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russellsppttemplates · 21 days ago

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Bridging the Gap (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is 4 years older than Lando, media scrutiny

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

The low hum of the television filled the cozy apartment as you and Lando sat on the sofa, nestled comfortably under a soft blanket as his hands absentmindedly traced patterns on your thigh. Lately, it was one of your favorite pastimes - catching up on a show after a long week and simply enjoying each other's presence without having the world around you.

Life with Lando was unexpectedly delightful. His infectious laughter and zest for life were contagious, and even the most mundane days seemed brighter with him around, no matter how many clients you had that day or how much reading you had to do before their next sessions. At the beginning, you couldn't wrap your head around how the way your routines still laced together despite the seemingly different responsibilities, but you cherished the balance you shared.

"Do you have a busy day tomorrow?", your boyfriend asked.

"I have 8 clients, as two of them already cancelled because they're sick, but I managed to adjust the schedule and hopefully I have some time to go to the bank and see about my mortgage payments", you said.

"And in that rearranged schedule, is there a possibility of you spending the night here so we can wake up together before you go be a boss lady?", he wondered as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, softly kissing the skin there.

"I have to be in the office at before 10 am, Lan, I can't have a lie in", you reasoned.

"I have to be up at 7 am to go on a run with Jon, so neither can I", he smirked, knowing he had all the reasons to convince you to stay, "we can have some breakfast together before you leave me".

"I guess I have time to pop home, change and get to work on time", you reasoned, agreeing with his plans.

"I'm glad you think that because my next step was going to kidnap you for the night - I'm talking locking the doors and throwing away the keys", Lando spoke.

Your laughs rubbled as Lando squeezed you tighter against him, basking in the warm feeling on his chest of having you for the rest of the night.

A few weeks later, Lando told you Max and Pietra would be in Monaco for a week since they hadn't spent some time together in a while.

"Do you know how your week is going to be? In terms of your schedule I mean", Lando mused, holding your waist as you stirred the food in the pot.

"I had some people move around from their usual schedule, so the weekdays end late but I don't have many appointments on Friday and I have Saturday off", you spoke.

"That's good, means we can spend a nice long weekend together", Lando smiled, kissing your shoulder before resting his chin there, "I'm not sure of all the plans yet but it’ll be fun! And they’re eager to meet you", he grinned, optimism lighting up his face.

"I'm excited to meet them too", you spoke, despite the one looming shadow. The thought of meeting Lando’s close-knit circle always brought a tinge of anxiety with it. His friends were used to seeing him as the carefree poster child of single life - never missing a party or the chance to get a little drunk. Hell, the idea that Lando would rather stay in on a Friday night, watching his girlfriend cook them dinner after spending the afternoon waiting for her to finish her online sessions would baffle Max and all of his friends.

And though Lando never seemed to mind, the idea of them questioning your relationship because of your age gnawed at your insecurity. Even when you were younger, the party scene wasn't your thing and as the years passed, it certainly didn't become it. You were fine with Lando enjoying himself whenever he wanted to and never once objected to that, but feared that his friends would question it.

"There's something on your mind, I can tell that", Lando spoke softly, "would you like to share it with me?".

"It's just...", you tried, knowing he would be able to tell you were lying and knowing that sharing this with him could ease your fears.

"Doesn't have to sound pretty or polished, I just want to know what is on your head", he encouraged softly.

"Maybe they won't want to spend time with me? They're coming here to see you and spend time with you, and there's always the possibility that they might now want to spend time with me", you let it out.

"Why do you think that?", he continued softly.

"Because I'm not hard-core, adrenaline seeking fun!", you added.

"Lovie, the plans we have are just enough fun for everyone, I didn't to do anything too hard-core and they don't either, so we'll be good and have plenty of fun together, yeah?", Lando assured, turning you around and kissing your forehead.

"You are starting to have a way with words", you mumbled, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin in such a protective manner, like no harm in the world could get to you if he was near.

"I catch on a thing or two you say", your boyfriend mumbled, kissing your lips slowly.

"I have to take my lunch to the office tomorrow, I don't have time to come home", you mumbled more to yourself than anything, taking a tupperware box from the cupboards so you wouldn't end up without your packed lunch.

"Pack two of them and I'll meet you in the office", Lando said like it was nothing.

"Sorry, what?", you asked again, afraid you had misheard him.

"You can pack two of them to go and I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow so you don't eat lunch all alone", Lando suggested.

"You don't have to", you reasoned.

"I know I don't, but I want to", Lando smiled, "the next couple of days are going to be busy for me and I need to fill up on time with you so my heart won't miss you as much".

He was ever the charmer and you still blushed at his words, not used to this no matter how many times he did it.

"Fine, but you can't mess up the crayons this time! You left one of them on the floor and I saw my life flash before my eyes when I stepped on it and nearly fell! No funny business in my office!", you joked.

"Does that mean we can't play Jenga and talk about my feelings? How dare you do that to me, woman?", Lando dramatised.

The first night of the week Max and Pietra would be spending in Monaco arrived quickly, and while the full day of sessions certainly kept your mind away from all of it, you found yourself at the door of your boyfriend's apartment waiting for him to get it.

"Hello, beautiful", Lando greeted as soon as he saw you, kissing your lips before letting you in, "let me take these", he said as he grabbed your bag and your coat.

"Thank you, I'm sorry I'm a bit late but the last session ran a bit longer than I expexted", you apologised, smoothing over your jeans and checking how you looked in the mirror - after the day you had, you couldn't expect much but you were pleasantly surprised that your hair was still bouncy and forgoing makeup was probably a good idea because you would have smudged it by now.

"You look beautiful as always, Y/N", Lando grabbed your attention, "and don't worry, take out is late too so you don't need to feel bad", he assured, guiding you with him to the living room where the noise was coming from.

"Guys, this is Y/N", Lando announced as they both welcomed you warmly, quickly asking you questions and letting you join in, preparing a drink for you.

"I'm usually heavy handed, but this one is proper, Y/N", he offered you before you took a sip, "I can fix a different one though!".

"It's good, it's good - hits the spot very nicely", you smiled, taking another sip before engaging in conversation.

When the food arrived, Lando asked you to join him in the kitchen to help him plate everything up and bring it to the dining table, opting to use the door closest to it so it would be easier.

As you crossed rhe hallway, you overheard Max and Pietra talking.

“Do you think it works?”, Pietra asked, “I mean, they seem happy, but Lando’s… well, Lando".

Max shrugged, “He’s crazy about her. Age doesn’t matter, does it? But yeah, never thought he’d settle, at least not like this".

You felt a small knot form in your stomach, but before you could dwell on it, Lando appeared at your side, his familiar warmth instantly reassuring as he placed his hand on the small of your back, “You alright?” he asked, noticing the brief flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.

“Yeah", you smiled, deciding in that moment that the security you had together was worth navigating any doubts from others.

As the evening continued, you noticed Max and P exchanging skeptical glances across the table - they're were known for their protective nature over Lando, Max is his bestfriend, so they are particularly wary of anyone close to their beloved friend.

Over the clinking of silverware and hum of conversations, Max finally spoke up, his tone casual but inquisitive, "so, how’s it really going, being with a guy who practically lives on a racetrack?”.

You felt Lando's reassuring nudge beneath the table, prompting you to respond with honesty, "It's definitely something else. Racing is such a demanding world, but we find balance by making time for each other away from it all. So far, it has worked out well".

P leaned back, observing the dynamic between the you, "there must be a lot of pressure, especially with so many eyes watching your every move".

Lando chimed in before you could respond, "Y/N handles it like a champ. Honestly, she’s the calm in my storm", he said, his eyes filled with admiration for you. There wasn't a day that you didn't handle it gracefully, whether it was a fan wanting to take a photo or a reporter wanting to know more than you allowed.

Max and P exchanged another look, this time softer and less guarded - little by little, they began to see what Lando meant by his earlier assurance that you kept him grounded.

As dinner progressed, the conversation turned to shared stories, with Lando guiding the discussion to include moments from your relationship - your mutual love for travel, how you introduced him to the joy of quiet moments, and even shared a humorous tale of your early dates, laughter erupting when he recounted an incident involving mistaking your office with the one next to yours, Lando accidentally entering the lawyer's waiting room with a massive bouquet of flowers and passes to golf.

Max's initial skepticism gradually melted away as he watched you interact. Lando's attentiveness was unmistakable - how he would lean in to catch your words over the din of conversations, or how his eyes crinkled in genuine amusement at your stories. He noticed how effortless and natural your connection seemed, a seamless blend of companionship and partnership.

By the time dessert came around, Pietra seemed convinced, "Alright, alright. I can see what everyone’s been talking about. You both really seem to understand each other in a way that's rare".

"You say that like we don't!", Max complained.

"Shut it, Max, you know what I mean", she mumbled.

Feeling the warmth of acceptance flood the room, Lando laid his hand over yours on the table, grinning with relief and contentment, "Told you she was amazing,” he said, playfully raising his eyebrows.

Max chuckled, raising his glass, "Okay, I admit defeat, I'm not sure we are like this!".

It was in that moment that you realized, the whispers of doubt that had once lingered were no match for the clarity of Lando’s affection. Together, you were creating a narrative all your own, one that defied stereotypes and embraced your unique bond.

As the days passed after the gathering, the glow of being surrounded by Lando’s friends began to fade, replaced by the nagging unease that had settled in your mind. You found yourself replaying the conversations from that night, the laughter, the glances, and especially Max's comment, which you still couldn’t quite shake off despite the way the night ended.

One evening, after a long day at work, filled with sessions and schedule arrangements thanks to the flu season, you sat on the sofa, scrolling through social media.

Your heart sank as you stumbled upon a headline featuring Lando. The article speculated about his relationships and how he was often deemed the ultimate bachelor, writing that they believed he wasn't about to change his ways. The more you read, the harder it became to ignore your worries.

Later that night, Lando arrived from his photoshoot, his laughter echoing as he stepped through you door. He instantly brightened the room with his presence, but you struggled to muster so much as a smile.

“Hey! Long day?”, he asked, tilting his head slightly, concern etched across his features as he took a good look at you.

“Just tired", you replied with a half truth. As you settled down, you felt the weight of the unspoken words pressing on your chest, knowing that sooner or later they would find their way out.

“Is everything okay?”, Lando probed, sensing the shift in your mood. Even when you had a bad day, the reception he got wasn't like this.

You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, Do you ever think about what people say… about us?”.

Lando paused, confusion washing over his face, "What do you mean?”.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, looking down, "Like, the way the media talks about you. Or how your friends might see us. What if they don’t accept me? They might think I’m not right for you… for your image".

Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, “Why would you think that?”.

“Because it’s true!”, you almost spat, frustration bubbling to the surface, "You’re this young, popular and successful Formula One driver, and I’m just… well, me. What if they think I’m just an older woman trying to latch onto your fame? What if they don’t see how happy we are?”.

“Stop it", he said gently, but firmly, “you’re not ‘just’ anything, or someone. You’re incredible, and I’m with you because I want to be. Age is just a number and it doesn’t define how meaningful our relationship is, not to me and it shouldn't be to anyone".

But your doubts resurfaced, relentless as you continued with your voice rising with each word, “But what if your family doesn’t feel the same? What if they think I’m not good enough for their sweet boy? I just… I can't help but overthink it. I love you, and I’m terrified of losing you".

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his and grounding you with his touch, something you explained to him early on that worked wonders for you, “I can’t control what others think, but my family will see how happy you make me. They care about my happiness, not just some number or date".

“But what if they don’t?”, you whispered, your voice trembling. Over the years, you could remember the times where you told patients exactly that, that their mind was looking for survival so that's where it took them.

“They will!", Lando stated, his grip tightening slightly, “Look, it’s not going to be like this forever. People talk, and yes, media can be ruthless, but what matters is how we feel about each other. And I feel lucky to have you in my life. Please trust that, my love".

You looked for reassurance in his eyes as slowly his words began to soothe the turmoil, but the fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

“I just don’t want to complicate things for you", you said softly.

Lando brushed his fingers against your cheek, a gentle smile breaking through your anxiety, "you’re not complicating things. You’re adding to my life in a way I never knew I needed. Can we just take this one step at a time together?”.

Lando pulled you into a warm embrace, and for a moment, the weight on your heart lightened. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to stay in the moment and be there.

“I’ll try", you finally spoke against his shoulder, feeling comfort in his unwavering support.

“I promise I'm not going anywhere", he whispered back, wrapping you tighter in his arms, "we’re in this together".

"Thank you", you mumbled, pecking his lips softly.

"You don't ever need to thank me, not for stuff like this or anything else, we're in this together, lovie", Lando kissed your forehead, "besides, if you ever dump me, I'll have to find a good psychologist to help me through it and you're the best one, so that's another valid point for us to stay together", he chuckled, wanting to get a giggle out of you.

Smiling when he succeeded, Lando squeezed you tighter against him, "never doubt that we were meant to be, Y/N, never".

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic

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sturnmeovr · 27 days ago

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Neighbor!Matt Headcanons

Best paired with Brat!Reader

✮Neighbor!Matt who ... Brat always calls on as her personal handyman. They live in a shitty apartment building with property owners who could give a fuck less what shape their apartments are in, as long as each unit was livable and nobody would sue them. Matt takes pride in showing up at her door to fix her water pressure for the sixth time this month, anything to see her; anything to keep a smile on that pretty face of hers.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... has a secret passion for cooking. It all started one year when he baked Christmas cookies with his mom, quickly sparking a light inside his soul. He loves cooking for his brothers and the few friends he has. Brat loves all the delicious meals he cooks for her just as much as he loves showing her his secret love for cooking, he always makes sure to plate them like a 5-star restaurant would.

✮Neighbor!Matt who ... works a blue collar job for a local construction company. He comes home with stained jeans, dirty hands, and the same brown, three-year-old Carhartt jacket his mom gifted him for Christmas one year. He even picks up odd jobs on the weekends to have extra money in his pocket since living in the big city is so expensive nowadays.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... has a horrible sleeping schedule. Even though he works a full time job, he stays up late on his PC, usually playing COD or GTA.

✮Neighbor!Matt who ... has a bedroom directly above Brats. She can hear his every move much like he can hear hers. It doesn't matter if he's screaming at his game or arguing with his brother, she hears everything. Matt often eavesdrops on her phone conversation to her friends when she talks about him.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... frequents the diner a few blocks away. The owner is a good family friend, so him and his brothers are always welcomed there, always getting a discount every time they go.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... is a logical crash out. He stands for the right causes; no bullying, no hurting women, and no talking to him like he's fucking stupid.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... carries Brats drunk ass up to her apartment every other Friday night. She can't handle her liquor, and she has shitty friends, in his opinion. He doesn't mind helping her out whenever she needs it, and he loves it when she asks him to stay to cuddle her all night. She'd always be embarrassed in the morning, but he thought her rosy, red cheeks were adorable.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... races downstairs to Brats apartment every time she tries to cook by herself a meal and ends up setting the fire alarm off. Seriously, the girl burns toast.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... shares an undeniable, indescribable connection with Brat, whom he thought was just his bitchy downstairs neighbor until he actually got to know her. He'd do anything to make her his and he can't stand that she's so guarded.

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - I’ve been posting so much I was gonna give myself a little break but this anon changed my mind 😋 thank you for the love baby. Try not to hit that anonymous switch next time, I love to argue 🫶🏻 anyways I hope everyone enjoys, thanks to everyone who shows love and doesn’t hide behind that anon button. Love & appreciate you guys more than you know! 💚 (I have a masterlist for this au coming soon, click the neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader tag in the meantime!)

Masterlist

Taglist (comment to be added)

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spookyscarydemonbabe · 4 months ago

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Brand New

A/N- This is my very first fully written fic for Bill and i couldn’t be more excited to post it 🤭 i’ve struggled a little bit with writing something in full for him, I’m still trying to get a grasp on his character, but i hope that my interpretation goes along with how others interpret him too 🥰 i personally have a little bit of experience with nerd culture, horror movies specifically, so i used some of my knowledge to help this one go along a little more smoothly 😅 i’m trying to get the comics read through, but for now all ive watched for the last month is the Eltingville Club pilot and i’m OBSESSED

Summary- Bill isn’t too enthusiastic about the new neighbors moving in, but his mind changes as he watches the movers bringing in a few pieces of memorabilia he recognizes. He gets confused, however, when he sees just one pretty girl wander in after the owners.

Genre- Fluff (?)

Warnings- Normal vulgar thoughts of super nerdy guys who have never felt the touch of a woman

Tag List- No tag list yet! Please let me know if you’d like to be added 🖤

Word Count- 3.1k

Bill yawned at the breakfast table in the kitchen, picking at the leftover scraps of scrambled eggs on his plate.

The night before was a long one, as always. Another club meeting, another series of arguments over who actually won during their game of Street Fighter, another rewatch of Return of the Jedi just to see Carrie Fisher in that metal bikini they can never get out of their heads. It was always how he spent his Friday nights, he just wished the Saturday mornings would be a bit more interesting.

They were always the same. He’d wake up, do his normal morning routine, and sit at the breakfast table waiting for a call from one of the guys to see if they were still up for going out after nearly killing each other the night before.

Bill enjoyed how routine everything was, but every now and then he’d hope that something, anything, could interrupt their normal schedule and give them something else to sneak into their routine. And when he heard the loud screeching of a moving truck stopping outside, he perked up almost immediately.

“Bill!” His mother called from the living room, “I’m taking Jane to the mall with her friends, keep the noise down and don’t bother the new people next door!” She shouted, just before the front door slammed shut.

At least he’d be able to watch the new people move in by himself and get a good read on them.

He tossed his plate into the sink and ran upstairs, ignoring the phone ringing downstairs and waiting to finally pick it up until he made it to his room.

“Hello?” He said as he picked up the phone from the handset on his nightstand, shutting his bedroom door and watching out the window for whoever could be moving in next door.

“Hey, are we still up for today?” It was Pete, calling to confirm wether or not Josh threatening to burn Bills comic collection was a deal breaker for them going to the movies to see whatever sci-fi flick came out that week.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Bill said, half listening as he watched the movers lift up the back of the truck.

“You sure?” Pete asked on the other end, “You sound a little distracted.”

“Yeah…” Bill trailed off as the movers began lifting out the boxes to one another and bringing them into the house next door, doing his best to read the sharpie labels written on the sides, “Yeah, sure. Just uhh…” He glanced over at the clock, 11:57 am, “Why don’t you guys get here in an hour and we’ll go, alright?” Bill kept watching the boxes get lugged inside and his attention was grabbed by the car that pulled into the driveway. He saw the two front doors open and an older couple stepped out, the new owners he figured. He was just about to finish his spying until you caught his attention.

He watched as the back drivers side door opened, and as you stepped out of the car to stretch, Bills eyes widened.

You were breathtaking.

Even in your comfies, no doubt from the long drive, and with your hair done messily, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He’d be forever grateful to finally live next to someone of your beauty. Stuck under your trance, he had completely forgotten about the phone in his hand.

“Bill!” Pete shouted, finally grabbing his attention back.

“Yes?! What?!” Bill shouted back as he kept watching you, gasping and reeling back from his window as his shouts caught your attention. Your eyes met for a nanosecond, but it was longer than he wanted. If he could manage to go the entire length of you living in that house without so much as a wave to one another he’d be in bliss. Watching you from afar and admiring everything you did from the confines of his bedroom or basement. But now you knew he was there. And he was fucked.

“We’ll be there in an hour, alright? See you then.” Pete hung up the phone, but Bill didn’t even notice.

He was too caught up in the fact that this was probably the closest he’ll get to a girl as pretty as you, and that’s only because you’d be living right next door. His mind was wandering to all those same places it would go to any time he had a new muse.

So far this month it had been Jade from Mortal Kombat, Terri from Anaconda, and now you. And he knew you’d be the one on his mind the longest.

He couldn’t help himself.

Hell, he didn’t even know your name, but he wanted to so badly. He knew he could never let himself get that close to you.

Bill sighed to himself, setting the phone onto the floor next to him as he thought of you. Being on of his beautiful ensigns in his Captain Kirk fantasies, dressed up in Leia’s metal bikini as you begged him to rescue you from Jabba, trapped in the chains of an evil sorcerer with a tattered and revealing princess dress while he and the rest of his D&D party came to your aid. He couldn’t stop.

Bill shook his head, trying to get those thoughts out of his head, but the sudden sound of a few boxes dropping and your shouts were definitely able to help. He turned his head back to carefully peek out the window and saw you next to what looked like a dropped box, a few of the contents fallen out, still wrapped up on bubble wrap.

“Be careful!” You shouted to the movers, “This stuff was expensive…”

Bills eyes widened as he saw what he thought was a few recognizable slasher masks, mint condition, wrapped up in vintage plastic packaging as you unwrapped the bubble wrap to see if they had broken.

Bill watched closer, his hands up on his windowsill to prop himself up as he watched you put the last of the called objects into the box and pick it up, carrying it inside the house yourself. As he watched you walk inside, he tried to make out the name on the side of the box,

“(y/n)‘s room…” He whispered to himself as he stared out at the spot you walked from, hoping to see you once more.

Bill was caught off guard at the sound of footsteps making their way inside the room across from his, and when he saw you enter with the box he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Even with getting a closer look at you, he knew it would be hard to not keep his eyes on that window to get a peek at you every chance he could.

He watched as you set the box down onto the floor, a few movers following in behind you, lugging in bigger and heavier boxes and setting them hard onto the floor. Bill could hear your frustrated groans and did his best to keep himself hidden, but the stack of comics next to him had other plans.

As Bill leaned himself up further to get a quick peek inside your room, they had fallen over onto the floor, knocking down the plastic bin filled with various half painted mini figurines for their D&D board. He dove to the ground to keep the sound from grabbing your attention, but when he heard your shouts he knew he was done for.

“Hey!” You shouted to him from outside your window, “I know you’re there, don’t ignore me.”

Bill cursed at himself for his stupidity before slowly standing up, his cheeks flushed knowing he was caught.

“You know,” You said as you stepped back from the open window, “If you’re going to spy, you can at least try to not get yourself caught. I could see you watching us in the driveway.”

Bill wasn’t sure what to say.

He was caught red handed, and he had never had someone call him out on his behavior so quickly. He felt compelled to apologize but it felt so foreign to him. He managed to muster out a quick and quiet,

“Sorry…” as he stood there before his open window.

“It’s fine…” You said, an audible eye roll in your tone, “Don’t do it too often, ok? You’re not going to be one of those perverts that tries to watch me change through the window, are you?” You crossed your arms over your chest, and though the thought definitely had crossed Bill’s mind, he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance now. It was almost like you knew his every move.

All he could do was stand there quietly, shaking his head.

“Good.” You closed your window halfway, going back to the boxes on your floor to begin unpacking as a few more of the movers bought in a couple more boxes.

Bill couldn’t help himself from watching you carefully unpack the boxes after slamming the bedroom door behind the movers.

One of them was flatter than the others, and he watched you place it on top of one of the bigger boxes before peeling the tape off and opening the top flaps. It was full of posters and prints of various sizes, each one of them had a different horror movie monster or scene on it.

Bill sat at the edge of his bed, watching you take out one of the rolls of tape the movers left with the boxes and begin placing them all over the walls.

He couldn’t believe a few of the ones he saw you put up.

A vintage Jaws poster with black sharpie scribbled over the title, no doubt the autographs of Richard Dreyfuss, Roy Scheider and Robert Shaw. The one next to it was a printed scene from Night of The Living Dead, Barbara being chased through the cemetery by Johnny. The last one he watched you put up was unmistakable, and he was shocked such a pretty girl would be into something like it…

It was a black light poster for Cannibal Holocaust, and it was more graphic than the movie poster itself. He could see the scene of the impaled girl in his head as he looked at the poster, shaking his head to get his thoughts together, but not before blurting out,

“Is that Cannibal Holocaust?” Out the window to you.

it was loud enough to catch your attention, and just as you had found the perfect spot for your Toxic Avenger poster. You wandered back over towards the window, lifting it up the rest of the way and poking your head out,

“What did you say?”

“Is that…” Bill asked, his voice quiet as he pointed out the poster behind you, “Is that from Cannibal Holocaust?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, quickly looking back at the poster behind you to confirm his suspicions,

“Oh. Yeah, it is.” You nod to him, “Why?”

Bill shrugged, not expecting his sudden outburst to turn into a conversation with you,

“I just… recognized it.” He said with a nervous quiver, “Didn’t know girls liked that stuff…”

“Yeah, well, I like that stuff.” You said with a shrug, keeping the window open as you went back to hanging up your posters and prints.

Bill nodded to himself, trying so hard to take his eyes off of you, but the revelation that this gorgeous girl next door could be into the same cheesy gory horror movies as him was too interesting for him to not want to know more.

He kept his distance, sensing a bit of hostility in your tone, but his curiosity was getting the best of him. He tried to get a decent look at the other things you had been unpacking.

Clothes, books, a few VHS tapes, but what really caught his eye was when you opened up the box that had been dropped outside.

He watched you carefully unwrap each piece of memorabilia from its bubble wrap, and he was surprised to see a few of the things that were inside.

A few vintage halloween masks still in their plastic packaging, along with Jason’s hockey mask, Freddy’s finger knives, and what looked to be an exact replica of the Book of the Dead from The Evil Dead. So many things from so many different movies and he was still so surprised that such a pretty girl would be interested in things like that. Things that are dark and grotesque, things that are terrifying to most people, things that he figured only him and the guys liked until you came along. Bill was so used to having girls turn the other way at the sight of these kinds of things, and yet you embraced them. It only made him more and more interested in seeing what else you had hidden away in those boxes. Wether it was more memorabilia, or hopefully you’d stumble upon a box filled with intimates for him to fantasize about later. Either way, he was intrigued.

“You stare a lot, you know that?” You said as you kept unpacking in your bedroom.

Bill realized that he hadn’t even noticed how long he had been peering into your room,

“Oh. Sorry.” He reeled back slightly as he felt the blood rush to his face.

Why was he acting this way?

He had never felt so intrigued by a girl without even knowing her name. He had his fair share of crushes before, not being able to stop himself from staring whoever he saw them out and about and he tried so hard to make himself seem confident in front of them and it never worked. He knew he would scare them off without as much as a ‘Hi’ from them, and yet you were still talking to him. He was hoping it wasn’t just from the forced proximity.

“I don’t mean to stare. I just don’t think i’ve seen that much horror memorabilia in one place…” He stepped further to the window for a closer peek into your room, excited to see some clothes starting to be laid out onto the mattress of your bed, but seeing a wide variety of movies, books and merchandise scattered around as you unpacked caught his attention in a way that nothing else could. It felt as if he was being drawn to it by a force he could only describe as ‘want’.

“Oh…” You turned and looked around your still somewhat empty room, seeing all the different pieces of your personality from a different perspective, “I guess i do have a lot of stuff. I’ve been collecting for a while, I guess i just didn’t notice.”

“Not that it’s a bad thing!” Bill said quickly, almost shouting as he finally found common ground to explore. It wasn’t something huge, but it was better than nothing, “I’ve been building a collection of my own for quite a while.” Bill chuckled nervously before stepping back from the window to give you a better view of the inside of his room.

You slowly stepped up to the glass, lifting it back up all the way as you peeked inside of his bedroom. And it was a lot more than you were expecting.

Walls completely covered with video game and comic book posters, a few older horror movie prints alongside them, shelves covered in comics and action figures still in their packaging from god knows how long ago, and you could see the boxes of mini D&D figurines and various VHS tapes all strewn along the floor of his room. Even the tossed aside bedding that was halfway on the floor was themed. You’ve met some super-fan nerds back at home but this was like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

“Wow.” You said with wide eyes, “I don’t think i’ve seen so much stuff in one place before. That’s pretty cool.” You said with a kind smile.

Bills heart was beating faster than it ever had before. Not only was he have a conversation with a girl, a face to face conversation, but you didn’t think it was weird for his room to be completely covered in trinkets and memorabilia.

“Thanks.” He said with a trembling smile, “I’ve got shelves of stuff down in the basement too!”

“You’ve got more of that stuff?” You asked with a giggle, “You must be pretty committed to collecting all that stuff.”

Just as Bill opened his mouth to respond, his attention was pulled to the rapid loud banging on his front door,

“Bill!” He glanced over at his clock and hadn’t noticed that the last hour had passed by so quickly, his anger growing as he heard Josh’s shouts from outside, “We don’t have all day! Hurry up!”

Bill growled, and quickly changed his demeanor as he turned back to you,

“Sorry,” He nervously chuckled, “I didn’t mean to distract you.” His hands reached up to finally shut the window and lock it, but stopped just before closed as he heard your voice.

“Bill?” You asked curiously, “That’s your name?” He nodded as he lifted the window halfway, eager to hear what would come next. He had never once heard a girl other than his mother say his name, and it was so soothing to hear your voice finally say it. “I’m (y/n).” You said with a smile, “I’ll see you around.”

Your kindness was almost overwhelming. Never in his life had he gotten to being on a first name basis with a girl, and yet somehow it felt like it came so easily. You gave him a little wave as you closed your window, flipping the little lock at the top as you went down to grab a few more boxes to bring inside the new empty home.

You were lucky enough to catch Bill running out his front door and into a car filled with three other boys, each of them seeming like they’d probably he just the same as him.

You watched as he climbed inside the back passenger seat, and for just a moment his eyes caught yours. You picked up a box from the movers and gave him a quick smile, your fingers waving from where they were holding the box as you lifted it. You thought you saw him wave back as the car quickly sped out of the driveway.

You smiled to yourself as you made your way back into the house, placing the box onto the kitchen counter as your parents were putting away the various things they could gather from the boxes into their respective rooms. As unenthusiastic as you were to make the move, it was nice to know that at least there was someone to talk to.

Maybe once everything was unpacked, you’d let Bill see the rest of your collection.

Just maybe.

#the eltingville club #welcome to eltingville #bill the eltingville club #bill dickey #bill dickey x reader #bill dickey x yn #bill dickey x y/n #bill dickey x you #bill dickey fanfic #bill dickey fanfiction #bill dickey fluff

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glossdebut · 4 months ago

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take a bite | MYG ★ 7

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: copious amounts of FEELINGS both good and bad, theatre references LOL, world-class meddler kim seokjin, yoongi being hopelessly whipped, angst, smut

✧ WORDCOUNT: 10.3k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: WOW. i don't even know what to say... with this chapter, take a bite is officially complete. THANK YOU so much to those of you who have been reading from the very beginning and sending me such kind words. this story means so much to me and i can't believe it's over. thank you again to @love4myg for beta reading this chapter and the last!! everybody go give tanni some love. i love you all! i tried to give this story the ending it deserves so i hope you enjoy the last chapter <3

CH. 7: Wanna Do It All Over Again

You’re a planner, a scheduler. You keep a minimum of six to-do lists at a time. You do your best work when your week is clearly laid out for you within the confines of the neat little boxes on your calendar. So you allot yourself one day to grieve what could’ve been with Min Yoongi, and that’s it.

Your Sunday is spent wallowing, because Rina doesn’t give you any choice in the matter and you don’t have it in you to put up a fight. She seems a little bit like she’s grasping at straws on how to help you, though.

You don’t blame her. Rina had dropped everything to be by your side when your ex ended things, but the remedy for that was pretty straightforward.

There was the initial crying on your part—the intense and nauseating kind that felt like it would never stop, until Rina held you and it inevitably did. After the tears came the anger, the picking apart of every little argument you’d had with him, every quirk of his that had soured from endearing to annoying, and Rina had no problem talking shit. Anger turned into drinking, and drinking led to falling asleep in a heap together on your couch.

It didn’t magically fix the hollowness inside of you overnight, but it helped. Rina had a patented method to make a broken heart a little more bearable.

A patented method that, unfortunately, doesn’t really apply here. Your heart isn’t broken over a failed situationship. You’ve been crying, sure, but it’s more of a passive sniffle than anything else. You can’t bring yourself to feel angry at Yoongi either. Confused, annoyed, disappointed, stupid—all of those you can feel just fine. But the anger just won’t come.

Desperate, Rina defaults to cliches. Cheesy movies, ice cream, face masks—the stuff straight out of a ‘How To Get Over Your Ex In Ten Easy Steps’ article in a teen magazine. She paints your nails while you stare blankly at Julia Stiles’ face on your TV. You force yourself to believe it’s helping. You have work to do, a deadline to meet. So if you need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with Rina and cry it out to cleanse your brain of Yoongi, so be it.

You refuse to use a sick day in general, let alone because of a man, but you do grant yourself permission to work from home on Monday. Not because you’re still grieving—that’s what Sunday was for—but because you look like you’ve been run over, dumped into the river and then fished out.

With greasy hair and puffy eyes, you set your phone to do not disturb and hunker down in your bed to write your profile on Yijeong. Despite the burn of your laptop on your thighs, you type and self-edit for hours, pausing only to listen to your recording of Yijeong’s interview and transcribe direct quotes.

You’re able to churn out a subpar first draft before you burn out around four in the afternoon. Your brain is all over the place, and as a result, the profile is nowhere near where it needs to be. But you don’t have it in you to stare at your laptop screen for any longer.

Rina slipped out this morning and made herself scarce so you could work, so you’re alone. You decide to shower first and foremost, something you’ve been putting off for far too long, and then maybe order dinner if you want to shell out extra money towards a delivery fee.

Stretching your legs as you stand, you use some of your few remaining dregs of energy to drag yourself out of bed and into your bathroom, finally shedding yourself of the sweatpants and shirt you’ve been wearing since Sunday morning.

Your mistake is looking in the mirror. The few marks Yoongi made on your body are only just barely beginning to fade, still dark on your skin. You trace a fingertip over the bruise he’d sucked into your breast just days before, so recently that you can still conjure a phantom of the feeling of his lips and teeth on your skin. He’d wanted you so fervently then that you’d been sure at that stupid party that he already felt what you did. That he’d just been waiting for you to catch on.

You don’t know what you did wrong, what kind of misstep you could’ve made to make Yoongi withdraw so suddenly like he did, but you wish you could take it back.

When you finally emerge from your shower, you’re no more energized than you were when you entered. At the very least, though, you’re clean, and you decide to reward your efforts with tangsuyuk.

When you turn your phone off of do not disturb, you can’t help but hope, just for a moment, that Yoongi has texted you today.

Instead, you find that Seokjin has.

[4:42] Seokjin: If you’re not too busy, can we meet?

The anger that had been missing in action floods your senses all at once.

Seokjin wants to meet you. Seokjin, who you’ve met once. Meanwhile Yoongi, who allegedly still wants to be your friend, can’t send you a cursory text or, god forbid, walk down the hallway to explain any of this to you.

You are not this girl. You have gone through strenuous effort to build very sturdy, very high walls to ensure that you don’t become this girl—the one who loses sight of what’s important to her for a man who will just fuck her over anyway, leave her high and dry. Disappear with no explanation. Fuck that.

If Yoongi isn’t man enough to let you down easily himself, if he’s going to have Seokjin do it for him, maybe you’re better off without any bullshit excuse. From either of them.

You swipe out of your messages, ordering your hard-earned tangsuyuk first. Once the payment has gone through, you open Seokjin’s message again, fingers shaking as you type out your stilted reply and press send.

[5:03] You: i am too busy. and not interested.

Bitterly, you set your phone back to do not disturb. The delivery driver will knock when your food is here, and you couldn’t care less about whatever Seokjin’s reply could be.

★ ★ ★

The rest of the week goes by in a blur, but now that you’re committed to feeling pissed off, you actually feel a lot better. Maybe it’s the man-hater in you.

You hyperfocus on finishing the profile, the words flowing much easier now that you’re done feeling sorry for yourself. Even when you have to write about Suga and his impact on Yijeong’s career, you aren’t the slightest bit thrown off. By the time you’re done, you’re confident that it’s possibly the best thing you’ve written in a long time, and when you hand it off to Rina for feedback she concurs.

On Wednesday morning, you drop the final draft off on Kevin’s desk for approval, and then spend the next few hours helping out where you’re needed. Everyone in the office is in a frenzy to get the layout of Look Here’s next issue together. You spend your day copy editing and calling sources with last minute follow-up questions.

When all of the articles are squared away, you lurk by the design team in case they need any extra hands. In return, you get to watch the paginator type your headline onto the front cover, which is… a pretty cool moment for you.

You usually hate the week leading up to print day, but knowing that Yijeong’s profile is going to be on the cover, you revel in the chaos of it.

You’re slightly anxious when Kevin calls you into his office right before quitting time, but you try not to let it get to you too much. You know the profile is good.

“Y/N,” Kevin says, tearing his attention away from his computer as you step into his office. It’s a good sign, you think, that he’s looking you in the eyes this time. “Sit down.”

You sit, immediately tapping your foot to try and calm your nerves. “You wanted to see me?”

“I read your piece,” he says, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his desk. But he doesn’t say anything else.

Um… Okay.

“And?” you ask meekly. He looks at you seriously, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“It was incredible,” he says. Fuck, thank god. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“Really?” you ask, your whole body relaxing all at once.

“Really,” he insists. “It was well-written, informative, personal. I don’t know how you got him to open up like that, but I hope you can keep doing it.”

You blink at him. “Keep doing it?”

“You can expect more assignments like that starting next week,” Kevin says, smiling at you warmly. Holy fuck. “We’re all very impressed with you. We want to give you bigger responsibilities moving forward.”

“Thank you,” you blurt out, unable to contain your excitement. “Thank you, I won’t let you down.”

“I hope not,” he hums, amused, before turning back to his computer. “Go home and get some rest. Print day tomorrow.”

“I will,” you say, standing up in a flash. You want to call—Rina, you want to call Rina and tell her the good news. “See you tomorrow!”

“Have a good night!” Kevin calls as you leave his office in a hurry.

As you walk back to your desk to grab your bag, it feels more like you’re walking on a cloud. Holy fuck. You were right. This piece was your breakthrough piece, and you proved yourself just like you knew you could. Nothing can bring you down right now.

★ ★ ★

As it turns out, Kim Seokjin is not the kind of guy who takes kindly to being ignored. Based on what you know about him, you probably should’ve been able to figure that out on your own. But you certainly didn’t expect him to ambush you outside of your apartment.

You spotted Seokjin sitting against your door as you made it home from work, although he scrambled to his feet when he noticed you approaching. You wondered how long he’d been sitting there waiting for you to get him. He looked like he was well-prepared to convince you to let him in, a pre-planned speech at the ready, but you didn’t give him the chance, wordlessly letting him inside.

Maybe you were still riding the high of being praised by your boss, but you highly doubted anything Seokjin could say to you would kill your good mood. If he wanted to defend Yoongi’s honor, he was welcome to try.

Your initial impression of Seokjin was that he was boisterous, silly, and a little bit crude. As you sit across from him, all of that still seems to be true, although he seems intent on doing his very best impression of a longsuffering psychiatrist right now.

He sits primly in the armchair opposite the couch you’ve nestled yourself into, his hands steepled together in his lap as he pulls a serious face. It looks strange on him.

“I’d like to preface by saying that you and Yoongi are both being stupid.”

You blink at him, taken aback, until your expression settles into something unimpressed.

“Nice start,” you say flatly.

“You’re perfect for each other and why both of you are willing to throw it away so quickly is beyond me. It’s giving me a headache,” he continues, rubbing at his temples as if to prove his point. “I’m going to play mediator just this once, and then it’s up to you two to figure it out for yourselves.”

“Does Yoongi know you’re here?”

That makes Seokjin snort. “Are you kidding? He’d try to kill me,” he says, crossing his arms. “No, he doesn’t know I’m here. But he told me what happened, and I think there are some things you deserve to know.”

Yoongi told Seokjin what happened. You can’t help the scoff that escapes your lips. That’s nice for him. You don’t even know what happened. Yoongi certainly didn’t seem to feel obligated to clue you into his reasoning for ending things.

“Why doesn’t he tell me those things himself, then?” you ask bitterly.

“Because he’s stupid,” Seokjin says, snapping his fingers impatiently. “Keep up.”

“Okay,” you sigh, equally impatient. You’ve changed your mind. You want to get this asshole out of your apartment as soon as possible. “We’re both stupid. What is it that I deserve to know?”

“Yoongi-yah may be stupid, but he isn’t a bad person.”

You sit up straight at that. Is he joking? “What are you, his fucking character witness?”

“I’ve been his best friend for over a decade,” Seokjin snaps, clearly tired of your attitude. As if you aren’t justified in having one. “So if I am his character witness, I’m a pretty fucking good one.”

You open your mouth to say something, something venomous at the tip of your tongue, but Seokjin beats you to it, holding his hand up to silence you. “Can you just be quiet for five minutes and let me say my piece? Please?”

Huffing petulantly, you shrug and lean back into the couch, gesturing for him to continue.

Seokjin visibly regroups. You watch as he sits up a little straighter, shakes off the irritation, takes a deep breath.

“For as long as I’ve known him, all Yoongi has ever wanted was to make something of himself,” Seokjin starts, calmer now. “He loved making music, and he didn’t care about anything else. Least of all himself.”

“I got to know him when we were freshmen in college,” he continues. “I’d heard about him from classmates, seen him around, but you know Yoongi. He’s pretty tight-lipped about things, always has been. It’s one of his many faults.”

You scoff, your bitterness cutting through the air. No kidding. That’s how you ended up here, isn’t it? Yoongi’s little omissions, always giving half-truths. The real reason why he ended things with you is just another one to add to the list.

“Anyway,” Seokjin says, his eyes narrowing at you for a moment as he continues. “I was majoring in theatre, and I’d been cast in ‘Into the Woods.’ Yoongi was volunteered by his piano professor to help with the accompaniment, and during our first rehearsal I just remember thinking to myself, ‘who is this scrawny kid who can play Stephen Sondheim with his eyes closed?’”

You wish he’d get to the point already. You’re a sucker for a good backstory, you are. It’s what makes you such a good feature writer. But you’d really like to maintain your resolve in being pissed at Yoongi, if you can help it.

“I was so impressed with him, you know? He does that. He makes everything look so easy. I made it a point to get to know him, and he opened up to me surprisingly fast. I think he needed a friend,” Seokjin continues. “He told me that he was mostly there on scholarships, but he still had to work two jobs to live and pay off the tuition that he did owe. He told me that he utilized the fuck out of the production equipment on campus. He told me that all he wanted to do was make music, and for people to hear it and think it’s worth something.”

Seokjin pauses for a moment, shifting in his chair.

“I think he would’ve done anything to make that happen,” he says, tension in his voice. “I already didn’t like some of the shit he did do, the situations he put himself in, but I think if he knew it could’ve made his dream a reality, he would’ve done much worse.”

Seokjin doesn’t offer up any more information on what exactly Yoongi did, but he doesn’t have to. You gather by the grimace on his face that it must’ve been pretty bad.

“Obviously he made it anyway. You know who he is now,” he says, pausing for a moment. He looks at you seriously. “That comes with its own set of issues, though.”

“Like what?” you ask, disbelieving.

You feel bad for Yoongi, you do. At least for what he must’ve went through in the past. You know what it’s like to struggle, to feel like you can’t possibly reach your goals with the resources available to you. You’re experiencing that currently.

But Yoongi is extremely successful now. Artists trip over themselves to get a song from him because they know it’ll chart, that people will go crazy for it. His track record is that good. How hard can it be, living like that? Having people think so highly of you?

“Like people taking advantage of him at every turn,” he says, his words blunt. “People pretending to care about him to get close to him. Even going so far as dating him. Long-term. Or at least as long as it takes to produce an album.”

Oh.

“…Suran?” you guess, thinking back to the party Saturday night. The way Suran kept touching Yoongi, like there had been something there. Yoongi didn’t seem all that uncomfortable, but he’s got a killer poker face. Could Suran be that kind of person?

“What?” Seokjin asks, bewildered. “No, Suran was just a casual thing. He told you about Suran?”

“I met her. Saturday,” you say, waving a hand dismissively. “They seemed close.”

“That’s been done for years. Yoongi cares about Suran, but it isn’t like that anymore,” he insists, shaking his head. “It was someone else. It’s not my place to say who, but it’s the only time I’ve ever seen Yoongi in love like that. Or at all, honestly. He brought her around all of us, which is a big deal for him. Wrote songs for her. Like, not just for her album, but for her. About her.”

“What happened?” you ask despite yourself. You can feel your resolve crumbling, curiosity getting the best of you. Fuck.

“They were out celebrating finishing the album,” he says. “She wanted to go for a walk after dinner. Kissed him in the middle of the street. The next morning, he woke up to pictures of it all over the internet. She’d texted him, too, breaking it off. It didn’t take much brain power to figure out she orchestrated the whole thing.”

You feel a pang in your chest. As hurt as you are, you also know that Yoongi couldn’t have possibly deserved that. Nobody does.

“He threw himself into his work after that—almost never left the studio. Barely ate or showered,” Seokjin says. “I had to put a stop to it. He was going to overwork himself to death, if I didn’t. I had to help him dig himself out of that hole.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, doing your best to ignore how much that sounds like you. How Yoongi was the one beginning to dig you out.

“That sucks,” you say finally. “But I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Come on, Y/N. You’re smarter than that,” Seokjin huffs. Big talk from the man who’s been calling you stupid this whole time. “Yoongi hasn’t dated anyone since then. Hasn’t even shown interest. Until you.”

“That’s not what it was, between us,” you insist. “I thought, maybe…” Maybe it could’ve been, you think. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. “But he ended it.”

“Because he’s stupid,” Seokjin says. “Because he got hurt, and it made him stupid, and when you asked him if he could get you an interview with Yijeong, he was scared that was your endgame.”

What?

Yoongi thinks you were using him? What the fuck????

“I wouldn’t—“ you start, but Seokjin cuts you off.

“Why do you think I’m here?” he asks, his gaze piercing through you. “You think I couldn’t tell you were going to fall in love with him the moment I met you? The moment I saw you two together?”

Your throat tightens and you have to tear your eyes away from Seokjin. Love is a big word. One you’re not quite ready to contend with, not now.

“…I like Yoongi,” you manage. You can admit that now, even if Yoongi himself never got the chance to hear it. “But just because he got hurt once upon a time, it doesn’t automatically make the way he ended things with me okay.”

“Just talk to him,” Seokjin pleads.

“Look, I listened to what you have to say,” you say, standing up from the couch. “And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t change some things. But I don’t know if I want to talk to him, okay? Maybe it’s better that it’s ended before we got anywhere serious, if we’re both so fucked up over the past.”

“Y/N—“

“Seokjin, I have work in the morning. I appreciate you coming over to tell me all of this, but I’d really like it if you left now.”

You don’t give him much of a choice in the matter. He’s overstayed his welcome. You make it abundantly clear that if Seokjin doesn’t use his own two legs to walk himself out of your home, you fully intend to grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him out yourself.

Defeated, Seokjin stands up from his chair and makes his way to your front door. You follow close behind, shutting and locking it behind him before he can get another word in.

When you walk back to the couch, you catch Rina poking her head out into the living room.

Shit. You hadn’t even known she was home.

Wordlessly, you sink back into the couch, emotionally exhausted. Rina sits with you, repositioning you so your head is in her lap, running her fingers through your hair soothingly.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes, but you can practically hear the gears turning in Rina’s head. She’s been biting her tongue since Saturday night, being supportive when you needed it, but not pushing. But she was just in your bedroom that whole time, and Seokjin isn’t exactly quiet. You can only imagine what she heard. You brace yourself.

Finally, she breaks the silence.

“He can play Sondheim with his eyes closed?” she asks.

All of the tension seeps out of you at once. You should’ve known better. Of course Rina won’t push you in either direction. She’s your best friend, your Seokjin. Her loyalties will always be with you, and she knows that you need to process everything on your own.

But she’s also a theatre kid.

“Apparently,” you huff, closing your eyes.

“…That’s really hot.”

You laugh, reaching up to swat at her shoulder. “Not helpful.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks, her voice gentle.

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What are you going to do? Seokjin made a strong case for Yoongi, but you’re still mad about how everything played out. You trusted Yoongi this whole time to be honest with you, but you keep being made aware, over and over, of how much he keeps to himself. You aren’t sure if you want to fight to be let in, if it’s worth it. You want it to be.

“I don’t know,” you say finally.

Rina hums, continuing to stroke your hair.

“...Do you wanna watch ‘Into the Woods’?” she asks.

You snort softly, sitting up to grab the remote.

“Only if it’s the one with Bernadette Peters.”

★ ★ ★

When Yoongi got his very first long-term gig as a producer, Namjoon brought him a potted plant as a studio-warming gift.

Yoongi thought it was stupid at first, because his studio didn’t have any windows—windows would compromise the integrity of the soundproofing—so the plant would have zero chance of survival. And why was Kim Namjoon buying him a plant anyway? New headphones would’ve been better, Yoongi told him.

But Namjoon had laughed and insisted that the plant—a dracaena, apparently—was extremely resilient. That it could still thrive in the darkness.

“That’s why I got it for you, hyung,” Namjoon had told Yoongi. “It reminded me of you.”

Needless to say, Yoongi became obsessed with the thing.

It was just a small little cutting, just barely starting to grow on its own, so Yoongi researched how to properly care for it and took all of the necessary steps to ensure it would succeed, even in his dimly lit studio.

He watered it, pruned it, measured its growth. He sent Namjoon pictures of it on a weekly basis. He named it—Eodumie, thank you very much.

It took a while, but eventually, Eodumie started to die. Yoongi didn’t know why, so he started doing research on dracaena. He’d put so much effort into helping it grow, so it only seemed sensible to figure out why things had taken a turn for the worse. Run into a problem, find a solution.

Yoongi very quickly found out that Namjoon was a little bit dumb, and that the only ‘plants’ that grow in complete darkness are mushrooms. But he still felt like he’d failed.

When Yoongi is really upset and can’t stop turning a problem over in his head, he resorts to extremely heavy-handed metaphors to help himself make sense of things.

So all of that is to say, Yoongi has a tendency to kill things before they have a chance to grow.

He thought, because you didn’t want a relationship, that you were safe from it. And you were, because he really was okay with being your friend. He didn’t expect any more from you.

But then you asked him if he wanted to have sex with you, and… Well, everything changed then, didn’t it? Not because he couldn’t keep things casual anymore—if that’s what you wanted, he would do it. He would try. You make it so hard for him to say no to you.

No, everything changed because Yoongi is an overthinker by nature. He’s attuned to the rhythm of the world around him, notices patterns where others don’t. Especially when he’s seen them before.

He gave you his mouth, and then you wanted more. He gave you more, and then you wanted a favor. He gave you your favor, and then Suran gave you his identity. You had your favor, and his identity, and then you were all over him, and Yoongi knows what happens next. He’s heard that song before.

Shit, Yoongi’s made that song before, unwittingly. And he’s not interested in writing another duet just for it to sour like the last one.

Metaphors, again.

The point is, he cut it off before he was in too deep. Sex complicates things. For him. It blurs the lines, and he’d much rather do you professional favors when he’s not also seeing you naked. It’s the only way he can keep being your friend, and that’s what you want.

Seokjin thinks he’s being an idiot. Seokjin can suck his cock. Yoongi was doing what he thought was right.

He hadn’t expected to hear from you. Over the past week he’d thought about reaching out and explaining himself every day. But he wanted to give you space, maybe. Or maybe he still felt a little sore about the whole thing. But then, Friday night, you text him asking him to come over and…

Now he’s in your apartment.

In all of the weeks he’s known you, Yoongi has never actually been inside your apartment before, he realizes. Is that weird? The closest he’d been was when he picked you up for the party on Saturday. When he’d lingered in your doorway, looking at you in your pretty dress. Fuck, you looked good. He didn’t want to go to that dumb party in the first place, but you in that dress… He wanted to drag you down the hall, get you in his bed. Take it off of you with his teeth.

It’s devastating that now that Yoongi is finally here, you seem so stiff in his presence. Quiet. Unlike yourself. You’re sitting as far as humanly possible from him on your couch, and Yoongi feels like an asshole. Even when you were literally a stranger, you didn’t feel like this much of a stranger to him. It was instant, the way you’d hit it off. Did Yoongi really make things this way?

“I read your article,” he says, cutting through the silence. Neither of you have spoken since he came in, and the tension is making him antsy. Desperate to break the ice.

What he doesn’t tell you is that he read your article the second it came out this morning, that he’s had alerts on his phone for everything published under your name since the day after he met you. That he drops everything to read it all, no matter what he’s doing.

It was beautiful. It was about one of his best friends, so of course he thought so, but you have such a way with words. It’s another thing you have in common, he thinks. You both have difficulty saying what you feel out loud, but when it comes to work, when you’re writing, it just pours out of you.

“You read my article,” you repeat softly, huffing. Yoongi can’t read the expression on your face, and that bothers him to no end.

“Of course I did,” he replies, brow furrowing in confusion. “I always do. Especially this one.”

“We need to talk,” you say. He watches as you turn your body on the couch, pulling your legs to your chest to face him.

“Okay.”

“I need to talk,�� you suddenly correct, voice tight. You take a breath, and then, “Seokjin came over the other night.”

Seokjin… Oh.

Oh, Yoongi’s going to kill him. Brutally. He told Seokjin to keep his nose out of his fucking business and instead of listening and staying out of it, he came over to your apartment? Is he insane? Yoongi’s always thought so, in a mostly loving way, but this is a whole new level of intrusion that he didn’t think Seokjin was capable of, and now he has to die.

“He came here? He had no right—”

“It’s fine,” you say, waving a hand. Yoongi’s unconvinced, but he forces himself to settle, to take a breath. You said you needed to talk, and he’s going to let you. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was going to text you, so… It’s probably good that he did.”

Yoongi doesn’t see how that could possibly be the case, but he stays quiet. Waits for you to find the right words.

“This whole past week, I’ve been so… confused,” you start, your eyes fixed on the couch cushion between the two of you. “Confused, and mad at you.”

“I still am, I think,” you continue, lifting your head to look at him. “Mad at you. But I don’t want to be, because I miss you. You said that you still wanted to be friends, but you haven’t exactly put in much of an effort to do that.”

“I wanted to give you space,” Yoongi says. His excuse sounds hollow, even to his own ears.

You shake your head. “You don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that, I just—”

“Let me talk,” you snap, frustrated, and Yoongi’s mouth snaps shut so fast he can hear the click of it. “You don’t trust me, and that’s fine. I get it. But if me asking you for help bothered you so much, you could’ve just told me no instead of assuming that I was using you as some kind of stepping stone and then just breaking things off without explaining.”

There’s nothing Yoongi can say to that. He knows you’re right. He should’ve just said no the second he felt uncomfortable, but it was just so important to you he couldn’t bring himself to not help you.

“I get why your brain immediately went there, but I’m not going to apologize or act guilty or anything like that. Because I wasn’t using you,” you say firmly, crossing your arms. “Shit, Yoongi, all the times you’ve offered to help me I’ve tried to stop you. My car? But then the one time I come to you first, you assume the worst and shut me out. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, looking down at his hands. “I’m sorry.”

He feels like the world’s biggest piece of shit. For someone usually so observant, he suddenly feels like he’s been blind this whole time. You’ve done nothing but be upfront with him about what you wanted, and still he assumed you were pulling one over on him. He’s spent the past week feeling justified, feeling like he’d done the right thing, but your words have made his entire mindset shift in an instant.

“The night of the party, I…” you trail off. And then you laugh, which makes Yoongi look back up at you. “Yijeong told me I was special. He said that you hadn’t been to an industry event in years, even when he asked you to. I didn’t know that.”

“It was important to you,” he mumbles, sheepish. He didn’t know Yijeong had said anything about him to you. Looking back now, he realizes how stupid that is. His friends are all world-class meddlers. Clearly they need to be, if Yoongi’s this fucking dense.

“See? That right there,” you say, frustrated. “I thought, maybe… I thought you had feelings for me. Non-platonic, romantic feelings. And for the first time since my ex… Did I ever tell you what happened with him?” you ask.

Yoongi had read between the lines. He knew that your ex had a problem with how demanding your job was, and that it’d ended badly, but beyond that he doesn’t know any details.

He shakes his head.

“We were together for almost four years. Almost all through college,” you start. “He met my parents. I met his. After we graduated, we moved in together. In this apartment, actually.”

Yoongi watches you glance around your living room. He knows that look. Years later, he still remembers what his apartment, his studio looked like when they were occupied by someone else. He remembers every detail.

“I thought we were going to get married eventually. We’d talked about it.” You pull your knees tighter to your chest, looking down. “I got my first job at some shitty newspaper. I worked insane hours and it barely paid anything, but it was a start. I was over the moon about it.”

He holds his breath, waiting for what he knows comes next.

“He broke up with me after two months,” you say, your voice wavering. “He said it was because he barely saw me, that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with me if my job was going to be more important than us. It took him less than a week to move out. Four years down the drain.”

Fuck. It’s awful, watching you relive your pain and not being able to do anything but listen. Because Yoongi hurt you, too. He’s the reason you’re digging this up, that you’re feeling it all over again.

Yoongi looks down, picks at his left thumbnail as he listens. He can’t bring himself to look at you.

Your ex is an idiot, he thinks bitterly. How could someone spend four years watching the way you glow when you talk about writing and throw that away?

“I blamed myself. Why wouldn’t I? He told me it was my fault,” you say. “I haven’t been interested in a relationship since. Why try if I clearly don’t have time for it? The thought of you having feelings for me…”

He hears you suck in a breath, braces himself. He thought he’d done a good job of hiding how he felt about you, even after the sex. But he’d made you uncomfortable anyway. Of course.

“It made me want to try,” you say softly.

Yoongi’s head snaps up, his eyes meeting yours. It’s almost insane, the way his heart starts racing in his chest at just the slightest glimmer of hope. You realized how he felt—feels—about you, and you wanted to try? He wants to interrupt you, to ask what that means, but he holds his tongue.

“I think maybe I’ve had feelings for you this whole time,” you continue, looking down at your knees again. “And I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. But when Yijeong told me all of that… I mean, fuck, Yoongi. We weren’t even speaking and you read my article. You helped me even though you thought I was just using you to get ahead. When I hadn’t seen you for weeks, instead of thinking I was a bad friend, you offered up your studio so we could work in complete silence together.”

He would do anything. He would do anything to see you glow. That first night in that horrible Western bar you’d both been dragged to, the way you puffed up with pride when you told him where you work—that’s all he ever wants to see.

“I was going to tell you,” you say. “After the party, I was going to tell you. But then you ended things, and I… I didn’t know why.”

Yoongi needs to salvage this. He needs to know if there’s anything left, if you could ever forgive him for being such a stupid, prideful ass. He hopes.

“Y/N…” he starts, but you cut him off.

“You do this thing where you only give me half-truths about shit, and it drives me crazy,” you say, pointing a finger at him in frustration. “All of the secrecy about your job, who you are, how close you are to Yijeong, why you ended things with us. It seriously makes me want to kill you sometimes.”

You’re right. He prides himself on being an honest person, but he kept things from you on purpose. He didn’t want to let you in fully, to let you see him. He didn’t want to get hurt. But none of that was worth hurting you. He’s going to fix this. He’s going to try.

“Then let me clear some things up,” Yoongi says, sitting up straighter.

He scoots closer, closing some of the space between you on the couch.

Yoongi has never been good at talking about his feelings, not out loud. In songs that will ultimately be sang by other people, sure, but doing it like this makes him squeamish. He’ll get over it, though. You need to hear this.

“I’m an idiot,” he says seriously, looking into your eyes. “I’m an idiot for thinking you would do that to me. I was scared and stupid, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I assumed the worst of you, and that I kept things from you, and that I ended things so suddenly. My past isn’t an excuse. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I should’ve been more open with you, so I’m going to try. Okay?”

You nod once, and he takes it as his cue to continue.

“You were right,” he says, reaching to take one of your hands in his. He intertwines your fingers, staring down at them as he speaks. “About me having feelings for you.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t know what that means, can’t bring himself to look at you until he’s done verbalizing all of this, but he hopes it’s a good thing.

“I was happy to be your friend,” he continues. “I didn’t expect anything more from you. But yeah, Y/N, I’d be crazy not to have feelings for you. You’re incredible, you know? You’re so smart, so driven, so insanely sexy. I was a goner the moment you introduced yourself to me with a handshake.”

You pull your hand from his, and for a moment he panics, until he looks up to see you using it to cover a tiny laugh. Your eyes are glassy, and although Yoongi hates the idea of making you cry, he feels relieved to know that it’s likely not out of sadness.

“I’m so, so sorry that I hurt you,” he reiterates, pulling your hand back into his and squeezing it. “I never meant to, but I did, and that’s not okay. But if I didn’t completely wreck my chances and you still want to try, I… I promise I’ll do better. I won’t keep things from you, I won’t act without considering your feelings, I’ll do better with all of it.”

You take another shaky breath, biting down on your bottom lip as you process his words. Yoongi feels like he’s going to have a heart attack, tense and pulled taut, but he waits patiently.

The ball is in your court now, Yoongi thinks. This is your decision, as it should be. If you want him to walk away, he will. If you want to stay friends, Yoongi thinks it might kill him now that everything’s out in the open, but he’ll do it for you. But he hopes—

“No more half-truths?” you ask softly, and holy shit.

“I promise,” Yoongi insists. He holds his breath.

“Then I still want to try.”

Relief washes over him instantly, all of the tension leaving his shoulders at once. He didn’t fuck everything up beyond repair. You still want him. Holy shit, you still want him!

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, squeezing your hand again. “Fuck, can I kiss you?”

“You better,” you say, and Yoongi doesn’t waste a goddamn second. Instantly, he’s moving your knees so he can fit himself between them, cradling your jaw to capture your lips with his.

God, you taste so good. He’s the luckiest motherfucker on the planet.

Yoongi is just happy to kiss you again, to know that you’re his now. But then you make a sweet little sound into his mouth, slide your hands under his shirt, and he pulls away to look at you.

“Baby,” he says, catching his breath. Shit, it feels so good to call you that again. “We don’t have to do anything right now.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask, pushing his shirt up impatiently. Cute. “After you left me hanging last time? In a suit, no less.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, grabbing hold of your wrists to stop your hands in their tracks. “I’m just saying, we don’t have to rush into anything just because—”

But then you shut him up with a kiss, which he melts into easily before you’re pulling back again. You look so serious. Yoongi likes you so fucking much.

“I want my boyfriend to fuck me,” you say, wriggling your hands out of his grip to keep feeling him up, and Yoongi is powerless to resist because fuck, boyfriend. “Is that too much to ask?”

He shakes his head dumbly, mouth agape. He’s your boyfriend. You said it.

You laugh, pinching his nipple, and Yoongi hisses as he’s yanked out of his reverie.

“Come on,” you tease, standing from the couch and pulling him with you. “Bedroom.”

Yoongi follows you to your bedroom eagerly, letting you drag him by the arm. You take a moment to shoo Pepper off of your bed and out of the room, shutting the door to keep her out, but Yoongi’s patience only lasts so long. As soon as the door is closed, Yoongi pulls you to your bed, laying you down on your back and kissing you breathless.

He slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting you as his hands slide over your ass to squeeze it. You moan in response, your hips kicking up against his, and he lifts his head to look down at you.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs lowly, his lips still brushing against yours. Yoongi thinks he’d give you anything you ask for, especially when you look so sweet and needy beneath him like this.

“Just want you,” you pant, chasing his lips for another kiss. He obliges easily, dipping down to lick into your mouth again.

A part of Yoongi wants to drag this out—really drag it out this time—and tease you until you’re desperate and whining, begging. A part of him wants to see how far he can push you, to make you fall apart so he can put you back together again over and over. But Yoongi’s also not feeling very patient, not when you’re like this. He feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t touch you right now.

You moan as Yoongi rips your shorts down your legs, arch your back as he slides his hand into your panties to feel you.

“Shit, Y/N,” he groans, sinking his middle and ring fingers into your pussy with no resistance. “Always so soaked for me.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper. God, he’s so addicted to that—the way you say his name when he touches you. If it wouldn’t make him sound like a headcase, he’d ask you to record it. Sneak it into his fucking songs. Let the world know how pretty you sound for him.

“Fuck yeah, let me hear you,” Yoongi murmurs. He sets a steady pace with his fingers, curling them up and thumbing at your clit, and you cry out for him, your face contorting with pleasure. Fucking addicting. “Sound so pretty, baby.”

“M-missed you calling me that,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you rock your hips up into his touch, and Yoongi’s more than happy to let you take what you need. “Missed the way you touch me.”

“It’s only been a week,” he teases, pumping his fingers faster as his free hand slides over your abdomen and up to your chest to roll a nipple between his fingers. “Am I that good?”

Despite your pleasure, you still reach out to swat at him blindly, and he laughs when your hand connects with his chest. “I hate you,” you complain weakly, but the way your core clamps down on his fingers tells him something else entirely.

“Nah. You like me.” He dips down to lick and suck at your other nipple, satisfaction buzzing through his veins when your hands thread through his hair, grasping at the strands. Yoongi can feel your urgency, can feel how close you’re getting for him in the way your muscles tense beneath him, and he quickens the pace of his fingers in response. “Come on, baby. You gonna come for me?”

“Shit, Yoongi—” you moan. Yoongi feels the tension in your body break, your pussy fluttering as his fingers pump inside of you, and he lifts his head to look.

You look so beautiful when you come. Fuck, he wants to commit everything about it to memory: the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part in a moan, your eyes shut tight as you just… take it.

“That’s it,” he groans, slowing the pace of his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm. “That’s my girl.”

After a moment, Yoongi withdraws his fingers, leaning down to kiss you gently. “Okay?” he asks when he sits up on his knees, studying your face as you catch your breath.

“Mmh,” you hum, nodding. Your body relaxes and you sigh, grinning. “More than.”

“Need a second?” he teases, grinning smugly at how fucked out you look already.

“Fuck that,” you say, catching him off guard when you suddenly sit up, surging forward to tug his shirt up and off faster than he can react. The second it’s off, you’re going for his pants next, impatient.

“Fuck, hold on,” Yoongi huffs breathlessly, amused as you struggle to push his pants down over his hips. He stops you, shifting off the bed for a moment to do away with them properly. “Eager, huh?”

“Can’t help it,” you say, laying back for a moment and lifting your own hips to shimmy your panties down your legs. Yoongi can’t help but stare, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he takes in the sight of you. So fucking pretty.

You grin, sitting up again and gently tugging Yoongi closer by the waistband of his underwear. “Yoongi,” you murmur sweetly, and he hums, transfixed by the sight of your hand moving to palm at him through the fabric. “I wanna ride you. Is that okay?”

He inhales sharply, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. He feels his cock twitch in your hand at just the thought of you on top of him, and you smirk. Damn. You’re the smug one now, huh?

“Are you sure?” Yoongi just needs to check. He wants to make sure that this is really what you want, but he’s already moving to shed the last barrier between you.

“Uh-huh,” you confirm, biting your lip as you glance down at his now-freed length, your hand wrapping around it and pumping him slowly. Fuck fuck fuck. Yoongi is not proud of the noise he makes, the pitch slightly higher than his normal timbre. If he doesn’t get inside of you soon he’s going to lose it.

Mercifully, you let go, your attention momentarily torn away as you shift off the bed to rifle through your bedside table. Yoongi moves to the head of the bed, sitting up against your headboard and taking a second to calm the fuck down. He wants this to be good for you, and if that’s gonna happen he needs to be able to not come as soon as you touch him, thanks.

When you return, condom in hand, all Yoongi can do is watch you as you tear the wrapper open, roll it onto his length. Wordlessly, you straddle him, his hands coming up to your hips to steady you.

“Good?” you ask, and Yoongi nods stiffly. He’s so good. How could he not be, with you in his lap like this? With what you’re about to do? You’ve completely turned the tables on him, and he’s so fine with that.

“Just—” he grits out, squeezing your hips gently. “Fuck, go easy on me, okay? I want it to be good for you.”

“It will be,” you assure him, reaching between his body and yours to guide the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Always is with you.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you. “Not if I come in two seconds like a teenager,” he points out.

“I’d consider it a compliment,” you tease. Yoongi inhales sharply as you sink down just the slightest bit, his eyes squeezing shut. He feels your lips on his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“I’ll go slow,” you tack on, and then you start to ease the rest of the way down slowly, stealing all of the breath from Yoongi’s lungs in the process.

“Shit,” he groans, his head falling back against the headboard. You moan softly once you’re finally fully seated on him, and he squeezes your hips to anchor you there, taking a moment to just look at you. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Yoongi’s words are rewarded with a pretty flush on your cheeks and your shy smile. “Shut up,” you mumble. His heart squeezes in his chest, a grin spreading over his face.

“I can’t tell my girlfriend how beautiful she is?” he teases, using his grip on your hips to encourage you to move, tearing sudden, simultaneous moans from both of you as he starts to guide you into a slow, steady rhythm. “How crazy she makes me?”

“You can,” you pant, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders, using them as leverage to follow his guidance. “Please,” you add, causing Yoongi’s lips to quirk up in a smirk.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your throat. His hands slide from your hips to your ass, groaning as he grips the flesh in his hands appreciatively. “Do you know how often I think about you? About this?”

“Tell me,” you whimper. You sound so desperate for it, for him, and Yoongi is completely awestruck by you. You’re always telling him exactly what you want, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t want to comply every fucking time. Anything for you.

“Can’t get you out of my head,” he moans into your neck. “You’re so fucking—god, you’re so sexy.” Your hips stutter, and he pulls a hand back to smack your ass once, wordlessly telling you to move a little faster. And you do. “So smart, so passionate. Can feel it in the way you write, but not just that. The way you talk about it, fuck, could listen to you forever.”

You moan, clenching around him, and Yoongi hisses, bucking up into you involuntarily. He’s not going to last much longer, he can feel it, but he can also tell plain as day that you’re just as close.

“Look so sexy riding me like this, too. I’m so lucky,” Yoongi says, sliding his hands over your body as he speaks. “This ass,” he says, gripping it in his hands again. “These tits.” Another squeeze, to your breast this time. “Fuck, your pussy. I could write chart-topping, award-winning songs about this fucking pussy.” One hand slides down, his thumb rubbing at your clit in tight circles. You keen, moaning his name. “How wet it gets for me. The way it tastes, how it feels around my cock. Fuck, Y/N. You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“I’m gonna come,” you mewl, and Yoongi can’t help the growl that tears from his throat.

“Yeah, come on my cock, baby, fuck, I’ve got you,” he grits out, planting his feet firmly into your mattress for leverage as he fucks up into you. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips meet your ass, the backs of your thighs, setting an urgent pace.

“Fuck!” you moan. Yoongi must be doing something right, judging by the way your thighs start to shake, the way your whole body goes taut in his grip. “Fuckfuckfuckrightthere—”

It’s still true: Yoongi will never get tired of the way you look when you come. You just let go, shaking and moaning and digging your nails into his shoulders as you writhe above him. He did that. Fuck.

His rhythm gets sloppy quickly and he pulls you as close as he can as he thrusts up into you, his own orgasm quickly following. Stars burst behind his eyes as he spills into the condom, groaning into the crook of your neck as he slows to a stop.

You pull him into a kiss, both of you gasping into each other’s mouths as you recover. When you tear yourself away, Yoongi feels your hands cradling his face, and he opens his eyes to find you looking at him, exhausted from exertion but smiling.

“I think all of those things about you too, you know,” you mumble fondly, thumbing his cheek. Yoongi’s heart skips a beat. “It’s not just you.”

His hand comes up to rest over yours, a shy smile playing at his lips. “Guess we won’t get tired of each other any time soon.”

You laugh, carefully lifting up off of his lap. “No, I guess not.”

It’s hard to tear himself away from you, but Yoongi drags himself off your bed to dispose of the condom, navigating his way to your bathroom easily. Your apartment has the same layout, after all. When he returns, he uses one of your towels to wipe you down carefully.

Afterwards, he climbs into your bed with you, pulling you close, your head on his chest. For a moment, Yoongi tries to think back to the last time he felt this way, but he comes up short. Even in his last serious relationship, it didn’t feel this way. In the back of his head, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it until now, he always knew something was off about it. But this, being close to you like this, this thing you were both so scared of… It feels so right.

“Seokjin thinks we’re going to fall in love,” you say after a long moment, your voice quiet. Dangerous thing to say, Yoongi thinks, with your head on his chest like this, so close to his traitorous heart.

“Seokjin thinks a lot of shit. Says all of it out loud, too,” Yoongi murmurs into your hair, taking one of your hands to thread his fingers with yours. “What do you think?”

Yoongi knows what he thinks. He thinks he’s already more than halfway there. He thinks this… you and him could really be something. Not for the first time tonight, he holds his breath.

“I think he’s right,” you answer softly, lifting your head to look at him.

As Yoongi looks back at you—his wallflower, his neighbor, his music journalist friend, his beautiful, hardworking girl—all he can think about is that Western bar he didn’t want to go to. The one he was dragged to on some random Friday, not even a wellness check night. The one he could’ve easily said no to going to in favor of staying in his studio instead. Just another thing he owes his friends for, he thinks. This might be the best one, though.

He squeezes your hand.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

★ ★ ★

EPILOGUE

You didn’t think you were going to make it.

Work has been busting your ass lately, and while you’re endlessly thankful that your career has suddenly taken a sharp turn for the unimaginable—interviewing Lee Chaerin, fucking CL up close and personal, are you joking?—you told Kevin that you had somewhere to be tonight. And that motherfucker still kept you in his office long past five to brainstorm next month’s edition.

Thankfully, you made it out with just enough time to make yourself look presentable in the mirror before making a dash for your car. Unfortunately, you had to forego running home to shower and change clothes, but you did wear a cute sweater and a flattering skirt to work today in anticipation of exactly that situation. Small mercies.

You’re late, definitely late enough for it to be rude, but Yoongi had insisted over and over that this was a completely casual thing.

You love Yoongi, but he’s totally full of shit. There’s nothing casual about meeting your boyfriend’s literal soulmates.

As you stalk towards the front door of the restaurant, you pray that you haven’t completely squandered your first impression before it even begins. Even Rina is making a better one than you—she showed up twenty minutes early. Backstabbing bitch.

Yoongi, ever the gentleman, meets you at the door.

“Will you relax?” he says, exasperated even as he leans in to kiss you ‘hello.’ When he pulls back, he flicks you on the forehead. Asshole. “You texted me your ETA like twelve times. While you drove. This is the furthest thing from a big deal.”

“Says you,” you grouse, slipping your arm into the crook of his elbow easily as he guides you inside. “These are your soulmates. They already love you. What if they hate me? What if they want to burn me at the stake?”

This past month with Yoongi has been nothing short of bliss. You’re both busy, both practically living in your respective workplaces, but sometimes you make time to visit him in his studio and work next to him in silence. Sometimes you come home to find him cooking dinner for you in your apartment and swapping stories with Rina. Sometimes you sleep in on weekends, wake up next to him and admire the softness of his features in the morning, the way Pepper curls up on his chest like he’s been around forever. It’s so good it makes you want to cry. Comfortable. Plus, there’s lots and lots of sex. Sex so good it makes you actually cry sometimes.

“They won’t,” he insists, keeping you close as he weaves through tables to guide you to the private room in the back. “They’ll love you, too. Maybe even more than me. You’re much easier to get along with.”

“That’s true,” you concede with a dramatic sigh, smiling at him fondly. He may be a grouchy hermit, but he’s your grouchy hermit.

When you reach the door of the private room, he stops. You can hear Seokjin’s windshield wiper-y laugh, even with the door closed. “You ready?” Yoongi asks, turning to you with a grin.

“No,” you mumble, pouting. When he runs his thumb over your bottom lip mockingly, you huff at him. “But I guess I have to be, don’t I?”

“Yep,” he says simply, dipping down to kiss you one more time. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. I love you, so they’ll love you, too.”

You hum, grabbing greedily at the front of his shirt to pull him down for one more kiss. “If you say so,” you murmur. “I love you, too.”

You smooth out his shirt and then do a full-body shake to ease your nerves, which makes Yoongi snort. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Yoongi nods, smiling at you fondly, gums showing. You’re damn lucky, you think, to be the one at the receiving end of those smiles. He loves you. It’s so fucking stupid how much he loves you, and how much you love him in return. It’s still new, still a little thing that both of you are learning how to nurture properly, but fuck it’s good.

When he opens the door, the noise of friends inside—both yours and his—filtering out into the restaurant, it’s that gummy smile still lingering in your mind that makes you take a step inside. That, and Yoongi’s voice in your head telling you it’s going to be okay. Because if there’s one thing you know beyond a shadow of a doubt after this past month, it’s that Yoongi will always be honest with you.

He squeezes your hand, and you step inside.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

askbox ★ ao3 ★ anonymous feedback box

@dollfaceksj @jajabro @coffeedepressionsoup @butterymin @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @yourfavoritedeluluspot

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST

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redfoxwritesstuff · 6 months ago

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Posting schedule: Friday Misdemeanor, and Wednesdays for one the occasional one shot. Tag lists are always open.

Join us in the VoxTek Discord server for a Vox themed Hazbin place to hang and get teasers for upcoming chapters!

my AO3 and Kofi

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart

Cover done by @redvexillum

Human Alastor x married reader Rated Adult for adult themes,triggering content and sexual content. Potentially DD:DNE, mind the warnings Series Trigger Warnings: Adultery, stalking, Sexual assault, Rape, smut, Domestic Violence, Time period accurate views on women and domestic violence and skin color, murder

Summary: Fading away in an abusive marriage, each day passes just the same as the last. Painful monotony eats at you until a pair of warm brown eyes sparks the idea that you could have something more. When a business deal between men sparks a torrid affair, how long can you keep things going before the fire either leaves you a burnt out shell or burns up everything around you?

And what becomes of the radio host who thought he was above the fickle fires of the heart when the match he strikes burns his hand instead? Can he possess what rightfully belongs to another man without leaving everything he has fought for in ashes?

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59. 60

Why Is MisD Reader Coded... white? A supplemental reading explaining the historical context, why the deliberate choice was made to code the Reader as a white woman for the sake of plot points, and why I personally would find it disrespectful to have not done so.

MisD Sidepieces: One shots or fics that take place in a MisD AU or are MisD canon but written by another.

Inappropriate Demeanor by @nyx-umbrakinesis (Canon placement, end of chapter 22) Chapter 2 (canon placement between chapter 24 and 25)

Audio Chapters by Nyx Productions: Chapter 1: part 1 part 2, Chapter 2: Part 1, part 2, part 3, chapter 3, Part 1, part 2, part 3, Chapter 4: Part 1, Part 2, Chapter 5: Part 1, Part 2, Chapter 6: Part 1, Part 2

For Eternity (Completed)

Banner by @redvexillum

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult Warnings: This fic contains sexual content, explorations of consent within Angel Dust's contract in relation to sex work, Sexual assault, Possessive and obsessive behaviors, Power dynamics, Adam being an ass, kidnapping, Vox is in hell for a reason, Val is in hell for a reason, Vox has a weird thing for Alastor, Angel Dust is sweet as pie, murder, revenge, implied sexual assault and harassment, miscarriage and death.

Summary: Isabel died young, leaving behind her husband to pick up the pieces. Finding herself in Heaven, she waits for her husband to join her. And waits. And waits. Years and decades pass as she faces the realization that Alastor may not be joining her in Heaven, leaving her largely alone in a realm of double standards and fake smiles.

She must decide if she is going to move on from her marriage or do whatever it takes to reunite with her husband. Would he even still want her? Would she survive the dangers to find him? Would the cost be worth what could be gained?

Is Heaven really Heaven if the one you love isn't there with you?

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Another day in Paradise (On hiatus)

Pairing: Eventually Alastor x OFC, later- light Alastor x ofc x Lucifer Rated: Adult for eventual smut Content warnings: It's Hazbin Hotel- this feels redundant. Sex, eventual smut, referenced implied suicide to be discussed in more detail later, drugs, drinking, poor coping, toxic behavior, controlling behavior, cannibalism, idk, it's fucking Hazbin Hotel, if it's worth a content warning it's probably going to come up at some point? Religious trauma. reader has a name/is a oc.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

A Taste of Sugar

Alastor x reader Rated: Adult for smut TW: blood kink, bondage, reader with trauma from food insecurity Summary: As you work through the trauma of your life and starving to death, you dismantle your stash of snacks for what you hope will be the final time. Snack cakes, cookies and crackers are given to everyone around you, except one resident in the hotel whom you knew wouldn't enjoy or consume the treats. Then, as the flow of treats tricked to a stop, stash dismantled, small brown boxes containing treats began to appear at your door. Simple, delicious and seemingly homemade treats without so much as a note.

He watched and he waited, each week for your offer. Each week, no offer came and again he left his gift at your door. Why would you not think of him? Why would you not see him? What did he have to do for you to consider him?

Chapters: 1, 2

Wild Flowers (One shot)

Alastor x readerRated: Adult, 18+ Content warnings: Sex pollen trope and related questionable consent due to intoxication, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, knotting, praise, dancing that shouldn't be that sexy, biting, a touch of blood drinking, female masterbation, some possessiveness, Alastor being a bit of an ass

Summary: You had always loved flowers, so when you found a patch of pretty purple wildflowers growing in the small forest behind the hotel, you didn't think twice about picking a small handful to bring back to your room. While they smelled lovely, you were wholly unprepared for the side effects of exposure or the repercussions of offering the terrifyingly handsome Radio Demon a smell on your way to your room.

With your body burning from the inside out with an overwhelming need and a displeased Radio Demon pushing his way into your room, you have no idea what you're in for.

All you wanted was to pick some flowers but you got so much more.

Audio version brought to you by @nyx-umbrakinesis, Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt6.

Steamy Situations 18+ (One shot)

Alastor x readerRated: Adults only Warnings: Smut. It's shower smut. Female bodied reader. Careful with your shower sex.

Summary: You're hot and bored and your husband is busy working. If only there was a way you could distract him, get some of his attention and cool off. Audio Fic credits: Read by the lovely @nyx-umbrakinesis (Audio fic part 1, part 2)

Read me to sleep? (One shot)

Alastor x readerRating: G Summary: After a long, shitty day out and about you drag yourself home to the hotel to seek shelter and comfort in the one place you knew you could find it.

Home is where the heart is (One shot fluff)

Vox x Reader Rated: General Warnings: I accidently spilled a little angst on the fluff serving. Sorry?

Summary: You're cooking dinner when your secret boyfriend comes home. Caught up in the moment, confessions are made and hearts are put on the line.

A Bed of Electric FLowers (One Shot)

Header done in part by the wonderful, amazing, fantastical @redvexillum

Vox x ReaderRated: Adult CW: Sex pollen trope, sex toy use, female masterbation, Vox's glowstick dick, way too many tv details, Male receiving oral,

Summary: A unexpected floral arrangement is delivered to your door as you're trying to ignore the lingering absence of your flat faced boyfriend. When Vox returns home and finds you in a compromising position, he's eager to assist even without a clue as to what has you so worked up.

Sister Dearest (One shot)

Requested: Vox x Alastor’s!Sister!Reader rated: Adult

Summary: Sneaking out of the protection of the protection of your brother's district was dangerous. Not only did you risk Alastor's wrath, you risked catching the eye of some unsavory characters. While you could meet many friends upon the streets of the forbidden tech district, you find Vox and his alluring promises of a good time.He knew of your brother and seemed to hold no animosity, surely he was a friend to the Radio Demon, right? Surely you could trust his company, right?Right?

Power (One Shot)

Vox x Reader Rating: Explicit 18+ Warnings: Porn without plot, Power dynamics, Secretary reader, Choking on dick, Office blowjob.

Summary: Vox is wound tight after his on air showdown with the newly returned Alastor. The show must go on though and you have just what he needs to get into the right headspace to move forward.

(None, for now)

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soaps-mohawk · 7 months ago

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So...

I've been doing some thinking about a couple of things.

This blog has grown considerably, even from its start and I appreciate each and every one of you so much. Your support never ceases to amaze me and I owe all of you a lot for giving me something to focus on this year instead of spiraling into insanity.

But

Things have gotten a tad bit overwhelming recently between trying to run the blog and trying to write. I find myself either having to ignore the blog to get writing done, or sacrifice writing time and energy to spend time on the blog and keep up with all the replies/reblogs/asks etc. Definitely not complaining, you all never cease to amaze me.

But, I am just one person and my brain only has so much power right now. So, I'm planning to take some (more) time off each week right now while I focus on writing and planning since we're getting into some serious plot stuff soon. So I'm planning to be on the blog three days a week for a while: Saturday, Sunday, and Thursday. That gives me some time to get some writing done as well as some time to rest my brain.

Saturday and Sunday of course to post the chapter and respond to replies and reblogs so I don't get super behind. Monday I'll have some asks queued up as well as maybe a few reblogs. I'll still use the queue Tuesday and Wednesday for reblogs/asks with spoilers as usual. Thursday I'll be on the blog answering asks from Monday - Wednesday as well as things I get that day. I'll queue up a few things for Friday since that day gives me a little break between to prepare for the weekend and posting the chapter.

I'll probably add more days as time goes on. You can still send in asks on the days I'm gone, but just know I won't see them or respond to them until later in the week. I already get behind by a couple days on asks anyway so that's not much of a change.

Don't feel bad for sending them either, I love getting all these asks, I just tend to get behind on days I spend more time writing.

The second order of business

has to do with my taglist. Most of you probably haven't noticed (which I don't blame you lol) but my taglist has gotten very big. Very, very big. It's just over 230 people right now, and I'm sure there will be others asking to join. It's quite time consuming to do all of these tags for every chapter (especially since we can't tag in blocks anymore) so I've been doing some thinking into how I can make it easier for me, and for you.

I know there's at least one blog I've heard of, though I'm sure there's more, that have made side blogs that they have people follow and turn on notifications for and just make a post on that blog when they post a chapter or fic, etc. I've been considering doing that since the taglist is a lot of work and time.

I've also seen blogs that have side blogs that just post chapters/fics and nothing else. I know quite a few of you only follow for the fic, so if anyone is interested, I could put together a side blog like that as well that you can follow and get notifications from instead of having to follow this blog and having to go through the probably 100 posts that I make a day 😂 (at least it feels that way for me)

Having a separate blog for the taglist too would allow me to schedule posts so I can have them come out a bit earlier than I get up for those of you across the world who stay up to read and have to wait for me to post in the morning when I get up (or later like today because I slept in). Of course Ao3 will get posted later because I can't schedule posts there, but at least for Tumblr I can have things post earlier.

So let me know what you think about the taglist side blog and the possible just chapters/fics side blog. Feel free to send in asks (anonymously or not) with your opinion. I might not answer them all (not tonight because my brain is fried and honestly i'm not sure if this is even comprehensible English) but I will at least use them to make the decision (or make a post with all of them and answer it as just one).

#more than likely i'll be doing the taglist blog just for my own sanity #and wrists #I'd tag everyone on the taglist in a post on that blog just so everyone sees it #also will still use the taglist for a chapter or two so everyone can have a chance to follow there #also don't feel bad for asking to be on the taglist #it's just gotten very long #and scheduling posts is so nice #it was very handy last year for Kinktober #anyway let me know what you think

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zuccnini · 7 months ago

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☆ Shops: Etsy │Ko-fi

☆ Tips: Ko-Fi - All my new art is posted here first, any tip, commission or shop orders grant you access to that art early!

☆ Commissions: Ko-fi │ Etsy [ Commissions are open on a revolving basis I tend to only accept 2 commissions at a time, when those are complete I re-open them ]

Mini Painting [Pokemon] │ Mini Sculptures │Sketch/Watercolor

Other places to find me:

Twitter(inactive) │ IG (Inactive) │ Blusky │ Cara

Craft Blog @zuccninis │ Sketch Blog @squashni

Miscellaneous info below (Mediums, Contact, etc):

Mediums: I'm a traditional artist and my main medium is watercolor.

I'm not being paid to promote any specific brand, if your looking to start out use what is accessible and affordable to you! With that said here is what I use:

Watercolor: Renesans Half pans, Holbein watercolor tubes, Winsor & Newton Professional, and Daniel Smith Extra Fine Watercolor.

Watercolor inks: Dr. Ph Martins Radiant Concentrated watercolor and Ecoline Liquid Water Colour (These are why some of my watercolor pieces are so vibrant.)

Brushes: 0.5, 1 & 2 Foldable travel watercolor brushes, and those waterfilled brushes.

Paper: Fabriano Hot Pressed Watercolor paper, I usually bind these into my own books.

Other Mediums: Microns, Prismacolor Color Pencils, Posca Wax pastels, Paint markers, Tombow water based markers, Ballpoint pens, Acryla Gouache, and Crayola crayons.

If you are looking to get into watercolor my best advice is to invest in actual watercolor paper. For watercolor the most important thing is the paper, nice paper can make even crayola look beautiful. 300 Gsm is ideal.

For Mini Paintings:

Liquitex Acrylic Gouache and Golden SoFlat Acrylics

Mini Canvases (3x3in)

Mini Easels (5in)

Clear Gesso

Small paintbrushes, brand does not matter I tend to buy whatever is tiny and is a reasonable price. I use Synthetic brushes.

It should be noted that I do scan in all my artwork, I use a epson perfection v370, I've had this scanner for years and it works pretty well, you just need to mess around with the settings. I edit all my art in Clip Studio Paint to remove any lint or dust and to fix up colors.

[Traditional art can be pretty expensive so I recommend if your looking to try any medium to buy a little bit at a time and buy things piecemeal.]

Other Info:

Business Contact: [email protected] [Don't send me unsolicited trash]

If you wish to contact me for other matters most of my DM's are closed, Best places to contact me is Etsy for order issues, or Ko-Fi. (Don't ask me for my Discord that's for friends only.)

If You see my art getting reposted/re-uploaded, report it, the only accounts I post on are included above. Anywhere else I'm being impersonated. Please don't support low quality repost accounts that steal art from actual artists. Many times these accounts screw over actual artists since they love to monetize and sell stolen work.

I schedule posts on here on all my accounts! Schedule is Mon-Wed-Friday on Zuccnini, Bonus posts/Reblogs are Tues-Thurs and Saturday-Sunday.

Dont tag my OC / Original Character art with "pokemon" or any other fandom tags, This is NOT a pokemon blog this is my illustration blog.

As for Fanart: People are free to draw and commission art of my OCs, feel free to tag me in it! I do ask no nsfw without my permission.

That's most of the info I can think to include for this.

Extra-Curricular art:

[18+ Obviously]

nsfw twitter │ NSFW Bluesky

#Text Heavy post #Pinned

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twig-tea · 1 month ago

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GL odds and ends 29 December 2024

The end of the year kicked my ass, but I wanted to get one last one of these out for 2024! The last one before this was 10 November. If you're interested in GL older than that, check out my GL rec list through Feb 2024 and my #gl recs tag for the other odds and ends posts. New series marked with an asterisk*.

Currently airing (with thoughts up to 29 Dec):

The Fragrance You inherit 5/8 (Japanese, Friday/Saturday-ish, no official distribution but fansub on @isaksbestpillow's blog [thank you Siiri!] I have been really enjoying this show and have been writing when I have time (last post was for ep4). At its core this is a gentle show about kind people who love each other doing their best, which is always my favourite thing. Subs are on pause for the moment so you have time to catch up before the finale!

Pluto ep 11/12 (Thai, Saturdays 9:30 AM ET, YouTube) This plot continues to be absolutely wild. There's a lot of discourse around Oom this week, to which I'll just say: Setting a test to see if the people you love will hurt themselves in order to make you feel better is not loving or healthy behaviour, even if your motivations are understandable and sympathetic. Namtan is doing a great job making these twins feel like different people, and she and Film are still gorgeous together. And I have no idea what's up with the messy lesbian sides, but I'm on the side of all of them need a time out! I've been pretty dialed out of this show because it's not my thing, so I'm not that invested in any of the relationships going into the finale, but it's been a wild ride and it seems to be holding together for those who enjoy the high drama of this plot.

*Petrichor ep 5/10 (Thai, Saturdays, 10:00 AM ET, iQIYI) The procedural aspects of this show are unfortunately not well executed, but Engfa and Charlotte have fantastic chemistry. I'm also really loving seeing Na and Max again even though I am very worried about getting too attached to their characters. It's always hard for me when a show is about a police officer trying to do good work in a corrupt system because the only takeaway I can accept is that that is not possible lol but I'm enjoying seeing these two on my screen every week (except this week, because we sadly did not get a new episode today).

*Mate, 6/12 (Thai, Tuesdays, WeTV (uncut version)) This one is hard to describe. It seems to be trying to do for trauma in a GL what Love in the Air and Bed Friend did in BL--show a realistic depiction of trauma in one of their characters and have them fall in love, and be taken care of and healed that way. But that also makes it extremely hard to watch. The trauma flashbacks and trauma responses is rough. The main character is not very likeable but that's kinda the point, I'm not minding that part of it so much. There are a lot of things I like about this show, so I don't want to discourage views. Just go into this one informed, and make the decision that's right for you.

*INTP 1/? (Korean, Fridays (?), YouTube) This is the latest short series from RedQ, who produced some of my favourite GL short series including More than or equal to 75 degrees C, and To the Ex who Hated Me. No info on how long it will be or if it will be weekly, so that Fridays release schedule is a total guess. The setup of this one reminded me of Semantic Error if SangWoo realized he was attracted to JaeYoung at their first group assignment meeting.

Recently Completed:

Apple My Love 6.5 50-min eps (Thai, Oct 12-Nov 16, GagaOOLala and YouTube) I ended up feeling like this one bit off a bit more than it could chew, as much fun as I had with it, it was a wobbly landing. I was ok with the ending at the end but I spent a lot of time watching the finale uncertain about how I felt about all of it. There's a 30 min "episode 5.1" that is an important bridge between episodes 5 and 6 (and also includes a 10-min fingering scene, thank you show) that I think resulted from either poor pacing or realizing they needed to set up the episode better? It was odd but something to make sure not to skip. The show does a lot of what I love about Kongthup's latest BLs: it avoids the worst drama pitfalls and calls them out in the show itself when it uses them, and it is largely about being kind to its characters who are figuring themselves out. Warning for extremely hard to watch secondhand embarrassment in the first couple of episodes lol Kris is such a cringefail lesbian I love her. With the caveats above, if you don't mind secondhand embarrassment and want a comedy GL and are willing to be a little patient with the ending, give this one a try!

The Loyal Pin 16 65-min eps (Thai, Aug 4-Dec 1, YouTube) Anin was the bravest right through to the end. I really liked a lot of this show, but I found the pacing a bit uneven and the finale a little rough. It's hard, because I actually am happy with the way the show ended--it makes perfect sense and was where I was hoping they would get to the entire show. What I didn't like was how we got there. It seemed wild that Pin and Anin didn't at least talk about this possibility before we got there; and didn't feel like we ever resolved the disparity between the two leads, though the show was aware of it the whole time which I did like. And you may have seen the shouting about the prank in the finale, it was in really poor taste. In the end, this show was beautiful, gave a platform for promoting Thai culture (food, clothing, history), and had excellent intimacy. I really enjoyed the slow burn between Anin and Pin, and I loved that every character had and used the agency they had, but that the show was realistic about what was in and outside of their control. If you want a slow-burn and high-heat romance and are willing to be a little frustrated for the sake of the drama, and/or you really like a pigtail-pulling romantic dynamic, you should watch this show.

Red Whisper 8 10-min eps (Korea, Oct 2-Nov 11, YouTube) Honestly this show never got better after what I wrote about it a month ago about how its portrayal of bisexuality and nonmonogamy was upsetting. For the record one last time: Not all bisexuals are nonmonogamous, and entering a monogamous relationship under false pretenses and then acting like your partner is being unreasonable by not wanting an open relationship is shitty behaviour. This one is sadly not recommended.

The Nipple Talk 10 30-min eps (Taiwanese, Nov 8-22, GagaOOLala) I highly recommended the first half, and so I am so sad to say that I can't say the same for the second half of the show. I was really enjoying how much the show seemed to support a mix of monogamy and nonmonogamy, but the second half of the show leaned heavily into 'everyone wants a monogamous relationship when they meet the right person', which disappointed me. The show also tried to introduce some themes that felt very dated in terms of how they handled them (e.g. HIV) and I ended up just not really liking the Pony character as a person by the end. The lesbian relationship was super messy in a way that I did not find fun too. Mama was the best part of this show, and I hope we get more characters like them in future (better) shows!

*Soul Sisters 24 12-min eps (Chinese, iQIYI) This entire show dropped this week so I binged it in one go. The basic setup is a GL version of Meet You At the Blossom, except the gender fuckery lasts for most of the series and they don't actually ever get to kiss. I loved this little show; it is a frenetic, very silly and censored comedy, so calibrate your expectations accordingly. But it walks the line in a way that is palatable (or was for me, anyway). Without giving too much away, it is an open happy ending. The caveats for this one are that there is no wasted tape, so the pacing is rollercoaster fast, and the cuts are sometimes jarring. But it's a surprisingly beautiful show for the budget, and I really appreciated all of the ways they came up with to give these women shippy moments. Also, good lord this main character is so competent, which is a major weakness of mine. I had a great time!

*Whisper Me a Love Song 12 25-min eps (Japanese anime, Apr-27 Dec, HiDive) This started airing in April but there was a delay and the last episode didn't air until yesterday. High school lesbians in a band having embarrassing confused and misunderstood feelings all over the place (with good endings including a kiss for at least one of our couples). I appreciate that this anime is not playing with the 'are they friends who joke about wanting to touch each other's boobs or are they more' line, they outright say they want to be more than friends and then kiss. The music is good too! Recommended if you are feeling like a high school dramedy with good tunes that stays pretty light and is in the 'bubble'.

Recent One-offs, Side Couples, etc.:

My Hot Butch Roommate (actually a 2-parter) aired on bilibili 1, 2) and was subtitled by @douqi7s on YouTube (1, 2) These two are very cute, and this little short does a ton with the very tiny 5 minutes of total runtime it uses. Give the original bilibili uploads a stream so they get views, even if you watch the YT subbed version!

Fufuknows put out a new lesbian short titled The Choices of Two Lesbian Couples in Love on YouTube This was a great short (11 min) film featuring the story of two couples at different stages in their relationship, and the different choices they make about their futures. I really enjoy Fufuknows as queer short filmmakers, and I appreciate that they regularly include lesbian and wlw content in their bi-weekly (as in, every other week) fictional shorts that they produce and release. This one is recommended!

Aim's Lesbian plotline in the new Love Sick 2024 remake concluded (this was not a plotline in the 2014 version and it's one of the changes I really like and that I think works really well) Spoiler: she doesn't get a romance happy ending but her story ends with acceptance from her friends about who she is, which was lovely to watch

There was a brief of-the-week lesbian couple who wanted to marry in Spare Me Your Mercy Spoiler: their story is tragic, which is par for the course in a murder mystery

I am suspecting wlw sides in See Your Love I may end up eating these words but I was getting vibes, and so I'm putting this out in the universe now in hopes I'm right lol

There is a new Korean shorts production company on YouTube called Lovememory (Their first BL ep is out and the GL, First Love, has a trailer)

Mom Ped Sawan started airing but I don't have a source so I can't give any info or links unfortunately. If anyone knows of a subtitled source for this show, please let me know!

My Ex's Wedding came out in Thai theatres waiting for an international source for this too

Korean short film What's In my Bag was uploaded to Matchbox I haven't seen it yet but the trailer is on YouTube if anyone is curious! The film is available now for a small fee on Vimeo (runtime 12 mins).

Sastra film app YouTube channel has several short Cambodian GL series that come out weekly Honestly they are not to my taste but I don't like gatekeeping GL especially from smaller markets. I check in on these time to time and if there are any that I think are great I'll give them a shout-out

Ditto above with JPC media YouTube channel for Thai GL shorts if there are any that stand out to me I'll say so; that being said I haven't had time recently so if I've missed anything good let me know!

Starting soon:

Us the series, Thai, 18 January 2025, most likely YouTube (as this is a GMMTV show) Caveat that this date is a rumour, see comments

Fragrance of the First Flower s2, Taiwanese, 18 February 2025, GagaOOLala ok this isn't that soon but I'm just so excited we're getting this second season after all!

It is so, so nice that we have this much GL to keep track of, I can't complain! This covers a whole month of content and it was a month I was very distracted from my QL consumption so while I always welcome anyone pointing out stuff I missed, I would particularly appreciate it this round.

#gl series #gl recs #gl meta #sapphic media #typed so that i can stop thinking it #kimi no tsugu kaori wa #the fragrance you inherit #pluto the series #intp the series #petrichor the series #mate the series #apple my love #the loyal pin #red whisper #the nipple talk #whisper me a love song #soul sisters the series #my hot butch roommate #soul sisters

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hivemuthur · 29 days ago

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The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 4.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 5,4K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: Plot thickens! From now on, I will be dipping more into Viktor's POV from time to time. Anyways, there is a party, and you know what happens at parties.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

“One fucking evening this entire month we have free, and we have to do this,” Sue scoffed, emptying the lab bin into a giant rubbish bag. It was your turn for weekend prep, and unfortunately, there was no malicious intent behind it—the schedule spoke the truth. It just happened to land on the Friday Mel had invited you to a theatre department party.

“Which one do you want? Washing the glassware or laundry?” you asked, your mind elsewhere for the past week. Not that you needed a reminder of the night of your performance, but people greeting you with “Aaron Burr, sir” more often than you wished for certainly didn’t help you forget.

“I’m sorry, is there really not one offended bone in your body? This is gross,” Sue hissed, grimacing at the chewing gum she had to scrape from underneath the workbench.

You shrugged, offering her an apologetic glance. “I think my soul fled my body a long time ago, Sue. Also—if we do this fast, we’ll only be fashionably late.”

Sue grunted in defeat. “Fine. But! Can we at least have a little fun with it?” She dramatically pulled a small speaker out of her handbag and started the Hamilton soundtrack.

You responded with an exaggerated eye roll and a sigh, but you didn’t stop her.

At first, you were determined to focus on the task and finish as quickly as possible. But by the third song, your resolve wavered. Soon enough, you were screaming your lungs out while furiously washing beakers, joined by Sue, who was waving lab coats theatrically before hanging them out to dry.

You were so absorbed in your performance that you didn’t notice Jayce peeking through the little window in the TA’s office.

“Uh… do you think they know we’re here?” Jayce whispered into the quiet space of their tiny room, as if you and Sue could somehow hear him over the clamour you were making.

“I doubt it,” Viktor replied with a subtle smile, not lifting his eyes from the notes he and Jayce were preparing.

“Well, should we tell them?” Jayce asked, glancing at his partner, but he couldn’t suppress a giggle. When their eyes met, they both burst into laughter, snorting at the chaotic spectacle unfolding in front of them—you and Sue wreaking havoc with what had to be the worst version of Hamilton the world had ever seen.

“Definitely not,” Viktor said, shaking his head as he rose from behind the desk. He stepped up to the window beside Jayce, stealing a brief, inquisitive look at the scene before him.

Jayce shot him a questioning glance, an incredulous smile playing on his lips. “Viktor, you’re evil,” he whispered loudly, his tone equal parts amused and scandalized. When Viktor didn’t reply, Jayce hesitated before adding, a little shyly, “Should we… record this?”

“Definitely yes,” Viktor said without missing a beat, nodding a few too many times. An evil smirk spread across his face, his sharp features illuminated with mischief.

Jayce laughed quietly, pulling out his phone. They leaned closer to the window, trying to stifle their giggles as they recorded your exaggerated tap dances and overly dramatic singing. You belted out all the roles at once, seamlessly switching from one caricatured voice to another. Sue, meanwhile, danced around you, waving lab coats like pompoms in a cheerleader’s routine.

“Viktor, we kind of need to leave, though,” Jayce whispered, glancing at the clock on the wall. His expression grew worried. “I promised Mel we wouldn’t be late.”

“Well, we can’t leave now, can we?” Viktor replied, still peeking through the small glass window, the smile never leaving his face. “They would eat us alive if they knew we were here.”

Jayce groaned softly, torn between his promise to Mel and his unwillingness to interrupt the chaos before him.

“Besides,” Viktor added, nudging Jayce lightly with his elbow, “I think this… experience might come in handy one day.”

Jayce turned to him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “What are you planning in that evil head of yours?”

“Ah, nothing too harmful,” Viktor said with an innocent shrug, though his amused tone betrayed him.

You and Sue carried on with your impromptu performance, finishing triumphantly with the last song of the first act. You spun theatrically, slapping the autoclave door shut with a loud clang, while Sue hefted a giant rubbish bag—now roughly the size of an adult human—over her shoulder with an exaggerated grunt.

Still laughing and singing, you exited the room, your voices and footsteps echoing loudly through the corridors.

Viktor let out a satisfied hum as the sound faded. “Well,” he murmured, stepping back from the window, “that was thoroughly entertaining.”

Jayce shook his head, pocketing his phone. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” Viktor said with a grin, “it’s your phone that now has the priceless recording on it.”

***

The party was already in full swing when Sue and you arrived. The soft buzz of laughter and conversation drifted out through the open doors of one of the theatre department's scene rooms, spilling into the dimly lit hallway. Inside, strings of fairy lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the modest but well-decorated space. Students from various years and departments milled about, sipping drinks from mismatched glasses and occasionally breaking into animated conversations. The party felt exclusive but relaxed, an invite-only gathering of the social and the curious.

“Okay, this is cute,” Sue said, surveying the scene as she adjusted the strap of her bag.

“Yeah,” you replied absently, your eyes scanning the room. You didn’t exactly feel like you belonged among the artsy crowd, but Sue’s excitement was contagious enough to keep you from bolting. Also, Alice was going to be there.

Before you could venture further, a familiar figure waved at you. Mel. She was stationed near a small bar set up at the far end of the room, looking as effortlessly glamorous as ever in a sleek black dress. Her smile was wide as she approached, holding a glass of wine.

“You made it!” Mel greeted, pulling both of you into a quick hug. “Sue, Y/N—I was starting to think you’d bailed.”

“Not a chance,” Sue said with a grin. “Though you can thank lab duty for making us late.”

You chuckled lightly. “Yeah, but we brought the energy of ‘cleaning under duress.’”

Mel raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to know. Just grab a drink, mingle, and enjoy yourselves. Theatre kids know how to party.”

Before long, another commotion near the entrance caught your attention. Viktor and Jayce had arrived. Viktor looked sharp as ever in his typical understated style, though there was a slight flush to his cheeks, as if the cold night air had left its mark. Jayce, on the other hand, was already waving enthusiastically to familiar faces.

“Speak of the devils,” Mel said with a smirk, watching the pair approach.

Sue elbowed you. “You think they followed us here?”

You snorted. “What, and crash an artsy party? Highly unlikely.”

As Viktor and Jayce joined your group, you couldn’t help but notice how both men exchanged glances and smothered giggles.

“What?” you finally asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Nothing,” Jayce said, failing spectacularly at looking innocent. His grin widened as he glanced at Viktor, who was suspiciously quiet but equally amused.

“Seriously,” Sue added, crossing her arms. “What’s so funny?”

Viktor tilted his head, the barest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, nothing of importance.”

You and Sue exchanged confused looks but decided to drop it, instead dispersing into the party. Sue quickly made a beeline for the bar, striking up a conversation with Alice and a couple of theatre students. You, however, drifted aimlessly for a while, chatting briefly with a few familiar faces.

It wasn’t long before you spotted Ambrose. He was leaning casually against a wall, his drink in hand, wearing the same easy confidence he’d had when you first met. The warmth in his eyes made it slightly worse. You had completely forgotten about him.

“Y/N!” he called, weaving through the crowd toward you. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

“Hey, Ambrose,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but guarded.

“So,” he said, a small grin playing on his lips, “you never reached out. I thought we had a connection at that party.” He looked at you expectantly, making your stomach twist.

You shifted uncomfortably, your grip tightening slightly on your glass. “Yeah, sorry about that. Things got busy; you know how it is.” You scolded yourself for how weak your response was. You’d once gotten this kind of response from a boy, and it had hurt you deeply. Now, you suddenly understood why people didn’t bother taking that extra step to soften the blow.

Ambrose’s smile faltered for a moment before he recovered. “Sure. Maybe next time, then?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your tone dismissive but still polite.

As soon as Ambrose turned his attention elsewhere, you exhaled deeply, needing a moment to yourself. You were hoping to find Hale, but before that could happen, you slipped away from the main party area and into the adjoining dressing rooms. The lights above the vanities cast a softer, more diffused glow, and the quiet felt like a balm. You scrambled up to sit on top of one of the vanities, stealing a quick glance at your own reflection before turning away from it, letting your gaze wander across the room. Your mind raced, jumping from Ambrose to Sue and her new girlfriend—and, reluctantly, to Viktor. He looked nice today, but the glances you caught from him were, at the very least, unnerving.

“Ah, there you are,” came a familiar voice from the doorway.

You turned, startled, to see Viktor leaning casually against the frame. His posture betrayed the alcohol in his system, a slight sway giving him away. His cheeks were flushed, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and—your gaze caught on a detail that immediately soured your mood—a faint lipstick stain marked his cheek.

You raised an eyebrow, a wry smile creeping onto your lips. “Well, well. Someone’s been busy.” The words felt bitter on your tongue, and you forced a smile to stop yourself from hopping off the table and walking out. What was this reaction?

Viktor blinked, momentarily confused, before following your gesture to his cheek. His hand flew to the spot, his fingers brushing the stain as realization dawned. “It’s nothing,” he said dismissively, though the redness in his face deepened.

Your tone was light, but Viktor caught the stiffness in your smile, the way your eyes darted briefly to his cheek and then away. Was it bothering you? The idea made his heart lurch in a way he wasn’t ready to unpack. He didn’t think of himself as someone who inspired jealousy—especially not from you. Yet, the way you teased him now, your words just a shade too sharp to be entirely playful, sent a quiet thrill through him.

“Oh, sure. Just your typical party accessory,” you teased, though you couldn’t entirely mask the twinge of hurt you felt. Your stomach twisted itself into an even tighter knot as the fake smile glued itself painfully to your face.

Viktor stepped closer, his usual sharpness softened by the haze of alcohol. As he leaned in, he couldn’t help but notice how the soft light cast shadows on your face, emphasizing the curve of your lips. Lips he had stolen too many glances at tonight. How many times had he caught himself doing it now? Five? Six? More? It didn’t matter. The alcohol had stripped away the discipline that normally kept his thoughts in line.

“You seem… preoccupied,” he noted, his voice steady despite the warmth in his chest and the growing fog in his thoughts. He took a few wobbly steps toward you, his cane resting inches away from your knees, which dangled from the vanity table.

You quirked an eyebrow, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Do I? Maybe I’m just wondering if you’re collecting lipstick prints as a hobby now.”

The smirk that tugged at Viktor’s lips was faint but maddeningly confident. He could feel your gaze flicker to the stain again. Did it bother you that much? Your discomfort struck a chord in him—half guilt, half triumph. It was petty, but knowing you cared, even in this small way, sent an odd sense of satisfaction curling in his chest.

“Jealous, are we?” he asked, his tone teasing but quieter now, his accent rolling heavier as the alcohol loosened him further.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Please. I’m just concerned about your… hygiene standards.” You waved your hand around him dismissively.

He chuckled, low and warm, the sound lingering between you. His eyes darted back to your lips before he caught himself. He shouldn’t be doing this—thinking like this. Somehow, whatever this was between you had already gone beyond the possibility of remaining casual. But the distance between you felt too small, the air too charged.

“I’ll have you know it was entirely unsolicited,” he said, his smirk growing despite the twinge of nervousness fluttering in his chest.

“Mm-hmm,” you replied, narrowing your eyes playfully. “And yet, you didn’t wipe it off.”

“Perhaps I forgot,” Viktor said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “Or perhaps it’s a memento.”

Your laugh was light, but Viktor swore he saw a flicker of something else in your expression. Were you embarrassed? Amused? Hurt? He couldn’t tell, and it frustrated him more than he cared to admit.

You shook your head, fighting back a smile. “You’re impossible.” You let your head drop for a second, seeking a brief reprieve from your forced expressions, from his eyes on you. The wine burned in your stomach, and your fingers clutched the edge of the table a bit too tightly.

You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, willing your thoughts to steady. Viktor’s chuckle echoed faintly in your ears. You didn’t register the moment his hands moved to your ribs, pulling you in as he collided with your lips in a clumsy kiss. Instinctively, you spread your knees to let him closer, and he immediately obliged. One hand slid to cradle your waist, while the other kept your face close to his by your neck, his grip tight—on the border of pain.

He was hot beneath your lips, his body uncertain, his mouth greedy as if he expected you to push him away. You felt his urgency, and as your palms travelled to his hips to pull him closer, he took the invitation instantly. When your soft body pressed against his chest, he couldn’t hold back a groan that reverberated down your throat. You gave in to the kiss completely, tangling your fingers into his hair as he held you tightly, his grip on your neck unrelenting.

He wanted the kiss to be rough, rushed, and meaningless. No, he didn’t want the kiss to happen. But as it unfolded, he wanted it more and more, finding himself melting under your touch, gentle and welcoming, as if you wanted it just as much as he did. The jealousy in your eyes made him want to reassure you that the lipstick stain was nothing—just a clumsy, patronising kiss from Mel for finally accepting her invitation to something. His thoughts clattered drunkenly in his head as he poured himself into you, your body rocking underneath him, his trousers tightening, your scent assaulting his senses.

He almost told you how he had wanted to kiss you instead of handing you the phone back in his office, or during the cigarette you shared, how he had taken it from you to place his lips where yours had been seconds ago, how much you pissed him off in class, and how he had no idea what to do about it. Instead, he groaned painfully at the pressure between his legs and muttered only, “Wait,” as he pushed himself away from you.

Viktor's breath was heavy, and his chest rose and fell rapidly with the frantic rhythm of his heart. He felt the warmth of your body still pressed against his, the softness of your touch still lingering on his skin, and yet the moment he pulled back, a cold weight settled in the pit of his stomach. His hands were still trembling slightly, a mixture of desire and something darker, something unsure, gnawing at him.

You looked up at him, confusion clouding your expression. “What’s wrong?”

His mouth went dry. He didn’t have an answer—didn’t know how to explain what was happening inside him and that it was ugly. His mind was a chaotic mess of tangled thoughts that all fought each other, hurting his brain. He had kissed you, wanted you, he felt you, and the feeling was stupid, it was silly, and it was great. But now, in the aftermath, the thrill of the kiss was quickly replaced by the terror of his own compulsion.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, too quickly, trying to mask the truth. “I just… sorry, I got carried away.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked at him, almost searching for some kind of explanation. “Um, did I make you feel like I mind?”

“No,” he answered sharply, a little too sharp. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes flickered away from yours. He could still taste you on his lips, the feeling of your hands on his skin, and it made his heart beat harder, faster, but also painfully. He could feel the weight of his own indecision.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the rush of emotions made him feel dizzy. The pull to kiss you again was so strong, but so was the part of him that was terrified of what that meant. You made him feel amazing, and he scowled internally.

“Just don’t think much of it,” he said finally, his voice lower now, trying to make it sound casual, though it only made the moment heavier, dragging him lower and lower. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at you, seeing you still there, still waiting for some kind of explanation. The disappointment flickered in your eyes, and it made him want to reach for you again, to erase the distance he had just created. But fear held him back. He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to feeling this… exposed.

Viktor ran a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “I shouldn’t have—” He stopped himself, unsure of what to say next, unsure of how to make sense of what was happening inside him. “Forget it, I’m... drunk,” he muttered, almost to himself, trying to regain some semblance of control.

But the damage was done. The warmth that had enveloped you both now felt like a distant memory, replaced by an awkward silence that felt too heavy to bear.

You felt so many things at once. In the span of mere minutes, Viktor had managed to make you realise not only that Hale was right, but that you could accept it—and worse, that you wanted it. But you worked faster than Viktor. In the ten seconds it took for him to pull back and mumble his apologies, you had already played out five different scenarios of how this could end.

You were ready to pick the one where you confronted him immediately, demanded an explanation, but then Hale’s words came back to you: You were a king. And you bowed to no one.

So, you pushed your anger and hurt aside.

Sliding off the table with practised ease, you cleared your throat and left the room with a steady, measured pace, not sparing him a single glance. Back at the party, you slipped effortlessly into your role. You danced with Hale, smiled, and joked with Jayce. You had a heartwarming chat with Mel, kissed Sue goodnight as your friend fled the party with Alice, and laughed at things that, later, you wouldn’t remember.

And then, when you finally returned to your empty room, when the music and the laughter faded into silence—you cried your eyes out.

***

Sue abandoned you for the entire weekend. You didn’t mind—you completely understood the flutters of new love—but being left alone with your thoughts proved disastrous. Your ambitious plans to study for two days straight fell apart under the weight of anger, hurt, and disbelief swirling inside you. Instead of being productive, you did absolutely nothing.

You spent hours pacing up and down your room, practising scathing speeches you imagined delivering to Viktor, each one sharper and more damning than the last.

By the time Sunday evening rolled around, you decided you couldn’t stay cooped up any longer. You snuck into the lab, determined to practise the tedious exercises you’d be running through in class the next day. You were at the awkward stage of university where most students had a vague sense of the direction they wanted to take, but still had to slog through the general science classes to check them off the list.

You slouched over the lab bench, your notes scattered haphazardly under the dim overhead light. You hadn’t even bothered to change properly, opting for sweatpants pulled over your pyjama bottoms and a baggy hoodie that was far too warm for the room. Your hair was tied back messily, strands clinging to your face as you worked through a particularly mind-numbing formula. You scribbled furiously, the dull scratch of your pen filling the otherwise silent space.

When you finally set your pen down, stretching your arms above your head, the sound of the door creaking open startled you. You turned to see Viktor stepping in, his gait uneven, the weight clearly favouring his good leg. His usually composed figure looked gaunt and worn, exhaustion etched into his features.

He stopped when he saw you, his expression briefly flickering with something unreadable before he schooled it into indifference. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here this late,” he said, his voice calm but with a hint of weariness.

You said nothing, your gaze dropping back to your notes as if he hadn’t spoken at all. You ignored him entirely, scribbling a note in the margin of your paper.

Viktor’s lips twitched—whether in irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. He crossed the room slowly, setting his cane down carefully with each step. When he leaned against a bench across from you, the faint bruise on his lower lip caught the light, and your stomach twisted.

“I’ve decided not to trust Mel with invitations anymore,” Viktor said, a dry humour lacing his words. He gestured vaguely, his eyes skimming over the room rather than meeting yours. “After that party, I woke up feeling dreadful and can barely remember a thing from the evening.”

You froze mid-scribble. You set your pen down slowly, your head lifting to meet his gaze, your expression icy. “Tell me, Viktor,” you said, your tone sharper than broken glass. “Does Jayce breach some kind of university ethos by being friendly with us, or was it a conscious choice for you to become a wanker?”

Viktor blinked, visibly taken aback, though he quickly masked it. He leaned on his cane, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite your venomous tone. “Do you ever take prisoners?” he asked, his voice low and measured, though his eyes searched your face as though trying to unravel your fury.

“Never, it’s not in my nature,” you replied coldly, your gaze burning into his. “Especially not when someone can’t handle their shit and decides to take it out on me.”

Your words struck like a lash. Viktor’s smirk faltered, his posture stiffening. He stared at you for a moment, his tired features betraying a flicker of something raw—shame, frustration, or perhaps a mix of both. “Is it in your nature to be cruel?” he asked softly, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

He knew you were painfully right. He had completely lost control that night, panicked, and given you no chance to reconcile. He had made the decision for you. But he already knew what your decision would have been, surely. So why were you so angry?

Viktor’s hand tightened around the back of the chair he leaned on, his knuckles turning white. The room was oppressively quiet, so quiet he could hear the gears shifting in his head. You still hadn’t answered him, your jaw set tightly as if refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“Nothing to say?” he asked, his voice quieter now but edged with frustration. “It’s unlike you to hold back, Y/N.”

Your head jerked up at that, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m learning restraint.”

Your tone cut sharper than he expected, another small jab that landed too close to home. Viktor drew in a breath and forced himself to stay calm. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to close the gap between you or leave before this conversation spiralled even further out of control.

“Why are you like this?” he asked, almost to himself. He sounded tired, even to his own ears. “You won’t even try to understand—”

“Understand what?” you snapped, your voice rising suddenly. “That you can’t handle it? That you’d rather pretend nothing happened than admit you actually wanted it? Even though you walk around with a fucking bruise on your mouth that I left there?”

Your words hit him like a slap. Viktor stiffened, his brow furrowing as he looked away, searching for some invisible anchor to steady himself. Of course, he remembered everything. He had spent around half an hour staring at himself in the mirror on Saturday morning, ghosting his fingers over the bruise.

“You’re wrong,” he said finally, though the words came out slower, more hesitant than he intended.

“Am I?” you stepped closer, your arms crossed over your chest as though shielding yourself from him. “Then explain it to me, Viktor. Why did you do it?”

The question caught him off guard, your voice cracking just slightly at the end, and he hated how it made his chest tighten. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words wouldn’t come. Because the truth was too dangerous and too stupid simultaneously.

He shifted, leaning against the table, his head tilting as if to dismiss the gravity of your question. “Do what?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

Your expression darkened. “The kiss,” you said slowly, enunciating each syllable as though daring him to dodge the question again. “Why did you kiss me, Viktor?”

He hesitated, the silence stretching between you like a chasm. His lips parted, a dozen half-truths swirling in his mind before he finally settled on the one that felt safest.

“Because I was drunk,” he said, the words coming out more clipped than he’d intended. “It was a mistake. I let myself get… carried away.”

Your eyes flickered, just for a moment, and he forced himself to look at you, even though guilt burned behind his ribs. “I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea,” he added, his voice softening.

You stared at him, your jaw tightening as if physically holding back your reaction. For a moment, he thought you might yell at him, hurl something cutting and sharp his way. But you didn’t.

Instead, you shook your head, a bitter laugh slipping out. “Right. Of course. A mistake.” Your voice wavered, just enough for him to catch it, though you quickly composed yourself.

“Y/N—” he started, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

“Don’t,” you said, stepping back from him. “Just don’t. You don’t want to give me the wrong idea? Fine. Message received.”

Your words were laced with venom, but there was something fragile beneath them. You turned away from him, picking up your bag from the desk and slinging it over your shoulder. Viktor watched you, his stomach twisting as you headed for the door.

You paused just before leaving, your hand resting on the frame. “You know,” you said without looking back, “you’re not as good at lying as you think you are.” And with that, you were gone.

The door clicked shut, leaving Viktor alone in the silence of the room. He exhaled shakily, his hand running through his hair as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. None of it. And yet, deep down, he knew he’d only made things worse.

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