#ugh I wish men were better

[lovelybucky1]

Oooohh i have a request!:

Playing “never have i ever” or something like that with logan and wade (maybe along the lines of a boring friday night with nothing else to do) and you admit to never having an orgasm by anyone but yourself

Flash forward you’re in logan’s arms and wade is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and then they switch 👀👀

i’ve written something similar two the second part here, but i love the never have i ever idea! // divider from @strangergraphics

boredom isn’t something heroes are used to. there’s always something happening somewhere, someone needing to be saved. but tonight, everything is quiet. the three of you were suspicious at first, but you checked every police scanner, news outlet, and all of your contacts and came up with nothing. the bad guys had decided to take an evening off, and now you were stuck with nothing to do.

you, wade, and logan all sit around in the living room with bottles of beer. you and wade stare at the mindless gameshow on tv while logan rests his eyes. you’re definitely bored, but wade is restless. it’s like he’s itching for something to do, like his body is physically unable to handle the inactivity.

“why don’t we play a game?” wade asks, startling logan awake.

the two of you look over at wade. “what kind of game?” you ask.

“i don’t know, ‘never have i ever?’”

logan rolls his eyes, then shuts them again. he’ll deny any “old man” comments, but he really is one. you elbow logan in the side and he opens them again.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” wade pleads.

“it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you say to logan. reluctantly, he agrees.

you reposition yourselves in the living room. you sit on the couch, leaned against the arm with your feet in logan’s lap, who sits on the other end. wade sits on the floor by the coffee table, his beer on the table without a coaster next to him.

“this is your game, wilson. you start,” logan says before taking a sip of his beer.

“no, don’t drink! you only drink if you’ve done the thing i say,” wade scoffs. how can logan be so old and still know nothing about fun? “okay, okay. never have i ever… gotten arrested.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him while logan takes a drink. you’re almost certainly wade has been arrested before. “i don’t think you’re playing this game right,” you say. “you have to say things you’ve never done.”

wade scoffs. “i haven’t been arrested, thank you very much. all the cops who’ve tried have mysteriously ended up with broken noses.”

you roll your eyes at him. “my turn now? never have i ever… cheated on a partner.”

both of them take drinks, wade with more shame than logan. ugh, men.

then it’s logan’s turn. “never have i ever worn a dress.”

you figure it’s targeted at you, just because logan’s a dick, but to your surprise, wade drinks too. logan raises his eyebrow at him, silently urging him to elaborate.

“you wish you saw that, huh, peanut?” he taunts instead. logan makes a face at that.

“i’m thankin’ god i didn’t have to.”

you play a couple more rounds, all three of you exchanging stories and sipping from your bottles. it takes a lot to get them drunk, but you’re starting to feel it. there’s a collection of empty bottles, mostly beer, but halfway through the game, wade decided to up the ante with some liquor.

it’s wade’s turn again and he says, “never have i ever been with two guys at once.”

he means it as a joke. he doesn’t expect anyone to drink. there’s no way logan would do something like that, and you’re too innocent. that’s why his eyes practically pop out of his head when you throw back the shot.

the game turned sexual a few rounds ago, but it was pretty mild stuff. talk about doing stuff in public, kinks, freaky shit like that. nothing as interesting as this.

both wade and logan turn their full attention to you, eager to hear this story.

“what?” you play dumb.

“two guys at once?” wade asks. you shrug.

“it wasn’t anything.”

“nah,” logan says, sounding interested for the first time all game. “you gotta tell us.”

you sigh. “it was a while ago. i met this couple at a bar and they said they were looking for a third. i had nothing better to do and they were both hot, so…” you trail off, shrugging again.

“give us the gory details. how’d you do it? daisy chain?eiffel tower? double cowgirl? triple spooning? come on, tell us,” wade rambles.

“you’re a fucking perv,” you tell him and he doesn’t deny it. “it was just normal dp.”

logan raises an eyebow. “that stands for double penetration,” wade tells him.

“i know that. i’m just wondering how you took it all,” logan says.

you’re used to this kind of talk from wade. the man thinks with his dick so much that you question if he even has a brain. you’re not, however, used to this from logan. he’s no prude, but he usually doesn’t participate in these kinds of conversations with wade.

“must’ve been a tight fit,” logan adds on.

you look between the men and their interested faces. you’re still pretty bored, the game having grown stale a while ago, and now you’re a tipsy. you want something exciting and right now, you’re feeling bold enough to persue it.

“do you wanna see?” you ask them.

wade and logan share a glance, but it only takes a second before they’re replying “yes” in unison.

[nkogneatho]

𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄- 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

—cw: fem!reader, male and female masturbating, fingering, fistfucking, pillowfucking (put me in a cage pls), desperate gojo because i'll never shut up about that. not proofread.

—a/n: i wish his seiyuu had an asmr channel just like nanami's so this drabble would've been longer. enjoy though <33

You're used to stalking the social media of people you go out with. It comes naturally. Well you live alone in this city, and you sure as hell don't want to stumble across a creep with no defense. You never know what's crippling it's way across this sinful city at night. The questionable news reports just added the oil to the fire of your anxiety. So it was natural that tonight, you were stalking another one of your dates. Gojo Satoru. You knew he was pretty popular when those hand had to leave yours to dap or fist bump his peers on your first date. It's almost as if fifty percent of the city knew him, like a celebrity. If he was really so popular, it would be easy to dig up info about him.

That's what led to you eagerly scrolling past his Instagram, flipping through each highlight as if you were a child who just found the greatest comic book.

party,

party,

and parties.

it was like his mantra the way his entire feed was just him dancing under the influence, in outfits too expensive and champagne to rich. He bathed in the luxury and the people around him were pleasuring off the drops sprinkling. So perfect that he had everyone wrapped around his finger. But won't he do the same to you? Overpower you. All those riches and he decided to go out with you, just so he could make you one of his whores, you were sure about that.

"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, tossing your phone away. "Guess i'll have to use my hand again."

You opened your laptop, went incongnito typing the first letter, but your autocorrect knew better. It's like it has memorised what you do at this hour. But autocorrect works on algorithms so you were sure it's your fault that you visit the site so frequently.

The porn website was open and you clicked on search button, specifically typing "hot men jerking off webcam." It was one of your favorite things to watch.

You scrolled through the popular videos you had already watched maybe a million times. There was a reason they were popular. So you just changed the filter and selected "new to old". After rummaging through some of the boring videos, your eyes landed on the preview of one with the most beautiful cock. longest even. Curiously, you click on it. The video starts with the man rubbing his boner through the boxers. You put a hand inside your panties, and all you want right now is for him to take his boxers off. After a few minutes, he does and his long light peach cock springs out. when he leans back, your eyes do a double take.

is that gojo fucking satoru??

And indeed it was. The man who earlier gave you the rich spoiled misogynistic son vibes was now moaning like a slut, begging his viewers to ride their imaginary pussy. He had zero shame. Although...why didn't you log out?? Why did you not switch to some other video?

Because holy shit he is fistfucking his cock like an animal in heat. The chair is shaking and making squeaking noises but fuck who cares about that. Listen to his moans. His fucking whimpers. He changed his placement and now he was on the bed, had the pillow folded in half only to start ramming his dick into it. God! Is this the real Gojo Satoru? Is this what he is? A camboy whoring his body out. Because he has generational wealth so there's no way he is foung that for money. So the only logical answer is because he is such a fucking pussywhore that his exhibitionist cock only cums when there are others watching it.

Your fingers starts vigorously pumping in your cunt. They weren't long enough to reach and you were actually wishing Satoru was fucking you instead of that pillow because look. Look at that long dick. Look at the pretty flushed tip with his precum glistening. Fuck, how'd he taste on your? Sweet? Sour? But you know it would taste warm and filthy for sure.

The man in the screen increases his pace and so do you, imitating him. you want to cum at the same time. you want to see what his cum looks like on the gray pillowcase. your middle finger starts stimulating your clit even more while Satoru in the screen is now snapping his hips rougly against the bed, in the pillow. you imagine yourself in the position. Prone Bone. Never tried it but if it is what he is doing, then you're sure as hell down. It's the way his thrusts can be heard banging against the wood under the mattress even if there's not skin for his to slap against. compared to what other camboys do, talk about how they're going to ruin your dirty little pussy, gojo's is different. he does say he'll ruin your pussy but it's hotter because it is followed by endless pleas.

"fuck—lemme ruin this pussy—anh! please, yeah? gonna make you feel so good, baby please?" almost as if he is actually fucking someone. and you don't think twice before assuming he is talking to you. It's okay to be delusional sometimes. Specially when his words make you cum so hard, that you are whining at the lack of more girth to clench around. you look at the screen and Satoru came too. And he was whimpering. Like actually whimpering because it felt so good. Hot strings of cum now soaked in the pillow. Shit.

When you come back from the bathroom after washing yourself, you hear a notification. you pick up your phone to find a "Free tomorrow night?" from the same man who indirectly made you cum so hard tonight. And after what you saw today, you would be a fucking idiot to miss a chance like this.

"Yeah, Of course. Can't wait to see you tomorrow."

*Sent*

[cl6teen]

affection, ln4 ❀ chapter i. clueless

masterlist || chapter ii

in which everyone can’t believe that a certain mclaren driver and f1’s resident rich girl aren’t dating already

contains: smau, oblivious lando & oblivious reader

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, and 223,211 others

yourinstagram a much needed vacay

view all comments

landonorris im still offended by the lack of an invite

yourinstagram thailand is for the girls, not sorry!

bsfsinstagram there was a strict no lando norris rule for yn

user i have gyat to go to thailand

liked by yourinstagram

carlossainz55 the book is upside down dummy

yourinstagram i’ll turn you upside down

oscarpiastri what an informative post yn

yourinstagram hehe, can’t wait to see you

user omg yn at the next race???

user literally what are all these f1 boys doing in her comments

user shes a nepo baby i think

user her dad is mclaren’s biggest sponsor so she’s able to attend a lot of f1 events

user my fav honorary f1 wag

yourinstagram wag?? i’m very much single thank you

daniel ricciardo 🌚

yourinstagram don’t give them things to read into daniel.

lanny

i miss you

hey yn

miss youuu

when are you coming back

thailand can’t be that fun

y/n/n

thailand is totally that fun

in fact we’re about to go on a boat

lanny

you can go on a boat over here

y/n/n

it’s not the same 🙄

i don’t know why you’re so hung up about me taking a vacation

monaco gets boring sometimes

lanny

yeah but the second i get back from racing around the world you’re already gone

y/n/n

well i’ll be in the uk just in time for silverstone

lanny

you’re going back home?

y/n/n

my father said it’d be good to be around for a home race

so i’ll be in the uk for some time probably, it’s been a while since i’ve been back

lanny

okay good

i better see you cheering for me

it’d be embarrassing if my best friend was rooting for someone else

y/n/n

i’ve got my mclaren 4 cap ready to go

cant wait to see you ❤️

liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and 533,444 others

lando.jpg home dump

view all comments

yourinstagram and it’s all just a bit too much…for littol lando norris

lando.jpg im hiding in your walls

yourinstagram creep

maxfewtrell stream time? 🤔

lando.jpg let me race first bro

user not lando feeding yn pasta and lobsterrrr

carlossainz55 aye, was this a date??

yourinstagram he wishes, he got me from the airport & we went straight to eat

danielricciardo who’s that cutie?

yourinstagram i’m right here!

danielricciardo oh..i meant lando

oscarpiastri 😬

user im so confused, are they dating??

user no, but they’ve been like best friends since lando’s rookie year in mclaren

user shes better than me, i would have fallen in love…

liked by mclaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 745,234 others

yourinstagram couldn’t be prouder of my boys!!

tagged landonorris and oscarpiastri

view all comments

mclaren loving the love from our papaya girl 🧡

yourinstagram mwah

user yn ate today on the paddock

user she’s wearing lando’s hat im gonna cry

bsfsinstagram ugh get these men off my feed and show me ur pretty face

yourinstagram i was held at gunpoint and told to post this :/

landonorris the 6th photo…

yourinstagram ikr can you believe that loser got p2?

landonorris not too much now

oscarpiastri i look crazy

yourinstagram you look so cute??

oscarpiastri you shoved a camera in my face while i was eating

yourinstagram i did nothing wrong 🥰

user who was the man you were with on the paddock though?

yourinstagram my father!

user girl your daddy fine

liked by bsfsinstagram

bsfsinstagram user you have great taste

maxfewtrell send me that lando photo please

yourinstagram will do 🫡

45 likes

onlyyn i luv a good arfter prty

view all comments

danielricciardo me when i’m on the hennessy

onlyyn hehe

landonorris im looking for you

bsfsinstagram please don’t do anything crazy babe 😭

onlyyn i’ll try

lanny

y/n

where are you?

i thought you were with oscar

y/n/n

i let oscar leave! he looked tired

lanny

you should’ve told me that then

i would’ve kept an eye on you

are you drunk

y/n/n

i’m not a child oscar

lanny

*lando, but i’ll ignore that

and i’m not saying you are yn

there’s just people here that can be like

weird is all, who knows

are you drunk??

y/n/n

i don’t know, i’m not sober

are you drunk

lanny

i’m not sober

y/n/n

i thought you hated alcohol?

lanny

carlos convinced me to do some shots with him and max…

i regret it a little

do you wanna go home

y/n/n

yea

my feet hurt

lanny

i’ll carry you until we get to an uber

so can you tell me where you are now??

y/n/n

i’m in the bathroom

lanny

don’t move, i’ll come get you

y/n/n

god you’re the best ever lando

lanny

yeah i know 😁

[gloxk]

just sitting here high asf thinking about getting the sloppiest head from aot guyzzz…*HEAVY ASS SIGH* let me wish upon a star hoping someone could write about this for me…*LONG HEAVY EXTREME SIGH.*

⁺ 　 . ✦ Favorite eaters ⁺ 　 . ✦

(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)

A/N: ugh yes girl ik the feeling … im to sitting here wondering how nasty eren would eat the kitty…BUT ANYWAYS TYSM FOR 600!!! NEXT STOP 700!!! AHHH!

Synopsis: Aot men as your favorite eater.

━━━━━━━⚥━━━━━━━

♡ Eren ♡

Ughh omg..Eren giving you nasty head after he pissed you off…The type of head that makes you run away in shame!!!

“Givin me an attitude ain’t gonna get you anywhere, you know better den that.” Eren scoffed, while tossing a blunt over to you.

Oh boy how he was so undeniably wrong.

You could tell Eren was unamused with your bullshit. He wasn’t taking you ignoring lightly at all.

“You gon fix it or am I, figure it out.” he whispered in your ear. You stood on what you dished out, you weren’t fixing shit.

You chuckled at him in response, how stupid he was to think you were going to pipe down.

That was until he found his way between your thighs..

One hand tangled in his brown locs and the other one holding a blunt. Best combo..

You lazily rutted against his tongue while his piercing twirled against your puffy clit.

It was so hard to look him in the eyes after he made you cum on his tongue 3 times.

“Still got an attitude baby?”

Let’s just say..you ain’t had one after that.

♡ Armin ♡

Oh..lawd. I said this once i’ll say it A FUCKING AGAIN. Armin is a pussy eater expert. He’s VERY talented in that ‘field’..

This man has no problem eating it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Hell, he will wake up and decide he’s hungry and start going crazy.

That’s how your morning starts..with Armin stuck between your thighs eating it so you can wake up.

Eyes barely opened and you’re already on the verge of cumming..his way of saying ‘goodmorning’.

He so eager to do it too. Sometimes yall could just be watching netflix and he will insist on eating you out.

“Well, I mean, the show is kind of boring. Just come on, it will be quick.” He’ll beg and beg, “Please, I know you’re tired, I can help you go to sleep faster!”

His contact name is NyQuil in yo phone! (If you know. you know .)

When he say fast..oh baby he mean fast. That tongue can move at speeds you didn’t even know existed.

But his favorite time to get to munching is before you go to work.

“We got 10 minutes Armin.” He don’t need even need 10 he will make you cum in 5.

♡ Connie ♡

Ex! Connie getting fucking wasted and coming back home and eating you till your cummin everywhere…

I just know he eats it with his grillz on..I just know.

You want nasty head? Connie is your man for it. He gonna make it SLOPPY SLOPPY.

“Baby whatchu mean, we supposed to be in love..” his words slightly slur, he had a fuck boy grin plastered over his face. “stop acting like you ain’t happy to see me.”

He wasn’t supposed to be there and he knew that. But you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, especially when he was telling you how much he missed you. “Cmere baby i’ve been missin you..” & “I know you mad at me lemme change that.”

if ‘Let my face be yo chair’ was a person…

Sitting on his face is a pleasure to you and him. He gets to see his (ex) girlfriend and you get some head.

A win win in your books!

You grinding against his golden grills while his hands rub your waist up and down. “You got such pretty moans, lemme hear em baby.” & “Uh-huh, let it out mama.”

He’s looking you dead in your eyes while doing it too…

“You made such a mess baby. Don’t worry go to sleep, ima clean it up.” UGH THIS MAN….

best ex ever!

━━━━━━━⚥━━━━━━━

going absolute feral for these men it don’t even make any sense.

[gassydumbjocks]

Do it like a Macho

Joel finished putting on his favorite shirt to go out, and checked his chat again, he could hardly believe that he had agreed to go out with that guy his best friend had told him about, he had broken up with his ex months ago, and didn't seem to feel ready to take on another relationship, but, well, a date was better than staying depressed on his couch all afternoon eating junk food watching rom-coms.

He finished by adding his perfume, checking himself once again in the mirror, and sighing "Please dont be a jerk this time" he wished for his next date, when the bell ring got him out of trance.

He ran when he heard the doorbell, and to his great surprise, a tall boy, with a some-what tanned skin, clearly showing latino roots, beefy complexion, large muscles, showed out of his door. There was only one detail, the hunk boy was shirtless, only wearing some gym shorts, and if that wasnt enough, a slight stench was present almost immediately, making obvious it came from the big jock, Joel wrinkled his nose a little trying to be discreet.

"Ehh.. Hello, can I help you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, the jock frowned. "Are you Joel?" He limited himself to ask.

"Yes, uh, are you the boy with whom I had a dat..." his words were interrupted as the animal of a man simply proceed and grabbed him by his head, within a second, he had his head to remain below in one of his armpits, receiving directly that aroma he lingered before, making him cough on the manly scent.

"Shut up! Faggot!" Saul said with an expression of disgust, without any effort he grabbed Joel's shirt collar while he tried to gasp for some air "I don't go to dates with sissys like you! I only hang out with my bros" he told him furiously. "This should put some hair on that chest of yours" Not having time to react quickly, the stinky hunk let out a deep, nasty burp right in his face.

BOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPP!!!

"Now lets start... Real men don't cook, that's for the ladies" the jock said as he blew the remains of his burp towards the poor, scrawny nerd.

As Joel forcibly inhaled Saul's putrid smoke, his brain began to be penetrated by the stench, new memories being created that would replace everything that made Joel him, memories of his mother teaching him how to cook and take care of himself, became in memories of his mother cooking for him, his father and brothers.

"Ugh, God... That's disgusting" Joel swallowed the burp while trying not to vomit while gagging.

"Come on man, you have to get out the machismo inside you... Real men don't clean, we are made to be crude, and ought to be grotty" Saul raised a leg and squinted an eye, before grunting.

PPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!!!

After letting out a loud fart that rumbled through his shorts, with a quick maneuver Saul brought Joel closer to his butt, being greeted by the toxic smell emanating from it, Joel swore it would be enough to knock out an elephant, coughing violently.

Again, his mind felt blurred, his thoughts changing with more memories again, since he was a child, the nerdy boy had always been a clean freak, tidying his room and cooperating with his sisters to clean the whole house. now, for some reason he could only remember him and his brothers watching soccer games in their undies, dirty plates of food filling the kitchen sink, dirty clothes scattered throughout the all the house, the toilet bowl up and dirty.

"What's going on?" Joel said, now more dizzy and confused than ever, his nausea preventing him from reasoning clearly and making a superhuman effort not to smell that foul bomb.

"You're becoming a man, that's happening, you better brace your pathetic self, this is a damn combo" Saul warned, then his stomach growled fiercely, while a smirk appeared in his mouth.

"NO!" Joel pleaded, but it was too late, as his please were overshadowed by Saul bending down to be at his height, only to blurt out in his face "MAAAAN UUUUUUUPPP-UUURRRRRRP!!!!" He belched his words out, while forcing the weak gay boy to sniff the nauseating blast.

By that point Joel had already fallen to the ground, crying and suffocating, pleading that this was some kind of nightmare, Saul rolled his eyes and growled "What a fuckin baby, it's just a little man gas, what are you?! Uh? You're a guy, you should be proud... Real men always let the gas rip" he said. , before bending over again, putting his big ass in those smelly shorts scented with all those gases dangerously close to his face, to let one last fart finish his job, poor Joel just having a final view of the ass getting closer "NOOOOOO!!..."

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT!!!

...

"And he is right..." was the first thought that Joel had after the abrupt attack in that gas chamber "Men always let it rip... A Man loves to let it rip, its just a dude thing we have to assert our dominance" was what came out then of his lips, before Saul heard and turned to see him, and a huge smile of satisfaction formed on his face.

"Fuck yeah man, nothing like dropping a fat one with your bros for a good laugh, right? We guys should always think farts are funny, they're manly" he remarked.

And as if it was a cue, a growl in Joel's stomach began to growl and make him uncomfortable, he simply patted himself and raised his leg.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRTTTT!!!

"ahh, that felt good" he sighed and letted a dumb chuckle "i have to quit that chipotle next time" he said with a grin, and Saul hit his shoulder playfully.

"haha that's nothing bro, the burping contest we had on our boys' night was brutal, man, you can even belch out the alphabet like a maestro, eh? Show off those roars" Saul added with a huge smile.

"AHHH.. BEHHH... CEEHH.. DEEEHHH" His mind was blank now, a simple order like that was enough to control him and make the burps start to come out of him, even when he didn't feel the need to burp, he just wanted to show off with his bro... It is what real men do.

"That felt good" He said, with a stupid grin forming in his lips too.

"As it should be! You gotta take pride in your machismo, huh? Machote" He said before slapping hiss ass, causing a small but putrid fart to come out of his now plump ass, making both of them laugh. "damn yeah, bro, its fuckin great to be a man" Joel said and Saul nodded proudly.

With that putrid gas, Joel sealed his new persona, letting his old gay and scrawny being fly away in the form of that smelly fart, to become a dumber, grosser, sexist, loud, and obnoxious version of him, a real man, and a real macho.

Seconds later he got a text from his best friend, or his best bro, and read it "Broo, hurry up and bring your fuckin ass here, we gotta have a boys night and watch the game, bring the beer, haven't Saul picked you up yet?"

He smirked and responded "On our way brodah, don't nuke your room too soon, I want to breath some fresh air for the match" He joked and chuckled dumbly, as he squinted one eye and simply lifted his leg to rip a fat deep one before going out his place, fist bumping with Saul.

[anothermansjeans]

youtuber!reader does the orange peel trend with spencer

YESSSSS (he would excel)

cw: food mention, fluff fluff FLUFF, spencer is the standard for ALL MEN

wc: 351

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

You set up your phone behind your water bottle, camera facing front as Spencer was in front of you doing dishes. There had been a trend on TikTok and you wanted to see how Spencer would react. Watching the way some people’s boyfriends reacted to the “orange peel trend” was actually horrific. Some men just didn't get it. You had faith in Spencer though, and you'd quickly be proven right.

“Hey, Spence?”

“Yes?” He placed the last plate into the dishwasher before starting it up and leaning back against the sink.

“I’m craving fruit.”

“What kind?” His response was automatic, which caused you to smile, and with his words, he walked over to the fruit bowl on your opposite counter.

“An orange?” He gave a nod and grabbed the biggest one before walking over to you. “I actually don’t– wait what?” You watched as he pressed his thumb into the orange, peeling back the skin unprompted– unasked. “Spencer, no!”

He stopped in his tracks and looked up to your pouting face, “what? What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

“Yes! I mean, no, you didn't, ugh!” You turned your body in your high top chair to face the side he was walking towards, and reached over to grab his wrists (which were still holding the orange), pulling him between your legs. “I was supposed to give you hints that I didn't want to peel the orange so TikTok could see how long it would take.”

“But you never want to peel your oranges.” His brows were furrowed, and he had a point. He knows you better than you know yourself at this point.

Sighing again, you slumped your body forward, leaning your head against his chest, “you're right. You're always right, and I love you for it.”

You felt his chest reverberate with his laugh, and he kissed the top of your head. “Do you still want this orange?”

Sliding your head up, your chin was now resting on his chest. “Yes, please.” You both smiled at each other before sharing a kiss, and Spencer finished the peeling of your orange.

++

BONUS: some comments

@ user: THIS WAS SO CUTE WHAT

@ user1: WTF HE DIDNT EVEN NEED TO BE ASKED IM OVER IT

@ user2: how does it feel to win at life?

@ user3: spencer being the best boyfriend to ever exist… did you build him in a lab??

@ user4: you're living the life the one girl who’s boyfriend said “tough luck, buddy” to wishes she has 😭

@ user5: THAT SHOULD BE ME

@ user6: spencer passing the orange peel theory is the only thing that makes sense to me in life tbh

@ user7: this proves that if he wanted to, HE WOULD

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer @navs-bhat

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[tenelkadjowrites]

Video Girl - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

📼 Summary: On the cusp of 1998, your quiet life working at a department store is upended when an attractive new coworker named Seonghwa awakens your desire for sexual exploration.

📼 Word count: 22k

📼 Genre and warnings: smut one shot. coworkers to lovers. fem pronouns for reader. use of a camera during sex. oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie.

📼 fic playlist here.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

Monday, October 6th, 1997

“What happened to the stack of CDs I put right there?”

               “Right where?”

               “Right there,” You gesture to the empty space that once housed a cluster of CDs that needed to be put on the shelf.

               Your coworker, San, pops his head up from where he had been busy sorting through one of the boxes of new inventory. His brows furrow while staring at the spot as if he could magically make the CDs appear.

               “What was it?”

               “The new Janet Jackson album.”

               “The new…oh shit, wait, I might’ve knocked it into this other box,” He ducks back down out of your view and you hear him wildly rummaging around.

               With a sigh, you slump against the shelf and stare out at the store which closed half an hour ago. Now, you’re stuck restocking new releases in the CD and VHS section for another hour before your shift ends. At least there are no customers, you think gratefully.

               “What’s it called?” San asks, still trying to find what he accidentally misplaced.

               “The Velvet Rope, I think,” You reply, wishing your feet didn’t hurt so much.

               The stack of CDs really isn’t that important but you just needed an excuse to take a break. It’s been a long day, working a double to cover for someone else, and you were sick of being here about three hours ago. The vest you have to wear while clocked in has long been discarded, tossed onto the counter as soon as the last customer finally got the hell out.

               “Wait, I found it,” San says with the same enthusiasm of someone completing a lifelong goal. He circles around the aisle, holding the pile of CDs, “Where should I put them?”

               “I’m just stacking them next to Mariah Carey,” You reply while taking them out of his hands and turning back to the shelf, “I don’t care.”

               “Fine by me.”

               You’ve worked with San for two years now and know him as well as one can know another coworker. He rarely missed a shift, probably because he enjoyed flirting with the women who wandered into the electronics section too much. There were two things San liked to do outside of work: work out and go clubbing with his best friend, Wooyoung. He was good looking to the point that even the ugly work mandated vest couldn’t take away from his jawline sculpted out of marble.

               “Thanks for helping me out,” San says.

               “It’s cool, dude. I really did not feel like working in my department tonight.”

               “You’re sick of organizing all the tube tops? Don’t see any of them you want for yourself?” He jokes, knowing how bored you are of working in the women’s clothing department.

               You make a face. “Ugh, as if.”

               San leans against the shelf, crossing his arms. “Did you hear about the new guy they hired for the men’s department?”

               “No,” You reply, uninterested.

               “I heard he’s good looking,” A thought strikes him and in an alarmed tone, he goes, “You don’t think he’s better looking than me, do you?”

               You shove the last CD onto the shelf although it teeters close to the edge. You stare at it, willing that it doesn’t fall and when the case stays in place, you finally turn your attention to San. “Why, worried you’re going to no longer be the Resident Hottie?”

               “Pfft, no. But…you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

               You lean down and pick up one of the boxes of CDs, balancing it on your knee until you get a better hold on it. “Why are you buggin about a new hire?”

               “I’m not buggin about him,” San protests quickly.

               “Yes, you totally are. I’m sure he’s nothing special. Don’t worry about it,” You turn away from San, getting ready to head down another aisle to finish putting the CDs away, “I can’t even remember the last time we hired someone who impacted me outside of asking and then promptly forgetting their name.”

               San looks mollified, taking comfort in the fact that everyone knows he is the hottest guy working in the store. You plop the box down, sorting through it to see what to put away first.

               The routine is comforting in that sort of mind numbing manner, the same pace of your life unchanging with no disruptions on the horizon. Tomorrow, you’d wake up and be here again to sort out ugly women’s clothing and clean up the fitting rooms after old ladies leave piles everywhere.

               That’s how it always goes, how it will continue to go.

Tuesday, October 7th, 1997

               “I don’t want this one,” A customer declares, thrusting a crushed velvet mini dress into your arms, “Or this.” A denim dress is tossed as the customer saunters off back into the aisles of clothing racks.

               You stand there, momentarily bunching the fabric in your hands with irritation before collecting your features into a pleasant expression. You go back to organizing the clothing from the fitting room racks to put them away. There are two hours left in your shift and your feet hurt yet again.

               “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt,” A voice cuts cleanly through the music being piped into the building. It is deep, almost melodious and you look over your shoulder curiously, expecting to see a lost looking man trying to find something to buy for his wife or girlfriend.

               There is, in fact, a lost looking man standing there but his blue vest indicates he’s a coworker. The slightly confused expression combined with the outfit leads you to believe this is the man San had been talking about the other night.

               “I just started working here yesterday and the person who was supposed to be training me called out so I’m running the men’s department alone. I just had some questions and was hoping you could help me.”

               The man is tall and slender with black hair carefully combed. The ugly blue vest does nothing to take away from his uniquely pretty face – beautiful brown eyes with a strong nose, perfectly straight white teeth and full lips. In his hands is a small collection of clothing, long fingers splayed out across to stop it from tumbling onto the floor. His shoes look brand new, the shine making it obvious. A belt loops around his small waist, wearing simple dress slacks.

               You’re so used to going through the motions at work, typically zoned out that only something absolutely wild could shatter you from that usual feeling. Seeing someone so pretty against the backdrop of the woman’s department brings you up short.

               “Uhhhh,” You go before managing to collect yourself swiftly, replying, “Yeah, I can help you,” Your eyes fall onto his nametag, and you tentatively say his name aloud for the first time, “Seonghwa.”

               He smiles, a sort of strange smile in which he looks vastly uncomfortable, saying your own name after reading it from your tag. You trail after him, cutting through the organized racks of the women’s department into the general shitshow of the men’s.

               For some reason, it was impossible to keep a full team in the men’s section. They always quit or just stopped showing up. Over the two years you worked here, you normally didn’t speak to anyone in the men’s department too much since they never seemed to last long. That meant the department always looked like a group of wild school children tore through it regularly and today is no exception.

               Seonghwa takes you to a large box dumped unceremoniously onto the counter near the men’s fitting rooms. “I was told to process these returns but I don’t…actually know how to do that,” He admits bashfully.

               “Oh, it’s not difficult. I can show you.”

               He looks relieved, thanking you. As you begin to show Seonghwa the process, you sneak a glance at his face out of the corner of your eye. His eyelashes are long, his lips prettily plump and his skin seemingly perfect. What planet did this dude come from? You wonder, unsure how someone like him stumbled into working at a store like this.

               “You know how to fold the clothes the right way?” You ask at one point.

               “Yeah, I’ve worked retail before in my last town.”

               “Oh, you moved here?”

               Seonghwa looks up as you hand him a particularly ugly dress shirt made from a shiny fabric. In the horrendous fluorescent lights which make almost everyone look garish, he seems to be immune.

               “Yeah, just a couple weeks ago. Not far away, just a few towns over.” He quickly changes the subject off himself, “Have you worked here long?”

               “Around two years.”

               “Do you like it?”

               “It’s retail,” You reply dryly, “I think it is the same everywhere.”

               The corners of his lips turn up for a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

               Seonghwa turns his attention back to the pile of clothes, folding them swiftly. You watch the way his long fingers smooth out the fabric before expertly folding it. Every movement of his seems to be precise and completely under control, a far cry from yourself.

               “Are you settling in okay then?” You ask, trying to wiggle more information out of this professional handsome guy who for some reason is working at this shitty store instead of modeling overseas somewhere.

               He carefully folds another shirt while replying, “Yeah, I’m doing alright. Have you always lived here?” Another deflection. It’s growing obvious Seonghwa doesn’t want to talk about himself.

               “Yeah, I have. It’s really nothing special though. Pretty generic place.” You study his face while asking the next question, “Why did you pick here?”

               Without missing a beat, he goes, “It was convenient. What do you like the most about living here?”

               You find his answer curious but decide asking Seonghwa questions is pointless because he only swiftly tries to put the conversation back on you.

               Stumped by his question, mostly because nothing really comes to mind, you finally settle on, “The weather is alright.”

               He tilts his face in your direction at your answer, one eyebrow slightly raised. “That’s it?”

               You shrug, “Yeah, I guess.”

               His gaze is heavy on you, a beat too long before turning his attention back to folding the clothes. You swallow hard, wondering why you feel so unnerved. As beautiful as Seonghwa is, he has the sort of intense presence that knocks you a little off balance, almost as if he can see some part of yourself that most people cannot.

               “Alright, finished.” His voice brings you back to the moment as he picks up the clothing, “Do I just put them back now?”

               “Yup, that’s it. Do you want me to help you?”

               “No, I got it. I should start learning where everything goes,” He turns to go and then stops, looking over his shoulder, “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”

               “It’s no biggie. You can pop over again if you have any other questions.”

               He smiles again, exposing the most perfect teeth you’ve ever seen. “Alright, thanks. Talk to you later.”

               You give him a small wave, turning around to head back to your section, wondering why you feel so thrown off balance over someone you’ve known for ten minutes.

*

               “So, how is he?”

               “Who?”

               “Don’t play coy with me,” San says, leaning closer to you, “The new guy.”

               You’re in the break room, poking at the unappealing lunch you brought. The break room is covered in tacky motivational posters, a bulletin board filled with random flyers about things like worker safety, requesting time off and a garage sale ad. A small TV in the corner shows the local news. The image, as usual, is extra grainy due to the bad signal off the cheap antenna. There is no break from the harsh fluorescents even in this room.

               “You saw him, didn’t you?” He presses.

               You relent and reply with a casual, “Yeah, I saw him.”

               “And? What’s he like? Is he hotter than me?”

               Another noncommittal shrug. “He’s…different. He’s friendly, don’t get me wrong, but he seems distant. I guess he moved here from a town nearby. That’s all I know about him.” San is staring at you with a serious expression on his face. You shift uncomfortably in the hard chair, finally glaring at him. “What?”

               He points at you sternly. “You do think he’s fine.”

               “What?” You bluster. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”

               San gestures wildly. “It’s written all over your face! We talk about every new hire in detail and now suddenly, you give me a couple of sentences. What spell did he cast on you?”

               “No spell,” You say crossly, irritated at somehow being too obvious when believing you played it cool, “You’re caring too much about my opinion.”

               He slumps back in his chair, crossing his arms, pouting. With a sigh, you push your meal away and turn to face him.

               “Come on, dude. You’re giving a new hire way too much power. Everyone knows you’re all that and a bag of chips. You think the confused old ladies who still don’t understand what a cordless phone is are not gonna be charmed by you? That they’re suddenly going to head to the men’s department instead?”

               “They tip me, you know,” San says defensively, “That’s why it’s important to me. They give me a couple of bucks when I finish explaining what a portable CD player is compared to their 8 track.”

               You skirt around the fact it is against company police to take cash tips from customers, opting to continue reassuring him instead.  “Don’t give someone else so much power. I mean, look at the size of your arms. No one in the store can compare with that.”

               “That’s true,” He says begrudgingly, “Fine. And I’ll give the new guy a shot only cuz you think he’s fly.”

               “I don’t – will you stop –” You sputter.

               San stands up, snatching his work vest off the table and slipping it back on. “Alright, I’m going. Talk to you later.”

               You say bye, now alone in the break room. Normally, you relish the quiet moments here without a coworker talking your ear off. But you’re longing for a pointless discussion, some sort of distraction from the fact that you’ve spent ten minutes around Seonghwa and are seemingly attracted to him.

               You’ve fallen into such a routine between work, occasionally going out on the weekends, and watching TV that suddenly finding someone hot is like an electric bolt to your chest. Things have been quiet for so long, in both your mind and life, that the last thing you want to deal with is forming an attraction to a coworker.

               Luckily, Seonghwa seems intent to keep mostly to himself. The emotional distance should help, you think, should make it easier not to get swept up in some guy.

Wednesday, October 8th, 1997

               Once it hits 4pm, all you care about is punching out and getting home. You’re so wrapped up in this that when you turn around to dart out of the back room, you collide immediately into Seonghwa.

               It’s like striking a wall. Even though he’s slender, his body is firm, resulting in you ungracefully flailing for a moment. His hands go to your upper arms to steady you, allowing yourself to recover from toppling back against the wall.

               “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You’re embarrassed by being so spaced out.

               Seonghwa, who you have successfully avoided all day, doesn’t seem to be impacted by the collision. He’s still in his work vest but today he’s wearing a long sleeve black shirt. His hands rest on your upper arms and your eyes drop to his fingers, taking note of how they look against the fabric of your clothing.

               He clears his throat gently, a mild noise of embarrassment, before dropping his hands back to his sides. “No, I should have let you know I was behind you. My shift is done too so I was just punching out.”

               You shuffle to the side, letting Seonghwa finish up. Your heart is beating quickly in that annoying way you’ve been trying to avoid since your last relationship. You should just say goodbye now and head out. But your feet refuse to obey and you find yourself lingering to walk out with Seonghwa.

               After shaking out of his work vest and tossing it unceremoniously into his locker, he leans against it, watching as you fumble with your own lock.

               “How was your day?”

               “Uh, it was alright. What about you? You settling in okay with everything?” You successfully open your locker, shoving your own work vest in there and grabbing your bag.

               Turning to meet Seonghwa’s gaze, your eyes unintentionally flick down to his torso. His long sleeve shirt fits him a little too well, is a little too snug, and you’re now acutely aware of his small waist on top of the fact he’s definitely in shape.

               “Yeah, it’s going well. A bit disorganized but it’s fine.”

               The two of you are leaving the backroom together, cutting through the electronics section. San is milling around in front of a display of Tamagotchis which is already half empty. He glances up and notices you, waving.

               “Hey,” He goes, “Oh, you’re the new guy, right?”

               You’re secretly hoping San doesn’t embarrass you. Even though you denied thinking Seonghwa is attractive yesterday, you know that San doesn’t believe you for a second.

               Seonghwa introduces himself and then glances at the display. “These things go fast, don’t they?”

               “Tell me about it. I end up having to restock the display every shift,” San replies disgruntled, “I don’t get it. An electronic pet?”

               “I had a Tamagotchi,” Seonghwa muses, “It kept beeping while I was sleeping so I shoved it in a drawer and forgot about it.”

               “What happened to it?” San asks.

               “It died,” He replies seriously, “I felt pretty guilty.”

               “I’m sorry to hear that,” San says just as grimly.

               You glance between the two men and their bonding moment over a dead Tamagotchi before clasping your hands together. “Okay, well, this has been truly touching but I don’t wanna miss my bus. See you tomorrow, San.”

               As you turn to leave, you hear Seonghwa mumble a quick goodbye before catching up with you. “You take the bus to work?”

               “Yeah, no car.”

               “I can drop you off at your place if you’d like.”

               You glance at him in surprise. “You don’t even know if I’m completely out of your way or not. We could live on opposite sides of one another. On top of that, how familiar are you with the town? You got a map in your car or something to help you get home afterwards?”

               Seonghwa looks perplexed. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

               The doors glide open as you step out into the late afternoon air. The temperature has dropped since this morning, a chilly bite that cuts through your t-shirt. Seonghwa had the right idea with the long sleeve, you think. Feeling flustered by his invitation to drive you home, you stop walking and turn to face him.

               “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come across so harsh. I just wouldn’t want you going out of your way on my account.”

               “I get that,” He replies, a wind kicking up and blowing some of his hair into his eyes which he impatiently brushes back, “But I really don’t mind. I need to learn where everything is anyway.”

               Chewing on your bottom lip, you fight the urge just to agree. Logically, you should just take the bus home. If you’re trying to steadfastly ignore the fact that Seonghwa is attractive then obviously being in his car will not help things. But on the other hand, being alone with him also sounds too good.

               “Alright, fine. But if you get lost, I warned you.”

               He smiles and you can feel it in your chest. Following him to his car, which looks as though it has seen better days, you get into the passenger seat and toss your bag on the floor, looking around. A pair of small dice swing off the rearview mirror, the only decoration in the car. There is nothing else to learn about Seonghwa in here – the car is neat, clean and smells nice.

               He stretches out his long legs in his seat, starting the car. You are trying very hard not to stare at him, not notice how smooth his skin is nor how his muscles pull against his long sleeve shirt.

               You open your mouth to tell him your address when suddenly Wannabe by the Spice Girls begins to blare out of his car speakers. Startled into silence, you can only watch as Seonghwa looks mortified, quickly slamming his hand down onto the eject button which spits the CD out of the player in his car dashboard.

               He grabs the CD swiftly while going, “Uh, I didn’t know – I forgot – ‘’

               “Seonghwa, it’s fine,” You reassure him, “It would be stranger at this point if you didn’t own that CD.”

               He turns his body to grab something off the back seat, plopping the CD holder into his lap. Quickly, he opens it, flips to a random page with a spot available and hastily shoves the disc inside before closing the big binder of albums. Seonghwa seems to collect himself after a second or two, returning the binder to the backseat and quietly clearing his throat while turning on the radio. Sunday Morning by No Doubt quietly fills the car.

               “Alright,” He says, neatly skirting around the Spice Girls incident, his hands wrapping around the steering wheel, “Help me get to your place.”

               You give him a couple of directions and soon enough Seonghwa is on a main road. You make a mental note to eventually Map Quest some stuff for him later so he can learn the town layout faster.

               Wanting to fill the silence before your brain gets swept up in the mental image of sitting in his lap, you go, “Are you excited for Halloween? Hopefully we don’t get stuck working late.”

               “Do you usually do something for Halloween?”

               Of course he deflects immediately. You should have known better than to ask Seonghwa a question about himself. “Sometimes. Last year I went to a party but it was a total buzzkill. I don’t know what I’m doing this year.”

               “Do you like horror movies?”

               “They’re okay. Do you?”

               “Yeah, I like them.” Wow, finally an answer out of him! Progress.

               “Oh, wait, turn right at this light,” You say as Seonghwa shifts into the other lane.

               At the red light, he looks out the side window and says, “So far, this is near my own place. Maybe we don’t live too far away from each other.”

               “Maybe.” Did you dare ask another question? “Do you live alone?”

               Seonghwa hesitates for a moment and then replies, “Yeah, I do. What about you?”

               You spare an extra second to study his face. Every interaction with Seonghwa, while friendly enough, gives you the feeling that he is constantly holding back in some respect. Aspects of himself are carefully hidden, making you wonder what he is like behind the perfectly pleasant façade he shows at work.

               “Yeah. Do you like living alone?”

               “It’s a little different than what I am used to,” Seonghwa says carefully, glancing at you for a moment.

               You point to a road ahead. “You can turn down here.” After he does so, you ask, “What are you used to?”

               Seonghwa’s hands tighten around the wheel. You get the sense he is struggling to answer, torn between talking about himself and staying private.

               “Listen, Seonghwa,” You begin, “I get the sense you really don’t like talking about yourself. That’s fine. I don’t want to come off all ‘hey, tell me your life story’ and shit. I know we just met.”

               There is another red light and the car stops. Seonghwa tilts his face to look at you. You’re struck again by how handsome you find him and how his intense gaze startles you into silence.

               “It has nothing to do with you. I don’t mean to seem so closed off.” He turns his attention back to the road, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel before saying, “I moved here because my girlfriend and I broke up recently. I’m not used to living alone because I lived with her.”

               “Oh,” You mumble as the light turns green, feeling awkward, “I didn’t mean to – I mean…”

               “It’s okay,” He reassures you, his attention back on the road, “I’m a private person but I don’t want to come off rude.”

               Quietly, you point out the next turn. It doesn’t take long to stop at the small apartment complex you’ve lived in the past year. Grabbing your bag, anxious to get out of the car after fumbling straight into making Seonghwa feel as if he needed to explain himself, you stop just in time to remember he might not know how to get to his own place.

               “I can figure it out,” He claims while you rummage in your bag for a stray sheet of paper and pen.

               “No, no, you were nice enough to drop me off. What’s your address?” After he says it, you scribble down rough directions that he can follow and thrust the paper in his direction. “Here, this should help.”

               When he takes the paper from you, his fingers brush against yours. Your breath catches at the small touch.

               “Listen, I meant what I said,” Seonghwa says, “You don’t need to feel bad.”

               “Yeah but I didn’t want you to talk about anything negative like a breakup. That is way uncool of me. It isn’t any of my business why you moved here or who you live with.”

               “True but I also don’t wanna come off like a jerk.”

               “You weren’t, I just…” You’re struggling to find a safe sentence to land on. How did you not say that you wanted to learn more about him because you were immediately attracted and therefore curious? “Wanted to be friendly. Since we work together.”

               “We’re chilling, don’t worry about it. Let me walk you to your door, at least.”

               “You don’t need to do that,” You protest even though your heart skips a beat.

               “I don’t mind.”

               You know that you’re probably supposed to refuse again until Seonghwa relents and even though you still have anxiety from the misstep of having him open up about his past, your desire to be around him for longer wins out. You nod in acceptance, getting out of the car and rubbing your arms in the cold air, reminding yourself to bring a hoodie tomorrow.

               Seonghwa circles around the car, waiting for you to shuffle over. The apartment complex isn’t anything special, just two floors and a run down looking pool in the middle that is currently closed for fall and winter. You lead him up to the second floor, stopping in front of your apartment. Seonghwa is peering over the railing to look at the pool. Some of his black hair falls in front of his eyes. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his pants to keep them warm. Your eyes drop to his slender waist and you swallow hard. Everything about this man seems to have been specially created to drive you up the wall.

               “You ever use the pool?”

               “Not really. Why, do you like swimming?”

               “I do. My apartment complex doesn’t have a pool though.”

               Without thinking, you offer, “Well, when the pool reopens, you can come here.”

               He looks over at you, something flickering across his eyes quickly. Straightening up, he nods, giving you a small smile. “Alright, that sounds sweet.”

               Shifting the weight of your bag onto your other shoulder, you go, “Well…thanks again for the ride. Try not to get lost on the way home. Do you work tomorrow?”

               “I do.”

               “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

               Seonghwa lingers for a moment. Once again, you get the feeling he is restraining from doing or saying something that might expose too much of himself. It is a curious thing, you think, especially given that you just assumed the whole ex-girlfriend thing is why he was being so reserved. Maybe that’s just him as a person though. Just really private and constantly filtering his behavior through a thousand nets.

               “Alright, talk to you later.”

               “See you later, alligator,” You reply and immediately chastised yourself for ending on such a corny line.

               Seonghwa turns around, walking back towards the staircase. You trace the curve of his shoulders underneath his shirt, getting a brief mental image of your hands flat against the top of them while you’re under his body. Shaking your head to fend off the fantasy, you turn away.

               He’s probably incredibly boring in bed. He’s an attractive guy but he’s so mild mannered and pleasant in an easily digestible way. Why get distracted into some annoying crush when the end result won’t be worth it?

Thursday, October 9th, 1997

               “Wassup?” San plops down in the chair next to yours while gesturing at the TV. “You watch this?”

               Once again, it is mid-afternoon in the break room. You’re eating lunch, staring at the grainy image on the TV that is showing a Buffy the Vampire Slayer ad for the new episode on Monday night.

               “No, do you?”

               “Nah but Yeosang records it every week to watch.”

               Yeosang is San’s roommate. That information doesn’t really surprise you seeing as he also watches The X-Files religiously.

               “Well, I bet he will enjoy this episode,” You squint, looking at the ad closer, “About a gigantic reptile thing in a frat house.”

               It is at that moment that Seonghwa steps into the break room. He is wearing a short sleeve black shirt today along with the ugly blue vest and a pair of black jeans. San waves when he enters.

               “Hey, dude. Are you on break?”

               “Yeah, I am.”

               San kicks out the chair on the other side of you, motioning to it. “Wanna chill with us?” When Seonghwa isn’t looking, he winks at you. You fight the urge to punch his shoulder.

               Seonghwa nods, stopping to get something out of the fridge before settling in next to you. He catches your eye and gives you a small smile. Your cheeks feel warm so you turn your attention back to your sandwich but you can still feel his gaze.

               “Damn, I wanna see this,” San interrupts whatever the hell was passing in between Seonghwa and yourself.

               “I think the title is kinda goofy though,” Seonghwa remarks.

               “You don’t like I Know What You Did Last Summer? I think it sounds a little mysterious. You know, it’s by the same writer as Scream,” San nudges you, “What do you think?”

               “I think I haven’t seen Scream so that sentence means nothing to me.”

               “Whoa, what, you haven’t seen Scream?” Seonghwa’s attention is back on you, “The sequel comes out soon. You should watch it. It’s really good.”

               Slightly desperate for something new to discuss with Seonghwa that didn’t involve asking questions leading to awkward moments, you leap at this opportunity. “Alright. I guess I can see if Blockbuster has it.”

               San scoffs. “Are you serious? I’ve been asking you to watch Scream for months – ow!” He winces as your foot collides with his shin under the table.

               Seonghwa frowns. “Are you alright?”

               “Yes,” San wheezes, “I always forget about the metal bar under the table. Just whacked my leg against it.”

               “He’s fine,” You say quickly, shooting daggers at him.

               Seonghwa tilts his body in your direction and goes, “I own Scream. I can bring the VHS tape tomorrow if you’re also working.”

               “I don’t have a day off until Sunday so I’ll be here. But are you sure? I don’t want you to lend me anything…”

               “Yeah, it’s okay. Don’t go to Blockbuster. I always do and then forget and end up owing them an annoying amount of late fees.”

               San has quickly forgotten the shin kicking incident and nods in agreement. “He’s right. Avoid it if you can.”

               “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

               “Okay, well, thanks.”

               “Hey, when you’re done watching it, can I borrow it? Yeosang still hasn’t seen it either,” San goes, “He’s so bad at watching movies.”

               “Yeah, that’s no problem,” Seonghwa replies, “I’m still unpacking but I know where it is.”

               “Great, thanks dude,” San exclaims before turning his attention back to the TV.

               San says something else but you don’t really hear him because Seonghwa is still looking at you. Even though Seonghwa is friendly yet distant, your body seems to react to him in a way that takes you by surprise every time you’re close. It’s the warmth of his body so near combined with his toned arms and perfect skin. The effect is slightly dizzying. Toss in the fact you haven’t had a crush on someone since your last relationship ended three years ago, you are struggling between thinking his personality doesn’t match up with yours and wanting to throw yourself at him. The entire thing is confusing.

               Seonghwa’s lips are slightly parted as if he was going to say more but falls silent while staring at you. There is something brewing in his eyes, something you haven’t seen before. It’s intense and your stomach swoops as if leaping off a cliff. His hand presses down hard against his knee to steady himself. He suddenly looks away towards the window, cutting the moment short.

               You’re breathless, wondering what the hell that had been about. The way Seonghwa looked at you mingling with the feeling that he was reigning himself in, closing something off – you don’t know what to make of it. Could it be he also is attracted to you and is trying to hide it? In all your interactions with him, he’s been kind and considerate but nothing indicated he saw you in a physical way.

               You force yourself into focusing on whatever San is saying, trying to push all the swirling emotions out of your mind.

Friday, October 10th, 1997

               You sigh, plopping down on your bed, stretching out. Work today was a chore but Seonghwa had given you his copy of Scream. With San bothering you to watch it quickly so he could let Yeosang borrow it, you figured you’d just watch it tonight before going to sleep.

               Leaning over the side of your bed, you rummage through your bag until your fingers feel the edge of the VHS tape. Pulling it out, you gaze at the cover for a few seconds, lost in thought. You’re thinking about how Seonghwa looked today right before his shift ended. You were on your break and he was at the lockers, tugging a hoodie over his head. His white shirt lifted up so slightly that if you hadn’t been already staring at him, you wouldn’t have noticed the quick glimpse of a few inches of hard abdomen. That was enough to send your body into overdrive, something you still hadn’t calmed down from when he came over to hand you the Scream VHS.

               “Thanks,” You mumbled quickly, hoping that he didn’t have the ability to read your mind.

               “Not a problem. You can just give it to San as soon as you’re done with it. I’m not in any hurry to get it back.”

               He gave you that same easy going smile, the type of smile that made you wonder what he would be like if his kind demeanor cracked and he had you pushed against a wall with his lips against your neck.

               “Right, yeah, cool.” You said in what you hoped was a casual tone.

               When he turned around to leave, your eyes lingered on his waist before turning your attention back to your food, the VHS tape in your lap like a heavy weight.

               Dragging yourself back to the present moment, you pull the tape out of the sleeve, finding it a bit curious there isn’t a sticker with the movie name on it. You wiggle to the edge of your bed, shoving the tape into the player. There are a few seconds of VHS tracking and then the picture pops into view.

               You’re staring at a palm tree against a blue sky, slightly out of focus. The tape goes grainy for a moment and then the camera swoops downward. Someone’s face comes into view, filling up the lens before their hand pushes the camera away while they are laughing.

               Uh, okay, this is not what I thought the movie was gonna look like, you think while squinting at the TV.

               “Can you get the camera out of my face?” comes a familiar voice.

               “Stop, you love when the camera is on,” A woman replies coyly.

               The shot snaps into focus then, showing Seonghwa against a wall. He is wearing a sleeveless white and blue striped shirt, his black hair ruffling in the wind. The sight of him is like a punch to your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. His smile is bright, completely different from the ones you’ve seen at work. It is unguarded. Even his posture is relaxed with none of the slightly stiff professional nature he has at work.

               Entranced, you can only stare as the scene continues. Seonghwa runs his long fingers through his hair, his smile turning into a grin.

               “So do you,” He counters.

               You can hear the sound of ocean waves just off screen. He turns his face to the side, the camera lingering on this for a moment before it lowers for a second, showing a wooden pathway. It cuts suddenly, immediately shifting into another scene.

               Seonghwa is standing on the beach now, slipping his shirt off and tossing it onto the blanket that is on the sand. You didn’t think it was possible to see him look so comfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t seem to be shy at all, staring at the camera with a challenging look on his face. On top of that, the sight of Seonghwa shirtless is bowling you over. He is toned, tanned and has muscles you want to press your hands against.

               “What?” He goes.

               “Nothing,” The woman says, “I can’t film you getting into the water?”

               “You’re just filming me undressing.”

               “Well, it’s not the first time, is it?”

               He rolls his eyes but there is a good natured expression on his face. He shoves his thumbs into his swim trunks, tugging them down half an inch before exploding into laughter and turning around, jogging towards the water.

               Another cut. New scene. This has to be him and his ex. I need to turn this off. It’s obviously not meant for me.

Seonghwa is sitting at a table in a diner, looking over a menu. He raises his eyes, making eye contact with the camera then he laughs again. He looks relaxed, his smile bright and posture resting comfortably against the booth.

“You look wicked good tonight,” The woman remarks and Seonghwa playfully shakes the menu in her direction.

“Good thing you’re getting it on camera, right?”

“Exactly.” She zooms in a little more. “Do you want to tell the imaginary audience what we’ll be filming later?”

“Oh, well, I think the imaginary audience knows by now what we like to film,” He says with a mock seriousness that makes your heart constrict. “Isn’t that right?”

The woman giggles and the scene cuts suddenly. This time the camera is in a bedroom with the lens focusing on Seonghwa once again. He is shirtless, close to the camera.

               “You gonna keep it on while I fuck you?” He says in a low voice.

               The woman doesn’t reply, just giggles.

               Seonghwa’s eyes drop for a moment before locking back onto the camera. You’ve never seen such an expression on his face – a combination of lust and reveling in the fact the entire thing is being filmed. It is as if the exterior you’ve seen on him since he began to work at the store is all bullshit, a lie in which he hides behind, and you’re seeing him for real now through the lens.

               “Maybe I’ll film you when my cock is down your throat,” He continues, “You want that?”

               The woman titters again before going, “Yeah, I want that.”

               Seonghwa grins, moving back a little so that his entire body is in view. The low light makes it difficult to fully make him out but you can see the curve of his shoulders, the stiffness against the fabric of his boxers, and the way he motions for her to come closer.

               “Then give me the camera and get on your knees,” He says sternly while lowering one hand towards his boxers, starting to pull them down –

               The sight of Seonghwa about to expose himself finally snaps you out of your shock. Quickly, you lean over and smash the eject button on the tape, yanking it out of the machine and dropping it to the floor as if it is going to burn you.

               You stare at it, breathless, your mind spinning. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where that tape was going to lead. After all, people still talked about the tape of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee; it had been covered in media for months and was still often a topic of conversation.

               You are aware Seonghwa just moved and the tape must be misplaced. Do you tell him? Do you just pretend you watched Scream and not mention it? But San wanted to borrow the copy as well. Obviously, he couldn’t get his hands on it. You could lie and say the tape didn’t play. But the excuse wouldn’t work because Seonghwa would try it on his own player and realize what was really on it. You could pretend you lost the tape and destroy it. But that also didn’t seem right. It wasn’t your tape, after all, and eventually Seonghwa could put the pieces together and believe you kept the tape to watch or worse. It felt as if the only choice would be to come clean to Seonghwa and let him know he accidentally gave you the wrong tape.  

               On the other side of things, you couldn’t believe how different Seonghwa was on camera. There was such a relaxed, casual demeanor to him. He seemed more at ease in front of the lens than in reality. For the first time since meeting him, it felt that you truly saw him. The quiet confidence, no hint of shyness in the way he spoke or removed his clothes. On top of that, his body was absolutely banging in a way that made your thighs clench and hands bunch up in your blanket.

               Then give me the camera and get on your knees.

               You think about that moment in the break room when Seonghwa’s eyes were heavy on yours and his hand gripped his knee. The little bit of his true personality coming through before being shoved back down, perhaps? Just an hour ago, you thought everything about Seonghwa had been figured out. Not anymore.

               Your mind flashes back to his smile and the expression on his face while the camera filmed. Unguarded. Exposed. Hiding behind nothing and leaving everything, including sex, on a VHS tape.

               What would such a thing be like? A small voice in your head wonders.

Saturday, October 11th, 1997

               “Hey, good morning.”

               You jump out of your skin, slamming your locker door shut and turning to see Seonghwa standing there.

               “Hi, Seonghwa! How’s it hanging?!” You exclaim loudly with such false cheer that you inwardly wince.

               Seonghwa outwardly winces. “You’re at an excitement level I can’t quite reach given we are at work.”

               Then give me the camera and get on your knees.

               You make a garbled noise in response, eyes darting all over the place. You can’t stare at Seonghwa’s face because then you think of his unguarded smile. You can’t stare at his chest because then the mental image of his abs pops into view. You can’t even look at his small waist, something that had been giving you great pleasure to sneak glances at during the week, because you’re picturing the way he was tugging down his boxers.

               “Are you…uh…feeling alright?”

               “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” You say quickly, “Tired.”

               His eyes move to your locker and he gestures to it. “Oh, did you watch Scream?”

               Your head turns sharply. The VHS tape is poking out of the top of your bag. You stammer out a collection of gibberish, stalling for time. You didn’t want to have this conversation right now; you had been picturing it after work, maybe in his car or something. Not in the break room before it hits ten in the morning.

               Seonghwa looks perplexed once again. You don’t blame him.

               Finally, you settle on, “I would really like to discuss the tape with you.”

               His features brighten. “Yeah, sure.”

               “After work?”

               Confusion once again but he slowly replies, “Alright.”

               You scurry past him, shouting your goodbye while exiting the room and hurrying to the women’s department. Seonghwa’s smile from the tape is still blazing across your brain in vivid colour and no matter how much you try not to think about it, you can still see the lascivious look in his eyes as he began to remove his boxers.

               You’ll tell him after work, you think desperately, even though it will be mortifying and he most likely will never speak to you again.

               As long as you get through this shift without losing your cool, everything should be fine. Just don’t think about him on the tape. Don’t think about him having sex and recording it. Don’t think about how relaxed he looked. Don’t think about how sexy his body looked.

               Should be simple.

*

               You manage to avoid Seonghwa the entire day, including an awkward moment where you wedged yourself into a clothing rack as he walked by. You were worried about blurting out what was on the tape in the middle of his work shift or even worse – admitting that you were curious about how he filmed himself doing such things and how it felt to let go with a camera on. In quiet moments when a customer wasn’t bothering you, your mind travels back to him like an overplayed record.

               You have a difficult time wrapping your head around the Seonghwa on the tape and the Seonghwa in reality. Always polite, yet distant, always kind but professional, in the few days you’ve known him, you’ve bounced between wanting him physically and believing his personality would keep a deeper connection from potentially forming.

               But on the tape, you viewed Seonghwa as to how he truly is. There is no façade when the camera is on him. You see him unfiltered. The hint of mischief in his smile, that sense of freedom when he was jogging towards the waves, his quiet confidence when he was talking dirty – why were such things hidden in his day to day life?

               By the time the end of your shift comes, you are anxious to get the tape and tell Seonghwa you need to talk. Since you were finishing shifts at the same time, you figured you’d wait for him in the break room. It is a little past seven by the time you enter. The break room has a couple of employees milling around but not San, who snuck out an hour earlier in order to hit up the club with Wooyoung.

               Standing in front of your locker, you reach for the lock but as your fingers graze the cold metal, you realize with a jolt it is unlocked. With a small sigh, you realize San must have opened it earlier. You had a bottle of ibuprofen in your locker that he would use occasionally and eventually gave him your locker combination so he would stop bothering you.

               But as you reach for your bag, your eyes narrow. Heart thudding, you rummage around in it with growing panic. The VHS tape isn’t in the bag. The tape isn’t in the bag.

               “What the fuck?” You hiss in between your teeth, your heart plummeting.

               You are about to upend the bag onto the floor when Seonghwa’s voice cuts through. “Hey, finishing up too?”

               Surprised, you jump, flattening your back against the locker, clutching the bag against your chest. “Seonghwa! Hey! Hi!”

               “Lots of enthusiasm for work today,” He notes, removing his work vest. His slender fingers twist the dial on his locker. You stare at them, momentarily transfixed. He glances at you. “What?”

               “Nothing. No, that’s a lie. Seonghwa, I seem to have misplaced the tape.”

               “Oh, Scream? Nah, San came to me earlier and said he noticed it was in your locker. I told him you watched it and he grabbed it before he left to give to his roommate. He said he was cutting out early to head to the club or something. Yeosang…that’s his roommate, right? San mentioned that Yeosang was gonna watch it with him and everyone else later tonight.”

               Every word out of his mouth, every word tumbling out of his beautifully plush lips, makes you want to sink into the planet’s core. The panic that had been wiggling in your brain while looking for the tape is now washing over your body like a cold wave.

               You picture Yeosang, whom you have only met briefly before, hitting play on the video. A room filled with his friends plus San and Wooyoung. The video starting, them seeing Seonghwa. How long would they let the tape run? Probably to where you ejected it. Enough for them to know what is on that tape, enough for them to know what Seonghwa does for fun.

               You drop your bag to the floor in shock, reaching out for Seonghwa. Your hand grips the front of his sweater. His eyes widen in surprise.

         ��     “Seonghwa,” You say in a choked voice.

               He looks a bit flustered, eyes darting over your shoulder to see if anyone else is seeing this. “H-hey, I…” He swallows hard. “I…”

               “Seonghwa, that movie isn’t on the tape.”

               His nerves, possibly because he thought you were literally throwing yourself at him during work, are now washed away in confusion. “What do you mean?”

               “Scream is not on that tape. It’s…something else,” You steel yourself, plunging forward, “It’s a home video. Of you and your ex.”

               The colour immediately drains from Seonghwa’s face. Your grip loosens on his shirt, watching as he goes through a myriad of facial expressions before settling on something that looks blandly neutral. You’re amazed at how quickly he collects himself.

               “I didn’t watch it,” You say hurriedly, talking a mile a minute, “Well, I watched like 3 or 4 minutes but then it was starting to get a little….anyway, I shut it off then. I was going to tell you. I brought it back today so I could tell you after work. I just didn’t think San was going…okay, it’s fine. It’s fine. We’ll page him. He’ll know to call here, right? I’ll just page him.”

               Seonghwa takes a slow deep breath. You can’t tell if he wants to scream, cry, or punch something. His calm demeanor does nothing to relax your own nerves. You don’t know what he is thinking. You go back to digging through your bag, pulling out the tiny phone number and address book you keep in there. Quickly, you head to the break room phone, yanking it off the receiver while flipping through the book to find San’s beeper number. You page him, hurriedly inputting the phone number of the store before hanging up.

               “Okay, we’ll just wait here for a few minutes. He’ll call back.”

               You aren’t sure if Seonghwa heard you. Looking over your shoulder, you see him standing in the same exact spot, his back to you.

               “Uh…Seonghwa?” You say tentatively. “Are you freaking out?”

               He turns around then, his features still amazingly collected in an extremely calm appearance. “Do you know where San lives?”

               “Where he lives? Yeah, I do. Oh, you want to go there?” You glance at the clock. “Yeah, I mean, it might be too early for him to be at the club. But shouldn’t we wait in case he calls?”

               “No,” He says curtly, “You’ll come with me and show me where his place is.”

               “Oh – oh, okay. Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

               You can hardly keep up with Seonghwa’s long strides, scampering behind him as you exit the store and into the chilly weather. Tightening the hoodie you’ve managed to shove yourself into while following him, you get in his car silently. Even though Seonghwa is amazingly calm, you can tell he is on edge. The veneer he portrays to the world is on thin ice and you can almost feel the roiling tension under his skin. He starts the car and the radio plays softly.

               Pulling out of the parking spot, Seonghwa gets to the exit and grunts, “Tell me how to get to his place.”

               “Okay,” You say, adding on, “You’ll take a left at the light,” You hesitate before going, “Seonghwa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.’’

               His hands tighten on the wheel, the only indication of his stress. “It isn’t your fault. I should have checked the tape before I gave it to you. Due to my move and breakup, things are all over the place. I don’t even know how it ended up in the Scream case.”

               “Even so, I should have turned it off immediately. I just…” What do you even say? I was entranced by how different you were on camera. I’m deeply attracted to you and I want to get to know the version of you that was on the tape. I’m curious about what you do for fun. Maybe a little too intrigued for my own good.

               “It’s fine,” Seonghwa interrupts you swiftly, “I really don’t want to discuss the tape while this is on.” He gestures to the radio which is currently playing Supermodel (You Better Work). “Just a little too ridiculous for me right now.”

               You fall silent, the words tumbling around in your chest. “A right up here,” You mumble after a couple of minutes.

               You know it is a morally grey area to keep thinking about Seonghwa in the bedroom, talking openly about getting his dick sucked and filming it. You know it’s wrong to wonder what the rest of the tape looked like. Your curiosity feels like a mark against your moral code.

               Fifteen minutes later, you have pulled up to the apartment complex that San resides in. Getting out of the car, you study the building, trying to remember what number his apartment is.

               “The door,” Seonghwa points, “You don’t happen to have a key to get into the foyer, do you?”

               “No. I guess we can buzz and see if anyone answers. But I…I can’t remember his apartment number.”

               He looks at you swiftly. “Please try to remember.” You can tell it is taking him great effort to keep his voice even and not start shaking you.

               But you’ve only been here a couple of times so nothing appears in your head. Seonghwa takes off towards the door, giving you no choice but to follow. He stands in front of the door, looking around to see the chances of someone coming by so he could slink in after them.

               “You remember it yet?”

               “No, sorry.”

               He turns to the set of apartment numbers written out across the buzzers and randomly hits one. No answer. He presses another one.

               “Is this your plan?” You ask.

               “Yes,” He replies calmly.

               “What are you going to do if someone answers?”

               “Lie.”

               You aren’t sure what to say. This is yet another new side of Seonghwa, one driven by the desperation of someone seeing the tape and finding out what he’s really like.

               On the fourth buzz, someone gruffly goes, “Who is it?” The speaker crackles.

               “Hi, I live a few places down from you and forgot my key,” Seonghwa says smoothly, “I’m so sorry to bother you. I just wanted to get buzzed in real quick.”

               “Yeah, whatever.” The door clicks open and the speaker goes silent.

               Seonghwa grabs the door handle, shooting you a look as he holds it open. You slip past him into the entrance of the building. Once you stand in the foyer, staring at the row of small mailboxes, the apartment number bounces back into your brain.

               “It’s #1117!” You declare, happy at your brain’s ability to recall such a fact.

               “Great, let’s go,” Seonghwa says while walking towards the elevator, pressing the button.

               The foyer is silent as the two of you wait for the elevator to come down. You bounce on the balls of your feet a little, your nerves getting the best of you. You’re worried about Seonghwa, you’re worried about someone seeing that tape and his secret getting out and you’re still dealing with the fact your mind won’t drop mental images that it shouldn’t be thinking about.

               In the elevator, Seonghwa exhales slowly. It is the only sign of tension brewing in him. You marvel at how calm and collected he is. If you were in this situation, there would be no chance of being in control. You’re barely in control of your emotions now, dealing with something that technically would have no impact on your life.

               The doors glide open and Seonghwa marches down the quiet hallway. His steps are muffled against the carpet, coming to a stop in front of San and Yeosang’s apartment. He rings the doorbell but there is no reply. He tries again. Nothing.

               “Maybe they really have gone to the club already,” You suggest.

               In response, Seonghwa bangs his fist against the door before resting his hand against the wood, closing his eyes. You can feel the energy crackling off him, just like that moment in the break room the other day - that same sensation of him wrangling himself under control, shoving his real self into a small box and tying it up with a bow.

               “Do you know what club they go to?”

               “Yeah. It’s nearby.”

               “Let’s go.” He turns around to return to the elevator.

               “Wait,” You hurry after Seonghwa, “We’re just going to go to the club and what?”

               “Ask where the tape is. If it’s in the apartment, I’m going to ask for San to get it for me. If he still has it on him, I’ll just ask for it back.”

               “How are you going to explain why you need it so badly without…you know.”

               The elevator arrives and he steps inside. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when we get there.”

               You stand next to him, feeling the warmth off his body. He’s wearing a form fitting white sweater today due to the temperature and you cannot help but notice how it lays across his chest. His black jeans are also snug against his slender waist. It is difficult to look at him and not picture the images of him on the beach and in the bedroom. Cheeks getting warm, you stare steadfastly ahead at the elevator doors, which finally open to release you from the ever growing tension.

               Back outside, Seonghwa is hurriedly walking back to the car. The sun has fully dipped below the horizon now, the last strands of dying daylight long gone. You cross your arms, the cold seeping into the fabric of your hoodie.

               “Seonghwa,” You say tentatively as he reaches the car, “Do you wanna talk about it now? Since Rupaul isn’t playing, I mean.”

               “I really don’t.”

               “I don’t want to make things awkward between us.”

               His hand, hovering over the handle of the car door, drops back to his side. His eyes are on you, focused in a way they haven’t been since the news of the tape landing in San’s hands were uttered to him. You suddenly feel exposed.

               Seonghwa crosses the small gap in a couple of seconds, looking at you intensely. “What do you want to talk about exactly? You want to discuss something, surely, and I don’t think that it is about your apology.”

               “I don’t know what you mean,” You mumble quickly, balking at the way his eyes tear through your defenses.

               “You want to know more about the tape? You want to know what I do in my spare time?”

               “N-no!” You lie, “No, I just didn’t want this to mess up anything between us.”

               Seonghwa shakes his head, pulling away from you and exhaling slowly before he loses his cool. “There isn’t time to sit and chat about everything. Can you please just get in the car and tell me where this club San goes to is?”

               You nod silently and Seonghwa turns around, getting into the car. Rooted to the spot for a moment, your heart thrumming in your chest, you try to ignore that little voice in your head – a voice entirely new, one that you don’t know what to do with.

               What if you stopped getting yourself back in control, Seonghwa? What would that look like? I want to see what it looks like. I want to see what the real you is and I want to keep pressing against that exterior until it cracks.

               You’ve never dealt with such a desire before. It is as if a giant dog is tugging you along on a leash and you can’t pull it back. You can dig your heels against the pavement, yank on the leash and beg for the dog to stop but it doesn’t work. The little voice in your head, the centre of your curiosity about Seonghwa mixed with your attraction to him, is a dangerous thing.

               Perhaps it isn’t just Seonghwa who is always struggling to remain cool, calm and collected in every situation. Maybe you’re not so different from him.

*

               Twenty minutes later, Seonghwa is parking at the club San frequents. The place is crowded with a line snaking around the outside of the building. Seonghwa stares at the line quietly after turning off the car. You know what he is thinking – time is important and he isn’t going to waste it waiting in a long line with the risk of the bouncer saying no. His fingers are curled lightly around the steering wheel, his brows furrowed together in concentration.

               “What’s the plan? You gonna gank someone’s VIP pass?” You joke lightly.

               He shifts, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and opening it. His fingers glide across the bills inside as he counts them quickly before looking in your direction. “How much cash do you have on you?”

               ���What?”

               “I’ll pay you back,” Seonghwa says impatiently, “We’re just going to bribe the bouncer and skip the line.”

               “Is – is that allowed?”

               “No.”

               “Oh. Uhm,” You fish your wallet out of your bag. “I have a hundred bucks.”

               “Great, and I have two hundred,” He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers at you.

               “Wait, we’re going to give the bouncer three hundred dollars?” You ask incredulously.

               “No, we’re going to start with a hundred and go from there,” Seonghwa explains, “They might be content with that. Your money is last resort.” When you hesitate, he sighs. “I told you, I’m good for it. I’ll pay you back immediately. I’ll pay you back tonight. As soon as I get the tape. Don’t start wiggin out on me now.”

               “I am not wiggin out,” You say defensively, “I just have never bribed someone before.”

               “Technically, I’m bribing. You’re merely watching.”

               As soon as the words leave his mouth, an awkward silence settles across the car. Seonghwa neatly averts his gaze, pretending to be fascinated with the money in his wallet. You swallow hard, unable to stop yourself from thinking about the tape.

               You thrust the money at him which he takes with a mumbled thanks before getting out of the car. You look down at your hoodie and work pants, unable to recall if this place has a dress code or not. Probably, given the long line. You sigh, opening the car door and trailing after Seonghwa.

               He stops at one point, looking over his shoulder at you. “Are you comfortable pretending we’re on a date?”

               “Excuse me?”

               “I’m going to bribe the bouncer under the guise that I’m trying to impress you. Can I put my arm around you when we get up there? I won’t do anything else.”

               “How do you come up with this shit?” You say without thinking, “The entire night, you just seamlessly come up with these ideas and lies and stories.” Every interaction we’ve had before tonight has been pleasant and normal to the point where I thought you were attractive but a little boring, is what you don’t add on to the sentence, and now I’m seeing all sorts of sides to you I never thought lurked inside.

               Seonghwa ignores the question, instead asking one of his own. “Are you comfortable with me putting my arm around your waist?”

               “Yeah, fine,” You mumble although the idea of him touching your body is making your skin warm.

               “Alright. Try not to look so nervous.”

               Seonghwa walks towards the club with a confidence you cannot hope to possibly mimic. Gone is the easy going attitude he carries at work. Instead, he acts as though he owns the place and is merely popping by to give it a look. His arm circles around your waist as the bouncer comes into view. You can hear people complaining about him cutting the line but Seonghwa doesn’t pay them any attention.

               His arm around your waist is distracting in an agonizing way. Every nerve in your body has awakened to him and the desire is dizzying. As you approach the bouncer, Seonghwa nods his head in the man’s direction, extending his hand outward and slipping the hundred dollars in his palm.

               “How’s it hangin?” Seonghwa asks casually, pulling you closer against him.

               The bouncer glances quickly down at the money and replies evenly, “Could be better.”

               Another hundred dollars is given and the bouncer pretends to study his clipboard and nods, moving to the side. “You’re on the list. Have a good night.”

               Seonghwa nods, guiding you past him and into the club. On the way in, he brings his lips close to your ear and murmurs, “See? Didn’t even need your cash.”

               You’re feeling slightly in awe of the Seonghwa on display tonight – gone is the fake work personality, just someone tackling the situation at hand in whatever way would work best even if it included lying. His arm is still around your waist, his body angled at a slight slant as he leads you through the crowd of people and onto the main dance floor.

               The music is loud, cramming your skull immediately as a crush of people squeeze against Seonghwa and yourself. The flickering lights dance over Seonghwa’s hair as his grip tightens on your waist so the two of you don’t get separated. He pulls you along until he finds an alcove, releasing his hold and facing you.

               “Do you know where they’d be?” He shouts.

               “The dance floor! San always talks about dancing a lot when he’s here!” You yell back.

               Seonghwa scowls. “I fucking hate clubs!”

               Your hand reaches for his, pulling him out of the alcove and towards the main dance floor while This Is Your Night blasts so loudly that you can feel it vibrate along your bones. Wiggling through the vast swarm of people, you successfully make your way to the main dance floor. It is impossible to find San in the crush of people. Seonghwa tugs on your hand, getting your attention while pointing to a large staircase leading to the second floor.

               You nod and he takes the lead, quickly lost in a sea of gauzy club clothes in colours that could cause someone’s retinas to bleed, seeing more cleavage and mini dresses than you thought possible in one space. Your hoodie and work pants and lack of high heels have you receiving a few confused glances as Seonghwa works his way through the crowd.

               Of course, you also notice that Seonghwa is attracting a lot of attention in his own way. No one seems to care that his outfit isn’t club attire in the same way they cared about yours. While making your way up the stairs, you can hear giggles follow as people check Seonghwa out. This sparks an intense irritation in your chest for reasons you can’t fully explain.

               Standing on one of the stairs, you gaze out across the dance floor, squinting to try to spot San or Wooyoung. Someone bangs into your side, cursing at you standing there. Seonghwa turns around sharply, glowering at the woman with such an intensity that she scampers up the rest of the stairs, wobbling on her strappy sandals with huge heels. His hand is on your lower back protectively.

               “We are standing right on the stairs,” You shout at him.

               “I don’t care,” He says crossly, “They can move around us. The staircase is huge.”

               Seonghwa’s gaze is steady on yours and for a few seconds, time seems to stretch out. The music becomes background noise, his hand against your back, his body facing yours. He has one strand of hair that has come out of place, betraying his inner turmoil that he has been attempting to hide all night.

               You bring your hand upwards, pushing his hair back into place before you can stop yourself. He reaches for you, fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. Your breath catches, thrown off by his touch and the intensity of his stare. For a brief second, you think it is finally going to happen – the fissures that have formed in Seonghwa’s carefully constructed polite personality are going to shatter –

               But then, over his shoulder, you spot San weaving his way away from the bar, holding two drinks over his head, heading towards a small table where Wooyoung is.

               “I found them!” You exclaim and the moment passes as Seonghwa looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he spots San.

               He swiftly turns around to head back down the stairs, holding onto your hand again. His impatience is exposed through the way he practically shoves his way through the crowd. The time the grumbles are not of admiration but of annoyance. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to care.

               San’s eyes widen when he spots you and one eyebrow raises at the sight of Seonghwa holding your hand. Suddenly embarrassed, you pull your hand away from him although Seonghwa doesn’t seem to notice. He’s on a mission and only one thing is on his mind.

               The print on San’s shirt defies logic and reasoning, distantly reminding you of a Taco Bell you stepped into a few weeks ago. Paired with even more colourful pants, you are unsure how it took this long to spot him in the crowd.

               “What are you two doing here?” San exclaims loudly.

               Without preamble, Seonghwa goes, “I need the Scream tape back.”

               “You came all this way for that?” He asks confused.

               Wooyoung slides out of the small booth he was occupying, plucking the drink out of San’s hand. Tonight, he’s wearing a nylon dark pink button up with three of the buttons undone, exposing his tanned chest. His pants are so tight that you aren’t sure how he even got into them.

 Wooyoung waves at you and goes, “Who is your friend?”

               “New coworker,” San exclaims over the music before turning his attention back to Seonghwa. “I don’t have it. I gave it to Yeosang when I got home and he took it with him when he left.”

               Seonghwa’s hands flex at his sides, a motion only you notice. “Where is he?”

               “I think he’s out with Mingi and Jongho tonight. They were gonna watch the movie at Mingi’s place. We were going to meet them there later.”

               “Where is he now?” Seonghwa grinds out between clenched teeth.

               San is picking up on the tension, glancing at you but your expression gives nothing away. “Is everything alright? Why do you need the tape back so badly?”

               “I’ll explain later. I just need it back tonight,” Seonghwa replies.

               Wooyoung, who has been silent this entire conversation, his eyes bouncing between the two men, throws his arm around San’s shoulders while pointing at Seonghwa, still holding his drink. “Who is this guy? I like him. He gets right to the point. He’s very money, you know what I mean?”

               You interrupt quickly. “It’s to do with me, San. Please don’t ask any questions.”     

               It’s a lie, of course, but you know San will respect your request. You can feel Seonghwa’s eyes flick to you for a second.

               “Yeah, it’s no problem. I don’t mean to be pushy. Yeosang is at the minigolf course. The one with the big wizard in the middle, you know it?”

               “I do, yeah. Thanks for the help.”

               “It’s all good,” San replies.

               “Are you sure you don’t wanna hang?” Wooyoung asks Seonghwa, “We’re just getting started here.”

               “I appreciate the offer but we gotta bounce. Nice meeting you.” Seonghwa is already turning away, eyes darting towards the exit.

               You give the two men a small wave and then it is back to being smushed in the crowd, wiggling through the writhing bodies as the music pulsates around you. You’re walking behind Seonghwa, his hand searching for yours so the two of you don’t get separated. Your fingers curl around his and you find yourself studying the curve of his neck, the way his shoulders look in his sweater. From this angle, you can just make out the muscles underneath the tight fabric.

               Seonghwa glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re alright. You can’t read his gaze; something shifts behind it, ever changing and unfolding. In that moment, it feels as if you’ve known him forever, in a thousand different locations across a thousand different universes.

               Back into the night air, Seonghwa turns to face you. “Do you know what minigolf course San was talking about?”

               “Yeah, I do.”

               “Great, come on.” He takes off across the parking lot towards the car. His back is illuminated by the neon from the sign of the club, dousing him in a bright blue that his hair soaks up.

               You follow, catching up with him as Seonghwa asks, “What are you gonna tell San when he asks why you needed the tape?”

               “I don’t know. I just said that because I knew he would drop it.”

               “Well, you bought us time,” He remarks, opening the door to the car, “Tell me how to get to the minigolf course.”

               Back in the passenger seat, you can still feel the tension rolling off Seonghwa. Unable to help yourself, you try to reassure him. “We’ll find Yeosang there. I’m sure he will have the tape on him. It’s nearby too.”

               Seonghwa brushes off your words. “Just tell me how to get there.”

*

               It takes fifteen minutes to get to the minigolf course. A large garish wizard hat juts out of the centre of the course, covered in purple lights to make it glow. There is an assortment of other tacky objects sticking upwards – palm trees, a poorly made replica of the leaning tower of Pisa, a UFO that used to rotate five years ago but has since broken down and not been repaired.

               Seonghwa gazes at the sight through the windshield, clearly assessing the situation before getting out of the car. You take off after him, fighting the urge to grab his hand. It made sense in the club, not here.

               As you approach the entrance, the sound of top 40 radio plays loudly over speakers. Seonghwa bypasses the ticket booth completely, instead opting to head directly onto the course. But a bored looking employee glances up from the magazine he’s reading and gets to his feet quickly.

               “Whoa, hey there, homeslice. I need to see the ticket.” He extends his hand out to Seonghwa.

               “I’m not playing,” He says quickly, “I just am getting something from a friend.”

               “Sure, I can just let anyone pass by without a ticket,” The man rolls his eyes, “No ticket, no entrance.”

               “It’ll take less than five minutes,” Seonghwa protests, the agitation at being so close and so far starting to get to him.

               You hover by his side and quietly go, “Seonghwa, let’s just go buy a ticket.”

               “I don’t want to buy a ticket. The ticket is for playing minigolf and I’m not playing,” He grinds out, staring at the attendant, “So, just let me in.”

               The attendant, who is stuck wearing an ugly polyester blue button up, looks positively thrilled at finally having something interesting happening. “No can do, dude,” He says gleefully.

               You grab Seonghwa’s upper arm, briefly distracted by the firm muscles underneath, before carting him away from the entrance. While gesturing to the ticket booth, you go, “Let’s just buy a ticket. Do you really wanna throw down with the guy working the minigolf course? We won’t get to Yeosang that way.”

               “I don’t care,” He says stubbornly, “He’s being an asshole.”

               Your irritation gets the best of you. “If you could wrangle your repressed anger under control for two seconds –”

               “My what?”

               “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Seonghwa. The entire night, you’ve been furious at me and just won’t say it. So, you just shove everything down and ignore it and pretend you’re so calm and collected but you’re not –”

               Seonghwa takes a step towards you. His demeanor is icy cold now. “Not everything is about you,” He replies in a tone that could frost over a window, “As much as you want it to be.”

               Your eyes narrow. “What the hell does that mean?”

               “If I’ve been repressing anger all night, you’ve been holding back too. The multiple attempts to steer the conversation back to how sorry you are, how you found the tape, how little you watched of it.” Another step closer, close enough to touch now. “Why don’t you stop bullshitting and just admit you wanna ask me questions about the tape and what I do in my spare time?”

               You hadn’t thought it was that obvious. Seonghwa striking the centre of your heart with his accusation makes your breath catch. You can’t bring yourself to reply.

               “The tape not only has me on it but also my ex. It violates her privacy for anyone else to see it, not just mine. That’s the most important thing going on right now, not you having some sort of sexual awakening at seeing a few minutes of it.”

               You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, knowing Seonghwa is correct but also feeling exposed at the same time. He stalks off past you, going towards the ticket booth. The employee at the entrance is gawking at the two of you although he didn’t hear anything said.

               “You and your boyfriend are pretty intense,” He says over the din of top forty music.

               “He’s not my boyfriend,” You mumble, looking over your shoulder at Seonghwa.

               Seonghwa is smiling casually at the person working the ticket booth. All earlier signs of irritation are wiped clean from his beautiful face. He is chatting as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. Was I really that obvious? Or is he just that good at reading people? You are embarrassed but manage to make your facial expression look as placid as possible when Seonghwa returns to you.

               “Ready?” He asks as if the two of you hadn’t just been at each other’s throats a couple of minutes ago.

               After you nod, Seonghwa thrusts the tickets at the attendant who takes them in an over the top gesture and tacks on, “Have a good night!”

               Entering the minigolf course, you stop to grab one of the little putters. Seonghwa notices and drawls, “Really?”

               You hand it off to him. “Yes, really. You wanna blend in or look like the weird guy stalking across a golf course?”

               He takes it, holding it daintily with his long fingers while studying it. “You were right. About the ticket. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

               You’re holding your own putter now, staring at him. “I know. I wouldn’t think clearly in your situation either.”

               Seonghwa looks at you for a long moment. You get the sense he wants to say more but he gives a small shake of his head, turning his attention back to the course. “Come on. We’ll just start at the first hole and wander around until you spot them.”

               The next ten minutes are spent navigating the busy course which includes a moment where Seonghwa ducks to avoid a little kid swinging the putter and another where you almost lose your footing and awkwardly trip off a tiny fake bridge. There are a few questioning glances shot in your direction as the two of you bypass playing completely while you try to spot Yeosang.

               Finally, near the gigantic wizard hat, you spot him along with who you assume is Mingi and Jongho. Yeosang, in baggy jeans and an oversized green hoodie, looks to be talking very animatedly with a tall man who is wildly gesturing. The other man is watching them with an amused expression on his face as if it is a very funny TV show.

               “There they are.” You nudge Seonghwa to get his attention. “Are you doing the talking or am I?”

               “You start and I’ll follow. Yeosang is familiar with you and doesn’t know me.”

               “Alright, let’s go.”

               You cut across a particularly ugly ice cream cone that is the centre of hole number ten and call out Yeosang’s name. He looks up in surprise but waves when he sees you.

               “Wassup? Didn’t know you like minigolfing,” He says as you and Seonghwa stop in front of the group. “Mingi and I were just having a disagreement about how many hits he took to get the ball in the hole.”

               The tall man, who is dressed entirely in acid wash denim, protests. “It was four strokes. You’re saying five and that’s not true.”

               The other guy, who must be Jongho, goes, “Can we please move on? I want to get an Icee.”

               “In this temperature?” Mingi asks, momentarily distracted.

               Jongho tugs on his long sleeve, wearing a plaid dress shirt with all the buttons undone, a black t-shirt underneath, topped off with a simple pair of jeans. “It isn’t that cold in this.”

               Seonghwa, who is already radiating an intense energy that will be overflowing at any second, swiftly interrupts, “Sorry, but I was talking to San and he said you had the Scream tape?”

               Yeosang nods. “Yeah, it’s in my bag. Oh! You must be the coworker he is borrowing it from?”

               “That’s right. I just need to see it for a second please.”

               “Sure,” He turns around, scooping his bag off the ground which it had been unceremoniously dumped on and pulls out the tape, handing it to Seonghwa. “There you go.”

               “Thanks so much,” Seonghwa replies calmly.

               He immediately pries his fingers into the slots and begins to unspool the tape, wildly tugging it out onto the ground. Everyone, including yourself, falls silent, watching as Seonghwa then drops the plastic shell onto the ground and begins to take the putter to it. His hair falls out of place as he beats the shit out of the VHS tape with the putter, the shell cracking from the sheer force at which he strikes it.

               “This dude is wacked,” Mingi mumbles.

               “I heard Scream was a good movie,” Jongho says, brows furrowed in confusion.

               “Guess we won’t find out now,” Yeosang replies dryly, “I suppose we’re watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 tonight.”

               Seonghwa exhales, his cheeks puffing out while doing so, tossing the putter to the ground while scooping up the remains of the VHS tape. He runs his fingers through his hair although it doesn’t fix it.

               “Thanks guys. Have a good night.” Seonghwa says as if he just didn’t go postal in the middle of the minigolf course.

               He glances at you before taking off back the way he came. You give an apologetic look at Yeosang, unsure what to say and settling on nothing. Following Seonghwa, who is still holding onto what little of the tape remained, with the cheery pop music playing over the sound of laughter and people talking, you aren’t sure if speaking right now would help him. Does he need comfort? Is he relieved? He showed no hesitation in destroying the tape immediately. Had that been his plan the entire night?

               Luckily for the attendant working the entrance, the exit loops around the other side of the course, taking you both into the parking lot before Seonghwa can start bickering with him again. He drops the pieces of the plastic casing into the nearest trash can although he is still holding the film, wrapping it carefully around his slender fingers.

               “Seonghwa,” You say tentatively and he stops, looking over at you.

               In the lights of the parking lot, Seonghwa is a slim figure with his black hair glowing. His breathing is slightly uneven, his features not nearly as collected as they’ve been all night. There is something raw wiggling underneath the surface of his composure, something you desperately want to touch.

               “I’ll take you back to your place now,” He says roughly, “Come on.”

               You don’t know what to reply with so you merely nod. A few minutes later, the car is pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. You quietly tell Seonghwa how to get to your apartment from here. The tape is in his lap, the film nestled like a snake in between his thighs. You wonder what he will do with it. Set it on fire, maybe. He seems intent on destroying it completely. You understand why but still feel a pain of regret in your chest. There would be no viewing the rest of the tape now.

               You suddenly feel very tired. Between work and the entire events of the sex tape, you’re ready to crawl in bed and sleep in tomorrow. You lean back in the seat, staring idly out the window. The radio is playing music quietly and Seonghwa doesn’t say a word. You still get the sense he is wrangling himself in. Does he do that all the time? Why bother? Why shield yourself from people to the extent he does? You see his smile from the tape in your mind once again. To your surprise, you feel a spark of jealousy buried in your chest. His ex got to see the real Seonghwa while you’ve been seeing his façade. You want to know him like that. You want to touch him like that.

               The silent admission to yourself is unsettling. It’s been ages since you’ve wanted someone. Your attraction to Seonghwa earlier this week seems easier to digest when you thought your personalities wouldn’t be compatible. But his words outside the minigolf course were correct – those few minutes of him on your TV screen are making something deep inside you stir.

               The streetlights swim lazily across Seonghwa as he drives silently. They blend in with his white sweater before appearing on his tanned skin, small pools of light that travel over his body before eventually being lost behind the car.

               When he parks at your apartment complex, he goes, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

               This time, you don’t refuse. Back into the cold air, you stop at the outskirts of the pool near the staircase to the second floor.

               “Seonghwa,” You say again, your hand resting against the cold metal of the banister, “Now that you got the tape, and everything is sorted out, I really –”

               “Don’t,” He says swiftly, “You’re going to apologize again. It isn’t your fault. I already told you that.”

               “I know what you said,” You are two steps up on the staircase, looking slightly down at Seonghwa, whose hand is inches from yours on the banister, “But outside of the golf course…”

               “Was I too harsh?”

               “I just don’t understand why you’re pretending all the time,” You say after a beat of silence, “When I met you earlier this week, you were pleasant enough. But it’s obvious that isn’t what you’re really like. Just the few minutes of the tape showed that to me. And I’ve caught it once or twice before, at work, when you are obviously shoving your real self back down. Throughout tonight, I’ve seen glimpses of who you actually are – the quick lying, the flashes of irritation, your nerves at someone seeing the tape…I just don’t understand why you hide it everywhere but on a VHS tape.”

               There. You said what you’ve been thinking the whole night. Seonghwa’s face doesn’t change the entire time you speak. But you aren’t fooled by it anymore.

               Seonghwa places his feet on the first step of the staircase. He’s extremely close to you now; his body’s warmth seeps into your skin. You fight the urge to place your hands against his chest to pull on his sweater so that he will kiss you.

               You aren’t sure what his reply was going to be but you aren’t prepared for the way his voice drops to almost a murmur. “You’re really intrigued about the tape, aren’t you? I wonder what makes you so curious. It is the idea of letting the camera see all of you for who you truly are? Is it just the idea of fucking and recording it that you find so compelling? Maybe both.”

               You’ve gone still, frozen in surprise at the words leaving his mouth. He leans forward, his lips so close to your ear that your heart skips a beat. “Do you regret turning the tape off when you did? Your conscience prevailed; you did the morally right thing in a few minutes. Others would have watched the entire thing. But some part of you wishes it kept it running so you could watch me fuck my ex, listen to what we talked about. You know, I was so focused on getting rid of the tape, I don’t even know what one this one contains. We filmed so many,” He lingers on the last word as your brain fills up with mental images of tape after tape of Seonghwa, “What happened in the first few minutes of the tape?”

               Shakily, you manage to whisper, “You were on a beach. And then in a diner. Finally, a hotel room.”

               You don’t see Seonghwa smile but you can feel it, like an arrow in the dark, so fast that the sensation is gone in a second. “The vacation tape,” He pauses and continues, “I prefer being on film. Being seen. I feel comfortable and at ease. The camera misses nothing. The lens cuts through everything. All the noise and the bullshit. It isn’t about watching it back later. It isn’t about sharing it. I fill a tape, shove it in the collection. Destroy them when the relationship ends. Rinse and repeat. It’s about capturing that one moment and putting it on film. Everything when the camera isn’t on feels like bullshit. I feel like bullshit.”

               “Why?”

               Seonghwa shakes his head. “Dunno. Just always have. I only exist when the camera is on. Otherwise, I can’t be myself. Been that way forever. I’ll ask you again – did you regret turning the tape off?”

               It doesn’t even enter your mind to lie. “Yes.”

               “You wanted to watch me fuck my ex? Or did you want to be on that tape with me?”

               Your body is growing hot all over. You wish Seonghwa would touch you. His hand is so close to yours that you would settle for him just to brush his fingers against your skin.

               “Yes,” You whisper so quietly that if he weren’t so close to you, it would have been impossible to hear. You aren’t even sure what question you’re answering. Maybe it is both.

               But Seonghwa pulls away abruptly then. With his warmth gone, it feels like a hole has opened in your chest. He runs his fingers through his hair but you take note of the slightly uneven way he is breathing. You want to grab him, see him for who he really is with no pretenses, have the camera lens on his body while he –

               “I need to get home. I won’t be able to relax until I finish destroying the film,” His eyes trail along your body quickly and it feels deeply personal to have Seonghwa look at you in such a manner, “Goodnight.”

               You don’t want him to go. You want him to follow you to your apartment and fuck you silly. But he turns around and in a couple of seconds, he has rounded the corner, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your desires and the briefest glimmer of the man Seonghwa truly is.

Monday, October 13th, 1997

               “You gonna explain why Seonghwa opened up a can of whoop-ass on a VHS tape in the middle of a minigolf course on Saturday night or am I not privy to that information?”

               You stifle a groan, unable to duck and dodge San any longer. You had yesterday off, which didn’t end up being as fun as it sounded, due to the fact all you did was lay in bed running the events of Saturday night over and over in your head.

               And you still hadn’t come up with any sort of realistic story to tell San about the tape especially since Seonghwa had opted to destroy it with a minigolf putter.

               “It’s complicated,” You finally settle on.

               San’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Complicated? Should I be concerned about your little work crush? Could he be a little…unwell?”

               “He’s not unwell,” You say defensively, “It’s just complicated. Can you just drop it, please? It was his tape, after all.”

               “Just makes no sense. You said the situation had to do with you. But why did Seonghwa go postal on the tape like that?”

               You’re starting to get a headache. You’ve had way too much coffee before coming into work and your nerves are frazzled between the idea of seeing Seonghwa and how much time you’ve spent analyzing his words to you Saturday night before he left. Yes you told him on the staircase, yes you wanted to watch the entire tape, yes you wanted to see him have sex with his ex and yes, you wanted to be on film with him. A jarring admission, one that you’re still grappling with.

               “San, my break ended a few minutes ago. Just please, for the sake of our friendship, I’m asking you to drop the entire thing.”

               He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Fine. Consider it dropped. However, it is not forgotten.”

               “I’ll take it, thanks,” You reply, heading quickly to the exit. “Listen, I’ll help you with inventory sometime this week, okay?”

               “You’re just sucking up to me.”

               “Yes, but you hate inventory,” You fire back over your shoulder.

               “I do so I’ll accept it!” He calls after you.

               Back in the store, you meander your way towards to the women’s clothing department. Part of you is desperate to run into Seonghwa while the other part is dreading it. What do you even say to him? Just a simple hello? How can you look him in the face knowing his entire personality is carefully curated bullshit to hide who he really is? How can you talk to him after what he said to you last night? How can you hold a conversation when you are so desperate to have him?

               You end up avoiding the shortcut through the men’s clothing section. Even so, your eyes carefully scan the area for any sight of him among the racks of ugly dresses and t-shirts. Once you’re safely in the dressing rooms, reorganizing and cleaning out the mess people leave behind, you relax slightly.

               You wanted to watch me fuck my ex? Or did you want to be on that tape with me?

               Seonghwa’s words bang around in your brain no matter how much you try to push them away. Even as you go through the motions of work, your mind lingers on how warm his body was so close to yours on the stairs, the low timber of his voice in your ear, and how he saw through you and all your pretenses.

               In fact, you’re so swept up in work and your thoughts, that you don’t realize Seonghwa is in the dressing room area until he says your name. Flinching in surprise, you look over your shoulder.

               He stands there in his blue work vest, his arms so full of clothes that it looks like they could spill onto the floor at any second. Seonghwa’s face is beautifully impassive. You get the sense he has also been avoiding you.

               “Wanted to drop off all the women’s clothes that ended up in the men’s dressing rooms before my shift ends,” He explains in a clipped tone.

               “Right. Thanks.” You move closer, trying to take the clothes from him.

               But there is simply too much and a good portion falls onto the floor. Your hands brush against his in the mess of fabric, sending your heart racing so quickly that it almost makes your chest hurt. Seonghwa is staring at you through his long lashes although his eyes dart away when yours meet his.

               You manage to wrangle a good chunk of the clothes away, tossing it onto the small table at the end of the hallway that you use to organize them. “You can just dump the rest here.”

               Seonghwa does so and then an awkward silence settles across the empty dressing rooms. The store closes in ten minutes. You didn’t think you’d be seeing Seonghwa at all today. We filmed so many he had whispered, teasing you with the mental images of whatever lurked on those tapes.

               “Do you want any help?” He offers.

               “I got it, thanks,” You say quickly, knowing the longer he stands next to you, the higher chance there is at the conversation going sideways.

               His fingers are touching one of the t-shirts, his expression unfocused. “I wanted to apologize.”

               You hesitate and then go, “For what?”

               “I was pretty…intense Saturday night. I also talked to you out of line at the end there,” He swallows, staring at the pile of clothes as if they were a fascinating creature, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

               You feel stuck. It would be simpler to accept the apology and put the entire thing in the past. But a much larger part of you has shifted since discovering what Seonghwa is really like, brought to life by his words and the images on the tape, growing louder every passing moment. It is difficult to ignore these new feelings inside your chest.

               “It’s all good. It was a stressful situation. I think it would make anyone start trippin although San is asking questions and I have nothing to tell him. It is a little harder to come up with a story when you…beat the shit out of the tape in front of everyone.”

               “Yeah,” He looks at you sheepishly. “I lost my cool for a sec.”

               “Cracked your pleasant exterior there,” You joke quietly.

               His lips twist up into a smile for a brief second. You’re feeling hot all over, knowing it would be far easier just to let the conversation stop here. Easier to return to the way things were before the tape. Let Seonghwa be a work crush and nothing else.

               “But, uhm,” You pick up a shirt, carefully folding it so that you don’t have to look at him, “I didn’t mind how you talked to me. At the end of the night.”

               Seonghwa’s breathing changes slightly, something you wouldn’t have noticed a few days ago. But it is as if viewing the tape, learning about who he is and spending Saturday night with him has synced you up to Seonghwa in a new way.

               “Is that right?” He finally replies, his voice even and without emotion.

               “Yeah, I’ve been…thinking about what you said,” Your voice trembles slightly, betraying your nerves.

               Seonghwa moves ever so slightly closer to you. Relief swoops through your body at his close proximity. “What about it?” He murmurs.

               You take in a small breath and go, “I was thinking about asking you to come over. Tomorrow night.”

               He hesitates for a small second. “To your place?”

               “Yeah. I mean. If you’d want.” You are a mixture of anxiety and desire.

               But you push through it to look at Seonghwa’s face. You recognize the expression this time – he is teying to maintain his calm exterior, aware that he is at work and in a public setting.

                “Should I bring anything?” He asks in a forced nonchalant voice.

               Your grip tightens on the shirt. After spending all day trying to dodge Seonghwa, you can’t believe how you’re cracking after a couple of minutes around him. But perhaps avoiding him was your own way of denying what you wanted.

               “Maybe your camera,” You say with forced casualness.

               But the words seem to crack Seonghwa. He moves closer to you, just as close as the time on the staircase. In a strangled voice, he goes, “You’re not making fun of me, are you?”

               Surprised, you exclaim, “What? No, not at all.”

               His hand reaches out for you but then thinks better of it. Falling back to his side, he flexes his fingers. His voice drops to a whisper. “I work a closing tomorrow but I’ll come over afterwards.”

               You’re done work at five tomorrow which gives you plenty of time to get ready for…whatever you’re getting into. Seonghwa’s gaze is heavy, his energy buzzing. You want to push him, crack him open fully so that you can experience what he is like without any barriers…and maybe you want the same thing for yourself too. You want to know what it would be like being stripped away of all things you carefully hide behind without even realizing it. You just didn’t know that such a thing was so desired until you saw Seonghwa on that tape.

               You nod, wanting to say more but nerves getting the best of you. He pulls away, trying to control his breathing. There is a slight flush of colour creeping up his neck. You get a vivid mental image of being on top of him, your hands against his chest, taking him fully inside you –

               Quickly, you look away, afraid your thoughts might be all over your face. Seonghwa wishes you a goodnight, leaving the dressing rooms quickly before the energy crackles and explodes, spilling out into work.

               He works so hard to keep everything separate, after all.

Tuesday, October 14th, 1997

               You’re looking out the window of the living room, staring at the unremarkable view. The neon of the Taco Bell sign washes over the street, bathing the cars in the bright colour for a second or two as they drive by. You can just make out the interior, a swirl of pink, blue and purple, like a little lighthouse in the night.

               You don’t think you’ve never felt so nervous staring at Taco Bell before.

               It’s past ten which means Seonghwa will be here in about twenty minutes. Having invited him on a whim, driven by a combination of lust and curiosity, you’re now dealing with the reality of what you suggested. In asking him to bring his camera, you’ve basically admitted to him and yourself that you want to see what filming together would be like. And while you’re aware that you can change your mind and tell him to forget it once he arrives, the truth of the matter is that you don’t want to do such a thing.

               Your attraction to Seonghwa has only been heightened since seeing the tape, and your own sexual exploration seemed to be spilling out of you with a mighty need. As nervous as you feel, you also have no interest in denying it any longer.

               You aren’t sure how long you stare out the window, spacing out, but a soft knock at the door startles your thoughts away. Exhaling slowly, you cross the small living room, opening the front door to see Seonghwa standing there.

               He’s wearing a very colourful button up tucked into a pair of blue jeans. A bag is slung over his shoulder and his hair is a little messy from the chilly wind. Your heart skips a beat violently at the sight of him.

               “Hey. Oh, uh, come in,” You say awkwardly, moving to the side as Seonghwa walks past, “How was work?”

               “Fine, the usual. You know how it is. I like your place.”

               You blink. “Really? I don’t think it’s anything exciting.”

               He glances over his shoulder. “Well, I didn’t say it was exciting. I just like how comfortable it looks.”

               “Thanks. How are you doing with unpacking your own place?”

               Seonghwa places the bag on the coffee table while replying, “Besides the mishap with the tape, it has been uneventful.”

               He speaks of the tape so candidly now although given the circumstances, why wouldn’t he?

               “Did you and your ex live together long?” It no longer felt awkward to mention his last relationship – so much is different now with Seonghwa.

               “We did although that seemed to be our undoing. Only lasted a few months after we moved in together,” He replies while turning to face you. “For the sake of honesty, I haven’t been with anyone else since my relationship ended. Does that bother you?”

               “No because I haven’t either. I find those things…distracting. I just was focusing on work and other things in my life.”

               “Am I a distraction?”

               “What?”

               He repeats himself.

               Your cheeks grow warm. “I mean – technically, yes.”

               Seonghwa is fighting off a smile. You can tell by the way he tilts his face away from your direction to look at your TV.

               “Do you want anything to drink?” You offer.

               “Just some water is fine, thanks.”

               “Alright. Uh, please sit down. Don’t feel like you need to stand there.”

               You scamper out of the living room, wishing your nerves would settle. Now that he is here, you feel scattered. Your attraction to him has grown tenfold in the last few days and you can’t remember the last time you’ve wanted someone this much.

               Returning with a couple of glasses of water, you sit down next to Seonghwa on the couch. Desperate to fill the silence, you turn on the TV, immediately blasted with a Surge ad.

               “Listen,” Seonghwa says after a few minutes, “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I don’t want you to think I went into anything with expectations.”

               Hurriedly, you reply, “I know that.”

               “I understand you’re curious because the concept is new to you. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to be into it.”

               You turn to face him, your fingers wrapped around your glass of water. Seonghwa tilts his head in your direction.

               “I am curious,” You say quickly, “And I don’t really understand why. I’ve never thought about something like that until I saw those few minutes of the tape. And I…” You swallow, feeling shy. “Well, I only think about it with you. I was attracted to you right away but…you seemed so…nice. As if there wasn’t a lot going on underneath the surface. So, I assumed the attraction would never deepen. But after I saw the tape…I felt like I saw you.”

               “And?” He prompts.

               “And I was intrigued. At you. At the idea of filming stuff like that. The idea of a camera around, catching all these private moments. I started realizing how much you pull yourself under control, how you’re wearing a mask all the time.”

               “Everyone wears a mask in public. Most people just don’t realize it.”

               “You think I’m realizing it now then?”

               “Maybe. I don’t want to speak over your feelings or pretend I know what you’re thinking of. But yes, you’re right about me. I struggle with being vulnerable, being myself. I always switch into this false personality. I don’t even mean to do it.”

               “But you don’t do it while recording.”

               “That’s right. Something about seeing that little red light on switches it off.”

               “And what about…” Your shyness deepens.

               “Filming myself having sex?” After you nod, Seonghwa goes, “It just turns me on. Makes sex better. Makes me more relaxed. In that moment of filming, I feel free. Capturing those moments of pleasure…it feels crucial to my enjoyment.”

               “Has everyone you’ve been dating into it too?”

               “After I realized how much I like it, yeah. When the relationship ends, I destroy all the tapes. Just out of respect. Recording it isn’t really about watching it back anyway. It’s just about that moment of filming the intimacy of it.”

               You fall silent, battling more questions and your ever growing desire for Seonghwa. He turns his attention back to the TV, although you get the feeling he really isn’t engrossed in the episode of NYPD Blue playing. Your eyes land on the large bag he brought.

               Could you record yourself sleeping with Seonghwa? Knowing that moment would be captured on a tape with him? It’s all you have been thinking about since discovering Seonghwa’s secret. But now that you can make it a reality, your nerves are still battling for dominance.

               “Could I see it?” You ask suddenly, “The camera, I mean.”

               “Sure,” He replies, leaning forward and pulling the bag towards him.

               Unzipping the bag, he pulls out a large and chunky camcorder, resting it in his lap. He runs his fingers along the side where the spot for the tape opens while saying, “I was reading that they’re making these new cameras that are apparently a lot smaller and would be digital, if you could imagine such a thing. Would make filming a lot easier than this heavy thing.”

               “So you don’t…hold it during…”

               He laughs. “No. I just plop it down on a table or something during sex. But if the digital cameras end up truly becoming a thing, I suppose I could hold it during sex. Or you could,” He immediately realizes what he casually said and looks embarrassed. “Not that I meant – I don’t mean to assume that we would sleep together. Or you would be comfortable filming anything.”

               You reach for the camera, grabbing it out of his lap and into your own, studying it. It isn’t as though it’s your first time holding such a thing but it has been a while. “How do you start recording?”

               “You insert the tape and then press this button,” He leans closer, showing you where it is located.

               You study his face, eyes lingering on his lips. “Where’s the tape?”

               Seonghwa meets your gaze for a beat before moving away to retrieve it from the bag. He presses a button, the side popping out so he can insert the VHS tape. Snapping it shut, he says, “Then you can hit record. Each tape can roughly film for two hours.”

               You hesitate for a moment before reaching for the camera. Your fingers touch his, an electric vibration that sparks along your skin. You can hear Seonghwa’s breath catch slightly but he relinquishes the camera. You look into the camera’s viewfinder while popping the cover off the lens.

               You know what you want – Seonghwa and the exploration the recording will bring. Even though it is something you’ve never thought of until that moment you saw Seonghwa on your TV, with his beautiful smile, toned chest and low voice talking dirty, it seems to have awakened something deep inside you. Something that won’t rest, won’t stop, until you explore your desires.

               You press down on the record button, making sure Seonghwa is in frame. You know he can see the red light, aware that you’re recording.

               “Tell me about the first time you filmed yourself having sex,” You ask bluntly.

               Seonghwa raises an eyebrow although the chuckle he emits makes it clear he isn’t offended. “You interviewing me now?”

               “A little.”

               “It actually wasn’t my idea, if you can believe it. My girlfriend at the time brought it up to me one night after she noticed how much I liked recording home movies.”

               “Did she notice how comfortable you seemed on camera?”

               “Yeah, she did. It felt like a natural progression to me like oh, why hadn’t I thought of it? I was always trying to get in front of the camera ever since I can remember. But she was the first one to suggest taking it that far.”

               “Were you nervous?”

               “No.” Seonghwa looks relaxed now. The tension you hadn’t even realized he carried has now softened, his shoulders are lowered while he leans against the couch, still facing you. His hair grazes against his cheek from the angle. You catch yourself admiring his face, the slope of his nose, how his fingers rest in his lap. “No, I felt comfortable right away. What about you?”

               “What about me?”

               “You ever think about filming yourself having sex before?”

               “No, absolutely not.”

               “Not until my tape.”

               “That’s right.”

               “You like filming me?” He asks and after you nod, he goes, “This time, you don’t have to shut it off before it gets to the good part.”

               “A little cocky now, don’t you think?”

               He gives a casual shrug. This is the Seonghwa you saw on the TV – relaxed, confident, letting each emotion come easily without judgement. This is the Seonghwa you’ve wanted.

                You lean back against the couch, the camera still recording in your lap while motioning to the front of the TV. “Why don’t you show me how comfortable you are in front of the camera?” You can hardly believe the words after you say them. I guess it isn’t just Seonghwa who shows new sides of himself to the camera.

               But Seonghwa only grins at your request, getting up and standing in front of the TV. He pulls the colourful shirt from the confines of his jeans, his fingers swiftly undoing the buttons to expose a thin white tank top underneath. Your heart rate is already accelerating at the sight of the fabric resting against his taunt stomach.

               “Is this what you wanted?” He teases and your thighs clench at the fact you’re hearing that tone of voice being used on you now.

               “Don’t be coy.”

               Another grin. Yes, Seonghwa is correct – that little red light on from the camera changes him entirely. He shrugs out of the shirt, exposing his shoulders before it falls to the floor. Wearing just the tank top now, he hooks his thumbs into the front of his jeans, staring at you with an expression that looks almost devious.

               “What?” You say defensively.

               His grin widens. “Nothing. You’re just obvious.”

               “What does that mean?”

               “Come here and I’ll show you.”

               You stand up, holding the heavy camera while ambling towards him. He reaches for the camera, taking it out of your hands and placing it on the top of the TV stand, giving the lens a view of your faces down to just under your shoulders.

               After he finishes positioning the camera, Seonghwa turns his attention back to you. He is as close to your body as he was the other night on the stairs. Your breathing is uneven, aware of the camera on you, aware of everything you’ve been secretly thinking about is going to come to fruition.

               “See?” He murmurs.

               “What?”

               Seonghwa smirks while running one finger down along your arm and your body shivers in response. “That. How much you want me.”

               “Well, some of us aren’t experts at hiding ourselves all the time,” You counter.

               His lips hover just above yours, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. Your body is screaming for Seonghwa, your brain buzzing with need, lips parted in anticipation.

               There is no witty retort from him. Instead, Seonghwa kisses you. Softly at first, enough to shake the centre of you. His lips against yours makes you feel slightly delirious as if not realizing you were dying of thirst. The camera’s gaze remains steady on both of you while the kiss continues. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth so tenderly that your hands hold onto the band of his jeans to steady yourself.

               Your whimper is muffled against the kiss, face warm, body responsive to this man you’ve only known for a week – and only truly known for a few days. Seonghwa’s hands are in your hair as yours circle around his small waist, pressing him against your body. He is stiff in his jeans but still his hands travel downward until they rest on your ass, squeezing it. The kiss continues, growing deeper, hungrier, breaking briefly so you can pull off his tank top.

               You are pressing your hands against his hard stomach, running up along his chest until curling them around his shoulders, breathless at the sight of him. His skin is warm, inviting, and the sight of him in just his jeans is incredibly sexy.

               Seonghwa brings his face to your neck, kissing along there while his grip on your ass tightens. Your eyes flutter closed for a second. The barriers of your clothing are becoming an annoyance now. You want more of him, you want all of him.

               When you open your eyes, they land on the camera. A silent observer, missing nothing, no judgement to be found.

               “Seonghwa,” You whisper and he stops, pulling away just enough to look at you. His eyes are hazy with lust, lips parted prettily. “Come with me to my room,” You pause for a second before adding, “And bring the camera.”

*

               In your room, the camera is once again propped onto the top of the TV which gives it the perfect angle of the bed. When originally purchasing the second TV at a yard sale, a friend had questioned needing another one. Now, you’re grateful for it – where else would the camera filming the two of you go?

 You are still fully dressed, something Seonghwa looks to rectify from the way he gently nudges you into view of the camera while he stands behind you.

               His hands are on your waist, skittering upwards until your shirt is pulled off, tossed onto the nearby dresser. In just your bra and sweatpants now, acutely aware of the camera, your breathing grows uneven. Seonghwa’s hands continue to travel, now onto your bra, squeezing your breasts together. He is kissing along your neck once again, his lips a soft whisper along your skin.

               He tugs down on the bra, exposing your tits not only to his hands but to the camera as well. The entire thing feels more intimate than any other sexual encounter you’ve had before; the camera adds to the feeling as strange as it sounds in your head.

               Seonghwa’s hands are warm. He cups your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples. You’re soaking wet, overwhelmed by the desire you’re experiencing for him. He rolls your nipples in between his fingers, pinching them a little, allowing the camera to take in the sight of him groping you like this.

               You tilt your face in his direction and his lips find yours once again. You like how Seonghwa tastes in your mouth – it is familiar, almost as if you’ve kissed him before, kissed him a thousand times. When he pulls away, the look in his eyes is heavy, laced with lust and stripped away from any pretenses he usually carried so close to him.

               You brush his hands away from your body, instead grabbing him by the waist band of his jeans, moving him closer to the camera on the top of the TV. Unbuttoning his jeans, you rub him through the denim, taking note of the way his breathing catches.

               You lean towards the camera, moving it to the shelf underneath the TV, giving the lens a perfect view of you on your knees in front of Seonghwa. You look up at him, unzipping his pants and pulling them down until his boxers are exposed.

               The camera can’t catch his facial expression but you can see it – the way he looks at you with his plump lips slightly parted, his eyes dancing across your hands down to your breasts. It isn’t just giving yourself over to him, it’s giving yourself over to the camera too.

               Your hands rub against the bulge in his boxers, feeling the warmth through the fabric. Your hands dip into the band of his boxers, pulling it down until his cock springs free. Gently wrapping your hand around him, you bring your tongue across the head, sweeping across it once, twice, three times. Seonghwa exhales slowly while you begin to pump his cock, looking up at him. The camera’s gaze is steady on the two of you, the moment you take his length into your mouth captured on film.

               Your tongue presses against the tip of his cock for a few seconds before taking more of him, filling your mouth with his length. Your other hand goes to his balls, fondling them while your tongue presses along the underside of his shaft.

               Spurned on by the soft noises of pleasure that escape Seonghwa, you begin to bob on his cock. Sometimes, he pops out of your mouth, the tip of him a sticky sweet mess of your salvia and his precum. It glistens in the low lights before you take him once again, as much as you can. You enjoy the way he fills your mouth, stretches out your lips with his thickness.

               Seonghwa’s eyes close, his head rolling back as a guttural groan topples from in between his pink lips before he curses sharply and pulls away. His cock slides out, precum smearing against your cheek.

               With a small shake of his head, he goes, “I don’t wanna finish. I want to feel you wrapped around me.”

               Seonghwa helps you up, scooping the camera off the shelf and back onto the top of the TV. This time he puts more care into the angle, asking you to sit on the bed while he looks through the viewfinder until he looks pleased with it.

               “Look at you, big shot director,” You tease at one point.

               He raises his eye from the viewfinder. “Hey, it’s your debut,” Seonghwa says gravely but the twinkle in his eyes makes it evident he’s joking. “Lay sideways on the bed for me, will you?”

               “Yes, sir,” You are still poking at him.

               When he seems satisfied, Seonghwa circles back to the bed. He crawls up along your body, stopping to remove your sweatpants and underwear. You’re completely naked with him on camera now while his lips travel across your stomach, stopping at your breasts. His tongue flicks over your nipples and he gently bites down on one, tugging on it with his teeth just to hear you gasp.

               Seonghwa is skin to skin with you, not an inch in between your bodies as he finally kisses your lips. Your legs curl around his waist urgently, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth until he groans in response.

               It is simple to enter your pussy, having been wet for Seonghwa since he stepped foot inside your apartment. His length fills you swiftly until his hips touches yours. The next kiss is messy, a mixture of muffled moans and whimpers as Seonghwa goes still, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being filled with his cock.

               His hands snake up along your arms, gently pinning your hands above your head, just at the edge of the mattress. Almost lazily, Seonghwa rocks his hips. The motion is small, just enough to send shocks of warmth and pleasure through your body. You groan out his name in a plea for him to move faster but he doesn’t obey.

               “Sorry, my boo, but I’ve been thinking about this all week and I want to take my time,” Seonghwa declares, your hands entwined together, “I saw the way you looked at me when we first met, saw the disinterest flicker across your face when I drove you home the first time.” He moves his hips, pulling almost completely out of your hole. “And I went home that night and thought about inviting you over, teasing your body until you crumbled and begged for me.” He thrusts now, all the way back inside, until your hips meet once more and you gasp, your fingers curling around his for something to hold onto.

               You can recall the memory, the way you mused that Seonghwa was too pleasant, too kind in that sort of neutral, placid way that meant even though he was beautiful, he faded to the background of your memory. But there is your side of things too…

               “Your veneer isn’t perfect,” You counter with a small gasp when he rocks his hips again, “Maybe to others but not to me.”

               “Is that right?” He growls.

               Breathlessly, you explain, “I got the feeling multiple times you were holding back, hiding parts of yourself. You were so restrained all the time.” You remember the moment in the breakroom where he flattened his hand against his knee, wrangling himself under control. “But sometimes, I would see pieces. It made me want to crack those parts open, see you.”

               Seonghwa is moving your legs now, sliding his arms under them so that they fold closer to your chest. He is still as near to you as he can get physically. But the angle change is intense and you grab the edge of the bed, gasping as he begins to pump his cock deeper into your cunt.

               “And now?” He prompts but you can’t focus on the conversation anymore, not when his cock feels this good and he’s finally fucking you at a pace that only heightens the desire and pleasure. After your garbled moan, Seonghwa goes, “I’ll take that as your answer.”

               Your eyes flutter open, the red light from the camera like a spotlight. This moment - captured either forever or until Seonghwa and you were to break apart. Tiny parts of yourself, combined with Seonghwa, in this intimate moment for the camera lens.

               Your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around Seonghwa’s cock as your orgasm approaches. He keeps up the steady pace, the bed shaking with every thrust, your legs bouncing with each jerk of his hips. Your knuckles are white from clutching the edge of the bed, your bedsheets tangled around your fingers as Seonghwa pistons his cock into your wet cunt.

               And then your orgasm begins, Seonghwa’s name a shattered piece of glass on the tip of your tongue as your hips meet his. The pleasure blots out everything; it is so exquisite that you lose yourself entirely to him.

               Seonghwa pulls out, allowing you to stretch out your legs. “I want to fuck you from behind,” He says, his hands on your thighs, “Will you let me?”

               You know that means facing the camera, allowing it to capture every expression on your face. You nod and Seonghwa helps you get into position on all fours, your ass in the air and hands pressed against the bed. He runs his hands over your ass before tugging you down a little, towards his cock.

               “Seonghwa,” You say, looking over your shoulder at him. His hair is messy, his breathing rough, but all his protections over his personality are gone. He looks sexy, inviting, warm, all yours. “I want you to finish in me.”

               He stops for a moment, glancing up at you before nodding. You turn back to the camera while he enters you once again. You gasp loudly – he feels much different from this angle and your eyes almost roll back into your head from how amazing it is. Seonghwa doesn’t stop this time. He immediately begins to pump and you curse roughly as his hips smack against yours.

               One hand reaches for your hair, pulling it on it in a sharp tug, keeping your head up so that the camera captures your ever changing facial expressions. You like that it’s being filmed, both you and Seonghwa’s faces being recorded as you chase the pleasure your bodies can give.

               He grunts out your name as he fucks you, releasing his hold on your hair so that he can grip your waist. Your hands shake and you finally relent, lowering your front half onto the bed. This allows him to fuck your cunt even deeper. You’re cursing loudly, begging him to keep going because you’re going to cum again. He doesn’t stop and you’re sure that the camera is going to show a thin layer of sweat across his forehead from how quickly Seonghwa’s hips snap into yours, his balls smacking against your ass, your wet pussy taking him easily.

               Your hands grip the bed sheets, face down in the bed now, trying to muffle how much noise you’re making because of the neighbors. Seonghwa is grunting, panting, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as his cock pounds into your sopping wet hole.

               Your orgasm starts suddenly, without any warning, and your back arches. You bring your ass backwards, trying to meet his erratic thrusts. At the same time, Seonghwa groans out your name and it sounds like gravel against the bottom of a shoe. He begins to spill inside of your cunt. Together, you both cum, in full view of the camera. His warmth overflows and when he pulls out, you can feel him dripping out of your cunt.

               Legs like jelly, you fall against the bed, completely exhausted. But Seonghwa slides off, reaching for the camera and bringing it onto the bed. He plops it briefly onto the sheets while his hands go to your hips, rolling you onto your back.

               “What?” You mumble, slightly dazed.

               “I want to see your cunt filled with my load,” He explains, bringing the camera close, peering through the viewfinder.

               His other hand gently spreads your lips apart, showing his cum leaking out from in between your folds. It’s lurid, completely pornographic, and you find it thrilling.

               “You’re a perv,” You tease him.

               His finger dips into your cunt, scooping up some of his cum. His hand trails up along your body, along with the camera lens, and when his finger is against your lips, you open, sucking his cum clean off.

               “And what are you then?” He says.

               “Your new girlfriend,” You reply boldly.

               Seonghwa pulls away from the viewfinder, his eyes meeting yours. In the now quiet room, the only noise is of his soft breathing mingling with yours. The past is wiped clean, replaced with the new tape, the collision of two people caught on camera, entwining together both physically and mentally.

               “That sounds perfect to me,” is what he finally says and you can read in between the lines – you aren’t just privy to Seonghwa’s true self through a camera lens anymore. You get access to him all the time.

               You smile up at him, fucked out completely and never been more content.

               Seonghwa returns the look, his finger hovering over the button to stop recording.

               “What do you want to do now?” He asks.

               You think for a moment before going, “We should –”

               And his finger presses the button, ending the tape.

the end.

[mncxbe]

Imagine walking in on BSD men masturbating...

Or the other way around oh my lord

nonnie😳😳 i'm having so many thoughts about this.

𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 would be just a tiny bit flustered, but he'd take full advantage of the situation. I mean, your hand feels better than his anyway

"Come on, princess don't just stand there. Give me a hand, will you? Good girl, I'll make sure to return the favour"

𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 would pretend not to notice you're there and keep stroking his dick. but he'd moan your name louder just to get you riled up. he wants you to know how much he wishes it were your snug walls wrapped around him instead of his hand.

"Shit– Y/N... miss you so much baby ugh need you so bad"

𝐀𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚- SHY BOY OMG. he'd cover himself up with the closest blanket or cloth and yell at you to get out. but if you tease him any further about it he will drag you to bed and put you back in your place

"Think you're so smart to make fun of me like that? Fuuck Y/N– look who's dumb on my cock now, dirty girl. You're squeezing me so much"

𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 would be so damn shameless. if anything he'd be amused and happy that you walked in on him. 100% sure he asks you to masturbate with him

"Oh, my dove, you came just at the right time. I was just thinking about you... will you strip for me, please? I wanna see that pretty body of yours."

𝐅𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚's reaction depends on how close you are. if you're in a relationship he'd ask you to join him, but if you're just colleagues he'd blush. like. crazy. and fumble with his clothes. but after that he'd pretend nothing happened and hope you forget about it.

[lust4life01]

Hello there! Could you please write a Gregory House smut with a fem reader? I'm good with anything, maybe with a little exhibitionism with Wilson? Anything really, would love a dark House. Thanks!

Hello!! Sorry I took so long to reply <3 I think this is pretty dark but I’m sorry if it’s not exactly what you wanted lmao. I havent really written anything dark yet.

Let me put on a show.

(Warnings)18+!! Exhibitionism,almost prositition,smut,older man x younger woman, praise, being watched, darkish smut.

Pairing: Greg House x f/reader x James Wilson

You and Greg had been seeing each other for a little while, not necessarily in secret but private would suit the situation better. This was purely under your conditions as you didn’t want people to assume you were just fucking him to do well within your job or to have some sort of advantage. The only advantage you cared about was the advantage of fucking him almost every night. House on the other hand, he had been itching to brag about his new little toy he could play with, but under your wishes he resisted. Well for a little while. His main focus was keeping you happy, if you were happy he was definitely going be happy.

Despite this, it was clear to everyone around House that he was seeing someone as he was less of a jackass than usual and just seemed even more smug than usual. Which nobody thouht was possible.

“House, come on, I’m your best friend.” Wilson badgered on as him and house sat in the canteen.

In response to this House childishly grabbed a handful of fries and shoved them into his mouth.

“sorwy, moufs kinda full.” He attempted to say, the fries smooshed, breaking his speech.

Wilson rolled his eyes, desperate to know who had been fucking his best friend.

“I don’t understand why you won’t tell me.” He threw his hands up in annoyance.

House continued to stare at him with a blank expression, clearly trying to wind Wilson up.

“I’ll buy you a drink after work if you tell me.”

House tapped his face with his finger mockily pretending to think before answering, “um no.”

Wilson who was almost defeated but also driven by curiosity let out a sigh. “$100.”

Houses face lit up as Wilson placed the note in the table.

“Sold. Thank you sir” House happily snatched the note from the table and shoved it into his pocket.

“Alright fess up. How’s been ya know…” Wilson asked eagerly

“Emptying my balls?”

Wilson scoffed in disgust but nodded his head.

“The babe with sexy eyes, ya know the one working down in the maternity ward.”

Wilson cocked his eyebrow, clearly needing more information.

House rolled his eyes. “The one with (your hair colour) and she’s about yay high. Nice legs”

Wilson thought for a minute before a puzzles looked crossed his face. “Wait. You don’t mean (y,n?)

House smirked “thats the one.”

Wilson let out a loud laugh. “Yeah okay House. And I’m fucking Jennifer Aniston. Seriously tell me. I just gave you $100.”

House looked Wilson up and down in offence. “What you don’t believe me?”

“No. Of course I don’t. You’re a handsome guy House but a girl like that gets fucked by men like Chase.”

“My mature and stern demeanour clearly turns her on. Plus I told her Chase was gay."

“If you seriously don’t believe come to mine at 8pm sharp. Trust me you’ll believe me then.”

Wilson looked at him skeptically but nodded. Wilson wasn’t all hearts and rainbows, despite him not believing House, the thought of seeing you with your mouth open contorted in pleasure was worth the risk of being scammed by House.

———————————————————————---------------

You were stood in Houses kitchen, trying to decide what the two of you should eat.

“Ugh, you can’t have soup again (y,n)” House moaned.

“Why not? It’s tasty, easy and quick.” You shrugged.

House moved in front of you, trapping you between him and the counter and looking down at you.

“That’s funny. I remember you liking it long and hard.”

You scoffed at him, not breaking eye contact.

“Screw the food, I’m hungry for something else.”

He bent down and attached your lips hungrily.

You made out as you slowly walked over to the couch, being mindful of his leg.

You pushed him, his back hitting the armrest of the couch and you gently straddled him.

“Is this okay?” You ask sweetly as you lightly bit his neck.

“Perfect.”

House grabbed your hair into a make shift pony tail and brought your lips to his.

As your lips were glued to one another’s House took the time to peer over at the clock which read 7:55pm.

He slowly undressed you, taking off your top and admiring the way your tits sat in your bra.

“Fuck so pretty.”

He unclip your bra with one hand and it wasn’t just his smile that grew bigger.

“Even prettier.” He smirked, looking at your exposed chest.

You giggled and started to take off Houses shirt as he slipped his fingers under your skirt and panties.

“Mhm nice and soaked for me baby, good girl.”

He circled your clit with his two large fingers and you practically cried out, desperate for more. You started to grin onto his hand and let out a pathetic whimper.

House looked back over to the clock- 7:59pm-

Show time.

He unbuttoned his jeans and waisted no time in entering you. It was sudden, he didn’t even take off your skirt or panties, just moved them to the side.

You let out a pornographic moan as he push up into you so suddenly and started to bounce up and down, your eyes screwed shut and your mouth hung open.

“Say my name baby.” House ordered you. Knowing he wanted Wilson to know exactly who was making you feel this good. He wanted Wilson to know he was in fact the one who could make you cum whenever he decided to.

It was exactly 8pm as Wilson stood outside House's apartment door. He was hesitant to enter. He could hear the sounds of two bodies slamming against one another and the chants of his best friends name over and over.

Fuck the idea of seeing you on the verge of cuming made his blood rush to his pants.

He open the door carefully, the sounds of you already becoming louder.

House heard the door and circled his fingers around your clit in hopes you would become louder.

Now Wilson could see you in all your glory. Your face contorted in pure pleasure.

“Fuck. House gonna cum. You fuck me so good.” you whined.

Wilson stared with his mouth agape completely in awe of the way your body moved and the sounds that graced your lips. He felt like such a creep, but he couldn’t stop watching.

“Cum for me baby” House grunted out whilst peering over at Wilson.

Your head jolted back, exposing the veins in your neck as you reached your peak. You let out a pathetic whimper as House continued to fuck your overstimulated cunt.

Wilson couldn’t bear it any longer. He swiftly made his way out of the apartment completely horny and with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Little did he know, you knew all about this little arrangement.

House had told you before hand and showed you the crisp $100 dollar bill he’d received if you put on your best show. You were hesitant at first, but your were a broke trainee and $100 is $100. You could put on a show. Make the dirtiest moans you could.

Once House pulled out of you, you both stared at each other and began to laugh.

“Well how was I?” You asked, feeling pretty proud of the performance you just put on.

“Excellent. You could be a real porn star.” He smiled at you.

“How do you know I’m not” you cocked an eyebrow.

“ I would have seen it by now.” he mocked

You both laughed and sat for a while.

“Okay on a real note I am actually very hungry can we get food now please?” You whined as you began to dress again.

“After that show, how could I refuse” House grabbed the $100 and placed it into your bra.

[black-aurora-nora]

Sibling Squabbles | Yandere!Superman and Jon x Teen!Reader

“Jon, please get out the way.” You demanded in an even tone.

The younger boy didn’t budge from his spot in front of the door. His gaze held firm and he shook his head, “Dad said you couldn’t leave.”

“Clark doesn’t hold authority over me.” You reminded him matter of factly, “He’s not my father and I’m not your sister.”

Jon frowned deeply at your words, “Dad said you’d have a hard time-“

“Move, Jon!” You demanded again, louder.

You moved up to him, trying to shuffle past him with your backpack filled with a few essentials.

“Where would you even go?! You were homeless before this!”

“And? At least I wasn’t stuck in some house with creepy men!” You rebutted angrily, grabbing for the doorknob.

Jon grabbed your wrist, gripping it tight, “I’m not creepy! And neither is my dad! Take that back!” He knew that his dad told him to be gentle with you since you were still settling down but you were going too far.

“No! I mean it! You’re creepy!” You repeated sharply, trying to wrestle your wrist from Jon’s grip. “Ugh! It’s no wonder your mom left-!”

A sickening crack sounded from your wrist and you saw it crinkle in a way it wasn’t supposed to then a horrible pain that left you screaming from both the shock of what happened and the pain.

Jon stood frozen, breathing uneven.

He looked from your crumpled arm to your snotty face.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you. His father had warned him plenty of times to use his powers for good and here he was hurting you because you said something hurtful.

“I-I’m- (Y/N), I’m so-!” He reached out to you and you jerked back violently with a yelp.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” You snapped, opening the door with your good hand and running out towards the trail that led to the city.

Jon decided it best that he not follow you.

He knew you wouldn’t escape now anyhow. You were far too hurt and in too much shock to get far enough. And no one would allow a young teen like you to walk around with a broken arm if you did make it to the city.

The next time he saw you, which was a day later, his father had brought you back home with a blue cast on your arm.

You looked exhausted, pissed off, and every other negative emotion that people could feel.

Clark had you both in the living room and glanced at the two of you sternly. He looked at you first with an expectant gaze.

“(Y/N), apologize to your brother.” He said, arms crossed.

You kept your gaze on the cast for a moment.

A deep breath in, “Sorry.”

“You can do better than that.” Clark wasn’t one that took apologies lightly. You had to put your full heart into it. “Remember what we talked about at the doctor’s.”

Another deep breath, “Sorry for saying stuff about your mother.” You gritted out, “And about you… I didn’t mean it.” Your voice was incredibly monotone but Clark knew that was the best they were going to get from you right now.

He knew there’d be plenty more altercations in the future to teach you how to apologize properly and honestly.

He turned to Jon, “Be more careful in the future,” He reminded him simply, “And apologize to your sister.”

Jon’s lip wobbled as he gazed at you and you wished great harm upon him. How dare he act like he was the one that had been victimized? Like he was innocent?

How dare Clark make you apologize first when Jon had hurt you? Now you were stuck in a cast and had been set back.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I won’t do that ever again and I forgive you.” He gave you a teary smile, “I know you’re having a hard time and I should’ve kept my anger in check.”

Clark smiled warmly, “Try to keep the sibling squabble to a minimum, okay, you two?” He patted you both on the head.

He then stood up and made his way to the kitchen, “Who wants breakfast?” He asked, tying an apron around his person, “I’m thinking waffles, eggs and bacon!”

Jon licked his lips, “I’ll have some! Can I help?!” He asked excitedly, running after his father.

“Of course you can, Jon.” You heard Clark answer from the kitchen, “(Y/N), come join us.”

God you hated them with every fiber of your being.

[diejager]

ugghhhh request box my beloved- thank you diejager and brilliant work as always!

requesting the backstab vs backstab villain! reader x makarov? :) i feel like theyd really just get closer after that ugh- they'll consider it a bonding moment and might as well call it a comedy show right after it. "Ohoho! Classic vladimir!" stuff

Cw: DARKFIC, backstabbing, hopelessly obsessed, dark!reader, simping, tell me if I missed any.

He should have known better. He was Makarov Vladimir —The Makarov Vladimir. He was as feared as he was respected, worshipped by those with wishful minds and shunned by the ilks of unimaginative thinking. He should have, but he let his obsession break loose, rooting in the seams and creases of his brain and corrupted his mind. He let his need for your presence, your fight and the danger you brought blind him of the truth. 

Though he was the first to betray you - or so he had initially thought - to break off from the engagement you both had signed and stab you in the back when you weren’t looking, he had foolishly thought you trusted him fully. With all your heart and mind, that your goal finally aligned fully with him for him to enact his dark betrayal, but you hadn’t and it had come back to bite him in the ass. Makarov had naively believed your sweet words and bloody and deranged acts of violence while working a few favours for him, that he held you heart in his cold and bloodied palm.

Rather, it seemed like it was the opposite, you seem yo have expected this act from him, a contingency plan built before he had any thoughts of backstabbing you. In the works months prior to any plan he’d forged in his bedroom, where eh slept beside you after a rough and passionate night spent in bed, bodies covered in sweat and the monster’s hunger satiated. 

You were slipping through his fingers with men and weapons, reassures he would come to need only after realising you had taken them. Your sweet words and silver tongue had taken them the way it had taken him, forged some liking and favour among his men and cajoled them to following you when you left him in the ruins of his majestic empire. 

It left him in shambles, a - what he once thought - small theft had set him back a few months, having to regain all the work he put into the plan he first built. And he mad —or he should have been. Your sly mind had left him tumbling deeper and deeper into his self-dug hole of dark obsession and admiration. It riled him up and made his heart beat faster, the tell-tale thump-thump of his heart rattling against his ribs and reminded him of his dependence of you.

How he’d grown so used to your being and that conniving tongue of yours. How absolutely in love he was with your mind and conscience and body. How unfathomable it was to build a kingdom without a queen. It was difficult living in a world where he was forced to chase you, left in the dust and trying to gather all he could to get to you, but now that he had a taste of you, he couldn’t just let you off without him. 

Now, the next act of his plan was to find a way to contact you again, to be able to hear the dulce tone of your voice and the softness of your rough hands. He wanted you by his side again.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[bellewintersroe]

I DO HAVE A BOB REQ👀 it's heavy angst mixed with a comforting ending, but how would they react (whenever u want but in my faves are Liebgott and Roe) to them thinking their s/o (nurse maybe?) somehow died while saving someone or similar, but actually she managed to escape and run and she reconnects with the battalion a few days later? all battered and bruised but still alive EVEN BETTER IF SHE TAKES TO SAFETY THE PERSON SHE WAS HELPING because imagining them seeing their girl that they thought was dead coming back quite literally from hell alive is AGH💘

I LOVEEEE THIS!!! Thank you Anon I’m excited to write this <3 <3

Warning: mentions of death, grief, war, wounds, etc.

Easy Boys x EasyNurse! Reader - How They React To You Going MIA.

Gene Roe:

- Gene knew (thinks) you were in the church as soon as he watched the bomb explode.

- He kinda freezes and he literally feels his insides running cold and a sickness go through him.

- Can’t be real, I can’t express the level of trauma, pure horror and devastation he feels in that moment. It doesn’t end, the whole time he fully thinks you’re gone. It doesn’t help that the rest of the company are questioning him and going through their own grief for your loss.

- He wants to escape it as much as possible but he knows he can’t. He feels like a statue, completely glued to his foxhole, he runs on autopilot and Winters is about to send him off the line.

- I feel like Gene would have a pretty bad breakdown (understandable) when he’s by himself so he’s not showing the full affects of what he believes is your loss.

- doesn’t help he has absolutely NO answers. He plays the moment over and over again, torturing himself by picturing your last moments, imagining himself being just an hour earlier and getting you out of that church.

- Gene even wished he was with you when that damn bomb went off.

- 3 days pass and Gene’s sat in his foxhole, alone, staring at the enemy line. He’s near enough given up, no gloves, no blanket, he can’t eat, cant sleep.

- “Doc, Captain Winters needs you, pronto.”

- He literally feels like a zombie walking to where he’s needed. All he can think of is you, it’s painful, he can literally feel his chest yearning and breaking and his grief is too much.

- “Yeah we found her running around with the I-company boys, got a little lost, didn’t ya’ nurse?” A man’s words cause Gene’s ears to prick. He can’t see anything but a taller man facing Winters and Nixon with a smaller figure, blanket huddled over- you.

- Ugh- feels like his hearts about to explode. Literally freezes and thinks he’s going to be sick. His heart accelerates and when he hears your voice he quite literally feels faint. 

- “got caught up with a patient there!” You turn around, sending a presence and both of you feel the intense hit of shock to be confronted with one another again. “Excuse me a minute…”

- All of a sudden you’re limping towards Gene. Your forehead is covered with 2 butterfly plasters and you have a nasty bruise under your right eye. Gene thinks he’s seen a ghost.

- Probably hesitates for a moment before you pull him aside, away from where the other men can see. “Gene.” You’d soothe and he’d let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

- Crashes into you. Literally grips you so tightly, he feels like he can’t breathe, his eyes are teary and it’s not until you let out a small yelp that he pulls back.

- “It’s okay, it’s fine Gene, it’s just a bruise.” Hearing your voice sends him into a spiral and he’s even more careful now to pull you close.

- Holds a hand to the back of your head, practically cradles you with wide eyes.

- “I thought- I thought you was dead.” He admitted.

- “No, I got caught up with a patient. After the church got bombed I managed to pull a patient out, Billy from I company- got lost on their lines for a few days, they took me in.”

- Soon enough he’s stammering with quivering hands, checking over you, asking if you’re okay. Winters had called a medic after all.

- Can’t stop looking at you, questioning if it’s all a dream, you’d catch him pinching himself. “Don’t do that Gene, I’m right here.” With a small hand on his cheek he can breathe again.

- Holds your hands tightly, the most affection he can show you in front of all the superiors. He’s still extremely tense, in shock from the close call, but he promises to keep an extra close eye on you, and he keeps that promise.

- Kisses your cuts and bruises when nobody’s looking, probably runs his hand over his face in surprise quite a few times, but honestly he’s sooo fucking relieved, like he actually cried when he saw you.

- “I love you so much, ya can’t do that to me again, evuh’.” With his little accent and a serious tone, ugh he’s a sweetie pie.

Joseph Liebgott:

- It happens in Eindhoven out of all the places.

- One minute you’re both celebrating together, with the rest of the company and the whole town and the next you’re not stationed with the rest of the nurses?

- The town gets bombed and barraged by the Germans that evening and he’s watching in pure horror. Recounts of nurses being KIA during the bombing spread real fast, and he refuses to believe what Battalion HQ are telling him.

- He’s shaking his head real fucking fast, denying and denying to all of them and himself.

- Throws a fucking riot- until he has to practically run off to be alone, wrenching and shaking at the idea that have could’ve happened to you.

- His anger and violence stems out of control, Winters removes him off the line real fucking fast, like he becomes a runner or something just for a break.

- Fraternisation is banned under all conditions, but relationships and affairs still take place, even the most superior of officers know that. So sometimes eyes are averted and now is one of those times that people choose to do that and help Liebgott through his grief.

- But 2 days have passed and it’s so raw, everybody’s in shock and disbelief at your lack of presence, for Joe he’s bottling up a painfully bitter feeling and he’s ready to explode.

- He never thought it would happen to you, you’re a nurse for Christ sake! Genuinely has to pause sometimes to just stop- like he can’t take it. Becomes so close to being sent to the aid station until one today he’s attempting to run a letter back to Battallion HQ when he see’s the back of a young woman wrapped in a blazer, overalls looking very familiar to your own.

- His heart genuinely gets shooting pains and he has to swallow the urge to cry as he watches this woman who painfully resembles you. Her khaki headscarf is bloody and he watches as another officer (he assumed from Dog) guides you inside the building.

- In fact he’s about to look away, until this girls head tilt to the side. He only catches a brief glimpse of her profile, Joe has to squint real hard when he feels his stomach drop.

- His mind has to be playing tricks on him so he turns away as the nurse rushes to aid a man on a stretcher.

- Slams the jeep door, literally kicks a dint into it as he storms his way through town. He just wants to deliver these fucking letters as fast as possible.

- “No, no, he’s German. He helped me out of Eindhoven, you must take care of him!”

- Joe’s head snaps just as he’s shoving the letters into some poor guys arms. He freezes, head lifting at the sound of your voice.

- “What the fuck?” He mutters, stepping a little closer. His breathing and heart speeds when he hears your voice again.

- “Sister. Make sure he gets to the infirmary, please… thank you.”

- He’d recognise that voice from anywhere.

- Literally feels like he’s choking when he stomps over, lost for words and breath and grabs hold of your arm.

- With a gasp, you stand there, bloody and bruised and protecting some Kraut soldier.

- You’re about to protest again until you come face to face with Joe, and suddenly your voice gets hitched in your throat, a loud gasp escaping your lips.

- “Joe!” It’s you that jumps into hug him first.

- Joe grips you tightly, “what the hell are you- what the hell are you doin’ here? Baby- y/n, I thought you were dead.”

- He has to pull back and hold your face to take a look at you and make sure it’s actually you.

- You can feel him shaking, and suddenly your attention is just on Joe and Joe only. He’s practically smothering you, not sure where to put his hands as he lets out a shaky breath.

- “Holy fuck I thought I lost you. They said you were gone. I knew you wouldn’t, I knew you wouldn’t leave me.” He gets super emotional so you two have to take a break somewhere real quick.

- By that I mean in the aid station where you’re supposed to be being patched up but Joe does that for the medic.

- “God dammit you are so stupid, you idiot, I thought I lost you.”

- “The German officer saved me Joe, he pulled me outta the rubble.”

- “he what?! Did he touch you, are you ok?”

- “He’s a nice man, Joe. I wouldn’t be here without him. He’s hurt so I got a little lost taking him back to the infirmary.”

- “nice guy? Baby d’ya got a concussion?”

- you scold him a little and soon he’s back to stroking your face and pulling you onto his lap, taking in as much as you as he possibly can.

- “Never leave me baby. Never leave me like that again.”

[murrpa]

heart wrecking angst⇩

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In Deadpool 4, Logan discovers his presence in Wades universe messes up cycle of events and if he continues to live in it— the universe can collapse (butterfly effect kind of thing), so in the end of the movie B-15 and minute men show up dramatically a they do at Wades apartment, and escort Logan back into the headquarters planning to send him back to his “home”. Both Logan and Wade see the scale of this, and Wade soon is taken to talk to him one last time before never seeing him again since B-15 felt generous that day. So she give them this moment.

Wade scoffs: So now is the time? Hah, I should’ve known, TVA has every event written down to nanoseconds… I swear, it puts someone’s strict mother’s skill to plan the whole year in advance and never let her kid see the light of day without her permission at shame!

All that while Logan looks at him. Though he has so much to say, to confess, but decides not to do it, maybe because it’ll hurt letting him go more than it already is.

Wade approaches him: I… ugh, was not prepared, otherwise I would’ve pulled out my 100 page essay and read it to you in British accent as you walk further away from me into the sunset.

Logan: Wade?

Wade: Yeah?

Logan struggles. What is there to say now? His heart is aching, and cracks with each passing second there’s left. He wanted to say his life was at its fullest by Wade’s side, how he’s now changed man, all because of him. For him. That he will continue being that person in his world simply because Wade will be proud.

Logan: I might have my own place, my house and whatnot… But I never dared to call it my home, y’know?

Wade listens, no longer daring to quip a sound. And hazel eyes of Logan glisten in nothing but sadness. If that emotion could be painted— it would be him. Right now.

Logan: I wish the world was on my side, fair to me, to us, Wade.

His voice shakes. And he no longer cares to control the tear that soon oozes out the corner of an eye, to his hope, telling at least a tenth of all what his heart wants to say. Then it finally hits merc. Is this really it?

Wade: Peanut, I promise, it’s okay.

No. It fucking hurts. Wade never hated to say goodbye so damn much like now, but understands, that to love someone is letting them go.

He’s only doing it for Logan, for his universe. Sure there’s something that’s waiting for him, something better than this. Which what Logan deserves, after non consensual involvement in Wade’s goal to save his own world. After what he had been through.

Logan softly sobs: It shouldn’t be, I wish I had a choice. Because coming back is long time off my list.

Wade realizes his emotions reveal, a hot heavy tear drops off his chin, and fake but bitter smile grows to comfort Wolverine. Ignoring everything what’s falling into pieces in his chest.

Wade: I just… I just never want you to get into dangerous shit cause of me. I want you to be okay.

But Logan doesn’t care, even if his old life promises to be as peaceful as Swedish government. In the end, being next to Wade— suddenly makes chaos worth it.

Logan: I was okay, Wade, I was… so happy— but as soon as my foot steps through the teleporter…

Logan breaks as more tears rush down his face. His gaze locked with Wade’s.

Logan: … I will comeback being the same pitty guy you picked up at the bar.

But Wade protests.

Wade: No, nope, you’ll comeback better than ever.

He gives up smiling, then reaching out for the man, locking him in the most loving hug, arms wrapping waist, one digging fingertips into the shirt, and second one cards Logan’s hair. Which makes older man hate himself for not hugging Wade often before, when they were so happy, and lived under one roof not knowing this day would come.

Wade: You are, and always will be the best wolverine.

Logan hides his face in Wade’s neck, ashamed someone might see him, how destroyed he is with pain of leaving him, forever.

Wade: Thank you infinitely, for staying, saving my world.

Wade’s hushed voice sends chills, and throat begins to burn, yearning to say one last thing as he hears footsteps approaching.

Logan: Thank you for becoming mine.

(lmk if you’re interested in me writing full fic based off of this💛❤️)

[justlookfrightened]

A trip back in time

Filling a prompt from @notenoughgatorade: The haus gang goes to a renfaire

King Richards Faire opens the weekend we get back to Samwell!!!!

Bitty had no idea what King Richard’s Faire was, much less why Holster was assaulting the group chat with four exclamation points.

Ransom, however, appeared to get it.

Road trip! Ransom responded.

Bitty thought about asking what this was, where it was or why Ransom and Holster wanted to road trip there. He thought about asking, but doing so in the group chat would be letting himself in for even more humiliation, proving he was different than the rest of the team in yet another way.

He was small, he was southern, he didn’t play hockey until high school, he was gay, and oh yeah, he was terrified of being checked, which just happened to be a big part of the game he played to allow himself to afford going to college. And now he didn’t know what King Richard’s Faire was?

Bitty muted the group chat and shoved his phone into his shorts pocket; dinner was on the table, and Mama got cross if he was texting during dinner anyway.

Maybe he’d feel better with some food in his belly. That would probably make his headache go away. And maybe no one else would respond, it would go from a Haus road trip to a Ransom and Holster road trip, and Bitty would never have to betray his ignorance.

After dinner, he told Mama he had to start packing, and headed to his room. It wasn’t exactly true; he’d left all his winter stuff at Samwell, in the room Johnsn had deeded to him — dibbed to him? Was that a word? — which meant that he would be with the team pretty much 24-7.

And not just with the team. With the core of the team, the team leaders, the heart of the team, Coach would call them. Jack, the captain; Ransom and Holster, the top D-pair; and Shitty, who — well, everyone loved Shitty and was exasperated by Shitty in equal measure, but Shitty did seem to keep everyone in line when it came it social justice kinds of things.

It was Shitty who first adopted Bitty last year, followed by Ransom and Holster. Bitty had been a little afraid of the D-men, to be honest, especially about them finding out he was gay. But they loved his pies, and they had turned out to be like big brothers he never knew he wanted.

Even Jack had come around to accept Bitty’s presence by the end of the season. If Jack wished Bitty spent less time in the Haus kitchen, Bitty was pretty sure it was only because he was hardass when it came to sugar, thinking less was always better.

Now, a week before he was set to head back north, he was starting to wonder whether living in the Haus was such a good idea. He hadn’t skated since the game where he got hurt (got bowled over by a behemoth, lost his helmet and crashed head first on the ice — a sequence he saw in his mind every time someone talked about him “getting hurt”). He had no idea what kind of a player he would be when he started practice, but he suspected that all the work Jack had done with him in all those early mornings had been undone.

How much patience would his teammates have?

Bitty pulled out his big duffle bag and started filling it with T-shirts and shorts from his clean laundry basket, then, once it looked like he had actually been packing, flopped on his bed and pulled out his phone.

Jack had chimed in next, with a reminder: We have practice that Monday

That was hopeful. Trust Jack to focus on hockey and why they were due in Samwell at the beginning of August.

Aw, c’mon, Cap! Shitty had contributed. It’ll be a team bonding experience.

Bitty knew then that he would have to find out about this King Richard’s Faire thing. If Shitty was calling Jack “Cap” it was all over.

Ugh.

Could be fun, Lardo had chipped in. Some people I know from the art department are working there on the weekends.

Lardo. Lardo — not at all an athletic bro — could be be Bitty’s salvation.

Bitty found her contact.

Help! I don’t know what King Richard’s Faire is! Why does everyone want to go?

By the end of the evening, Lardo had explained the concept of a Renaissance Faire to Bitty — food and drinks and jousts and plays and shopping and lots of people in costume and knights and ladies and fairies and even peasants — and it sounded like it might actually be fun.

It also didn’t sound like something that most of the sports bros Bitty had grown up with would do.

It sounds kind of — I know I’m not supposed to say this but kind of girly, Bitty said. And like, something maybe the theater kids would do? And maybe the stoners who played D and D?

At that, Bitty’s phone rang.

“Do you even know the Samwell Men’s Hockey team?” Lardo asked in lieu of saying hello. “Holster would be a musical theater guy if he could carry a tune, or dance, or act. Ransom is like crazy smart, and he needs stuff completely out of his zone to get him to relax. I’m gonna have to do my best to keep Shitty from dressing a serving wench — or maybe I won’t, the actual serving wenches will find it hilarious.”

“And Jack?” Bitty asked. “I mean, even he didn’t  think it was a terrible idea. I don’t think. You’re going to tell me he liked the history of it all?”

“Not really,” Lardo said. “Although he does like pointing out all the anachronisms, including, y’know, food safety standards and age limits for buying alcohol.”

“You’ve been with him before?” Bitty asked. Because he didn’t remember being invited to such an outing last year. Lardo hadn’t even been in the country.

“This one is only in the fall, but there’s another one in the spring,” Lardo said. “Shitty and Jack and I went at the end of my first year. It was fun. You’ll like it. I promise.”

So Bitty added his approval to the group chat, hoping his, Sounds like fun! Sounded enthusiastic enough.

Bitty didn’t precisely forget about the renaissance fair for the rest of the week, but he put it out of his mind while reassuring his mother that he had enough underwear and yes, he intended to go with this haircut and no, he didn’t want to get the top cut short.

Returning to the Haus ended up helping put some of Bitty’s fears to rest. The guys in the Haus welcomed him back with open arms. The complimented his haircut, pretended to be impressed with the development of his muscles — with no skating, he had plenty of time to spend in the gym over the summer — and followed his instructions to get a “welcome back” dinner together, punctuated with a birthday pie for Jack.

Even Jack smiled when he saw Bitty, and took the case of beer Shitty had thrust at him to the basement fridge with no complaints. 

Before bed that night, before she disappeared to sleep on the air mattress in Shitty’s room, Lardo told Bitty not to worry about a costume. “You can wear a pair of your athletic leggings, and I brought a big shirt you can wear like a tunic. I don’t suppose you have boots?”

“Boots?” Bitty asked. “Costume? You didn’t say I had to wear a costume.”

“You don’t have to,” Lardo said. “But I’m wearing one — like what I brought for you — and Shitty’s going as a pirate. I bet Random and Holster have costumes.”

“Really?” Bitty said.

“Holster said something about royalty,” Lardo said. “You know how over the top they are.”

The next morning, Bitty pulled on a pair of black leggings and a white T-shirt before Lardo knocked on the door and handed him an oversized ruffled shirt. 

“Theater department costume room,” she explained. She looked at him with a critical eye. “Do you have a vest or anything? Or a belt?”

“I have a belt,” Bitty said. 

“Give it to me,” she said, then wrapped it a little below Bitty’s waist, blousing the fabric of Bitty’s shirt artfully.

By the time the group assembled next to Holster’s old minivan, everyone was in costume except Jack. Shitty, as promised, was a pirate, complete with an eye patch and knee-high boots. Holster was indeed in cheap-looking king costume, probably from a Halloween catalog, and Ransom was an improbable queen. Lardo was dressed much like Bitty, although she had motorcycle boots and had painted her face and glued crystals under and next to her eyes.

“What are you?” Bitty asked.

“A fae,” Lardo said.

Jack wore his usual form-fitting jeans and a snug black T-shirt. When Bitty arrived, he thought Jack’s look lingered on him longer than usual, and fancied that Jack was suppressing the urge to shake his head at the silliness of it all.

“You couldn’t even try to get into the spirit of the day?” Holster asked, sliding into the driver’s seat. 

Jack shrugged.

“This is me in the spirit,” he said. “I’m here.”

Ransom called shotgun, and Shitty and Lardo dove for the back, leaving the middle seats for Jack and Bitty.

“I think you look fine,” Bitty murmured as he leaned over to fasten his seatbelt. “I think I’m kind of ridiculous.”

“You look fine,” Jack returned, giving Bitty a reassuring smile. “You’ll fit right in. You don’t think Lardo would steer you wrong, do you?”

“What are you looking forward to the most?” Bitty asked. “I was thinking about the food — they say the turkey legs are the size of my head! Plenty of protein, I guess.”

“Almost,” Jack said. “But you know a lot of the food is modern. They even have soda.”

Jack seemed personally affronted by that.

“Not like they can serve mead to ten-year-olds,” Ransom pointed out from the front seat.

With the bantering that went on in the car, Bitty realized that he needn’t have worried that he didn’t know what would happen at a renaissance fair. With all the talk about what they were looking forward to, Bitty was pretty clear on what he would find: A lot of people pretending to be in Merrie Olde Englande, complete with extra e’s at the end, watching all kinds of performances from singing to animal acts, plus stage-fighting with swords and jousting on horseback. There were games of skill — mostly throwing things at targets, it sounded like — and simple, non-motorized rides like swings.

Lardo wanted to look at the artisans’ stalls — she was especially interested in the blacksmithing demonstration — and Shitty and the rest of the boys were looking forward to the tavern, and the serving wenches.

“They’ll put you out on your ass if you don’t behave,” Lardo warned them. 

“We always behave,” Shitty said. “At least when it comes to not being disgusting pigs to women who are just trying to do their jobs, right, boys?

Ransom and Holster rolled their eyes, but agreed, and Bitty had a moment of being proud of the team he had become part of.

While the food would not be strictly period-accurate, Bitty was looking forward to trying some of the meat pies. He’d been wanting to incorporate more savories into his baking.

Once they piled out of the car and made it through the admission booths, Bitty found his eyes darting from the crowd, full of archers and knights and ladies and nobles, and, yes, woodland fairies with antlers on their heads and elves with long pointed ears.

He couldn’t always tell who was a guest and who was a cast member, although he assumed the jester who juggled while he walked and the man in doublet and hose standing on a box and declaiming poetry both worked there.

His costume did not stand out at all — if anything, it was a little basic, but there were plenty of people like Jack who hadn’t dressed up.

The booths and stalls and signposts were bedecked with flowers and ribbons, and the signs were hand painted and not always easy to read. Bitty found his head starting to swim, until he recognized the smell of baking pastry, and beef.

There was a pie stall right next to the entrance, so Bitty got in line. It wasn’t until he was close to the front that he realized most of his group had melted away. Only Jack stood next to him.

“You wanted pie too?” Bitty said.

“I’m holding out for a turkey leg,” Jack said. “Maybe we can get one after you get your pie? Then walk around and eat and figure out what we want to do? Lardo and Shitty said they were going to Artisan Alley, wherever that is, and I think Ransom and Holster said something about a strongman competition?”

“That would appeal to them,” Bitty agreed. 

He ended up with two pies — chicken and beef, with vegetables and gravy — and a plastic tankard of ginger beer, which he suspected was really just ginger ale.

He and Jack made  their way through the fairgrounds to the stand that sold turkey legs, noting places they’d like to go back to. It was never too early for Christmas presents, and there was a woolen shop that had shawls he thought Mama would like, right at the top of the row of shopping stalls, and Jack said he wanted to try his hand at throwing a wooden ball to knock down pins.

The line for turkey legs was long, and by the time they got to the front, he and Jack had finished both pies, trading bites. They were hot, which was good, but Bitty thought he could make better gravy, especially for the chicken, and come up with better seasonings. The pastry cases were crumbly, rather than flaky, but Bitty supposed they had to be sturdy enough for people to eat with their hands as they wandered. 

“I thought they were good,” Jack said, popping the last bit of the beef pie into his mouth and sucking the remaining gravy off his thumb. “You want a turkey leg?”

“I couldn’t,” Bitty said. “Not yet.”

“You can have some of mine,” Jack promised.

Once they were again provisioned, they set off for the tournament field, where Holster and Ransom were indeed engaged in a contest to see who could lift the heaviest log. They did well, with Jack and Bitty cheering as loudly as they could, but a huge man wearing nothing but knee breeches and an open leather vest won.

“He was a ringer,” said Holster, breathing hard, as he pulled his crown back on.

He looked at Jack, tearing a mouthful of meat off the turkey leg, and said, “You almost fit right in. You know they rent costumes, right?”

“I’m fine,” Jack said.

Bitty, eating the meat he had pulled off the turkey leg with his fingers, said, “I dunno, Jack. You’d make a great Prince Charming.”

Because he looked like every Prince Charming in every Disney movie Bitty had ever seen, with his dark hair and blue eyes and pale skin. Not because Bitty thought of Jack as his own Prince Charming. That way, he knew, madness lay.

“So what do you think, Bitty?” Ransom asked. “Is it everything we promised?”

“So far,” Bitty said. “But all I’ve really done is eat and watch you try to pick up a tree. You want to find Lardo and Shitty?”

Horns blared, and Holster said, “The tournament’s starting. Let’s watch that, then see if we can find them before the Royal Parade at noon.”

“You guys go ahead,” Jack said. “I … want to see Lardo about something.”

Ransom and Holster stood on either side of Bitty, watching the knights on horseback thunder around the field, draped in colorful cloth matching  the flags the knights on their backs carried. Then the knights took long poles and they ran at each other, narrowly missing each time, while the crowd around the field cheered. Finally, the queen — seated in a raised pavilion on the other side of the field — declared a winner by dropping a scarf to one of the knights, and the horses left the field.

“That means they’re getting ready for the parade,” Holster said. “Let’s find the others.”

Shitty and Lardo were saving space near the top of Artisan Alley, right in front of the woolen shop. 

“You guys seen Jack?” Bitty asked. “He was looking for you.”

“He was at the leatherworker’s booth,” Shitty said. “Said he had something to show you, after the parade. But I thought he was going to meet us here.”

The same horns that had signaled the start of the tournament sounded again. There was a band coming, and a group of jugglers and acrobats, then all the knights riding slowly down the road, bowing to the people on each side.

At the end came the king and queen, seated on thrones on a horse-drawn float, preceded by ladies in their finery scattering flower petals.

Bitty finally caught sight of Jack on the other side of the road when the parade passed. He was still wearing the jeans and short black boots he’d started with, but he’d added a sleeveless dark blue tunic with a wide leather belt, and a blue, red and gold satiny cape.

“Good enough for you?” Jack asked, as the group crossed the dusty road, eyeing everyone before settling his gaze on Bitty.

“Oh, Jack, you know you didn’t have to,” Bitty said, suddenly feeling guilty in case he’d made Jack uncomfortable.

“But brah, you do look amazeballs,” Shitty said.

“Yeah, dude,” Ransom said. “Like, I have this whole costume on, and you add a shirt and a cape and somehow look better.”

Lardo just nodded in approval.

“So,” Holster said. “As your king, I declare Jack to be a noble of the realm. And I declare that it’s time for lunch.”

Holsted led the way to a restaurant that actually featured chairs and tables and food served on dishes, and everyone fell in. Jack and Bitty brought up the rear.

“The costume really does look good,” Bitty said. 

“I actually got the belt first,” he said. “I bought that. At the leather shop. The cape and the tunic I rented. But I got you something too.”

Jack pulled a satchel that was hidden under the cape forward and opened it, and took out a laced leather vest.

“It’s called a jerkin,” he said. 

Bitty almost snorted, but didn’t.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say that in front of … anyone else here. But I thought it would look good with the shirt you have on. And then if you come to one these again, you’ll have something to start with.”

Jacks cheeks were pink when he finished his little speech.

“Jack,” Bitty said, feeling his own cheeks flame in response. “You really, really didn’t have to. You know that, right?”

But he was already pulling the vest on and tightening the laces, making a snug bodice to contrast with the billowy sleeves and collar. The shirttails almost looked like a skirt coming out from under his belt.

“What do you think?” Jack asked.

“I … really like it,” Bitty said. He felt less like a kid in a nightgown this way, more like a proper boy.

“You look good,” Jack said.

Then they went in to join the others, who had already ordered platter of such medieval fair as nachos and chicken fingers.

“Looking good, Bits,” Lardo said, when Bitty sat on the bench next to her.

The beer came by the pitcher, and Bitty indulged with his friends, and then joined them as they spent the next several hours laughing at a slapstick comedy show, getting their caricatures drawn in all sorts of combinations, and helping Holster choose the perfect sword to complement his costume.

Lardo came with him to buy a shawl for his mother, helping him choose a soft blue and gray pattern that she said went with his brown eyes.

“Your mother has your coloring, right?” Lardo asked. “This will look nice, then, Maybe not as nice as that jerkin, but …”

Bitty huffed and turned away in pretend annoyance. To be honest, he liked knowing Lardo agreed that it looked good. She wouldn’t lie about that.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, after he paid and they were on their way to join the group for the last joust of the day. “Do you know why Jack bought this for me?”

“Because he thought you’d like it?”

“Lardo, I’m serious. I saw what the prices were like in that shop. Why would he do that?”

“It’s not like he told me,” Lardo said. “But he did show it to me and ask if I thought it would fit. I think … he likes you, Bits, and he’s worried about you.”

Because Jack didn’t think he’d be able to play this season?

Lardo continued as though Bitty had voiced his question.

“He thought you seemed … nervous, I guess, about moving into the Haus, being the new guy, all of that,” Lardo said. “And this is a team bonding activity. Might as well dress the part.”

“Is that why he got himself a costume too?” 

“I guess,” Lardo said. “You could ask him.”

By the time the sun was sinking towards the west, the team was tired and cranky and ready to leave. Holster, who had partaken of much more beer than Jack, gave up the car keys without a fight (thank God, Bitty thought) and he and Ransom collapsed on top of each other in the back seat. Lardo and Shitty took the middle, leaving Bitty to ride shotgun while Jack drove.

The car was quiet, with most everybody sleeping or just looking out at the New England evening. Jack played what Bitty thought of as “dad rock” and hummed along, almost inaudibly, until Bitty said, “Lardo said you were worried about me.”

Jack made a noise that showed he heard, but didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry if you’ve been concerned,” Bitty said. “I’ll be alright.”

“I know,” Jack said. “But it’s nothing to apologize for. You’ll be fine, and if you’re not, I — we’ll all be here to support you until you are. I know moving into the Haus — it’s like being new on the team again, in a way. We need to make sure you know we have your back.”

“By buying me clothes?” Bitty asked. 

“Whatever it takes,” Jack said. “Even putting on a costume myself.”

“You didn’t have to,” Bitty said, even though he knew he was repeating himself. Then he fell silent, wondering if his head was more muddled than he thought.

“I know,” Jack said. “But it seemed like it might be fun.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “It’s fun to be part of the group sometimes. As long as it’s a group you like.”

“I think so too,” Bitty said. 

Jack hummed along to the song about a horse with no name, and Bitty thought about what it meant to be part of the group, and what it meant that Jack had wanted Bitty to feel like he belonged.

It was team bonding, of course. And it was Haus bonding. But Bitty felt like maybe, maybe it was something more. 

[starsfic]

The Monkeys of the Monastery and the Mountain

Summary: Azure Lion falls in love with Sun Wukong when visiting Master Subodhi. He also falls in love with Wukong's scowling shadow.

-_-

"Ugh, I can't believe I have to lower myself to this."

Azure Lion, steed of bodhisattva Manjusri and favored general in the celestial army, wisely did not speak up. This lord knew as well as him that he didn't have to do this. There were many other nobles in the Heavenly Court that were more qualified. This lord had just made a fool of himself at the Queen Mother's feast and just wanted to escape the inevitable gossip.

Azure couldn't blame him... much. He too wanted to escape the stifling atmosphere and all the noise of greedy nobles. If he didn't agree to "guard" this lord, he was certain that he would've stabbed either himself, the next noble who talked, or an unfortunate guard who crossed his path.

Although his choice of company only added fuel to the desire.

The clouds parted, revealing their location. The Cave of the Slanted Moon and Three Stars was a Taoist temple that clung to the side of a mountain with white walls and red roofing, subtle touches of the moon and stars here and there, like the stones on the front lawn they landed on.

The doors opened, revealing the master of the temple. Patriarch Subodhi, shifu and master to his students, walked down the stairs and came to a stop. He bowed his head. "Lord Xueqin," he said. "What brings you to my humble temple?"

"I'm here on orders of the Jade Emperor in order to check upon your teachings," the lord said, puffing up his chest. Clearly, he had noticed the lack of a full bow. "You are-"

"Under orders to not teach the forbidden ways of gaining immortality, as I have been for the past few centuries." The Taoist raised a brow. It might've been Azure's imagination, but there was a spark of panic in his eyes. "I am well aware of my orders. However, you did not need to bring a guard with you."

The lord raised a brow. "I heard what happened when Lord Fan visited your humble monastery and I just want to be sure that there are no incidents this time." Azure bit back a snicker. Everyone had heard about what happened during that visit. The fact that he spent months in his chambers and refused to go out in public without a veil was enough.

Patriarch Subodhi sighed, the panic fading from his eyes to instead be replaced by amusement. “I see. If that makes you feel better, then I welcome you both.”

Azure bowed at the waist. “It is an honor to visit, shifu.”

Subodhi did not respond, but he could see a smile tug on his lips as he turned and guided them inside.

The main courtyard was full of students, all dressed in simple grey training outfits, busy from sparring to reading to rushing to do what looked like chores. Women and men alike mixed, only marked by the fact that the women were allowed to keep their hair. One of those women met Azure’s eyes and bowed her head politely.

Azure bowed his head back before the doors to the shifu’s personal study opened. Subodhi stopped before he and the lord entered. “If you wish to wait outside, that is allowed,” he said to Azure. “We should not take too long.”

He was liking this man even more. Azure could hear the quiet offer. While it was tempting to watch Subodhi frighten this quivering noble, having never faced a foe that he couldn’t deal with via gossip, it also sounded boring to just sit there. The frightened spark in the noble’s eye sealed the deal.

“Thank you,” Azure said, giving another bow. He didn’t intend to stand outside the entire time. “It’s been a while since I’ve been allowed to stretch my legs and seeing your lovely monastery is a great excuse.”

The noble hummed, still looking terrified. Azure could see the gears thunking in his empty head. He would probably interrogate Azure on anything “suspicious” he saw. Azure doubted it. Subodhi simply nodded and led the noble inside, shutting the doors.

Azure began to walk. There was a side hallway, leading away from the main courtyard, and he took it.

The monastery was lovely, with several branching yards, most set up for training based on the sparring groups or meditation circles he saw. One led to a large herbal garden, where students tended the plants. A few were gathered around a large patch of what looked to be turmeric. “- get it,” a student said, holding a flower and turning it back and forth. “We’re all working with the same soil and supplies. How is Wukong’s stuff already flowering?”

“It’s Wukong,” another said. “He has a green thumb.”

“I know he does, but that doesn’t explain how time speeds up.”

“Again, it’s Wukong. Nature just likes him.”

“I would say it’s more than that…”

Azure walked away. While it was interesting to hear that nature apparently liked a very good gardener, that didn’t scream “Subodhi breaking the rules on teaching illegal immortality.” That just sounded like a possible affinity with the natural world or a spell to encourage plant growth. Shifty, but not illegal.

A set of large doors caught his eye. A guess made him reach out and push into the room, revealing it to be full of books. Ah, like he suspected.

Like many monasteries Azure had visited, the library was one of the largest rooms. This had to be the largest selection he had seen, though, drawing on many subjects from one glance. It wasn't a surprise, Subodhi prided himself on his knowledge and his desire to know more.

Azure studied the shelves as he walked past, taking mental notes here and there of certain books. Yellowtusk would love this library. He should recommend him for the next visit. If they waited for a century like they were supposed to, the collection would only get bigger. Azure turned the corner, still dwelling on the thought, and felt himself come to a stop.

His heart skipped a beat.

In the center of the library was a comfortable-looking sitting area, with many tables and pillows ready for someone to sit down. Large windows let in sunshine that illuminated the room during the day. However, it also illuminated the one person that sat in this room.

A monkey demon sat at the table, his golden fur lit by the sunshine, his long curls braided back. Several scrolls and loose paper were scattered around him. Golden eyes were focused on the scroll he read, one hand using ink to scrawl out notes. He wore the robes of a student, although Azure hadn’t seen any other demon students, the cuff of his writing hand stained with drops of ink here and there.

He was gorgeous.

Azure wasn’t sure how to react. He had thought people were pretty before, from soldiers who caught his eye to maids who attended the nobles. His dear sworn brothers Peng and Yellowtusk were beautiful in their own ways. But he had never seen someone like him.

It would probably be rude to just walk up and attempt to talk to him, but Azure’s longing nearly knocked him off his feet. He had the feeling that if he didn’t at least try to talk to this beauty, he would regret it for the rest of his days.

He stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“Hell-”

A tail whacked him in the face. Normally, he would brush it off, except the strike made him stumble back, caught off-guard by its strength as his breath rocked out of his lungs.

The monkey didn’t seem to notice that his wagging tail had claimed a victim. He hummed at whatever he was reading and then rolled the scroll up. Azure blinked at the ceiling as the monkey grabbed another scroll. Before he could unroll it, the doors to the library opened up.

“As you can see,” Subodhi sounded annoyed as he gestured to the library. “Nothing on immortality.”

The lord looked ragged. Azure was torn between amusement and concern- it had only been about ten minutes, if he was correct. What had happened in such a period of time?

“What about that?” the lord huffed, pointing at the golden beauty. “What is that creature? Why is it here?” He looked down and if Azure cared about his opinion, he would’ve been embarrassed. “Did it attack my guard?!”

The monkey looked up as Subodhi’s eyes went wide. “Uh, what?” He looked down and those beautiful golden eyes, like miniature suns, went wide. “Oh, crap, I am so-”

“It’s fine,” Azure rose up to his knees, raising a hand to hold the monkey’s knee. It may have been forward, but he didn’t care. “You were so focused. It was my fault for trying to interrupt you.” The monkey blinked and then smiled. It was so sweet and warm that Azure’s entire being warmed.

And then the noble spoke up.

"Is this your pet?" the lord huffed, eyeing the monkey as though he wasn't sure what to do with him. Azure felt his fur bristle protectively at the annoyed noise the monkey made as he stood, his brows furrowing tightly together and his teeth bared in a grin.

"No." Subodhi's words broke the staredown as he walked over, stepping between Azure and the monkey. He settled a hand on the monkey's shoulder and, like magic, the monkey relaxed. Not by much, but it looked better. "This is one of my students-"

"Sun Wukong," the monkey said, the name sounding more like a threat.

Azure's heart skipped a beat as he remembered the name, both from Subodhi to the students gathered around the turmeric. Sun Wukong. It was his new favorite word- it was spelled the same as the word for the sun and how fitting it was, for a monkey that glowed like the sun.

"Respect," Subodhi warned his student in a hiss. He turned back to the lord. "In any case, he is a special case and has proven himself to be one of my best students- don't get a big head about that." The last was a warning to Sun Wukong, whose frightening grimace had turned into a proud little smile.

The lord still eyed Wukong as if he was considering a threat. Azure stepped closer, but Subodhi stepped to the side, pulling Wukong with him. He wondered, for a second, if he imagined the nasty glare that the elder shot him before the man cleared his throat. "In any case, I believe it's best that you leave."

"Not until-" the lord protested.

"Is there anything else you honestly need to see?" Subodhi said, his voice stern. However, Azure could see his hand flexing in and out on Wukong's shoulder. Based on the wince that trembled the smaller's form, so could Wukong.

"If I may speak up," Azure said, stepping around Subodhi to hover on Wukong's other side. "I have been walking around the monastery and I have seen nothing that suggests Patriarch Subodhi has violated the law. While Wukong is a surprise-" That time, he was certain. Subodhi was glaring at him. "He's not a violation. He's clearly a good student based on the ink marks on his cuffs."

The lord huffed, glaring at the three of them. Finally, he nodded. "Fine," he said, like a toddler denied of a toy. "You pass inspection."

Subodhi bowed his head. "Thank you," he said, unwrapping that protective arm from Wukong to make a shooing motion with his swatter. The lord turned an interesting shade of red. "Now, please leave. You're interrupting my student's study."

The lord huffed again and stormed out of the library. Azure trailed behind, feeling Subodhi follow close behind. He glanced back and met Wukong's golden eyes before the monkey sat back down at his study spot. He probably looked weird with the smile he felt forming, but that wasn’t important.

I hope I can talk to you again soon.

-_-

Unfortunately, Azure didn't get a chance to talk to Sun Wukong before he left the monastery.

He didn't do it every day, but at least once a month, Azure would slip to Earth, conveniently near Subodhi's monastery. The first time hadn't been on purpose. Another celestial steed had gotten loose and was trying to take over a village. Azure and Peng had been successfully wrangling the cursing creature until Azure's eye caught a hint of sunshine. There had been a group of familiar uniforms, the front being Sun Wukong, vibrating so hard that about three students had to keep him in place.

The steed kicking him in his face was his own fault. He would give Peng that.

With the realization, Azure started hanging around the village and the mountain at least once a month to at least see the pretty monkey. He had good reason! Power-hungry demons stalked this area, interested in Subodhi's students. He was being helpful!

Subodhi didn't seem to get that. Every time they ran into each other, Subodhi's friendly look faded more and more from the first time. Azure made the mistake of asking about Wukong one time, and his hands were bleeding for days from shielding his head. It didn’t stop him from visiting.

He would just have to keep things quiet.

"You know that Wukong doesn't live here anymore, right?"

"Excuse me?"

The student who had walked up to him stared steadily back. "He got expelled two days ago. Apparently, for showing off the special lessons Shifu was teaching him, I guess? But he's not here."

Azure's heart sank. Two days ago. He had missed the perfect chance to talk to him, to maybe comfort him. Being expelled had to be hard, right? "I- Where does he live?"

"I dunno, someplace called Huago? All I know is that it's on the west coast and there's a lot of monkeys." The student hiked up the bag of groceries they had probably come for in the first place. "All I know is that he's not here, so you can stop stalking us." And with that, they walked away.

Azure didn’t realize he was moving until a shadow slammed into his face.

He stumbled back, the portal he summoned thankfully dissipating before he went back through. He looked around, realizing he was in the middle of a jungle. He was much higher than he expected- was he on a mountain? In the distance, he could see something shining, darting around a larger figure in armor. He knew that gleam, even when the power running through didn’t exist.

Before he could step towards it, another shadow wrapped around his chest, hard enough to crush his ribs, and yanked him to the ground. “I guess you were the celestial warrior Subodhi warned me about,” a voice said from overheard. Azure looked up and, once again, his heart raced.

Unlike Wukong, who was soft and glowing with sunshine, this monkey was hard and dark, all except his eyes. Those eyes gleamed with violent violet power. His clothes were a mess, ripped and torn and dirty, cuffs tight on his wrists. Chains wrapped around the muscle of his arm, the ends broken. It didn’t stop the fact that he was beautiful, dark curls cut to frame his handsome, blood-stained face.

Was it just those two, or were all monkeys so lovely?

The monkey clapped his hands and purple sparks darted out. When he pulled them apart, a staff like the one he saw Wukong wield sometimes formed, glowing and made of the same magic that held Azure down. Unlike Wukong’s staff, both ends were spiked. If he got hit with that, Azure was certain it would be nasty.

“I’m surprised you even had the courage to try and follow Wukong here,” the warrior said. “While the Demon King of Confusion surprised me, small fry like you don’t.”

And with that, the monkey dove down and Azure barely had enough time to escape his bindings.

It became a blur of fighting- dodge, strike, uppercut, taste your blood in your mouth, hit him back, don’t feel bad. As he fought and dodged, Azure wondered if sparring like Wukong would be like this. Was this warrior just as studious as Wukong was? They appeared similar far away and up close, save for the color of their fur and the color of their power, how far did those similarities go?

Azure found himself tumbling into the brush with one good strike that definitely bruised his ribs. Through the shrubbery, he could see the warrior tense, ready to follow, but a loud crash that sounded like boulders falling, the sound of several panicked monkeys, and a loud “MIHOU!” made him pause. He glanced back and then nodded before he disappeared, the shadows swallowing him up.

Azure waited before summoning another portal, this time focusing on the warrior. His portal was kind enough to drop him off in another patch of shrubbery so he was hidden from the scene.

The giant demon was collapsed on the ground, the air smelling of blood. Wukong was bathed in red, so much so that Azure’s fingers twitched with the need to grab him and clean him until he saw the golden fur. The warrior- Mihou, based on the yell- hovered next to him. It appeared the two were concerned about each other, talking over each other and reaching out and holding each other. A loud cry of a monkey turned their attention away from each other to the small, white-furred monkeys gathering around them. Wukong beamed, his smile warming Azure’s heart, as he reached down and scooped several up in his arms, allowing the rest to climb over him and Mihou. The warrior didn’t protest, his gaze so tender that it made him melt.

He didn’t realize it until then, but his heart had room for two.

He just needed to figure out how.

-_-

A few years passed and Azure finally felt it was time to make his move.

It hurt when Sun Wukong didn't recognize him when he offered his services and his brotherhood. But Azure brushed it off. The course of love never did run smooth- Macaque didn't seem to recognize him either, but he sometimes noticed him squinting at him, as if he thought him familiar but wasn't sure why.

Peng and Yellowtusk had their doubts about Wukong's leadership ability, but Azure was certain that his love could lead. His kindness to his people was far greater than the Jade Emperor's compassion towards the entire universe. He had his doubts about Macaque as a consort, but that didn't matter at the moment.

Especially not when he was presenting him with flowers.

"They reminded me of you," he said. It was true- the asters and plum blossoms reminded him of the color of Macaque's magic and his favorite fruit. In his opinion, this was a good test-run bouquet.

Macaque blinked and then eyed him as if waiting for a joke. Azure kept his face open and honest, hoping that Macaque would accept the gift. The shadow monkey finally hummed, taking the bouquet. "Thank...you, Azure, these are-"

A golden blur rushed between them and slapped the bouquet straight out of Macaque's hands. Both monkey and lion blinked as the bouquet disappeared into the distance before a larger bouquet of flowers, leaning towards red and pink, was stuffed in the former's hands.

"Macaque prefers it when I give him flowers," Sun Wukong huffed, crossing his arms with a pout. Azure opened his mouth, unsure of how to respond to that, before his love turned to his moon. His stance grew gentler. “These are the right colors, right? For the last big scene of your play?”

“Ye- Yeah, they are!” Macaque held the flowers closer. His eyes shone as he smiled and Azure felt his heart skip a beat. “I didn’t think you would remember what I said.”

“Pssh, of course! You’ve been working on that play for weeks!”

Azure relaxed in the sun, enjoying the sight of their smiles. This was just a hiccup. There would be plenty of time to court his monkeys of monastery and mountain.

[i-cant-sing]

Hi. So I found this

And you can’t tell me that it doesn’t scream Fushiguro Reader’s drip. She could be wearing the most expensive kimono for her birthday (courtesy of uncle Naoya) but what stood out the most was her footwear. People are supposed to be GUSHING over the kimono but they cant help stare at her sandals

Fushiguro reader is just slurping up her noodles, not caring for manners while everyone stares at her feet

And uncle Naoya is sharpening his blade cuz they being creeps for staring at his niece’s feet

And that was the only time Fushiguro reader didn’t cause her usual chaos because I feel like she loves her uncle enough that she’s willing to offer him some peace and mind on her special day because he became her mom AND her dad ☺️

Platonic Yandere Uncle Naoya x Fushiguro reader

Oh yesss 100%. I mean just imagine that its reader's birthday (who is either a teen/adult now) and Naoya already gifted her the kimono the day before her actual birthday, and by now reader knows that she has to wear it because its a tradition- every year, Naoya gives you a kimono for your birthday (which is the first of many gifts he has for you) and you have to wear it for the birthday portraits he has commisioned for and its followed by a big party at night at home, so yeah... its the same every year because according to him "this is how rich people celebrate their birthdays."

You only comply because he lets you do anything you want for the rest of the day before the big party, plus you do love your uncle. I mean, even if he's an ass sometimes, a misogynist to everyone else, a walking red flag... he still raised you like his own, provided you with all the luxuries and a comfortable life, even after you were "abandoned" by your father. In his own way, you know he loves you and only wants the best for you.

Anyways, its the morning of your birthday, the maids have just finished dressing you up and doing your hair and you go to the living room for your pictures, and as expected the rest of the clan is already there, smiling widely as they all gushed about how pretty you looked in traditional clothing and its a nice sight to see you out of your Hello Kitty shorts and a hoodie with Naoya's face edited on a cockroach. They all start coming towards you, wishing you a happy birthday and envelopes with wads of cash, the females kissing your cheeks and cooing how cute you looked, while the men stiffly patted your head.

After the portrait and family pictures are done, its time for you and Naoya to do stuff you want while the family prepares for your big party.

You're both sitting in the car as the driver takes you to your favourite place- 7/11. "Do you like your kimono?" Naoya asks, looking out his window.

You nod. "I do. Thanks. Its really comfortable."

Naoya turns to look at you. "It better be. Its Chanel."

"Its definitely better than the snakeskin Gucci kimono you got me last year."

"I thought you'd like to know how it feels." Before you could argue, your favourite convenience store came into place and you were already out the door before the car had even came to a full stop, making Naoya yell at the driver for not getting the child locks installed.

-

Naoya could only watch in disgust as you ate downed another bowl of instant ramen before moving onto another one, the noodles smacking against your cheek as you slurped hard.

"Ugh." Naoya cringed as he picked up a napkin to wipe the residues off your face. "Why must you eat so messily? Do I need to send you to table etiquette classes?"

You just shrugged. "Its fun this way." You picked up another onigiri before inhaling it.

"Oh my- can you stop eating like you dont know where your next meal is coming from?!"

"Can you stop screaming? This is a public place, and you're disturbing everyone with your screeching." "You brat-" "Buy me some instant rice. I need to add it to my soup."

As Naoya is walking towards the aisle, grumbling about how this chemical pumped liquid full of MSG that you kill "soup" is gonna kill you one day, he notices some people standing in the corner and just staring at you- or more specifically, your feet.

And thats when Naoya notices those pink monstrosity of sandals.

What's worse is that these people are just gawking so openly, hell they even have their phones out and taking pictures of your feet and its driving Naoya absolutely bonkers because what kind of feet fetish creeps are these guys (some of them are just old grandmas, but Naoya does not discriminate. Everyone's a creep.)

Besides, he doesnt know how long they've been standing there. For all he knows, they could've taken pictures of more than just your feet and Naoya doesn't remember giving them the permission to fucking look, let alone record you!

So, naturally, Naoya stomps over to you and tells you that you need to leave now. Upon inquiring, Naoya tells you about the "creeps" who have been recording you all this time and what not and you just shrug.

"I'm not leaving. Besides, it doesnt bother me."

"Y/n dont start-"

"Cant you take care of it? I thought you said youd let me do anything on my birthday." You take the rice from his hands and dump into in your soup. "This is all sounds like an excuse for either your jealousy because I'm the one who's taking the spotlight or your inability to protect me, hm?"

And Naoya knows- he KNOWS this is your unbothered ass doing reverse psychology on him, but it works.

Because now Naoya has taken their phones, smashed them to the ground until they were pieces and then immediately bought the whole store so that these creeps can be thrown out.

-

"See? I can take care of you. And you wish I was jealous of you."

"Mmhmm." You hummed as you ate your ice cream. The whole store was now empty, so you could eat as much as you wanted in peace.

Naoya narrowed his eyes. "Besides, those sandals were not a good decision. Who let you walk around like that?"

"Your hair is not a good decision. Who let you dye it that color? Does everyone in the hate you so much that they let you walk around like that?" You countered.

"You brat, you're lucky its your birthday."

"I'm also lucky I dont look like a bleached rat, unlike some people who thought that was the shade of blonde they wanted their hair to be."