#something about losing and finding inspiration in your craft | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

okiedokrie · 7 months ago

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High Infidelity

Summary: There are many different ways that you could kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough. So what happens when you find someone who was all too willing to give you thee attention you craved, you said you'd only dip your toes into the idea, and yet, you find yourself already drowning. The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?

Characters/Pairing(s): Xu Minghao (The8) x F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

AUs/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person (not) Too Late

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, afab!reader, wears dresses, lmk if i miss something!! (Smut warnings under the cut)

Rating: 18+

A/N: banner and dividers by @daemour!! tysm!! This is also a rewrite/reupload of my own fic, "High Infidelity" on @pyeonghongrie, yes I reskinned my own fic.

A/N 2: Thanks to @nebulousbrainsoup, @kwanisms, @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, and @gongiz for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, masturbation, lmk if i missed anything!

The rain soaked into your skin—cold and icy—piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-

"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.

You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.

Unfortunately, life said, "Fuck you."

With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your husband returns to work as if he didn't just cause you a serious inconvenience.

Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides toward your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes are left in the sink.

And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? He has to be kidding me, men.

You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making you more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.

I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following. He's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?

You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you put bacon bits on mac & cheese.

Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was the correct move.

Xu Minghao is a passionate man, you can see his dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others were sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, and others were more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.

One thing about Minghao's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.

Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece, simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.

As a romance writer, this is exactly what you need.

You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.

You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.

You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'11", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has a peculiar hairstyle, a mullet to be exact, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.

"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.

"I'm Minghao, by the way, Xu Minghao. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Minghao. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,

He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection, to begin with."

You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.

"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, "Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your work?"

He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear you’ve never looked at a man like this in your life. You were down bad for his smile.

"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "Although I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.

You ponder on this for a bit. Going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."

A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, “Of course, I look forward to our time together.”

The mug in your hands warmed your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you. He talked about another piece of his, titled “Longing”; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in its purest form.

“It sounds a bit pathetic, I’m known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I haven’t been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps that’s just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic. Then again, you wouldn’t know the feeling of being lonely, I assume.” He said calmly, a small chuckle ending his tangent.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea. Your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, “To put it nicely… my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.” You shouldn’t be talking about Haru like this. Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasn’t the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.

Looking back up at Minghao, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we? I could keep you company.”

That. That was a quality of his that you noticed fairly early on. You can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.

But your anxiety wasn’t caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didn’t want to reject him.

“I’d like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband won’t be back for a few months because of a business trip in a few weeks. I could use the company.” You say, looking at him through your lashes; he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, it’s just two friends agreeing to get drinks sometime in the future.

But to both of you, well, only the two of you know what’ll happen once the sun goes down.

“Of course, my schedule is free for the rest of the month. Be sure to think of me if you need company.” He offers you a soft smile, directly contrasting how intensely he’s making eye contact with you. The way he’s looking into your eyes makes you feel vulnerable like he’s directly using them as windows into your head. You’re half-convinced he could read your mind, if he could, he’s a master at hiding it.

You haven’t learned much about him, but from what you do know, you can never take his words at surface level, much less his actions. The way he’s leaning over the table, elbows on the surface, and his shoulders relaxed. His closing the distance, even if just by a hair, and the way his posture suggested the epitome of familiarity, shook you to your core.

His presence is almost suffocating, his dominance over your mind silencing whatever protest his suggestions may have created. You nod dumbly, “Of course, be warned though, I think of you a lot.” This causes his smile to relax into a smirk, the kind that could pass off as a smile if you don’t think too hard about it.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think about you a lot too.” He says picking up his cup of tea, “So much that a collection was born from the thought of you.” He takes a sip from the cup in his hands, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the cup, the way he holds eye contact with you always makes goosebumps litter your skin, the cup hiding the growing smirk on his face, silently enjoying his effect on you.

“Ah, speaking of the collection,” He started again, after setting the cup down, “Would you do me the honor of visiting my studio sometime? I’ll text you the address right now, you can come by at any time if you’re interested.” Taking his phone out from his pocket, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pick it up. The small device, usually light, feels like a heavy weight on your palm.

Opening your messages, you see that Minghao already sent the address, a building about 20 minutes from the cafe you’re in right now. “Lovely, could I trouble you to pick me up when I decide to visit?” You ask,

“Of course,” He replies, a gentle smile stretches across his face, “I’d love nothing more than to see you more often.”

The first time you entered Minghao’s studio, it felt like a dream. The studio wasn’t small by any means, the place was neat, neater than what you imagined any artist studio would look like. “Make yourself at home, I’ll brew some tea for us,” Minghao said as he took both your coats. Hanging the heavy fabrics on his coat rack, he gently guides you to the couches with a hand on your back, the light touch helping to ground you in this new environment.

He shoots you a quick smile before turning his back to you, setting his electric kettle to boil the water at the perfect temperature for tea. He rummages through his extensive tea set collection, settling on a simple white ceramic set with wooden handles. His eyes meet yours briefly, taking note of how you watch his every movement with care and curiosity, the way you were fascinated with the way his hand veins jumped every time he set a piece of the tea set down.

The kettle finishes boiling, he finally sets it down next to the tea set. “I want to introduce you to this teacake that my friend from home sent me,” He pulls out a teacake about the size of his head from the drawer under the table, wrapped in a slightly stained paper. He carefully unwraps it to show you the rich brown of the aged tea leaves, “This is a 15-year-old aged pu’er, I haven’t had the chance to try it yet, so I’d like to try this with you.”

“What an honor, I read from a recent interview that you were waiting for a good day to taste that right?” You ask, trying to gauge his reaction, if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it,

“Of course, making a new friend is a special occasion, isn’t it? I’d consider that a good day.” He replies cooly, taking a tea knife and carving out a piece of tea to steep for a second, you watch as he delicately handles the porcelain set, the control in his movements reminding you of his mastery in sculpting, “You know, making tea is much like cultivating a new relationship,” he starts as he stands up to take the kettle off the stand.

“You carefully carve out your leaves, boil your water to the perfect temperature to bloom them, and steep the leaves a few seconds at a time.” You see him pour the water over the tea leaves, dried blades blooming like flowers under the delicate stream. “Each steep of tea is different, starting from the bloom until the flavor develops; and only then will you appreciate the true complexities of what tea has to offer.”

A small smile grows on your face as you watch him pour the first bloom onto his tea pets, “If my assessment is correct, you’re trying to correlate the developing flavors of tea with how our relationship is progressing?” He nods, confirming your hypothesis, “Then, I’ll ask you a question, which steep are we on?” you say with a cheeky smile.

Minhao grins at this, eyes almost disappearing with how wide his smile was, “Literally? The second steep.” He says as he pours more water over the leaves, you let out a chuckle at his little joke, “Figuratively? The fifth.”

You tilt your head a bit, “The fifth? I didn’t realize we were already at that stage.” you say as you accept his offer of a teacup.

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t just share my most expensive teas with anyone, so I might as well share it with one of the most brilliant minds I know.” he said while bringing the cup to his lips, sipping the drink carefully while making eye contact with you over the rim, winking playfully.

You raise your cup as well, the rising steam not being the only reason for your flushed face, you grin against the rim of your cup, savoring the rich and deep aroma of the high-quality tea.

After a while of banter and small talk, you finish your tea, setting down your cup gently on his expensive-feeling coffee table, he stands from his seat, “Could I show you something?” he said, holding his hand out to you. You place your palm on his, the warmth from his hand seeping into your skin. The touch was negligible, simple, even, but the contact with his skin sent electricity through you, like a violent jolt of excitement.

Minghao notices this and smirks, feeling pride swell up in his chest as he pulls you up from the couch, leading you to the other side of the room with a hand on the small of your back. He finally stops in front of a large canvas, laid across what looks like a bare-bones bed frame. You turn to him, curiosity growing on the expression of your face.

“What’s this? This looks fairly new, the paint on the frame still seems wet.” You ask, eyes raking over the splotches of color seemingly placed without much thought or care, it looked like the aftermath of a messy and angry paint spill.

“It is new,” Minghao starts, “I’m trying a new technique where I release frustrations by getting whatever paint catches my eye and throwing cups of it without much thought.” He shrugs, nothing particularly of note, but you do notice the amount of emotion that is in the piece.

“It’s not an elegant piece, but for a collection centered around passion I find it missing raw emotion.” He runs his hand through his face, frustration taking over his features, something you noticed early on was his emotions were closely tied to whatever art was around him, it seems as though the frustration in this one was affecting him at this moment.

“Yes, the human form and sex are great subjects, but pure, raw emotion is hard to capture.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. “So, that’s why I invited you here. Tell me, as someone who’s written longing, despair, and everything in between. How does this make you feel?”

You pause and take in his words, turning back to the canvas and trying to soak in the colors, the shapes, and the emotion behind this piece. Yes, frustration is here. Yes, anger is here. But how does it make you feel?

“It makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.” You say simply, your stomach sinking just thinking about what that might entail. Minghao has a genuine look of shock for the first time since you’ve met him. His head tilted to give his attention to you fully.

“Really? Interesting. That’s the first time I heard that about this piece specifically.” He said with a lopsided grin, seemingly getting a new stroke of genius with your answer. He looks back at the canvas too, shoulders shaking from his restricted laughs. Your answer seemed to entertain him a lot. That much you can figure out, but you can never be sure what goes on in the mind of Xu Minghao.

Just then, your phone starts to ring, you only know one person who would call you at this hour—your Husband. You watch as the expression on Minghao’s face falls, face contorting into something short of a scowl for a split second before settling on his usual cool neutral expression. It was so quick that you barely missed the change, it happened so quickly that you decided it was all in your imagination as you ran to answer the phone.

You pick up the phone, “Hi honey-” You were cut off by your husband speaking,

“Get home, it’s getting late and you haven’t started dinner yet.” He said simply, before promptly dropping the call.

You stand there, the line going dead as you try to hold back tears. You take a deep breath, too afraid to show your face to Minghao in case tears were about to fall from your face. Grabbing your coat, you turn to face the door.

“Thank you for inviting me over, I have to get home now,” you said, your voice a little shaky, as you roughly opened the door.

You were out of his sight as Minghao stood alone in his studio, pondering. As silence took over the space, a dark smirk on his face.

'How long before you break?' he wonders.

The next time you and Minghao meet, you’re sitting on a park bench watching the autumn leaves dance to the silent song in the wind. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear leaves crunch beside you, seeing the tail of Minghao’s long coat swaying in the wind.

He sees you, a smile spreading across his face, his long hair almost covering his face. His fast-paced walking makes the leaves crunch under his weight rhythmically. You think that he looks beautiful under the soft brightness of the autumn morning, only ever seeing him in the harsh rays of high noon or the constant humming of fluorescent lights.

You feel the heat radiating off his body through your and his coats as he sits next to you on the park bench. “Beautiful morning, the view is exquisite.” He says, looking directly at you. You giggle at this, he’s always been such a charmer ever since you met him. You peel the notebook from your lap, “I’m no artist, but the park is too gorgeous this time of year to not at least try to capture on paper.” you say as you open it to show him a relatively crude sketch of the scenery.

“Oh? This feels like a threat to my career.” He says with a chuckle, “But, genuinely, this is an amazing sketch. Are you sure you aren’t an artist?” You think you could get used to how relaxed you were around Minghao, conversations with him flowed so easily, it reminds you of the times your husband used to be invested in you as a person. Perhaps it was easier to compare the thrill of meeting a new person with feeling the start of a romantic spark, it was a dangerous game to play with him.

“No, I’m not, but I can appreciate a masterpiece when I see one.” You say, this time looking at him. He notices this and laughs at the fact that his joke is being used against him. He closes the notebook, handing it to you to put in your tote bag.

“The weather is perfect for a walk, care to join me?” He said, offering his hand for you to take. You accept the offer, the warmth of his palm being something to ground you on such a dreamy morning. Leaves crunch under both your weights in synch, your hand moves from his to hold onto his arm, and you try not to notice the lean muscle of it or the steady and secure way he guides you through the path.

You breathe in the autumn chill, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed the quiet whistle of the wind. “Your book,” Minghao said, his silky voice cutting through the silence effortlessly, “The one that inspired the collection, I’ve been following your publisher’s updates on the series, and I was wondering if you'd be able to share your progress on the second book?”

“Ah, about that.” You grimace, and you shake your head, quelling the urge to complain about your husband’s lack of sympathy for your predicament. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time, it’s not something I can talk about at the moment.”

He hums, luckily, Minghao was never the type to pry, “I get it, ever the tortured poet you are.” he said in a joking tone, you let out a chortle at this, agreeing that you may or may not be one.

Both of you are stopped by a flower vendor, “You both are a lovely pair,” The old man starts, as he turns to Minghao, he asks, “Could I interest you in some flowers? I’m sure your lady would appreciate them.” He smiles.

Before you can correct the old man, Minghao speaks up, “Of course, could I take three of these?” He said, pointing at the basket of Jonquils.

“Of course, you’re in luck too, these are the last off-season flowers I had in my greenhouse.” the old man said as his nimble fingers wrapped the flowers in some yellow tissue paper.

“I'm really lucky indeed.” He agreed while looking at you, your cheeks warming up at the implication. Minghao accepts the flowers and happily pays for them, gracefully handing the bundle to you.

Holding onto the stems, your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the bright yellow flowers. “Thank you Minghao, they're beautiful.”

He smiles at the way you look at the flowers fondly, simply adoring the way your face lit up; literally, the yellow from the flowers reflected off your face and gave it a yellow hue.

“Shall we continue to walk?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold again, you hold onto it, the flowers in your other hand. And you let the silence take over again.

Before you knew it, you've spent the entire day laughing and talking with Minghao, only stopping at several vendors for food and other trinkets, feeding the ducks berries, and watching the fish in the pond.

But the day has to end at some point.

You regretfully leave Minghao at the train station, waving goodbye through the glass of the train doors as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller.

Arriving home, you try to find a vase to put your flowers in, setting it down on the kitchen counter, your husband walks in and sees them.

“They're ugly, don't put them anywhere where I could see them.”

He said coldly, you try your best not to scoff at him, still searching for a vacant vase.

Finally finding one, you decide to place the flower vase on the windowsill of your office, the bright flowers contrasting everything else in the room, the dark and neutral furniture your husband got for you.

You jolt, realizing you're comparing your husband to another man.

You expected guilt to eat you up at the realization, but really, you couldn't find a reason to keep defending Haru.

“Could you come over to the studio later tonight? I don't think I should be alone.”

This text from Minghao worried you a bit, you've been spending a lot of time with him recently, you met him 6 more times after he got you flowers at the park, and you never noticed that he could deal with something so sinister.

Of course, you agree to come, your closest confidant in your adult life needs you right now. You wait for your husband to fall asleep in his office, again, before you leave the house, walking to the end of the block before calling a cab.

Arriving at his studio, you already knew the code, punching in the numbers 150526 on the smart lock, the studio opens with a click.

You take cautious steps into the studio, seeing the silhouette of a man on the couch, his back towards the door, nursing what you assume is a wine glass in his hand.

He turns his head to face the door, “You came.” He said, with relief in his voice, a little slurred from the alcohol you assume.

“You called.” You replied. Shrugging off your coat to hang, you join him on the couch. He looked a lot more disheveled compared to the usual clean and put-together Minghao that you know.

His hair is slicked back, some pieces of hair falling onto his face, his tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And glasses resting lowly on his nose.

You look at his face, and you notice dark circles around his eyes.

“Drink, and stay with me. Please.” He asks, no, almost begs you. You don't have the heart to decline. He pours you your glass and you both toast your glasses together.

You take the normal sip and he downs the rest of his, taking in a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Y/N, there's something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach drops at this, anxiety filling the pit of it as you nervously wait for the rest of what he has to say.

“I think I'm in love with-” he pauses, “someone I shouldn't be in love with.” He finishes, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine.

Your face falls only slightly, a minuscule change in expression that neither you nor Minghao catch. You cross your hands over your lap as soon as you realize your silence.

“Why can't you be in love with them?” You ask. Your head tilts as you take another sip of your wine. He hums, a smile graces his lips, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

“They refuse to be vulnerable with me, opening up throughout our time together then closing back in the next time I see them.” He says with some fondness, “Also, they're married to someone else.”

“You probably should've led with that.” You mumble lowly, “I see, I know that all too well, wanting someone you can't have, someone so close yet so far. It's suffocating, especially when you haven't felt like yourself in so long, and then this person comes around and gives color back to your sad, gray, life. It's cruel, actually.”

You realize you've been rambling, turning to meet Minghao's eyes, you notice an emotion swirling behind them, something bittersweet, a realization that may change the course of your relationship.

“Anyway, how did you end up falling for them in the first place?” You ask in an attempt to bring the conversation back to him,

“Well, at first it was just a cure for boredom, I saw how receptive they were to my advances and I thought their marriage served as a fun, harmless challenge for me. But I got to know them, spend time with them, I got to witness the color come back into their face and I couldn't help but find it beautiful. That fact that I did that, bring color back into their face, slowly becoming someone again. The moment I saw their face light up with a simple gift I knew I was down, down bad.”

You hum, thinking the person Minghao was talking about is one of the luckiest people in the world right now. To be loved by him was like witnessing Orpheus’ choiceless grief that drove him to save his lover from the underworld, it was like feeling the devotee's dread-filled need to turn around, it was like experiencing the immediate forgiveness of Eurydice.

You wanted to be loved by him.

You both continue to chat and drink, and it isn't long before the two of you finish your second bottle of wine, Minghao offers to pay for your cab home, and he decides he's going to sleep in his studio.

You reflect on the events of that night as you slip into the cold covers of your marital bed, your husband’s side tidy as it was for the past month.

You run your hand over the pristine and cold sheet, imagining someone else filling its space on your bed, as he does your heart.

Minghao added a new piece to his collection, his gallery is still a work in progress and you walk through familiar doors. The very same statue you were entranced by still sits by the entrance, and you see a very familiar figure standing in front of it.

“I feel like this already happened before.” You said cheekily, he snorts at this, handing you a paper bag with tissue paper peeking from the top.

“Maybe this happened before in a dream, maybe we were destined to meet under the judgemental fluorescent lights.” He jokes as you feel the weight of the bag on your fingers.

“What's in the bag, Hao?” You ask cautiously, mischief flashing on his face before he fully turns his body to you, giving you his full attention.

“It's something you might like, maybe.” He said, his confidence faltering toward the end of his sentence. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he eagerly waits for you to open the semi-heavy bag.

You carefully move the paper to the side of the bag, seeing white porcelain peaking back at you, you whip your head with with your face showing an expression of surprise. Minghao smiles, enjoying your reaction to his gift.

“You got me a tea set? That's so thoughtful, thank you.” You say with a smile, inspecting the frog patterns in the glaze.

“You mentioned your husband is leaving for a business trip soon, so I figured you'd like a set so we can have tea at your place. I'll even bring you a teacake to keep.” He said as he pulled a hand out of his trousers, fixing a stray hair that fell from your up-do.

“It's perfect, thank you.” You said, looking up at him, a smile still on your face.

“Do you want to walk around the gallery with me? I added a few pieces since then, and I'd like to talk about them.” he said, offering his arm. You wrap another hand around him, the familiarity of his arm under your palm giving you a sense of calm.

You spent the rest of the day walking around the gallery and chatting, other gallery-goers openly gawked at Minghao. It was obvious, really, the artist is here in the flesh, and he's gorgeous.

Minghao stopped to entertain other guests too, seeing him in his element made pride swell in your chest. His work, and by extension him, is finally being recognized by more people in the community. His hard work and dedication paid off handsomely.

Stopping in front of a mural, you noticed it was a replica of a really old painting. A painting of Ares and Aphrodite getting caught by Hephestus.

“Oof, poor bastards.” You joke, Minghao found this funny too, chuckling with you.

“It’s almost comical how this painting compelled me. I don't know what drove me to recreate the thing as a whole mural, but we both know I'm a little crazy.” He says with a playful groan, you try to hold back a loud laugh by giggling into your palm.

“Well, dear Xu Minghao, everyone knows crazy people are geniuses.” squeezing his arm, you check out the side of his face. His side profile was so sharp and soft at the same time, the dichotomy of his features was an easy subject to study. He's a gorgeous man, too gorgeous for his own good you think.

You both sat down on the bench in front of the mural to chat, and before you knew it, enough time has passed that the gallery was about to close.

Minghao calls a cab for you, and you arrive home in-tact, but not safe.

“Y/n, where have you been running off to these past few weeks?” Your husband questioned you as soon as you entered your home. Your mood instantly dropped, feeling the weight of your actions all at once.

“I'm hanging out with a friend, and it's really not that deep. It's not like I've neglected house work at all. So you should have a reason to care.” You snap back, a little too much for such a simple query. Your husband rises from his seat, cupping your face with a gentle hand for the first time in a long time.

“You’re my wife, of course it's my concern.” He said, just as he was about to make you fall for him again, he said, “We haven't been intimate in a long time, I'm leaving in a few days, so I want to make love to you before I go.”

Ah, there it was. He only ever shows affection for you when he's asking for sex nowadays.

You nod, what followed was unfulfilling and unsatisfying sex. Missionary, a few pumps just to get him off, and he didn't even kiss you.

And obviously, he didn't make you cum.

Your husband is fast asleep in your bed for the first time in months, and yet you can't find it in yourself to be happy about it.

You take out your trusty friend, egg.

The jolts to life with steady vibrations as you press the toy to your clit, relaxing into the sheets as you imagine a pair of calloused hands roaming the plane of your skin.

Controlled pressure and technique only a sculptor could have, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes holding you gaze as if you gave him everything he could ever want by simply existing.

He looks at you like you hung each star in the sky just for him, just so he could watch your skin bathed in moonlight, twinkling like the most precious diamond he could ever have.

This man isn't your husband, It was Minghao.

Your orgasm came unexpectedly, the realization that you were fantasizing about him snapped you back into reality so violently that you ruined your own orgasm.

You huff as you tuck the toy back into its drawer, pulling up the covers to try and sleep off the guilt.

Your husband left for his business trip a few days ago, and you made preparations for your first guest in a while. You finally set up the tea set when you heard a knock at your door, springing up, you head towards the door to look through the peephole, you see Minghao dressed a little more casually, a cap on his head and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You swiftly unlock the door for him, he smiles upon seeing you, tipping his cap, he says, “Good evening, it's a pleasure to finally be invited into your home.” You greet him back, stepping to the side to let him enter. As he does, he takes his cap off to let his hair fall onto his face again.

He offers you the flowers and you take them, “I'll go find a vase for these, make yourself at home, dinner is still cooking in the oven.” You said as you turned back to find another vase.

After finding one and setting the flowers in your office again, you find Minghao setting a record on your turntable, a slow tune plays through the air, instantly making the room feel calmer and homey.

“I didn't pin you as the type to have such an extensive vinyl collection, you have good taste too.” He said, swaying to the music by shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“I didn't feel the need to mention it considering I haven't touched those in a while. My husband hates them.” You say solemnly.

“Well, he isn't here now. Let's enjoy the music,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take, “Dance with me?”

You smile as you take his hand, he suddenly pulls you towards him and you land on his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as you sway to the calm of the music.

You think to yourself, This is nice, this is safe. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Minghao instead.

You turn your head and press your ear to his chest, hear him breathe slowly, his heart beating rhythmically. This is the first time you were ever this close to him, practically holding him in a loving embrace.

His woody cologne almost distracts you, so seductive and masculine and you almost reach up to cup his face, to kiss him. Before you realize that he isn't your husband.

You're both snapped out of your little bubble when the oven dings, signaling that dinner is ready. You break away from him, already missing his warmth as you set the dining table, one that hasn't been used in a while.

You eat dinner with him, talking about your days and how work has been. It's a welcome change of pace from your husband’s tolerance of your presence. You didn't have to beg Minghao for footnotes on his life, you didn't feel like you're taking up too much of his space or time.

It's safe, secure. It feels like you're being celebrated for existing.

You dwell on this feeling long after Minghao heads home, your stomach and heart full. As you slip into the covers you wonder what it'll feel like to hold him under them, for him to kiss the crown of your head and whisper the three words you desperately wanted to hear again.

You fall asleep with the fantasy that when you wake up, he'll be right next to you.

Minghao invited you downtown this time, various pop-up stores of luxury brands recently opened and he just secured a sale of a really expensive painting; so of course, what better way to spend that money than taking a shopping trip with his closest friend.

“This would look amazing on you.” He said while taking out a dress, it's a color that compliments your hair and skin wonderfully. Minghao always knew how to dress.

“Oh, I'm inclined to agree, but I'm not willing to look at the price tag for that one.” You joke, shrugging as you follow him around the store.

“Nonsense, I'm offering to pay.” He said, turning his nose up. “I'm getting this for you, I'll ask the salesperson for more sizes so you can try them on.” He said, turning to the salesperson doing just that.

The salesperson nods enthusiastically, bringing the dresses to the dressing rooms and ushering you in despite your protests. Minghao only smiles in amusement as the curtain hides your figure, he sits on the bench near the dressing rooms in silence, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

He hears the curtains roll open, it only takes a moment of him looking at you in the dress to take his breath away. It fits you perfectly, hugging your body deliciously. Minghao almost drops his phone onto his lap, his grip loosening, star-struck by your beauty.

“How does it look?” You ask, awkwardly fiddling with the expensive fabric of the dress, feeling a little too expensive to be on your body.

Minghao wordlessly stands from the bench, looking a little dazed, he turns to the salesperson and tells them, “We're getting the dress.” As he walks toward the cashier almost in a trance.

You're a little taken aback by his reaction, but nonetheless you change back into your regular clothes. As soon as you walk out of the dressing room Minghao Pushes you back in with more dresses.

“Please try these on.” He says, not having the strength to look you in the eyes. You comply.

It took you hours of trying on dresses and accessories to the point that you almost bought the store out. Minghao couldn't get enough of the mini-fashion show you were putting on for him, and it's not like the salespeople are complaining either.

You walk out of the first store with multiple bags in hand, you thought that was enough shopping for the whole year maybe, but no, Minghao pulls you into another store, and another, and another, all leaving with bags (multiple) of clothes.

It got so bad to the point that Minghao had to leave your bags in his car so you could free up your hands to buy more stuff.

You stopped trying to fathom the amount of money Minghao was spending on you, yes, he did buy items for himself too, but he looked much more satisfied to provide for you rather than procuring items for himself.

The car ride back home was filled with way too many ‘are you sure's and ‘you really didn't have to's. But Minghao was insistent on you keeping all the items he got for you.

“I'm being serious, you're a gorgeous woman, you deserve to be spoiled like a queen.” he said, turning to you while waiting at a red light, “You need to visit my studio in the clothes I got you, you'll fit right in with my paintings.” He smiles.

Your face flushes at his compliments, a bright and happy smile stretching across your face. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy with someone. To find joy in the company of another felt liberating, you felt like you deserved this.

Minghao drops you off at your place with your new clothes, helping you get them into your living room like a true gentleman.

“I'll see you next time, Y/n.” He said stopping at your doorstep, annd leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head, he took note of what your shampoo smelled like and left. Leaving you awestruck in your doorway as you watch his car drive off.

This studio has become so familiar to you, like a second home almost. Punching in the code was muscle memory at this point, the smell of drying paint and clay becoming a calming scent.

You smooth over the front of your dress, one that Minghao got you, as you enter his studio again. Shrugging off your heavier coat, the beginning of winter creeps closer as the trees lose the last of their leaves.

Minghao just got out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his paint-stained shirt and apron. He looks at you, the dress, the way it fits on you. And he smiles widely.

“Hey there gorgeous, what are you doing all the way there? You should be over there with the rest of the art.” He says cheekily.

You giggle as you enter the space more, stopping in front of him taking his extended hand and following it, giving him a twirl.

He simply adores the way the fabric flows and shapes around your curves and contours, your skin practically glowing with life.

He fights the urge to kiss you, succeeding for now.

He guides you onto the couch, a turntable sitting next to his stone tea tray on the coffee table. ”Oh? This is new.” You said when you noticed it.

“Oh that? I got it for when you come over. I got a few records too, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable while I brew us some tea.” He said, untying his apron to hang on an easel, turning his back to you and he started preparing tea like before.

His movements and practiced, you'd guess this tea ceremony is second nature to him, considering he always talks about it. This scene is safe, familiar, it's comfortable.

He does this whole song and dance again, you've seen him do this over and over again but you can't seem to get sick of it. It's like you're giving yourself excuses just to keep seeing him.

But they don't feel like excuses, not at all, they're just more reasons why you feel deeply, and so quickly for Minghao.

Again, the both of you talk about everything and anything under the sun, him walking you through all his latest pieces, him plans for new ones creativity vibrating through ever cell in his body.

You imagine him talking so passionately about the future, maybe even a future with you.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you’re holding onto Minghao’s shoulders for support,

and you lean up to kiss him.

Minghao fights the urge to kiss back, he fails.

His hands come up to cup the back of your head tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pouring all his emotions into the simple, gesture of affection.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from his cologne and the wind getting knocked from your lungs as soon as your lips met his. It was electrifying, finally feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close, yet so far from yours.

Oh, you wanted him, so, so badly.

He pulls away first, heaving from the intensity of the kiss, eyes in a daze. Meeting your eyes again, he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss.

This time he's really pressing into you seemingly drunk off of the feeling of his lips meeting yours. He's just a man at the end of the day, a weak, weak man in the face of paradise.

He came back to his senses once he felt the cool metal of your wedding ring on his neck. Jolting back, he pushed your shoulders back, creating a significant distance between the two of you.

“I, I think you should leave.” He said turning to hide in his studio bathroom to collect his thoughts.

You stood there puzzled, did he not feel the same way you did? But why did he kiss you, twice? Something isn't adding up.

But moreover, you can't ignore the painful sting this rejection gave you. You wanted him, did he not want you? What was the point of trying so hard to make you fall for him when he just decided to back down when he finally had you?

You gather your belongings and leave the studio, the door clicking to lock behind you. The ride back was suffocating, it felt like you left a part of yourself in that studio with Minghao. And you fear that this may be the last time you see him.

You haven’t spoken to Minghao in the weeks following the kiss, your nerves on fire every time you remember how his pillow lips felt so right on yours.

You're standing in front of the mural. The one where Hephestus caught Aphrodite, his wife, and Ares, her lover, having an affair and having sex on their marital bed.

It's funny, looking at this mural. You spent your last weeks wandering his gallery, searching for his shadow, but he always seems to evade you so easily. He's marked you like a bloodstain on a pristine white dress, lingering like fog on a cold autumn day.

Winter is still young, yet you feel cold. So, so cold.

As if your most desperate prayers were heard, Minghao practically materializes next to you.

“Hi. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you for the past few weeks. I'm a coward, a fool to run from you.” He said, both of you looking at the mural and not at each other.

Silence follows, you couldn't look at him, you couldn't speak to him. “Y/n I-”

“This isn't the place to talk about this.” You said coldly.

Minghao flinches a bit, not used to how icy your voice was. It usually greets him so warmly, so lovingly.

“Let's go out to drink, there's a bar that's walking distance from here, if you'd like go go with me. I have too many things to say to you, too many thoughts left unsaid. You deserve to hear them, at least.” He said, remorseful.

You really couldn't find it in yourself to stay mad at him. So you agree to walk with him.

The walk to the bar is silent, unlike your previous walks. You're so far from him, you even refused to hold onto his arm like you usually do.

It's early winter yet Minghao is sweating bullets, he's almost vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. His nerves are all over the place, he's acting so out of character, nothing like the calm, cool, collected Minghao you've come to know over the past few months.

He takes a deep breathe before you both enter the bar.

A few drinks in and you’re already tipsy, “You know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.” You drunkenly slurred, “This novel I’ve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. He’s a giant pain in the ass-!”

Minghao snorts at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, “Your husband is a fucking dick! Your work is amazing. If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writer’s block, you know, inspire you.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, “Thank youuuu hao bear~ you’re the best-!” You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side. You’ve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.

“Hao bear? That’s new, you’ve only known me for- what? 3 months? You’re already calling me nicknames!” He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, “I should give you a nickname too… Starlight, how does that sound?” At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.

This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.

“Starlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.” You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.

“Let’s move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work. We can head to my place to settle down for a bit.” There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Arriving at Minghao’s place, you take a quick look around his apartment. Everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues making the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, “Hao, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~” You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.

“Thanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.” He passionately talks about them, “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.” He says, rummaging through his fridge.

“Oh, just water, please.” You say you have a feeling that you need to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.

He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table. It’s the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldn’t tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.

“So, let’s talk about this book that you’ve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what it’s about?” He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adam’s apple bobbing from his drink.

Bro’s so majestic.

“Well, it’s about an artist who’s losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. It’s a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-”

“Give me a percentage of how much of it is smut.” Minghao interrupts you,

“Like… 75 percent?” He snorts at this, “Anyway, I’ve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,” You take a swig of your water, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex life’s been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods and-”

Minghao interrupts you again, “And he doesn’t fuck you right, does he?”

The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Minghao looks at you. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he wanted you, but he never acted in any inappropriate way. He never makes you uncomfortable.

This was no exception. The swirling in your stomach wasn’t because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.

“No, no he doesn’t.”

He leans in, kissing you. This time he's not rushing, no more pushing and pulling, no more things left unsaid. He wants you, he'll have you. That was a promise.

He lifts you from the couch, lips never parting as he carries you to his bedroom, peeling each other's clothes, bumping into walls and furniture. But you couldn't care less, you were lost in each other's embrace and you can't think of another place you'd rather be.

Half-naked on Minghao’s bed, who, need you be reminded, was not your husband.

His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck. You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.

“How would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?” He asks, clearly getting off on the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasn’t your husband.

“I hope he’d be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.” You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.

Minghao gently pulls away from you from that, “What?” he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, “Sorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but… I’m angry at him.” He says, avoiding your eyes.

“I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before. It fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?” He said anger gradually filling his voice. His hand reaches for your face when your eyes meet, thumbs pressing down on your cheekbone. The controlled and purposeful movement reminds you just how pliable you are under his touch. He sculpted you into what he wanted you to be; beautiful, strong, unashamed.

You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, “Kiss me, Minghao.”

And he did.

His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close. You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Minghao’s tongue was exploring it.

At that moment, you knew you were gone.

Minghao pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke. At that moment, Minghao was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over like he couldn’t stop tasting your lips even if he tried. A sweet ambrosia, too saccharine to stop. He’s become addicted to your lips molding onto his like sickly sweet honey sticking to his lips.

Out of breath, he grabs hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him. He reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it. He cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.

Placing both of your hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze. Minghao notices this and his gaze darkens, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp leaves you as you started to grind harder against Minghao.

His nails started to dig into your hips, his own desperately grinding up against you for more friction. Soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.

“God, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.” He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.

“Right, you still need to cum inside of me.” You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this.

“Fuck, you make me want to keep you forever,” taking one of your hands and placing a kiss on your palm.

He lifts his hips only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying them off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you lean down to kiss him again.

When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two. You took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.

Minghao hisses, “Fuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.” he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.

“God, Minghao, fuck I need you inside me.” You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips up to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking on the thick girth. You throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,” He moans, he’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal he’s being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, “Let me keep you forever, please, don’t make me beg, run away with me.”

You openly gape at him from this, You’d be a fool to accept this, especially since you’ve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.

“Take me with you, anywhere you want to go. I’m yours, please take me.” You say desperately. You’ve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.

Minghao abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin. You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that you’re doing this to him, and only you.

You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin. Your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Minghao isn’t far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too. He’s so close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.

“Minghao I’m gonna cum-!” you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time. You swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.

“Did you mean that?” You ask breathlessly, “When you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, I meant it word for word. Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.” He smiles at you.

In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger with his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasn’t surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Minghao.

Still, time was the ultimate truthteller.

Your husband found out about your High Infidelity around the middle of your divorce proceedings, and in a rage, he threw you and all your belongings out onto the driveway. In the middle of winter rain.

The rain soaked into your skin, cold and icy piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

You finished your book, it received critical acclaim and it was a New York Times Best-Seller.

And you got to marry Minghao, the love of your life. Who you were happily married to until the both of you grew old.

FIN.

298 notes · View notes

yerimacoustic · 4 months ago

Text

𝙢𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙚 ♡ joshua x reader

when your childhood friend, joshua finds an old mixtape both of you made years ago, he gets inspired to craft the perfect plan to tell you how he really feels. 📼🎧🥤⋆·˚ ༘ *

content warnings: roadtrip au, childhood friends to lovers, strong language, gossiping about losing the v card, literally everything goes wrong but it’s cute, fluff, soft angst since it talks about stress during college, joshua hong x gender neutral reader. both of you are graduating university! no smut but 18+, mdni! 4k wc

additional notes: this probably seems so rushed but idEC bc i needed some joshua fluff & i’m a proud supporter of the gentleman joshua agenda. also pls comment which songs you’d put on your mixtape with him, i left it kinda open to your imagination minus three songs <3 not proofread, sorrows, prayers

the end of joshua’s final semester in college came with its fair share of mixed emotions. among the many sentiments was crippling stress, seemingly the most commonly occurring one. it was nothing he wasn’t used to, being a full-time college student with a part time job and mostly insufferable roommates. four years prior, he began to dread the day he would have to pack up all of his belongings and move across town, where his own apartment was waiting.

and of course, he was right to rue the day.

it was a nightmare trying to schedule the move in date to line up with the time the u-haul had to be dropped off, especially since he couldn’t get access to his garage until a few hours after he had to turn in the keys. another $50 down the drain. luckily, he started packing his side of the dorm weeks in advance in order to spend a decent amount of time on his finals. even if he had a job lined up already, he wanted to leave a lasting good impression.

just as he was going through the last of his belongings, he found a small box hidden under his bed. judging by the cobwebs scattered along the small crate, he’d forgotten all about its existence until now. he checked the digital clock, the only thing left on his nightstand- he’d been cleaning for hours. he was entitled to a break.

so he opened the box, smiling to himself as he took in all of the souvenirs and knick knacks from years before. there were ticket stubs to the first ‘frozen’ movie, a few pieces of his favorite candy (which were beyond expired at that point), two of the lego avengers figurines, a few polaroids of him, seungcheol and jeonghan along with his mother, and..

“shut up.”

he had completely forgotten that he’d made this mixtape with you. ‘shua and y/n’s epic road trip.’ the year before you both started college, the two of you took a roadtrip across the town together. the night before you embarked on the spontaneous journey, the two of you spent hours meticulously crafting a playlist that would perfectly recount your trip. he always thought he’d left it in his car and you’d never mentioned it to him after the trip, so it simply left his mind.

but now that he was staring at the small disc, he wondered how it was even possible to forget something he cherished so fondly. it was the first trip the two of you went on together alone. you’d spent time together on school trips, even getaways with jeonghan and seungcheol, but you never seemed to get enough time alone together for joshua’s liking. even if it didn’t end with a kiss like he was hoping, it was still a memory that he held close to his heart.

that was when he devised a plan.

he reached across the floor for his phone, which had just barely finished charging. luckily, your contact was one of the only ones pinned on his phone, so dialing your phone number was a breeze. he held his phone to his ear, biting his nails in anticipation as he listened to the dial tone drone on.. and then he remembered you were in the middle of one of your lectures.

fuck.

‘hey this is y/n. i can’t reach my phone right now so leave a message or text me. bye.’ how was it that something as simple as a voicemail greeting from you could make his heart flutter?

“it’s joshua. call me back asap, i want to go on another road trip with you.”

—------------------------

going on a road trip near the end of the semester with deadlines and fees stacked upon both of your to-do lists probably wasn’t the brightest idea. there were probably a million better, more productive things both of you could be doing to prepare for the next chapter of your lives. even so, joshua waited in the parking lot of your apartment complex while tapping a nervous rhythm onto the steering wheel.

while he was waiting for you, he kept going over all of the contents in his dufflebag to ensure he had properly prepared for everything. unlike the last road trip you went on, this one would be an overnight holiday. toothbrush, shampoo, deodorant, phone charger.. he knew fully well he had everything he could need; he’d checked his overnight bag multiple times before he stepped out of the door. not only that, but he stuffed his hand in his jacket pocket multiple times to ensure the mixtape was still there.

“just calm down,” he sighed to himself after confirming, once again, that he had everything he needed. “it’s just y/n, just the one you’ve been crushing on since middle school. no big deal, you’ve done this before, you’ve gone on a trip with them before..”

he was quickly pulled out of his thoughts and mutterings once he saw you walking down the stairs. he noticed the way your eyes lit up once you noticed his car, causing his heart to race. he stepped out and ran to you, an infectious grin spreading across his lips as he pulled you into his arms. “thank you for coming with me. you have no idea how much i need this.”

you laughed as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him just as tightly in return, his grip on you practically suffocating. in the best possible way, of course. “trust me, i’ve been needing a break too,” you sighed. “i can’t believe this is it. we’re graduating college.”

as for what that meant for the two of you, neither of you had a clue. you made sure to stay as close as possible during your time in university, planning as many get togethers as your schedules would allow, but halfway through your third year, your individual priorities seemed to outweigh any other extracurricular activities. while you weren’t able to see each other in person as often as you did when you were kids, joshua was just grateful that you kept in contact.

“i know. it’s a lot more stressful and anxiety inducing than i thought it would be.” he tried to hide his disappointment and dread as he broke from your embrace, keeping that warm smile as he led you to his car. after gently taking the bag that was slung over your shoulder and carefully tossing it in the backseat, he opened the passenger door for you. as always. “but enough about that,” he snickered, climbing into his seat and cautiously slamming the car door shut.

“you’re right. no work talks while we’re on vacation,” you giggled and shifted in your seat so you could face him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “so, what’s first on the itinerary, mr. hong?”

“well, first things first-” he made a dramatic show of pulling the mixtape out of his jacket pocket, the corners of his eyelids wrinkling as his smile grew brighter. “look what i found.”

your eyes widened as you gently snatched the cassette from him, your hand brushing over the tape where the title had been scribbled in permanent marker. “oh my god, i forgot we made this! where did you find it?”

“under my bed,” joshua laughed, shrugging. “i thought it seemed appropriate, with new beginnings and all... we don’t have to listen to it if you don’t want to, though.”

“not at all! i’m up for a trip down memory lane,” you laughed.

joshua began to pull out of the small parking lot, feeling particularly eager to get on the road. especially since it was early in the morning; he knew it would be a beautiful view as the sun would peek from its hiding spot behind the trees. “i was hoping you would say that. because.. i was thinking we could just follow the same exact itinerary as last time.”

“really? down to the number?” you sent a knowing smirk in his direction, even if he was too focused on the road to pay any mind to it outside of his peripheral vision. you watched him nod his head as his smile grew and grew, his cheerful grin as contagious as ever. “well, since we’re following tradition, i’ll buy your chai latte again this year.”

“guess that means i’m covering dinner again,” joshua chuckled lightly, the sound going straight to your heart. as per usual, of course.

“what a gentleman,” you mused while cautiously inserting the cassette tape into the car’s rather finicky slot. you always knew joshua’s car was ancient and worn down, so you were impressed, to say the least, that it had lasted throughout the entirety of his college career. “i forgot which songs we put on here. this’ll be fun.”

“me too, actually. but.. i do seem to remember someone was constantly begging me to add taylor swift to the playlist.”

“it was a phase! everyone was a die hard fan at one point in their life.”

“sure, we’ll go with that excuse,” joshua teased you without a hint of mocking or scorn in his voice. it was more like amusement.

it was nothing short of serendipitous, the way the sun began to rise to a more comfortable resting position for the rest of the day and light up the path for you and joshua just as ‘here comes the sun’ began to play. the song was slightly muffled, the speakers in the car radio being on their last leg- it was a picture perfect moment, regardless.

you rolled down your window, letting your hand drift along the current of the breeze passing by as joshua began to pick up speed. you heard him humming along, his soothing voice fitting perfectly with george harrison’s. and you smiled to yourself- if joshua wasn’t dead set on his current career path, you knew he could easily make a name for himself as a singer.

for whatever reason, the way he muttered the endearing term ‘little darling’ so gently before each chorus stood out to you most. his sickly sweet voice added so much more meaning to the lyrics. in that moment, really all you could do was hope that he didn’t notice the way you were trying to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

but he did. out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you bashfully bowing your head.

he finally arrived at the coffee shop, which was a tiny shack just off the main road. it was a convenient little spot for any travelers that needed a caffeine boost on their journey. except..

“oh no.” it was closed??

indefinitely??

“it’s okay!” you were quick to assure him and pat his shoulder. “there’s a gas station just up ahead. we can probably just get some coffee there, my treat.”

joshua nodded in an effort to keep up the faith. “you’re right! it’ll be a bit watery but that’s fine- right?”

“right!” you agreed with a chuckle. honestly, to you, missing out on a delicious chai latte wasn’t the end of the world but joshuasuspected it was only the beginning of a series of setbacks.

and he proved to be correct: the coffee machine in the gas station was broken, leaving the two of you to settle for some canned nitro cold brews. while joshua’s paranoia grew, you looked at the glass half full; so it didn’t go exactly according to plan.. but at least the two of you had caffeine.

“so, what was the second thing we did?” you asked, taking the smallest sips of your coffee at a time. just as a precaution.

“picnic over at that rest stop. hopefully it’s not blocked or something,” he joked, all the while secretly praying that the universe wouldn’t twist his words. it seemed that the gods were in a playful mood that day; too bad it was at his expense rather than in his favor.

by now, you were near the end of ‘side a’ and ‘feeling good’ was playing. you could only hear michael bublé’s voice very faintly at this point, but the catchy song still brought a smile to your face. “i always liked this version the best,” you told joshua.

he beamed. “that’s because it is the best one. i taught you well.”

you helped your friend pull the basket and blanket out of his trunk once he’d parked the car near the top of a hill that overlooked a lake and a series of trees surrounding the body of water. it was a quaint spot, one that seemed to put the rest of the city on display for the two of you. and like many spots in the town, it came with its fair share of legends and stories.

“did you hear the rumors that vernon lost his v-card here?” you snickered between bites of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich that joshua was gracious enough to make for the two of you.

he nearly choked on the remnants of his sandwich, shaking his head as his fist flew to cover his mouth. he looked mortified, eyes growing nearly twice their size. “what?? no! how come no one ever told me about that?”

“are you kidding?? i could have sworn someone told you,” you snickered and reached over to repeatedly pat his back. “anyways, no one knows if it’s true or not.”

“he’s a chamber of secrets, that one.”

“he certainly is.”

once joshua had finally composed himself, a sigh of contentment left his lips. he took a deep breath, basking in the fresh mountain air and sunlight. there were a few clouds in sight, nothing that should have caused too much panic. just something to give the two of you the right amount of shade.

comfortable silence passed between the two of you and you laid back against the blanket in mirrored positions, propped up by one elbow. you looked over to joshua after feeling fixated on the small lake, focusing intently on his features, instead. his eyelashes, the curve of his lips, the way his hair fell so neatly over his face.

he truly was so naturally beautiful.

you only felt pressured to snap out of your daze when he began to tilt his head towards you. your gaze fell to the blanket smoothly while your finger began to brush along one of the patterns on the fabric. his mom had made it for him, along with several other quilts that he held very dear to his heart. “i guess it would be a pretty nice place to seal the deal.”

joshua laughed out loud, “y/n l/n, i’ve never heard you say something so scandalous in my whole life.”

you tilted your head back as his words brought upon a laugh of your own, “well, this year is all about new beginnings, isn’t it? we’re changing, we’re growing..”

“i guess so,” he mused once your voice trailed off. when you looked up, he was the one fixating on your features. it brought a heated sensation among your cheeks and a dumb smile to your lips. you noticed him swallow, attempting to be subtle while shifting to rest on his elbow more comfortably. “y/n, can you promise me something?”

“of course, joshua, anything.”

“can you promise that we’ll always try to stay in touch? no matter what?” there was a pang of sadness in both joshua’s tone and in his eyes. suddenly you felt guilty for taking your lifelong friendship for granted; the last thing you wanted was for someone so dear to you to feel undervalued.

“shua- of course i will.” feeling particularly bold, you reached out to grab his hand. “i’m sorry if i’ve been.. distant lately. i feel like we’ve both had a lot going on. and it’s not going to get any better once we’ve got our nine-to-fives, but.. you mean a lot to me. i want you to stay in my life.”

just then, the man in front of you appeared as if a large weight had been removed from his shoulders. you couldn’t believe that you witness his eyes actually light up in real time, his entire figure perfectly displaying how much lighter he felt. “i want you to stay,” he repeated after you.

the two of you weren’t directly confessing your true feelings towards each other just yet, but somehow.. those five words were enough. ‘i want you to stay.’

you stayed silent, as if to let them echo between the two of you. the fact that you weren’t sure how you were supposed to follow such a simple yet beautiful statement was also a contributing factor. after a moment, you parted your lips while still waiting for the right words to show themselves to you but instead, there was a loud crash of thunder.

the two of you were so mesmerized by the pair of eyes in front of you that neither of you noticed the air around you growing gray. joshua looked up towards the dark clouds with a sigh of disdain, “of course.”

you chuckled, helping him gather the napkins, paper silverware and dishes and the blanket. by some miracle, you were able to gather all of your belongings and hop in the car before the rain started falling down at an alarming rate and substance. “wasn’t michael just singing about how the sun was in the sky?”

“i guess its opposite day.” at that moment, joshua began to wonder if someone out there genuinely had it out for him. as he turned the key in the ignition, all he could hear over the raindrops clattering against his windshield was a loud sputtering noise. maybe.. maybe he was just imagining it? he tried twisting the key again, but it proved to be fruitless.

you chuckled awkwardly, “oh.. uh…”

“oh.. that’s fine!” joshua giggled sheepishly, keeping a calm presence that wasn’t alarming or unnerving in any way. there was no point taking his stress out on you when you were not the one at fault. no one was at fault, really, except maybe the man who truly believed a car that was around when dinosaurs roamed the earth could withstand another long roadtrip. after a few more tries, he gave up and pulled the key out of the ignition. “do you.. happen to have a signal?”

“out of battery?”

“yep,” he rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward grin, unable to make eye contact with you. “usually i have a portable charger but..”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off gently. “i don’t think i’ll be able to call anyone until the rain stops, but i’ve got a full battery.”

“cool. cool, cool.” joshua chuckled, trying not to upset you by showcasing his disappointment. he tried to look on the brightside and tell himself that the two of you were on an adventure, that this would be a great story to tell your friends and family when you got back, but any positive thought was quickly replaced by looming, dark ones instead. like how he wished that in possibly one of the most stressful times in his life, he wished that just one thing would go right. that he wished this getaway was as picture perfect as the last one.

“shua, you okay?”

he was alarmed by how well you seemed to have gotten at reading his countenance; especially since he thought he made great efforts to hide what he was truly feeling. he smiled immediately, nodding in reassurance. one thing he was not going to do was ruin the mood. “yeah, yeah i’m okay. you doing okay?”

you nodded, “yeah, i’m doing great.” you paused, hoping that you weren’t pressuring him to answer. one thing you were not going to do was pressure him into broaching a topic he wanted to avoid. so your tone grew hushed as you spoke again, “but i feel like there’s a lot more that you’re not telling me.”

joshua nodded faintly in understanding. he should have known that you would have been able to read him without any troubles, considering how long you had both known each other. “i just.. wanted this to be perfect. i know you’ve been stressed lately and well, i’ve been stressed lately so i thought this would be a nice, low stakes kind of trip. but.. I guess not.” he ended his thought with a light hearted chuckle and shrug of his shoulders.

you stayed quiet for a moment, focusing on the sleeve of his jacket while pondering his words. he had put so much effort in both of these road trips and you knew his heart was in the right place. frankly, you couldn’t care less if you didn’t get your chai lattes or if your picnic lasted about ten minutes or you might not make it to the hotel.

what mattered was that joshua was there with you through it all. and through it all, he kept an adorable smile and a cheerful attitude. when your gaze shifted to the windshield, raindrops hitting the glass in record time by now, you were reminded of another song that you added to the now unattainable mixtape.

and suddenly, you got an idea.

opening up spotify, you searched through taylor swift’s discography until you found the song that you thought was perfectly fitting for the moment: fearless. you knew it was a long shot but you pressed play and turned the volume all the way up before placing your phone in your jacket pocket, where it would be shielded from the rain. then, you stepped out into the downpour.

joshua furrowed his eyebrows out of worry but perked up once he saw you motion to follow in your footsteps. just as he slammed the door shut, he could have sworn he heard the lyrics very faintly, even if they were muffled by the rainfall. ‘and you know i want to ask you to dance right there…’

you took both of joshua’s hands in yours and twirled in three or four circles, giggling the entire time. both of you tilted your heads back, feeling the cold rain against your face. it was beautiful, soothing.. unconventional, maybe, but it was perfect. once the two of you stood upright, you took it a step further.

it was just like clockwork, the way his arms fell gracefully around your waist after yours were linked around his neck. you’d hugged him several times before, you knew of his warmth- but things felt different today. the two of you swayed to the upbeat melody with stupid, giddy smiles. neither of you said a word as the rain started falling faster and harder, the lyrics inaudible at this point.

but that didn’t stop either of you.

suddenly, joshua removed one of your hands from his neck and laced his fingers with yours. he skipped around the car with you while keeping a firm grip on your waist, guiding your movements. the two of you laughed and laughed until your ribs felt tough, until it was hard to breathe. your shoulders were hunched as you held on tighter to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him once he finally came to a stop.

neither of you had felt so free in a long time. for that one moment you two abandoned your inhibitions and responsibilities of the real world, everything felt perfect. even something as inconvenient as the rain was beautiful.

you remembered more of the lyrics. up until that moment, you’d never thought about how perfectly they encapsulated your feelings towards joshua. growing up with him and watching him run his free hand through his hair with a firm but gentle grip on the steering wheel, the calming and reassuring presence that he provided in your life, performing any mundane task or saying such beautiful things with such a casual tone.

absentmindedly making me want you.

he really didn’t have to do too much to be the perfect man, did he?

ignoring the nagging thought in the back of your mind about how cliché your actions were, you captured his lips in a gentle, chaste kiss as the rain fell harder around you. you hoped that it would properly communicate to him your true intentions and feelings while words were momentarily lost to you.

joshua, meanwhile, felt as if he was on cloud nine. maybe this trip didn’t go according to plan, maybe there were bumps along the road- but this trip had one thing the one from years before didn’t.

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen fluff #joshua hong #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong x you #joshua hong fluff #hong jisoo #the i want you to stay part was definitely inspired by birds of a feather by billie #why’d i get emotional #sorry if it’s not good #i’m still getting the hang of writing again besties #didn’t fearless fit so well tho #adorable #joshua hong fanfic #hong jisoo fluff #obsessed with the gentleman joshua agenda

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hotdaemondtargaryen · 4 months ago

Text

EWAN MITCHELL INTERVIEWED BY POLYGON MAGAZINE.

YOU'VE SPOKEN BEFORE ABOUT THE INFLUENCES YOU TOOK IN WHEN CRAFTING YOUR APPROACH TO AEMOND — YOU HAVE PROMETHEUS; YOU HAVE HEAT; HALLOWEEN; LAWRENCE OF ARABIA. I'M CURIOUS WHAT YOU WERE SEEKING AS YOU WERE RESEARCHING TO PLAY AEMOND IN SEASON 2.

"Characters who possess a tremendous amount of power, and see it as a means to do things no one else can do."

Similar with Lawrence of Arabia — something in Lawrence of Arabia that I like, he says 'The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts.'

"You know, the idea that he kind of tempers himself — very similar to Aemond — to pain."

"He puts duty over love."

"And [similarly,] the idea that Aemond can be loved, but he also knows that he can achieve more if he’s willing to be feared, and do the necessary kind of evil."

"[I sought] characters who were kind of marginalized, and they maybe start off their story on their back foot, and over time become the hero of their story."

"There are setbacks, but they bounce back even stronger."

"Those kinds of characters."

DID YOU FEEL LIKE YOU WERE LIFTING THE ENERGY OF THESE PERFORMANCES, THE PHILOSOPHY, OR JUST THEIR PHYSICALITY?

"Anything — I mean, I try to watch a film a day."

"Although recently, with press, I’ve sometimes had to do two a day, because I miss a day."

"But anything, anything: Inspiration can come at any time."

"I’m always watching for it."

"I was watching Split the other day, M. Night Shyamalan’s Split, and it kind of raises the idea that the broken are the more evolved."

"And that’s certainly true with Aemond; from the moment he had his eye taken from him, he’s used it as motivation to develop himself and manufacture himself into this lethal weapon."

"I was speaking to a reporter earlier, and he had a Rutger Hauer T-shirt from Blade Runner."

"That’s also something that I might use as inspiration going into season 3."

"Just kind of leave my arms open, take anything."

DO YOU FIND YOU HAVE DIFFERENT INFLUENCES FOR DIFFERENT MOMENTS IN AEMOND'S LIFE, OR EVEN JUST DIFFERENT RELATIONSHIPS, LIKE ALICENT VERSUS HELAENA?

"Yeah, ultimately, after the raising of the dragonseeds in 'The Red Sowing,' it’s definitely made Aemond a lot more desperate going into episode 8, and he’s losing that composure that he’s known for [in] the previous episodes."

"And so there was always something really fascinating in exploring that kind of fractured Aemond, seeing that scared boy rise to the surface again, that he’s tried to keep a lid on for so many years."

"It’s the sort of relationship that makes total sense even when you don’t see them together."

"Of course she’s the person who sees him and puts him in his place."

"And he just has nothing to say to that."

"Her words just cut him in half."

"He always has this idea of where and how things will pan out."

"She just challenges that, and it breaks him a little bit."

IN A SHOW THAT'S SO MUCH ABOUT INTERROGATING PEOPLE'S QUEST FOR A POWER, THEIR RELATIONSHIP TO IT, AND HOW IT CAN BE BOTH WIELDED AND CORRUPTING AS A FORCE, HOW DO YOU SEE AEMOND FITTING INTO THAT? WHAT'S HIS MINDSET?

"I think he raises that question of whether Aemond is inherently evil, or whether power does corrupt, whether it was nurture versus nature."

"Was it the upbringing that [he] received from Otto Hightower and his mother, or was it just being in the Red Keep and being a product of his environment there?"

"I think Aemond — he’s always had that quest for power."

"He’s always wanted to be known as that war hero."

"And here at the council table, for the first half of the series, he’s very much serving in the war from one end."

"And then when he gets into power and becomes prince regent, he goes to the other end."

All of these people, he now has a completely new perspective on, and it’s like, 'OK, so how can each of you serve me? And if you can’t serve me, you’re gone.'

"It’s that kind of very black-and-white pursuit that Aemond has in his quest for power, which I think is quite scary."

"It’s formidable."

It doesn’t really take anybody else’s perspective into account. 'It’s what I want.'

"So what’s his relationship with power? It’s not a pretty one."

DO YOU SEE HIS QUEST FOR POWER AS COMING FROM THAT SCARED LITTLE BOY WHO JUST WANTS SOME PROTECTION AND INSULATION, AND TO BE ABOVE REPROACH? OR DO YOU SEE IT AS HIM THINKING I HONESTLY BELIEVE I CAN DO THIS BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE HERE?

"I mean around the council table, all these other characters, they’re losing their composure, they’re raising their voices, they’re arguing."

"Aemond’s just sitting back."

"He’s calculated, he’s cool."

"He strikes when the moment arises."

"He needs to be seen as someone who can wield that power effectively."

"He needs to be seen as someone who can lead."

"He can become that war hero."

"Whether or not he wants to sit the Iron Throne — I don’t know; I don’t want to answer that! But he definitely wants a similar kind of reputation as Daemon Targaryen."

"He wants to be like Daemon Targaryen, but he also wants to better him."

"He wants to be known as that rogue prince, who you know all of the realm respects."

"Or maybe he doesn’t really care what anyone thinks — that’s kind of what I love about the character."

"He could be many things."

TELL ME ABOUT HOW YOU APPROACHED THE ARC FOR HIM OVER THE SEASON — TO RETURN TO INFLUENCES FOR A SEC, I WAS THINKING A LOT ABOUT STREETCAR NAMED DESIRED, AND HAVING A CHARACTER WHO DOESN'T KNOW THEY'RE THAT CLOSE TO A BREAKDOWN, BASICALLY, AND DOESN'T KNOW THEY'RE ONE BAD DAY AWAY FROM THAT. THEY'RE JUST HOLDING THEMSELVES TOGETHER EVEN WHEN PEOPLE AROUNG YOU CAN SEE THIS IS BAD NEWS.

"Aemond… if he has a breaking point, I don’t think he’s found it yet."

"It’s interesting."

"Maybe he found it there, when Helaena challenged everything he thought his life would amount to, and how things would pan out."

"I think Aemond always thought of himself as the captain of his own fate and his own destiny."

"And so when Helaena shares that knowledge — on one hand, it could make an enemy out of him."

"But on the other hand, it could also make Helaena a tremendously valuable ally."

"If you’re able to harness that kind of foresight and that power that Helaena possesses, you could see a blow coming before it lands."

I think that would certainly be something interesting to explore: 'Where is Aemond’s breaking point?'

"I mean we’ve seen everything he’s done so far."

"He kind of had to abandon humanity in season 2, with what he did to his brother."

Helaena raises that: 'Was it worth the price, and what did he lose in that moment?'

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT WHERE HE ENDS UP THIS SEASON? IN MANY WAYS, IT FEELS LIKE AND OTHERWISE TRIUMPHANT SEASON PUTS HIM IN EXACTLY THE RIGHT PLACE TO HAVE HER POP THAT BALLON FOR HIM.

"Yeah, that’s a good way of looking at it."

"I think he’s got to sit with that information now, and sit with that realization."

"But as we know for Aemond, he can’t sit still for long."

"He’s going to be on the back of that dragon."

"Up to no good, you know."

"And yeah, I can’t wait to see where it goes in season 3."

"I think he’s got to change again."

"I think similar to when he had his eye taken out as a kid, it served as this motivation to become something else entirely."

"And then with this new realization at the end of season 2, he’s gonna have to evolve again, or otherwise risk being broken again."

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afreakingdork · 3 months ago

Text

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 9

RotTMNT x Reader

I am constantly blown away by this chapter art by @yamin-yups

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis: You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

This chapter contains reference to body dysmorphia. Remember that what you feel is completely valid, but we can sometimes see ourselves differently than we really are. Please keep yourselves safe.

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

“Maybe we take a break from going out into the packed public for once?” Mikey was upside-down, but compensated by holding his phone the opposite way.

It put him right side up in the video chat, but the view was extra blurry. “Is that… okay?”

“I’m the one suggesting it!” Mikey stuck out his tongue, but his reflection seemed to confuse him on which way the appendage should go. “It’s been awhile. I haven’t been able to see you.”

“Yeah… well…” Though for you it would have been predictable, Mikey hadn’t felt the firsthand effects of your setbacks yet.

Panic attacks always caused you to withdraw into yourself.

You weren’t supposed to.

There were times when it was easy to keep going.

Others, such as now, left you homebound for as long as society allowed.

The push to normalcy now included your thoughtful friend.

“Do you know after my tremors went away, I spent months avoiding art because I was afraid of how it would look?” Mikey told you casually.

You weren’t sure what he was talking about.

You tried to recall something about tremors, but came up short.

You wanted to ask more, but there was a more startling aspect than the content itself.

You couldn’t believe there was ever a period where Mikey avoided art as he had been nothing, but a loud proponent of all its merit.

“Why?”

“Because I knew my level and then… I didn’t. I knew I’d have to get back there. It was like riding a skateboard, but needing to take that time? For a second time. Chancing the bad result? It was like my healing was one thing and then by doing that it would show me just how much further I still needed to go. Like that dude with the cat and the box. I didn’t want to open it and find out. I couldn’t do it.”

“Isn’t the saying… something… about riding a bike?”

“We were skateboard tots!” Mikey rolled over and with it so did his camera, inverting the image.

You nodded lightly.

“I switched up crafts. Started new ones that weren’t so finger focused. Pour paints and candle work!” He made grabby hands at the lens as he fixed his phone angle.

“Something low key…” You hummed where you were sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, something quiet, calm, and… oh! Oh yeah!” There was another flip, but this one was out of excitement.

“D-don’t… bust through a wall…!”

Mikey appeared within a flurry of static. “Did you just make a Kool-Aid Man joke?”

“I make jokes!”

The wattage of his smile turned up to a blinding degree. “Well then I’ve got just the wall to bust through!”

“No.” Donnie glowered over his shoulder.

“Please!” Mikey bounced his plea with his head straight up to the ceiling of the garage you were currently in.

An oddity in the subway, but something you imagined had to exist based on logic, your eyes were openly roving around the tidy depot.

“Absolutely not.” Lifting out from under a hood and minding his head, Donnie craned an elbow to the engine block he was working on. “You know you’ve been banned.”

“One time!” Mikey groaned.

“No!” Donnie felt the need to rip off his leather work gloves to throw an unencumbered finger in Mikey’s face. “You were banned once after crashing eleven separate times!!”

“Eleven?!” You squeaked.

Mikey flipped back and forth between the two of you, obviously caught in who to address first. “My driving is fine!” He chose you and then flipped to Donnie. “I’ve changed!”

From the duffel that was slung around your body, you had already been clinging to the strap as it gave you something comforting to hold on to. With the new knowledge that you had almost been driven somewhere rural by someone with that kind of driving record, you now scooped up the entire sack to soothe yourself.

“Forget that.” Donnie flicked his gaze to you. “You’d need a full crash suit to survive him.” He then folded his gloves into a pair and went to check his tool box.

You wilted further.

“We’re already packed!” Mikey rounded a new argument. “This is going to be our big, no-stress, relaxing getaway and you’re making it exactly not that!”

“That’s unfortunate. The bus station isn’t far.” Donnie knelt down to get a wrench.

“And how’s that going to work!? We get dropped at some station and walk to the cabin!? You know it’s in the middle of nowhere!” Mikey stepped up to throw menace over his brother.

Donnie smelled it a mile away and lifted his head, pouring twice the malice. “Oh, you want to play?”

Mikey gulped and nodded his head once. “Let us borrow a car, the tank, a shell cycle, whatever! You’re being unfair!”

“Your planning is poor.” Donnie was slow to get on one knee. “You’re ill equipped.” To the other, he got a foot under him. “You’ve informed no one.” Rising to his towering height above his brother, he loomed. “You walk into my garage, where I am in the midst of my own personal and much needed zen in the form of refurbishing my newest baby and expect me to drop the keys of another into your hands knowing full well that you have destroyed more vehicles on more occasions than I can count on our joined mutant fingers and toes because you just so happened to suddenly decided that you needed to take a weekend trip with your friend of which whom you have a similar slapdash scheme going on with to go to our family’s cabin up north on a whim!?!”

Having watched Donnie not take a single breath, you backed up nearly the same distance that Mikey’s head had shrunk down into his shell.

“Y-yes?” Mikey peeped.

“No.” Donnie said the word firm and quiet, but punctuated it with a tap to Mikey’s plastron which caused the stiff turtle to fall over. “Now leave me to my work.”

Only a shell laying there, you leaned forward to look over Mikey without compromising your spot.

Donnie swung his wrench and moved over to a creeper with the intention to disappear under what looked like a turtle-themed moon buggy.

“You-” Your voice echoed in the garage and you tensed up.

Mikey’s head emerged from his shell to peek at you.

Donnie halted his motion, but didn’t turn.

“You… um… could… come with us?”

You watched Donnie’s lips wobble with disdain.

“N-Not a-as a d-driver! Y-you said…”

In a loud pop, all of Mikey’s limbs emerged. “That’s a great idea!!!”

In a smooth rotation, Donnie both turned and lifted his wrench with a threat.

Mikey crab walked several paces away.

“I’m disappointed.” Donnie sent a glare in your direction. “If your thought is even-” He caught a glimpse of his wrench. “-5/16ths as moronic as his then you are banned from the garage itself. Know that, would you still like to continue speaking?”

Gaze plummeting, your heart tried to escape and you screwed the whole of you shut to keep it inside.

Your entire body shook with the force of your nerves and you had to wait until your BPMs dropped to a manageable limit before you could manage speech. “You… said… m-much needed… so maybe… the trip would… well… be calming… for you too?”

There was a clink of metal hitting the ground.

Banned.

You were banned from the garage.

That was fine.

In theory, it wasn’t.

In theory, you were mortified.

Despite your best efforts, you had never been banned from anything.

Now you were.

A glaring dark spot on your permanent record.

Was Mikey a bad influence?

“You do say driving gets your mind off things…” Mikey said with a sudden supportive starkness.

You kept your gaze firmly rooted to the floor in shame.

“Also hold up!” In a slap of feet against concrete, Mikey righted himself. “You take a few of those things back, Don! I may have pushed the idea through, but it was not poorly planned or ill equipment or whatever you said! Y/N worked crazy hard on putting together everything in the short time frame I laid out!!”

You twitched.

“There’s maps, multiple trails marked, a calculated amount of water, with extra rations, flares… Like do you think this other bag is mine? Heck no! I’m not bringing anything! Both these bags are Y/N’s! They’re both stuffed with… stuff! Like-like!” You felt Mikey come over to you. “How you contacted the ranger’s station to tell them we’d be in the area? I’ve never even thought of that! We’ve never done that have we, Dee?”

Donnie continued his bout of silence that you didn’t dare look upon.

“What else…?” Mikey slapped his forehead. “I mean, come on! I can’t even remember it all!”

“I… got that satellite phone… you were pretty excited… about it.” You mumbled to the ground.

“With the backup batteries, Donald!” Mikey hummed a self-important sound. “The backup batteries!!”

The garage made it very clear that Donnie was walking over to you.

You bounced ever so slightly to garner the courage to meet his eye.

“Who did itinerary?” Donnie asked.

“Me.” Mikey remarked casually.

“I assume food too?” Donnie’s voice was heavy with judgment.

“Nope.” You could see a swoop as Mikey folded smug arms.

“That’s not quite…” You cleared your throat. “Mikey… shared his… favorite dishes that you… all make…when you… go.”

Donnie dipped into your eye line and you startled.

He’d bent at his waist and come down at a perfect angle.

You stared with warped lips.

“How long?” He narrowed his gaze.

“T-the trip?” Your gaze wobbled.

Mikey opened his mouth and Donnie threw out an arm that, by the sound, must have slapped the younger in the face.

“Yes.” Donnie kept his hand in place.

“Tonight… tomorrow… back Sunday?”

“Is that a question?” Donnie’s head tilted.

Mikey grunted, annoyed.

“No…” You got out, quiet.

“You agreed knowing full well you’d be alone with him?”

Slapped with a similar heat from the first time you’d realized that fact, you gave a tight nod.

‘We have separate rooms!’ Mikey mumbled through closed lips with surprising clarity.

“And that’s okay?” Donnie disappeared.

You chased him up to find he’d released Mikey and was waiting on him for an answer.

“It’s a no brainer.” Mikey nearly rolled his eyes.

Donnie’s brow lowered, unsatisfied.

“Yes, it’s okay because it isn’t a thing.” Mikey huffed around his clarification.

“I suppose… I’ve been persuaded.” Donnie looked down thoughtfully and you watched him trace back to where he’d dropped his wrench.

Mikey jumped into the air with a sudden bout of energy and caught your hands to spin you.

“Y-y-yay!” You stutter, stalling on the rotation.

“Cabin, here we come, baby!” Mikey cheered.

“I need my things!” Donnie barked. “And you.”

You jolted. “Y-yes?”

“You will send me triplicate copies of your plans.”

“S-sure…” You spastically patted yourself down for your phone.

“I refuse to engage with either of your antics.” Donnie’s own appeared in his hand. “I am no third wheel. I am coming because I will apparently have to deal with your whining otherwise and because I am not in the mood for the lecture from Nardo and Raphael when they return.”

“Have they texted yet?” Mikey peered over Donnie’s shoulder.

“No. Security detail means one must pay-” Donnie suddenly dropped and ducked through Mikey’s legs in one fluid movement. “-attention. This is why you weren’t requested.”

“And why didn’t they request you, hm?” Mikey pushed his lips into one corner of his mouth.

“Because…!” Donnie trailed off with widened eyes. “My talents lie elsewhere! Enough interruptions. I will drive and then you will leave me be! I am to have my zen! Is that understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, crystal.” Mikey finally did roll his eyes.

Donnie took a few steps away as you found your phone and held it unsure of how to send him the details.

“He’s totally going because he heard ‘yakiniku’ when you mentioned we were making my favorite foods.” Mikey walked over to you with a smirk.

You watched Donnie take an irritated pause before continuing on to get his things.

The ride in the tank had passed with booming music and a tour from Mikey that you only visually participated in because you were terrified to move about the cabin. The younger seemed not to notice as he explained parts with stories more than function. Donnie alternatively, had shades on that further marred his calculated expression and he said nothing as the studious driver.

Leaving the city and entering scenic woodlands, you were soon left to admire the views until you eventually deviated off the road toward the cabin. Tracking it with the little local map you had found, you busied yourself in the comfortable way that most people disliked on road trips: silence in a cozy bubble all your making.

There didn’t have to be talk, that’s what road trip mixes were for.

You only made exceptions for car games.

You liked that they had simple rules and there were little stakes to be had.

You only wished cars were safer modes of transport.

There was also something to be said about environmental impact and the culture of automobiles in America, but other than that, you found them nice.

Pulling up to what you imagined was a quiescent place, Mikey could not be restrained a second longer.

Out of the tank in a flurry, you watched through the windshield as his form screamed straight up the cabin’s steps. “He doesn’t do great on car rides, huh?”

“Sitting still for too long? Michael?” Donnie rose from the captain’s chair.

You gave a small smile and gathered up the few things you’d taken inside with you. Your actual bags were stored in an outer compartment and Donnie waited for you as a safety net as you made the harrowing steps down the tank ladder and to the ground. Landing with little fault, you joined him in getting the luggage until Mikey tore back over to grab some of the load. He talked loudly of dust that had accumulated and Donnie griped at him that it was obvious they’d need to clean.

You fondly watched the two bicker and set-up became the next directive. Throwing back plastic sheets that coated furniture, Donnie had a multitude of inventions to clear the space quickly. You had to run to the windows to release the dust tornadoes formed. Making it out mostly unscathed, you then helped Mikey hang bug nets. With the late Spring weather warming the air, soon everything was prepped and Mikey did a little closing dance number, capping off the preparatory part of the trip.

“Swimming hole time!” Mikey cheered and then turned knowingly on Donnie. “Then BBQ and prompt lights out so I can make a lumberjack breakfast first thing!”

“We’re grinding beans… we roasted…” You offered softly. “Uh… Coffee… beans… that is…”

“Oh yeah, I forgot we took that class.” Mikey chuckled. “You almost fell into that sack!”

You squashed a noise of distress at the memory.

Understanding the schedule, Donnie dismissed himself with a turned foot and headed to one of the cabin’s many rooms. You were left to look about the quintessential log cabin where the huge living space and connected kitchen then butted up against a row of doors. They spoke of many rooms that traced the back of the cabin and then up a staircase to a second floor. From what you could see, there were about eight rooms in all. The entire cabin then had a wraparound porch that extended into the wilderness. It was land that both belonged to nature and not, but Mikey had been cagey about revealing property lines.

“Welp!” Mikey folded his hands on his hips. “Your boy needs to get wet before he explodes.”

You gawked at him.

“Seriously!” He was looking out over the cabin with a vacant stare that held a sort of unhinged quality. “First the car, then stuck inside? This is not an inside trip. if I am not unleashed in the next, oh I don’t know… 2 minutes, I’m going to lose it!”

“Uh…!”

“You got those trail maps?” He turned, both looking through you and not at.

“Y-yes!”

“I color coded the one to the watering hole. Orange, obviously.” Mikey approached with a waggling brow ridge. “I saw you in the car, keeping perfect pace. It was awesome.”

“Just to s-stay b-busy!”

“Uh huh! Your smile said otherwise! You’ll meet me there then! Same way!” He patted your shoulder once with a whack before bolting out the door.

You stared after him now knowing why he’d chosen to travel in his swimsuit.

Looking down at your road trip ensemble, you still felt sure of your decision to take the few hour drive comfortably.

There was a noise of a door opening and Donatello emerged, changed into a casual outfit punctuated by purple swim trunks.

You stared at him and felt a little like a caught fawn.

Donnie took you in before his gaze dulled with understanding. “He ditched you.”

“I’m… going to meet him.”

“He always does this.” Donnie responded dismissively. “You should have seen him in time out as a tot.”

“Oh?”

“One minute in time out for him was comparative to thirty for the rest of us.” Walking around a large kitchen bar, Donnie studied the rations.

You took a few steps toward him for the sake of it.

“He’s so impatient.” Donnie murmured, poking several waters aside to find a carton of juice boxes that Mikey had insisted on. He quickly tossed the set into the fridge. “He’s not even an aquatic turtle.”

You sort of wished you had done more research past looking up pictures of their species.

“You’re losing daylight.” He emerged from the fridge. “Or are you not swimming?”

“I-I am…!” You squeezed a fist to your chest. “Are… you coming too?”

Donnie blinked slowly at you. “No, why?”

“Oh…” You shouldn’t have assumed. He’d already told you otherwise. “Sorry… your bottoms… I thought…”

“Board shorts.” He punctuated the words with an odd accent.

You gave an unsure nod.

“I’m glad their sign was translated.” He glanced down at himself.

“Sorry…” You murmured when he made no further movement and quickly left to avoid any awkwardness.

You weren’t sure what you expected.

It’s not like you wanted to exclude Donnie.

You knew that pain too well.

You also didn’t want to make him feel unwelcomed.

You were painfully aware of that too.

He hadn’t wanted to be a third wheel and you had made it a silent mission to keep that from happening.

Something else you’d experienced in the past, you’d been the unwilling chaperone on more than one occasion just to satisfy parent’s minds. The good one, in their minds, you had always been ditched and the feeling wasn’t one you cared for. Shoving past the bygone era, you were seen now and you tried to relish that.

The sun’s attention was a fickle thing, but you were getting more use to losing Mikey’s. Something you thought should scare you, instead you felt your friendship with Mikey was stronger than ever. You no longer feared losing him in the same intangible way and you weren’t sure if you should crop that up to Mikey’s feelings about you. Instead it felt as though you’d reached a better status quo where Mikey’s running off felt more like the sun moving on its predetermined rotation. It would eventually round back to you and in that way you expected Mikey’s claustrophobia even if you hadn’t known about it.

You picked a room at random and rummaged through the duffel that you placed on your bed. There was a woodsy smell that teetered on musty in a way that spoke of it being well lived in even if its occupants only came every so often. You had your own little stand up mirror, nightstand, dresser, and a closet though you doubted you’d use anything past the first. Pulling out a single slick piece of black fabric, you double checked the door was closed before changing.

The perfect swimsuit was one you hadn’t imagined you’d find. Not one for flashy things, you only wanted a muted cover that also happened to cover you. Water did unimaginable things to fabrics and you hated the way it clinged. You wanted something you could disappear in, that brought no unnecessary attention, and could be forgotten on your end. Finding it in a matter of minutes into shopping as opposed to the years it took when you were younger, the item had even been on sale.

Stepping into it and pulling it up, you shimmied into the fabric and turned for that same show stopping image you’d seen in the changing room.

What stared back was an image of allure.

No.

That was wrong.

That’s not what it had looked like.

It had covered you.

It hadn’t accentuated anything.

It was simple.

You squirmed, changing angles in hopes that it would get better, but each only revealed more.

What had changed?

You’d purchased it this week.

Were you hallucinating?

Was there something in the wooden walls?

Had the tank crashed and this was you playing out some morbid purgatory?

You pinched yourself.

A sting bit your forearm and you threw your gaze back at the mirror for the unwilling shapes it concocted.

This wasn’t right.

You wanted to swim.

There was no way you could.

Miserably turning away from your image, you rooted through your bag for a cover up. Finding one in some oversized t-shirt you’d brought for comfort, you held it and hated that this wasn’t the way you imagined it would be employed. You figured it’d be a back-up pajama top and not something to hide your shame away in. Clinging to the fabric, you hastily pulled it over your head with an imaginary clock ticking away because Mikey was waiting.

You were ruining everything.

Stumbling out into the living room, you found yourself alone.

Momentarily thrown, but shaking off how Donnie wasn’t a priority right now and the guilt that came with that, you went for your pile of maps. Finding the trail one with the orange lines, you gathered some shoes and careened down the porch.

Buzzing insects mocked your sloppy descent as you rotated the map to be on your course. Following it more than your way, you took the necessary inlet and folded its winds to a drawn T. Bushes and trees concealed you, but the splashing of what was beyond reached your ears faster than you’d hoped. A journey not long to its destination, you slowed as you came to the final bend. You could hear Mikey blabbing presumably to himself as he hooted before resounding sloushes followed. In your mind he jumped off some kind of ledge, you took a deep breath before making the final steps leading to the watering hole.

Somewhere quaint if you had the perspective for such a thing, a tree towered comfortably overtop a sizable pool. One mucked up from algae as the little stream feeding into it didn’t stir the water near enough, you watched roiling green as Mikey emerged with a flip of his wet hair.

“Y/N!” Mikey shouted happiness. “You made it! Come on in! The water’s fine!!” He swam backwards as if giving you room.

The guilt was staggering.

No, Mikey.

I won’t be swimming today.

My body looks like shit and I can’t stand it.

I’ll watch you though.

Have all the fun.

You deserve it.

Signing off your name, you slunk forward only to clip a sight of mixed purples.

Donnie craned his neck back to view you from beneath a large sun hat he’d put on. Sitting on a few rocks that made up the closest edge to you, his lids lowered in a way that said he was reading you like a book.

Hating how he did that, you squeezed the bulky hem of your shirt and walked up. “Uh… M-Mikey…?”

“A-yup!” He stopped splashing to hear you better.

“The… um… car ride… sort of took… more out of me than… I thought? Would it be alright if-!”

“You don’t have to swim.”

You blinked wide and over to him.

“If you don’t want to, don’t!” Mikey continued on. “Let’s compare: are you upset I’m swimming when you don’t want to?”

“O-of c-course not!”

“Then why should I care in the reverse?” He fell back and floated, eyes closed, on his shell.

That was right in a way.

Sweet in another.

You wished you’d put together the same reaction.

Inching closer, it felt like pouring water into an overtaxed bucket.

Another guilty drop in your damnation.

You’d seen your friend in a bad light.

Shirking all the more, you toed off your shoes and let your feet lay flat on one of the worn rocks. It put you near Donnie who’d become the moon on a sunny day’s backdrop. He shined upon the same stone and illuminated its age. The rocks were older and wiser than you’d ever be. They never worried about getting wet. They only knew how to exist, something you wished came as easily to you. Sitting down because you needed more of you to drink from the stone’s wisdom, you kept a lowered head to the water’s edge. It sloshed in a beckoning way and you imagined it too would feel good in a different way.

You really had wanted to swim.

Imaging your tears would do little to fill up the pool while also overflowing it, you heard a tepid sigh beside you.

Eyes wide and shooting up across the pond, you then turned to where you’d sat down next to Donnie.

Someone who you mistakenly forgot about during your pity party.

How was that for a third wheel?

“It’s always something with you.” He spoke softly.

“Sure is.” You gave an awkward laugh.

“That’s…” He made a little concerned noise. “… I didn’t mean it in a cruel way.”

“You didn’t have to. It is.” You threw your legs off the rock and threatened to drown your toes in the water. “It’s a cruel fate. I’m…” You remembered yourself. “Sorry. Nothing. What are you doing here?”

“My species is aquatic.”

You snuck a glance. “You’re pretty dry then.”

“You are too.”

You frowned deeply and watched Mikey pick up a sun drunk grin as he spread his limbs out to float on. “I don’t know why I feel like this. Everything was fine before…”

“With what?”

“This…” You threw a hand over yourself. “Stupid ugly swimsuit.”

You could feel Donnie’s gaze linger.

“Just trust me.” You folded your legs against yourself.

“I’m not sure I do.”

You squinted at the glistening water before looking at him.

“I barely know you.” He responded simply, waiting there.

“Oh.”

“Disappointed?”

“In what?” Your ugly side was leaking far beyond the reach of what your shirt could cover. “I didn’t think you trusted me. You may have been wrong about me being bad, but that wouldn’t make you less suspicious. So it’s not that. What’s left? The swimsuit sucks. It’s not like you wanna drool over it. I don’t want anyone too. I wanted to swim.”

Hearing your wish aloud, you pressed hard on your chest with your legs.

You could flatten out your entire form if only you were malleable.

“The water is opaque. I can alert Mikey and we’ll turn away so you can get in.”

You felt too far gone for solutions.

You weren’t worth the trouble.

Burying your chin into your knees, you stewed.

“You know how many times the others have made fun of my board shorts?”

You told yourself you didn’t care.

If that was the case then Donnie didn’t either. “Hundreds, though it might be my attitude when wearing them. I like the excuse. To have my day off and not worry about pleasantries. To not have to tailor myself to others. I can tell them to shove it. It’s my day off and how I look isn’t anyone’s damn business.”

Sounded like an odd hill to die on.

“Everyone should have those days.” Donnie craned his arms behind him and leaned back to soak up the rays he was in.

The tree overhead was clipping your light.

Donnie was free.

Mikey was free.

Head lifting a little, you pondered your friend.

He’d needed to get out and he did.

Now he was a vision, glowing amongst the pool.

In contrast there was you, wadded up and tossed away without even giving yourself the chance.

Another terrible reminder that this was the point.

This was what you were trying to avoid.

This was what you were trying to learn from.

Mikey didn’t even have to do anything to be himself.

He just was.

Instead of his usual bustle of light, he shined by matter of existence.

That was why you chased him.

You wanted that.

Staring at him until sun spots mucked up your vision, you turned the mass to Donnie.

Beside you in the same pose, he was more calculated.

He had to put on his wares.

His was an unseen struggle you hadn’t considered.

No one gleamed quite like Mikey.

That didn’t mean they didn’t shine in their own right.

Donnie’s darkened scales only threw prisms in a different way.

The cool moon’s glow.

Letting your legs fall, this time your feet drew to the allure of the water.

Just out of reach, you stared hard, making sure the pair would keep their eyes closed.

The both of them were still as if asleep, but you waited past whatever insect was chirping before you slowly tugged your hem out from under you. Emerging without more than the sound of rustling fabric, you rolled your shirt up around your waist. The next move was one harder to conceal, you threw a desperate glance at your friend.

Water rocked the resting Mikey like a babe and you wanted to feel that too.

You wanted to be nestled by the sun’s glow.

You wanted to feel weightless and have those burdens removed.

You yanked the shirt over your head and dropped it to your side.

Donnie stirred at the sound, but didn’t open his eyes.

“It’s… It’s okay… I’m not… okay… but I think I… I don’t want to care…”

He cracked a lid and stared skyward.

“It looked so different in the store.”

“How so?” He asked a whispy cloud.

“It looked… I don’t know… covering? Like it didn’t… show any bits. Like it… hid them away.”

He blinked slow and comfortable. “I’m a designer, you know.”

“What?”

“Genius Built Apparel. Where fashion meets function.”

You stared on.

Of course he was.

He also built a tank and a legion of dusting robots.

If this were any other family you’d think he was pulling your leg.

You’d seen more than enough to believe.

Most of your stare came from the cocky name.

Though even that made sense.

Donnie was a carefully constructed sphere.

Who were you to take away his gloating?

He tilted his head just enough to glimpse your face. “I’m serious. I’ve dissuaded Mikey from many a faux pas.”

You shook your head.

“May I?”

“What?” You switched to eyeing him.

“I can take a clinical eye. Examine stitching. Find your err.”

You bounced one of your legs.

You did want to know where it had all gone wrong.

You could theoretically fix it then.

Wash this all away in the water you so desperately wanted to get in.

“You won’t make it weird?”

“I don’t drool on the metaphorical clock; you were right about that, but I understand your concern. I have accosted you before.”

“Different kind of weird. That was mean weird. You were a jerk weird.”

Donnie chuffed and it rolled down his plastron.

You watched it fall into his lap before forcing your gaze back to his face in a rush. “Promise… Promise I can pull your hat down if you… do anything.”

“I won’t so a simple enough agreement. Sure.”

“Go… ahead…” You folded your arms to your sides, obviously nervous as you listened to his clothes move.

In a twist, he was examining you and he gave a faint hum.

Not wanting to see exactly how he saw you and growing miserable, you stared into the water.

You could throw yourself in and be done with it.

“Here.” He spoke.

You moved to the sound on instinct and found him pointing to your hip.

His eye was indeed one you imagined a tired scientist gave the samples he was cursed to study.

You immediately relaxed. “What?”

“This ruching here is meant to cover cellulite when the fabric gets wet. When dry it acts a similar concealment, but the way the strips are sewn are for the first purpose.”

“Oh…” You tilted your head to look.

“Thing is, it’s also leading lines.” He didn’t get any closer, but he mimed tracing the seams of the fabric that curled around your hip and beneath where you were sitting. “It’s meant to direct the gaze to certain assets.”

You blew out an annoyed breath.

“Dressing room mirrors, where I imagine you first saw this, aren’t slapped on walls without thought. They're engineered with angles and lightning to make clothes look as flattering as possible.” He brought his eye to yours. “Where did you see yourself today?”

“There’s a… mirror in my room.”

Donnie’s lip twitched with distaste. “That floor length one?”

You nodded.

“Dad uses that one to feel tall.” He sneered openly. “It tilts up from below, the worst possible perspective.”

You blinked a few rapid times.

“It took the ruching and blew it up.”

“So it’s not… that bad?”

“It’s anything, it's tasteful!” He spoke with an irritation that said that should have been obvious. “It fits your body well. Does it have a certain allure? Yes, I’ve already spoken of assets, but it is not a piece that invites unnecessary solicitation.”

“Assets, assets. What are you, an ass man?” You retorted automatically.

“There is nothing quite like sinking your teeth into that soft, inviting flesh.” He took your response and held it between his teeth.

In a blink, you saw an imaginary Donatello around your hips pointing to the fabric and on contact with the thought your face exploded.

“I say generally speaking, of course.” He clicked his tongue as if scolding you and turned away toward the water.

Hot.

You were too hot.

Run.

Throwing yourself forward, you submerged as indelicately as possible into the water.

Sinking like a stone into the silence, your burning flesh was quickly soothed by a cold lap.

A sweet embrace, you kicked to the surface and emerged with a pathetic gasp.

Never graceful, you shook yourself free of clingy drops and spun back around to view the rocks.

Donnie was staring up at the sky again and you sort of hated him for it.

Swim.

You’d swim with Mikey.

Spinning around, the other turtle was not only longer floating, but you couldn’t locate him at all. Quickly worrying that you had toppled him in your dive, you swam forward. “Mikey?”

Quieting to listen, you didn’t hear anything past the faint roiling of the water against its container.

Thinking he must have dove, you looked down to find Donnie’s earlier comment to be a correct one. With the water murky to a fault and a new fear cropped up. You had no idea what was in the water and you immediately darted for the closest shore. Something several long feet from Donnie, it was a sort of marshy landing that rocks from below steeping up to meet. They were covered in a slime that clung to your feet and had you pausing until you heard an off-toned lap behind you.

You whirled around with wide eyes and found a sea monster waiting for you.

Something matted with algae, it groaned pathetically and you sucked in enough air until the balloon was full enough to scream.

“What!? Who?! Where?!” The creature splashed with Mikey’s voice.

He’d been captured by another mutant.

You turned to get out of the water with some intention of getting to the tank.

It had to have missiles or something.

Anything to help.

You’d take a bowling ball launcher at this point.

Catching grip with one foot, you hoisted up the other. The many rocks acted like a disjointed ladder and your entire torso emerged from the water before one of your feet slid. The moment it happened felt like you were falling out of time. In slow motion, you knew your face was one of surprise. You painted an open expression where the imminent terror that you were falling couldn’t catch up as neurons to save yourself from the action.

Your mind knew, but your face didn’t know that you were going to crack your head open on the rocks you just slipped on.

“Y/N!”

Two voices.

Too far.

Something skewered your side as the first injury of many.

Hoping only to black out on that first step, you willed your possessions to your friends.

You didn’t bother hoping they would remember you.

You only hoped that they could make some use out of your worldly imprint.

No matter how small it was.

Water rushed to greet you and shoved you away.

That wasn’t right.

That was the wrong direction.

Water swayed like waves.

The equal and opposite reaction wouldn’t come until you fell in.

Why had it preemptively come for you?

Your arms dangled heavily from gravity and you forced your eyes from wherever they had gone.

The monster was right in front of you.

Its face was one of Michelangelo.

Green sludge caught in his blackened locks and his worried expression peered out from between a small part.

He had you by the waist and was holding you up in the air. “Are you okay!?”

You were a loose toy strung up.

Flopping down, lifeless, you were a doll that couldn’t close its eyes until it was laid down.

A second deafening splash came as you hung there.

Mikey’s lips were moving awfully fast.

“Did they hit their head?!” Donnie’s voice broke through.

“No! Above water the whole time! Donnie! They aren’t saying anything, I don’t-”

“Shock?” Donnie wondered, but he never came into frame.

Where was he?

Mikey jostled you as one might bounce a colicky baby.

It was pulling a string on your back and you hacked on contact.

You wheezed, forcing air in where terror had torn it from you.

You fought.

Not Mikey exactly, but the situation.

It strung your arms back.

It shoved your torso forward.

It threw your head skyward.

You gasped, alive.

You saw blue.

It was the sky.

You hadn’t died.

Mikey had saved you.

Finally.

You came down from your arching to translate your joy.

Mikey’s face slid into your vision and he was the picture of a boiled red tomato dotted with summertime spots.

He was looking at you.

He had ogled you.

He was embarrassed.

Your blood pressure plummeted twice as fast as it had when you thought you were about to die.

This was worse.

This time you heard yourself scream as you lashed out.

Water flew up as if to welcome you, to bring you where you were meant to be.

Drowned.

Returned you to that place where you weren’t an object to be viewed.

You were a person floating free.

Liquid carried life.

It supported it.

It didn’t have it.

Vertigo struck you as you moved within a blink.

In a disorientated spiral, your lids fell heavy as your inner ear tried to correct the imbalance.

There were no longer hands around your waist.

Something clicked like an engine uselessly turning over.

Weary, you realized you were standing in a safe spot in the water.

You drew up the dreary blinds of your curtain and found a muscled arm thrown out protectively in front of you.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!!” Mikey cried, loud and desperate.

“What the hell was that then!?” Donnie’s voice rang close.

That firm limb tucked you further behind someone.

You were being shielded.

A squabble happened in front of you, but you only looked down at the jade appendage acting as your guard rail.

You touched the arm and it felt familiar.

“Don-nie?” Your voice came out synthetic.

His was the body you were behind and his face appeared in a whip of his head. “Are you alright? Can you swim? I’ll move.”

“I’m not…?” You weren’t swimming.

You weren’t doing anything.

You were standing in the water.

“What…?”

You looked past Donnie and glimpsed Mikey with a faint blush still stuck to his cheeks.

“Y-you…!” It felt accusatory on your lips.

“I’m sorry!!!” Mikey screeched.

“Turn around, dummy!” Donnie growled hot and was in motion.

You were soon ushered into a spin with an indelicate hand to your back and all but rushed over to the rock you had jumped off of.

You heard a splash of what you assumed was Mikey growing distant behind you.

You hoped that would cool him off.

“You ready?” Donnie’s voice appeared like it was newly there.

“For what?” You were already used.

What was left?

Was it time to take out the recycling?

“I’m going to lift you up. Your shirt is right there.” Donnie instructed.

“My shirt…” You were forlorn.

It was your back-up comfort item.

“Ready?” Donnie asked again.

The water rocked you and you barely bumped his firm plastron.

You nodded dumbly.

Your hips were taken in what you read as a clinical way.

You were barely bounced once, then twice, in a way that ballet dancers got momentum to lift their partners.

Sure enough, you were lifted cleanly out of the water.

Only this time you felt well handled.

You weren’t swung around like a toddler holding up their favorite doll.

A child who cared for his toys put you on a shelf.

When your knees touched down, you drank in the life of the rock and scrambled for your shirt.

All the things that had just occurred crashed into you.

Shoving your head through the hole, you yanked the shirt down your body as you were already in motion. Forest floor digging into your bare feet, you didn’t need the map to retrace your steps. You followed the single, winding, prickly path and emerged out by the cabin only to fly inside it. A sanctuary amongst the unrelenting woods, you left a rotting drip trail as you entered your room. Your door clattered from where you had thrown it open and you ripped your duffel bag to shreds to get to its confines.

Pulling on layer after layer, you could see Mikey’s blush with each piece of clothing.

He’d looked at you.

You shoved your feet into a third pair of socks.

His gaze was amorous.

Into a thermal that was very much against the season, you ran out of clothes and stormed the dresser.

Sexual.

There were oversized men’s clothes that struck you as maybe being Raph’s and you thanked their huge size.

You put shirt after shirt on.

Mikey had said, point blank, that he wanted to see how far his feelings went.

Why were you so stupid?

You screamed.

Raw and uncut.

Tearing at your larynx, you ripped a few too many layers off as they impeded your melt down.

You needed space to breathe.

You needed to be swallowed whole.

Stumbling out to that accursed mirror, the shape you found there was a frumpy one.

Smiling a teary look at it, you watched it warp your face into one of dismay and you cried.

Where had you last felt okay?

It wasn’t here.

Moving around the room you searched for it.

That intangible something that would help.

Knocking everything over, you finally got a hold of a much too large pillow and hugged it to your body.

It was large and not at all as firm as you wanted.

You needed a hard wall.

You needed that unrelenting nature.

You weren’t something to be judged with heat.

You needed a cold light the sun couldn’t supply.

The wall knocked.

You spun around with your pillow defense to find the back of a head waiting there.

“I come as an emissary.” Donnie spoke slow and methodical.

“You can-!” It wasn’t Mikey.

Your pillow fell slack into one hand.

It wasn’t Mikey.

You let it drop with a thump to the floor.

It wasn’t Mikey.

“…come in.”

You took a wobbly step to spread out your clothed legs in hopes of keeping yourself upright.

Donnie didn’t move.

“You can… come in…” You repeated, not sure if you had gotten the first phrase out.

“No.”

“No…?” You took another step and saw how Donnie was clearly beyond the boundary of your open door.

With his back to you.

Not impeding on you in any way.

“This is your space.” He spoke it like a finality.

You stared at the knot of his mask tails and tried to place what you felt.

“Being out here with us…” Donnie let the sentence hang before he lowered his gaze to the floor. “I want to… respect that much.”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“I prefer the term ‘sanctum,’ but I couldn’t fit it in.”

“A sacred place…?”

The back of his head nodded. “My lab is supposed to be one.”

Sanctums weren’t places to be invaded.

If they were then they were violated.

He understood.

Is that what you felt?

Camaraderie?

Even his mania in the beginning had been one you made sense of.

Was that why you hadn’t complained?

No, you were rewriting history from your current perspective.

It was also the only one you knew.

It was one where you envied one man.

It was where you once feared another.

Now their roles were reversed.

You never had to explain your misery to Donnie.

You didn’t have to make him understand.

He was the moon.

You rushed towards him.

Donnie heard the footsteps and made it about half a turn before you reached him. “As… I was saying, I talked to Michael and come in his stead to-”

You collided with that unrelenting wall of plastron. Finding an odd hinge between the front of his shell and the back, you did your best to tuck into that space and weaseled under his arm. You felt it rise above you, out of your way and a rotation brought you more towards his front. There you felt him stop to take your over-clothed form in.

“I’m sorry!” You choked on tears, rooting the sound as deep against Donnie’s wet clothes as possible.

He let your misery hang for exactly one second.

Then he surrounded you in a soft moon glow.

He pulled you toward his chest and you burrowed closer to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I completely overreacted. It was just too much… Too much attention… the way he looked. He said… I thought he wouldn’t… I didn’t want…!”

A hand pet through the layers of your back.

Even and careful.

No further connotation other than to soothe.

Squirming to get your arms out from where you were crushing them, you wiggled them free to embrace him.

You squeezed a sigh right out of him.

“I know.” He spoke into your damp head. “I know…”

You nodded and basked in the tide. Pulled by the moon’s orbit, the waves rolled in and out with a sway. A gentle rocking, you were cast a comfortable drift by it. This was the one you had longed for from the swimming hole. Here, you floated amongst sturdy shores. Held safe, the guiding white light poured around you. One that pushed back against the darkness, it shone on you. Lucky to be in its reach, it wasn’t the type you soaked up. It instead washed over you in a cleanse. Feeling lighter and a little stifled, you extracted yourself from moisture to moisture.

Everything around you from your leaking face to the clingy pond water was soaked and you frowned down Donnie’s body. Standing in a little pool mostly created by him, you wanted to stick your tongue out at it, but you feared the bacteria clearly clinging to your skin.

“The cabin is yours tonight.”

Before you could register the words, you felt him strengthen his resolve with a puff of his chest.

“I don’t want to hear complaints otherwise.”

You wanted to pout.

“I checked the systems when we were doing our preliminary cleaning. The water will be hot. Shower, bathe, do whatever you’d like. We’ll be staying outside.”

You gave a faint nod to the wet floor.

“We’ll grill and I’ll make you a plate. Preference?”

You shook your head. “I don��t… feel like eating…”

“Bland it is.”

Now you were pouting.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Your head felt heavy.

“I still have a message from Mikey to deliver.”

“I really don’t want to hear it.” Irritation brought you to look at him.

Donnie took you in with a sort of smile. “You’ll want to.”

You dropped your features in a way that said you didn’t believe him.

“He said he’s not ready to talk as he’s having his own crisis, but he’ll let you know when he’s ready to apologize.” Donnie tilted his head, almost amused.

You blinked straight out of your bitterness to stare openly.

Donnie gave a single knowing nod.

“Enjoy your shower.” With one last sweep over you as if to check you were all still there, Donnie turned and headed for the door.

Watching him go, you saw the faint amber hue of sunset.

“It’ll all work out.” Donnie tossed just as he grabbed the knob to exit.

You turned and stormed straight to the bathroom. Drowning in clothes and scum, you locked the door tight and turned the shower knobs to their highest setting. Leaving the water to warm, you started removing your outermost shirt. As soon as it hit the ground you felt possessed. You tore off your clothes with each subsequent layer removed at a faster and faster pace. You needed to be freed. You needed that ridiculous protection off of you as soon as possible. All of it soiled, you stripped down bare and left your feet for last.

The moment they were naked and pressed to tile, you leapt into the old style tub. Instantly boiled by the too hot water, you let it scorch you with clenched teeth at first until the burn seared and you adjusted the dial for something reasonable. Still a lobster in a pot, you scrubbed your skin until you thought it might flake and then doused it in suds until you couldn’t see its color. A sea of white foam, the second scrounge came through, washing the detritus away.

Pickled in the process, you emerged and greedily took up every towel in the room. It meant toeing around the disgusting mound of clothes you’d left, but Donnie had said the cabin was yours. Until tomorrow when you’d clean the place up, you instead mourned how you hadn’t even brought your toothbrush in with you. Scowling at a fog coated mirror, you cracked the door and watched the steam leak out.

Chasing it with your ear, you didn’t hear anything, but there was a distinct lemon scent.

You followed the smell into the hall where you quickly placed it was cleaner. The floor had a sheen to it that spoke of a recent mopping. The clean line ending abruptly at your door said exactly who the culprit was. Donatello had snuck back in to clean and you were thankful for it. He’d left your sanctuary untouched and instead set a stool just outside the door.

On it was a stack of comfortable looking clothes and a note.

‘Keep your room or upgrade. I recommend the one upstairs, second bedroom on the right.’

You folded the note along its lines and placed it back on the offered clothes. You then gathered the lot and took it with you along with a brave face as you entered your room. You barely looked up as you salvaged what you could from your duffel. Carrying the mostly limp sack, you then moved to follow your recommendation. It led you through the darkened cabin and up the winding wooden stairs where the door in question was closed. Knocking on it out of politeness, you found it empty and slipped inside. It was decorated similarly, but clearly different. Comfortable in its own sense, you went about your nightly routine as best you could and thanked the space for not having a mirror. Growing more weary by the second, you thought vaguely of meat as you instead pulled back the covers.

Sinking in and imagining charcoal lighting the men’s faces, you settled down into the welcoming embrace of bed.

You eventually got up and padded across a tiled floor.

Pulling out a single slick piece of black fabric, you double checked the door was closed before changing.

The perfect swimsuit was one you hadn’t imagined you’d find.

What luck, you thought, as you slipped it on.

Stepping into it, you shimmied into the fabric and turned for that show stopping image in the changing room.

It was perfect.

It covered you in all the right ways.

Finally, the piece you’d been looking for.

Smiling and striking pose after pose, you saw a hand wave above the curtain.

“Come in!” You called to it.

Sanctum’s were only to be entered with permission.

“Silly.” You looked over your pleasing image once more. “Is it still a violation if I request it?”

“I guess not.” Instead of drawing the curtain back, Donnie slipped through it.

Tucking himself a strong wall behind you, he looked into the mirror at you.

What looked back held no heat, only appreciation.

“Do you like it?” He checked with you without passing judgment himself.

“I do…” You smiled.

He gave one of his own, though subdued, and flicked his gaze down. “Look here.”

You lowered your gaze to find him kneeling behind you. With his head popped out around your hips, he was looking up at you in a way you liked quite a bit.

You felt powerful.

You were a light bright enough for him to want to project.

“This ruching here has leading lines.” He didn’t touch you, but his hands ghosted over you along the fabric’s pattern.

Your lips parted and your chest filled with heat.

A celestial body was meant to look on.

You were safe.

“May I?” He asked you once again.

You were glad and responded with a breathless, “Please.”

His mouth opened a dark orbital maw, a new moon, which then glinted into a teeth-filled waxing crescent headed in its trek to sink into your soft flesh.

You jolted the moment the teeth supposedly hit their mark.

You stared into the dark abyss and saw drifting images of sharpened grins.

You were dizzy.

A sheen of sweat to you, you tossed back a cover.

The black hovel above you took shape as logs in the cabin ceiling.

They lined up like thick thighs appearing from where board shorts had hiked up.

Begging for a taste.

Awareness struck with a sharp inhale.

Fully awake and doused with dread from your dream, you voiced your despair with a whisper.

“Oh no…”

💛 NEXT 💛

I swear I handed this to my betas over a year ago... @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

#sunshinemoonshinefic #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #rise donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt Donnie #rottmnt Michelangelo #rise Michelangelo #Michelangelo hamato #rottmnt mikey #rise mikey #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #tw body dysmorphia

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ivesambrose · 1 year ago

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ℜ𝔞𝔥𝔲 𝔦𝔫 𝔓𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔰 & 𝔎𝔢𝔱𝔲 𝔦𝔫 𝔳𝔦𝔯𝔤𝔬 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔰

October 30, 2023 — May 18, 2025

Pick the image you can submerge yourself into or can see yourself getting lost in or being a part of, that has your message.

If you'd like an even more personalized reading in regards to this or anything else from my list of services DM or email me with your query at [email protected]

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Picture 1

You'll look back at your childhood, early teen years or even the eras before you that you haven't lived and take inspiration from there when it comes to your creative expressions. Might revisit old films, old forms of media, music etc too.

You'll feel detached to modern life quite a bit. I believe for a long time you've been quite cynical since even the field of creativity moves too fast being heavily reliant on content generation so you had kept your hobbies aside till now or were worried about learning anything new and allowing yourself to develop in your craft.

However, you'll have this unabashed sense of confidence which comes from simply catering to that version of you that wants to find joy and awe in the arts and whatever makes you feel less doom and gloom.

You might adopt a pet or find yourself feeling closer to animals. Also, do not worry too much about your finances. They will pick up.

Some of you might rent out a place or move into a new house.

Some of you will have prospective romantic suitors or an existing relationship will bloom slowly but with assurance.

A word of advice is to invest your money properly and not mindlessly spend it at the same time the harder you hold onto it the quicker you'll find your funds decreasing. Find a middle ground.

Detachment from what you have pushed yourself to hustle for tirelessly for so long and allowing yourself to dream, explore, rest and take it slow is going to eventually bring you what you truly want without you having to lose your sanity in the process.

Picture 2

Life seemed to have been filled with toil and labour that may have been showing it's adverse effects on your health. That and the need to achieve perfectionism has been constant but the results have been futile.

Either you have been working towards something you're passionate about and will see the results finally come through or you'll finally find a reason to be passionate about or something that is worth the dedication and labour you put for the long haul and you'll appraise it's results by the middle or towards the end of this transit.

You may be realizing certain connections (likely romantic) however established will not be making it. But that's okay, you'll be eager to take steps towards a new direction even if the past seems to come snapping at your feet. (Literally, take care of your legs and feet.)

You'll also eventually be pushed to become your own boss and validation. Learn and break the cycles of your own deliberate ways of self sabotage. What does that bring? That success you have previously slaved away for.

When illusions and distractions fall away, true transformation occurs. A clear mind is a gift of it's own, a power you can confidently weild. You can finally move forward without the constant anxiety of looking back.

Picture 3

You've been impatient for your own metamorphosis, your rewards, your blessings as well as your rebirth. The previous month's felt like someone grabbed you by the head and pushed you down in an effort to make you sink at some point, you prayed that it's done with, just so the suffocation would end. That's exactly what has happened but you don't realize it yet, but will in the coming months, the old you is gone.

Some of you may be feeling drawn to dark Goddesses (learning about them or working with them however this applies to you)

You'll be pushed in the spotlight now, unknowingly, suddenly and inevitability. The metamorphosis is complete see? You haven't noticed but the people will. And although there are so many fulfilling offers both in career and love, why must you run from it? Maybe cuz you've chased all of this or wanted all of this for so long, now that it's here, you feel a sense of detachment. And although aloofness is soothing and maybe even attractive, live a little. In fact, you should unapologetically live out loud.

You have this pent up energy of wanting to beautify, nurture and bewitch everything and everyone around you and that you will, it will start with yourself first. A lot of you will venture into an artistic field that will require travel, travel in turn will also help you in connecting with your soul tribe. Listen to your heart a little more because you certainly love being in your head.

You've also been worried about your family, you'll see them happy and fulfilled.

There's so much to create, to achieve, to learn, to teach, to explore to give and to receive. So don't hold back.

Picture 4

Sometimes realizing that what you thought brought you joy because it looked exciting and good in the pictures was sucking you dry after all, can also feel like a heartbreak or an afternoon cry under the shower. You've been sick likely and devoid of true merriment. Perhaps some of you aren't as happy with the company you keep. Good thing is, that's about to change, even though at first it may not feel like it.

There's conflict internally and externally, it might bleed into your proffesional/academic life. Is everything really supposed to be competition? How much of your authenticity have you compromised so far?

I do see you managing your finances/material life/academics/work/business etc efficiently. Finally resting, recharging and looking after your well being too.

At some point you'll encounter someone unlikely who will feel like a guiding star to you and might end up being a friend, a muse, a mentor or lover and if you're lucky, all of them in one person.

You have courage but you also have Intuition and foresight, trust it, use it. So that the joy you feel and what you celebrate next, fills your soul not just your glass.

#free readings #tarot community #divination community #vedic astrology #rahu in Pisces #ketu in virgo #pick a card #pac #spiritual community

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anniebeemine · 4 months ago

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Thank you again to @i-live-in-spite for the inspiration for this sister series!!

Spencer never imagined he'd end up where he was now. Dating had never been high on his list of priorities, not because he didn’t want companionship, but because his life was so full of books to be read, killers to be caught, and coffees to be drank that he couldn’t fathom making room for anything else. The thought of balancing a relationship on top of the demands of his job seemed impossible, and, truthfully, he didn't think he was any good at it. His few attempts had always been awkward at best, disastrous at worst.

And then Naomi came into his life.

He hadn’t planned for her—no, she was a surprise, a beautiful, unexpected surprise that turned his world upside down. Naomi was unlike anyone he had ever known. With her came responsibilities and joys he had never imagined he could handle. Suddenly, his priorities shifted. Dating, which had once been a distant thought, became even less of a consideration. How could he possibly think about going on dates or forming a relationship when he had someone as precious as Naomi to care for?

Spencer poured his energy into her, every waking moment spent ensuring she had everything she needed. He was meticulous in his efforts, seeking out the perfect books to nurture her curiosity, often losing himself in the shelves of libraries and bookstores. It was in one of those libraries that everything changed. He had been so focused on finding just the right book for Naomi, his legs burning from hours of squatting to reach the lower shelves, that he didn’t notice when she quietly wandered off, her tiny fingers brushing along the spines of books as if mimicking what she'd seen in movies.

Naomi’s tiny fingers danced along the spines of the books, her touch gentle but purposeful, as if she were an old soul lost in her own world. She wandered between the shelves, her bright eyes recognizing the occasional word. It was a small library, but to her, it felt like a kingdom of endless possibilities.

She spotted a thick book on a lower shelf, something about the cover drawing her in. She reached for it with determination, and after a bit of a struggle, she finally had it in her hands. Remembering what they had taught her at school, she fished a little wooden paint stick from her pocket—something she had picked up at a craft store with Spencer—and carefully slid it between the pages to hold her place. She was so engrossed in her task that she didn’t notice you watching her until you spoke.

“How old are you?” your voice was gentle, curious.

Naomi looked up, startled, finding you towering over her. She narrowed her eyes slightly, as if assessing whether you were friend or foe, then confidently replied, “Five. Names Naomi.”

You smiled, gently plucking the book from her hand before she could protest. You couldn’t help but chuckle when you saw the title. “I think ‘Twilight’ might be a little out of your age range.”

Naomi crossed her arms and pouted, her bottom lip jutting out defiantly. “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh,” you retorted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You immediately felt a little silly, realizing you had just argued with a five-year-old. But Naomi seemed undeterred, her expression only growing more determined.

“It’s about vampires,” you added, trying to justify your point.

Naomi didn’t miss a beat. “I watch Vampirina on Disney Junior,” she countered, her voice full of the confidence only a child could muster.

You couldn’t help but laugh, charmed by her spunk. “Touché,” you conceded, handing the book back to her.

Naomi accepted it with a triumphant smile, her eyes sparkling with victory. She turned on her heel and walked back toward the shelves, clutching the book to her chest like a prized possession. It was at that moment that Spencer finally caught up to her, his breath a little ragged from searching.

“She’s a handful, isn’t she?” you said, smiling as you watched Naomi carefully place the book on what you assumed to be their pile.

Spencer sighed with a mix of exasperation and relief, his eyes softening as they landed on Naomi. “You have no idea.”

But as he turned to you, his expression changed, something in your presence grounding him, making him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t in this alone. And in that moment, something shifted in him—a spark of connection, a flicker of hope that he hadn’t felt in years.

Spencer adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit that only seemed to kick in when he was truly flustered. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he stood there, searching for the right words to say. You were still smiling at him, that same kind smile that had sent his heart into a flutter moments earlier. He wasn’t used to this, to feeling so tongue-tied.

“So, um…” he began, shifting on his feet, “I, uh, I really appreciate you finding Naomi. She, uh, she can be quite adventurous.”

You waved off his thanks, your own cheeks flushing slightly. “Oh, it was nothing, really. She’s a sweetheart—very independent, I can tell.”

Spencer nodded quickly, eager to agree. “Yes, she’s… she’s definitely independent. A little too much sometimes,” he added with a soft chuckle.

The two of you stood there for a moment, each of you wanting to say something more but unsure of how to begin. The silence stretched on just long enough to make it awkward.

“So—” you both started at the same time, then stopped, laughing as you realized it.

“You first,” Spencer said quickly, gesturing for you to go ahead.

“No, no, you first,” you insisted, waving your hand as if to shoo his words toward you.

He shook his head, still smiling. “I insist, really, you—”

“Please,” you cut in, “I’m sure what you have to say is much more interesting.”

Spencer’s smile grew wider, his nerves melting away a little as he realized you were just as flustered as he was. “I highly doubt that,” he said, his tone playful. “But, okay, um… I just wanted to say that I think it’s really great how you… how you, uh, inter-“

Naomi’s groan cut him off, loud and dramatic, as she flopped onto the floor and rolled into a somersault. “Can we go now?” she whined, clearly unimpressed by the adult conversation.

You both turned to look at her, and then back at each other, trying not to laugh. Spencer, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, was the first to break the silence. “Right, of course… I should probably get her home.”

As you hurriedly scribbled your number on the back of a blank coloring sheet, you felt a rush of nervous excitement. You weren’t usually the type to make such bold moves, but something about Spencer—and maybe a little about Naomi—made you want to take a chance. You folded the paper carefully and called out to him just as he and Naomi were starting to walk away.

“Hey!” you said, catching his attention.

He turned, surprised, and you stepped closer, holding out the paper. “In case Naomi needs any more book recommendations,” you said with a smile that hinted at something more.

Spencer hesitated for a second, then took the paper from your hand, his fingers brushing yours in the process. “Thank you,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of gratitude and something else he wasn’t quite ready to name.

With a final nod, he and Naomi headed toward the checkout counter. As Spencer helped her place her chosen books on the counter, Naomi chattered away, completely unaware of the significance of the small piece of paper tucked into Spencer’s pocket.

The librarian rang up their books, and they were soon on their way, stepping out into the warm afternoon sun. Spencer’s mind was still buzzing from the encounter, the folded paper feeling like it weighed a ton in his pocket, even though it was light as air.

Naomi skipped beside him, her usual curiosity bubbling up as they walked. After a few moments of silence, she glanced up at him, her big eyes full of mischief. “Dad?”

He looked down at her. “Yes, Omi?”

“Are you in love?” she asked suddenly, her voice matter-of-fact, as if she were asking about the weather.

Spencer nearly tripped over his own feet, startled by the bluntness of the question. “W-what?” he stammered, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep shade of pink.

Naomi giggled, delighted by his reaction. “You’re blushing! That means yes!”

Spencer tried to regain his composure, shaking his head. “No, Naomi, it’s… it’s not like that. I’m just—” He paused, searching for the right words. “I’m just—uh, it’s complicated.”

Naomi tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. “You like her,” she stated with the certainty of a child who had seen more than she let on.

Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but the words caught in his throat. He sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to deny it. “Maybe,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Naomi grinned, pleased with herself. “I knew it! You were looking at her all funny, like in the movies.”

Spencer sighed, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his voice. “Naomi, remember when we talked about inside thoughts?”

She groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. “You’re no fun. Uncle Derek would find me funny.”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “Uncle Derek would have you running laps around the block if you kept that up.”

Naomi giggled at the thought, clearly imagining herself sprinting in circles while Derek cheered her on. “But then he’d take me for ice cream after.”

“Only if you promised not to spill the beans about his top-secret missions,” Spencer teased, knowing how Derek always framed his workouts as undercover ops to make them more exciting for Naomi.

Naomi stayed quiet for just a moment, thinking it over. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she looked up at Spencer. “So… are you gonna take me for ice cream?”

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief at how quickly she’d turned the tables on him. “Nice try, Naomi. We’re going home.”

“Rats,” she muttered, kicking at a loose pebble on the sidewalk. But her disappointment didn’t last long. Naomi looked up at Spencer with a sly smile. “But maybe next time?”

Spencer chuckled, giving her a gentle nudge. “Maybe. But only if you promise to keep all inside thoughts to yourself.”

Naomi grinned, a twinkle of mischief still in her eyes. “Deal.”

Spencer finally looked down at the stack of books in his hands, his brow furrowing as he noticed one of the titles. “Did we just check out Twilight?”

Naomi beamed up at him, completely unfazed. “Yup! You were too busy being in love to notice.”

Spencer groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Naomi, this is definitely not age-appropriate.”

“But I told you, I like vampires!” she protested, her eyes wide and pleading.

Spencer sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. “Fine, but we’re reading it together, and I’m going to skip anything that isn’t suitable, okay?”

Naomi nodded eagerly, already imagining how much fun it would be to read with Spencer, even if he did skip the “good” parts.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #fanfic #spencer and naomi itav

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depravitycentral · 1 year ago

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Lee this toooootally isnt inspired by your latest Oikawa post because I feel like he's a closet prude but who in HQ do you think holds on to their virginity the longest based on their canon characteristics? Glad to see you writing again, make sure to stay hydrated! <3

(Because I don't mention Oikawa in the rest of the post - I agree! I think he actually does lose his virginity fairly early on (it's a drunken night and he's a bit regretful after), but I think he likes the concept of keeping himself "clean" and his body count not high just because he is a bit prudish. He'd never admit that he hasn't slept with the number of women you'd guess based off of his status and personality, but he isn't a pure saint himself. A bit hypocritical, to be honest.)

Oooh!! Something about virgin men just feels right - that shuddering little gasp they make when you first take them in your mouth, their hands clenching at the sheets or edge of the chair so tightly their knuckles turn white because it feels so damn good and they can't quite figure out where to put their hands.

(They want to put them in your hair, maybe force your head down a bit like he sees in porn - he only watches videos with actresses that resemble you, of course - but he's not sure if that's a porn-only thing, and the last thing he wants to do is mess up this perfect moment.)

Men who've never fingered anyone before, and so their movements are clumsy and awkward but eager, almost palpably so, their eyes always darting between your cunt and your face. He's listening for each and every noise you make, hoping for any kind of direction of where to touch and how, because it's just sensory overload to be feeling you like this - and suddenly now he knows why most guys don't last long in bed.

(He doesn't want to think about how fast he'll come the first time he actually gets to fuck you.)

And of course, the men who immediately have to bury their face against your neck or back when the tip pops inside of you, every muscle in their body clenching up and this soft, whiny oh leaving their knees buckling. You just feel incredible - he's imaged you often, even going so far as to crafting some sort of stand-in for your own body, be it a toy or a homemade pocket pussy, but neither come even close to the real thing. He just can't get over how warm it all is - he wore the stupid condom like you'd requested, but even through the latex he can feel the wetness, the schlicking noise driving him mad as his hips buck and snap into yours without any real rhythm or aim. He'll push in as far as possible, his balls pressed as tightly against the cleft of your ass as possible, and then he'll just breath, these labored breaths that sound like a moan at the end while wide eyes stare down at you and his fingers grasp onto your hips and thighs and breasts and oh, god when you clench like that it's too much, he can't control himself and he can't stop it and oh, oh god, oh fuck he's coming inside of you just like he's been dreaming about for fucking months -

Of course, everyone's born a virgin, but some keep that status much longer than others. Let's discuss!!

Some men are in no rush to get between someone's legs - they're taking their time, whether for a specific reason or just as a byproduct of other circumstances. This is great news for them, though, because now you get to be their first - an honor that feels both fitting and somehow much, much too good to be real.

Kageyama and Ushijima aren't explicitly waiting, but careers and their lack of social graces haven't exactly made finding a girl a priority. Besides, they aren't ones for hookups, and it takes a long time for romantic feelings to form in the first place for them - they won't sleep with just anyone, it has to be you. (They're the one-and-only type - you're they're first partner, and likely their last. At least if they have any say.)

Sugawara and Kita aren't prudes, but they can't deny the slight allure of waiting until marriage, just because they buy a bit into the construct of virginity being something sacred you're giving away. They don't judge others for sleeping with someone out of wedlock, but it makes their cheeks turn a bit pink to think about giving that part of themselves to someone special - someone like you. (Both also have thinly veiled breeding kinks that make them subconsciously feel like they have to finish inside whoever they're fucking, and while the concept of knocking their sweetheart up gets their palms sweating and their throat bobbing, they're both realistic enough to know that an aversion to condoms equates to unwanted pregnancy.)

Kenma and Kunimi both want partners. Neither are especially sexually driven, and they'd both much rather less overt affection and contact in most situations. And frankly, neither is especially great with relationships - past girlfriends have never lasted long enough to get to the sex stage, so they're virgins by default. (Though both harbor a bit of a nasty addiction to porn, even if they'd rather die than admit it.)

Akaashi and Kuroo have both had ample opportunities to lose it - they're gorgeous, respectively sweet and funny, and every girl's dream, after all. But they're picky and secretly quite shy with their feelings and romance, so letting themselves be vulnerable to intimacy is a big step that they often chicken out of. It's just scary, and while neither is particularly insecure, there's something real and raw and terrifying about sharing themselves with another person like that. (They've each fingered a girl, though, so at least they've got a bit of experience. It makes Kuroo feel better, at least.)

Others are more eager to learn what all the hype is about, to see if sex is really as good as it's fabled to be - they lose their virginity pretty early on. They're sad when they realize you won't be their first (and likely they aren't your first either, though some are more fixated on that fact than others), but they don't mind too terribly much - plus, something about sex with you feels different from all the past times. It feels better, more intimate, more meaningful, like it's actually a way of expressing their love rather than just a fun perk of dating someone. Besides, they're so shocked and elated to be with you naked that they're practically virgins - their cocks aren't working correctly (performance anxiety driven by the yearning for you to approve of their bodies, of the pleasure they can give you), their rhythms are all off compared to their normal pace, some of them even forget how to kiss because they're so damn nervous.

Semi and Bokuto have had their fair share of partners, simply because their professions make adoring female fans a dime a dozen. Both make it a rule to not sleep with fans, but there's always one that manages to catch their eye, that tempts them into breaking that moral code because maybe this is that one in a million story of the fan and the star actually ending up together. But then you step into their lives and suddenly every other woman is nonexistent, every past partner erased from their mind because all that matters is you and that perfect body of yours. (Semi has a penchant for recording when he has sex, and while rewatching the tapes leaves a bit of a sour taste in his mouth because it just feels wrong to watch his cock pounding into a cunt that isn't yours, it's easy to imagine the girl's face is you, to imagine those moans are yours, to imagine the way she clutches onto him is how you'll clutch onto him, too. Bokuto just masturbates to you constantly, to the point where it's a wonder how his body can produce enough cum to have something coming out with his every orgasm.)

Tendou's early twenties brought with it a boost of confidence, and with that confidence came women. He's by no means a ladies' man, but he's slept with a small number of women and had a few girlfriends. His obsession takes a while to form but it affects him hard, to the point where he's certainly the most likely to suffer from serious anxiety and nervousness surrounding intimacy with you, even though he's never had a problem in the past. (He's convinced you'll think his cock is too small - it's not, the solid six inches is plenty - or that his cum tastes horrible - it's not great, sure, but there's a very faint aftertaste reminiscent of chocolate from all the test-tasting he has to do - or that you'll just think he's bad. The first time he makes you come he just sits there for a moment, staring with a dropped jaw, unable to believe that he just gave you an orgasm, all because of him and him alone.)

Hinata and Nishinoya don't purposefully plow through women, but they're the type to bring a girl home every night they go to the bar or club with some buddies. Often they'll reach out about a more permanent relationship rather than just a one-night stand, but often a good fuck is all the women are looking for, anyways. And so, while they have a good amount of experience, the vast majority of it is while being inebriated - and so, the first time they fuck you (stone cold sober, unwilling to not be fully present for possibly the best moment of their lives), it's almost like a new experience all over again, simply because there's all these details and parts they don't remember doing all those nights. (It's not that they don't remember - they just never cared enough to pay so much attention to their hookup's nipples or finger them with such precision.)

Osamu and Hanamaki don't have a huge amount of experience, but they've each had a very serious girlfriend before you, and so they have extensive experience with the same woman. But you - you're different. You're prettier, smarter, sweeter, softer, lovelier, just better in every way, and they feel this sort of pressure to make sure that the sex is better, too. They're the type to ask you every few minutes if everything is still feeling good, just because sex feels so damn good for them, and they want to make sure it feels good for you, too. (If only so that you'll keep doing it, keep letting them touch and kiss and fuck you - all with that lovesick look in their eye, a blush on their cheeks, and an insistence on making sure you're coming until you're literally crying.)

There's a large variety, but these are the ones that wait the longest or the least - but regardless, sex with you is still something that excites them like they're some horny teenage boy, their pants always feeling uncomfortably tight when you're around, no matter how hard they try to will it away. You're just too perfect and pretty and sexy, and can they really be blamed? Besides, isn't it nice to have a man so eager for you, so ready to get on their knees and beg you to just give them a single chance to please you?

If anything, the persistence is endearing.

You only mentioned haikyuu, lovely anon, but I feel compelled to at least mention some of the late and early bloomers for the other fandoms I write for!

Those that wait the longest:

Kny: most of the cast because of their occupation and the time period, but especially Giyuu, Shinobu, Sanemi, Kokushibou, Akaza

Hxh: Kurapika, Knuckle, Machi, Feitan, Franklin, Illumi

Bnha: Aizawa, Enji, Stain, Shigaraki, Spinner, Hawks, All Might

Those that lose it pretty early on:

Kny: Uzui, Douma, Muzan

Hxh: Phinks, Uvogin, Morel, Shizuku, Nobunaga, Shalnark

Bnha: Hizashi, Dabi, Fatgum, Midnight

#yandere hxh #yandere haikyuu #yandere kny #yandere bnha #yandere mha #_lee discusses #_hxh #_haikyuu #_kny #_bnha #_all fandoms #_lee thirsts

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melodic-haze · 11 days ago

Text

☆ — SONG TITLE: I know what you tell your friends (it's casual)

☆ — PAIRING: mermaid!Kokomi x artist!Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW, bittersweet angst? I honest to god don't know

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: POTENTIALLY OOC for the purpose of the character......mostly, light depictions of blood, drowning

☆ — NOTES: HI ALL I DIED BUT WHO'S SHOCKED LMAO 😜😜 this is for @edgeray's Halloween event, though it's a bit late bc I was ill at the last week of it and I'm lazy😭 GO CHECK OUT EVERYONE ELSE'S STUFF HOLY HELL. Also, my interp of a mermaid is moreso leaning towards what people nowadays THINK sirens are. I js couldn't bear to USE 'siren' bc of how they're acc supposed to be like. Winged creatures, not fish people

☆ — WORD COUNT: 2,801 words

It was often said that one must not go into the beach all alone.

Naturally, people would often tell you of sensible reasons such as possibly having your fragile items like your phone being dropped into the sand or, god forbid, the water or losing said belongings if you were to ever leave them somehow.

However, the most notably repetitive reasoning came out to be the possibility of being missing.. or ‘taken by the sea’, as everyone else would say.

It was a lot easier to just say that someone was lost or missing, but there was a certain reason why most have opted to disregard practicality for the sake of glamorisation—where you live, there has been a concerning surplus of missing persons cases with their last-seen location all being the beach, the seaside, the shore, all the same thing. And no matter how much the police had tried to investigate it (and it’s crazy that they actually did try, though that might be due to government concern), they found nothing conclusive about how the victims disappeared.

Perhaps it was because of the tides washing any sort of evidence away, though such an assumption led to the cases all collectively being dismissed as a suicide because.. well, really, they had to put some sort of conclusion to the case when they couldn’t really find any other possible outcomes without it sounding like more of a conspiracy than it already was.

(Fat lot that did anyway, because you can’t even put nightwatch on post there without them getting taken too.)

..So to a normal person, being at the beach all alone with nothing but a phone and a sketchbook in hand in the middle of the night would equate to one of the dumbest things you can do out here.

It wasn’t like you didn’t care about what would happen to you, or that you were experiencing that particular phase where you went against what was advised of you just because you wanted to be cool or popular or something (you weren’t a child, you were a grown adult with a life, for god’s sake), but oftentimes people like you all had one common flaw: artists were all dedicated to their craft, suffocatingly so.

And you were no exception, even if it had been too long since you drew with any sort of creative inspiration.

You remember when you walked back from god knows where and witnessing the way the moonlight hit the water, its gentle glow reflecting on the tide like fluid glass.

You remember that sweet dulcet tone stopping you in your tracks in the midst of your misery once your headphones lost power, the singing voice holding a certain alluring cadence that rooted you to the spot.

You remember the sight of dark crimson on shimmering claws and scales of blue, pink and purple, the palette much too distinct to be considered ‘natural’.

You remember the brief contact of eyes between your own and a set of glowing orbs that were no less striking than the tail that flapped behind the entity once it turned to have its body be entirely consumed by the ocean’s depths.

As an artist, you knew you had to immortalise the vision seared into your brain. And so, the day after that fateful encounter and consecutive days after that, you visited the beach at the exact time you remembered from before, picked up a pencil and opened your sketchbook to sketch like a madman possessed.

But of course as time passed, so did the freshness of your memory and your recollection of the details that had you entranced in the moment. The background itself? You had no problem. The issue was the oceanic figure; what details were you missing? What was its scale pattern? Was the red meant to mesh with the purple? What was it doing there?

Eventually you convinced yourself that maybe you were seeing things, and the messy scribbles of faint recollections were erased and drawn over with lines that connected the ever-flowing sea. Even when artists were seen as delusional, prone to confuse one thing with another—perhaps that thing was just a trick of the light, or maybe you’re starting to go insane, whichever tickled your fancy—you knew where to stop and come back to reality.

..Still doesn’t mean you had to keep coming back to the spot at the same time over and over again but alas, you couldn’t help it when you woke up at the dead of night just for your legs to lead you to the exact same spot you remember being at that very night.

Despite the constant warnings against the act of going to the beach all by yourself, nothing had happened to you or interrupted your creative flow despite being completely alone so the nights you spent on that exact spot were often peaceful, if a bit devoid of life. That was fine for you though, it meant less distractions from finally finishing this piece and moving on with your--

(You feel warm breath against your skin before you hear--)

“What are you doing?”

You startle, the pencil losing its gentle stability and creating an atrocious line across the page, and for a moment the irritation actually takes over any form of self-preservation you have.

So you start to complain, “I was drawing until you scared me—” then you turn to look at her, "—and made me ruin my own--"

...

Shimmering blue.

"..work."

Your speech fell flat the minute your gaze clocked onto those glaringly familiar set of eyes that pulled you in as if it were the ocean's depths itself. Its highlights were some sort of pearly pink, a soft contrast to the deep dark unknown.

And no pupils.

Maybe a trick of the light again, maybe you're hallucinating. Though you guessed even some of the best painters were kinda crazy back then.

"I apologise for disturbing you but, ah.. I don't suppose you can stop staring now?" And the mystery woman giggles lightly, her hand—a normal human hand, although her nails were manicured sharp and painted a glittering blue—moving to hover over her mouth as if to cover it politely, "I don't think I have anything of interest on my person to give you for.. emotional compensation?"

You blink, and you are drawn back to reality, "Physical, actually. You ruined my work."

"Even worse."

"You don't seem all that apologetic."

"But I am... Can't you tell?"

"It's dark, and our only light source right now are some busted tungsen street lamps." You sighed, putting your sketchbook and pencil down beside you, "Whatever, did you need something? No one's supposed to be out at the beach this late."

"Why not?"

"..Are you a tourist? Actually, no, if you were a tourist, you'd have to be real ignorant to not know... Though I've never actually seen you before."

You weren't sure if you lied just now or not. In fact, you're pretty sure you told the truth, but...

You see her stare at you, and you're unsure of what to do with the quiet.. until she shrugs, "I've been curious of what you were doing all alone at night. No one else seems to come outside."

"Don't you think that's any sort of indication to maybe mind your own business?"

"Forgive my curiosity."

You almost do, and you know not of why.

(Her gentle voice, a soothing lullaby, putting your safety to sleep.)

Instead, you relent, "People have gone missing after giving this place a visit all alone in the dead of night. Nobody really wants to die, so mornings and afternoons are when the people crowd here."

And you tear your gaze away from the stranger to look at the ever-expanding sea, "Come midnight, you won't see a single soul standing on the sand."

"But you're here," she says. "Why?"

"If I tell you, you'll think I'm crazy."

"I don't think I will."

"I doubt that—I don't even know your name."

"Kokomi."

You look back at her, brows raised slightly, "What?"

"My name is Kokomi. Yours?"

...

You tell her your name and state your purpose for coming here every single night. And from then on, the two of you talk until the sun comes up, sketchbook forgotten.

She asks you if you're going to come back now that your drawing's been ruined. You tell her that you don't know, considering your current lack of purpose, but then she says that she'll sit with you as you recreate your ruined art as if that's going to make up for the ruined days—weeks, even—of meticulously-sketched pencil art.

..For some reason, you were compelled to agree.

(Maybe it was the voice, maybe it was the eyes.)

(Maybe it was the feeling of unsettling familiarity that drew you in, or that strange feeling of fight-or-flight.)

And so you continue to go down to the beach at night despite everyone's constant warnings, putting pencil to a new page in your sketchbook after having taken out and thrown away your previous attempt. Though even then, while there are still all sorts of warnings, people have noticed that there have been less and less people going missing from the shore. Can't help but think 'no wonder', considering how you haven't been killed or kidnapped after continuously coming here for so long.

Either way, nothing much has changed in your schedule.. save for a brand new companion appearing at night, her pink hair flowing behind you before going to sit beside you and observe.

Sometimes the two of you sit in comfortable silence, other times one of you talks of whatever comes to mind and it turns into some sort of winding discussion that ends with your sketchbook completely forgotten until you need to leave.

"..If you have something to say, you may as well spit it out."

"Hm?"

"I can feel your eyes burning holes into my skull. You may as well."

"Ah, I hadn't realised that I was staring so hard!" You feel her body draw back from originally leaning onto you and you suppress the urge to pull her back next to you as she continues, "I'm just wondering... Was no one particularly interested in coming outside with you?"

You put your pencil down on the page and look at her with a raised brow, "Are you calling me lonely?"

"No? ..Well, perhaps a little, I admit. I don't ever see you outside with anyone else."

"Oh, so you've been watching me. A bit creepy, no?"

She shook her head, "The observation merely struck me just now. I haven't seen you with anyone else at night, apart from me."

Instead of giving the curious girl an answer, you look down on the pencilled page. There wasn't much that you could really say beyond the fact that everyone else was asleep at this time.. and...

"I like being alone at the end of the day."

"Mmm. Me too."

"..That so."

No one points out the fact that neither of you are alone right now.

Nothing else is said, and you continue on sketching.

Oftentimes, that's what usually happens.

And it's.. nice, being able to just sit there with soothing company—she isn't overwhelming, nor is she insufferably awkward or borderline unbearable. She was like a smooth current, her voice akin to the sound of gentle water and her touch against your skin as she leaned into you cool and refreshing.

Not like you'd admit it.

(You wouldn't because saying that to a stranger's face is, quite frankly, really lame.. though you couldn't help but touch upon the water's detailing a lot more delicately in your sketches.)

(Or think about drawing her as your muse under the moonlight instead.)

One certain topic she was particularly interested in was the iridescent visage you witnessed all those nights ago—anyone would be, of course, in an 'entertaining-the-schizo' sort of way, not.. not her way. Not with genuine curiosity laced with something much more hidden, inquisitive.

"What would you do if that thing came back?"

"Like, to do what?"

"Who knows." Kokomi wore a soft, jesting smile, "Eat you, perhaps?"

"Would you be there with me?"

"Let's start with a 'no'."

"Probably sit there."

"Really?"

As you muse on the question, you take the cap off your water bottle, "May as well die finishing this rather than live with it gnawing on my mind."

"You have no self-preservation, do you?"

"Would it be edgy if I said it was overrated?"

"Perhaps," she shrugged, letting her hair shift and cascade from her shoulders and her arms down to her back. "What would you do if I was there, then?"

You took a sip, "..Say thank you, maybe."

"Oh? Why?"

"For keeping me company? I guess? Dunno, I just feel like I should thank you if I died on this beach with you."

You turn to look at her, and before you could say anything more, you notice the look on her face; it's indecipherable, blank, as if she were sizing you up and profiling you within her mind palace.. but what for?

Her eyes are unsettling—a touch of hunger glimmers in the ocean depths—as they stare at you (and has she ever even blinked once?) but then the moment you blink, her light expression is back as if it was never taken off.

"Let's hope that neither of us die, haha."

"Right..."

You also can't help but notice the way that you are reminded of said visage whenever you look at her, especially when she's by the water.

"Join me?"

"Why should I?"

"Perhaps you need a change of pace," she says as she takes off her lavender jacket and leaves her slippers off the sand. "I get the feeling, but you've been concentrating on your work for a while now."

"I don't swim."

"Don't? Or can't? I can teach you."

"Why?"

"Perhaps being in the water may help you gain a bit more perspective with your art."

"But I only need one perspective. Plus the water would be cold."

Kokomi stares at you with a slightly tilted head, and you can't help but notice her unusual eyes softly glowing but you do nothing but dismiss it, and then ends up shrugging, "Alright. I won't force you, of course. Just..."

She turns her head, "You never know, maybe getting into the water will turn out to be your final step."

..And as she walks off into the ocean, you don't even notice yourself taking off your shoes and chasing her after a beat until--

"Wait!"

She turns around, an eyebrow raised and a gentle half smile on her lips, "Yes?"

You stop just short of her, "Fine, I'll.. I'll go. With you. But you're not letting me go. I know how to swim but it's dark. So."

"Of course not," she reassures you, "I sought you out, after all."

"Huh?"

You don't get a chance to react, not when she takes your hand in hers and leads you to the water.

You don't get a chance to react, not when the both of you submerge yourselves and you are thrown back to that very night at the sight of clustered scales on pale skin.

..Or maybe you can't react at all, not when water starts clogging up your lungs and your consciousness sung to sleep.

...

You woke up coughing your lungs out, sore and very much still full of saltwater.

You woke up alone on the shore, probably for the first time since Kokomi had decided to come up and startle you enough to ruin your focus.

And you got up and ran.

You don't tell anyone, because the only person who would have ever believed you turned out to be someone you wish you hallucinated.

(Never felt so lonely like this in so long, like you don't have a purpose--)

You don't visit the beach for a while. And when you do, you wish you hadn't.

Not when you see a crumpled piece of paper—your scrapped mistake—on the spot the both of you had always occupied at night.

Not when you see the scribbled-out 'thank you' on the back of the page.

Not when you spot that same visage at night all over again, yet with the tainted memory of your near-death and of the brief company that you kept.

And certainly not when she looked at you with those shimmering blue eyes, her claws clear of any sort of metallic red, before she looked away and disappeared into the ocean depths.

(Though you end up finishing what could have been your magnum opus forged from looking at death in the eye all those many nights, you voluntarily put a line across the page and close your sketchbook.)

(You don't end up opening it anymore, not when you feel disjointed.)

(Incomplete.)

#hazy songs!#hazy features!#the ending sucks i gave up on it i fear :(#SIGH did anyone get my casual ref though i beg #sangonomiya kokomi #kokomi x reader #genshin kokomi x reader #sangonomiya kokomi x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin women x reader #genshin women imagines

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