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aliyahwritings · 16 days ago

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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (11)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player!Rafe & Supermodel!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.4k

Aliyah's Notes: LIFE IS GOOD DONT KYS GUYS!!!!!

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing Rafe’s penthouse in all its cold, modern glory. You stepped inside, arms full of a precariously stacked pile of boxes, your eyes scanning the pristine place. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the city, but it was the sterile, minimalist decor that always caught you by surprise.

“Wow,” you muttered, setting the boxes down with a grunt. “So this is where personality comes to die.”

Rafe appeared behind you, carrying a single suitcase and looking annoyingly relaxed (and sexy). “You’re welcome for letting you upgrade your life,” he quipped, tossing the suitcase onto the sleek leather couch. “From your childish apartment to the lap of luxury. I’m a real hero.”

“Hero, my ass,” you turned to him, hands on your hips. “And this place has all the warmth of a dentist’s office.”

He grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Clean, sharp, and no clutter.”

“Well, get ready for that to change,” you shot back, heading to another box. You pulled out a bright orange vase with swirling patterns and held it up with a triumphant smile. “Because this is going front and center.”

He froze mid-step, staring at the vase like it was radioactive. “No.”

“Yes,” you replied, your smile widening as you marched toward the nearest shelf.

“No,” he repeated, moving to block your path. “You’re not seriously bringing that ugly vase into my penthouse. I have standards.”

You held the vase above your head, as if presenting it to the decor gods. “Typical white man behavior,” you declared. “This must be the colonizer in you that’s stopping me from doing what I want—”

“I knew you’d start saying those things,” Rafe shook his head.

“Just because it’s colorful and unique, it’s ‘ugly’ to you.”

He crossed his arms as he looked between you and the vase. “It’s not colorful, YN, it’s an eyesore. It doesn’t ‘pop’—it assaults.”

“You wouldn’t know real art if it hit you in the face,” you retorted, setting the vase down triumphantly on a shelf. “This is staying.”

“It’s not art—it’s a cry for help,” Rafe muttered, shaking his head as he reached for the vase.

You smacked his hand away. “Touch it, and I’ll bring all of my colorful vases here.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You leaned in with a devilish grin. “Try me.”

The standoff had been interrupted by a loud thud as another box had toppled from the stack you had brought in. Rafe turned to survey the mess, raising an eyebrow. “What else did you bring? Your collection of weird cat figurines?”

“I’ll have you know Lady Purrsalot is a legend,” you said, brushing past him to rescue the fallen box. “And yes, she’s staying too.”

Rafe let out a dramatic groan, running a hand through his hair as he surveyed the pile of your belongings filling the space. “Perfect. My penthouse is about to turn into a shrine to bad taste,” he muttered.

You shot him an incredulous look, hands on your hips, before flashing him a playful but smug smile. “This isn’t bad taste, it’s cute.”

“If I find anything glittery, it’s going straight in the trash.”

Your eyes narrowed, giving him the full force of your best glare. He winced, immediately muttering a sheepish “sorry,” his hands up in surrender. You gave him a satisfied nod, knowing he'd learned his lesson.

“You agreed to this when you accepted to marry me,” you said, your voice smooth but laced with a challenge. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow as though daring him to argue.

He sighed dramatically, leaning against the wall. “I didn’t know ‘marriage’ meant signing up for interior design hell.”

Your lips quirked upward as you threw a glance at the now-established vase. “Don’t worry, fiancé, I think you’re handling it really well for someone who just got a major upgrade in life.”

“Can’t help it,” he smirked, and stepped closer to you. “You’re kind of hard to resist,” he paused, eyes glinting with something that wasn’t just playful teasing. “Even when you’re trying to torture me with your cat figurines.”

You chuckled, stepping around him and tossing a few more things onto the shelf—mostly knick-knacks and personal items that would soon add a sense of comfort to the otherwise sterile space. You could feel the tension between you two, a quiet undercurrent of attraction, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“You have hands, and a cold shower to help you, Rafe,” you told him, rolling your eyes. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Who said something was going to happen?” he smirked, and you wanted to wipe that smirk off his beautiful, beautiful face. “Are you thinking of naughty—”

“That’s enough communication for right now,” you clapped your hands. “We have more stuff to do.”

You both continued to unload boxes in comfortable silence, the sounds of moving things around punctuated by banter every now and then. Rafe was doing half of the work—he said he’d prefer you standing back and watching him take charge—and you did not mind, at all. The penthouse was big enough that it gave you space to spread out your things. Eventually, though, the once-overwhelming pile of boxes began to dwindle, and the place started to feel a little more like home.

“Alright, I think that’s the last one,” Rafe said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead as he stacked the final few boxes in the corner. “I’m exhausted.”

You nodded, and gave him a smile. “Thanks for the help, big arms. I would’ve taken 24 years to finish it all,” you told him and laughed.

“You’re going to make me blush,” he joked, and you laughed some more. “Alright, now that the worst of it’s done, how about I give you the grand tour? I know you’ve been here a few times, but not everywhere. Let me show you the full deal.”

You sighed and gestured dramatically. “Lead the way.”

With a self-satisfied grin, Rafe led you down the sleek hallway. He threw open the first door with a flourish, revealing a space so minimalist it was almost sterile. “My office,” he declared.

You peeked inside, noting the barely-touched desk, the pristine shelves, and a gaming console taking up prime real estate. “Wow,” you deadpanned. “Really grinding out those business emails, huh?”

“Hey, I do plenty of work,” he said defensively. “Like checking stats, signing autographs… crushing high scores.” You rolled your eyes but followed as he moved to the next door, revealing a home gym. “State-of-the-art equipment,” he boasted. “Not that you’d know, since you don’t lift.”

“Rafe, I’m literally a model. I do pilates, yoga, and weight training.”

“Pilates doesn’t count,” he shot back, smirking. “That’s just stretching with extra steps.”

“Asshole,” you muttered, shaking your head.

He took you through a theater room, complete with plush recliners and an oversized screen, and then to his master bedroom. The sheer size of the space made you pause. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a stunning view of the city skyline, and the decor screamed effortless luxury. You hated that it impressed you.

“Alright, you’ve had your little brag session. Can I go back to unpacking now?”

“Not yet,” he said, walking ahead of you. He stopped in front of the guest room—your room now—and pushed the door open. “Saved the best for last.”

You stepped inside, your eyes immediately catching on the changes. Gone was the sterile, hotel-like vibe. Instead, the space felt warmer, more personal. The bedding was a deep crimson red, bold and striking, and a textured rug covered the hardwood floor. Your favorite candles were neatly arranged on the windowsill, and a small vase of fresh flowers sat on the nightstand. Even your books, the ones you thought you’d packed, were already shelved on the built-in.

Your brows furrowed as you took it all in. “Why are the covers red?”

Rafe, leaning casually against the doorframe, hesitated for a beat before replying. “You know… because you…”

A teasing grin spread across your face. “Are you racially profiling me because I’m South Asian?”

His eyes widened slightly, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “What? No! That’s not—”

You cut him off, crossing your arms with mock seriousness. “Oh, sure. Just because I like vibrant colors, you think red is my personality now?”

“Okay, first of all,” he said, “you do like vibrant colors. Second, red is bold, classy, and badass—like you. So stop making me sound like a jerk.”

You raised a brow, still trying to stifle your laughter. “Smooth recovery, Cameron. Real smooth.”

“Thanks,” he said, flashing you a grin. “I aim to please,” he teased, though his smirk softened slightly. “Maids come every three days, by the way, so you don’t need to worry about keeping the place spotless.”

She crossed her arms, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “You mean I didn’t have to bring a box of cleaning supplies?”

“Nope,” he said with an unapologetic shrug. “But it was cute watching you haul it up here.”

Her mouth fell open. “You let me carry that thing around when you knew I wouldn’t need it?”

“You seemed determined,” he said, his grin widening. “I didn’t want to crush your little homemaker dreams.”

You groaned.

You collapsed onto the oversized sofa with a dramatic sigh, sinking into the soft cushions as though they could swallow you whole. Your body ached from the day of unpacking and dealing with Rafe’s incessant commentary.

Rafe plopped down beside you, equally worn out but still managing to look annoyingly composed. He stretched his long legs across the coffee table, earning a glare from you.

“Feet down,” you muttered, voice muffled by the throw pillow you’d buried your face into.

“Make me,” he quipped, but the usual edge of teasing was dulled by the clear exhaustion in his tone.

You turned your head to give him a tired look, too drained to argue properly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re bossy,” he shot back, though there was no real heat in his words. “But look at us. Day one of living together, and we didn’t kill each other. I’d say that’s progress.”

You snorted, turning to face him fully. “Barely. That vase almost did you in.”

He smirked, eyes glinting with mischief despite his fatigue. “You’ve got a lot of nerve bringing that thing into my house. It’s offensive to art.”

“It’s staying,” you declared, closing your eyes and sinking further into the couch. “I’m too tired to argue anymore.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, a stark contrast to the usual whirlwind of your dynamic. The dim lighting in the penthouse bathed the room in a soft glow, it was peaceful, wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Rafe turn his head, his gaze resting on you. But it wasn’t fleeting—his eyes lingered, studying you in a way that felt tender. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you, his usually sharp blue eyes softened by the warmth of the moment. It was as if he were memorizing the curve of your cheek in the dim light, the way your hair fell over your shoulder, the quiet calm in your expression. It made your skin tingle under his attention, your pulse quickening despite the stillness.

“You did good today,” he murmured, his voice stripped of its usual cockiness, leaving only a quiet sincerity that caught you off guard.

You opened one eye to glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks...”

He shrugged, his lips curving into a small, crooked smile that made him look younger somehow, softer. “I mean it. This place… it already feels different. Warmer,” he admitted, his eyes flicking briefly to the room before returning to you. They lingered, holding yours in a way that made your breath hitch—like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing. “And not just because of that god-awful vase.”

A laugh escaped you, light and unguarded, filling the space between you. It felt good—freeing, even. The knot of tension in your chest began to loosen, melting away under the weight of his rare vulnerability. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Cameron,” you teased, though your voice lacked its usual sharpness.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a quiet chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch.

The peace was interrupted by the faint buzz of your phone in your pocket. You groaned, pulling it out to check the screen. The sight of the message made your stomach twist all over again.

“Mom and Dad are flying in next week. They want to see you.”

Rafe noticed the change in your expression immediately. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the screen before locking the phone. “Nothing. Just… family stuff.”

He didn’t press, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if trying to figure out what you weren’t saying. Instead, he let his head loll back again, closing his eyes.

“Family stuff, huh?” he murmured. “Well, if it’s anything like mine, I recommend a lot of wine. Or tequila.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, though your chest still felt tight. The idea of seeing your parents again—after everything—was a storm brewing on the horizon. But for now, with Rafe beside you and the weight of the day finally catching up, you let yourself push it to the back of your mind.

“Noted,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You always wear socks indoors.” he said suddenly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?”

He nodded toward your feet, wiggling his own toes for emphasis. “The socks. You’ve been in them all day. Do you ever just… go barefoot?”

You looked down at the patterned socks you were wearing—yellow with tiny sunflowers. “I like socks. They’re cozy,” you replied defensively. “Not all of us can just parade around barefoot like some child.”

Rafe snorted, shaking his head. “You’re missing out. Bare feet are freedom.”

“Freedom? That’s dramatic,” you shot back.

“Dramatic is wearing sunflower socks in a penthouse,” he countered, gesturing toward your feet.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Alright, since we’re apparently sharing quirks, what’s with the candle obsession? You’ve got, like, ten of them over there.”

Rafe followed your gaze to the collection of candles on the coffee table and nearby shelves. “What can I say? I like a good vibe,” he said, shrugging.

You raised an eyebrow. “Big, tough basketball player… lighting candles to set the mood?”

He grinned, leaning slightly closer. “I’ll have you know those candles are luxury. That one—” he pointed to a sleek black jar, “—is oud wood. Costs more than your vase, I’m sure.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “You’re just scared of the dark.”

“Not scared,” he corrected. “Just prepared. You never know when the power might go out.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” you said, sinking further into the cushions.

For a moment, the banter lulled, and you both stared at the flickering flame of one of the candles. Then, out of nowhere, Rafe spoke again. “I can’t whistle.”

You turned to him, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“Whistling,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “Can’t do it. Never could.”

A grin spread across your face, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Wait, really? You’re telling me Mr. Perfect Athlete can’t whistle?”

“Laugh it up,” he said, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Everyone’s got their thing. What about you? What’s something random you can’t do?”

You thought for a moment before admitting, “I can’t snap my fingers. Like, no matter how hard I try.’”

Rafe’s eyes lit up, and he immediately sat up straighter. “No way. Let me see.”

You demonstrated, rubbing your thumb and middle finger together in an attempt to snap. The result was a sad thud.

He laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “That’s terrible.”

“Shut up,” you said, trying not to smile. “At least I can whistle.”

“Debatable,” he teased, leaning back again. “Bet your whistle sounds like a dying bird.”

“I know you’re not the one talking right now—you can’t even fucking whistle,” you shot back.

“Touché,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

The conversation flowed as easily as the soft light from the candles, meandering through odd confessions and surprising revelations. You were tucked into one corner of the oversized couch, legs crossed beneath you, while Rafe sprawled in his usual casual way, one arm slung along the back of the sofa as he toyed with a loose thread in the cushion.

“So, wait,” he said, his brows furrowing in mock disbelief. “You’re telling me you’ve never watched a single episode of The Office?”

“Not one,” you replied, unapologetic. “I’ve seen the memes. Isn’t that enough?”

Rafe placed a dramatic hand over his chest, like you’d just personally insulted him. “No, Y/N, that’s not fucking enough. You’re missing out on peak comedy.”

“I prefer my comedy with a little more effort, thank you,” you teased.

“Effort? It’s genius! Dwight Schrute alone could carry a show.”

You smirked. “Is this your idea of a personality test? Judging me based on sitcom preferences?”

“Yes!” he said, deadpan. “It tells me everything I need to know about you. And so far? Not looking great for you, wife.”

You reached over and shoved his arm lightly, laughing. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here I am, willingly living with you,” he shot back, grinning.

“Willingly might be a stretch,” you countered, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “Alright, since we’re trading weird facts, here’s one: I can recite the entire opening number to Wicked by heart.”

His brows lifted in surprise, but there was amusement in his gaze. “No way. Wicked? That’s the one with the green witch, right?”

“Yes, that’s the one with the green witch,” you said, mimicking his tone. “It’s a masterpiece, by the way.”

“If you say so,” he said, holding his hands up. “I just… didn’t peg you for the Broadway type.”

You shrugged, a little defensive. “What can I say? I like stories that stick with you.”

“Okay, fair. But you’re gonna have to prove it one day. Full performance.”

“Fuck no,” you said quickly, chuckling. “Your turn. What’s something no one would guess about you?”

He hesitated, looking away like he was searching for the right thing to say. Finally, he said, “I used to draw. Like, a lot.”

Your head tilted, curiosity piqued. “You? Draw? That’s amazing… but I can’t picture it.”

“Yeah, no one can,” he said with a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I stopped when, uh, I got serious about basketball. But back in the day, I was obsessed. I even sketched my own sneaker designs once. Thought I’d have my own line or something.”

"That's actually really cool," you said, your voice warm with genuine admiration. Your eyes stayed fixed on him, sparkling with a curiosity that made his chest tighten.

For a moment, Rafe just looked at you, taken aback by the way you seemed so invested in his words, like what he said actually mattered. No one had ever looked at him like that before—not with real interest, not like this.

He cleared his throat, glancing away as a flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression. “Nah,” he said, his tone lighter than the weight in his eyes. “They’re long gone. Just... a stupid kid thing, anyway.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” you said, surprising even yourself with the firmness in your tone. “You should try it again. Who knows? Maybe you’d still be good at it.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable for a long moment, before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe.”

The moment stretched between you, warm and unspoken, until you finally broke it with a grin. “Okay, random question: what’s your weirdest food combination?”

Rafe laughed, the sound low and genuine. “You’re gonna judge me for this.”

“Definitely,” you said without hesitation.

“Alright, fine. Peanut butter and pickles.”

Your jaw dropped, and you stared at him like he’d just confessed to a crime. “You’re joking.”

“Dead serious,” he said, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“No, thanks,” you replied, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s some white people shit.”

“Your loss,” he said, smirking. “What about you? What’s your weird food thing?”

You hesitated, then admitted, “Okay, don’t laugh… but I dip fries in milkshakes.”

His face lit up with mock offense. “And you call me disgusting?”

“Hey, it’s a classic!” you defended.

He opened his mouth to say something, probably asking another weird question, but before the words could leave his lips, the sharp chime of the doorbell cut through the cozy atmosphere.

Rafe groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Who the hell—”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe it’s one of your girlfriends that you didn’t tell me about.”

“Funny,” he deadpanned, though the corner of his mouth twitched as he stood up.

Before he could reach the door, the muffled sound of voices filtered through, followed by another ring—longer this time, like someone was leaning on the buzzer.

“Open up, Rafael!” a familiar voice called out.

“Oh, great,” Rafe muttered, his hand reaching for the door.

Sarah, JJ, and Aisha entered, bringing the kind of chaos only they could manage. Sarah deposited a pizza box on the living room table with a dramatic flourish, while JJ hoisted a takeout bag in the air like a trophy.

“Food’s here, peasants,” JJ announced, dropping onto the couch beside you as though he owned it. He nudged your leg with his knee, grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off a prank. “You’re welcome for saving you from whatever sad dinner you were planning.”

“JJ, be polite,” Sarah muttered as she flopped onto the rug with a container of fries.

“Polite is boring,” JJ retorted. “You’re welcome for making your life exciting.”

“You’re fucking annoying,” Rafe said, sitting next to his sister.

“See? That’s gratitude,” JJ replied, leaning back and helping himself to the fries Sarah had claimed.

Aisha rolled her eyes as she set plates on the table. “I didn’t know people like him existed until twenty minutes ago.”

“Thank you, beautiful,” he said, winking at her.

“Anyway,” Sarah cut in, already swiping a slice of pizza, “what were you two up to before we so graciously interrupted?”

“I was gonna ask her dream place to live,” Rafe said, his voice carrying a teasing edge as he leaned against the counter. “But I guess we’ll never know now, thanks to you guys.”

“Oh, we’re not letting that go,” Sarah declared, pointing a fry at you. “Spill it. Where’s your dream home?”

You waved her off. “It’s not that interesting.”

“Now you have to tell us,” JJ said, sitting up straighter with exaggerated curiosity. “Somewhere glamorous, right? Like Paris? Or Cleveland. I feel like you give Cleveland energy.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “What does that even mean?”

“Cleveland has a vibe!” JJ insisted.

“No one says that,” Aisha shot back, throwing a balled-up napkin at him.

Sarah shook her head, laughing. “I’m guessing you’re a Milan or Tokyo kind of girl. Am I close?”

“Closer,” you admitted, smiling despite their relentless pestering. “London. Somewhere with smarter, and more fun people.”

“Cool,” Sarah said with a grin, nodding approvingly.

“Basic,” Rafe quipped, earning a pillow to the chest from you.

“Say that again, and I’m redecorating this whole place with vases,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“Vasegate continues,” JJ deadpanned, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “What a tragic tale.”

“Can we talk about how you two are already bickering like an old married couple?” Aisha said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s very domestic in here.”

Rafe snorted. “Please. If this is domestic bliss, I want a refund.”

“He’s been annoying since this morning,” you countered, smirking at Rafe. “He’s been critiquing my interior design all day. He’s very invested.”

“Someone had to be,” Rafe shot back, but his eyes softened when they met yours, the teasing edge in his voice blunted by something warmer.

“I think it’s cute,” Sarah interjected, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You guys are like one of those sitcom couples that secretly loves each other but spends every episode pretending they don’t.”

“Excuse me,” JJ said, raising his hand like a teacher’s pet. “If this is a sitcom, I’m the fan-favorite supporting character. Just putting that out there.”

“You wish,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes.

“And what does that make me?” Aisha asked, feigning offense.

“The responsible one who keeps everyone from burning the house down,” you said with a laugh, nudging her shoulder.

“Accurate,” Sarah replied, grinning.

“But seriously, this is nice. All of us hanging out. It feels... cozy,” you said, with a small smile.

JJ gasped dramatically. “Is that sentiment I hear? Someone mark the calendar!”

“Watch your mouth, Maybank,” Rafe warned.

The conversation flowed easily after that, bouncing from JJ’s ridiculous anecdotes about being chased by geese to Sarah recounting a disastrous double date she’d been on. Rafe chimed in with sarcastic remarks that made everyone laugh, and even Aisha’s usual composed demeanor cracked when JJ impersonated Rafe’s annoyed voice.

At one point, Aisha leaned over to you, her voice low. “You seem happier,” she said, her eyes soft.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“With him,” she said, nodding subtly toward Rafe, who was currently trying (and failing) to win an arm-wrestling match with his sister. “I don’t know. There’s just... something lighter about you.”

Your gaze shifted to Rafe as he laughed at something JJ said, his shoulders relaxed, his grin unguarded. He caught your eye for a moment, his expression softening in a way that sent a ripple through your chest.

You turned back to Aisha, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said simply, and she gave you a knowing look before standing to help gather the empty containers.

By the time everyone started leaving, the penthouse felt fuller, warmer. Sarah and JJ bickered their way out the door, and Aisha hugged you tightly, her smile lingering as she said, “You deserve this. Don’t forget that.”

As the door clicked shut behind them, you leaned against it, the quiet settling back in. Rafe glanced up from where he was stacking empty pizza boxes, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head as you pushed off the door. “Just... thinking.”

“That’s never good,” he teased, his smirk softening as you joined him to help clean up.

And as you cleaned side by side, the thought lingered: maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the chaos you’d expected. Maybe it was something better.

chapter twelve

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546 notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 10 months ago

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Oooooh I finally did it!! Mafia au part 6! A little bit of that sweet angst/comfort.

Content: Violence, Previous Injury (mentioned), Panic Attack (non-descriptive)

Let it be said: Johnny’s no snitch.

Outgoing (“loud” Simon would grumble) as he is, he doesn’t run his mouth about anything important. Doesn’t talk business over a pint or boast his connections in bar disagreements. Doesn’t drop names, flash heat, throw around the weight of his employer. Has never spilled a single fucking secret, not for knives, acid, a fucking gun to his head.

Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.

Let it also be said: Johnny is loyal.

He would happily lay down his life for any of his comrades, lives and dies for SpecGru – for Price. And even though you’re new, you’re one of them now. You’ve quickly found and secured your place in Price’s inner circle, different as you may be. Johnny would go to war for you, and your silly pink sticky notes.

Still, keeping something – anything from the boss. Even a private matter like this…

It happened on SpecGru property, that makes it SpecGru business. And it happened to you, which makes it Price’s business.

That you don’t already know that is… well, that’s between you and the boss. Johnny’s already too involved as it is. (Not that he regrets helping you. Not a bit. If he had his way, that little prick would have left with his teeth in his pocket and a new appreciation for his remaining thumb).

So now Johnny is stuck. He likes you; he really does. That you trust him with something so personal isn’t lost on him, especially in this line of work. He also has a healthy fear of your wrath. (You may not carry any weapons he’s seen, but you’ve got Price grimacing when you narrow your eyes just so. Johnny knows where his cupcakes are made, and he likes them without arsenic, thank you). So, personally, he wants to be able to honor your request to keep the matter private.

But then there’s Price, and whatever he’ll do to Johnny if – when – he finds out about all this.

Johnny’s solution?

“Christ, Gaz, ya shoulda seen it. Never seen the little miss tell someone off like that. Graves woulda been shakin’ in his boots. Will have to ask security for a recording of it.”

Gaz, unimpressed with Johnny’s volume, rolls his eyes and walks away, muttering about tea for his sudden headache. And Price, sitting at his desk, twitches and reaches for his phone.

Mission: accomplished.

Not the most elegant, but he’s a mafia lieutenant, not a fuckin’ spy. Now, to get those pastries you like before Price sees the footage.

“Luv?”

You glance up from the expense reports you’ve been working through for the better part of an hour. Mr. Price is leaning in the doorway to his office, shoulder to the jamb. There’s… an odd look on his face. You’ve never seen it before, don’t have it categorized in your mental files.

“Yes, boss?” you ask, straightening up.

“A word?”

You blink. That’s… different. You don’t like it.

Price is a steady sort of man. Not predictable, but consistent. That this is new, unusual, unfamiliar, makes you uneasy. Reminds you of your last boss, who could call you into his office with an affable grin, only to spend thirty minutes berating you for anything and everything he could think of.

Price has never done that, nothing even close… but you can’t suppress the slight shake in your hands as you smooth your skirt down. Hide it with a little flick of your wrists before grabbing for your ever-trusty tablet. Hell, you probably don’t even need it, but at this point it’s practically a comfort item. Maybe you should name it, put some googly eyes on it.

“Sweetheart?”

You startle a bit. Realize your feet have already carried you into his office and followed him right to his desk. Except instead of standing at his elbow as usual, you’re facing him across his desk. Like you did during your interview with him, when you were still strangers. Like you used to do for your previous boss.

“Oh, sorry, sir,” you chirp, forcing your usual brightness, “those expense reports, ya know? What did you need me for?”

Without a word, he spins his computer monitor around. Your brow furrows as you process the video playing on the screen. You. Soap. Brandon. Your stomach sinks.

There’s no sound, but there doesn’t really need to be. Even in profile, the expressions are crisp – high end cameras. You feel numb as the scene plays out all over again. You and Brandon snipping at each other back and forth. Your rigid spine, stiff shoulders. Brandon’s sleezy confidence. Soap, getting visibly aggravated as the seconds pass.

And there it is, the moment you spun on your heel, done with the conversation, and Brandon reached for you.

When you see Soap’s hand snap out – just a blur on the screen – you have to sit. Muscle memory collects your tablet in your lap, sweaty hands stacking neatly on top of it. Your heart is beating either too fast or too slow.

Your eyes stay locked on the screen until you and Soap disappear into the elevator, and the video stops.

“Should I play the elevator footage as well?” Price asks, voice low and quiet. “That comes with sound.”

It takes all your years of learned discipline and cultivated poise to resist shrinking in on yourself. It does not, however, stop your eyes from burning.

“Sir,” you say, struggling to keep your voice even, “I am so sorry.”

There’s a beat of tense silence as you gather yourself, throat getting tighter and tighter. Your head is spinning with fear and anxiety. What he’ll say, what he’ll do. How you could possibly damage control this.

“I-I don’t even know how he found out where I work,” you say, “and Soap w-was just trying to help. If I’d known that would happen, I would have taken it outside.”

You can barely look at Price as your voice break midway through, the panic leaking into your tone even as you stay frozen in place.

“Did we – is he suing? Is – is that why—?”

The tears escape despite your efforts, dripping fast and down your cheeks as you shudder in a breath. You can’t pay for a lawsuit, especially not if you’re fired over this. And you don’t want to lose this job. You love this job, you love—

“Oh, darling, what a mess you’ve made of yourself.”

You sniffle as Price rounds his desk and kneels in front of you, plucking his handkerchief from his breast pocket. He tuts at you when you open your mouth to protest, already blotting at your cheeks with a surprisingly gentle touch.

“There now, no need to cry,” he soothes, thumbing away another tear before it can fall. “I know it takes you ages to get your eyeliner right. This is nothing to ruin it over.”

“But…”

“I’m not angry, luv,” he continues, voice still low and quiet. This time, it doesn’t make your shoulders tense. “Wasn’t before and definitely not now. Chin up, there’s a dear.”

“Y-you’re not?” you warble.

“Not a bit,” he answers. “Not at you, at least.”

“Then why…?” You gesture weakly at the computer screen.

He sighs, something almost fond passing over his face. “Darling, you could have been hurt. Imagine if Soap hadn’t been there. All of us on the top floor, waiting for you to get back, not knowing something was wrong.”

He shakes his head, cradling your cheek with the same hand that brushed away your tears.

“You’re one of mine, you understand? Anything that happens to you is my responsibility,” he explains. “And I didn’t… enjoy that you want to keep something like this from me.”

You drop your eyes in shame. Of course. An employee assaulted on company ground, his personal assistant no less. Price would never stand for that sort of thing. He looks out for his own, looks out for you.

“Hey, look at me, luv. None of that now,” he coaxes. “I just want to get to the bottom of why you didn’t want to tell me.”

It occurs to you that that tone you heard earlier might have just been genuine worry and maybe… a bit of hurt. You twist your hands in your lap as you gather your words.

“I didn’t… it wasn’t because of you,” you murmur. “I just… was so embarrassed. And I didn’t want to make it your problem. I’m supposed to make your life easier, not harder.”

He huffs, but you’re relieved to see wry amusement on his face now.

“No more of that,” he orders, as softly as he when he wiped your face. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s a love.” He gently pinches your cheek, then stands. “Stay here, I’ll get you a cup of water. Take a moment, yeah?”

You nod, sniffling again. He squeezes your shoulder as he passes, and you finally let yourself breathe. Not getting fired, not getting sued. And Price isn’t mad at you. Christ, he needs to work on his approach.

“Kyle.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Look into that knob from the lobby. And the little miss’s last boss.”

“You’ve got it.”

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia!au #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia boss price #assistant!reader #assistant reader #john soap mactavish

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kyri45 · 5 days ago

Text

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 23/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@boonalina ha chiesto: Question: Why does Wukong's biblically accurate form have two faces? Also, was there some inspiration for you that made you want to design him like that? (Since I know he doesn't have any canonical Kaiju form in LMK) Also also, DAMN that Kaiju fight was so freaking pretty!! The colors were so well done!

thank you!! He has 3 actually, but in the panels you can see 2 bc the third is facing away from the camera aha.

Anonimo ha chiesto: would you make a Shadowpeach bio parents au zine?

yes I would. But it requires an enormeous amount of organization, plus you need multiple people to organize a zine, from contacting, to marketing, to production, to logistic etc… I don’t have the time right now as I’m already working.

@stro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Head canon that Red Son uses/used to use the ‘rubber duck’ method while working. The rubber duck method is: when making something by yourself you may get stuck/stressed out because you can’t find a solution to a problem. Have a rubber duck on your desk just so you can verbally explain your problem, which could help you solve it by actually hearing it out loud. But a side effect of this is now Red Son will talk to himself while he works, even if it does help it still freaks his parents out hearing him mumbling to himself when they pass his room. Just something I learned recently when watching a video about writing a characters backstory 👍 I thought you might like this too! Bye <3

i know need Red Son just talking about project to a cute rubber duck and MK finding it adorable.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will LBD come back ? Even if it is just in a dream ?

maybe

Anonimo ha chiesto: how old is MK ? Like 18-21 ???

almost 22.

@haru7110 ha chiesto: IS MEI IMMORTAL LIKE MK AND REDSON IN THE SHADOWPEACH AU??? I NEED TO KNOW!! Fornoreasonwhatsoeverobviouslyhahahahaha (angst purposes)

no Mei is not immortal, but I would guess she has a lifespan slightly longer than average bc of her family.

@cutvdo ha chiesto: When you first draw Red Son in his human form he looked small, but later he looks bigger (probably from you getting more comfortable drawing him). I like to think he changed his human form a bit because he found out MK likes big man

this is the best conclusion ever. He would fr fr

Anonimo ha chiesto: Guess you could say MK got his own personal monkey tree

omfg-

@aizieweex ha chiesto: Hey Kyri!!! I LOVE your art, aaaand thanks for the recent repost of my animatic (or animatik?...I honestly don't know which is more correct, I'm not a native speaker at all), I literally screamed, lol (And still screaming). I wanted to ask, how many parts of the comic are you counting on? Do you already have a certain planned number of chapters? Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello! How long will the shadow peach bio parents au be?

there will be 9 parts in total. I don’t know the exact number of chapters left but I can assume around 30.

@copyrightedbystarkindustries ha chiesto: Love your art!!! Are you planning on putting shadowpeach au stuff on your redbubble in the future?

Yes I do! But first I need to finish my job which will be more or less on the 20th of January.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does MK use a glamour to hide some scars or something his parents aren’t supposed to find out about ?

yes

@twilight-bai-he ha chiesto: When you said during the livestream that MK will have a new outfit when he is magical girl, What do you mean by that ?

that he will eventually own a new outfit as “official outfit” let’s say. That isn’t his temporary fighting outfit he has now.

@magician-kitty ha chiesto: You think Mac will get more flustered now that Wukong’s more muscular thanks to all that weight lifting from the previous chapters?

a little bit yes.

@whotookfinn ha chiesto: Hey!! I’m absolutely in love with your art, it’s so beautiful and wonderful and IM OBSESSED. Anyway, I’m not sure if you’ve been asked this before, but who’s your favorite lmk character to draw?

macaque and Mk, they fluffy.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I HAVE A QUESTION! after your shadowpeach AU will be finished will you do other lmk Au????

nope.

@cjtuy ha chiesto: My question is about tang and pigsy are they married I've always wondered this

no they are not married, but it’s something they have been thought for a little bit. They known each other for years and got together for one. They know they work very well as a couple, and marriage would only be a more “official” way to show their union. It’s on their mind, maybe they will plan it in the near future

Anonimo ha chiesto: Have you seen that Brandon Roger's clip where he loses his kid? I can just imagine macaque going through that right now with mk being kidnapped. "Mothers adrenaline is kicking in!!" "have you seen my son, he's about this tall, clearly gay but we haven't had the talk" https://youtu.be/dJJUFrENZ_o?si=lbacsYlJr8XpaDQQ (this is the sound just in case)

LMAO I know that video by heart yes absolutely those would be the parents.

Anonimo ha chiesto: In the Bioparents AU, is Redson actually going to be able to court so Mk in the end after the whole celestial situation?

they will have time to do their stuff after the heaven shenanigans.

@ashmeertheimp ha chiesto: I hope you are having a lovely day/night and are healthy and well AND TYSM FOR THAT SPICYNOODLES KISS I LOVED IT AND MY HEART WAS ABOUT TO BURST! Anyway I was wondering if mk and Redson parents are gonna have quality time with there Nephew in spirt/potential son in law?

mm yes. Post heaven shenanigans but yes.

@cpazy ha chiesto: About that,

It means that Mac and MK's powers have to do with the moon cycle, like on a full moon they get stronger or something like that? And if there is an eclipse where the moon turns red, their powers would go out of control?

Yes, but the opposite. On a full moon they are weaker, while on a new moon they are stronger.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello! Not a question but I just love and ADORE your shadowpeach bio parents au! ❤️ Recently you had posted about LMK fic recommendations, I wanted to recommend "The Constellations Within Us" and it's sequel "Epilogue: Axis" (ongoing) by cloud_somersault on AO3. It's one of my favorite LMK/Shadowpeach fics! The writing and world building are stellar and it includes similar themes as the ones in your comic, like the themes of reconciliation, shadowpeach angst and repairing their friendship and their joint custod- I mean- mentorship of MK! It's a really good fic and I highly recommend giving it a read! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48308065 And again, love your comic so much! Have a great day! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

aaahhhh I will definetely check them out!

@astro-nomaly ha chiesto: Per ur Bio Parents AU, what happens when a courtnapping occurs, but the person getting napped isn’t actually into the courtnapper, and doesn’t want to be napped? Does courtnapping have a “leave whenever you want” clause or..? (I love ur au akshhenwb)

they are allowed to refuse anytime. If the kidnapper doesn’t allow the he’s a dick

@thecardboardbutterfly ha chiesto: Since everyone is starting to fear for tomorrow, I decided to share my convoluted thought I got yesterday night at like, 3AM to lighten the mood a bit (.3.)~* So Technically, given that Lmk is very much based on Journey to the West, maybe it's not that much of a stretch to call Lmk fan content of JTTW, like some kind of future AU or something. Which means your AU is fan content of Lmk. See where I'm getting at? Because your comic is so popular in the fandom, there is fan content of your AU out there, which is already fan content. Which means we reached a point where we have fan content (fanarts and various inspirations of the bio parents AU) of fan content (said bio parents AU) of fan content (Lmk) of a piece of content (JTTW). The chain is GETTING LONGER BOYS. I personally think it's funny. My apologies for everyone who lost their brain/ last remaining braincell reading this x)

omg. It’s a fan-inception!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will Red Son and MK ever have a bad date?

I like to believe EVERY date will have would be comically bad. But I think that’s because they still need to understand that they don’t fall under the “typical demon date” or “amatonormativity” umbrella. The best date they could have is just them training and having lunch later, or them playing videogames or netflix and chill.

@sollythesalt ha chiesto: Dumb question but do you remember the scene in lmk where Wukong said he has stage fright? I wonder if you're gonna do something with that knowledge��. Ps: Keep doing your magic queen we love you and your art✌️💅

oh u bet I did

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au

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girlgenius1111 · 11 months ago

Text

stuck with me

alexia x reader

alexia and r get into an argument just before the holiday break, as the stress of ale's knee injury bubbles over. r loses... a lot of sleep over it. alexia makes it up to her, even though she really doesn't have to.

no warnings :)

To be fair to Alexia, she didn't know you had sleep issues. How could she, when she'd practically been the cure for them? You'd had sleep problems long before you'd gotten together with Alexia, but they had... stopped, magically, when you started sharing a bed. Neither of you spent many nights alone once you got together, so most nights, you slept well, curled up against your steady, dependable girlfriend.

The exceptions were, obviously, when you went home for breaks without her and when you both had to go on national duty. You slept fine at home, away from the stresses of your job, in the comfort of the place you'd grown up in. Normally.

And in regards to national duty, you were lucky to have incredibly teammates. Lucy knew of your problem, and also knew that sleeping in the same bed as someone else was helpful. It wasn't Alexia, and it wasn't perfect, but you slept. You knew you'd have to find a solution when [if] Lucy retired, but for now, there was no reason why you'd spend more than the odd night without Alexia.

That was, of course, until her knee re-injury. Before the following surgery and holiday break. And the not insignificant fight that you'd gotten into with her around that time. It was a tough time for her, you knew, and she was coping with it the best she could. You'd been hovering over her, you knew that too.

You were just so worried, all the time. Alexia was so miserable not being able to play, so frustrated with her knee that sometimes you thought she was finally just going to breakdown and herself feel it all. She never did, though. Not until the day her and the medical team had decided on surgery. It was a few days before you were do back in England for the holidays, and you'd already been considering cancelling, and staying with your girlfriend. She needed you, physically and emotionally.

You really should have waited to bring up your plans to stay until she was in a better mood. Instead, you'd suggested it to her over a very quiet dinner, after the date for the arthroscopy had been set.

-----

"I'm gonna cancel my plane tickets to London, I think. Stay here with you." You suggested casually.

"What?" Alexia asked, dropping her fork onto her plate with a loud clatter.

"I want to spend Christmas here. You're having surgery and-"

"No."

"No?" You said, slightly hurt by the tone of voice she was using.

"No, you have to go home and see your family. I will be fine here."

"Ale, I want to be here."

"I do not need you here." Alexia said finally, avoiding your gaze. You knew she didn't mean it; she was in pain, frustrated, anxious, and trying not to inconvenience you. Still, you felt your eyes fill with tears at the rejection, and you nodded silently, before turning back to your food. You wouldn't cry, couldn't add any more stress to Alexia's already insane load of it.

"Now you will not talk to me?" Alexia asked. You looked up at her in shock, surprised that the next words out of her mouth hadn't been an apology.

"Just leave it, Alexia. I'll be out of your way tomorrow." You said back quietly, allowing some of the sadness you were feeling seep into your voice.

"Do not be like that. You tell me all the time to tell you what I need, and what I need is for you to go to England and see your family."

"Alright, Ale. I got it. You want me to go, I understand." You tried your hardest to keep your voice steady, but it still shook towards the end of the sentence.

"Amor, stop. That is not what I am saying and you know it," Alexia argued.

"I don't really know what you're saying, Alexia. It sounds like you want me to go."

Alexia exhaled loudly, before pushing her chair away from the table and standing up.

"I cannot deal with you if you are going to be like this." She snapped, before slamming her plate into the sink and marching off to the bedroom.

You didn't understand, not really. It seemed like she didn't want you here. Because that's exactly what she had been saying to you. You knew it wasn't really you that was the problem, it was Alexia's inability to allow you to see how upset she was.

This was reinforced when you went into the bedroom a little while later to pack. The shower was on, but you could still hear her crying over the soft patter of water. You knocked on the door, prepared to let the fight go in favor of making sure she was okay, but the little whimpers and shaky breaths cut off abruptly, and she didn't say anything else.

She kept you at arms length for the rest of the night, only speaking when she asked you to come to bed, an olive branch she was extending. You did, but you both kept to your own sides of the bed. You didn't sleep well that night.

Alexia hugged you goodbye the next day at the airport, and you thought she held you a bit tighter than normal. She handed you a little note, requested that you read it on the plane, and softly kissed your cheek, before allowing you to go through security.

The note had been a lengthy apology, scrawled in her familiar loopy, messy handwriting, confirming that everything you thought was going on with her was correct. She was stressed, she didn't want you to worry, or change your plans for her. She shouldn't have yelled, or been so cruel, and she hadn't meant it. She loved you. So much, she said. Things would be better after her surgery.

You'd thanked her for her apology once you'd landed. You'd spoken, often, since then, but there was still so much tension. You were both busy with family, and there wasn't really any time to have an in depth conversation about what had transpired.

You knew the surgery had gone well, they'd fixed the problem, and that Alexia was doing much better. The second part wasn't something that she had to tell you, it was obvious in the increase in texts, and the mushiness that she included. Whenever she went through a hard time, she closed herself off, and when it ended, she'd always overcompensate, feeling guilty, until she went back to normal. That was Alexia, and you loved her.

-----

The biggest casualty of this fight was, unfortunately, your sleep. You struggled while you were home, when normally, you slept fine there. Obviously not as well as when you were with Alexia, but fine. This time, though, you barely slept. Nothing worked, and the only time you were able to sleep was when your body literally shut down, forcing you to sleep for a few hours every other day or so. You were sure it was because of this unresolved fight, and you knew that once you physically saw your girlfriend, you'd be fine. Especially once you could go back to falling asleep on her chest, the steady beat of her heart making you feel warm, and safe, and comfortable.

This was why you'd cut your trip short, and were currently touching down in Spain, a full 5 days before you were supposed to return home. That, and you missed Alexia. You knew she was slightly confused; you'd been weirdly distant while you'd been gone, because you were exhausted, but she didn't know that. She assumed you were mad, until you told her you were coming home early. After that, she gave up trying to figure out what was going on with you, and focused herself on cleaning the apartment, going grocery shopping for all your favorite things, and buying you flowers. She'd been awful, she knew it, and she was determined to make it up to you.

-----

Alexia was waiting for you by baggage claim; you saw her once you got halfway down the escalator. She was leaned against the wall, baseball cap sat over her blonde hair. She was wearing an old England sweatshirt of yours, and you couldn't help the grin that your lips lifted into at the sight. Your beautiful, perfect, girlfriend, head on an absolute swivel, determined not to miss you.

You saw the moment she she saw you, too, her lips turning up at the corners, shifting her weight from foot to foot as if she could barely contain herself from running to you, which she wasn't yet supposed to do. You got down the escalator and over to her in probably an embarrassingly short amount of time, taking care not to put too much of your weight on her, minding her healing knee.

"Amor," she sighed into your hair, arms holding you almost painfully tight.

"Hi, beautiful," you said back, words almost swallowed by her [your] sweatshirt, and the noisy crowds around you.

"Te extrañé mucho de menos," Alexia murmured, pulling back from the hug to pull you in for a kiss. She froze, however, eyebrows scrunching adorably, as she finally got a good look at your face. You knew what she was looking at. "Are you sick?" She asked, feeling your forehead with the back of her hand.

"No, not sick. Just a little tired."

She looked at you skeptically, hand unmoving from your forehead until you pushed it away and leaned up, pursing your lips expectantly. She smiled, finally meeting your lips in a sweet kiss. She pulled away much to soon in your opinion, laughing at your disgruntled expression.

"You need sleep, amor. We can go home and you can rest. Once you sleep, I will give you all the kisses you want, okay?"

"Fineeee," you sighed, allowing Alexia to take your hand, and lead you off to find your bag. She insisted on wheeling it out to the car, even though she was actively recovering from surgery, but she seemed determined to spoil you today.

You sat in content silence in the car, your girlfriend's hand intertwined with yours. You felt that you should have been sleepy, but you were completely wired, eyes open wide, tapping your knee repetitively.

"Do you want to tell me what is going on?" Alexia asked finally, about 10 minutes into the drive. She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, spotting the way you went rigid at her question.

"What do you mean?"

"Amor, come on. You look like you have not slept in days." Your only response is a shrug, as you turn your attention out the window.

"Hey. Why did you not sleep?" Alexia insisted, pulling on your hand to get you to pay attention to her.

"I missed you." You replied finally, feeling Alexia's hand tighten around yours.

"I missed you too. That is why you did not sleep well?"

"I... I never used to sleep very well. Until I started sleeping next to you, and then I slept fine. I normally don't have problems sleeping when I go home, though, but this time... I think I was just stressed about our argument."

"I did not know that." Alexia said quietly. "You never told me."

"I know, I know. It just didn't seem like a big deal, because it wasn't, once I was with you."

Your girlfriend looked like she had a million questions, but she didn't ask them. "I am so sorry our fight made you lose sleep. I was completely unfair to you. You do not need to worry about anything now, though, okay? I made your favorite for dinner, if you are hungry. If not, we can just go right to bed. I am yours for the rest of break, whatever you need."

"Really?"

"Really."

-----

You ate the delicious dinner Alexia had cooked, and then took a warm shower. When you got out, you noticed that Alexia had completely unpacked for you, and laid out your favorite pajamas. She was already in the bed, despite it barely being 7pm, looking adorably cozy in a big sweatshirt, the hood tugged up over her head.

"Ale, we don't need to go to sleep now, it's early, you're probably not tired." You said as you pulled the pajamas on. The exhaustion was starting to hit you, and you wanted to promise that you could stay up until a normal time, but you weren't sure you could.

"A bit tired. Whether I fall asleep or not, I want to be right here. Anyway, I should put my knee up." Alexia said dismissively, patting the bed next to her.

"Ale," you began but she shook her head.

"No arguments, bebita. Get in bed." You sighed dramatically, but did as she asked, climbing under the covers and scooting right over to Alexia, as though she was a magnet. You settled against her, shutting your eyes. You heard the lamp flick off, and felt Alexia wrap an arm around you, tugging you into her side.

You tried to fall asleep. Really, you had no idea why you couldn't. You were here, with Alexia, and you should have been able to sleep, easily, especially considering how tired you were. You couldn't manage it though, quickly getting annoyed when your brain wouldn't just turn off.

After the 6th time you shifted positions, Alexia kissed the side of your head, and spoke. "Having a hard time?"

"Yes," you mumbled, burying your face in her chest.

"Be patient. You are exhausted, you will fall asleep soon. Just relax." Alexia encouraged, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

Another 10 minutes passed, in which you felt no closer to sleep. Rolling off of Alexia with a huff, you glared up at the ceiling. Next to you, Alexia rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to gaze down at you.

"You are putting too much pressure on yourself. It is just sleeping, bonita." She said quietly, running a soft finger over your cheek.

Tears of frustration beginning to pool in your eyes. It was just sleeping. It should be easy. You were just realizing for the first time how incredibly tired you were, and how difficult the past couple days had been.

"Do not cry, por favor," Alexia pleaded.

"I can't, I can't fall asleep." Alexia looked at you sympathetically, thumbs wiping away the tears that fell. She sat both of you up after a minute. "Take off your shirt," she instructed, pulling her own over her head, leaving her with only a sports bra on.

"I'm too tired for sex," you cried, the thought only making you more upset; you had missed your girlfriend. A lot. The fact that you were too tired to do anything about it was painful.

"Not sex, amor, just take your shirt off." Alexia insisted, pulling at the hem. You did as she asked, looking rather miserable. You, too, were left in only your bra, but Alexia's eyes were only on yours as she laid back down, rolling onto her side and pulling you in so your head was pressed right over her bare chest, where her heart was.

Your body relaxed without you telling it to, the feeling of Alexia, and only Alexia, engulfing you. Your skin was pressed to hers, inhaling the soft scent of her perfume, feeling her hands rub rhythmically up and down your bare back.

"There you go," she said into your hair, feeling your body sag against hers. "Sleep for me, okay?" She asked.

You couldn't have told her no if you wanted to. Your eyes shut almost immediately, and you felt suddenly so peaceful, brain slowing down until you were only thinking about how good your girlfriend felt against you.

-----

When you woke up, you knew you'd been asleep for a while, if the amount of light flooding the room was any indication. It was bright, even with your eyes shut, which indicated that it was past noon; the sun only came in through the bedroom window after noon. Your body felt stiff but, for the first time in a while, you felt well rested. You were content to wake up slowly, enjoy the comfort of your bed

You attempted to roll over, searching for Alexia's side of the bed so you could use her pillow, (you swore it was comfier). Instead, you rolled right into Alexia herself, and heard her let out a soft laugh. You cracked your eyes open, finding Alexia laying on her back, arm still tucked around your shoulders. Her fingers flitted through your hair, and you relaxed back into her, scooting closer until your head was crammed into the crook of her neck.

"Why are you still in bed?" You mumbled into her. Her body vibrated under yours as she laughed again.

"Are you complaining?" She teased, clearly referencing the way you'd moved yourself so that every part of your body possible was be touching hers.

"No. It has to be late, though. You've been sleeping fine, you didn't have to stay in bed with me." You told her.

"I always sleep better with you, amor. I wanted you to rest, as much as you needed. You are cute when you sleep, anyway. Your nose scrunches up and you make little sounds when you roll around." Alexia murmured into your hair, and you didn't have to see her face to know she was blushing at the information she'd just revealed.

You left a kiss on her neck, before pulling away so you could see her face. "What time is it?"

Alexia didn't say anything, a slightly guilty expression on her face.

"Alexia Putellas, what time is it?" You demanded.

"3PM." She told you quietly.

"3PM?" You shouted, sitting upright in the bed. Sure enough, the clock on the nightstand reflected the time back to you. You'd slept the whole day away. Two of you didn't have any plans, but still.

"How much did you sleep while you were gone? Really, amor? The least I could do was help you rest." Alexia avoided your eyes.

"What do you mean the least you could do?" You asked, softening your tone.

"I was so horrible to you before you left. And then our fight made you not sleep well," the blonde explained, looking miserable.

"And you apologized, Ale. You were under a lot of stress, I get it." You really weren't mad anymore.

"No, that is not good enough. I have to make it up to you. I wanted you here with me, more than anything, but you have already done so much, and I did not want to ruin your Christmas." Alexia insisted, getting seemingly worked up.

"Alexia, I understand. You said all of this in your note."

"I want to say it again." Alexia said stubbornly, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Look at me." You instructed, turning face towards you with a hand on her cheek when she refused. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. "Amor, I forgive you. I told you I forgave you, when I read your letter. Do you not believe me?" You wondered, as your girlfriend didn't look the least bit relieved at you letting her off the hook.

"I believe you, it is just that...no se como decirlo." She sighed.

"Try, please. We've fought before, Alexia, worse than this. What is it about this one that is making you so upset?" You pressed, not relenting even as she shrugged in response.

"I do not want to lose you," Alexia whispered finally, a single tear sliding down her face, as she clenched her jaw, trying to keep together.

"Baby, you are not going to lose me." You promised, moving closer to take her hand in yours. "I knew you didn't mean what you said. You apologized, Alexia, it was just a stupid fight. We got past it, just like we'll get past every fight. Always."

"But what if I push you away again? And you get tired of it, and leave?"

"You could never push me away. I might give you space when you need it, but I will always be here for you. Even when you try to pretend you don't need me. I could never get tired of you, Alexia, and I could never leave you. Ever." You said the words slowly, trying to gauge if she believed you or not.

Although she looked slightly unsure, she did look less upset than she had a minute ago, her face relaxing somewhat as she finally look into your eyes.

"You're stuck me with, Ale. For as long as you want me." Alexia let out a wet laugh.

"I will always want you." She said, pulling you in closer to press her lips to yours. The kiss grew heated quickly, until you were straddling her lap, checking multiple times that her knee was unbothered by the position. She promised that it was fine, distracting you by sliding her hands up your sides, and pulling you back in for another messy kiss.

"Alexia, that is not exactly what I meant," you joked, pulling away briefly as she pulled your bra over your head.

"Me neither, but it has been days, and I have missed you. Let me show you how much I have missed you. Please?" Alexia asked, surprisingly shy as she ran her hand up and down your abdomen, teasing at the hem of your shorts.

You leaned in, you agreement clear in the way your lips met hers, tongue slipping in after a minute. As if you'd ever say no to that offer. You don't think you'd ever say no to anything Alexia asked you. Your love for her was the kind that transcended every issue that could possibly come up. It was you and her, forever.

-----

inspired by my inability to sleep <3 [and my deep belief that sleeping next to a pretty girl would solve all my problems]

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso one shot

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melancholy-of-nadia · 30 days ago

Text

heart on the window #1 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: You lost your job, got cheated on by your boyfriend, and had to give up your home—all in the span of a few weeks. Life hasn’t been kind lately, and just when it feels like you’ve hit rock bottom, your mom suggests an unexpected solution: move in with Seokjin, her friend’s son, who you vaguely remember as your annoying childhood rival. You haven't talked to him in like 15 YEARS. But begrudgingly, you agree, hoping for this to be a temporary fix, only to find yourself in a more complicated situation when you discover Seokjin has some dirty little secrets. As you attempt to rebuild your life under his roof, tensions rise, boundaries blur, and you’re forced to confront not only your messy circumstances but also your growing fascination with the man you thought you once knew. note: i actually didn't plan to drop something so soon post me starting my new job, but i had this mostly done but had to edit it up a bit. i've been debating to write a roommate au but couldn't decide which member, until i read @daegudrama's moon over flowers fic where jin is a "content creator" ;) also that jin dating simulator game that released yesterday was a perfect combo to add this with warnings: mild language, roommate! seokjin, stressed out reader, fluff, emotional vulnerability, jin being jin, jin's college frat buddy! namjoon cameo, drinking, implied sexual fantasizing, implied adult content live streaming (camwork), very descriptive solo mast*rbation, voyeurism, dirty talk drop date: November 28th, 2024, 9:00pm pst word count: 7.9k crossposted on ao3 here -> chapter 2

–

This is the state of affairs of your life at the moment. 1. Your boyfriend cheated on you. 2. You lost your job (not your fault) 3. Andddd now you have nowhere to live.

Well… it’s not that you don’t have a place to live, but you don’t want to crawl back to your parents' home after making a very big declaration when you were 18 that you would not be coming back to live there.

Now in your mid 20s (that are slowly creeping into your late 20s), you regret being that loud mouth girl that didn’t understand a damn thing at that age.

You should’ve been smarter about your decisions, starting with your taste in men. You should’ve listened to your friends warnings about Mingi.

You’re on the phone listening to your mom scolding you over your stupidity and lack of preparedness. You roll your eyes as you continue packing your items into boxes. She suggests you coming home, just as you figured she’d do, but you tell her that you feel bad about coming back at your big old age. “Then why don’t you live with Sunghee’s son?”

Who the fuck is Sunghee? “Who?”

“You don’t remember? The mother of the Korean boy you went to school with in elementary school?” You have no clue who she’s talking about. This is something that happened like 15 to 20 years ago. You can’t believe she remembers something so obscure. “I still don’t have a clue.”

“Agh, i’ll go search through some of your old elementary school photos and send you the photo of him later.” You hear some shuffling on her end, probably guessing she decided to get up and go look at your old photographs in the living room shelves.” But I recently saw his mom at a coffee shop! And she told me her son was living in the same city as you and was looking for a roommate. I mentioned that you were in some situation where you might need to move soon and she gave me her and her son’s contact info.”

“I see.”

“Oh wait, hold on, I found it.”

You hear her snap a photo and within a few seconds, you see the notification on your phone peep behind the call. You click on it and when you open the message, the memories of long ago have finally clicked.

“SEOKJIN?! That weird Korean kid?!”

“Weird kid?! You were friends with him, weren’t you?”

You scoff, “Barely, I mean, he and I were always at each other's necks because he always tried to one-up me in any way that he could.” Recalling those annoying memories from that era was making you get upset all over again. If it wasn’t him completing the times table tests at a faster speed than you, it was him showing off the Pokemon cards that you didn’t have. If it wasn’t that, it was him showing off his level and ranking in Maple Story. That damn nerd.

It’s been years, but the thought of it still urks you.

She sighs, “Well, if you’re willing to look past that at your big old age, this is probably the best option you have.”

Could you do that? Maybe. But knowing how he was back then, he’s probably grown to become some loser virgin shut-in with no life. Maybe he’s a tech bro, which would make this even worse now.

“I think about it, but this is probably the last resort option I’d even consider––”

Your mom cuts you off with a sharp sigh. "Fine, suit yourself. But you don’t have many options, do you? Just call him. He might have changed!"

You don’t answer her right away because the idea of calling Seokjin still doesn’t sit well with you. You’re stubborn, yes, but the universe has also served you a big slice of humble pie lately. It’s probably time to stop holding on to petty grudges from a childhood you barely even remember.

"Okay, okay, I’ll think about it," you mumble reluctantly.

The call ends after a few more half-hearted lectures from your mom about responsibility, and you toss your phone onto the bed, glaring at the contact info she forwarded. You can’t help but click on Seokjin’s number. There’s a photo of him attached to the contact, and for a moment, you don’t recognize him at all.

He’s…hot.

You blink. This cannot be the same kid you argued with over best MapleStory boss (Seokjin opting for Pink Bean, while you said Guardian Angel Slime). The Seokjin in this picture has flawless skin, sharp cheekbones, and full lips curled in a smirk that screams confidence. His hair is styled perfectly, and his outfit—a crisp button-up and a fitted blazer—makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine.

"No way," you mutter under your breath.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself typing his name into Instagram. It doesn’t take long to find his profile because he has mutual followers and a blue checkmark.

Huh? Why a blue checkmark?

…he has 200,000 followers?

Scrolling through his posts, you see screenshots of video games, clips of intense gameplay, and the occasional selfie with gaming equipment in the background. His captions are filled with gaming slang and memes you barely understand, but the sheer number of likes and comments on every post is undeniable.

One clip catches your eye—a short highlight from a League of Legends game where he pulls off an impressive play, and the comments are flooded with people hyping him up. “JinGod strikes again,” one comment reads. Another says, “Of course he’s the best mid-laner NA. Who else?”

Curious, you dive deeper and discover he has a Twitch account.

Oh! So he’s a streamer?!

Not just any streamer, either—he’s big enough to have sponsors and a massive following. His Twitch bio is straightforward:

Seokjin | Variety Streamer | Big laughs, bigger Ws | 1 PM KST

His stream schedule includes games like Elden Ring, Valorant, League of Legends, and even Getting Over It. There’s a link to his YouTube channel with clips of him absolutely demolishing opponents, mixed with funny moments of him raging at frustrating games.

You stare at your phone, trying to reconcile this version of Seokjin with the kid you used to fight over the last Uncrustables sandwich at lunch. This Seokjin is smooth, funny, and clearly thriving in a world you know nothing about. The comment section on his posts doesn’t help—it’s filled with people thirsting over his voice and his “handsome gamer vibes.”

“Great,” you mutter. “He grew up to be a famous nerd.”

You hate to admit it, but you’re impressed. And irritated.

Of course, Seokjin grew up to be that guy.

You put your phone down and stare at the pile of boxes scattered across your room. It’s not like you have a ton of other options, and if you’re being honest with yourself, the idea of moving in with Seokjin suddenly feels a lot less horrifying. Maybe he’s not the same insufferable kid you remember.

Or maybe he is, and this will be your worst nightmare.

Before you can chicken out, you force yourself to pick up your phone and dial the number your mom sent you. It rings twice before a deep, smooth voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. Is this…Seokjin Kim?” you ask awkwardly, suddenly hyper-aware of how unprepared you are for this conversation.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“It’s, um, [Y/N]. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

“[Y/N]?” he interrupts, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “The same [Y/N] who used to cry every time I beat her at anything in elementary school? Of course I remember.”

There it is! The Seokjin you cared about so deeply.

“I did not cry!” You roll your eyes, grip on the phone tightening.

He laughs, a low, rich sound that’s somehow both infuriating and…nice. “Sure, you didn’t. So, what’s up? Why are you calling me after, what, fifteen…twenty years? Where did you even get my num–”

You take a deep breath, already regretting this.

“My mom said your mom said you’re looking for a roommate.”

There’s a pause, and then he says, “...I am. Why?"

"I need a place..."

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you think he’s going to hang up.

“Ah, well why do you need a roommate?” he asks finally, his tone careful, almost guarded. “I thought someone like you would have, I don’t know, a penthouse or something by now with the amazing corporate job my mom told me you have.”

Now this is going to suck to explain to him that whatever decent apartment you had earning a 72,000 salary at your old job is… nonexistent.

You blink at the assumption and quickly fumble for a response. “Haha, not quite. Most places are too expensive in this economy and I’m, uh, downsizing.”

“Downsizing?” he repeats, skepticism dripping from the word. “Why?”

“Because I want to focus on… minimalism.”

There’s silence on the other end, and you can practically hear him trying to decide whether to believe you.

Oh this was a terrible decision to make. Now he must think you’re a fool!

You glance around your room at the boxes piled with all the clutter you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away and wince. Minimalism is definitely not your thing.

“Minimalism,” he echoes, his tone still doubtful. “Right. Well, I do have an extra room, but I’m not sure you’ll like it here.”

Your grip tightens on the phone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Let’s just say I stay up late…,” he replies vaguely.

He must be referring to his streaming career that he isn’t telling you about right now. Wonder if he’s embarrassed by it.

“And I don’t really have time to deal with a high-maintenance roommate.”

The audacity! You did not ask to be attacked right now.

The jab makes your jaw tighten. “I’m not high-maintenance!”

“You sure? Last time I checked, you were the type to lose it over someone messing with your stuff.”

“That was elementary school! I’ve grown up since then.”

“Hmm,” he says, the sound light but still noncommittal. “We’ll see. Come check the place out tomorrow. Noon okay?”

You pause, thrown by his sudden shift. So he’s actually down with you as a roommate? Let’s not get high hopes up now. And if that doesn’t work, you know what? That’s okay. You will find a way… you hope.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Good,” he says, then hesitates before adding, “And bring references.”

“References?!”

“You can never be too careful,” he replies smoothly, but there’s a faint edge in his voice that you can’t quite place.

“Fine,” you snap, already planning to forge something if necessary.

“Great. See you then.”

The call ends before you can say anything else, leaving you staring at your phone. Something about the conversation feels… off. You can’t tell if it’s his hesitance, the cryptic mention of odd hours, or the subtle curiosity in his tone when he asked about your situation.

Or maybe it could be that it’s been around 15 years since you last talked to him so this entire situation feels like a fever dream.

Whatever it is, you’ll find out tomorrow. One way or another.

The next day arrives quicker than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of a massive gated complex that looks like it was ripped straight out of a luxury lifestyle magazine. The building towers above you, a blend of sleek modern design and Mediterranean touches. Creamy stucco walls, wrought-iron accents, and lush greenery climbing up the sides of the buildings make it feel more like an exclusive resort than an apartment complex.

The entrance is lined with tall palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, and the scent of freshly mowed grass mingles with the faint floral fragrance from meticulously arranged garden beds. A stone fountain, its water cascading in perfect tiers, sits in the middle of a circular driveway where luxury cars are parked like they belong in an auto show.

You glance down at your outfit, a simple pair of light wash boyfriend jeans and a blue collared sweater, suddenly feeling underdressed.

“He’s living here?” you mutter under your breath, squinting at the address Seokjin sent you last night again to make sure you’re in the right place.

As you shift awkwardly with your bag slung over your shoulder, the wrought-iron gates buzz, and Seokjin steps through.

If the apartment complex wasn’t enough of a surprise, he certainly is.

Gone is the awkward kid from elementary school, and in his place is a man who seems perfectly at home in his expensive surroundings. Dressed casually in a fitted white shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and a pair of ripped jeans that look way too good on him, Seokjin walks toward you with an easy confidence. His dark hair is styled effortlessly, and even from a distance, you can see the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“[Y/N],” he calls out, his voice smooth and unmistakably amused.

You shift your bag again, suddenly hyper-aware of how you must look standing there in front of the grand gates. “Seokjin,” you reply, your voice coming out a little more clipped than you intended.

As he approaches, he looks you over, his smirk growing wider. “You’re on time. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing. “Maybe because I’d be the last person you’d want to ask for help.”

“Desperate times,” you shoot back, ignoring the way his eyes glint in amusement.

Seokjin chuckles and gestures for you to follow him. “Come on, let’s see if you can survive the tour first.”

He leads you through the gates, where a polished path lined with greenery opens into the main courtyard. The sound of water trickling from another fountain fills the air, and you catch glimpses of the complex’s amenities—an infinity pool that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, cabanas with flowing white curtains, and a fitness center with floor-to-ceiling glass walls showcasing state-of-the-art equipment.

“This place is ridiculous,” you say under your breath, craning your neck to take it all in.

Seokjin glances back, his smirk still in place. “You’re not wrong. But wait until you see the inside.”

As you step into the lobby, you’re greeted by marble floors that gleam under the warm glow of chandeliers. The air smells faintly of citrus and something luxurious you can’t quite place, and the concierge greets Seokjin with a polite nod as he leads you to the elevator.

“You’re really living the dream here,” you say, unable to hide the note of disbelief in your voice.

He shrugs, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “With the jobs I have. it has its perks.”

The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, you catch a glimpse of the hallway—plush carpeting, modern art lining the walls, and soft lighting that makes everything feel impossibly serene.

“Ready?” he asks, stepping out and turning to look at you.

You hesitate for just a second before following him. “As I’ll ever be.”

Seokjin leads you down the hallway, his footsteps silent on the plush carpeting. You’re still processing how this guy, the same kid who used to shove his Pokémon cards in your face, is living in a place so fancy it makes your last apartment look like a broom closet.

“This is my place,” he says, stopping in front of a sleek black door with a digital keypad instead of a regular lock.

He types in the code, the lock clicks open, and he pushes the door wide to reveal his apartment.

Your first thought is that it’s huge.

The open-concept living room stretches out before you, its floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with natural light. The view outside is stunning—a panoramic sweep of the suburban city skyline and the sparkling blue ocean in the distance. Inside, the place is immaculate, every piece of furniture modern and deliberately chosen. The couch is a neutral gray sectional big enough to seat a small crowd, and there’s a massive TV mounted on the wall, flanked by minimalist shelves filled with what looks like expensive collectibles and gaming gear.

The kitchen is just as impressive, with marble countertops, a matching backsplash, and stainless steel appliances that gleam under the recessed lighting. A sleek island with barstools separates the kitchen from the living room, and you can’t help but wonder if this is where Seokjin spends his time making whatever expensive coffee you saw on his Instagram feed.

“Well?” he says, stepping inside and kicking off his sneakers near the door. “Don’t just stand there gawking.”

You snap your mouth shut and step in, slipping out of your shoes and placing them neatly next to his. The polished hardwood floors feel cool under your socks, and you hesitate, unsure where to stand.

“It’s… nice,” you say finally, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Seokjin chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. “Nice? That’s all you’ve got? Most people would be drooling right now.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he says, his grin widening. He crosses the room and gestures for you to follow. “Come on, let me show you where you’d be staying.”

He gestures toward the main living area, leading you down a short hallway on the left side of the apartment. “Your room would be down this hall,” he says, motioning for you to follow.

You step into the guest room as he opens the door. It’s spacious, with a queen-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens and a tall, minimalist dresser tucked against one wall. A sleek desk sits by a large window, which offers a view of the glittering cityscape and the ocean beyond. The soft gray walls and warm lighting make the room feel both modern and inviting.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom,” Seokjin says, pushing open another door to reveal a compact but luxurious bathroom with marble finishes and a rainfall shower.

“This is… nice,” you admit, turning to glance at him.

“Only the best,” he replies with a shrug, leaning against the doorframe. “Your hall is completely separate from mine. My room’s on the right side of the apartment, so you won’t have to worry about me invading your space.”

He nods toward the opposite end of the living room, where another hallway extends. “My room’s down there on your left. I have a bathroom in front of it too. Oh. and you’d also have the laundry room and a storage closet near your side.”

You glance back at the main living area, noting the layout. His section of the apartment seems just as private, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved that you won’t be tripping over each other.

“It’s set up pretty well for roommates,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Glad you think so,” he replies, leaning casually against the doorframe. “This room used to belong to a friend of mine. He was here for an internship a little over a year ago, but he didn’t stay long. Left everything the way it is in case other friends needed a place to crash.”

“That makes sense,” you say, looking around the room again. “So why are you looking for a roommate now?”

Seokjin hesitates for just a second, his eyes flickering toward the window.

“Well, it would help with a couple of expenses,”

Your brow furrows. Expenses? You glance around the luxury apartment, mentally tallying the rent for a place like this. With what you know about Seokjin’s successful streaming career—and the office job your mom mentioned—he’s probably doing more than fine financially. But you decide not to press him on it.

Instead, you nod. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“And…” He trails off, his expression softening. Oh, so he is going to explain. “I don’t know, as I’m getting closer to thirty, I guess it might be nice to have someone around. Keeps things from feeling too…quiet.”

The honesty in his voice surprises you, and for a brief moment, you see a different side of him. One that’s not teasing or smug, but… a little lonely, maybe.

You nod again, this time more slowly. “Fair enough. This does happen as we age.”

Seokjin straightens, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it came. “Anyway,” he says, his tone shifting back to its usual playful edge. “We can talk about me more later.”

He gestures for you to follow him back toward the living room.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk first?” he continues, his smirk fading slightly as his expression turns unreadable. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page before I let you move in.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Sure. Let’s talk.”

You follow him to the couch, your curiosity about his reasons for taking on a roommate still lingering in the back of your mind.

As you settle onto the couch, Seokjin sits across from you in a sleek armchair, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. It’s like he’s studying you, trying to piece together the situation without asking directly.

“So,” he begins, leaning forward slightly, “I already know you lost your job.”

You freeze. The words hang in the air, and your stomach sinks.

“How do you know that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “My mom told me earlier today. She’s the one who convinced me to even think about this arrangement.”

Heat floods your cheeks, embarrassment prickling at your skin. Of course. Your mom couldn’t just leave you well enough alone so she told his mom.

“Oh,”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says quickly, likely noticing your discomfort. “Things happen, you know? Besides, knowing you, you probably have some savings tucked away to cover rent, right?”

His words hit harder than he probably intended. Sure, you’ve got a little money saved, but it’s dwindling fast. The thought of handing over any of it feels like admitting defeat, a glaring reminder that you’re not where you thought you’d be at this point in your life.

As Seokjin keeps talking, his tone casual and reassuring, his words blur into the background. You’re trapped in your own thoughts, spiraling.

How did it come to this?

Broke, jobless, and now sitting here asking for a place to live like some helpless kid. You remember being so confident, so sure of yourself when you left home. You went through grueling years of studying finance in college and graduating. Now you’re here, facing the reality that you’re nowhere near where you thought you’d be.

It’s just so pathetic.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a tear slips down your cheek and lands on your hand.

Seokjin stops mid-sentence. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice cutting through your haze. “Are you… crying?”

You wipe at your face quickly, but it’s no use—the tears are falling faster now, and you’re too overwhelmed to stop them. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, mortified. “I don’t even know why—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts, his voice gentle in a way you didn’t expect. He shifts forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you carefully. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head, still swiping at your cheeks. “This is so stupid. I just… I hate being in this position. It’s not where I thought I’d be, and it’s just…” You trail off, your voice breaking.

For a moment, Seokjin doesn’t say anything. Then, he reaches for a tissue box on the coffee table and holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says simply.

You take a tissue and dab at your face, trying to pull yourself together.

“I get it,” he says after a pause, his tone softer now. “Life doesn’t always go how we plan. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Really?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. But you’re not alone, okay? And if you need a place to figure things out, I’m offering you one. No strings, no judgment. But knowing how you’d feel bad for not paying back, just pitch in for some groceries or takeout every once in awhile.”

His words hit you harder than the tears, and you feel a small spark of hope for the first time in a while. Maybe, just maybe, this could work out.

You take a deep breath, the tissue in your hand crumpled from how tightly you’ve been gripping it. “Thanks, Seokjin,” you say, your voice shaky but genuine.

He gives you a small smile, his usual teasing edge softened. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just don’t leave your dirty dishes in the sink, and we’ll be fine.”

A faint laugh escapes you, surprising even yourself. “I think I can manage that.”

He stands up, stretching his arms overhead before motioning toward the hallway. “If you need help with your stuff, just let me know.”

You nod, feeling a little more grounded. “I will.”

The next morning, you’re standing outside your old apartment building, the last of your boxes stacked neatly by the curb. Before leaving the day before, you did ask Jin if he could help you move some of your stuff, and he somehow kindly agreed.

You’ve barely had time to double-check everything when you hear the rumble of a truck pulling up. Turning toward the sound, you see a sleek gray Ford truck roll to a stop in front of you.

Seokjin hops out of the driver’s seat, dressed casually in a lavender hoodie and dark wash jeans, looking every bit the picture of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. On the passenger side, another guy climbs out, taller and broader than Jin, with dimples flashing in a warm smile.

Woah, he’s kind of cute.

“Morning,” Seokjin calls, striding toward you. He gestures to the other man. “This is Namjoon. He’s here to help out with the heavier things.”

“Hi [Y/N],” Namjoon says, his voice deep but friendly as he extends a hand. “Jin told me you needed an extra set of hands, so here I am.”

You shake his hand, still a little taken aback. “Thanks. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.”

“He’s an old college buddy,” Seokjin explains, leaning against the side of the truck. “We were in the same professional fraternity back in the day. That’s how we met.”

Namjoon chuckles, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, Jin somehow convinced me to join since we were floormates. Said it would look good on my resume. Ended up being one of the best decisions I made, though. The networking was great, and we had a lot of fun.”

“Too much fun,” Seokjin adds with a smirk. “I think we spent half our time organizing events and the other half trying to keep Namjoon from breaking stuff.”

Namjoon groans, his dimples deepening as he laughs. “Okay, that was one time—and it wasn’t even my fault!”

You find yourself smiling at their bickering and brief memory despite the stress of the day. Their banter feels easy and natural, a dynamic that’s comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. It’s nice to hear Jin had a pretty cool college experience.

“Well,” Namjoon says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started. The sooner we load this up, the sooner we can get everything settled.”

Between the three of you, the boxes are loaded into the truck in no time. Namjoon lifts the heavier ones like they’re nothing, while Seokjin teases him about showing off. You carry the smaller items, grateful for their help and relieved that the process is moving quickly.

Once the last box is secured in the truck bed, Seokjin glances over at you. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “Yeah. I’ll follow behind you guys with my car.”

As your car and his truck pulls away from your old apartment, you find yourself feeling a little lighter. It’s still hard to believe this is your life right now, but it doesn’t feel quite as overwhelming. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter won’t be so bad after all.

The move-in process is exhausting but efficient. Seokjin and Namjoon take charge of the heavier boxes while you focus on the smaller ones. Your room starts to take shape, with your bed frame set up in one corner and your essentials arranged along the walls. The other boxes you don’t need immediately are stacked neatly in the living room, ready to be taken to your parents’ place for temporary storage later.

After two hours of hauling, unpacking, and arranging, the three of you are sweaty and starving.

“I think that’s everything,” Namjoon says, leaning against the couch and wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

“Pizza?” Seokjin asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Pizza,” you and Namjoon echo in unison.

“And chicken wings,” Namjoon adds with a grin. “We earned it.”

“And beer,” Seokjin finishes, smirking. “That sounds good to you?”

You nod happily.

Within half an hour, the smell of pepperoni, garlic, and fried chicken fills the apartment. The three of you gather around the coffee table in the living room, the TV playing 30 Rock quietly in the background. You sit cross-legged on the rug while Seokjin and Namjoon sprawl on the couch, all of you diving into the food like it’s the best meal you’ve ever had.

“So, Namjoon,” you start between bites of pizza, “what do you do now? Not breaking stuff as Jin mentioned, right?”

He laughs, a deep, warm sound that makes you smile. “Thankfully, no. I’m working in publishing now, managing creative projects. Still a little chaotic, but at least it’s not as physically dangerous.”

“Only mentally,” Seokjin teases, raising his beer.

“True,” Namjoon admits, clinking his bottle against Jin’s.

“What about you?” Namjoon asks, turning the attention to you. “What do you do?”

You hesitate, picking at the crust of your pizza. “I worked at a fashion company, but the company underwent some layoffs. So this is kind of…a transitional period for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s been a tough market, but with your focused attitude and experience, I’m sure you’ll find something new soon.”

“I hope so.”

After a few more slices and some casual conversation about work, gaming, and travel, the beers start to settle in. The atmosphere grows looser, and the conversation takes a turn into more, juicier topics.

“So,” Seokjin begins, leaning back against the armrest with a mischievous grin. “Getting into a more interesting topic…Relationships. What’s the story there?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “All of a sudden? Why do I feel like this is a setup?”

“It’s not a setup. We’re just curious. Plus easy topic to become closer.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Don’t bring me into this, Jin,”

“Well…” You pause, debating how much to share. The buzz from the beer nudges you toward honesty. “Without going to deep into it, let’s just say my last relationship ended badly. Cheating, lies, the whole package.”

Seokjin winces. “Ouch. That’s rough.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” you admit, swirling your drink. “But honestly, it’s probably for the best. I’ve got enough on my plate right now without dealing with that kind of drama.”

Namjoon nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard to find someone who’s actually worth your time these days. Everyone’s either too focused on themselves or doesn’t know what they want.”

Seokjin chuckles, a slightly bitter edge to his tone. “Or they’re just not ready to commit, no matter how much they say they are.”

You glance at him, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor. “Speaking from experience?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “I plead the fifth.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t press further. You decide not to either.

“What about you, Namjoon?” you ask, redirecting the spotlight. “Any tragic love stories to share?”

He grins, shaking his head. “Nothing tragic, thankfully. Just a lot of learning experiences. I’ve been too focused on work to really put myself out there lately.”

The conversation continues, flowing easily despite the heavy topic. As the night stretches on, you find yourself feeling unexpectedly comfortable. Seokjin and Namjoon’s company has been a comfortable change of pace from prior weeks of being alone and dealing with the aftermath of your ended relationship and job. Being all alone with your thoughts hasn’t been easy. Lost in a whirlpool of negative thoughts. And with your closest friends, Yunjin and Wendy, living miles away, even leaning on them hadn’t been an option.

But for the first time in a while, you could even say you feel happy to be around others.

The clock on the wall creeps past 11:00pm, and Namjoon glances at his phone with a small sigh. “I should probably get going before it gets too late.”

“Already?” Seokjin teases, though his tone is more playful than serious.

Namjoon chuckles. “Some of us have a really early morning commute tomorrow, Jin.” He stands, stretching his arms overhead before reaching for his jacket.

“I do too, you know!”

“But hey, this was fun. I’ll definitely swing by again. I’ll see you for your monthly Marvel movie nights, right?”

Seokjin grins. “You know it. You can’t miss those!”

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Let me know when the next one is.”

You and Seokjin walk him to the elevator, chatting casually as you descend to the ground floor. Outside, the air is cooler, a light breeze stirring as Namjoon’s Uber pulls up to the curb.

“Thanks for helping out today,” you say, offering him a grateful smile. “I don’t think we could’ve done it without you.”

“Anytime,” Namjoon replies warmly. “And welcome to the apartment. I’m sure Jin’ll keep things interesting for you.”

Seokjin snorts.

Namjoon smirks. “See you both soon!”

With a wave, Namjoon climbs into the car, and you watch as it drives off into the night.

You and Seokjin linger outside for a moment, the hum of the city quieting as the car disappears from view.

“Well,” Seokjin says after a beat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Guess it’s just us now.”

“Looks like it,” you reply, feeling a strange mix of ease and uncertainty.

Well you did just unload some emotional baggage about your shitty past relationship earlier. The alcohol running through your veins isn’t helping either.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the entrance. “Let’s get back inside. You’ve had a long day.”

You follow Jin back to the apartment, the soft hum of the elevator ride and the quiet hallways lulling you into a peaceful state. Once inside, the two of you automatically start tidying up the coffee table and living area, picking up empty beer bottles, wiping down surfaces, and folding the napkins that had been left scattered. It’s a quiet, easy rhythm, and before long, the space looks just as pristine as when you first arrived.

“I think we’ve earned a good night’s sleep.”

You nod, stifling a yawn. “Agreed. Thanks again, Jin… for everything.”

He shrugs, his expression light but genuine. “Don’t mention it. Get some rest, Roomie.”

You laugh, “Will do.”

With that, Jin heads down the hallway to the right, disappearing into his room. You make your way to the left, to your room, the soft padding of your steps on the hardwood floor the only sound.

Once inside, you close the door and lean against it for a moment, letting the day’s events settle in your mind. Your room is still sparse, with only the basics unpacked, but it feels cozy enough. The bed, made with fresh sheets, beckons invitingly, and your unpacked boxes wait patiently in the corner, reminding you there’s more work to be done tomorrow.

You slip into something comfortable, wash your face, and settle under the covers. The bed is surprisingly soft, the kind that you could sink into and never leave. But despite the exhaustion tugging at your body, sleep doesn’t come right away.

Your thoughts drift, unbidden, to Jin’s easy demeanor since you’ve started talking to him again. His kind words. His quick, charming smile and laughter. His height—tall enough that you had to tilt your head to look him in the eye. And those plump lips of his…

Huh? No, no wait a minute!

You blink at the ceiling, catching your thoughts veering dangerously south. What the hell is wrong with you? Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the fact that kindness from a man feels so foreign after everything you’ve been through. Whatever it is, your brain is doing laps around something you absolutely should not be thinking about.

Gross. Stop it. You scrunch your face in frustration, trying to shake the image of Jin’s stupidly handsome face from your mind.

This is Seokjin, your childhood rival, the annoying kid who used to show off his stupid gaming collection and beat you at literally everything. That’s all he is. That’s all he’ll ever be.

He is just kindly letting you stay with him, but you know he’s going to be waiting for you to move out soon enough.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Sleep. That’s what you need. Just sleep.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Eventually, you manage to quiet your mind, and your eyes drift shut. Slowly, the tension in your body melts away, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

It’s the kind of sleep that cradles you, soothing the jagged edges of your worries. The stressors in your life—the layoff, the breakup, the uncertainty of your future—haven’t disappeared, but for once, they feel distant, safely tucked on the backburner. This new chapter isn’t perfect, but at least one major burden has been lifted, and that’s enough for now.

Until it isn’t.

The urge comes on suddenly, pulling you from the cocoon of rest. You blink groggily, your senses slowly catching up to reality as you register the weight pressing against your bladder. Turning your head to the side, you squint at the clock on your phone: 2:33 a.m.

You need to pee.

You groan softly. Of course. Why wouldn’t your body choose the middle of the night to interrupt what was probably the nicest sleep you’ve had in months? Throwing off the covers, you shuffle out of bed and head for the bathroom, still half-asleep and stumbling in your room as you walk inside the en-suite bathroom.

The cool tile under your feet jolts you a bit closer to full consciousness. The soft hum of the apartment at night feels oddly soothing, even as you fumble to turn on the light.

After finishing up and washing your hands, you pause for a moment, the dryness in your throat making itself known. Great. Now you’re thirsty too.

The memory of Jin mentioning the case of bottled water he keeps under the kitchen sink stops you. Sighing, you quietly slip out of your room, padding into the darkened apartment.

The space is eerily still, the shadows from the streetlights outside casting faint patterns across the floor of the living room. You make your way to the kitchen, carefully navigating around the furniture, not wanting to stub a toe or knock anything over.

Opening one of the cabinet beneath the sink, you find the water bottle case Jin mentioned. The plastic crinkles as you grab a bottle, and you wince, hoping the noise doesn’t carry too far. Closing the cabinet as quietly as you can, you straighten up and twist the cap open, taking a long, refreshing sip.

As you stand there, your gaze drifts toward the living room and the hallway that leads toward Jin’s room. You notice light seeping from below the doorway. Is he still up? Shouldn’t he be sleeping? He did mention something earlier about needing to head into the office in the morning.

Well… maybe he’s streaming? Jin has been kind of hesitant to talk openly about his side hustle, but after your harmless sleuthing on his Instagram the other day, it makes sense to have this type of scheduling. His posts, the tags, the casual mentions of late-night work—it all points to streaming. And why not? No shame in being a streamer. Plenty of people are wildly successful doing it. And he’s probably catering to overseas fans in Asia during these hours.

You shrug to yourself. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not your business.

Deciding not to overthink it, you turn to head back to your room. But after a couple of steps in the living room, a faint noise catches your attention.

You freeze.

A voice… soft, low, and unmistakably a moan.

Your breath hitches as the sound cuts through the stillness, sending your thoughts racing. What was that…?

Haha… you must be overthinking things.

For a moment, you stand there, unsure whether to move or pretend you didn’t hear anything at all.

But now, from this angle, you notice something else. Jin’s door isn’t fully closed. It’s very, very slightly ajar.

The realization makes your pulse quicken. You’re not sure why—it’s not like you were planning to barge in or anything. But the faint glow spilling from the room and that sound… it feels like you’ve stumbled into something you weren’t meant to witness.

Your eyes dart to the gap in the doorway, then back to your water bottle. Just go to bed, you tell yourself. Whatever Jin is doing is none of your business. You’ve already overstepped enough by loitering here in the middle of the night.

But your feet don’t move.

Instead, you find yourself stepping a bit closer, trying to make sense of what’s going on. The soft glow of a screen flickers against the walls, accompanied by faint, muffled sounds—another low moan, followed by a voice, Jin’s voice, quiet but distinct.

He’s probably just streaming, you reason, though your mind betrays you, replaying the noise you just heard. That didn’t sound like any gaming commentary you’ve ever heard.

Your curiosity battles with your better judgment. This is weird. This is weird. Go back to bed, you scold yourself. Yet, you find yourself taking a hesitant step closer, your bare feet silent against the floor.

Peering at the slight crack in the door, you catch a glimpse of Jin sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He’s wearing a loose-fitting hoodie, the hood pulled halfway up, and his headphones cover his ears.

You hesitate for just a moment too long, your eyes flickering back to the gap in the door. Jin shifts slightly in his chair, and that’s when you see it—his hand moving slowly, deliberately, along the length of his member.

Oh my god…

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization slams into you.

You catch yourself lingering, unable to look away despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to turn back. Jin’s hoodie hangs loosely over his broad shoulders, the fabric shifting slightly with his movements. His hand moves with deliberate intent, wrapping firmly around his length as he strokes himself in a slow, unhurried rhythm.

The motion is mesmerizing, almost practiced—his grip tightening subtly at the base before sliding upward, then loosening as his hand glides back down. His fingers flex with precision, coaxing soft, breathy moans from his lips, barely audible but enough to make your skin prickle.

He shifts in his chair, angling himself slightly toward the camera, his movements smooth and calculated. His legs are spread comfortably apart, the outline of his frame illuminated by the soft glow of the monitor. The confidence in his actions is undeniable, as if he’s done this countless times before, every motion intentional and deliberate for the audience he can’t see but knows is watching.

Your heart pounds harder when his strokes pick up pace briefly, then slow again, teasing, calculated. His chest rises and falls in measured breaths, and every now and then, a low groan escapes, richer and deeper than the softer sounds he’s been making.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Jin murmurs suddenly, his tone smooth and teasing, almost playful. You jump up slightly from the sudden spoken words. His strokes grow a fraction faster, his hand tightening briefly before loosening again. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for this.”

The faint click of his mouse follows, likely scrolling through the flood of comments. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and he tilts his head as if he’s reading something amusing.

“Oh, you want me to go slower?” he says, his voice dropping a notch, rich and deliberate. His movements follow suit, his hand sliding torturously slow along his length, eliciting a low groan from deep in his chest. “Patience. You’ll get what you’re asking for. Just keep watching.”

He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly, his free hand brushing over his thigh. “Such a needy audience tonight,” he adds with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock indulgence. “But I guess I can’t blame you. You love it when I take my time, don’t you?”

Your breath catches as you hear the faintest hitch in his voice, a sign that even he isn’t immune to his own ministrations. “Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs, his strokes quickening again as his chest rises and falls in heavier breaths. “Keep telling me what you want. I can’t get enough of it.”

The chat on his screen is moving so quickly it’s impossible to follow, but he clearly can. His responses are measured, tailored, and completely immersed in the moment.

“You’re spoiling me tonight,” he says with a breathy laugh, likely reacting to a particularly generous tip or comment. His hand slows again, teasing, his thumb brushing over the tip of his length in a way that draws a soft, shuddering groan from his lips. “Guess I should return the favor, huh?”

His voice lowers further, almost a whisper, intimate in a way that makes your heart pound. “Let me know how much you’re enjoying this,” he says, his words melting into another low moan. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Your pulse races as you watch him lean back slightly, adjusting his position to maintain his pace, his focus entirely on the screen and the comments it displays. The intimacy of the scene feels almost overwhelming, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance.

You step back, your breath hitching as you force yourself to retreat. Whatever this is, you weren’t meant to see it!

And yet the image is burned into your mind as you close your door, your thoughts swirling in a storm of confusion, embarrassment, and curiosity.

Oh my fucking god…

The soft click of the mouse breaks you from your trance, and you realize you’ve been standing there far too long. Before Jin can notice anything amiss, you step away from his side of the apartment as quietly as possible, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

You retreat down the hall to your room, shutting the door behind you with trembling hands. Leaning against it, you try to catch your breath, your mind racing. Jin, your childhood rival and now your new roommate, is apparently living a double life you never could have anticipated.

Never mind.

This new life that you’re living, will not be easy at all.

a/n: happy thanksgiving!! this is another very short series i plan to make with around 3-5 chapters. i'll keep brainstorming and slowly writing this along with my a(myg)dala fic series... but this is very brainrot not too heavy focus on plot so i probably won't take long to continue it compared to the other series hehe!! thank you all for the support and for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

#seokjin x reader #jin x reader #kim seokjin #bts smut #jin smut #seokjin smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #smut #heart on the window #bts fic #bts #seokjin x y/n #jin fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n

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inthebitterwatchesofthenight · 3 months ago

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Five and Lila (nonromantic) subway headcanons

Like everyone I really hated the Five x Lila storyline and the butchered potential of their almost-sibling relationship development.

But one thing that really ticked me, and that I haven't really read about yet, is: that timeskip montage looks like 3 weeks, maybe 2 months at best, not SIX FUCKING YEARS. In six years, people visibly age, especially under duress, if, for example, the only thing they can eat is rats?? (I'm not even talking about how they managed to keep roughly the same clothes and haircuts for six years without any explanation, or how they miraculously cleaned up before going back to Diego and Lila's precisely at the right point in time...) In six years alone with another person, you would probably struggle keeping your sanity, and the end result for each of them would probably look something like early stages of Apocalypse S1 Five. In six years alone with another person, even with prior attraction (which would already be ooc for both of them but whatever let's just grant them that for the sake of the argument), you would end up HATING each other all the way through your codependent relationship. I could see them having sex after six months (still following those creepy-ass ooc assumptions), but I could certainly NOT see them kissing softly and romantically wine-dining after SIX YEARS (the time those goddamn showrunners told us it took for passion to die down in a perfect marriage?? How about helltrap subway then??)

So after that really long preamble, here are my headcanons for what that subway section should really have looked like:

No Five x Lila, obviously

They bicker all the time; this escalates into outright fights. At some point, Lila storms off somewhere and they lose each other for five months.

When they realise they're not going home anytime soon, Five finds a timeline with a Dolores (other than the original one) and steals her away, because he's going to need her to cope through this. (Of course, he needs to apologize to her for being gone this long.)

At first, Lila thinks that Five is nuts for talking to Dolores, but in a matter of days she understands the urge and Dolores becomes her best friend. Five and Lila fight over Dolores's approval all. the. time.

Lila collects little trinkets to bring home to Grace and the twins (like the plushies in New Grumpson). After two years the gift bag has got way too big and Five helps her sort out the ones she really wants to keep; she bawls her eyes out and they arrange the throwaway gifts neatly on a bench, just in case they can come back and get them.

They find some really weird and fun timelines. Don't care what, they just do. Lila almost gets killed trying to bring home a souvenir.

Five and Lila find Max's Delicatessen together. By the way, there's a few Lilas there, ones that also met Fives. Lila can vent about her relationship trouble Diego with another Lila who has also married a Diego. But the other Diego is dead, and Lila realizes just how much she wants to get home before that happens.

This is a bit irrelevant, but that Five deli paradox psychosis plothole is explained by a random artefact created by Commission Five (like in his room in S3 I think?).

Five and Lila wait a short while in the deli to make a plan about the apocalypse. Another Five arrives, finds out about the marigold, and says out loud that the solution would be to erase all Hargreeves siblings from existence. A few seconds of silence, and then all the other Fives slaughter him because what kind of Five would to this to their family???? This is also one of the purposes of the deli, by the way. To make sure no Five comes out of the subway with delirious, dangerous ideas about harming their siblings.

Five and Lila realise that if Viktor can take away the marigold from people like Harlan, then he can take it away from his siblings. And what about Viktor himself? Well, Lila can mimic his powers and they can take away each other's marigold at the same time, and lose their powers just as they're done. Darn, why didn't they think of this sooner?

Lila tries to relook Five. After four or five years, he gives in, sees the end result and immediately finds a timeline with a suit to steal so as to fix this freakish mistake. He wears a hat for a while to try and hide his undercut hair.

Lila sings a lot. Five lets her, and just mumbles about her lousy tastes in music to Dolores.

Lila adopts a monstrous pet (three-headed cat? Giant bee?) for a few stops, and it mysteriously disappears at some point. Major fight ensues. Maybe this is why she leaves for a while.

In another timeline, they briefly meet a version of Diego that's not dead yet. He tries to kill them, Lila tells him that he's a great dad, he's weirded out and runs away.

Five picks up littered newspaper to see if there's anything interesting. He becomes a crossword addict. He moves to a new special interest puzzle game every few months.

After a fight, Five's big making-up strategy is to sit down next to Lila and start talking shit about the Handler. It kinda works.

I'm gonna stop here, this is already way too long. Please share your own headcanons if you have any!

#the umbrella academy #umbrella acedmy #tua s4 #tua #tua spoilers #tua five #number five #five hargreeves #lila pitts #brisket five #tua4 #we were robbed

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babyleostuff · 1 year ago

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I've got to feed my delusional ass, so as someone who is a huge nerd i was wondering if you do seventeen hcs to their Friend / S/O / Crush being an actor and playing a phenomenal iconic TV pop culture character? . i have always been dying to get Idol! Seventeen X Actress reader

seventeen x actress!reader | ot13

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

𓆩♡𓆪 he would be a loud and proud supporter - even if the topic of conversation wasn't in any way related to you or even cinema, Cheol would find a way to mention your latest role (he would also probably pull out his phone, and show a bunch of “behind the scenes” photos)

𓆩♡𓆪 he would be the type to fly out to whatever location you were currently shooting at, and surprise you with a bunch of flowers and his Choi Seungcheol™ dimple smile

𓆩♡𓆪 i don’t want to be that person, but i think he would get a bit jealous, and he wouldn’t like watching the kissing scenes - not because he is possessive or anything, he is so happy you get to do what you love, but sometimes he could get slightly insecure of the bond you have with your male co-stars, especially because you spend so much time with them

𓆩♡𓆪 so he will close his eyes during a kissing scene, but the best solution to cheer him up again is just to give him a couple of (or more) kisses, and he’ll be all smiley and happy again

YOON JEONGHAN

𓆩♡𓆪 the silent supporter - he wouldn’t start talking about you out of the blue like Cheol, but whenever a trailer of your newest movie would be shown at the movies, he’d sit there all proud thinking “that’s right, that’s my incredible girlfriend”

𓆩♡𓆪 and he would always bring you to your favourite restaurant when you’d finish shooting, one - to catch up on the time you missed out on, second - to remind you how proud he is of you

𓆩♡𓆪 Hannie would love to listen to all of the stories you’d share from the set, as well as the photos and videos, and he’d sit through the whole night listening to you, because he knew how happy it made you to talk about your work

𓆩♡𓆪 he would also keep every ticket from all of your movies when he went to the cinema to see them, probably keeping them in a little box somewhere where you wouldn’t find it

HONG JOSHUA

𓆩♡𓆪 i feel like Joshua would be very similar to Jeonghan - the most important thing for him would be for you to know how proud he was of you, he wouldn’t have the need to express it to the whole universe, because people already knew how great of an actress you were

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d be quite quiet while watching your movies, but you knew it was because he didn’t want to miss even a second of it, especially if it was your scene

𓆩♡𓆪 and he’d gladly listen to all of your small comments throughout the movie - how you shot that specific scene, or how much you messed up your lines in that specific moment

𓆩♡𓆪 Joshua would look at you with this smitten gaze, unable to resist the warm feeling when he looked at you all excited and happy

𓆩♡𓆪 by the end of the movie he’d have a whole paragraph of compliments ready, and he’d make it corny on purpose - to make you both a bit shy, but also to make you laugh

WEN JUNHUI

𓆩♡𓆪 as a fellow actor, he’d help you figure out your lines and scenes, he’d practise with you - even if it took the whole night

𓆩♡𓆪 and he’d be the first person in the line at the movies, with a set of popcorn and drinks, because Jun would be that excited to see your movie

𓆩♡𓆪 after, he’d send you tons of messages saying how good the movie was, and how good of a job you did, and after writing a whole paragraph of how proud he was of you, he’d call you right away, basically saying all of the things he already wrote

𓆩♡𓆪 also, the moment it’d come out on streaming platforms he’d watch it with you, gushing the whole time how you crushed that role and how good you looked

KWON SOONYOUNG

𓆩♡𓆪 he would be so excited over you being an actress, like - you get to shoot at all of these cool locations, in front of a green screen, and they can make you into a superhero? he’d beg you to tell how all of the movie magic happens, and sometimes you’d find him going through your camera roll to look at the photos from set

𓆩♡𓆪 you can be sure he’d watch your movies multiple times, he’d buy the DVDs and bring them with him on tour (even though most of them could be found online, he’d still buy them)

𓆩♡𓆪 one time, he even proposed that there should be photocards in the DVDs so he could collect yours

𓆩♡𓆪 and he’d make the boys watch them with him, even if he’d have to drag Mingyu to the couch, he would fight him just so he would watch the damn movie

LEE JIHOON

𓆩♡𓆪 same as Jeonghan and Joshua - he’d be tremendously proud and supportive of you, but in a silent way

𓆩♡𓆪 and he’d keep the DVDs and Blu-rays in his studio, neatly keeping them on a shelf, with your framed photo as well

𓆩♡𓆪 if he ever had a bad day, couldn’t figure out a beat, or finish writing lyrics, Jihoon would pick out his favourite movie of yours and play it, so he could take his mind off of the work

𓆩♡𓆪 i believe he said he isn’t a big movie watcher, as he doesn’t really have time for that, but he’d always make time for watching your movies, every single one of them (even if you’d tell him that it was alright if he didn’t want to or was too tired, he’d take you the movies himself)

JEON WONWOO

𓆩♡𓆪 artsy boy ⅓ - he would love to talk about the technicalities of the movie, like the camerawork, the cinematography, or the CGI - you could literally spend hours after the movie talking about it

𓆩♡𓆪 he would ask you a lot of questions about different shorts, and how they were filmed

𓆩♡𓆪 i feel like he would be too shy to verbally compliment you, because there are no words in the dictionary that could express how proud he was of you, and how great of a job you were doing

𓆩♡𓆪 but you’d know how supportive he was of you - if he wasn’t, would he be the one insisting on seeing every single one of your movies the moment they premiered?

𓆩♡𓆪 and on the way home, Wonwoo would have your hand in his, and not let go of it even for a second, looking at you with so much love and adoration, that you’d practically melt under his gaze

LEE SEOKMIN

𓆩♡𓆪 you’d have a movie marathon once a month where Seokmin would choose a couple of your movies to watch (even if you wouldn’t want to, he’d give you his puppy eyes and you wouldn’t have any other choice)

𓆩♡𓆪 and he would make you say your lines out loud - for some reason it always made him so happy, and you’d always do that because it made him so excited

𓆩♡𓆪 if he was busy because of work, and didn’t get to watch your movie right away, he’d send you tons of messages apologising that he wouldn’t be able to watch it (and you’d always reassure him that it was fine, of course)

𓆩♡𓆪 but the moment he’d get some time off, he’d make a whole date out of it - first bringing you to your favourite restaurant, then going to the movies, and finishing the day with watching the sunset

𓆩♡𓆪 it would be his way of apologising, and making up for the time you had to spend apart, and to be honest, you preferred it that way, because it always ended being one of your favourite dates

KIM MINGYU

𓆩♡𓆪 artsy boy ⅔ - this man would have like those countdown widgets on his phone, to keep track for when your next movie would come out, and he would drag you to the cinema himself to watch it with you

𓆩♡𓆪 same as Wonwoo, would talk about the cinematography, and gush about the amazing shots and scenery, to the point where you’d have to remind him that “hey, i was in that movie as well!”

𓆩♡𓆪 but he’d do that just to tease you - you always got so pouty and cute when he “forgot” to praise you too, and he would make that up by clinging to you when you got home, and list all of the things he loved about you in that movie

𓆩♡𓆪 another one that might get a bit jealous when it comes to kissing, and all of that intimate stuff, so it’d be his turn to be pouty and whiny

𓆩♡𓆪 but he’d quickly realise how stupid that was - you’re literally using him as a human blanket, cuddled in his bed, if anything they should be jealous of Mingyu for having you all to himself

XU MINGHAO

𓆩♡𓆪 artsy boy ³ ⁄ ³ - again, same as Wonwoo, and Mingyu - he’d love to talk about all of the technicalities, camerawork, and would love to see all of the photos from the set and your shooting locations

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d also be the type to surprise you on set, totally out of nowhere (he’d probably write you how busy he was, and that he wouldn’t be able to come and see you, and the pop out out of nowhere)

𓆩♡𓆪 and if you’d be watching it together at the cinema, he’d hold your hand through the whole movie, and squeeze it from time to time

𓆩♡𓆪 if it was more of a, how to say it, psychological? movie - Hao would love to talk about it, i mean you’d probably sit through the whole night cuddled under the duvets in your bed, trying to understand the ending, or pondering on all of the small confusing parts of the movie

𓆩♡𓆪 and there would be no jealousy there, Mingaho is a very secure and confident person, especially when it comes to your relationship

BOO SEUNGKWAN

𓆩♡𓆪 Boo would love to go over the scrip with you, helping you with the lines, and acting out different scenes with you, i can imagine how much fun that would be

𓆩♡𓆪 and if he’d got the chance to visit you on set, he’d look at you with wide heart eyes, adoring everything you’d do, even if you’d be doing a simple dialogue scene, he’d be all smiley

𓆩♡𓆪 and he would be so happy seeing you happy, doing what you love, and having fun on set - no matter how many kissing scene you’d have to shoot, he’d still be 100% supportive

𓆩♡𓆪 and everyone on set would love him too, i mean, how can you not love this man?

𓆩♡𓆪 Seungkwan would keep all of the tickets, posters, and flyers from your movies, he’d frame some of them, or hang them on the wall in his room

CHWE VERNON

𓆩♡𓆪 oh my god, my favourite movie bro - Vernon would eat every single one of your movies up! Like, he loves watching movies, and if you’re in one too??? Automatically 10/10

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d love to hear all of the stories from set, and he’d be the one nagging you to send more pictures from the location you were currently shooting at

𓆩♡𓆪 and because you knew you big of a fan and a movie geek he was, you’d always make sure to get him an invitation to your every movie premiere

𓆩♡𓆪 this man would fanboy so much when he’d meet your co-stars, or the directors, like that would be a dream come true for him

𓆩♡𓆪 so to say that he would be 100% supportive of you and your job would be an understanding - he wouldn’t get jealous or sulky over the intimate scenes, Vernon knows very well that that’s just a part of your work, and it’s a natural part of it

𓆩♡𓆪 and being able to say that this superstar is his significant other??? Chef’s kiss

LEE CHAN

𓆩♡𓆪 heart eyes 24/7, like he’d be so so proud of you, and sometimes he wouldn’t believe you’re his girlfriend, because you’re like this huge actress, and he gets to call you his

𓆩♡𓆪 i cannot stress this enough, but he would be the most supportive and proud boyfriend ever - you know those soccer mums and dads that have banners and scream anytime their child touch the ball? that would be Chan

𓆩♡𓆪 he would re-watch your movies whenever you’d be away, or when he went overseas for schedules, he’d definitely have a list of comfort movies, and watch those every night

𓆩♡𓆪 Chan would have a collection of all of the DVD and Blu-rays with your movies, and keep them neatly on the shelf in his room

𓆩♡𓆪 also, you’d probably have to comfort him a little after a kissing scene, or a more intimate one, because he’d get a bit upset (but nothing to serious, it’d for just a moment)

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag

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bvidzsoo · 10 months ago

Text

Love you, forever

❀Boyfriend!Mingi❀

TW: nothing, except angst and then fluff *cries*

Word count: 2,4k

A/N: Am I okay? Not really. Did Mingi's IG post send me into a spiral of depression? Kinda yeah. Did writing this help? Abso-fucking-lutely not, I'm even more in shambles, I don't even know what life is anymore guys, I'm hurting, bye. I'm fine, don't y'all worry, at least I'll be fine tomorrow lol Mingi's IG post really destroyed me, I'm a libra, I'm dramatic okay? Your feedback is appreciated! This little piece is for all of my fellow Mingtis' who are hanging on by a thread, love y'all! And please listen to Tunnel to get the feels even more going, trust me! *cries again*

I couldn’t help but sigh for the nth time as I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, chest tightening the longer I stared at my notebooks. It felt like nothing was going my way anymore, like everything was falling apart. I couldn’t define the tipping point of it all, but everything was starting to become too much. The stress, every new day brought more challenges without an obvious solution. The assignments felt like they were only adding up more and more, overtaking every thought of mine and only inducing more stress. Things started to become overbearing, I started feeling like a failure. There was a constant pressure on my chest, threatening, about to burst just at a simple innocent glance thrown my way by a stranger. I ignored it as best as I could, the thoughts and emotions, but it was getting harder day by day. It didn’t help that after a misunderstanding, my boyfriend wasn’t talking to me…everything just felt too much. Like I was overstimulated without a concrete reason, and not even my friends could help anymore. It felt lonely, it felt cold, and it felt downright depressing. It was fine as long as I wasn’t at home, as long as I wasn’t left on my own with my loud thoughts making me feel even more miserable.

It's been three days since we’ve spoken, Mingi and I, and it was maddening. I knew this didn’t mean the end of our relationship, but I never took it well when he was upset because of me. Especially when he was the one to pull away, to give me the cold shoulder. Especially not right now, when all I wished for was to curl up by his side and inhale his familiar cologne, closing my eyes and relaxing into my boyfriend’s arms. I needed him here, and I knew he needed his space when upset, but I felt like being selfish and just texting him. If the tears in my eyes weren’t proof enough that I was seriously on the verge of breaking, then I don’t know what else was. I sniffed loudly and pushed my notebooks aside, blood boiling just at the simple sight of them. It’s those damned notes which were making me feel like this, and the impeding feeling of failure, of failing another important class and never finishing this wrenched course and university altogether. It was frightening, and I didn’t want to be alone anymore. My friends were always a text away, but my body was craving the warmth of my boyfriend, my soul was yearning for his. I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and I didn’t want to drown and wallow in this horrible feeling anymore. I needed the love of my life next to me.

Quickly wiping my tears clean from my eyes, I adjusted my glasses on the bridge of my nose and unlocked my phone, noticing that I had gotten a notification from Instagram. At the beginning of our relationship, which was quite a few years ago, Mingi and I had set each other’s accounts to send notifications when one of us posted, being madly in love and eager to see what the other was up to. Despite the passing of time, and of our emotions only deepening, we never turned the setting off, and I was surprised to find a notification from his personal page. With another sniff, I clicked on the app and was presented with ten images of my boyfriend, out and about, enjoying his day. His black hair was fluffy and not necessarily styled, but the messy look always fit him extraordinarily. His bare face looked healthy, and it had a nice shine to it under the lightning of the place he was at, and I couldn’t help but sniff again as I scrolled through the pictures, trying to ignore the fact that the blue and greyish sweater he wore was a gift from me for his birthday two years ago. And perhaps the tears wouldn’t have sprung free from my eyes if it weren’t for that video in which he was dancing to the music softly playing in the background, locking and popping in tiny as he grinned and chuckled. Mingi was a dance major with a minor in music, and he was living his best possible life at the moment. He was happy and content with where he was at, and it always brought so much joy to my soul, but seeing him enjoying himself while I was wallowing in self-pity certainly set off an uncontrollable amount of tears and ugly gasps for air. It made me happy that he was doing okay, but seeing him made me miss him terribly, and I couldn’t help but close my phone and lay down on my bed, curling up into a ball as I cried into my pillow.

This crying session was really due time, the emotions bundled up for way too long now, but it still felt horrible that I had to try and push the feeling of loneliness away and comfort myself, while foolishly trying to smell Mingi’s cologne since I was wearing his oversized blouse. The only problem was that I had stolen it from him a long time ago and it didn’t carry his cologne anymore, it had my scent, and that just made me gasp for air as my heart clenched more, making me miss him even more. And perhaps if it weren’t for the sobs increasing in volume and the self-wallowing I was so focused on, I would’ve noticed or heard the jiggle of keys and the opening of the front door. But I was too busy ripping my glasses off my head and throwing them behind me, rubbing the heels of my palms roughly against my eyes and trying to calm my irregular breathing as my throat finally seemed to ease up, my chest somewhat lighter than before. But I knew the crying session wasn’t over, it was just a matter of time until another strong wave of sadness and yearning would hit me, sending me into another fit of ugly sobs. I just couldn’t help it, it felt like the world around me was falling apart and I couldn’t do anything about it, just let it ruin me in the process.

But as I pushed myself back up into a sitting position and rubbed the snot off my face with the sleeve of my blouse, I heard footsteps outside of my door, startling me. Very few people had keys to my apartment. Like my parents, bestest friend and…well, Mingi. We didn’t live together yet, we were planning on moving in together soon, but both of us had keys to each other’s apartments. And I knew it couldn’t have been my parents as they live five hours away and never visit on weekdays, neither could it be my best friend as she was away on a two-week business trip with her work colleagues. And that could only mean…that it was Mingi. And almost as if sensing my confused state, the door to my room opened and Mingi stood in the doorway, dressed and looking the same as in the pictures.

“Hey, I—baby?” His raspy voice was quiet and his eyebrows furrowed when his eyes fell on me. I sniffed loudly, frozen for a second, until another wave of yearning and loneliness hit hard, making me cry again as I stared at my boyfriend helplessly, “Oh my God, what’s wrong?”

He rushed inside, almost tripping over his feet, but made it to the bed safely and before he could really as much as reach out for me, I sprung forward and jumped on his lap, wrapping my limbs around him like a koala. Mingi grunted in surprise due to the sudden attack, but his arms were instantly wrapped around my middle as I held onto him tightly, hiding my face in his warm neck as I tried to control my breathing and stop the tears. He was here now; I wasn’t alone anymore. I had him and I would always have him, no matter what. His body was warm and soft against mine, so familiar as it engulfed mine into his, Mingi’s nose nuzzling against the top of my head as I slipped my fingers through his soft hair, sighing contently at the feeling of being held. In his arms, it was always as if the world disappeared, like it was just the two of us, like nothing and nobody could hurt us. He’s been the one and only man to ever make me feel like that, and it made me think quite often how lucky I was to have found such person. And Mingi’s sweet, yet musky scent finally made my sobs settle into loud sniffs, arms tightening around his neck involuntarily as if I was afraid he’d leave.

“Baby?” Mingi’s voice was small, almost afraid, as I felt a kiss pressed against the top of my head as he shifted, bringing us higher up on the bed as he held me close against himself.

“I missed you,” I croaked out, lips trembling slightly, “so much, Mingi.”

“I’m sorry.” Mingi whispered, letting out a heavy sigh, “I shouldn’t have ignored you for three days, that was shitty of me. Why are you crying? What happened?”

I sighed and shrugged lightly, “I don’t know, I just—”

I chewed on my bottom lip, letting the silence stretch on as Mingi carefully cupped my cheeks and raised my head up, our faces close to each other as we stared in each other’s eyes. Mingi’s sharp eyes were soft and filled with so much worry, that it made me pout as I tried to put my jumbled thoughts into words, “I don’t know. Things got too much; I suppose. The classes and assignments, the fear that I won’t finish my dissertation in time, and you then getting upset…I’ve been feeling under the weather for quite a while now, actually. I guess I just broke today.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mingi’s expression was sour and it made me feel guilty as I looked away from his eyes, following the sharp bridge of his nose, well defined and tall. I shrugged, getting comfortable in his lap as I laced my fingers together around his neck, Mingi’s warm and big hands settling on my hips.

“You worry a lot about me, Mingi, I didn’t want to burden you again with something so insignificant—”

“Your wellbeing is very significant to me, Y/N, and you know that.” His voice had an edge to it as his grip slightly tightened against me, his own lips forming a pout. I stared at him for a few seconds before sniffing again, eyes taking in his tan face, his dark and warm eyes, the mole under his eye and on his jaw, and his plush lips. I had missed him dearly.

“I know.” I mumbled and looked back into his eyes when Mingi pulled our bodies flushed together, leaning ahead to nudge his nose against mine, his breath tickling my face. I couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on my lips, and I averted my eyes shyly as Mingi chuckled.

“I’m not upset anymore.” He said, licking his lips before bopping his nose against mine again, “And you’re too stressed to study more today.”

My lips pulled into a tight line as I hummed, shoulders sagging a little, but Mingi suddenly grinned incredibly wide, his uneven and protruding front teeth showing, a little ‘imperfection’ I adored way too much about him. His eyes suddenly held an exited glint in them and I couldn’t help but feel intrigued, raising my eyebrows in question at him.

“I brought you your favorite cake, as an apology.” He bit his lower lip as his cheeks lightly flushed, “But the weather is really nice today and I think some fresh air will do you good.”

“What are you suggesting?” I asked as I leaned forward, resting my chin on his left shoulder as I hugged him tightly.

“We drive out to our favorite spot by the waterfall and have a little picnic, we can pick up some food on the way, and then drive around aimlessly after the sun sets.” There was a short pause and a low hum coming from deep within Mingi’s chest, “How does that sound?”

New tears gathered in my eyes, but not for the previous reasons I was crying about not even twenty minutes ago. My chest was filled to the brim and my heart was beating fast and loudly in my ears, filling me with warmth and so much love that I felt like I would burst. Mingi always knew what I needed, he was always there for me, he always provided whatever he could best. I chuckled quietly and sniffed loudly again, nodding my head wordlessly before I pulled back and looked him in the eyes, a smile stretching onto my lips.

“I love you.”

Mingi’s giggle was deep and low, rolling his eyes playfully as if he tried to brush off those words, but unable to do so, “And I love you.”

I closed my eyes and leaned forward, closing the small gap between our lips as I pressed a soft, but lingering kiss against Mingi’s soft and warm lips. He tasted like the watermelon chapstick I have given him while we were on vacation, his lips chapped from the salty ocean air. And everything suddenly felt in place, I found serenity within myself as Mingi kissed back eagerly but softly, his lips capturing mine between his as his large palm melted into my lower back. Being in his arms and feeling him against myself brought a sense of security and contentment, of acceptance, and want that only Mingi could provide. His teeth lightly grazed against my lower lip as he nipped at it before just slightly pulling back, pressing his forehead against mine as he nuzzled his nose against the skin of my cheek, making me flush at the endearing gesture.

“I assume that’s a yes, then.” I chuckled and pressed a swift kiss against Mingi’s lips again.

“Yes, love of my life, let’s go.” I knew the nickname always flustered Mingi, making him call me cheesy. But this time he said nothing as he giggled quietly, scrunching his nose and squeezing his eyes shut in a cute manner, making my cheeks hurt from how widely I was smiling at him.

God, I have missed him, the love of my life. Song Mingi.

Masterlist

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lynzishell · 3 months ago

Text

The Past 🩵 Asher

I rush into my apartment, slamming the door behind me, and take a sharp left to get into my room before Lex can catch me. Once inside, I lock the door and remove my smelly clothes from last night as quickly as I can. I’m tempted to shower again after having to walk home in them, but I don’t have time. As it is, Iris is going to be calling in an hour to ask why I haven’t arrived yet, and I really don’t have it in me today to deal with her moods, which are even worse now that she’s very pregnant. Spencer is due to arrive in a couple weeks, and my sister ran out of patience a couple weeks ago.

“Ash?” Lex pounds on the door as I’m pulling clothes from my dresser.

“Give me two minutes, I’m just changing.” I really don’t have time to chat with her, I have to leave, but I also kinda need my best friend.

Once I’m fully clothed, I walk into the living room to find Lex standing there, waiting for me. She takes one look at my face and holds out her arms with a concerned pout, “Baaabe.” Years ago, I told her that I hate it when guys call me “babe”, that it was a total turn off. Her solution was to call me “babe” herself, that way no one else would be allowed to call me that ‘cause it’s hers; and it wouldn’t feel so icky because she’d be saying it ironically. But then it stuck and now it really is hers and there’s nothing ironic about it.

I fall into her arms and let her embrace me as only she can. Lex gives the best hugs. Sometimes she squeezes the life out of you, but on days like today, it feels like she’s holding all the broken bits of me together. If she hugs me long enough then it will heal me, but if she lets go too soon, I’ll fall to pieces, so I squeeze her back just as tight and bury my face in her shoulder.

“What happened?”

“I made a fool of myself, Lex.” As I say the words out loud, I feel a lump form in my throat and I’m grateful that my voice is muffled by the sleeve of her jacket so as not to give me away.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I thought... I don’t know what I thought,” and then the dam breaks. My tears burst forth so quickly that I have no chance of stopping them, so I just let it happen. The sobs rack my body, making my chest hurt. I cling to her like she’s a lifebuoy in the middle of the ocean during a storm. And she stands there, solid and safe, holding me until the storm passes and I start breathing normally again. It’s over just as quickly as it started.

“I’m gonna kill him, y’know,” she says finally.

I sniffle and let out a pitiful laugh, “Please don’t.”

“Seriously? You come home in this state, and you expect me to let him live?”

I walk into the kitchen to splash my face with cold water and clean myself up. “Just because I’m sad doesn’t mean he deserves your wrath. Besides, I think I’m just extra sensitive coming down from whatever the hell you gave us last night.”

“So, this is my fault?”

“No. I’m just saying my breakdown is at least partially chemical. And maybe that explains Atlas’ mood today actually. Oh, I might’ve completely misread everything. Fuck.” I groan as I clench my stomach and lean against the counter, suddenly feeling sick with regret and embarrassment.

“Okay, hold on, what exactly happened?”

“I don’t have time to get into it. I have to run out to my parents’ house and help Iris with fucking baby furniture or something.”

“Well, let’s go then. I’ll come with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t have anything else to do today, and we’re not done talking. And I like your mom’s cooking.”

I throw my arm around her shoulders and kiss her cheek dramatically, “Thank you.” I’m grateful to have her to talk to during the two-hour drive. I would no doubt be stewing and obsessing the whole time if not. My family will be happy to see her as well. They’re always asking why she doesn’t come visit more. Of course, I know it’s because she feels like she has to go see her own family if she’s in town, and that’s the last thing she wants to do.

“Alright, calm down. Let’s go.”

Prev // Next

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #past #asher goode #lex mcphee

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lucid-heart · 11 months ago

Text

Teeth in Your Throat

Vampire!Lottie Matthews x f!Reader 🔞

🩸Lottie hesitates to feed from you because she's scared of hurting you. But you know she would never, she just needs a little convincing🩸

WC: 1.7k+

masterlist • read on ao3 • request

CW: Blood Drinking, Kinda Subby Top Lottie,

"You can bite," you say. "You need to feed. And I trust you."

Lottie's eyes haven't left yours but the usual dark brown has been replaced with a glowing red. The beautiful vampire hesitates when given the chance to drink your blood. She's always worried she will hurt you.

But you know she wouldn't.

And she is very, very hungry.

"It's okay," Lottie says with a slight tremor. "I'll find Nat, she can get me-"

You grab her hand and tug her closer. Lottie stumbles and bumps into you. Her skin is cold to the touch but will quickly warm once in contact with you for long enough. She nervously looks away, as if looking at you for too long will cause her to lose control.

Maybe that's what you need her to. To give her the push over the edge.

"Lottie. Are you really going to run and find Nat when I'm right here?" You roll your eyes in fake exasperation. "Hmph. Maybe I should go find Shauna."

Lottie's eyes snap to yours and her brows furrow.

"What?" A single word but it's ice cold.

Lottie hides her emotions well, years of being forced to act like the perfect daughter for parents that never cared about her. But you know her too well. Even now as she tries to act casual, it bleeds through her stare. Hot, raging, jealously.

You shrug. "Nothing. Just I know Shauna would appreciate a taste. Since Jackie is away, she hasn't had human blood in a while. And I beat she would be real rough about it-"

Lottie grabs you with pure vampire strength. One moment you're standing face to face in her room, the next your back is against the wall with her body caging you in. She bares her teeth as her fangs snap down, eyes glowing red.

Your heart races in your chest. You should feel fear from being so close to someone so dangerous and the adrenaline rushes through your system. Heat burns in your chest and you let out a shaky exhale.

"Don't," she says. "Don't talk about Shauna."

You raise a hand to her lips. Slowly you press your thumb into her mouth and against the sharp tip of her fang until it draws blood. Then you press deeper into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around your fingertip as she catches the taste of you. Of what you're offering.

She groans and her eyes flutter.

"What are you so afraid of?" you ask. "You need to feed. I think it's hot when you bite me. I think there's an easy solution here."

Lottie lets your thumb slip from her mouth and she stares at you with intense eyes. Ever since you've started dating, you've chased the darker side of her. She worries that you'll be afraid of her. Doesn't she know you love it? You want her.

"Baby, please." You lift your head to expose your throat to her. "I need you."

Something in Lottie snaps and she pounces. Her lips lay waste to your neck as she kisses and nips, sure to leave a splattering of marks the next day. You moan and hold onto her. But she doesn't break skin. Not yet. Not even as she teases her fangs against your pulse point.

"You're such a temptation," she murmurs. "I want to so badly."

"Why don't you?" you gasp breathlessly.

She presses you against the wall and a thigh slots between your legs. You bite back a groan as you press against her, need pulsing through your core. She's hardly even touched you yet.

"Mm." Lottie kisses your jaw. "Adrenaline makes blood taste sweeter."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Prey that runs, that is afraid. It's why we hunt. Why we chase. It tastes good." A hand dances across your chest over your clothes, a light tease. "But do you want to know what tastes best?"

She finds your wrist and lifts your still bleeding thumb to her mouth. She meets your gaze with hooded eyes as she licks the bead of blood welling on your fingertip.

Your heart thunders in your chest, so loud it might overwhelm you. You know Lottie can hear it. Her vampire hearing allows her to pick up on even the slightest of changes. The corners of her mouth quirk in knowing. She knows exactly what she's doing to you.

"Prey that wants it tastes best."

Wants her.

Needs her.

Needs-

Lottie leans in and claims your lips, the metallic tang of your blood still on her tongue. You taste it in a fleeting moment before it's just her kissing you. Usually Lottie is sweet and kind, a wonderful girlfriend who loves you very much. This side of her is that but also darker and possessive. She kisses you like she wants to devour you. To claim you.

You must have really ticked her off when you mentioned Shauna.

You wrap your arms around her neck and hold her closer. Her frame is slim but you can feel the power she possesses. If she wanted to, she could throw you across the room without blinking. You are weightless to her.

Evidenced by the way she effortlessly hooks a hand under your thigh and lifts you against the wall.

"That's it," you breathe against her mouth. "That's my girl."

Lottie groans and she slams a hand into the wall beside your head.

"You like that? Being called mine?" You tug at the front of her shirt until she gasps. "Do you want me?"

"Yes, yes, so badly." It comes out as half a needy beg and half a hiss. Lottie licks her lips and bares her fangs, twin points shining and full extended.

You want her fangs buried in your neck while her long fingers are buried inside you.

Lottie seems to get the idea as her eyes darken. She shifts her hands to your waist and carries you over to her bed. Down onto the many cushions you go with her on top of you. She can't stop kissing you. She can't get enough of you.

You find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head. The second she's free, she's back kissing you again. It's hungry, pressing you back against the pillow with even the slightest touch. She's so hot.

"(Y/N)?" she groans.

"Mm?"

You dig your nails into her shoulder blades and she shudders.

"Can I...?" Her eyes sweep down your body.

She doesn't need to ask, you've wanted this since the moment you lay eyes on her. How could you not? Lottie Matthews can command a room with her smile alone. She enchants and entrances, and that's even without her vampire powers. You've wanted her since the beginning.

The vampire thing is just a bonus.

"Please."

Lottie shifts back and lifts your shirt. As she takes it off, she plants kisses up your stomach, your chest, your throat until she reaches your lips once again. Your entire body feels like it's burning alive.

You need her to touch you.

"God, you are so hot," she murmurs. "I could just eat you."

You bite her bottom lip for emphasis and tug it back. "Do it then. I'm here for the taking."

She doesn't need anymore encouraging. Lottie eagerly leans in and kisses you again. But this time, as her lip strays across her your jaw, her intent is clear. Sharp teeth tease at your skin as the hunter finds her mark.

But Lottie doesn't bite just quite yet.

She trails a hand down your stomach into your pants, finding you wet and ready for her. It doesn't take her long to find the perfect angle and then she's sinking into you.

"Fuck, Lottie!"

You arch up into her waiting mouth. She kisses your neck, just below your ear.

"God, (Y/N), I want you bad," she gasps. "You're so-!"

How can she say that as her fingers thrust in and out of you? She quickly finds a strong rhythm, curling deep inside you. Heat spreads through you until you feel like you're aflame. You're burning for her. You won't last long.

Lottie lets out a shaky exhale and her body presses against you.

"Fuck, that's it," you groan. "Just like that! Keep going, Lot, I'm so close!"

"Y-Yeah?"

Your nails find themselves in her back again and she whines, the noise sending a hot flash right through your chest. You scratch down her spine and she moans.

"So close, you're doing so well, Lottie," you gasp.

As if spurred on by your praise, she ducks her head against your skin. Her fangs caress the vulnerable expanse of your shoulder, just waiting for her moment. You know exactly when she will bite you. And you weren't lying when you said you were close.

You cry out her name as you come, drawing blood from how hard you're clutching to her back.

And Lottie sinks her teeth into your neck.

Jackie described to you what it felt like but nothing could have prepared you. No pain, no sting, just hot pleasure spreading through your entire body. Lottie drinks from you and it completely overwhelms you.

Fingers in you, teeth in you.

"L-Lottie! Oh god, Lottie!"

She drinks her fill. You can't quite tell if you're lightheaded from that, from coming, or a messy combination of both. Either way, you never felt anything like that before. Intensely euphoric and addictive.

Lottie paints your throat red with kisses, tongue lightly pressing to the weeping wounds. She groans deep in her throat.

"(Y/N)... that was..."

You know.

You released your hold from her back and flop back against her pillows. Lottie raises her head and her lips are painted blood red. You raise a hand and wipe the drop trying to roll down her chin.

"Good?"

She laughs. "More than good."

You touch your throat and your fingers come away red. Lottie flushes, embarassed at the mess she made. No matter, she will have plenty of time to clean it later. You reach a hand towards her. Lottie meekly accepts your fingers and licks them clean.

"Still hungry?"

"Uh... I... not really-!"

You hook a leg over her hips and turn the two of you. Lottie ends up sprawled beneath you, hair spread out like a dark halo. You smile down at her. Her blush is very cute for someone who is so dangerous.

"Okay. Then I guess it's my turn to feed on you," you smirk.

You have so much exposed, unmarked skin to work with. When the night is over, your claim on Lottie will be painted all over her skin.

Lottie nods. "Yes, (Y/N)... Please."

You smile.

As if you needed asking.

#lottie mathews x reader #lottie matthews #yellowjackets #x reader #lucid writing

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