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caesium-55 · 11 months ago

Text

—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #manager!reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33

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syoddeye · 1 month ago

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like i'm winning it - 03 demotion

ghost x f!reader | 3k words | series page | ao3 cw: alcohol, terrible boyfriend, skin picking, crude/bad jokes, mean!Ghost You hate being alone with him.

"I thought we were going to Palm Springs."

"What? Baby, no, no. I told you last week, it's all business—you'd be bored out of your mind."

A sharp slice of pain. You worry the edge of a hangnail, peeling until blood beads. You bring your thumb to your mouth, and pull the cuticle between your teeth.

"Maybe, but I'd be bored out of my mind by a private pool."

Win steps out of the ensuite, his monogrammed toiletry bag dangling from one hand. The boyish sweep of his hair falls across his forehead just so as he flashes his perfect teeth at you. Catching you perched at the bed's edge, he chuckles, tossing the bag into his suitcase before crouching, hands landing on your bare knees.

"Trying to make me late?"

"Maybe," He pushes the hem of your dress higher, his movements unhurried, like he's weighing the pros and cons of rearranging his AV in real-time. His eyes flicker, that peridot gleam catching the light before he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he pulls back, returning to his suitcase.

"Not going to work this time, Stella." He teases, rifling through a stack of shirts. Stella. His nickname for you, the one that stuck—vintage, like out of an old movie, all tied up in his joke about your 'inevitable stardom.' It's not great , but it's better than—

"Princess." Ghost flatly intones from the doorway. "Your carriage awaits."

You don't look at him, instead grabbing Win's sleeve. "Fine. If I can't go, any news about that pharmaceuticals ad? Did they call?"

"Right," Win's tone is breezy, but his hands stall. A tell. You know the answer. "Nothing yet. These things take time, Stella." He doesn't meet your eyes. Ghost shifts in the doorway.

You release Win's sleeve, staring at the line of silver in his skin. There's a balance to maintain. You can't push him. Ghost clears his throat, but you don't bite. Win meets your gaze, a hint of apology that smooths into a grin. "Look, no one books these without a callback, you know that."

He's right. You do. Lumina Vitae was a favor. It's not like work's been scarce. Voiceovers, background gigs, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it commercial hawking a sports car worth more than your life. Enough to drop some hours at the galleria. Enough to hope it means something.

"Have a good trip. Say 'hi' to your dad for me. Call me."

He hesitates, glances past you. "Of course, baby." The kiss that follows is sudden, hungry, a break from his usual ease. It's the same energy when he visits the club, showing off like he owns it.

When he pulls back, you repeat with a shaky breath. "Call me."

He nods, but there's hesitation—his eyes dart to Ghost, then back. "Make sure she gets to the car."

You try not to smile too obviously. Win's protectiveness borders on caricature sometimes, but it lands right. The building's airtight, cameras and turrets covering every inch, yet he insists. He knows how to make you feel wanted, even when he can't fix everything. When he can't whisk you away or make a job appear. It's sweet. It's thoughtful. The warmth of it sticks with you, until it's Ghost in the lift with you instead of him.

Ghost looms beside you, leaning against the railing. You focus on the floor counter, watching the numbers tick down.

You hate being alone with him. Ever since that night at the warehouse, since he cornered you in this very elevator—you try to avoid it as much as possible.

His words always cut with surgical precision. Each snide remark calibrated to sting. At first, after Win's little security theater, you figured the comments were part of the act. Pressure tests to keep you on your toes, random snaps at your heels. But you don't feel sharper or more alert. It's smothering. He has a way of making his presence feel like a loaded gun pressed to your skull, and you've pleaded, more than once, for Win to send him away when you're around. But no dice. Where Win goes, Ghost follows.

Please don't talk. Please don't talk. Please don't–

"Such a shame we won't 'ave ya on the trip," Ghost doesn't look at you, but you feel his eyes in the wall's reflection. "Sunshine, spa days, little umbrella drinks by the pool. Is that what you thought would happen?"

You stiffen, say nothing. He doesn't need a reply to keep going, though. "Hate to break it to you, but 'e's never gonna introduce ya to 'is old man. Never was. Thought you'd've caught that by now."

The numbers drop—forty, thirty-nine, thirty-eight. Your stomach knots tighter with every floor.

"I keep tellin' ya. You're a distraction. Flavor of the week. Eye candy for Junior when 'e's got downtime. You're on the menu, not the itinerary."

That one bruises.

After a short eternity, the doors slide open with a hiss. Ghost gestures for you to step out, one hand sweeping dramatically toward the lobby and the rain-slicked curb beyond. You clutch your bag tighter, wishing you'd grabbed one of Win's coats. The rain is relentless, dropping in sheets that turn the perpetual haze into a smear of blues, pinks, and violets across the pavement.

At the curb, one of Win's cars idles. The driver's just a silhouette. Ghost waves you toward it, his smirk razor-thin. "Go on then. Maybe next time, yeah? If there is one."

You glance back once you're inside, but his face is already gone flat and unreadable before the door slams and the car pulls off into the night.

The pharmaceuticals commercial gig comes through. It's the kind of consolation you need. It's not Palm Springs, but it's work. Another rung on the ladder to climb.

On the day of the shoot, you show up ready to channel some professional gravitas, only to feel like you're not playing a doctor so much as playing doctor.

The set is almost what you pictured: white-on-white everything, big red pill bottles lined up in rows on shelves, but then there's a king-size bed in the background and the two naked models sprawled across it. Their poses a little too languid to be for an iron supplement or allergen shot.

You're directed to a garment bag with your name on it, and when you unzip it, your expectations plummet. The lab coat is…not a lab coat. Hemline somewhere mid-thigh, neckline plunging low enough to threaten a serious wardrobe malfunction. There's also a misunderstanding over footwear—the stylist assumed you'd had stiletto implants, apparently—and you're squeezed into a pair of pumps a size too small.

And the meds you're peddling? Fuelibido: Make Them Melt!

Staring at the prop horse pill in your palm, morbidly curious about how it's taken, you briefly consider walking out but shake it off. Fortunately, you know all you need to do is to swallow your pride.

At least your lines are brief. Tight, punchy sound bites. The whole thing is a blur. Your co-star fumbles their grip on the free, promotional prostate massager five takes in a row before finally nailing it, and by then, your feet are screaming.

Then there's the pay. Instant. As soon as you sign out with a frazzled assistant, you hear the soft ping in your skull. Your cut zips into your account in real time, lighting up your new HUD. You're still getting used to the sensation, the faint vibration in the back of your head, but you grin automatically when you hear it now. All Pavlov-like. You step off set, shoes in hand.

You're barely dressed when a throat clears behind you. Peering back, you see a man whose entire head is encased in a matte black helm. It's featureless except for two oval eyeholes, and through them, there's nothing—just void.

He speaks, and his deep rumbling is immediately filtered through a translator. You catch the tail end of what you think might be Russian, the English following closely, modulated and slightly amplified. Painfully scripted.

"I am authorized to inform you that my employer found your performance engaging. We are always in search of new talent. Our engagements span several key industries. We have a proven track record—"

You tune him out once you realize what's happening. Someone's trying to poach you. You. You, with a handful of commercials and mobile ads under her belt.

You think of the garment bag hanging on the rack behind you, the name under yours in bold lettering: Goforth Agency. Is this about you, or them? You can't tell if you're being scouted or if this is just how agencies like Goforth work, drawing everything into their orbits, junk included, without even trying. The helmeted man continues talking, but you're done.

"I am sorry, Mr…?" The man stops, but does not offer a name. "Right. Well, I'm already under contract." So many forms. "Best of luck."

You pull your coat on, force a tight smile, and brush past him, your heart pounding too fast. Your head's buzzing.

Mere months into the real deal, and here you are, already in someone else's crosshairs.

It's really happening.

You arrive home to synthetic blue roses, the expensive ones, for a job well done and an apology. Win's trip's been extended. Another week, maybe two. Something about his father, a crisis, and all their meetings getting pushed back. It's not important. What is important is that you need to record audition self-tapes and that he'll send a car tomorrow to take you to a rent-a-booth before work.

He sends a picture in lieu of a call. Him, lounging poolside, the water a glimmering cyan, and an orange drink in hand. The sunlight glints off the silver tracks in his skin, and you follow them, naturally, to the waistband of his shorts. The frame cuts off the best part.

>> Wish you were here.

> Me too :(

>> You staying out of trouble? No one bothering you?

That gives you pause, your ego lifting its head, recalling your run-in with the helmeted man. You smirk as you dictate your response, carefully applying your eyeliner.

> No trouble, but I did get approached by a rep at the Fuelibido shoot.

>> Name?

> Didn't waste my time. Said thanks but no thanks, and left.

There's a delay. His typing starts and stops.

>> What did he look like? What was he wearing?

> Tall. A little smaller than Ghost. All black everything. Black helmet, didn't see his face at all. Why?

>> Next time it happens, get a name.

> Am I in trouble?

>> No, you did good, Stella. >> Tell me immediately if he bothers you again.

You hesitate this time. It feels like you stepped in shit. He sends another message while you putter.

>> Can't let someone steal my favorite star.

> Of course, Win. I'll tell you.

>> Keep up the good work, and you'll earn yourself a bonus. ;)

You smile reflexively at his cheeky tone, then tap your mirror to send a live capture. Seconds later, his reply lights up your HUD with lines and lines of flames. A gentleman, your Win.

Your feet have been killing you since morning. Spending the rest of the afternoon horizontal sounds like heaven, but you gather your things and trudge out the door. The second act of your day waits, and it's only marginally better than peddling dick pills.

The club's slow. Not unusual for a weekday night, but it lands you in the stockroom, elbow-deep in crates of vodka while a barback chatters aimlessly beside you. You pray for something—anything—to happen out front.

Then Mal sticks their head in like you summoned them.

"Small party. Upstairs. Garnet booth. Single bottle, mid-shelf. Got some money to burn. Sending you the details."

You're already brushing past them, murmuring thanks as your heart ticks up. You check your hair in the fridge's steel door, grab the selected bottle, fasten the sparkler, and head for the floor.

The doors swing open, and you pick up speed, double-timing it up the stairs as the sparkler sputters, warming up to its full show. Slowing only near the top, you adjust your grip and smooth your expression, pulling on your brightest, most practiced smile.

Small group, indeed. No overlapping voices, no bodies spilling out of the edges of the private booth. Maybe it's a promotion, a deal. Whatever it is, you've got your lines ready.

But then you skid to a halt and nearly drop the bottle.

Ghost.

He's sprawled across the booth, legs spread wide, arms draped over the back. His suit jacket is neatly folded on the chair beside him, and the shirt's top buttons hang open. Your mind flashes to the glimpse of his heavily modified torso you got at Win's place.

He tilts his head, and you know he's smirking behind the slab of polycarbonate shielding his face.

"Hate champagne."

Ghost says for the fifth time since you sat. Sat between his legs on the table's edge, just like Win had you sit the night you met. You stare at his middle, and Ghost swirls his glass, which looks more like a test tube than a flute in his mitt.

"I can get you something else," you repeat flatly. This is the summary of his visit so far: you, trying to do your job with a plastered-on smile, and him, being a useless asshole. Summary of your relationship, really.

"No."

You glare, catching him hook a finger under his mask to pull it away to drink. You watch his throat bob as he polishes it off, then look over your shoulder instead. The club's still dead.

"If you don't want anything, can I at least go—"

"No."

Your arms cross instinctively, patience fraying. "If you're just going to make me sit on my ass all night—"

"You're getting paid. You're comfortable."

"Not really." You hug yourself tighter, glancing away, mumbling about your aching feet. "Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be in Palm Springs with Win? Umbrella drink in hand?"

Ghost slowly leans forward, forcing you to uncross your arms and press onto your palms behind you, ducking awkwardly to avoid him. He sets his empty glass near your hip.

This close, you can't help but look at the gap in his shirt where the buttons hang undone, at the triangle of skin. The protruding veins and cables in his neck. The champagne's scent clinging to his breath, mingling with tobacco and a twist of mint. You resist the urge to scrunch your nose. He's technically a guest, and you're still on the clock.

"Junior sent me back early." He reclines. "His old man's got more than enough security."

"So you were sitting on your ass and decided to take it out on me."

The sneer is immediate. "Not 'ere by choice. Since you failed to get a name or a solid description of the man who approached you, I'm on babysittin' duty."

Babysitting? Because some other agency took an interest in you? Your ability to sell junk pills? Your legs in a skimpy lab coat?

"That's a terrible demotion," you place a hand over your heart, voice laced with mock sympathy.

"So we're agreed."

You pause, picturing the mystery man. His helmet. The void behind the eyeholes. All this feels like overkill for some faceless rep. Then a dreadful thought pushes him to the side.

"Is Win worried I'm going to jump ship? Are you? " The questions rush out. You think of the elevator incident, Ghost's gravelly warning: One step out of line, and you'll be in the landfill. You shake your head. "Because I'm not. I like Win. And the–the contracts. I'm not stupid. I know I'd lose everything."

"No, but he's invested in you." He knocks a knee against yours. "Too much, if you ask me, but enough 'e wants to make sure no one else throws as much money at you."

"Right." You glance at the bottle, the small puddle in the bucket, then at him. "The club's secure, though," He snorts. "And I'd rather be doing something useful than sitting here, so…can I go back—"

"Aren't you supposed to dance?"

You clench your jaw so tight you think you might crack a tooth. "No. Not in my job description."

"Seen other bottle boys and girls do it."

"It's optional," you snap. "Up to the individual. And I don't dance."

His chin tips toward his chest. There isn't a trace of red in them tonight, just a dark, cold brown. "And if I gave you five grand?"

Your lungs empty in a silent rush. You stare at him, waiting for the giveaway. Anything to prove it's a joke. It's—fuck, it's strange. Equal parts frustrating and weird that your rejection isn't as immediate as it was with Max.

In your head, you know this is another of Ghost's twisted pressure tests. He doesn't actually want you to dance for him. He just wants to see you squirm. But the thought creeps in anyway, uninvited. You picture it. The narrow space between his legs, the slow roll of your hips, teasing him. Dragging your hands up his thighs and chest. His hands sliding up your sides, gripping you—

You swallow the fantasy down, seeing for what it really is, a product of his mind games.

"No way."

"Took a second." He murmurs, his tone dry, amused. "You think about it?"

You clamp your mouth shut, but he doesn't need an answer.

"Oh, Princess," He dips into a low, dry chuckle. "You did, didn't you? Bet you had it all planned out in that pretty little head of yours. Poor thing." Ghost draws his legs in and slowly stands, forcing you to scoot down the table, knocking the glass over with a clink. You watch as he rises to his full height and then bends to grab his jacket. "I'd tell you not to let it keep you up tonight, but we both know it will."

He pulls it on one arm at a time, then jerks his head toward the stairs.

"Go get your things. We're goin' home."

#like i'm winning it #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #sy writes

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 1 month ago

Text

Eyes on the mirror - part 2.

Pairing: neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW Words count: 3814 Summary: Dinner at Frankie's mom's is a disaster, she doesn't like you at all but her son doesn't fail to show you how much he likes you instead. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, reader wears a dress and heels, she has hair but it's not described, no mention of her skin tone, she doesn't blush, she understands Spanish (but I didn't write sentences in Spanish because I don't know how to do it and I don't want to do it badly when I'm already writing in a language that is not my native), Frankie's mom is pretty conservative, traditionalist and closed-minded and she's mean towards reader, unprotected p in v (do better irl, please), sex in front of a mirror, oral (m receiving), Frankie is a good man ❤︎ and we love that for him. A/N: It's an emotional work, it's smut, but it's smut with feelings and I think I put a lot of myself into it. So I ask you to be especially delicate. This Frankie is the same guy from You look like a fun place to sit and Give me more. Thanks again @aurorawritestoescape and @arcanefox207 for your precious help and advices ❤️ I made a few changes from the first draft, English is not my first language, any mistake is still on me, so if you come across one I’m very sorry. @joelmillerisapunk just 🥹🥹🥹💖 Part 1 ⎮ Frankie Masterlist ⎮ Masterlist

Frankie's mom has the same eyes as her son, brown, big and deep, but there is a sharpness in them that does not belong to Frankie's.

She has a simple, well-groomed appearance, wearing a white tunic dress that comes down to her knee, her hands are slightly cracked but her manicured nails are painted a pearly pink.

She is a short, thin woman with the haughty, imperious appearance of someone who doesn’t let anyone step on her toes, a woman ready to bargain, to work hard, to take care of an entire household without anyone's help.

She's a tough lady and you're pretty sure she hates your guts.

She addresses you rather nicely but you can tell something is wrong.

Her tone of voice sounds mocking and she's constantly whispering things to Frankie in Spanish that you don't hear well but you're pretty sure aren't anything nice.

“So what do you do, dear?” she asks you with a forced smile, sitting at the head of the table as she has arranged you and Frankie facing each other.

“I…um…work in a graphic design studio,” you mutter.

Frankie quickly adds, “She's so good at her job!”

The way he’s trying to enhance your skills since you arrived moves you, but his mom doesn’t seem impressed.

Mrs Morales is intimidating, staring at you like she’s trying to catch every single flaw you have.

You can't even use your usual sarcasm because she would surely think you were insolent and certainly not right for his son.

“Have you done anything that I might have seen? Any national commercials?” she prods.

“Um, I don't think so, we're a pretty small studio at the moment, we've mostly worked on graphics for local stores and websites for professionals here, you know.”

“Oh.” She raises her eyebrow. ”I see.”

Trying to compliment her, you say the food is delicious, the best you've ever eaten, and she reserves a cold “thank you”

Then she presses you again, “Can you cook?”

You lower your gaze to your plate and admit, “no, actually, I'm not very good at cooking.”

“What do you usually eat?” she asks suspiciously.

"Um...well...I can cook pasta and eggs..." you try to say and she looks at you in shock as if you just said donkeys can fly.

“Mom, please” Frankie tries to calm her down and she hisses at him “she will starve you!”

He hisses in turn “I am not perished! And she’s adorable, she’s smart, kind, funny and beautiful”

You feel Frankie's sorry look comforting you from across the table, he's doing what he can and you are truly grateful, but right now there’s nothing that can make you feel happy to be here.

You don't want to fight with her because you love Frankie and you know he loves his mother, you don't want to lose him because of scowling at her.

You see her giggling and shaking her head and you feel like crying but you don't, you don't want her to add ‘pathetic’ as one of your flaws.

She turns to Frankie and says something like, “How can you be with someone like that?” in Spanish.

Frankie leans over the table and reprimands her, “Mom, stop it.”

She responds irritated in Spanish, “why? She is no good at cooking, and that job? Tsk, you don't want to marry her, do you?”

Frankie rolls his eyes and hisses, “Mom!”

You understand Spanish just fine but all this whispering is putting a strain on you, you just want her to see how much you care about Frankie and for her to like something about you.

Even the dress didn't have the effect you had hoped for, she looked down on you even though her son had chosen it.

You brought her flowers and a cake to be nice and she huffed about the flowers because she would have to find a suitable vase to put them in and as for the cake, you bought it, so obviously it’s another proof of your failures in the culinary field.

She waves her hand at Frankie to shush him and turns back to you.

“Do you want anything else, sweetheart?” nodding at the serving dishes in the center of the table with another fake smile.

Your stomach churns and you respond politely that you are full.

She turns back to Frankie, squinting her eyes, "she won't even eat! how is she going to give me grandchildren?!”

You look at your hands resting on your lap, feeling lousy and tired.

Frankie must see this clearly because he finally blurts out, “Mom, if you don't stop now, we're leaving! She has done nothing wrong to you to be treated like this”

Mrs. Morales brings a hand to her chest, a shocked grimace is painted on her face.

“How dare you address your mother like that! I'm just trying to protect you, she's clearly not good for you!” She no longer even bothers to say it whispering in Spanish so that you wouldn't understand, in fact you think she said it loud and in English precisely so that her disappointment would be clear to you.

You get up while they are still busy arguing and lock yourself in the bathroom.

You knew this evening would be a disaster, but you hoped so hard that you were wrong.

You’re glad Frankie stood up for you but you never wanted him to fight with his mother because of you.

You hear their angry voices in the distance as they continue to argue and you feel so guilty.

You sit on the floor on the turquoise tiles in Mrs. Morales' bathroom, thinking only about how much you want to get out of here.

After a few minutes you hear a knock on the door.

“Honey, open up, it's me” You get up and reluctantly open the door.

“Hey, come here” Frankie says to you as soon as he sees your eyes on to the brink of tears.

He closes the door behind him and takes you in his arms, holding you tightly.

You hide your face in his chest, letting the soothing warmth of his body envelop you.

He strokes your back and whispers, “I'm so sorry, you don't deserve any of this.”

“I wanted her to like me so much,” you sob.

“I know, honey, it's not your fault. She is fixated on things I don't care about. But you don't have to worry, everything will be fine.”

You pull away from him “I don't want you to fight over me”

"She can’t treat you like that, I'm the one who wants to be with you, and I like you the way you are.”

“Yeah, but…it’s still your mum,” you murmur.

“I gave her a little speech, don’t worry, you’ll be fine now,”

Frankie smiles, leaving a kiss on your forehead and caressing your cheek, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry.”

“What did you say to her? You didn't threaten her not to visit again, did you?” you ask worriedly. His eyes become a little shy, he’s quiet for a moment and then whispers to you, “no, I didn't tell her that.”

“What then?” his enigmatic expression that doesn't let anything out intrigues and agitates you.

He looks straight into your eyes and candidly admits, "I told her that I love you."

You've felt it in the air for some time but now that you've heard it come out of his mouth, plain and simple, you are stunned.

“Do you mean it?” You ask in a low shaking voice, looking into his big brown eyes for evidence of his sincerity.

"I've never been so serious, miss," he smiles at you, expectantly.

And then you feel you can say it, no matter how scary it is for you, “I love you too.”

It doesn't seem real to you that you have just made yourself so vulnerable in front of him, your neighbor who until a few months ago was bothering you while now you feel you have a total and deep connection with him, no matter how much you poke and bicker at each other, your heart sings every time you are with him and you feel it loud and clear in your chest as it skips a beat every time Frankie looks at you a certain way, smiling with his eyes, with those little wrinkles around them and that dimple on his cheek that you adore.

You love the way he mumbles in the morning as soon as he wakes up, the way he stretches under the covers and then again as soon as he gets up, his golden skin under the morning light, his playfully mischievous eyes that settle on you while you're still lying down trying to wake up, the way he always leans down to give you a kiss, whispering, “Good morning, princess.”

You also love how he keeps that silly little cap glued to his head at every opportunity.

You like kissing him and feeling his lips tasting like coffee, you like the way he hugs you as if he wants to shield you with his body and protect you from the world, you like the way his eyes become attentive and receptive when they rest on you and the way he listens to you, remaining silent and caressing your hand as if to invite you to tell him anything that is on your mind.

You love how loyal he is to his friends, how he takes care of people, you love when he tries to make you breakfast even though he leaves a mess in your kitchen as if a barbarian invasion passed through.

And you love him now, standing in his mother's bathroom, hugging you as if only you existed in the world.

“I love you,” you repeat and he looks at your face as if he wants to study the map of how much you truly care about him on it.

His hands slide down your back to your butt and he pushes you hard against him without breaking eye contact.

His eyes are dark, his pupils dilated, he squeezes your butt tightly and then kisses you.

You know exactly what he wants and you whisper into his mouth as soon as you break away from the passionate, deep kiss in which he engulfed you, “Not here, come on, take me home.”

He turns to the door and locks it still holding you close.

“Let it go, baby, it’s okay” he replies and winks at you.

Feeling so desired by him is a real relief after feeling stupid and unfitting all night.

He turns you to the large mirror above the sink, leans to your ear and whispers, “Look at yourself.”

His hands move up your back, reach for the zipper of your dress, and begin to pull it down.

You look at him and he rebukes you, “eyes on the mirror, honey. Watch yourself while I do it.”

He slides off your dress breathing on your skin while you keep your eyes fixed on the mirror.

You remain in your bra and panties.

He brushes against your skin, rising on your arms only with his fingertips, climbing up your shoulders, your collarbone, the point where your shoulders and your neck meet and up to the column of your neck until he reaches your jaw. He tilts your head a bit and holds your chin to make sure you’re going to watch the entire time.

He holds you so that you can lean against him, and with his other hand he reaches down to your stomach, touching the hem of your panties.

You sigh happily as he slides two fingers under the fabric and caresses your folds, slides down the sides to the bottom and pushes upward.

You moan softly, “Frankie, please”

“Don’t be impatient, babe” he reprimands.

He curls your panties between his fingers and starts brushing them over your folds, you whine at the sensation as he tilts your head down a little bit to make sure you’re seeing what he’s doing. However you would not be able to watch anything but his movements. Right, left, right, left Frankie's fingers expertly maneuver the fabric over your pussy.

Your inhibitions are long gone, everything is faded and far away.

There is only you and Frankie.

He suddenly lets go of your panties and massages you over them, soaking the material in your juices. You’re so wet that it doesn’t take much for his fingers to get wet too.

Your breath becomes shallow as his hand slithers under the fabric and he begins circling your clit.

You can already feel your legs going weak so you raise your arm and place your hand behind his neck to keep yourself more stable against him.

“Yeah, just like that honey. You want me to make you feel real good, huh?” Frankie’s voice vibrates against your neck and you mewl a yes feeling your body mold for him.

Your eyes are fixed on the mirror.

You see your hot and bothered face, your lips parted, your pleading eyes and your body impossibly tense against him.

It’s all painted there, the amount of desire and hunger that you have for him, a grimace of lust and need spread out on your features.

“Fuck me,” you babble.

“Yeah? You want my big cock inside, baby? Want me to fill you to the brim?” Frankie’s smirk is wide on his face, you see his eyes focused on you, and his commanding tone sends shivers down your spine as he doesn’t stop rubbing on your clit.

“Yes” you breathe “please”

Your legs wobble as you try to stand on your feet while he undresses.

His shirt falls on his mother’s bathroom tiles, he unbuckles his belt and places it on the countertop, he kicks off his boots, unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs, stamping on them to get them off his feet.

Through the mirror you see him standing behind you, wearing only his boxers, the muscles of his chest highlighted by the lights, his soft belly just above his boxers that makes your mouth water, the happy trail that goes to hide inside, his strong thighs and the imperious erection that grows between them.

It's a perfect picture of everything that makes your head spin.

“On your knees, baby, I want to feel your mouth first,” he orders you.

You immediately kneel, feeling your heart flutter in your chest, the coolness of the tiles on your shins, and his simmering gaze dominating you from above.

You caress his hips, pulling down his boxers, and taking them off, and his cock finally springs free and almost smacks your face towering before your eyes.

You take him in your hand, feeling that familiar warmth, the softness of his skin, the pulsing of his veins, as he leaks pre cum within an inch of your lips.

As soon as it slips on your tongue you feel a new slick of arousal dripping on your panties.

You lace your gaze with his, your open mouth curved at the edges in a smirk as you let him in, you love doing this to him.

You usually take in as much as you can while taking care of the rest with your hand but tonight you want to feel it all the way down, so you relax your throat as much as you can and keep sliding it until you feel the tip touch the bottom.

You have a slight hint of a gag reflex that you manage to quell right away and you keep him there, nestled inside you, pulsing on your tongue as he looks at you raptly and whispers, “God, you're amazing.”

And then you begin to suck him, slowly, enjoying every moan and every involuntary twitch of his hips, cocooning him with your tongue.

You’re fully immersed in the act, intent on giving him all the lustful pleasure you can, licking his tip like a lollipop, swirling your tongue around and collecting his oozing pre cum.

And then you go down again, spreading it on his shaft, mixing it with your saliva, hollowing your cheeks to suck him as deep as you can.

Frankie is whimpering and you know how much he’s close to the edge.

Your hand caresses his base, then you move it to his balls, with every intention of getting him to finish in your mouth and swallow everything he gives you but he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

You let him out with a pop, passing the tip over your lips and smacking it against them twice, wetting them with his pleasure.

You give him a mock pout for stopping you but the truth is you can't wait to feel him split you in two.

He smiles at you, taking your hand and helping you up, you give him a kiss with your mouth still smeared with him.

He turns you back towards the mirror and gently orders, “bend over the sink”

He slides your panties down your legs, exposing your drenched pussy, bending down to admire it, “So fucking wet…it’s all for me, baby?”

“Just for you, always,” you turn to look at him and see him leaning behind you as he reaches down and licks your folds, a long deep lick that makes you gasp.

“So good, honey, I would never get tired of this perfect pussy.” His voice vibrates on your skin sending a thrill all over your body. “It’s the only part of you that I like to see weep for me”

His rough voice charged with ardor and his words send you into a frenzy.

He comes back to stand behind you and looks at you in the mirror, resting his large hands on your hips, “You are so fucking beautiful like this.”

You feel his cock rub against your folds, and you throb intensely overwhelmed by your craving, you mewl at him and he finally aligns with your entrance and starts to push in.

You slowly stretch around him, he groans as he slides into you, every inch of his length parting your walls.

His hands still clasp your hips, holding you steady as he gives you a moment to adjust.

You're full of him and you wouldn't want to be any other way.

Frankie holds you firmly as he sinks into you, slowly at first and then increasing the pace as your moans grow rougher and closer, his balls slamming against your ass in a feverish rush.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing my cock so hard.”

He pulls you toward him, his fingers reaching for your nipples, tweaking and tugging.

You can't help but look in the mirror now and what you see is the most exciting sight you've ever had before your eyes.

Your body is completely surrendered to him, your skin glistening with tiny droplets of sweat, your hair disheveled, your expression ecstatic, Frankie's hands firmly clinging to your hips as the wet, squelching sounds of his cock pounding incessantly in your cunt fill the room along with your moans and Frankie's groans.

And Frankie is literally a dream, his broad figure towering over you, his mouth roaming your neck, his hands enveloping your tits, squeezing them so right.

He’s completely lost in you, his eyes half-closed, his tongue darting out from time to time soothing your sweaty skin.

Now you know that you have never experienced such strong feelings in your life.

You thought so, but you were wrong.

It’s not the usual cliché of feeling complete with someone else, you are already a whole.

It’s the fact of knowing that you can share with him, that you do not have to be afraid to be who you are with him. It is the fact that he knows how to understand the workings of your brain and unravel the skein that tangles it. It is the fact that you can feel that there is nothing you cannot face together. It is the fact of feeling seen, perceived for who you really are and held close for it.

It's knowing that wherever you run, Frankie will pick up the crumbs you leave on the road and bring them back to you.

And you had no idea that it could really be like this.

You always thought, it's only 4 months, don't push it when in the meantime he proceeded to tiptoe into your heart without even being noticed and sat there, waiting for both of you to be ready to say the most terrifying words out loud.

Not "I need you" but "I'm so damn happy you're here", not "you're mine" but "I love holding your hand as I navigate my life.”

Not by owning, but by letting you do your own thing while you look at each other and think, “this is the person I love and I am proud of them.”

You're just out there being the most fragile human sometimes but you're never afraid to break down next to him.

Frankie comes, dripping onto your walls, his orgasm and whimpers shuddering against your body.

He wraps one of his big, strong arms around your hips and holds you up against him.

And you're safe, really safe, being vulnerable in front of a mirror, watching yourself come apart for him, feeling every inch of your body catching fire while Frankie is the match and the water at the same time.

He holds you tight until you both recover normal breathing, still nestled inside you.

He pulls out and embraces you, leaving small kisses on the soft skin near your ear, his large hands caressing your back.

“I love you so much” he whispers once you make eye contact again.

“I love you too, Morales” you smile, tracing his cheek with your fingertips.

You both get dressed and leave the bathroom.

You walk down the hallway leading to the living area as you wonder how much his mother heard. You cannot even quantify how long you were locked in the bathroom but it was worth every second.

You find her in the living room, watching TV with the volume on full blast.

Frankie approaches his mother, without saying anything, rests his hand on hers while she has her eyes fixed on the telenovela you watched with your granny.

“Do you think Javier will finally be able to confess his feelings to Lola?” you ask quietly.

She turns, just for a moment, and finally gives you a genuine smile.

For the first time you feel that maybe, after all, despite the way you and her son just desecrated her bathroom, all is not lost.

general tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @milla-frenchy , @almostempty , @harriedandharassed , @thundermartini If you want to be added or removed just let me know, thank you so much for reading!

Archive tag: @pedrostories ♥️

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu

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mieldreams · 4 months ago

Text

The Interview

Summary: An Interview with your co-star and childhood friend in the early 2000s.

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x reader

Warning: Crack.

A/n: the warning says crack because that's what I was on when I wrote this. more on that later.

*Set sometime in the early 2000s (possibly 2003) after the release of Life as a House and AOTC*

“—Next up we have a special and highly requested interview with Miss Y/N Y/L/N and Mr. Hayden Christensen! They starred together in the 2001 movie ‘Life as a House’ and have previously worked together on the Canadian TV show 'Higher Ground'. And after a quick little commercial break, they are going to be answering some questions sent to us by their fans! Isn’t that exciting?”

Your ears perked up at the call of your name, immediately snapping to attention and smiling politely as the cameraman pointed the camera for a shot.

“Oh, very. We love our fans and it’s nice to hear from them.” The camera switched from the interviewer to show Hayden answering.

“Yeah, it is. We’ve actually never done this, I think. So I’m kind of excited.” You said with a small smile on your face which quickly turned a little mischievous as soon as the cameras cut to the commercial.

*The cameras cut for the commercial*

“I hope they have some fun questions,” you wiggled your eyebrows at the camera and the crew, “I’m actually looking to get revenge on this guy here.” Hayden rolled his eyes jokingly and turned to you.

“You can’t seriously still be mad at that.” He chuckled.

“I am, actually. And I fully intend on making you pay,” you replied in the most serious tone you could manage.

But before he could reply, the interviewer interrupted, “Oooo what’s this I hear about revenge? Something scandalous we wanna share with the world?” his face had a curious expression.

“It's nothing too serious–” Hayden started,

“—uh, yes it!” you interrupted, manners be damned, the world has to know what a cruel friend your co-star is.

“Do you wanna tell them or should I?” you turned to him with raised brows.

“So basically,” Hayden starts with a defeated sigh, “Y/N here thinks I ruined her one chance at “true love”,” he made finger quotes in the air, “by introducing her—”

“by betraying me—”

“—by introducing her to Ewan McGregor.”

“You did NOT just “introduce” me!—” you shook your head in offence.

“He DRAGGED me to meet him even though I wasn’t ready!” you pointed at him with an accusing finger while looking at the camera crew and then at the interviewer.

While your voice took on a higher pitch to make your words sound as accusing as they did, and your face held an expression of the most genuine-looking offence, your body was quite relaxed, leaned back in your chair with your ankles casually crossed while your hands moved animatedly to emphasize your words. And that was all Hayden needed to see to know you were only pulling his leg.

So he replied with a laugh, “I just introduced you!”

“Uh yeah before I was actually prepared to meet him. I looked like a hooker caught masturbating in church with the way I stuttered and couldn’t get a single whole sentence out the entire time” Hayden and the interviewer immediately burst out laughing at your choice of words while you shook your head, your hands covering your face in embarrassment.

“And when did this happen?” asked the interviewer, still chuckling.

“A few months back – at this party with all the Star Wars folk. It was a little bit after episode 2 came out.” Hayden answered.

“So if it wasn’t for Hayden’s bad timing, would Miss Y/N have tried to shoot her shot with Mr. McGregor?” the interviewer tried digging further into this little piece of never-heard-before “drama.”

“Does Ms. Y/N have a crush on Mr. McGregor? And be honest!” the interviewer laughed.

You blushed at the question, a tiny smile appearing on your face that you made sure to hide by averting your gaze to your fingers picking a thread on your dress’ hem, “Uh...no,” you answered truthfully, fully aware that he was a married man and the Hollywood vultures that were always hungry for gossip and drama would definitely turn a harmless joke into some petty story about infidelity or worse, “I wouldn’t have done that. I mean, look what happened when I simply stood next to him! It is true ya girl is an Obi-girlie through and through, but she is not a smooth talker unfortunately.” You shook your head with an expression of exaggerated regret and pity, making the interviewer giggle.

“And how do you feel about that Mr. Christensen?” the interviewer raised his brows at the man beside you, who had surprisingly gone quiet while you had been trying your hardest to not blush and giggle while giving your answer, memories of your unholiest thoughts repeating in your head like a broken record player. (Can you be blamed really? Have you seen him in Shallow Grave? And Moulin freaking Rouge? Oh my god—)

Hayden simply tilted his head slightly towards the interviewer, you assumed he was playing the usual ‘pretend you don’t understand’ card that you both primarily resorted to when it came to vague but definitely not vague relationship questions.

But you were wrong, both ways. Because while that’s what he would have done had he heard the question, he was instead lost in the flashback reel his mind was playing — of the very night he had mentioned. Of how he may have stopped breathing when he first saw you standing across the room in that glittery short black dress. Of how he most definitely stopped breathing when his gaze travelled up your body only for you to turn, your eyes meeting his with a technicolour kaleidoscopic flash in his brain. Of how he felt a blackhole open up in his stomach when your perfectly painted red lips immediately stretched into the most dazzling smile when you realised it was him, and how quickly you had excused yourself to start walking his way.

And turns out the interviewer had, in fact, not been alluding to some “secret affairs” between you and Hayden either (as the magazines always called it, though you never understood how it could be an affair when neither of you were in another relationship, not that you kept tabs on his relationships or such things) as he clarified, “what do you think of the fact that Miss Y/N is an “Obi girl” and not an Anakin fan?”

And while you could have corrected him on how you never said you were not an Anakin girl, you were too curious to know his answer so you remained mum.

His memory reel ended abruptly, having to force a laugh to buy some time to think about his answer. If he answered too seriously, it could fuel the rumours but if he answered too casually it could fuel the rumours. He knew he couldn’t let any of his actual thoughts be known, not knowing what to do with those feelings himself, let alone trust the world with them. If he had maybe a 0.002% chance by himself, he’s sure the rumour mills would churn it down to a negative statistic. Not that he had actually thought about those calculations before, or any sorts of chances at all for that matter. No, he had never thought about just one chance for the hundred different ways he could love you or just one chance for the thousand different ways things could go wrong, what with both of your popularity and how you seemed to be two people worlds apart in your ways.

There was this queasy feeling in his stomach — odd ball of jealousy? No, definitely not. It couldn’t be. Probably just the milk he had that morning, maybe he should check the expiry date of his dairy more often.

“Um...” he shook his head while forcing a small smile on his face, “honestly? I get it man. Obi Wan’s pretty cool, eh? I mean Ewan McGregor’s definitely got the style. He’s so fun to work with and uh.. yeah, I get it. I get it.” Honestly, he himself didn’t know half of what he was saying, he just wanted to get started with the interview.

And maybe the stars were on his side that day because someone from the crew spoke up,

“Guys, so the commercial’s closing, the cameras and crew are ready. shall we start?”

“Yes.” Hayden replied a little too quickly while you nodded in agreement.

“So, we’re back after the break, and we’ll be starting with the first question to—,” the interviewer started, “– Hayden. From 10-year-old Leni Schmitt, she’s from Germany and she says, “Dear Anakin, why did you kill all those women and children when they didn’t kill your mother? I don’t judge you because sometimes my classmates annoy me too. Did those children annoy you?”

Hayden, who wasn’t expecting such a question looked at the interviewer with his mouth dropped open in shock, eyebrows raised while you sit beside him with a similar expression which you school immediately, or at least try to, but only end up having to cover up your amusement and surprise with a fake cough and clearing of your throat.

“Umm...” Hayden briefly looked at the floor, trying to come up with a suitable answer to this child’s question, he then turned back to the camera, “you see Leni, Anakin is a guy with very big emotions who isn’t allowed to talk about them openly, often. He’s a little conflicted and hurt after what happens to his mother and doesn’t know what to do. So he makes a few wrong decisions and does a few wrong—”

“—murderous” You whisper under your breath which you cover up with another cough, smirking off to the side which earns you a side eyed glare from Hayden who continuous like he never heard you.

“—things. I think he’s a good lesson that we should talk about our feelings first, even the ones that hurt and feel bad.”

“I agree, well said.” The interviewer nodded his head, switching to the next card in his hand. “This next question here, is for Y/N. It’s from 7-year-old Nancy from America. She says, “Dear Nancy, my name is Nancy too.”

“Hello, Nancy” you waved at the camera with a warm smile, understanding that the child was referencing to one of your older movies, where you played a young girl from the 17th century, named Nancy.

“I think you’re really pretty and very amazing. You’re really smart and strong and look very cool with a sword. I know pirates are supposed to be the bad guys but I want to be just as brave and smart as you when you grow up. When I grow up, I want to study space and stars too.” The interviewer continued reading from the card while you melted in your chair from the girl’s sweet words.

“PS. Can you please tell Mom and Dad to get me a sword for Christmas too?” The interviewer read with a laugh to which you chuckled too.

“First of all Nancy,” you turned to look at the camera again, “I can tell that you’re already very brave and amazing and smart. And I think it’s really amazing that you want to learn about space and stars, it’s a very cool subject.” You nodded your head with an encouraging smile, “as for the sword…” you titled your head towards the camera, dragging out the ending of the last word, “maybe you don’t need a sword because you’re already so cool. I needed the sword to fight to protect myself, but maybe you can become so smart that you don’t need one.” You hoped that the answer was sufficient for the little kid and that her parents weren’t cursing your name for their child’s slightly difficult gift wishes.

“Though swords are cool, no?” Hayden interjected with a teasing smile. You turned to give him a look with narrowed eyes, as if to say 'do not fuck with me.'

“Yes, but definitely not as cool as being really smart.” You said with strained laughter and an exaggerated smile into the camera. If the child wasn’t convinced, you were sure her parents would be sending you hate mail next for their kid’s less-than-convenient demands, so you turned to Hayden with wide eyes and an expectant expression.

“...Hmm you’re right.” He finally caved with barely contained amusement on his face, looking right into your eyes. “Nancy is really smart. And she’s really cool and really pretty too...” he broke his stare to turn to the camera, “so maybe she’s right, you don’t need a sword to be cool.” He shrugged his shoulders in a casual way.

“I’m always right.” You stuck your nose in the air and turned away from him with faux arrogance, his lips lifting in amusement as you both looked ahead waiting for the next question, except it wasn’t a question card that the interviewer held up.

“So we know we said we’re gonna have you guys answer questions from your fans,” the interviewer seemed to be holding a sort of small photograph, something like a standard 4 × 6 inches album size, but it was turned so you could only see the blank side, “but we’re your fans too, so we have a question as well.”

Hayden chuckled at that while you nodded your head, “Shoot.”

“So we have this photograph here,” the interviewer turned the photo around to show it to you both and then to the camera while your expressions immediately changed to that of surprise.

“Oh, wow. That’s really…” Hayden trailed off, still looking at the picture in surprise but now with a growing smile.

“Old.” You finished for him. “How’d you even manage to find this?” you asked.

“We have our sources.” The interviewer laughed and replied in a secretive way.

“No seriously how did you manage to find this? This was what? At least four or five years back. We look like babies!” you said, laughing in disbelief. “Can I see that please?” You wanted to look at the photo up close, the nineties quality not doing much for its clarity.

He hands it over to you and you let out a small gasp, leaning over to Hayden to show it to him as well. Your shoulders touched as you leaned together over the photograph, his fingers brushing yours as he tilted the photo to see it better.

The photo was one from the set of higher ground. It was of you and Hayden – asleep together in the highback armchair of the “common hall.” You were cramped together on the small single-seater chair, sitting side by side. Though practically, you were on his lap sitting perpendicular to him, with his feet on the floor while your legs went over his and over the arm of the one-seater couch. Your face was hidden in the crook of his neck while his head was leaned on yours, one arm wrapped around your back and the other rested on your legs while yours lay over his stomach. You were essentially squished between him and one arm of the chair and it looked somewhat uncomfortable in the photo, however if your memory served you right, it was one of the comfiest places you had slept.

“—in his arms” The Voice echoed in your brain. “Shut up,” you told The Voice.

The interviewer brought your attention back to him with a question, “So this is you two on the set of…” letting his sentence fade to let you complete it.

“Higher ground” you and Hayden replied at the same time as you left the photo in his hands to sit up straight again.

“And can you tell us more about this photo?”

“Um, yeah. This was, if I remember correctly, this was from the set of higher ground – it was the day we had to film those hiking scenes in the forest. This was towards the end of the day, I think. we were really exhausted.” You turned to look at Hayden as he replied, lifting his gaze from the photo to look you in the eyes.

“Yeah, um, funny though because I had no idea this photo existed.” You shook your head with a small laugh, “I guess the rest of them were planning on pranking us or something.”

“Clearly,” Hayden replied with a chuckle of his own, turning the photo to the camera again and pointing at all of your cliffhanger castmates gathered around the couch you both were sleeping on, each of them making funny faces at the camera.

AJ and Jewel were both holding uncapped markers in their hands, leaning over the sides of the couch with mischievous grins, their childish prank obvious. Kandyse and Meghan were standing behind the couch, with Kandyse smiling at the camera and Meghan looking down at the two of you while Jorgito and Kyle were posing in front of the couch. Kyle pointing at the two of you with one hand and making a shushing gesture with his other, and Jorgito was simply smiling at the camera holding a peace sign with his fingers.

You were honest about being completely unaware of the existence of this photo and judging from Hayden’s reaction, he was too. It made you nostalgic even though it was hardly a few years back. Your experience on the show was monumental in shaping your acting skills, specifically with how complex and flawed your character was. You remembered having a lot of fun with your castmates and feeling really good about the kind of story you were involved in showing the world. And since you and Hayden had already known each other from acting school, it made working together on set that much easier (though most people believed you to be fun and outgoing, you weren’t the biggest talker around new people).

The photo was so unexpected however, and you felt yourself get a little self-conscious at the thought that along with you, the whole audience that was watching would now be privy to it. As if the constantly churning rumour mill of romance and drama didn’t put out enough accusations of affairs and secret admirers on the both of you, this was truly the last thing you needed the world to see – you and Hayden in an embrace that looked far too familiar, as if you held each other and fell asleep in each other’s arms every day —which you didn’t. No matter how many times you daydreamed about it when you looked at his arms – his warm palms that were so much bigger than yours, the veins on the back of his hands that disappeared into his thick forearms or his strong and broad shoulders and how you’d wish time would stop whenever he hugged you in greeting. But it didn’t matter. You were friends. That’s it.

You turned to look at Hayden’s face only to realise he was actually saying something to the interviewer and you barely caught the last of his sentence, agreeing to something about his penchant for playing troubled and conflicted characters, including his character in the show. You felt guilty for spacing out and that made you feel more embarrassed, shifting in your seat to get your head back in the room and trying to clear your throat as quietly as possible.

Your movement, however, caught Hayden’s eyes and his eyes immediately shifted to you, meeting your gaze before shifting again to look you over once, to see if there was something wrong. When he didn’t find anything obvious, he looked back into your eyes, not stopping what he was previously saying but looking at you with a questioning gaze. The attention only flustered you further, so you quickly shook your head as discretely as possible to let him know you were fine but mostly to get his goddamn piercing eyes off of you, you were surely going red in the face as it is.

Thankfully, your reprieve came in the form of the next question from the interviewer.

“So the next question, is for Y/N, this is from 22-year-old Mia, she’s from France and she says “Dear Y/N, I really loved your work on ‘The Venue’, the ease with which you portray both the complex psychological conflict of the character as well as the almost euphoric seeming dissociative state she’s in throughout the movie has immediately made me a huge fan of yours. I can’t wait to watch the sequel! But I want to know – is there anything in the movie that you improvised or any part of the character that you made up yourself?”

You had picked up the glass of water in front of you to take a sip during the question, leaning forward to put it down but instead Hayden gets it for you with a simple, “here let me,” his hand brushing over yours while handing you a tissue for the water you had spilt on your dress in your hurry to put the glass down. You thank him then lean back in your seat to look into the camera with a small smile, “I’m glad you enjoyed my work Mia, thank you. To be fair, most of the ease came from just how well written her character was; so if there’s anyone to truly appreciate, it’s the writers. They helped me to really understand the nuances of her character, specifically emotionally. As for improvisations, yes actually. I did improvise some of her lines, mostly the ones with Chris Pine. With the kind of relationship those two characters had and with the help of our brilliant director, it felt natural really. Plus, Chris is an amazing actor and the chemistry these two characters have is truly something, it definitely keeps you hooked.”

“Speaking of chemistry,” the interviewer started, “this next question’s for the both of you—and this I think pretty much the entire world is eager to know at this point” the interviewer looked up from the card and paused for dramatic effect “are you two dating?”

Hayden sighed in resignation, leaning forward to pull something out from his pant pocket while you let out a joyous laugh, tilting your head back and pumping your fists in the air. He proceeded to pull out his wallet and take out what looked to be a local library card while you made grabby hands at him with a devious toothy smile. The interviewer could only watch in confusion and mild amusement as Hayden reluctantly handed over the card to you.

When you both settled the interviewer couldn’t help but voice his curiosity about whatever just happened in front of him.

“Um…” Hayden started only to be interrupted by you,

“—this is basically one of my revenge plans,” you answered with an all too pleased smile on your face.

“One of? Really?” Hayden asked with a groan tilting his head back, “heavens help me.”

“Heaven only helps NON traitors Hay–bae” you teased with narrowed eyes and your still present smirk. “You wouldn’t know.”

“I feel out of loop here, and I’m really curious so” the interviewer interrupted, pointing between the two of you “What is this revenge? Was that some sort of credit card…? Is the plan purchasing something really expensive with it?”

“Oh no no no, that would be—” you shook your head with a devious smile.

“—far too easy for her.” Hayden completed with an eye roll. “She took my library card. Her “revenge” is that she’s gonna order a bunch of really embarrassing stuff from the local library—”

You immediately started the list on your fingers, “porno magazines, questionable movies and toddler’s picture books, maybe I’ll try to order banned videos, it’ll be a real fun combo–”

“There would be kids watching this interview too, you know?” he interjected with a sigh.

“Sorry kids,” you winced at the camera, “but anyway– maybe I can order like pregnant mom guides and cult rituals instruction tapes, if they even have those—”

“And then she’s gonna make me collect them, in person,” he rolled his eyes, “cause she’s a cruel person who wants to traumatise the poor old woman who works there,”

“She’s seen things beyond your comprehension, Hayden.” You said in a jokingly patronizing tone.

“And how would you know that? What are you, friends with my local librarian?” he questioned incredulously only to receive a small shrug in response. He looked at you in bewilderment, “Oh my god? When-? How even?”

You scoffed, “We’ve known each other since we were kids, dude. You’ve lived there all your life, and she’s worked there all ours.” As if it was the most obvious explanation.

“Anyways,” you continued, “then I’m gonna make him return those things, in person, only after a week of displaying them in his house for everyone to see of course.”

“I’m not displaying them in my hou–”

“Oh hush, this is my revenge. I’ll say what to do.”

“Well,” the interviewer tried to get the interview back on track, “all the best for that. Now, shall we continue with the ques-”

Hayden leaned forward to grab his bottle of drinking water, your childish antics flustering him this time.

“Not doing it.” He whispered under his breath as he tilted his head to take a sip. You turned to look at him, ready to fire your own retort but stopped short at the sight of his side profile – his perfectly sculpted nose, his stupidly gorgeous long lashes that fluttered every time he blinked. Your gaze then fixated on his lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle, so full and pink and inviting as they slickened with the water, which then brought your attention to his throat, his prominent adam’s apple that bobbed up and down as he drank, his thick neck that looked like the most tempting canvas to paint with the print of your lips.

Your gaze lowered to his wide shoulders that stretched the sweater he was wearing before you realised what you were doing and quickly looked away, clearing your throat which unfortunately got his attention. He turned his head and your eyes met over the bottle that he still drank from and it felt like the whole world stilled for a moment before you had to look down again, feeling as if he might read you immediately, only to see his fucking neck bared enticingly again.

You leaned a little closer to him just as he finished drinking and put the bottle cap back on. sitting right next to each other, it was as if there was some sort of magnetic pull making you gravitate towards the other. You licked your lips, then bit your lower one, a hard-to-kill old habit, his gaze drawn to the movement before he looked back directly into your eyes.

What seemed to you like a moment that lasted forever, was in reality just a few brief seconds of definitely-not-drooling-over-him and way-too-intense eye contact.

“We’ll see.” you whispered with a subtle smile and a sparkle in your eyes then leaned away again, back from his personal space that you seemed to have forgotten about for a second.

He quickly looked to the interviewer and cleared his throat as he leaned forward to place the bottle back, “I’m sorry, we seemed to have gotten sidetracked. Y/N has the attention span of a goldfish.” He joked. And just like that you were back to your usual dynamic.

“If I have the attention span of one, then you have the memory of one.” You replied with a huff and a dramatic eye-roll.

“But to appease your curiosity, we basically had a bet going on.” Hayden continued.

“That he lost.” You continued with a smug thumb pointed at him.

“That I lost. We made a bet that we would get asked this question. I guess I naively assumed that rumours of us dating would be considered long dead and everyone would have moved on from this topic. Clearly, I was mistaken.” He said with a nonchalant expression that barely hid his discomfort at the topic.

“So then, should we tell them?” you turned to look at him and wiggled your eyebrows with a teasing smile. Your expression then turned serious as you tilted your head towards the camera, the smile wiped from your face, “should we tell them?”

Hayden was still leaned back in his chair to your left, while you sat at the edge of yours, your body entire turned to face his.

He merely shrugged a shoulder in response, as if to say, “Your call.”

You looked down for a second, cleared your throat then looked back into his eyes again, “We are—,” you turned to face the camera then turned your body towards the camera entirely as well, leaning ahead and further away from him while he still looked at your face, “—not. We are not dating.” You said shaking your head with a little laugh.

“But,” you wiggled your brows at the camera this time, “I still won the bet! So guess who’s getting special treatment tonight? It’s ya girl!” your thumbs at yourself and did a little shoulder shimmy, “and what’s that special treatment going to be you ask?” You continued the conversation by yourself, your voice taking on a suggestive tone with the raise of a brow, “Of really tasty food of course! And hopefully an even tastier dessert.” You laughed, looking back at Hayden this time, who was shaking his head with a fond smile that you don’t notice, because as soon as you turned to look at him he put on a faux thoughtful expression.

“Hmm… I don’t know. I don’t remember agreeing to dessert in the bet.” He looked at you with a small smirk.

Your head whips to look at him with a comically shocked expression, “Dude! You can’t be serious!?”

“Oh, but I am.” And his face held a calm and composed expression too.

“Oh my god, you promised me—” you start.

“I never promised—”

And your bickering fades as the video cuts off with the screen going blank.

The camera zooms out of the TV screen that had been playing the video.

“So, Y/N–”

“Yes, Tim?” your voice is light, going along with the joking tone of conversation the interviewer set.

“It’s been ages–what, like 15 years?” he asks.

You do the quick math in your head, “A little more than 15, yeah.”

“Wow. More than 15 years! It’s been wonderful watching you grow up to have such a prolific career.” He adds.

“Thanks, Tim. I’m really lucky to have gotten such opportunities.”

“15 years–wow. So, the first time around when we filmed that interview with you, when I interviewed you, we didn’t get to show it to the world–” he points to that same TV screen while you shake your head in confirmation.

“But now, we got to show it for the first time, even if it’s 15 years late!” he laughs. “So Y/N, from then to now, what’s changed?” he questions in a curious tone.

“A lot, Tim.”

You sneak a longing glance at Hayden who's sitting beside you on the couch before looking back at Tim. “A lot.”

“I mean–” you lift your hand, wiggling your fingers to show off the small sparkling diamond on your left ring finger. An uncharacteristically quiet smile graces your face as the audience erupts into screams in the background.

sooo it's been two decades... who's ring do we think it is? Hayden's? or did some other lucky guy shoot his shot first and win?? will we ever find out?? if it's not Hayden's should we change that??? 👀

ps: if anyone's confused about how they were sitting in the photo it's something like this but they're sitting on one of those single armchair types so they'd be forced a little closer so more like this or this (with ur butt on the cushion itself cuz you're still! just! friends!!!)😏😈

A/n: aight so when I said I wrote this on crack didn't mean literally ofc.

I wrote this ages ages ago when I watched a bunch of 2000s HC edits and got crazy stupid embarrassingly obsessed with him (again) so I just had to channel all that into some cringe thing. so here it is. after rotting in my drafts for so long. idk might take it down later we'll see. but for now y'all have her (even tho nobody asked for this so im sry)

I had only written this for shits and giggles so if things don't make sense don't bother telling me I already know.

But if you enjoyed it do like and comment! xx

#miel works #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen #star wars #hayden christensen fanfiction #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen fluff #star wars prequels #sam monroe x reader #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #scott barringer #x reader #star wars anakin

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ggidolsmuts · 1 year ago

Text

Our Love Language is Sex - ITZY Ryujin

"Woojin sunbae, I think I like you..."

No Ryujin, what are you doing? You told her to tell him how she felt, not tell him how she felt in front of everyone else! You can't see her expression from behind, but the sunbae's lip lifts to one side in disgust.

"What? Ew, no. Sorry Ryujin." His tone was anything but sorry.

"Damn, I'm jealous bro." One of his mates said.

"Yeah? You can have her then, how about it Ryujin?" The way the love of her young life offers her away so easily shatters her heart, and she sniffles and runs. His words as she leaves rings in her ear, stinging her as she leaves.

"Guess not, sorry bro." You hurry to catch up to her, finding her crying in a classroom. Quietly you slide the door open and close it behind you.

"Ryujin... You okay?"

"Obviously, fucking, not!" She turns to face you, her sadness stained with anger. "It's all your fault!"

"My fault?"

"You said to tell him how I felt!"

"Yeah, but not in front of everyone! Find a private spot or something, like here!"

"You should have said that then!" Ryujin shouts back at you, landing a punch on your chest. "How was I supposed to know?"

"I thought you would have some sense! Fuck you're thick sometimes."

"Fine I'm thick, just go and fuck off then!" Your back hits the wall as she pushes you away. Damn it, you were here to comfort her, not get angry at her!

"Ryujin that's not what I meant."

"I don't care! I don't want to see you!"

"Come on Ryujin." You grab her wrist, and she flings her arm to get you off, catching you in the face.

"Oh shit, I'm— I'm telling you to go away!" she shouts. Her blood runs cold looking at your stunned expression. She should have apologized, why didn't she apologize! "I mean I'm—"

"I get it, I'm sorry I came." You turn around and exit the classroom, slamming the door shut.

-----

You barely speak to Ryujin in school after, and you graduate and move on with your life just like she has.

Until today.

You knew your company was engaging ITZY as a spokesperson for their products, and you saw their commercials pop up in your office sometimes, but you never expected to see them in your office.

"All in us, we are ITZY! Thanks for having us!" Your coworkers cheer and clap. The members proceed to introduce themselves.

"Hello, I'm Ryujin, nice to meet everyone!" You blink and confirm what, or rather who you are seeing—not just ITZY's Ryujin, but the Ryujin who you went to school with all those years ago. You had heard that she became a trainee, but you never made the connection, that ITZY's Ryujin and your Ryujin were one and the same. Her appearance on the commercials and posters seemed familiar, but you never gave it much thought.

Ryujin scans the crowd, used to the wall of phones staring right back at her. Oddly enough, someone is watching without their phone up—maybe he doesn't know who they are. He's staring right at her, through her, and the face is suddenly familiar.

No way.

Your gaze catches Ryujin's, and her eyes widen in recogniztion, mouth opening slightly, as if to call out. Hurriedly you nod and bow slightly, and Ryujin gives a small nod in return, a puzzled expression briefly on her face before she quickly goes back to being a professional idol and smiling for the cameras.

After sweeping the room with a smile, Ryujin looks back to where he stood just a moment ago, only to find him gone. That was surely him! She scans the crowd of office workers, but everyone else has a phone up. Where did he go? The rest of the schedule goes as normal—a couple of office workers ask her to sign a few personal items, but not him.

"Manager oppa, let me use the washroom real quick."

"Sure, we'll wait in the lobby."

A few hurried steps—where did he go, he can't have gone far!

"Ryujin-ssi, are you looking for something?"

"Yes I—" She interrupts herself, hearing his name behind her.

"Hey, you just missed out on ITZY, can you believe they were here?! Whoa!" Ryujin surprises both you and and your fanboying co-worker. "Oh my god hello!"

"Ah yes, hello!" She greets him nicely before bringing her gaze to you. "Hey."

"Oh, yeah umm, hey. It's been a while."

"Mmhmm."

"Wait, you know him Ryujin-ssi?"

"Yeah, we were classmates, if you could excuse us."

"Oh, of course! Would you mind signing this—" Ryujin grabs his notebook and signs it quickly, and you get a jovial and envious nudge from your co-worker before you are left alone with her.

"How have you been?" Ryujin asks softly.

"Good," you reply succintly. Never has a single word so poorly summarized your life since that moment years ago. Suddenly you had no one to gossip with, no one to share secrets with, no one to veg out with on slow weekend afternoons.

-----

"If you think about it, clouds are just leaky water balloons." Ryujin mutters as she lays next to you.

"What? That makes no sense." You shoot back.

"Just like you having a crush on that girl, Jisoo? What do you even see in her?"

"Oh, so now we're back on that? She seems nice, and she's cute!"

"Aish, I just don't like her. And since when did you like cute? You hated my aegyo, what if Woojin oppa likes it?"

"Him?" All he wants is to get with you! You couldn't bring yourself to say that. "He likes the sexy style. Guys are all perverts."

"Just like you right? I know you go mad at any girl who shakes her hips hmm? Anyways I'm sure Woojin oppa is different! If I'm sincere he'll feel it!"

"Yeah sure, go try that if you want." Sometimes you're so naive! You didn't add.

"Fine I will, hmph!"

-----

"How about you? Your group's doing well." he asks her. How was it for her, Ryujin thinks to herself... And seeing him for the first time in years, she remembers it sucked.

-----

"Ryujin, are you okay? Should I let the teacher know you can't do the trainee evaluation tomorrow?"

"Yes Yeji-unnie, it's just a cold, I can do the evaluation tomorrow, I have to," she manages to suppress a sniffle from beneath the covers. She pulls out the phone she hid inside her pillowcase, careful to not let any light leak out into the room. Her thumbs work on muscle memory—she needs to talk to someone. It stops at a familiar name, but it belongs to someone she could no longer talk to. Ryujin's lips quiver—it has been weeks since then, and he hasn't even reached out once! Yet she couldn't bring herself to be the one to reach out. She taps the phone against her forehead and hides a sob with a sniffle.

"Do you want some medicine?"

"No, I'm okay, thank you unnie, good night!"

"If you say so, good night."

Ryujin turns the phone off and slides it back under her pillow.

Just one message from you...

-----

"Yeah, it's all thanks to our fans."

"Nice, congratulations."

"Hmm? What for?"

"I dunno, I see ITZY winning a lot of stuff, I guess? I just never realized it was you, you look pre— I mean, your hair is very different now."

What was that? "O-Oh, yes, idol hairstyles, you know how it is." No of course he doesn't! Ryujin berates herself.

"Right..." There is an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of a manager or bodyguard calling out for her. "You should go, good to see you though."

"Yeah, yeah." Ryujin takes a quick peek around the corner and winces. "Hey, give me your phone!" You hand her your device, and she does a few quick taps.

"Ryujin-ssi?" A burly voice calls out.

"Yes I'm coming! Sorry I couldn't find the washroom!" She hurriedly calls out before returning you your phone. "Thanks, bye!" She disappears from sight around the corner, sounding all apologetic to the voice as they grow more distant.

You look down at your phone, it is a text to an unknown number, but clearly addressed to you.

*That's my number, I'll message you*

The old you would not have recognized the current you, going to your phone immediately when you hear it buzz, like you were a technology-addicted teenager once more. It had been months since you met Ryujin again, and things have been mending silently and slowly. She would text you, you would text back. You would see her group win one award or another, you would text her, and she would text back, albeit heavily delayed. Without seeing her in person, it is easy to forget what had happened between the two of you, and you are just glad to be messaging your old friend again. That is, until you see the current message buzzing on your phone.

*Hey, are you free for a coffee?*

You are in a cafe a few days later, one of the few still open late at night. You sit down across someone trying to be anonymous, donning a mask, cap, and a hoodie over all that. But you know she's Ryujin.

"Hey, at least take the mask off, do you know how much you stand out, someone who's wearing a mask, sitting in a cafe?"

"I was just waiting for you."

"Sure. What do you want, I'll go order."

"Just the usual—" Ryujin freezes. It has been so long, and yet reflexively she tosses out her order, like they are just doing a study session at a cafe near school instead, all those years ago.

"Sure." She stares at him walking away, and a thought strikes her—is he still the same?

The answer arrives along with her coffee as you sit down across from her, one arm across your chest, the other occupied with drinking coffee, one leg perched and crossed—defensive, guarded, cold.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"I-I just wanted to catch up. It's been so long since we talked."

"And whose fault is that?" A chill goes down her spine, and it wasn't from the ice in her drink—it would not be a jovial reunion. Ryujin tries to keep it light.

"Are you still on about that? Come on, that was so long ago."

"Oh, so at least you haven't forgotten about it, I guess that's good." Each word is a heavy blow on her heart. "So why did you ask me here?"

"I was just wondering how you've been—"

"Now that you've remembered I exist? But never thought to reach out before that hmm? I should send my thanks to JYP for signing that deal."

"What? You could have reached out too!" Ryujin already felt guilty, and now she felt stung too by your barbs.

"Yes, but I didn't, because you asked me not to! You told me to go away." you hiss back. "And now that you want to talk to me again, you just reach out to me like nothing has happened?"

"What was I supposed to do? I was busy with being a trainee! I'm sorry okay? I should have said that then."

"Well you can stay busy being an idol then!" You jerk your head in self-annoyance—you were a little too loud, and people turn to look, making Ryujin tilt her head lower. "Come on, let's go." She nods and follows you out the door.

"I'm really sorry, I should have said that right after I hit you. I was just happy to see you again, I didn't think about how you felt."

"I'm... not unhappy to see you again, but I don't know if I can handle meeting you like nothing has happened."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing, just give me time, it's one thing to text someone on the phone, it's another to see them again."

"How much time do you need?"

"Hopefully less than a few years—" you catch your own snide remark as you hear Ryujin sniffle, and it wasn't that cold out. "Sorry, that was low, I don't know."

"At least you said it right away," Ryujin bitterly jokes to herself. You shrug and pat her on her shoulder in goodbye.

"Good luck on your comeback."

After a long while Ryujin takes a sip of her bitter coffee, except now it is salty. How did it all go so wrong, how was she so completely off?

Ryujin drowns herself in her work, proving his words right as she stays busy being an idol. Every so often her members catch a small smile before the sides of her lips flatten out—she still exchanged messages with him, but they were more iced Americano than hot chocolate. Many times she debated just sending a message, asking him if they could meet, but fearful of rejection, she could never bring herself to.

"What's up?" Yeji asks, sitting down next to her. "You keep smiling and then frowning at your phone."

"You know that guy I met at that event? The one I said I knew from school?"

"Yeah, at that company thing? You said you were close friends."

"We were, but I did something back then, and now we're not close anymore." She spills her history with him to Yeji.

"That's it? I mean, if he's still holding a grudge then fuck him."

"Yeah but, he's not wrong. We were close, I hit him, and I never even said sorry until now."

"You did say sorry this time right?"

"Yes, he said he needed time."

"Just give him time then, he has his life, if he wants you back in his life, then he'll let you know. Or if you want him back in yours, just reach out and ask, you don't know if you don't ask. But it's not like he has been a part of yours for years now right?"

"I guess."

"Exactly, at least you're texting with him now, he hasn't ghosted you, that should count for something!"

"No you're right, you're right, thanks unnie." Ryujin steels herself as Yeji leaves her room. She can do this, it's just one text, she's not asking him out on a date, she just wants to catch up! Maybe she can ask him out for drinks, maybe with other people around so that it won't get awkward, she can do that! But... maybe next week! First she has to look up when the next company hweshik is, yes, the message can wait.

"Hey, say hi, this is my old friend, I've known him since forever!" Ryujin introduces you to her group, pushing you down between two of her members before sitting down opposite you. Introductions go around, and you recognize the two members next to you as Yeji and Chaeryeong. Food and drinks arrive, although it seems like Ryujin is the only one drinking, and the atmosphere remains awkward—when Ryujin asked to catch up over drinks you assumed it would be a quiet thing, and certainly not in a group setting.

"Yah, don't try to be an idol around him and just take little sips, he's seen me do stupid stuff before, just drink!" Yeji and Chaeryeong start off slow, but soon they begin to take swigs, and you begin to do the same, and as the alcohol begins to flow, so does the conversation.

"So what was Ryujin like in school? Did she study at all, I bet she didn't!" Chaeryeong jokes.

"No no, she did study, she studied my homework." You joke, to raucous laughter from the ITZY members and staff.

"No I didn't, I even did better than you on exams!" But of course, no one listens to her. She is mollified after some placating from her members and more food on her plate, and the conversation flows on until the inevitable question.

"So, who's your favorite member in ITZY?" Chaeryeong asks, giggles bubbling out of her. It sparks a titter around you.

"Yah that's so boring!" "You're just saying that because you won't win!" "You're just saying that because he knows you!" "Says the one who spent 15 minutes choosing an outfit!" "Says the one who spent 30 minutes on make up today!" Ryujin blushes at the last comment—did she really spend 30 minutes on makeup today?

You save her the embarrassment by calming them down.

"I'll be honest, it's very nice to meet all of you, but I don't really know enough about any of you? So I guess all of you are my favorites?"

"Boo, cop out, drink! What if you had to choose? Like, I'll pay for your dinner today if you choose."

"Yeji unnie, don't make him pay for his dinner today! I'll cover you." Ryujin hastily butts in.

"Sure sure, I'll buy a second round of drinks if you choose." Ryujin makes to say something, but ultimately she has no retort and waits with the rest of them.

"I guess... since I know her the best, I'll go with Ryujin?" She pumps her fist, and rewards you with a healthy serving of grilled meat.

"Psh, wow, you gave the default answer. What if Ryujin isn't a choice, or who would be number two?"

"I guess number two would be—" your answer is drowned out by a roar as you see JYP the man himself, get on top of a table and start dancing, complete with plastic table sheet around his waist. The rest of the dinner and drinks flyby, and soon it is time to leave.

"It's nice to meet you all—" you start, but Ryujin cuts you off and throws an arm over your shoulder.

"No no, we're going to go for a round two, we need to catch up!"

"You can't Ryujin! We should go back home."

"No! I want a round two!" She yells, more than a little tipsy.

"You can't be seen in public like this!"

"I'll just drink at his house then!" She jerks a thumb in your direction. Their manager protests against it, and Ryujin yells back, but ultimately Yeji steps in.

"It's fine manager oppa, just let them catch up." After gently pushing the manager away Yeji turns to you. "Just go straight home with her okay? Take a taxi, make sure you two don't drink in public, and remind her to take a taxi back."

"Got it, I'll make sure she stays out of trouble." With that you half-walk and half-lurch with Ryujin into the back of a cab and back to your place. You open the door and Ryujin makes herself at home.

"Wow, living by yourself and everything, you've made it!"

"At least take your shoes off Ryujin!" They thud on your floor.

"Surely you have beer right?"

"Yeah, but all you get is one can."

"Cheapskate!"

"Fine, two cans." You grab four cans and sit down opposite her, and as you do so the alcohol suddenly hits you—you must have had more than you realized.

"Yah, so really, who would you choose from our members? Who's your favorite?" Ryujin asks him.

"What? How are you still on that?"

"Would you really choose me?" She persists, pestering and provoking you for an answer. She scoots herself closer. "Am I your favorite, am I the prettiest?"

"Well you did spend 30 minutes on makeup, so I guess?"

"Really? Awwww!" Ryujin clings on to him tightly.

"God of course you're a clingy drunk!" You try to break out of the embrace, but unfortunately you pause when you see Ryujin close up—she really is pretty tonight. Silently the two of you stare at one another, dual gazes dueling.

"Hey, you ever think... that we should have gotten together?" Ryujin whispers.

"What?"

"We had to deal with so many rumors back then, remember? Everyone thought we were dating."

"Idiots, all of them."

"You never considered it? I have..." She's an inch from you, maybe not even that. "I would have—" Ryujin crumples in your arms and passes out.

-----

"Argh, the girls are all saying I'm going out with you!"

"So?"

"Well we're not!"

"Exactly, so who cares?" You shrug and return to your video game.

"Me!"

"Why? Do you want us to go out so that it's true?" You are blind to Ryujin's blush, just as you get flashbanged in game.

"No that's not the point! It's about my image!"

"Sure sure, I don't have an image so I don't care. Let me know if you want us to go out."

"How can you joke about something like that!" She leaves in a huff, slamming the door behind her.

"Tch, I didn't say no did I?" You mutter under your breath.

-----

Ryujin blinks and rubs the sleep from her eyes. She tries to get up, only to be suddenly aware of a firm arm around her.

"Mmm, just a little longer." The warm heat of his chest flows straight into her back. The hot breath on her neck makes her all warm and... tingly.

"Hey..." She whispers. "I need to go."

"No, stay—" you finally process the voice and your eyes snap open, to the back of someone's head, someone you knew far too well. "Ryujin? Dah!" You hurriedly let her go as she pushes herself away. "What happened last night?"

"I don't remember." She sits up and runs a hand through her hair. "Do you?"

"No, we sat down with beers, and then nothing after that."

"Ugh... Did we—" she checks herself, breathing a sigh of relief as she finds herself fully clothed.

"Of course not!"

"Yeah, like you're the one who has the most to lose here!" Ryujin fires back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The members will know I stayed the night, what do you think they'll think?"

"Just tell them the truth, we did nothing and you spooned me!"

"I? Spooned you? No no, the big spoon is the one doing the spooning, you spooned me."

"No, that's called a normal sleeping position, I wouldn't be spooning you if you didn't back yourself into me, little spoon."

"I'm not little— Whatever, I don't have time to argue, I have to go."

"Fine. Why did you even want to meet up?"

"What?" Ryujin asks, distracted and putting on her sneakers.

"You wanted to catch up, I came, except it was your hweshik? Like why?"

"I-I thought it would be a more casual setting, that's all."

"I mean, you're not wrong, but we ended up too drunk to talk after."

"Okay I'm sorry, let's meet up some other time, just us okay?"

"I'll hold you to do that." Ryujin waves goodbye, leaving the two of you annoyed and... frustrated, in more ways than one.

It is weeks later when Ryujin reaches out, and you begrudgingly agree to meet up yet again. You are more than slightly annoyed when you see someone sitting next to her.

"Ye... Ji, right?"

"Yes, you remembered!" Ryujin exclaims delightedly. "That saves me on introductions, I'll be right back!" With that she's already off to order coffee for everyone. You greet Yeji with an awkward smile.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, you? It's good to meet you again, I was afraid Ryujin killed you after she didn't come back that night," Yeji jokes.

"We didn't do anything." You say automatically. "But that's a huge jump to make."

"Well, she came back with a guilty smile, like she enjoyed whatever she did that night. Her hair and makeup was fine, so clearly you didn't make a move on her—"

"I wouldn't make a move—"

"Which is so crazy to me, that her offing you isn't as large a jump to make."

"Ryujin's not—" Yeji's raised eyebrow stops you in your tracks. "I don't think of her that way."

"Really? She'll make you then, when she finally figures out she wants to."

You were about to ask what she meant, when Ryujin returns with the drinks. She puts your usual coffee order in front of you and sits down next to Yeji.

"So unnie, what do you think? Do you like him?"

"What?" You and Yeji nearly spit your drinks out.

"What are you talking about, isn't he your style?" Ryujin turns red and nearly spits her own drink out.

"No! He's my friend! I-I thought you were looking for someone unnie!"

"Keep your voice down!"

"Ryujin what are you doing? I never asked you about Yeji." You nod your head slightly towards Yeji. "Sorry, didn't mean it like that, I just don't know you well at all." She dismisses you with a kind smile, or so you thought, but the smile was for other reasons.

"None taken." God I am looking at two idiots.

"You have to start somewhere don't you?" Suddenly thirsty, Ryujin's drink is almost gone already. "You're not... in a relationship are you?"

"No I'm not, but you can't spring something like this on people."

"He's right you know. You don't just randomly bring people together without them knowing and expecting something to happen."

"Okay so I missed a step, I thought it would be a good idea."

"I'm heading out," you say with finality, finishing the rest of your drink with a shudder—ugh, brain freeze. "Ryujin, if you want to catch up, I'm more than happy to, but I don't know why you're pussyfooting around me about just talking one-on-one. I'm more than happy to get to know Yeji if you would just tell me, or tell her, for that matter, beforehand."

"Sit." Just as firmly as he left them, Yeji sits Ryujin down once they return to the dorms. "So, why did you make up that stuff about me? You're going to use your unnie without telling her?"

"Sorry! I just felt that it would be too awkward with just the two of us."

"I thought you two are old friends."

"We are, but it's different now, we grew up, things change."

"You like him, he is your style."

"What? No that's not what's happening here."

"Please Ryujin, it's been weeks, months even, since you first saw him again, any other guy that didn't show interest you would have moved on, and yet here you are, you spent a night with him—"

"We didn't—"

"Let me finish," Yeji warns in her I'm-the-leader tone. "You spent a night and didn't do anything with him, and yet you are using your dear unnie as an excuse to see him again. It's one thing if the sex is good and you want an excuse to see him again, it's another if you two haven't slept together yet."

"We did sleep together! He spooned me!" Ryujin says defensively.

"You two really are cute little idiots. I don't know what is going on between the two of you, but here, I will book a nice hotel suite with two nice king-sized beds. You two can go there and have a nice conversation, make things not awkward, and if you're really just friends with him, you can each spend the night on a nice big comfy bed. If not, feel free to not sleep in one bed together, naked!"

"Yeji unnie!"

"You're being foolish, and so is he."

"What?"

"He cares enough to text you first sometimes, so he's not disinterested. All I'm saying is, you put not a boy and a girl, but a man and a woman, in a hotel room, and things may just turn out fine." Yeji pats Ryujin on the head. "Just let me prepare everything, and I'll tell you when okay?"

"Yes unnie."

You should have realized that something was up when Ryujin invited you to a hotel. You gave her the benefit of the doubt when you see Yeji meeting you in front of the hotel ("She insisted I show you to the room, that's all, I'm not staying."). You probably shouldn't have when you realize you were going up to a suite.

"What's going on?" you ask Yeji right outside the door. "Ryujin can afford this?"

"She can, but I paid for this. As the leader I feel partially responsible about what she did to you last time, so I set up the two of you to have a night in, just like old times. Movies, snacks, games, you name it!"

"I wasn't planning on staying a night here, I thought it would be at a restaurant or something."

"It's okay, I just thought a room would be quieter than a restaurant, you don't have to stay the night if you don't want to."

"I see, thanks, I guess. Where's Ryujin?"

"She's in there already, go ahead." Yeji gives you a pat on your back as she leaves, and you wait for the ding of the elevator before knocking.

"Hey."

"Hey, thanks for coming."

"Sure. Whoa, Yeji really did prepare everything." That she did, a huge spread of snacks, food, and a counter of various coffees, soft drinks, and alcohol—looks like you wouldn't need to order room service. "So, what should we do first?"

"I don't know, game? What did we do back then?" Ryujin asks, fumbling with her bag of chips.

"Watch a movie? Or TV?" That sounded good, so you scooped up some snacks and joined Ryujin on the sofa in the "living room" of the suite. You see two Ryujins in the room.

"Whoa, what's that?" You ask, nodding to the TV.

"Oh, it's nothing, was just monitoring a recent performance."

"Monitoring?"

"Like, watching yourself, checking for mistakes, stuff like that."

"That sounds... a little narcisstic no? Watching your own performances?"

"It's just something we do." Ryujin tries to close the video, but you stop her.

"Can we watch? I've never seen you perform before actually." She hesitates for a moment but presses play. Ryujin sits down next to you, slightly tense—how would you react? To her bemused delight, the questions incoming are very naive.

"You are showing a lot of skin." "Uhh yeah, that's kinda in the job description."

"And... isn't it a little too tight?" "Again, also in the job description."

"When was this performance again?" "Like a week ago?" "How come your hair looks so different now?" "I go to the salon, you do know that there's more to hairstyles than cutting right?" She reaches for his hair before he reacts.

"You haven't done anything to your hair have you, even the hairstyle is the same. Touch my hair." Her heart skips a beat when his fingers brush her hair.

"Whoa, why does it feel like that?"

"There's a lot you can do to it, most are not great for the hair, but hey, we need to show different styles, and hair is the easiest way to do it." He runs his digits through her hair, and Ryujin shudders at the sensation—it was weirdly hot.

"Sorry, does it hurt?"

"N-No, but you should stop."

"Right, sorry."

"No problem, any more questions, or can we watch something that's not me?"

"Sure sure, just... wow that's a very different line work."

"Yeah. What do you want to watch?"

"Wait, sorry one last question." You lean in and squint at the video, and then glance at Ryujin. "How long does it take for you to look like that on stage? Just the makeup."

"About umm, 40 minutes, an hour. maybe more?"

"Really? And how much time did you spend today?"

"Like 20 minutes?"

"And last time was 30 minutes?"

"You don't have to remind me about that."

"Yes yes, but you probably don't need to spend that much time on makeup. You should tell your stylists that." It takes a moment for Ryujin to process the compliment, and she blushes a deep red, overpowering what makeup she had on.

"T-Thanks, I'll let them know."

"I um, yeah, no problem, just saying." You stutter a little, realizing how weird that sounded coming from you. "Should we watch a movie, or drama?"

"Umm yeah, how about a movie?" Ryujin starts one, but neither of you really notice what's on screen. Instead, the two of you talk and talk and talk—your interest in her work prompts her own curiosity, and she asks about your job, about your life. You swap stories, and although you feel like Ryujin's getting the short end of the stick—your stories pale in comparison to the entertainment industry's wild rumors, she is equally enthused all the same—more importantly you're finally catching up with her. Inevitably the times you're talking about go backwards in time.

"Remeber when—"

"Yeah, or when he—"

"Who was our maths teacher again, Miss—"

"Did you know that he had a crush on you?" "No way! Really? That explains a lot." "What happened?" "He always wanted to be in my group, even though I don't do anything for projects. He was very nice, but he didn't ask me out in the end."

"Wait, he did all that? When was this? How come I don't remember this? What if he did ask you?" Ryujin taps her chin thoughtfully at his question.

"Would I have said yes? I dunno, we got along but we never clicked."

"Huh, but seriously when was this, I don't remember this at all." She watches him frowning, looking up at the ceiling and trying to remember, and she realizes why he couldn't, and wouldn't, be able to remember.

"Oh, it's because I never told you, because we, you know."

"Oh. Right." And there it is, finally the topic broached.

"I'm really sorry that I hit you, I should have said sorry back then, and it cost us both a lot. I still regret it even now."

"I don't blame you Ryujin, I should have reached out again, but I was childish. I did exactly what you told me to, even though that isn't what either of us actually wanted." He puts a hand on her shoulder, an olive branch. "We should move on from that, okay? No more doing stupid stuff like inviting me to a blind date without either party knowing."

"Okay, sorry, sorry. Now never bring that up again, please."

"Yes, let's just watch the movie. Make sure you turn off your phone so that you won't arrange another one for me." Ryujin throws a cushion at you, but you grab it and hand it back to her, and she hugs it against her chest as the two of you settle into the couch. You two end up closer and closer together, until you're shoulder-to-shoulder with her, her head lightly resting on yours, just like the old days.

But the movie the two of you are watching are definitely not age-appropriate for the old days, as the male and female leads struggle against one another, locked in a fevered and contentious argumentative embrace, until they give into each other. He pins her against the wall, she pulls her top off and wraps her arms around his neck.

"Ahh, mmm!" He presses himself into her, his hands tight around her waist. Her hips wriggle, bucking against him as he slips his hand under her shorts. A short gasp. She pulls off his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and muscular arms—

Oh yes! The screen reflects off Ryujin's irises, but she's playing her own scene in her head. Of her with someone, with said someone right next to her. She squirms a little, and suddenly notices two things—that she's tense, holding her breath; and that he's tense, and holding his breath; scratch that, make that three things she notices—she's wet, the inside of her thighs sticky with need. She needs to get out before they—

"This movie's boring, we should watch something else," he rasps.

"Y-Yeah, let's watch something else. Hah even when we were young you never liked the R-rated scenes." she jokes, hoping to lighten the palpable tension.

"Then why did you agree with me? The old you would have made sure we kept watching. Let's keep watching then." You jostle her, making sure to keep a cushion over your lap.

"No, let's not, it's weird watching it with a guy."

"Oh, so now I'm a guy? Do you see me as a man? Are you interested in me, hm hm hm?" you play it off as a joke, but you are taken aback at Ryujin's lack of outraged denial.

"Why, are you interested in me?" Ryujin panics, and with the situation getting out of hand, she tries to solve it the only way she knows how—by throwing it back harder. "Now that I'm in a girl group, you're interested in me now aren't you? Did you enjoy my fancams just now?"

"N-No, of course not! And don't sit like a lady now, what happened to manspreading all over the couch like you used to? Are you hiding something?" Ryujin spreads her legs slightly, making herself all the more aware of her own arousal, and praying it doesn't show on her tight pants. Hurriedly she tries to escalate even further, to draw attention away from herself—she grabs his cushion and pulls it away, revealing his bulge. Daringly she grabs him, and his slight hiss just makes her wetter—because of his reaction, and because he is far more prominent than his jeans would suggest.

"What's this? I thought you weren't interested in me, hmm?" He slaps her hand away almost childishly.

"Of course not, that was just the movie being hot, not you! What about you!" He hovers a hand on her flat stomach, threatening to move down. "I wonder how wet you are down there, just from the movie right?"

"Of course! And if you're not interested in me, prove it!" Ryujin tries to escalate once more to "win" the argument. "Hit me!"

"What? You're crazy."

"No, I still feel bad about what I did all those years ago. I know you said you're over it, but I'm not, not until you hit me, so go ahead, hit me!" She grabs his arm, pulling it to her face, trying to make the hand connect.

"Ryujin I'm not going to hit you!"

"Why not, do you like me? I thought you weren't interested."

"No, you're just being stupid, I am not going to hit you. Ryujin!"

"Even if I feel bad? Even if I want you to hit me?"

"Especially if you want it, I won't hit you!" He is hypocritical though, and as Ryujin struggles harder he hits her.

In the face.

On her cheek.

Gently.

It is a warm, soft caress of her cheek, and he's pressed against her lips, kissing her hard. Ryujin's hand relaxes as her heart pounds against her chest. She puts both hands around his neck, pulling him in—god she wants this right now! The kiss spikes in intensity, but she can feel him draw back, slightly unsure. Her lips part, and she licks his slightly, and reassured he tongue-tangoes with her, soft moans coming from both of them. The kiss that started off by catching both of them by surprise quickly burns into something more, into apology, into making up for years of lost time, into pure lust.

Your free hand goes down from her neck to her shoulders, carelessly brushing the bra strap off. You wrap an arm around her back, hugging and holding her close—for the first time you realize that Ryujin's slim, a side-effect of her job. It made you want to protect her, to make sure no one would ever say no to her and hurt her and—

And to devour her. Your hand goes to her hip, and you freeze when she freezes, the fingertips touching her warm skin underneath her top retreating slightly. You feel her hand grab your wrist, did you go too far? No, she wants you to go further, putting your hand on her midriff and pushing you down, beneath her pants, and then one layer more.

"Fuck..." Ryujin can't help but whine as his fingers brush over her lips, instantly coating them with stickiness. Her body moves on its own, she's grabbing on to his arm, keeping him there, and she's bucking her hips, urging him to just curl his fingers and—

"Mmmm!" You could cum in your jeans right now just hearing Ryujin groan as you push two fingers into her. Your breath is heavy and hot on her lips while you try to hold the kiss, even as Ryujin squirms against you—she's tight and sticky and wet. "It feels so good, make me cum!" You hear her plead—you have never seen her quite like this, but you can't even begin to process that thought as her lips find your neck and suck harshly. You pay her back in kind, just as she desires, with firm pushes of your fingers into her, over and over. She cries out into your neck when your tips graze her just right, and soon her walls convulse and contract, making it even easier for you to rub her weak spot.

"Cum for me Ryujin." She nods into his neck, whining in pleasure as she gets even closer to her peak. He's growling in her ear, making her pussy squelch and leak. She squirts a little against his palm as he tugs on her earlobe, and he's hitting her in the sense that his cheek bumps against hers as she jerks erratically in ecstasy.

"Cum for me if you love me." WHAT? I don't— Her mind blanks out as he rubs g-spot roughly, and she muffles her scream against his neck, the pleasure paralyzing her, interrupting her own disgreement. She remembers being tense against him, as if reaching up to cling to him. Yet when she comes to she's lying on the sofa, his weight pressed on her comfortably.

"Asshole," she whispers a weak retort. "I don't love— ah!" He takes her breath away again, kissing her passionately. "Whatever you say dear," is the look he gives her after the kiss, and it infuriates Ryujin, makes her want to get back at him. Get back at him in a way that she really wants to right now.

"Get off me," Ryujin pouts and mutters, and you acquiesce, slowly pulling your fingers out from her—her stickiness and tightness isn't a feel you would soon forget. Ryujin unbuttons your jeans, pulling it and your boxers to your knees. She presses herself into you, and with a muted moan you respond to her grasping your cock. Her hand runs up and down your length, all the way from base to tip.

"Do I feel good?" she whispers into your ear. Her free hand runs up and down your body, further stimulating you. "You want me to go faster?" The sound that leaves you is almost a whine. "You'll cum for me right? Cum for me if you love me too? Hmm?" Ryujin teases and baits you.

"No I won't," you mutter through heavy breaths, trying and failing to calm yourself down.

"You won't, even if I do this?" She runs a finger over your head, rubbing the underside of it. Where the fuck did she learn to do that! "No? Maybe I should stop?" She runs her palm over your head before pulling away, going back to stroking your shaft. Ryujin's a master baiter.

"No, don't stop!"

Ryujin's glad he says no, as she's not sure she can even stop herself. It's one thing to grab him over clothing, it's a completely different matter to see and touch it in the flesh, feeling his thickness, his length—she's suddenly thinking about it way too much. He grabs her thigh suddenly, squeezing it as he closes in on his own orgasm. His cock throbs in her hand—she can't wait to feel it burst, and then to feel it inside her. But first, she has to win.

You groan as Ryujin slinks down your body, positioning herself between your legs. No, surely she wouldn't— Keeping her eyes trained on you the whole time and making sure you are watching her, Ryujin opens her mouth and pushes her lips past your tip, and then past your head, and then most of your shaft.

Cum for me if you love me! Of course, Ryujin's words aren't quite that clear, what with having your cock in her mouth, but her garbled sounds are abundantly clear in meaning. You don't have it in you to resist, and so you fall for Ryujin hard.

"Fuck Ryujin..." The low moan of her name, the sudden grab on her head, the jump of his cock in her mouth, and finally his thick salty load hitting the back of her throat and sliding down her gullet, it all serves to turn Ryujin on even more. As he shudders through his orgasm, the hand on her head runs through her hair, squeezes her scalp gently—Ryujin thoughts dull, focusing on all the sensations he's giving her. It's only when he softens, and her mouth no longer fully filled does she realize that he's done, and that she's drooling a little over his shaft. She looks up, only to find him leaning back, drained and wasted, but she wants more, and she swallows the last of his seed before getting back to work.

"Ryujin!" You wince in oversensitivity as Ryujin starts to stroke you again, adding licks of her tongue on your spent shaft. You firm up a little in her hands, and you get a little harder when she stops to remove her top and pants, revealing a set of simple black underwear. You get a lot harder, recovering to full strength with what she says next.

"I-I need more, I want us to do more." She walks away, her black panties sticking tightly to the apex of her thighs. The slight jiggles of her butt hypnotizes you, and you almost trip over your own pants as you try to follow her to the bedroom.

Ryujin laughs as she hears him stumble on the way over. There is a lot less laughing as he walks through the door, naked and stiffly pointing in her direction, before kissing her and pressing her into the soft bed. A brief fumble, and her bra falls away. In minor embarrassment she covers herself, but he pulls her hands away to plant kisses all around her chest and neck.

"No marks," she whispers, and he responds with a gruff note, that he heard her, but he's not happy about it. She rewards him with an unreserved moan as he pinches and rubs her stiff nubs, swirling his tongue around one, and then the other. There is a sheen of moisture over her flat tummy as he drifts down her body—why did she feel so warm? Ryujin burns a little hotter as he squeezes her thighs again, this time to spread them. His nose nudges against her mons, and her scent gets even thicker at the contact, and as he pulls her underwear to the side. "Don't— nngh!" his tongue catches her by surprise, and soon his warm breath is all over her core, licking and flicking and pressing, making her melt into a mess. And yet she needed more, her hips bucking involuntarily.

"No more, no need..." She pushes you away with a foot, kicking away her panties and removing the last piece of clothing she had on. You join her on the bed, and her legs quickly hook you close, lightly trapping you, the two of you are so close together now.

"Ryujin!" You gasp a final question to her as your shaft touches her entrance. There were many lines crossed today, all of which the two of you could probably ignore or be in denial about in the future, but the line you're on now is one that both of you know would be the Rubicon of your relationship, that things will undeniably change afterwards. But you look at Ryujin, and she is more than willing to leap over that line, and to challenge you to take the leap yourself. She grabs your cock, lining you up with her, adjusting herself until your tip catches her—just the tip, just a toe over the line. She wants you to do the rest.

It's happening, shit, he's so— The pressure in Ryujin's abdomen grows exponentially as the distance closes between their hips. Every time she's sure she can't take anymore of him, he gets deeper, his brows twitching with each inch he pushes into her.

"So tight..." Ryujin clenches even harder around him when she hears his muttered moan. She feels so full, so utterly stuffed, she has to arch her back, as if to try to stretch herself more, to make more room for him. He starts moving soon after, and the pleasure begins to slowly build up. But not fast enough!

"Faster!" you hear her moan.

"I don't want to hurt you," you mumble. She's just too tight to push through roughly, but she disproves that by bucking her hips up into you, and a jolt of pleasure goes up your spine. Her hands wrap around your neck once more, and her eyes are bright and eager. And also mischievous.

"Fuck me if you love me." She gives you no choice, and you willingly up the pace, and her tightness makes you thrust harder. Soon you are fucking her hard and fast with body-rattling strokes. Ryujin's moans get louder and wilder, her voice cracking when you hit deep in her. Her walls tremble around you, and your cock throbs in response to her quick contractions—both of you are close. Bewilderingly she stops you briefly, just as both of you are about to fully ascend in bliss.

"Do me from behind, I don't want you to see me."

"What?"

"I don't want you to watch me cum," Ryujin struggles and tries to push herself off the bed, but he grabs her arms, pinning them against the bed.

"But I want to." She weakly tries to fight back, but his forehead presses against hers, and he's all that she can see, all that she can feel as his cock plunges into her even harder and faster. His sweat drips on to her face, his hips fighting her thrashing lower body, all to fuck her even better—Ryujin knows that he's going to watch her lose control, and somehow that spikes her pleasure even more, that she's going to bare everything to him. I'm sure I'll look so ugly but—

"Fuck, oh fuck, oh my god, oh my— GOD!" Ryujin has never looked hotter as she falls apart right in front of you. Her face goes slack, and she throws her head back as she silently combusts around you, her entire body writhing in pleasure. Her pussy seems to grip and tug at you, as if trying to suck you in deeper, to suck your—fuck it's too dangerous! You manage to spread her thighs further and pull out in time, joining Ryujin in climax, splattering her quivering lithe body with thick splotches of cum.

You roll to the side, laying down next to her and breathing heavily. Ryujin's lips are still lightly parted, soft moans joining your pants as the two of you work through the last bits of pleasure going through your heads. It is almost cute how she blinks rapidly after opening her eyes, not seeing you right on top of her. She turns the wrong way first, and blushes like mad as she turns the right way to face you. She mumbles something, but your head is still buzzing and ringing to hear her.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, umm, tissues please." With what felt like a huge effort, you manage to push yourself off the bed to grab some towels instead. The aftermath is surprisingly awkward, as Ryujin asks to use the shower first, and you avert your eyes as she comes out of the bathroom. She quickly puts on a bathrobe, and by the time you get up, she's already out of the bedroom, saying something about getting some water. You take a long shower, trying to figure out what to say when you're face-to-face with Ryujin again—Be with me? This never happened? I like you? I love you? I want you? Let's just be fuckbuddies? You come out just as uncertain as before, except much cleaner, and you make sure you are properly covered before exiting the bathroom.

"Hey," Ryujin calls out, tapping away at her phone.

"Hey."

"There's water on the table."

"Thanks." You gratefully down the glass of water before looking at the state of your bed—ruffled, wrinkled, fluid-stained.

"You should sleep with me." You catch the briefest of smiles before Ryujin turns away from you, still playing on her phone.

"What?"

"Your bed's dirty, we should just share one."

"Are you okay with that?"

"I asked you didn't I?"

"Right, thanks." Cautiously you slip into bed next to her, and making sure you kept a healthy distance from her, you faced away from Ryujin and tried your best to sleep.

"Good night Ryujin."

"Good night."

Ryujin wakes up the next morning, only to find him spooning her yet again. She gently tries to lift his arm again, and this time he hugs her even tighter. After last night, rather than be surprised and push herself out of his arms, Ryujin has some morning wetness as she feels something she didn't last time. She knows they'll have to talk about what happened after he wakes up, but she'd rather delay that conversation for as long as possible.

You wake up to a warm sensation between your legs, and it isn't unfamiliar. You look under the covers, only to see Ryujin bobbing her head, bringing your morning wood to full hardness.

"Ryujin? We should—"

"Later." She crawls up your body. "You were spooning me again, I couldn't ignore it."

"No way, you spooned me."

"No, we were facing away from each other."

"Fine, we were, mmm! Spooning each other." Ryujin is shockingly wet, and you quickly groan and compromise with her as she rubs herself over your shaft.

"Deal." She seals it with a vacuum seal over your cock, sinking herself to the hilt in one motion. She flutters around you, and Ryujin buries her head in your neck and let's out a low moan.

"Did you just—?"

"No, just umm, feels good." She throws off the covers, and soon with two hands on your chest Ryujin's riding you, her fit body on full display. Her petite breasts jiggle slightly as she bounces and grinds on you slowly and randomly, indulging herself in a morning fuck. This time she doesn't hide anything, and she's moaning unreservedly, letting you know just how good she feels.

"So deep!" "Fuck right there!" "You're going to make me cum!"

You know she's close when her chin begins to dip into her chest, spending all of her strength on riding you faster, hips bucking back and forth quickly, her slick beginning to leak all over you. You also know that based on how she grips you, there's no way you can hold off your own peak, and you'll go right with her if she does.

"Ryujin, you should get off..."

"No, fuck I'm so close."

"Ryujin!"

She grabs your hands and puts them around her waist—her intent clear.

"Cum in me if you love me." It is reckless, dangerous, stupid even, but Ryujin didn't care. She just put him in checkmate—there was no hiding how either of them felt. Sure he could bluff and lift her easily off him, or he could just jam her on top of him, pump himself up into her and fucking breed her little—

"Fuckkkk!" Ryujin wails at her sinful intrusive thoughts, and she cums immediately. A fresh rush of slick covers your cock, and with Ryujin's velvet grip around you, you give in to your urges and pull her down, making sure you're driving deep into her just before you explode. Lights flash behind your eyes, a mess of hair and lips and teeth in your face as Ryujin tries to kiss you, muffling her outright scream while the two of you finish each other off. Your connection is warmer than ever—from Ryujin's juices all over your crotch, from your cum filling her womb to the brim.

Ryujin's entire body is warm as she comes back down from her high, and he's tightly hugging her. She can hear his heartbeat (or is that her own?) against her chest, and when she flexes her muscles, a heartbeat skips—she could still feel him inside her, and she's almost abnormally warm and wet down there. She winces slightly when his lips find her neck—he's leaving a mark, his mark.

"N-No marks," she protests weakly, but she doesn't really mind, her mind filled with endorphins of happiness, if anyone could see Ryujin they would see her absolutely glowing right now.

"Mm," a mumbled apology, and you're looking at Ryujin as you leave only one hickey on her neck. "You're really pretty, you don't need makeup."

"Thanks, that's random."

"Right, I umm, don't know what to say."

"Then don't." Tiredly Ryujin rests on top of you, and truthfully neither of you minded if you went back to sleep right then. But the real world calls, and Yeji is insistent, calling multiple times even after Ryujin fumbles and rejects the earlier calls.

"Yah, the hotel said you haven't checked out yet? They need to clean it!"

"Just a little longer unnie."

"Yeah, just a little more," you add on.

"Oh, so you two used one bed, hmm, that's nice."

"No, we used both beds, and shut up." Ryujin blushes and fires back immediately to cut off Yeji's cackling.

"Not bad, you didn't disappoint me or Ryujin it looks like. But seriously hurry up and check out."

"Okay okay, we will!" Ryujin ends the call before rolling off you. "God she's going to be so annoying, gonna be all like 'I told you so!', ugh."

"Yeah, we should clean up. Could you pass me the tissues?" This time it is Ryujin that helps you clean up, handing you the box of tissues as she cleans herself too. There is no time to shower, so the two of you quickly get dressed before ambashedly leaving. Before you could get to the concierge, Ryujin quickly pulls you into a side hallway.

"Hey, so what happened last night?" What is she talking about, neither of you were drunk! But the careful way she asks that question is less about your memories of last night, and what it means for the two of you for every night going forward.

"I'll take responsibility, if anything happens—" Ryujin quickly shakes her head, fidgeting slightly.

"No not that, I'll be fine, but just, what about us?"

"That's... That's up to you, did anything happen last night?" she's stumped by his question, until she's suddenly in his embrace, and he's whispering in her ear. "You're the idol, did anything happen? Is anything allowed to happen? I'll go with what you want, I don't want you to get hurt."

"Do you... want it to happen?" Is what she asks, but you look down at Ryujin looking up at you, and you understood the question. Do you want us to happen?

"Yes."

"Then it did." You lean down to kiss her, and Ryujin flashes you the brightest smile before gently pushing you away. "Not here, people might see!"

A few days later you wanted to ask Ryujin out, but you realized you didn't know how to. So you text Yeji.

*You two are idiots just ask her like a normal couple would!* is her scathing reply.

*Can I drop by, I want to ask her directly*

*She won't like that, the other members don't know yet*

*OK, can you set me up with her then, I'll meet her at a cafe or something*

*Just come by, I'll give you our address, I can't be bothered to deal with you two little cavity-inducers*

You arrive in front of their dorms, and thankfully Yeji has the sense to make Ryujin answer the door.

"Hello?" Ryujin's eyes almost pop out of her head as she hurriedly closes the door behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to umm, ask you out, when are you free?"

"You couldn't have texted me?"

"I... guess I could have. But I wanted to see you." A warm fuzzy feeling fills Ryujin's heart, and she makes sure you feel the same way.

"Yeah, I missed you too." You hug her tightly, happy at her admission and confession.

"So you'll go out with me then? Whenever you're free I guess."

"Yeah." Ryujin stays silent for a moment, before her eyes twinkle and her lips curl into a smirk. "I'm free Friday, come pick me up then if you love me."

"Friday it is then."

A/N: Finally back with a story, hope it's alright. I tried playing with switching perspectives a lot more, so hopefully it's not too confusing. Getting back into things, hopefully will be posting more frequently from now on, but might not get back to the one-a-week I used to kinda do. Thanks for reading and happy holidays!

#smut #ryujin #itzy

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theduckeminence · 11 months ago

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I can’t stop thinking about Eddie Dear y’all.

First off, the probable reason behind what had occurred to him is most likely due to him being scrapped/taken off the script of the show is just both saddening and dreadful on his part. Like he exists within the realm of the Neighborhood, but considering his absence throughout the recent update, aside from him giving the viewers a decoder + clips of him throughout the Home-warming ad compilation, its safe to say that Playfellow Workshop had most likely taken off him of the show, or at the very least, lessening the amount of screen time he receive (in this case being the ads/commercials).

And now onto the actual possible reason why Eddie Dear would be taken off script. Now thinking back to the fact that Eddie & Frank being a couple is canon, it’s also safe to say that because of their connection in the show — even though Playfellow Workshop attempts to have them be distant or lack any sort of significant interaction onscreen — Eddie & Frank’s relationship, or at least Eddie’s love for Frank, could certainly be the reason why the he was taken off script.

After all, if two male characters are shown to be gay for each other in a kids show from the 1970s, chances are Playfellow Workshop would rather scrap the homosexual (derogatory) mailman character than have Welcome Home be taken off the air entirely just because of said mailman character.

Furthermore, what’s more interesting and ironic about Eddie being a prominent character who became intensively aware of his situation is the fact that he first appears to be a character who could be considerably perceived as“insignificant” or “irrelevant.” Of course I don’t actually think he is, but from the way Playfellow Workshop and the Homewarming commercials are framed Eddie, it can be interpreted that Eddie is seen as a rather character of little relevance.

It is partially due to him being taken script, but it’s also the fact that his only thing going on for him is being the mailman for the neighborhood — as well as a bit of a comedic relief. Eddie said himself in the Homewarming video from the secret site — if I’m correct, he feels that nobody appreciates him enough for his work (though correct me if I’m wrong). And that since there’s no one there to ask him to deliver something, or call, or check up on him, he feels as though that — somewhere inside of him — he feels both left out and “irrelevant.”

His one role is to be the neighborhood delivery man, and without that, then what exactly would he be good for?

(this could further be emphasized when Sally told him that they made the deliveries for him to give him a day off — even though no one told him that, and chances are this is perhaps Sally trying to reassure him when in reality, he was just scripted out of Homewarming hence why no one came to talk to him. Getting lil off topic oops—).

Recircling back to the original topic, yada yada yada Eddie just being a mailman and besides that he views himself to be irrelevant so on and so forth.

One thing I would like to mention, relating to Eddie being the probable first of the group to become aware other than Wally, is that I find it surprising that Eddie Dear IS the probable first to become aware like Wally.

To tell y’all the truth, I didn’t think he would play such a significant role in the Narrative (and thus probably doomed by it too). I would have least thought Frank or Julie would have been next to become the more Self Aware.

But Eddie Dear? Our loveable, friendly, and reliable mailman — Eddie Dear? Suddenly depersonalizing right on the spot with a pea plate and becoming aware of both his sentience, the weirdness of his setting overall, and how he could hear Home’s heartbeat? How he knew that the moment he comes to this revelation of self-awareness, he can’t go back? That everything he has ever known is most probably not real and/or all a lie?

It just has me stopping for a second on why and how him, but after thinking about it furthermore, alongside reading analysis posts, it would make sense for him to be next on why he had become Aware.

And I can only assume that from here on out, things are bound to change. And I for one fear these colorful lil puppets — particularly Eddie in this case.

Lets just hope the existential dread doesn’t drive all of them over the edge.

#welcome home #welcome home spoilers #welcome home eddie #eddie welcome home #eddie dear #this lil mailman is jingling in my head like a marble #poor guy :(( i have a feeling smth bads about to happen to him and frank #but at the same time IM EATING THIS SHIT UP

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dragon-ascent · 3 months ago

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Hey uh... *tugs at your shirt* my mother said that you can tell me about how Morax/Zhongli is mischaracterised with attributes from a western dragon and what attributes he'd actually have as an eastern dragon if it's fine with yours... (please say yes I love hearing people yap)

Tell your mother she brought you to the right place! Keep in mind I'm not the messiah of dragon mythology; but everything is nonetheless based on medium-levels of research & informal conversations with Chinese friends of mine. Still, feel free to take everything I say with a grain of salt.

Let's start with traits belonging to many Western dragons, which people tend to mistakenly attribute to Zhongli when it comes to his portrayal in fan work or even discourse:

Cruel & domineering: I see this a LOT especially with like, Morax/Rex Lapis portrayals where he's this arrogant man asserting his dominance over his nation (or even his partner!!!) in quite forceful ways, even taking human sacrifices in exchange for peace. Pls guys, he wishes not for dominion, but he cannot watch the common folk suffer. Also, there's a difference between being dominant and being domineering! Yes, he's established his dominance, but with absolutely no arrogance or cruelty.

Brutish: I know Venti seems to say that he's a blundering, brutish buffoon in his voicelines, but in CN he simply says the Geo lord is a blockhead who doesn't understand human emotion - which at the time is fair! Zhongli was still learning about the intricacies of humanity, learning while ruling. More importantly, there is no mention of him being a brute in the original line, and nothing in the in-game text pertaining to Liyue history supports the claim. So, if you see someone claim he doesn't care for humanity, kindly punt them on my behalf.

Self-centered: A pet peeve of mine, really. Although many Western dragons are seen as selfish and greedy, putting their wants above all, we see that Zhongli is the exact opposite. He puts his people before himself, always focusing on protecting the land, even if it means he will have to make choices that will hurt him, such as having to seal his close companion Azhdaha (and possibly even slaying Guizhong with his own hands, but that's another can of worms which I won't get into because canon has not touched upon this yet).

Now, there are some characteristics of Western dragons that can be applied to him since they're common traits in Eastern dragons as well:

Being unforgiving: Western ones might be more vicious in this regard, but it's mellowed into his duty as the God of Contracts. We know that there is no mercy for people who breach contracts, regardless of whether they are friend or foe. In this regard specifically, we can say that he is indeed unforgiving.

Cunning tactician: Yes! Zhongli is a master strategist, outwitting foes and coming out on top. Yes, we hear about his sheer strength warding off adversaries, but he also uses his wit to his advantage. You can read one such story of his in the teapot furnishing description for the item "Dainty Fists."

Now let me highlight some Eastern dragon traits, some of which are canon to Zhongli's personality, and some of which I feel should be more popular when it comes to creating fan content of our beloved Li:

Wise: Even at baseline, I think we can all tell that Zhongli is a wise and philosophical individual. His wisdom is the result of the accumulation of millennia galore, and most of his appearances in-game involve imparting valuable advice or knowledge to other people. Besides this, it's important to note that before his 'death,' he was responsible for carrying out administrative tasks for the nation (as mentioned by Keqing). He provided commercial & fiscal suggestions every year during the Rite of Descension based on his own observations throughout the year, analyzing the best way forward for the next year to ensure a thriving nation.

Possessive of art & knowledge: While Western dragons are often portrayed hoarding gold and other worldly things, Eastern dragons have an appreciation for art & literature, collecting precious stories and tasteful artifacts that reflect civilization's progress. This is something Zhongli does, too, purchasing wonderfully-crafted items made by the people he's nurtured for centuries, and listening to stories.

Love of humanity: Eastern dragons LOVE humankind, as opposed to their Western counterparts. They even transform into humans of different cultures to try and understand them firsthand. Zhongli is known to shapeshift - I hope to write some pieces soon where he briefly assimilates into other nations' cultures to get closer to them! But other than that, it's safe to say he's taken on various human forms within Liyue itself to get to know his people on a deeper, more personal level.

Bonding with the special someone: Now here's where I get a bit more self-indulgent. Eastern dragons, when they find a human they really really like, will introduce this lovely soul to their vast aforementioned collection of art. The dragon may like to share stories with this beloved person, and even calligraph new ones together. Zhongli loves telling stories of course, but just think how wonderful it would be to sit with him, brush in hand, as he tenderly guides you to create a narrative together on carefully-maintained parchment saved for this very occasion - perhaps outlining anecdotes of his, or even adventures of yours. Things he'd like to immortalize on paper. This sharing of art is a very special thing for dragons to do, so it's practically a once-in-a-millennium activity for them!

#sini answers #zhongli #this was long sorry #but this needed to be said #and i'm very glad u asked!#not looking to debate things but #if you'd like #feel free to agree or disagree with anything #or maybe add on. it's late and i typed this quickly

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 months ago

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It's a Wonderful Knife AU (Supercorp)

It's a Wonderful Knife is about a girl who, one christmas eve, witnesses and ultimately kills a spree killer (aka The Angel), who kills her best friend and a couple other kids. Once dead, the killer is revealed to be none other than Morgan Edge, the local sleaze who'd been trying to commercialize the small town of Angel Falls.

A year later, the following Christmas sees her clinically (yet untreated) depressed, unaccepted to her dream college, and overlooked by her family in favor of her cousin (who she saved the night of the killings). When she discovers her boyfriend has been cheating on her for the entire year, it's the final straw.

On her way home, she looks up to see the Northern Lights. As if they were a wishing star, she gives voice to the heaviness that has been growing in her since that fateful night.

"I wish I never existed."

She blinks, and suddenly the lights around her are dark, the previously festive boulevard now shadowed and eerie. Immediately on edge, she approaches a man to ask if the power went out-- only for him to collapse as he turns towards her, a knife in his gullet.

The Angel then appears like a ghost. Kara screams, running for help. She eventually runs into the local sheriff-- one of Edge's right hand men. Who definitely wasn't sheriff, last she checked. The oddities keep adding up, as she learns that not only is The Angel alive, he's been active for a full year. Her family home is dark and grieving for a lost scion-- her cousin who died the christmas before, because Kara hadn't been there to save him.

Kara isn't in any of the family portraits, her family doesn't recognize her, nor do her former friends when she tracks them down at the annual get-wrecked holiday party. In the absence of all that's familiar, she turns to the relatively unknown-- the local weirdo.

"Weirdo" is the slender goth girl who hangs around the periphery of their age group, appearing at large events without anyone seeming to invite her. This year she has her hair in space buns and though she says nothing as Kara frantically pleads for anyone to recognize her, her sharp green eyes take everything in. So when Kara finally turns to her, and their gazes meet, Kara feels a tinge of relief.

"You know who I am?"

The weirdo gives a nervous little smile, but doesn't balk. "Hi. I mean, no. I mean. I'm Lena?"

Lena's mere act of not ignoring her almost brings Kara to tears. She unloads everything onto the poor girl, who listens with wide eyes and a slightly bewildered look. But when Kara mentions The Angel, Lena perks up.

"You want to stop The Angel?"

"What?" Kara asks. Out of everything she's said, that's what the weirdo locks onto? "Yeah, but--"

"Come with me," Lena says quickly. She grabs Kara's hand and pulls her away from the party, out the door and across town. They don't stop until Lena tugs her up the front walk of a house with darkened windows. Unlocking the front door, Lena leads Kara inside the empty house.

Kara frowns. "Are you always alone on christmas?"

Lena's cheeks flush, but instead of answering she makes her way deeper in the house. "I want to show you something."

When Kara steps into Lena's bedroom, she's shocked to see one whole wall serving as a murder board-- literally. Thumbtacks mark the location of known murders on a large map of the city, with notecards detailing facts of each victim.

"Most of them are teenagers related to business owners in the town," Lena tells her. "Well, mostly former owners, now."

"It's Edge," Kara states bluntly. "He's The Angel. He's the one doing the killings."

Instead of dismissing her outright, or asking how Kara knows, Lena's brow furrows. She studies her board thoughtfully.

"Most of the families who've lost children to the attacks have closed up and left town... Edge, he--" Lena's eyes widen. "He's acquired every single one of them!" She mutters a curse to herself. "I can't believe I didn't see it!"

Before long, Lena is also hypothesizing on the how of Kara's circumstances. Kara relates the glowing aurora that still lingers above the town, and Lena gives a thoughtful hum.

"It's unusual to see it this far south," she observes. "It could be related, or it could be complete meteorological happenstance. But... the aurora does generate via a confluence of fluctuating solar energy. What if-- and I can't believe I'm about to say this, but-- what if, when Edge died in your reality, his spirit... lingered? And if it did, perhaps his ill intent, combined with the energy of the aurora, facilitated the change?"

Kara goggles at her. Lena blushes again, and scrambles to fill the stunned silence. "Of course, that's assuming this is a matter of different realities, which are purely hypothetical and I am *not* saying are real, let alone suggesting travel between them is even a feasible concept--"

"I had no idea you were so smart," Kara says bluntly.

Lena freezes, eyes flashing up to meeting Kara's. Her blush deepens as she reaches up to tuck the flyaway hairs at her temples behind her ears.

"There's a lot people don't know about me," Lena says softly.

Guilt forms solid and heavy in Kara's belly. "I'm sorry," she says. "For how people have-- how I've treated you."

Lena shrugs. "It's--"

"Please don't say it's okay," Kara urges, leaning forward intently. "You've just... existed, and we've acted like..."

Holding Kara's gaze, Lena's arrest softens. "Maybe things would be different, if you'd been here."

Shame courses through Kara's body, but she refuses to voice the knowledge that even in her reality, while never cruel to the weird girl in the corner, she'd never been kind.

"It will be," she says instead, firmly. She offers a crooked grin. "After all, who's George Bailey without her Clarence?"

Lena beams, a bright laugh bubbling out of her. Kara's smile grows, and for a moment, the world doesn't seem so grim.

---

The solution in returning the world to its rightful place is clear. They kill The Angel, Kara goes home. But before they can decide just how to execute their plan, Kara gives in to her desire to see her family. For help, maybe, to help them in their grief for Clark, she isnt quite sure.

When they get there, they find Kara's uncle in his office. Seeing his despondency, Kara can't help but reach out to him. She tells him she's a friend of Clark's and they spend the next few minutes reminiscing about some of Clark's most memorable moments-- his football career, the time he saved an elderly neighbor's life, etc.

But when Kara tells her uncle that she knows who killed Clark, their reverie snaps back to reality. Her uncle grows cold, and when Kara tells him it was Morgan Edge, she learns that this version of her uncle not only works for Edge, but considers Edge to be a close friend-- one who paid for Clark's funeral.

He shouts at her to get out of his house, and Kara bolts, with Lena following on her heels. Once outside, Kara bursts into tears. Lena envelops her in a fierce embrace, holding her until her sobs subside.

"We'll fix this, I promise," Lena says. "We'll fix-- augh!"

Lena's cry of pain jolts Kara into a state of panic, when the source of the long slice in Lena's arm proves to be The Angel. They bolt for safety, and in the ensuing chase Lena devises a plan that has them splitting up. The Angel chases Kara, leaving Lena to loop back around behind him and shove him sprawling into the snow. Kara grapples him for the knife, and as soon as it's in her hands she plunges it deep into Edge's throat.

Except it's not Edge.

When they remove their would-be killer's mask, it exposes instead the face of Kara's uncle. Kara vomits, then wraps her arms around herself as the sobs return.

"I don't understand," she wretches. "It-- it was supposed to be Edge."

"I don't know," Lena murmurs, rubbing her hand against Kara's back. "But it doesn't matter. That isn't your uncle. This isn't real, not for you. And you did it. You got the killer. Now we can get you back to your real family."

Lena supports Kara to the boulevard where the shift first manifested. Once there, Kara offers a watery smile. "Thank you," she whispers. "I don't know-- I don't think I could have done this without you."

Green eyes gaze at her, warm and sparkling in the light if the aurora overhead. "I should be the one thanking you," comes the hoarse reply. "To be honest, I--"

When sudden emotion chokes Lena's voice, Kara reaches out in concern. Lena swipes at the tears gathering in her eyes.

"I'm okay. I just-- this was going to be my last christmas, Kara."

Kara blinks. It takes a long moment for her to connect the words to their meaning, and when she does, her heart lurches.

"Lena, no--"

"It wouldn't have mattered," Lena whispers. "Not to my family, or the kids at school. Not to anybody."

"Yes, it would, Lena. *You* matter."

Lena nods, tears falling free from her eyelashes. "I think maybe we got it all backwards," she says, huffing a soft laugh. "I wasn't your Clarence after all. You were mine all along."

They hug, and then it's time. Kara looks up at the aurora and wishes with all her might that she lived, that she existed. She wishes for her life back. Not just to have her family back, to have Clark and her uncle, but to have Lena too.

Nothing happens.

It doesn't matter how much she wishes, then pleads, then curses at the universe-- the world stays exactly as it is.

Kara stares helplessly at Lena, who can only shake her head. "I don't know," she says. "I don't know--"

She's interrupted by the squawk of a microphone coming to life in the nearby square. The voice of Morgan Edge soon follows, drawing them both to the periphery of the crowd gathered around the stage where Edge stands before the town's christmas tree.

Rage overcomes Kara at the sight of him. She pushes through the crowd towards the stage, only vaguely aware of Lena following close behind lest the crowd separate them. Before she knows what she's doing Kara vaults onto the stage and slugs Edge right in the face.

As his henchmen move to wrestle Kara away from her victim, Lena spies a familiar looking knife lying the podium-- The Angel's knife. Her gaze flicks to where Edge marches towards a restrained Kara with rage in his eyes. The decision she makes in that moment is hardly a decision at all.

She snatches the knife from the podium and slits Edge's throat from behind. Her only regret is that it showers a surprised Kara with arterial spray. For a moment they, the guards, and the gathered crowd all stare frozen at Edge's gurgling body, until it finally falls quiet.

Then, a clap issues from the crowd. A single person, clapping slow and deliberate until it grows into raucous applause. The guards reach for Lena, only for the townsfolk to intervene, giving Lena and Kara the opportunity to slip unseen from the mayhem.

They sprint to the boulevard, coming to a breathless stop under the rippling aurora that's slowly brightening.

"Go," Lena urges. "Now, before--"

Kara kisses her soundly. Her world becomes the feel of Lena's lips against hers, the scent of blood thick between them, and the pull of Lena's arms as they wrap around her neck--

She opens her eyes to the ceiling of her bedroom.

Morning light spills in through the windows, illuminating the world in warm relief. Kara bolts downstairs to find her family hale and whole, and nearly loses herself in the sweeping joy of her life returned-- until Lena's features flash across her mind. Lena's features, and the echo of Lena's murmured confession: "this was going to be my last christmas."

In a instant she's back on her feet and sprinting to Lena's house. She pounds on the door until it opens a crack for Lena to look warily out.

"What do you want?"

Kara's heart plummets, but she forges ahead without stopping. "Lena, this is going to sound crazy, but you have to believe me, because it was real, and you were there, and whatever you're planning *please* don't--"

The door opens further, revealing Lena in a cozy sweater with a puckish glint in her eye.

Kara stops short, hardly daring to believe. "You... you remember?"

Lena answering smile beams in affirmation, prompting Kara to sweep her up into a giant twirling hug. Lena squeals, but it ends with a delighted giggle.

"I love you," Kara says, kissing Lena. Their hands clutch together, holding tight as though the world might reset and tear them apart once more.

Lena smiles, sighing happily as she rests her forehead against Kara's.

"Merry Christmas, Kara."

#supercorp #wonderful knife au #here it is #if i had more time to marinate this #i would have changed some things #but this is quick and dirty #and the shippy bits are there #thats what truly matters

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supercorpkid · 17 days ago

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Truth Be Told

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Lena Luthor x Reader! Kara Danvers, Alex Danvers.

Word count: 2830

Note: Ending coming soon :)

You hear the sound of Lena’s laughter cut through the low hum of conversation in Kara’s apartment, before you even see her. Your chest tightens, waiting for her to appear, excitement flooding your veins. You’re halfway through pretending to listen to Alex tell a story when the door opens, and Lena walks in. She's radiant tonight—as if she’s bottled up the sun itself—and it’s impossible to look at her without feeling the ache deep in your bones.

It takes you a second, but you freeze when you notice. Someone next to her, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

He’s tall, clean-cut, and wearing that easy kind of smile that makes you want to punch something. Or someone. He’s the kind of guy who’d show up in a toothpaste commercial, all charm and no substance. And worse—far worse—is the way Lena glances at him. It’s soft, fond, like she’s letting him into that guarded part of her heart you’ve spent years trying to reach.

You try to swallow, but your throat feels tight, like it’s closing up on itself. The blood in your veins feels hot, too hot, as though it’s boiling with every second he stands there with his hand on the small of Lena’s back.

“Hey, everyone!” Lena’s voice is bright, cheerful, as she pulls him farther into the room. “I hope it’s okay that I brought someone along. This is—”

You don’t catch his name. You don’t want to. Hearing it would make him real, give him weight, and you’re not ready to let that happen. All you know is that he’s here, in your sister's home, standing too close to your Lena — that right now looks awfully a lot like his Lena —, and you have to chug on your beer, not to scream.

Kara’s the first to break the silence, stepping forward with her signature warm smile. She’s perfect, as always, welcoming him like he’s not currently tearing your heart into a thousand jagged pieces. Alex follows suit, offering her usual blend of sarcasm and charm, and soon enough, the room is buzzing again, everyone effortlessly pulling him into the fold.

Everyone except you.

You’re still rooted to the spot, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. You force yourself to breathe, to smile, but it feels like your face might crack under the strain. When Lena’s eyes find yours, something in her expression softens. And that’s worse. Infinitely worse. Because how could you possibly be okay when she’s looking at you like that while standing next to him?

The games start soon after, and you’re grateful for the distraction, even if it’s half-hearted at best. Kara teams up with Alex while Lena and him end up on the same side. You’re paired with Winn, who’s so distracted into proving himself the smarter, he doesn't even notice you're not really truly there. Every laugh Lena gives, every fleeting touch between her and him, feels like a dagger twisting deeper into your chest.

At one point, during a pause in the game, you catch Lena leaning into him, her hand brushing his arm as she whispers something that makes him chuckle. Your stomach churns, and you look away quickly, holding back the tears so no one sees it.

The night drags on, each moment stretching into an eternity, until finally—mercifully—it’s over. People start filtering out, Alex and Winn making some excuse about an early morning at the DEO, and Lena calling her driver. You’re about to grab your coat and escape when Lena’s voice stops you.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

You hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest, but you nod, following her to the corner of the room. She’s smiling at you, that same soft, warm smile that’s been haunting your dreams for years, and it takes everything in you not to break down right then and there.

“I just… I wanted to thank you for being so welcoming tonight,” she says, her voice quiet, sincere. “It means a lot to me.”

You want to tell her the truth. You want to scream that it wasn’t okay, that none of this is okay, that watching her with him felt like dying a thousand tiny deaths, and that she wasn't paying attention enough if she is thanking you for it. You swallow the words clawing up your throat. Your desire to tell her it took everything in you, not to throw him into space. Instead, all you do is nod, forcing a tight smile.

“Of course,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “As long as you're happy.”

Her smile falters slightly, like she’s about to say something else, but then he calls her name from across the room, and the moment is gone. She glances back at him, all her attention gone just like that, like it was never truly yours, like this moment never even belonged to you in the first place. Like a punch to the gut.

You don’t wait for her to look back at you. You turn and walk out, the cool night air hitting you like a slap to the face as you step outside. Your chest feels heavy, your eyes stinging with unshed tears, but you don’t let them fall. Not yet. Not here.

Lena deserves to be happy. And you're going to be happy for her, even if it makes you miserable.

Or so you thought.

The park is alive with the kind of cheerful chaos that makes you feel even more out of place. Parents call after kids, dogs bark, and the occasional bike whirs by on the gravel paths. You’d come here to clear your mind, to get away from the memories clawing at your chest—but then you see her.

Lena’s sitting on a bench, her coffee balanced delicately between her fingers, her hair catching the sunlight just right. She looks like a painting. It's hard to look away. But then you noticed that he’s next to her. Too close. Leaning in with that same toothpaste-commercial charm, his hand resting on the bench behind her like he’s been there forever.

Your first instinct is to leave. But you don’t. Instead, you linger beneath a tree, your senses tuning into her the way they always do. It’s automatic, a reflex you can’t unlearn.

He says something, and Lena laughs, soft and brief. But the sound doesn’t sit right. It’s too airy, too measured, like she’s pushing it past the tightness in her chest. Your ears pick up the faint, steady flutter of her heart—it’s calm, not quickening like it should be. The thought cuts deeper than you’d like to admit.

You grip the bark of the tree behind you, grounding yourself as your gaze fixes on the scene, eyes unblinking. He brushes her hand when he moves to adjust his coffee cup, and you feel the heat rise in your chest. Your focus sharpens without meaning to, catching the soft rush of blood beneath her skin. Her pulse doesn’t spike. There’s no quick hitch in her breathing, no sign of the butterflies you imagine she might feel for someone she truly loves.

Her laugh sounds strangled, trapped somewhere between politeness and something she won’t let herself acknowledge. And yet, she’s here, sitting beside him, letting him think he has a chance.

A cruel voice whispers in your head: Maybe that’s enough for her. Maybe she doesn’t need the kind of laughter you bring.

Your jaw tightens, and you force yourself to look away, staring blankly at the tree line. It doesn’t matter what you hear or see or feel. She’s made her choice, hasn’t she? She’s sitting there with him, and you’re standing here alone, your heart burning in your chest like it might never go out.

And yet, that laugh—so hollow, so unlike her—lingers in your mind. You could make her laugh. Really laugh. The way her heart would stutter and skip, her breath catching on the kind of joy she’d only feel with you.

If only she could see it.

But when you glance back, her hand brushes his arm, and she means the kiss she leaves on his temple. The way her skin erupts in goosebumps when he leans in to murmur something low and almost dirty in her ear—it twists something in your gut. You hate it. Hate the way her body responds to him, hate the jealousy crawling up your spine like poison, hate the hollow ache settling in your chest as if it’s been carved out to make room for the hurt.

Your vision blurs, and you blink hard, forcing the tears back before they can make you feel any weaker than you already do. Maybe you're just imagining things. Maybe Lena is exactly where she belongs, and you're selfish for wanting her anywhere else. Yeah. That has to be it. You're the problem here, not him.

So the best thing you can do—for her, for yourself—is to step back.

Give her time.

Silence.

Distance.

The kind of absence that makes it feel like you exist in separate universes. As if she was never in your life in the first place.

It's been going great. Too great, actually. You've kept your head down, avoiding places where you might run into her, ignoring invitations, going silent whenever her name comes up. Maybe—just maybe—she was never meant to be in your life at all.

And God, that thought hits harder than kryptonite. Harder than any punch you’ve ever taken. Maybe even harder than the moment you thought you were going to die.

So tonight was supposed to be simple. A sister’s night—just you, Kara, and Alex, trading stories over snacks, something easy, something safe. But then Lena called. Her voice was quieter than usual, saying she had something important to talk about. Before you could brace yourself, Winn showed up, bearing beer and pizza, as if summoned by some unspoken tradition. And then J’onn followed, his presence steady, grounding, never needing an invitation—just a quiet acknowledgment that he belonged.

You wanna bolt. Just run out of there as fast as you can. But something compels you to stay. Perhaps you just want to hurt yourself, looking at Lena's happy face with someone else one more time. Perhaps you just need a little reminder on why you need to stay away, why she is so much better when you're not around.

The apartment hums with warmth and familiarity, the kind of atmosphere where secrets feel safe. You’re leaning against the counter, pretending to listen to Kara and Alex debate the rules of Scattergories, when the sound of the door opening pulls everyone’s attention.

Lena steps inside, looking composed but with something tight in her expression, like she’s holding onto the edge of a cliff. Kara is the first to greet her, of course, her voice warm and curious.

“Hey! Come in!” Lena does. Alone. “Where's your new boyfriend?”

Lena hesitates, and it’s enough to make the air in the room shift. “Yeah, about that,” she says, drawing in a breath so deep you can almost hear it steadying her.

Your chest tightens, your heart pausing mid-beat, waiting for the words you’re certain will crush you.

“We broke up.”

“Oh no, Lena. I’m so sorry.” Kara’s already reaching out, her hand finding Lena’s arm in a gesture of comfort, her face painted with concern.

You, on the other hand, are frozen. Blinking. Processing. And before you can stop yourself, your gaze drops to your feet as you fight the instinctive smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“It’s okay,” Lena continues, her voice quieter now, like she’s preparing herself for what comes next. “But hm… the reason we broke up is—”

Your head snaps up, your mind racing ahead of her words. There’s a reason. Maybe it’s you. Maybe she broke up with him because of you. It’s not you. It can’t be you. Stop it. Shut up.

“I’m gay.”

She's gay? She's gay. She's gay!

Your mind is reeling. Lena's revelation has got your mind spinning completely out of control. You can’t seem to move, can’t even breathe properly as the room around you buzzes with congratulations and warmth. Kara is beaming, of course, pulling Lena into one of her signature hugs that leaves no space for doubt about how proud she is. Alex welcomes her into the club, her smile genuine and wide. Winn makes a joke, earning an "hey” from your sisters. And even J’onn, who’s usually more reserved, leans in for a quick embrace, whispering something you can’t quite hear but can imagine is heartfelt and supportive.

And you… You’re just standing there. Stuck.

You never thought Lena was gay. She dated James, Jack, and well, him. The one whose mere presence set your blood boiling every time. That guy who got to be the one standing next to her, laughing, touching her like he was the center of her world. The simpleton who had no clue what it was like to hold someone like Lena Luthor in his arms, to know the depth of her heart, the complexities of her mind. That asshole who could casually claim her as his girlfriend, while you…

You scowl.

It’s not that you’re not proud of her. Of course you are. Coming out like this, in front of everyone—it’s brave. It’s huge. But your chest feels tight, your heart caught in a mess of emotions you can’t even begin to untangle.

Lena is gay.

The words echo again, sharper now, cutting through your thoughts like a blade. And with them, a flood of memories crashes over you—fragments you can’t quite control. The way her heart seemed to quicken when you entered a room, the faint pink that bloomed across her cheeks when your teasing lingered just a little too long. You’ve seen it—felt it—in the way her laughter spills out, unguarded and golden, as if the world around you dissolves and it’s just the two of you, sharing something unspeakably yours.

You remember the warmth of her hand, brushing against your arm whenever she stood close enough, the way her fingertips lingered like they had something more to say. The way her head would tilt, her lips curving into that impossibly soft, almost secretive smile, like you’d managed to charm her despite herself—even when you were rambling on about nothing at all.

Your throat tightens.

You never thought all of that could mean something more. You never let yourself hope. Lena is… Lena. Always too perfect, too pretty, too unattainable. She belongs to a different world, one where you are only ever a friend at best, an afterthought at worst.

But now? Now there’s a new piece of the puzzle. One you can’t ignore.

You glance at her, and the sight punches the air out of your lungs. She’s glowing, radiant in the light of her truth, her cheeks flushed as she basks in the support of your friends. She looks happy. She looks free. And it hurts. God, it hurts in a way you weren’t prepared for. Because now you’re left with the gnawing realization that while Lena might be free to live her truth, you’re still caught in the web of your own silence.

You want to say something. You want to do something. But all you can do is stand there, rooted to the spot, your mind screaming what your lips won’t dare to:

I love you.

By now, everyone has shown their support, and when Lena’s eyes land on yours, you know everyone else’s eyes do too.

“Lena,” You whisper, softly, and her name tastes different now, like a promise, an oath. “I—I’m so happy for you.”

Her smile is huge when she steps closer, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. There’s a warmth in her eyes, something soft and inviting, and it makes your heart ache in ways you can’t describe.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice steady, but the weight of the words carries more than you ever imagined. It nearly breaks you. “That means a lot coming from you.”

From you.

Your knees feel unsteady, as though the floor beneath you is losing its grip. The air is thick around you, too hot and too crowded, and you feel every heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You want to look away, but you can’t. You’re frozen, caught in the quiet intensity of her gaze.

“I—” You start, but the words catch in your throat. What could you possibly say that wouldn’t ruin this moment for her?

And then, mercifully—or cruelly—Winn says her name, pulling her attention away. She turns, and the spell breaks.

You glance around and catch Kara’s eye. Her brow furrows in that way she does when she’s piecing something together, and for a terrifying second, you think she’s figured it out. But then she smiles away, and you breathe deep. You're safe. Your secret's protected. And your love is buried deep inside you.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #lena x reader #reader insert #alex danvers #supergirl fanfiction #baby danvers #supergirl imagine

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recreationalfanfics · 2 years ago

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Yandere Bachira/ Yandere Shidou + Obsessing Over Their Agent

Giving into their egos at the end of Blue Lock, they're used to getting everything they wanted and what they wanted next...was their cute little agent who handled their public relations and contracts♡

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Shidou Ryusei

Bachira:

"You're staring again."

Bachira blinks at your words, dazed as he slowly was brought back to reality. Huh, he must've zoned out staring at your face again. Your sharp (e/c) eyes focused on your phone, your stoic expression making his heart beat a bit more quickly in his chest, and your hair which was all fixed up and neat was just begging for his fingers to come through it with how it looked. He tilted his head to the side cutely and closed his eyes, flashing you his most charming smile.

"Can you blame me?" He chuckled, moving his way over to you. With lightning fast reflexes, you stuck your foot up in the air to stop him while still focusing on your task at hand as he whined and tried to pinch your cheek. He pouted after a few unsuccessful minutes and frowned, "Aw! You're no fun, (Y/n)-chan!"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but you did respond to him.

"Sir, don't be misinformed; this relationship is purely professional. I am your agent, you are my client. That is all." You spoke sternly to him as if he were a child, "Now, let's get you ready for that commercial shoot."

Just a client, huh?

Bachira sighs and holds his chest where his heart would be and looks at you with his big yellow puppy dog eyes: "That hurts, (Y/n)! After everything we've been through!"

Again, his attempts were met with silence and he frowned, seeing that you were still focused on your phone. That's not fair, (Y/n), so many people would've absolutely killed to be in your shoes in this moment and you have the audacity to brush him off? Fine, he'll just have to make it clear that there was no one else but you.

- He makes everything difficult for everyone if it doesn't involve you, he's still likeable, but everyone just talks about how he's a bit too energetic to stay still. You can't tell how many times make up crews, directors, and training coaches or even other players had to shyly come up to you and make Bachira comply with their wishes because "he behaves when you're around".

- Many times Bachira tries to make it appear you two are a couple; telling you that he loves you as you do his foundation for his upcoming interviews, excitedly running at you in between commercial breaks to ask you if he did well, and often wanting to take you out for casual outings as celebration but you declined. You didn't want to feed into whatever delusion he had in his head about you two.

- You tried to be a bit personal and suggest he try out some sports modeling, casually mentioning how a current model heart throb was interested in collaborating with him in hopes that it'd be enough to get him to move on but he frowned and shook his head. NO! He's not posing for pictures with anyone, especially not for some random model, if its not you!

- Even though you're in charge of his social media; he will still post pictures of you to his own account, admiring how cute you are when you're in the zone, or just captioning the photo with a simple: "Mine♥️💕" and even though you tell him to delete those photos everytime, you feel a bit uneasy when you realize you didn't even notice him pulling out his phone and getting these photos until he tagged you in them. You just hope he doesn't have anymore photos of you that you didn't know about.

- Bachira is without a doubt obsessive, he gets giddy when you call him because he believes one of these days you'll wake up and realize you love him back just as much, only to be slightly dissapointed when you are merely calling him to discuss contract details. That's fine, though! One of these days you're going to have to face the reality that you two were meant to be together♡

- You're just like him after all! It's just that you want to dominate a different field than him. Your goals are similar, be the best that Japan has to offer, making sure that Bachira succeeds on and off the field helps ensure your own success, and while you didn't want to deal with his annoying behavior all the time; it'd be a foolish choice to quit working for him. You think that he knows that too because he'll always try to test the waters of your relationship, never really believing your threats of switching to a different player.

- Because even if you didn't love him, you needed him, just as he needed you. Surely you'll end up loving him back, though, after all: there was no one else in his eyes besides you. So he'll work hard to be the best, not just for Japan, but for you. Each goal he makes, he looks at you and sees the briefest smile on your face and it drives him wild the rest of the game to keep scoring and scoring.

- Don't think you've tamed the monster inside of him, though. Because it'll never be truly satisfied until it finally has you. All of you.

Shidou:

"Why're you buying flowers for that asshole?"

You felt a shiver go up your spine, feeling Shidou's sharp chin resting on your shoulder and feeling his warm breath on the back of your right ear, he was still a little sweaty from his daily drills and workouts...technically, he should've been working out still but his fitness coaches knew the moment you stepped into the room that he wouldn't be able to focus on anything but you.

"Technically, you're buying him flowers," You corrected, moving away from him. He raised an eyebrow but kept a deadpan face as you turned around to explain to him, "Shido, you're already controversial. You played way too hard and broke that man's ankle. Sending flowers is the least you could do."

Aw, give him some credit...he could've done a lot worse if he wanted too but he managed to restrain himself from doing that, all for you. Plus, it was entirely the other guy's fault anyways. That asshole was eyeing you up and down when you weren't looking and jokingly told Ryusei that he wished he had an agent that was as hot as you were instead of his current old and grumpy one. Shido knew he had the best things: the best cars, the best shoes, the best career a soccer player could ask for...but you were different. You were one of the things he had that made him the best, flipping his controversies into picturing him as this passionate player whose just motivated to represent his country, but you were meant for only him to admire. Everyone else is allowed to stare at you two with envy and jealously but that's ALL.

"I'm not sending him no damn flowers and neither are you." He scoffed, taking your phone from your hand and canceling the order. You frowned and tried to grab it back from him, he raised it above his head am to force you to reach for it and when you raised one arm and stood on both your tippy toes, he used his free arm to hook it around your waist and pull you close to him. Pining you against the wall, his pink eyes focused on you in a way that a predator would eye its prey.

"Quit thinkin' about some nobody player. You're MY agent."

- Before you, Shidou went through a lot of agents. Agents who quit on the spot because he was impossible to work with, agents who just stormed out of the doors because they couldn't take anymore, agents who still badmouth him to the public and feeding into his reputation.

- Then you walked in through those doors. Steely gazed, chin up and proud. You were cute, that's for sure, but you weren't gonna be any different then the rest of them. At least, thats what he had originally thought. You never lost your mind over the way he played, you never complained about how he was making your job impossible, and you never lost your cool.

- You were a professional at your job, you knew how to make him appeal to the audience and frame him in a better light while also making sure he didn't have to change too much...because he would never change. So you would work with what you had, how did the saying go? There's no such thing as bad publicity.

- Unlike Bachira, you just being there isn't gonna make him behave. If you're gonna make him do some lame ass photoshoot then he better be getting something out of it. At first it was just things like arranging a deal with a brand he liked, setting up a soccer match with some good players only for him to absolutely ruin them. He started to like you because of those things.

- However it escalated one day when he asked for something that took you off gaurd. A kiss. It was for an interview and he refused to let anyone touch him so they all ran crying to you, he instantly looked at you as you put a gentle hand on his shoulder and asked him what he wanted this time so you both could get through this.

- He didn't even really think about it either, he was a little shocked when he said it himself but he was just mesmerized by your lips that he wondered what it'd be like to kiss them. So he wanted to find out. You were flustered, rightfully so and tried to bargain with him but he was dead set on that kiss...oh well...it was one measly kiss. So you kissed his cheek and he frowned, not exactly what he wanted but you did give him what he wanted technically.

- But yeah, that just kinda sparked his obsession with you and his obsession isn't what you should be concerned about. It's his possessive nature, you work for him so you belong to him. He doesn't like you talking to other people most of the time, constantly grabbing your phone and hanging up important calls when the conversation goes somewhere he doesn't like or deems isn't as important as him.

- Shidou knows he doesn't love you but love isn't exactly on either of your radars since your focused on your career, which only does well as long as Shido's does well. It doesn't stop him from looking at you tying his tie for him, imagining you doing something more intimate than a mere kiss on the cheek, to take you out on fancy dates and buy you nice things and all the crap (he's tried before but you always refuse) and when he wakes up in the morning, he wonders how different it would be if you were next to him. He might love you but overall, it's a matter of possession. You belong to him. No one else.

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puttersmile · 2 months ago

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Smiling Critters OC: Ruby Rivers

Ruby Rivers is technically the main character of the Critter Crossing AU. An animator who worked within the in house animation studio of PlayCo. Also worked on commercials and box art. She was a pretty down to earth person but some of her co-workers believed in some weird things.

Here is some story stuff written like emails. To give some backstory. Enjoy!

From: Ruby Rivers

To: Peter Klein

Date: April 12, 1991

Time: 10:23 AM

Hey Pete,

Got your notes from yesterday’s meeting. Thanks for following up. I noticed you didn’t mention anything about your “poppy ink theory.” Maybe you realized it sounds a bit, well, out there?

You know I’m all for creative energy and inspiration—who wouldn’t be in this line of work? But this idea that our work is alive? Or that ink mixed with poppy seeds could somehow “bridge worlds”? Come on. Feels like you’ve been spending too much time watching the Twilight Zone.

Let’s not forget the real world here: poppy seeds contain weird compounds that can mess with your head. I’m pretty sure you’re not summoning spirits; you’re just getting secondhand microdosed. If anything, it’s probably giving folks mild hallucinations, not creating sentient cartoons.

Ruby

PS: Good idea switching to personal emails. I think our boss wasn't enjoying your crazy talk! No offense.

Subject: Re: Meeting Follow-Up

From: Peter Klein

To: Ruby Rivers

Date: April 12, 1991

Time: 11:09 AM

Ruby,

You’re missing the point! Sure, poppy seeds have… side effects, but this isn’t just about the ink. Have you ever thought about why characters like Dogday and Catnap feel so real? Why their stories seem to write themselves? Or why we all end up saying, “That’s exactly what Dogday would do” as if he’s deciding, not us?

I’m telling you, the ink might just be the catalyst. Look at the anomalies: the way sketches sometimes seem to shift slightly after we leave the room, or how animation frames appear more fluid than the tech should allow. Did you know Jill said she dreamed of Dogday last week, warning her not to approve a particular scene? She swears she woke up to find her storyboard reworked—better than before!

Something’s happening here, Ruby. Whether you believe it or not, you can’t deny the connection we feel with these characters.

Pete

Subject: Re: Meeting Follow-Up

From: Ruby Rivers

To: Peter Klein

Date: April 12, 1991

Time: 11:37 AM

Pete,

“Sketches shifting”? “Dream warnings”? That’s not supernatural, that’s sleep deprivation and caffeine overload. I don’t know why Jill redid her storyboard, but it wasn’t Dogday whispering in her ear. Maybe she was inspired and forgot about it—our brains are weird like that.

And yeah, we connect with the characters. We created them, after all. But they’re not real. They’re reflections of us, our ideas, and our teamwork. And a unhelpfully healthy dose of instructions from the higher ups. But anyway, That’s why they seem alive—it’s projection, not some alternate dimension leaking into the studio. Come on, Pete.

As for the ink, I’ll humor you for a second. Let’s say it does something weird. You think PlayCo would let us use it if they knew it could, I don’t know, break reality? They’d sell it as a toy themselves if it were that special.

Ruby

Subject: Re: Meeting Follow-Up

From: Peter Klein

To: Ruby Rivers

Date: April 12, 1991

Time: 12:15 PM

Ruby,

Have you looked at the new toy prototypes yet? You might be more right than you think, Ruby.

You don’t have to believe me, but don’t dismiss it entirely. You said it yourself—our characters are reflections of us. What if those reflections are more than just ideas? What if they’re connected to something bigger?

Remember the early versions of Dogday and Catnap? You told me once that you used to imagine Hot Clawffee and Snoozle Dreamhound sitting on your shoulders, like little muses. Maybe that’s closer to the truth than you think. Maybe they’re still there, influencing what you create.

I’ll leave you with this: if these characters weren’t real in some way, why would they mean so much to us?

Pete

Subject: Re: Meeting Follow-Up

From: Ruby Rivers

To: Peter Klein

Date: April 12, 1991

Time: 1:08 PM

Pete,

Hot Clawffee and Snoozle Dreamhound were my creations, and yeah, I still think about them. Sometimes when I’m stuck on a scene, I picture them sitting on my shoulders, one whispering something clever, the other reminding me to take a nap. It’s silly, but it helps. Kind of soothes my wounded pride that PlayCo wanted so many changes.

Eh Dogday is fine. But Catnap. When I see the big one walking around in that orphan city, it creeps me out like crazy. I can barely stand to look at it directly. But this is getting off topic!

All of that is just my imagination, not proof of anything supernatural. Characters are important because we pour ourselves into them, not because they’re alive. And I won’t deny that Dogday and Catnap feel like they’ve taken on lives of their own in some ways. We are working near unethical work hours in this place. Probably why we are hearing and seeing strange shit.

So no, I don’t think we’re breaking any laws of nature here. But I’ll admit this much: these characters matter. To us at least. And the kids. Not because they’re "real", but because they remind us of the best parts of ourselves. That's just how I see it.

But anyway, I've got to go turn in some animatics. See you later.

Ruby

#smiling critters #myart #fanart #poppy playtime #putterpenart #smiling critters au #poppy playtime au #dogday #catnap #oc #ruby rivers #critter cross au #critter crossing au #artists on tumblr #picky piggy

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authorhjk1 · 1 year ago

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Interlude: Lonely

IU X Miyeon X Male Reader

You have walked past her table a couple of times already. It's not unusual to drink while having dinner, she is an adult after all. But the amount she is consuming starts to concern you. One bottle of soju after another finds its place on her table.

When you walk past her once again, to greet someone whom you haven't talked to yet, you decide to sit down. In that moment, someone else enters your restaurant. You stand there for a moment, wondering what's going on.

Her black dress is slightly gleaming in the light. It's quite short and her rather big boots compliment it well. She isn't wearing a necklace. Only a couple pearl rings and a handbag. Her black hair completes that dark look she has going on.

When your eyes meet, you remember you are in a public place. There is no official reason for the both of you to know each other. And yet Choi Miyeon has that look on her face already. That look that tells you what she wants you to do to her tonight.

Distracted, you don't realize that you have been standing next to the other idol, whom you were concerned about earlier.

"Why are you standing here? I didn't order anything."

Her drunk voice sounds kinda cute, although her outfit isn't. She is going for the same look as the vixen, who just sat down at a table nearby. Dark and sexy.

Her eyes are only half open as she stares at you.

"You know what? Bring me another bottle?"

She points with her finger at you, but it sways slightly and it looks like she wants to hypnotize you.

"Ms Lee. Why don't you go back to your hotel?"

You ask in a polite tone, but she waves you off.

"No no no. My room is empty. I don't want to be empty."

She scoffs before downing another glass of soju.

You weren't prepared for drunk talk tonight, but she is still your customer. When she appeared a few hours ago, you were surprised, but then you remember the brand, which you buy your soju from.

Lee Ji-eun, aka IU, decided to check out your restaurant, when she heard of its opening.

"Ms Lee. Can you tell me where your manager is?"

If you can't get her home, he probably can.

"Don't call me that."

She furrows her brows as she leans her head on her forearms, which are resting on the table. Her chef for her table left a while ago, so the two of you are alone.

"Just Ji. Or IU. I'm alone anyways."

She murmurs into the sleeves of her jacket.

"Fine. IU then. It's late already, don't you want to have some sleep? I'm sure you are tired."

"No no no."

She raises her hand and waves to decline your idea.

"My bed is empty. I don't want to."

"It's empty since you aren't in it."

"I'm empty."

You sigh as you rub your face. The whole day has been hectic and stressful.

"How about I bring you home?"

IU focuses on you, at least she is trying to, and eyes you suspiciously.

"You-You wanna play?"

You raise your eyebrow.

"What?"

"You wanna play?"

She giggles before trying to one shot another glass. Most of the clear liquid falls onto the table, some stains her top.

"What kind of game?"

IU shakes her head, which obviously makes her feel dizzy afterwards.

"You don't know. No no no."

You sigh, before asking the inevitable.

"What don't I know?"

"What-What we play. I never have someone to play."

"Don't you have friends?"

You feel like you are talking to a twelve year old who just took some painkillers.

"They don't play with me."

She mumbles on and pouts cutely as she slightly lifts her head.

"They only play with each other. Or with guys."

The last part was definitely filled with bitterness and annoyance.

"Guys don't want to play with me either. Why not?"

She looks at you, her eyes still barely open.

"Why don't boys play with me?"

You are starting to realize what she is saying. And you also realize where this is heading.

"Am I not cute?"

She pushes the empty green bottles away from her and you realize IU is recreating one of her commercials. At least she is trying to.

You do have to say so that drunk IU isn't as cute as her sober counterpart.

"Or am I not sexy enough?"

It takes her a moment to focus on you and open her eyes completely. But when she does, she looks stunning.

The Korean singer is older than you. Quite a few years actually. You weren't really into older women before, but IU? You can see why guys would be tempted.

"You are one gorgeous woman."

You smile at her, hoping this will lift her mood.

"Then why don't you do it?"

She gives you a groggy smile and sways that finger of hers again.

"Why don't you play with me?"

"You are drunk, IU."

She shakes her head.

"No no no. Not drunk. T-Tipsy."

She nods as if she is trying to convince herself.

"Yes, yes. Tipsy."

You lean back in your seat, trying to come up with a plan to get this woman in a bed. It doesn't have to be yours, but if she would be to sober up on the way, you wouldn't be complaining.

"Excuse me, sir."

You close your eyes in disbelief as you recognize the voice. Turning around, you see Miyeon standing behind you.

"May I talk to you for a moment? It's-"

You can see her struggling to come up with some excuse. Luckily, almost all of the media is already gone.

"It's about the cucumbers."

She looks surprised at herself at that idiotic comment. One might think that she is hammered too.

You glare at her, but she eventually convinces you with her suggestive glance towards your crotch. Cucumbers my ass.

About to stand up, you see IU lift her head, which dropped back onto her arms a couple of moments ago.

"You."

She looks at Miyeon.

"He wants to play with me. Why are you taking him?"

Miyeon ignores her and drags you a couple of steps away.

You don't know how Miyeon did it. But you find yourself walking down the sidewalk, IU holding onto your arm. She is less drunk already. The pill that Miyeon gave her, some water and the cool Paris night seem to sober her up.

"I apologize for making you bring me to my hotel."

You shake your head as you look down the empty street.

"It is closing time soon, anyways."

"Thank you, though."

She squeezes your arm gently.

"What did you mean earlier?"

IU looks at you with worry.

"What did I say?"

"You said you are lonely."

"Ah."

She nods as the two of you keep walking.

"I am. I sometimes have the feeling that no one is interested in me."

You stay silent as she keeps talking.

"I can never really have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend."

She whispered that last word, but you managed to hear it.

"It must be hard since you are a celebrity. But I'm sure you will find someone you love eventually."

To your surprise, IU shakes her head.

"That's not what I want right now."

She looks up into your eyes.

"Oh."

You look away and keep walking in silence.

"I just want to-"

She looks around the empty street, before getting on her tiptoes.

"-get fucked."

She stares at you once more.

You are about to say something, having Miyeon's plan still in the back of your head, but the Korean actress looks away.

"I'm jealous of all the girl groups, you know? They maybe don't have boyfriends, but at least each other."

She sighs and you realize she isn't completely sober yet.

"Imagine if you were in a nine member group. All of their hands on your body."

Her voice sounds dreamy and you stay quiet, but not because you are polite.

"Their fingers on your skin. All of them taking turns kissing you..."

She trails off and looks into the night.

You curse silently, glancing at your pants.

As if she has done this a million times, IU lets her hand slide down your arm and locks her fingers with yours.

"As much as I love younger girls eating me out, I love younger guys fucking my brains out more."

The two of you come to halt and you can't say a word. Until now, she was as subtle as possible. Now she is just saying out loud what she is thinking.

"Do you know how long it has been since I sucked cock?"

She takes a step closer, her eyes partially covered by her bangs.

"I would give anything for a nice dick in my pussy right now."

As soon as the elevator doors close, IU pulls your head down. She captures your lips with hers and you can still taste some of the soju she drank earlier.

As the taste and her scent start to take over your senses, you realize she smells like strawberries. Her lips, which have a similar color, are soft and sweet as you invade her mouth with your tongue.

Your make out session is interrupted when the doors open again, but IU takes your hand and drags you after her. She almost runs to her room, before she uses the key card to open the door.

As she is about to step inside, you pin her against the doorframe. You feel her bite your lip as you push your tongue inside her mouth once more. Holding her hands in yours, you take the key card and let it fall to the ground, right outside the room.

The two of you stumble towards her bed as you kick the door shut behind you. Afraid you are gonna hurt her, you make sure she is on top as the two of you hit the sheets. IU is lying on top of you, her bangs slightly tickling your forehead as she keeps her lips on yours.

As you stroke her hair, you feel her hands running down your body with one particular goal. Making quick work of your belt, she doesn't stop kissing you. Your own hands run down her naked lower back and hold onto her butt, locking her in place.

"Let me go."

She smiles into the kiss as she tuggs at the waistband of your boxers.

"I can do more with these lips than kissing."

You let her cheeks go and you feel her glide down your body. Raising your hips, you see IU taking off your pants.

"This was worth the wait."

Her eyes sparkle with satisfaction as she sees your cock. She reaches out with both hands, before she starts to stroke you. One at the bottom, one at the top. You feel yourself harden immediately at her work. She does seem skilled, although she said she doesn't have much sex.

Opening her mouth, IU lets some spit fall off her tongue and onto your tip. She spreads it around your tip with her thumb.

"This looks delicious."

She gives you a big smile, before she leans down. Her upper hand is replaced by her warm mouth. Slowly, her lips glide along the length of your shaft.

You reach out to hold her hair as IU gives you one of the best blowjobs you ever had. Her skillful tongue does not miss a spot as she lets it roam all over your cock. Her lips are sealed tight around you, making her cheeks hollow. While her right hand is still holding the base of your cock, the left one is sliding upwards, underneath your shirt.

IU can feel your abs with her hand as she keeps taking your cock into her mouth. You almost think that she doesn't have a gag reflex at all. Your tip reaches the back of her throat. The black haired woman takes it with ease as she has almost all of your cock in her mouth.

Once she reaches your base with her lips, she does choke slightly. She looks up, before moving her head in a circular motion, which makes you groan. Your cock still deep inside her throat.

"Fuck, you are good."

IU slowly moves her head upwards, letting your dick out of her mouth.

"This is nothing."

She gives you a naughty smile.

"I could suck you off with my eyes closed."

"Is that so?"

She winks at you and resumes her blowjob. You have to close your eyes momentarily as she works wonders on your cock. A few moments later, you are able to untie your blue tie. Reaching forward, you place it on her eyes, before tying it at the back of her head.

"What is this?"

IU chuckles.

"You said you could do this with your eyes closed."

You glance at the door as you see it open quietly.

"You bet. As long as I have a cock in my throat, I don't care if I can see or not."

The woman who just entered the room bites her lip at the older woman's comment.

Afraid that IU would catch on, you guide her head back towards your dick. When her lips touch your tip, a smile plays around them, before she obediently opens her mouth. As your cock glides into her mouth, you see Miyeon staring.

As if she forgot what she is here for. You point with your free hand towards her small sports bag she brought with her, which snaps Miyeon out of her trance.

She puts it down quietly, but all that can be heard in this room right now are IU's sucking sounds.

The younger woman opens her bag quickly, taking out a long, black object.

Unbeknownst to IU, Miyeon hooks her thumbs underneath the straps of her dress, before letting it fall to the ground. That she isn't wearing a bra was obvious before, but you can now see that she isn't wearing underwear either.

While IU still works on your cock, you watch Miyeon idly playing with her clit. She rubs it with two of her fingers as she watches the two of you.

"Miyeon!"

You mouth in her direction.

It takes her a couple of moments to tear her eyes away from your cock, which is currently resting inside IU's throat.

She winks at you, before reaching for the black object and something else inside the bag. When she said she brought some toys, you just shrugged it off. But it looks like Miyeon has a whole arsenal with her.

You watch her putting on the black strap on, while holding a bottle of lube.

"You are so quiet. Did you pass out already?"

IU chuckles at your attempt to keep quiet.

"You would need to work harder for that."

"Fine."

She sticks her tongue out mockingly, before letting more spit drop out of her mouth.

"Let's see who passes out first."

She wraps her lips around your cock once again.

As IU deep throats your dick, Miyeon is slowly walking towards the bed. She already opened the small glassy bottle in her hand. She is slowly stroking the long strap on with her slick hand. If you saw it correctly, the lower part of her toy is resting inside her own pussy, around four inches, while the rest is for her to use on her sunbae. It's around your own length, but yours is slightly bigger.

IU is still chocking on your cock. It looks like she is determined to make you pass out, or at least make you cum. Either way, she keeps you down her throat, not letting an inch miss any attention.

You have to hold onto a fistful of her dark hair, while your left hand is grabbing the sheets. IU is not joking around when it comes to blowjobs.

You watch Miyeon as she is now standing right behind the bed. In one swift motion she reaches forward and takes a hold of the older girl's pants' waistband.

"What?"

IU's surprised yelp is muffled by your cock down her throat. You force her head in place. Miyeon starts to take off her pants. IU struggles against the two of you.

"Stay put."

You force her lips to reach your base once more.

"You said you want attention."

Once IU has calmed down, Miyeon finally manages to rid her off her pants.

"Wow, unnie. Your pussy looks so pretty."

She purrs, before getting onto the bed herself.

You see IU relaxing as she realizes that the other girl is someone she knows. She just doesn't know who it is yet. In her blindfolded state, she is forced to only react to both of your touches. Miyeon holds onto her waist, making her rise her butt. She is now in this "demon pose" position. You can see the shape of her plump ass behind her head from your point of view.

"Fuck. Your body."

You see IU smile around your cock.

It's quickly replaced by a moan as you watch Miyeon spit on her hand, before reaching between the older girl's legs.

A couple of moans and seconds later, you can already see Miyeon aligning her strap on with IU's snatch.

You are kinda jealous, especially after Miyeon's comment.

The older girl's mouth forms an O shape as she gets penetrated by the plastic strap on. Your wet cock falls out of her mouth.

"Holy fuck."

"Do you like this, unnie?"

"I love it."

IU sighs as she holds onto the base of your dick once more. She guides your tip towards her mouth. Pushing her head down, you watch IU getting two of her wholes stuffed with cock. Although you can't see it, you can tell that her eyes are closed in bliss.

Miyeon moves her hips back and forth, letting the strap on slide in and out of IU's cunt. With every thrust forward, the older girl gets pushed forward, which forces your cock deeper down her throat.

Your head rests against the hotel room wall as you try to keep your composure. Even with a dildo in her pussy, IU is still sucking the life out of you. Her mouth trying it's best to make you cum. Your hand in her hair tugs at it occasionally, making her stop for just a moment. There are plenty of moments, where you think you are about to cum. But luckily, you manage to make her stop just at the right time.

"Your cock is so big now."

IU's words are interrupted by another one of her moans.

"I know you are going to cum."

She uses your tip to smear all your pre cum over her lips.

"Just give it to me already."

She takes you into her mouth again. Determined to make you cum now.

Looking behind her, you watch Miyeon slowly fucking IU from behind. Her own eyes are closed, the other end of the strap on obviously pleasuring her more than she would like to admit. Her hips roll back and forth, letting the plastic move in and out of IU's snatch.

"Come on, baby. Cum in my mouth."

The older girl makes you focus on her again. You have to hold onto her head with both hands, due to the pleasure she is sending through your system. You didn't plan on cuming so fast. But here you are.

As IU deep throats your cock, you hold her in place with both hands. Her lips almost reaching the end of your cock. You feel her gagging slightly. The muscles of her throat tighten around you. The slight shoves from Miyeon make her move around you. She humms slightly, when Miyeon hits the right spot.

"I'm gonna cum."

You groan as you feel IU's hands wander towards your abs once more. She isn't leaving room for her hands on your cock anyway.

Her gags become louder. As Miyeon gives her a big thrust from behind, you finally cum down IU's throat. You push her head further down as you feel her moan. Ropes of your cum coat her throat and mouth from the inside.

It takes you a couple of moments to recover from IU's blowjob. You just lie on the bed, enjoying the view of her getting softly pounded by Miyeon. You realize that she still doesn't know, who is fucking her.

The same thought runs through Ji-eun's head at the same time. She was surprised at first, to say the least. And although the strap on doesn't compare to a real cock, it's still a nice feeling to get filled in two holes at the same time. As you are now recovering, your cock resting in her hands, Ji-eun tries to guess who is fucking her. It's hard, since she sometimes loses her train of thought, whenever the girl behind her is hitting the right spot. She called her unnie, right? It can't be Yoo In-Na then, since she is older. Plus, she would have recognized her voice.

Lee Ahin maybe? But she would have called her "sunbaenim" respectfully. But it still could be her. Ji-eun remembers, that she was jealous the way Ahin looked at you occasionally from across the room.

You see Miyeon bite her lip, as a moan escapes her mouth. You never expected to be in this situation. And you never expected Miyeon to come up with this idea.

Watching her pleasuring herself and IU with her strap on makes your cock hard again. The older girl's hands aren't very innocent either though.

As she realizes that you are ready for round two, IU takes you into her mouth once more. You are still a little more sensitive than usual. You groan as she does her best to make your cock as hard as possible. Her body still being rocked back and forth by Miyeon.

"Daddy, you should try this pussy."

Miyeon sighs, her half opened eyes focused on you.

"I think this unnie is hungry for your cock in her little cunt."

The way IU moans at the younger girl's comment makes you slowly guide her head off your cock.

Her eyes are still covered, which means she still can't see what you are doing. You get off the bed and walk over to Miyeon. Capturing her lips with yours, you make the younger girl come to halt. The two of you enjoy each other's mouths.

Glancing downwards, you have a good view on IU's pussy. It's visibly stretched out by Miyeon's black dildo. Her lower lips are tightly wrapped around it. You can see some of her slick juices running down her inner thighs as she is still in the same position as before. You reach out to knead her left ass cheek.

"What are you waiting for? Give it to me."

She moans as she looks over her shoulder, eyes still covered by your tie.

You push against the left side of her hips, which makes her fall on her back on the bed. Miyeon left her pussy just a second earlier and now you are standing between her legs.

You admire IU's beautiful pussy. Her pink, plump lips glisten slightly. Her clit is slightly visible and her skin around it is as smooth as the rest of her body.

Unable to resist, you lean down to have a taste. You taste some of her juices as you lick her pussy lips.

"Oh, fuck."

IU moans. She expected your cock, not your tongue.

Standing straight again, you hold her waist with both hand. Nodding towards the bottle of lube, you instruct Miyeon to use it. A mischievous smile appears on her face. While she opens it and pours some of the liquid onto the strap on, you pick IU up. She instinctively wraps her legs around you, still not having a clue about what's about to happen. Her arms are reaching around your neck and her face is right in front of yours. You move a little, so that Miyeon can stand behind her.

You place your hand on one of her firm butt cheeks, while the other reaches for your cock. Slowly, you insert yourself into her pussy.

"Oh god."

IU sighs as your tip enters her. Since she is way smaller than you, you have to slide her up and down on your cock. Now holding both of her cheeks in your hand, you slowly lower her further.

With every inch, IU's mouth opens wider. When she finally reaches your base, a loud moan escapes her mouth.

"Fuck you are so big."

Her walls are tight around you. Looking down, you see one of the most beautiful things you have ever seen. IU's pink lips molding around your cock, keeping it in her snatch.

Her head drops back as you make her lean away from you by pulling her ass towards you. She is now on the perfect night for Miyeon. The younger girl runs her fingers over IU's waist, before aligning her strap on with her hole.

Once the wet plastic touches her rear entrance, IU knows what's going on.

"Oh fuck! I have never dones this before."

You can tell she is squeezing her eyes shut as Miyeon starts to push inside of her. You feel her strap on press against your cock through the thin wall of IU's body. With every inch, the older woman breaths heavier, until she is completely filled.

Her black hair covers Miyeon's face as she is just hanging there between the two of you. She is completely defenseless. IU can't do anything but moan as you start to lift her up.

She has never felt so full. Both of her holes are stuffed with cock as she slides upwards. Since Miyeon is shorter than you, you have to stop lifting IU when you reach your own tip, otherwise the strap on would slide out. And whenever you push IU down, she can only take a third of Miyeon's dildo inside of her.

Despite these little flaws, the older girl still feels like she is in heaven. All of her muscles relax except the ones in her pussy and ass. Over and over you slowly lift her up and pull her down. After just a couple of moments, the Korean actress has become a stuttering mess.

"Oh! Fu-! Yes! Please more!"

Her back is now completely arched, her head resting on Miyeon's shoulder. Because IU is still wearing that black top, you can only dive into her neck. You kiss her skin as you make her moan in tandem with your moves.

After having found a rhythm that works for all of you, you start to go a little faster. The effect it has on IU is evident as her moans turn louder and her hands on your back hold you tighter. You hear Miyeon moan occasionally as well, whenever IU is pushed onto her strap on. It pushes it a little further into her own pussy everytime, giving her pleasure as well.

The older woman has now lost her ability to form words. Her moans are deep and drawn out. Her pussy feels incredible tight, partially because of Miyeon's strap on in her ass, which slightly pushes against your cock.

You hear IU whine as she starts to cum. Her body tenses up a little as she feels a flame burn through her body. It has been building up since Miyeon pulled her pants off. Now, she is cuming on your cock, her juices dribbling down onto the carpet.

You hiss as you feel IU's pussy contracting around you. The way she feels pushed you closer as well. You are able to hold out, until she calms down, but you know that you might not survive another orgasm of hers.

You keep your rhythm nonetheless, making IU moan loudly once more. Her eyes are still covered as she sees nothing but darkness. After that orgasm, the flame in her body doesn't die down. Instead, it keeps building again. The darkness is replaced by bright colors. You are quite literally making her see stars as you make IU cum for a second time.

She whines once more, too lust drunk to speak. At the same time, Miyeon moans. You guess it's not really about the stimulation for her, but the act itself. A small orgasm rushes through the younger girl's body, making her knees buckle.

Seeing the two of them cum, makes you want to do the same. For a second you wonder if you want to trade holes with Miyeon, but IU's pussy is something you can't pass up on. There is no way in hell you pull out, until you cum.

Up until now, the two of you fucked her with a rather slow, steady pace. Fast enough to make her cum, but still not with your usual force. You can feel the lust building up inside of you.

Miyeon looks like that as well, although she probably has something else in mind. Although the dildo inside of her makes her feel good, it's hard for her to cum. The two of you exchange glances, before you come to a silent agreement.

You lift IU up one last time, higher than before. It makes Miyeon's strap on slide out of her ass, while your tip still remains inside of her. You see your cock is slick with her juices. The younger girl hurries to unbuckle the belt of her strap on, before letting it fall to the ground. She jumps onto the bed, her hand already near snatch as she is ready to watch the end of the show.

Ji-eun is still wondering what's going on as she obviously feels Miyeon's strap on leave her ass. You kiss her neck once more as she is too tired to complain about the lack of fullness.

Your arms start to get tired, so you place her on the wooden dresser, which is standing near the bed. Her back is pressed against the cold wall as you push fully inside of her once more.

"Right there."

She sighs as you hit a new spot in this position. Looking behind you, you see Miyeon is already knuckle deep in her own pussy, eyes only half open. She decided that it's more pleasurable for her if she doesn't have to move so much. The fucking tiring her out.

Knowing that IU can't look at Miyeon, since you are blocking the view, you pull down your tie. It hangs loosely around her neck as you see her eyes after a long time. Her lust makes her look like she is angry. Her brown eyes focused on you as her upper lip slightly twitches.

"Now fuck me hard."

She demands, not even bothering to try and find out, who fucked her ass.

You bottom out inside of her as you start to pound her onto the wall.

"Faster!"

She has become more vocal, now that she can see. Maybe she was a little shy earlier, but now, she is enjoying herself too much to care.

"Fuck yes! Make the whole hotel hear!"

She moans loudly as you keep your pace. The dresser doesn't seem very safe. It starts to rock back and forth with your thrusts, hitting the wall occasionally. It creaks as you fuck IU on its smooth surface.

"Make them know that I'm getting pounded hard! Make them touch themselves!"

You fuck her faster, almost scared she is going to hit the wall with her head. Now that she can see, IU keeps her eyes on yours, capturing your gaze.

"I'm gonna cum."

It's hard to bring that sentence over your lips, but you can't stop it. It's like IU's pussy was made for only one purpose. To make you cum.

"Yeah! Give it to me!"

She moans louder, holding onto the shirt you are still wearing.

"Cum all over my pussy! Paint me with your cum!"

Holding onto her waist, you pull IU further onto your cock with every thrust. You hear Miyeon in the background, moaning and whining as she cums on her finger. The dresser sounds like it's going to collapse any minute as you fuck one of the most beautiful women on earth on its surface.

IU's face is close to yours and her lips find yours. The two of you kiss, without slowing down your pace.

Pulling back one last time, you thrust into IU as you feel yourself cuming. You regretfully leave her tight pussy. But she told you where she wants it.

As you climax, your cum starts to paint her pussy. It coats her puffy lips and her clit, some drops hitting her flat midriff.

"Fuck yes."

IU sighs as she feels your warm cum on her pussy. It slowly dribbles down along her lips and onto the wooden surface underneath her.

You capture IU's pink lips with your own as that strawberry taste invades your taste buds once more. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Miyeon is already putting her dress back on.

IU will never know, who of her juniors made her ever feel so full. And loved.

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

(Alternative Ending)

Hi, everyone!

I hope you guys enjoyed this one. From now on, I will try to occasionally mix in these shorter interludes. This way, I can write smaller chapters, which I get expired by in random situations, or you can request scenarios, which aren't exactly compatible with the story. I will try my best to somehow fit them into the story, for example as a dream. These short chapters aren't really relevant for the plot, which means you can read them without the story, or if you don't like the idols, you can just skip them.

Have a great day!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #gidle miyeon #miyeon #IU #lee jieun

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yuesya · 8 months ago

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The Pier Point Shopping Street is always a bustling hub of activity. As a well-known landmark of Pier Point and an attraction for visitors to the IPC’s seat of power, the shops lining the sprawling commercial district truly live up to the reputation of being a dazzling center of wealth. Food, drinks, clothing. Entertainment at its finest –and everything in-between.

There have been many who’ve lost themselves to the glamour of these gilded streets, luxuriating in the allure of satisfaction and gratification stacked upon gleaming credits.

The young Halovian girl sitting across the table from him in the high-class restaurant does not lack for wealth. Nonetheless, she is not one to consciously indulge in materialistic desires… save for her love of sharp weaponry, perhaps.

Aventurine smiles. “It’s been awhile hasn’t it, Lyra?”

Soft white hair, wide blue eyes. Contrary to her soft and seemingly-harmless appearance, though, Lyra of the Oak Family is anything but harmless. Aventurine would know, considering the manner in which they met each other for the first time.

“It’s been awhile,” Lyra agrees. Then, “Is there something wrong?”

“Wow, it’s always straight to the point with you, isn’t it?” Aventurine blinks, and laughs. Something inside his chest sinks helplessly at the girl’s immediate perceptiveness –for all her awkwardness navigating social niceties, Lyra could also be shockingly observant at the same time. “… What gave me away?”

His voice is careless, flippant. Teasing, the way it would be for a light joke. Aventurine maintains the expression of a smile unwaveringly.

Lyra shrugs, a non-response that Aventurine somehow finds himself automatically understanding anyways. Just a feeling. You don’t make a habit of inviting me to Pier Point.

Aventurine lets out a long, exaggerated sigh.

“Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” He straightens, and bats his eyes winsomely. “Y’know, if you ever stepped inside a casino someday, I bet you could–”

“My brother says no,” Lyra responds without batting an eye, and frowns lightly. “… Aventurine, what is this about, really? Do you need me to kill someone?”

This girl. The blond man huffs, wondering what it says about his own mental state that he actually feels a surge of fondness at this offer from her.

“We’ve got to talk about your habit of spontaneously offering to kill things for people at the drop of a hat,” he tells her. “Have you tried buying presents instead?”

Lyra tilts her head, wings fluttering in accompanying confusion with the motion. “… But I don’t offer to kill for just anyone?”

“… No, I don’t need you to kill anyone for me,” Aventurine sighs. For someone who could be so astonishingly perceptive, she could also be very obtuse. “It’s rather the opposite, really.”

Lyra stills, making the connection in a heartbeat. “There’s someone you don’t want me to kill?”

“Oswaldo Schneider,” Aventurine confirms, continuing to carefully maintain his perfectly pleasant smile.

Lyra takes one look at him and frowns anyways. Then, proving that she truly does know Aventurine a little too well to be good for either of them, “This is an order from the IPC?”

It is.

Aventurine holds no love for Oswaldo Schneider. Even putting aside the bad blood between their respective departments within the IPC… the man had been involved in the negotiations that had taken place on Sigonia-IV, which eventually led to what was now known as the Katica-Avgin Extinction Event. And Aventurine –as far as he knew– was the only survivor from that hell, a young boy who’d been captured by slavers and sold to the highest bidder.

Now… now, he was a slave to the IPC. Which wasn’t so bad, sometimes; nowadays, Aventurine was rich enough to never want for any materialistic goods again. But this did not change the fact that the IPC owned him.

The IPC wanted Oswaldo Schneider to live, and the IPC also knew that Aventurine was friends with the girl who’d nearly killed their rising head of the Marketing Development Department. The next course of action, then, was obvious.

Negotiate. Convince her to stand down.

Diamond had been the one to pass on the orders to him. An additional deal had also been brokered between the Marketing Development and Strategic Investment Departments, and there was a certain sense of vindication in seeing Oswaldo depart from Pier Point for ‘business’ just as Lyra arrived. Vindication… and also frustration.

But, this isn’t something that Aventurine can involve Lyra in.

(… ‘Can’t,’ or ‘won’t?’)

“One of Oswaldo Schneider’s ‘projects’ nearly resulted in my sister being killed by a stray bullet to the throat,” Lyra says eventually, blue eyes focused unerringly on Aventurine. “… I won’t go out of my way to hunt him down. But if I come across him, then don’t expect me to show mercy.”

That’s a lifetime ban from Penacony for Oswaldo, then.

“The higher ups should accept that,” Aventurine nods. “And what do you want in exchange for it?”

The look that Lyra gives him is one of uncomprehending confusion. Inwardly, Aventurine despairs.

“… If it were any other executive sitting in front of you right now, you would’ve very well walked away from this meeting with nothing.”

Lyra’s expression flattens into something unimpressed. “I’m not dealing with the IPC. I only agreed because you’re asking me.”

“And I’m negotiating on behalf of the IPC,” Aventurine reminds her.

“So the agreement stands in place only as long as you do not change your mind, regardless of what the IPC thinks,” Lyra shrugs. As if it’s nothing, the power and influence that she’s handing over to him so easily with this one act –if Aventurine is the one with the final say, then that’s another chip in his hands. Another card up his sleeve. Another point for him to gamble with, and Aventurine is nothing if not a consummate gambler.

“… So again I ask you, what do you want for it?”

Nothing in this world comes for free. No one does anything for no reason.

Lyra blinks, raising a finger to tap at her chin in thought. Aventurine studies her carefully.

“… I want dinner,” she finally says. “I’m hungry.”

…

Aventurine is no stranger to taking gambles. But when it comes to Lyra…

All, or nothing.

(… Which one is it? Really, which one is it?)

#writing #zenith of stars au #halovian au #more honkai star rail stuff #in which the ipc knows that aventurine is friends with a murder birb #and of course #all assets must be utilized #aventurine: we're literally sitting in a restaurant did you think i wouldn't order anything?#lyra: but there's still no food... :<#kitchen staff losing their minds: is the stoneheart talking with the girl who almost killed a department head what the heck what the fuck-

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slightlyobsessedwitheverything · 11 months ago

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a breakdown of tommy kinard’s past appearances

so. like many of you, i’ve been getting a little bit tired of seeing the same “wait wasn’t tommy a racist/homophobe? why do we like him now?” posts for the last few weeks. so i wanted to do a small breakdown of every time he has previously appeared on screen, along with his action and inaction regarding the casual bigotry of the 118 under captain gerrard.

this is gunna be a long one boys so, strap in lol

season 3 episode 12: chim begins

i’m going to go in chronological order here rather than episodic order just for character development’s sake

tommy’s first appearance in this episode is about 11 minutes in, after the first commercial break. the current 118 are sitting down to dinner when chim arrives. tommy spots him and asks, “hey eli, you forget to tip the delivery guy?” i would say this could be a genuine question based on the fact that chim’s in his civvies, but he’s got his go bag that says “FIREFIGHTER” on his shoulder so. seems like he’s just being a smartass.

(*edit: it’s been pointed out to me that considering they had ordered chinese food, this could have been an instance of casual racism, and i am inclined to agree)

he’s not seen much during chim’s montage of just doin’ shit around the firehouse, until the point where the 118 come back covered in mud. tommy spots chim and asks him, “you still here?” again, just kind of general dickishness. not really anything to write home about.

a small kind of background tommy moment we get after chim’s montage is right as the team is returning from a call, and chim tries to tell them about the older couple who he helped earlier in the day.

tommy: what about that burger place?

gerrard: tommy, you know i hate that place

chim: hey guys, weirdest thing happened today… *he is ignored*

gerrard: hey, wasn’t your girlfriend supposed to come and cook us dinner?

tommy: uh, next tuesday.

gerrard: promise?

tommy: uh— uh, yes. yeah, i will promise…

now. i’m going to leave that up to interpretation, however i have opinions regarding that bit going forward. but! that’s ultimately not what this post is about, so perhaps another time.

the next scene is a pretty major one. chim is getting ready in the locker room, and tries to strike up a conversation with tommy when he walks in to gather some things (deodorant, toothbrush, soap it seems like, none of these details matter i just think they’re fun).

chim repeatedly tried to get tommy to open up to him about the things he likes, saying “tell me what your thing is and i’ll make it mine.” though, tommy just ignores him. we see a close up of him closing his eyes and sighing in exasperation.

chim asks, “…you just really don’t like me much, do you?” and tommy, for the first time, responds to chim’s questions with, “if i thought about you at all, honestly, i probably wouldn’t.” and he leaves.

later, after eli recruits chim to be a paramedic, they have a conversation regarding what he witnessed in the locker room between chim and tommy. eli tells him that it’s not personal, and that “in this job, friends die. funerals are held. they’re not going to just give you their friendship until you earn their respect. they’re not just protecting you, they’re protecting themselves.” and this ultimately makes sense with what we saw in tommy in that earlier scene. he didn’t really seem annoyed or upset at chim’s insistence to get to know him, just apprehensive mostly. he wasn’t cruel to him, and he hasn’t been. just… kind of a dick.

in the fire truck, on the way to the barn burner, tommy is sitting next to him and looks over at chim, as chim seems to be exhibiting signs of nervousness (this is his first real call as a firefighter after all)

(however, this is a moment where chim’s reality and his past start to bleed into each other so i am not sure how accurate this is to the moment.)

we don’t get much in the next scene aside from tommy’s presence at kevin’s funeral. when chim is ringing the bell, tommy is behind him and briefly looks toward chim, likely noticing how chim is attempting to hold himself together.

the next major scene is the call at the shopping mall, where there was some sort of structural collapse. based on the symptoms of the people that were in the mall, chim assumes there is a gas leak, which gerrard waves off. he calls for tommy over the radio, and receives no response.

chim has a realization that they’re dealing with a methane leak, and runs inside the mall to retrieve tommy.

just as the building explodes, chim runs out with tommy over his shoulder. though in this scene “tommy” is clearly a dummy prop and it is so fucking funny once you notice how floppy it is.

then we get probably the greatest scene in all of 911 where chim is in the waiting room waiting for news on tommy and reality starts to bleed into the flashback while “exit music (for a film)” by radiohead plays . it has pretty much nothing to do with this post i just wanted to say how much i LOVE this scene. anyway.

the penultimate scene of the episode starts off with chim in the locker room tucking in his shirt. tommy walks in and, with no preamble, says, “love actually, monster trucks, craft beer.”

chim realizes that this is a response to their last locker room interaction. he asks tommy how his head is feeling, tommy replies, “still fat, but clearer. you saved my life. thank you.” and shakes chimney’s hand, before pulling him into a hug. this is where their friendship begins.

in this episode, i didn’t notice anything that could really be construed as bigotry (see edit*), he was just kind of a dick at first and most of that can boil down to him being closed off and not wanting to open up before there’s a level of respect there.

(though, keep in mind i am white so there is a definite possibility that i could have missed something more racially motivated, however i didn't see anything glaring)

season 3 episode 9: hen begins

tommy’s first appearance (ever) is about 13 and a half minutes into the episode when captain gerrard introduces the team to their new “diversity hire” (after greeting her himself with a few blatantly misogynistic comments)

when tommy first sees hen, he smiles and asks “who’s this?”

when gerrard calls her a “diversity hire,” the smile leaves tommy’s face and he looks back at gerrard with somewhat of a blank expression, contrasted with sal deluca’s disbelieving smirk and comment of “for real?”

chimney then defends hen, gerrard walks away after saying they’re screwed. tommy once again looks between hen and gerrard before ultimately following him away from the railing.

it is not clear what exactly his reaction to hen joining the team actually is at that moment, whether he wanted to speak up like chim or express disdain like sal, as he remained silent.

at dinner, tommy asks sal what he and his girlfriend did the night previous, where the movie “twilight” comes up. sal makes a comment about kristen stewart being hot, and hen joins in thinking she found something in common with these guys to talk about, but sal ignores her and she walks away. (i think the writers may have genuinely forgotten kstew was only 17 in that movie but that’s neither here nor there)

tommy chimes in saying he “doesn’t get that” and that she’s “too brooding” for him, to which sal responds, “maybe you’re more of a team jacob kind of guy.”

tommy says he has no idea what that means, and chim clarifies that sal is insinuating that he’s gay.

sal laughs at this and at tommy’s reaction, and tommy jokingly blows him a kiss, smiles, and goes back to his food.

(here is a gifset of the scene)

chim then invites hen into the conversation by asking where she’s from. when he tells her he assumed she was an east coaster and that it was a compliment, tommy replies with “new york bitchiness is a compliment?” (score 1 for the misogyny bucket)

chim calls him out, and he just kind of huffs and looks at gerrard, but ultimately moves on.

tommy doesn’t really say or do much else in this scene besides sit silently while gerrard is sexist towards hen and hen stands her ground. in the end, sal looks toward tommy and nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. they both get up and leave the table.

nothing of note happens in the mudslide scene with tommy, most of the conflict is between hen and gerrard. the scene where gerrard makes her man behind as well. tommy is in the background and sees this happen, but says nothing. though, i also need to add that in these moments, chim does not say anything either.

the next scene tommy is in is when hen makes her announcement to the team about how she is not going anywhere.

i once again want to point out the difference in tommy vs sal in this scene. sal has his hands on his hips and his lips tight in a somewhat annoyed looking fashion, and he looks to the side where tommy is to gauge his reaction.

whereas tommy, has his arms folded and is looking down at the floor at first, before looking up towards hen. and while gerrard and chim have their arms crossed as well, i want to point out that tommy is holding one arm while the other sits around his waist. he looks a bit sheepish if i’m being honest, like he knows they’re about to be scolded.

when hen says for them to “see me as i see you, as a proud member of this department,” tommy turns to look behind him and makes eye contact with chim.

now, there’s not a whole lot i can glean from this interaction as is, but as we know from “chim begins,” tommy trusts chim so it’s possible he wants to get chim’s opinion. he seems to do this a lot i’ve noticed, looking between the people around him to gauge their reactions to what is going on.

nothing much of note for the car accident scene, HOWEVER. in the scene immediately after, sal and tommy address hen directly for the first time to give her some praise for her call on that scene. sal tells her “nice work yesterday,” and tommy tells her that they would have found the other car eventually, but eventually would have been too late.

hen states she “just got lucky,” to which sal responds, “screw that. you’re good,” and both he and tommy shake hen’s hand. tommy even gives her a light smack on the shoulder as he walks away and hen absolutely BEAMS.

then of course, hen is told that gerrard was removed from his position because his conduct was reported and “more than a few of your fellow firefighters have your back.” we know chim is absolutely one of them, and i can infer that based on tommy and sal’s reactions to hen’s speech and their interaction with her just before this scene, it is very likely they are as well.

in this episode, there were definitely some more moments of blatant bigotry in this episode, but other than the “new york bitchiness” line, tommy doesn’t really directly contribute to any of it. he seems to be more of a follower, constantly gauging how others feel and just playing along. complicity is still an issue of it’s own, do not get me wrong, but considering i keep seeing people say he made racist/homophobic comments, i feel like its a reasonable thing to point out.

season 3 episode 16: bobby begins again

tommy’s final on screen appearance begins with hen taking bets on how long the new captain will last. tommy asks hen to put him down for 4 weeks on credit, and they (hen, tommy, sal, and chim) banter a little. they all seem to have a pretty good relationship with each other at this point.

bobby pops out of the firetruck and places his own bet on himself, and tommy just kind of looks sheepish since they got called out.

to be real, tommy doesn’t do a whole lot in this episode either. most of the conflict is between bobby and sal. most of what we see is him in the background silently judging bobby’s lack of LA knowledge along with hen and chim. he does have some silly little moments during the chicken chase though.

(here's a great gifset of that scene)

bobby calls out to sal to talk to him after the restaurant fire, and sal keeps walking but tommy stops and waits, looking between bobby and sal.

sal says, “you’re a piece of work. you come in here with your nose in the air and your eyes looking down–” tommy interrupts sal and tells him to stop.

sal keeps digging into bobby, and tommy in the background, looks to chim and hen and shakes his head, seemingly telling them not to get in the middle of it.

sal says he has the skill to lead the 118, bobby retorts with, “but not the temperament.” sal then drops his bag and stomps toward bobby so he can get in his face. tommy moves to go after him, but chim gets between sal and bobby before anything can happen.

bobby fires sal, and tommy is just standing there with the rest of his team wondering what the hell happened.

we then have the bar scene! chim, hen, and tommy hanging out at the bar before bobby ends up joining them.

they have a good time and show off their scars to each other. tommy quotes fight club, chim laughs, bobby leaves to solve the arson.

(again, here's another gifset)

at the end we see a bit more of the team together, bobby starting to cook for them, and finally the scene of chim and hen popping out of the ambulance with balloons and a cake for tommy as he transfers to the 217. they all seem to be fairly close at this point.

(another gifset for good measure)

and other than chim calling on him for a water drop in 2x14, that’s about it until he returns in season 7.

in conclusion

to me, it seems like tommy is a bit of a follower and tends to just go along with what the people around him are doing, ESPECIALLY under gerrard. captain gerrard fostered a really toxic work environment and its no wonder others like sal were never really called out on their shit. and tommy mostly seemed to follow sal’s lead or stay quiet.

“chimney begins” takes place around 2006-ish, “hen begins” around 2008, and “bobby begins again” takes place around 2017 i believe. and between 2006 and 2024, based on what we see, its easy to see that tommy has indeed grown and changed many of his attitudes, especially when in a healthier work environment. now can we please stop acting like he’s this irredeemable piece of shit and see him for what he really is: a flawed person who grows and learns from others, like every other character on this show.

#this is not a tommy hater post this is just me going through everything he has said and done on screen so far #tommy kinard #911 #911 abc #911 on abc #9 1 1 #character analysis

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