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somejazzinthemorning · 2 years ago

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tightrope. 03

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Language Word Count: 7.241 Previous chapter: 02.

Drowning myself in work is my go-to coping mechanism for more than half of my problems.

I'll either resort to racing or tracing brand strategies in an attempt to avoid having to face whatever problem throws my way and, that night, being 11 pm on a Wednesday, my laptop and the small whiteboard on my desk became my saving grace.

Despite the burning eyes and my aching back, after hours sat at my desk, my mind was still racing, high on whatever feelings the brush of his lips had evoked in my body. I fell asleep to the memory of his eyes and the velvet lips.

There was no way to escape it. We were already falling.

I woke up late, the next day.

My phone had a full wall of notifications ready to present me. A single text in the middle of the dozens of work-related emails, most of them answers to the ones I’d written during the night and scheduled to be sent in the early hours of the work day. I only realised I was smiling, probably high on my own expectations, when I felt my smile drop, after seeing who sent the text. Amanda. Not him.

“those updates on the project at 3 am??? r u okay?”

“sorry! i remembered to schedule the emails, but forgot about the notes on the project.” "got some good work done, tho”

"need to take a moment to reread all of your incoherent notes” "all that rambling is… wow” "BUUUUUT come to the office” "the things from the berlin store just arrived, you will love them”

"can’t make it today” "send pics!”

"come tomorrow, then! ill get churros for breakfast”

My phone went back to the nightstand and I pulled up the comforter, wrapping it around myself in an attempt to find some security and calm of mind. I peered out from under the comforter, staring at the dark room, only lightened by some streaks of light created from a gap in the blinds. I was still tired from the night, and my mind scrambled from everything we had shared.

Eventually, I left the bed. My mom was downstairs, and a copy of Shadow of the Wind rested on the kitchen counter while she cooked lunch. Frank Sinatra played on the old record player in the living room and the music continued to stretch around the house as we ate together. Luckily, her birthday party was keeping her busy; busy enough that she didn't remember to ask me about the dinner from last night.

Truth be told: I'm a terrible liar. I would never be able to escape her questions.

At the end of the day, I met Rocco for a workout, in a nearby gym. He was waiting for me, leaning against the reception counter, teal Puma t-shirt paired with an amused smirk; I knew he was more than ready to put me through my paces. And I was right. It only took me a couple of exercises to lay on the floor, panting and sweating."Have you thought about what you're doing next season?" I looked up, in the direction of the voice. Rocco was standing in front of me, holding my water bottle.

I sat up straight and extended my hand to grab it. "Not yet," the water was cold and refreshing. Just what I needed. "Maybe a third year in the Challenge and," I paused to breathe. "You know, the reserve seat. Not ideal, but yeah."

He frowned, sitting down on one of the plyo boxes near me. "But yeah?"

"Yeah. Works." I answered, laying back down on the green turf. The small fake grass ticklish on my legs and arms. "Not much, but it's racing."

"I think I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"Why? It's just how it is."

He cleared his throat, the deep sound making me open my eyes and stare at him again. "Up," he commanded, refusing to help me get up. I brought the hand I'd just held up to the floor, to help me get up.

"I thought we were done," I said. He didn't even need to say anything to make me understand that we were, in fact, not done. "Are you mad?"

“Annoyed,” he turned back to me. “What the heck was that answer? Of course, a third year in the Challenge and a reserve seat in WEC are not ideal. I was hoping for a real answer, not some… whatever that was.”

“It’s the reality,” I shrugged. Instead of turning back and going back to do whatever he was about to do, he just kept looking at me. Not the conversation I was hoping for today.

“You had a plan. What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing happened. I had a plan. And it’s going as it’s possible.”

"Excuses, Eva," Rocco exclaimed. He stepped forward and looked me in the eye. "You have a plan. You know what you want. And you have the talent."

“Congrats, you just solved gender inequality.” I gave him an ironic thumbs up, my mind still scrambled from the efforts of the workout and the encounter from last night. This kind of conversation was not what I wanted.

“You’re more than capable of getting a decent seat next year.”

“As we know,” I wiggled my finger between both of us, “It’s a tough path. Being capable won’t get me a seat. ”

“Locking yourself in an office keeping track of TikTok trends will?” I sent him a look. He held up his hands in defence. “You’re making excuses. There are other drivers fighting for the same things as you are and they are not taking no for an answer.”

“Neither am I.”

"Come on," he chortled, eying me carefully. I could tell that he wanted the best for me, but I was not really in the mood to discuss this at the moment. "When was the last time you actually planned something for yourself, and not just some new fashion designer or boujie vegan chef?"

I felt a little bit of annoyance creeping its way up my spine. I had been pushing myself so hard for the last few months, and I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed with all the pressure.

“Can we focus on the races I have left to win?” I asked, my voice taking on an exasperated tone. “We can talk about this after I win this championship?”

“Sure.” He bent down to grab a 15 kg power bag from the floor and dropped it off at my feet. "This wasn't planned, but that self-pity is annoying me."

“A punishment?" I took my hands to my hips, a light chortle abandoning my lips. "Burpees and never-ending lounges? That's what you think I need right now?"

"No, no burpees," he said, his grin widening. "But maybe a few extra lounges wouldn't hurt." He was clearly enjoying this. I rolled my eyes and glanced down at the power bag in front of me.

“It was not—”

He cleared his throat, cutting me off, and I went silent. Then, looking at him, I saw that he was grinning at me once again, content. Yeah, it was self-pity. Yeah, the future is scary, especially when you’re a 25-year-old woman in motorsports and your career seems to be stuck.

I took a deep breath and bent over to pick up the bag, the cold weight of it dragging my body down to the ground. Rocco took a few steps back and then motioned me with his head to start.

"Andiamo," he said. “20 steps back and forth. Three series.”

So I did. I started lounging with the bag, back and forth across the green patch of turf on that side of the gym, trying to keep a steady pace. With each step, the pressure of the bag weighed me down. I kept going, pushing forward and gritting my teeth against the pain. When I finally reached the twentieth step, I dropped the bag and breathed out, my body aching from the effort.

By the end of the third series, I had pushed my body to its very limits and back. I sunk down onto the cool grass beneath me, feeling the relief of the softness beneath me—my muscles aching and my body dripping with sweat, my hair matted to my neck and temples.

Rocco sat near me, guiding me through a couple of moves, helping me to loosen my tight muscles and stretch out my body. Despite the big (and somewhat threatening) muscles he had a gentle touch.

“What’s on your mind?”

"Hm?" I frowned, my eyebrows furrowing together as I closed my eyes, feeling his hand pressing down on my thigh, pushing it firmly against the hard floor. I could feel the pain radiating through my body, but I tried to focus on the sensation of his grip.

“You always complain this hurts,” he said. I opened one eye. Now, I could feel the pressure from his grip. Probably something shifted on my face because he instantly asked, “Now it hurts?”

"It hurt before, I was just distracted." I shook my head, closing my eyes again and focusing on the sensation of his grip. “I’m free to feel like shit when things go badly." I let out.

“Things are not going badly,” he sighed, leaving my leg and switching to the other. “You’re simply letting yourself fall behind.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, my head falling back against the floor. I stayed there for a few moments, my heart pounding against my chest and my thoughts racing a million miles per hour. When I finally opened my eyes again, I looked up at Rocco, this time because I felt my thigh burning with discomfort, he was still looking at me, waiting for an answer.

"Too much." I glanced below while patting his arm. He raised an eyebrow, implying more pressure. "Ei!" I scrunched my nose. He just arched a brow. Sadistic fucker. “What? Are you going to hurt me until I hold someone at gunpoint and ask for a seat?”

“You talk like you don’t have good offers, Eva.”

“What is a good offer? Driving against 19-year-old boys in Formula 3? It’s humiliating.”

“W Series?” He suggested.

“I want to race with men and show people I can win against them.” I sat down. Rocco took his hands from my legs. My muscles tingled with the same intensity my thoughts did. “I like the Challenge because I’m showing them I can do it. But the team does not have a budget to race in other series. And I can’t be a reserve forever. So I can do another year and hope things change.”

“See? You’re choosing to fall behind.” He took a deep breath, understanding my frustration. "You can always look for sponsorship," he said, his eyes focused on the floor. "You have the talent, the connections—"

“I spent my teenage years sending letters and desperately trying to talk to people. You saw how that went.”

“You have results to show them, now. In two weeks you’ll have a championship.” I dragged my hands over my face. Instant regret. Both my hands and face were tingling with the same intensity my thoughts did. “W Series will give you exposure. Will give you points. You need points..”

“Why are you so interested now?” I arched an eyebrow, feeling a bit suspicious. “The year is long. Anything can happen. A lot can change.”

“I just don’t see you planning ahead.” He deadpanned, his expression unreadable. “What if you can’t do another season of the Challenge? Will you be content with just being a reserve in WEC?”

“Why so many ifs?” I asked, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Motorsports are unpredictable,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve been around long enough to know that. And I’m your coach, not just a trainer. It’s kinda my responsibility to do this.”

“Nah, I’m not having it.” I paused, still not entirely convinced. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Rocco just shook his head. The dark strands of his hair moved in unison. “Eva—” He shrugged. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Whatever he was about to say, it seemed like it wasn't completely true. "One," he continued; his tone shifting. "I don't want to be left without a job when you get bored of racing." I threw my towel at him, though I knew he was only joking. Unfortunately, he dodged it. "Two," he continued, "you're racing like a pro. You should race with the pros."

At least, in one thing he was right. I was racing like a pro.

On the other hand, I was not acting like one.

My team and my dad, the main sponsor, were the only support I had. Despite having other offers, none met our expectations. I had been a third, fourth, or fifth driver for too long. I had spent too much time in the garage, running simulations, and taking part in test sessions. Years of it. Each of these experiences had demoralized me.

Racing in the Challenge, learning with my team, taking time to understand the car and driving it to a podium made sense to me. Standing in the garage and hoping for someone to get food poisoning or COVID was not only morally wrong but also quite dull.

“Did you make this whole drama when Rio told you he wanted to stop racing and just go to college and become an engineer?” I asked, getting up from the floor and picking up my towel, still lying on the ground.

“It was worse actually,” my trainer said, following me. “I think I almost killed him when he told me.”

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, you do. Your poor father has his hands full with you two.” We stopped walking when we reached the locker room. “Go have a shower and get some rest.”

The second I reached my locker and opened the wooden door, I reached for my phone, looking for a message that hadn't arrived. Pathetic. A part of me considered taking the initiative and being the one to call or text him but, to be honest, what was left for me to say?

I had already told him everything by asking him not to kiss me and I might have told him even more by refusing to let go of him.

The office smelled of churros, so I knew Amanda was around. Either that or someone else had the same idea as her.

Familiar faces smiled back at me as I crossed the corridors and the work areas until I finally reached the common area and took one of the available seats. Since I had chosen to work remotely, and only visited the office casually for occasional meetings or when I needed a place where I could focus, I wasn't given an office.

The room was filled with the buzz of people chatting and the occasional laughter, making me feel a bit out of place. I knew most of them (read: I knew their names and which projects were under their purview), but rarely talked to any of them. Amanda, one of my friends from college, and the one who had introduced me to this agency was the only one I regularly talked with.

I sat down in my chair and pulled my laptop out of my bag. After talking with Rocco yesterday, I decided to take action on my career and spent last night looking at emails and reading my dad's notes on the sides of those he considered important enough to print. So, when I opened my laptop, my screen showed me my Notion board, which honestly felt like a showcase of my own failures. Not the first thing I wanted to see that morning.

A knock on the glass divider of the office made me lift my head up and find Amanda on the other side of it. A beautiful purple jumper highlighted her beautiful curves; her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. In her hands, a white box.

I waved at her.

“Vamos,” she motioned with her head. “Before anyone tries to steal these from me.”

I smiled and grabbed my laptop, zipping it up before getting up and walking towards her. “You know I have an important weekend ahead, right?”

She laughed, opening the box. “A churro won't weigh you down, don't worry.”

I took one of them and walked near her to the cafeteria. The morning light was soft, and the day was not too warm. Ideal to sit on the balcony and talk for a while. So, that's what we did. I grabbed coffee for both, while she walked outside.

The sunshine on my skin was just a slight warmth as I leaned on my chair, and the smooth breeze of the morning cooled off my skin. Traffic sounds in the background, the ruffle of chairs and the occasional bark of one of the dogs playing on the balcony of the start-up that shares the building with us.

While having a sip of her coffee, I noticed Amanda's eyes widening, and I could practically see the bell ringing in her mind. Instantly, my brows were drawn together. Brace yourself, Eva.

"So, I heard on Twitter dot com…" I rolled my eyes at the last part, and despite provoking a small chuckle from her, she didn't stop talking and her gaze still remained twinkling mischievously. "Carlos was in Mugello last weekend."

Oh, for fucks sake.

"If that's what Twitter says, it must be true."

"Yes. So," she paused. Her head tilted slightly, honestly looking like a pup who saw a threat in the distance. "Did you two talk?"

I shook my head; my fingers busy on the handle of my mug, desperately trying to seem unbothered by the question. "Nah, we didn't talk."

"You sure?" She asked, her eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said, my voice steady. "It's not like we're friends or anything."

"That's too bad," she murmured, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "It's not like Carlos and your brother are still like, the best of friends and maybe— maybe he went there to visit him and you end up talking?"

I sighed. "Stop it."“You're a terrible liar, Eva.” Amanda said bluntly, her gaze intense.

“Amanda,” I said, my voice stern and my eyes piercing. "Stop it."

“So, you talked.” Amanda gave me a knowing look. "I knew it. I saw those tweets and I realised we had barely talked this week, and that only happens when you're too busy overthinking. And then boom, I woke up to dozens of notes made at 2 am? You always go to bed early." She crossed her arms, her gaze still intense. "Come on, just tell me what happened. If it’s not him, it’s anything else. That worries me too. I'm here for you, no judgement."

I sighed. "Fine," I said, setting my mug down and leaning back on the chair. "We talked. A lot. We actually had dinner."

Amanda's gaze softened, but then she frowned again. “Dinner? The three of you?”

“The two of us.”

"Just the two of you?" Amanda's eyes widened in surprise, lips smiling brightly. I nodded to her question. "What did you talk about?"

A part of me wanted to end it there. The other part of me needed some guidance. And Amanda was a friend, she always had good advice. On the downside, she loved to gossip. But we were friends. Guidance. But gossip.

I shrugged. “Just normal things. Racing.”

“Okaaaay, that’s good.” At this point, her lips were curving up like she was the one having dinner with him. I couldn’t decide if her reaction annoyed me or made me happy. "So, what now? Are you going to keep in contact with him?"

I shook my head. "I don't think the dinner changed anything.” Liar.

“Eva,” she propped her elbows on the table. “You’re a terrible liar. Spit it out. What happened? If you don’t want to talk about it, tell me that. Just don’t lie.”

Talking about it would make a big deal. A bigger deal, actually. I dragged my hands over my face, tired and confused. Thinking about it was challenging enough and I truly didn't want to transform all my confusion and emotions into words. Amanda, on the other hand, couldn't hide the fact that she wanted the truth, her gaze so strong it almost made me melt over the iron (and obnoxiously red) chair I was sitting on.

So I told her. Every single detail. From the glorious vision of him under the bright lights of my garage, which for a second made me feel like I was living in an alternate world, through the call at dawn, to his gauze under the beautiful sunset glow. His warm, velvety lips brushing against mine. I told her about the “I think I might have loved you, too”, and the way that even in my dreams I couldn’t seem to forget his scent when he hugged me goodbye.

I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, as I spilled my heart out onto that small table, and when I finished all I could hear was the sound of her sigh. A ridiculous rom-com kind of sigh.

“I just feel like we messed it up because of pure desperation,” I said, crossing one leg over the other and looking around. “He messed it up. I think we just missed each other so much we… I don’t know. Got confused on the feelings?”

“He messed up?”

“I didn’t kiss him back. I just asked him to please, don’t.” It was more ridiculous saying it out loud now than when I recalled the moment in my mind.

“You’re even stupider than I thought,” was her answer. I arched my brow. “The guy cooked for you, at his place, told you he “thinks he loved you too” and tries to kiss you and now you’re mad because he didn’t text you?” She paused. “What the hell will he say? Of course, he won’t text you. What would you say to someone after being denied a kiss? Text him yourself.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Why not? I asked myself the same question. Because I can’t trust him to stay. Better, because I can’t trust him to not leave. “Don’t be stubborn, come on. Just by looking at you, I know you’re dying to get that kiss.”

“Can’t we go back inside and talk about work?”

“Oh, no, missy.” She shook her head. “Those AB tests can wait. I want to talk about you and how you’re so dumb you might lose the chance of your life.”

“You’re exaggerating. As always.”

“Eva.” She was stern, her eyes burning on me. “He was your best friend. At least try to mend that friendship. Even if you don’t want anything else. Whatever the reason.”

I sighed, bowing my head in defeat. Amanda had a way of making me see sense, even when I didn't want to. "And if I can’t see him as a friend but still can’t give a step in the other direction?”

“Then, you give it time. Just don’t give it too much space.” She got up from her chair. Mug on one hand. The empty white box on the other. “Remember how that worked up last time.”

Fact one about Amanda: she was probably the most curious person I knew. Any arguments in the office, celebrity rumours or gossip of literally any kind she knew by heart, down to the last detail. And while that was remotely irritating, especially at exhausting times, like during Amber and Johnny’s trial, or when (especially when) the news broke about Pique and Shakira's divorce, it could also be a blessing. At least from my point of view. Perhaps all the stories contributed to her having a broader view of relationships and, as a result, being so good at giving advice. Fact two: there was no one more insistent than her, so, evidently, she couldn’t leave the office without reminding me to text him.

It was 5 pm, and I was utterly absorbed in the presentation for the new restaurant. I was head down, consumed by the details of culinary and marketing analytics, and, to tell the truth, my mind was so focused on this project that I couldn't really think of anything else.

Amanda was getting ready to leave. Jacquemus purse over her shoulder and a strong pink lipstick on the place where a less saturated one had been during the day.

“You stay?” She asked me.

“Aham,” I briefly made my eyes leave the screen to look at her. “I need to finish this. Next week I’ll be too busy.”

“You leaving for Italy on Monday?”

“Tuesday,” I corrected her, my eyes going back down to the laptop. “Don’t want to leave this to the last minute.”

“Okay. I’ll try to have a look at it before you leave. Also,” my eyes went up again. “Send the man a good luck text.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes at her. "He doesn't need my luck text.”

Amanda nodded, her eyes still twinkling mischievously. "Okay, send him a whatever text, then. An emoji. Like his Instagram story.”

“I’m afraid liking his story won’t work.” I leaned back on her office chair, which I had taken in the middle of the day when she needed to leave for a meeting and left me to use her small office.

“Text him, then. Anything. I wouldn’t let Carlos Sainz escape, but you do you, babes,” she shrugged, turning her back to me to walk to the door.“Enjoy the weekend. Besos!”

“Bye!”

I didn’t text him. Of course. In the same way, she was insistent, I was stubborn.

Actually, let me rephrase it.

I didn’t text him then.

Mid-afternoon, Rio had called inviting me to dinner, and when I asked about the kids, he told me he had booked a nanny, so they would stay home. It was either business or pleasure. I didn't need to ask; as soon as he mentioned my dad was invited, I knew we'd be discussing business. And after Rocco's worries last night, I knew it was partly my business, too.

My nerves were on edge as I prepared to leave the office. They only worsened as I neared the restaurant - a way too fancy place for a Friday dinner with the family.

Crossing the sidewalk, my heels clacking on the cement, my head spinning from the long hours in front of my laptop, and the anxiety building in my chest, I looked inside. My dad was seated at the end of the table, with an empty seat to his right - the seat I was supposed to take. Marjorie was already waving at me. Smiling politely to the man standing at the door, I said, "They're waiting for me." He nodded and let me enter.

My eyes drifted to their table, and I allowed myself a few seconds to study the mood. They were laughing, but my palms were still sweating as I settled in for what would surely be an uncomfortable conversation.

"Sorry, traffic," I said, punctuating my apology with a kiss on each of my parents' cheeks. "Am I too late?"

"No, no," my dad said, his voice warm and comforting. "Your brother was about to tell me something, but you just distracted him. Go ahead, Fabrizio."

I turned to him, curious.

"I'm sure we can wait a bit more. Just... after the food," he said.

"Why are you so nervous?" Marjorie asked, her violet fingernails softly laying over his arm in a gentle caress. "It's something good," she said to me. "Don't worry."

"Are you pregnant again?" my mom asked.

"No! No, no!" my sister-in-law responded quickly, her voice almost echoing in the room. Even Rio seemed surprised by her rapid response. "It's Rio's news. Not mine."

“After the food, then,” my father said.

“I hate it when I do that,” I muttered to my brother, grabbing the menu from the table and letting my eyes drift through the print. “You haven’t ordered yet, right?”

My dad shook his head. "We were waiting for you.”

I glanced at the menu one last time before setting it back down. My dad's hand called for a waiter and, after the young man left, the conversation resumed. As usual before any Grand Prix, the race weekend was the matter on the table and, that night specifically, Carlos' penalty was the urgent matter. Ferrari had the pace and Carlos had the skill, but as I sat there, hearing my brother and dad's input on how wise the choice had or hadn't been, my attention diverged to the DNF he had suffered in Austria, less than two weeks ago. Vivid images of the flames engulfing the car, the heartbreaking words on the radio, and the cheers that echoed through the crowd as his teammate stepped onto the top step filled my mind.

One feeling the glory, the other one consumed in ruin.

“Good luck out there this weekend.” "Don’t pull another Austria. That one was scary.”

Done. I’d texted him. For better or for worse, it was done. And I didn’t have time to put the phone back in the purse before it vibrated again in my hand.

“Thank you. I really need it.”

I checked the time.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m resting." "Listening to my teammate rant about food, but resting.”

“Why? Did you tell him about the cheese-less pasta you tried to feed me?” “If I expect Leclerc to teach you something is how to cook pasta."

"He’s a terrible cooker.” “I’m better learning it from you.”

"I’ll be sure to give you a lesson someday."

"I'll hold you to that."

"What are you smiling about?" Marjorie asked, my attention immediately being grabbed from my screen to the table.

"Nothing, sorry," I said quickly, tucking my phone back into my purse. "Amanda just texted me about the work I was finishing.”

"Ah, Eva, if you put that effort into racing…" he said, as the waiter came back with our food. I tried to ignore him, especially because there was no use fighting back his comment.

Even with the food on the table and the anticipation to find out about Rio’s news tugging on my chest, the conversation didn’t go further from Formula 1. My dad, a lifelong Italian Ferrari fan and a very biased Carlos supporter was ranting over the lack of professionalism he was sensing from the team and how the choices they repeatedly made ruined not only the drivers but the prestige of the team. Nothing new. Rio and I have been listening to the same tirade for a long couple of years and nothing seemed to change, even after the amazing start to the season the team had.

“I had my reservations at first, but you could be a nice fit for the team, actually”, my dad said, pointing at Rio, with the knife he was using to cut his steak. Rio looked confused at him, and then, at me. “Have they given you an answer?”

What?

For a moment, I felt like I’d fallen on a different table, a completely different conversation. My gaze shifted from one to the other, confused by my father’s question.

“Who’s they?” I asked. Marjorie was biting her lip; her violet fingertips on my brother’s arm, once again.

“Ferrari,” my father responded, clearly stepping over my brother’s feet. Rio seemed bothered; clenched jaw, restless fingers that Marjorie tried to calm by positioning hers over. “Are those the news?” He asked him.

Rio nodded, his jaw unclenching and his lips transforming to a slight grin. "Yep. They offered me a job." He looked around the table, his gaze caught mine for a second but quickly left again. “I need to let them know my decision until Monza.”

“You applied for a job at Ferrari?” I asked. Honestly, I was so confused I couldn’t piece all the things together. “We’re doing so good at the Challenge, you could have waited for just one m—”

“Eva.” My dad interrupted me. The strong stern voice pulled my attention. The authority value of his words over the sweet comforting voice of the beginning of the dinner. The mood had definitely shifted “Wait? You’re the one that’s always urging the team to aim for higher heights.”

"Exactly. The team won't do that without Rio."

"But your brother will. And so will you." I tried to interject but with no success. He continued before I even had the chance to talk. "You can't possibly think your brother would stay with the team knowing he could have this huge opportunity."

"I didn't know about any opportunity." I was replying to my father, but my eyes were directed to Rio. "What about the team? And the Challenge?" I inquired.

"In less than two weeks, the championship will be over. I have no doubts you will win it. You're just losing time there," my father's tone was bothering me, but the fact that he was still cutting his steak as he talked was really aggravating my temper.

Rio, on the other hand, didn't react. His expression didn't even shift. He remained silent, eyes shifting between mine and dad's face. In his silence, though, he was telling me much more than he thought.

"This is not a formality," I said to my father. "Can you please look at me while you talk about our future?"

Finally, he put down his cutlery and remained silent for a few seconds. Deep blue eyes looked up at me, cold and serious.

"There's no future for you if you're afraid to take a serious step," he said finally. "I won't let your brother get stuck in the Challenge when I know he can do so much more. I won't let you make him fall behind because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Why else would he stay at the Challenge?" I stayed silent, feeling my fake sense of confidence being stripped away with the weight of my dad's question. The answer that my conscience gave me was selfish and I refused to say it out loud. I was afraid of staying alone, rather, I was afraid to see Rio flying solo in the higher aims I ambitioned for me and not being able to carry along. Only if he waited, we could jump up together. "Why would he choose anything less than Formula One?"

"So, you have it decided, then?" I asked Rio. "How did that even happen?"

His tongue crept in between his lips, eyes wandering on my face, afraid to reach my eyes. It was making me nervous. Not just because he was about to leave me, but because he didn't tell me about it, prior. My dad knew about it. He even thought that I knew about it. And like a lightning bulb lighting up on my head: Rocco knew it, too.

"It was proposed to me. The job. At Silverstone, a few weeks ago." Even though Rio was stuttering, and his words barely constructed a sentence, piece by piece it all fell together. "Apparently, Carlos talked to someone about you. About the Challenge. And he mentioned me, my results..." he explained. "Carlos invited me there for the Grand Prix and surprised me with an interview."

Why didn't it surprise me? Carlos. The “right time”, of course.

"Your results? Why hide this from me?” I asked, looking around the table. “Clearly, everyone else knows.”

“I wanted to tell you, but didn’t get the chance to do it.”

“But what?” I asked, half defeated, half annoyed. Angry, even. There was so much going on inside me, I couldn’t think straight. “You just said you had the interview in Silverstone. Weeks ago. You had plenty of opportunities.”

“I knew you would snap and react like this,” Rio tried to justify himself.

“Snap? I’m not—” I paused and took a deep breath. At this point, I was seething with anger. “I’m asking questions. I’m not… snapping.”

“You should be happy for me,” I would if I didn’t feel betrayed. “I know you well enough to know that you would react… badly to the news. Especially if you knew Carlos was involved**.**”

Even though his name was blinking on my head, in bold red letters, I tried to set apart his involvement in this story. So, I carried on,

“And you’re just going to do it? Leave the team, the whole project and ditch us? Without even consulting me?”

He shrugged. “I’m consulting you now.”

“This is not a consultation, Rio. Please.” A pause. “This is you telling me what you’re going to do, without even considering my opinion or the team that’s behind your great results.”

“Go ahead.” He made a gesture with his hand. “What’s your opinion, then? You are the one that’s always telling me to aim higher. This is my dream. Always has been.”

“What? Formula One? I thought your dream was to drive in Formula One. Or was that before you noticed you’re a shitty driver? Enlighten me.”

“Eva, enough,” the deep voice cut me off.

I felt like I was going to burst. I wanted to scream, to cry, to express my anger somehow. But my dad's stern gaze kept me in my place. I felt completely helpless and unheard.

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Rio, cutting through the silence. “Childish, even. Ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful? I’m not the one leaving.”

“Why does leaving need to be bad?” The question settled in for a second. “Grow a bit, and maybe you’ll get some good opportunities too.”

“Sure, maybe then my friends will get me jobs, too. Is that what you mean?”

“Enough.” My dad's fist hit the table, loud enough to silence us, but not to the point of attracting too much attention.

My gaze lingered on his clenched fist on the table. I nodded, forcing myself not to say anything else. I placed my napkin on the table and got up, making sure my chair wouldn’t make any noise when pushed back. Before turning around, I paused briefly, my gaze now resting on my brother. “Good luck with your new job.”

It didn't surprise me when I saw Carlos fly through the track the next day, setting amazing times in the qualifying session, despite the penalty waiting for him for the race. He was dancing with the car, tracing beautiful lines within the colourful ones Paul Ricard was known for. Carlos would start P19 the next day, only ahead of Magnussen, who also had a back-of-the-grid penalty.

I traded the interviews for a dip in the pool and lingered there for the remainder of the afternoon. Perhaps because I was not the best person to have around that day, my parents had left just before lunch and didn't get back until after dinner. Alone, with music echoing throughout the house and the crippling anxiety the events that week had provoked, I felt myself get lost in the doubts and uncertainties.

My phone rang when I was already getting ready for bed. On my nightstand, the name Carlos appeared over an old photo of both of us. Like I couldn't control it, I walked to the phone and sat on the bed. I let it ring a few times before picking it up.

“Hi,” he said. I just looked through the window, to the dark backyard. “No good luck text today?”

“Guess not.”

“And why's that?”

“Did you know Rio had an interview to work at Ferrari?”

“Yes...?” He paused. “Is that a problem?”

“Did you know he got a job offer?”

We both fell into a moment of silence. A long sigh stretched through the line. I closed my eyes, not sure what to expect from the conversation. The next time his voice was heard, it was more serious.

"Can we stop asking questions instead of answering them?"

"The timing is funny," I said. "Just that."

"What do you mean?"

"You coming to Mugello? Was that a coincidence?"

"Eva, what?" Carlos was silent for a few seconds. "Don't make this into a drama," he said. "Rio is talented and if he got a job offer it's because he earned it. The things are not remotely related."

"I'm not complaining about him getting the job."

"Then what are you complaining about?" Carlos asked.

"That it took you years to finally come back and talk to me and it happened just when he got a job in your team. Did you really want to talk to me or did he make you do that?"

"I didn't do it for him," Carlos said. "I did it because I wanted to see you."

"I wish I could believe you."

"And why don't you?"

"It's been three years. Coincidences don't just happen."

I could hear him breathe. Silence weighed down my chest. He wasn't denying it. He wasn't telling me why he was there, that night. "Can I see you this week?" He asked me, before a long sigh.

"No."

"I'll be in Maranello for a few days." I bit my lip, shaking my head to the void. "You'll be in Imola, right? I can go there—"

"I don't want to see you." I talked over him and then paused for a brief second. "Don't show up there, please. It's an important week and I don't really need more distractions."

“Eva, por favor.”

“Good luck tomorrow.”

I put my phone away and let myself sink into the bed, feeling nothing but the warmth of the comforters on my skin and the instant sense of security that came over me. I allowed my eyes to close and my mind to drift away, and before I knew it, a prayer for Carlos came into my thoughts.

I prayed for strength for both him and me, for us. I knew that, whether we were on or off the track, we would need to find a way to get through whatever was to come.

Next Chapter: 04.

Thank you for your support in the previous chapter! Carlos will become a more present character in the future. Pinky promise. Don't abandon me until that happens, please! <3

#tightrope #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #fanf1ction #carlos sainz angst #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz jr

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sun-marie · 1 year ago

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I finished BG3 for the second time last night, and I have many spoilery thoughts about it (including PICTURES) so I'll put them under a cut. BG3 spoilers ahead, be warned!

I enjoyed the ending a lot more than my first playthrough (even Karlach notwithstanding, since this was the first time getting her sick Avernus ending). My first time I felt a little left out to dry by how it felt cut-off with no epilogue, but now that I saw that coming I enjoyed it more for what it was, if that makes sense! Though epilogues would still be nice, especially if there the same level of quality as Karlach's Avernus ending (but honestly I'd be fine with a slideshow too)

I have also made my peace with Ruathym becoming a Mindflayer. I don't think he wanted to do it per say, but I do think it suits him, and I'm cautiously optimistic in believing the game on him being an unprecedented mindflayer who may still retain himself and his soul. Plus it adds a really tasty tragic twist to his character, especially being in a romance with Lae'zel. Both Zephyr and Ruathym's romances have the potential for tragedy, but Gale's is seen ahead of time by the characters in the story, making it more satisfying to fight against it, while there's no way any of the characters could anticipate Ruathym having to become a mindflayer to free the prince of his lover and save the world, so it's more satisfying to lean into that dramatic irony. Plus, like, he lived in the Underdark anyway, and I don't think animals would shy away from him? So he'll be okay in the long run, I think. (Copium? Undoubtedly.)

I would really like to see like epilogue slides for the characters. If I wasn't romancing Gale I'd have no idea his plan was to go back to Waterdeep, and I had to look this up but if you romance Halsin he tells you he's going to start an orphanage! Why is that romance-exclusive information?? And like Shadowheart and Astarion are left out to DRY, people have already mentioned it before but there's no way the party would just let Astarion run off like that without following him. And if you let Shadowheart's parents die, there is zero follow up on what her plans are after all this. So idk, I know Larian said they're working on the ending, and I'm looking forward to it.

I would enjoy the ending much much more though if it actually worked. Like, I had to reset the game multiple times bc it just refused to render

Like idk I know it's a big game and my PC isn't the newest, but it's not ancient either and some people are playing this on their laptop for crying out loud!! I shouldn't be dealing with this level of graphical issues. (The same issues were cropping up during Gortash's coronation btw, which is what made pics for my mod such a pain to get). And while I do mod my game, I can't believe the mods I have are enough to cause this 😭

So, that kinda put a damper on things, but the *content* of the ending, I mostly like! It does feel very epic, and I appreciate that it was challenging but not impossibly difficult. It's also very satisfying to see everyone again, almost teared up when Rolan and Barcus Wroot gave their support to me! They were just That One Grumpy Tiefling At The Grove and That One Gnome We Saved From A Windmill, and look at them now!! ahhh that was really good.

And while I think it still needs to be extended, I do actually like the immediate nature of the goodbyes. Wyll and Karlach have to go to Avernus now, Astarion needs to get out of the sun now, and Lae'zel needs to leave for her people, and Ruathym is a Mindflayer now. It gives the ending an appropriately bittersweet note. We won, but we still lost people, even if we may see them again. It all happens so fast because the tadpoles died like *snap* that.

I loved this game, and I like this ending. I'm going to make myself wait before I replay it (bc this one of those games I want to be playing all the time), and when I do I want to see if I can squeeze one more oc or one more romance in there. I don't really do AUs, which include other playthroughs with different protags, and I'm not a huge fan of having a pc for every romance option, but I think between the options that are free (Halsin, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion,....Minthara(?)) somebody could pair up! Even if it's after the events of the game lol. So I'm kinda tossing around the idea of a Wyll origin playthrough and finding who he'd romance, but idk yet, we'll see 👀

#baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #like no really SPOILERS #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #thought dump #marie speaks

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infinitethree · 2 years ago

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OOC::

This is gonna be a bunch of links to the Sanctuary builds, which are also linked in the doc of docs & taglist/links page on the sidebar.

I'll be adding some images I want to say something about. Also, just know that I frequently have gone back and tweaked or even completely redid parts of it.

Builds; Old-> New, save for Updates which is new-> old to show any new stuff easier.

Overall has over a thousand pics spanning from January 11th 2022 to a week or so ago. I've been working on this 1.16.5 creative world for what my launcher tells me is over 14 days of time spent entirely in-game.

There are over 150 mods used, ranging from itty bity ones ("No Potion Shift" at 3KB & "Shut Up Experimental Settings" at 5KB) to almost comically large ones ("Caves & Cliffs Backport" at 50,313 KB & "Modern XL" at 37,090 KB).

I run it on a laptop, but I do have to turn pretty much everything else off. I usually switch to my phone for music/podcasts + Discord and have just the game running. Also, I got this model specifically to handle Minecraft and for having ample space for my music. I have all of it stored on my computer and played through MusicBee, because I don't want a million ads.

You might notice that it takes a looooong time for most of the buildings to get roofs. This is because I didn't understand how those blocks worked. And also I just don't like doing them much; they're boring compared to the character detail stuff.

-Overall

-Updates (New-> Old)

-Day + Theo + Lee & Temp Refugees

-Dee + Orph + Perce & Forge

-Atlas + Quizzy & Adamantium

-KinderSofter!Crew [Perce’s friends] -Poison Farm

-Aster

-Daz + Raine

-Aleph + Khons

-Council of the Star Headquarters It's not in the actual album (since the dates don't align, because it was just a screengrab to share with Noodley vs a proper screenshot), but these were the original blocks I planned on using for the three main Summer Hills houses:

The mod with the tiles and logs got removed early on, so I had to pick something else to use. I like the end result way better, though; each house has a more distinct flavor while still being fairly cohesive.

If I had to pick a specific detail as my favorite, it'd have to be the creeper plushies. At some point, Lee decides that creepers are protectors; thus, anyone he cares about needs to have a plush version. Sentiments on the look of them are...mixed.

Theo thinks they're creepy as hell but his baby brother gave those to him-- thus, they're above his gear as an 'intimidation tactic'; Day is, uh, not super keen on waking up from a nightmare to the sight of creepers, so he has them out of his line of sight; Perce's friends think it's almost tooth-rottingly sweet but in a /pos way, etc.

It all spawned off of seeing the creepers in the "Modern XL" mod, and realized those are EXACTLY the sort weird, kinda unnerving thing a kid would latch onto.

Day, Theo

Dee, Orph, Atlas

Perce, Lee (there are just barely 5 in the shot and that's not even all of them!)

Quizzy

Oisin, Agni [Perce's friends]

Damon, Oxylos [Perce's friends

Aster, Khons + Aleph

Daz, Raine

And here's a few pics of things specifically referenced in prose:

Sibling Acceptance Rituals, chapter 1 (where they're standing near Theo's room)

Sibling Acceptance Rituals, chapter 2 (very start of the chapter)

any scene in the den of the main house

Progress is Relative, chapter 3 (referenced; Dee's lamps that "look like honey but do NOT taste like it")

Polaris Shines Above; Aster's temporary room

Polaris Shines Above, chapter 9 ([redacted], obviously VERY in progress)

Uhhh and it looks like I ran out of space. Hmm. I...will shuffle the Piccrew/Art to its own post, lmao.

I'm absolutely willing to answer questions about things anyone is curious about!! I love explaining myself, and more importantly, explaining things about my silly little blorbos. Or even just what mods I used.

#cocochaos #long post

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storiesofsvu · 2 years ago

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Journey To The Past Ch 2

Bryan Kneef x reader Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, that's about it so far.

The rest of your week after running into Bryan went by agonizingly slow, you were at the point in all of your cases that you were simply stuck at your desk doing the boring, menial paperwork. The only reason you were even going into the office was because it made you get out of bed, and then you’d actually get some human interaction rather than socializing with your cat all day. It was both driving you insane and yet somehow saving your sanity. Friday itself was already rather boring, most people working from home already or taking a half day, the office rather empty after the lunch hour was over. You’d gone out for lunch with Kim, one of the few other colleagues you’d actually call a friend, before she called it a day and you said your goodbyes as she left the firm. You stopped halfway back to your office, glancing between it and the direction of the breakroom, wondering if another coffee would help or hinder the focus for the afternoon before you decided enough was enough, if you had to be stuck with mind numbing work the least you could do was be in the privacy of your own home.

When you got home you decided to try and avoid the afternoon slump, dropping your files and laptop on the kitchen island and quickly changing into workout gear. Your building very thankfully had a gym on the top floor and you figured if you took advantage now, it would be empty and you’d be able to check a workout off your weekend to do list. An hour and a half later and you returned, stripping yourself of the sweaty clothing and jumping into a very well deserved shower. You took the time to wash your hair, exfoliating your skin and getting rid of any unwanted hair, you always felt better and enjoyed your weekends more when you felt completely refreshed, and at the least, Kim had promised drinks on her on Saturday night so you had something to look forward to. Skincare complete, wrapped in a robe you padded out to the kitchen, rolling your eyes as you glanced down to the pile of things you’d brought home from the office. Rather than make yourself suffer, you pulled open the fridge to grab a bottle of pinot, pouring yourself a large glass before taking a sip. It was Friday, it was almost five, you could consider yourself done with work if you wanted. At the very least you opened your laptop to reply to a couple of last minute emails before starting your weekend and picking up your phone.

Your brow furrowed when you noticed you had a text from a number not saved in your phone, you replied to a couple of other messages before swiping open on the unknown contact.

‘Hey, it’s Bry. Was wondering if you were maybe free for a drink tonight? I know it’s a little late notice, but thought it was worth a shot.’

A small smile crept onto your lips as you placed down the wine glass to first save his contact and then reply to the message.

‘It’s as if you read my mind.’ You snapped a pic of the wine glass, attaching it to the message, ‘already a step ahead of you though.’

‘Great minds think alike.’ He replied, a winking emoji at the end of the message, ‘where are you? I could meet you?’

‘I’m boring and drinking alone in my kitchen currently. I think we can find somewhere a little more upscale.’

‘It’s a nice day, have you ever been to the Godfrey?’

‘That rooftop lounge over on W Huron? I’ve heard good things.’

‘What do you say to seven thirty?’

‘I’d say it sounds perfect.’

‘I can send a car for you?’

‘It’s only a few blocks from me, I can walk. I’ll see you tonight.’

‘Looking forward to it.’

You arrived at the Godfrey right on time, the elevator whisking you up to the rooftop lounge, you were just about to approach the hostess stand when you caught sight of Bryan out on the terrace. He was dressed down a bit, same as you had, a crisp light blue button up, sleeves rolled up exposing those gorgeous forearms and just enough buttons undone to tease at the dark chest hair underneath, complete with dark wash jeans. You’d chosen a casual black dress, one that the neckline exposed just enough while still being somewhat tasteful, your hair loose around your shoulders.

Bryan was leant back in his chair, an arm thrown over the back of it as he gazed out over the horizon, one foot propped up on the opposite knee. His other arm lifted his whiskey to his lips, taking a sip before his gaze drifted through the lounge and landed on you. A small smirk broke over his lips, tilting his head in a greeting as you smiled, your dress exposed your cleavage and ended right above your knee, more skin for his eyes to roam over than during office hours. He had to hold back the urge to lick his lips and immediately make a sexual comment, making the mental reminder that he had to at least try to be the respectable gentleman at first.

You flashed a glittering smile to the hostess, pointing towards Bryan, giving her a nod before you crossed through the lounge, your smile shifting to one that was nearly shy as you approached the table.

“Hey.” You greeted softly, slinking into the seat across from him.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He replied with a grin and you let out a little laugh, shaking your head at his antics, “you look great.”

“Thank you.” You ducked your eyes for a second, trying not to drag them up his body before you spoke again, “you clean up pretty well yourself.” Bryan simply chuckled in return,

“You hungry? Or did you eat already?”

“I had a late lunch, but it’s probably a good idea to have something small.” You replied with a laugh, hands picking up the menu to peruse through it.

The waiter came over a few moments later and you were able to order an old fashioned while the two of you continued to look over the menus. A bit of small talk overtook the table before you decided on plates of truffle fries, hummus, sliders and mini tacos. Drink in hand you finally sucked back a large sip, humming in satisfaction as the liquor sunk through your body, relaxing away all the stressors and bullshit from the week behind you.

“So….” You started with a smile, glancing across the table, “how did little bashful Bry become the oh so well known Bryan Kneef of STR?” You asked and Bryan chuckled, wondering just how much reading up on him you’d been doing since the run in earlier that week. He certainly had done his own fair share of digging on you, finding out that you were a senior partner at a very esteemed firm on the North side of town. That your win rate was exactly what he’d expected after watching the way you eviscerated classmates in mock trials back in college. You were highly involved in the community, large donations to charities throughout the years, a flood of photos from fancy galas, press releases and the like. And in each one, you were flying solo, no man on your arm or date in sight. You seemed pretty well set up in the Chicago community he was surprised that you hadn’t crossed paths earlier, his interest piqued at just how long you’d been in the city and if there was a particular reason as to your choice to appear single.

“A hell of a lot of time and even more work.” He replied, “how’d you even end up in Chicago? I thought New York was the ultimate dream? You wouldn’t stop talking about your perfect life, the brownstone on the Upper West side close enough to run in Central Park every morning, date nights at The Met, Hamptons trips every summer? You had it all planned out.”

“I did.” You smiled fondly, your gaze in the distance, “and for a while… it was.” You sighed, taking a large sip of your drink, “then it became the absolute nightmare and I had to sacrifice all those things to save my fuckin’ sanity.”

“Real estate just too expensive?” He teased with a laugh and you let out a huff, chucking darkly before sucking back more of your drink.

“I wish it was that simple.”

“What happened?” Bryan asked, watching the melancholy drift through your eyes before your attention returned to him.

“I made the terrible mistake of falling in love with the wrong guy.” You risked a glance up at Bryan, whose expression was one of curiosity, his head tilted, eyes soft in the sense that he felt sorry for whatever happened to you.

“Grade A jerk?”

“Even worse.” You laughed, taking another sip of your drink, “I was young, new to the city and trying to make a name for myself, got caught up in a whirlwind romance. Mike was great, perfect gentleman, showed me pieces of New York I never would’ve discovered otherwise. He was older, established in the city already, a few people tried to caution me about him when we got engaged but I blew them off.”

“He only in it for the money?”

“More like grooming.” You scoffed and Bryan rolled his eyes, “he wanted the perfect little wife and I was ready to be just that. Much to his disdain I kept working after we got married, he blamed the stress of the job when we started trying for kids with no luck.” You drained your drink, “then one night I came home to find him packing up his stuff, divorce papers on the dining table. Turns out he had a mistress I didn’t know about that he’d gotten pregnant and she was more than okay just being a trophy wife who wouldn’t talk back.”

“Sounds like scum.”

“Thank god for prenups.” You huffed, “after everything went down I had to get out of the city. Colleague heard of a job opening out here that paid better and the rest is history.”

“I’m sorry.” Bryan’s hand dared to slide across the table, squeezing at yours, sympathy in his eyes despite his own unsavory dating history “you deserve so much better than that.”

“Thanks Bry.” You flashed him a smile, squeezing at his hand before pulling away, “but enough about my bullshit, how’ve you been? I hear you’re pretty high up at STR?”

“I am.” He chuckled, “took a bit to get my feet under me but once the ball was rolling it was like second nature.”

“I’m proud of you.” You smiled, “you’ve come a long way.”

“So have you.” He grinned back at you, the conversation interrupted by the server coming over with food and the offer to refill drinks that you both said yes to. As you ate your eyes darted to Bryan’s left hand, the conversation easily flowing still.

“No ring?” You asked, “you seeing anyone?”

“If I was, I don’t think they’d be pretty happy with me being out on a Friday night with someone as gorgeous as you.” He grinned back and you felt your cheeks heat, laughing at his retort.

“Way to dodge the question.” You teased and it was his turn to chuckle.

“What about you? You find prince charming of Chicago?”

“Nah.” You waved him off, “found it a little weird attempting to get back into the dating pool while also working full time.”

“The job certainly does take priority.” He muttered over the rim of his drink.

“That why you stayed single at Harvard? Or just cause you were shy?” You teased and Bryan tossed a straw wrapper in your direction.

“I was focussed on graduating. Just like you were.”

“You got me there.” You laughed, taking the time to take a couple bites of food, “how’s STR as a firm?”

“Good enough.” He shrugged, “as you said I was able to work my way up to the top, I’m one of their highest appointed attorneys, and I love what I do. Nothing like being the ruthless lawyer, right?”

“Exactly.” You let out a small laugh, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks as you ducked your gaze, distracting yourself with your drink as Bryan continued to tell you all about his life in Chicago.

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, this one even more relaxed than the one you shared back in the day, this conversation one that you continually shot back and fourth. You laughed, you reminisced and you shared stories of your lives, how your sister had moved out to LA and exiled herself from the family, how your parents had basically shunned you, thinking your divorce had been a terrible mistake. How Bryan had mourned the loss of his mother, someone you’d become close to on vacations from Harvard back in the day. How he ended up enjoying Chicago more than he’d originally expected, making the city into the home he needed.

You continued talking far longer than either of you had ever thought you would, the lounge emptying out around you as you kept going. You barely noticed until the server came by a second time asking about the cheque and you apologised profusely. Bryan swiped the bill before you could even think about looking at it, the credit card receipt signed within minutes. You thanked the staff and swiftly made your way out of the hotel, lingering on the sidewalk outside, neither of you really wanting the night to end yet.

You glanced back to Bryan, catching him palming a tip to the doorman and you couldn’t ignore the fluttering in your stomach. At first thought your mind went straight to something you ate not sitting well before you realized that it was butterflies. It had been far too long since you’d felt them you’d completely forgotten the feeling. They were only amplified when Bryan turned to you, grin on his cheeks as he spoke.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Of course.” You smiled up at him, the fluttering in your stomach increasing as his arm wound around your waist. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re miles above the usual date night already, I doubt you’ve got anything to worry about Bry.”

“So what I’m hearing is that this was a date?” He raised a brow in your direction and you laughed.

“It could be.” You shrugged, “or it could be just two old friends catching up.”

“I think I prefer the first option.”

“Well then it was definitely a date.” You smiled, pausing in your step to wait for the light to change, feeling Bryan’s arm tighten around you while a comfortable silence washed over you.

“Are you happy in Chicago?” He asked suddenly, his voice quieter than before, “I know it’s not exactly the big apple and…. You had your heart set.”

“Things change.” You shrugged, glancing up at him with a smile, “and I am. I’ve made Chicago my home, made a name for myself that I don’t think I could’ve achieved in the cutthroat competitive place that is New York.”

“Good.”

You suddenly stalled in your steps stopping in front of an apartment, “this is me.”

“You are nice and close.” He murmured, smiling as you turned back to him.

“Just like I said…” you murmured, leaning even closer toward him when his arm pulled you to him. Your heart thundered in your chest, feeling his body against yours, his cologne invading your senses, clouding your thoughts.

Your eyes darted up to his, flicking down to his lips before returning to his eyes, your lips parted as you caught him mirroring your motions. You decided to take the plunge, popping up on your toes to gently press your lips to his and even within a second you knew you’d made the right decision.

At first his eyes widened, surprised that you’d been the one to make the first move, though he relaxed into the kiss in a matter of seconds, his arm winding tightly around your waist, pulling you to him. His other hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing across your skin and you let out a soft sigh into the kiss. You were surprised with how easily you lips moved against each other, like they were made to connect, that waiting all these years didn’t mean you’d missed your only chance. Bryan’s tongue was just about to sneak into your mouth when a neighbour burst from the apartment, pulling you back to reality and the two of you broke apart with a small laugh, a blush taking over you cheeks before you glanced up at Bryan.

“Well that’s one hell of a reunion.” You grinned and he chuckled.

“You wanna let me up now?”

“Mmhmm.” You shook your head, “sorry Bry, I don’t fuck on the first date.”

“Oh? What’s your magic number then?” He smirked and you laughed.

“Well, considering how long we’ve known each other I’ll give you the half off discount and say date number three.”

“You really let these schmucks wait six dates?” Bryan laughed.

“Well….” You shrugged, “there are some pretty big douche bags out there. A girl’s gotta be careful.”

Bryan let out a soft sigh, collecting his words as he thought about where he would stand on your scale of douche bag men now. His hand reached out, stroking at your cheek before he leant in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips that you hummed at.

“Well, for what it’s worth, you don’t have to be careful around me.” He murmured and you grinned softly.

“I already know that.” You giggled, “you may have come a long way from that lil bashful Bry at Harvard, but he’s still in there somewhere, I can tell. And not to sound terribly cliché and cheesy, but…. Maybe it was always meant to happen this way? If we’d dated in college it would’ve ended in heartbreak, I was so dead set on New York I wouldn’t have taken anything else for an answer. This way? I’d say there’s a decent chance.”

“That was horribly cliché and cheesy.” He laughed in response, “but I get what you mean, and I look forward to date number three.”

“Of course you do.” You let out a bark of a laugh, “better have something good set for number two.”

“Oh I will.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “now go on, get upstairs so I know you’re nice and safe and I’ll text you in the morning.”

“Yes sir.” You teased with a small salute and a grin you retreated into your building, Bryan watching as you disappeared into the elevator.

_________________- @newyorker14 @detective-giggles @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @bisexual-dreamer02 @amelia-song-pond @madamsnape921 @whimsicallymad @mrsrafaelbarba @mysticfalls01 @ssaic-jareau @caracalwithchips @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @michael-rooker @rafivadafreddy @lustvolle-liebe @anlin2058 @fandom-princess-forevermore @tinyboxxtink @alexusonfire @xovalliegirlxo @nobody-important1212 @somethingimaginative17 @momlifebehard

#bryan kneef #bryan kneef x reader #the good fight #journey to the past #bryan kneef series #bryan kneef fanfic

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shigarakis-cumdump · 3 years ago

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Block This User Pt. 1

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigarakiscumdump/works

(if you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Read Pt. 2 here!

Summary: You were a popular Youtuber who made videos for a living. When you uploaded a boyfriend tag video, some fans got a little upset their favorite youtuber was dating. Shigaraki though, he was furious, and he wouldn't stop until you were his.

A/N: Planning on making a pt. 2 but not sure when I'll have time to write it, so plz be patient! Thank you n' I hope u enjoy some creeper Shiggy.

Cw: stalking, creepy vibes, misogynistic, slight yandere

Word Count: 1.4k

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You set up your ring lights and turned on your camera, ready to film another video for YouTube. This has been your job for the last 3 years now, ever since you dropped out of college. Making videos was your passion, so you took it up full time, working hard day in and day out, and it had finally paid off. You had mostly male fans, but that’s to be expected when you dress and act the way you do.

Shigaraki was one of those fans. He thought of himself as a super fan; watching and commenting on all of your videos, trying his luck at dming you on Instagram, overall supporting you through and through. So when you uploaded a video introducing your new boyfriend, he was pissed. He didn’t think you would notice him with the number of people that probably dm you everyday, but a boyfriend? Seriously? He hoped it wouldn’t last long. That he’d turn out to be abusive, and then Shiggy could swoop in and save the day. But that was far from the case.

You said in the video that you’d been dating him for the past 7 months now, and wanted to finally make it public. Shit. Did you even see the comments and dm’s he left you? How much he let his guard down to be vulnerable with you? He left his first dislike on that video, commenting a string of curses and negativity.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Your fans received the video well, give or take a few angry teens. You were scrolling through the comments, trying to reply to as many as possible, when you saw his.

Dustthemall: “That fucking piece of trash? Really? Do you realize how much I fucking love you? Bitch.”

“Someone’s mad,” your boyfriend says from behind you.

“Oh hey! Didn’t realize you were home this early,” you respond, kissing your boyfriend Izuku on the cheek, “and yeah, mostly just the teen boys getting their panties tussled because they ‘can’t have me’.” You roll your eyes. You normally don’t reply to rude comments, as it only adds fuel to the fire, but this one seemed different.

Reply: “Sorry he doesn’t meet ur standards, Dusty :( Forgive me?” You playfully send back, hoping your words wouldn’t anger him more. You set aside your laptop and went to go make some lunch.

When you returned, Izuku was at your laptop, reading through some more comments.

“Hey, you got a reply to your reply? Dustthemall? He seems furious, it’s kinda funny.”

“Oh yeah, what did he say?”

“Something about ‘finishing this conversation in dms’. Wanna check it out?”

“Haha, why not? I don’t reply enough to those anyway.” You sit back down at your desk and filter through your dms until you find Shigaraki’s. Upon opening it, you see hundreds, if not thousands of messages, all with no response. He must be one of those super fans.. You thought. You began reading through them and noticed a pattern with his messages. They all sound like he’s confessing his love in some weird, deranged way.

“Great video today, Y/N. If I was there, I would’ve taken pics between outfit changes..”

“Hey, you looked super sexy in today’s video, keep it up <3”

“God I’d fuck you so hard that you couldn’t walk in the morning.. Be careful in that outfit now..”

They all got creepier the further down you read, and you were not a little hesitant to message him. You bite at your already short nails, thinking of what to send him.

You: “Hey, Dusty. You wanted to talk?” Sent.

Shigaraki paused his game to check the notification he got. It was from you. You dm’d him?! He nearly disintegrates his laptop as he pulls it onto his lap, opening the dm.

Dustthemall: “Hi.”

You giggle a bit when that’s all he sends back. Was he nervous? You begin to type, when another message pops up.

Dustthemall: “I bet that bf of urs is a piece of shit deep down. All men are.”

You: “So that includes you too, then?”

Dustthemall: “What? Fuck no, I know how to treat you right. ;)”

Was he 11? He talks like a teenage boy who’s never gotten pussy before.

You: “Are you just here to shit on my bf? Because I have better things to do with my time, Dusty.”

Dustthemall: “That’s not my name. Stop calling me that.” Shigaraki was getting pissed now. You dm him just to be rude? What a bitch. Still, the love in his heart for you didn’t go anywhere.

You: “Aw, my bad,” you toy with him, “what should I call you then, hm?”

Dustthemall: “The name’s Shigaraki.”

Shigaraki? That name sounds familiar.. You can’t put your finger on it, though.

“Hey babe, do you know a Shigaraki?”

“Shigaraki? Isn’t that the leader of that villain group?”

“You’re right! He is!” You began typing again.

You: “Haha, you’re funny. What’s your real name?”

Dustthemall: “That is my real name.” He couldn’t be serious. Using such a famous name as an alias was sure to get him into trouble. You look on his profile to see if he posted anything with his face in it. There weren’t many pictures, but some of his tweets were concerning.

Shig @dustthemall Just got back from the bank robbery on 25th. Did you see this on the news? ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵗ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ¹¹/¹⁶/²¹

Shig @dustthemall Those dumb hero’s didn’t even see me coming.. ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵗ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ¹²/⁰⁴/²¹

You didn’t want to believe the man you were talking to right now was really Shigaraki. Between the dm’s and other comments he left on your videos, he seemed to be obsessed with you, and it was scary. You flip back to the dm, re-reading his words over and over, not sure what to do.

“Are you sure you want to block @Dustthemall?” Yes, you were sure. You clicked the ‘Yes’ button and successfully blocked him. You knew this wouldn’t stop him, but you felt too uncomfortable continuing the conversation.

Shigaraki was furious now. You blocked him? Were you scared he was going to hurt you? No no, he would never. You’re the only thing he wouldn't hurt. He didn’t know what to do now. The one person he loved rejected him, without even giving him a chance. All girls are like this, he thought. Angrily, Shigaraki tweeted in hopes to get your attention one last time.

Shig @Dustthemall “fuck! I watched all of your videos from the beginning hoping that we could meet one day and have something for real. BUT NO! You just had to go and settle for the first cock that walked in your direction.. I bet he doesn’t even tell you how sexy you are everyday. He probably didn’t even like you until you showed your pussy off to him. I’M SO FUCKING TIRED OF HAVING EVERY SINGLE PERSON I LIKE TO TURN OUT AND BE A WHORE FOR SOMEONE SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW! FUCKING DONE.” ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵗ ² ˡᶦᵏᵉˢ ³ ᵐᶦⁿ ᵃᵍᵒ

You only saw this tweet a few days later. Scared, you tell your boyfriend in hopes he can do something about the situation.

“The only thing I can do is show this to the police, have them try to find the IP address. If I see him out on patrol today, though, I’ll get him, don't worry your pretty little head off, baby.” Izuku’s words put your mind to rest, if only a little. You went about your daily business, filming, editing, uploading. You frequently checked the comments and his page to see if he was still trying to interact, and sadly he was. You blocked him on everything you could, but when new accounts started popping up and sounding just like him, you knew he wasn’t going to let your ignorance slide. You slam your laptop shut in a panic. You think clearing your head is the best thing to do right now. You put on your brown puffy coat and head outside for a walk. Your boyfriend left for patrol an hour or so ago, and you thought surprising him would be nice. On your way downtown, you got stopped by a man tapping your shoulder. Turning around happily, you flashed a smile to the man before your expression changed to pure horror. It was him. He found you.

“I don’t think your precious boyfriend is going to help you now..” Shigaraki wrapped his arm around you with a painful grip. The horrid grin on his face stretched ear to ear, showing his teeth and cracked lips. Your body was shaking, and you wished it was because of the temperature outside.

“H-Hello, Shigaraki,” you began.

“Don’t act all nice now, bitch. You had your chance and blew it. Now it’s my turn to be rude.” He says as his eyes stare bullets into your soul. He was right; your boyfriend can’t help you, it was already too late.

#shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki smut #yandere #Tw: stalking #slight incel/ misogyny

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 4 years ago

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#214

“Get in boy. We need to get on the road. No, no. Sit in the passenger seat. We are going to have ‘the talk’. Let me ask, how many loads did you get in there? What? You’re not going to answer me? You were in there sucking cocks through a glory hole. Even though I am doing my logs, I can see a number of other drivers walk out with their cocks still hard bulging their pants or with a wet spot. That shithouse is known for its glory hole. I stopped here to see if you were a fucking faggot whore, something I have suspected for some time....

“You pretty much confirmed that we need to have this talk. And when I say we need to talk, it’s just me. So shut the fuck up. OK here’s the deal. Your mom knows you are a fag. She went through your browser history on your laptop this weekend. She called me in to look at it. She told me that she wanted you out of the house, and that I should do it. She told me to take you on one of my trips and leave you in the middle of nowhere, and to tell you that faggots are not welcome in her home.

“Oh fuck, don’t you start crying. Faggot what I have to say, needs to be said. There will be plenty of time for crying later. There’s more. While she just saw the pages, I read them. Yes, I saw what you posted to some of those discussion groups. Damn fag boy! Your facial expression went from crying to shock to terror in just one second. Yup.

“You know what my favorite post was? Oh you know what I’m about to say. It’s the one that’s titled, ‘How do I seduce my truck driving step-dad?’ Yup, read that one a number of times. So, you’ve been swiping my dirty underwear and jerking off to the smell of my crotch and ass hunh? I also liked the part where you said that you wished that I would smack you around like I smack your mother around. Now faggot, if I had known that you wanted to get smacked around, I would have been taking my aggressions out on you instead of your mother.

“But that’s not going to happen. Your mother was so disgusted, and she never wants to see or hear from you again. Besides, you are eighteen, you need to be on your own. You need to figure out what you want to do with your life. Do you want to be locked up in your mother’s basement plotting ways to get your step-dad’s eight inch long, eight inches around, with a foreskin that over hangs by about a half inch dick?

“Yes, I read the countless posts where you go through various ways to figure out how big my cock is. I can’t get over how fucking fascinated you are with me. Oh yes, you’re a not only a faggot, but a twisted little kinky faggot to boot. Apparently, you want to drink my piss from the tap and eat my shithole too. Ok, my favorite, my absolute favorite part is when you were with me on a short run, and I had to piss like a race horse. I pissed right behind the tractor. And while I wasn’t looking you got a paper towel to soak it up to enjoy later. Faggot, that is some serious pig shit. Ha ha!

“Now for the second part of the talk. What? You don’t like having every little twisted jerk off fantasy exposed to your stepdad? Oh yes, there’s a second part. Again, how many loads of cum did you swallow at that rest area?… Don’t remember? Sure you do…. Four? You fucking whore. How many loads of piss did you swallow?… Just one? Wow. Let me ask this, was the cock that pissed down your throat about eight inches long and eight inches around with a foreskin overhang? That’s right faggot, you finally got to blow me… Ah! That’s the first time you are smiling. What you think I don’t play with faggots along the way?

“I promised your mother when I married her, that there wouldn’t be any other women. I said nothing about using faggots. The number of faggots I have bred in that cab back there is over a hundred. That’s just this year. Hell, I had this Mexican boy back there just two nights ago.

“So, here’s the deal. That was a test. You know how to handle a big cock, and you do it very well, surprisingly well for an 18-year old. I agreed to take you on this drive. And yes I am going to leave you. Unlike the middle of Wyoming, like your mom wanted, I was going to do it in a gay city. But that has changed.

“While you were working on cum loads three and four, I contacted Dirk, a bud of mine from way back. We used to team drive together. He and I also tagged teamed faggots. There’s not much room back there in these lower bunks. And we used to spit roast faggots all the time, spinning them around several times before we would nut.. We’ve gone our separate ways, but we still connect. And when we hook up, we usually tag team a faggot. I’ve worked it out so that for tonight, you will be that faggot.

“Then I’m passing you over to him. You’ll like him. Hell, if you lusted over me, you are going to melt over him. Remember I looked through your laptop including your saved pics. You definitely have a type, big burly trucker sums it up. You also like the daddy type that will smack the shit out of you. He’s definitely that. He’s in his mid-fifties. He’s a couple inches on my 6′1″. He’s hairy like me, I know you like hairy men. Last time I saw him naked I would say he’s around two eighty, with a driver belly, but not obese. His cock is a little longer than mine, but also a little narrower, and he’s cut. He’s got huge balls, probably the biggest I have ever seen. He’s rougher and way more of a pig than I am. He will require you to drink his piss and eat his shithole. He wouldn’t take you if you didn’t do that. He’s horny 24/7. You’ll probably be kept naked all the time.

“The thing is that he will care for you. Seriously. While he has a bunch of drivers lined up to use your holes, he will be there to make sure you are ok and completely and safely under his control. He’s very possessive, but I think that’s what you need.

“Kid, if things were different, I probably would have taken you instead of your mom. Oh well. At least I’ll see you when Dirk and I reconnect. So that’s the talk. Why don’t you crawl in the bunk and strip naked. Jerk off as much as you can. Dirk doesn’t like his faggots to cum, your pecker will probably be caged while you are with him. I don’t care one way or the other. If you reach in the corner of the bunk, you will find a pair of my old undies that I prepared for you. Piss stains and skid marks, just how you like them. You can take them with you to remember me.”

This story is followed up in Story #250.

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hoziersong · 3 years ago

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for @tootiredmotel 's follower celebration!

day 1: prompt: blue

congrats again Gen, you deserve it <3

college au, 1.2k (read below or ao3)

If Dean Winchester has a prominent talent, it is, without a doubt, painting. He just has this slight problem when it comes to actually painting stuff.

He's not exactly what people would call consistent; he can't just make a painting each week, and he isn't good with deadlines either. It just doesn't feel right, to make art because you're ordered to. His paint brush is just as much a part of his body as any of his other limbs, and none of those run on schedule, so why should this one?

Dean might not be tidy, or stick to a calendar, or function methodically, but when he gets random bursts of inspiration, they're entirely worth it. Once, he was able to paint about 5 pieces just from an ordinary raindrop he happened to see one sunday afternoon, because his brain just works in mysterious ways when it comes to creativity.

Lately, though, his mind is just a bit... lazier than usual, and he has to admit, he's getting a little desperate. He had an assessment due three weeks ago, and he hasn't been able to come up with anything. His teacher, Mrs. Jones, normally gives him a one to two week frame to deliver his homework, because she knows by now that rushing him will just end in disaster. But even by that standard, he's a week overdue by now, and he's getting worried.

"Yes professor, I promise, I'll have it by the end of the week, I'm just having a bit of creative trouble..."

"Listen Dean, you're one of my brightest students, and I hate to rush you. But you've taken too long with this assignment, and I wish I could do something about it, but I've done all I could already. If you don't bring it by Friday, I'm gonna have to fail you."

"Here by Friday, you got it. Thanks."

Dean exits Mrs Jones' classroom, his stress level dialed up to a hundred. He has two days to come up with three full paintings, and his brain is seemingly taking a very long nap. He considers asking Sam for help, but he doesn't think one of his heartfelt pep talks would work for this situation.

Defeated, exhausted, and very hungry, he decides to go to the coffee shop two blocks away from campus. That way, he'll at least have a full tummy. One less worry. He orders some coffee and freshly baked pastries that he eyes in the display, and waits for his order on his usual table by the window. He opens his laptop and browses through some folders where he saves pics for inspiration, but it doesn't help in the slightest.

When he's called back to the counter and retrieves his hot coffee, he's still drilling down on his brain, hopeful for any hint of an idea. And as if his day wasn't already going downhill, he bumps into someone, spilling the coffee on himself.

"Shit!" he hisses, trying to unstick his t-shirt to avoid burning himself further. He seriously considers giving up his career and his life to go backpacking through Europe and never return.

Then, there's a steadying hand posed on his elbow, accompanied by a deep, raspy voice, that has him looking up from the disaster going on on his chest.

"I'm terribly sorry. Are you hurt?" It takes Dean a bit too long to answer, because he's busy staring at the bluest, most beautiful eyes he's ever seen in his life.

"Uhm. What? Oh, no, I'm, uh. I'm okay. Well, as okay as I can be when a cup of scalding coffee is now all over my clothes." Great, now he's rambling. Get it together, Winchester.

"You can use vinegar and dishwashing detergent."

"What?"

The beautiful blue-eyed stranger clears his throat. "To um, clean the coffee, from your clothes. Vinegar and dishwashing detergent. That way it won't stain."

"Oh, uh. Thanks, I'll have that in mind." Seemingly waking up from its slumber, his brain catches on in the scene. "I'm Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester." He holds out his hand, which is immediately greeted by the stranger's. It's warm and soft, with a few callouses.

"Castiel. Nice to meet you." If Dean thought this guy was beautiful before, the smile he gives him then makes him even more of a sight. Dean lets his hand linger for a little too long, but Castiel doesn't seem to care.

After a beat of silence, Castiel offers to buy him a new coffee. Dean insists it was all his fault, but the man is stubborn, so they end up sitting together and splitting Dean's pastries.

"So, Cas, you're a writer?"

"Yeah. It's not exactly an economically rewarding career, but I quite like writing." Castiel (or, well, Cas now), takes another bite from the pastry, little golden flakes landing on the table. Dean stares when he licks his lips, and then he feels like a creep, so he look out the window instead, willing away the redness of his cheeks.

"Yeah, I get what you mean. Most times, things that we love aren't very well paid."

"What do you do?" Cas looks so genuinely interested, it takes Dean by surprise.

"I'm an art student." That reminds him once more of his long overdue homework, but this time, he doesn't feel the worry creeping up on him the way it did earlier.

"Oh, that's wonderful. I'd love to see some of your work. I'm sure it's very good."

"Well, you can come by anytime. I've a studio at home where I store all of my art stuff." Dean realizes too late that he just asked this guy he met an hour ago to come to his house. "I mean, only if you want to, y'know, you don't have to or anything, but, um. Yeah." Dean stares down at the table. He would love for the earth to swallow him whole right this second. If he prays hard enough, maybe it'll happen.

"That sounds nice, Dean. I'd love to come by. Maybe tomorrow?" That has Dean's head jerking up, and sure enough, Cas isn't joking. He looks– excited.

That's how Dean ends up exchanging numbers with the most handsome stranger he's ever met.

On his way home, he can't stop thinking about Castiel. He's sarcastic, and witty, and his dry humor is perhaps the funniest Dean has ever heard. But he's also honest, almost blatantly so, in a way that made him feel like he could trust every word he said after having talked for no more than an hour. He's smart and a good listener, and he just has this enticing, electric blue eyes that follow Dean inside his thoughts all the way up to his small art studio.

For the first time in weeks, Dean feels light and relaxed. He takes off his coffee-stained shirt, and nearly thanks himself for being so clumsy. Turns out that was the best thing that could have ever happened.

Two days later, he has three full pieces in Mrs. Jones' classroom, all made out of coffee spills and a hint of one particular blue color that he hopes to see every day for the rest of his life.

#sara writes #tootired500 #destiel fic #destiel #creativecaviar #offbeattraxx #plantdadcas #chocolatecakecas #userstarry #spncreatorsdaily

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hologramcowboy · 2 years ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/hologramcowboy/704906462083858432/hi-idk-if-this-is-weird-but-i-saw-you-mentioned?source=share

//Post pictures of your ideal body in places you can easily see them. This includes your phone or laptop/pc wallpaper.

Move the treats and sweets some place where they are complicated to reach.//

I just need to comment, and I am trying to be respectful here, but these two pieces are really kind of... bad advice. I would NEVER recommend people post pictures of their "ideal bodies". That is very toxic and can have negative and devastating effects. Most people have unrealistic expectations and not being able to ever reach their "ideal body" can lead to anxiety, depression, among other issues and most damaging - eating disorders. If you are constantly confronted by this "ideal body" on your phone, around your house, etc. that you can never reach? That can have long lasting effects on mental health. Everybody can't have every body. It's just not realistic. And I speak from not just personal experience, but from having friends, family, acquaintances that have gone through the same or very similar things (plus a psych degree but this was not my area of specialty so I don't pretend like I am an authority). While anon who sent the ask seems to have realistic expectations and isn't looking to lose weight specifically, they are not the only one reading your response. At a young age when I was in the best shape I will probably ever be in in my life I started this. I cut out pics of the "ideal body" I wanted, I saved them in a notebook for reference. I started dieting and exercising to try and reach that goal. I never could (I was a size 3 and very active and still never could). Then my eating disorders started shortly after. This was all in high school. 20+ years later I have done so much damage to my body I will probably never know the extent of it. It is a very quick and slippery slope from "this is what I want to look like" to depression and disordered eating. I know my case is not universal, but it is also far more common than people want to admit. My best friend growing up, and at that time when this was all starting, actually was going through the same thing at the same time and I didn't know. I found out a few years later that we both had been struggling through the same thing but that's a longer story for another time. The point is, you should work out for your own mental and physical health, not to get an "ideal body" because you will never reach that goal and you will never be happy with it. If you work out for health benefits then the aesthetic changes are just an added bonus. It's also more sustainable when you aren't trying to work out simply to look a certain way. When you are doing it all for looks then you tend to get much more easily discouraged and many even give up (or go to extremes mentioned above). This was a hard learned lesson.

And about the food comment - first of all, no food is inherently "good" or "bad", we assign them those designations and stigmatize food which is also very detrimental. Yes some foods are more nutrient dense and healthier/better for you but eating a fast food burger is better than eating nothing. In fact, there are studies that show that the way we perceive our food effects the way our bodies respond to those foods (specifically ghrelin aka the hunger hormone - just look up the "mind over milkshakes" experiment, here is a very simplified overview of it here but you can find longer more detailed reviews with more thorough explanations of the results). So labeling foods as "bad" can actually be more detrimental. And removing certain foods you love or enjoy actually tends to have the opposite effect. You then become out of control with those foods. For example, if you like ice cream but never let yourself eat it or keep it in the house because its "bad" then when you do finally have some you feel completely out of control with it and often overeat. Which can start a negative cycle of negativity towards yourself for "lack of self-control" when in reality, its the overabundance of control around food that causes that behavior. When I finally quit dieting I had this problem with so many foods that I never allowed myself. And in order to reverse this you just have to let yourself eat all the foods until they are no longer an issue. Now I always have ice cream in the house and I know I can eat it whenever I want. But you know what? I rarely do. So yes, "hiding bad foods" may seem like a good idea in the short term, it can actually make the way you handle and interact with those foods much worse in the future.

For anyone who wants more info on any of this there is a great and really entertaining book about it - it includes the milkshake study, The Minnesota Starvation Experiment, personal info, medical info, why you feel "addicted" to certain foods, etc. and it's honestly a funny read - its called "The F*ck It Diet" [website]

And this was not an accusation towards you, I find that many people don't realize or understand the impact that suggestions like these make. And as someone who struggled for 20+ years and only finally made it through about 1-2 years ago (I still struggle daily) I have a hard time biting my tongue when I read things like this. I WISH someone had said all these things to me back when it started. I wish I never tried to emulate a certain body type. I wish I realized that working out and eating for health and happiness will always be better than working out to obtain a certain body. Educating myself on nutrition, diet culture, exercise techniques, etc. has been so helpful and I wish I had all this info when young me thought if I just skipped the ice cream, if I just worked out for another hour, if I JUST ___ then I would be happy. My best advice if you want to start working out - explore your options, see what types of workouts you like and what you hate. The best workout you can do is the one you enjoy because its the one you are actually going to do. And I agree, start small. Don't overdo it out of the gate. Start trying new things and see what works for you and your body. For example I can't run because I have a bad knee but I love to take long walks. I also enjoy strength training but yoga is really not my jam. Finding what you like is honestly the best first step.

Sorry for the rant (and I hope it didn't feel like a lecture), its just something that I am very invested in and passionate about and don't want to see people go down the road I went.

@ anon thank you for pointing that out but I feel I must inform you that I never used the word bad in association to food within my post. Plus the advice I gave was also advice I got from my ex trainer. Putting away treats helps avoid overeating, notice I never mentioned you shouldn't indulge or ever labeled any food as bad. I've added a clarification to that suggestion since it seems you assumed something intensely toxic based on a simple suggestion of making treats harder to reach.

The idea behind that is making them difficult to reach will have you think twice on whether you truly need to have that treat or not. If you leave sweets readily available they can become an environmental cue and you're more likely to over eat.

Over eating sweets and less than ideal foods can cause health issues over time, needless to say so I disagree with you, I think the way you set up the kitchen is highly important as you can either create a harmonious, healthy environment or you can so create an environment where over eating and consuming unhealthy foods comes much easier. Again food affects your body directly so I think placing things carefully is important. This doesn't mean denying yourself things, it means focusing on being balanced.

If, for example, you consume a lot of Coca Cola and similar drinks don't expect to lose weight or have an improvement in health. You can absolutely enjoy it but in a balanced way to avoid damaging your health and packing on a lot of weight very fast.

Not to mention sugar in general is extremely damaging to health, there's a reason professionals recommend consuming it very little.

As for the priming part, I've also amended that though I never said people should compare their bodies or anything like that, that's toxic. I said use images to prompt your mind to remember to exercise but I suppose I did fail to add details so I've added a little explanation with that. Priming pertains to NLP and is far from toxic. But you're right, if someone approaches weight loss in a highly toxic way they can absolutely use images to their detriment just as they can use any specific weight loss aspect to their detriment and create a self sabotage circle. This is why it's important to approach weight loss only after fully accepting and loving your body as it is. Dieting doesn't work because the focus isn't on increasing well being, it's on making your current body wrong and fighting that. Whereas the anon had a very healthy approach, they appreciate their body as it is and only want to get fitter, they are looking to enhance their wellbeing.

Also, there's absolutely nothing wrong with setting goals as long as they are realistic and as long as the focus is on wellbeing.

Seems like you had a lot of hardship regarding weight loss so I appreciate you sharing your perspective as I am sure a lot of people can relate.

As for eating disorders, it's important to investigate the mother-daughter link first and foremost as those issues stem from trauma within that bond.

Sorry if I made no sense but I couldn't sleep last night and I am fairly tired this morning. 😴

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the-teddy-bear-butch · 2 years ago

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salut mon chou! yes that could be directly translated to hi my cabbage, but in my case when I say chou I mean the french cream puff which is a lot sweeter but infinitely less funny.

If you ever do have the chance to repaint one you should! it took me a whole summer for me to do mine but that's only because I did kinda like a patchwork of individual designs, (I'll send a couple of pictures on what I like to call a burner tumblr account because I didn't want to use my main account, i'll send the pics after I send this, I actually had this whole thing typed out but then my laptop died, it was a whole fustercluck)

I don't think I could have said the song/vibes thing any better than you.

some song recs for you my dear: these are two french country recommendations that I don't actually recommend because I feel deeply in my soul country and french don't mix but if I heard it, then you have to too, and if you like it then I know some more! un jour à la fois by Ginette Reno, there's also sur la trap line by Anique Granger.

I only listen to like the most basic pop punk so no recommendations that probably don't know, but I do have a couple random songs you may or may not like! two of my favourite songs from one of my favourite bands! atop a cake and saved by a waif by alvvays, also für élise by Klô Pelgag

Inch Plants, next to snake plants are on the top of my list of hardest to kill, fun fact but I kept it in the kitchen for a bit but it kept on getting knocked over somehow and it was fine, all the bit's that snapped off I just stuck into some soil and they grew really fast without me even having to propagate them! I love plants :D

I wish I had some pictures but in the spring here there are so many wild flowers it's beautiful, even if every time I step outside I sneeze lol.

I feel like this is kinda a weird thing to say after talking about how much spiders scare me, but despite all that i've always wanted a tattoo of a spider in between my shoulder blades I just think it would look cool.

love always and forever

-el

Hello darlin’! Another busy day or I would have replied sooner <333

I could be your cabbage or your cream puff, whichever you’d prefer, both are adorable. I wonder what it is with nicknames and foods? There seems to be a trend there.

I’d love to! I love repainting stuff, I’ve actually done a couple of denim jackets! But no guitars. Maybe I’ll match a guitar to my most recent jacket and it’ll be a super cool look I think. I saw your guitar pictures!!! Your art is beautiful, especially the flowers! You’re so skilled in so many different things and it’s so cool! Funny story, Tumblr apparently decided between this morning and this reply that those pictures were “inappropriate or abusive” so now they’re blurred out, so Tumblr is homophobic I guess lmao. Thankfully I got to see before they did that lol

Side note, fustercluck is my new favorite word, that’s funny as shit

Okay, baby, don’t judge me, but I did not expect to actually enjoy French country music and I actually liked both of those very much. Sue me. 💀 Especially the first one. Thinking Wild West Ronance thoughts… Anyway

I have never heard of Alvvays and that is a crime because both of those songs are new favorites now omg. The first one reminded me so much of 99 Luftballons. If you like them, I’d recommend the Sonder Bombs! Twinkle Lights and Atom are both excellent.

Are you a Paramore fan? (They’re might favorite band so there is a correct answer). Totally joking, but did you listen to their new song? I’m incredibly excited for them to be making music again

Oh that’s so cool! Maybe I’ll have to see if that’s one of the plants I can successfully keep alive! They’re so adorable.

Boy do I feel that. Pollen season is awful but so damn pretty. Bradford pears are my worst enemy. But! Wildflowers make me so happy. I wish I could go lay about in them like a total goofball but then I will be very itchy and have many regrets

Oh dude that would be sick as fuck! And definitely sounds like something a gay person would do 😂 Speaking of, did you make a decision about the purple hair?

Eternally swooning,

- Max/Lo

#elmax anon #I’m so so curious if I know you #are we mutuals?#are you a random lovely stranger?#I don’t know #but the mystery is kind of fun #<333

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rightsockjin · 4 years ago

Text

Timbs part 2

Hello beautiful people! Merry Christmas and Happy holidays! Since this blog has grown so much even during the time of our temporary hiatus, and this story (Timbs from the dynamite series) continues to get attention, I thought that I'd listen and write a part two! Happy Christmas Y'all! Also, I do want to address some stuff that is in this pic. First off, as a group, the writers at right sock decided to give each member of BTS a permanent girlfriend. So basically, nicknames which will make it easier to refer to other girls. This is the first real place you will see that. Y/N is nicknamed Bunny in this. But Y/N is used as well. Just incase it confused you.

Anyway! On to what we all came here for!

Summary: After your last encounter with your best friend and the words exchanged, you aren't sure where you stand... but maybe you should focus on where you lay...

Rating: M! Big M!

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff. All the good stories are hehe.

word count: Drum roll please....7,378!

Warnings: Stalking, being eaten out, mentions of blowjobs, kink talk. someone walks in during the deed....kinda. Jealousy. General meanness. Naked people y'all. nipple stuff. I think that’s all??

Part one

Master list

He closed the door behind him. It thudded thickly in the small apartment of his that you frequented. It was in the same state as you had seen it the last time you had been over. Boxes were still packed, dust covered the old furniture, save for the couch that had been a combined gift from all of his friends as he was the last to move out, that had come with the appartnemnt appartment, and heaps of bubble wrap and packing peanuts littered the floor. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

Your nose itched and you could feel a sneeze coming on. With a slight shake of your head, you looked over your shoulder and gave your best friend the look. Eyebrows slightly raised at the center, a light smile teased your nude, mint chapstick coated lips. A hint of incredulity mixed with “really?” and some other emotion that you tried to snuff out completely. Something akin to fondness perhaps?

Jungkook had his black shirt covered back to you. His hair was grazing his lower ears and lightly ruffled as he turned to look at you after checking that the door had indeed locked as he forgot to lock his door constantly which made no sense because it was an automatic lock, but somehow, he had already gotten people accidentally walking in on him in less than opportune moments. Namely, this girl who lived near by was always accidentally walking into his apartment thinking it was hers, but you surmised that she couldn’t possibly be that stupid and was coming in purly because she thought Jungkook was cute and single.

You knew this because one time, you had been over and she “accidentally” walked in while Jungkook was in the restroom with a cute little confused face on which fell as soon as she saw you lounging on the couch eating a particularly stringy mango. She stumbled through an awkward apology before quickly closing the door and going to her actual apartment.

But Jungkook was convinced that she was just very lost and very new to the building. You couldn’t bear to break it to him. Or maybe you didn’t want him to realize that she most likely had a crush on him. A creepy, stalkery crush… maybe you should tell him...

Jungkook’s mask sat slightly under his nose. His eyes widened when he noticed you staring, completely zoned out from your light flashback. He blinked in confusion, frozen for a second before he slowly crossed his arms and raised his own eyebrows at you.

You shook your head and scrunched your eyebrows at him then. Your hands held up in question. A stance that clearly said “what are you looking at me like that for? I’m the one judging you here.”

Again, with mirth in his eyes and his nose scrunched slightly, signaling that he was smiling under his face cover, he mimicked your stance. He leaned down slightly to get on your level. His mistake. You would think he’d learn by now.

You smacked the side of his head lightly enough that you were sure it didn’t hurt but also hard enough to get him out of this weird theater mirror exercise thing he was doing.

“Ow? What the fuck, Bunny,” he questioned, closing one eye tightly and rubbing the spot on his head you had tapped as if you had bruised him.

You rolled your eyes but reached up and patted his head lightly before giving his hair a small scratch that you knew he loved as an apology. Without fail, he smiled down at you with squinty eyes and a scrunched nose. The fondness in his eyes reached your own body. A sense of calmness. Your body relaxed.

You made to remove your hand from his hair, but he put his own hand over yours, begging you to keep it on his head for a second longer. You complied, only because you liked to mess with his hair almost as much as he liked for you to mess with it.

Jungkook ripped his mask off as you mused his hair gently. His breathing slowed and he let himself take yet another step closer to you. The scent of sweet pea flowers danced around him like a lullaby.

He was tired. He hadn’t realized he was tired until that very moment, since your outing hadn’t really been something to tire him out. He was usually fairly energetic around you and lunch was hardly an activity that would make him feel tired, but now, a nap was sounding really nice. He wondered if you would nap with him if he asked.

But then your hand was off his head and you were stepping away and the peace was lifted. He snapped his eyes open, a pretty pout decorated his pink lips which went ignored by you.

“You should really unpack all this stuff Kookie. The dust is really obnoxious.”

And then you rubbed the underside of your nose and sniffed aggressively. Jesus, how were you this...breathtaking? He felt the emotion building in his chest. It compressed into his ribs and pressed on all his organs. It grew bigger and bigger until it felt like he would explode. Almost like the weeks before when you had your head between his legs with your saliva dribbled down his cock and onto his-

AACHOOoo!

Jungkook was nearly knocked off his feet with the force of his sneeze. Instantly, the pressure in his chest loosened a bit but not entirely. Not enough. He blinked down at his body, feeling betrayed.

He could already feel his nice slacks starting to squeeze around his middle. He could only stand there in shock as he watched blood flow to his third leg. He had really thought that he had gotten past the phase of his crush on you where every little thing you did turned him on.

But then again, sucking him off while he fingered you in a barely lit room wasn’t exactly a little thing. It was huge. And he wasn’t just talking about his dick.

If he was a braver man, he would have made something of that first encounter. Maybe asked you where you stood. Maybe confessed that as much as he thought you were beautiful in every physical way, he was highly attracted to you. Just you. The you that barged into his room whenever she felt like it. The you that texted him every morning with a synopsis of your crazy dream and used the word dick as a verb, a noun and an adjective at any given point. The you that liked to bitch at him for every little thing he did because it was out of affection.

But no. You had left that day and neither you nor him had mentioned it once while you hadn’t rejected any of his date invitations, he couldn’t muster the courage to actually ask what your relationship was. Not even in passing. He was starting to wonder if it had actually even happened or if he had imagined it, but every time he goes for his laptop and sees the dent on the edge where it hit the floor, he is forced to recall the sweet scent of flowers and your dripping center.

He had to stop that. If he kept letting his head wonder this way…

Well, he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, which is why he hadn’t brought it up. Or that’s what he told himself.

“Well bless you,” you said with a slight giggle, “That sounded like it hurt.”

Jungkook forced his awareness away from his crotch, realizing that if he wanted you to not see it, it would be best to not draw more awareness to it himself and the limb that was awkwardly sticking to his left leg.

“A-a little. Maybe you’re right. I really should sweep this place. I just haven’t had time since i’ve been spending so much time out with you.”

You scrunch your nose at him. His cheeks were a little red, though you assumed it was from the cold outside since the tip of his nose was also a bit red. Then, he pushed his hair out of his face, you noticed that so were his ears.

Weird. He only ever got rosy ears when he was embarrassed? Well he should be. His apartment was a mess. He probably shouldn’t have even moved out. You doubted that he knew how to clean his own ass let alone do his laundry. You were going to tell him exactly that, sass locked and loaded but something- maybe it was the way his pants fit or the way that his chest protruded through his shirt or the muscles in his arms- told you to look down.

His thighs were always your favorite part of him. So strong. Rideable. How could you not when he spent so much time making sure that they were solid as a rock. You could salivate, in fact you were salivating thinking of the last time you had your mouth anywhere near those legs and his dick deep in your throat.

If you really focused, you could fool yourself into thinking that he was hard in that instant. But no. Wait. Was it? Was he?

You snapped your eyes back to your friend. Your friend that you wanted to be more than that but you refused to say so, to see that he was looking around the apartment thoughtfully.

“Why don’t you go home for today, Y/N? I should get started on-,” he cleared his throat and visibly swallowed, hoping that if he got rid of you quickly enough, then you wouldn’t have a chance to notice the log that was in his pants.

You on the other hand weren’t sure what to do. His suggestion made you do a double take. Your boundary issues had not been resolved from last time. And this was evident in what you said next.

“Gonna beat it to the last time you got a real blow job instead of asking for one or what? Small dick energy.”

And who else could that have been than you? Your brain caught up to your mouth a second too late to take anything back. The words floated out in the open like an invitation. Well, wasn’t it? Isn’t that what you had meant? Probably. Your brain tended to go that direction when it came to Jeon Jungkook but had you really just offered him a blow job?

There was a second in which Jungkook’s face steadily turned the color of a cherry tomato and he began to sweat slightly. His eyes were wide and he was looking at you like he must have misunderstood. Were you speaking the same language?

His body tensed and blood pumped predominantly to his cheeks or his nether region. He felt a little faint even. Was the room spinning? It felt like it could be.

You watched him reel and try to compose himself. This was similar to the last time you guys had partaken in activities that weren’t usually shared by platonic friends. And like that instance, you felt the urge to run. To get out before he had a chance to don his other persona. The one that makes you weak in the knees and something of a brat.

“Is that like an offer or are you being an ass?” he asked, sass dripping from his tone. He pushed both hands into his pockets, the tips of his fingers grazed his hardened rod, already sensitive despite it not being entirely hard.

You crossed your arms, not sure if you wanted him to take you up on your invitation or if you wanted to retract it.

Jungkook took a step closer to you, waiting patiently for you to find your voice. He wasn’t going to pressure you. As much as he had enjoyed it last time, he couldn’t live with himself if you did something just for his sake.

You leaned against the back of his couch, the head rest was pushed slightly against your lower back, grounding you.

“No pressure, Y/N,” he assured, suddenly feeling like the playful tone that this activity had taken on the last time may seem a little pushy if you really didn’t want to partake once again.

But this solidified in your mind that as much as he seemed turned on, he clearly had enough respect for you to make sure you really were into the situation as much as he was. This was enough to push any feelings of unease aside and focus just on what was being given.

“I mean… honestly, don’t you kind of owe me for last time? I basically did all the work and you just sat there like a rock.”

Jungkook gaped at you, he put a hand over his heart and scooted slightly closer so that there was only a foot of distance between the both of you now.

“You were the one calling the shots babe. If you wanted me to do something more than just shake that,” Perfectly sculpted and hard work evident, “ass then you should have said something.”

His vibrato dropped for a second, his eyes met yours, “I’d do anything you ask of me, Bun.”

Your heart palpitated wildily in your chest. The words he had spoken to you that night came back to you then. You dreamed of those words. Hoped he would say them again in a different setting but never had even acknowledged that it had even happened, so you were left only with dreams and foggy memories of the way your name sounded on his sweet lips and the three words that you craved to hear.

He’d probably said it in the heat of the moment. The emotions were high and your climaxes had just...well climaxed so maybe it wasn’t that he L-worded you. It was that he L-worded what had just happened.

The issue then was that you did mean them. You meant when you said that you L-worded him so the blow of your relationship staying exactly the same as it had been before, nearly made you want to cut ties with him completely out of pure embarrassment. But you couldn’t. Because he didn’t let you. Any time you didn’t answer your phone, he was at your door. Any time you avoided set dates, he’d find you. The jerk wouldn’t let you leave, and you were too weak to let him go anyway.

But then there was that sparkle of...something, in his big eyes that made him seem so genuine and willing. Subconsciously, he licked his lips and you could only imagine those same lips on you. His head between your legs.

Could you take his offer? Did you have the courage to ask for what you wanted?

“A-anything?”

Junkook’s teeth made an appearance before he chuckled lowly, “Do I make you nervous? Is- is that’s what’s going on here?” He asked, gesturing between you two with one finger. Confidence poured out of every pore.

Instantly, you scoffed. Because no. Jungkook, baby boy, bunny teeth Jeon didn’t make you nervous in the slightest. But then why did your voice get stuck in your throat? Why did your mind go blank? Why were you fidgeting incessantly?

Jungkook hissed, a laugh chimed deep in his throat, “Who would have thought that the only thing I needed to do to get you to shut up was to offer to do you? Wish I would have known this years ago! I would have offered more often.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles flexed against his shirt. Your body thirsted at the sight. What would he look like on top of you? Pinning you down?

Your eyelid felt heavy. Lust coursed through your body. If you could just speak-

“So what will it be? Want me to eat you out? Fuck you? Spank you? Or are you more of an orgasm denial type of girl? You know, if this is going to work out, we should really talk about those kinks. Maybe think of a safe word? Or are you not that kinky? Cuz I’m pretty kinky so we should definitely talk hard limits as well-”

You watched him monologue in complete shock. Did he think that this was going to be a common occurrence? No. You didn’t usually sleep with guys just for the hell of it unless you were never going to see them again, and Jungkook clearly did not fit that criteria so no. You couldn’t just casually sleep with your best friend.

You opened your mouth to tell him this when you suddenly tuned back into the conversation.

“-and I mean… I know it might have been a bit fuzzy but I’ve had fun on our dates so far so I guess it’s natural that we take this to the next level? If- If that’s okay with you! Mama always told me that a gentleman never rushes his woman. Not that you’re mine! Or like that I own you or anything like that! No, no, I just mean that I like you and well you like me and like… the dates? So we’re like together? A couple? Should we have that conversation as well? I don’t know… what do you think, Y/N?”

You blinked at him in complete shock. Had you been dating Jungkook for the last couple of weeks and hadn’t noticed?

In hindsight, he had been paying for some of your meals and while he had done this on occasion, it had become more of a regular thing. He’d also been a lot more clingy than he had been. He’d even tried holding your hand a couple of times only for you to panic and pull away.

All of this information seemed to hit you like a ton of bricks. Oh my God… You had been dating Jungkook! How the hell did you miss that??

When you didn’t answer, combined with the horrified expression on your face that he had no way of knowing wasn’t complete disgust at the idea of him touching you, Jungkook feel like a total idiot.

To him, it seemed clear that the last thing you wanted was for his nasty hands anywhere near you. Couldn’t he take a hint? Clearly not, because you hadn’t so much as tried to kiss him on the cheek and now here he was offering to eat you. Talk about jumping some steps.

He took a step back, trying to give you some room so as not to force himself on you but he could feel his heart constrict. He was not gonna cry. He was not gonna cry. He was not gonna- oh…

Tears pooled in his pretty eyes. They burned with emotion and he really wanted nothing more than for you to leave and never speak to him again while at the same time wanting to jump into your arms and be comforted.

Regardless of his feelings, he stayed rooted to the spot he was standing in, his hands folded neatly before him as he bowed his head in a small apology.

“Oh...I uh… I overstepped. I’m so sorry, Y/N… I didn’t mean to- to make you uncomfortable.”

He balled his hands into fists trying to distract himself from the emotional pain of the blow you had dealt.

You on the other hand, were struggling to come to terms with what was happening. How did you stop this from spiraling further? And.. was he crying? No! He couldn’t be crying! You had to stop this. He may be obnoxious and a baby but he was apparently… your… obnoxious baby!

Without thinking much, you closed the distance with one big step and wormed your arms around his torso. You shimmied your head under his chin. Jungkook seized for a second. Unsure what he should do.

But as the shock wore down, he let his body relax and wrapped his strong arms around your body as he was shocked with emotion. At the end of the day, you were his best friend and if he was going to be consoled after a girl broke his heart, it would be you who would do it, even if that girl who broke his heart… was you.

But then, why were you kissing his neck softly? Was he imagining it? No. Because in the next second, you were grabbing his chin with your thumb and forefinger- they were ice cold- and you were pulling his face to look up at you.

When your eyes connected, your heart shattered. The pools of tears turned to streams in the mountains of his cheeks then conjelled at the valley between his collarbones.

Of course, on top of his good looks, he was a pretty crier. That was so unfair. Almost as unfair as the beautiful fan of eyelashes that caught his sparkling tears. And the voice that could only belong to an angel that he possessed.

You couldn’t help the slight smile that crossed your chapstick lips and the fond scrunch of your nose before you closed the three inches or so of air that divided you. When your lips settled onto his, you felt rather than saw him freeze for the third time that day.

His lips were a little salty and a little minty. Vaguely, you remember him applying and reapplying his chapstick all day. Now you wondered if he had been doing it out of nervousness.

Then his hands were in your hair, pulling you closer, balled at the nape pleasantly. He was breathing hard. Like he’d run a marathon or danced a full concert.

His lips were pressed so firmly onto yours that you were sure they would swell and bruise after this. You let all semblance of control be taken from you. One of his hands slid down to the arch of your back tentatively. Like he was scared to break you or that you would tell him to get off.

You arched your back with his hand, pressing your high necked cotton shirt into his chest. You could feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his own shirt and the muscles that covered it.

With a sigh, you opened your mouth as he opened his lips and sandwiched your top one within his own.

You could feel that he was still crying, but you weren’t exactly sure why. You could ask later. Right now, all you wanted, all you knew he needed, was for you to kiss him and make it all better. To fix whatever it is you had done. You could piece him back together if you tried hard enough.

So when he began walking you backwards towards the couch, you didn’t fight. The hand on your back moved over to your hip. His lips were connected to yours, open wide, his tongue explored the wet cavern of your mouth. Teeth clashed awkwardly, the kiss was out of sync. You let him maneuver your head whichever way he wanted with the hand that was still firmly in your hair. He leaned over you. His body seemed to completely incompace yours. Your back was arched almost forty five degrees. It wasn’t painful at all. Instead, it pushed your hips flush against his.

His member, which had shrunk significantly only seconds before, was now growing again, filling with the erotic arousal that pulsed in his veins. A hulk in disguise was being pulled from the Bruce Banner you were so used to. And you were all too eager to let him show you this side of him.

Like a man on the brink of drowning, he pulled his mouth from yours. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes. In a split second, he leaned down and picked you up from the knees. You wondered if he would carry you to his room or throw you over his shoulder, but he sat you down on the back of the couch before he placed a quick peck to your lips.

Then, like the sadist he was, he pulled away again, smiling up at you through red eyes. He wasn’t sure what this meant. If this was a sign that you too were too scared to bring up the relationship and the conversation that could change everything, but that could wait for another time. Right then, all he wanted was to show you, with his tongue, with his mouth, with whatever limb you let him, that he was falling for you. Hard.

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes. A sigh escaped your lips. If you opened your eyes, would it be over? Would he ask you to leave? Would it once again go back to how it was for the last couple of weeks?

Eventually, you did open your eyes. Jungkook could see the fear and unsteadiness in them. The red around the brown made you hurt deeply in your soul. A tender hand reached out to cup his cheek. The light scratch of your freshly done nails was pleasurable to his senses. Goosebumps. Then a strong shiver. And he felt himself melt for the girl he had known for so long. And you for the man whom you had watched grow from a frightened boy.

“Are you going to touch me or are you going to punish me for all the times I left you high and dry,” you laughed. Even in this tender moment, you couldn’t hold your tongue, but Jungkook didn’t mind. The engine of his brain was whirring and he could hear, all he could see and feel, was you...you...you. Nothing but you and the way your hair hung under your chest and covered your left eye. Nothing but your chest rising and falling and the smile on your kissible, bruised lips.

How could he help himself? The answer? Would always be you.

He kissed your nose, then your cheek. An eskimo kiss. You giggled. It was the most beautiful music to his ears.

“You want me to Bunbun?” Internally, he cringed at his overly affectionate name but you smiled brighter and the insecurity left as soon as it came.

“Is that my name now?”

“If you want it to be, or you could choose another one?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, now that you were almost level with his eyes- though now you were a bit taller than him. You shrugged.

“I like it. Bunny, Bun, BunBun, any variation.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“Who knew you were this cheesy, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully as you opened your legs so he could slot himself between them. You pulled him closer and wrapped your legs around his waist. A mischievous smirk crossed your lips.

“What’s with the face,” he asked, sniffling a little.

“What face,” you asked, feigning innocence.

“This face,” he countered, gesturing vaguely at your eyes.

“Oh this? Ah well you see,” and then without ending your thought, you let yourself fall backwards with your legs and arms wrapped tightly around his frame. He was much heavier than you and clearly more muscular but with the weight distribution you were able to pull him over the back of the couch and twist both yourself and him so you landed on the cushions. His body atop yours.

By the look on his face, he clearly had not expected you to pull him, nor did he expect for his center to land directly on yours, but the shock gave way to the joy and fun that tended to encompass your everyday encounters.

His high pitched giggle of a laugh made an appearance which caused a multitude of butterflies to flutter through your intestines and chest. He relaxed into you, laying his head cautiously onto your breasts, pushing his middle away from your heated core. (yes, he noticed)

He could hear your heart beating against the- hehe squishy- lump of fat on your chest. Instantly, he knew that he could spend eons on your bosom uninhibited and satisfied.

But the pulse of his confined member made his head swirl with thoughts less than innocent.

When your nails lightly scratched at his back and the smallest, lightest moan left your lips, he knew you must be on the same page. Or at least, he hoped. Spurred on by the heavenly shapes and your inquiry from a couple seconds before, Jungkook picked his head off your chest and hovered over your left breast.

There was a question in his eyes as he looked between your boob and your face. One which you couldn’t answer verbally as your heart rate picked up and the lust poisoned your veins.

With the slightest nod, he had everything he needed to lean down and lightly nip at the mound through the thin material of your beige shirt. The warmth of his breath traversed the stitches easily. It sent pleasant shivers through your body, settling in your core.

He nibbled softly around what he hoped was your nipple, before he kissed the center of the mound with tender lips. His eyes stayed looking up at yours, searching for any signs that he should stop. You bit your lips and took a deep breath, dropping his questioning gaze and letting him take the reigns once again.

Jungkook felt you relax into him. Relief flooded his chest. With a little more confidence, Jungkook looked with his mouth for the hardened bud of your breast and pulled it softly between his teeth. He was rewarded with a moan, only slightly louder than the one before and he realized, he wanted you screaming. He wanted you to moan his name. Hear your voice penetrate through the walls of his apartment and disturb the neighbors. This was his new goal.

“Y/N,” he said softly trying to get your attention. Instantly, you looked down from your position, your pupils were blown wide. A beautiful sight.

“Is it okay if I-” and then his confidence waned and so he gestured to your shirt with his eyes a couple of times. You smiled at him.

“Mhm, go for it Kookie.”

Was this what it felt like to be called a good boy? Because Jungkook loved it. He needed more. More. More.

Eagerly, Jungkook untucked your shirt from your pants and bunched it up right under your boobs. The expanse of skin that he had exposed seemed like an oasis in a desert. He couldn’t help the pull of gravity that connected his lips to your stomach. They were not soft, nor gentle. They were fast and more pecks than anything. They tickled your skin as he tried to cover every single open spot with his love.

He worked his way up and nudged your shirt higher with his nose.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Jungkook?” You asked exasperated.

“Can I take this off?”

You groaned, “Yes. Take it off. All of it, my shirt, my pants, my underwear. Whatever you want. You have my permission.”

Sheepishly, Jungkook obeyed. You raised your arms over your head and arched your back to make it easier for him to undress you.

He pulled it off swiftly, ruffling your hair in the process. He tossed the shirt aside, excited to see what he was unwrapping. He wasn’t disappointed. Had you known you would be undressing for someone today? Or did your undergarments always consist of lavish fabrics and sexy shapes?

Jungkook didn’t care. He just felt honored to be able to see it. The see through fabric held together by underwire did little to hide the prize behind the clothing. Your nipples stood pert and puckered under it all. Begging to be released. He wondered if your underwear matched.

It was weird. The things one noticed when something monumental was happening. Like the golden stiching that held the bra together, or the way that the underwire dug into your skin to hold your perfect breasts in place.

Then in a second, he was moving again, frantically unbuttoning your pants and ripping them off your body without hesitation. He must know. It was life or death for him to know if your underwear matched.

He tossed the pants in the opposite direction of the discarded shirt. He watched it fly over a lamp and land on a box that he thought had his art supplies. With bated breath, he turned to look at you. It felt as if his whole life had been leading to this moment.

And yes. The answer was that you were wearing a set. His mouth salivated as the scent of your arousal hit his nose. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your folds and die.

But he slowed down and took in every inch of your body. He wanted to remember it. Every freckle, every curve. He wanted a picture to hang in his bathroom or to draw you on his ipad so he could use it to jerk off when you weren’t around because after this, he knew that no other image would do it for him. Not anymore

He watched your chest heave. He looked up at your face again, asking for permission even though you had already given it to him.

“Jungkook, if you don’t touch me in the next five seconds I’m gonna bite your dick off,” you growled.

Oof… that was not one of his kinks, thank you very much, but it was the last push he needed, because he slithered down your body and pulled your legs around his shoulders staring at the promise land between your legs.

He could already see a bit of your natural lubricant running down your lightly covered slits.

You watched him, entranced by how hypnotized he seemed by your entrance. A laugh gurgled at your throat.

“Wow, if I knew that all it would take to shut you up was for me to wrap my legs around your head, I would have done it sooner,” you teased.

But the laughter died on your lips as jungkook opened his mouth wide and licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit. Even with the fabric in between his tongue and your skin, it felt like heaven.

“Fuck, Jungkook…” your hand flew to his hair, tangling in the locks of deep noir that you loved to braid when you two sat together watching a movie.

He kissed up and down your lower lips lovingly, lickig his lips as if it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life.

He hummed, sending a long vibration to your core which clamped around thin air as if trying to stop it from leaving.

“I can’t wait to really taste you, Bunny… fuck you’re delicious…” Every word was like a strike to your center. Arousal gushed from your entrance that made jungkook’s eyes sparkle in earnest enthusiasm.

Without asking, he pulled your underwear to the side, and buried his face in your juices. A bit of self consciousness wormed its way into your brain. He could be lying about how it tastes. Did it smell okay?

But the devilish sounds of him slurping and sucking at your folds pushed the thoughts away. He held your ass up, pulling you closer and closer to his face. He never felt like he was quite close enough. His nose brushed continuously against your clit and when he noticed the way you screamed under your breath every time it happened, he made it his mission to continue to do just that as he laved at your pulsing hole.

You had been hiding all of this from him. The paradise between your legs. The treat at your center. He wouldn’t let you hide from him any longer. He’d rather perish than to go one more day without your center at his lips.

Short, consecutive moans fell from the petals of your lips. Your orgasm built slowly at first, not coming to a head- both literally and figuratively and he could tell. He pushed his tongue into your entrance. Your walls closed on it, trying to keep it inside. His name came from your lips like a prayer. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted you to scream his name. To never be able to think of another doing what he was doing to you in that moment, so when your eventual crash came, he was less than satisfied.

You were breathing heavily. Your legs twitched. Jungkook ripped his face from your core only because you pulled harshly at his hair. From his nose to his chin, he shone with your cum. If there was anything hotter than that you couldn't picture it.

But then he was standing, and he ripped his belt from the loops and began to undress.

Looking over his shoulder as he pulled his pants down he said, “Take off your bra and underwear. Are you on the pill?”

Shocked, you followed his demands, though they were given loosely. You shook your head no and he gave you one nod of confirmation.

“I have condoms. You’re not allergic or anything right?”

Again you negated his question with a shake of your head and he half smiled.

“We could stop if you want-”

“Don’t be a fucking tease, JK,” you rolled your eyes and spead your legs, hooking one on the head rest of the couch so he could see your abused lips which were dripping for him.

His eyes widened only for a second, but then he tore his shirt off and scrounged for his wallet where he kept a condom. He ripped it open with his bunny teeth and pulled his underwear off unceremoniously.

You watched in fixed fascination as his cock sprang free of its confines, so hard that it looked painful. It was bound to feel good.

He rolled the condom on carefully before he situated himself between your legs and wiped your juices from his face. He was partially on his knees and partially standing. It was easy to find your entrance with your legs spread so wide.

When his head pushed in, you let your head fall back. Maybe it was because you already had one orgasm under your belt or maybe Jungkook’s dick was just a good fit but pure pleasure filled your body. He watched your reaction, gritting his teeth as your walls clamped down around him, resisting his entrance.

“Does it hurt?”

You gurgled something that you couldn’t make out but Jungkook seemed to understand because he nodded and pushed in farther, slowly. He bottomed out, his balls gently hit your ass and your vagina clenched, feeling every ridge of his member within you.

“Fuck… Y/N… I… I don’t know how long I can last…”

It was so sensitive. Every little twitch of his dick felt monumental. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you could last either.

“Move,” you managed.

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He pulled out slowly then slammed back into you. Your skin clapped loudly in the mostly empty apartment. You whimpered. Your back arched. He pulled out again, then slammed back in. His pace was marked. Timed. It made your boobs jiggle as he grabbed your hips to help you meet his movements.

Cute little ‘ah’s filled his ears. They got higher pitched as you neared your end. Jungkook couldn’t believe his luck. You were so tight. So wet and the way your walls closed around him made him grow close to his end much quicker than he ever had by hand.

“Y/N… I’m gonna… I’mma…”

But you beat him to it. Your pussy clamped down and fluttered around him as your second orgasm crashed upon you.

You moaned his name as he continued to pound into you. Whines and pleas went unheard as he sped up. He needed you to know who you belonged to… in like a totally consensual way.

You were so sensitive, but the pain of over stimulation gave way to pleasure far too soon and a third orgasm consumed you.

In pure shock, Jungkook grunted and moaned, your vagina got even tighter around him. And he came violently, with his dick mid thrust and his name bouncing off the walls in the tone of your exhausted voice.

Spurt after spurt of white, hot cum spilled from his member and into the condom. He was so caught up in his pleasure that he didn’t notice nor hear the front door open.

Both of you heard a gasp and footsteps. Jungkook, mid orgasm, snapped his heavy head to the sound. To his complete surprise and embarrassment, there stood the aloof neighbor that was always walking into the wrong apartment.

At first, you were embarrassed, being naked was not something you did frequently in the presence of others, but then you were upset. Angry. How stupid could one girl be? Shouldn’t she learn that this was not her place after a billion and one mistakes?

For a second, all three of you were frozen. Jungkook’s orgasm finished and his cock quickly deflated. He jumped to action quickly, throwing his body over yours to cover you before he looked back at the neighbor and said, “this isn’t your apartment!”

Over Jungkook’s toned shoulder, you watched her eyes dart to his exposed ass before they filled with tears.

“Oppa…” she said under her breath, before the tears streamed and she turned on her heels and hurried out.

Your blood boiled. It seemed you were right. She wasn’t stupid at all. She had a crush on your… person? Whatever he was. He was yours- in a ‘I want to be yours and like it’s totally okay for you to say that’ kind of way, and you were not going to put up with some random girl who clearly didn’t have boundaries.

Jungkook looked down at you, his cheeks were red and you could tell he was extremely uncomfortable.

Carefully, he pulled his softened member from your core and made a show of removing the condom then disposing of it. You began to put your underwear and bra back on, watching him walk around his apartment butt naked. Would he say something? Or would you have to bring it up?

After minutes of silence, you decided you would have to be the one to break the awkwardness.

“So uh… do you know what her actual apartment is? Maybe we can put a note on your front door for her to remind her,” you half joked, standing to find your shirt and pants, but settling instead for the button up he was wearing before.

Jungkook pulled his shorts on, his back was to you. There was a tenseness in his muscles that wasn’t going away and something in the air struck fear in the pit of your stomach.

“She lives next door.”

Something about the way he said it made you feel like it was a confession of sorts. It made you want to run. But instead, you sat in his shirt as he rifled in his boxes for a pair of more comfortable pants before you decided to drop it for now, knowing that whatever it was that was hanging in the air around you wasn’t something you were ready for.

“Jungkook, where's your broom?”

“Uh…,” there was a hint of a laugh in his voice and some of the pressure lifted from the atmosphere, “was I supposed to buy one?”

You rolled your eyes for the millionth time that day and berated him for not having bought the basic necessities for his home. Everything felt lighter, but still like you were trending on eggshells. It felt like instead of taking a step forward, you had taken six steps back. You were no more clear on what you were or what to do than you had been the last couple of weeks.

You helped him unpack that day, because you knew he wouldn’t do it on his own. He joked with you as if nothing had happened, and you sassed him all the same but something was off… and you didn’t know if it could be fixed without it first breaking you both.

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spamton-g-spamton-moved · 3 years ago

Note

For the oc asks! 2 Do you have a personal favorite among your ocs? 4 A character you rarely talk about? 7 Are your ocs part of any story or stories? 32 Which one of your ocs would be the most suitable horror game protagonist and why? 43 Do you have any certain type when you create your ocs? Do you tend to favour some certain traits and looks? (Hope it's not too much- if it is feel free to not answer them all; and take your time doing so!)

OK SO. shuffles an absurd amount of papers frantically

2. personal fav

probably basil. no joke i feel like his creation in june of 2018 was like...a personal renaissance for me in terms of finding my style and how i make ocs in general. funky feral science man my beloved i will give you a big hug and completely disregard the fact your skin is supposed to give the same effect as poison ivy

4. character rarely talked about

hm. uhhhh. uuuum. i have a shitton of ocs i barely talk abt JKFHDGSJF

but out of pics i currently have saved on my laptop and characters i barely even talk about with my friends...........hazmat i think. i made her like 3 years ago but dont even have any story written for her other than she's some kind of science experiment/artificial intelligence. who created her? what's her purpose, if any? not even i know. i just know her voice and personality are prob reminiscent of glados.

7. are any of my characters involved in any stories?

absolutely!! i have so many unfinished story projects like you wouldn't believe. but prob my biggest one is cedarwicke.......i started workin on it a few months after creating basil and its been in a perpetual state of limbo since then because i keep adding so many side characters and want to spruce up the worldbuilding so bad. but the basic plot is that basil was part of a subgroup associated with a government-funded SCP-esque establishment known as ARIES: the Anomaly Removal, Investigation, and Exploration Syndicate. his closest co-workers were two by the names of dawn seacrest and alastair eldridge. basil found an exceptionally odd plant that he self-experimented with in an attempt to find a cure for his own obscure autoimmune disease, and while it worked, it also turned him from a human into a humanoid creature made entirely of plant matter.

he got immensely self conscious and didn't want to become "just an anomaly to be experimented with" himself and decided to just scamper off deep into the woods where nobody would find him and has lived in a previously-abandoned cabin for like 5 years since and has become more animalistic than human. still v smart when it comes to biology tho! however he's been doing a lot of experimenting and those experiments are beginning to roam around a town called cedarwicke, which was already infamous among ARIES personnel for being exceptionally strange, however these plant/animal abominations roaming about may accidentally lead any investigators to their former and presumed dead employee...

also alastair stole some research that basil accidentally left behind and plagiarized it. real fucked up and evil momence.

32. which oc would be a good horror protag?

i think todd cotard as a horror game protagonist would be immensely funny. he's a newer hire at ARIES who accidentally got a shadow wraith attached to his soul on his first mission. (and given his surname, while he doesn't believe he's already died, this shadow wraith prevents him from dying. like it took one look at any danger to todd and said "nope")

he's a total dork who tries a bit too hard to look cool. he has a knife collection but rarely actually uses them

43. any recurring themes or traits in your ocs?

uhhhh lanky bastards with a screw loose i think . eye bags and mental eelness. approximately shoulder-length hair. interested in science of some sort. glasses

#tysm for the ask i loved answering these!!!!#my art #ocs

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wonderlustlucas · 5 years ago

Text

jack pot ; part 3 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 6.4k ⇢ genre fluff & angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way) ⇢ warnings (18+) drug use, a suggestive make out & the mention of a boner twice maybe ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n AAAAAAAA omg im so excited to post this, this by far is my fav part of jack pot & i cant wait to hear what u all think!!! sorry its a bit shorter than the other parts, & technically this is the *last* part, but there will be an epilogue where you will see how everything comes to be!!!! have fun reading!!! <3

⇠ part 2

five.

“Oh, fuck, he’s good,” Yeji gasps, shoving her phone into Maddie’s hands before faceplanting into the table.

“Are you H-T-T-P because I’m colon-slash-slash without you,” Maddie reads with a chuckle, thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. “Quick, YN, look up some pick-up lines.”

Closing the tab on the article you should be reading but has been long forgotten, you promptly do as you are told and open the first link from your search, Minho and Jisung leaning in to help. “There,” Jisung stops you, pointing to one, “’Are you a parking ticket? Because you have fine written all over you.’”

The table can’t help but burst into laughter at such a sentence. It’s stupid, but ever since Yeji and Kim Sunwoo began texting, their conversations have been full of tacky puns and emoji-filled compliments.

“Damn,” Maddie whistles, setting the phone back into Yeji’s limp hand, “he’s already typing back.”

“Gross,” Ryujin teases, busy typing away on her laptop. How she manages to multitask so well is a skill you certainly lack. “Why don’t you just like, I don’t know, ask him out?” Jisung asks and when you glance up, he’s looking at you. “Because that’s the guy’s job,” Maddie quickly saves the day, winking to you when you send her a grateful smile.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin scoffs. Everyone, even Ryujin, stops to look at him.

Did he just curse?

“I mean, like,” he stammers, cheeks turning rosy at all the attention, “it’s 2020. Guys have insecurities, too.”

“I agree,” Minho hums, looking to Maddie with hearts in his eyes, “that kind of confidence is enough to make any boy fall in love.”

“Yeah, but—”

Lia rebuts, but your attention quickly falls elsewhere when a text message first appears on your laptop, then your phone.

hwang hyunjin🦔🕺🏻💞🧻 [now] Where r u rn?

Unable to fight your smile, you quickly type back.

[3:39 PM] YN: outside hollin st café [3:39 PM] YN: why? :)

“Have you seen their new house, YN?” Minho asks, prompting you to click your phone off and set it back on the table. “Whose house?”

“Changbin’s parents.”

“Oh,” shaking your head, you distantly curse Chan for keeping your friend busy today. Unlike Jisung, Changbin likes to write lyrics and do whatever other music stuff during the day at a normal time instead of the middle of the fucking night while stoned and trying to finish his computer science assignments at the same time. “No, he forgot to send me pictures.”

“Dude,” Jisung sighs dreamily, “it’s huge. So nice. I think the front door alone could cover tuition.”

“Is it really that nice?” Maddie asks in awe.

“He started to show me pics the other day but couldn’t finish but the kitchen… unnecessary,” Ryujin quips, pausing her work to check her phone. “Yeah, it’s insane. The whole place is unnecessary but the kitchen is like, a house in itself,” Jeongin hums, head shaking in disbelief.

“Damn, now I really want to see it,” you sigh, making a mental note to hunt Changbin down so he can show you. “It’s like Hyunjin and his rings,” Minho snickers, “he has so many. Whenever we’re out, if he sees a ring, boom. It’s his.”

Well, he’s not wrong but… You bite your tongue no matter how badly you wish to defend Hyunjin and his affinity for rings and jewelry in general. The boy has taste, what can you say? You certainly are not complaining about Hyunjin’s long fingers and the way he chooses to decorate them.

“I never thought I’d hear Changbin’s parent’s kitchen be analogous to Hyunjin’s jewelry collection, yet here we are,” Maddie chuckles, leaning over Yeji to peek at her conversation with Sunwoo.

“Wow, speak of the devil,” Jisung pipes up of course as soon as you have reopened the tab to your assignment. Changbin or Hyunjin, you don’t know, head whipping up to find out and a peculiar mix of relief and panic settling over you once you spot the latter. “Uh oh, YN’s gonna go into cardiac arrest.”

As subtly as you can, you elbow Jisung in the stomach and smile at Hyunjin as he nears. “Hey,” keeping his eyes on you, Hyunjin approaches your table and stops behind Maddie opposite from you, “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you were busy.” His cheeks, already flushed, burn pinker once he looks away to smile weakly at everyone else.

“I’m not busy!” You squeak, scrambling to close your laptop and shove it in your bag. “Are you sure? I can come back later?” He offers, tilting his head and this is when you realize he is holding a bubble tea in each hand. And from the looks of it, one seems to be your usual order. “No, she’s not,” Jeongin answers for you, recognizing your stupefied expression.

“I was just – yeah. No,” rushing to stand and swing your legs out around the bench, you nearly fall flat on your face, “I wasn’t doing anything, actually.” Steadying yourself with a hand on Minho’s shoulder, you heave a labored breath before carefully walking to meet Hyunjin.

“Okay,” he beams, either oblivious to how flustered you are or simply choosing to ignore it. Turning to wave to your friends, he hands you one of the cups and you realize it is, in fact, your favorite boba. Oh boy. “See ya later,” you wave to them as well, nose wrinkling when both Jisung and Maddie wink in return.

Following after Hyunjin, you finally allow yourself to take notice of his attire and can’t help but feel confused. He looks good. And not in the good attractive way—he always looks good. But good as in formal. It’s four o’clock on a Tuesday in October and he’s out here looking as if he just got out of a business meeting. White button-down tucked into fitted black slacks, dress shoes, black tie, and he even has a black suit jacket draped over his arm. His hair is styled, too; ever since he dyed it back to black, he’s been growing it out long enough for his bangs to cover his eyes. Now, however, it’s parted down the middle and seems as if he’s ever so slightly curled it away from his face.

Suddenly, you feel ridiculous walking beside him in mom jeans and a baggy sweatshirt from high school.

“Thanks for the boba,” you mumble around your straw, brain still preoccupied trying to get over how utterly handsome he is. “Why do you look so fancy?”

The side of his mouth twitches up at your words, but his eyes stay glued to the sidewalk as you continue to your unknown destination. “I had an audition,” Hyunjin admits, voice devoid of emotion as if it’s not important at all. “An audition?” You echo. “Why do you sound so not super mega excited? How did it go? What was it for?”

“Well—”

“Wait!” You interrupt, stopping your walk once you realize he had an audition and you didn’t know. “You had an audition? What – why didn’t you tell me?”

Hyunjin frowns, avoiding your gaze and dragging his bottom teeth over his top lip. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he finally says before reaching for your hand and tugging you away from the walkway and into your campus’ main courtyard. “Why? Is it some sort of secret or something, Hyunjin?” You scoff, sounding way more annoyed than you intended. But you are annoyed; why didn’t he want to tell anyone?

“No,” he sighs, finding an empty area in the grass and lowering himself to sit, “I just… didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, visibly softening for him and settling down next to him, crisscrossing your legs, “it is a big deal. I don’t know what it’s for, but if it’s important enough for you to audition, then it’s important to us, too. You don’t need to be humble twenty-four-seven, you know. I’m sure you could have used our support.”

“I didn’t get it, though,” Hyunjin whispers, “they just – I didn’t get in. I wasn’t good enough.” Sensing the sadness in his voice, you find a lump forming in your throat when you notice the way his bottom lip trembles. “Hey,” panicking, you set your boba down and sit up on your knees to wrap your arms around him, cradling his head into your chest once tears start falling, “no. Don’t ever say you’re not good enough, Hyunjin.”

“But if I did better, practiced more, than I would—"

“Stop,” you hush, combing your fingers through his hair and brushing strands away from his eyes, “I’ve never met someone who works as hard as you do. You can’t beat yourself up over this. Everything happens for a reason. You don’t know what could have happened if you got in. You could have hurt yourself eventually, or maybe met someone who’s a real asshole.”

“Yeah,” is all he says, quiet and muffled when he turns to press his forehead into your sternum, body still trembling as he lets out all his tears. You stay like that for a while, holding him against you and soothing a hand up and down his back until his sniffling falls quiet. “Listen,” you finally sigh, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back. Your heart sinks once you take in the wet trails down his cheeks and the puffiness of his eyes. “Forget about it. Was it something for dance?”

When he nods subtly, you cup his face in your hands and swipe his cheeks with your thumbs. “You are an amazing dancer, Hyunjin. You can’t let this get to your head. And I don’t want you working your ass off more than you do already. Practice makes perfect, sure, but you need to rest. What about the idea Changbin came up with?”

“The YouTube thing?”

“Yes! Filming dance tutorials or just posting your routines is a really good idea,” you remind him, wiping your hands on your jeans once he falls back onto the grass with a gentle thud, hair flaying around him like a halo. Your limbs twitch with the urge to lie beside him, maybe throw an arm around him and rest your cheek on his chest, fingers tracing the soft features of his face, stroking through his hair and reminding him just how innately perfect he is, inside and out. You, of course, resist such a temptation, flopping down beside him and staring up at the clouds with a heavy heart.

“I could do that. Maybe,” Hyunjin huffs. Tilting your head to look at him, you find yourself knee-deep in that familiar longing feeling, pausing simply to appreciate how pretty he is in the evening sun, cheeks rosy from crying and hair begging to be touched. Shaking your head to rid such daydreams, you remind yourself how fragile his emotions are right now. Now is no time to get caught up on a fantasy. Reaching for your tea, you lean up on an elbow and redirect your gaze to the trees, the promise of winter having turned what was green burnt sienna and butterscotch, leaving trees barren and branches swaying gently in the crisp breeze that leaves you curling into yourself. “You should,” you hum, distant, mind clawing to come up with the words you want to say.

“Come here,” Hyunjin says now, voice stronger than before and when his hand wraps gently around your wrist, you can’t find it in yourself to resist. Allowing him to pull you back down beside him, you curl into his side, resting your head a safe distance away from his own and onto the curve of his arm. “Thank you for being so good to me,” he expresses. You squeeze your eyes shut when the arm you lie on wraps around your shoulders and pulls you substantially closer. “I need to tell you something.”

A long stretch of silence falls upon you and for a moment, you are unsure the words even left your mouth. What are you thinking?

“Wait! I have something first,” Hyunjin sighs, missing the way your breath hitches. “Okay,” you whisper, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt and focusing all your attention there.

“I just – I think… I owe you an apology,” he finally says, “I need to apologize for something that I did a while ago that I know probably hurt.” Your chest tightens. There’s a lot that has hurt you when it comes to Hyunjin, but none that he’s done purposely. None that are his fault. None that he should be apologizing for.

“I feel like we came to some mutual understanding to not mention what happened when we were freshmen, but it kills me to know that – that something happened, and we never talked about it,” Hyunjin starts, grip tightening on your shoulder and suddenly, you think you are dreaming. This cannot possibly be real. “I know it was awkward but, I also know me and Yiren dating was… ah. I don’t know.”

When he falls silent, you are unsure of what to say or do. You have no idea what the end goal of this conversation is. Hardly a minute ago, your heart and your brain decided it was time to tell him. Now, you’re not so sure you can do that until he finishes, and you are not about to give him your two cents if his reasoning for bringing it up is not the same as yours.

“I just want to apologize for not being brave enough to talk to you about it. I know I was confused, but I’m sure it was worse for you when they told you about her,” Hyunjin continues, sensing your rendered silence, “and it’s been so long since that happened, and now, you’re one of my closest friends.” Ouch.

“But I’ve been thinking,” when he picks up again, your eyes fly open in a panic. He’s been thinking. Hyunjinhas been thinking. You think you are going to pass out. “And I just feel like we… me and you, I mean—"

The standard iPhone alarm blares from beside you, promptly cutting him off and you think it is the biggest cockblock known to man. “Shit,” he hisses, leaning up to tug his phone from his pocket and in the process nudging you from your comfortable position. Sitting back up, nerves aflame and heart racing, your brows shoot up in confusion when all he does is stare at the number calling him. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the studio I was just at,” he scoffs in disbelief, barely glancing at you before looking back to his phone. You have never wanted to shrivel up and die as much as you want to right now. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer?”

Hyunjin makes a noise of acknowledgement before tapping the green icon and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Sitting quietly beside him, you watch with a forced smile as his hummed responses and subtle nods morph into enthusiastic laughs and wide, beaming smiles. Hyunjin notices your confusion when you tilt your head, mouthing a ‘What?’ to him.

“They made a mistake,” he whispers, covering the speaker of his phone, “read off the wrong Hwang. I’m in.” When he grins excitedly at you, your response isn’t as cheerful as it could be. As it should be. “Yay!” You whisper, clapping gently but quickly turning to your boba when the other line begins speaking again. Looking away, you take a hefty sip, nearly choke on a tapioca ball, and build the walls around your heart up all over again in a matter of seconds.

“I’ve gotta go,” whispering, you manage one more pained smile before getting to your feet and wiping your butt of any possible grass stains, “good luck!” When he shines you one more breathtaking smile and waves excitedly, you hastily head in the other direction, wrapping your arms around yourself and swallowing past the lump that threatens to form the farther you walk.

It must be nice, you think, frantically wiping at your waterline. Must be nice to put yourself out there and have things work out the way you want them to. Must be nice being told you’re ‘in,’ you’re wanted, you’re desired.

It must be nice.

six.

Pick up food, you said. Ask Jisung, you said.

Your conscience is a big fat oompa loompa ass bitch. You would have never called Jisung to ask him if he wanted anything from Taco Bell if you knew he was with Changbin. And not just Changbin, you realized four minutes into your call; Seungmin and Hyunjin, too. Apparently he went over their place to record, or something, and didn’t care to let you know. Not that you’re his mom and he has too—but it would have been nice, and would have saved you from spending almost fifty dollars at Taco Bell.

“I tried calling Jisung but he didn’t answer,” you snap once Seungmin answers your call with a muffled hello. “Can one of you please come out and help me carry this in?” You glance at the five large sodas and two bags full of food in your passenger seat with a grimace. “Sure,” he agrees and you make a mental note for the umpteenth time just how much you love Seungmin, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

True to his word, you spot him making his way out of their apartment and across the small courtyard to meet you by your car not even a minute later, hauling each bag under his arms. “Thank you,” left only with the cupholder, you hurriedly lock your car and follow after him. “No problem. Thanks for being our Uber Eats,” then, pursing his lips, “how much was this?”

“Forty-seven something,” you grumble unhappily, knowing this was a big hit to your debit. “We’ll pay you back, don’t worry,” Seungmin smiles, leading you up the final flight of stairs and kicking open the ajar door.

Immediately, you’re hit with the smell.

“Dear, fucking hell,” making a face, you rub your nose to keep from sneezing, “it reeks in here. How have you guys not been kicked out yet?”

The stench of weed generally does not bother you anymore, but still—they could light a candle, or something. Seungmin shrugs, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. “Luck, I guess.”

“IS THAT YN?” From another room, you hear Changbin shout, followed by an excited shriek from Jisung. “They’re high. Very high. You’ve been warned,” Seungmin whispers just as tweedle dee and tweedle dum themselves come flying around the corner. “YN!” Jisung grins, engulfing you in a dramatic hug. “Watch,” you hiss, regarding the blunt held between his fingers that comes dangerously close to your hair.

“Sorry,” he smiles, then, without warning, sticks the thing right between your lips. “I didn’t even offer.” Well, when life gives you lemons…

You hesitantly take the hit and blow the smoke away from him. You weren’t planning on getting high today, but here you are. “Thanks,” shaking your head as if that will clear it, you turn to Changbin and snugly wrap your arms around him. Every day you thank the heavens that he is a chill, calm high, unlike your maniac of a roommate.

“Thanks for the food,” fishing into his pockets and pulling out a crumpled ten-dollar bill, he slaps it into your palm. You only hum in reply, shoving it into your own pocket and praying you don’t lose it before you remember to put it in your wallet. “Where’s Hyunjin?” You ask, no longer caring about being slick.

“In his room,” Seungmin answers, rummaging through the bags to find what he ordered. Then, “HYUNJIN!” You jump, reaching for your soda and standing away from the other three until they have claimed whatever belongs to them. No sooner than Seungmin calls for him, you hear a door being cracked open and out comes Hyunjin.

He looks extremely disheveled. Like, just woke up from a two-month hibernation, disheveled. In the blink of an eye, however, he rakes a hand through long blonde hair and promptly sets a baseball cap backwards to keep the strands away and suddenly, he doesn’t look so disheveled anymore. You force yourself to look away, cursing the way your gut twists.

“Gimme my crunchwrap,” you say around your straw, snatching the blunt from Jisung’s fingers and moving around him to fetch your dinner. He doesn’t even protest.

He knows you need it more than he does.

“That’s a lot of food,” Hyunjin says once he has finally entered the kitchen, voice groggy and eyes puffy from sleep. Or from being high, you can’t tell. Pressing his chest to your back, he wraps one arm around you to keep you against him while the other reaches into a bag to take what’s his. Swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, you manage a thick inhale from the blunt before tilting your head to look at him and mentally thanking the other three for taking it as their cue to head out.

“Not my fault you guys eat like animals,” you chuckle shakily, trying to ignore the firmness of his body against yours, veins prominent on the arm that holds you against him and the ripple of muscle along his abdomen noticeable even through his shirt and yours. Dear god, it is too early for this. Not even seven o’clock and you are already drooling in more places than one.

Hyunjin pouts as if it is not true. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, finally moving away to grab his drink and you can’t help your disappointment, quickly finishing the blunt before tapping it out into one of the many ashtrays. “Don’t worry about it,” you wave off, digging through their drawers for a paper plate.

“YN,” Hyunjin deadpans, regarding you with a raised brow once you come up and begin unwrapping your food. You refuse to look him in the eye. “What do I owe you?” He repeats, firmer this time and it sends a chill down your spine when it most certainly should not. Sighing, you retrieve the receipt from your pocket and count everything he got. “Thirteen.”

Humming in content, Hyunjin reaches for his wallet on the counter and pulls a ten and five out. “There,” he beams, tucking the bills into your pocket himself. Rolling your eyes, you pray he does not notice how you flush and hurry out of the kitchen to join Seungmin on the sofa.

“House Hunters?” You ask with a laugh, looking at the TV once you have settled next to him. “I told you HGTV is the best.”

Seungmin hums in agreement. “I thought it was stupid at first, but Hyunjin was watching Fixer Upper and I got addicted,” he says, nodding to the older boy doing a little dance in the kitchen as he eats one of his tacos. Your heart does somersaults at the sight. “They’re all so good,” you agree after taking a few bites of your own food, eyes trained on the television, “House Hunters is a classic, though.”

“I like the international one,” Hyunjin adds on his way over, crashing unceremoniously next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Seungmin wrinkle his nose when Hyunjin sets his free hand casually on your thigh. “Shh,” he grumbles, vaguely gesturing to the screen and chewing a mouthful of food, “I wanna hear what the house has.”

One episode turns to two, which turns to three, which turns to four, and suddenly you have been watching House Hunters with Seungmin and Hyunjin for almost three hours. It definitely is the weed, always making time perpetually slower, and it did not help when Jisung and Changbin reappeared sometime during your binge with one of Felix’s bongs. Not necessarily how you intended to spend your precious Friday night, but there is no sense in complaining when you are with your buddies and Hyunjin, of course.

Taco Bell long gone, you watch with blurry eyes when Hyunjin gets up from his slumped position against you to head into the kitchen and open the freezer. This, as well as the realization that House Hunters has ended and gone to some other, not-as-cool show, brings both you and Seungmin somewhat back to reality.

“It’s almost ten,” Seungmin announces, staring dazedly at the time on his phone. You hum in acknowledgment, certainly sober enough to reply but simply too lazy to. “I think I’m going to bed. Or play something. Don’t wreck the place,” he sighs, dragging a hand down his face before standing up. “G’night, Minnie,” you smile, watching with a furrowed brow as he continues down the hall and into his room. It isn’t until you hear his door click shut does the weight of being alone with Hyunjin settle on your chest.

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone with Hyunjin before. In fact, that usually is the way it’s been in the past three years; whether the two of you decided to do your own thing or the rest of your friends eventually left or went to bed, you are used to this feeling. Used to ignoring the butterflies in your gut when he does something particularly cute and used to tampering down the mental images you conjure up knowing it’s just you and him.

But that doesn’t make things any easier. No matter how hard you try, you simply can’t help but feel this way around Hyunjin, especially when you’re alone. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

“Whatcha wanna watch?” Hyunjin asks around one last spoonful of ice cream before setting the pint back into the freezer. “Uhh…” You drone, blinking heavily at the TV and back to him as he makes his way back over. “I dunno, I’m sure you’ve been watching some drama. You can put that on.”

“You sure?” He asks with a raised brow, collapsing next to you and slumping dramatically halfway down the cushions. “Yes,” laughing, you find yourself reaching out to tuck messy strands of hair back behind his ear without hesitation, “also, why are you wearing a hat inside?”

Hyunjin pauses, straining to look up as if he will be able to see the back of his cap against his forehead. “I’m wearing a hat?”

“Yes, you idiot,” in comes the endless weed giggles and you find yourself unable to stop laughing, watching with teary eyes as he sits up and takes his hat off. “I don’t remember putting this on,” he chuckles airily, flipping the cap back and forth in his hands before tossing it onto the coffee table. “Should I cut it?”

“No!” You shout a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Shrinking against the arm of the couch, you ignore his amused smile and look to his long hair, freshly bleached strands falling down to his neck and shorter pieces brushing against his cheeks. Fuck, it should be illegal to look this good. “I like it long. It really suits you.”

“It’s annoying,” Hyunjin grins despite his complaint, lifting his legs onto the couch and flopping onto his side, head now resting on your lap. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

Now that he’s offered playing with his hair on a silver platter, you don’t hesitate combing your fingers through it, tugging out pieces stuck under his head and brushing it out completely. “You could pull the sides back,” you hum distantly, separating a section of hair near his temple to pull back, “or make a bun with what you can. You just have to play around with it.”

Humming in agreement, Hyunjin resituates himself after reaching for the remote and switching to Netflix. When you go back to simply raking your fingers from root to tip in irregular directions, you don’t miss the way his eyelids flutter at the motion and make sure to pay extra attention to his scalp. When this turned into a head massage, you’re not entirely sure.

The drama Hyunjin puts on is unbearable. You stopped paying attention a while ago, focusing more on him and how he seems to enjoy it, fingers busy braiding random sections of hair, taking them out, and then braiding them again. With two finally done the way you want them to, you are midway through the third when your fingers begin to cramp up.

“Why’d you stop?” Hyunjin asks seconds after you drop the braid and stretch your fingers out. “Fingers are cramping,” chuckling at the disappointed pout of his lips, you crack what knuckles you can before going back and undoing the unfinished braid. “Oh,” he mutters, cheek still pressed against your leg, “feels good.”

Humming in response, you ignore the way his words make your heart swell and begin gathering all his hair into a ponytail, pressing the braids to lay flat and finally tying it with a hair tie once you have combed up all that you can. Immediately, his bangs and hairs closer to the nape of his neck fall out, leaving the ponytail spikey and messy. At least the braids look good. You can’t help but giggle.

“What?” Hyunjin asks, pausing his show and leaning up. “What’d you do?”

“Go see for yourself,” pointing to the bathroom, you comb out a looped piece of hair before he stands to do just that. His ponytail bobs the entire walk there.

When he reaches the door and flips the light on, you watch from your position as he checks himself out, brushing away his bangs and flicking the pony. You frown when he accidentally yanks at a braid.

“Come here,” you say, sitting up, “you messed up the braid.”

“Honestly,” Hyunjin considers his reflection one last time before skipping his way over, “it doesn’t look half bad.” Expecting him to sit back next to you, your pulse quickens when he anchors a hand to the armrest and leans in front you, only inches away from your face. “No, definitely,” you say once you have gotten over the shock of him being so close so suddenly, “I like it in the ponytail. You’d really impress the girls if you braided your hair yourself.” Reaching up to tuck hair back into the braid and press it down flat once more, you don’t miss the way his brows draw together and lips twitch down. “What?”

Time ceases to exist as Hyunjin begins to come closer. In reality, you know it simply is a matter of seconds, but all of space and time seems to still once he leans forward. It feels as if an eternity goes by, allowing you to count each individual eyelash, memorize the details of his skin, take note of the smoothed lines on his plump lips. The way time slows is cruel; it allows panic to set in, the realization that he most certainly is looming over you with his eyes on your lips sending a spark of excitement and anxiety through your veins.

And then, just as this realization and this panic has set your nerves aflame, a gentle hand comes to cradle your jaw before Hyunjin’s lips press against yours.

It is so easy to surrender to the taste and touch of him. Instantly, an eruption of emotions and thoughts spiraling out of control fills you, yet your brain focuses only on Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. This is not the first time you have kissed him, nor the first time simply having him so close, but the feeling that radiates from your heart outward is unlike anything you have felt before. This is uncalled for. This is not like two years ago. You were not expecting this.

Hyunjin sighs into the kiss when you lean up to loop your arms around his neck. No sooner have you done this, he breaks away to sit beside you once more, hands reaching for your waist and guiding you to sit over his lap.

You could kiss him all day, you think, palms lying flat by his collarbones before fisting the material of his shirt when his tongue prods at the seam of your lips. Blood seemingly coming to a boil and nerves sparking dangerously, you find yourself quickly sobering up as the minutes tick by, completely and utterly addicted to him and this feeling, this feeling you have craved but never crossed the line for. And now, it’s yours to keep.

Forgetting the braids, you seize the opportunity to rake your fingers through his hair. Different, than how you did earlier. Desperate. Combing it away from his face once, twice, swallowing his groans when you tug at the roots, you realize with a whine that his hands have left your face in favor of dragging down your sides, circling back to squeeze at your breasts, rubbing at your thighs and finally sliding back to your ass, situating you more comfortably on his thighs.

When Hyunjin finally breaks the kiss to journey elsewhere, littering chaste kisses across your jaw, below your ear, down your neck, the weight of your actions finally hits you. It is overwhelming, the way you come spiraling back to reality, and you are not sure if the quiet moan that leaves you is due to the press of something else against your thigh or simply the realization that you are making out with Hyunjin.

You have to stop before you get hurt again.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, shuddering when his soft lips brush against your jaw, “wait. We need to talk.”

He pauses at this, fingers digging into your sides and you feel his frown against your neck. “What’s there to talk about?” He murmurs, arms sliding around you and tugging you closer, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him close and pretend like his boner isn’t digging into you.

It’s your turn to frown. “About us,” whispering, you lift one hand to stroke through his hair, “we need to talk about us.”

“I thought my feelings were very clear,” Hyunjin scoffs, all tenderness in his voice gone. Instinctively, you lean back, blinking at him in surprise. “Unless this is just another one of your games? Does this not mean anything to you, YN? I don’t think I could stomach you running off to Changbin or fucking Chan again.”

His words pierce your heart before you have even fully processed them, hurt flashing across your features and your body goes numb. “What?” Is all you can manage, scrambling to get away from him, chest heaving and eyes suddenly burning with the brine of tears. “What are you talking about, Hyunjin?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” He shouts. You flinch, not from the way he raises his voice, but from the genuine sadness in his eyes. “The past three years have been a constant battle with you. We’re best friends, for fucks sake, I figured out a long time ago that you have feelings for me. Feelings more than best friends. Yet every fucking time we started moving in the right direction, you turned your back on me.”

You can do nothing but stand there and let the tears fall. All the words and bottled emotions you wish to say are right there on the tip of your tongue, but you simply cannot bring yourself to voice them. Not when he’s right. Not when you have turned your back on him time and time again.

And then, he hisses more to himself than you, “Is this just sloppy seconds? You never once thought about my feelings in all of this?”

The anger brewing within you suddenly bursts from the dam and hisses through your body like deadly poison. “Sloppy seconds?” You snarl, fists clenching. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Your feelings? You just said you know how I feel about you, so why didn’t you ever do anything about it? How was I supposed to know you felt the same?”

“I thought it was pretty fucking obvious,” Hyunjin spits back, gaze narrowing, “didn’t think I had to spell out the fact that I like you, YN. You’re a smart girl.”

“Do not treat me like a child,” clenching your jaw, you have to look away for a moment, pacing one, two, three steps, hands raking through your hair and wiping away the stream of tears from your cheeks. You have never been filled with such rage. Having finally reached its boiling point, it now consumes you whole, sweeping off in waves and destroying all boundaries. “Confessing is not an easy thing, as you apparentlyknow, so don’t make me seem like the only idiot here. But maybe I was wrong about you if you think of me as just sloppy seconds.”

“I never said that!” Hyunjin barks, standing up to grasp your wrist when you turn away to grab your keys. “Don’t put words in my mouth! I would never, never think of you that way. I just don’t understand why you never spoke up after all this time. I’ve been dying, YN, you have no clue how badly I have been—”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” you snap, yanking your arm away from him, “I told you, Hyunjin. Telling someone you love them isn’t as easy as learning to ride a bike. You’re right, I have turned my back on you. But not intentionally. I’ve been scared, I’m a pussy, whatever.” Biting your top lip as if it will stop the tears that continue to fall freely, you avoid looking at him and glance back to find not only Seungmin, but Jisung and Changbin, too, peeking out from their doors with eyes blown wide with shock. Once you have noticed them, however, they panic and scramble to get out of sight.

Sighing shakily, you look back to Hyunjin and cannot ignore the way your heart sinks at the sight of him. Even upset, he is beautiful. You wonder how much you will see him after this.

“You don’t have to tell me you like me back to make me feel better, Hyunjin,” bouncing on your heels, you suddenly feel exhausted, body and soul heavy with the words you not only spoke, but heard, too. “We can figure this out another day, but for now, I need to go home. I’ll see you.”

Turning away once more, you do not make it very close to the front door before he stops you once more. “Wait, YN,” Hyunjin huffs, smiling softly when he reaches for your hand and you do not pull away. Running his tongue over his lip, he seems to hesitate for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Did you mean it when you said you love me?”

⇢ epilogue

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