riley says, finally.

There’s the sound of a sigh on the other end. “What if you already do?”

*****

“Again,” she says, as she’s walking backwards, “I am so, so sorry.”

Maya, who has been waiting for her to get done with her surgeries since two hours now, and will probably have to wait another couple of them, waves her phone in the air, laughs. “I’ll read a book until you get back, okay? Go do your thing.”

She’s on an ob-gyn rotation, but thankfully, the delivery goes smoothly. And a good thing it is, because her head is all over the place. Two warring factions are on a rampage — one that’s raring to go tell the girl of Riley’s dreams that she is, in fact, that girl of Riley’s dreams, and the other equally strong battalion that is standing there with flags raised, flags that read – But what if it goes wrong?

Here’s the second thing about Riley: Love barely ever goes right around her.

Oh, she’s dated people before. Loved them, adored them. And yet, things always start falling apart after a while, start shattering into pieces. Honestly, she doesn’t even blame them. Who wants someone who barely has time to talk for an hour because she’s almost always busy, who is ridiculously tired most days, and barely has the time or energy to grow a relationship?

(So it will happen when it happens, but also, when it happens, Riley has a tendency of scrambling for cover)

She walks into the main hall with the paperwork, and stands at the nurses’ station, lets out a deep breath.

“Your girl tuckered out an hour ago,” Shaqueel tells her, leaning against the table, casually interested. She can see the rest of the nurses leaning in for better quality audio.

“Not my girl,” she tells him, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Really?” Julie asks, face resting on her elbow, an expression Riley can only describe as sappy on her face. “Because she would like to be, that’s for sure.”

Riley turns to Danny. “I told you to make sure none of these,” she waves a hand towards all of them, “busybodies talk to her!”

He shrugs. “What can I say? They were determined.”

“Useless,” she says, already walking away. There’s so much damage control to be done.

Danny texts her a “She’s a keeper”, as she’s walking, and even though she’s mad at all of them, part of her is inclined to agree.

*****

Maya is sleeping.

Riley knows the tone in which she’s thinking this is certainly not the one two strictly platonic buddies would take while referring to each other and yet the tenderness seeps in, anyways. She looks at the hair falling over her askew glasses and wants to brush it off; looks at her dozing with her mouth open and the sight is such a perfect mixture to utterly absurd and adorable that she wants to wake up to it in the morning. Every day.

She takes a deep breath, presses at all of her wants and urges until they’re packed, once again, in the already filled box related to all things Maya in her head. Kneels so she’s almost at her level, and gently taps Maya on the shoulder.

(Waking up comes as beautifully to Maya as do all things, and Riley is most definitely an idiot in love)

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she says, softly, her eyes still squinty from the last remnants of her nap.

“Don’t apologize,” Riley replies, equally as soft. “I fall asleep all the time on the phone.”

“Eh, you save babies. It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long.”

“Riley,” Maya tells her, very seriously. “I would wait a lot longer for you.”

(And because being stupid is a fundamental quality of Riley being in love, there’s absolutely no way she isn’t swooning at that, inside)

She’s sleepy and tired and stupid right now, so it’s probably coloring her judgement, but she’s done caring. Riley Johnson is not letting this one get away.

“Would you,” she starts, slowly, “consider waiting two more days so you can take me out to a fancy restaurant on Saturday?”

There’s a light in Maya’s eyes that she can only classify as hope. “Depends. Would you open the door for me and pull my chair out?”

Riley’s smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. “Absolutely.”

“Well, then,” Maya says, leaning in, “It’s about fucking time.”

#happiest season #fanfiction #riley owns my heart #okay so this comes out of my intense need to give riley her own happy ending because the woman was a freaking angel #and its kinda all over the place so there #also im convinced john and riley would be the best of friends #and maya just looks like elizabeth olsen to me idky

9 notes · View notes

heartau · 6 years ago

Text

Unknown Number | C.HW

Genre: college!au - explicit smut/angst/fluff Word count: 16.8k Comments: this is a revision of an au that i wrote from when i was in a different fandom!! Warnings: graphic depictions of sex: fingering, oral (male and female), insertion, dirty talk, public sex, dom/sub themes.

In which two anonymous people sext each other, neither one aware that the other is their sworn enemy.

Commonly, at the ages of the early twenties, partying becomes an event that is scheduled almost every single week. Crammed bodies that emit heat, slick with sweat, sticking against each other on dance floors packed like sardines and in secret affairs tucked away in random quarters; the turbulent howling of frat boys who have found the beer keg and are attempting to sacrifice their weakest link to down it all in one gulp; almosts and maybes and hindered exchanges that stay sputtering in the stomachs of those who leave early filled with regret. A party is everything aggravating that stirs up irritation put into one area under the façade of something whimsical, and it is all worth it – until the morning after.

The dull, throbbing pain that bangs against your skull causes your eyelids to flutter open, the harsh sunlight that flows into your bedroom through the drawn curtains triggering the torment to grow worse as it fries your retinas, screwing your eyes shut as you let out a groan of agony, sore arms flying up to rest your hands against your forehead and to massage your temples.

“My head,” you hiss in pain, gulping the urge to curse loudly at yourself for deciding to drink so much the night before down your throat. A low chuckle emits from the side of your room which causes your body to jolt in surprise, turning your head and barely peeking out from underneath your eyelids at the origin of the sound, seeing your roommate leaning against the doorframe, trying to suppress his laughter. “Jesus, Kihyun. Knock next time.”

“You’ve been asleep for fifteen hours, I came to check if you were still alive.” Kihyun explains, walking towards you and holding out what you’ve made out to be a single pill of tylenol and a glass of water. “I told you to be careful with your drinks last night, you know.”

You slowly sit up, rolling your eyes as you leans against your headboard, graciously accepting the pill and water and downing it in one gulp. Your esophagus feels less dry and you relish in the fleeting moment of peace before another strike of pain emits in your skull and sends jolts of agony down your bones and nerves. You wince once more, closing your eyes.

“What happened last night?” you ask your roommate, attempting to recollect your memories of the night before in the darkness behind your eyelids but coming up blank.

“You got drunk,” Kihyun answers you, hands shoved into his pockets as if he were looking for something. “Then, after your 5th shot or whatever, you told me you were going to the bathroom. You were gone for, like, 50 minutes, so I tried phoning you to see where you were, but my phone was gone! Luckily, I found you on the floor next to the ladies bathroom,” he pauses and then lifts up his phone - his shattered phone - to your face. “Next to this.”

His eyes are sharp, pointed directly at you as you gulp and shrink down in confused guilt before an apologetic smile attempts to stretch on your face. “I’m sorry?”

“You should say that to the people you texted,” Kihyun shrugs, shoving his phone back into his pocket and crossing his arms. “You messaged every single person off of my contacts list. Your phone’s been going off for the past fifteen hours while you’ve been asleep.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit, indeed.”

You reach for your phone on your nightstand and press the circular button rousing the device awake, and sure enough, your lockscreen is decorated with rows and rows of text notifications, each one coming from a different combination of numbers. An array of Who is this?, Wrong number., and If this is some sort of prank, please stop. It’s not funny’s causes your face to redden, putting your phone down onto your lap and covering your face in embarrassment.

“Please don’t tell anyone it was me,” you look back up at Kihyun, unlocking your phone and tapping on your text app, already conjuring apologies to the strangers.

“Your secret is safe with me. Have fun!” he reassures you, before pivoting on his heel and walking out your room, closing the door behind him.

Gulping, your eyes skim the texts that you decided to send from the night before, harsh and erratic words meeting your eyes. You groan in despair as you read each reply, tones of anger and confusion aimed at you - you had a lot to work with, and thankfully, you had the entire rest of the day to contemplate remorseful apologies. But deep within your notifications lies a reply different from the rest, rich words that hold sentiment and persona, lined in several sentences. The reply was from an unknown number, of course it was, but you can’t deny the peculiarity of the message.

And thus, almost apologetically, you leave it unanswered for the time being.

----

“No, dude, I swear on my life, I got the freakiest text message last night.”

Kihyun opens the dorm room to the sound of dispute, Jooheon’s voice being the loudest of all of them. Groans emit from around the corner and Kihyun could practically envision eyes rolling at the boys statement.

“I read the text,” Minhyuk says after a pause. “It wasn’t freaky at all.”

“Yes it was!” Jooheon argues, scrambling to grab his phone from underneath the mountain of review sheets and textbooks, hands practically shaking as he unlocks it, tapping his text app. He holds his phone to his friend’s faces, who lean in to inspect the text, before they all stare at him, deadpan.

“I told you so.” Minhyuk quips, shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay, so you tell me. If you got a text that just said 5 days. and nothing else - absolutely zilch - you wouldn’t be afraid?” Jooheon narrows his eyes at Minhyuk, but before Minhyuk could even begin to open his mouth to answer back in dripping sarcasm, Kihyun sits down on the floor and slams his books against the carpet, looking at them in curiosity.

“What’s going on?” asks Kihyun as he shuffles his papers around, looking for the review sheet he had been analyzing for the past few days.

“This random number texted us in the middle of the night,” Minhyuk answers Kihyun, before pointing towards Jooheon, who stares directly at his phone. “He’s afraid because the same number texted him 5 days.”

“A random number?” asks Kihyun, brain reeling as he realizes that it must have been (Y/N), but his face stays static at the apparent discovery. “Hm. That’s weird. What else did you guys get?”

“They copy and pasted an entire WikiHow article on how to bake banana bread for me.” Wonho pipes up from beside Jooheon. “It was kinda helpful. I think I might do it later.”

“I got a whole paragraph on how I’m obstructing their education by being loud in our shared class. Like, what does that even mean?” Minhyuk is obviously irritated at this message, furrowing his brows together. “I’m not even that loud. And what shared class?”

A sigh emits from Hyungwon, who has been silent for the past few minutes. He stares at his textbook, flipping through the pages as he talks. “I don’t know why you guys are over analyzing this. It’s just some person pranking us, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Kihyun almost freezes at the new insight, turning his head towards the lanky boy who he knows shares a venomous and strained relationship with (Y/N), internally yelling at the girl for acting so brash through her drunken actions.

“You got a text?” Kihyun asks him, voice surprisingly calm, however, behind the facade lies an expression almost synonymous to hellfire. Hyungwon’s mouth remains closed, eyes tearing away from the printed words of his textbook and towards his older friend. His expression is still, and his eyes are calm, but it is everything Kihyun needs to confirm that he is one of the receivers.

“Really?” Minhyuk questions. “What did it say?”

“What the text said isn’t important,” Hyungwon glances at Minhyuk quickly before looking back to his textbook. “Can we please just get on with studying? That’s what I came here for.”

“Hey man,” Jooheon pouts, practically sending Hyungwon a pleading expression. “You can’t just say you got a text and not tell us!”

“Yeah, he’s right!” Wonho points at Jooheon. “We’re your friends. You’re like… legally obligated to tell us.”

Hyungwon lets out a huff, biting the inside of his cheeks before looking back up at his circle of friends. “They sent me a long, long essay on why they hate me.”

Silence fills the air and Kihyun can sense tension following just behind as they all stare at Hyungwon. It’s only a fleeting moment before they all burst out into roaring laughter, tears threatening to fall from their brightened eyes as they double over on top of each other. Kihyun and Hyungwon watch the two in confusion before Kihyun decides to let out a couple of strained, awkward chuckles.

“Hey,” Kihyun clears his throat and pats Hyungwon on the back as the rest of the boys’ laughter dies down. “Like you said, it’s most likely just a prank, right?”

Hyungwon doesn’t even look at Kihyun in the eye, shrugging as he mumbles out a silent ‘yes.’ Minhyuk takes notice of this, pointing at Hyungwon in shock.

“Oh my god, he’s offended by the text,” Minhyuk says. “It must’ve been personal then, huh? They probably know you in real life. Oh my god, how funny would that be?”

Hyungwon rolls his eyes before looking back at his textbook, letting out a huff of air as he attempts to drown out the sounds of his friends.

Kihyun turns to Minhyuk, racking his brain for excuses. “There’s a low chance they know each other in real life,” Kihyun says. “I mean, that would be impossible.”

“Wait, but Minhyuk has a point,” Jooheon adds. “I mean, whoever this was, they texted all of us, right? They must know who we are. It just comes down to figuring out who it is.”

“Why are we still talking about this?” Hyungwon shuts his book, the plop of the hardcovers interrupting Minhyuk and Jooheon. “I came here to study, not analyze and dissect some girl’s cryptic text messages.”

Minhyuk raises an eyebrow. “Girl?”

Hyungwon freezes and Kihyun is almost about to crack, but luckily, Hyungwon opens his mouth before Kihyun could do anything. “She said something about how she hates the ‘girls can’t beat up boys’ stereotype because she claims that she could take me down easy.”

“Well,” Minhyuk says. “She’s got a point.”

“Shut up, Minhyuk.” Hyungwon glares at him, patience already begin to waver thin.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Minhyuk throws his hands up in defense. “But hey. This is strong evidence. Whoever this masked texter is, they know us and they’re a girl. We’re a few steps closer to figuring out who the culprit is.”

Kihyun scratches the back of his neck as he remains silent, searching for a coherent sentence in his brain. “Well. Let’s stu-”

“Hey, Minhyuk,” Wonho looks up towards his friend from his position on the ground, laying on his stomach. “You said that you guys shared a class right? They could be in any one of your classes.”

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Minhyuk agrees. “I’ll question ever-”

Hyungwon interrupts him by noisily grabbing his papers and books, standing up and earning confused looks from his friends. He pivots on his heel and walks towards the door, turning the doorknob and opening it just a crack before looking over his shoulder. “I’m glad all of you have unanimously agreed to fail our finals. Since we aren’t studying, I’ll be taking my leave.”

The door slams shut, leaving the four boys in his wake.

“Geez.” Minhyuk scoffs, before continuing with his sentence prior to Hyungwon leaving.

As Hyungwon walks out the apartment lobby, the crisp cool autumn breeze dancing across the skin of his cheeks after he opens the door, his teeth clench in annoyance as the memories of the text messages he had received flash in his mind. He closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them again, hiking back to his own apartment complex, attempting to push the situation out of his mind.

Yet, no matter how much he seeks to overlook his feelings of irritation, he can still detect the weight of his phone in the pocket of his sweater, where the messages filled of anger and tirancy of an unknown woman linger on the screen the same way they linger in his memory.

He will delete them. After one more message.

----

Your phone emits a loud tone, causing your eyes to widen as heads in the library turn to look towards you. You quickly grab it to silence it, sending everyone apologetic smiles and glances before looking down at your screen at the text notification, raising your eyebrow once you realized whom it had originated from. That morning, while you had been apologizing to a series of confusion and states of anger, you had come across one reply a lot different than the rest; a paragraph filled with words of true irritation, personal anger, and you, in your hungover galore, decided to leave it be, finding entertainment in their message.

From - Unknown Number: so u texted my friends too. who are u?

You furrowed your eyebrows together as you scroll up to find your original text to try and figure out who this person could be - obviously, you must have some sort of connection with them or a similarity for his emotional outburst prior his recent message - but as you scroll up you are only given a dead end when you realized you must have deleted your first text while you was still drunk.

You sent: first of all thx for texting me while im in the library im p sure the librarian is on my ass now. second, i was drunk so it was probably nonsense. third of all thats for me to know and for u to never find out.

You put your phone down and pick up your pencil, finding the paragraph you were last reading, but before your pencil could even reach the lined paper of your notebook, your phone buzzes again. You look at the screen, seeing that the unknown man has replied to your message.

From - Unknown Number: whatever. just dont text me anymore. if u got smth personal to say then say it to my face and stop hiding behind a screen like a coward.

You sigh, setting your pencil down and picking your phone up.

You sent: mister u were the one who texted me today first. also arent u basically doing the same thing? if u’ve got something to say then come say it to my face.

From - Unknown Number: i dont even know who u are. just apologize.

You sent: no. goodbye.

From - Unknown Number: whatever. just lay off. i already got enough things to stress about.

You sent: i said goodbye.

You stare at your phone for what seems like an eternity, waiting for him to reply, but he doesn’t. You close your eyes almost thankfully, sighing before you delete the entire text conversation and shove your phone into your bag and dismiss everything before you continue to study. You had believed, foolishly, that this man never contacts you again.

You were wrong.

From - Unknown Number: hey should i buy pizza

You hold a spatula in your other hand, the sound of eggs frying filling the kitchen. It’s only the next morning and this unknown man had apparently not forgotten about your number and decided to ignore your farewell. You sigh, the inkling of regret that you had after discovering that you had texted multitudes of strangers becoming even bigger.

You sent: didn’t i say goodbye to u already

From - Unknown Number: yeah but like … im hungry

You roll your eyes as you flip an egg over in the steaming pan.

You sent: then text ur friends

From - Unknown Number: u see…. i got into a fight with them

You sent: wow. im so surprised.

From - Unknown Number: so should i buy pizza or not hurry up i got class in like 30 mins n if im late my teachers gonna bite my ass

You sent: dont buy pizza its still morning … buy a bagel or smth

From - Unknown Number: good idea. k thx.. good bye

You sigh before you dismiss him again, putting your phone face down on the counter as you slide your eggs off the pan onto a plate before stepping into the dining room to eat with Kihyun. You hadn’t seen him since he had left to go to Wonho’s apartment, a burly, intimidating looking man whom he had befriended in his psychology class. He looked down at his plate, taking few, sparse bites out of his bacon before he jumps at the sound of your chair scraping against the hardwood floors, sitting down across from him.

“You seem a bit jumpy today,” you quirk an eyebrow at your best friend. “Is something wrong?”

“No!” he says, far too quickly. “Not at all!”

“Kihyun,” you question after a beat, furrowing your eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

Kihyun gulps, staring at his plate of bacon and rice before letting out a short sigh, setting his spoon and fork down and putting his hands in his lap.

“Remember when you texted a bunch off people off my contacts list?” his voice is low.

“Yeah? It just happened yesterday.”

“Well, um,” he sputters. “You texted Wonho, Jooheon, Minhyuk, and-” his voice lowers even more, becoming hushed as if he’s afraid to see your reacton. “Hyungwon.”

You automatically stand up, wide-eyed, jaw slack as you watch your friend’s face turn from fear to worry, waving at you as if to tell you to keep your temper in check and pulling you back to sit down.

It isn’t that you are afraid of Hyungwon, because it’s the direct opposite. The simple sound of his name causes a specific type of vexation to rise up in your bloodstream, and the two of you being in the same area brings concern to other people. It’s known all over campus that the two of you share hostile feelings towards each other, ever since you had caught him so blatantly cheating off your first pop quiz during the beginning of the semester - you weren’t the only person to catch him too, as your teacher called the two of you up to the front, believing you were allowing him copy off of you, and much to your demise, gave the two of you the automatic grades of zero. He never even apologized to you, the blatant difference in your statistics class’ grade so drastic from your other classes thanks to him.

“And what did I send him?” you ask Kihyun.

“He said that you sent him a long paragraph on why you hated him.”

You find yourself letting out dark chuckles, hands wrapping around your spoon and fork as you begin to work on your plate of eggs.

“Maybe drunk me had a point.” you say to a stunned Kihyun.

Soon, you find yourself forgetting about those text messages you shared that morning with the unknown man as well as your conversation with Kihyun, instead directing your focus on a word problem as you sit in your statistics class. The environment is quiet, much to your bliss, as you find that a perfect work setting to analyze problems in. But as they say, the universe only brings you the opposite of what you want, and on the other side of the closed door, someone knocks fervently and loudly, earning gasps of shock from other students are you.

“Mr. Chae,” your professor sighs. “You’re late. Again.”

You look up to see Hyungwon marching into class, a coffee in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. He meets eyes with you and you find yours rolling at the direct contact before looking back down to focus on your word problem. Minutes pass by and you’re on your next question, a much more difficult one, and you find yourself stumped as you rack your brain for an answer.

You hear a loud crackling a few desks away, but you ignore it.

You hear it again, this time a bit longer, but before you could turn around to see who it was, it stopped.

Just as your brain figured out a way to solve the question, the crackling continues once more, even louder and even longer. You turn around to find the culprit the sound originates from, and you find Hyungwon, just a few seats behind you, halfway into sinking his teeth into a bagel, the crinkly bag of paper he used to carry it to class now disposed of in a tiny ball on top of his textbook. He notices you turn around to look at him, sending you sharp eyes lined with venom before continuing to bite down into his bagel and chewing rather loudly. You turn back around, attempting to ignore the camel-like sounds from behind you letting out a huff of annoyance, every trace of the answer that was in your mind long gone. How he hasn’t been kicked out of this class yet is beyond you.

You sent: i need an idea for an essay

It’s currently 9:45 in the evening, and you sit at your desk chair with your laptop open on Google docs, and it seems as if you’ve been static since the clock hit nine. Kihyun was out volunteering at an overnight camp for troubled teenagers (“I have to go or else I’ll fail psychology,” he had said before leaving with a small gym bag packed with his clothes. “I don’t even know why I have to take psychology. I’m in the culinary field for christ’s sake!”), thus you were alone in your small two bedroom apartment, the only thing accompanying you is the ticking of the clock in the kitchen and the gentle thrum of the heater.

From - Unknown Number: i thought we weren’t gonna text each other anymore

His reply came rather quickly, you were a bit surprised - but nonetheless, you were desperate. You cursed yourself for leaving your criminology assignment until last minute - it’s due the next day, 8:00 AM sharp.

You sent: i know but its due in like 11 hours and i dont have a prompt so i dont have any idea how to start this and if i dont get it in then im done for

From - Unknown Number: what course??

You sent: criminology

From - Unknown Number: hmm……. prompt?

You sent: theres no prompt my professor said to just write anything. like literally anything that has to do with crim and im having the biggest brainfart

From - Unknown Number: how about police misconduct? or u could write abt the rights of defendants. or like… the concepts of conduct and causation.

You sent: omg………………….ur a life saver

From - Unknown Number: i know

You end up finishing your essay in only four hours, submitting it to your professor and closing your laptop and climbing into bed, stretching out your limbs and letting out a large yawn. You stare at your ceiling for what seems like hours before you sit up, grabbing your phone and unlocking it, your conversation with the unknown man appearing on your screen. You deliberate whether or not you should or shouldn’t, the blinking line next to the body of words almost mocking you, and you think, why the hell not?, before you hit send.

You sent: i just finished. thank you again. good night.

His reply came only seconds later.

From - Unknown Number: of course. sleep well.

You smile at the text for only a second before you quickly wipe it off your face, remembering that this man is a stranger, and no matter how nice he was being to you, he was still unknown. You let out a sigh as you delete the conversation, clicking your phone off and plugging it in to charge it, setting it face down on your bedside table. You stare at the ceiling, sleepiness beginning to coat your eyes, your last thoughts before drifting off are to never text him again.

You find it hard though, because the next morning, he texted you a hearty good morning!, and before you could even stop yourself, you texted him a good morning back. You find yourself replying to every text message he sends you, and even though you remind yourself to never text him again, that this message will be the last one, you still come up with a reply, hitting send before you could stop your thumbs from hitting the cold screen.

By and by, the heated debates that the two of you had started from had evolved into friendlier conversations filled with more personal details. You ask him heaps of questions; whether you should use the last of your paycheck to buy a book or to get more clothes, thus beginning a long conversation on the quality of clothing and store brands. He tells you to treat yourself to a high-end brand, which you found yourself scoffing at - but you find yourself walking to school just a few days later with a new knit cardigan, the designer label almost shining off the collar.

He asks you what your favourite television show is, leading to hours and hours of lists of recommendations and reviews of series and movies both on and off Netflix, conversing over plots, genres and pairings. He tells you that he loves comedy sitcoms, and reality shows, and you tell him your favourite genre, much to his akin. You tell him your favourite genre of music, and he tells you that his is EDM and R&B. He tells you his favourite shade is black, and you tell him the colour that you are most fond of. You learn that he has a deathly fear of spiders, and he learns of what lurks in your brain when your bedroom is dark and silent. He learns that you’ve never gone travelling, and you learn that he’s been to almost all of the continents of the Earth. You tell him your favourite time of day, and he tells you his; nine in the evening, when the sun has gone to rest and the stars decorate the sky in glimmering valour.

You joke, you bond, you laugh for what seemed like only days, to the point where the two of you hadn’t realized how long it had been since you both actually started talking. He’s the first one to text you in the morning, and the last to text you at night. He’s the first you text when you’ve got a problem, and the first to text when you’ve got nothing else to do. And even though he’s never asked for your name, he knows you; what you like, what you don’t like, what you aspire to be, and what you fear.

“Ms. (Y/L/N),” your professor speaks loudly, earning glances towards your way as you tear your eyes from your phone screen and back towards the front of the class. Your professor stands with her hands on her hips. “If you have something better to do, then I advise you to leave my class.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, setting your phone down. “It won’t happen again.”

You hear a snicker not too far away from you, and you already know who it’s originated from, your face already beginning to heat up rage as you push down the urge to turn around, hop over the desks and deck Hyungwon in the face.

“Please answer word problem number four for the class, miss (Y/L/N).” your teacher tells you, looking at you expectantly over the top of her glasses. You gulp, looking down at your workbook as you read the said question, cursing to yourself in your head for not knowing what it means and for not focusing in class. Minutes of awkward silence passes by quickly, but to you it feels like eons before you hear Hyungwon’s arrogant voice cut through the air.

“I can answer it for her, professor!” he says, gleefully. You can almost see his haughty smile lingering in his words. “Of the given data set, the median is 75, the first quartile is 69, the third quartile is 81, and the interquartile range is 81, which you subtract 69 from, which gives us 12.”

“Very good, Mr. Chae,” your professor nods and you ball your hands into fists. “Perhaps you should not only teach Miss (Y/L/N) the foundation of statistics, but also to focus during class.”

And with that, she turns back around on her heel and flips a page, continuing with her lecture. You turn around to find where Hyungwon is sitting a few seats back, a smug smirk on his face before he looks back at his notebook, jotting down notes. You tell yourself to calm down, to not let this situation take over your temper - and you do such as, but your fists stay clenched.

From - Unknown Number: so how was ur day?

You read the message as you unlock your front door, using your foot to kick it open.

You sent: terrible. how was urs?

You hang your keys on the keyholder beside the door and kick off your shoes, walking into the living room and finding it empty - Kihyun must still be working at the cafeteria. You set your bag down on the floor and look through the fridge, letting out a soft sigh of relief after finding a wrapped plate of food your best friend had left you before leaving. You put it into the microwave and punch out the numbers before leaning on your counter as you wait, pulling out your phone and seeing that the unknown man has replied.

From - Unknown Number: oh im so sorry… ah my day was fine! i finally got to prove myself to this girl i detest… i felt super cool

You furrow your brow as you read it, the first thing you think of was of what happened during statistics with Hyungwon. Your stomach drops for a second - what if you were texting Hyungwon? The beeping of the microwave snaps you out of your thoughts, and you shake your head as you click the microwave open, grabbing your plate. That would be impossible - this man is far too coherent, smart, funny and kind to be Hyungwon.

No, it can’t be Hyungwon at all. That would be absolutely impossible.

It was as if he had heard your thoughts though, because your phone buzzed again.

From - Unknown Number: by the way… am i ever going to know your name?

You read the message over a few times, dread setting in your stomach. You had already shared far too much information about yourself to this unknown man, he knows more about you than Kihyun does - you had been using him as a way to vent. You felt terrible thinking about it, but you were far too afraid to take things to the next level, even if it just meant knowing each other’s names; you loathed feeling vulnerable, and it feels much better to do it anonymously.

You sent: hm… i kinda like it better this way. us being anonymous.

From - Unknown Number: good. because i do too.

You smile as you read his answer, grabbing your fork and stabbing the pieces of lasagna off your plate and scooping them into your mouth. You were glad he felt the same way - perhaps he felt the same way because he thought the same way as you did.

You sent: oh yeah btw what was the first thing i sent u? i deleted everything while i was drunk so now i cant read any of the msgs i sent u that first night

From - Unknown Number: like. the very FIRST thing or… the very first few things

You sent: the very FIRST thing.

From - Unknown Number: you sent me “what are you wearing?” were u trying to like.. find me somewhere or smth?

Your scan the message that you had apparently sent before widening your eyes at the sudden realization, your face heating up in humiliation. Quickly, you type a reply.

You sent: oh my god……. i think i was trying to sext u

There was a brief pause before you saw the three dots pop up again.

From - Unknown Number: oh

You inwardly cringe.

You sent: PLEASE IM SO SORRY I WAS DRUNK it wont happen again i promise pls dont be mad at me

From - Unknown Number: omg no!!! im not mad at u.. im just …. beating myself up for being stupid

You sent: you’re not stupid at all omg ! i can see where u thought it sounded like i was looking for u…

From - Unknown Number: BUT THATS NOT A NICE WAY TO PRANK SOMEONE YOU KNOW

You sent: who said it was a prank?

You weren’t thinking when you sent it, but the millisecond after you hit send a wave of panic courses through you. This was it, this is the end of your new-found friendship with this anonymous man; he was going to track your number down and then figure out who you are and show the entirety of the internet about your texts and then humiliate you. You sit there, thinking of the worst, but your vibrating phone brings you back to clarity.

From - Unknown Number: what do u mean?

You blink at his response. But then again, you hadn’t been pleasured in that field for a very long time, and this man is anonymous - he won’t have anything to use against you. You think of having your own fun while he texts you, and plus, if anything goes wrong, you could always just block his number. Plus, sex is a safe-ground; no feelings, no emotions, no ties - just strict, pure physical lust.

Right?

Fuck it.

You sent: what are you wearing?

----

He is half certain that this is a joke, and, the other half is him hoping it isn’t. He wonders just how he got this unknown woman, whom three weeks ago he was just arguing against, to break through his skin defences to make him feel this way. He thinks about lying, telling the woman that he isn’t interested, that he wants emotional ties - but the last time he’s been with someone more than a year ago, and he’s already growing tired of handling things by himself, plus, his roommate, Changkyun, is out babysitting, leaving the house all to himself for the night.

Hyungwon gulps.

Fuck it.

Hyungwon sent: my pajamas

Hyungwon cringes to himself. He’s not the best at sexting, he doesn’t have much experience in it. There is a beat that hangs in the air for a second before three dots appear indicating that the woman has thought of a response.

From - Angry Girl: ………………. is that all?

Hyungwon sent: well…. yeah? u asked me what im wearing n i told u what im wearing… what do u want me to say

From - Angry Girl: dude have u never sexted before????

Hyungwon sent: i mean ….. its straightforward right ??? like …… i mean how else do u describe what ur doin .

From - Angry Girl: no !!!!! jesus … i should have expected this considering u thought i was looking for u when i asked u what u were wearing . the entire point of sexting is to get the other person aroused ….. how do u expect me to get aroused when u just sent me the most unarousing sext in history?????

Hyungwon scoffs at his phone, a bit insulted, fingers moving fast to type a reply, but before he could finish his phone buzzes with another message.

From - Angry Girl: get me to imagine what u look like w like …. extremities here n there. if i told u i was sitting here in shirt stained with lasagna would tht turn u on?

Hyungwon sent: well……………….no

From - Angry Girl: but if i told u i’m wearing a matching set of lacy black lingerie underneath my shirt with panties slowly getting soaked at the thought of you?

Hyungwon sent: oh

Hyungwon is far too busy staring at his phone, jaw slacked and eyes widened, for a few long seconds, that he forgets to sext her back. His phone buzzes, jolting him back into reality.

From - Angry Girl: hey.. we dont have to do this if u dont want to. i dont wanna make u uncomfy.

Hyungwon rushes to type in a reply.

Hyungwon sent: nooonooo!!

Hyungwon sent: no noo… !!!!

Hyungwon sent: its . just … like

Hyungwon sent: r u actually wet?

Her reply comes instantaneously.

From - Angry Girl: yes

Hyungwon sucks in a breath as he reads the text over and over again. He thinks of the fact that somewhere out there is a woman, who he has never met, and how she’s wet for him. The first thing Hyungwon does is screw his eyes closed in attempt to recollect his thoughts, which turns out to be horrible pain, because the moment his eyes shut, he thinks of her - see-through top clinging against her curves, her thighs squeezing together, her eyes filled with lust and her plump lips slightly parted - he thinks of (Y/N).

He quickly opens his eyes, cursing at himself for even conjuring up an image like that in his head, but the soft strain in his crotch area begs him to differ.

From - Angry Girl: so... what r u wearing

Hyungwon sent: white tee, black sweats and black boxers

From - Angry Girl: hmmm...

Hyungwon sent: are u touching urself?

From - Angry Girl: damn u learn fast

Hyungwon sent: are u touching urself?, he repeats, upper teeth pressed into his bottom lip harshly as the strain in his sweats begins to tighten.

From - Angry Girl: i have been ever since u told me u were in ur pajamas

Hyungwon grins, shifting positions on his bed.

Hyungwon sent: i thought tht was unarousing???

From - Angry Girl: it was. i just havent gotten fucked in a year

He licks his bottom lip as he types out a reply, his other hand fumbling with the waistband if his boxers before pulling them down. He double checks if his bedroom door is locked before he rests his back against the headboard, hands finding their way towards his cock.

Hyungwon sent: good. save urself for me then.

He begins to pump his hand up and down his shaft, slowly at first, as he waits for her to reply.

From - Angry Girl: jesus

From - Angry Girl: ur touching urself rn arent u? thinking abt how wet i am for yuo hmm??? do u wnat me as mcuh as i want you?

The typos in her sentence only brings more excitement to Hyungwon, picking up the speed of his hand wrapped around his length, biting down on his lip as he thinks of her, with her hands buried into her panties, back arched off of her bed, her other hand finding it just as important to write a reply.

Hyungwon sent: yes ido. i want you so bad

From - Angry Girl: are u gna cum soon? i want ur cum sobad. i want allof it inside me, i want u fillme up until its drippign out of me

That was enough to send Hyungwon over the edge, the straining knot that formed in his stomach untying itself as he releases, his groans reverberating against the walls of his room as his hips jerk against his hand. He closes his eyes, leaning his head against his headboard, reeling from his orgasm before he reaches over to his nightstand and cleans up the mess. Hurriedly, he types his reply, wanting to make things amazing for her as she did for him.

And as he does so, he thinks of her.

Hyungwon sent: god i wanna kiss ur neck and ur jaw and litter it with marks to show everyone that ur mine. i wanna move ur hands away from u and replace ur fingers w mine and have u ride them, hitting the right spot as i kiss u all over ur body and tell u how good u are to me. i want my name to be the only thing coming out of ur mouth. i want u to cum.

He sets his phone down, biting into his cheeks as anxiousness begins to roll over him. He isn’t sure if that sentence was good enough - this is his first time sexting. In addition, he hadn’t realized until now that he had been imagining (Y/N) doing all of this, and what shocked him the most was that he liked what he imagined. Like it a little too much, in fact.

His phone buzzes against his thigh.

From - Angry Girl: holy fuck

From - Angry Girl: shit i literally think i saw god when i came

He chuckles lightly, typing his reply.

Hyungwon sent: im glad to be of service to u!

He sits in silence for a few seconds, unsure of what to say, but then begins to type another message.

Hyungwon sent: what does this make us?

He wasn’t up for a relationship with a person he’s never met, even if they know almost everything about each other. He doesn’t even know what she looks like, or her name - but he does know that he wants emotion. He craves for it, no matter what form it’s given in, and this is the closet he has gotten to any type of emotion in almost a year.

From - Angry Girl: hmmm friends w benefits? but thru text... ?

Hyungwon sent: i like the sound of tht. you wanna do this again sometime?

From - Angry Girl: yes please

Hyungwon sent: good.. me too.

Just as he sends it, Hyungwon hears the front door begin to jiggle, announcing that Changkyun is just now arriving home. Hurriedly, he unlocks his door in case he were to come in and turns off his night lamp, jumping into bed just as he hears the door open and the sound of Changkyun kicking off his shoes. God knows how fast the younger boy would put together what Hyungwon had been doing prior.

Hyungwon: good night. try not to dream of me

Hyungwon sets his phone on the nightstand and quickly pretends to be asleep just as he hears Changkyun’s footsteps bounding towards his door, turning the doorknob and peeking in to check if he was still awake. When the door closes and when Hyungwon is sure that his roommate has fled to the kitchen, he turns over in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Before sleep takes hold of him, he thinks one last thing.

How the fuck is he going to face (Y/N) now?

----

You did dream of him.

Chae Hyungwon, to be exact.

Since putting your phone down the night before, to waking up from a sinful dream and showering and cooking your breakfast, you have been red in the face. You hadn’t realized you were fantasizing about him until the unknown man’s last text was sent, when you arched your back from your bed as you came undone between your legs and whined out Hyungwon’s name. You had avoided eye contact with Kihyun, aware that he knows you far too well and fearing for him to realize what you have done.

“Your class doesn’t start for another h-“ Kihyun’s voice rings from the living room but is interrupted with the click of your front door.

The air is cool, the chilled breeze kisses your cheeks as you walk to campus, hands shoved inside your pockets, playing with the edge of your phone case that was situated inside of them. Last night’s events were amazing - it was the best orgasm you’ve ever had in a long time - yet the fact that he had been in your mind the entire time made your stomach twist in an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint.

You make it to your class, only to be met with a closed door. Of course, it wasn’t starting for another half hour. You let out a tired sigh, taking your backpack off and sitting down in the hallway, back against the wall as you fish your phone from your pocket.

You text him first today.

You sent: good morning

His reply comes quickly.

From - Unknown Number: good morning!! ur up early

You sent: i guess i still have adrenaline from what happened last night hehe

You sent: so what are u up to?

From - Unknown Number: im in the line at starbucks on my uni campus rn ... i might get a red velvet cookie. the class im heading to is like the perfect environment to eat

You sent: i didnt know environments counted in a good eating experience

From - Unknown Number: of course it does!!!! a good environment makes ur food even more savoury.

From - Unknown Number: i have acquired the cookie. im on my way to class now ... absolute dread

You sent: man .... u and me both

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds and you figure it’s because he’s walking or he bumped into a friend or something, so you use this time to get some extra sleep, laying your head against the wall and closing your eyes. Just as you are about to drift off, you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat down the hall, and you open your eyes, hoping it was your professor.

Oh god.

Hyungwon walks towards you in his usual gait, full of arrogance, holding a cup of iced coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other. This time though, when you look at him, you don’t feel the same irritation that you have always felt - and suddenly your eyes catch sight of his fingers, and your mind flashes to the images that your brain had thought of just the night before. Your face turns red, looking away from him and closing your eyes. You hope to god he doesn’t notice your red face, which he doesn’t, because he barely spares a glance at you.

“Are you kidding me,” he curses upon arriving to the door. “The day I come in early, the door isn’t even open yet.”

Grumbling, he sits down against the wall a few meters away from you, putting his iced coffee and paper bag on the ground beside him as he fishes for his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

You feel your phone buzz.

From - Unknown Number: quick i might have enough time bc the professor isnt here yet...... should i go back to starbucks and buy a muffin

You let out a laugh, earning a glance from Hyungwon to which your face turns flat again, rolling your eyes at him.

You sent: no!!! what if ur running to starbucks n u pass by ur professor?

From - Unknown Number: you’re right you’re right.....ill jus get it later then

You sit like that for what seems like a good half-hour, texting this unknown man back and forth and learning even more about each other. You learn that he loves baked goods, and that recently, ever since you had told him to buy himself a bagel, his love for them had come back. He learns that you cook your own breakfast everyday, taking the time to eat and rest in the morning before the rest of the day ensues.

“Hyungwon!” a loud voice sounds from the end of the hallway. You turn your head, as does Hyungwon, and you find the man the voice originated from, dashing down the hallway.

Lee Minhyuk was in your criminology class, you knew him well because he in front of you, but not well enough to contact him at any time, or to say hi to him outside of class. He was a nice guy, he was friends with almost everybody in your university no matter what year they were in, but he was loud and distracted you from your work - you aren’t sure if you’re thankful for that or if you detest that fact.

“Minhyuk.” Hyungwon’s voice is calm, rivalling Minhyuk’s shout.

Minhyuk comes to a stop in front of Hyungwon, doubled over and his hands on his knees as be gasps for breath - you are unsure as to why, the length of hall he had just ran doesn’t even stretch on for that long.

“Where have you been?” Minhyuk asks between gasps. “I haven’t seen you since our last study session.”

“Oh you know,” Hyungwon replies, “Just studying.”

“Well come back, our study group needs y-“ his voice cuts off the moment his head turns and meets eyes with you, eyes widening and mouth forming a large grin. “Hi (Y/N)!”

You give him a smile back, letting out a gentle laugh. “Hello, Minhyuk.”

He decides to ditch Hyungwon, walking over to you instead as his taller friend watches on in a mix of confusion and shock, and finally, for the first time since you’ve seen him today, his eyes catches yours. You suck in a quick breath before looking back at Minhyuk.

“How’d you do on your paper?” Minhyuk asks, standing in front of you, hands shoved into his pockets. “I feel like I barely made the passing mark.”

“Oh! It was good, I finished it really fast the night before it was due,” you let out a chuckle. “I wrote it on police misconduct.”

“Oh gosh,” Minhyuk says. “You’re gonna get a good grade, lord knows how many times our professor rants about that topic.”

“One can only hope.” you joke, face falling and hand touching your heart before you break out into a smile. You could almost feel Hyungwon’s eyes burning holes into your body.

“Oh, hey, by the way,” Minhyuk pipes up after both of your laughter died down. “I have a question that I’ve been meaning to ask for a few weeks.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Around three weeks ago, did you happen to get a strange te-“

“Mr. Chae, and Miss (Y/L/N)! You’re here early!”

The three of you turn your heads and find your professor striding down the hallway, fishing out the keys to the locked door in her purse. You turn to Minhyuk with a quirked eyebrow as to ask him to continue his sentence, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s alright, I’ll just ask you the next time I see you, alright?” Minhyuk shoots two thumbs-up at you, before pivoting on his heel and patting Hyungwon on the shoulder, narrowing his eyes at him teasingly. “And you. Stop ignoring us.”

Hyungwon nods, a small smile on his face before the two of you turn and walk inside your class. The only people present were the of you as well as the professor, who had also decided to go get something from the staff room, leaving you and Hyungwon alone, once again, in her wake. You almost curse to yourself outloud when flashes of the night before comes forward in your mind, biting down on your lip as you try to focus on doodling on the margins of your notebook. A crinkling sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Hyungwon, teeth half sunk into a red velvet cookie, realizing that you were looking at him. There is a pause in the air, silence filling the air between the two of you for a few milliseconds. The two of you simply stare at each other, something very out of the ordinary, before he glares at you.

You roll your eyes.

Maybe your thoughts last night were just a one time thing.

But they weren’t.

As the nights go by, and as text conversations come and go, you find yourself thinking about Hyungwon more and more, an activity that you would usually always push out of your mind every time he comes close to nearing your thoughts, but your attempts are futile. It’s even more easier for you to think of the tall boy because this unknown man was faceless, and every single text lined with lust only pushes you to moan out Hyungwon’s name.

There was this one time you managed to get the unknown man to describe the item of clothing he’d use to tie you to the bed, which was an expensive silk black button up with white pinstripes, and you went crazy at the thought. Then, just a few days later, when conversing with your desk mate during class, Hyungwon walked in with the exact replica of the shirt, and then suddenly it was more than hot; it was unbearably arousing, and you had to act like everything was fine, tearing your eyes away from Hyungwon and squeezing your legs together.

And then the unknown man decides that sending you paragraphs upon paragraphs about what he wants to do to you during class is a good idea. And now you’ll never be able look at Hyungwon wearing neckties or belts the same anymore. And now you can’t even say Hyungwon’s name in annoyance, nor look at him at all, not when he’s wearing that heavenly smelling cologne that he always sprays on himself every single day, making it even harder for you to not just shove all of the papers and books off of his desk and start riding him right there.

Then there’s the fact that Kihyun has begun to realize how much time you spend on your phone, asking you about who you’re texting all the time, asking if it’s someone he knows, to which you always reply with a quick no. It worked at first, but the more you say it, the more curiosity glints in Kihyun’s eyes, gleaming of mischievousness and knowledge that he actually does know what you’re up to on your phone. He’d continue to pester you to get more information out, but you’d just roll your eyes and push him away.

It’s nothing serious.

It’s not.

It is a half a year later and you had just come home from a third date with one of Kihyun’s friends from work - Shownu, his name was. He was a kind man; soft-spoken, intelligent, awkwardly endearing, and a gentleman. He took you out to an expensive restaurant, one with the most incredible view of all the city, and handed you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. The dinner went smoothly, splendidly, even, and after a few exchanged jokes and laughs, he drove you home. He offered to walk you up to the front doors of your apartment building, which you accepted, and before you could push open your door, he leans in for a kiss, and as did you.

But you felt nothing.

No spark, no ignition of excitement, no eruption of butterflies, and no urge for you to ask him to come inside with you. Zero. Zilch. Nada. You had pulled back, giving him an awkward, but soft smile, but he had seemed to understand the underlying message, and he just smiles at you back, telling you that it’s alright and that he wishes you a good night before walking back to his car. You watched him drive away before pushing into the lobby, hitting the up button on the elevator, your spirits low as you wait for the doors to open.

As they did, you stumble into the elevator, cursing at yourself for thinking so stupidly. You had just rejected a handsome, kind gentleman, who was obviously interested in you, who probably wanted to fuck with strings attached, and who would have given you the entire world if you had just asked for it. Yet here you are, leaning against the wall of the elevator, watching the floor numbers go past one by one, not one ounce of regret. You wonder what the fuck is wrong with yourself, since it’s nearly been two whole years since you’ve gotten laid. Of course, only if you aren’t counting texting Hyungwon.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone beeps in your purse, and, almost agonizingly, it seemed as if all the excitement that you had been anticipating with your date prior suddenly comes out of its hiding place.

From - Unknown Number: i was helping my friend out w their crim assignment. thought of u the entire time.

Your stomach sinks. He thought of you. How disgustingly domestic. He doesn’t even know who you are, nor do you know who he is, yet he thought of you, and you hated it. Doesn’t he know how much those words mean to you?

He thought of you, the young woman who acts as if you’re tough shit but is too much of a coward to reveal your true identity and ruin the bond they’ve created. He thought of you, the girl who always makes it your job to leave a space between you and other people in your life, until this unknown man came around. He thought of you, making space in his life to talk to you, shifted things to give you a permanent space, and now you’re embedded so deeply into his system that it’s almost like it’s his job to see something and be reminded of you.

He thought of you, not because he needed to, but because he wanted to.

You finds yourself leaning against the door of your bedroom, locking yourself inside before lifting your phone up to type a reply.

You sent: what- but you freeze momentarily, thumbs lifting from the keyboard. How in the world are you going to finish this sentence?

What are you thinking? You’re starting a deep relationship with someone you’ve never even met! You don’t even know my name! I don’t even know your name!

What am I feeling? Why do I get excited whenever my phone buzzes? Why are you making me feel this way? I shouldn’t feel this way.

What are we doing? This isn’t right. I’m scared.

Your breathing is shallow and shaking, staring at the blinking line that seemed to mock you for your loss of words, and then your thumbs begin to move, falling on the reflex answer.

You sent: what are you wearing?

There is a pause in the air before the three dots show up again.

From - Unknown Number: black tee, black skinny jeans, black boxers.

You sent: thats hot

From - Unknown Number: you find everything hot

You sent: that’s bc everything u tell me is hot

Of course, your first thought is of Hyungwon, sitting on his bed, head to toe in black, forking his long fingers through his blonde hair. You gulp and your thighs squeeze together.

From - Unknown Number: what are u wearing?

You sent: a short red dress and black pumps, red lipstick, my hair is up.

From - Unknown Number: shit

From - Unknown Number: are you wet?

You sent: sooo fucking wet

From - Unknown Number: touch urself for me

You suck in a breath, staring at your screen. The two of you have been doing this for months now, yet, every time he orders you what to do, you’re surprised yet humiliated at how eager you are to listen to him. Obediently, you part your legs open, sliding your hands along the skin on inside of your thighs until you reach your clothed pussy. Letting out a sigh at how wet the cloth is, you circle your clothed clit with the tip of your finger.

You sent: im doing it through my panties

From - Unknown Number: push them to the side darling and once you do, push a finger inside yourself.

Fuck, you love it when he calls you that. Your face flushes as this unknown man takes control, and you loves it when he does; god it makes you go crazy. So you do as he says, pushing a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out, bringing a hand up to your mouth to stop yourself from whimpering too loud, knowing Kihyun’s just on the other side of your bedroom wall, sleeping.

From - Unknown Number: are you doing it?

You sent: yes

From - Unknown Number: good girl. now add another finger for me and fuck urself slowly. can u do that for me?

You sent: yes

From - Unknown Number: now, palm your breasts. tug at your nipples slowly, and i want you to keep finger fucking yourself while you do. keep your fingers sliding in and out of you, ok?

You sent: ok

You are obedient, your breath hitching in your throat as you open your legs wider, pumping your own fingers in and out of your body. You imagine him right beside you, imagining his low voice whispering the words at you, hot breath fanning your body, smooth and commanding, and you begin to feel a knot forming at the bottom of your stomach.

From - Unknown Number: move your fingers faster for me, curl them inside of you and rub the way just you like. i bet ur clit is throbbing and aching, isn’t it? it feels good to press on it while you fuck yourself hm? you’re such a good girl, you do thingsi tell you to do becuase you like it whn i tell u to fuck yourself.

You attempt to mute your whimpers by biting the inside of your cheeks, but your endeavours fall futile as you gently whine Hyungwon’s name far too loudly. Your trembling legs are apart, feet on both sides of your body as lewd sounds of your fingers fill the room. You’re almost sure Kihyun can hear you now, but you don’t care.

From - Unknown Number: ur not answeing me anymore. ur too busy fucking urself hm? ur too busy imagining that its me fucking u. that it’s MY fingers inside of you, pumping in and out of your body, that its my teeth tugging at ur nipples. how close are you to coming for me now? i bet it won’t even take you long to respond, fuck, i can just imagine u now. your hands between ur tremblign legs, biting down on ur tongue so u dont scream. but i dont want that. i want u to scream my name.

Your back arches off the wood of your bedroom door, and you know you’re close.

From - Unknown Number: scream my name when u cum. cum baby. cum for me.

And you do as he says, shaking as a choked back moan escapes from your mouth, barely managing to keep it silent. When you come down from your high, you rest your back against your door once more, trembling legs dropping to the floor. You barely attempts cleans yourself before lifting your phone to reply, fingers quivering against the cold screen.

You sent: fuck that was so hot

From - Unknown Number: did you cum?

You sent: cum is an understatement.

From - Unknown Number: good girl.

You sent: its your turn…

From - Unknown Number: oh no its all good. i already came haha

You sent: aw rly.. without my help?

From - Unknown Number: i imagined everything you were doing to yourself and it was hot… so, i guess u did help me in a way.

You freeze.

You sent: wait. you know what i look like?

From - Unknown Number: no but …. i have this … fantasy of what you look like.

You sent: and what does it look like?

From - Unknown Number: (y/hair/colour), (y/skin/colour), (y/height)....

From - Unknown Number: guiltily i think about this girl i detest. i’ve told u about her before. how funny would it be if you were her?

Your heart sinks into your stomach. This is the first time the two of you had ever talked about appearance, and this unknown man hit everything about you spot on. Dread pools around your heart in your stomach as you type out a reply.

You sent: haha who knows

You sent: im sorry i have to go now

You sent: ill text u tmr. good bye

Your phone buzzes one last time but you don’t look at his message, throwing it into your backpack as you finally get up to clean yourself, walking into your bathroom and changing out of your dress, assuring yourself that you aren’t running away but knowing full well that that’s the only thing you’re doing.

----

You don’t text him tomorrow, you don’t text him the next day, the day after that, the next week, or the next month.

You haven’t texted him in five months, but all he did in those five months was think of you, your phone vibrating constantly due to messages from him. Dozens of them. They came in groups at first, but as the months go by, they come through sparser and sparser. At first, he hadn’t realized that you had stopped texting him, but when the first month passed, he grew worried, then they spiralled to apologetic, accusatory, and then he began to blame himself, and once again, spiralled back to apologetic.

From - Unknown Number: good morning!!!

From - Unknown Number: good mornin!

From - Unknown Number: u havent responded to my texts lately.. i hope everythings ok

From - Unknown Number: hello?

From - Unknown Number: if this is about the appearance thing i genuinely apologize. i dont wanna make things uncomfortable for u.

From - Unknown Number: u dont owe me anything

From - Unknown Number: can you please just respond to me one last time. im worried… i just need to know if you’re okay.

From - Unknown Number: my friend jus finished their crim course today. i thought of u.

From - Unknown Number: its been four months and a half… i graduate in a few weeks. i dont know why im sending this to u… i just thought i should tell u...

From - Unknown Number: i miss you.

From - Unknown Number: i wish i never met you. i guess it’s a good thing i never actually did.

It’s for the best, you would tell yourself, before swiping left to get rid of the messages he’s sent you. Still, you can’t ignore the dull pain each message sent to you cuts your skin and strikes you to the bone, even now, during the graduation afterparty, through the valour and cheers of the graduates knowing you’re about to turn a new page in your life, you cannot seem to let go of the words ingrained in your mind.

“Hey,” you feel somebody nudge your arm. “Is everything ok?”

Turning your head, you see Minhyuk, looking at you in worry. You give him a small smile, shoving your phone into the pocket of your short dress before folding your hands in your lap.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you reassure him. “I’m just kinda nervous. We graduated, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand completely.” Minhyuk pouts, nodding his head, but something hidden behind his pupils seem to tell as if he didn’t quite believe you. There is a beat before he begins to talk again. “Oh yeah, I completely forgot to ask you,” Minhyuk starts. “This happened like, a year ago, but it’s always been in the back of my mind.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah? What is it?”

“There was a random number that texted me, Wonho, Jooheon, and Hyungwon around a year back. They said something about being in the same class with me…” he starts, and your eyes begin to widen, but you force yourself into keeping a calm expression. “I’ve asked almost everyone in all my classes if it was them but they all said no. The only one left was you.”

You look away from Minhyuk, almost cursing to your drunk self for giving him such an obvious clue, and then thinking, why not? It is the end of your college career. After this party ends, you’ll most likely never see any of these people anymore, for the rest of your life. Plus, you were almost absolutely sure he wasn’t the unknown man you were texting the past year, right?

You bite the inside of your cheek before replying.

“Yes, it was me.” you confess to him, feeling as if a big weight had just been lifted off your shoulders. “I was drunk, and I don’t know what I was saying. I’m really sorry, Minhyuk. I apologize for any trouble I caused…”

Minhyuk’s eyebrows lift, his jaw slacking a bit. “Really?” he questions you, before grinning. “Oh my gosh, don’t be sorry! That’s so funny. I mean, I would have never thought it’d be you, at all!”

“Really?” you ask him. “What did I send you?”

“You told me that I annoyed you during class,” he pouts, before throwing an arm around you. “But that’s ok! You still put up with me anyways so that’s all that matters.”

You heave out a sigh of relief before letting out a giggle, throwing your own arm around him as the two of you playfully sway to the edm music coursing through the house, for the first time in the past year, almost feeling free.

But it was as if the universe timed it as a way to mock you, because when you opened your eyes to look at the lounge floor, the graduates dancing against each other in strained duress, almost laughably dividing into two for the tall man standing in between, your eyes meet Hyungwon’s.

“Hyungwon!” Minhyuk calls his friend, whose eyes flash from you to Minhyuk. “Come over here!”

You feel your stomach drop at the sight of him and at the sound of his name, seeing him walk over towards the two of you, holding a drink in his hand. He looks absolutely beautiful; his hair flutters over his face in loose waves, and although his roots are beginning to grow in, you can’t help but become slack jaw at how good he manages to pull the look off. His eyes are still trained on you, not one ounce of drunken stupor in his irises. He’s dressed in just a plain white dress shirt and a loosened tie, ditching the black blazer he had sported that morning during the graduation ceremony. As you look him up and down, you begin to remember the messages that the unknown man had sent you, and memories of your fantasies of Hyungwon cloud your mind.

Quickly, you look away.

“(Y/N).” his voice is low. “Congratulations.”

You are hesitant to look up at him but you do so anyways, meeting eyes with him again, his pupils laced with intent, but you cower from him for the first time in the years that you’ve known him, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Hyungwon,” you say, the taste of his name rolling off your tongue begrudgingly identifiable. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too.”

Silence seduces the air between the both of you, unbeknownst to Minhyuk, who still continued to sway back and forth to the future bass music pumping through the speakers. Your eyes are now trained on your hands folded in your lap, and you could feel Hyungwon’s gaze burning into your skin.

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” you excuse yourself, standing up from the couch. “Congratulations again, you guys. I’ll see you around.”

You keep your head ducked as you make a beeline for the liquor table, ignoring the feeling of Hyungwon’s eyes on you. Hastily, you grab a can of beer, hissing at the sudden contact of coldness of the metal can, before you begin to chug it down. You don’t know why you’re so nervous around Hyungwon all of a sudden, as he doesn’t know you’ve been whining his name nor does he know of your fantasies, yet, ever since you had stopped replying to the unknown man, Hyungwon’s presence in your life grew more intense, even as you attempted to avoid him at all costs.

You are on your second beer now and you think about looking for Kihyun for him to watch your intake. You had lost him on your way into the party to the lounge floor which housed almost all of the recent graduates grinding next to each other, you don’t want to know what Kihyun is up to in that sweaty crowd, nor do you want to spoil his fun, so instead, you settle to sit in another seat, opposite side and far from where Hyungwon is.

You aren’t sure if it’s because of the alcohol, but you’re almost sure you can still feel his eyes still trained on you.

“(Y/N),” you hear Kihyun call, and you almost let out a sigh of relief at the appearance of your best friend, sliding into the empty spot next to you. “Come dance with me on the dance floor!”

“I’m good,” you smile at him. “I’m fine just sitting here. My feet hurt from wearing heels all day.”

“Are you sure?” he quirked an eyebrow, and you nod your head. He frowns.

“I know when something is bothering you because you act different,” he says, sighing. “And frankly, you’ve been acting different for the past few months. What is it?”

“Huh?” You look at him, panic setting in. “No, no! I’m not upset or bothered by anything at all. Don’t worry about me, Kihyun, go enjoy yourself.”

“I can’t enjoy myself when I know my best friend is wallowing around,” he pushes you playfully. “Come on. Is it Hyungwon?”

You freeze.

“Hyungwon?” your voice is quiet. “Why would it be Hyungwon?”

“(Y/N), me and him are pretty close, and I’ve known you since, like, grade school,” he tells you. “I know when you’re hiding a secret, and I know when you’re lying. It’s fairly obvious that the two of you were a thing, plus… you weren’t really discreet some nights.” He snickers and you punch his arm.

“Kihyun,” you look at him. “Me and Hyungwon were never a thing. We literally hate each other.”

“He looks at you as if you stole all the stars in the night sky for him and you practically look at him like a love-drunk puppy,” he tells you. “People that hate each other don’t look at each other that way,”

“Kihyun, I’m being serious,” you tell him, grabbing his hands and looking him intently in the eyes. “I’m not with Hyungwon. I’ve never been with Hyungwon. And never, in my life, have I ever wanted to be with Hy-”

Your buzzing phone indicating a call cuts your sentence off, and you thank the heavens for a way out of this conversation. You excuse yourself from Kihyun, who only nods and takes a sip from his red cup as you walk to a much more secluded area, away from the bounding music. You don’t read the caller id, swiping right to accept it.

“Hello?” you breath into your phone.

It’s absolute silence for a few seconds, and you think that it may have been a misdial and that they had hung up, turning around to return to the party, but you bump into something warm and tall. Looking up, your heart drops into your stomach.

Hyungwon stands in front of you, his own phone pressed against his ear.

The horribly familiar words roll off his tongue so easily.

“What are you wearing?”

Dropping your phone, you do the only thing you know how to do.

You run.

You run quickly, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the sounds of the party, drowning out Hyungwon’s voice as he calls after you. It’s ironic, how many times you manage to find yourself running away from anything that has to deal with him, but you want nothing else than to never show your face in front of Hyungwon ever again. How could you, when the months you’ve texted that unknown man, the months you’ve texted Hyungwon himself, were filled with revelations of secrets and desires, something you haven’t ever told your own best friend.

The night is cold when you open the door, and you shiver momentarily before warmth surrounds you. You feel the worsted wool cloak around you, smelling Hyungwon’s rich cologne as he walks past you, searching for his keys deep in his pockets. You hear his car beep, signalling that it’s been unlocked, and a dread pools your stomach.

“Get in the car.” his voice is calm, but it sets humiliation aflame in the back of your throat.

“No.” you say, ridding of his blazer and letting it fall on the concrete ground.

Hyungwon pivots on his heel, looking at you with eyes filled with emotions you cannot decipher. He walks closer to you, grabbing his crumpled blazer, before standing up straight and towering before you.

“Get in the car.” he repeats, his calm demeanour less relaxed, voice strained against grit teeth. You listen this time, getting into his car and sitting on the passenger’s seat before he slams the door closed, heading over to the driver’s seat and doing the same. The time it took for him to turn on the engine and speed off into the empty streets is silent, you only wish for the rest of the car ride to be the same, but of course, it wasn’t.

“Why did you do it?” he asks you after a few minutes, his voice hush against the smooth purr of the engine, focused on the road in front of him. His grip on the steering wheel was tight. You gulp. “Did you think it was funny?”

“No.”

“No?” he turns his head towards you momentarily before snapping his attention back on the road. “After a year of making me go crazy, after a year of making me feel something and then tearing me apart, no is all you have to say?”

“N-No.” you answer again. You can see his fingers tense against the steering wheel.

“Evidently, you have a vocabulary,” his tone is venomous. “So use it.”

“Please stop.” your face is red with embarrassment, recalling some of the messages you have sent him, remembering the feeling that washed over you when you whined his name to an empty room accompanied with lewd noises. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” he asks you, voice still dangerously calm. “Stop talking? So I can pull something like what you did and cut all contact we have with each other? Is that what you want? Because I fucking know that that wasn’t what you fucking wanted. Because, hell, you begged me to keep going, you begged me to keep talking, you begged me to stay. Bullshit. You didn’t even stay with me, you didn’t even tell me if you were okay.”

You bite down on your lip, eyeing your fists in your lap. Your heartbeat is beating out of your chest at this point, but you can’t tell of what.

“I know you thought of me, (Y/N),” he says, after a few seconds. “You began to avoid me, and as I did you. I thought I was doing a carnal sin, I was supposed to hate you. I’m supposed to hate you. So why did I keep thinking of you?”

It takes all for Hyungwon to not scream then and there, the frustration finally getting to him, stepping on the breaks as his car screeches to a halting stop on the side of the road, next to a mass of trees. He pushes open his side of the car and gets out, running his hands through his hair, almost stressed, before kicking the tire of his car in frustration. You watch him go through a great deal of emotions before you decide to step out of the car yourself.

“I just wanna hear one thing,” he tells you, turning around, eyes pleading. “One thing. One single thing. An apology. A confession. A proper goodbye. It doesn’t matter. Just one thing, one more thing from you, please, (Y/N).”

“Why do you care?” you ask him, voice hush. “You aren’t supposed to care.”

He pivots on his heel, grabbing the top of his car as he looks at you, boring his eyes into yours, as if he were searching for something in your pupils. He bites his lip before opening his mouth.

“Is it not obvious, enough, (Y/N)?” he whispers.

“What?” you stammer.

“I care, fuck, I’ve always pushed it to the back of my mind but what happened between us just made it all the clearer for me that I do care for you,” he pauses. “I care for you because I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widen at that confession, freezing in time.

“You can’t just say that to me like it’s nothing.” you whisper, and that’s when the tears begin to tease your waterline.

“I’m not saying it like it’s nothing.” Hyungwon’s voice grows louder. “I love you. I’m in love with you. Fuck, (Y/N), I’m in love with you, and I’ve acted like an idiot all these years trying to get your attention. I’m not saying this like it’s nothing. I’m in love w-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence due to your lips pressed against his, and if it were anything like the movies, you were almost sure you saw electric sparks flying between the both of you. He kisses you, his arm snaked around the small of your back and his other hand pressed against the back of your head, and you kiss him back, arms wrapped around his neck as you pull him closer. Your tongue finds its way into his mouth, hungry for him, pressing his body against yours, the same way the both of you had been imagining for a year.

He backs you up towards the hood of the car and slams you down, lips disconnecting from yours before re-attaching them to your neck, littering your skin with memoirs of him in the form of purple lesions.

“My name,” he whispers in between kisses. “Say my name.”

“H-Hyungwon,” you moan, used to his name slipping from between your lips, but the unfamiliarity of his body against yours causing you more excitement. He sucks on a certain spot on your neck, before licking it to soothe the soft pain. “Hyungwon, please.”

“What is it?” he coaxes you with his words just as much as he is with his lips, hand snaking up your body as he begins to knead your breasts through your red dress. Moans and whimpers fall from your lips at his simple touch, and he smirks to himself. “Tell me what you want, darling.”

“I want you,” you tell him, bucking your hips when you feel his hand sliding up your thighs. “I want you, Hyungwon, please.”

“Out here?” he challenges you. “On the hood of my car? If someone were to drive by, they’d see us.”

“I don’t fucking care,” the ache between your thighs and Hyungwon’s touch is the only thing on your mind. “Please just fuck me. Please.”

Hyungwon chuckles, letting his hand cup you through your panties, the wet material causing a strain to build up in Hyungwon’s crotch. He curses under his breath, lips coming back into contact with yours, swallowing your moans as his tongue dances with yours.

“You’re such a good girl, asking so nicely,” he whispers after pulling away, moving your panties to the side, fingers finding your clit, brushing past it as you curse out loud. It was humiliating how wet you’ve become just from his simple touch and his words, an arrogant smirk making its way onto his face. “So wet for me already, and I haven’t even been inside you yet.”

His fingers find their way back to your clit, softly running over your bundle of nerves, too soft for your liking as you whine, bucking your hips. He pulls his fingers away from your pussy, pushing your hips back onto the cold metal of the hood of his car.

His voice is low. “Be quiet or else I won’t fuck you at all.”

You retract your impatience at his words, biting down on your lips as he circles your clit with his middle finger, adding a bit more pressure this time. His eyes are on you, watching your face intently as you try to force back a moan. His free hand finds its way to your face, tracing your bottom lip with your thumb, before pulling his other hand away from your pussy. Gently, he tugs at your chin, signalling for you to open your mouth.

“Wet your fingers for me, darling.”

You oblige, opening your lips, letting his long fingers roam your mouth. Hyungwon watches as you suck on his fingers, tongue dancing across the two digits, eyes boring into his. The strain in his pants becomes tighter, but he wants to focus on you, instead imagining that it was his cock your tongue dances around. He pulls his hand away from your mouth, bringing you closer for a kiss. You groan into it as your spread your legs wider, wordlessly begging him to do something, to which he does, slipping his wet fingers inside of you.

The sensation shocked you at first, his long fingers filling you out well, but as they begin to move inside you all you can do is let out a moan against his lips, the sinful sound is music to his ears. His fingers are slick inside of you, moving in and out of you painfully slow at first, but as your kiss begins to become a little more sloppy, he quickens the pace of his fingers.

“You like that, hm? You like my fingers fucking you like this?” he mumbles against your lips, grinning as he hears you moan loudly. “Shit, look at you. You’re such a mess already, what will you become once my cock is inside you?”

You aren’t even able form words, the pleasure overtaking you and his words the only thing echoing in your ears. It was as if your hand sprung to life on its own, making its way towards his crotch, palming him through the fabric of his jeans. You felt his bulge, how hard he was for you, and knowing you were so close to it yet so far due to the layers of clothing, it drove you crazy.

“I want it, Hyungwon.” you whine, adding pressure to your hand as you pet him. He suppresses a moan, and obliging to your words, he undoes his jeans, pulling his cock free from underneath his boxers. You grab hold of him, already so stiff in your hands as you begin to jerk him off slowly, pumping your hand back and forth around his cock as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. He buries his head into your neck as he begins to buck his hips against your hand, moaning into your neck as he does.

“Fuck, this is s-so hot.” you whisper in his ear, beginning to feel the knot forming in your abdomen as his fingers pick up the pace. It is when the tips of his fingers brush against the certain spot inside of you when you let out a gasp, your hips bucking into his hand, feeling him smile into your neck. “S-Shit, I’m gonna cum.” A chain of curses fall out of your mouth, words you aren’t able to comprehend rolling off your tongue much as you come undone with just his fingers. You whine, legs trembling as he kisses your neck, chuckling lightly before pressing his lips to yours.

“It’s your turn,” you mumble against his lips, his cock still stiff in your hand. Precum had already began to leak out of his tip, coating him and your hand in a sheen of liquid. You pull away, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. “I want to taste you.”

Wordlessly, he pulls you off the hood of his car and towards the passenger’s side, standing behind his car for protection in case anyone were to drive by and see. He lets his pants and boxers pool at his feet, before kissing you once more, hands busy grabbing your ass.

“Get on your knees,” he tells you, and you’re obedient, listening to him as you press your knees down into the concrete, hissing at the pain of your knees but thirsting for him to be in your mouth. You lick your lips as you look up at him, waiting for his neck order, and he nudges the corner of your mouth the the tip of his cock. “Open your mouth for me, darling.”

He enters your mouth, letting out a gruff moan as he does, the feeling of your tongue on his cock driving him crazy. He’s waited for this moment for so long, seeing you on your knees in front of him, listening to every word he says is so vastly different from the image he’s used to seeing from you - annoyed at him, nagging at him, telling him off. That thought alone is enough to send him over the edge, but he wants to savour this; he wants to savour you. You start off with a few kitten licks, feeling his cock twitch and rest against your face, smiling as you watch his, normally indifferent facial expression, turn into something sinful.

“You look so beautiful like this,” his voice is hushed, breathy. “With your lips around me.”

He cranes his neck back at the feeling of your mouth around his cock, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. He’s holding onto the roof of the car, using his other hand to comb your hair out of your face to get a better look at you, a mix of adoration and lust in his irises. You grab onto his thighs for balance, your knees already beginning to give out, and just as you do, you hear tires and the hum of an engine just a few meters away.

You widen your eyes, realizing that someone is about to drive past, pulling away from his cock.

“Did I say you could stop?” asks Hyungwon, reaching down and grabbing your chin, looking into your eyes.

“Hyungwon, what if they s-”

“Did I say you could stop?” he asks again, and you bite your bottom lip, a course of excitement running through you, feeling yourself throb at the thought of getting caught, and with that, you take him back into his mouth, licking strips from his base to his head before wrapping your lips around him, taking him to the back of your mouth, ignoring the hum of the engine and headlights passing you by. They had no doubt seen Hyungwon, he towers over his car with his height, but you didn’t care.

“Shit, shit, stop,” Hyungwon grunts as your swirl your tongue around his head, pulling you up, much to your confusion. “I wanna cum while I fuck you.”

And with that, he presses you against the side of the hood of his car, pushing the hem of your dress up to your waist. He bites down on his bottom lip as he teases your slit with the head of his cock, hearing you mewl his name and different variations of begging, wasting no time to find a good pace before slamming into you. The contact causes you mewl to break into a pleasured scream, his cock pumping in and out of you, stretching you out and making you grab onto Hyungwon’s white button up shirt, wrinkling the fabric, loud gasps and pleading escaping your mouth.

“Hyungwon!” his name escapes from behind your lips like honey as he slams into you again and again, lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, grunts and gasping filling the air.

This isn’t anything Hyungwon has ever done before, fucking on the hood of his car like something less of a human, but he doesn’t give a damn. If someone were to drive by and witness the two of you fucking like animals, he wouldn’t give a shit; his thoughts are clouded with pleasure and all that he hears and sees at that moment is you. Your voice, your parted lips, the feeling your fingernails sink into the fabric of his shirt on his forearms, your walls spasming around him. He’s too needy and too desperate for you to care about anything else.

He brushes past your certain spot again, causing you to scream his name once more, widening your legs as he hits it again and again.

“I’m gonna c-cum. H-Hyungwon, I’m g-gonna cum, fuck, please.” you stammer out in broken sobs, the familiar knot appearing in your abdomen once again. You’re almost certain that you’re beginning to see stars lining your vision, words unfamiliar to one-another slipping out of your mouth in strings of pleasure.

“If you cum, I’ll never fuck you again.”

His tone causes you to whimper, trying to keep your high to yourself as best as you can, your breath already beginning to falter. You can’t stop your walls from spasming around him, clenching the muscles in your thighs to try and help yourself from going against Hyungwon’s word, but your attempts fall flat as his cock sliding in and out of you at that speed and at that strength only causes your desire to grow bigger and bigger.

“H-Hyungwon, please, I can’t hold it,” you mewl, letting out short gasps of breath as he continues to rut against you. Your cheeks are red with both embarrassment and agony, your knees already beginning to buckle. He leans over, kissing your neck as his hips move into yours rhy “P-Please, please, please, I want to cum. Please let me cum.”

“I said hold it.” Hyungwon’s breath is warm against the skin of your neck, his hands pulling down the front of your dress, exposing your chest. He moves his face, enveloping your nipple into his mouth, plump lips sucking onto you as his hand kneads your other breast. The feeling of his tongue circling around your nub drove you crazy, his eyes boring into yours. You can’t stand to keep your orgasm under wraps, your entire body trembles now.

“H-Hyungwon, p-please!” you cry out, your hands flying towards his hair, pulling onto his blonde strands as you feel tears tease your waterline. Your grip on his hair tightens with each thrust he pushes into you, as if he were leaving remnants of himself inside of you, a growing smirk teasing his lips as he watches your failing attempts to hold yourself back. You arch your back from the hood of the car, letting out gasps of shock every time you feel the knot in your stomach slowly untying, clenching all the muscles you know of to try and stop yourself.

“Such a good girl,” Hyungwon’s whispers, his eyebrows beginning to furrow together and his eyes glazing over, signalling that he is close to his orgasm as well. “You’re so good… Fuck! I’m almost there, fuck.”

Hyungwon bites down on his bottom lip, leaning back again as he grabs your hips, fucking into your even harder than he was before. At this point, you’ve lost all awareness of your surroundings, you couldn’t care less if someone were to drive by and see the two of you fucking on top of Hyungwon’s car, all you cared about was your release, one that you kept pushing back so many times you’re almost sure it’ll take a toll on your body once you let go. His hand snakes from your breast and back to your pussy, his thumb adding pressure onto your clit, a sensation that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as your jaw turns slack, letting out a moan of pleasure.

“I-I can’t take it anymore, Hyungwon,” you whimper, trying to push away his hand when you know all you want is to bring it closer. “Hyungwon. I can’t hold it, I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum,” he whispers, looking down at you through his hooded eyelids. “Cum for me, darling.”

And you waste no time obliging to his word, the feeling of pleasure ripping through your body as you screw your eyes shut, stars behind your eyelids as you moan, Hyungwon’s name mixed with different curses and other lewd sounds. He still continued to fuck you through your orgasm, already sensitive from the amount of pressure that you’ve received throughout the night, and it causes your entire body to tremble and convulse.

“Fuck, fuck, (Y/N), I’m cumming,” Hyungwon grunts, before pulling out of you. He holds onto the side of his car as he pumps himself onto you, staining your pretty red dress and your trembling thighs, your name laced around sinful words and immoral moans rolling off his tongue.

You watch him as you come down from your orgasm, the juxtaposition in the setting almost laughable as you take in his beauty; his blonde hair stuck to his face with sweat, framing his features so nicely; his already plump lips even plumper now from all the body praise, kissing and licking every surface of you he encountered, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip. You sit up from the hood of his car, a grin on your face before you grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him in for another kiss, he still grunts from sensitivity but still pushes his lips against yours, soft as you snake your hands around his neck.

And the night continued on like that, limbs entangled in one another in the backseat of his car now; the two of you are almost thankful that no one ever really drives on this road. He kissed you everywhere and as did you, making sure you savoured every part of him for all the years that you’ve missed, connecting your body with his - the only thing that divided the both of you was the thin layer of sweat on your bodies that accumulated as the night went on. You’ve lost count of the amount of orgasms he had given you that night, but it didn’t matter; the two of you have waited for this for far too long.

Dawn nearly breaks the night sky when quiet finally takes place in his car, the windows fogged up and chests slowly rising and falling now instead of rapidly panting. You lay your head on top of his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You think back on when he was simply just an unknown number to you, the feelings that you had formed for the unknown man and Hyungwon, and you suppress a giggle when you realize how many times the answer was right in front of your eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asks amusedly, hands busy entangled in your hair, twirling strands around his fingers. He smelt of rich vanilla, a smell that you could not stand, once upon a time, but found yourself drowning in rapture now.

“Nothing,” you say, nuzzling your face into his naked chest. Your clothes had been discarded long ago, littering the floor of Hyungwon’s car. “I’m just thinking of all the times I could’ve figured out you were the unknown number. The answers were right in front of me the entire time.”

You think back on it; the first time he had texted you kindly, asking what he should buy for breakfast, and heeding to your word of buying a bagel, and how you ended up glaring at Hyungwon across your classroom that day for being so obnoxious with his bagel, the one you had advised him to buy in the first place. The day after the two of you started sexting, how he announced that he was going to buy a red velvet cookie, and thus, glaring at him again for being obnoxious with it. His friend from criminology had to be your mutual friend, Minhyuk, as well. It was almost embarrassing how many clues you had missed.

“We were literally texting each other even when we were a few feet away,” he laughs, petting your hair down. “We’re both dumb. We’re perfect for each other.”

You pout at him playfully. “Hey, I’m not dumb!” you tell him, to which he smiles at you with eyes that could compete against crescent moons. “You’re mean, I like you better through text.”

He chuckles. “So you wanna go back to just texting huh?” Hyungwon questions you, quirking an eyebrow. “Then I won’t be able to do this.” He leans down and presses his lips against yours for a few seconds, feeling your body ultimately melting into the kiss. He pulls away, grinning from ear to ear as you lay there, heat rising in your cheeks.

“Actually, never mind. I like you a lot better in person.” you say, after a few seconds of silence, to which he lets out a soft chuckle. He stares at you for a moment, eyes softening at your sight as a easeful smile graces his lips. Leaning down, he kisses your forehead.

“I like you a lot better in person too.”

Kihyun was right, Hyungwon really does look at you as if you stole all the stars in the night sky for him.

FIN.

2K notes · View notes

takerfoxx · 4 years ago

Text

Notes on Restless

A day overdue, but here it is! My thoughts on writing Restless.

Restless is, in many ways, the most important arc in the story, not because it is the most plot or character significant (though it definitely is very important to both), but because it was one of the first, if not the first story arc I planned out, and have been cooking up in the back of my mind and working toward ever since this story started. And, as indicated by the title, it is one big reference to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode Restless, which is my favorite episode and also featured all of the main characters trapped in their little dream worlds.

What can I say; I like dream sequences!

In fact, and I know I have mentioned this a few times already, but it bears repeating the first chapter of this arc was literally the very first scene I thought up for this story, back when I was still in post-episode 9 depression and wanted nothing more for Kyoko and Oktavia to reunite somewhere and be happy together (well, the story definitely gives us the former, but, um, not really the latter, because I am still a sadist). If memory serves, my original vision had the two of them and Mami relaxing in a fantasy-world hot spring that had a bunch of big crystals everywhere (because I like crystals), only for them to be interrupted by the sound of something moving nearby, and, upon inspection, they would find the doll version of Charlotte watching them.

Obviously that scenario’s gone through a lot of fine-tuning, especially when it comes to Charlotte. And the crystals got moved to the end of the story after the hot spring had been removed, but hey, they still made the final cut. Regardless, I did settle on a finalized version some years ago, and the final cut came out more-or-less exactly as I envisioned, down to Mami and Charlotte going off alone for some, ah, quality time.

The only new addition was Jerky’s little scene and the Sayaka/Oktavia flirting sequence, and, well, that happened. I honestly don’t know if I’m even allowed to say much about it without getting into trouble with someone, even though I wrote it, but let’s just say the time has come to finally kick things into high gear on that end.

Okay, so onto the dreams!

Kyoko’s dream was of course the one I came up with first, and yet ended up being the shortest. I guess it’s because while she’s white-hot mess of issues, she’s at least a straightforward white-hot mess of issues, and honestly, it came out more-or-less how I initially planned years ago, with very little addition.

Now, Mephisto gave us a pretty clear breakdown of what the individual girls’ dreams meant thematically when she started torturing them directly, but it bears repeating that Kyoko’s dream was mainly dealing with her poor reaction to loss (the concept, not the meme), specifically the loss of Sayaka to Oktavia, and her stubborn and yet misguided quest to bring Sayaka back at any cost.

We start with a perfect repeat of her dream from waaaaaaaay back from chapter five, when she was first waking up from being drugged. I was originally just going to begin with the continuation, but it had been so long since that chapter that I just copied and pasted the original dream so we can have it in its entirety, which included the all-important image of Sayaka dissolving into silver fishes.

From there it’s mainly Kyoko’s singleminded quest to find Sayaka at any cost. And from there, we see her think that she’s found her time after time, only to be disappointed, from thinking that Madoka was Sayaka (and it’s a shame that they never interacted more beyond that single episode, as they had a good dynamic), to nearly catching the silver-fish Sayaka only to have her torn away, to finally finding the fake fish-faced conductor Sayaka, further establishing her inability to accept Oktavia as not being Sayaka. The hole that her father left in her heart and how deeply she misses him even with what he did does come up, but she abandons catching him once Kyubey makes it clear that doing so is impossible, as well as showing that while she still loves her father, part of her still does not forgive him and she truly believes that he went to Hell.

Also, was that the first time I’ve had Kyubey show up and have original dialogue? Because it might be!

Mephisto’s first appearance has her occupying the same role that she would in everyone’s dreams, that of a surly gatekeeper. She’s a bouncer in Kyoko’s dream, a ticket-taker/ride operator in Sayaka’s, a hostess in Mami’s, and a receptionist in Charlotte’s. And in each one, she lets the dreamer pass while making it clear that doing so is probably a bad idea. Her design was a lot of fun, though there truly is no significance to her rainbow dreadlocks, punk-rock aesthetic, or denim outfit, other than I liked the way they looked. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

Annabelle Lee and the dockengauts have very short appearances in the nightclub, as despite all the pain they’ve put Kyoko through, she is still so singleminded in her pursuit that she considers them nothing more than obstacles to be overcome, which Annabelle Lee would probably be annoyed to hear.

As for Mami’s weird striptease, well, Kyoko is just now having to grapple with her own budding sexuality, and it stands to reason that Mami would have been an early crush for her. The “ending” though shows that while she’s more-or-less okay with Charlotte, she is still very aware of how Mami died.

Like Annabelle Lee, Elsa Maria would have the same role in everyone’s dream, the same role she had in Annabelle Lee’s feverish dream during the Help arc, that of the person who points the way to what the dreamer is seeking while still advising against it, which is always ignored. Though don’t read too much into her working with Mephisto in the end, as it’s not the real Elsa Maria and Mephisto is still the one in control.

And what better place for Kyoko, now Ophelia, to start her quest to find Sayaka for real than the same train station that she originally lost Sayaka in?

Anyway, while this chapter came out basically as originally envisioned, there are a couple things that I wish I had included, firstly a scene where Kyoko loses her necklace while being swept along by the current for Sayaka to find it later, and to have the sound of the crying child from the beginning to continue throughout the whole chapter, showing that she still hadn’t forgotten her quest to find her sister, as impossible as it might seem now.

Sayaka’s dream had largely to do with her and Oktavia’s issues with personal identity, and the dichotomy that Oktavia feels at all times, but translated through Sayaka’s eyes. In fact, bits and pieces of both their personalities are present through the circus (and given that Rumia’s dream took place in a circus in Imperfect Metamorphosis, it does just seem to be a recurring theme with me). The whole knight in shining armor for Sayaka is obvious, as is her sense of righteous justice as what Lily did. But her dynamics with the various characters that she comes across, her memories in general, her growing attraction to Kyoko, and her annoyance at being addressed incorrectly is all Oktavia.

It’s the two Kyoko encounters I want the highlight. The first at the shooting gallery shows that while Oktavia does love Kyoko, she is getting quite fed up with the constant nicknames in place of her actual name, while the second in the dunking tank shows her growing concern that Kyoko’s dogheaded persistence is only going to keep getting her hurt until there’s nothing left, as well as show her growing sexual attraction to Kyoko as she is progressively more stripped.

Mami and Charlotte’s brief appearance was in part to get them on the dream, and so show that that while Oktavia cares for them deeply, she’s not nearly as worried about them as she is Kyoko, hence why they’re here so briefly. Also, them pushing Ticky Nikki around in a stroller, aside from being Nikki’s only appearance this whole arc, was also a tip of the hat to the original Restless episode from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as Giles’s dream had him and his girlfriend pushing a stroller around through a carnival in the middle of a graveyard.

The Freakshow was a mixture of the traumatic monsters both Sayaka and Oktavia had to encounter, from the various witch familiars and to Gertrud, the first witch Sayaka ever saw, to the witch form of Charlotte, who traumatized Sayaka deeply, to Brooklyn, who briefly showed up earlier and was sort of Oktavia’s nemesis in The Heist and targeted her specifically, which left a mark.

And that whole business with Annabelle Lee “pouring” Kyoko into the tank was to lean more into dream logic, where deeply personal fears tend to be translated through nonsensical imagery. I’ve had plenty of dreams where I’d “lose” a close friend or family member because they got turned into a jar of dried corn or something and I’d just be so devastated and obsessed with turning said corn back into my loved one, and it’d be very serious and emotional, and it wouldn’t be until I had woken up that I’d realize, “Dude, dried corn?” Plus, her guilt about stabbing Annabelle Lee was a reference to Sayaka’s own increasing guilt when she realized that she wasn’t the shining hero she had wanted to be.

The clown dance is pretty self-explanatory, in that Sayaka spent so much time killing witches and treating them like monsters only to become a witch herself. Plus, given how quick her downfall was, it serves to reason that she would think of herself as a clown. Plus, I just like Lily as a character, and wanted any excuse to use her as much as possible.

The whole bit with the train station acting as the loading gate for the roller-coaster is also fairly obvious. That’s where Sayaka became Oktavia, hence the cart turning into the wheelchair, or the coaster track leading into Oktavia’s barrier. I’m honestly not too thrilled about the coaster going through Genocide City, because while having it make an appearance makes sense, since it’s literally Oktavia’s first memory, but if I recall, I had the hardest time settling on a location for the rollercoaster to ride through before heading into the castle. I tried Freehaven, the outside of the high school, and returning to the circus itself before just settling with Genocide City, which honestly was chosen mainly because the deadline was coming up and I had to go with something. I guess it works though.

There really isn’t much to say about the reversed Kyoko/Oktavia fight, as it’s literally just a perspective flip of their final battle. Incredibly important and significant as it embodies the entirety of Sayaka’s aspect as the “Monster” of her dream and hammered in her connection to Kyoko? Absolutely. Has much that I can explain that isn’t literally sitting right on the surface? Nope.

We do get Mephisto basically spelling out Sayaka’s contradictory identity in her final days though, in which she was the valiant knight she always wanted to be, she was the damsel in distress that Madoka and Kyoko tried and failed to rescue, and she was the monster holding that damsel captive. No doubt that part was inspired by the meme of the Dragonborn princess paladin who was hired to rescue herself from herself.

From there, the “Monster” is slain, and the cute mermaid Oktavia von Seckendorff is born, the only time during her own dream that she makes a full appearance. She then is treated to a montage of Sayaka’s memories, but of course, they mean nothing to her.

However, I would like to point out what amounted to the payoff of a joke I had set up literally years ago. Readers of all my stuff might remember that way back in Rhapsody of Subconscious Desire, another story that took place in a dream world, Kaguya Houraisan was split into two identical copies of herself, called Head and Body, who encountered Oktavia swimming around in a large aquarium, who in turn shot them a rude gesture and swam off. Here, we finally see the inverse of that scene, which is why a couple of previously unseen twin girls showed up with no explanation.

Next is where the dreams start to converge. Oktavia finds Kyoko’s necklace (which, again, I wish I had included in Kyoko’s dream. Maybe in time I’ll go back and edit it in) and meets the silver fish’s from Kyoko’s dream, absorbing them and turning fully into the princess and, as a result, Sayaka Miki finally returns in full.

Funny thing about that.

At this point, I didn’t know how much the whole Sayaka thing would play out, and originally she would just be Oktavia in a dress. But after having Sayaka’s memories intrude again and again, I thought, “Huh, wouldn’t it be fun if she just became Sayaka again for a short time? Have a weird inverse of the Oktavia situation?” and went ahead and did it.

This choice led to…major consequences.

Mami’s dream is next, and despite being the one that I literally had planned out the least ahead of time, ended up being the most fun to write. Naturally, her dream dreams with her immense guilt over having been Kyubey’s poster girl for so long, helping him ensnare several innocent girls into his scheme as well as kill them off herself when they became witches. Also, it served as a little nod to Candeloro’s job as a baker in WN. Anyway, the whole thing was heavily influenced by Sweeney Todd, in that victims are misled into doing something they think is innocent, only for them to be gruesomely murdered and sent off to be turned into food.

The world of candles is just something I thought would be neat imagery, so infer from it what you wish. However, it is interesting to note that Mami is the only one to have a dream that features Annabelle Lee as the persistent antagonist that she is, showing up over and over to antagonize her. There wasn’t an intended reason for this, but come to think of it, with Kyoko focused on her endgame, Oktavia just wanting her friends to be safe, and Charlotte obsessed with what was lost, Mami would be the one most living in the nowness of their situation, convinced that she is finally in Hell for her sins.

In the restaurant, Mami is indirectly guilt-tripped by Shizuku for essentially abandoning all of her responsibilities to help Kyoko, and is then given a choice: abandon her quest and stay with her loved ones, or continue on with her “duty” despite all warning signs, thereby sealing her own destruction. Charlotte even goes so far as to beg her directly to not go on, but Mami refuses, saying over and over again that she is, “On the clock,” signifying how being a magical girl essentially took over her entire life after her parents’ death, and how full she threw herself into it to shield herself from her own loneliness.

And from then on, her fate is sealed.

While descending the long staircase, the father of Mami’s occasionally mentioned former crush Ryu Hagane shows up to chastise her for throwing her life way in making her contract, and then Mami’s actual love Charlotte shows up on the big TV to remind Mami of what she was now throwing away, and curiously, when she brings out the doll version of herself, it’s not to remind her of how Charlotte kill Mami (though the worms coming out of the doll’s mouth shows that Mami still hasn’t forgotten), but to remind her of how Mami had tried to kill Charlotte upon their first meeting, as her own guilt is more powerful than even the trauma from having her own head bitten off. Annabelle Lee emerges again, and in the process, the staircase is destroyed. Mami’s choice was made. There is going back.

Sure enough, when she enters the classroom, the marionette corpse of Kazuko Saotome (a reference to how she was killed and eaten in the Oriko timeline, in addition to just being very creepy) spells out to Mami’s face what an idiot she was for trusting Kyubey, how many lives she had ruined by doing so, finishing with Homura showing up to basically say, “I told you so.”

Annabelle Lee attacks again, and Mami is sent into a montage of battles she has fought since their disastrous adventure begun, but with each of her assailants being replaced at the last second by one of her friends, showing that even after forgiveness, she still feels like she’s their murderer, as well as driving home the point that in all of her battles to defend herself over the course of this story, she was still just fighting and hurting other magical girls, and regardless of which side they were on, they were all still victims of the same scam.

Annabelle Lee is finally defeated and put down, but there is no victory, only horror at what Mami had done. She flees, but finally finds herself in the Hell she always felt that she deserved, pursued by the zombified corpses of all the monsters that had defeated her, from Lily, who had stolen her mind and made her commit atrocities, to the wild girls, whom she had slaughtered, to the Worm, whom had killed her in her arrogance.

She escapes, but that just leads her back to the bakery, signifying that no matter what, the second she had made that contract she had been doomed. It didn’t matter if she was leaping through the sky in an extravagant outfit, effortlessly defeating monsters with her magic, or if she was sinking into her own despair with a darkening soul gem, it was all the same. She was just food for the Incubators, to be chewed up and discarded, thrown into the mouth of the Worm and run down by the same vehicle that had killed her parents.

She then wakes up in the hospital, reliving a twisted version of when she had been recovered from the car wreck that had taken her parents, taking her back to her first sin that still haunted her: only saving her own life with her wish and letting her parents die. And thus, she is turned into the same monster she had spent the last few years fighting: the witch, Candeloro.

The whole bit in the hospital was a twisted version of what it must have been like for the original Mami to wake up in the hospital and learn that her parents had died. No doubt Mephisto’s dream doctors would have continued to further twist the knife had Ophelia and Sayaka not violently intervened (which gives us a rare case of blood instead of mist). And Candeloro is brought into the party, and with a Cyberpunk reference no less!

Charlotte’s dream comes last, and in my opinion, is the most multi-layered. The bulk is focused on how bitter she is at having her perfect life with her wife stolen away and how many people she resents for it, her own feelings of helplessness at being unable to prevent it, and also it addresses her own guilt at having killed Mami to begin with and how much she fears the return of the Worm that did it, but also she seems to be the only person that has some subconscious awareness of how Homura is timelooping them over and over again, forcing them to relive the same torturous sequence of events (probably has something to do with Homura being the one who killed her after she ate Mami).

In the first loop, Mami is taken by Annabelle Lee, and Charlotte is totally helpless to stop her. This is pretty obvious: Annabelle Lee has been a thorn in her side since day one. It was because of her that they were ambushed in Cloudbreak and forced into their horrible adventure. And more directly, it was because of Annabelle Lee that they fell into the Etherdale to begin with, leading to them all being enslaved by Lily and Charlotte and Mami being forced to commit atrocities.

Also, it’s hinted that the city that Charlotte is forced to march through is the same one Kyoko had been following her father through in her dream, indicating that their minds are already crossing over.

The second is a little more complicated. Yes, Charlotte and Kyoko are on better terms. Yes, they’re getting along. Yes, Kyoko apologized and they bonded. But if it weren’t for Kyoko, then none of this would have ever happened. If it weren’t for Kyoko, Charlotte wouldn’t have lost her home, wouldn’t have been targeted by Reibey, and wouldn’t have to suffer being pursued by dockengauts and valks, two creatures that she has an acute phobia of. So there is still some hard feelings there.

The third is when Charlotte is forced to confront something about herself, that no matter how many people she blames, her own actions still played a part as well. Now she is the one riding the Worm. She is the one who cost Mami her life. And in the hospital, it was her misguided wish that cost her her mother, whether she knows it or not, as well as why she became a witch in the first place.

Couple notes about the hospital: first, the cheese slices do signify how Charlotte threw her wish away for something as stupid as cheesecake, but are also another reference to the original Restless, in which a man carrying cheese slices shows up in each of the characters dreams, just to be weird.

Also, Charlotte’s magical girl outfit was in part inspired by a 4koma MamiLotte doujin from before The Rebellion Story, in which Charlotte becomes human again and crushes on Mami big time. And her outfit consists of a double-breasted coat and skirt. Also there were parts taken from the character notes from Walpurgisnacht, in which one of her familiars is an early draft of Human!Charlotte, before Nagisa had been designed, and she’s depicted holding a staff topped with the wrapped candy charm.

The final loop is where Charlotte fully becomes Nozomi (a name I think I just took from another fanfic that gave her that name) and finally defeats the Worm, this time ridden by Homura Akemi. After all, Homura Akemi is the one resetting things over and over again, forcing Charlotte to relive the same terrible events over and over. And as for that rooftop meeting…well, explaining that would be telling, so infer what you will.

The next chapter is mainly spent playing catch-up, gathering all the characters together and pushing toward the final battle with Mephisto. Here, things get less symbolic and more character based, so there’s a lot less to explain. Ophelia’s path of destruction through Sayaka’s carnival and Mami’s school are basically in line with lucid dreaming, in that once you know that you’re in a dream, everything just feels so much less solid, leading Ophelia to take down the ravaged versions of Brooklyn and Annabelle Lee with ease. Also, that scene with her talking to the dying Lily was an American Gods reference, which featured a similar scene.

So let’s talk about the big thing with this chapter. Let’s talk about Sayaka.

Originally the plan was to go straight from Charlotte’s dream to the fight with Mephisto, but then I realized what a bad idea that is. I mean, Sayaka was back! It’s something that’s been hinted and talked about all through the story’s run, but now it’s actually a thing. The original Sayaka Miki, the one that fell into despair and became a witch, is now back, and without having merged with Oktavia and gaining her memories. She’s thrown literally into the middle of things, during the gang’s weirdest adventure yet. And, it should be noted, her most recent memory is literally sitting with Kyoko in the train station, right before she became Oktavia. That is one hell of a bad day.

Obviously she reacts poorly, and who can blame her? And give her credit, she pulled herself together pretty quickly. However, she did pick up very quickly on Kyoko’s feelings for her. And why shouldn’t we just start saying it? It’s obvious to everyone! But obviously, as short as it was, Sayaka’s brief return will have major consequences that will play out over time.

Anyway, obviously everyone else has their own identity crisis. Mami turns fully into Candeloro, which provides a measure of relief from her own shame, while Kyoko as Ophelia is the rare witch that remembers everything while still sticking fully to her witch identity.

As for Charlotte, her case as Charzomi is easily the weirdest, with her constantly shifting back and forth between Charlotte and Nozomi, and her own memories fading in and out, forcing her to work extra hard to stay focused. It’s been suggested that this might serve as a metaphor for gender fluidity, and while this wasn’t the intention and thus I can’t speak to its accuracy, I can see and support the applicability. Still haven’t worked out what the long-term consequences of that will be, but I do want this to play into her future character development.

The walk up the tongue was mainly me realizing that the fighting was going to start soon, and Sayaka was going away right after, so I had one last opportunity to make the most out of her presence and I was determined not to waste it.

So we ticked off the boxes on everything we ought to address with her. She cleared the air with Charlotte over having to watch Mami get eaten. She finally got to hug Mami (well, Candeloro anyway) and got everything she wanted to say off her chest. And with Ophelia, she naturally wants to know more about exactly what Kyoko has been getting up to with Sayaka’s other self.

Sayaka again confronts Ophelia about how she feels about her (or, well, Oktavia, or maybe Sayaka? It’s weird), and naturally she is kind of freaked out by it. Remember, from her point of view, her relationship with Kyoko had been nothing but antagonistic. Whether Kyoko had been attacking her or trying to help her, Sayaka always resented her presence, so now suddenly being dropped into the middle of things and learning that her one-time rival now has a thing for her? Well, can you blame her for getting a little freaked out?

Also, it’s worth pointing out how the script had been flipped with everyone’s new identities. Now it’s Ophelia and Candeloro with the witch names, while Sayaka still thinks of them using their old names, causing them discomfort, but she has no problem calling Charzomi whatever because they had just met and she didn’t care.

And then we get to the fight, and of course it has to be a pro wrestling match. I’d also like to point out that there were a lot of songs I wanted to use for this chapter but was unsure of where to put each one. Originally the climb up the tongue was just going to have generic thrash metal playing the background, while Mephisto’s entrance theme was going to start with Mr. Sandman, only to transition into Bad Reputation (which is Ronda Rousey’s RL entrance theme), but then I was like, I should put Welcome to My Nightmare in there somewhere. And then I remembered that Cult of Personality is a thing, which is also CM Punk’s entrance theme, so I finally decided to move the first three songs to the tongue scene and have CoP as Mephisto’s entrance music.

And finally, we come to the last chapter. The magical girl fight scene was another one of those checklist things I wanted to have so long as I had Sayaka around. That way, I could actually build some real KyoSaya moments to make the KyoTavi angst all the more potent, as Sayaka realizes that she is developing an attraction to Kyoko as they fight side-by-side, letting me recreate that magical little moment from The Rebellion Story in which Sayaka basically confesses in the middle of the battle, complete with Charlotte ruining the mood.

I’ll admit, I kind of skimped out on Mephisto’s witch design and didn’t give it as much thought as I could have, but that part was never important. The important part was to recreate a classic witch fight and let the girls interact during it. I am proud of the Charlotte’s Web joke though.

What happens next is to establish that it doesn’t matter how hard they fight or how smart they are, they simply cannot beat Mephisto now. She’s taken complete control, enough to flick them through their various personas on a whim turning them into Puella Magi, then to human!witches (basically the Walpurgis Nights girls), then to full witches, then to the classic squad from the bulk of the story (bringing Oktavia back briefly), then to vanilla humans. It doesn’t matter. Mephisto has them, and can do whatever she wants.

From there, she separates them again and subjects them to a condensed version of their previous dreams, with the same themes but different imagery. Kyoko is subjected to a sermon about her poor responses to loss from her dead father, as he really lays into her over how much damage she had done. And I gotta admit, even I felt pretty bad just for writing that scene. Because I know torturing Kyoko is kind of this story’s MO, but damn.

Sayaka is a little more nuanced. Yes, the identity issues from her own dream are brought up, but it’s more focused on a new issues: mainly, now that Sayaka is back, she not only has to grapple with all the weirdness that she’s been thrust into, but also with essentially having been replaced. We see the vision of her friends getting along happily without her, the friends she had pushed away and alienated having moved on without her, Madoka basically having replaced her entirely with Homura. Of course this is not reflected in reality, as by this point in the world of the living they probably haven’t even found Sayaka’s body yet due to the time difference, but it is definitely that Sayaka would easily believe.

The next part is basically the whole reason for bringing Sayaka back in this manner. Mephisto then shows Sayaka a real memory that of Oktavia spending time with Kyoko, Mami, and Charlotte and being loved and accepted by them.

Sayaka’s character arc in the original series was driven by her letting her insecurities cause her to overcompensate and destroy herself, and Oktavia has largely been characterized as what Sayaka would be like if she didn’t have those insecurities. Sure, she’s had the shadow of the original Sayaka hanging over her, but for the most part this hasn’t seemed to bother her much, aside from getting annoyed at being called the wrong name, but it’s been taken for granted that sooner or later being thought of as Sayaka instead of herself by Kyoko was going to come to a head.

But here we have one of those happy unplanned gold veins, something I hadn’t planned on doing but am thrilled gets to happen now: we have Sayaka being forced to come to terms with living in Oktavia’s shadow.

Yes, they’re the same person. Yes, Oktavia is just Sayaka with her memory wiped and many of her self-destructive issues cleared away. But as WN demonstrated, it’s not as clear cut as that, and there is still some degree of separation between the two. And the infamously self-loathing Sayaka would most certainly be messed up by being confronted by a version of herself that people like and enjoy being around, that doesn’t feel the need to prove anything. And this is coming right off the heels of her realizing that she might have feelings for Kyoko after all (even if that is in part because of her empathetic connection to Oktavia), only to have it thrown in her face that it was Oktavia that Kyoko really loved, when she herself never did anything other than push Kyoko away. Granted, she had good reason for doing so, given that the first thing Kyoko did was try to kill her, but the point stands.

The Kyoko/Oktavia dynamic has always been messy due to Sayaka’s constant presence, but I kind of feel that that was unfair to Sayaka herself, as she deserves better than just being a memory, and I wanted her to have an actual voice in the whole deal, to be able to express her own feelings about it, even if it does complicate an already incredibly complicated situation.

Anyway, the next bit is pretty self-explanatory, with Mephisto further twisting the knife by replaying Sayaka’s last conversation with Madoka and really driving home what a wreck Sayaka had been at the time. Remember, from Sayaka’s point of view, that whole moment was only a few hours ago, at most!

Mami’s was very interesting, because the whole trial bit is self-explanatory, but it’s actually a reference to the bizarre trial that made up the final episode of the classic mindscrew TV show The Prisoner, which featured a jury wearing masks, the plaintiff sitting on an ornate chair on a raised platform, witnesses being pulled out of steam-filled holes, and an extended singalong of Dry Bones. Granted, I mainly knew about it because Reboot, one of my favorite shows, also referenced it in a dream episode of their own, but I liked that episode, and wanted to rip it off.

For the witnesses, we first get the expected faces from the show itself, but we also get a few new ones. Brooke Alexander was already named once before when Mami was reflecting on the various girls she had trained, Janice Goldberg was made up specifically for this scene, but we also get Michiru Kazusa, from the really weird spin-off manga Kazumi Magica, who was established as having a past with Mami. Kazumi Magica had its problems, but I did like a lot of the characters (i.e. The Twins), so this seemed like a good time to bring in another one.

Charlotte’s dream is the most straightforward, as it’s basically just her first dream condensed into a claw machine. What I wanted to put focus on was that Charlotte is the one character that knows who Mephisto is, as her role as the team scholar who does the most reading, she would actually have heard of the Ideal Witches, and thus would really understand just how much trouble they were all in.

And at the end of each segment, Mephisto gives each of them the same offer: submit willingly and be given a pleasant fantasy while Mephisto digests their souls, or continue to resist and get digested anyway, only in eternal torment. And her offer would give them each what they wanted the most. Kyoko wants her loved ones back, Sayaka wants to be loved and appreciated, Mami wants forgiveness, and Charlotte just wants to go home. And in light of what they were facing, can any of them be blamed for wanting to take Mephisto up on her offer?

Enter Jerky.

Jerky was a ton of fun to write for, and judging by the overwhelming positive response to his segments, bringing in the baby space raptor was a good idea. Like I’ve said before, his bits were one big love letter to Raptor Red, a novel by paleontologist Robert Bakker which tells of the life and times of a female Utahraptor from the Utahraptor’s point of view. And the nice thing about Jerky is that he’s smart enough to know the does and don’ts, but simple enough to be uncomplicated. He’s an animal. An exceptionally smart animal, but still an animal. He knows that he loves Kyoko and is loyal to her, he’s been made to understand that he can’t let Charlotte, Mami, and Oktavia see him, and he knows that Kyoko’s skin is softer than his and he needs to be careful, but beyond that he couldn’t care less of their various issues. It’s refreshingly simple.

As such, when confronted with a complete inexplicable threat such as Mephisto, something well beyond his ability to comprehend, he’s worried, he’s scared, he doesn’t know what to do, so he defaults to his predatory instincts.

When in doubt, start biting.

And it does the trick, because something that needs to be said is that while the Ideal Witches are powerful, they’re not omnipotent. Mephisto needed to lure the girls in and submerge them fully in her dream in order to control them the way that she did, but in the real world, she was vulnerable once she had manifested fully, allowing Kyoko to break free long enough to fire the final shot.

In the end, everyone escapes, but not unscathed. Kyoko especially had been scarred even further, in part from the dream of her father, but also from having to watch Sayaka basically die again, leading to her reaching what very well might be her breaking point. Mami’s slipping deeper into depression, having been forced to once again confront all the damage she unwittingly did as a magical girl, Charlotte is fully fed up with everything that had happened to them. And Oktavia? Well, now that it’s been shown that Sayaka Miki can and has come back, suddenly her own identity issues are going to become worse. She’s really going to have to grapple with Sayaka being an actual person with a legitimate claim to her body, especially since when Sayaka came back, she effectively traded places with Oktavia instead of merging with her. That’s gotta be scary.

At the very least, Kyoko did not reject Oktavia. In some way, she does understand that Oktavia is her own person, and she’s coming to respect that. But there are some deep wounds having to do with Oktavia’s creation, and they’re both going to have to come to terms with a great many things in the days to come.

And at the very end, it’s shown that Mephisto is weakened but still alive, and she’s pissed! We also learn that one of the girls did accept Mephisto’s offer before she was defeated, so that’s definitely going to come up later. And we meet the rest of the Ideal Witches. Obviously there is more to come with them, so I will say nothing further.

Anyway, I guess that’s it. Feel free to message me if you want anything explained further, or just make your own interpretations. Either is fine.

#resonance days #restless

7 notes · View notes