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pampushky · 10 days

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Mon Petit Doudou

Pornstar! Charles Leclerc/Pornstar! Reader - 7.4k

here it is!! enjoy! please reblog and share and all that lovely stuff! getting your comments makes my day and seeing how excited everyone was for this made me super happy :)

uhhh anyway. Might be a bit inaccurate, I'm not all that well versed in BDSM stuff so if anything is like... a super negative connotation within the community that's inaccurate (besides one character who has bad etiquette for plot reasons sorry)

anyway lmk what ya think lmao

masterlist |

He was too beautiful to be doing something like this for a living. With those bewitching hazel eyes. The effortlessly styled hair. His athletic build. The sweet slur of his accent as he lowered his voice to a sultry level when he talked to you.

But weren’t you as well? Wasn’t that why you fought so hard for your anonymity? That was why you had only ever allowed your mouth or lower to be seen in any stream or video, combined with the concealer that hid away any tattoos or marks from the prying eyes of those who watched you pleasure yourself on camera. Why you never wore your glasses to any professional shoot. It became a necessity to dress so differently on and off screen.

So why did it feel so weird now? Two of you, the same profession between you as you discuss plans for your… collaboration. Charles smiles at you. Stubbly beard and white teeth, a bit of the foam from his coffee clinging to his mustache. Perfectly styled hair as though he’d just stepped out of a convertible. You know you look similar. The soft cardigan slipping off your shoulders. Exposing the delicate tattoos of rue on your upper arms that circled your biceps and danced up to your shoulders.

Herb-of-grace. Purity. Innocence. How ironic for you, considering what your profession had turned into. From a part-time job to a serious career that often ended up having better benefits and more money.

Charles leans forward, whispering something in French you don’t quite catch, making you frown as he cackles, leaning back. Other tables at the cafe look at the two of you, and you can see the adoration in their eyes. You look like the perfect couple. In a way, you are, just not a romantic one. A spoiled rotten sub and the protective, sweet dom.

“I think you should let them see the tattoos, no? I think they would like it,” Charles says, shit eating grin on his lips. “What does the rue flower represent again?” Because he damn well knows what it means, he just likes to tease you.

“You’re impossible,” you take a steady sip from your cup, looking down at the journal that you’d brought to jot any ideas or notes down in. “You are aware of that, right?”

“But the people like it.” Charles leans back with a shrug. “So. To continue…”

If only the other tables were close enough to hear any of your discussion. To hear the things he was suggesting. But you couldn’t even protest against most of his ideas— they were appealing. Sponsorship deals that both of you had been offered. Not only would your audience like it, but… well, you would enjoy it as well. You can’t help but the little smile that makes its way onto your lips when he nudges you under the table with his foot.

“Don’t play footsie with me,” you kick him back gently, making sure to just brush his shin. “Who said it was my foot?”

“Har har.” You roll your eyes, but Charles kicks you again, and you can’t help but laugh with your head tilted back. “And was that your foot, this time?” “Wouldn’t you like to see, hm?”

The rest of the video series is figured out pretty easily. The safewords, plot, who’s going to edit the videos (Max will. He’s one of Charles’s buddies who you’ve seen edit together the most filthy things from previous collaborations and blending everything together with a straight face while sucking on a fancy bendy straw leading to a tall can of Red Bull). You’re comfortable with it all, even asking if Max would be willing to let you use the straw for your water bottle during filming breaks when shooting more traditional videos.

“Probably not. He’s very protective of it,” Charles says sagely, watching as you just doodle loops and loops of ink into your journal. “Do you still use the same brand of concealer? Just so I can have it on hand. The other bottle you gave me expired.”

“Ah, no, ended up having a bad reaction with it the last time I used it,” you scratch your neck and shrug the cardigan back on. Covering up the twin rue tattoos. “I’ll text you the new brand. I can bring it, too, because it’s a bit pricy…”

“Don’t worry about it, I can get it.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” Charles looks down at his phone when you text him the link, frowning more so about how you had thought you’d even need to think about buying it. A bottle of your matching shade is ordered by the end of his sentence. “You know that.”

“Tattoo seals are also a good thing to use,” You turn to reach into your bag, missing the way that he traces over the leafy, flowering tattoos on your shoulders. You push a few of the little stickers across to him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Don’t have to worry about replacing or cleaning the sheets, then.”

“Hm. My smart girl,” His praise falls easily from his lips, and he doesn’t miss the way your gaze seems to soften for just a second after it. “I’ll let you know,” Charles snaps a picture of a few and pushes them back towards you. “Stream in a few days then? Don’t forget the collar, mon chou,”

You just laugh, leaning back in your seat while finishing your tea. Like you haven’t been discussing an upcoming scene that will take place in your next shoot with your dom over coffee. How you’ll split the costs and whatever monetization comes from the videos, while also letting him spoil you with the tea and pastries you love. It’s almost like a date. Perhaps in another life, it would be such an innocent thing, and not the planning of a semi-niche porn live stream.

Charles trails kisses down your neck, letting his stubble brush against you, chuckling as your skin flushes, leaving a wake of goosebumps and heated skin under his lips. The camera is on, but you don’t exactly see it, most of your face is pushed out of frame with how you’re lying across his lap.

“Are you going to be good, mon chou?”

One of his hands rubs softly on your back, while you’re laid across his lap. You’re face down, and you know you’re positioned in a way so that the viewers will be able to see all of your body. You squirm gently, and nod, trying to tilt your head back so that you’ll be a bit closer to his face. You lay so that you’re facing away from the camera. Your tattoos have been carefully covered with a mix of concealer and tattoo patches. It’s warm, and you feel safe, your mind fuzzy as you slip into subspace. Your hair falls in small waves around the duvet, like a halo.

Sitting comfortably against your neck is your newest collar. A lovely burgundy leather with brass d-rings and pressed eyes that have been carefully polished to shine. A few pendants hang off the D-ring, little gifts from Charles to you. The inside of the collar itself is lined with soft velvet, made to stop the skin from chaffing. Admittedly, Charles had splurged on it for you, wanting you to have only the best as he worshiped you.

“Uh uh uh,” His hand moves to cup the small of your back to stop your squirming. “Doudou, they want to see you. Don’t move so much,” He looks over at the screen, where a few messages are beginning to pop in. A few donations pop onto the stream’s overlay, displayed for all to see, along with the chat on the side, displayed by one of his other monitors.

ugh she’s so cute (€5) Is that a new collar? Looks so cute on her!! (€10) awww!! she’s getting so excited!! happy to see you both <3 (€20) Such a good girl, listening so well already (€5) Make her answer the question. Give a sub an inch and they’ll take a mile. (€50)

Charles frowns at one of the more recent messages in the chat. Very rarely did he ever need to punish you for being a brat or acting out of turn. Whenever he did do this, it was always scripted for the viewers. Played up, and a rare event that usually came after a request was put in for it, along with a substantial amount of money. But fifty euros is nothing close to what would substantiate any punishment, so he brushes over it and smiles at the chat as more tips and excited messages drop in.

“Oh, mon chou, they’re so happy to see you again,” Charles whispers, watching as the viewer count starts to grow as people tap on the notification that you’ve both gone live. More comments in the chat pour in. “Yes, she’s been so good lately, haven’t you, ma moitié?”

He runs a hand up and down your back, and then gently squeezes the swell of your ass. You squirm a little bit again and make a needy noise rather than answering.

Make her answer. She seems like a bit of a spoilt sub, needs a reminder of who’s in control. (€50)

The message donation floats on the stream overlay for a few seconds, before being replaced by more donations. The chat is a mix of more praise and excitement along with a handful of confused ‘???’ about the last donation message. It’s the same username as the other donation that had confused him a bit. His mouth quirks down into a frown before he quickly masks it with a little smirk as he looks down at you.

“Doudou, have you been good?” Charles whispers softly in your ear, leaning down to ask you. His stubble brushes over your skin, and he gently rubs your lower back, encouraging you to speak. “They want to hear your sweet voice, bébé.”

“Uh–huh,” you mumble out, starting to squirm again. “Been good, sir.”

“Yes or no, bébé,” Charles gently reminds you, his touch still reverent around your skin as you lay across his lap, stomach facing down. “I know you have, but our lovely friends watching you don’t.”

“Y-yes, been so good,” your voice is soft, and his heart melts. Charles is already a very soft dom towards you. Never pushing. Never raised his voice. He doesn’t like using any crops or toys that can verge on pain. That’s just what the relationship between the two of you had become.

she’s so cute!! Aaksfhasl so so good for us!! I just wanna see her cute little face (T^T) She’s so eager to please!!

The chat is a blur at this point. Mostly compliments for your good behavior and how eager you appear to be to start the steam. Lovingly, Charles rubs your back again. Kisses the top of your head, and then gently starts to finger you open, prepping you for what you’d both discussed for today’s streams.

“There’s a bunch of toys we’ve gotten today,” Charles leans back to grab the little basket of toys, reading out their names and the slightly dry sponsor segments he knows he has to read. He lifts each one to show the camera, and you press your legs together with a whine as he reads out the descriptions the sponsors had given him for each toy.

He tilts his head back to laugh a little bit at your desperation and softly kisses the small of your back.

“You should have seen her the other day,” Charles looks at the camera, while you let out little squeaks. You’re still on his lap and trying your best to keep still as he gently pumps in and out of you with his ring and middle fingers. “She was so good. Even when she had a plug in.”

Hot hot hot omg

You squirm slightly at his words. Whining softly. Staying as still as possible just like he’d told you, lost in the sweetness of subspace. The tip of his middle finger brushes against a very special, spongy spot inside of you that has you keening into the duvet on Charles’s bed.

“Oh? Did I find something?” Charles feigns disinterest while curling his fingers to press just a bit harder into your G-spot. He reaches with his other hand to grab the camera, wanting the chat to have a good view of your folds clenching around his fingers tightly. When he pulls his fingers out, they glisten with your wetness, and your sweet hole tightens around nothing. “Look at you, so responsive for me,”

He brings himself to a slower pace, no longer thrusting his fingers in and out of you with the same rigor as he had minutes before. You wiggle your rear at him again, craning your neck to look over your shoulder at him with a little sigh, your pleading look invisible to the camera. Just as his lips quirked into a small smile over your sass, another donation popped up just as he pressed the camera back onto its little stand.

What an indignant little thing. Put her in her place, hopefully this helps you grow a pair. (€100)

Charles holds back every childish instance to flash his balls to the camera just to specifically show this donor that he does indeed have a pair, and a rather substantial set at that. You whine again, and without really thinking, he brings his palm down onto your left cheek, the one closest to the camera. It’s not too hard, and it sounded worse than it actually was. You let out a little yelp, and still, your hands fist in the duvet covers even tighter, looking over your shoulder at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“You know better than to whine, you’ll get what you want,” Charles' gaze softens, and he already feels a bit of regret for spanking you without warning. The collar around your neck shifts a bit, some of the pendants hanging off the D-ring jingle together from how you’d jerked your head back to look at him. The little bell on the collar chimes sweetly, and soothingly, Charles continues to rub your left cheek, leaning down to softly kiss you out of frame. You whine, and he swallows all your noises, before leaning back in, looking at the camera while lovingly soothing the skin where he’d smacked down.

To some satisfaction, he can’t see any new donations from that particular donor. He’ll make sure you feel nothing but loved, with the two hundred euros the person had dropped on it. Charles just smiles again, letting his hand still on your lower back, continuing with the stream as planned.

An hour in and he’s had you nearly cumming on one of the rabbit toys sent to you. It’s smooth, and the actual toy part is a lovely mint green color. A very nice one, with several different speeds used to keep you squirming and whining softly under his touch. Small sighs of “—Sir— please—” and “Ch—Charles—” fall from your lips ever so often, and he even manages to coax a loud moan from your lips, which the chat goes insane about. When you do climax, you don’t even have the where-with-all to try and warn Charles. And he doesn’t even mind, he’s always been happy to just let you chase your own pleasure and highs.

You whine, slumping against him, feeling him pull the still-vibrating toy from your folds. Your clit is puffy and engorged, and the chat loves to see how you whimper as Charles brushes his fingers through your folds, holding the camera close to give everyone a good view of your still-twitching cunt.

so pretty now give her another!! Her whines omg Good Girl <3 (€25) Such a cute little sub Wish i had a dom to take care of me like she does waaaa

Despite himself, Charles smirks, knowing his face is out of view while he gives everyone a good view of your slick heat. The donor who’d been provoking him hadn’t said anything in a while. He grins at every little noise you make, especially with how you whimper at his touches, still sensitive. But you don’t move away— you know you’re safe, and that he’d never do anything to harm you. You have safewords for that exact reason, and you’d never had to use them outside of practice scenarios Charles would make you do just in case.

He settles the camera back onto its stand, tilting it down so that the stream can also see a bit of himself. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low around his hips. The waistband of his boxers is visible, showing off the V-line of his lower body, and the happy trail of dark brown fuzz that crawls up his torso.

“Did you like that one, mon chou?” Charles croons, moving so that he blocks the view of the camera, purposefully hiding your pretty face so that you have a bit of time to reposition yourself. “Hmm?”

“Mhm,” your voice is dreamy, and your head lolls uselessly to the side as he strokes your cheek. “S’good…”

There’s no need for you to call him ‘sir’ at this moment. He doesn’t even really enforce the title, it’s just something that slips out occasionally while he takes care of you. It’s adorable, in all honesty, the way that you talk when he’s truly gotten you into the hazy, carefree state that is your subspace, never so much as raising his voice when talking to you. That’s his brand. That’s your brand. Just a needy sub and soft dom pairing that verged on Charles having an obsession with you cumming and feeling safe while he’s there.

The rest of the stream goes about as planned. Charles tries a variety of new toys on you, ranging from a dual-purpose clitoral suction toy that doubles as a dildo to vibrating anal beads that you are not much a fan of, but let him try them on you for the sake of experimentation. It all comes to the grand finale of Charles then having you bounce on his lap as you ride his thick cock, your walls clenching around him as you whine and wail out pleas for him.

“That’s it, mon chou, you’re being so good for me, always so wonderful,” Charles squeezes your waist, guiding you up and down on his lap as you whine out a sound that might be his name. The camera has a wonderful view of your back, zoomed in to specifically see the way he slides in and out of you. Your cream covers his cock.

You lean against him, your forehead on his shoulder as you gasp and pant. He can feel the way you’re loosely gripping onto his shoulders, not strong enough to scratch his skin, but certainly hard enough to remind him that you were here, if the warm wetness of your cunt somehow didn’t.

“Where do you want me? Where, mon chaton?” Charles whispers against your head, and he is rewarded by you looking at him with a hazy glance, just for him.

“I-inside,” you whimper, trying to lean against him further, trying to get him to press his face against yours, stopped only by the fact that he needs to keep your face out of frame.

So he gently moves so that both of your faces are out of frame, his stubbled cheek against yours. Thrusts growing more rapid until you clench around him, trying to milk his cock for anything he may give you. He finishes a minute after, twitching inside of you, and breathing hard as he comes down from his high. In the back of his mind, Charles imagines his cum settling in your womb. Making a baby. Seeing you grow round as the months passed, needing help with simple things. Perhaps it would have if it weren’t for your implant and his vasectomy. Just precautions of the trade.

Gently, he pulls himself from you, still panting. He brings the camera closer, giving the viewers a good look at how his seed trickles from your folds, mixing with your release.

hot!! Eeeek!! breeding kink breeding kink She’d look so fucking cute all round with a baby Give her a baby!! (€20)

Charles pauses the camera feed for a few minutes, gently wiping at your core with a warm cloth and praising you endlessly as you mewl helplessly. The chat feeds into his little fantasy. He thinks about you as his housewife. Coming home from a normal office job rather than a studio shoot with other people. Kissing the rue flower tattoos on your shoulders lovingly, while his hands come to hold the little bump of your pregnant belly.

But with a shake of his head, it’s gone. Because that isn’t your relationship with him. So he turns the camera back on with you settled in his lap, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his hoodies. You’re curled up happily, face nuzzled into his shoulder, hiding everything away from the camera’s view. He can feel you placing almost sleepy kisses on his neck, along with the contented sighs you’re making.

As is the normal routine, Charles thanks everyone for their donations, while also allowing viewers to make requests in the chat. Answering questions about the little break from any streaming and videos the two of you would normally do. This is usually when more of the donations sweep in, much bigger ones. The notifications are delayed, and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees one rather large donation come through.

I’d like to commission something of the two of you. I’ll be reaching out to your business email after the stream, just to ensure that this tip doesn’t bounce. (€800)

It’s the same username as the donor who had dropped €200 earlier in the stream. Part of Charles feels incredibly uneasy over whatever this commission could entail, simply based on the comments they had made in their previous donations.

But if they had been able to give over €1000 in a single stream…. Which was nearly a third, if not more, of the total donations…

You shift slightly in Charles’ lap, bringing him back to the present. You’re still lost, he can see that by the distant, glazed-over look in your eyes. What you need right now is a good bath, a bottle of water, and something to snack on while he massages the knots from your back. You can talk about the possibility of something like a commissioned video later.

“That’s…. Hm, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we, bébé?” Charles grins, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead, before bidding farewell to the stream, and turning off the camera. The donations still pour in for another thirty minutes, and that’s when Charles gets the light ping that everything’s done downloading, right as he’s gotten you to finish a bottle of water. He sends it to Max immediately, who’s already gotten the rough outline of how the video should look. Charles will go over to his apartment tomorrow to work on the specifics of what everything should look like, and then send the link to you for final approval to post. Knowing Max, the Dutchman is likely just starting to wake up as the world is going to sleep. He’ll probably have a mockup done just as the sun starts to rise.

For now, Charles turns his focus to you, watching as you slowly munch on goldfish crackers, as if deep in thought. It’s funny, really, you’re so lost in your thoughts and somewhat spaced out still. But when you look at him, he can see the little grin on your face as he walks over to you. Letting you curl into his embrace.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“Mm. I was fucking you rather hard near the end.”

That makes you giggle, and you look up at him with a mischievous little grin. “You also spanked me.”

“I did.” Charles swallows a bit of his guilt down. “Are you sore?”

“No. It was… just unexpected.” You fiddle with the strings of his sweatpants, and he plays with the hair at the back of your head. It’s domestic and sweet. It could be a scene from the everyday life of any young couple. Charles feels like he’s in the wrong for wishing it was. “It startled me a bit. Nothing bad.”

“Sorry.”

You just shrug, and let him help you out of the hoodie. With the utmost care, he peels off the tattoo seals. Wipes away the concealer. And helps you into the shower, washing away any of the stubborn bits of makeup that insisted on staying behind. The rue flowers bloom under his touch, and without really thinking, Charles kisses them, his lips trailing around your shoulders and upper arms as if he’s worshiping some idol.

It’s the most intimate thing someone’s ever done for you. And Charles realizes he may have just crossed a serious line, looking back at you like a deer in the headlights as you stare at him over your shoulder, with a mildly sleepy gaze. His hands start to shake.

“Why’d you stop?”

The way you tilt your head is sinful. That someone so innocent and willing to give submit body to him looks at him in such a way. Asking such obvious questions when you already know the answer. Entering a relationship because of your shared profession with him could be catastrophic. You both work in such a niche of your industry when it comes to the kinks and roleplays you’re willing to work through that both of you would be screwed if feelings got in the way of your work.

“Because we shouldn’t take it any further,”

“What if I want you to?”

Charles nearly chokes on his surprise. The water is still warm around him. Your hair still has the conditioner in it, just soaking on your scalp as you wait for him to help you wash it out.

“That’s a bad idea. We shouldn’t.”

“But you were just kissing my tattoos.” Your brow furrows. “That’s hardly the porn we normally shoot.”

“It’s— it’s not about the porn—”

“Then ask me out.” You say it so plainly. As if it’s that easy… and maybe it is. “I like you.”

“What?”

“I like you. You seem to like me.”

“I do like you!” Charles blurts out. And then blushes violently, his pale skin turning a vibrant pink-red as he starts to rinse the conditioner out of your hair, making you turn away from him so he doesn’t get any of it in your eyes. He still feels guilty for spanking you without much warning. “But don’t you think this could be weird—”

“I think it could be nice.” You sigh, leaning into his touch. Entrusting him to put you back together after breaking you apart. “Don’t you?”

He can’t bring himself to speak after that. Drives you home. You watch him from the window of your apartment as the rear lights of his car fade away.

The moment Charles is out of sight, he goes to Max’s flat. Pounding on the door hard until the disgruntled Dutchman opens up. He can hear Daniel moving around somewhere in the apartment, talking to one of the cats as Charles stands dumbly at the threshold of the happy couple’s home.

“What?”

“I think I’m in love with her,” Charles blurts out, and Max just scowls further.

“Mate, I could have told you that!” Daniel calls from deeper in the house, as Max pulls the panicked man inside, making him sit down in the cozy living room. Max’s computer set up is pushed into the corner, with a cat tower beside the desk. Sassy currently sleeps happily on the highest little bed, while Jimmy weaves through Daniel’s legs as the Australian offers a slice of pizza to Charles. “What finally made you realize?”

“She— she told me to ask her out. Wait— does that count as her asking me out—?”

Charles’ voice grows more frantic, and his hands go to his hair as he starts to pace in the living room. Both cats watch him go back and forth, while Max settles at his desk, opening the file to start editing.

“Who cares? Do it. You’ve been making moony eyes at her for the past year of working with her.” Max grumbles, clearly unamused by the drama of it all.

“We make porn together!”

“So? That’s how I met Max.” Daniel tilts his head, at which point Jimmy does the same. The Monegasque frowns at him. “Didn’t stop us.”

“You’re both gay.”

“Ouch.” Max’s stoic tone is somehow cutting, even when he’s focused on the screen, pulling up the video Charles had sent to him, and then the outline on the other monitor. “I don’t see how that changes anything. The only difference is that I was Daniel’s editor rather than costar.”

Charles flops onto the couch. Daniel just looks down at the man, before looking over his shoulder at his boyfriend. “And how’d you respond?”

“What?”

“How did you respond to her asking you out?”

His face goes blank, and a look of realization dawns on his face.

“I panicked?”

“How badly?”

“I kept— okay I responded pretty badly,” Charles admits, and then groans right into his hands, rubbing his face in frustration. He keeps thinking about how he’d kissed your tattoos. Had he inadvertently made you feel like you could ask that? Furthermore, were you really, truly asking that, or were you still somewhat caught up trying to be a good sub?

Images of you sleeping in his bed as the morning sun rises conjure up in his mind, followed by cooking together in the kitchen of his flat, and he can’t help but groan angrily at himself for letting such a fantasy with someone who he could call his coworker appear in his mind at this moment. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face as you sit across from him at the cafe, brushing your foot against his shins while sipping at your cup of tea. Your feet up on his lap while reading a book on his couch, pure domestic bliss.

“Fuuuuck,” Charles just keeps his hands on his face. “She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not going to hate you,” Daniel tries to comfort him. “Just tell her you need time to think about it.”

“No but— I was also sending mixed messages,” he mumbles, and he hears a long, drawn-out sigh from both Max and Daniel. “I was kissing her shoulders. I— I couldn’t help it, I felt bad, I kinda spanked her without warning earlier in the stream—”

“Gross.”

“I know! But this one donor was getting so pissy about how she was responding—”

“I’m sorry, you let someone who was watching and imagining touching her dictate how you were actually touching her?” Daniel raises an eyebrow, and he folds his arms across his chest. “Dude. You’re her dom, not to mention how many times you’ve been with her. Why would you get so possessive then?”

Maybe he is a bit possessive. Last year, during a studio-based shoot when another dom had been too rough with you, using your blindfold to practically drag you around the set, and spanking you much harder than he had originally implied he would, Charles had immediately cut the camera and kicked the man out of the room, not even letting him get dressed. He’d gone straight to your side after that, checking you were okay for nearly an hour before even considering letting the filming start again.

That had earned him a bit of a reputation as possessive over his subs, you in particular. The lack of collaborations with any other actors certainly hadn’t helped much either, with your last one being with Daniel almost half a year ago, and that one had been a cuckolding video, where he had posed as the husband watching his wife getting fucked and bred by another man, not even touching you throughout the process besides a scripted kiss at the end.

Now, Charles feels like he is 1.) the stupidest man on planet Earth and 2.) just passed up on an opportunity that you had presented him on a silver platter. He stares up at the ceiling as Daniel looks down at him. Maxis typing away in the corner, and makes a little ‘hm’ noise, likely getting to the part of the stream where he’d spanked you.

“Wow. That sounded bad. Didn’t leave a mark though,” Max hums, and then starts to type again, before making a much more distressed noise. “No fucking way— Dani! It’s the fucking guy again!”

“Wha— really?” Daniel dashes over to look at the screen while Charles stays on the couch. “Ugh. What a fucking creep.”

That piques some interest.

“What?”

“Yeah— the guy with the weird dono? Total creep. Tried to commission me into some weird, non-con roleplay. Wanted to do a solo stream for just him, totally ignored all of my rules for that stuff, and outright told me to ‘Just suck it up’ when I used the safeword for some of the shit he was saying about me.” Daniel shivers, and for a moment, Max looks like he wants to strangle the man until his boyfriend squeezes his shoulder. Charles's blood runs cold.

“What?!” Charles looks over the username again. MattiaBinn. “Jesus fucking—Je le tuerai moi-même pour avoir voulu que je fasse une telle chose avec elle—”

“English, Charles.”

“I’ll kill him myself,” Charles growls, and starts to march right towards the door, “I need to talk to her right now—”

“Or maybe we need to give her time to cool down,” Daniel reaches towards him, holding onto his shoulder and pulling him backward. “She probably still needs some space and to take care of herself after the stream, regardless of how much aftercare you did with her.”

Part of Charles hates that Daniel’s right. Another part of him says that no, you should be letting him take care of you. That’s what his job was as your dom, he was supposed to take care of you and make sure you didn’t experience sub-drop. You deserve only the best, and right now he’s not acting like that. Quite frankly, he’s being a bit of a self-righteous prick about his own feelings for you.

His phone pings with a notification, and out of pure irritation, he considers silencing it, until he sees it’s an email from a frankly disturbing email address. From: Mattia Binotto. Subject: Commissioned Private Stream.

“Oh, putain de merde,” Charles groans, and quickly scans through the email. It’s exactly as Daniel described. Non-con, harsher treatment, and quite honestly, the opposite of nearly everything Charles did as a dom and that you would agree to. Infuriatingly, your business email has also been sent this. You text him not a second after he’s done scanning it.

Did you also get this?

It seems… uhm, interesting.

Attached is a screenshot of the email. You’re awake, at the very least. Alert enough to be checking your business email. He texts back quickly.

I’m not doing any of that.

That’s not the shit I do. Fuck.

…okay.

Sorry, you seem to be in a bad mood.

It’s not your fault

Please don’t blame yourself for any of this, mon doudou

I kinda feel like it is…

I didn’t mean to push any boundaries or make you upset about this

I am sorry, Charles.

Charles wants to bash his head against the wall because now he feels like utter shit for making you feel guilty about his own stupidity. Just as he’s about to text you back you send him a goodnight text. When Daniel glances at the screen he visibly winces.

“Yeah. I’d give her some space.”

Space turns into a week. Instead of the normal collab stream, you do a solo one. Charles ends up watching it. You’ve got an array of toys behind you, most pretty pastel colors or swirling abstract designs that make an odd pit settle in his stomach at the idea of them bringing you pleasure rather than him.

You’re currently fucking yourself on a dildo he’d gifted you, shaped like… certain sweet treat. It was meant to be a bit of a gag gift— the name of it was called the banana split, for Christ’s sake— but seeing you fuck yourself on it made him groan, palming the hardness in his pants as you gasped and whined. You were wearing one of his hoodies too, muffling your little noises into the sleeves. And the chat was loving it, encouraging you to keep going.

And then the fucking donation showed up from that fucking prick Mattia.

Needy little thing. Do you think you deserve to cum? (€50)

The robot voice that read out the message had you whining, and you momentarily pause, before slowly lifting your hoodie to give the cam a better view, showing the slight bulge in your tummy from the toy resting inside of you before you started to bounce up and down on it again, rutting your hips forward as if that could provide some respite for the high you were chasing.

“Y-Yes—wanna cum—” Your face is hidden, as per usual, just off-screen, but at the very top, he can see how your chin wobbles a bit as if you’re currently panting with an open mouth, “Please please please please—”

Hold it. Not yet. Needy little sluts only get what they need when they’re good. (€50)

Rage bubbles in Charles’ stomach. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was, first of all, calling you a needy slut, and then acting like you were his to take care of. Charles makes a note to ban him from both of your chats as soon as this is over.

He can tell by your posture that you look startled, and the chat mixed. Some are telling Mattia to fuck off, while others are encouraging you to listen because Charles isn’t there. You whimper, confused, and Charles nearly screams, sprinting to get to his keys while the stream continues on his phone. He knows how insane he must look, having porn very audibly playing on his phone, but he doesn’t care, not as he starts his car and calls you. He can hear the phone in the background of your stream, and you whine even louder, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself on the toy pausing.

“Fuck, doudou, pick up,” Charles groans, his driving becomes more and more reckless as he gets closer to your apartment. “Pick up!”

The sounds of your stream seem to pause, and there’s a rustle as you move, hopefully reaching for the phone and—

Did I say you could do that, slut? Or are you too stupid to listen to directions? (€50)

Charles roars as he hears you let out a pathetic whine, followed by sniffles. How dare Mattia insult you like that, how dare he make you feel unsafe when you should be feeling nothing but safe and loved. He was going to find him. He was going to find whoever this Mattia Binotto was and beat the tar out of him.

“M’sorry— wanna be good—”

“You are good,” Charles’ mouth is dry, right as he pulls outside the front of your flat, with a half-assed park job that’s likely going to get him a ticket if he stays there until morning. “You’re so good, mon petit doudou, just hold on,”

You’re not being good now. Apologize, you useless little slut. No wonder your dom isn’t here. What a spoiled little sub. (€50)

Charles fiddles with the lock, searching for the spare you’d told him about, hidden under a fake rock right off of your stoop. He opens the door, nearly forgets to close it behind him, and screams out your name as he tears through the kitchen.

Find your biggest toy for me. And show us how badly it hurts. Do it if you want to be good for me (€50)

When he manages to get to your room, you’re startled by his sudden appearance, and so is the chat. There’s a new, much larger toy positioned under you, the tip just brushing against your folds. The first thing that Charles does is cut the camera. The next thing he does is end the stream. A final donation, clearly placed before the stream ended appears on the screen, all the notifications from the tip jar making a discordant melody with your hiccuping sobs and Charles’ panting.

The donation makes him see red.

Fuck yourself. Slow. Let me hear you cry. (€50)

You let out a whimper, shaking, as you sink onto the toy, only to be scooped up by Charles. He doesn’t give a shit that he’s knocking around the toys and is probably making his possessive reputation worse. He’s not going to let you hurt yourself because some fucking pervert got in your head, and he’s furious that you’ve fallen for the same manipulation he did.

“M’sorry— m’sorry, I wanna be good—”

“You’re so good, tu es si bon pour moi,” Charles croons, rocking you back and forth, holding you close as you cry into his chest. “I’m here. I’m here. You don’t have to do any of that. Let me take care of you.”

It takes nearly thirty minutes to get you to stop crying. You keep your face pressed into his shoulder, shaking as Charles soothes you, humming softly to you. He speaks in French, knowing that you enjoy the way his voice sounds when he speaks it.

“Can you tell me where you are, Doudou?”

“In my bed,”

“Wonderful job, so smart for me,” Charles praises, kissing your forehead softly. Your grip tightens on his shirt, and he can feel a small huff of air against his skin when you breathe out. “And what’s my name?”

“Charles. You’re Charles.” You murmur. “How did you get in here…?”

“Spare key.” He shifts so that you can look at him, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes under one of your eyes, the skin sticky from tears. “I was… I was watching the stream.”

“Oh.” You lean against his chest, letting him stroke up and down your back. You nuzzle into the collar of the hoodie. Charles presses his nose into your hairline, inhaling your scent, while keeping his lips against your forehead. “So you….saw…”

“He’s banned. It’s the same guy from the commission email.” There’s a hint of rage in his voice, which fades the moment your nose nudges under his chin, dislodging him from your hairline.

“Thanks.” He can feel the curve of your lips turning into a smile as you nuzzle into him further. “My hero. Taking care of me, even when you’re upset.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” Charles’ voice catches in his throat at the admission, pulling away enough to look down at you. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face, and a sleepy look in your eyes.

“It could be nice,” You murmur again, shyer than before. “You and me, couldn’t it?”

“I think it could be more than nice,” His lips are so close to yours, enough so that he can feel your breath against them. Charles has been balls-deep in you. Has fucked into you until you cream around his cock and sobbed out his name. But this is quite possibly the most intimate thing he’s ever done with you. “Really, really nice.”

The taste of your lips on his is divine as he holds onto your waist with one hand, and cups your face with the other. You giggle when he pulls away to catch his breath, and before he can even stop himself, he’s grinning and pressing you into the bed, blowing a raspberry against your cheek just to hear your shrill laughter and feel the butterflies in his stomach that appear every time you laugh around him.

“Mon petit Doudou,” He can’t stop the grin on his face as he kisses all over your face, looking down at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. Your hair is fanning around your head like a halo. Your smile is infectious. And he can see a few blooms from your tattoos under the neckline of your hoodie. His hoodie. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours.” You respond, curling into him happily as the two of you lay in your bed.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you

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bumblequinn · 11 months

Text

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

#adhd #advice #asks #from #sourpatchsquids

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knightyoomyoui · 4 months

Text

[SMUT] TWICE x Male Reader - "One Of The Girls"

The final one-shot of my TWICE smut anthology book is here. I think this might disappoint for some readers here because yall might be expecting it to be long, but I made it as simpler and unique as I can be because I don’t think I’ll be able to write a Part 2 of this anymore due to my lack of interest of writing smuts. Thank you once again for atleast giving a try on reading my smut one-shots even though I’m not really expert at writing mature stuffs. Still, I hope this might come into your liking. WARNING: contains smut, R+18, mature and sexual content TAGS: fuckfest, friends with benefits, eighteensome (with a bit of threesome and foursome), harem, pairing, messy sex, anal, rough sex, blowjob, lots of sex positions, futuristic, clones, advanced technology etc. WORD COUNT: 5,500

You are currently hosting your own celebratory party with your only circle of friends in college. There’s a total of 10 people present around your house, which is the preferred location that was voted for by the majority since yours is the most spacious among them. Around your living room are Nayeon, Jeongyeon, Momo, Sana, Jihyo, Mina, Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu, and you as the only guy in your squad.

Table occupied with bunches of snacks and empty cans of beer, some of the girls are nearing passing out from their drunken state, except the others, like Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Jihyo, who have a high alcohol tolerance, went on to continue chatting with you since they wanted to cherish this moment being complete together.

It’s been months since you’ve last seen them after getting graduated from college. Each went on to grab the degree of the profession they have chosen, and that brought them to achieve their dream job that effectively supports them even more in their personal life.

You were the one who initiated to invite all of them when few days ago, you unexpectedly encountered Jihyo in the grocery store and sulked about when will be there a time where all 10 of you will go hangout together again just like good old times. Since Jihyo is the one that all of you have been calling the “mother” of the group, you took note of her suggestion.

As you went home, chat app open, revisit your group chat with them, and send the invitation, which led you all in this predicament.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” Jihyo said as she looked at your window, waterdrops scattering as it disperses down through its surface.

“We should’ve went home already after they passed out.” Jeongyeon said as she emptied her can of beer and peek at Momo and Chaeyoung sleeping both on her sides.

“Yeah, we got caught now by the rain outside. Nice.” Nayeon slumped her back on the couch. “Ahhh I hate it when I go home wet.”

“Should we wake everyone up?” Jeongyeon asked.

Jihyo shook her head. “Maybe not yet, I don’t want to disturb their sleep just to get haggard going outside.” She said while stroking the wavy hair of sleeping Mina on her right.

“I think it’s much better if you guys should stay here.” You suggested. “You guys still have work, I don’t want to risk you all getting sick and take an absence.”

“Are you sure about it, YN?” Jeongyeon asked, lifting her brows in surprise. “Are we not gonna be a hindrance here around your house, I mean… we did put a mess already here but-”

“Nah, I’m positive. And I knew where you’re going at your words, Jeong. I’ll help you clean the place up tomorrow.” You smiled at her.

“Nice. Thanks for this, YN!” Jeongyeon high fives with you.

“Well that’s even better. I’m starting to like your place too anyway.” Jihyo joked as she looked around the interior of the house. “I mean, what do expect from our architect, am I right.” She smirked as you chuckled at her teasing.

“Aww, as expected, such a caring and thoughtful deed from our daddy~” Nayeon quickly cuddled your arm, much to your shock. You froze at your place, and Jeongyeon and Jihyo stopped laughing as their smile fades away with their eyes slowly stared towards the already drunk bunny that they thought was still with them.

“Uhm…”

“Did we heard it right?”

“N-Nayeon, what did you just call YN here?”

“My daddy YN~” Nayeon said as she rubs her face in your biceps. “He’s the only man in our group and he takes care of us, does that make her our daddy?” She raised her head and smiled at you with her and shiny teeth.

“How did you… just end up randomly calling him like that?” Jeongyeon stiffles her laugh while perturbedly questioning Nayeon’s weird behavior.

“I mean, she has a point though, you are the patriarch, the one who formed our group anyway. You found us, YN.” Jihyo shrugged her shoulders. “But cmon, unnie. There’s no need to call him like that.”

“I don’t care. I love to call him that always, besides…” Nayeon’s stare went strangely different, eyeing you with an unspeakable aura clouding through her pupils. Her hand planted on your chest and rubbed it gently, smelling your scent from your shirt. “Daddy’s has been looking such a very hottie these days compared back then, that’s why he’s just simply deserves to be called with it. Besides, you love to hear that too from one of your girls, right~?”

“N-Nayeon…”

Her movements are like a choke hold on you, making it difficult for you to talk normally. You are stammering when you speak. Gazing at Jeongyeon and Jihyo, you saw that they were merely observing Nayeon as she moved her hands around you. Their gaze shifted to you, and all of a sudden, even theirs felt a little awkward.

To your astonishment, Nayeon gently caressed your face and turned it toward her, planting a soft kiss on your lips. When you felt Nayeon's lips start to move more around your mouth and extend an invitation for a passionate duel, your eyes opened and your body gradually melted.

Hearing some gulps from nearby, it was coming from Jeongyeon and Jihyo drinking more beer that was left from the table. Their breaths became heavy as they continued to observe Nayeon doing these things to you.

You never crossed your mind that Nayeon would do this to you someday, just like right now, but it is undoubtedly true that she is deadly gorgeous, and to share this kind of intimacy with someone like her, consider yourself to be the luckiest guy in the world.

Speaking of being lucky, it looks like you’re about to experience another once-in-a lifetime moment and something that will forever change your relationship with the girls when you hear Jeongyeon moan as Jihyo starts to grope her breast.

Your hand rest on Nayeon’s hand and continued to mash your lips against her, syncing her movements along to make your kiss even more sultry. As you remove first from her face, you stared at her and looked at Jeongyeon who is now also massaging her other breast to join Jihyo playing on her body.

“Are you girls sure wanna do this?”

“I’d like to give it a try. We haven’t done this before, and it pretty much looks very interesting, especially looking at our r Jeongie here enjoying my touch here like never before.” Jihyo smirks.

“How about you, Jeong?”

“Quit asking, let’s stay here for the night and have more fun.” Jeongyeon said, huffing one more time before she tilts her head and captures Jihyo’s face for a kiss of her own too.

“I knew they will follow us.” Nayeon said as she satisfyingly watched her friends going out at each other. “I pretty much knew how their hormones can get intense, and now that you are our only man around here, will you like to accompany us to it?”

“Oh whenever you want, Nayeon.”

You pulled the hem of Nayeon’s shirt upward, revealing her baby blue silk bra that perfectly hugs her average-sized boobs. You gnawed at the crook of her neck; she gasped at how ticklish and warm your breath hit her sensitive spot. While doing so, your hand squeezed along the soft skin of her arms, feeling its smoothness.

Locating the lock on her bra from her back, you unhooked it and removed the garment from her. Setting yourself apart from Nayeon, you have found the first glimpse of Nayeon’s bare top, her breasts proudly presented to you and ready to be devoured.

You placed your palms on top of her tits, squishing them as Nayeon invited you again for another kiss. Jeongyeon and Jihyo are still colliding in each other's bodies. As you checked on them, you have found that Jeongyeon is now stripping off Jihyo’s skirt as she also gets rid of her shirt, exposing her black bra that traces the width of her wide, flawless back.

Lifting Nayeon off the couch and leaving Dahyun and Tzuyu on your spot, you gently placed Nayeon on your carpet. Now being on top of her, you undid her jeans and saw her matching pants tucked securely on her rosy petals. Running your hands through her legs, you found her waistband, taking them off and giving her pants a lustful inhale before looking at the now fully naked Nayeon laying for you.

You kissed her again, with one hand caressing her cheek and another returning to nuzzle with her left breast. You heard a loud whimper coming from Jihyo, who is now being eaten by Jeongyeon as her head is between her legs, sitting on the carpet in front of her.

With your clothes and jogging pants now gone too, all 3 women went on to watch you loosen your boxers, and there they had to see your erected cock for the first time, increasing their sexual desires that had them craving the taste of your meat.

Jihyo’s moans went constantly seductive the more she stares at your cock while her pussy is getting pleasured by Jeongyeon who is now fingering her own pussy also. Nayeon who is even more aroused, gripped your cock to give it a pump, eliciting a gasp on your mouth.

“My god, YN. After all these years, I couldn’t believe we were almost impossible to release this beast begging to be let out and gain some attention. We could’ve helped you with it after all these years.” Nayeon said as she watched her huge hands exquisitely covering the length of your cock.

“You girls never asked though. Well now, you girls can have it anytime you want. Atleast unlike before, every single one of you has a chance to take this all for yourselves.” You said confidently.

“And I will enjoy every single bit of it.” Nayeon bit her lip before she gave you a trusting nod, signaling you to enter her virgin cavern. She flinched and rolled her eyes back as she felt every inch of you entering her pussycat.

Now buried deep inside of her, you subtly fucked Nayeon into a missionary position. Your arms rested on each side of Nayeon’s head to give you stability. She was holding onto it at first until she decided to support you in continuing to fuck her harder by roving her hands around your toned torso and back and licking your nipples.

Meanwhile, Jihyo has just finished squirting on Jeongyeon’s face, licking off the juices that she caught before scooping some and letting Jihyo have a taste of it, sucking Jeongyeon’s fingers lewdly. After that, they changed positions, wherein Jihyo is now paying attention to Jeongyeon’s fat pussy while groping her heaving tits.

Back to your state, your pace went faster, creating loud claps of your crotch and her ass contacting with each pound. Nayeon’s moan and frantic noises go fast as she watches you pour your efforts into dominating her.

"Ughhh, yesss, keep it like that, Daddy. Fuck me, fuck your one and only bunnyhop with your gigantic carrot.”

Your groans intensified until you felt a sudden surge of tightness in your stomach. Unleashing the last remaining forces you need to snatch that climax, you finally pushed into her very deep, and Nayeon felt some gooey substance flowing inside her walls.

As you remove yourself from her, you observe Nayeon breathing erratically with her pussy overflowing with your cum. You wiped the cream off your cock through her thigh before moving on to Jihyo and Jeongyeon who are still having their own fun together.

But just as you were about to reach them, you were prevented by a grip from someone on your back, holding your wrist, stopping you in your tracks that made you to only watch Jeongyeon squirt into Jihyo. You rotated your body and found Tzuyu looking up at you mischievously.

Additionally, you discovered Dahyun slowly opening her eyes as Chaeyoung, Momo, Sana, and Mina all find themselves staring at your cock with fascination as they watch the embarrassed pair perform an amorous act.

“Do you guys really think we would let ourselves be left alone?” Sana said as her action encouraged the rest of the girls to strip off their clothes, presenting their bodies only in their ravishing set of bra and panties with different colors, tempting you to get hornier at the sight of their sexy bodies all prepared to be claimed by yours.

They formed a devious smirk and lick from their lips as they saw your hardened cock twitch. “Aww looks like our YN here is liking what he’s seeing right now.” Momo said as she knelt beside you and stared at your thick shaft all fired up to invade their pussies one by one…

… but you have thought of an idea to make things faster, easier…and unique.

“Wait, girls. Alright, I know all of you want to join but… I can’t do this for now with just only me taking you all each turn.” You said to them.

“So… lemme grab something from my room real quick and come back here to show it.” You ran away from them and dug through your items until you have found what you are looking for.

Returning to the living room, you even adore the view more as you noticed that all of them are now naked, presenting you the contrast of their sizes and shape of their wonders but that doesn’t matter to you. You knew that all of them has one similarity and that is they all look breathtaking and fuckable tonight.

“What’s that, YN?” Chaeyoung asked as she looks at your hand holding a circular device.

“It’s a cloning device made by my brother who is an expert in robotics. He gave me this as a gift because I once shared to him that I feel bad sometimes that Alpha, my pet dog… I always left him here in the house alone.” You said as you looked around at its design, juggling it in your hands.

“So he gave me this as a solution. Well basically as like what I’ve said… it’s a cloning device, which means I can create an artificial clone version of myself. He instructed me to use it as my replacement whenever I left the house for work, so that Alpha can still have me… but the other and fake “me” to still be his guardian. I can even use it to do some other errands while I’m away.”

They all are impressed at its purpose and quality. “Can I ask, YN? Is the clone you produce can touch something? I’m thinking that it may just be a hologram, so what if you have to feed your dog or bathe him while you’re out?”

“Oh, don’t worry. My clones can have a contact with anything around here. I’m not that much of an expert that’s why I can’t explain why but my brother probably inputted some system in this advance technology that doesn’t only shape my clones into a complete holographic-illusion type of figure.”

“A question also, uhm… does it only have a limited time to use?” asked Mina.

“Yup, it can only be set for a day if I’m only using it for one clone… but for multiple…”

“Wait, so you can also switch it to any number of clones of your choosing?”

“Yeah, but it’s only up to ten. So probably I can use it for like an hour and half or something since like I said, the more I activate a clone, the shorter the time I can only use it.” You said, until your lips form a sly smirk as you gave them a glance. “Which is why I want to use this for tonight…”

They all looked at each other until Jeongyeon understood what you are talking about, her cheeks blushed and eyes largened at the idea you have in your mind. “Oh this night just got even more chaotic.”

“... and make eight clones of myself so that instead of having you girls by turn, I can have all of you AT THE SAME TIME. Sounds good?”

“Actually, that is brilliant. Atleast, we don’t have to wait for YN and… we can have him as our partner by pair.” Tzuyu applauded your idea.

“Wait, is it gonna work like… this is the first time you’re gonna use it on having sex, do you think it’s gonna function the same thing as what a real human like you can do?” Dahyun asked. “Like… can it even cum as you?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” You shrugged. Pressing the button of the device, you laid it on the floor and stood straight in front of it. The device scanned you from head to toe and set the number of clones to 8. It beeped repeatedly until to all of your amazement, you witnessed the device spawn a naked clone of you one by one until it reaches the necessary number.

The clones all look at you as if they are asking for your command. You felt something strange in your head, as if there’s a bunch of signals awaiting for your memory core to generate a thought that will be transported into the other end.

“Let’s continue where we left off.” You tried to use the ability you have just unveiled. You looked at your clones and then at the girls except Jeongyeon, and developed a thought in your head that commands them to have sex with the girls of their choosing.

All of your clones went on to approach the girls they have chosen. Since you don’t have any names to call them, you labeled them rather as your clone number based from the age order of the girls in which they partnered theirselves together.

“Hi Jeong, looks like its you and I now.” You said to Jeongyeon who was left standing alone as the girls are now intimately engaging with your clones.

“Oh, so that’s why I was wondering why I didn’t get picked.” She scratched the back of her head, feeling embarassed at her dumbness. “Well, I like it much better that I get to have the real package right here.”

She reached for your limp cock and gave it a few introductory pumps with her reversed hand. You kissed her while squeezing her ass from behind. Teasing her asshole, you inserted your index finger in it and fucked her slowly.

Her gasp enabled you to invade her mouth and swirl your tongue around inside. After licking her taste buds, you let Jeongyeon kneel before you and worship your cock in her own initiation.

As you looked around you, you were astounded that the girls also copied Jeongyeon; they knelt under your clones and checked if they could have contact with their artificial cock. Momo woah-ed aloud as she, along with the girls, confirmed that they can even touch their dicks too.

Jeongyeon chuckled and shook her head as she saw her friends enjoying your clones’ cocks for themselves. She slapped your abs to lure your attention back to her, and there she eyed you lustfully as she wiggled your now reawakened cock on her fist, slapping it on her cheeks before licking the underside of your shaft.

She ran her tongue through your length and traced the veins of your cock before slurping your mushroom head. She lifted your cock away to gain access at your hanging balls, not wanting them to be left out. She coated them with her saliva as she massaged the other one with care.

Back at your cock, she then proceeded to suck and gave you another blowjob of greatness that you will ever be thankful for your life. You patted Jeongyeon’s head as she dugs her face deep until she reaches your abdomen, giving you a deepthroat that is even par from her limit, but she still did her best to make you feel good as possible. “So big and thick… hope you don’t mind that I will always beg for this from now on, YN”, she said as she jerked it while grinning devilishly at you. “Good, because I don’t even know if I’ll get enough of your body too, Jeong.” You said as you grab a bundle of her hair and use it as your handle while she blows you hard once more. “Yes, continue to move that little mouth of yours. Show me how much you love my cock.”

The girls were now giving your clones their own style and direction of blowjob in which also lets out the satisfied feeling from them. Getting more aroused at the work Jeongyeon has been doing at your meat, you humped your hips and facefucked Jeongyeon until you blew your load, filling her mouth with your warm cum before you slip away.

Jeongyeon swallowed it all like a good girl and wiped off the remnants around her lips. After she presented her empty and clean tongue without any signs of your seed, you also found out that the girls each had the surprise on their face when they also felt some cum poured through their mouth and staining their face.

“Wait, so they can also feel what you feel?” Jeongyeon commented the same thing as you have discovered.

“Same as what I’m thinking.”

“Heh, you’re the best, YN.” Jeongyeon shook her head and kissed you on the cheek before she pulled your arm to set yourselves up for a sex position. You also mentally commanded your clones to fuck the girls in any position they want.

She went close to Jihyo who is now being fucked by your clone in a sitting faceoff at the side of the couch. Jeongyeon spreaded her leg for you and invited you to come closer, standing between her and stick your cock at her pussy, which was very tight that sent chills in your skin. You savored banging Jeongyeon very deep that had her moaning uncontrollably at your massive length poking her womb.

Being too noisy, Jihyo teased her bestfriend by voluntarily stretching her body aside so that she can pull Jeongyeon’s head and forcefully have her suck her right tits with your clone who is playing on her left one. Jeongyeon continued to hum around Jihyo’s nipple as you went back and forth faster through her pussy.

You peppered kisses through Jeongyeon’s thick thighs and some sneaky squeezes on her butt until you felt your climax about to greet you again. Rapidly drilling her walls, you sent Jeongyeon into her world of ecstasy by filling her insides with your cum which led also to your clone to fire stream of its own load to Jihyo including the rest of the girls.

While you were busy with indulging Jeongyeon, Momo was being fucked by your second clone in a cowgirl, taking one of your couches all by themselves.

Sana and your third cousin are doing 69 beside the table. Her face has been painted white after she pointed the tip into her to empty the remaining area for some facials. Your clone also received the same treatment; his face got flooded with Sana’s love juices.

Mina is being ravaged by your fifth clone in a doggy-style way at the kitchen counter, her ass being roughly pounded with a thick cock while her pussycat is being sucked by Nayeon, who is being taken by her own clone of yours on the floor.

Dahyun is on the edge of the couch, getting piledrivered by your sixth clone as her body is positioned upside down, her feet being used as a handle while the back of your clone leans at the end of the couch for additional support.

Chaeyoung is on the front of the TV with her clone of yours, watching her reflection on the screen as she gets manhandled from behind, her body submitting from the full nelson demolition that is being applied on her own session of sensation.

Tzuyu is doing the same thing as Chaeyoung, but it's not her reflection she’s watching. She’s viewing the rainy atmosphere outside the streets of Seoul just to distract herself from getting penetrated by your clone in a one-legged standing. Her body is paralled with his body, and she kisses him to let your clone know that he’s doing a good job, filling her up to the brim.

As they all received your warm present oozing underneath between their legs, they decided with you to go on for one last round before wrapping up this party that became a sex-filled, erotic occasion.

You went on to find Jihyo, who has now abandoned by your clone on the couch, after you mentally commanded him to go after Jeongyeon next. Jihyo looked up at you and gave you a soft smile, to which you also returned the gesture.

To ride off her exhaustion, you sat beside her and took her tits all by yourself. You were definitely pretending to yourself if you were denying that Jihyo’s enormous mommy milkers aren’t distracting you whenever they look very evident and alluring at her clothes that felt too tight or revealing.

It’s not because you are simply a pervert; being quite an introvert, you just don’t know exactly what to do to completely avoid it.

Now that you have her nice pair of bosoms resting neatly below her chest, it would be disrespectful of you to just continue ignoring such a pretty and sexy lady like her, especially if you are now free to have her for your own satisfaction as much as she has for you.

Without any further ado, you feasted a lot with her tits, kneading each of their softness and weighing them on your palm before you dipped your salivating mouth into her caramelized nipples and areolas.

Jihyo is just there, whimpering and sighing heavily at your mouth, marking her precious assets. She combs your hair like a good baby boy sucking off her mommy’s milk.

As you removed your face from her breasts, you stood in front of her and went on with another idea you had in store for her.

Presenting your engorged cock once again, you used her breasts to place it between them and sandwich it around your shaft before allowing you to titfuck Jihyo.

Jihyo lowered her head and spit on your cock as she attempted to catch your head with her tongue, giving it a few licks while you went forward. You didn’t go on for too long on going after her breasts because it's not only that who has to be recognized on. Her entire body should be praised for a goddess like her.

Now contented with the feeling of your cock passing through the deep valley of her cleavage, you pulled Jihyo with you and replaced her on the couch. You instructed her to climb on your lap, in which she sat down, gripping your cock and tucking it to her pussy.

“Ahh! Fuck me, augh yes just like what I imagined when I first had a look at your cock.” Jihyo said as she slightly twerked her plump ass.

You catched her waist and suddenly slammed her down as you made her furiously bouncing on your lap. “Shit, fuck you like that huh? You like getting hammered by my big cock don’t you, Jihyo?”

“Yes yes! YN go faster please!”

“Scream for me! Let everyone in this room know that no one can match my cock for your tight pussy!” You slapped Jihyo in the face and spanked her ass as you roared at her.

“G-GIRLS! O-OH GOD… OH MY GOD UGH YESSSSS!! FUCK, H-HE’S THE BEST AT THIS… I WON’T FIND ANYONE THAN YOU, YN! I JUST WANT YOUR COCK, NOT EVERYONE ELSES” You pushed her closer to you and mashed your face at her tits as you rammed her like a madman.

You are fucking Jihyo so intensely that your groans of pleasure isn’t enough yet to let Jihyo know that she and the rest of the girls will get to experience whatever limits of sex they can reach just so they can feel like they’re locked up in heaven.

Sliding her ass out more, Jihyo became confused on why did you paused after the horrific speed you just gave on her. Her answer came shortly as she felt another cock getting inserted in her another hole.

Jihyo screamed in both pain and pleasure as she is now getting double penetrated by you and your clone. While you continued to suck her bouncing tits, Jihyo looks around to check what the other girls are also receiving at the moment.

On her front view, there’s Nayeon and her clone having tabletop sex at the kitchen counter. Sana is giggling and and moaning at the same time with her shaky voice as she is bouncing up and down beneath your clone’s cock at the stairs in a reverse cowgirl. Mina is having her pussy being eaten by Dahyun whose front frame and breasts are pressed on the floor while her ass is being fucked in a flatiron position.

On her back there goes the scene where Jeongyeon is bent in half like a seashell by your clone while having her tits sucked, Momo getting some spooning treatment, her tits swaying at every thrusts she receives, Chaeyoung moaning for mercy as she gets hogged by your clone in an upstanding citizen, carrying her small frame while having her limbs floating in the air due to getting hooked around in her legs.

Lastly, Tzuyu continues to admire the night view of Seoul through the windows while his clone is pistoning her pussy in a stand and deliver.

“I- I can’t take it anymore, I- I’m going to let it out, YN!”

“I’m getting close too, Jihyo…”

“Perfect fucking timing. Let’s end together.” Jihyo said as is staring dangerously at you before she reached your face for one more kiss.

You and your clone plowed Jihyo to the brink of fulfillment as a few more strokes and rough collisions of your skin slapping together took yourselves into orgasm. Jihyo shouts lewdly as she feels streams of her slimy nectar squirt around your cock while it pulsates the last set of your pearly cum straight through her cunt.

The room resonated with synchronized screams, moans, and curses as everybody embraced their climax. You quickly grabbed your device and switched it off, making your clones disappear in an instant.

You sat beside Jihyo, who is now knocked off after having her energy spent just like the rest of the girls with you. The room smells like sex, with cum overflowing from their gaping holes and puddles of crystal liquid all over the floor. Bodies slumped and scattered everywhere around the house.

But then in some of their surprise, they noticed that the cum that came out from your clones disappeared next, making their snatch feel a bit lighter now than earlier, except for the trio Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Jihyo.

“I guess those are also artificial and temporary just like them.” Jeongyeon said as she looked at the evidences that gone missing.

“But not for us.” Nayeon smiled proudly and scooped some of your cum flowing on her thigh with her fingers, tasting it again.

“Ehhh that’s unfair!” Sana pouted as she looked at Nayeon, Jeongyeon and Jihyo with jealousy.

“You better give us next time, YN.” Momo challenged you.

“Yeah… I will, because for now I can’t do it anymore.” You laid down on the couch, and Jihyo helped you get some pillow. “I’m so goddamn exhausted.”

“Maybe that’s why the clones can feel what you feel and think what you think, because they are connected on your brain.” Jihyo said. “And since you mutiplied them, that goes the same with its effects to you.”

“How ironic. I still felt like I had sex with you guys all by myself.” You panted. “You girls can sleep on my bed. Jeongyeon, remember to clean with me okay?”

“Yup. I know. Goodnight, girls.” Jeongyeon stood up on the floor. She also helped the girls to get up before they went towards you and sent a kiss to your cheek.

“Thanks for a hell of a time, YN. Goodnight.” Jihyo gave the last kiss and patted your chest before she left you sleeping on the couch. Few days later, you lived up to your words, You invited again the second batch consisting of MISAMO: Mina, Sana, and Momo and the School Meal Club trio Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu to finish what you started, a hot, wild, and exhausting hours of sex with all six of them. Thankfully, with the help of some expensive and strong viagra that Nayeon recommended for you to use, you were able to survive servicing these beauties, thrusting and spurting each one with a large amount of your irreplaceable cum within the depths of their pussy from dusk ‘til dawn.

#twice one shot #twice fanfic #twice smut #twice au #kpop smut #kpop au #kpop oneshots #kpop fanfic #twice nayeon smut #twice jeongyeon smut #twice momo smut #twice sana smut #twice jihyo smut #twice mina smut #twice dahyun smut #twice chaeyoung smut #twice tzuyu smut

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yuri-is-online · 8 months

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Daytime TV Dreaming (A Fyuuture Kid AU Drabble ft. Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle)

While camping in the mountains during Camp Vargas, you encounter a monster exactly like the one you fought off with Ace and Deuce at the beginning of the year. While trying to fight it off again, a strange portal opens up in the mine and a person jumps out of it to your rescue. He says he doesn't remember much, but it's clear when you bring him to Crowley that this boy is also from your world, despite being a mage, and until the headmage can think of a better solution, he assigns "Yutu" to your dorm.

Something a certain someone has an opinion about.

notes: When I was re-working my masterlist I deleted a fic that I meant to be the start of a series where Yuu’s child travels back in time to try and prevent the destruction of Twisted Wonderland and their parent's untimely death. For some reason I wrote that child as having been born after Yuu was forced to leave Twisted Wonderland with modified memories, so he doesn't actually know that much about his dad until he gets iseakaid just like Yuu did to attend Night Raven in a much more dystopian setting. Anyway if I ever go back to that concept I'll probably re work it, but I thought it would be fun to share my notes about the guys reaction to this newcomer who gets sorted into Ramshackle Dorm. They/them used for Yuu as always but they are implied to be afab, "Yutu" is not meant to be the child's real name, and he is meant to be wearing a disguise to make his identity less obvious. Actual fic can be found on my masterlist.

Heartsabyul

Ace- is legitimately worried about the intentions of this weird newcomer but it comes off as him being a jealous brat so no one takes him seriously. Look, something just doesn't feel right about this! Your world doesn't have any mages but now one shows up? And he's weirdly familiar with you? Cmon someone other than him start asking some questions please! Tries to have "a talk" with Yutu, who is trying really hard to understand what his parent saw in his dad and... just not getting it at all. RiP Ace you have been assigned cringe before the kid has even been born.

Deuce- only concerned with making a good impression because if this person is from Yuu's world then they might value his opinion on.... things. Also an honor student would try to win over his crush on his own merit and not by intimidating potential competition. Actually ends up befriending Yutu and really liking his vibes, which gives the boy a lot of guilt because he knows his dad would probably feel very guilty if he knew what his son's life has been like.

Trey- he is slightly worried about how Yuu will handle having to take care of an actual person and not just a monster, but he also feels like it is none of his business so he doesn't pay too much attention. But then Yuu mentions that Yutu is a pretty talented baker and that's why they haven't been bugging him for sweets as much. Well isn't that just ADORABLE??? Trey isn't upset about this at all nope, not one bit. He's extremely upset and Yutu is stirring the pot because he thinks making his dad angry is funny.

Cater- oh look, another person who won't be a part of his life eventually. He doesn't get any weird vibes from Yutu so he doesn't worry about what his appearance might mean too much, but there is something about the way the newbie insists on trying to be his friend that reminds him a lot of Yuu and isn't helping with this whole "denial of the crush" thing he is trying to do. If he didn't know any better he would think Yutu was doing it on purpose.

Riddle- immediately starts butting into Yuu's life more to give them advice about being a proper housewarden. Not that he didn't already see them as one, it's just disciplining a human student and disciplining Grim are a bit different and no he is not using this as an excuse to spy on the Prefect how dare this brat suggest his intentions are impure?!?! (Ah but you see Riddle you can't just take Yutu's head off in front of their Prefect because you want them to liiiike you and he is so going to use that against you.)

Savanaclaw

Leona- understands that something is not quite right as Yutu's explanation of who he is doesn't quite pass the sniff test. Literally, the brat smells like Yuu with his magic and since Leona was one of the people who got a good look at the portal Yutu came through he pieces things together pretty quickly. Not that he immediately goes and pulls a Vader on the kid, he just makes it clear he knows there is some time travel involved and demands to know what his goals are. He can leave the family shit for after he's secured the kid's existence.

Ruggie and Jack- while they have different opinions on the new kid, Leona's sense of smell still tells him Yutu's identity and as their dormleader he feels the need to take them aside and mention what he knows... sort of. He tells them that he's pretty sure time travel is involved and that Yutu is related to Yuu, but he neglects to mention the whole bit about who he thinks the father is... which drives them insane in completely different ways.

Ruggie thinks that since you clearly have a thing for beastmen anyway he would be stupid not to shoot his shot. He doesn't give two shits about whether or not Yutu is his kid, time isn't real so he can just rewrite it a bit.

Jack is determined to treat Yutu fairly and protect him since you are his friend and that's what friends do for each other's kids. Has a full blown panic over whether or not this might give the kid an identity crisis and takes him aside to reassure him he doesn't want to replace his real father, and that he will be happy as long as Yuu is happy. que the world's most awkward conversation

Octavinelle

Azul- Oh? Ramshackle has a new dorm member? And he's a mysterious mage... allegedly from the same world as Yuu... something doesn't make sense here but while he is figuring that out. Capitalism ho! This is a great money making opportunity he is observing and scheming and thinking about the perfect contract to get Yutu to spill all his secrets. Unfortunately, Yutu seems to be afraid of him for some reason? Not Floyd or Jade, just him. He can't say he dislikes it... but it is a bit odd, at least it gives him something to talk about with you???

Floyd- Also saw the portal that Yutu came through and thinks something must be up with how close the guppy seems to want to be with Yuu. Starts calling him baby shrimpy as a joke because of how clingy he is to you, but he really really hates it. He can't fight baby shrimpy because that will make you not like him, and he can't scare baby shrimpy off with a deal because he's weirdly smart with those sort of things. He also seems to really look up to Floyd... like that one spiderverse meme, and Floyd hates it! he already had a hard enough time getting Yuu alone when Grim was around he doesn't need a second baby unless it's actually his >:CCC

Jade- a new mage? How delightfully unpredictable. He's probably the only one genuinely happy Yutu is around because of how funny the story of his arrival is. The only upsetting thing about this is that he wasn't able to go camping with Yuu himself. Like Azul he senses something is wrong with Yutu's story, but he doesn't intend to press him until he has the new kid's trust. He's just here to help after all, there's nothing to be afraid of so long as there is no need for him to be jealous.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #heartslaybul x reader #savanaclaw x reader #octavinelle x reader #future kid au #haha get it his name is yutu because he is-#(named after the chinese moon rover “Yutu/Jade Rabbit” because of the similarities between chang'e/kaguya's situation and yuu's)#-yuu 2 :DDDD #... i technically have wildly different headcannons for yutu's real name and personality based off who his dad is but meh

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soapsbaby · 1 year

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Goodbyes

Summary: How you and your CoD partner would spend the last day and night before they have to go off on a mission.

Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, König, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x gn!reader Rating: SFW Themes: Angst, sadness, softness, no warnings needed Word count: 1300ish

Ghost

He’ll try to push you away, as if that would make it easier for both of you.

Once he can tell that he just makes you upset, he apologizes and makes sure the two of you get to do whatever you want to, usually you prefer to just get takeout with him, stay in bed and cuddle.

To him it’d be easier to not do that, it makes him miss you even more, but he does it for your sake. He knows that if something bad happens to him that you’ll be the one who suffers most, so he makes sure your feelings are prioritized.

He makes sure to say goodbye to you at night so he doesn’t have to wake you up in the morning and make leaving even harder on his part. He tries to be stoic about it but he hates every second of it, especially if you fall asleep on top of him and he has to gently shove you off and then just leave you behind.

Soap

He will absolutely not leave your side at all, trying to make the most out of your last hours together. No matter where you go, he’ll have a hand around your waist, is constantly kissing you and showering you in affection.

He tries his very best to be as cheerful as possible even though it’s hard, but he hates seeing you worried or sad.

Before he leaves in the morning he makes sure he has something prepared for you, he puts flowers in the kitchen for you to find, notes on the mirror. You’ll also almost always wake up to a voice message on your phone by him, telling you that he loves you and that he’ll be back as soon as possible and there’s always a suggestion on what you will do, whether he wants to take you to a fancy restaurant he heard about or some nice café.

König

He gets quiet. His anxiety almost always tells him that something terrible will happen to either you or him once he leaves and the thoughts slowly drive him insane until he leaves and his brain switches into work-mode.

Even though he doesn’t really talk to you about it, you can tell that it bothers him and so usually you are the one trying your best to cheer him up. It also helps when you plan things you will do after he comes back and not even let the possibility that he might get hurt become an option. Oh, it’ll be just a week until you’re back, I might as well book the cinema tickets right now, right?

He has a hard time expressing it, but he is eternally grateful for how casual you are on the outside even though you are of course freaking out as well. His job is really, really dangerous and him not coming back is always unfortunately a possibility.

He'll cuddle you to sleep and kiss you in the mornings, softly telling you that he loves you.

Price

He always makes sure to treat you to a nice dinner before he leaves, to leave a good impression, as he puts it. This can mean that you go to a nice, upscale restaurant, but he also loves cooking at home for you. He loves providing for you in general but the days before missions are the ones where he goes all out, going to the market for the fanciest ingredients and making sure you have an appetizer, main course, dessert and whichever expensive wine fits the meal the most.

He’s usually in good spirits before missions and not too worried about his wellbeing which rubs off on you. He is confident that nothing will happen, so you are too.

You get up with him so you can have an early breakfast and spend some time talking before he has to leave.

Gaz

It hits him so much harder than it hits you. Not even because he is afraid that something will happen to him when he’s gone, just because he hates being apart from you for so long.

If he got his way you’d just spend all day in bed, his face buried against your chest and rubbing his back but you usually try to at least get him out of the house a little bit, go for a walk or grab a coffee somewhere.

He is always affectionate but those days you won’t be able to get rid of him, not that you want to. He just needs as much reassurance as you can give him.

He really struggles getting out of bed in the morning, usually he’ll roll over to you again and kiss you awake, telling you he doesn’t want to leave and how much rather he’d stay with you. It doesn’t matter whether he has to leave earlier than you, usually you`ll get ready with him, giving him as many hugs and kisses in the process and sending him off with a smile. He doesn't have to know that you break down once he has left.

Rudy

The day before is always reserved for a family party, a barbecue or some other get together. He goes away often so not his entire family will come over every time but there’ll always be someone there. His family is incredibly important to him and he also feels much more secure knowing that you have a good relationship with them so you are taken care of if something were to happen to him.

Once it becomes evening, though, he will make sure that he can focus on you and you only. Usually you won’t do anything “special” but he makes sure to take his time to talk to you, to make sure you are alright and that there is nothing on your mind that you are not telling him. There is nothing more important to him than clear communication and making sure he is on good terms with all of the people he loves before leaving for a mission.

You’ll fall asleep in his arms and wake up the same way, he would never leave before saying goodbye to you. Usually you’re still sleepy and he’ll kiss you goodbye, tuck you back in and let you keep sleeping.

Alejandro

He tries his very best to be as casual before missions as he can, going through his regular schedule and not to make too big of a deal out of it, but you can tell that he is giving you more affection than usual, being a little more touchy and telling you how much he loves you even more than he does otherwise.

He’ll make sure that everything is taken care of before he’s gone, taking you grocery shopping before and stocking up on everything that you might need. He also makes sure you pick up extra on some items to make the time easier for yourself, a good book, some snacks, maybe a bottle of wine.

He is a true romantic at heart but he keeps the special dates and occasions away from your last days, it feels like bad karma otherwise.

He’ll make sure you are comfortable getting to sleep and that he has told you a million times that he adores you, that he’ll be back so soon and that you don’t have to worry one bit.

Valeria

She tries so, so very hard not to show it, but she is terrified every time she leaves that it will be the last time she gets to see you. Hell, she might not even get hurt but she might get caught and go to jail for the rest of her life.

She always makes sure that she has her affairs in order before she leaves, makes sure that you have access to everything you need so you can get away safely and not be punished for your connection to her.

She’ll be extra affectionate, making sure that you know that she loves you and also making a point that she would never be mad at you for denying any connection you have to her if she gets into legal trouble.

She treats every goodbye like it might be your last one, kissing you like she never gets to again and spending the entire night holding you.

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #valeria garza x reader #captain price x reader #cod fanfiction #cod x reader #so sorry for alex being in the gif and now being written #i just don't know enough about him at this point to feel confident writing him sorryyyyy #ari writes

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 5 months

Text

5 times you and Miguel walked away from each other and 1 time you didn't

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader notes: brother'sbestfriend!Miguel, soccerplayer!Miguel, college au, slow burn, somewhat mutual pining but written from reader's perspective more exclusively, SFW - only slightly suggestive (worst thing is probably a boner), fem reader (pretty neutral though), saying soccer instead of football felt so dirty but oh well, thank you for reading!! word count: 5.9k

You’re having your first lazy day in forever. It’s the first day in recent memory that you didn’t have something to do or somewhere to be. You’re just going to hang out in your apartment and watch your favorite shows or read for fun for once or whatever else you feel like doing. Because you don’t have to go anywhere, you don’t even take a shower, opting to stay in your comfy pajamas, not bothering with any makeup or hair effort, as you lounge around.

You have the place to yourself now, but you share it with your twin brother Alex, the two of you lucky enough to go to the same university.

When you eventually hear his keys scratching at the door, you’re sprawled on the couch reading a novel you’d left half-finished for ages despite actually really enjoying it. School really had a way of making you not read. Or at least never full books.

As Alex opens the door, you’re surprised to hear him talking to someone else. You see his unexpected guest a moment later from your spot on the couch, your college apartment rather small after all. And you’re mortified. Miguel. Alex’s best friend, university soccer team superstar, ridiculously attractive Miguel.

God, why did Alex not warn you he was bringing someone over? All it took was a quick message, for fuck’s sake. And Miguel of all people? Ugh. Well, it wasn’t like you could tell him. “Hey, brother dear, I have a huge crush on your best friend, so can I please get a warning next time he’ll be around? You know, especially so I’m not looking like a total mess when he shows up?”

He’d been coming over a lot recently actually. He and Alex were both on the soccer team and happened to share a few classes too, so their schedules really lined up. Usually, it was nice to get to see him. It’s not like either of them paid that much attention to you when they were hanging out, but Miguel was nice to look at. Even now, they seemed like they were coming back from a casual soccer match or something, and he still looked amazing. His thick, dark hair was messy in the way that made you want to run your hands through it; his t-shirt hugged his unreasonably broad chest and shoulders perfectly, and his sweatpants — fuck, his sweatpants — his ass looked miraculous as he turned to put his gym bag down.

Miguel’s looking at you as he and Alex step into the living room. “It’s Saturday, Y/N, and the weather’s finally fucking nice. Why’re you reading a book? You’re such a nerd,” Alex snaps as he plops onto the couch next you, pushing your legs off to make room.

“I’m a nerd because I’m reading a book? Am I am tomboy because I’m not wearing a dress, too, or are we keeping it to one stupid superficial stereotype?”

Miguel chuckles as he sits on Alex’s other side. “Cut him some slack, Y/N, he took a soccer ball to the head today. Might be making him even more of an idiot than usual.”

You can’t help but worry; you love the idiot after all.

“You okay? Was it bad?” you’re asking as you run your hand over his head looking for bumps. “I’m fine, mom,” he mocks, pushing you away. “And you? You asshole,” he accuses Miguel playfully. “‘Took a ball to the head’?” he repeats, then turning to you adds, “It was him that kicked it!” Miguel starts laughing.

“It was the perfect setup, man. Not my fault you were distracted.” “Whatever,” Alex says as he reaches for the video game remotes. Knowing them, it was time for FIFA.

You’re eager to hide with how you look right now anyway, so you get up to head into your room. “We didn’t mean to kick you out,” Miguel starts kindly. “ You don’t have to go; you were clearly comfortable here.” “Clearly comfortable”? God that sounded bad in your head. He was “super hot”; you were “clearly comfortable.”

“Thanks, Miguel. It’s fine. I was going to —“ but you don’t finish your excuse as you trip on the remote’s charging wire as you step across, falling unceremoniously to your face right in front of them.

“Mierda!” Miguel yells.

Alex immediately asks, “You okay?,” but it’s Miguel who’s up and over you in the same instant.

“You alright?” he asks softly as his hands grab your hips to help you up.

His hands on you were the last thing you needed right now. So much for composure. “Fine. Really,” you say, your breath shaky. You’re kneeling on your living room floor; Miguel’s squatting in front of you, close; his hands haven’t left your body even though you’re no longer prone. He just watches you closely, eyes beautiful and concerned. You stare back into them, and after a couple more shaky breaths finally manage to stand up and step away, looking anywhere but at him. “‘M fine,” you repeat. You turn away hurriedly and go the few steps to your room. Once safely behind closed doors, your face scrunches and your stomach sinks at the sheer embarrassment.

It’s been days since Miguel was at your apartment, and part of you is happy for the lack of pressure but another part of you still gets a funky feeling in her gut at the idea that the last memory of you he had was of a clumsy mess. He and Alex have a game today, and pretending to convince yourself that you just felt like it today, you make yourself up more than usual for it. You’re actually pretty happy with your look as you head out to meet some friends at the match.

They win. Miguel scores. Twice. Alex’s defense is probably the main reason for their clean sheet.

So, hyped up on adrenaline and victory, they’re laughing and messing around with their teammates as a bunch of people approach the sidelines to congratulate them. Alex spots you and makes a goofy face, always so playful when he’s happy. He jogs over to you and gives you a huge hug.

“Stop, you’re so sweaty!” you squeal. He just holds you tighter and rubs his sweaty hair on you, laughing. When he finally pulls away, Miguel is standing right next to him, smiling at the two of you. “Do I get a hug too?” he teases. “I scored two more goals than he did!”

You’re not sure if he’s kidding, and you’re sure the chuckle you give in response is somewhat tense.

But, stepping toward him, you just say, “Congratulations,” and wrap your arms around his shoulders without getting too close. Damn, they were like boulders. Miguel wraps his arms around your waist and closes the distance you’d maintained, giving you a surprisingly intimate embrace. You’re struck by the feeling of him around you. He’s sweaty, too, and you can smell his musk, but instead of off-putting, you find it incredibly arousing. You can feel the rise and fall of his breathing where your chest is flush with his. He’s so warm, and you just want to breathe him in and trace every ridge of his body. But the hug is already lingering too long to be normal, and you pull back a bit awkwardly. Miguel is still looking at you, a subtle smile on his face.

He seems about to say something when a high pitched squeal right next to you startles you.

“Miguel!” a very pretty girl yells at him as she approaches, unabashedly jumping onto his back. She’s in a cheer uniform. “Oh my god, you were so good!” Miguel’s so sturdy, her jumping on him didn’t throw him off physically, but his face looks a little flustered. “Uh, thanks,” he says politely, putting her down. She just giggles and grabs his arm as she compliments him again.

You feel so awkward watching this, so you just turn around and walk away. You don’t see Miguel looking after you.

You’re at the after party with a couple of your friends. The soccer team was quite popular, and the victory parties tended to be good. You’re mostly having fun, but you can’t help but keep looking over to where Miguel is. Man of the match and man with that face, he was obviously the center of attention. People were coming up to congratulate him left and right. He handled it all so graciously. It shocked you how there was no arrogance in his demeanor; he was just the easygoing life of the party.

You wanted to go talk to him too, but you’d already congratulated him and didn’t know what else you would say. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself again. You could go talk to your brother, who was right next to him, but he was busy flirting, and you didn’t want to ruin it for him.

A bunch of people are dancing in the open space between you and Miguel, and the chaos lets you sneak long looks at him without his noticing. But when your friend leans over and asks, “Who do you keep looking at?,” you realize you have to be less obvious. “No one, just curious who Alex is flirting with,” you lie, proud of how quick you were with it.

“You a jealous, protective sister type?” she laughs.

“No, just curious.” “Is he?” “What?” “Protective?”

“Um, sometimes, depends. Why?”

“Because that guy over there keeps checking you out.” She nods toward an okay-looking guy chatting with someone on the edge of the dance floor. A second later, he was indeed looking over at you. “You should go talk to him!” “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so interested.” “Why not? He’s hot! I’m pretty sure he’s on the team too. You don’t have to marry him, Y/N, just go dance! You’ve been weirdly tense all night.”

You look over again, and your eyes meet. Before you can do anything else, he makes the decision for you, walking over to you.

“Hey.” “Um, hi.” You exchange names and pleasantries, and he asks you if you want to dance. Without thinking about it, you glance toward the person you really wish you were dancing with. To your surprise, Miguel is already looking toward you. He looks less happy than before. You look back at this guy quickly, hoping neither of them noticed.

You feel slightly bad thinking this, using this guy you weren’t super interested in, but you couldn’t help but feel it’d be nice if Miguel saw a side of you that might make him think of you differently, not just as Alex’s sister. It’s just a dance anyway, so, you accept the offer and head to the dance floor.

You fall into a rhythm with the music, with the guy. The dancing is fun; the guy is fine. Your back is to Miguel, and you can’t resist spinning to catch another glimpse, doing it seamlessly as you keep dancing. Your breath catches when your eyes meet his.

Miguel watching you from across the room is doing much more to turn you on than anything your current dance partner is doing, but you channel your new energy into your movements. It’s not a well thought out decision, though in the back of your mind you know who it’s for, but you start moving a bit more suggestively. You let your hips follow the music, let your hands come up to your hair as your body rolls rhythmically. Feeling especially bold, you even manage to meander closer to where Miguel is, giving him a better view.

Unbeknownst to you, this unfortunately also makes Alex, now unoccupied, notice you for the first time. You don’t hear him leaning over to Miguel and saying, “Gross. I hate seeing my sister with random guys. Let’s go get more drinks.” He drags him away, and Miguel, unable to come up with a good reason not to follow, does.

The next time you spin, all you catch is the backs of their heads.

The following week, you’re coming home from classes, and all you can think about is eating. You’d had to skip lunch to finish an assignment and couldn’t wait for dinner.

When you enter your apartment, you find Miguel sitting on your couch.

“Hey,” he greets. “Hi.” He’s sitting on the edge of the sofa closest to you, and he adorably shifts over to make room, as if you couldn’t just go around. You weren’t planning on sitting anyway, but now that he’s wordlessly extended an invitation, you do. “Where’s Alex?”

“Went to take a shower. We’re gonna play a couple games when he’s done.” He gestures toward the video game console. “Are the remotes charged?” you joke. “I hear it’s a hazard to have the wires across the living room floor.” Miguel chuckles lightly at your self-deprecating humor. He’s turned toward you, sitting in the middle of the couch, his elbow on the backrest as he occasionally messes with his luscious hair. “I felt so bad that day. Taking over your space and tripping you. When you looked so peaceful when we got here.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you laugh, amused but also masking your stirring feelings at the fact that he had thought about it at all. “I was just a mess that day. And I wouldn’t call my pyjamas peaceful, just comfortable. In my defense, though, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I liked your pyjamas,” he teases, and you roll your eyes. “What? I did! I’m all for comfy clothing; have you not noticed 90% of my wardrobe is gym clothes?”

“Yes, well, you can get away with it. You’re a guy, and you look like that,” you say, gesturing at his body before you really realize what you’re saying. You tense as soon as you do. It just slipped out, the conversation getting weirdly easy and comfortable with him. “Like what?” he asks, but he’s smirking, knowing what you meant. You just roll your eyes again. “No, c’mon, chula, like what?” He lifts his eyebrows in challenge, mirth in his eyes. You’re too busy reeling from the pet name to have mental energy to come up with a retort. You’re grateful for what would’ve otherwise been embarrassing: your stomach grumbling. Miguel looks at your stomach and giggles. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you say, taking the escape route and walking to the adjoining kitchen. He follows. “You can get away with it too, you know,” he says nonchalantly. You think you know what he means but look back at him questioningly. “The clothes. You always look good.”

You’re glad you’re not facing him, your expression probably revealing your excitement. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” He leans on your counter. “So what are you having?” “I don’t know, whatever we have. Haven’t had time to go to the store.” You’re rummaging through your cabinets. “I can make you something,” he offers. You stop and look at him. “What? I’m a great cook,” he shrugs defensively. “Have you never had my tamales?”

“It’s not about you being good or not,” you giggle. “There’s no reason you should have to cook when you’re just here to hang out.”

He just shrugs again, but there’s a tinge of shyness in his typically confident facade.

You turn to open your fridge, and he comes up right next to you. “Oh shit, you guys have jarritos. Can I steal one?”

“Yeah, of course,” you laugh. “Grab whatever you want.”

You didn’t think he would immediately… As you bend over to grab something from the drawers, Miguel reaches up to grab the soda, leaning forward. Both of you moving simultaneously, your ass presses firmly against his crotch. You both freeze in panic, prolonging the position, before you jump up at the accidental contact. His and your “sorry”’s and “I didn’t mean to”’s get jumbled together in the colossally awkward moment. Miguel looks down, then back up again looking startled. He scurries around to the other side of the counter, it now separating you. “Jesus, Miguel, I didn’t do it on purpose! You don’t have to put a barricade between us; it’s not like I’m gonna jump you!” “No, no, it’s not that! Fuck, it’s, uh, fuck…” He looks lost for words. His hand comes to his face, covering it in resigned embarrassment. His voice is a mumble through his obstructing hand, “I’ve a bd’ve uh sitch-ation.”

“What?” He uncovers his face with an exasperated sigh. “I have… a bit of a… situation,” he whispers, looking down.

“Oh… oh!” you say, realization hitting you. Probably largely because of the awkward tension, at least partially at the idea of you giving Miguel O’Hara a boner, you start cracking up. He just stares at you, deadpan, his hands coming to his hips. “It’s not funny.” “It’s a little funny.” His glare cracks the tiniest bit.

“Okay, maybe it’s a little funny. But it’s your fault!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t mean to what?” Alex asks nonchalantly, coming out of his room, lazily drying his hair.

“Nothing!” you and Miguel say simultaneously.

“Okay… should I just pretend that wasn’t really suspicious?”

“Yes,” you tell him. “It’s nothing, really. Just me being clumsy again.”

His eyes are still skeptical, but Alex just chuckles and nods, letting it go at the look on your face. He heads to the couch with an easy “C’mon, man” at Miguel. Miguel follows, giving you a sideways glance and tense smile. When he sits, he immediately puts a cushion on his lap. You grab the first thing that looks edible in your fridge and head to your room.

Two weekends later finds you at another soccer team party. They’d lost this time, 2-1. Miguel scored their sole goal, and the other team’s second had been a sketchy penalty. If the victory parties were good, the defeat ones were wild. Most of the players, Miguel and Alex among them, were drowning their sorrows, especially after such a disheartening defeat.

You weren’t a player, but you had your own sorrows to drown, and you weren’t stopping yourself from doing just that. You’d hardly seen Miguel in almost two weeks, and the few times you had, he’d been cold, keeping interactions mainly to greetings and goodbyes. You didn’t know if you’d done something wrong, if he was still caught up with your little awkward encounter, or if you were just making it up, your feelings for him needing some outlet. Making up stories by constantly obsessing about him was as good as outlet as you could get sometimes. Alcohol was a better one now.

A while into the party, you’re at the bar for your… you lost count… numberth tequila shot. You down it, lick the salt off your hand, and stick the lime in your mouth, cringing.

Your eyes are still closed when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You open them and see Miguel standing beside you. “Maybe switch to water, huh, guapa?” he tells you.

“Why? M’fine,” you slur.

“Maybe, but you won’t be if you keep this pace up.” “And how would you know?”

“Just noticed,” he shrugs.

You squint your eyes accusingly at him. You didn’t know what you’d feel next time you talked to him, but you hadn’t expected to feel this angry.

“You notice me enough to watch how much I drink but not to say more than two words at a time to me for weeks?” He looks surprised. “Y/N…”

You cross your arms and lift your eyebrows in an implied “what?”

When he doesn’t say anything, you just walk past him. You end up walking through the dance floor, and though it wasn’t your plan, you kind of like moving to the music. You’re drunk enough to the lack the inhibitions to just dance alone. You’re enjoying yourself, not even bothering to look back and see if Miguel was still there. A bit later though, you startle as you feel a hand on your ass. You turn and find a random guy you’ve never met before, smiling at you disgustingly drunkenly. You’re taken aback, your mind already a bit slow from the alcohol, so you haven’t decided yet how to tell him to fuck off by the time Miguel is in front of you shoving him away. He’s not overly aggressive but, even drunk, easily moves the guy away from you with an angry “What the hell, man?”

The other guy looks seriously scared and just lifts his hands with a pathetic “sorry, Miguel.”

“Fucking better be, what the hell is wrong with you?” The other guy stumbles away. Miguel turns towards you, and his expression melts from frightening anger to warm concern in two seconds. “You okay?” he asks, his hands carefully grazing your shoulders. You nod and lean into him. At your seeming comfortable, he lets his arms come around you.

“Thanks,” you whisper in his ear.

“Of course,” he whispers in yours, and it sends a shiver down your entire body. You stare into his eyes, your hands resting on his chest.

“Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna dance with me?”

They don’t call it “liquid courage” for nothing.

Miguel considers you for a moment, but a soft smirk is whispered across is sharp features. He nods slowly, and his hands move slightly further down your back. You close your eyes at the sensation of his hands running along your body. You run your hands up his chest slowly and wrap your arms around his neck. When you open your eyes, you see his crimson ones boring into you.

You start moving a bit more as you focus on the music to relieve some of the tension you’re feeling. He follows your lead, and soon you’re dancing together much more easily. As a couple of songs go by, you’re both moving freely, staying close to each other the whole time.

You’re so exhilarated, and he seems as enveloped in you as you are in him, so the next time the beat calls for it, you let your body twist rhythmically in his grasp. Your back is now flush with his chest, your ass on his crotch, your hand reaching behind you on his neck, in his hair. His hands are firm on your hips, and when you roll them against him, you hear his whispered “Fuck, mami” in your ear and feel his arm come around your middle, pulling you into him. His hips move in rhythm with yours. You’ve probably never been so turned on in your entire life. You keep this up for a delicious while. You can feel Miguel is hard through his jeans, but he makes no sign of being embarrassed, just continuing to dance with you with expert hip movements that make your imagination go wild. Of course he’d be an amazing dancer. Of course you’d imagine what else his hips could do.

You twist back in his embrace, coming to face him. He holds you close, and you bring a hand to his face. He leans into your touch. You move your face up slightly, and he seems to be following, moving his down. You’re so close, even think you feel your lips graze his, when someone bumps up against you, making you stumble.

Miguel’s strong arms catch you, but the moment is gone, and a second later, he looks startled.

“You okay?” he asks, stepping back a bit, speaking loudly to keep his distance. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you assure, but he seems off.

“Let’s get some air, huh?”

You follow him outside, the sudden change in ambience making your head spin a little. You lean against the wall, and he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Sure you’re okay?” You nod but don’t say anything, maybe a bit drunker than you thought, trying to ground yourself. He leans on the wall next to you. His body is warm where it grazes your side. You can feel his gaze intermittently on you. You get a little dizzy again, and you lean onto his shoulder. He just lets you, and you stand like that for a while.

His fingers graze the back of your hand.

“Want me to take you home?”

You nod into his body. He wraps a firm arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the party.

You’re home before you know it, the whole journey a blur dominated by his warmth by your side. When you reach your front door, you lean on it and look up at him. His subtle smile elicits your full one. “Thanks,” you whisper. “’S no problem,” he shrugs. “You’ll be okay?” “Yeah,” you nod. You’re already sobering up. “You?”

He chuckles and nods.

“I wasn’t the one downing tequila shots like water,” he teases. Your cheeks warm, and you look down as you chuckle.

“Wasn’t that many…”

He laughs.

“It was, cariño.” Again with the pet names.

“I’m still surprised you noticed.” “I always notice you,” he responds without missing a beat. Your eyes snap up to his, and you see the longing there.

You stare at each other for a heavy moment, then, drunk more on the sensations of your earlier almost-kiss than on alcohol, chasing that feeling, you lean up to try again. Your lips are a breath away from his when he looks down, effectively rejecting your advance. You pull away, mortified.

“Sorry, I… sorry,” you stutter as you scramble for your keys. You turn to your door. “Y/N,” he whispers, his hand holding your wrist softly. “It’s okay,” you say, looking back him, wiping tears from your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything; sorry I misunderstood.”

You quickly go inside and close the door. You lean on it, crying. Miguel, eyes closed, fists clenched, rests his forehead on the opposite side.

Miguel doesn’t come around for a while. Even as days pass, you can’t stop thinking about your night together. Confusion, sadness, embarrassment — all mixing together into a terrible cocktail.

Another match day rolls around, and you can’t stomach the idea of watching Miguel play, of potentially having to talk to him after. You tell Alex you’re really sorry to not support him this time, but that you’re not feeling well. He worries over you a while, unhelpfully but adorably emptying your medicine cabinet onto the kitchen counter, looking through stuff, suggesting this and that, telling you to text him anything you needed that he could bring you after.

A while later, you’ve just slumped down onto the couch, when your stomach sinks at the sight you’re met with. There, at the corner of the room, lie his cleats. He’d been cleaning them the night before and had clearly forgotten to put them back in his gym bag.

“Fuck.”

You lift yourself up, grab them, and head over to the stadium.

When you get there, you pound at the locker room door, and it opens — of course, you couldn’t catch a fucking break — to Miguel O’Hara’s gorgeous face. Though he looks at you intently, you can’t quite read his expression. Then he yells over his shoulder, “Ale!”

Alex jogs over and, upon seeing you, lets out the biggest sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God. I fucking love you.” He reaches for the cleats you’re holding up to him and gives you a bear hug. “Saved my fucking life, Y/N/N. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead. “You don’t look as sick. You’ll be okay?” He’s clearly in a rush to get back but wants to make sure you’re alright.

You nod and playfully shove his chest, pushing him back into the locker room. “You’re the best!” he yells over his shoulder as he saunters back. Miguel is still just standing there, all geared up for the match. It crosses your sick mind how good the uniform looks on him.

“You’re sick?” he asks.

“Nothing I won’t get over.” You offer him a weak smile. He’s nodding slowly, considering.

“Stay for the match?”

“Miguel, I —“ “Please.” You’ve never heard him plead before. You’re head is nodding before your mind can catch up. He just nods too. “I’ll find you after.” And with that, he jogs back into the locker room.

You’d never known ninety minutes could drag on for eternity, with a half-time’s worth of eternity in between. You’re sure you’re heartbeat was elevated the entire time, your mind and emotions reeling. What was Miguel going to say to you after the match? You had absolutely no read on him during your short interaction before. Then again, apparently you weren’t always great at reading him.

Minute after minute trickles by. At the end of the second half, your team up a goal (yes, Miguel’s), the ref announces an unusually large number of minutes. You moan with everyone else, for your own reasons. What was a potential leveler compared to the leveling of your heart?

Slowly, the minutes pass. The other team builds a mounting attack; they get a good attempt; they miss. The whistle blows; the crowd cheers, and you, you’re frozen in place.

You thaw yourself slowly as the players shake hands, go to their respective huddles. By the time they’re roaming the sidelines freely, you’ve only just managed to leave your seat.

As you descend the bleachers stairs, you catch sight of Miguel. He’s obviously searching, halfheartedly ignoring the congratulations coming from all sides. His eyes eventually meet yours, and as soon as they do, he’s running over to you, meeting you much closer to the bleachers than the field.

He comes to a stop right in front of you and just watches you. You just watch him. “Congratulations,” you say. He chuckles, lightly shaking his head.

“Thanks.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Y/N…” “Yeah?” “I…” “Miguel!” you’re interrupted. “Congratulations! Way to pull it out!” “Thanks, yeah, thank you,” he says hurriedly, looking back over to you. “Listen, I just, I wanted to clear things up after how we left them.” You nod, worrying your bottom lip, your arms wrapping around you defensively.

“I didn’t want you to think that —“

“Congratulations, Miguel! Did it again, man!” And a slap on the back.

“Uh-huh, yeah, thank you,” Miguel responds, turning away, approaching rudeness. “For fuck’s sake,” he says, much more softly. “C’mere.” He grabs your arm and drags you around the bleachers, stopping when you have a semblance of cover. He’s looking around to make sure no one else is about to talk to him, and his worried looks right after he’s just won makes you laugh. The sound draws his attention fully back to you. He smiles at seeing you smiling.

“Where can a guy get a little privacy, huh?” he jokes. “Probably not still by the field where he just scored the winning goal, I’m guessing,” you tease. He chuckles. Then he takes a deep, sobering breath. “Listen, Y/N…”

His tone sounds apologetic, and it makes you immediately think the worst. He probably just didn’t want you to be embarrassed. Wanted to fix things so they wouldn’t be awkward if he hung around, which he’d obviously want to do given Alex was his best friend.

Already fighting back tears, wanting to beat him to the punch to save face in whatever way you could at this point, you cut him off. “Miguel, you don’t have to explain anything or anything. I’m sorry I made more out of a good time than I should have. Please don’t let me keep you from hanging out with my brother even if I’m around, and I hope we can still be friends.” “What? No, that’s not… This isn’t about Alex. I mean, well it is a little bit.” He’s looking unsure. “Just keep things how they were before. It’s all fine.” “Is that what you want?” He looks serious. “What do you mean?” “Is that what you want? To keep things how they were before? To still be friends?”

“I… well… it’s what you want, isn’t it?” “I never said that.” “You didn’t have to. I tried to kiss you, and you pretty much said no to that. Twice.”

“I didn’t. Well, once, yeah I did, but it was only because I was worried you were too drunk. I didn’t want to take advantage of you. And, also, maybe a little bit because I panicked, okay?” He sounds more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard him yet. “I was worried it’d be weird with Alex or that I’d fuck it up with you, and I just, I don’t know, I panicked. And the other time wasn’t my fault. I was going to kiss you if you hadn’t stumbled.” “Someone bumped into me!” “I’m not blaming you! I just, it just, it made me remember you were drunk, and I didn’t want to be like that idiot guy I’d had to push away a while earlier.” “You’re nothing like that guy,” you say sternly. “I…” He’s started to look frustrated, unable to find the words. He runs his hand over his face, takes another deep breath. “What if you try now?” “What?” “I don’t know how to tell you. So maybe I can just show you. Try again, and no one will bump into you. I won’t panic, and I won’t think of all the things that could go wrong. I’ll think of how I’ve been feeling since that night. Absolutely fucking miserable. It’s been eating away at me; all I could think about was making it right with you, but I didn’t know how, didn’t know if I should. But I can’t take it anymore, and if you feel the same way, then, fuck, let’s just stop getting in our own way.”

“Miguel…” “Yeah?” “That was pretty good for not knowing how to tell me.” Your face forms the slightest teasing smirk, your eyes lighting up at the realization of what he’s telling you. “Shut up and kiss me already,” he says, rolling his eyes, unable to help his bright smile, pulling your body to his and bringing his lips onto yours.

You pull him into you, reciprocating eagerly. He moans into your mouth, and you feel his towering body sink onto yours. His arms are tight around you, one hand cupping your head, bringing you close. His kiss is fervent, desperate but concentrated.

You run your hands in his hair, and he chuckles gruffly, the sound muffled by your chasing mouth. You lose yourself in his embrace. You grip him tightly, breaching into his mouth, wanting to kiss him as much as wanting to be kissed by him. You could feel the beginning of a beautiful push and pull as your mouths move together, your bodies mold into each other’s.

You want to kiss him forever, but some loud cheering nearby startles you slightly apart. Miguel is looking deeply into your eyes. He kisses you again, lets his forehead rest on yours when he pulls back. You’re smiling when you say, “You should probably get back. I’m sure people are looking for you.” He groans dramatically and hides in the crook of your neck. He kisses it before saying, “I just want to be with you.”

You giggle, nuzzling his face with yours, holding him close, your hand in his hair.

“Yeah, me too.” He hums into your neck. He plants another kiss there, and one on your cheek on his way up, as he lifts his head again. His rough hands caress your face tenderly.

“This is good,” he says simply. You laugh and nod. “Fuck ‘em. I’ll go over there at some point. Let’s just stay here a little while longer.”

“Okay,” you smile.

Miguel leans back into you, kissing you and kissing you and kissing you.

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara angst #across the spiderverse #spiderman #atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman fanfiction #slow burn #mutual pining #bbf!miguel #soccerplayer!miguel

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suzukiblu · 9 months

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Hey kids, I've got some more "Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!" behind this here read-more. You know, if that's a thing you're into. 👀

“I don’t know what names are good,” Superboy says finally, his voice stiff. “Or sound good. I never even heard music before Kid Flash was–I just don’t know what sounds are good. Or whatever.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s ‘good’,” Billy says, wondering why Superboy cares so much about his name “sounding” good and also why Cadmus is apparently the worst. They never even played music for him? What, at all? He makes an immediate mental note to figure out how to set up the wireless speakers Batman had delivered and, like, Spotify or something. “You just have to like it.”

“Oh,” Superboy says, just barely frowning again. “Are you . . . sure?”

“Yeah,” Billy says firmly. “I’m definitely sure.”

“Oh,” Superboy says again, then looks down at his feet. Billy feels bad for him and is going to set up like, a million different playlists the first chance he gets. Just like a lot of different stuff, so Superboy can figure out what he likes.

“Do you still want suggestions?” he asks. “I promise I won’t pick anything that sounds bad.”

“. . . fine,” Superboy says, still looking at his feet. It’s not a resounding “yes” or anything, but it’s no a “no”, Billy’s pretty sure, and he does want to help Superboy pick a good name, so . . . it’s probably okay to try again, he thinks.

“Okay,” he says, trying to think of something really good and not just random stuff this time. Like–names are important, and Superboy obviously cares about what other people are gonna think of what he picks, so . . .

Superboy keeps not looking at him. Billy tries not to worry about it. Maybe Superboy just doesn’t like looking at people at all. He didn’t make eye contact with Kid Flash’s parents while they were here either, and barely even with Kid Flash. Which makes sense, he guesses, because why would someone used to telepathic communication really feel a need to look at anyone’s face? Superboy probably doesn’t have the . . . instinct, or whatever.

Well, it’s fine if he doesn’t, Billy figures. Either he’ll learn it or he’ll just not like it either way, and neither of those options are a big deal or anything. The name thing and coming up with rules and stuff and helping Superboy feel comfortable are way more important right now.

"Um . . . actually, my mom's name was Marilyn," Billy suggests a little shyly as an old idea occurs to him. It’s been a while since he really thought about it, honestly, but . . . "So you could be 'Lynn', maybe? If that's not too weird? I used to think that if I ever had a kid I'd name them after my mom, 'cuz my dad's name was Clarence and that's pretty old-fashioned, though I guess if you were a girl you could've just been 'Claire', so . . . well, maybe Clarence could be your middle name, actually? If you like it, I mean."

Superboy . . . pauses. Frowns at the floor.

"Why would you name me that?" he asks skeptically. "You might have an actual kid someday and want to use it for them."

"I have an actual kid right now," Billy says reasonably. "Why wouldn't I use it for you?"

Superboy sits very, very still, and doesn't say anything. Billy starts worrying that maybe that was weird or too much and maybe he's already the worst dad ever and maybe now Superboy thinks he's weird and too much and the worst dad ever and is just gonna get up and go straight back to Kid Flash's house and never even talk to him again or–

"I count as an actual kid to you?" Superboy asks, his voice completely neutral.

Oh, Billy realizes.

Man, he's dumb sometimes.

"Yeah," he says firmly. "You definitely count."

". . . okay," Superboy says, looking at the wall. "'Lynn' works."

"Awesome," Billy says, smiling at him as wide as he thinks he can get away with. He doesn't want to look fake or like he's trying too hard or to be overwhelming or anything like that. He just wants to make it obvious that he's happy right now. "Nice to meet you, Lynn Clarence Batson."

"Nice to meet you too," Superboy says–Lynn says–glancing sidelong at him just a little bit hesitantly. "Um . . . Dad."

Billy grins.

Okay. Not the worst dad ever after all, then.

#billy batson #conner kent #captain marvel #shazam #superboy #young justice #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!#rinfic

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pombeom · 2 months

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no escape from you | beomgyu fic (part 1)

pairings: enemies to ??, roommate! beomgyu x reader

warnings: suggestive content

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for days but i finally wrote it the way i want. might make this a series with smut in the next chapter so keep a lookout 👀 (not proof read)

You were the responsible one between you and your roommate. You always kept things clean, even picking up after his dirty dishes. But being his partner for a paired project was not what you signed up for. Gambling your grade and trying to work with him? Not a chance.

When are you free? We really need to start our presentation!

Your frantic spamming of texts went straight to delivered and were probably not going to be read for another 24 hours at least. You would think that being assigned to do a presentation with someone who was quite literally your roommate would be a breeze, but with Beomgyu never being around, the task seemed impossible. You hated the guts of this guy but you were willing to work through it for the sake of your grade. Well that’s only if he comes backs to your shared dorm before the end of the fucking day. Your sleep schedule awaits no one.

Sat at the kitchen table, you spend the next 3 hours researching for parts of your presentation knowing that it’s probably be easier to start it off without Beomgyu. Scrolling through websites and watching videos on the topic, you write down the notes in your notebook but eventually, without meaning to, your eyes slam shut, falling alseep in your folded arms which rest on the table.

A lock clicks as the door screeches open. At the early hours of the morning, you are awakened by your drunk roommate. You jolt your eyes open upon hearing the noise of his shoes, his footsteps uneven, indicating his intoxicated state. Anger bubbles in you as you turn sharply to face Beomgyu, giving him an intense glare which he meets with his half open eyes, appearing to be laughing at you.

“Aww, did you wait up for me, sweetheart,” he taunts, knowing how much you hate the stupid nicknames he gives you on purpose.

“No. In fact, I fell alseep trying to finish our fucking presentation which is due in fucking 2 days! Do you know how many times I called and texted?” Your tone came out harsh and direct which in some ways was exactly what you were going for but more so, you just wanted to get your point across.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I was out.”

“I can see that. And stop calling me “sweetheart”. It sounds so fucking stupid. I have a name and that’s what I’d like to be called.”

He inches closer to you, stumbling a little, grabbing onto your arms for support. His grip is gentle but firm, cautious to hold tight but not to hurt you.

“Listen sweetheart, if you’re gonna yell at me at least do it when you’re not dressed like this. I can’t help but get a little turned on.”

“Fuck you!” You turn a shade of crimson as you feel a sense of angry embarrassment. Your slip dress was short and the low cut did nothing but show off your cleavage to Beomgyu who towered over you, getting a clear view of your chest.

“Well if that’s what you want, sweetheart. I’m down. But maybe tomorrow or something. I’m tired right now.” He smirks, saying goodbye with a two finger salute.

With that, he makes his way to his own room, leaving you filled with a cloud of confusion and unease. He may have been joking but his words made your stomach flutter, carrying and intense heat throughout your body.

I really need to go to bed.

————————————————————————

Getting approximately 4 hours of sleep last night had you waking up on the wrong side of bed. You were cranky beyond help and your mood only depleted when you saw Beomgyu sitting at the kitchen table, munching away at his cereal.

“Good morning sleepyhead, get a good night of rest?,” his remark was sarcastic, almost shaming you for your evidently tired appearance.

“Beomgyu please. It’s too early in the morning to be arguing with you.”

“As you wish.”

You joined him at the table, grabbing yourself some fruit and toast and you both continued to eat in silence. The air was stiff as you could feel Beomgyu constantly looking up from his bowl to stare into your face whilst you desperately attempted to avoid looking in the same direction to prevent any accidental eye contact.

Why was he being so intense today?

As you finish your last bite, a wave of relief washes over you as you quickly get up and head over to the sink, washing up your plate before you feel a presence behind you. Beomgyu’s chest came in direct contact with your back sending a flush of pink straight to your cheeks. You tried to move away but his arms caged you. You could hear his breath against your ear, leaving a tingling sensation on your sensitive skin.

“You know my offer from last night still stands. If you’re up for it,” his whispers send you into a frenzy and you turn around faster than the speed of light almost challenging him as you look up to his face.

“Listen to me Choi Beomgyu. You have no right to speak to me like that. Nothing of the sort will ever happen. Do. You. Understand?” Your voice was firm and confident, concealing any embarrassment you felt earlier.

“Shit. That was kinda hot, sweetheart.” He places his hands over yours which had somehow made his way up his chest, grabbing ahold of his white t-shirt. “Now, we have a class to get to. Wouldn’t want to be late now would we?”

The realisation struck harder than lightning as you jolt you eyes over to the clock, knowing you had a little over 7 minutes to make it to your class. If you ran.

You push Beomgyu away and grab your bag and slip on your shoes by the door and dash out the door, without care for your roommate who was also in the same class.

“Hey, wait for me!” His voice yells from behind you, almost catching up.

“Beomgyu, I really don’t have the time for this right now. I’m gonna be late.”

“I know a shortcut. Follow me.” He grabs ahold of your hand, dragging you in the opposite direction from the one you’re used to. What started off as speed walking had evolved into a sprint as you’re left huffing and puffing trying to match the strides of his long legs.

Within minutes you arrive at the door of your lecture theatre, astounded that you made it on time. As you both walked in, still clutching hands, you quickly noticed the limited seats available. Almost every row was full apart from 2 seats on the furthest end of the 7th row on the left.

“There,” Beomgyu points, upon identifying the seats, ”Guess we’re sitting together today.” He sounded rather pleased, the corners of his mouth lifting to display his smug expression.

“Brilliant. Sooo excited,” you sneered, ensuring that the sarcasm in your tone was conveyed as you squeezed past the entire row, making your way to the end, as Beomgyu takes a seat to your right.

“You better be, sweetheart.”

#beomgyu ff #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu #beomgyu angst #enemies to lovers #txt #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt ff #roommates to lovers #smut

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 2 months

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Wanna Make Purple?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: After one woman takes a look into your studio, she suggests hosting a class so others may enjoy the art of finger painting. Youn thought she wanted to know about the class so she could join. No, it’s her son who walks through the door and turns your world upside down.

Square Filled: diana reid for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Your small studio in the bustling city of Quantico is insignificant but you love it. You’re an aspiring artist who wishes to be featured in museums and have galleries open all over the country. If you work hard enough, you’ll get there one day. If you’re not in your apartment, you’re spending time in your studio that’s completely filled with art supplies, half-finished paintings, sculptures that you never finished, and furniture that’s paint-covered. You’re not a sculptor but you’re taking some classes to get better at it and broaden your artistic scope.

The curtains are open allowing natural sunlight to shine through the windows, and it gives your studio a homely feel to it. Even your apartment has bigger windows than it should because you love letting in natural light. The sun is setting which means it’s time for you to pack up and head back home for the night. You’re cleaning up the supplies you used when you notice someone standing outside the floor-length windows at the front.

The woman immediately leaves when she notices you looking but you don’t think much of it. Many people walk by when you’re in here to admire what you do so you’re not fazed by the woman. However, someone knocks on your door seconds after she leaves. You wipe your hands on your apron and open the door to see the same woman now standing right in front of you.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Sorry for bothering you but I couldn’t help but notice what beautiful art you have.”

You look back at your art and smile at the compliment. You like to do a lot of things to stay relevant but you feel happiest when you fingerpaint. You love getting down and dirty with the art and using what you have instead of what you can buy to create timeless pieces. Finger painting is more than just putting paint on your finger and making lines. It’s precision and knowing when you use your pinkie instead of your thumb or when you use a knuckle or your palm. You’re in control of every little thing so in the end, you can truly say you gave it all.

“Thank you. I have a lot of fun finger painting. I think more people should do it.”

“Do you offer classes?”

“I never thought about it.”

“Well, I’m here in Virginia for a little while so if you reconsider, I know someone who would be eager to take a class.”

“Thank you. I will think about it.”

The woman leaves shortly after but her suggestion stays in your head long after she is gone. Teaching a class? Do you even have time for that? With school and your own business, you’re not sure if you have the energy to teach a dozen students. If you can, how old should they be? Children or adults? No, don’t be silly. Yeah, adults are going to be a lot easier to work with. Hosting a class whether that be once a week or a few times a week is a huge commitment, but you always said more people should be finger painting.

A few weeks go by until you’ve convinced yourself that teaching a small class would be beneficial for you. If you can put that on your resume, it shows commitment and willingness to work with a team. Thousands of people are following you on social media, so that’s how you reach out to everyone that you will be teaching a small class on a trial basis. If it works, great. If not, then you won’t lose any sleep over it.

Dozens of people around the country wish they could be in Virginia to attend your class. If all goes well, you might be able to visit other places and teach more people. One thing at a time, Y/N. The ones that are local have expressed interest but none of the people online look like the woman who met you that evening in your studio. You’re not sure how to get ahold of her or if she has social media and thankfully, you don’t need to deal with it.

The woman walks past your studio while looking at her phone, and you leave to catch up to her before she is gone forever.

“Ma’am?” She turns and stares at you as if she’s trying to remember who you are. “Hi, you stopped by my studio a few weeks ago. You asked me if I was teaching any classes.”

“I did?” Something crosses her eyes and she smiles immediately. “Of course, I did! Have you reconsidered?”

“Yeah. I’m actually putting together a class this weekend.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!”

“It’s at my studio at two in the afternoon on Saturday.”

“Perfect. Thank you for telling me.”

“Sure. I hope to see you there.”

You two part ways shortly after that, and you go back to prepping your studio to fit at least half a dozen people. You want them to have their own space so you spread out the canvases evenly throughout with a side table for them to keep their paints. Saturday comes quicker than you think and before you know it, your studio is filled with everyone who signed up for it. The woman you met isn’t here and you’ve been trying to find something to do to stall time, however, you’re already running ten minutes past two.

It sucks but you’ll have to start without her.

“Alright, thank you all for coming. I appreciate your eagerness to finger paint. No, I promise you that this isn’t like most finger painting is.” The door opens and a very tall and lean man walks in wearing jeans, a white shirt, a sweater vest over that, and a tie tucked between them. “Hi.”

“Sorry to interrupt but my mother signed me up for this class. Are you Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Spencer Reid.”

“Well, Spencer, take a seat. There’s one in the back.”

“Thanks. Sorry for being late.”

Spencer scurries to the back of the class and takes a seat, and you continue what you are saying.

“As I was saying, finger painting is so much more than putting paint on your fingers. I’ll have another class next week to go more into it but I want you guys to get used to the feel of paint on your fingers. I want you to create lines, and connect them if you want, but for the first ten minutes or so, I want you to really get used to the idea of not using paintbrushes. Use any color you like and begin.”

Everyone chooses the color they want and squirts the paint onto the palette on the small desk next to the easels. Two girls in the front giggle like schoolgirls at getting down and dirty with the paint while two men are apprehensive about getting their fingers dirty.

“Don’t worry about getting paint everywhere. It’s washable.”

Everyone seems to be in good spirits and you give encouraging words where you can. You approach Spencer who is having a hard time keeping paint long enough on his fingers to create a straight line.

“Having trouble?”

“A little, I guess. I just…”

“Just what?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay if you don’t like finger painting. It’s not for everyone.”

“No, it’s not that. I don’t get the point of finger painting. It’s messy and unpredictable and it’s hard to control what the paint is going to do.”

“Really? You think finger painting is childish?”

“Yeah.”

“Clean your hand. Let me show you something.”

Spencer does as he’s told while you squirt green, blue, and pink paint onto the palette. You grab Spencer’s hand and barely dip two of his fingers into the blue and two into the pink. You press his fingers to the canvas lightly, creating little dots that will represent the petals on a lavender flower. Once done, you have him clean his hand so you can create the stems of the flower.

“See? Finger painting is more than just putting paint on the canvas. It’s about manipulating the art as a whole and controlling every aspect of it. Brushes are different. They might have benefits that this way doesn’t but I’ve always found it harder to control a brush than it is my own fingers.”

“Impressive,” he says, looking deep into your eyes.

Spencer is in awe of your work. He doesn’t know what to say to this. He doesn’t mind being proven wrong. In fact, he finds it very attractive when someone can outsmart him. Someone calls your name and you leave Spencer’s side to help her out, but Spencer can’t take his eyes off you.

Throughout the entire class, Spencer has a hard time focusing on painting because he can’t help but notice you. He keeps asking for help knowing he can do it but he really wants to feel you right next to him holding his hand. You don’t mind. Spencer is the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

It doesn’t hurt to play a bit.

After the hour is over, everyone clears out of your studio, eager for the next one. If all classes are like this, you might consider doing this more often. Spencer is the last one out but instead of leaving like he should, he closes the door so that it’s only you and Spencer alone.

“Good job today. With a few more classes, you’ll be an expert.”

“You’re the expert, not me.”

He gathers everyone’s paint tubes and places them in the box at the front of the class while you grab the palettes that you’ll clean later. You and Spencer meet at the last easel but neither of you pick anything up.

“You got a little something…” He gestures to his own lips. “You got red paint on your lips.”

“Like I said, it’s washable. It’ll come off with a shower. Plus, it’s non-toxic so it can get in your mouth and it won’t hurt you.”

“Good to know.”

He takes two steps closer to you and you’re suddenly aware of how tall and handsome he is. Your eyes shift down to his lips and you smirk slightly.

“You got blue on your lips.”

“Wanna make purple?”

You don’t have to answer him. Pulling him in and pressing your lips to his is a good enough answer in and of itself. Spencer pulls you closer by your hips and you wrap your arms around his neck. Damn, he’s even a good kisser. Whoever his mom is, you gotta thank her for bringing her son to your class.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fiction #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic

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narutouzumakiarchive · 4 months

Note

what are your thoughts on the “kishi based off naruto and sasuke off him and his brother so it’s weird and morally wrong to ship sasunaru.” IMO I’m like…you know what else is weird? kishi making the two characters that are supposedly based of him and his brother kiss accidentally and not only did they accidentally kiss but that scene is replayed multiple times in the manga and anime. So yeah…

Well I many thoughts.

For starters, the interview in question (and I'm still not sure of the source) states that the bond between Kishimoto and Seishi, his brother, was based on the aspect of feeling mutual pain.

Now let's look at another interview, from Kishimoto the lying liar. In it he states that his wife might secretly realize that Hinata isn't the real model for his wife because his wife is quite strong, which the interviewer noted was kind of like Sakura. Isn't that interesting.

In this interview he also implicitly acknowledges the implicit similarity between Sakura and his wife based on the particular aspect of strength. And yet, sasusaku's wouldn't use this interview as an indication that Sakura was in a romantic relationship with Naruto. Nor would they claim that Kishimoto (who frequently acknowledged that Naruto was a reflection of him) was writing a manga in which his wife (Sakura) was romantically in love with the analogue of his brother (Sasuke) Why?

Because while fiction is a reflection of life, it is in no way an exact representation of life. People in real life are complex multi dimensional beings and have complex and multi dimensional relationships; in other words, people and relationships have dimensions and depth that extend beyond one singular aspect, especially characteristics that are as common and generic as strength, and shared feelings of pain. Thus, Naruto and Sasuke, who also have additional depth in their bond beyond feelings of shared pain (let me know when brothers have feelings of uncertainty regarding the nature of their relationship btw) aren't a perfect analogue of Seishi and Kishimoto.

But I also want to note that they never extend this logic to the reverse. For example, Naruto and Sasuke are explicitly likened to Izanagi and Izanami, who in the Japanese mythos Kishimoto drew inspiration from, on the basis of perfect complementarity, were married. Surely, according to their logic, since basing the fictional dynamic between Naruto and Sasuke of of one aspect of the dynamic between two Gods who were married means that Naruto and Sasuke had romantic feelings for eachother, right? And yet something tells me those hypocrites who are triggered by Naruto and Sasuke would disagree. Because even they can intuit that fictional depictions don't necessarily have a perfect 1 to 1 relationship with the things they derive inspiration from.

But, additionally I need to add that Kishimoto could say that Naruto and Sasuke are the most brotherly of brothers and that it would be a crime to ship them — he could even have them end the series affirming they were like brothers — and it still wouldn't matter for two reasons.

One, intent does not equal impact. It would not matter if Kishimoto intended for Naruto and Sasuke to have a brotherly dynamic if what we were shown in the text is NOT a brotherly dynamic. People put a lot of stock in information from interviews, but while that paratext can help enhance our understanding of the text, ultimately, it is seperate from the text and the text is king — in other words, the purpose of a system (in this case, the Naruto text) is what it does.

But let me talk about a funny example first before I discuss Naruto and Sasuke. In 2009, Folgers Coffee released an infamous commercial that made the relationship between a brother and sister take center stage.

youtube

Now I suggest you watch the video for yourself, but for people who want the TLDR: It received a ton attention and backlash as a result of the very obvious incestuous undertones.

Now the video was obviously meant to depict the dynamic between a normal brother and sister. I mean, taboo themes in a commercial for a brand that has consistently utilized rhetorical appeals to wholesome conservative family values makes for bad business. And yet, despite the commercial making it obvious that the main characters in the ad were brother and sister by having them explicitly indicate as much, that line didn't do much the quell the underlying tension that viewers picked up on when watching the coy flirtation and intense gazes.

Which brings me back to Naruto and Sasuke. Most people that interact with media do so casually. Many are looking for simple minded entertainment. They aren't going to comb through the internet to look for cherry picked interviews to discern the nature of Naruto and Sasuke's relationship. They'll simply look at what's presented in the narrative to do so, and what the narrative presents is that of an overwhelmingly romantic dynamic between Naruto and Sasuke.

Romance is a "social structure that's biologically potentiated." This will receive more elaboration in another post, but at its core much of what we consider to be romantic has been shaped by shared socioculturally produced conventions (that can be specific to particular cultures/societies or more globalized). And when it comes to determining what is romantic in a narrative, the shared conventions and expectations are further mediated by the values that the text promotes.

People who interact casually with Naruto won't see Kishimoto's interviews, but they will see things like...

The classic romantic kiss/almost kiss intimate moment in the rain

Sakura stating that all she wants from Sasuke is acknowledgement in an explicitly romantic context (which is an example of a convention/ideal being promoted in the text as romantic), Naruto internally identifying with Sakura in this regard, and Sasuke giving Naruto the acknowledgement that he wants but not Sakura

Naruto getting tingles in his lower parts when thinking of said acknowledgement from Sasuke

Sasuke thinking about his kiss with Naruto and Naruto's dream during what he believed to be his final moments, and indicating it was one of the many reasons why his body decided to move on its own to save Naruto, a moment that was explicitly paralleled with Haku's sacrifice for Zabuza's dream a mere few chapters later, the same Haku that was implied to have subtextually romantic feelings for Zabuza [and a quick interjection, acknowledgement of what is presented in the text does not equal promotion. Moral critiques are important and just as valid as more stylistic analyses BUT they are distinct things. "Haku was never implied to have feelings for Zabuza because that's gross" is not a meaningful analysis]

Naruto making a proposal that significantly resembles the structure of shinju (double suicide), (a concept that has great significance in Japanese and Western popular culture, hello shared cultural conventions, hello Chikamatsu Monzaemon, hello Romeo and Juliet) a concept that was invoked by Omoi at the beginning of the volume that Naruto's proposal was in. This concept is promoted as a romantic value in the text via Omoi, and of course, is accords with popular sociocultural understandings of what we know to be Romantic.

And make no mistake, Kishimoto was intimately aware of the history of the romantic convention he drew from.

Naruto being Sasuke's tether to humanity in the same way that Rin was Obito's tether to humanity as well as Naruto being visually framed in Sasuke's memory in the exact same way that Rin was framed in Obito's memories in back-to-back chapters.

And there's more, but there's no need to continue because even just these moments highlight how far beyond the het dynamics Naruto and Sasuke are in terms of mutual, romantic implications. Naruto and Sasuke's dynamic is shown as romantic which it why it wouldn't even matter if Naruto and Sasuke weren't intended to be romantic.

Now, the second reason why it wouldn't matter if Naruto and Sasuke were intended to be non romantic brothers is that.... they aren't brothers. Like the most surefire way to make a bond be brotherly is to make the characters related. [And not have their first pivotal interaction be a classic "accidental kiss" ship bait moment that was iconic enough to be recycled by their kids who are now love interests.] And further, the trope of two people (gay people in particular) who aren't siblings but have a unique, powerful and intimate bond that's metaphorized and/or euphemized as sibling-like doesn't inherently negate romance.

But let me provide an example. There's a show called Breaking Bad, centered on a man who ostensibly turns to a life of crime in order to protect his family, but he's not important here. In the show, we're provided with the backstory of the primary antagonist in Season 4, Gus Fring. And the viewer gets to see that the reason Gus decided to devote his life to getting revenge on the cartel was because the loss of someone that was particularly close and precious to him, a man named Hector.

Within Gus' backstory, there's really only one scene of note that implies the two are gay. When a previous antagonist named Hector crudely pees into the pool, in the presence of Gus and Max, and is chastised by a fellow associate, Hector remarks that the two men won't say anything because they like what they see and makes suggestive kissing noises at them.

But there's something interesting about the way Max describes the relationship between himself and Gus. He explicitly states that he knows Gustavo like a brother. Hell, the name of the business that he planned to start alongside Gus was called Los Pollos Hermanos (translated in the show as The Chicken Brother's) and even the episode in which their story is expounded upon is named "Hermanos." And yet, many viewers picked up on the romantic subtext between Max and Gus, subtext that the showrunner confirmed was intentional. In the viewers minds, the subtext wasn't wholly negated because they knew eachother like brothers.

And that's because, the metaphor of the sibling, is often merely utilized to invoke desirable traits of idealized siblinghood (like friendship and trust) while setting aside the biological limitations of actual sibling bonds. Hence, in Japanese and Western media, this invocation of the sibling-like bond often occurred (and still does) in tandem with romantic subtext, and this is especially common in gay narratives when characters are trying to understand the nature of their feelings.

But this is a nuance that is lost by people that only chronically consume battle shonen. If you showed them the scene of Max talking about his dynamic with Gus they'd decry the people who dared to call it gay and make some fake deep statement about how people want to undermine pure brotherly bonds by making everything romantic. Because only in the Naruto fandom will people complain about you bringing up the fact that maybe it's gay to think about a kiss when you're about to die or to feel special butterflies when you're acknowledged by your rival. They'd combust if you tried to explain that idealized characteristics present in particular relational categories (like friendship and brotherhood) can overlap.

And if you go back to the interview, in which feelings of intensely shared pain are regarded as brotherly, you'll see that Kishimoto notes just that. He states that feelings of brotherly love and friendship are the same exact thing. Which means that in the period when Sasuke considered Sakura a nakama, something that obviously ended after he left the village, according to the very same interview that narusasu antis foolishly claim debunks our ship, it would mean that Sasuke also had fraternal feelings for Sakura as he did for the rest of Team 7 and thus was morally wrong. But you can't expect logic from het shippers.

Which brings me to my final set of points. I've already reached the 30 image limit so I can't post more images on this post (and will probably save it for another ask) but my post this far has only adressed the demographic that genuinely believes in the narusasu are like brothers argument. But, you need to understand that a significant portion of the people that push that argument don't even believe in it themselves, and I'm not joking. Search any narusakusasu account or popular "poly Team 7" art post and I can guarantee that at least 7 out 10 times, if you click on the profile of a someone with a cherry blossom and tomato emoji pair and search "incest" or "brother" on their account, you'll find a post of them speaking negatively about narusasu. It's almost funny how consistently it turns out to be true, but again, I'll address that in another post (along with the behavior of naruhina's because they tend to use different argument against sns). The point is that their issue with narusasu has never been about "moral wrongness" but about the fact that Sakura (and Hinata in the case of SasuHinaNaru's) isn't involved in their dynamic.

In fact, many Sakura stans are multiSaku's that have no problem shipping her with every man that ever breathed in her vicinity (Madara, Sasori, Itachi, Kakashi, etc.) and even the ones that didn't (Shisui).. I mean they're even publishing reworked fanfiction, [see this ItaSaku novel]. And yet they only bat an eye at Naruto and Sasuke. That's why ultimately, you shouldn't take them seriously, because they aren't looking to engage with you in good faith. They just want to undermine narusasu while stealing our tropes for their ship.

But since the word of Kishimoto is law to them, just bring up any one of the interviews in which Kishimoto's mocked Hinata, Sakura NH and SS, like him calling Sakura detestable, or his reaction to someone liking Hinata being "so you like girls with big boobs," or him initially agreeing that SS and NH were unrequited, or him stating he didn't know if Sasuke and Sakura would last, or him stating that Hinata isn't a regular heroine that stands at the main character's side but the type that watches him from the shadows (when her entire goal during the manga was to stand by Naruto's side), him laughing at an interviewer that stated Sasuke dealt with Sakura by leaving, or Kishimoto stating that he didnt have any devotion to the love story between Naruto and Hinata and he didnt plan to write it until Studio Pierrot suggested it, or Kishimoto stating that he avoided writing the reason for Sakura's love because it would sound too contrived, or — well, you get the point.

#sns #narusasu #sasunaru #anti hinata #anti nh #anti naruhina #anti sakura #anti ss #anti sasusaku #asks

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binniebakery · 8 months

Text

lights off

College AU Bestfriend!Beomgyu x Gn!Reader .. not exactly fluff! kinda suggestive? ♡ Warnings: thunder? rain? ig being in the dark? my first time writing kissing .. my first time actually writing ANYTHING so it might be bad im so sorry guys ♡ A/N: this is my first little fic (if you could call it that)! i literally hate it but i think i got the point across LOLL regardless i hope someone will enjoy please lmk what you think <3 lowercase intended + not proofread ~

7:32 pm. sighing softly, you placed your phone that was softly playing your favorite tunes back down on the small table over your lap. you tapped your pencil on the table in frustration as you once again for the fifth time readjusted your legs on the bed of your best friend's bedroom. time was going by excruciatingly slow and it didnt help that this math problem was taking you a million years to solve. the sun had already set outside and heading back to your dorm seemed less favorable by the minute. hearing a soft shuffle from the other side of the room you looked up at your best friend. rain began to patter outside. looks like you'll be staying for longer than you intended. beomgyu, who had his deep-colored headphones on was moving his head to the music as he wrote down notes from his study guide. his hair softly wrapped around his features most attractively. you began to mentally trace the lines of his nose, his eyes… his lips.. the dim lighting of the room adding more charm to his aura. "y/n..? are you okay? i could feel you burning holes into my head." beomgyu said as he shook off his headphones to fully put his attention was on you. snapped out of your daze, you mentally kicked yourself as you felt embarrassment creep onto your cheeks. how long had you been staring at him for..? "sorry gyu. if i was staring i didnt mean to" you softly laughed, trying to seem nonchalant and cool about the situation. beomgyu, seeing your embarrassment, chuckled at your reaction. "youre okay, i know you look at me because im cute" he grinned and you rolled your eyes. "oh shut up! you know i was daydreaming. i cant focus on this assignment anyways, its too hard. i think im gonna just finish it tomorrow." you smiled as you threw a pillow at him. he was always cheeky when he had the opportunity. anything to see you react. "daydreaming? so you do think im cute?" he grinned wider after recovering from your pillow attack. you huffed and placed the table that was on your lap onto the ground. "you know youre so-.. ugh and what if i do think you're cute?! what would you even do about it, huh?" you retaliated as you sat on the edge of his bed, now fully facing him. you faked a pout as you were feeling a bit bolder than usual today. your homework giving you enough pent-up rage to have the energy to give in to his bickering.

"okay well i dont know how much truth there is to that but if you really meant that id probably kiss you." your eyes widened at his response. you see beomgyu's face turn into an unreadable expression. he hadnt realized you were only half joking and fully meant the compliment, but it was too late and by the time he caught wind that you were actually flustered he felt his stomach flip. even he was shocked by his own words. he slipped. had he said too much? after a few seconds of silence that felt like minutes. the rain outside seemed to get louder. his eyes finally met yours and you looked away. you felt your heart pounding at the thought of you saying too much. both of you overthinking the situation and awkwardness that you both never have had before taking place. you and beomgyu have never had an awkward moment like this. normally you both laugh things off but this time felt different. "you trust me right?" his voice sounded sincere. this tone was rare for you to hear from him but you knew immediately he was being genuine with his question. "h- huh? yeah of course.. why?" you responded. "okay well.." you noticed beomgyu was now fiddling with his headphones, it seemed like he was turning all the gears in his head to get out what he wanted to say. "y/n.. theres a chance you may have not been telling the truth but if you were- look regardless if you meant it, i meant what i said." you could feel your stomach turning. he hardly flirted with you but when he did it always felt different from his usual teasing. you never said anything though, in fear of ruining your friendship. yet you always thought about what it would be like if he also returned the feelings you felt.

the room's atmosphere seemed to change. suddenly you were both hyper-aware of his neon led light being the only source of light aside from his computer. your playlist had stopped and the silence felt unbearable. in one swift move, he stood up, and turned off the led light on his wall.

the room was a lot darker now, his computer screen's light being the only way of telling you what he was going to do next. you watched as he plopped down next to you. he was so close that you could see the slight tinge of pink on his ears. your senses began to be filled with the light scent of his cologne. "i.. look- the only way i can say or do this is if the lights are off- im not trying to be weird its just you make me so nervous.. i cant look at you." he mumbled as he looked at your hands resting on your lap. it was so dark and both your hearts were racing. "gyu.. " was all you could muster with his hands now softly on yours.

"can i…" beomgyu began as he leaned in closer, only centimeters away from your face. his eyes staring intently into yours. he had this look of pure admiration, nervousness and love. it was all too surreal. realizing what he was asking, you silently nodded as you stared at his lips. he pressed his forehead on yours, the thick tension in the air causing your body to tingle in anticipation. as you felt his hair softly tickle your features from him leaning in, your lips connected. he kissed you oh so softly as he held your cheek gently. your hands, as if moving on their own, were softly placed on his arms. his lips softly moving along your own. he was patient. it felt as if he was waiting for you to respond, unsure if what he was doing was okay with you. you moved your head to the side slightly to deepen the kiss, causing him to sigh. it was all he needed to know you felt the same. his hands moved to your waist as you settled your fingers into his long hair. softly pushing him towards you to intensify the kiss. all that could be heard was the rain outside aside from the soft exchange of sighs and hands roaming. "ive liked you for so long.. you have no idea.." he began between kisses. it was all passionate, slow, and tender as if he was handling you like glass. his hands pulled your waist impossibly closer to his. he separated first, leaving you craving for more. "trust me, i liked you so much i was so scared you didnt feel the same way despite you teasing me the way you did." you chuckled as you pecked his cheek. "you drive me insane.." he softly spoke. "y/n, every time i tried to say something.. my brain just went to mush.. its so bad i swear. i could only be this confident with the lights off.." beomgyu laughed as his eyes began to trail your facial features. he was admiring every curve and feature, and at that point, both your faces were impossibly red. "gyu.. can you just.. kiss me again..?" your voice came out hardly a whisper. "i like you so much i feel like im going insane from the way you just confessed." he smiled fondly at your words and nodded, leaning in once again. as soon as your lips touched you could both practically feel the electricity pouring through your bodies. as if on cue, thunder struck the moment you connected again. your arms wrapped impossibly tight around him, slightly tugging and playing with his hair. his arms remained at your waist, slightly circling over the shirt you wore. you could feel the warmth of his fingers through the fabric.

his tongue slightly swiped along your lips for permission, and you parted your lips in response. having his tongue explore your mouth had your brain going numb. time felt like it had stopped, with just the rain as your only witness to the quiet whispers and confessions that only you two could hear. when you both finally were running out of breath, you separated with beomgyu looking into your eyes. you stared back, lips equally as glossy as his. "are you.. going back to your dorm yet?" thunder struck once again, as if responding to his question. you smiled. "its raining a little too hard dont you think?" beomgyu chuckled, realizing how silly his question was. "yeah. youre right, i think you should stay." you bit your lip as you pulled off each other, both of you immediately missing the warmth. beomgyu shook his head fixing his now fluffed hair thanks to you as he ran his fingers through. he then stood up to turn the led light he had turned off previously back on. "so.. how about we watch a movie?" he spoke as the light clicked. you could almost burst into laughter from the question given the events that just happened a minute prior. give it to choi beomgyu, your best friend, to turn a situation less awkward by simply being his charismatic self. the personality you fell for since day one of knowing him.

"sure gyu, but.." you trailed off, shy about what you were about to say next. honestly, could this get any more awkward? "yeah?" he turned to you and tilted his head in that attractive way he does. "leave the lights off." you looked at him with a shy smile. he flushed at your words. and for the last time again, lightning struck. "yeah.. lights off" he replied, led light clicking once again.

#tomorrow x together #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #beomgyu x y/n #BakeryTreat♡

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rinhaler · 9 months

Text

THERE'S NOBODY HERE

CHAPTER SUMMARY: So you're trapped in a cabin with your hot ex who you haven't seen in months as well as his hot friends. Now what? Party and make him jealous, of course.

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol consumption, oui'd smoking, shotgunning, lots of flirting, sex talk/discussions, squirting mention, dry humping?? (grinding while dancing), rejection, pet names (baby, princess).

WORDS : 8.6k

notes : this series may be a flop but I like it 😭🫶🏽

LAST CHAPTER┊MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

Rin’s eyes lower from staring up at you, instead focusing on talking to his brother and the other guests as he comes into the cabin and finally shuts the door behind himself. They’re all catching up, it’s plain to see how close they all are and how happy they are to see each other.

Even Rin looks uncharacteristically happy to see everyone. Usually, the only thing on his mind is football and training. Maybe the holiday season is bringing out this new side of him.

Though you can’t help but feel a little nauseated. You know Sae is just as surprised to see him as you are, but still, if you trusted your better judgement, you wouldn’t have come just in case this happened. Your fingers curl around the banister tightly as you try to steel yourself.

“I can’t believe this.” you whisper to Chigiri, who runs a soft palm soothingly across your back.

“Come on.” he tilts his head towards the top of the stairs, suggesting you go and reassess the situation in the safety of your bedroom. He leads the way, and you follow hurriedly, not getting the chance to see Rin glance up at you disappearing. “It’s giving main character.” Chigiri can’t help but smirk as he shuts the door behind you both.

“It’s giving… I’m fucked.” you laugh back before screaming into a pillow. You pull it away, your hair messed up a little before Chigiri puts it back into place for you. “I literally can’t believe this is happening. So much for no Rin talk all week!”

“Oh fuck, I know. So much for a rebound, too.” he sighs. You do a fake little cry before genuinely groaning in distress as he thinks. “I mean, you could still do it, but it’ll just end up causing drama.”

“Yeah no way, maybe we should leave?” you suggest, and he doesn’t argue. It might be for the best, it’s an uncomfortable, unexpected change in circumstance and both of you can’t help but feel less welcome. “They’re his friends. We were only invited because he wasn’t supposed to be coming.”

“Plus we can spend the week together anyway since you managed to get out of seeing your parents.”

“Right!” you nod excitedly. “Okay, wanna help me pack and then I’ll help you?”

“Sure. But I don’t need help and I know you won’t help anyway.” he chides, laughing softly as he stands tall and looks around thinking about where to start.

Really, nothing gets done. You talk about packing, but you both end up sitting on top of the bed and gossiping more about what happened.

Rin Itoshi is here.

And you haven’t seen him since the breakup. That awful, painful breakup. Enough time has passed that the memory doesn’t feel as raw. But Christ it still hurts. You can still feel the way tears pricked at your eyes and flooded your lash line as you broke things off with him. They cascaded downwards with no sign of stopping as Rin begged and pleaded, sobbing to give him another chance.

You wanted to.

You remember how agonising it felt to deny him that chance. The fear in his eyes as he realised things weren’t going to be fixed with words and he really was losing you forever. The exact moment his heart broke into pieces will be etched in your mind for the rest of your life. The pain of that vision has dulled but is ever present.

And seeing him, now, look at you with such little care is like a knife tearing into your flesh. His lack of smile is like salt and bleach pouring into a fresh wound.

You do your best to hide a fresh tear rolling down your cheek from Hyoma, but it’s too late. He sits up on the bed and leans over to you to wipe it away. And you know what’s coming, a classic pep talk from him that always make you feel better. Even if he can be harsh, he always knows best.

Just as he’s about to speak, though, the door swings open.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t— are you two a thing now?”

You shake your head, trying to conceal your red, watery eyes from Rin as he stands in the doorway. Hyoma objects. A little too much for your liking. But there isn’t a single indication of jealousy or relief as Rin listens to him speak.

The thought of you moving on doesn’t faze him at all.

“You’re in my room.” Rin tells you, and you nod.

“Rin! I was just about to tell you that your rooms been taken, you’ll have to—” Sae follows his brother into the room, looking at you with a slight look of sorrow as he can tell how upset you are. And if Sae has noticed, Rin definitely has.

“We’ll be gone soon.” you try to sniffle discreetly. You can’t bear looking at Rin, but your eyes meet his brothers as he cocks his head in confusion. “We were just about to pack and head home. You can have your room back, sorry.” you explain. The brothers watch you as you walk over to the wardrobe and begin collecting your clothes, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to hide your face and wipe your shimmering cheeks.

“You’re not serious, are you?” Sae asks, and all you can do is nod. “Rin was going to take the couch.”

“Was I?” he raises an eyebrow and grimaces at his brother who returns a scathing glare back at him. “Don’t leave on my account. I thought we were going to be mature about this.”

“This is being mature, Rin.” you sigh, finally looking at him. “This is your house. Your friends. It’s okay, it makes more sense for us to leave.”

“Chigiri, talk to her.” Sae requests, only to end up disappointed when Chigiri confesses that he agrees with you. He sighs, but tries to think of a solution. “Look, it’s gonna get dark soon. At least wait until morning? You’ve only been here for an hour or so, and you were excited for this. Things don’t have to change.” he reasons, watching you and Hyoma share a look as you consider it.

“It’s a long drive… icy roads… and he’s right about it getting dark.” Chigiri says to you, quietly, though the brothers can hear. You look at all of them as you think, but you focus on Chigiri as he continues. “Why don’t you move your stuff into my room and then Rin can have his own room?” he suggests.

You sigh, nodding. He starts helping you bring your clothes into his room rather than packing them away, and Rin drags his suitcase into his own room so he can unpack when you’re done.

Sae helps with your stuff, too, sticking around in Chigiri’s room to make sure you’re okay.

“I hope you don’t think I’m setting you up or anything…” he tells you, “I swear he told me he wasn’t coming. He actually told me he’d rather break both of his legs than come here.”

“It’s okay, Sae, I know. I trust you.” you smile at him. Him and Chigiri work well as a team, pretty much taking over and not allowing you to lift a finger as they help you transfer your things to his room. “I still feel like I shouldn’t be here. I don’t feel great and I’m probably going to ruin the mood.”

“Not possible, Rin is the biggest buzzkill without trying.” he laughs, picking up the golden glittery dress Chigiri had noticed earlier. “We’re having a party tonight, definitely wear this.” Sae tells you, handing it to you.

You model in front of the standing mirror in the corner of the room and hold the garment up against your body. It’ll definitely turn some heads, for sure. And even if you can’t actually hook up with anyone, you’re sure you’ll get some attention either way.

“I’m going to town for another booze run, wanna come, Chigiri?” Sae asks, turning focus from you to your friend. Chigiri looks at you inquisitively, like he’s asking permission, but you only shrug.

“I should shower and start getting ready for tonight, anyway!” you tell him. “But you better be back in time to do my hair.” you poke out your tongue.

“Ugh you take forever.” he sighs, heading for the exit with Sae. “Go, go.” he mutters, walking ahead of him until he’s completely out of sight and down the stairs.

“Otoya is coming with us,” Sae tells you. “Ryusei will keep you company if you get lonely.” he smiles, leaving you alone with your thoughts and allowing you to ruminate on the fact you’re stuck in a house with your ex.

Chigiri isn’t back by the time you get out of the shower. You rush across the hall, a little deflated that you’ve downgraded to a room without an ensuite. Though you’re sure everyone is downstairs, your adrenaline is through the roof at the thought of being seen in just a towel.

You make it back to your room unseen, however, locking the door behind you when you get inside. You’ll have to hurry and get dressed in case Chigiri comes back. You’re sure he’s seen you naked countless times through your friendship when you’re too hammered to care, but the thought of him walking in on you with nothing on is too embarrassing to even think about.

YOU: are u still out?

CHIGIRI: yeah we’re heading back now tho

You put your phone away and start to lather yourself in all of your lotions and potions. You’re sure he’ll comment on how overpowering the smell of strawberries and coconut is when he returns but you can’t find it in you to care. You feel so smooth and sweet and invigorated.

There’s a short and vest pyjama set plaguing your mind that you bought brand new that you’re itching to wear. Though when you strip yourself of your towel, you realise you should have brought a dressing gown.

It makes you think about Ryusei.

You’re sure there’s a spare in his ensuite, or if not a spare, he might let you borrow his. You unlock the door to your room once you’re dressed in your barely there loungewear, shivering a little as water still drips and spills across your skin.

The corridor with each room is bare as you look up and down. Though as you walk towards where Sae said Ryusei’s room would be, you spot Rin poke his head out of his bedroom. He sees you, too, barely glancing at you for more than a moment before he goes back inside of his room.

Your stomach churns, nerves getting the better of you. But your eyes soon light up when you see Ryusei leave his own room. You want to call out to him, to run towards him, but he disappears just as quickly when he follows Rin into his room.

It makes you pause, unsure of what to do. You don’t particularly want to see Rin again, but you’d quite like to catch up with Ryusei.

You take a breath, and slowly approach. The door is ajar, though you don’t feel confident enough to reveal yourself. Instead, you rest against the wall. It’s not like you’re eavesdropping, you’re just working up the courage to talk to him.

“Crazy that she’s here.” Ryusei laughs. They’re talking about you, you realise. You slow your breathing and actively make the effort to listen in on their conversation, now. It’s icky and invasive and you hate yourself for it. But you can’t help yourself. You want to know what they’re thinking. Both of them. “How’re you feelin’ about it?”

“Well—” he stops, thinking. It goes silent for a while, and he begins moving around the room. It makes your heart race. Does he know you’re there? Is he about to close the door? You inhale a slow, silent breath, holding it in your lungs for as long as possible. “I’m seeing someone… so I don’t really care.”

“You are? You kept that quiet!”

“You never asked.” Rin responds without missing a beat. “We’re also not friends.”

Ryusei laughs at him, though he isn’t sure if he’s joking or not. They’re friends, right? They talk often enough, and Rin probably sees Ryusei more than he sees his own brother. They hang out a lot outside of practices and games, so he doesn’t doubt that they’re friends, despite what Rin says.

You feel your heart stop beating, you swear.

For the first time, maybe ever, Chigiri was wrong. Rin is seeing someone. He actually moved on. You can’t be mad; you have no right to be mad. Not when you ended things. If you cared about him so much, you wouldn’t have broken his heart. He has every right to move on, and so you do.

Though you can’t stop the way your heart aches. The way it bleeds each time it beats, it’s scarring with every thump. You feel the lashing of a whip lacerating it as it does all it can to keep you alive.

But you’ve died inside.

You can’t help the way your throat suffocates itself with a lump in a desperate bid to gain more oxygen. Your eyes are full. They’re wet and pitiful as you come to terms with the news. Maybe you thought you’d find your way back to each other one day.

After the breakup, he didn’t bother you at all. He took it terribly in the moment. But after, he seemed to shut down completely. Everything was so methodical and planned. He arranged to have his stuff moved out by movers and requested you wouldn’t be there. It was quick and seamless, and you never heard from him again after that.

It hurt.

It stung, in fact.

But in your mind, you hoped that things would change. Even up until now, you hoped you would both grow as people and maybe one day find each other again. You’d be ready to grow up and be who you each needed to be so that you could be together in the right way.

But that can’t happen, now.

You were too hopeful that he’d change for you.

You just gave him the freedom to be someone else’s.

The wood floor creaks as you try and stealthily sneak away, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Rin or Ryusei. You hear Ryusei question if someone is there, and it makes everything worse. You quickly try and disguise your tears before you reveal yourself, pretending to be on the phone as you stand in the doorway.

“Sorry I was just talking to my dad and pacing around! Bye!” you tell them, hurrying away before either of them can call you out on it. You aren’t sure if they realised you were listening in, and truthfully, you don’t want to know. If either of them were to ask you, you think you’d have a breakdown.

You rush back to Chigiri’s room and lock the door behind you, and for a while, you manage to keep composed. Tears are flowing and you feel horrible about the situation, but you’re surprisingly calm.

“Hey, kiddo,” you hear a soft knock at the door. “Can I come in?” Ryusei asks. And that is when you begin to sob.

You go to the door and unlock it, opening it wide and allowing him to see your puffy eyes and soaking cheeks. He tuts, sorrowfully, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs as he enters the room. He closes the door behind himself again and locks it before guiding you to the bed.

The tears don’t stop, and he keeps wiping them away for you. It hurts. God, it fucking hurts. If you had some hindsight and known he’d move on this quickly, you never would have ended things. You’re realising a lot about the breakup and what a big mistake you’ve made, now. And it’s stupid and selfish and you hate yourself for it.

You know you weren’t happy at the time.

But you were a lot fucking happier than you are right now.

“You heard, then?” he asks. “What were you doin’? Eavesdropping doesn’t seem like you.”

“I— I wasn’t. Not really… I didn’t mean to.” you try to explain, still stuttering and sniffling through your words. He coos and shushes you, trying to calm you down so that you can speak and think clearly. He urges you to take deep breaths, and finally, you can explain. “I was coming to see you and then I saw you go into Rin’s room so I got nervous and hid.”

“Ah,” he nods. “Well, what did you want to see me for?”

“I just… wanted to know if you had a spare dressing gown.” you tell him half of the truth, the other half glued to your tongue and unwilling to be shared. Though his smile, his cheeky, almost intimidating smirk has you folding for him and confessing the rest. “’n I missed you, thought we could catch up.”

He pulls you into his arms and squeezes tight. He can’t even begin to tell you how much he’s missed you. Of course, you’re all busy doing your own thing, but he got to see you way more when you were dating Rin.

You have no idea how much he cherishes those moments you came with them when they travelled to away games. The pranks you played with him and the nights you spent up watching movies and learning more about each other.

He’s never crossed a line with you, ever.

But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it.

Rin is one of his closest friends. And, at the time, you were his. He’d never dream of making a move on you. He wouldn’t want to ruin his friend’s relationship and break the trust between them.

You withdraw from his hug, though. Your eyes shimmer and twinkle as they look into his wantonly. They’re so flirtatious yet stern in comparison to how wet and desperate your own look. The tension between you is rife, and you swear the only thing that can be heard is the way your heart pounds.

He doesn’t expect you to lean forward.

He doesn’t expect you to tilt your head and close your eyes as your face gets closer to his.

It takes him aback, his eyes widening in shock as he realises what you’re doing. His hands fly to your shoulders, and he pulls away from you, keeping you at arm’s length. You feel every organ plummet through your body as you realise what an idiot you are.

“Oh my God.” you sigh, moving away from him and covering your hands over your mouth in horror. How could you be so stupid? You’re stone cold sober and don’t have a single excuse to fall back on. You just threw yourself at him, and he didn’t give you any indication that he was interested.

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re just hurting, and I’m here.” he starts, getting closer to you and putting an arm around you before you shrug him off and walk away. “Things don’t need to be weird, baby, I understand.”

You scoff, looking at him briefly before your eyes fill with tears again at the sheer embarrassment. He stands up, desperate to hold you. To console you. But you don’t let him. Keeping him away as far as possible as you move away from him and push him, almost angrily.

A turn of the handle at the bedroom door makes you both freeze. The following knock at the door forces you to look at him.

“Don’t tell anyone.” you request, eyes pleading with him as you begin to panic.

He doesn’t speak, heading to the door to see who’s there. You’re relieved when it swings open, it’s Chigiri. He looks a little surprised to see you in your scanty pyjamas with Ryusei in the room. The latter of the men doesn’t say a word as he slips by him. Not uttering a sound or even looking at him as he goes back to his own room.

Chigiri comes in, quickly, locking the door again and setting down the shopping bag.

You see two glasses in his hand, quickly grabbing them and setting them down as he pulls out a bottle of rosé wine from the shopping bag. He holds it up, raising a brow, asking a silent question of whether you want to start the party early or not.

“Pour the drinks, bitch.” you tell him. He laughs, screwing off the lid as you grab your makeup bag and a few different eyeshadow palettes from your suitcase.

“Do I even want to know?” he wonders, holding your glass out to you. You take it from his hand as you walk by and sit at the dressing table with your makeup. He circles around you, grabbing his hair dryer so he can start doing your hair at the same time.

“I tried to kiss him.” you smile, sarcastically. “Tried being very important, because he was horrified. He couldn’t keep me far enough away, Hyoma.”

“Well… you are his friends ex, babe. Give him some credit.” Hyoma tries to reason. “There’s no way he wouldn’t kiss you back otherwise.”

“Oh! Speaking of my ex, he’s seeing someone.” you start laughing hysterically before fanning your hands in front of your face to try and stop yourself from crying. “Remember,” you laugh-cry again, “remember when you said he’s too focused on work to move on? Hahaha!” you continue, grabbing your wine glass and drinking every last drop.

“Oh boy.” Chigiri speaks, downing his own glass before topping them both up. Admittedly, you feel way calmer as he starts brushing your hair. His soft hands raking through your locks almost sends you to sleep. “Who told you?”

“No one, I accidentally overheard. Not that it matters.” you shrug. “We’re definitely leaving tomorrow. I can’t do this.”

“Fine.” he shrugs. “You know what you can do, though? Wear that slutty little dress you bought and give him a show. You’re literally a model, babe. What are the odds he’s found a hotter girlfriend than you? I bet she’s ugly.” Hyoma smiles.

God, he’s the best. He knows exactly the right thing to say every time you’re in distress. You wish you could offer the same support to him. But honestly, his life is pretty well put together. He rarely gets involved in drama. And even when he does, he always knows how to get himself out of it.

“Gonna get your hair looking perfect, okay? Wear that dress, grind on the guys, get wasted. And then tomorrow we can dip.” he explains, and you nod. “Who cares if he’s dating someone? You think he won’t get jealous if you dry fuck his friends?”

“No, you’re right.” you tell him before taking another drink. You aren’t sure if you’re feeling genuine confidence or if the blush pink liquid is rushing straight to your head. It doesn’t matter, though. Everything he’s saying is true. And you’re ready and raring to go. “He was so possessive when we were together.”

He nods, and you both clink your glasses together as you seem to have a solid plan prepared to set in motion.

Although, it’s half-baked as best.

Time flies as you get ready. Your makeup is settled on your face to perfection and Chigiri finishes off your hair, making sure there isn’t a strand out of place. He applauds as he admires his handiwork. He reaches for the bottle of wine, realising it’s empty as he goes to pour himself another glass.

“Fuck sake.” he mutters. He watches you as you stand up, the two of you finally notice the sound of loud music playing from downstairs as the room falls silent. You do a little dance as you strip down to nothing, not caring about your present company. “Oh we’re doing this.” he exclaims, turning away on instinct.

“Oh fuck I’m sorry, I forgot.” you laugh, and now you realise you’re definitely at the very least tipsy. He laughs too, noting how confident you are as you stand completely bare in front of him. It’s something you’re used to, honestly. Doing runway shows gives you no room to be embarrassed about your natural form. But for whatever reason, Chigiri makes you feel shy unless you’re drunk.

“I can’t believe you got a Hollywood wax you whore.” he laughs. “Trying to act like you weren’t trying to fuck but you were prepared!”

“You never know, Chigs~!” you sing a little as you walk to the wardrobe to grab the golden dress. You slip into it with ease. You aren’t allowing it to wear you, though. It’s yours and you own it. There is no doubt that you are the one wearing it, dominating it like it was created for your body and yours alone. “I can still hook up, y’know? We’re leaving tomorrow. Who cares if I stir the pot?” you shrug.

“Listen, if you call me Chigs one more time I’m gonna suffocate you with a pillow in your sleep.” he warns you, and you giggle as you slip into your high heels. He doesn’t dispute your point, though. This might be the last time you see any of these guys. Rin has moved on, and there’s no reason you can’t too. And while you’re at it, you may as well burn every bridge in the process.

“Let’s party.” you wink, opening the door.

You’re greeted to a cacophony of cheers and wolf whistles as you descend the staircase. The boys are scattered around. A few of them in the kitchen, while the others are in the lounge.

Otoya curls his finger from the kitchen, inviting you over to hang out with him and the others. You look over your shoulder towards the lounge. Ryusei and Rin are staring at you with an intense gaze. Of course there’s a chance Ryusei told him that you threw yourself at him, but you’re choosing to believe they’re admiring how hot you look instead.

“You look stunning.” Eita tells you, offering you a puff of his J as he holds it in front of your face. It’s been a while since you got high. You stopped when you started dating Rin, and you didn’t feel the need to pick it back up when you broke up. But, now, you have nothing to lose.

“Thank you.” you smile, accepting the weed and the compliment. You admire the lights as they change colour quickly, making you feel like you’re at a club. You immediately sink into a bar stool as you feel the drugs take hold of your body, weariness hitting you instantly.

Karasu lights another blunt and hands it to Chigiri, who smokes without hesitation.

“Do you want a drink?” Sae asks you both, looking between you as you get more and more comfortable in the group. Chigiri nods, walking around the counter to help him.

He knows what you like, after all.

“She looks fucking amazing.” Oliver comments, standing up from between Ryusei and Rin before he heads over to join all of the action in the kitchen. “Hi gorgeous,” he whispers in your ear as he places his hand in the small of your back. You smile, cheerfully, resting your body into his as he holds you close.

“Pace yourself.” Chigiri warns you, sliding your drink to you. You sniff it, realising he’s poured you some Malibu and coke into a cup. His warning goes ignored, however, as you drink two thirds of the drink before setting it down.

“I’m fucked.” you laugh, staggering a little as you walk beside Chigiri to get another drink. He looks concerned, but leaves you be for now. It takes all of your power not to look over to the only two men not hanging out with you right now. “Are they looking?” you whisper to Chigiri.

He looks, quickly.

“Mhmm.”

Your smile widens and you can’t help but laugh. Hyoma snatches the bottle from you as you go to pour a new drink. Oliver passes your original cup to you, and you beam as you remember you hadn’t finished it, though it’s gone in an instant.

“Real party girl, aren’tcha?” Karasu asks, putting his arm around your shoulder and forcing his blunt into your mouth. “You’ll be asleep before midnight I bet.” he challenges you.

You ignore him, turning to face him.

His eyes widen in realisation as he notices you’re keeping the smoke deep in your lungs. He closes the gap between your faces and his lips rest against yours, accepting the smoke back as you exhale it.

“Fuuuck, am I in love?” Karasu laughs as the exchange ends. He turns away, biting his lip slightly as you bend over the counter and rest your head in your hands. The skirt of your dress rides up a little, and Chigiri graciously tugs it down for you.

“Babe, stop,” he warns you, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “You’re gonna end up passing out.”

You gulp, nervously, feeling anxious under Chigiri’s intense eyes. You know he’s only looking out for you, but you can’t help feeling a little on edge. Sae comforts you, though, pulling you into his side like a protective big brother as he asks how you’re doing.

“Having fun?”

“Yes! Thanks for inviting us.” you smile.

“Glad you wore this one, suits you.” he nods. You watch him as he smokes beside you, and you decline when he offers you a puff. Chigiri, however, gratefully accepts without even being asked. Sae leaves your side in favour of sitting next to your best friend as they talk and bond over the joint.

You aren’t sure what to do, now. You feel a little deflated after Chigiri’s warning and you aren’t sure what to do with yourself. It seems like you shouldn’t drink or smoke anymore, but you’re brimming with so much energy you don’t particularly want to sit down.

“Hey, c’mere.” Eita orders, Oliver sits down next to him upon his request.

And when you approach, that is when Ryusei finally decides to come over. He smiles at everyone, but can’t seem to catch your attention as you’re too fixated on the two men with different tints of green in their hair.

Eita stands up when you hoist yourself onto the counter, and he slots himself between your open legs. Ryusei watches the scene unfold, anger bubbling at his jawline as he contemplates whether to intervene or not. His protective side roaring at him to get you away from the renowned playboys.

“Let her be.” Chigiri tells him, noticing his irritation. Ryusei sits down opposite to him, leaning over to chat quietly amongst themselves. Sae listens in, too, but only because he’s in close proximity. “I heard what happened. Did you tell Rin?”

“No, I didn’t.” Ryusei answers, though he doesn’t look happy about it. It feels like a betrayal to hide something so big from his friend, but he knows nothing good will come from sharing. “Oliver and Eita, they’re—”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s none of your business. She’s not looking for a boyfriend, she’s letting her hair down. So, whatever you’re planning, stop. Let her have fun. If you wanted her, you should have—” Chigiri stops himself when he remembers Sae is right beside him. He looks over at you, still being showered in attention by Eita and Oliver.

“Do you have feelings for my ex-sister-in-law, Ryusei?” Sae asks, laughing lightly before passing him the gross remainder of his blunt. Ryusei shrugs, smoking.

“’s complicated.” Ryusei announces, uncaring. He’s sure nothing that is discussed here tonight will be remembered come morning. “Rin! Get off your phone and come over!”

Rin flips him off and continues playing on his phone. You’re a little disappointed, but it can’t be helped. Karasu sits on the other side of Chigiri while Sae shuffles a deck of cards.

“Set up ring of fire, dude.”

“Ring of fire sucks.” you yell over your shoulder, though you giggle when Otoya’s fingers gently caress your chin and force you back to look at him. Oliver pours three shots for all of you, handing them to you and his friend. You drink them together, giggling even more when you feel the buzz rush right into your brain.

“What drinking games do you like, sweetheart?” Oliver asks, his hand resting on your thigh while his thumb softly strokes your skin.

You tell them that you like never have I ever the best, prompting Sae to call Rin over. Then, and only then, does he actually listen. Chigiri makes sure everyone has a drink, pouring something random for Rin as he takes a seat next to Ryusei and opposite to his brother.

It’s nice seeing the kitchen island so lively. In a weird way, you feel like a teenager again. Finding out someone’s parents are out of town and having a big, debaucherous house party while you play drinking games and get too fucked up to even know where you are.

Obviously you’re grown, now. And you like to think you’re a bit more responsible than you were back then. Though it’s likely it might just be Chigiri keeping you on the right path. He shoots a smile at you as Eita helps you down from the counter. Oliver moves one seat along and you sit between them, his arm is around the back of your chair while Eita’s hand remains firmly on your thigh.

“Who’s going first?” Ryusei asks.

“I’ll go, let’s start easy.” Karasu answers. “Never have I ever ate food.” you all laugh and everyone takes a drink. He nudges Chigiri to go next.

“Never have I ever had sex.” everyone laughs, drinking again. You and Rin exchange an awkward look before looking elsewhere.

“Horny, Chigiri? Onto the sex questions already?” Ryusei laughs.

“We all know people only play this for the sex questions so I’m just moving the process along.” Chigiri rolls his eyes before looking at Sae, assuming the questions are going around the table clockwise.

“Never have I ever eaten ass.” He drinks as soon as he finishes talking, and he smiles as Rin grunts, realising he stole his little brother’s question.

You watch Oliver and Eita either side of you drink as well as Ryusei. Karasu admits he hasn’t done it but it very open to trying it, earning a laugh from the group. Rin sits silently for a while as he tries to think of a question. It takes him too long, so Ryusei decides to take over.

“Never have I ever cheated.”

Oliver and Eita laugh before drinking. Chigiri hesitates, but drinks too. Everyone hoots and hollers as he flips them all off. In his defence, he got cheated on first, it was a revenge fuck! Though you don’t speak on his behalf, he doesn’t feel the need to defend himself.

“Never have I ever had a threesome.” Oliver laughs, Eita laughs too.

“Fuck you, man.” he chuckles as they both take a drink. Ryusei, Karasu and Sae all drink too.

“I feel so boring.” you giggle, “You two are gonna be drunker than me at this rate.” you tell the men either side of you.

“Maybe we can change your answer tonight.” Eita whispers into your ear. Rin and Ryusei stare daggers at the three of you, and it only makes you play into it more. Chigiri smirks when he looks over at Rin. His face is unchanging, but he can see that cold, calculated rage burning behind his eyes.

You turn to face Eita, your lips ghosting his before you face the rest of the group again. “Never have I ever been to a party at the Itoshi cabin.” you smile, everyone takes a drink, Rin drinking a heartier amount than everyone else before asking Chigiri for a refill.

“Never have I ever made a chick squirt.” Eita smirks as he drinks. Oliver joins in, and you can’t help but wonder if they shared a girl and gave them that experience. You watch on as Ryusei, and Rin drink, too. Your face flushes with embarrassment as Rin drinks and he looks at you again, averting your gaze and hoping nobody notices. “Fair play, Itoshi.” Eita nods towards Rin.

“Shut up.” he responds. “Never have I ever smoked weed.” he shrugs, reclining back in his seat while everyone else drinks. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed that he’s too focused on his phone rather than being entirely present in the moment with you all. You can’t help but wonder if it’s because he’s too preoccupied talking to his girlfriend.

“I was thinking we could do a secret Santa thing while we’re here, by the way.” Sae suggests, and Chigiri smiles at the idea. “We can all head to town together with a spending budget and find something.”

“That’s so cute!” you nod.

“We can’t do it.” Chigiri reminds you. “We’re leaving in the morning.”

“What?” Sae asks, quickly, and Rin is listening in carefully, now. His phone slotted into his back pocket as he observes your exchange. “I thought we figured everything out?”

You look at Ryusei, uncomfortably and gulp. His eyes soften as he realises you want to leave because of him, but he can’t say anything and start senseless drama. He doesn’t want you to go because of him. He doesn’t want you to go at all. However, he knows while everyone is intoxicated and tensions are high, confessing the reason will only lead to an unnecessary uproar.

“You— You should stay, kid.” is the most he can offer. “We haven’t had a chance to catch up properly, right?” he hopes you can take the hint. He can’t talk about it now, but there is definitely a discussion needed. You sigh, and nod.

“We should stay, Hyoma…” you smile at your best friend. And he looks relieved. He looks pleased that you’re spending a few more days with this crazy group and hopefully having more little parties like this. “And secret Santa sounds like a great idea, Sae.” you nod.

Sae smiles, excitedly. He pats Chigiri on the back and they laugh together happily. They start talking about the gift exchange and how to do it. Sae gets up in search of a pen while Chigiri tears up pieces of cardboard from a drink crate to write on. Sae hands him a pen, and they get to work writing down everyone’s names. Ryusei hands them an empty cup to put the names in.

“Just pass the cup around and take a name.” Chigiri tells the group as he draws the first name and passes the cup to Sae. Rin follows and then passes down to Ryusei. You, Oliver and Eita take your names and then Karasu gets the final piece of cardboard. “We good? Cool.”

“What’s the budget?” Rin asks.

“We’ll decide tomorrow,” Sae answers. “Just don’t forget or lose the name.”

“Does anyone want to dance?” you ask, swallowing the last of your drink. Oliver and Eita nod immediately, Chigiri shrugs and Karasu agrees too. The five of you head towards the lounge where the music is playing loudest.

Chigiri doesn’t dance, but he steps from foot to foot in time with the music. He keeps an eye on the grumpy gang still sitting in the kitchen while you take turns dancing on the three men giving you all of their attention.

You hadn’t expected to be so drawn to Eita, but his height and calm demeanour are pulling you in. His hand rests on your waist while you dance together, your ass pressed comfortably against his crotch.

He plays it cool, of course, whispering sweetly in your ear.

You watch Chigiri as he gets bored with the music, skipping the song to something more familiar.

“You’re a model, yeah?” Eita asks, directly into your ear canal. It makes you shudder, but you nod. “Show us.” he orders, though you’re sure it’s intended as a suggestion. They all seem entertained with the idea, though. No one more encouraging than Chigiri.

He’s your number one supporter, and you love him for it.

He looks a little taken aback as you move away from him, and your face turns expressionless yet sultry. You rise up the small steps that connect the lounge and the entryway, doing the best walk that you can towards the kitchen in your drunken state. You take your time when you get closer to Rin, Ryusei and Sae, posing for a while before turning back towards the other half of the guests.

They all clap and smile when you finish, your friendly, warm smile returning to you.

“That’s her drunk, imagine when she’s focused.” Chigiri hiccups, Karasu laughs with him. The two of them get to chatting and dancing again as they discuss the party thus far.

Oliver ruffles your hair and winks, heading back to the kitchen to get a refill.

“She’s good. She’s a little firecracker, isn’t she?” he laughs.

The siblings and Ryusei don’t say a word. As worried as Ryusei is about you, he tries to distract himself by talking to Sae and Oliver instead. Rin, however, can’t stop looking at you. You’ve stopped thinking about him, though. Your attention is entirely with Eita for now. Chigiri is taking it all in, on your behalf, making mental notes of things to tell you tomorrow.

Hopefully he won’t be too drunk to recall it come morning.

Eita squeezes your ass as you get closer to him. Rin stands up, finishing his drink and telling everyone goodnight. He heads up the stairs when he sees you and Eita almost share a kiss, your lips connect, though you break it before it can really be called a kiss.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

You look towards the stairs, and you hate how Ryusei and Sae are looking at you. It’s like you’re so predictable and they know exactly what you’re going to do. You can’t help it, though.

“I’m sorry.” you tell Eita, running away from him and chasing Rin up the stairs.

Rin’s door is closed, but not locked. You feel slightly sober now that you’re here. Part of you regrets running away and leaving Eita behind, but you know you’d have regretted being so petty and hurting Rin in the morning. Especially now that you’re staying.

You knock on the door, and he doesn’t respond.

Really, you should walk away. He’s either sulking or trying to sleep. Maybe even both. Your better judgement is telling you that you should leave him to it. But you can’t. You’ve been trying to get a reaction out of him all night and you finally got it.

Girlfriend or not, you got what you wanted.

It has to mean something.

So you enter without permission. The room is dark, and there’s no sign of him on the bed. You see the balcony door slightly ajar, and the biting breeze confirms his whereabouts. Did he leave because he was tired? Or did he leave because he felt jealous?

Of course there’s a chance you could be overthinking, but you have to know for sure. Admittedly, discussing your feelings whilst drunk might not be the brightest idea. It doesn’t stop you, though. He knows you’re here when he hears your heels click against the wood flooring. He looks over his shoulder, he’s leaning over the balcony railing when you step out and see him.

“You’re in the wrong room.” he tells you, turning around and resting his elbows on the railing as he faces you. The dark night sky obscures most of his face, but the moonlight highlights him gorgeously. It makes your knees weak, and you can barely think of what you want to say.

“I know,” you tell him. “I just wanted to check on you.”

He scoffs, but nods. You stand beside him and look over towards the town. The cold, bitter wind makes you feel drunker. Part of you can’t believe you’re actually staying here after you were so adamant that you were leaving. The glittering lights of the snow-covered village makes you smile unintentionally.

It’s how you’d imagine Santa’s workshop, if he were real.

“Um… congratulations on the new girlfriend, by the way.” you start, instantly regretting bringing it up. You’re sure you’ll start crying if he starts fawning over her. You don’t even know her, but you hate her. You try to keep calm and remember Chigiri saying she’s probably ugly. At the very least she’s got to be less attractive than you. “I’m glad you found someone… I hope you’re very happy together.”

“We are.” he tells you, immediately. You gulp and it feels like swallowing glass. He’s always been blunt, it’s not because he’s particularly angry or bitter towards you. It’s just who he is. And still, it hurts. “Are you interested in Otoya?”

You’re frozen without a response. You aren’t sure whether to lie or be honest, though you fear he knows you too well and will know if you’re lying to him.

“He’s fun.” you shrug. His lips curls into a smirk at that. It tells him all he needs to know without you saying anything at all. You feel defeated, completely and utterly, as you look at his expression. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends, Rin.”

“I don’t care.” he shrugs, “Do what you want.”

His words are like bullets shredding through your skin. You do what you can to maintain your composure, trying to regain control of the situation and the conversation.

“I thought you might be upset when you left the party…”

“No,” he corrects you, his gorgeous teal eyes fixate on your own as he speaks. “I’m tired. I wanted to say goodnight to my girlfriend, but she must already be asleep.”

And, with that, you run out of willpower to continue talking. He sees how tears begin to prick at your eyes, and you try to walk away before they spill over again. You offer him a quick goodnight as you try to hurry back through the cabin and to yours and Chigiri’s room.

He stops you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back out into the cold.

“You’re unbelievable.” he tells you, bending down so that your noses almost touch. His eyes bore into yours as he offers nothing but a harsh, callous stare. You want to run, but you can’t. His grip on your wrist is firm, and you’re worried the cold temperature will aid in any bruising. The strength of his hold isn’t painful, but the chill of your skin is intensifying it. “You broke up with me. Yet you have the gall to be jealous?”

“That’s not fair…” you whimper, but he’s right. You’ve been saying the same thing all day. Even before you knew he was seeing anyone, you knew you had no right to be upset considering you were the one who ended things. And yet, here you are, trying to defend yourself now that you’re suffering the consequences of your own actions. “I didn’t know you’d move on so quickly… I didn’t know I’d be seeing you again… I didn’t know it would h-hurt.” you hiccup, and you do your best to wipe away your tears with your free hand.

“You just wanted me to grieve forever, yeah?” he wonders. “You thought I’d be waiting in the wings for you, waiting for you to decide you want me back.”

“That’s not true, Rin,” you sniffle, “I care about you. I always will…”

“I don’t want you to.” he informs you. “You’re—”

“I think you still care about me too…” you interrupt him, looking down at the way he grasps harder onto your wrist as you speak. You look up at him again, his face somehow even closer to yours now. “Y-You can’t just turn feelings off that quick… I—”

“I’ve moved on. You’re moving on.” he tells you. “Fuck everyone here for all I care, princess.”

“Rinnie…” a tear silently rolls down your cheek as he calls you a name you never thought you’d hear spill from his lips in reference to you ever again. You can’t help but wonder if he calls his new girlfriend the same sweet names he once called you.

Rin is chillingly composed.

But if only you knew.

He feels a lump in his throat as he replays the way you said Rinnie to him, a nickname long forgotten since your breakup. A name he’d never allow another soul to call him for the rest of his days. It’s yours, all yours. It wouldn’t sound right coming from anyone else, he can’t imagine feeling anything but disdain hearing it from another.

You melt into his touch as he cups your face with his free hand, his thumb swiping at the spilled tear glimmering against your cheek. He looks down at you with a heavy-lidded stare, and you want him.

You miss him.

Especially like this.

His eyes so tired and heavy as he gives into his lust and claims you. Your eyes close completely as you feel his head tilt.

He does still care about you.

He’s going to kiss you. He’s going to cheat on his girlfriend for you. You weren’t far off on your suspicions, after all. He still cares. He might even still love you. You’re too drunk and delirious, though. Your eyes are closed and awaiting his kiss. His are barely open, lazily gazing at you knowing he isn’t about to give you what you so desperately crave.

“Goodnight, princess.” he whispers, the bitter scent of alcohol dusting across your face as he breathes.

You pull away, slowly, horrified that you’ve been denied of a simple kiss twice in one excruciating day. Your wrist is free, now. And he watches as you back away from him. He feels a little bad, but not much. He’s sure you’re only feeling a fraction of the pain and humiliation you put him through when you ended things.

He’s sure you can handle a little rejection.

“Goodnight, Rinnie.” you sniff, walking away calmly until you’re through his room and heading to your own.

You think about telling Chigiri. You even start walking down the stairs so you can cry on his shoulder. But you see him with the boys. His smile is so wide, and he looks really happy. You don’t want to ruin his night, too.

Eita looks up at you, though you don’t catch him looking. You’re too focused on yourself and Chigiri. You don’t notice him follow you as you ascend the stairs. He waits outside of your room as you decide you ought to go to bed.

You don’t even have the energy to take off your makeup or your dress. All you can do is shake your feet until your shoes fly off in different directions. Your body breaks out in goosebumps when you hear a soft knock at the door, and you can only hope your disappointment isn’t obvious when you realise it isn’t Rin coming to talk to you some more.

Eita holds up a joint, offering it to you.

You’re pretty much sober, now.

You’re surprised you haven’t burst into tears, too. So, you nod. You accept his offer, gratefully, hoping you’ll slip off into a blissful sleep once you finish smoking. Eita closes the door behind him, locking it so you won’t be disturbed as he sits on the bed beside you.

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neoneun-au · 7 months

Text

CAN'T HELP MYSELF; CHAPTER III: WHO WAITS FOR LOVE?

―PAIRING: wonwoo x fem!reader, mingyu x fem!reader ―GENRE: love triangle au, fluff, mild angst, romantic comedy, suggestive, smut ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, mild language, alcohol consumption, masturbation (explicit female, implied/mentions of male), 18+ only ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far, this is really only fun with interaction and it helps keep me motivation to finish !

iii: who waits for love?

“You didn’t mention one of my roommates was basically a fucking model,” you complain, sinking into the absurdly massive grey sectional next to Jeonghan as he sits scrolling on his phone, attention removed from the drama providing background noise on the shared TV.

“Who? Mingyu?” He tosses his head back with a bark of a laugh at the suggestion, “he’s a model idiot.”

“Idiot or not you should have warned me he’d be so…so,” you toss your hands in the air, a dramatic display of frustration completed by the furrow in your brows. The image of Mingyu’s bare chest from your initial meeting (new and improved version 2.0 of hot roommate: now accompanied by a soundtrack of bed squeaks and the joy of someone else’s orgasm!) assaults your senses and you scrub it from your mind’s eye as best as you can before fixing your weary gaze back on Jeonghan, “so hot.”

“Oh please,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes as soon as the word falls from your lips. “Yeah he’s easy on the eyes, but once you get to know him his looks are much less impressive, trust me.” He shakes his head, raising his coffee to take a sip before pursing his lips and fixing you with a concerned stare, “I didn’t take you as the type to pine after tall, dark, and stupid. You’re not thinking of using him as a rebound are you?”

“What? Absolutely not,” the reply comes out perhaps more fervently than it should have because what was intended to deny the suggestion only serves to deepen the crease settling in between Jeonghan’s manicured eyebrows. You clear your throat and take a sip from the mug of tea growing cold in your hands as a cover.

“Rebound,” you scoff at the word, trying to play off the twisting feeling in your gut with derision but only managing to dig the knife in deeper. “Definitely not. I have no plans to start dating anytime soon. Not after this breakup.” You’re aware that you’ve begun to ramble but as per usual, your mouth runs away with your words. Try as you might, you cannot scramble to retrieve them as they spill forward like a damn breaking open. Jeonghan stares at you with a slight frown as you monologue, “I barely even want to look at men full-stop. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, you’re okay, we’re friends and all. And Seungcheol is fine I guess ‘cause he lifted all of my heavy shit up the stairs like some kind of bodybuilding angel sent from protein-heaven,” a stray strand of hair falls in front of your eyes and you blow it away with a short puff of breath.

“But dating? No. No, no, no,” you continue unabated, “absolutely not. I’m taking this time to get to know me. If anything, I’m dating myself. Mingyu might be hot but he won’t break my resolve, that’s for sure. I am determined,” you finish the speech with a single, firm nod–agreement with yourself clear and solid and in no way capable of breaking at the threat of warm brown puppy eyes flashed in your direction.

“Right,” Jeonghan drags out the word, unconvinced by your impassioned declaration of independence. “Well, if you get bored of dating yourself and do end up wanting someone to mess around with for a bit, I can hook you up with some people. Serious or…less serious. Your choice.”

“I will be just fine on my own, thank you.” You nod once. Firm. Decisive. Not at all embarrassed by the display.

“If you say so,” he sings, shaking his head and pushing himself off the couch before flicking the TV off. You sit in silence for a moment, sipping the last of your lukewarm tea, and listen as Jeonghan’ footsteps fade into the kitchen. The slight lingering guilt and shame from the night before stains your thoughts. A ring of liquid left on the surface of a coffee table, encircling the memory of Mingyu’s moaning and the keen sense of desire that burned a pit in your core at the sound.

Jeonghan returns from the kitchen a second later and sits down on the arm of the couch. He clears his throat to speak, more serious than you had seen since graduating university. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you how to live your life,” he begins. You inhale to laugh your disagreement of the statement but he holds up a single hand to silence you so you bite it back just as quickly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I will just give you a warning, if I may” he lets his hand fall back down to his lap, “as your friend. And as someone who has your best interest at heart.”

“Fine,” you allow, buying into the sincerity, “I’m listening.”

“I said that I can hook you up with people both serious and not so serious,” he says, pausing to take a deep breath, “Mingyu is not serious.”

The image of the man in question pops up in your mind once more. An observable object–lips locked with the mystery brunette, hands roaming the expanse of her body as they flutter like a pair of dragonflies locked in a mating ritual towards his bedroom. The chorus of “ohs” and “ahs” that chorus in your ears like the audio from the old Italian softcore porn films you used to sneak out of bed to watch in your adolescence. The squeaking of the bed frame, and even the eventual abrupt departure first thing this morning, project themselves across the walls of your brain like a feel of film. All fleeting images and experiences serve as firsthand evidence backing up what Jeonghan is saying to you at this moment in the harsh light of day.

“If you’re in it for a quick, no strings attached hookup then, well,” he sighs, brushing his bangs out from in front of his eyes, “you’re a grown woman, I trust you can make your own decisions. But I’ve never seen Mingyu with the same girl more than once. So just…be careful. Because if you want something substantial, you would be barking up the wrong tree with him.”

You nod and the previous image of Mingyu–all roaming hands and bucking hips–dissolves pixel by pixel into the knitted brows of concern and the serious expression his classically handsome face held barely an hour ago. The warmth of his hand as it pressed ever so lightly against the skin of your forehead–an act so painfully tender and familiar it made you yearn at the intimacy of it. While your logical mind does believe what Jeonghan is saying, another part of you (a deeper and much more foolish part) can’t help but feel like there has to be more to Mingyu than the rest of them give him credit for. That maybe there is something to be taken seriously there.

The thought dissipates into vapour as Vernon strolls down the stairs–bleary eyed and dazed with the lingering sleep still clawing at the corners of his eyes. He nods lazily in silent greeting, clad in tie dye and baggy jeans, and walks past the pair of you and disappears into the kitchen.

“Just,” Jeonghan hesitates a moment, waiting for the sound of the fridge opening in the next room to disrupt the strained silence that had settled between you, “be careful, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” you smile, genuinely grateful for the advice and care from your long-time friend, despite the bells of disagreement ringing out inside of you. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think I need a rebound?” The question comes after an hour of banter and conversation over way too expensive cocktails in the dimly lit corner of the bar you used to frequent when you were still going to university with Seulgi. Her insistence that you get out of the apartment and stop stewing in your own thoughts had finally paid off and truthfully the distraction was not entirely unwelcome. But you were still stubbornly refusing to admit that she was right. The status quo of your friendship since the very beginning.

“Didn’t you say you were swearing off men or something?” Seulgi asks, tapping a manicured fingernail against the side of her nearly empty manhattan.

“That was before I saw the reality of the men I was swearing off,” you sigh, mourning the loss of your already weak resolve. Solemn regret for the poorly timed declamations you had given voice to in the past. “And the reality is that they're pretty fucking hot.”

“You mean one of them is pretty fucking hot, right?” she emphasizes, ever observant, and you grimace at her over the lip of your own half-empty glass.

“One of them looks like a Greek fucking God for no reason,” you grumble, turning to wave the waitress over for another round, “like Adonis or something. It’s not my fault I have functioning eyeballs.”

“Adonis wasn’t a god, he was the mortal lover of Aphrodite.”

“Well whatever he was, I’m now stuck living in an apartment with him.” The young waitress walks up with an expectant look and Seulgi orders another round of the same while you drain the last of your drink, savouring the bitterness of the gin as it lingers at the tip of your tongue. You watch the waitress as she walks back towards the bar, brunette ponytail swinging behind her like in rhythm with her steps, and wonder vaguely if maybe she’s the girl you saw Mingyu with.

Seulgi turns back to you with a slight roll of her eyes, “I’m sure it's not that bad. Just ignore him, you’re mostly working or asleep when you’re not just hanging around bugging me anyway.”

“Pretty hard to ignore him when he’s so openly hooking up with some random girl in a condo with 4 other people who can clearly hear him.”

“Well put some earphones in or something, listen to a podcast,” she laughs, shaking her head. You bite your tongue, reluctant to mention the fact that you had willingly listened in as they fucked. That maybe you had enjoyed it a little more than you were letting on. You didn’t need the inevitable teasing that was bound to come if you told her any of that. “Do you remember our one roommate? From second year?”

“Oh god,” you balk at the memory, “Johnny?”

“He was so loud,” she grimaces. So many late nights spent huddled together on her bed watching movies, joined in mutual avoidance of the self-proclaimed playboy and his rotating roster of girls. “And then you went and hooked up with him which was just the worst. He was so insufferable after that.”

“Hey, in my defense I was desperate and not exactly in my right mind,” you bristle at the thought of your pathetic, erstwhile crush. Surely, you had thought in the throes of your youth and naivety, someone who pulled that many girls knows exactly how to make them feel good. Yet by the end of it, as he lay open-mouthed snoring on the bare mattress next to you, you were left with a clear idea of why you never seemed to see the same girl more than once. “Anyway, from the sounds coming out of her, Mingyu seems to actually know what he’s doing in bed.”

“So you did listen,” she smirks.

“The walls are thin,” you let the paltry excuse fall from your lips as she tosses her head back in laughter. Gulping down a mouthful of water in a vain attempt to swallow some of the embarrassment boiling like hot lava in your bloodstream.

“What do you think they were doing?” Seulgi leans forward with a conspiratorial gaze–brown eyes full and bright and filled to the brim with a hint of evil. There have been a few moments throughout your years of friendship where she has fixed you with a look like this, and most of them led to some of the worst decisions either of you have ever made. Breaking into the community swimming pool after dark, stealing the neighbouring houses’ lawn ornaments, making out with dudes that may or may not have been married. Her desire for intrigue terrified and excited you in equal measure.

“Pretty sure they were fucking,” you respond and she sits back, disappointed at the bland reply.

“Yeah, I got that part. I mean details. If we’re gossiping, we should do it right.”

The cacophony of the bar consumes you. Chatter and laughter from nearby tables floods your senses, drowning out the roar of guilt that knocks at the door of your mind as you consider your next words carefully. Whether to completely dive off the deep end and betray your new roommates privacy (in more ways than you already have). If you had been a little more sober and a little less intrigued by the man in your own right, you might have shut the topic of conversation down before it even began. You might have left the apartment for the night and slept on a chair in the lobby and avoided the entire tryst to prevent the memory of his moans from carving themselves into your temporal lobe.

But you did not and now you are just as invested in the situation, and Seulgi’s complete lack of shame about asking for details further strangled any lingering guilt you had left. “Well,” you start and she leans in closer, eyes alight with anticipation, “they started in the hallway. I thought they were going to have sex right against the wall while I was trapped hiding behind the couch.”

She laughs, head tossed back in mirth, “bet you would have loved that. Mingyu, bare ass out in front of you,” she jeers and you bristle at the accusation (even if you know she’s right). The waitress returns with your drinks and you mumble a brief thank you to her as she sets the glasses down. Seulgi continues to laugh, pleased with your reaction, “it would have been your wet dream come true.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m not saying anything else,” you grumble into your fresh drink, wincing at the bite of the liquor. Cocktails were never your thing but Seulgi had offered to pay so who were you to refuse.

“Aww,” she whines, “fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing you. Please give me the play by play. I am so curious.” She claps her hands together in mock prayer, pleading for your cooperation, and you think she might make an excellent lawyer or serial killer if she weren’t so normal most of the time.

“Fine,” you relent after a beat, already too wrapped up in reliving the night to abandon the story anyway. “Obviously,” you stress, “that didn’t happen. They were making out there for maybe like 5 minutes but it felt like hours. I was so worried she was going to see me but thankfully I managed to stay pretty low.”

Seulgi takes a sip of her darkly coloured drink, you can tell she wants to interject but she manages to hold true to her promise.

“So they stumble off to his room,” you continue with a sigh, “and I go to mine, which, mind you, is right next to his. We share a wall.” She winces and you give her a knowing nod, steeling yourself against the all too vivid memory. “I crawl into bed, trying to block out the noise for a while, which at this point isn’t too loud. It’s just like…some muffled talking and moaning and the occasional slap of like…skin on skin. Maybe he spanked her…” you trail off, shaking your head along with the words, fully invested in the theatrics of the storytelling now. “But, through some cruel twist of fate his bed, just like mine, is also right up against our shared wall. So as soon as they really get going, I can feel it.”

“What, like…” she thrusts in her seat, a quizzical slant to her eyebrows, “like shaking?”

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ for emphasis and she lets out a low whistle.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, “felt like forever. I was just clutching my sheets like it was an earthquake or something.” You do conveniently leave out the heat of desire and curling of toes, but she didn’t need to know that part.

“Did it start off slow?” she asks, voice conspiratorial. “Fast? Do you think he ate her out first?”

“Seulgi,” you hiss, keeping your voice low. You glance over at the table of college guys next to you but they don't appear to have been listening.

“What, I’m not allowed to ask?” She balks, hand on heart, and appears offended for a moment before the usual mischievousness settles back in and she leans forward with a glint. “Did Wonwoo ever eat you out?”

“We are not discussing the details of my sex life right now.”

“No of course not,” she rolls her eyes, “we’re just discussing the details of someone else’s.” You grumble at the inability to argue with this statement. “How long has it been since you got laid anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dropping your head to the table and then regretting it immediately when you realise how sticky it is. “Like five months maybe?”

“Five? Didn’t you break up with Wonwoo like…” she fixes her eyes on the ceiling for a brief moment, calculating the time passed in her head before turning back to you with frown lines creased into her forehead, “six weeks ago?”

You shrug, sinking your embarrassment into another sip of alcohol, “so we hadn’t had sex in a while, so what?”

“Do you think maybe that was a contributing factor in your dissatisfaction with the relationship?” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“I don’t need a therapy session, Seulgi.”

“On the contrary, I think you would benefit greatly from therapy,” she laughs, “but that’s not what this is. You’ve just been sort of distant lately.” You open your mouth to protest but she stops you with a glance, “don’t start, I know we’ve been hanging out, but over the last few months you haven’t been as open about your emotions and stuff. You used to tell me everything, even things I didn’t want or need to hear, but for a while it feels like you’ve just been…hiding. Internalizing.” She leans forward and taps the center of your forehead with one, manicured finger. “Stop that. It’s not good for you to be in your head so much.”

“I hate to say it but, you’re right,” you sigh, begrudgingly agreeing with her observation. The skin where she had poked you tingling in the aftermath of her touch like a beacon of truth.

“I always am,” she nods, “but seriously. We’re friends. I want to hear how you’re feeling. I know I make fun of you a lot, but that’s just ‘cause you’re so easy to make fun of.”

“Hey!”

She laughs and you’re reminded of why she and Jeonghan always got along so well. “Seriously though,” she says, expression sobering, “maybe you wouldn’t fixate so much of your loneliness and desperation onto random guys if you got out of your head a bit more regularly. Just a thought.”

“It's not desperation, I just…” you trail off, unsure of where to begin. Unsure even of what your own internal landscape was trying to tell you. You wanted to confide in her, to be more open and transparent, but it was hard to do that when none of you couldn’t even sort out your thoughts and feelings from your anxieties and worries. It was hard to be clear when everything just felt like mud. She waits, expectant, as you sift through the much for some clear strand of thought. “You’re right, about the loneliness anyway, I know you are.” She nods, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “But it’s not desperation.”

“So then what is it?” she asks and you try to place it. Try to tug on the thought to follow where it was leading you. What was it about Mingyu that made you feel like you were chasing something? Clawing at the walls of some well of yearning like a prisoner of your own desires. What was it about him that was making you want more? More information, more contact, more, more, more.

“I think,” you start, hesitant to speak the word lest it be wrong. “I think it’s curiosity.”

“About Mingyu?”

“Yeah, him. And about myself,” you shake your head. Ruminating on your spiraling thoughts was one thing, but vocalising them for someone who knew you oftentimes better than you knew yourself was another thing entirely. Your thoughts held more weight now that someone else was bearing witness to them. They had more consequences now than just 15 minutes of anxiety or a few hours of doom-scrolling.

“What about yourself?” she asks, unraveling the mess as you present it to her.

“I feel like…I’ve been in this strange place between needing people for everything and also trying my best to not need anyone at all. I can’t do my taxes without help, I can’t change a tire without help, I can’t even move apartments without it! But when it comes to emotions or vulnerability…I would rather just deal with it on my own, you know?” She nods, attention focused completely on you. Despite how long you’ve been friends, the direct attention still flickers a switch of shyness inside of you.

“That’s what it was like with Wonwoo, too. He was never the most emotionally available person and I think I just got used to dealing with things on my own because of it. I didn’t want to burden him with my thoughts or feelings cause I know I have a lot of them. Don’t get me wrong, though, it wasn’t like he refused to listen or anything I just…he just wasn’t really open with his own feelings or thoughts so I sort of started to feel guilty about dominating those conversations all the time with mine. Like I was using him as some sort of emotional punching bag. And then I just got used to it, and it took so long for me to realise that I needed something more than that…”

Any hesitation you had felt before dissipates as you talk, little by little. You feel like you’re back in your dorm room together, laying on your floor and just letting yourself pour out every thought, every feeling, every worry you had. Stream of consciousness–your lips to Seulgi’s ears. That open vulnerability you shared before life and work and everything else got in the way and left the door open for inhibition, shame, and guilt to move into the space between.

You feel lighter as you speak, like you had been needing this–craving it. Waiting for her invitation to come to let loose the torrential downpour of your mind to a willing listener. To a friend.

She was right. She always was.

“So what is it about this Mingyu guy, then? You don’t think he would just be the same?” She asks, shifting the focus, and you purse your lips in concentration.

“I’m not sure…” you trail off. And you really weren’t sure. Was he just an idle fascination after all? Did you just find him hot and that smoke screen of good looks was blinding you to the fact that he was just some guy like everyone before him? Or was there actually something there, in spite of it all? You mull it over while Seulgi takes a leisurely sip of her drink. “I was talking to Jeonghan the other day, and he said something that sort of made me think–”

“That’s a surprise,” she laughs, unable to resist the opportunity for a jab at your mutual friend.

“He said ‘Mingyu is not serious’ and I don’t know,” you continue, unabated by her comment, “I get this feeling that that’s not the full truth.”

“What, like psychic intuition?” she laughs and you shake your head.

“No, no…well, maybe. I don’t know. Obviously I don’t know the guy very well yet, and I have seen him do exactly what Jeonghan was warning me he does but…” you sigh, trying to collect your scattered thoughts of the man that is currently plaguing your mind. “He has also been very thoughtful, and he seems to notice such small details that the others don’t. I don’t know…I just think there might be something more to him than that, you know?”

“And you think you’re going to be the one to discover that side of him?” she asks, eyebrow quirked. Astute as ever.

“No,” you start, but catch yourself in the lie immediately. “Well, yeah, I guess. I just want to see if my hunch is correct.”

She fixes you with a withering gaze, dark brown eyes boring into your own for a moment before she laughs again, “Oh I get it now, you want to fix him.”

“I can’t help it, I love a project,” you sigh, resting your cheek in your palm and tracing idle circles against the wood grain of the table top.

“So take up crocheting or something! Stop throwing yourself at every man who looks like a kicked puppy.” You groan at the accusation but can’t deny the truth in it. You did have a track record. “Look, if you want to do this. Really want to crack that big beefy chest open and see what’s inside, I’m not going to stop you, but I’m warning you now that I do not think this is going to end well.”

“You sound like Jeonghan,” you mumble, eyes closed as you listen to the lecture.

“Good, at least someone you live with has some brains.” She shakes her head, pausing to hand her card to the waitress as she walks over with the bill for the evening. Silence stretches out for a moment, the din of the bar enclosing in to envelop you in its swell as you wait for the transaction to finish. The waitress returns and Seulgi slips her card back into her wallet before turning back to you, “I’m not saying this to be mean, but I really think you should take some time to be with yourself before you end up repeating the same mistakes you made with Wonwoo.”

“Harsh,” you mutter, feeling the sting of it spear through your heart and settle there. Slow poison.

She softens, eyes warming as she slides off her chair. You follow suit and walk with her out into the chill of the night. The bitterness of winter was starting to seep slowly into the air, you can feel it biting at your skin as you step outside with her to wait for the Uber she ordered to pull up.

“I love you and I want what’s best for you, and if you think that there might be something there with this Mingyu guy then I hope you’re right, I really do,” she says, a smile softening her expression. “I just want you to be careful, ok?”

“Okay,” you sigh, hugging your arms tight against your chest to fight off the wind as it blisters through your thin jacket. “I love you, too. And I will be careful, I promise. I’m not really too keen to repeat my last relationship either…”

“Good,” she nods, eyes roaming to the curb as a slick black sedan pulls up. “I’ll see you soon. Try not to throw yourself too big of a pity party before then.” She waves goodbye as she strides towards the car. You roll your eyes, returning the wave, before starting your brisk walk the few blocks back to the condo.

Time passes slowly in the new stasis of your life. You take the new opportunity in the wake of your hangout to bury yourself in work and get through some projects that had been building up untouched while you were feeling sorry for yourself. You kept up with regular jogs with Seungcheol, largely at his behest, and they were starting to become an enjoyable break in your days. A way to clear your mind and focus your attention on your body. It also did not escape your notice that the route he was taking you on now steered clear of the street where you had seen Wonwoo a few weeks ago. You use your commitment to the new routine as a silent thank you to him for somehow knowing what you needed when you needed it.

Vernon was becoming a favourite of yours as well. A quiet denizen of the condo; he showed up at random hours, taking a seat near you but not too close, reading through scripts or scrolling on his phone in companionable silence as you worked. It was like living with a cat that took care of itself and had an impressive collection of beanies.

Mingyu you tried to avoid, for the most part. He still plagued your thoughts on a daily basis, but out of respect for your friends’ concerns you wanted to give this budding infatuation time to settle into shape. To give yourself time to try and figure out what your real feelings on the matter were. You tried to find a delicate balance between roommate and acquaintance, figuring out his general schedule and adjusting your own accordingly so that you weren’t caught in any more awkward situations in the middle of the night or without anyone else around.

All of these measures were helping to make you feel more at home in the condo. Less like an interloper disrupting their days and more like a part of the makeshift family–even if that part for now was cousin, twice-removed.

As a result you were spending less time doing your work from the cafe and much more of it huddled over your laptop on the coffee table in the living room. Projects were getting done quicker, though it did mean that you were seeing Seulgi less often.

“Why aren’t you answering my texts?” Seulgi’s face blinks to life on the screen of your phone as you finally accept her FaceTime call. “Are you still moping?”

“I’m not moping!” you defend, raising the phone to hide the view of the pajamas you’ve been wearing for the past 24 hours as you were locked in a death-match with an upcoming deadline.

“Well how many more projects do you have left to do before we can go out? It’s been two weeks since I saw you now that you’re actually working from home,” she sighs in exasperation. Judging by the smoked out black liner defining her eyes, she was heading out tonight with or without you anyway. “Yerim is in town and she’s been asking about you.”

“Yerim? Wait, since when? I thought she was still in England?” you straighten up at the mention of your distant friend’s name.

“She’s back for now to get some visa renewal stuff done,” Seulgi answers, “and we’re going out tonight so you should come if you’re not still buried under a mountain of work.”

You glance at the screen of your laptop, folders stacked on your desktop in a messy landscape of the digital mountain you created for yourself. The thought was tempting but you knew Yerim and you knew what a night out with her always entailed. Read: getting black out drunk in a club and stumbling home at 6:00am the next morning. You had made a lot of progress scaling your workload, but you weren't sure that even without work you would have the energy needed for a night out like that.

The front door clicks open behind you and you spin your head to spout a quick greeting. Mingyu nods a quick hello, arms loaded with bags of groceries, before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Who was that?” Seulgi asks, noting the interruption in your conversation.

“Mingyu,” you answer, mindlessly pushing yourself off the ground and bringing her with you as you walk into the kitchen behind him in search of a glass of water. He smiles at you as you enter but says nothing as Seulgi’s voice rings out through your phone.

“Ah,” she smirks, “the one with the nipples?” You roll your eyes at the clear attempt to embarrass you but nod—pointedly ignoring the man in question as he sputters next to you at the comment. You fill a glass with water from the filtered jug in the fridge. “So are you coming tonight or should I tell Yerim you’re too depressed?”

You give it a moment of thought. You haven’t seen Yerim since she moved to the UK in the middle of her third year of university, after the rest of you had already graduated. She sent some odd gifts here and there—chocolate, snacks, a figurine of Shakespeare wearing heart print boxers—but communication had dwindled as you all found your footing in your adult lives, far removed from the heady days of hedonistic college life.

“Well first of all, don’t tell her I’m depressed, ‘cause I’m not,” you emphasise and Seulgi laughs at the bitter defense, “but I don’t think I can make it tonight. We should make plans for dinner or something before she leaves, though. Something a little more lowkey than the club.”

“Fine, be boring,” she sighs. “By the way, Yerim brought a friend back with her. He’s apparently cute and not completely useless. She thought you might like to meet him, just as a distraction. Or a rebound that’s not going to jeopardize your living situation. He’s also coming tonight”

You groan, settling down in a kitchen chair—opposite to the one Mingyu had sat down in with his reheated leftovers. He watches you with mild interest out of the corner of his eye while you try to think of a way to convince Seulgi that you don’t need Yerim’s charity date. “I would, but I already have plans tonight,” you lie, hoping she buys it without question.

“Oh?” she asks, eyes narrowed in cautious suspicion. “Do you have other friends?”

“Very funny,” you roll your eyes, “but no, actually. It’s just with my roommate.”

“Which one?” she probes, digging you deeper into the grave of your own lie.

“Oh uh–” you stutter but your eyes flicker above the screen of your phone, locking in on Mingyu’s own wide brown gaze. “Mingyu. We’re going to dinner tonight.”

He opens his mouth to speak, clearly confused by being dragged into your mess, but you shake your head lightly—willing him to just roll with it. He clamps his mouth shut and returns to his bowl of stew.

“Mingyu?” Her surprise is genuine and you can tell she’s starting to believe you. A flicker of concern shines in her eyes. “Is it like…a date?”

“No, Seulgi,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. She was edging dangerously close to that ‘jeopardizing your living situation’ territory on her own. “It’s just dinner. With a roommate.”

“Okay,” she drawls, “but if you end up against a wall with his face between your thighs—”

“Goodbye, Seulgi,” you end the call with a panicked stab of your finger and lean back in your chair, eyes shut tight against the rising tide of anxiety. You feel lightheaded. Hopefully Mingyu didn’t catch that last part.

“Did we—” He clears his throat. His voice, hesitant and low, floating in and dispeling your faint hope that he hadn’t been paying attention. “Did we have plans I forgot about?”

You want to laugh, he sounds so genuinely worried. It forces a bitter bubble of bile to rise up into your throat. “No,” you shake your head, clearing it with a sip of water. “Don’t worry you don’t have to go out to dinner with me, I just really didn’t want to go out tonight. Yerim is sort of wild sometimes and the thought of meeting some stuffy English guy in a club was making me feel ill.”

“Oh,” he smiles—also hesitant, but you can see a hint of his canines poking out behind his lips. “Well, glad I could be of service, then.” His smile widens and you can’t help but return it with one of your own.

“You have been most helpful,” you laugh. “Sorry for using you as a scapegoat. Also sorry about the nipples thing, Seulgi has a selective memory.”

“I don’t mind,” he shakes his head, the flush of warmth in his skin betrays the hint of embarrassment he’s trying to mask. You smile at the grace he’s giving you in what could have been an exceptionally awkward moment (especially after weeks of avoiding being alone with him) and push your chair back–wooden legs sliding against the tile. You stand up, preparing to turn around and hunker back down in front of your laptop screen, but Mingyu calls out your name before you get the chance.

“Yeah?” you reply, half-turned towards the living room.

“If you do,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “If you do want to go out to dinner tonight though…I could do that. I would uh…I’d like that.”

Your eyes trail from his still slightly pink face to his nearly empty bowl of leftovers. “But you already ate?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A gesture so familiar to you from spending so much time with Wonwoo, but it looks different on him. Less like an anxious tick and more like a bashful habit. “I can eat again though,” he drops his hand from his neck and pats his stomach twice, “I’m a bottomless pit.”

You should say no. You know you should say no. You shouldn’t dig yourself any deeper into this hole than you already have. But looking at him now, eyes so wide and genuine—freely offering you this tether of kindness—you can’t seem to bring yourself to summon up the word.

“Okay,” you reply, deadpan. Numbed with the confusion and surprise of this sudden change of plans so easily agreed to. So easily ruining weeks of careful avoidance and the cooling off of the one-sided tension you felt when you were near him.

“Great,” he grins, white teeth glistening in the bright lights of the kitchen. “I need to grab a shower first and make a quick call, but how about we head out in an hour? What kind of food are you in the mood for? Do you have any favourite spots?”

“I uh—” you stammer, unsure of the answer to the posed question. “I’m fine with anything. I don’t go out for dinner a lot so I don’t really know that many restaurants…”

“No problem,” he smiles again, standing up and grabbing his bowl. “I know plenty, I’ll bring you to a good one. Promise.” He winks before turning around to rinse out his dish and your heart skips a beat at the expression. One you would so often find lecherous and off-putting seems somehow so endearing coming from him. You scold your brain for the thought before stalking back to your room to change out of your pajamas and attempt to appear somewhat presentable.

The lights of the city cast their soft glow over the water of the slow moving river. A hypnotizing dance of yellow and gold against the backdrop of the night sky. It lulls your thoughts–quietens them to a dull roar–as you sit next to Mingyu on a park bench.

You had finished dinner a half hour ago; a mouthwatering feast of flavour grilled by the deft hands of your roommate himself. You watched as he took to the task with an almost reverent disposition—ushering the food through the cycle of cooking as you sat across from him, absorbed in the aroma and savouring each morsel he placed in front of you.

You had worried that he was going to take you to some uptight, fine dining restaurant where each dish was somehow the size of your pinky finger while costing more than you made in a day (Mingyu did have a vibe of luxury about him); but when he opened the door to the small, hole-in-the-wall barbeque joint in a random side-street you felt the tension in your shoulders ease and you were finally able to let yourself relax.

He ordered–a generous selection of high-quality but reasonably priced beef–and you sat and ate and talked. It was normal and nice and the old wood-planked walls of the restaurant leant the entire dinner an air of casualness that your anxiety-addled brain desperately needed. Just a nice normal dinner with a roommate who you did not have any romantic attraction to at all.

Conversation continued after dinner ended. He was easy to talk to, easy to listen to, and you lost yourself in it, completely forgetting about your previous plan to avoid him, as he paid the bill. You continued to talk as you left the restaurant, stepped back out onto the street, and as you continued to walk together until you saw the Han River stretching out in front of you.

You hadn’t been paying attention as you walked–just let your feet move under the vague assumption that you were just heading back home–so reaching the river had come as a surprise. Mingyu’s face remained impassive as he led you past the numerous couples dotting the riverbank, each splayed out on grass and blankets, bathed in the soft amber glow of the city. You followed him for a few hundred feet until he stopped at a small hill and sat down on a bench, draping his arm casually over the back as he leaned against the sun-faded wood.

You hesitate a minute before sitting down. The mirage of purely platonic companionship had dissipated step by step as you followed him downstream, watching the way his jacket moved against his torso–loosely fitted but structured enough to hint at the firmness of his shoulders underneath, swelling as his arms swung idly at his sides. Your mind blaring a fire red warning in Jeonghan’s voice: be careful. Mingyu notices you hesitate and offers a warm smile, just touching at the corners of his eyes. He moves over an inch on the bench to give you more space and your heart takes that moment to consider itself some sort of acrobat in your chest. You silence the warning, washing it out with your own self-soothing lies, before taking a seat next to him and focusing on the night skyline.

Living in the city always felt isolating. Like the loneliness of existence was only amplified by the millions of other lives that played out parallel to your own. Millions of other people with different thoughts, feelings, and experiences existing right next to yours–there, but never touching. Lines crossing and converging but rarely intertwining for longer than a heartbeat.

Wonwoo had been an anchor in that sea of loneliness. Something solid to hold onto as you were buffeted by the waves of life. Stabile, grounding. You never realised how much you needed that stability until it was no longer there. Until you were cast adrift once more, alone in the deep blue.

Seulgi was there of course–as well as your other friends and family–but it wasn’t the same. They were islands of reprieve to visit when needed, and to offer the same when they did, but it wasn’t the same as having that one person to tether yourself to. To merge your life with and create a new island on solid foundations. Unshakeable, until it’s not.

Maybe you were pathetic, relying on a partner for so much support. Needing someone to rescue you from your own life. Maybe you needed to save yourself for once.

“Do you ever get the feeling like you’re going to end up dying alone?” you ask the question, half expecting it to dissolve into the air in front of you and go completely unanswered. Unsure if you even want an answer or if you just needed to remove the thought from your mind.

Mingyu scoffs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he glances at you sideways–evaluating. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you.”

“Oh?” you raise an eyebrow, a twinge of offense scurrying up at the comment. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Well, what makes you think you would?” he counters and you let a small laugh slip out at the seriousness of his expression.

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, dismissing the thought and turning your attention back towards the view. Bitterly regretting altering the mood so seriously. You should have remained flippant, joyous. Unserious. But when did your mouth ever listen to you? “I was just thinking out loud.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he laughs, “you brought it up and now you’re avoiding the question?” You feel the heat of his body warm the air around you as he adjusts on the bench, angling away from the river to better face you and pry the answers free under the weight of his attention.

“You avoided mine!” you bite back in defense, turning in kind to face him, but realising the trap too late as he flashes you a wolfish grin.

“Ah-ha, so it was a serious question!” he cries, pleased with himself. “Listen if you want my honest answer, I will give it to you but I want an answer in return as well.”

You hesitate, not for the first time tonight—wavering at the edge of the offer and cursing your propensity for sticking your foot straight into your mouth at the drop of a hat.

Do you really want to open up to him like this?

It had been such a nice evening. Good food, good conversation, and a nice walk along the river. It had been a while since you had felt so at ease in someone's company. And yet, despite all of that, you had to go and get lost in your self-sabotaging, meandering thoughts and open your big dumb mouth. Did Mingyu even really want to know? He seemed friendly and open enough but you can’t help but hear Jeonghan’s voice as it bounces off the walls of your mind: ‘Mingyu is not serious’. Did he know what Pandora’s Box he was willingly opening by asking you? Did he care?

You fix your gaze on him, evaluating, searching his eyes for any sign of ambivalence or even trickery. He stares back, waiting patiently for you to mull it over, and you come up with no discernable ulterior motive. Nothing lurking in the clear brown of his eyes other than open curiosity and a slight glimmer of amusement.

“Ugh, fine,” you relent, falling back against the bench with a huff. You forgot Mingyu’s arm is resting against the back and you feel the pressure of it against you as you settle deeper into the bench. “Why do I think I’m going to die alone…” you repose the question, willfully ignoring the shiver that ripples out from the spot where his arm is pressed against you. You can feel the warmth of it even through your jacket. “Maybe because I’m a bit of an anxious wreck and that can’t be easy to deal with. Or maybe because I’ve managed to fuck up every relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu replies, assured in his denial of your reasoning.

You let out a mirthless laugh and glare into the middle distance. “Don’t think so? Don’t think what? That I’m not an anxious wreck? You clearly don’t know me that well.”

“No, I believe that part, though anxiety can be treated to a certain extent. I have this psychologist friend, Minghao, he talks a lot about it. I could get you his number if you want.” he offers and you furrow your brow at the suggestion.

“You want to set me up with a psychologist?”

He laughs, “not like a date. Like if you wanted to book an appointment to see him about it. You know, like a therapist?”

“Oh,” you mumble, immediately feeling stupid. “So what did you mean then?”

“Just that it takes two to fuck up a relationship most of the time. You can’t fuck up something that wasn’t ready to be fucked up, you know? No one is perfect, we all have issues so no relationship is ever perfect and that’s not the fault of just one person.”

“Wow,” you exhale. His words sink in, a stark contrast against the internal monologue of shame and blame you had callously constructed. A differing perspective roaring in to shake your foundations. You try to reckon with it, the thought that it might not be all your fault, and it clamours and clangs against your brain in the worst way. In a way that you know it might be true but you’re not ready to accept it yet.

“Did I say something wrong?” Mingyu asks, momentarily rendered insecure by your plunge into melancholic silence.

“No, no,” you assure him, distantly amused by his immediate assumption that it might have been him that did something wrong. “It’s just…” you hesitate, unsure of how to word it. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so insightful.”

He snorts out a laugh, “thanks, I guess. I have my moments.”

“No, no, I don’t mean that I think you’re like…incapable of insight, just…” you pause, trying to reformulate the thought in a way that doesn’t sound like an insult. “I’m just not used to getting reality checks like that from people I don’t really know that well.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughs again, in relief this time, and you feel the edge of tension you had been holding in your body ebb away. “Well, I mean it though,” he affirms, “I don’t think it means you’re going to die alone.”

“Okay, well,” you sigh, unsure where to follow this new proffered perspective, “thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” he grins. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” You knit your brows in confusion, eliciting another laugh from your seatmate. “For what?”

“You answered my question, so it’s your turn to ask one,” he explains.

“I didn’t realise we were playing 20 questions,” you tease. The words leave your lips with a little more edge than you had intended and you wince. Why did you always sound so defensive? You glance at Mingyu and feel a slight sense of relief at the fact that he seemed not to have noticed the tone.

“Well, if you don’t have any questions, I’m fine with being the hot, mysterious one in the house,” he winks and again you find yourself not hating how he looks when he does it.

Still, you snort derisively in response. If only he knew how deeply not-mysterious he already was to you. “Hardly,” you reply. “Okay, fine. I have a question for you: why does The Notebook make you cry so much?”

Wide-eyed surprise ripples across his face, a tinge of red embarrassment colouring the tips of his ears, “who told you that?” he asks in a nervous half-whisper.

“Jeonghan might have mentioned it when I was moving in…”

“Traitor,” he seethes, running a hand through his hair as he considers this revelation before answering you. “It’s sad,” he states plainly after a moment’s hesitation and you ‘tsk’, refusing the easy answer.

“Lots of movies are sad, Mingyu. Why does this one in particular make you cry so much that I was warned never to watch it in the living room?”

He sighs again, heaves his chest in and out like an exasperated dog settling down for bed. You watch as he stares out over the river, wide brown eyes shimmering with the lights of the city, and wait for him to respond. You had never seen Wonwoo cry during a movie. You had barely seen Wonwoo cry at all. He kept his emotions held tight, whether for self-protection or because he really was just that steady you didn’t know, but Mingyu’s upfront expressiveness was a breath of fresh air. Seeing someone so open at every moment with how they were feeling made you feel a little bit less alone with your own rapid shifts in mood. Maybe you weren’t the broken one.

“Fine,” he relents, “honestly, I know it’s corny. I know it’s a corny movie and it’s lame and dumb that an adult man with a job still bawls like a baby while watching it but I can’t help it. Seeing those two old people dying in bed together after reliving the tale of their love just gets me every single time. It’s a confusing mixture of sadness and hope and I have never been able to get through it without weeping.”

“Wow,” you remark and he shakes his head.

“Happy?” he huffs, again with an air of a disgruntled dog and you laugh.

“Very happy, thank you for sharing.”

“Okay my turn,” he grins, leaning back against the bench once more, the wood groaning slightly under his weight as it shifts.

“Good luck, movies don’t make me cry often.”

“Well you’ve gotta have some embarrassing secret. Otherwise we’re on uneven ground, and I don’t like that.”

“I’ve already told you something embarrassing,” you start to defend yourself but he shakes his head. Resolute.

“What? About thinking you fuck everything up?” You nod and he laughs, “that’s not embarrassing, that’s normal. Everyone thinks they’re more fucked up than they are.” He shrugs and you again marvel at how casually he accepts the very thing that feels so earth-shaking to you. “Tell me your most embarrassing secret.”

“That’s not a question, it’s a demand.” you point out and he nods, considering the rebuttal.

“Too broad? Okay, then what’s your favourite song?”

“How is that supposed to be embarrassing?” you ask, aghast.

“It’s not, I’m just curious. Not every question needs to be so heavy, you can get to know people through simpler things. Happy things,” he smiles again, coy, and your heart betrays you again with a flutter of wings against your chest.

“I’m not sure,” you muse. He starts to protest but you cut him off before he can begin, “there are too many songs that I love to feel like I can narrow it down to just one all–time favourite. Too many things to consider.”

“Like what?”

“Like, what am I doing when I am listening to it? Is it a song I could listen to anytime, anywhere? Does that make it a favourite or just an easy listen? Is it a song that fills me with a swell of emotions? A favourite from high school that still makes me nostalgic? Or a recent song that I’ve played on repeat too many times to count? You see…too many things to consider.”

“Wow, you’re right,” he laughs again, “you really are an overthinker.”

“Gee, thanks,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“How about you just make me a playlist with all of the above and we’ll consider it answered?” he winks and you blink back at him, stunned to silence. Wonwoo never really got through the songs you would recommend to him, was Mingyu really going to go to the trouble of listening to an entire playlist? For his roommate?

“Oh–okay,” you answer, unsure of what else to say.

Silence descends for a moment, settling comfortably between you, and you glance around in surprise to find that most of the people that had been here when you arrived have since departed. How long had you been sitting on this bench talking?

As if reading your thoughts, Mingyu clears his throat. “It’s getting late,” he feigns a yawn, forearm flexing as he brings his hand up to cover his mouth, “but you have one more question to even it up before we start walking back home.”

You sit still, contemplating. While teasing him had been fun, an overwhelming part of you wants to really get to know him. To know what makes him tick. What thoughts and desires lurk in the depths of those puppy brown eyes. To find out exactly what it was about him that was drawing you in so much despite your (and Seulgi’s and Jeonghan’s) better judgement.

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” you ask finally. It feels like a silly question as soon as you ask it but you can’t take it back once it’s been spoken. And you do actually want to know the answer.

“Is that your final question?” he asks and you hesitate but nod. You’re curious about what kind of kid he was. What his dreams had been before the demands of adulthood had set in. “Alright, but it’s silly,” he warns and you wait silently for his response despite it, “I wanted to own my own bakery.”

“You wanted to own a bakery?” you parrot the response, surprised by his answer. “Really?”

“I told you it was silly,” he smiles, voice a slight quiver. You hadn’t expected the answer, true, but it’s the nervousness around it that is really taking you by surprise. Like it’s kid Mingyu answering the question and not the 20-something year old adult you had bought you dinner.

“No, no, it’s not silly, I just didn’t expect it,” you reassure him and the expression of embarrassment on his face melts back into neutrality. The wave of nerves slipping away into the ether. “Why didn’t you do it?”

He shrugs, “my parents didn’t think it was a suitable career path for someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You bristle, feeling defensive on behalf of the kid he once was.

“I never asked for clarification,” he laughs. “Just went to school for business like they suggested. Jokes on them, though, I can still make a mean sourdough.”

“What can’t you do?” you mumble, intending the comment to be unheard but clearly failing as Mingyu throws his head back with a laugh before getting to his feet.

“Well, what about you?” he asks as you join him and you both head back down the path towards the main road. “What was your childhood dream?”

“I always wanted to be an artist,” you say, “and I sort of am doing that now just in a more corporate-friendly way. Career was the one aspect of life that I always felt I had a handle on. There was no guesswork. It was just me involved.”

“Your parents didn’t have any different thoughts as to what they wanted you to do?” he asks, a slight note of surprise colouring his voice.

“Not really, no,” you shrug, “they were pretty supportive, honestly. I think the only things they really cared about was that I got an education and was able to pay for rent and food.”

“That’s lucky, it’s nice to have such supportive parents.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you nod. It had never been something you had actively thought about, just taken for granted and assumed it was sort of the same for everyone. You make a mental note to call your parents soon and catch up as you and Mingyu leave the park and the river disappears behind you.

“Would you ever bake something for me?” you ask, matching Mingyu’s stride as you take a turn down the block towards home.

“That depends,” he replies, amusement clear in his voice.

“On what?”

“On whether or not you want to hang out again in the future,” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. You see a hint of blush reddening the tips of his ears again and it makes you wonder. Was it just the slight chill in the air causing it?

“Well, we do live together so I think that’s almost inevitable,” you laugh, trying to brush the niggling feeling off with an assurance that you did not feel.

“True,” he concedes, “then I guess I will. Are you more of a sweet or savory person?”

“That depends,” you reply, a small grin turning up the corners of your lips.

“Overthinking pastries now too?”

“No,” you laugh, all lingering feelings of defensiveness gone from you. “It depends on what you’re better at making.”

“Oh, I’m good at it all,” he replies, voice smooth–silk slipping over mahogany–as he holds open the door to the condo complex for you. You glance at him, eyes meeting his in the dim light of the lobby, and study him for a moment. He’s smiling, cool and casual, but there’s a seriousness hiding in the depths of his expression that you can’t quite unravel. It draws you in, curiouser and curiouser, until you find yourself face to face with a crossroads. Two paths diverge in the yellow woods of your mind and the only thing that remains is to choose.

“Then I’ll take it all,” you reply after a breath, thoughts slipping into place. Threshold crossed, decision made. You step into the lobby and head towards the elevator leaving Mingyu to trail behind.

The condo is blessedly quiet when you arrive upstairs; everyone else scattered throughout the city with Friday night plans. The absence of Jeonghan in particular is a relief, you knew that no matter what the context was, if he saw you return with Mingyu at this time of night you would be primed for some form of lecture or another. Whether verbal or simply that knowing stare he likes to give you when he thinks you’re being stupid.

That silent cloud of judgement would have been especially intrusive tonight as you step in through the front door barely clinging onto the tenuous air of bravado you had conjured up in the lobby downstairs. It would have shaken your resolve to follow this thought of intrigue towards Mingyu and thrust you right back into your torrential thoughts once more, spinning haphazardly between mourning over what was lost and what might not ever be.

Instead you stand with shaky confidence and a pounding in your chest as you bid Mingyu goodnight, savouring that look of intrigue you’re sure is mirrored in his own expression as you close your bedroom door for the night and bar any doubt from creeping in behind you.

You listen through the walls as his own door clicks shut before rummaging through the unpacked duffel bag in the corner of your room. You dig through unsorted paperwork, unopened mail, random knick knacks you had found no home for yet until your fingers grasp the object you were seeking.

Sleek, black silicone emerges from the bag and you glance behind you as if Mingyu might be standing there, ready to chastise you for your impure thoughts.

You stand up, hesitating, evaluating the vibrator as it sits like a brick in your palm. You had only used it once, years ago, after buying it at a convention with Seulgi before it ended up buried deep in the recesses of your drawer. At the time your sex life had been consistent and satisfying–it was early days for you and Wonwoo and the excitement and novelty of having each other at your fingertips for the whims of the moment had kept you too busy to even remember that you had the toy stored away in the first place. It wasn’t until you were packing to move out that you rediscovered it.

You hesitate for a second before thinking ‘fuck it, I paid like $200 for this, I’m gonna get some use out of it’ and slipping out of your clothes and into your bed.

You try to set the mood in your mind, fingers swirling idly over your bare skin as you flip through mental images of celebrities, movie scenes, fantasies that you used to use to get in the mood. Anything to deepen that pressure that burned quietly inside of you. None of your old tricks produce results and you sigh, ready to give up on the activity completely, before you feel the distinct thud of Mingyu’s headboard against the wall.

You imagine Mingyu: what is he doing? Maybe sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through Instagram, or maybe he’s under his covers too. Maybe he’s having the same thoughts as you?

You follow this thought where it takes you, back to that night the other week. Back to the low sound of his moaning carried through the drywall and plaster, the thudding of his headboard against your wall, back to that yawning pit in your stomach that felt like it might swallow you whole at any second. Your hand traces the path of the scene playing out in your mind, blazing a trail down your chest, stomach, and finally to the aching space between your thighs.

You recall the weight of Mingyu’s arm pressed against your back on the park bench–steady and solid. The sound of his voice and laughter muffling your gasp of surprise as you flick the vibrator on and jump at the sudden noise filling your room.

You flick it back off immediately, worrying that the distinctive buzzing sound would carry itself through the cover of your blankets and body and make it through the proven-thin walls towards Mingyu’s ears. He would know for sure you were in here thinking about him, fantasizing about his lips on your neck. The thought of discovery adds a confusing stab of guilt to the knotting in your guts but you do your best to squash it as it pops up. What exactly were you doing wrong? You were tired of denying yourself pleasure out of fear of other people’s judgements or shame. You flick the vibrator back on, this time prepared for the noise, and dig the object deeper between your thighs.

Maybe part of you wants him to hear you–wants him to know what you were doing alone in the dark in the bedroom next to him. Maybe, in this alternative timeline, he knocks softly on your door. His brown eyes rake over your naked body, bared to him like a gift prepared just for him. His sweatpants strain with the pressure of his bulge as his blood travels lower, and lower. Filling him with the desire as it fills you now. He steps forward, wavering at the threshold of your bed and asks, voice so low it plucks at the strings of your core, to join you. To help you release this coil of tension that had made its home inside of you, growing bigger and hungrier every single day since running into him half-naked in the kitchen that first night. Maybe he’s been running through this same scenario every night before bed, hand gripping his cock as it pulses in his hand, sweat beading his brow.

Alternative timeline or not, the thought itself is all that you need to push you over the edge as you move the vibrator against your clit, finding the right rhythm of pressure, the right balance of relief, to feed the beast of desire crying open-mouthed inside of you. To have your legs shaking and your core pulsing with waves of pleasure no longer denied. You cry out, muffling the sound with the back of your free hand, and for the first time in years it isn't Wonwoo's face clear in your mind as you reach your climax.

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

#caratlibrary #svthub #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #mingyu angst #wonwoo angst #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #chm updates

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