#So it's now been in my drafts - been deleted - and has come back! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grotesquevi · 25 days ago

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cw # 18+ mdni. deleted the question without knowing lmaooo, but this was requested by @orchidprincesss before my draft was answer privately (lol) this is purely self-indulging knight!vi & runaway!princess, fingering, dumbification, oral sex, the knee thing winkwink, mean!reader, longer than ellie's drabble i lied, wc: 3.5k.

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ music || 1k directory || previous || pt. 2 teaser

"i'm politely demanding you to untie me" the sound of your voice seems to travel around the cabin as vi's busy working in keeping the fire burning, ignoring you like she's been doing the whole day. "did you hear me knight? this is the princess who's talking. show some damn respect, i'm the next in line for the throne."

it's been like that the whole day. whining, throwing empty threats about how you're going to tell everything to your mother when vi's acting under her commands. surrounded by a snow storm, you're lucky she's capable enough to find shelter in the middle of nowhere, cause if it was for your poor choices, you both be dying in the hands of nature.

“is your future majesty hungry?" her tone is laced with sarcasm and it makes you even more annoyed as you curse under your breath once again for your poor lack of choices. you didn't think about it enough to be fair, when escaping the castle. should've brought more money, better clothes, anything that would help you run far away from your royal duties "speak now. cause i don't know if there's going to be enough food tomorrow."

“yes” you reply still annoyed as ever as she's keeping your hands tied in a rope behind your back "i am hungry. thank you for actually thinking once in your life."

patience. vi just needs to be patient. she's getting a medal. she's going to gain honor, a name on her own as she's the only knight who's able to bring you back to the castle, the personal envoy of the regent queen who's capable of taking you back to the place where you belong. you're precious cargo, so when she's giving you some pieces of dry meat, she's careful of tying your hands back together over your front this time, free enough to let you eat in peace but not enough to allow any sudden movements, still in control since you're very good at disappearing without leaving a trace.

"ridiculous." you say as you eat with disgust: meat's too dry it seems "this whole charade. this entire act of bravery. it's ridiculous."

there's at least two more days of traveling back to the castle with you tied up like a prisoner cause vi´s too afraid of having you running the opposite direction anytime (you already did). forty-eight hours until she gains a decent reputation, a name that's good enough to make her sister proud: violet's not letting, under any circumstance ruin this for her. take all of her hard work just because you're throwing a tantrum.

"i'll say it to you again since you don't seem to understand, princess: you majesty gave me the permission to act in my rational behalf" she has dealt with this behavior before as she happens to have a sister, and jinx can also be a pain in the ass similar to your dashing personality — "i tried to do it your way before and you tried to poison me with belladonna. i'm not letting you out of my sight."

"did you saw the snowstorm outside?" you're planning to kill her with the rope around your wrists. how quickly you can wrap it around her neck until she's no longer breathing. it would take a big fight, but you're 60% sure you can take her, gain your desired freedom "do you really think i'm running away when there's no place to go?"

vi's good at ignoring you. so good it makes your skull tickle with anger, mouth dry when both of you eat in silence. stolen glances as you're too proud to keep talking to her, try to change the knight's mind when she's clearly too driven to her own ideas. she's been loyal to the family for how many years now? of course she's stubborn.

so when the night comes in and the mantle of dark blue covers the sky, there's no stars to guide you back to your stolen future, the bright freedom as the cold sweeps under your clothes and makes you shake unexpected. ends up making your plans dissolve as fast as they appeared in your mind when the knight's already sleeping under a thick blanket she found out while lurking around, and you, on the other hand, experience the sharp cold.

you're not asking for help. you refuse. refuse to ask for anything even when you'll die as your limbs begin to hurt in the first thirty minutes, swollen skin, you can barely move your hands as they seemed to be a victim of the frostbite.

and to be transparent with the whole truth, violet's been a knight since she has memory and she knows also when to expect bad behavior. what she doesn't expect instead is the clicking sound that wakes her up in the middle of the night, the chattering of your teeth when you're hugging yourself close to the fire and the knight is hit with a sharp stab of regret — she was going to give you the blanket before falling asleep.

"princess?" vi's voice irrupts in the silence, the tranquility while the fire's almost consuming. makes her jump out the bed cause you don't really move a muscle, the subtle shaking in your body barely visible due to the lack of lights in the cabin. "princess are you okay?" dumb question. holy fuck. she won't be getting any medal if you're not alive by the time she gets you back to the castle.

so vi's quick to reach you, long steps and calculated movements she's like a force of nature when she's standing in front of you, hand reaching down to swipe beneath the scarf you're wearing in nothing but a white linen shirt that covers right over the knight tights, and seems translucent at the pale illumination of the snow reflecting inside the cabin.

"i don't need your help. f-fuck off" the sudden touch makes you flinch. vi's warm and in contrast to the ice cold of your surroundings, it almost hurt for a moment at the direct contact against your skin. "turn the fire back on."

that's not a language for a princess. not a tongue worth of royalty, but vi's too worried about your state to even say something when her hand pushes against your pulse point and she can feel the subtle beatings of your heart as you try to push her away, prideful as ever.

so it comes to her choices, as the queen said. vi acts under her rational behalf, so that would explain why she's picking you from the cold floor you're seated in, untying your hands as your wrists are already sore: when the chimney has burnt out and you have no other choice than to cling to her embrace, take any kind of warmth you can receive as vi's carrying you back to bed, covering you with the blankets up to your neck.

rationality dictates her decisions, the knight's a loyal dog cause vi finds herself thinking in quick ways of making you gain a normal body temperature again, sliding against your side even when she's reluctant to any contact at first.

"what are you doing?" little shit. you can barely speak as you're stuttering on each word, shaking as she's getting closer to you "knight."

"my name's vi, not just knight" how can you be so annoying even when she's trying to save your life? good fuck. "i'm trying to help you make it through the damn night. now shut up and think about warm things."

vi. the name repeats itself multiple times as you can feel her hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer as you can experience the temperature of her breathing right over your neck, barely a blow of air that makes you shiver. she smells like ashes, like sweat after all those days without a proper bath and it has all the ingredients to make you grossed out, but instead of that, you find yourself defining it as comforting, as nice even if you’re asked.

ten minutes turn twenty, thirty as you're unable to surpass the cold, until vi’s suddenly moving away and you look at her from over your shoulder only to have your eyes widening in awe: why, the fuck, is she peeling the layers of her body away?

you turn back to the extinguished fire in the chimney, the pieces of wood consumed by the fire at the sight of naked skin, trying to give the knight any kind of privacy even when she’s the one that’s tossing her shirt to the side only to come back again to hug you.

“what are you doing-” is it the only thing you can ask? forever weirded out by her actions? a torment when vi’s hand begins to undress you without a single word of warning—. “can you answer me? what are you doing? i think you’re misreading this. sorry to say i'm not-”

your tone makes vi stop in her tracks for a second, her brows furrowed as she stares at you for a dead minute: are you nervous by any chance? despite the logic of her actions, her desire to keep you alive, are you nervous since she’s exposed right next to you? man. she realizes now that her lack of shame, is the result of always being exposed to the human eye, to the rest of her fellow knights.

“tell me princess, have your fancy teachers ever told you about skin-to-skin temperature?” she makes you feel dumb for a second as you keep you chin up in response — “you’re freezing even when i’m all over you, and i value my life as i don't want myself hanged. am i really the one who’s misreading things here?”

“of course i know what it is. i’m surprised you know about skin-to-skin contact.”

it makes you stay silent as vi keeps undressing you, pretending you understand the logic of her actions as she's leaving your cold clothes outside the bed until you need to hold your breath in, suddenly forgetting how to do something easy as breathe, when you’re naked under a thick duvet of what if must be animal fur, and you're experiencing the warmth of the knight hugging you again, pressing herself against your back and holding you close to her chest.

oh fuck.

it’s insane. the ultimate act of madness when vi’s once again leaning against your neck, pressing her chin right over your naked shoulder, just checking on your body heat according to herself. however, makes her worry when she's getting distracted by the smell of your skin right under her nostrils, how you’re able to smell like a field of recently blossomed flowers even when your gown’s messed up, when your hair is tangled in dirt and you’re covered in the sweat of now exposed to extreme temperatures.

“i’m sorry. for leaving you without anything that offered some sort of cover” vi’s heart’s beating again when she’s able to feel yours against her hands, when her fingertips cant help but caress the skin of your waist in invisible circles, covered in tenderness. “are you better now?”

“i'm okay” you say getting over the shame and finding truth in her words, leaning against her touch as vi’s skin is warmer than usual, makes you feel normal again, cozy. “my mother will still find out about how you almost left me to die, vi.”

"you're so spoiled" there’s no venom in her words more than just teasing. you’re saying her name and its strange how it gets so quickly under her skin, how she can see the way your teeth catch your lower lip when you pronounce the letter v “even when i’m helping you, you find ways of being a disrespectful brat.”

you’d say something. maybe tease her like you've been doing the whole day — but your ass is pressed against her front, her breathing hovers right over your skin, and you're enjoying the relaxed touch of vi's fingers when they go right over your stomach, roaming around like you've always been there to touch, to fit right against her arms.

"i'm not going to say anything" she has the perfect view of your neck, the back profile of your face, the shadows you project against the improvised bed she made up earlier: she's trying so hard not to think about your ass. "i'm just messing with you."

you turn your head to look at her even in the dark and vi's tummy hurt at the need that settles on the lower part of her stomach, the way your eyes glisten under the minimum light that slides inside, silent like a thief thats coming to steal your most prized belongings.

"before, you said i was going to poison you with belladonna" she don't care now before her gaze slipped to see the curve of your chest, the amount of exposed skin already driving the knight crazy as vi can see the curve and the stiffed peak of your breast as the duvet slips off against your sudden movement, the erotic shadow of your figure — "you're mistaking it with wolfsbane. you'd be hallucinating for a while. it was a very small dose."

"so you weren't intending to kill me?" she asks, and it's inevitable at this point, when the knight's lips brush against your back and the tip of her nose grazes against your shoulder, no turning back when vi's pressing a soft kiss right in the zone "is that what you're trying to say?"

"no intentions of killing. nope."

she's kissing the same spot again and it does things to you. makes your body respond to the tingles left in your skin at the contact of her lips, and at the lack of denial, vi keeps going when your breathing turns heavier, when she's making sure you want it too.

"tell me to stop your majesty."

the knight's brain turns into a pile of mush when you're pushing your ass back against her and your back arches almost asking vi to keep going, keep the eager caressing in your stomach now right beneath your breasts.

"i can't tell you that."

"then tell me about how i'm a hound dog destined to only serve and gain nothing more than the pride of the crown" she begs, hands tightening against your side — "how this isn't right for a princess as yourself."

"i don't care about the crown," the words slip like a secret, like an admission you need to make and it stays in the air for a while. "if you wish to serve, vi, serve me."

violet vanderson's the most loyal knight. she has served the royals with blood, sweat and actual tears, bent the knee to your father before he died, to your mother as the regent queen, and with you in a much different context as she's placing her bended knee right between your legs; makes you gasp for a moment as you can feel the warmth of her thigh pressing against your sensitive flesh.

"you're wet," vi mumbles against your ear, and how she's positioned — right behind you, it gives her the perfect path to let her hand previously caressing your skin, slide between your legs and reach its way to heaven, a couple of digits spreading your folds in the most intimate touch. "this turns you on?"

she can feel you nodding your head, admitting over and over again: yes it does. it fucking does. turns you on more than anything you've experienced before when she's touching you like she wants to know you, like she needs to discover what exactly gets you there, where to touch.

how a knight can begin to touch a princess in the way she deserves? she lacks of delicacy, vi's movements are rough, messy and erratic, incapable of keeping a pace as her calloused hands roam against your sex, staining the palm of her hand with what it could be visible arousal if having just a slight more light.

"you were so eager to talk back before, what happened to you" lost, vi's tone wanders in an empty head only to leave your right ear as fast as it enters. "tell me about how i'm misreading this again, how you're not soaked because some skin-to-skin contact to save your life."

mhm. you're breathing a soft affirmation, a humming sound that comes from your chest, an exhalation from your lungs as they seem to hold too much air inside. her free hand forces you to move against her leg using the right amount of pressure to create that delicious circle your hips make, and your cunt opens perfectly for her, parts right in the middle to feel the drag of your folds against her skin, the wet trail it leaves behind making the surface of vi's leg lubricated enough to just slide, to let your knight have the most comfortable reach to your clit who she's doesn't spend much time looking for, to rub at the most sloppy pace.

"please-"

"please what?" the words seem to get lost mid-way, trapped in your throat as her index finger reaches your entrance, and vi's teasing it without fully sinking in, testing for a moment as she keeps trying to hold on to this rationality that lingers in the back of her brain. struggling when your hole loosens up for her digits and she's wondering for at least then seconds, how correct is to fuck a princess using her fingers, how she should be pushing the very tip inside to just tease how tight you are, how good you'd felt enveloping her fingers; sucking them inside until they hit that space you'll learn to love.

"please just- i need to feel you closer, be full of you."

“yeah? do you want me to use my fingers?”

"yes-" you're so good like this. you forget about the attitude, let your guard down only to let her have you in plain devotion, in a need that makes the knight's hands act on their own. "need you to treat me like i've always been yours."

and vi's kissing you this time cause she needs to feel the gained warmth of your breathing against her lips, your moans muffling against her bucal fat as her tongue pushes right against yours in a messy kiss, one full of shared saliva, teeth and slurred words of praise.

her fingers push slowly at first, you're tight, warm, inviting, swallow her fingers ready for her until vi's knuckles deep and she's biting on your neck to keep her own moans in check.

fails miserably when you're failing miserably too. when you're loud as she's using a couple of finger to scissor them inside your sex, spreading you for what vi would love to be her strap, making room as she rubs against your walls, making you drip down your legs, making an entire new mess.

"keep rubbing your pussy against my leg m'lady" vi encourages you, voice rough, you're entirely sure she's enjoying this as much as you do. "i'm yours to use."

and at this point you can barely move, following the force of vi's hands pushing you back and forth until you're welcomed by the heat, the fire that comes from inside and spreads all over your chest when you're finally spasming over her hand and it's the final cue to your orgasm pouring over like warm water after a long day.

she's kissing on your back again, following the bones of your spine, burying her nose in your hair, keep you as humanly close when your muscles tense and you're leaking all over her leg.

"there you go," vi smiles against your skin when you're stopping on your clumsy movements, when your skin's now burning against hers and you need to uncover yourself from the duvet — "you okay, sweetheart?"

it's actually rewarding when you're giving a big breath before sinking down the blanket, positioning between her parted legs.

"can you hold my hair?" you ask, looking up to the knight as she's holding the cover up to see what exactly your doing when you're teasing her entrance with a couple of fingers seconds before spitting right over her swollen cunt.

she's dizzy already, lost in a haze of a contact that makes her shiver. it's not really necessary cause vi's already dripping, but it makes her skin violently shiver when the saliva's following a path back to her ass, sticking to the shape of her cunt already glistening from before.

"i'm giving you a medal" you reply, spreading her for your pleasure and gaining a suffocated moan — "an special one you cannot get with the rest of my family."

it makes her shut up when her hands grab a fistful of your hair in her hand, as vi can feel the movements of your head when you're going down on her and oh—

she's not tying your hands against your back the next morning.

no. in the next forty-eight hours vi keeps you trapped between her arms, in the same horse as her, riding your way back to the castle and being a victim of her neck kisses, her touchy hands as you comply pleased to her every need.

turns out what the runaway princess needed was being followed around by her most loyal knight — maybe you're ready to the throne. you can clearly use some power to your benefit.

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bunni-v1 · 3 months ago

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Competition

🍓I did it! This has been in my drafts since Amphorus was released, so it's been a long time. Anyway, it's done, I can rest. I hope you enjoy, I worked very hard on this one, if it flops I might just delete my account.

Tw: Marking; Threesome; NSFW

Info: Mydei x Reader x Phainon; NSFW; Fic

Word Count: 3.8k words

MDNI

Mydei and Phainon, despite what most people think, work incredibly well together. Despite being headstrong and bickering back and forth most of the time, they challenge each other to be their best version. In everything. Even in bed, which is how you ended up in the position you were in right now.

You don’t even fully remember what exactly happened to get you here, back pressed against Mydei’s chest, Phainon buried between your thighs. It started with Phainon’s taunting, you think, and inevitably Mydei’s ego couldn’t let him lose. You just so happened to be the argument piece this time, meaning you were the deciding factor on who won. So your night would be spent between these two hotheaded men, not that you were complaining.

Mydei’s fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, keeping you spread wide open for Phainon and his pleasure. His eyes burn against your skin, chin resting on your shoulder taking in the sight of Phainon with unrestrained enjoyment. His tongue was lapping at your folds relentlessly, shameless slurping echoing off the walls of your room. He alternated between sucking at your clit and drinking up your slick, the hot muscle occasionally dipping into your hole to get a better taste.

Mydei’s eyes only seemed to make him more eager than usual, doing his best to win whatever stupid challenge they had going on right now. You’d be more mad at him if he wasn’t doing such a good job at making you moan like a whore. Your head is already fuzzy with pleasure, his eager attitude as he completely swallows you whole is nearly mind-breaking. He must’ve been going down on you for almost half an hour now, edging and pushing you so close, but never letting you cum. Maybe you should let him and Mydei argue more often…

“Enjoying yourself down there?” Mydei grumbles, and it rumbles in his chest, shaking the foundation of your being at the sound.

He hums, giving you a particularly harsh suck, making your back arch off Mydei as if to prove he was enjoying it. Mydei rolls his eyes, pressing you right back to him as soon as you leave. His fingers trace up from where they press against your sternum, calloused tips leaving goosebumps in their path, right until they reach one of your nipples. He gives it a harsh tug, snickering when you gasp, then rolls it almost tenderly between his fingers.

You whimper at the added sensation, they cry out when he starts nibbling along your neck. His teeth bite just hard enough that they’ll leave marks along the expanse of your sensitive skin. Your body shudders at the feeling, curling your fingers into Phainon’s hair to try and ground yourself, but it’s impossible with the double assault they’re doing on your body.

You squeak at a particularly harsh bite from Mydei, feeling your orgasm building all too rapidly. It takes only a few more licks from Phainon, and another harsh bite from Mydei, to have you tumbling over the edge. Your body trembles at the sensation, moaning out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Mydei~” You feel him smirk into your shoulder, tongue lapping at his most recent mark.

This doesn’t seem to please Phainon, despite him being the main reason for your pleasure. His hands cusp your ass, tugging you into a new position for easier access. Feet dangling off his shoulders, body almost folded in half as he pressed his tongue inside you as deeply as he could get it. This has Mydei laughing out loud as you cry out in surprise.

You shake your head rapidly at Phainon, but he’s so engulfed in your pussy, you don’t think he can even begin to think about stopping. Luckily, Mydei is there to be your hero, shoving Phainon away from you with one hand while the other pulls you up again. Phainon practically growls as he fights back to his position, but Mydei denies him once again with ease. More focused on your teary-eyed expression.

“Already too much for you?” He asks gently, doing his best to ease you back to earth.

Gasping, Phainon finally sits up and affixes a glare on his partner, “Why’d you stop me? What’s the deal?”

“The deal is that you need to stop thinking with your dick,” Mydei scolds, and there is no humor in his voice, despite how funny what he just said was to you.

The war-hardened warrior cradles you in his arms like you are the most precious thing on this side of the cosmos, and the irony of him being the gentle one is not lost on you. You don’t complain when he eases your body back into the bed, making sure you relax fully before giving Phainon his attention with an unimpressed raise of his eyebrow and a gesture of his hand. The other man finally relents his glare with a sigh, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he apologizes, “I just can’t help myself sometimes.”

“You should start,” Mydei comments dryly.

His fingers carefully massage over your muscles, knowing every place to press to make them relax beneath his touch. Phainon leans down at your side, playing with strands of your hair with a fond smile. They seem happy enough caring for you like this, so you don’t protest against anything. It was better than hearing them bicker the whole time.

Slowly you come down from your high, body feeling nice and light from your orgasm, but you can’t help but feel unsatisfied. You only came once, and the two of them were still fully dressed. It felt a bit unfair that they got to have their fun with you and then walk away unsatisfied. For a moment, you really do think they might call their competition there. Knowing how soft Mydei was on you, it wouldn’t surprise you if he didn’t want to keep going after seeing you teary-eyed.

Then, Phainon breaks the silence, “Y’know, only one isn’t a good measure. We should have at least three to get a good pool to pull from.”

“Are you seriously pulling best of three right now?” Mydei asks incredulously.

Before Phainon can argue his point, Mydei glances up at you from his spot between your legs. It’s a subtle ask for permission, likely the only amount of control you’ll get for the rest of the night. Phainon’s big blue eyes practically beg you to say yes. It’s very hard to say no with both of them watching you so intently, so you nod at them.

Your head spins when Phainon practically dives in for your lips, getting one or two kisses in, before being harshly yanked back by Mydei’s hand. The noise he lets out is hilarious, especially when he looks positively offended by Mydei’s actions. A silent argument passes between them, Mydei winning as Phainon sits back with a pouty expression. Mydei is smug, smirking to himself a bit as he leans over you, caging your head between his arms.

His gold eyes burn bright this close, their intensity heating you from the inside out. Or perhaps that was how warm he was. He’d always run hotter than others, but at this proximity, it felt like his skin might melt yours with the heat he radiated. You do not turn to liquid beneath him, and so you stare into his eyes with your own vigor, though it is undoubtedly duller than his own. It’s still enough to get him to bend down and kiss you, far more gently than Phainon had.

Mydei likes to take his time. Most take him as a hothead with no patience, but you know him more intimately than them. You know he is soft and kind inside, he is only harsh and unkind because that is what he is expected to be. This gentleness of his comes out in the bedroom, easing you through your pleasure as if there is nothing more in the world he needed to do. His kisses show this better than anything, deep and slow, letting you decide how far he goes. His tongue only goes into your mouth when you let him, and his hands only trace across your skin when yours curl into his hair. It’s a slow dance, one that he loves to divulge you in.

When he pulls back, he takes a moment to admire your flushed face before moving to kiss across your shoulders. His hair tickles your chest as he kisses across your collarbones, revisiting old marks he’d left earlier. Making sure that they do stay. The slow crawl of his heated kisses makes you dizzy, sighing at each nip and suck he leaves. Unable to look at his face any longer, you draw your eyes across the expanse of his back along the bed, and right up to Phainon.

His pretty eyes crinkle in a smile when you look at him as if he is being positively neglected. You give a listful one back. His shoulder is moving slightly, making his head bob a little, and his hair moves in an almost ethereal manner. Curiosity gets the better of you, and your eyes trace down from his shoulder to his hand, which is lightly palming over his hard-on. You blink up at him again, and he tilts his head innocently at you.

You almost have it in you to reach out to try and help, as if you could when he is at the other side of the bed, by Mydei has every intent of keeping you focused on him. You gasp when a finger traces around your labia, spreading you apart. Your walls clamp around nothing in anticipation of the touch that follows quickly after, lightly tracing over your clit. He peers up at you from his spot latched onto your tit, still sucking on it like letting you go might kill him. When you suck in a deep breath, he rolls his finger around your clit harsher.

He smirks when you swallow, closing your eyes tight again at the sensation. He continues the motion with ease, moving down your body with his lips. You shudder when he peppers kisses just below your naval, readjusting his fingers to a much better angle. Like this, he can move them faster, drawing more sighs from your lips. They dip down to your opening, collecting your juices and returning to their previous ministrations.

It’s not quite as nice as Phainon’s tongue, but it still feels good. Mydei is impossibly good with his fingers, and the callouses only add more texture to the whole sensation. It’s so good, head rolling back into the pillows so you can relax and enjoy the feeling properly. You feel the bed sink next to you and lean your head against Phainon without being told to do so. He kisses your temple, hands coming to your chest to play with your tits just like Mydei had before.

He rubs his thumbs over your nipples lightly, making them pebble up in seconds. You huff out a little moan, peaking an eye open to watch the way he plays with them. He smiles against your temple, whispering praises against your skin. His fingers pinch the hard bud between them, pulling and twisting just hard enough that it makes your toes curl.

Mydei’s fingers slow their motion, falling from your clit to your neglected hole. He gives you a second to ready yourself, which you respond to with a clench around nothing. He smiles at that, then finally pushes two fingers inside. The stretch is made easy by just how wet you are, and he’s able to get both fingers down to their base with no issue. Phainon whispers a ‘good job’ to you, watching the show while still playing with your chest. Having moved to cup your breasts now, squeezing them playfully now and again.

Mydei does not waste time pumping his fingers into you, palm grinding down on your clit each time he makes contact. His face is fully concentrated on fucking you with his fingers, rhythm steady and even, consistently hitting all the right spots over and over. He doesn’t relent for anything, not even when you curl into Phainon’s chest, as if you could hide from the pleasure eating you inside out.

He curls his fingers in a come hither motion, rubbing your g-spot perfectly. You whimper out his name, and he finally looks at you, hungry and ready to consume you whole if you’ll let him. Without any more thought, his other hand spreads across your naval, and his thumb rubs at your clit in time with his thrusts. You chew on the tips of your fingers as you watch him finger fuck you, mind fogging up again as you near the edge.

“You gonna come?” Phainon asks too sweet for the situation you’re in.

You still nod, and he tilts your chin up to swallow up your moans. His kiss is more demanding of what he wants, and you give him it without argument. You cry out as Mydei gives you a particularly rough flick, and you tumble over the edge. Legs shaking as Phainon presses you into an even deeper kiss, muffling any sounds you might’ve made for Mydei. His fingers continue to work you through your orgasm, slowing only when you seem to come down little by little. Phainon allows you to breathe when you stop shaking, and you look at Mydei with blurry vision, appreciating the sight of him cleaning you off his fingers.

“You’re so pretty when you’re cumming, have I told you that?” Phinon asks, Mydei humming his agreement for the first time that night.

The ladder eases you up into a sitting position, allowing Phainon to get behind you properly. You feel his dick smack against your bare back, and you realize he’d definitely been jerking himself off the whole time. You just hadn’t had the brainpower to notice it.

Mydei focuses your attention back on him with a squeeze of your waist, “You okay for another?”

You nod immediately, more than willing to keep going for them. He shares a look with Phainon over your shoulder, and you try and fail to follow it, only able to see the other man’s jaw from your position. Mydei pulls away as Phainon pulls you back against his chest, and you reach out to him like he might leave the room. He is sweet enough to grab your hand and squeeze it in reassurance, then he returns to removing his own pants, angry red member springing out from its confines.

You’re sure you’re drooling as you watch it bob a few times. Phainon grins at your reaction, pressed into the back of your neck. You almost don't realize he’s carefully lifting you up in your stupor, but you gain your bearings enough when he traces himself across your pussy a few times.

“Ready?” He asks with all the sweetness he can muster, you can’t find it in yourself to say anything but yes.

With that approval, he slowly sinks you down onto him. The stretch stings, far more difficult to take than two of Mydei’s fingers, yet your pussy swallows him up obediently. It sucks him up so well you feel embarrassed like you were too needy for him. With the way you whimper, you might as well be, yet he doesn’t bother teasing you as he finally sheaths himself inside. He presses his forehead into your shoulder, trying to compose himself. His hot breath fans down your back, making you shiver in anticipation for what's to come.

You unwittingly clench around him, and he groans, pressing a hand right above where his tip would be inside. What his goal was, you weren’t sure, but the warmth of his fingers was welcome on your heated skin. They drum a few times as he calms himself, the feeling not helping you loosen up anymore. It seems to aid in his recovery, finally peering over your shoulder at Mydei, who is smirking to himself at the show.

“Can’t handle yourself over there?” He asks slyly.

Phainon huffs into your shoulder, “Easy to say when you’re not the one inside her.”

He hums, coming over to your side. He admires the two of you for a moment, taking in the sight with unrestrained delight. His fingers come up as he does so, tracing the lines of your face gently. The caress follows along your cheekbones, down to your jaw, lightly grabbing your chin and running his thumb along your bottom lip.

His other hand holds his dick firmly, keeping it level with your eye the whole time. You watch it with interest, wanting nothing more than to have it in your mouth as soon as possible, but Mydei demands your patience. Two taps of his thumb has you looking up at him obediently through your lashes, golden eyes burning the look into his mind.

You can feel Phainon’s eyes on you too, the intensity of their gazes nearly sending you into a spiral then and there. You bat your lashes up at Mydei, practically begging him to let you suck him off. It gets him smirking, sending Phainon a quick look before tapping your lip three times. You open up for him like you’re asked, and he presses the angry red tip between your lips.

You waste no time in taking him into your mouth, sucking on his tip excitedly. You lick up the precum threatening to slide down his shaft, enjoying the salty taste like any other treat. His hand finds your hair, easing you to take more of him in your mouth slowly. As he does so, Phainon takes it as his sign to start moving. He lifts your hips slightly and begins a quick pace, hips pushing up into your ass over and over again.

It gets you moaning around Mydei, making him groan lowly and tighten his grip on your hair. He makes sure you suck him off nice and slow, a wild juxtaposition from Phainon’s frantic thrusting. You can’t tell what you should focus on more, moving your hips or taking more of Mydei in your mouth. You want to fit him down your throat, you know you can do it, but it would be hard with the way Phainon’s jostling you around.

He grips your hips tightly, using them as leverage as he pounds into you from below. It’s a bruising pace that has your walls fluttering with each connection he makes. The addition of Mydei only makes you more lightheaded, unable to focus on sucking him off and fucking yourself back into Phainon.

You don’t have to worry about it for long, not when Phainon’s fingers thread into your hair and between Mydei’s. He readjusts your position slightly so you’re at an angle, and then he pushes you back and forth with a newfound force. You swallow Mydei down to the base, then get pulled back to sheathe Phainon again fully. He does it over and over until you cannot do anything but suck and squeeze, mind mush and full of nothing but them.

It doesn’t take long for that coil to wind up in your stomach, tight and hotter than ever before. The sensation burns in your stomach, pleasure nearly consuming you whole. The only thing holding you together is Mydei’s gaze burning into your skin, his molten gold eyes drinking you in like a man gone mad with lust. That was what sent you over the edge, choking out your orgasm on Mydei’s cock.

You squeeze around Phainon’s throbbing member, pussy doing its very best to milk him for all he’s got. You’re not surprised when he cums shortly after you, spilling his seed into your swollen cunt. He bites into your shoulder, opposite where Mydei had earlier, muffling his groans into your skin.

He does not forget about Mydei, though, aiding him in bobbing your head up and down his shaft more rapidly. Tears prick your eyes at the harsh speed, but you keep up with them as best as you can. You wanted Mydei to cum, you wanted to swallow it up and show him how good you were for him. You needed to at this point, you might go mad if you don’t.

You whimper along his shaft, and he groans, gritting his teeth to try and level himself out. It doesn’t work very well, you can feel him throbbing on your tongue. He’s close, you know he is, if only you can tip him over the edge. Phainon seems to have the same idea, grabbing the back of your head harshly and pushing you until your nose lays flat against his skin.

Pressed into him like this, all you could do was breathe and swallow, teary eyes pleading with him to just give you what you want. It seems to do the trick, and in the next moment he is throwing his head back in a deep groan. White hot pleasure pours down your throat, and you swallow it up as best as you can. Sputtering when Phainon finally lets you pull away, gasping for the air you were desperately missing.

He rubs your back reassuringly, pressing apologetic kisses into your shoulder as he whispers out his praises for you. You go limp in his arms, unable to hold yourself upright anymore after everything your body has been through. It takes a long time for the three of you to come back down to earth, much longer for you than for them, but when you do you are cuddled between the two of them. Head on Mydei’s chest and Phainon kissing along your back as usual.

Mydei is stroking your hair with one of his hands, the other squeezing your waist reassuringly. He kisses the crown of your head when he notices you looking at him, silent praise for your hard work getting you sighing all over again. Phainon cheekily rests his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling your cheek like an overgrown puppy.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He asks, punctuated by another kiss to your neck.

You can’t manage to speak yet, so you nod with a weak little smile. You were so very tired, completely fucked out, but entirely satisfied. You hoped they were too, what with how hard you worked to pleasure them, you’d be devastated if they weren’t.

“It’s too bad we didn’t figure out who made you feel better this time,” He sighs wistfully like it’s truly a travesty.

Mydei scoffs, finally speaking up, “I’m pretty sure she called out my name more than yours.”

“The first one was a cheat and you know it.” He fires back.

Mydei scoffs, “And you making out with her when I was clearly about to win wasn’t?”

…and they are back to bickering back and forth. For a moment you almost believed things might be peaceful for now.

#x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #mydei x reader #mydei hsr #mydei x you #phainon x reader #phainon x you #phainon hsr #mydei x reader x phainon #smut #mydei smut #phainon smut

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vettelsvee · 18 days ago

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Hi, I love your writing, idk if your requests are open so I will send a request anyway, but no pressure to do it ofc. I have a request: could you maybe write something like reader is the passenger princess and like even though she has a drivers lincense (or not) he won’t let her drive or give up her seat as passenger princess, or just being overly overprotective, of course only if your comfortable and want to write this. I would like Max Verstappen/Charles Leclere/Oscar Piastri (but it’s your choice Ofc, write with whom your comfortable or want). No pressure to write it it’s just a thought.

Thanks xoxo

-🐨

THE PASSENGER PRINCESS CHRONICLES

⋆ INCLUDES: Oscar Piastri, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc ⋆ SUMMARY: Different situations on why they don't let you be their passenger princess even you insist them on giving you a chance! ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Hope you like it anon, couldn't choose one! 🐨💖 ⋆ WARNINGS: Curse words, dangers on the road ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2726 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: Today’s fic draft got deleted and I panicked BUT wrote this instead for anon 🥰 This is my first time ever doing this thing of x drivers in different situations and I really liked it, so tell me if you liked it so I get to do more in the future! Remember you can comment, request, like and reblog if you like my works! Thanks for reading <3 ↳ LET'S TALK/REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

₊˚・₊✧ OSCAR PIASTRI

"Could you buckle up properly, please?"

Oscar kept glancing between the road and you, clearly trying to get your attention because it was more than obvious you hadn’t listened to him. Playing innocent, you turned to him with an even more serious face than his, as if you hadn’t done anything wrong.

"You’ve got it under your arm,” he spoke again. “This isn’t a teen movie, you know… The way you’re wearing it doesn’t count."

"But I look cute tho," you replied, widening your smile, fully aware that was one of his weaknesses.

Oscar sighed, though he couldn’t help chuckling.

"I swear, one of these days you're going to give me a heart attack..."

"Nothing's going to happen. You’re a Formula 1 driver. I’m pretty sure that gives you more adrenaline than me not wearing a seatbelt properly."

"And I’m pretty sure the heart attack will come the day you get launched through the windshield because buckling up doesn’t go with your so-called aesthetic."

You let out a dramatic sigh. As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point, and the last thing you wanted was to argue with him over something like this.

Once you finally clicked the seatbelt in correctly, he gave your knee a gentle squeeze.

"Happy now?"

"Yeah, normal," he replied in a teasing tone. "Though I’ll be truly happy the day you stop asking and begging me to let you drive."

You turned to him slowly. This conversation had come up more than once, and for a good reason. If one word described you behind the wheel, it was hazardous.

"You do remember I’ve had my license for four years, right?"

"Yes. And you also thought last week the gas pedal was the brake," Oscar shot back.

"It happened just once in four years! And only because you were stressing the hell out of me with the GPS!" you complained, swatting his arm.

"Another time you thought the car was in first gear, and it was reverse. Remember how my mom reacted when you broke her favorite flowerpot?"

You giggled, remembering Nicole’s reaction. She had every right to be mad, especially since she initially thought Oscar was responsible. But the moment you confessed it had been you, she softened and said it was fine. Even she offered to go buy a new one with you.

"Okay, fine, but… why do you always have to drive? I know I’m a mess, but you’re not perfect either! Half the time you’re barely awake!"

"Because I love you. That’s why," Oscar said immediately. You looked at him, knowing that wasn’t the whole story. "And because letting you drive is like handing a toddler a knife," he added.

"Excuse me?!"

Oscar took advantage of a red light to lean over and kiss your cheek quickly.

"Just being honest, princess."

You crossed your arms and pouted dramatically, playing along.

"Well, let me tell you something: if I had been a boy and started karting young, I could’ve been a driver too. And I’ll be challenging you, and probably be even better than you, and…"

"Babe, you can’t even park in parallel. Not to mention you always take forever to find a parking spot because you need every car in a five-meter radius to disappear."

"Parking in a full lot and parallel parking is overrated."

Oscar glanced at you, laughing again.

"What about the time you ran over your own shopping bag because you thought you were in first gear, but it was in reverse, again?"

"I didn’t notice, Osc!"

"Of course you didn’t. You left the bag on the roof, hit the garage door, it fell… and then you panicked, threw it in drive, and crushed it."

"Okay, okay! I know I’m a disaster," you admitted, finally accepting he wasn't going to let you drive. "But you still love me… even if I have no idea how I even passed my driving test, right?"

"You don’t even have to ask that. Of course I love you," Oscar said, his face softening with a small smile.

This time you leaned closer, planting a kiss near the corner of his lips as you laced your fingers with his on the gearstick.

"So… you really love me even if all I’ll ever be is a humble, helpless, incredibly stunning passenger princess?"

Oscar brought your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

"Especially because of that. I don’t know, call me old-fashioned… but I like having you here beside me. Safe, calm, even if I’m scolding you for not buckling up properly, or putting your feet on the dashboard, or leaving food crumbs all over the seat, or singing completely off-key..."

"Hey!"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You're an absolute disaster… but you’re my perfect disaster. And I wouldn’t change a thing."

You melted, a lot, hearing that. Letting your head rest against the window, you finally decided to stop pestering Oscar for a while and just enjoy the music. He’d let you pick the playlist, of course, and right now, One Direction’s debut album was playing.

But staying quiet wasn’t really your style.

Three minutes in, right before Gotta Be You ended, you turned to him again.

"Osc…"

"Yeah?"

"Can I drive just a little bit? Just to the supermarket, I swear. So you can see I can actually do it."

"Nope."

"Not even to the end of the street?"

"You are banned from driving when I’m in the car," Oscar declared.

You huffed dramatically.

"Are you seriously not going to let me? Oscar Piastri, I might have to sue you…"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Why exactly?"

"Because you’re denying me the right to drive and relegating me to permanent passenger princess status. I should at least be allowed one drive per month! Passenger princess privileges, don’t you think?"

Oscar burst out laughing, wondering how you managed to always come up with the most ridiculous arguments and how you could be so persistent when you knew he’d never budge.

"Keep dreaming, sweetheart," he replied. "As long as we’re together, I’m driving."

"Don’t worry. Once we have kids, I’ll make sure they are on my side. They'll give you puppy eyes, and then you’ll have to let mommy drive."

₊˚・₊✧ MAX VERSTAPPEN

"Can I drive the rest of the way home?"

Max didn’t answer. Instead, he simply turned the volume of the music up a notch.

You frowned and reached over to switch off the radio.

“I’m being serious, Max. You’ve been driving all day.”

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, though his tone was calm. His hands, however, were gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

“You always say that.”

Max glanced at you briefly, then returned his focus to the road.

“Because it’s true. I’m fine,” he repeated.

You smiled faintly, but the truth was, it stung a little.

Sure, you preferred Max behind the wheel. Who wouldn’t? But that didn’t mean you never wanted to drive.

“Max… you know I can drive. I’m actually really good at it.”

“I know.”

“Okay, so if you know that, then why… I don’t know… Why do you never let me drive?”

Silence. You couldn’t tell if he was thinking of an answer, an excuse, or just ignoring the question. Either way, you didn’t press him.

“I don’t like being in the passenger seat,” he said finally.

That didn’t surprise you. Not from Max, not when driving was quite literally his entire life, and one he happened to be exceptionally good at, with four world championships on his back. But what did surprise you was the honesty in his voice. He didn’t often open up, especially not when it came to cars and driving.

“Not even if it means you being my passenger prince?” you teased gently.

Still no answer. Seconds stretched into minutes.

“I’m not saying I want to take your car and joyride around town,” you said softly, careful not to upset him. “I just mean… today, I could drive us home. The same way you take care of us, I want to take care of you, too. But when I’m sitting here, doing nothing… I feel like a burden.”

Max’s jaw tightened. Your words caught him off guard.

“That’s not it,” he said.

“Then what it is?”

Again, silence. You watched his knuckles whiten on the wheel, and noticed the slight aggressiveness in his gear changes.

“When I’m driving,” he finally said, “I know what’s going to happen. I’m in control. I can anticipate anything and fix it if something goes wrong. But if I’m not the one driving…”

“You lose that control,” you finished for him.

He nodded.

“I get it. Really, I do,” you replied, sincerely. “This…” you gestured around the car, then at him, “This is your world. It's what you're best at. But that doesn’t mean you have to be on and focused on everything all the time. You don’t have to protect us constantly, Max. Sometimes… you need to let yourself be cared for, too.”

He looked at you, then shifted his gaze to the rearview mirror where Lily, your six-month-old daughter, was curled up in her car seat, fast asleep.

“You trust me with everything else,” you added gently. “Why not with this?”

Max glanced back at you again, this time fully turning his head as he slowed the car down to a crawl, barely going 15 km/h.

His eyes softened. Then he smiled, just a little.

“You don’t even break the speed limit. You’re… let’s just say a bit too cautious.”

“Excuse me for respecting traffic laws,” you said in mock offense a little too loudly, because Lily stirred and whimpered in her sleep. You winced. “That” you whispered, pointing back “is why I don’t speed.”

“Sorry, but it’s boring,” Max murmured. “And I don’t care that we’re parents.”

“Sure, sure,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “I know you strictly follow speed limits with Lily in the car… but I also know you don’t when she’s not.”

Max chuckled under his breath. A few minutes later, he pulled into an empty parking lot and stopped the engine.

“Wait, are you seriously…?”

He nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door.

“Go on,” he said. “Switch seats before I change my mind.”

You squealed and quickly unbuckled, hopping out of the car and doing a little victory dance as you passed him, hugging him along the way.

“I’m so proud of you. This is real growth,” you teased, grinning.

You slid behind the wheel, half expecting him to join you in the passenger seat. But when you checked the mirror, you saw him settle into the back instead, next to Lily, now awake, and begin playing with her.

You couldn’t help but smile. And maybe tear up a little, trying your best to hold back tears.

Max was tense at first. His arms were wrapped protectively around Lily’s seat, and he flinched every time you braked a touch too hard or took a slightly sharper turn, even though, objectively, you were driving just fine.

“Relax,” you whispered, reaching your hand back and gently resting it on his leg. “Want me to go slower?”

He nodded. So you did.

And little by little, maybe for the first time in his life, Max let go of the wheel… and found peace in not being in control. Especially if it meant watching you smile and soaking in every quiet second with the little girl who’d just learned to hold his fingers in her tiny fists while smiling and babbling all the time.

₊˚・₊✧ CHARLES LECLERC

"You know what? I do have a driver’s license too, in case you forgot."

Charles didn’t even look at you when you said it, breaking the silence in a rather annoyed tone. Instead, he kept his eyes on the road and his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.

"Yeah, I remember, don’t worry. The scratches you left on the car two weeks ago and the bill from the mechanic made it pretty clear," he replied sarcastically.

"That doesn’t count," you shot back, rolling your eyes. "That parking space was tiny."

"You parked in a spot meant for a Fiat, not a Ferrari."

He couldn't hold back his laughter after that.

You didn’t find the comment particularly funny, especially because you had felt guilty about the whole thing even though Charles insisted it wasn’t a big deal.

"Let me drive. Just once. I’m really bored."

"Bored? In a Ferrari? With me?"

He turned to you, completely baffled by your complaint, and burst out laughing.

"Yes," you said flatly. "Ever since you let me drive once, Charles, just once, and that happened, I’ve been banished to the passenger seat. I don’t get to do anything from here! So yes, trust me, I’m bored as fuck. Very."

"You want to drive this car? This exact one?"

"Of course I do!"

"Over my dead body, sweetheart."

You crossed your arms and let out a frustrated groan.

"You’re such a control freak."

"No, love, I’m a Formula 1 driver," he corrected you. "Keeping things under control is literally my job."

"You’re insufferable."

"And yet, here we are. Three years later and you still love me."

"I think at this point we just tolerate each other," you joked, still slightly bitter that he wouldn't let you drive.

"Right. That’s why you refuse to go back to your apartment to get clothes and keep stealing mine," he quipped. "How long have you been staying over mine? Five days? You said it was just for one night, if I remember correctly."

"Your place is cozy and bigger than mine. Also, may I remind you that you have Leo, who’s, by the way, way nicer, cuter and more pleasant than you."

While speaking, you started fiddling with the A/C controls, pushing buttons aimlessly in an attempt to make it colder. When Charles noticed, he fought the urge to panic and gently moved your hand away.

"Don’t touch anything," he said seriously.

"God, you really need to humble yourself. It’s just a car, not the Holy Grail," you snapped, genuinely annoyed by his reaction.

Who got that worked up over a car?

Suddenly, Charles pulled into a dead-end road that opened onto a scenic lookout. The view of the ocean was stunning, but that’s not what crossed your mind when he stopped.

"Wait… are you actually going to let me drive?!"

Charles turned off the engine and faced you. Then he smiled and said:

"No."

"Then why the hell did you bring me here?!"

"Because this is where I wanted to bring you all along," he admitted. "I found this spot the other day while driving and thought you’d love it. I know how much you like these type of views, so…"

You gave up.

Looking at Charles, you couldn’t help but throw yourself into his arms, covering his face in kisses, feeling a little more cheerful even if your frustration over the driving situation hadn’t quite faded.

You both sat in silence for a while, now sitting on the hood of the car, you snapping photos of the view, Charles taking photos of you.

"You know," he said after a moment, "you’re the only person I’d share this car with."

"Does that sharing include me driving it?"

"If you already know the answer, why do you ask me?"

You pouted, arms crossed. Charles laughed and wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"But you are my passenger princess and trust me, that’s way better," he continued. "You get full control of playlists, unlimited talking privileges, and I even you have the opportunity of eating in the car whatever you want, whenever you want."

"That’s it? Seriously?"

"Also kisses at every red light or pedestrian crossing," he added, making you smile and blush. "And maybe… if I see you really trying…"

"You’ll let me drive?!" you interrupted, eyes lighting up.

"I was going to say I might rent you a car for a day… Does that count?"

You shook your head and gave his arm a playful smack. Then, grabbing him by the chin, you pulled him in for a kiss and made him look you in the eye.

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 headcanons #f1 fluff #formula 1 #oscar piastri #charles leclerc #max verstappen #oscar piastri fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic

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writesvani · 2 months ago

Text

dear me | 09

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual tension, emotional tension, alcohol consumption, conflicted feelings for a taken friend, stage anxiety, performance stress, emotional repression, romantic confusion, angst, unresolved feelings, subtle jealousy, explicit language

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 6,6k // date: 13th of May 2025

CHAPTER NINE — PLAY IT AGAIN happy reading my gummies...

AN: hey guys, it’s been 2 weeks without “dear me,” but we’re so back, baby. anyways, writing this chapter was really hard for me. like, REALLY hard. i’ve been stuck in a writer's block pit and i swear, i kept deleting and rewriting scenes (i’m pretty sure this chapter has like 8 versions in my drafts, don’t even ask). BUT i’ve finally settled with this one, so here we are.

now, time to meet some new characters. what do we think of them, huh? yay or nay? also, i gave you SO MANY easter eggs in this chapter. like, half of it is just foreshadowing or clearly hinting at something and i’m LOWKEY excited to see your comments and asks about it.

anyways, goal for this chapter is 450 because i KNOW we can hit it and also because i like having a bit more time to finish chapters. so yeah, let’s do this. love you guys, now go read and tell me everything you think.

It’s kind of ridiculous, honestly—the way Jeon Jungkook blends into a room and owns it at the same time. Like some kind of paradox. Earlier today, he looked like he belonged to the sunlight—the warm kind, the kind that makes old bookstores feel like home. Curled into his booth with an espresso and that soft, quiet stare. He looked small. Touchable.

But now?

Now he looks like a warning sign. Shoulders squared, head tilted like he knows something you don’t, lips curved in that maddening smirk of his. The neon lights of The House flicker against his sharp jaw, casting shadows that feel deliberate. Calculated. Dangerous.

You’re following behind him, mildly regretting the decision to show up early. It’s barely 9 p.m. and the place is already humming—bands tuning up, neon signs buzzing, and Alex... perched on a bar stool like he owns the air.

You’re going to need a drink. Immediately.

Jungkook walks up like it’s his goddamn stage. Alex looks up, face splitting into a grin.

“Well, shit,” he says, tossing his pen aside. “Didn’t think you’d actually show, big boy.”

Jungkook shrugs, already half in a chair. “I don’t back out of dares.”

You glance at the paper Alex was scribbling on and let out a half-laugh. “Are you—are you seriously doing sudoku right now?”

Alex deadpans, “Gotta keep the brain sharp, sweetheart.”

You snort. “You’re so full of it. You not working tonight?”

“Please. I’m off-duty. I came to get drunk and take Jungkook’s money.”

“You wish,” Jungkook mutters, grinning. “So who’s behind the bar?” he asks.

Alex leans back dramatically. “New guy. But he’s decent. You might know him—same age as you two.”

You raise a brow. “Then just say his name? What is this cryptic scavenger hunt?”

“I’m setting the vibe,” Alex says. “Anyway, name’s Park Jimin.”

You blink. Jungkook goes still for half a second.

Park. Fucking. Jimin.

This is exactly why you hate small towns.

This is why you should’ve stayed away. Should’ve packed up your life, lit a match to the past, and never looked back. Because small towns come with reunions you never asked for. The kind that smell like stale beer, too-loud music, and people who were never villains—just unnecessary plot twists you never wanted to reread.

So when Park Jimin strolls out from the back closet door of The House—the one they keep the good booze in because the bar’s too damn small—you already feel your molars grinding.

You don’t hate him. But God, does his presence itch.

“Well, well,” he says, slipping a bottle of Belvedere into the fridge. His eyes lock on yours, glittering with the same mischief that used to make you roll yours in high school. “Familiar faces just follow me, huh?”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He grins like it’s personal. “Missed me much?”

“Yeah. Like a rash.”

“Oof. Still bitter about prom?”

“I’m not bitter about prom.”

“You totally are.” He leans on the bar like he’s settling in. “Sorry again for dumping you right before, though. Heard you had to go with Yoongi. Brutal.”

“Hey, hey, hey—” Alex interrupts next to you, throwing a hand in the air. “Don’t slander my boy Yoongs like that. That man is class.”

Jimin ignores him. Of course he does.

“Thought your bestie would take you,” he adds, eyes still on you, “but I guess his girlfriend matched his aesthetic better.”

The blood in your ears roars. You open your mouth, but Jungkook beats you to it.

“What’s your problem?” he says, voice low and sharp. The tension in his jaw could crack diamonds.

Jimin looks at him for the first time. Smirks. “Relax, bro. I’m just messing with my ex. No harm done.”

You’re about to fire back when he adds, casual as hell, “Heard you got engaged to your high school sweetheart though. Congrats, man. Seriously.”

And just like that, the air goes from hot to hostile. Your throat tightens.

This motherfucker always knew where to cut.

Jungkook’s expression falters for a moment. You catch it—just the twitch of his jaw, the flicker behind his eyes. You think he might say something—thank him, tell him off, maybe even laugh it off.

Instead, he shifts.

His face evens out into that lazy, cool disinterest he wears so well. Like nothing ever touches him.

“One Jack Daniels,” he says, tone smooth, eyes bored. “Two cubes of ice. And for my friend—” he gestures toward you without even looking, “One Long Island Iced Tea. Add extra lemon juice and, uh, don’t be shy with the tequila.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

Jungkook shrugs, rolling his shoulders like he’s stretching before a fight. “That’s our order. You do still make drinks, right? Or are you just here to be irrelevant all over again?”

You almost choke on a laugh. Almost.

Jimin wets his lips, and for a moment you see the flicker of something crack behind his eyes. But he recovers. Plasters on that wide, gleaming smile—the one you used to fall for. The one you now recognize as plastic.

“Of course,” he says, voice all sugar and sawdust. “Coming right up.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes against the bar top. You glance over just as the screen lights up — Nina. Of course. She and Yoongi are supposed to be showing up any minute now.

When Jungkook had called her earlier to tell her about the bet with Alex — how he was playing drums tonight — she was thrilled. Or, well, "ecstatic," in his words. You weren’t on speaker, so you couldn’t hear her exact reaction. But you can imagine it. Sweet and supportive and all the things you know Nina to be.

He’d invited her immediately, of course. And she’d dragged Yoongi into the plan too — not that you minded. You might’ve casually begged Yoongi to show up so you wouldn’t have to third-wheel your way through the night like some tragic side character.

Jungkook picks up his phone with a low grunt, muttering, “She’s gonna call me in like, two seconds.”

You nod as he stands, watching his silhouette disappear toward the front door.

Alex elbows you, hard. “So… what I’m gathering here is, Jimin is your ex?”

You sigh. “Wow. Incredible deduction, detective. Really cracked the case there.”

He snorts. “So he’s that ex? The one who bailed on you before prom?”

You shoot him a look. “What gave it away, the tension in the room or the mild death wish I had five minutes ago?”

Alex grins. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Jimin brings it out in me.”

“Sure, blame the man.”

“I am blaming the man,” you say, then pause, brow furrowing. “He’s just… irritating.”

“He was acting weird with Jungkook though. And Yoongi too, back when he was mentioned. What's his deal with them?”

You shrug. “Honestly? No clue. Even when I dated him, he’d pretend they didn’t exist in public. It was weird then, and it’s still weird now.”

Alex hums, nursing his drink. “Damn, I thought he’s cool. He gives me bad vibes now.”

“You give me bad vibes.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me,” he grins.

“Sooo… love,” Jimin drawls, and you know — you just know — he’s talking to you.

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to stay facing Alex, but his voice is like a needle in your spine. When you glance over, he’s not even trying to hide the smug look on his face. He’s pouring white rum into a shaker like it’s the most casual thing in the world, the glint in his eyes almost daring you to respond.

You roll your eyes. God, he’s insufferable. Always was. Still, you can’t lie — black hair, pretty lips, annoyingly symmetrical face… Park Jimin has no right still looking that good.

Not that you’d ever say it aloud. Your friends would kill you on the spot.

“What?” you snap.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if you’d still turn when I call you love.”

“You’re fucked in the head.”

He grins, unbothered. “You know whose head I also fucked?”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Peak comedy. Is there a two-drink minimum for this set or what?”

“No joke. Just facts.”

“Yeah, okay, we had sex. Ages ago. You want a medal?”

He leans in slightly. “Didn’t think the first time was that forgettable.”

“It only means something if the person means something,” you say coolly.

That hits. His smile slips just a bit — before morphing into something darker.

“Then maybe you should’ve picked one of your friends. Wonder who would’ve been more desperate—gloom-and-doom Yoongi or Mr. Marrying-The-Preppy-Girl.”

You tense. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

He just shrugs again, shaking the cocktail like nothing’s wrong. “Touchy.”

“I don’t know what your problem is with them—hell, with me—but you’re acting like a damn parasite.”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” he says easily, pouring the drink. “You’re not pathetic. They are. I’m just trying to open your eyes.”

“Dude,” Alex hisses, his tone sharp, “I get there's history here, but you really need to back off. She’s a customer.”

Jimin doesn’t even flinch, still focused on mixing the drinks with practiced ease. “I get it, I do,” he smirks, eyes flicking to you. “But she knows exactly what I’m talking about. She knows why we broke up, after all.”

You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to snap. “Jimin, drop it. It was a high school breakup. Seriously, who cares? I got over it in two weeks.”

He leans in slightly, that dangerous edge to his smile. “You ever think I might’ve been right?”

“No,” you reply coldly, voice tight. “Because you weren’t.”

Jimin’s smile widens, but it’s all sharp edges now. “Sure, love. Whatever helps you keep your little fairytale. I’ll drop it—for now.” He slides the drink toward you, his gaze lingering just a second too long.

When Jungkook walks back into The House, the change in him is immediate. Whatever easy charm he left with is gone — replaced by stormy eyes and a jaw so tight you’re afraid he might crack a bone or two. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, a tell you’ve come to recognize: something went wrong.

“Took you long enough,” Jimin taunts, just as Jungkook drops into the seat next to you without a word. It’s not his usual controlled fall — it’s heavy, careless.

“Your ice melted,” Jimin adds, gesturing toward the untouched whiskey glass, voice dipped in mock concern.

Jungkook barely glances at it. “Right. Shame,” he mutters.

Alex leans forward slightly, brow creasing. “Everything cool, man?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Peachy. Don’t worry about it.”

But you do. You worry the second you see the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of the bar. You want to ask, but his expression shuts that down. Whatever it is, it’s not meant for public display.

So you shift gears. “When are Nina and Yoongi getting here?”

“Nina’s not coming,” he says flatly, not even looking at you.

“What?” That doesn’t make sense. She was practically bouncing off the walls earlier, excited to watch him drum again, or at least that’s what Jungkook said.

“She’s… feeling under the weather.”

A cold excuse. Paper thin.

You blink. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” he says, then adds, too casually, “Just not in the mood to go out.”

Something’s off. Way off.

“And Yoongi?”

“He’ll be here later,” Jungkook says, voice tightening as he rubs the back of his neck — another tell.

Then, of course, Jimin can’t help himself.

“Damn,” he drawls, grinning like the devil. “Your little fiancée bailed on your big night?”

Jungkook flinches.

It’s subtle, but it’s there — a flicker of pain behind the guarded eyes.

“Jimin,” you hiss, eyes flashing as you shoot him a death glare. “Enough.”

But he’s already walking off, smug and self-satisfied, whistling like he didn’t just stick a knife into something raw.

And Jungkook?

He doesn’t say a word.

He just stares straight ahead.

A few awkward minutes pass — the silence only interrupted by the distant sound of opening bands testing mics and tuning guitars. No one dares break the uneasy stillness. Alex is hunched over a sudoku, casually sipping his beer like it’s any other night. Jungkook nurses his half-melted whiskey, the kind of lukewarm drink that probably tastes like piss by now. Even Jimin’s gone quiet, absent of any snark, polishing glasses with the focus of someone who knows he went too far.

You stare blankly at your phone, Instagram Reels flickering past without meaning. You couldn’t name a single thing you’ve watched.

Because all you can feel is him.

The tension radiating off Jungkook is impossible to ignore — like he’s one sharp breath away from detonating. But instead, he just… sits there. Bottled up. Unmoving. Unwell.

“Kook,” you whisper, soft enough that only he hears. “What happened?”

He exhales through his nose. “Nothing, really. I don’t wanna dump shit on you.”

“C’mon.” You bump your shoulder gently against his. “Spill.”

He hesitates. Then, quietly: “Nina just thinks… since I’m working tomorrow, I shouldn’t be out tonight.”

You frown. That doesn’t sound like Nina. Not from what you know.

“And?” you ask.

“And she thinks… this is an unnecessary distraction.”

You blink. “This as in what?”

“As in me drumming tonight.”

Your eyebrows knit tighter. “A distraction from what?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “I don’t get it either. She just said she needs sleep and can’t make it.”

You let that settle for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Kook. But… wasn’t she excited earlier? Like, really excited?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice thinning. “But… something changed. I don’t know what. She just—changed her mind.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Kook,” you say gently, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “She’s probably just annoyed about something and taking it out on you. It’ll pass. It usually does, right?”

“Yeah… probably,” he mutters. “I just thought she’d come. I haven’t played in forever. Kinda wanted her here, that’s all.”

“I get it,” you nod. Wanted her here. It shouldn’t hit the way it does, but it does. You take a sip of your drink, trying to shake it off. “But hey—Yoongi’s coming. Alex is here. I’m here.”

He glances at you, manages a small smile. It looks practiced, not real. “At least I’ll have a chill crowd when I completely bomb.”

“You wish,” you nudge him. “If you bomb, I’ll be the first one to laugh in your face.”

“You’re all heart,” he says with a light chuckle, and it feels better—easier—than anything he’s said since he walked in.

“Hey!” Jimin suddenly appears in front of you both like he’s been summoned by drama. “Not everyone here’s so supportive. I’ve got front-row seats to his downfall.”

Jungkook laughs for real this time. “Yeah, well, good thing I never valued your opinion.”

“That’s rude.”

“That’s accurate.”

You roll your eyes, pointing at Jimin. “Alright, enough out of you. Go make us another round. Alex too. And fine, you can pour yourself something if it’ll keep you from eavesdropping.”

Jimin clutches his chest like you just proposed. “Wow. Buying me a drink now? And here I thought you were over me.”

You smirk. “Don’t push your luck. I’m just trying to keep the vibe from completely crashing.”

Jimin gives you a playful salute and walks off. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Jungkook’s shoulders drop a little. He still looks sad, but at least now he doesn’t look like he’s gonna snap in half.

When Jimin slides your drinks over, Alex actually wheezes — like, full-on wheezes — before his face turns red with excitement. “As soon as I get Jungkook’s money,” he adds dramatically, “you’re the first one I’m buying one for.”

“You could just split the money with me,” you reply, smirking over your glass.

Next to you, Jungkook groans and slumps forward, burying his face in his hands. “I swear to god, I’m gonna die. I’m not even gonna be good. I haven’t done this in so long.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex waves him off. “Spare us the dramatics, Kook. The kids you’ll be playing with should be here any minute.”

“The kids I’ll be—what?”

“Well, yeah,” Alex shrugs. “You’re playing drums, right? No offense, man, but I don’t think the crowd’s dying for a solo drum recital. You need a full sound. Guitar, bass, maybe even keys. You know how these things go.”

Jungkook stares at him, horrified. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think about that. Who am I playing with?”

“That band I told you about this morning, remember?” Alex says casually.

“Wait—don’t they already have a drummer?”

“Yeah, they do,” Alex grins. “But I talked to Jack. Asked if he’d let you jump in for a song, and he said sure. Super chill guy.”

Jungkook rubs his forehead with both hands, muttering something under his breath. You can't tell if it’s relief or panic—or both.

“Hey,” you nudge him gently, “you’ll be fine. You could probably play in your sleep.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll have to,” he mutters, then downs the rest of his drink.

The door of The House creaks open, and like a domino effect, all four of you—Alex, Jungkook, even Jimin, and you—snap your heads toward it, expecting to finally see the teenage band roll in.

But no. Not even close.

Instead, it’s Yoongi. He steps inside in a massive black hoodie and matching sweatpants, a bandana pushing his hair off his forehead. He pauses when he sees all your eyes locked on him, confusion already creeping into his features.

“What?” he frowns. “Did I miss it? You already played, man?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Nah, not yet.” Jungkook gestures toward the bar. “Keep the whiskey flowing.”

Jimin groans under his breath, clearly annoyed—by Jungkook’s request, by Yoongi’s sudden presence, by existence in general.

Yoongi raises a brow as he takes the seat next to Alex. “Did all of you just... stare at me when I walked in?”

“Sorry, man,” Alex chuckles. “We thought the band Kook’s playing with showed up.”

“The high schoolers?” Yoongi asks, settling in.

“Yeah,” you say. “I mentioned them earlier when we texted.”

Yoongi hums. “Heard they’re good. Can I get a dirty martini?” His voice is calm until his eyes meet Jimin’s.

He stiffens. Jimin rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they stay in his head.

“Why the hell not,” Jimin mutters, stomping off to make the drink.

Yoongi watches him walk away, his jaw tightening.

“What are you doing here?” he calls after him.

“Working. Thought that was obvious,” Jimin bites back, slamming the finished martini in front of him with no ceremony.

Yoongi goes quiet. You and Jungkook exchange a subtle glance.

You lean toward Yoongi, voice low. “Okay, I knew you two weren’t exactly besties, but this feels like next-level passive-aggressive.”

“He deserves it,” Yoongi grits out.

You blink. “Sure, but… I wasn’t expecting you to be more pissed than I am to see him.”

“He’s just—” Yoongi exhales, “annoying.”

“That’s something even I agree with,” Jungkook mutters, sipping his drink.

“What are you even wearing, dude?” Jimin asks, eyeing Yoongi’s oversized hoodie and sweats like they’re a disgrace to the earth. “Who the hell comes to a club dressed like that?”

Yoongi doesn’t even flinch. “Me.”

Jimin scoffs, dramatic as ever. “Right. Is that because you’re, what—edgy? Quirky? Too cool to try?”

“No,” Yoongi says flatly. “It’s because this place isn’t a club, it’s practically a dive bar, and I literally grew up here. But hey—props to you for trying so hard. Must be tough being the new guy.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, jaw twitching just slightly. “Cute. Did you rehearse that one in the mirror or does it just come naturally when you’re being a dick?”

Yoongi smirks, unbothered. “Naturally. But thanks for noticing.”

“Well, everyone’s getting along just great,” Alex mutters, lips pressed tight around the rim of his beer.

“I’m just glad someone finally matches Jimin’s talent for being a pain in the ass,” Jungkook says, spinning one of his rings absentmindedly with his thumb.

Your eyes drift to his hands. Just for a second. Just because they’re moving. But then you really look. His fingers—long, slender, tanned just enough—move with ease, like they know how to pull attention. His skin looks soft, but there’s something sharp in the way his knuckles flex. Something wicked. Something you shouldn’t be noticing.

Your stomach twists.

You blink, hard, like that'll reset your brain.

Jungkook is your friend. Your best friend. Engaged to your other friend. This isn’t supposed to be happening. You’re not supposed to be looking at his hands like this.

And worse—worse than anything—Jimin saw it. Of course he fucking did. You hear his quiet, condescending chuckle, and a wave of shame burns through your cheeks.

“Nice rings, Jungkook,” Jimin says, too casually. His eyes never leave Jungkook’s face, but you can feel the smirk meant for you. “They really suit your fingers.”

Jungkook frowns, caught off guard. “Uh… thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Jimin replies smoothly, already turning on his heel as someone calls his name from across the bar.

You watch him go, teeth clenched.

Fuck you, Park Jimin.

You’d almost been grateful for his silence. But no—he just had to say something.

Finally—finally—after what feels like an eternity and three Long Islands too deep, the door creaks open and in stumble four high schoolers, breathless, disheveled, and looking like they lost half their souls on the way here.

Alex shoots up with a dramatic yell. “Here they come. My children.”

“Fucking hell, Mina, I told you we’d be late,” the tall brunette groans, dragging a black gig bag over his shoulder as he wipes sweat off his brow.

“Chill, dude. We’re not late—we’re on at eleven,” the girl—who you assume is Mina (probably because she’s the only girl)—retorts, hoisting a keyboard bag like it’s a sack of bricks but somehow not tripping over it.

“Can you two not? Just tonight, please?” the third kid huffs, his pale skin glowing under the lights, striking blue eyes shooting them both a glare.

Trailing quietly behind them is the fourth member—carrying only a pair of drumsticks. That’s Jack. Definitely Jack. His shoulders are hunched, cheeks tinged pink as he scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the chaos in front of him.

“Hey, Alex,” the blue-eyed boy says, grinning as he high-fives the older man.

“Yo, Dan. What’s up.”

“Sorry we’re late, bro. Mina took two hours doing her eyeliner.”

“Ha! See!” the brunette jumps in. “I’m not the only one who thought it was excessive.”

“It’s called getting ready,” Mina snaps, turning on him. “Sorry I wasn’t born a man so I could just throw on a clean shirt and be socially acceptable. It’s not my fault people expect women to look like magazine covers.”

“Why do you turn everything into feminist propaganda?” Ace mutters, and you can’t help the smirk that tugs at your lips.

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts.”

They’re so deep into their bickering that they don’t even notice the rest of you at the bar—except for Jack and Dan, who gravitate toward Alex like they're clinging to stability.

“So, this is JK, guys,” Alex says, nodding toward Jungkook.

That shuts everyone up.

“The Jeon Jungkook?” the brunette—Ace, you think—says, eyes wide, posture straightening in an instant.

You nudge Jungkook’s shoulder. “Uhm, wow, Jungkook. Didn’t know I was in the presence of royalty.”

Jungkook laughs under his breath. “Uh… yeah?” He glances at Ace, unsure.

Mina squeals—an actual, honest-to-god squeal. Dan flushes bright red. And Jack stammers, “Whoa. You’re kind of a legend around here. Total honor to meet you, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir,” Jungkook says, flustered. “I’m not that old. And—legend?”

“Yeah, bro—I mean, sir—I mean Jungkook,” Jack stammers. “Everyone knows about you. I can’t believe I’m letting you borrow my sticks tonight.”

“Thanks for the sticks in advance, Jack,” Jungkook says, his cheeks tinged pink—part whiskey, part unexpected attention. “But I’m just gonna warn you—I might disappoint you guys.”

“No way,” Jack fires back instantly.

“Not a chance,” Mina adds, shaking her head.

Jungkook laughs, easing into their energy. He falls into effortless banter with the kids, talking about their setlist, throwing out ideas, asking their opinions on which song he should play.

You don’t interrupt. You just watch him.

He finally looks relaxed, like the tension in his shoulders has melted off without anyone noticing. His face is lit up with a soft smile, his hands moving as he animatedly explains why Smells Like Teen Spirit should absolutely make the list. The kids groan dramatically, arguing that while it’s a classic, it’s way too basic for a comeback gig after ten years.

“It’s a banger!” Jungkook insists, brows raised.

“And that’s the problem!” Ace argues. “We want iconic, not expected.”

Yoongi, from his seat nearby, chimes in lazily, “Nirvana is iconic. Can’t be basic if it’s legendary.”

Mina turns to him, eyes sharp but playful. “With all due respect, Sir—we need something more iconic.”

“How is that song not the 'most' iconic?” Yoongi repeats, deadpan.

“It is,” Mina sighs, “but we need like—iconic with a twist.”

You laugh, quietly. The whole exchange is ridiculous but so full of life. Your gaze finds its way back to Jungkook—still laughing, still animated, bangs falling in his eyes, youth catching the edge of his expression.

You’re not sure what it is—the presence of the kids, the memory of what The House used to mean, or just the anticipation of playing again—but something about him tonight feels different. No—familiar.

He looks alive.

He looks like himself.

So you lean into it. You let yourself feel it. Let yourself miss him in the way that hurts but also heals.

Because this… this version of him—the one glowing with purpose and ease—this is the version you’ve missed the most.

“Don’t you guys want to drop off your instruments and have a drink?” Jimin asks from behind the bar, voice light, expression even lighter.

You stiffen, blinking twice. Park Jimin… smiling? And not the condescending, I-know-something-you-don’t smile, but a real one. It’s disorienting—like waking up in a parallel universe. For a second, you brace yourself for a backhanded comment, a jab hidden behind sugar-coated words.

But it never comes.

He actually looks like he likes the kids.

“Uh, yeah—we totally forgot,” Daniel says, still a little breathless as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder.

“Give us a sec, JK,” Ace calls over his shoulder, clapping Jungkook’s arm before the four teenagers vanish backstage, a trail of youthful energy and secondhand adrenaline left in their wake.

The bar quiets just enough for a breath to settle.

“Are you excited?” you ask, leaning closer to Jungkook.

His gaze lingers on the now-empty hallway where the kids disappeared. His features are soft, loose, almost vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen in years.

“Actually… yeah. I am,” he admits, lips parting in surprise at his own words. “I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just the kids—”

“The tasteless kids,” Yoongi deadpans, slumped in his chair like a tired philosopher. “How the hell does that girl say there’s something more iconic than Nirvana?”

Alex raises his beer solemnly. “Blasphemy. Absolute blasphemy.”

Jungkook just rolls his eyes, used to their noise. “Anyway,” he says, “like I was saying… I think I’m genuinely looking forward to playing.”

The words hang in the air for a second too long, warm and raw. And before you even realize it, your hand is in his hair, ruffling the soft strands. His cheeks flush—alcohol or affection, you can’t tell.

“Aw, look at my bestie getting all giddy,” you tease, trying to sound casual, but something inside you aches at how happy he looks. “Seriously, Kook, that’s fucking amazing. Now I can’t wait to see you up there.”

“Don’t be too excited,” he laughs, brushing a hand over his face. “There’s still a good chance I shit my pants from nerves.”

“Wasn’t your whole goal to fail?” Yoongi asks, blinking like he’s doing mental math. “So you don’t have to give Alex the money?”

Alex waves a dismissive hand, the gold ring on his pinky flashing under the low amber lights. “No one ever plays to fail. Not in music, not in life. I, my friend, am simply operating within the mystical corridors of Jungkook’s subconscious. Planting seeds. Psychological warfare.”

“You, my friend,” you shoot back, “are drunk.”

“Maybe,” Alex replies, tipping his beer with a grin that says definitely.

“You so are,” Jungkook adds, eyes glinting.

Alex leans closer, mock-sincere. “Don’t worry. I’ll still be sober enough to take my money when you owe it to me.”

There’s laughter again, warm and alive, and for a moment you forget the heaviness. Forget the time. Forget the past. Because Jungkook is here, sitting next to you, eyes sparkling, stomach twisting with nerves in the most beautiful, human way.

And for the first time in a long while—he wants to be seen.

The kids return in a pack—energy buzzing around them like static, cheeks flushed from the excitement and maybe just a bit of nerves. They spill into the empty bar stools like they own the place, all happy—the kind that comes with knowing tonight matters.

Ace claps his hands together, flops onto a stool, and shouts toward the bar, “Alright, Jimin! Hit me with a Coca-Cola—I’m fucking thirsty!”

Jimin, unfazed, quirks an eyebrow. “Watch your mouth, rockstar,” he says, already reaching for the glasses.

The others chime in, each echoing Ace’s order like it’s part of a ritual. Coke all around.

“When are you guys on?” you ask casually, turning to Mina as she sips from her drink. Her eyes are bright beneath the dim bar lights, and you blink. Damn, her eyeliner’s sharp enough to kill. It makes her look fierce. Electric.

“In about twenty minutes,” she says, voice calm, a soft smile curving her lips like she’s done this a thousand times before. “Jk’s opening on drums—Jack takes over after he finishes the first song.”

You nod, picturing it. Jungkook behind the kit again. The lights. The sound. The pulse of something being reborn.

“Oi, Mina!” Daniel calls from the other end of the bar, half-lounging over his stool. “Quit flirting with Jungkook’s bestie and finish your drink—we’re up soon!”

Mina groans and rolls her eyes, but her grin gives her away. “I’m not flirting,” she mutters as she raises her glass. “I’m being polite.”

You smirk, and she clinks her glass against yours anyway.

There’s a hum in the air now. Something about the way the kids shift in their seats, glance at the clock, tap their fingers to an invisible beat. A collective breath held, waiting to be released the moment they step on stage.

And through it all, Jungkook’s knee bounces beneath the table, his fingers twitching like they already hear the opening riff in his head.

The bar dims a little more, lights overhead shifting to a deep red hue. A hush rolls through the room—not complete silence, but that charged pause just before something erupts. The kind of silence that makes your skin prickle.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Mina says, swinging her keyboard bag over her shoulder as she hops off the stool. The others follow, a quiet intensity settling over their faces like masks. The joking, the teasing, the sugary buzz of Coca-Cola—all of it vanishes in the electric stillness of the pre-show moment.

Jungkook gets up too, a small crease between his brows, lips pressed together in a thin line. You nudge his arm gently as he passes by.

“You’ve got this, bestie,” you whisper.

He glances back at you. A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes—those big, dark eyes—are filled with something you haven’t seen in a while.

Fear.

But also: fire.

He doesn’t say anything. Just nods.

On stage, Jack claps him on the shoulder before handing him the sticks. The kids do a final check—Mina tapping her keys, Dan tuning his bass, Ace slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder. The room starts to buzz again, people murmuring, turning toward the stage, phones raised. Someone yells out a “WOOO!” and Alex, leaning against the side wall, grins like a proud dad.

Mina steps up to the mic. “Hey guys,” she says, her voice steady. “We’re The Strangers, and tonight… we’re doing something a little old school.” She glances at Jungkook. “Featuring a local legend.”

There’s light applause, a couple surprised whistles.

And then—Jungkook lifts the sticks.

He taps the hi-hat four times. It begins.

But then.

Crash.

The beat stumbles. His right hand slips, hitting the rim instead of the snare. The rhythm trips over itself, chaotic and jarring. Ace freezes mid-riff. Mina slams her palm on the keys too early. Dan completely misses the bass cue.

A mess. A beautiful, terrible mess.

A few people in the crowd gasp. One laughs. You wince.

Jungkook, mortified, pauses for half a second—half a second that feels like a lifetime—before whispering, “Shit,” under his breath.

Jack starts to step forward, like he’s ready to take over immediately.

But Jungkook throws up a hand.

“No,” he mutters to the mic, half to himself, half to the crowd. “I got it.”

And this time—he counts again. One, two, three, four—

This time, it hits. Hard. Toxicity intro comes alive—feral, gritty, raw. Ace slams into the opening riff with vengeance, Mina’s synths howling underneath, Dan’s bass like thunder rumbling through the floor. And Jungkook—Jungkook comes back. You can see it in his shoulders, in the way his hair whips around his face. There’s rage and release in every strike of the snare, redemption in the crash cymbals.

The crowd erupts.

Jungkook plays like he’s possessed now, blood rushing, all hesitation gone. His whole body moves with the rhythm, with the madness of it. His face glistens with sweat. He grins—really grins—like he’s high on the beat.

And you? You can’t look away.

This, this is the Jungkook you remember.

A little off at first. But once he finds the groove—

He becomes it.

The crowd is losing their minds.

Phones are raised, heads are banging, and even Jimin—cool, collected, snarky Jimin—is nodding behind the bar with an impressed smirk. Ace and Dan are completely synced, locking in their parts with the kind of chaotic grace that makes you feel like the song might fall apart at any moment, but never does. Mina’s eyes are closed, fingers dancing across the keys, mouth moving along to lyrics.

And Jungkook—

God.

His hair sticks to his forehead in messy strands, and there’s a flush creeping down his neck, veins flexing on his forearms every time he slams into the snare. He looks like he’s burning up—like every part of him is charged. The black t-shirt he’s wearing is soaked down the back, clinging to him like a second skin, and when he tilts his head back in rhythm, biting his lip and closing his eyes—

You feel it.

In your chest. In your throat.

Oh God.

You shouldn’t be thinking this. He’s your best friend. He’s taken. He’s Jungkook. But you’re human and he’s—he’s just so magnetic up there. Confident. Wild. Beautiful.

It rattles something in you.

You look away for a second, shaking your head as if that’ll snap you out of it. But then you hear the bridge hit—Mina’s synths wailing, Ace’s guitar almost screaming—and you glance back.

He’s looking at you.

Just for a second.

Not long enough for anyone else to notice. But long enough for you to feel your heartbeat quicken like it’s trying to keep up with the tempo of his drums.

Long enough to wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you.

And then, just as quickly, it’s over.

The final notes ring out, loud and proud, and Jungkook hammers the crash cymbals like punctuation marks. The sound reverberates through the bar, into your ribs, your skin. Everyone’s screaming and clapping and whistling. Alex is on his feet, yelling something you can’t even hear. Jimin throws a towel toward the stage.

But you?

You’re frozen.

Emotion crashes into you like a wave—unexpected, heavy, cold. It’s not about attraction anymore. It’s not even about the performance. It’s the moment. The way Jungkook looked up, eyes shining, chest heaving, smiling like he hadn’t smiled in years.

It’s the way he came back to life in front of you.

And you realize, achingly, that this is what you’ve missed all along.

Not the friendship. Not the ease. Not the safety.

You missed him. That version of him. The one who lets himself feel joy without guilt. The one who belongs somewhere.

And for some reason, that breaks your heart.

Because he’s not yours to keep.

Not really.

Jungkook jumps off the stage like he’s weightless, flushed and glowing, his chest heaving as if he’s just run a marathon and won. The crowd still buzzes with leftover energy, but he’s already moving toward you—wild-eyed and breathless.

Before you can react, he wraps you in a hug, tight and full-bodied, arms locking around you like you’re the one anchoring him to the ground. You barely have time to think before you’re melting into it, laughing as your arms wind around his back.

“Holy shit,” he gasps into your ear, voice cracking with joy. “Did you see that? I didn’t tank it! I came back! I actually pulled it off!”

“You did, Kook, you killed it out there.”

He pulls back just enough to grab your face between both hands, calloused palms cradling your cheeks. His eyes are shining—shining—with something raw and real and so reminiscent of the boy he used to be, your chest squeezes tight.

“I thought I was gonna choke after that first beat,” he breathes, grin splitting his face. “But then I looked at the kids. And I looked at you. And it felt like I was supposed to be right there.”

Your heart stutters. “You looked like yourself up there.”

His expression shifts—just for a moment—and then his forehead drops to yours.

The contact is light. Barely there.

But it crackles.

It’s intimate and fleeting and charged, his breath brushing your lips, and your entire body locks up. You should move. You should really move. But you don’t. Neither does he.

You both just breathe.

And in that breath, something slips.

Not love.

Not lust.

But something terrifyingly in between.

“I should do this more often,” he murmurs, still forehead-to-forehead with you, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. “Feel like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to say anything that might break the moment. That might remind either of you that he’s not yours to lean into like this. Never was.

But then the room reminds you for you.

A cheer goes up. Someone shouts his name. Laughter rings out.

And when he opens his eyes and sees how close you are, the spell breaks.

He steps back, a breath catching like it hurts. His hands fall slowly from your face as if letting go costs something.

You say nothing.

Neither does he.

Instead, you both turn—wordlessly—and slide onto the barstools beside each other.

Jungkook drums his fingers against the wood, still jittery with leftover adrenaline, while you pretend to focus on the drink Jimin sets in front of you.

Your shoulder brushes his.

He doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

But the silence between you is deafening.

Your chest feels too tight. Your throat too full.

And for a second—just a second—you wonder what would’ve happened if you told him everything when you were younger.

You wonder what it would feel like if it were you he could come back to.

But you don’t ask.

And he doesn’t offer.

So you both just sit there—shoulder to shoulder, forehead memory still warm—and pretend nothing happened at all.

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world @auroresce @sadgirlroo @arcadiaem @kokoandkookie @nakyra2 @kissyfacekoo @butterymin

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leclercsluvs · 2 months ago

Text

CL16 | Starting Line | smau

masterlist

an: so... this has been in the works for an eternity, which you can tell by the timestamps in the first texts... i lowkey forgot about it. it's been a little over a year since this idea started in my head, then i did something a month after i got the idea and then i forgot about it for almost a year. sorry about that. I made this draft on april 23rd last year... fc: maddie ziegler pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader, dancer!reader warnings: swearing, kinda fast paced (idk if that's supposed to be a warning, but now you know)

yourusername

liked by yoursister, yourbff & 3.720 others yourusername been an eventful week lol

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yourbff i didn't even get photo creds? i'm hurt.

yourusername sorry, the caption was too long :) yourbff bullshit, but alright

user1 the effortless leg hold? okay queen, get it. ❤️ by author

user2 she's got a vibe. i like it.

yoursister how come i was not invited?

yourusername you're my sister. you're never invited <3 yoursister rude >:( yourusername hehe :)

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, lando & 2.592.641 others charles_leclerc so i may or may not have gotten a puppy.

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carlossainz55 you got a puppy?

charles_leclerc i got a puppy. carlossainz55 oh wow.

user3 charles getting a puppy is like my fav thing??

user4 same! like why is that so cute?

user5 okay but who's going to take care of it on race weekends?

user6 it's not like he can't travel with a puppy, and he could probably bribe arthur into taking care of it occasionally. user5 okay fair point. arthur_leclerc why do you have to bring me into this?

lando you better bring it. i wanna meet it.

charles_leclerc oh i'm bringing it. oscarpiastri i better get to meet it too! yourusername wait i wanna meet it too!

charles_leclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri & 3.345.690 others charles_leclerc so... turns out he likes to bite my nose?

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lando does that mean he likes me better?

carlossainz55 no me. oscarpiastri no me. pierregasly no me. charles_leclerc no none of you.

user7 i think that's the cutest dog i've ever seen

user8 i think that's the cutest human i've ever seen. yourusername very right about that

yourusername

liked by yourbff, charles_leclerc & 2.473 others yourusername i did a thing... 📷: yourbff

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yourbff at least i was invited this time.

yoursister i feel betrayed.

yourusername i'm not rich. i couldn't afford THREE tickets. charles_leclerc just ask ;)

user8 did anyone see charles' comment before it was deleted? 🤨

user9 i think you're delusional.

user10 wish it was me 😞💔 ❤️ by author

⤷ charles_leclerc for me? 🙃 yourusername maybe 🤭

⤷ yourbff girl... yourusername i can't help it... yourbff i'm ready to sacrifice my soul to help you. yourusername please don't 😭

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, alex_albon & 3.006.075 others charles_leclerc i did a thing...

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lando yo what.

carlossainz55 and you didn't even tell me?

pierregasly i would like to inform everyone, i knew.

charles_leclerc bullshit. pierregasly why did you ruin my fun? do you hate me?

user11 oh wow

user12 she looks pretty, from the back.

user13 i'm sure she's just with him for the money and fame.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff & 4.293 others yourusername i did a thing.

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yourbff babe....

yourusername what? yourbff you used the same photo.. yourusername oh.

user14 OMG THE MATCHING CAPTIONS

user15 this is the cutest thing ever 🥹

charles_leclerc well i guess it's not much of a secret anymore

275 notes · View notes

ayumigotabittoolonelyquitted · 3 months ago

Text

How i think jjk men would react to you on the last stage.

This was on my draft.. ;(..my friend passed away recently and she loved jjk.)

Synopsis : reader has a cancer. (I m so sorry if you felt that this was a problematic topic please let me know if it is I'll delete it.)

Geto suguru

He feels grief

First Riko.

Now you.

How many times would he have to watch someone he loves disappear? How many times would the world take and take until there was nothing left of him to give?

He thought he could run away with you. Thought that maybe, just maybe, your presence could be enough to keep him tethered to something,anything,worth living for.

But now, you were the one running away. And this time, he couldn’t follow.

His hands tremble in his lap. He tightens them into fists, forcing stillness. It doesn’t work. His whole body feels like it’s vibrating, like the moment he loosens his grip, he’ll come apart at the seams.

Move on? Live without you?

He almost laughs at the thought.

How could he, when everything he ever wanted was slipping away right in front of him?

He clenches his jaw, breathing slow, controlled. He doesn't look at you. He can’t. Because if he does, if he meets your eyes, he knows he’ll break.

"Suguru..." Your voice is so soft, so weak, that for a second, he wonders if he imagined it.

"Look at me."

He doesn't want to.

"Please."

His fists unclench. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts his head, and there you are,watching him with eyes that still hold so much warmth, so much love, even as the light in them flickers like a candle in the wind.

"You have to let me go."

His breath catches.

"Promise me, Suguru." You struggle to reach for his hand, and he catches it instantly, gripping it too tight, afraid that if he lets go now, you’ll slip through his fingers completely.

"I can't," he whispers, voice raw, breaking.

"You can." Your fingers weakly squeeze his. "You will."

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know how.

"Live. Move forward. Let go."

Empty words.

"You didn’t understand," he wants to tell you. "You couldn’t."

But when he sees the way you’re looking at him, with so much sorrow, so much love, he realizes that you do.

And that makes it hurt even more.

Choso kamo

He feels desperate

At first, he doesn’t understand.

How? Why? When?

You were fine. You were fine.

You smiled at him just yesterday. You held his hand, kissed his cheek, laughed at his terrible jokes. You curled into his side at night, warm and alive, and now,

Now you’re telling him you’re dying? That you’ve been dying for a while, and he never even noticed?

His chest feels too tight, his head too light. His fingers curl into fists, nails digging into his palms, because if he doesn’t hold onto something, he might just fall apart.

"Choso?"

Your voice snaps him back, but it sounds far away, like you’re calling him from behind a thick wall of glass. He stares at you, searching your face for a lie, for a joke, for anything that will make this make sense.

But all he sees is truth.

And it crushes him.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

You reach for his hand, and he lets you take it. Because even now, even with his mind screaming at him to do something, he can’t deny you anything.

"Because I didn’t want you to look at me like that."

Like you were already gone.

Like he was already mourning you.

His breathing stutters, uneven, unsteady.

"Don’t ask me to move on," he says before you can.

You squeeze his hand weakly. "Choso.."

"No." His voice is firmer this time, but his body is trembling. "I don’t want to hear it."

Because moving on means accepting this.

And he will never accept a world without you in it.

Then

Beep.

A single, sharp sound.

Too sharp.

Too final.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around your hand, but there’s no warmth left in it. No response.

Beep.

"No."

Beep.

"No, no, no, please.."

The monitor wails in a long, piercing tone, and everything inside him shatters.

Nanami Kento

He feels hollow

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not to you.

Not to him.

Nanami Kento had spent his whole life trying to carve out a path that made sense, one where he had control, where logic and order ruled over chaos and suffering. But now, as he sits beside your hospital bed, fingers wrapped around your frail hand, he realizes just how little control he’s ever had.

Because even now, even as you lay there, skin pale, breaths shallow, eyes tired but still full of warmth for himhe can’t do a damn thing to stop this.

"Kento?"

Your voice is soft. Too soft. It sends a crack straight through his heart.

"Mm?" His voice is steady, but his grip on your hand tightens.

"You’ll be okay, right?"

He doesn’t answer. He can’t. Because you already know the truth. You’re just trying to make it easier for him, when it should be his job to make things easier for you.

"I want you to be happy," you whisper. "I want you to live."

Live?

He’s not sure he remembers how.

Not when the future he imagined,the quiet, peaceful one he allowed himself to hope for,is slipping away with every weakened breath you take.

"Promise me," you say, and it’s barely audible.

Nanami swallows, jaw clenched so tightly it aches.

Then, finally, he nods. "I promise."

Even though it’s a lie.

Even though, as the monitor flattens into a single, endless tone, as your fingers slip from his grasp, as the last warmth of you fades from his world

Nanami Kento knows he will never be whole again.

Then

Beep..

Silence

He leans In sweetly and kisses your cold lips. "See you later , sweetie.."

Gojo Satoru

He feels helplessness

This isn’t happening.

It can’t be happening.

He’oos Gojo Satoru. The strongest. The one who wins. The one who laughs in the face of despair and makes the impossible possible.

But none of that means anything here.

Because for the first time in his life, there’s nothing he can do.

And he hates it. He hates it.

You’re lying there, fragile, weak,two things he never thought you could be. The person who stood beside him, who challenged him, who never looked at him like a god but just Satoru,you’re slipping away, and no matter how much he fights it, no matter how much he wants to fight it, he can’t stop it.

"Satoru."

Your voice is so small. He almost doesn’t recognize it.

"Come closer."

His feet feel like they’re stuck to the floor, but he forces himself forward, sinking into the chair beside you. Your fingers twitch, reaching for him, and he grabs your hand instantly, holding it in both of his like that’ll somehow keep you here longer.

"Don’t cry," you whisper.

He scoffs, but his voice cracks when he says, "I’m not."

You smile like you know he’s lying.

"You have to move on."

His whole body tenses.

"No."

"Satoru,"

"No."

Move on? Without you? What kind of joke was that? How was he supposed to just go on like you hadn’t been the one thing that made this shitty world bearable? How was he supposed to keep breathing when you weren’t here?

"You’re going to be okay," you tell him, voice fading, slipping.

No, he’s not.

He’s never going to be okay again.

And the worst part? He can’t even say that.

Because this isn’t about him. It never was. It’s about you. About making sure you don’t spend your last moments worrying about him.

So he forces a grin, as bright and blinding as the strongest sorcerer in the world should be, and says, "Of course I am."

But when your eyes finally close, when your hand goes limp in his, when the room is silent.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest, has never felt weaker in his entire life.

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arafilez · 1 year ago

Text

☆ ⼂ THE SILENT TREATMENT ﹗

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜[ skz ot8 x any reader ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤangst, fluff ㅤ warnings insecurities, arguing, crying, cursing ㅤ﹢ㅤ300 per member wc

◗ ៹ BANG CHAN ›

Silent treatment, that one thing you hated from the bottom of your heart. And Chan was giving it to you, for a small mistake.

Well, you wanted to transfer some pictures from his laptop to your phone and you almost deleted his song drafts. Almost! But he caught you in the act of restoring everything and screamed so loud it could be heard down the street.

Then an argument broke out where he argued about you being careless and you argued about how they are not deleted and that is what matters. He argued back about how they could have been and then it led to a cold war.

Right now, you were both just giving each other silent treatment, both of your egos too big to back out. But now you were contemplating whether you should because you missed him, it has been two days since you both talked.

Just then Chan entered the room as you swiftly got up and you both simultaneously spoke, "I am sorry." You were beyond relieved at this as you jumped into his embrace and he stumbled back trying to hold you.

"I am so sorry, I am stupid," you said as he stayed silent. You looked at him narrowing your eyes as he shrugged saying, "If you are waiting for me to disagree, it will be a long day."

"Well then Chan, fuck you," you said as he smirked, "Yeah we need to make up for the two days."

Placing a small kiss on your lips he said, "We need to make up for the kisses and cuddles not done in two days too," and you nodded in agreement.

◗ ៹ LEE MINHO ›

You hung your head low thinking of ways of apologising to him. Even though it was not your fault you wanted to apologise first because it was too much for you to handle.

It was not your fault that the bartender was flirting with you, you did try to wave him off.

But that persistent person did not leave you alone which made Minho pretty angry. He stared at the bartender poking his tongue inside his cheeks before he left dragging you out with him.

And you two didn't even have any argument before he started the silent treatment.

You have poked him, literally, many times and stood in front of him blocking his way trying to make him talk but all was in vain. So now you were thinking of newer ways.

You made some cold coffee for yourself and sat down sipping on it lightly and suddenly Minho took it out of your hands and took a sip sitting beside you. "You know we are indirectly kissing," you half joked wanting him to break but nothing.

What tortured you more was the fact he was doing everything he usually does, except talking to you and of course, was depriving you of any physical affection.

You clung your body to him, hugging him sideways and you thought he would get away but he made no attempts to. "Come on, forgive me already, it was not my fault," you whined right beside his ears but he acted like he was deaf, eyes glued to his phone.

"Min please, you know I can't handle silent treatment, my mom did it too and trust me it hurts, like a bitch. It is one of the reasons I never give anyone silent treatment. You know these," hurt was evident in your voice as you said all those.

Still, when you got no reaction you just had enough and got up going to your bedroom. Tears pooled your eyes because you always thought the worst and now you felt like he would leave you.

Minho, on the other hand, realised he had gone overboard and with your overthinking mind you had now broken down. He threw the phone on the sofa ran up the stairs and urgently knocked on your door.

Before doing the second knock he pushed the door, seeing it was already unlocked just to see you standing on the balcony, blinking your eyes rapidly to stop the tears.

He went up to you and hugged you from behind he kissed your neck. He felt you relax in his embrace and cleaned your tears dry before kissing you on the nose.

That was enough for you to realise he was joking and he would never leave.

◗ ៹ SEO CHANGBIN ›

"How about you ask Seungmin to give you a ride home?" were the last words Changbin said to you over the phone. Now you were sitting in the car with him staring out the window.

There was an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air and you knew why. All because he was angry and jealous. And angry Changbin is scary Changbin.

You were laughing along every time Seungmin decided to destroy his members with his sarcastic lines, especially Changbin. But Seungmin accidentally made fun of him for being chubby which hurt him.

What hurt him more was you laughed along before you realised it now after that Seungmin hugged him which made him forgive him at once but when you decided to try that he just walked away.

And then after spending another half an hour with the 00' liners you decided to go home and here you were, in his car, when he is still angry.

"Changbin I am sorry, I didn't mean to," you said apologising to him again but he ignored you, again. You sighed throwing your head back on the car seat.

You gazed at him longingly, your eyes tracing his every feature as you put your hand on his which was free. "You look hot, driving with one hand," you voiced out unintentionally before widening your eyes in realisation.

He chuckled lowly before saying, "That is one way of making me talk." "Oh my god, you talked," you screamed in delight and you saw him pull the car to your house.

"Changbin I am sorry we joked about your insecurity, it was cruel of us," you said, being truly sorry for what you and Seungmin did.

"It is okay, mistakes happen, just I hope you don't repeat it," he says looking at you and smiling, dimples visible on his lower cheeks as you melted due to his smile.

"I promise, we won't, ever," you assured tracing your fingers along his knuckles. "Good," he smiled before leaning in and kissing you as you held his cheeks firmly, kissing him back. He parted for air but then you pulled him back, his laughter dying down in his throat.

And inside the safety of the metal bubble, a beautiful love was growing.

◗ ៹ HWANG HYUNJIN ›

Hyunjin was being overdramatic, again! It was a regular phenomenon by now, but this time it was getting out of hand. He was screaming his lungs out just because of his hair.

You both went to the grocery store before to buy some ingredients and when you were walking home rain started pouring. Now, there was no shadow in the alley and thus you both started running. But, by the time you reached your home, you both were fully drenched.

He started screaming as soon as he entered saying he was wearing an expensive hair product and now his hair will be all ruined due to it getting wait. He blamed you for not taking an umbrella to which you replied that you were not suitable to know it would rain.

Your constant sarcastic replies and eye rolls pissed him and thus you both broke out in a big argument. And then you both were screaming curses at each other forgetting what the argument was about anyway.

And now you both were sitting across each other on the couch giving the very infamous silent treatment since both of your egos were too big.

You were aware that Hyunjin was a sensitive person and constantly feared if he would start crying. If he did, then you would break instantly and you knew it very well.

And he did break down after a few minutes, sniffing lightly, trying to keep as quiet as he could. That broke your heart. All the times before he had wailed out loudly like a child.

But this time he was quiet, trying not to gain your attention and make you feel guilty. But now you were feeling guiltier than usual.

You got up from your side and sat down beside him and saw his tear-stained face. "I am sorry," he croaked out and you instantly hugged him repeatedly saying that you were sorry too.

You kissed his tears dry and placed a kiss on his nose, his two eyelids and a longing one on his lips. You pulled back but he pulled you back making him sit on his lap.

"Works like a charm," he smirked as you groaned but deep down you knew those tears were real. "You don't have to hide your pain like that Hyunjin," you whispered as he smiled at you.

"I love you," he blurred out and you replied, "I love you more." "Impossible," he said as you laughed lightly in his embrace.

◗ ៹ HAN JISUNG ›

You and Han were throwing angry remarks at each other because of a stupid argument. At this point, none of you even remember what the argument was about.

After one point a very sudden stop came to your argument when you received a call from your mother. When you finished talking with her you noticed Jisung had already gone to bed.

You sighed softly before you made your way towards the bedroom and saw him sleep on one corner of the bed face turned away from you. You quickly did your night routine and sat up on the bed flicking the light switch off.

The cool breeze of the air conditioner blew in the darkroom as you contemplated your sleeping positions for a few minutes. Then you scooted closer to him before placing a hand on his hair.

Gently stroking it from the back you put another of your arm around his waist. "Ugh, I hate arguing with you, you are too irresistible to resist," you murmured as he turned towards you taking you by surprise.

"Yeah, you scared me," you laughed but he gave no response as you realised he was giving you the silent treatment. "No, please, not the silent treatment," you whined as his eyes bored into yours.

"Come on Ji, please," you threw a small tantrum throwing your body into his arms but he didn't hug back. Suddenly you thought of a plan as you started tickling him.

"Oh my god, stop," he screamed out throwing you off his body as you laughed heartily which he joined soon after. "You make it very hard to stay angry," he said in between his laughs.

He jumped over your body kissing you all over your face as you lay on the bed giggling. Giving a longing kiss on your lips you both smiled like two teenagers in love.

You loved the way you loved him, and you would gladly do it for life. So would he.

◗ ៹ LEE FELIX ›

"Well sometimes Mr Brownie Lee, I would like a brownie too," you screamed at him as he briskly ignored you flipping through the television channels.

"Oh do not even think of silent treatment," you whined as he gave no reply or acknowledged your presence. "You know what, I will make some myself," you said as you left the room gloomily.

Felix got a little concerned about you using the kitchen but let you nevertheless. After a few moments, he heard a scream as he ran towards the kitchen.

Walking inside he saw you holding your hand under cold, running water and a knife with a little blood beside it. "Why can't you be safe?" he grumbled holding up your hands and gently rubbing them underwater.

"Hey, you are talking," you exclaimed happily as he sighed kissing your forehead softly murmuring a soft 'I am sorry' in his deep voice.

"It is okay," you hummed out as he suggested, "Let's make them together after your finger is healed." You nodded in agreement, your insides bubbling in happiness.

"By the way, what were you doing with a knife for making brownies?" he asked being genuinely curious as you laughed nervously saying, "You do not have to know."

◗ ៹ KIM SEUNGMIN ›

"No Seungmin you do not understand. I have nothing with you not holding hands or any other affection in public. But even behind the doors, you do nothing. It is not fine, I have given you three months to loosen up but sometimes I will get impatient too if you keep being so unresponsive to every affection," you screamed finally getting rid of all the frustrations in your mind.

For the first two months, it was okay, but now you felt impatient. You just wanted a simple kiss or just a hug but he did nothing. Nothing.

Seungmin stayed quiet, absorbing your every word before he left the room and slammed the door after entering the bedroom. You sat down on his couch contemplating whether you should just leave and go to your apartment or you should apologise right now. But your alter ego said otherwise as it felt you did nothing wrong.

You clutched your head in your hands thinking of ways to approach him because he would never do it to you. 'There you go, making the first moves again,' a part of your mind screamed and you just wanted to cry at that moment.

It was already two hours as the fight had ended and you were still there. You went up to drink a glass of water and after drinking you made your way towards his room.

Entering it you started talking, not exactly apologising but profusely trying to make him understand all your points as he stayed silent, not even looking at you.

"Fine, if you want to give the silent treatment, it is okay, I guess I deserve it," you sighed and left the room, well, tried to.

Seungmin quickly pulled you by your hand making you sit beside him on the bed as he said in a loud, clear voice, "I am sorry."

"Oh," you were surprised at the suddenness as he continued rambling on about how he should have been more compassionate and tried to understand how you feel. He also said that he would be more affectionate from now on.

His never-ending speech was boring you so you quickly pecked his cheeks and he stopped talking, staring at you with those puppy eyes.

You thanked the gods for making these kinds of ideas actually work in real life but the thinking process was cut off again.

Seungmin leaned in towards you, his lips ghosting over yours as he asked with a whisper, "May I kiss you?"

◗ ៹ YANG JEONGIN ›

"You are always busy, you either have a big project coming up, or you have tuitions, or you have college classes. I realise it is hard for you and thus I do not meddle with anything you do. I do not drop you off at college because you are afraid of scandals. I do not meddle when you mix with your friends. I just want some time for myself, please. Is it too much for you to give? Because if it is then we should break up. I mean I am an idol who hardly gets any time and whenever I do, you are busy. In the next months, we will be on tour and I will not see you. But you know what? Nevermind!" Jeongin inhaled sharply after the long speech.

He left the room leaving you dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. Your mind has stopped working as you thought of multiple ways to make this up.

You closed your laptop and scurried towards your room only to find it locked and you could hear Jeongin's sniffles from inside which broke your heart.

You felt guilty for what you have done because he was right. He was not those annoying boyfriends who were all over their partners' lives.

He did give you space, a lot. But you have just been increasing that every day. You sat down outside the door leaning on it as you could still hear him crying.

You patiently waited for him to open but he ignored all your calls and messages. An hour later he did open the door.

But he wasn't talking. You made multiple attempts to get him to talk and make him stop giving you the torturous silent treatment but none worked.

"Please Innie, I am sorry, I promise I will make up for every single moment I have missed, just please don't leave, I can't live without you," you choked out as a tear rolled out of Jeongin's eyes.

He turned to you hugging you before saying, "Do you know how much I love you to leave you?" you cried with him as his shirt got wet and whispered 'I love you too'.

Maybe, this time, you both will give effort to this relationship.

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤit was supposed to be really angsty but meh i can't write without fluff ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ taglist ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤ@haneagerr @jeonghanfr ㅤmain mlistㅤ skz listㅤ navi ㅤ add to taglist

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semisolidmind · 4 months ago

Note

Ok how bout' this

What if Reader had a villager boyfriend who sadly had to travel to another place for buisiness but promised to Marry her after he comes back, juste imagine how devastated he is when he Sees what the Monkey King and His general did to His village, and how determined he is to dare set foot in his palace to save Reader after learning what they did with HER

(NOT writing for lmk right now, but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and it's already pretty long, so it'd be a waste to just delete it.)

deepest apologies to this hypothetical man, but there's really no way he's ever gonna see reader again.

however, let's entertain the idea that this guy is so dang devoted to reader that, after traveling for a bit and figuring out who's responsible for his entire town's dissapearance, he's determined to get her back.

let's say this guy manages to not only find a magical island (that most folks aren't even sure really exists), get onto the island and past the lower level of defenses (tough terrain and wild animals), sneak past the sentries, and get close enough to the water curtain cave to find reader; all without being spotted. perhaps she's sitting beneath a tree, reading, minding her own business, not expecting him at ALL,

and then there he is. he tugs at her hands, pulling her up and with him. he tells her in a rush that he's come to free her and that they should leave right now, c'mon we gotta go—!

but reader pulls back. her heart is pounding a mile a minute, fear for her once-partner striking her nerves. if her husbands find him here, trying to pull her away...she doesn't want to imagine what they'll do to him. he'll never see the light of day again, that's for certain. reader doesn't want to see another blameless mortal die because of her.

despite the pain in her heart, reader pushes the man away. she tells him he has to leave without her, that attempting to take her back will only get him killed.

but he insists that because he's come this far, she must go with him. he's braved so many dangers, all for her and their promise. the man is practically begging reader to go, still tugging her in the direction of the beach.

reader shakes her head, tears gathering in her eyes. she implores him, please, to just go, forget about her and leave this place before—!

reader gasps.

speak of the devil.

the imposing figure of sun wukong lands heavily behind her former love (who at least has the common sense to look scared out of his mind). the demon makes quite the chilling image; the deadly angles of his paldrons and the imperious, quiet sway of his cape and headress all lending themselves to the visage of a cruel warlord.

the monkey king's eyes burn with rage. he comes home, ready to see his beloved wife, only to find this...unkempt, filthy, desperate mortal man putting his hands on her. he can see that his wife has been upset by this vagrant.

wukong begins to pull his staff from behind his ear, planning to remedy the situation immediately.

reader can only hope that her begging will be enough to save the hapless human man before her. so, she gets right to it.

reader throws herself into a kowtow at her husbands' feet. she pleads with the seething demon, attempting to get him to see reason. this act stuns wukong long enough for him to catch some of what she's saying; he vaguely remembers her speaking of this "fiance" during he and his brothers' time as her little companions, and they rarely saw him. they never liked him, obviously. he stole their peaches' attention from where it ought to be. wukong wants to just kill him, but...

he looks to the woman still kneeling at his feet. he sighs. he can deny her nothing.

his poor, sweet, tender-hearted peach.

wukong pulls reader up. in hushed tones he tells her to never, never kowtow to him like that again; especially on behalf of someone so undeserving. she is his queen. he doesn't want to see her lower herself in that way.

he gathers reader to him, angling her away from her past suitor. then, he turns to the fool who somehow made it to his carefully-hidden island home unscathed. looking the bedraggled human up and down apprasingly, wukong gets an awful idea. he smirks.

the monkey king, so impressed by the man's bravery and devotion, will allow him to live at his queen's request...on one condition.

he must either leave immediately, never to return...or, should his devotion run so deep...

he must beat one of reader's husbands in a fight, fair and square.

so, what will reader's doomed former fiancé do?

ending a: the man foolishly takes the bet.

reader panics and begs him to reconsider: doesn't he know who he just accepted a challenge from? how little his chances of success are?!

the man ignores her, confidently (or as confidently as he can given the circumstances) staring the monkey king down. the simian ruler states that if the man can beat either him or his brother in a fight, no powers, just brute strength and skill, then they'll let reader return with him to the mainland.

now, the man did his research before coming to the island. he knows who's in charge of this island, knows his legends, his strength; he leveled the man's entire town for gods' sake.

but the man feels as though he must fight. at least for his own honor and pride, if not reader's as well. and, in perhaps his most idiotic decision yet, he comes up with an idea he believes will make the fight easier.

he agrees, not to fight the monkey king, but his brother instead.

reader smacks a hand to her forehead (the action drawing a laugh from her husband). she can't believe her former fiance's stupidity. it stands to reason anyone associated with, let alone related to the monkey king would be impossibly strong (or, at the very least, much stronger than a normal human).

although, she supposes she can't fault the man entirely. macaque is discreet in all his dealings (his "shadow general" moniker comes from more than just his powers). she figures the foolish oaf must not know who the darker-furred monkey demon is, and what he's capable of.

the six-eared macaque is summoned, already aware of the situation, and the combatants, the king and queen, and a few (many) spectators make their way to the arena.

to his credit, the human man is doing a very good job at hiding the tremble in his hands. having been offered a fine selection of weapons, the man holds a sword. reader tries once more to convince the man to give up, citing that a few years of weapons training with a local retired military general when he was a teenager does not equate to magically enhanced strength and thousands of years worth of experience in every weapon imaginable.

but the man doesn't listen. he's got something to prove now, and nothing reader says will sway him.

with a sigh, reader resigns herself to the fate the man has chosen for himself. she can't help but remember that he was like this when they were still in the village, too; never listening, always assuming the way that things were was simply how they had to be. she cannot help him now, and so she makes her way back to her kingly husband's side. he grins at her when she sits down, and she shoots him an admonishing glare in response. he laughs fondly at the look.

the duel goes the way one could expect.

though the man is clearly trying his best, he could never have hoped to make even a dent in the shadow generals' defense. the difference in skill is laughable. macaque chose a simple staff as his weapon, and though the man's sword is sharp and quick, it's nothing in the face of the monkey demon's expertise.

macaque is clearly playing, allowing the human to get just close enough before dodging nimbly out of the way. he doesn't even have to use his powers. this is nothing more than a silly game.

and eventually, the shadowy simian grows tired of his playmate. after a short time landing a few blows (purposefully feather-light so as not to kill, just bruise), macaque lands a hit so hard it throws the man across the arena. the battered human hits the wall with a noise that makes reader wince, and falls to the dirt.

the crowd starts to get rowdy as their second in command stalks towards his exhausted, near-dead prey. the poor fool can barely lift his head, and his arms quake from exhaustion.

macaque is more than happy to dispatch this interloper before the gathered spectators, and throws a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure reader is watching. he won't say it, but he can't help but think that if he had found the man before wukong, none of this would've been necessary. the human would already be dead for the crime of attempting to steal his wife away.

but, macaque supposes, a little show couldn't hurt, could it?

he raises his staff, and in a move almost too quick to see, swipes it under the comatose human to toss him into the air. the demon jumps after him, then smacks him to the dirt below.

the human that was once reader's fiance is little more than a bloody pile of broken bones and torn flesh on the ground.

macaque lands gracefully beside it, stands, then bows to the crowd.

the applause drowns out reader's little sob, though both her husbands hear it clearly. there are no tears that they can see, however, and they know it's more their darling peach's aversion to violence that makes her cry than any real attachment to the corpse before her.

she did her best to convince him to leave peacefully, wukong coos to her, holding her hand and nuzzling the side of her face.

it's not her fault that he foolishly chose his pride over his life.

macaque jumps up to where reader and wukong sit, grabbing reader's attention and her hand.

he reaffirms wukongs point, telling her that the man decided his own fate, which is more than what he deserved given the circumstances.

the dark-furred demon presses a gentle kiss to reader's hand, and she can feel his satisfied smirk against her skin.

ending b: the man, in perhaps his smartest move so far, mournfully flees for the beach.

reader sighs in relief. at least he was wise enough to take the out that was handed to him, she thinks. she looks to wukong and quietly thanks him for letting the man go.

wukong smiles gently at his wife. he laughs the situation off with a joke and urges her to banish it from her mind. with a kiss, he sends her back into the stone palace.

the monkey king's smile fades when his wife is out of sight. he looks out to the unending sea beyond the islands' sands. if he leaves it alone, that same sea will likely kill the interloper with no added effort on his part.

he's not content with that idea. so, wukong stands there for a long while, and watches as the boat and its treacherous passenger get further and further away.

the man's boat floats to the horizon before the monkey king whispers a command only his ever-listening brother can hear.

kill him.

the king sees the far-off speck dissapear beneath the waves into a dark, swirling portal.

with a grin, he banishes the whole affair from his mind, turning with a flourish to join his wife in their palace.

#bad end wukong #twice as bad au #its been a long long while #hooh boy #just couldn't stand to see it sitting in my drafts anymore really

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cheolieji · 6 months ago

Text

Roomates - Choi Seungcheol

pairings: idol!scoups x idol!reader

reader has boobs and vag

warnings/genre: smut, mentions of alcohol, mentions of food!!, swearing, pet names, fluff

the sex part is lowkey short cause idk

fuck was said at least 1000 times😨

you are Svts 14th member and have been roommates with seungcheol for a few months now. Nothing has happened yet, but who knows what could happen when two people who like each other drinks together.

mdni!!

don't like, don't read

a/n note: this is my first time writing on tumblr and first time writing in a few years + english isn't my first language so if there's any grammar/any type of mistakes don't be shy to point it out :)

updated a/n: This was a draft from Oct, so, no, It's not my first time writing on tumblr (not anymore). i deleted the previous draft and rewrote the whole thing, lmaoo

my brain stopped working when it went down to the actual smut omg

wanted it to be longer but im lazy

after a long day of shooting content, you and the members were exhausted. some went home, while some went out to eat, but you decided going home was the best idea. and so did seungcheol. and of course, you're going home with him, i mean, who else? you literally live with him

you two were approaching his car as he sped up a little to open the car door for you. You find his speed walking cute. "Thank you! Cheol, " "Of course, go ahead, watch your head"

as he's getting the car started, you asked, "cheol, do you wanna get something to eat before we go home? and maybe some drinks, too?" "Yeah, why not, we haven't drank together in a while, " says as he's putting his seatbelt on

after he bought the food and drinks (he went in to buy them while you were waiting in the car) you arrived home

taking your jackets off and hanging it on the rack, you sighed. "It's been such a long day, ughh i need a drink." "go wash your makeup off. I'll get the table ready.." "fineee"

felling refreshed, you went to help him set the table up. "we bought a lot of food, are we gonna finish it?" "i will, " he says, giving you a goofy smile

after a few shots, you were already tipsy. seungcheol is still completely fine. He's just admiring how you look while you're drunk

cheeks flushed, lips wet from the drink, and those eyes you give him.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" "No reason im just admiring your face." "Why admire from afar when you can come here? " you said, completely aware of what you're saying

"You come here." You walked over to him both hand on his shoulder while straddling his lap. he has his hands on your ass. "So? are you admiring me better now that im this close?" "So much better, babe"

leaning down to kiss him. it starts slow. Now he has his tongue down your throat with his hands roaming your body. and you're literally grinding on him. breathless, you let out a small moan. that led him to his edge. he picks you up while still kissing the hell out of you, walking to his room and almost tripping over a bag. putting you on the bed as he strips down, leaving his boxers on. you barely had anything on, so you just took your tank top and shorts off

you can see how big he is, even with his boxers on

he goes in for another rough kiss before putting his finger on the wet patch on your panties, sliding it off you. his big and long fingers doing circles on your clit "fuckk-" he pushes them in slowly before pumping your wet juicy cunt, it's so quiet the only thing that can be heard is your moans and the sound of your pussy. it's like music to his ears

"fuck me cheol.." "beg for it" as he's going faster with his hands "fuck.. ahh please–fuck me baby i need you so bad" he stops in his track, licking your juices off his fingers "shit babe you taste so good"

taking his boxers off and pushing your legs back to your chest. fuck his dick is big. "Can i put it in, baby?" "fuck yeah, just do it already please" he enters slowly "fuuck, you're so tight" resting a bit before moving, low grunts can be heard from him

"shit-ahh harder." he goes harder, balls slapping against your pussy "fuck you're so big" hearing that made his ego rise a little, he grabs your legs as he goes harder and faster than before "fuckkk ahh yeaaa" in overwhelming pleasure you scratched his back without realising "shit im sorry" "no, keep going" kissing you roughly before moving to your neck giving you hickeys

"Ah, 'm gonna cum-" "Yeah? cum for me baby" getting sloppy with each thrust. reaching your high he continues fucking into you for a little bit more before plopping next to you and kissing you on the cheek

he moved to cuddle you as if he didn't just ruin your insides a second ago, "you okay, babe? need anything? water? snacks?" "im okay baby, maybe later, " you said, hugging him in your arms

this is lowkey bad but who gives a fuck i don't get paid lmao

#cheoliejiwrites #seventeen smut #seventeen #choi seungcheol #seventeen drabbles #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol x you #svt x reader #svt fic #scoups #scoups x reader #scoups smut #choi seungcheol smut

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cl6teen · 2 years ago

Text

p-power ❀ op81

in which a tense breakup with a well known driver sparks a new beginning with an up and coming rookie

contains: social media!au, exbf!daniel, multiple time skips, heavily inspired by the lyrics ‘the pictures i seen i’m like “damn he got lucky”, take it from him and i leave him with nothin’.

note: this has been in my drafts for ages so i might has well post it anyways

67,236 likes

f1wagupdates f1 wag y/n l/n and mclaren f1 driver daniel ricciardo caught in a hearted argument while vacationing in new zealand for the short beak in light of a newly surfaced cheating scandal between daniel and a model during a monaco gp after party

view all 3455 comments

danielrjpg omg, so the cheating rumours were true??? i feel so bad for y/n, she was the best wag on the paddock in my opinion

iheartmclaren during the monaco gp?? she couldn’t make it to that one right?

papayaluv yeah, but she was still posting him on her story that whole weekend :(

ynstyle genuinely she’s too good for him anyways

user now that this has been brought to life can we talk about the weird ass age gap between the two??

dr3ily i love daniel but he’s 33 and she’s 22?? and they started dating when she was 20? that’s kind of icky

l.l.l.lando to be honest, i don’t think it’s true? like he doesn’t seem like the type to cheat! couples fight all the time

user yeah, monaco gp is notorious for exposing and cheating scandals that usually aren’t true, yall will believe anything

4everstappen then why did she already delete their photos together?? like all trace of daniel gone

givemedr3 but daniel still has all of their photos up, and he still follows her ?

madebymax it’s because he’s delusional LMAO, and I would be too if i fumbled someone like y/n??

user his karma will definitely come back to him, one way or another

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, and 109,345 others

yourinstagram boy bye.

view all 2,677 comments

landonorris let me come visit you please

yourinstagram you know you’re always welcome down under lan <3

user lando and y/n’s friendship still holding up is so cute to me

bsfsinstagram you’re too bad for anyone in this world

bsfsinstagram whoever gets you is so lucky

yourinstagram i love you more than anything babe

drxyn waitt so they’re actually broken up 😭

luvyn tbh the post breakup glow is eating, i was crying for a month straight after mine

liked by yourinstagram

mclarenbby oh my god daniel in the likes is so embarrassing like please stop your delusion

newuser please go back to daniel y/n i loved you two together!

yourinstagram lol no thanks

k1ll4lando daniel get off your burner account LMAOO

iluvf1 y/n continuing to post like nothing ever happened and being all normal in comparison to daniel’s social media literally going black out like he’s grieving is so funny?? like the disabled comments are really the cherry on top

user i just know he has his pr team working overtime

liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 1,113,242 others

f1 some surprising news from mclaren this silly season, wouldn’t you agree?

view all comments

user honestly thank god, i don’t think mclaren was daniels team, but it’s sad to see he might be out of a seat now

user the karma from cheating is literally so real

user and he wasn’t performing well at all because of it

user YN LIKED IT BYEEE

user love that for her though

mclaren excited to see our rookie in action!

early february, 2023.

liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri, and 212,444 others

lando.jpg friendly outings before the new season (ft. y/n’s photography skills)

tagged yourinstagram & oscarpiastri

view all 6,234 comments

yourinstagram thank you for the photo credits on the last one lando

oscarpiastri very nice photos lando

lando.jpg always so serious oscah

papayaluv yn still hanging out with mclaren is so nice to see, she has so much chemistry with the team even without daniel

op81ln4 seeing yn get becoming friends with oscar is so funny like omg he took your ex’s seat in f1

mcl4ren honestly i think that yn is milking this whole daniel situation to still keep the attention on her, how is she still attending mclaren events?

yourinstagram please stop making assumptions about me, thanks ❤️

user do you forget that she’s been friends with lando?

user can’t lie, lando posting yn at mclaren knowing daniel follows this page is wickedddd but funny

oscar

hey, it’s oscar from earlier :)

you

hi oscar! i had so much fun meeting you tonight

did you grab my number from lando?

oscar

yeah..i hope that’s alright?

i was just glad to see a fellow australian and lando suggested i have it

you

i really don’t mind it, i’m happy to have a new friend that i have smth in common with

i was surprised when your mclaren signing was announced, but i’m sure your rookie season will be amazing

oscar

thanks, it really does mean a lot

i wasn’t really expecting the mclaren offer in the first place but i was open, and they’d just let go of daniel cause of his performance

wait sorry i didn’t mean to bring him up

you

please don’t apologize, i couldn’t care less about him anymore

i see what happened in the second half of last years season as karma, im glad it’s you who’s in the seat now :)

oscar

yeah, but if you ask me what he did was an asshole move

you didn’t deserve that at all, i think he lost something good

you

it’s been so long now that it’s nothing important to me, but…did you want to meet up for lunch or dinner tomorrow? my flight back home leaves after that

oscar

yeah, i’d like that

and i’ll hope to see you again in australia as well?

you

you can count on it ❤️

april, melbourne australia.

liked by mclaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 70,453 others

yourinstagram reunited down below 🧡

tagged landonorris and oscarpiastri

view all comments

ynluv it felt so nice seeing you with mclaren today !!

mclaren we second that!

yourinstagram it’s just a one time thing, i never miss a home race! but i was happy to be there!!

landonorris who’s that cool guy in the sunglasses?

yourinstagram a toad that drives for mclaren you do NOT want to talk to him

oscarpiastri missed hanging out

yourinstagram come back home more often then duh

landonorris or you can just visit us instead

you

you did so well in the race today oz

ozz

P8 isn’t the best though, could have been better

lando was good

you

he was, but we’re not talking about lando

P8 on your third race as a rookie is amazing

take the compliment oscar 🙄

ozz

thank you for the compliment miss

you

ugh shut up

ozz

im glad you were here this race weekend, i really did miss seeing you

you

it’s not like you haven’t been texting and calling me for two months straight 😭

ozz

but that’s different

you

mhm

when do you have to fly out to baku?

ozz

i leave in the middle of the night on wednesday

you must want me to take you out on a date before i go?

you

don’t be smug oscar pisstree

facetime dates are nice but it would be nice to go on a real one again. we don’t always have to hang out with lando

ozz

i know y/n, im only teasing you

there’s no way i would be here and not think to plan one, you know me better than that

but pisstree is a little painful

you

i know i know, sorry

ozz

so get ready and i’ll come pick you up once i’m done with these team debriefs

oscarpiastri updated their story (15 mins ago)

you

girl.

omg

pls whatever you’re doing stop it

TEXT ME BACK PLEASE 😭

bestie 🧸

oh my god

i’m here

are you dying ? kidnapped?

i thought you were on your date with oscar

please respond???

how are you not responding after just texting??

istg i hate you

you

i was on my date with oscar

he just dropped me off

and

bestie 🧸

and??

you

i am a girlfriend !!!!

😖😖😖

bestie 🧸

OH MY GOD???

OSCARYN NATION UPPP

he’s so good for you yn

IM SO HAPPY

you

ME TOO

however. there is one problem

he asked me to spend the summer break travelling with him

bestie 🧸

what did you say?

yes? right?

you

i didn’t say anything actually…

he said he’d let me think about it

bestie 🧸

okay so tell him your done thinking about it

and say yes!

august; summer break.

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, bsfsinstagram and 89,245 others

yourinstagram all types of summa lovin

landonorris you got him to wear pink ????

yourinstagram doesn’t he look yummy in it

user WHO’S HIM????

bsfsinstagram oh not you posting himmm

yourinstagram i had to let them know i’m spoken for babe

oscarpiastri what psychopath straightens their hair like that

yourinstagram the hot kind

landonorris yeah right

dannybae is that daniel in the last photo?

yourinstagram no

user was posting this after daniel said he missed you on that podcast intentional????

user that’s so embarrassing for him but at least now he’s gained some self respect and unfollowed her 😭😭

luvyn i’m so happy she’s happy, literally living her best life

liked by yourinstsgram

liked by yourinstagram, f1wagupdates, landonorris, and 324,554 others

oscarpiastri summer

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user oscar when was this this ?????

oscarpiastri i just said this summer🧍‍♂️

landonorris 💀

yourinstagram oscar in his soft launch era??

landonorris you were the one who taught him that

oscarpiastri is that what it’s called

user not oscar getting a girlfriend over the break

oscarspastries i sort of suspected this after that story he posted after the australia gp

user omg so she’s probably from australia

op4prez the second picture kinda looks like yn

user no it doesn’t ur jumping to conclusions 😭

user she’s only friends with the mclaren boys she has her own man

user oscar literally drops off the face of the earth for the entire break and then comes back to post this??

user im severely unwell

user oscar’s already falling into the girlfriend effect of looking exponentially finer and im here for it

october; qatar.

yourinstagram updated their story (2 hours ago)

you

congratulations on winning the sprint race babe <3 i knew you could do it

baby 💕

where are you?

i want to come see you

you

i’m in the garage with the team

are you coming with lando

baby 💕

you

you shouldn’t come without him

you know that people would talk and it’ll be annoying to deal with

baby 💕

i just got the first win of the season for the team

quite frankly i couldn’t give a shit what they said, i want to celebrate with my girl

you

oscar i want to celebrate with you too, but it might be best to wait

oscar are you there?

oscar ?

read 2 mins ago

yourinstagram updated their story (10 mins ago)

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris, mclaren, and 458,355 others

oscarpiastri thanks qatar

comments on this post are limited

mclaren 🧡

landonorris it’s about time you made it public

oscarpiastri i never hid it though

landonorris didn’t you?

yourinstagram you’re lucky i love you enough to let you hard launch

oscarpiastri just can’t keep you a secret

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 social media au #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #oscar piastri smau #f1 x you #f1 x black!reader

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hypnobeauty · 5 months ago

Text

A Chance Encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 3)

summary: a story about how you and Hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. part 1 / part 2 cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, angst, fluff, hyun is unsure of herself, pre-squid game, slice of life. a/n: hello! i'm back with another part. it is probably the biggest one so far. i wish they were my barbies and i could make them kiss. anyway! i have quite a bit of the story drafted, we'll probably get into the relationship next part. it is out of my control, i never imagined i'd write so many parts lol enjoy xx comments are always appreciated ♥ taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia - comment if you’d like to be tagged.

part 3. a door left open

the uber ride was awkward at first, the kind of silence where neither of you seemed to know where to start. hyun-ju sat stiffly beside you, her hands folded neatly on her lap, her gaze fixed firmly on the window. you could see her shoulders tense, and you thought about how tired she must be.

you decided to break the silence. “so, are you in pain? be honest.”

she turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “a little,” she admitted. “mostly just… tired.”

“that’s fair,” you said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “surgery’s no joke. i remember when my cousin had his wisdom teeth out—he tried to eat a cheeseburger the same day. ended up crying into his fries. don’t be like him.”

that earned a small giggle from her, and you took it as a good sign.

“you’re lucky i didn’t let ha-neul come with us,” you added, leaning in conspiratorially. “she would’ve pestered you with questions about your nose—she’s obsessed with noses right now. it’s been her only personality trait for weeks.”

this time, hyun-ju chuckled, soft but genuine. “what’s wrong with her nose?”

“nothing,” you said, grinning. “she just decided it’s not ‘cute’ enough. she almost picked one that would’ve made her look like michael jackson. i had to intervene.”

that got a laugh out of her—small, but real. “michael jackson?”

you nodded, feigning solemnity. “i told her, ‘ha-neul, your nose is fine. it’s perfect. no glitter gloves necessary.’ she almost went through with it anyway.”

hyun-ju laughed a bit more, finally relaxing a bit. the sound eased something in your chest.

“you’re good at this,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now.

“at what?”

“making people feel comfortable.”

you shrugged, feeling a little shy. “oh. i just think it’s nice to be kind. and honestly? helping you was no big deal. it’s what anyone would do.”

“not anyone,” she said, looking at you for the first time since you got in the car.

when the uber pulled up to her building, you hopped out with her, offering to help her up to her apartment “do you need help getting upstairs?”

she shook her head firmly, already reaching for the door handle. “no, it’s fine. i can manage.”

“okay,” you said, “at least let me give you my number. if you need anything, just text me, okay?”

hyun-ju hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. you exchanged numbers, and she disappeared into her building while you climbed back into the car.

later that night, as she sat on her couch, her phone buzzed.

hey, it’s me. i hope you’re feeling better. please keep me updated, and don’t hesitate to ask for help. you deserve it too.

she read it almost immediately. you watched the little “read” notification appear at the bottom of the screen. but no reply came.

hyun stared at the message for a long time, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. she typed out a reply, then deleted it. typed another, then deleted that too. nothing felt right. nothing felt good enough. finally, she locked her phone and set it down,

as the uber pulled away from hyun-ju’s building, you leaned back in the seat, finally exhaling the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding. before you could fully settle, your phone buzzed in your pocket. ha-neul’s name lit up the screen.

“heeyy,” you answered, bracing yourself.

“what happened? you just disappeared! did i miss an emergency rhinoplasty?” her tone was playful but edged with curiosity.

you sighed. “no emergency. i just… ended up helping someone.”

“helping someone? who?”

you hesitated. “the woman from the waiting room. remember her, hyun-ju? she had just had surgery, and the clinic wouldn’t let her leave without someone to sign her out.”

there was a pause, then an incredulous laugh. “wait, so you ditched me for someone you barely know?”

“it wasn’t like that,” you said quickly. “she needed help, and no one else was there. i couldn’t just leave her.”

another pause, but this time, ha-neul’s tone softened. “you’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“maybe,” you admitted.

“and she’s pretty, isn’t she?” ha-neul’s teasing edge was back.

you laughed, flustered. “i mean… i guess? that’s not the point.”

there was a beat of silence on the line. then, she snorted. “well, i didn’t know you were into girls.”

“what?” you sputtered.

“oh, don’t act surprised. i knew it since that day,” she teased mercilessly.

“to be honest,” you admitted, “me neither.”

“oh my god, you are so into her! i knew it! since the first time we saw her, i knew something was up.”

“i’m not into her,” you said, though your voice didn’t sound as convincing as you’d hoped.

“sure, sure,” she said, dragging out the words. “you’re just playing knight in shining armor for no reason at all.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “goodbye, ha-neul.”

“oh, this isn’t over. i’m going to interrogate you later.”

you hung up with a laugh, shaking your head. from that day on, ha-neul teased you mercilessly—she found a way to always bring up hyun-ju, teasing you about how you’d never been so straightforward with anyone before, and even your friends got in on it after she spilled the story at dinner the following night.

the only problem? hyun-ju never replied.

you sent her a series of messages over the next week:

hey, how are you feeling today? let me know if you need anything.

i live close by—it’s no trouble at all.

two days later:

hey, stranger! ha-neul had her surgery today and looked worse than you, haha.

sorry, i didn’t mean to say you looked bad, just… well, bruised. are you okay?

hyun brought you up in therapy the following week, sitting across from her therapist—a kind, middle-aged woman who specialized in lgbtq+ mental health.

“i met someone,” hyun said hesitantly, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

her therapist’s face lit up. “that’s wonderful, hyun-ju. tell me about her.”

“she’s… nice,” hyun said, struggling to find the words. “she helped me after my surgery. we talked a little. she’s funny.”

“and how do you feel about her?”

hyun hesitated, then shrugged. “i don’t know. it feels… weird. like, she sees me. as me. and that’s good, but it’s scary too.”

her therapist nodded thoughtfully. “it sounds like you’re afraid of being vulnerable.”

hyun wasn’t sure what to say, so her therapist continued. “are you planning to stay in touch with her?”

“i think so,” hyun said cautiously. “but it’s scary. what if i say the wrong thing? what if i ruin it?”

her therapist smiled gently. “relationships—friendships, too—are about taking risks. you don’t have to have all the answers or the perfect words. just being honest and showing up is enough. let her in a little and see what happens.”

hyun left the session feeling lighter, more hopeful.

but when the messages from you kept coming, her anxiety crept back in.

each time her phone buzzed, she felt a pang of guilt. she typed out replies over and over, but nothing felt good enough. her fear of saying the wrong thing left her paralyzed, so she said nothing at all.

three days after the last message:

i’m starting to get worried, hyun-ju. just let me know if you’re fine.

another day:

i pass by your building every day on my way to work. should i stop by?

and finally:

hey, hyun-ju. did something happen? sorry if i came on too strong—i was genuinely worried about you.

i can see you’re reading these, but you never reply… i get it. i’ll leave you alone now. sorry if i made you uncomfortable.

after that, the chat stayed silent. when she received your last message, guilt and regret gnawed at her. she wanted to scream. to hit something. to do anything but face the truth: she had let fear win again.

in her next therapy session, when the doctor asked about you, hyun-ju lied.

“it… didn’t work out,” she said quickly, not meeting her therapist’s eyes. “she probably realized we’re too different.”

the therapist gave her a kind smile but didn’t press further. “that’s okay, hyun-ju. not every connection works out. what matters is that you tried, and you allowed yourself to open up, even if only for a moment.”

hyun-ju nodded, but her stomach churned. she couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth—that she hadn’t replied to a single message.

you stared at the chat for a long time after sending that last message. the little grey avatar beside her name felt cold, distant—you wished she had a profile pic. your own days moved forward, though you found yourself thinking of her often. you reread your messages to her, trying to pinpoint where you’d gone wrong. even ha-neul, who had teased you endlessly at first, stopped mentioning her after seeing how the silence weighed on you.

life went on. but hyun-ju had awakened in you feelings you had never taken seriously before and now you couldn’t help feeling like something had been left unresolved.

a month later, you were standing in line at your favorite café, eyes scanning the pastry display as you tried to choose something to pair with your cappuccino.

unbeknownst to you, at a table near the window, hyun-ju sat with her notebook, calculating the cost of her next procedure. she sipped her coffee absentmindedly, the barista’s voice barely registering as they called out a name—your name.

her pen froze mid-stroke. it wasn’t a common name. could it really be you? as she told herself it wasn’t, she heard your laugh, warm and unmistakable. her head snapped up, and there you were, joking with the barista as they handed you a cup and a paper bag.

hyun-ju stared, her heart pounding. you thanked them and turned toward the door, completely unaware of her. her legs moved before her mind could catch up. one moment she was sitting; the next, she was standing in front of you, her hand gripping your arm.

you had just reached the door when you felt a hand on your arm and a soft voice behind you saying your name. you turned, startled, and found yourself in front of her.

“can w—can we talk?” she asked, her voice low but firm. “please.”

you looked up from her hand—her nails were painted a soft blush pink and you made a mental note to ask her what nail polish it was—, and that familiar floral scent reached your nose. her expression was a mix of hope, fear, and determination.

face-to-face with hyun-ju, you smiled softly. “of course.”

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23victoria · 4 months ago

Text

7/11

ꨄ༊*·˚ pairings: f1 drivers x fem!reader

₊✩°｡⋆ authors note: this was in my drafts but it’s based of the tiktok challenge!! this is format is a bit different lmk if you like it!! i hope you guys enjoy!! also let’s pretend seb and jenson have tiktok and use it….well seb at least jenson def has a secret tiktok

ꨄ༊*·˚ synopsis: doing the 7/11 Beyoncé song challenge on tiktok “in secret” not realizing your man was standing there watching the whole time!

₊✩°｡⋆ wanna be tagged in my works?! CLICK HERE!

ꨄ༊*·˚ F1 MASTERLIST

You’re alone in your room, music blasting, focused on getting every move perfect as you record yourself doing the 7/11 dance challenge. The rhythm flows through you effortlessly, your body moving with precision and confidence. After finishing, you stop the recording, catching your breath as you play the video back. A grin spreads across your face as you watch yourself.

"Oh, I ate that up."

Satisfied, you post it without a second thought.

Then—

"Oh my god!"

You yelp, nearly dropping your phone when you turn and find him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Did I scare you?" he chuckles.

"What are you doing just standing there?!" you demand, clutching your chest.

"I was coming to ask what you wanted me to cook for you," he says casually, tilting his head. "But I saw you looking at your phone smiling really hard and got curious."

Heat rushes to your face. "Oh... well—nothing. It’s nothing."

He raises a brow. "Mhm. Nothing, huh?"

You swallow nervously. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," he shrugs, stepping closer. "Just enough to see you smiling at yourself like you just changed the world."

You roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. "Anyway, I want [random food] for dinner."

He grins. "Alright then, let’s go, baby." He takes your hand, leading you to the kitchen.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*:･ﾟ✧·̩̩̥͙

Two Hours Later

You’re curled up on the couch with him, eating and watching a movie while your phone charges. Eventually, you reach for it and notice an insane amount of notifications.

"What the hell?" you murmur, unlocking it. Your jaw drops as you see your TikTok video has blown up. Thousands of comments flood in—

"Look at how he’s looking at her." "OMG, he’s so in love with her." "I need a man to look at me like that." "This just made me feel so single." "She’s so hot, he’s lucky."

Your stomach drops as you quickly rewatch the video. That’s when you see it—

Through the mirror’s reflection, he had been standing in the doorway the entire time, completely mesmerized by you.

"Oh my god."

Then, just as your embarrassment peaks, you see his comment:

"Oh, she’s definitely getting it tonight 🤤"

Your phone nearly slips out of your hand.

Lewis

You gasp and slap his arm. “Lewis!”

He lets out a deep chuckle, eyes twinkling with amusement. “What?”

“Did you really have to comment that?!” you exclaim, face burning.

He smirks, leaning closer. “Why? It’s true.”

You shove his face away, groaning. “Oh my god, I’m going to delete it.”

“No, you’re not.” He swiftly takes your phone, holding it above his head while you struggle to grab it.

"Lewis, give it back!"

"Nope," he grins, "you should be thanking me for hyping you up."

You narrow your eyes. "You're insufferable."

He leans in, lips brushing against your ear. "And yet, you love me."

Damn it. He’s right.

Charles

Your face burns as you shove his shoulder. “Charles! Why would you comment that?!”

He bursts into laughter, completely unbothered. “What? It’s the truth, no?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “The whole world didn’t need to know that!”

He tilts his head, smirking. “You’re acting like they don’t already know how much I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Charles leans in, whispering, “Besides… now they know what to expect tonight.”

You smack his arm again, but he only grins wider, completely enjoying your flustered state.

Max

Your stomach drops. “Max, please tell me you did not just comment that.”

He shrugs, fighting a smirk. “I mean, it’s not a lie.”

You groan, covering your face. “I hate you.”

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around you. “No, you don’t.”

You glare up at him. “What if my parents see that?!”

Max snorts. “Your mom already likes my comment.”

Your eyes widen in horror. He laughs even harder, pulling you closer. “Face it, schat, you’re stuck with me.”

Oscar

You nearly drop your phone, whipping around to face him. “Oscar! Seriously?!”

He bites his lip, barely holding back a laugh. “What?”

You gesture wildly at the screen. “That comment! ‘She’s definitely getting it tonight’—are you insane?!”

He chuckles, playing innocent. “I’m just stating facts.”

You groan, throwing a pillow at him. He catches it with ease, grinning. “Don’t be mad, babe. It’s kinda cute seeing you all flustered.”

You glare. “You are never living this down.”

Oscar smirks. “That’s fine. As long as I get to prove my comment right.”

Your face burns as he winks at you.

Lando

Your jaw drops. “Lando, WHAT THE HELL?!”

He bursts out laughing, falling back on the couch. “Oh my god, your face right now!”

You smack his arm repeatedly. “That was NOT funny!”

He’s wheezing at this point. “Babe, you should see the comments. Everyone’s obsessed with how I look at you.”

You pout. “That’s not the point, Lando.”

He grins, wrapping an arm around you. “Fine, fine. I’ll make it up to you.”

You narrow your eyes. “How?”

He smirks. “Let’s just say… my comment won’t be a lie.”

You groan, pushing his face away while he laughs.

Carlos

You turn to Carlos, horrified. “Carlos! Did you seriously just post that?!”

He smirks, leaning back with a satisfied expression. “Sí. Why?”

You groan. “You’re so embarrassing!”

Carlos shrugs. “It’s true, though.” He leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “And I don’t lie, cariño.”

Your breath hitches. “I hate you.”

He grins. “No, you don’t. Now, finish eating, so we have energy for later.”

You blush furiously while he chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Jenson

You clutch your chest. “Jenson, why would you comment that?!”

He smirks, sipping his drink. “Because it’s true, love.”

You glare. “Do you have any shame?”

“None whatsoever.”

You sigh dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m dating you.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “And yet, you are. Lucky me.”

Damn it. You can’t even stay mad.

Sebastian

Your heart races as you read his comment. “Seb, what is WRONG with you?!”

He grins innocently. “Nothing, why?”

You wave your phone. “‘She’s definitely getting it tonight’—DO YOU HAVE NO FILTER?!”

Seb shrugs. “Should I delete it?”

You nod frantically.

He smirks. “Too late. It’s already viral.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands.

Sebastian chuckles, pulling you into his arms. “Don’t worry, liebling. If anything, now everyone knows just how much I adore you.”

You sigh, defeated. “I hate you.”

He grins. “I love you too.”

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*:･ﾟ✧·̩̩̥͙

ꨄ taglist! : @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @Blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eoduuung @eternoangel @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @flowerpetalk @oledoledoffen @jimcarreyfann42 @revolutionsingingintherain @acesbakery @oliviah-25 @matcha—-matcha @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @armystay89 @paucubarsisimp

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ficandkaboodle · 7 months ago

Text

Vaginismus: Terzo x Fem!Reader

A/N: Stg if I ever see this purple fucking freak darken the doorway of my mind, I'm going for his kneecaps. He will never be able to slut about on the floor again, and then what will he do? Thanks, y'all, for being so patient as I almost daily had a meltdown over the structure of this. And HUGE thanks once again to @angellayercake for being my ever-patient beta with amazing input and ideas!! I hope I did our bastard boy some kind of service.

Word Count: 8.8K. Sorry, this bad boy is a hydra: For every sentence I deleted, more words would come in its place

CW: Reader has a vagina, hurtful comments from past relationships, reader's mental state is kinda fucked at a few points, hints at extremely uncomfortable interactions to "make the relationship work". Sooo...Vaginismus and its delightful conditions, I suppose. Oh, and a hint of Google Translate Italian. I'm sorry, I tried referencing @/foxybouquet's ever so helpful guide the best I could but alas, I am still a moron. MDNI

Papa III was a notorious flirt, even by the standards of the sexually liberated Church of Satan.

Everybody knew this, from the Clergy to Sister Imperator to the ghouls to his many, many lovers. And yet, when his sights finally fell upon you, everyone knew: Something in him had changed. At the very least, his methods sure had.

Secondo raised a brow when he first saw his brother lightly jogging up to you in the hallways, panting for you to wait up. Primo sported a knowing smirk when he watched the normally suave man sheepishly inquire about the meaning behind certain flower arrangements. Quite the departure from his usual bouquet of red and white roses, the older man couldn't help but note.

A startled Copia quickly became suspicious when the brother that tended to tease him the most came to his office one day, armed with top-shelf juice boxes and nutty chocolate bars – just the starting price for whatever info he was willing to give his dear old fratello about his new favorite Sorella.

The ghouls had a field day whenever they came upon the old man either sulking or even swooning over how a recent interaction had gone. One even swore they had scrounged through his wastepaper basket (don't ask, it’s not worth it) and found crumpled up drafts of sonnets. Sonnets!

It was the Siblings, however, who seemed to take the most notice of his antics. And, unfortunately, the most offense.

Certainly, plenty of the congregation had received a bouquet or two from their beloved Papa Terzo. Many had been wined and dined, and some were even whisked away for a night of passion and excitement in a glamorous metropolitan hub. Terzo had gotten around, and he would probably continue to get around until he either died mid-orgy or until his dick fell off. (And even if the latter did happen, it probably wouldn’t slow him down. Not until his fingers and tongue followed suit, anyway.)

It was cyclical: You would be an interest for a week or two before your time would be up, and you would part ways as he turned his attention to another, leaving you with memories of a whirlwind dalliance to reminisce about for years to come.

This was simply something that was understood and accepted without much of any animosity amongst Siblings. This was just how things were. Or at least up until now.

They must have noticed there was something about the way Terzo pursued you. For starters, nobody could ever recall a time when the man actually needed to really pursue anyone, let alone to the extent and care he currently displayed.

They could tell when a peer was actively trying to heighten the tension, turning their back to him but still glancing over their shoulder to shoot a heated stare. An invitation for him to keep it coming. Really putting the “play” in “playing hard to get”. But generally speaking, most of what Terzo needed to do was snap his fingers and whichever Sibling or ghoul he had his eye on would eagerly crawl into his lap and then into his bed.

Maybe they saw a shine in his eyes that wasn't there when they had him. Or maybe they thought he leaned just the slightest fraction of an inch closer to you than he ever did with anyone else. Or maybe they swore his voice sounded different when he spoke with you. Lighter, but not out of an upturn in pitch to sound friendlier. It was more like it carried less weight. Almost as though he felt less burdened by some unspoken thing. Some thing he never cared to share with them.

Granted, you didn't help matters by actually enjoying the odd conversation or two (or over a dozen) with Terzo. (And by "odd", this meant the animated discussions that borderlined two-person seminars on subjects like the Hays Code, or how viewing certain films through a gendered or queer lens could enhance the suggestion of the story.)

And anyone who spotted you alone on the quad sharing a snack would've been convinced you were on an impromptu picnic, rather than the fact Terzo had found you and offered you pickings from his secret snack pocket.

Sure, it was just a sandwich baggy of cheese doodles, but the point still stood: You had Terzo's full attention, his intrigue, his consideration, his snacks, and you hadn't done a damn thing to deserve them! Any interaction between the both of you, every awkward joke, every instance of eye contact, every exchange of a genuine honest to Satan smile, had the Siblings of the abbey biting and clawing at the walls in envy.

You did your best to appear unaffected by it, preferring to keep your head down and say as little as possible when around them. Nothing to suggest you felt superior to them (not that you did anyhow). Regardless, you were fairly certain that, if it were up to them, they would bring back human sacrifice for the sole purpose of getting you out of the picture.

Thank Satanas, then, that none were present to witness the latest event.

There Terzo stood, his normally focused and powerful gaze fighting hard to be maintained. It was abundantly clear that he wanted to look anywhere but at you. Still, he resolved to keep that nervous on his face. His gorgeous, paintless face.

It was startling to say the least. Actually, no, scratch that: To truly say the least would be to just stand there, gaping like a goldfish as you failed to find the right words – any words – that truly encapsulated even a fraction of what you felt. Which, for better or for worse, was exactly what you found yourself doing.

After all, almost nobody outside of his own family had seen Terzo without his papal paints. They may as well have been tattooed on him the moment he’d perfected the design all those years ago! Not even the paramours he’d collected since then had gotten a glimpse of his bare face, despite the many opportunities they’d had from the nights spent in his quarters. The mystery as to why this was left plenty of room for speculation and imagination, creating a juicy mystique that Siblings and ghouls loved to salivate and chew on.

Admittedly, you yourself occasionally wondered what his deal was, but you ultimately chose not to ponder on it. If Terzo liked how he looked in makeup more than he did without, then that was his business. Honestly, it never even really occurred to you to ask him about it even as the two of you grew closer.

But as you took in the visage before you, you felt you had a good theory going: If Terzo went about the Ministry like this, he’d never know a moment’s peace again!

"Is . . . Is it . . . okay?" he asked quietly. Okay? Okay!? Satan’s taint, if it weren’t for the very apparent tension, you might’ve thought the man was teasing you! The man looked like an old movie star, all debonair and dashing!

The fight to respond in a timely (and coherent) manner was difficult, but you managed to stammer out, “More than okay.” You gulped down some shakiness. “Y-you’re very . . .handsome.”

Internally, you cringed at how wobbly you’d come across but thankfully that seemed to be enough. The warmth in your cheeks intensified as the nerves in his smile carefully evaporated, along with a slight tension in his shoulders.

Unfortunately, the consciousness did not remain, and almost immediately you found yourself delegating focus to other things. Like the beauty mark that lay just beneath the right corner of his pleasantly pink lips. Lips that were saying, “— if you would be interested, of course.”

You blinked. Were you interested? Wait . . . Interested in what, exactly?!

“Y-yeah, sure. I’m down,” you chirped before you could stop yourself.

While you tried your damndest not to look mortified or embarrassed, Terzo looked delighted. Possibly even elated.

“Oh, eccellente!” he clapped his palms together before offering you a mix of a nod and bow. That sharp characteristic of his eyes returned once more, pinning your form as he purred, “I look forward to it.”

Oh, fuck. “Can’t wait!” you replied. Of course, now the concept of urgency settled in.

As you walked back to your room for the night, you knew three things to be certain: The first was that that face of Terzo’s would likely be making many appearances in your dreams tonight. The second thing, branching off this, him showing you his face was a sign you’d let things get far too far.

And the third thing? You had to put an end to your exchanges ASAP.

Sure, you’d peppered this into your thoughts many times before, but after this? This moment of extreme vulnerability on Terzo’s part? No more peppering: It was time to actually pile in everything you had and outright reject Terzo’s advances. No room for stuttering or bending or swaying or swooning and second-guessing!

You repeated this like a mantra over and over, praying that the resolution would still be there in the morning. And it was – but only after you took an icy shower. You’d been spot on when you anticipated that gorgeous, gorgeous face invading your dreams. What you hadn’t counted on, though, was the nature of what all went on:

Snowflakes catching on his lashes as you ice skated on a pond (the power of dreams erasing his waking world clumsiness); his lips smiling around a forkful of the pasta you’d just cooked together; his broad nose nuzzling lovingly into your hair during a quiet night in; those entrancing eyes focused on the movie playing before you as his arm settled warmly around you. It gave you further comfort as you pressed into his side, so perfectly slotted that it was as though you only ever belonged there, right next to him.

You regretted disregarding the alarm bells that blared at the start of this whole nonsense, and now look where that got you: You needed a cold cleanse just because you saw a man’s unpainted face! You were worse than a pent-up Victorian! Did you really want to prolong things until you’d start to "feel" those smirking lips pressed against the column of your neck, or “feel” those large hands skirt along your form, leaving a deliciously pleasant fire in their wake?

Certainly, that might’ve made for a good night’s sleep in theory. But in reality? It was a nightmare in the making!

It was bad enough just wanting to do all those dreamy things and more with the equally dreamy Papa. But that, of course, meant the "more" part would eventually come around. After all, your waking life already wasn't too terribly far off from the things that went on in the dream.

Your days weren't filled with skating on the pond or chatting over romantic dinners but at this rate, they very well could be a possibility. In an ideal world, the wait for these things to happen would be filled with anticipation. But the sad, shower-cold reality was that this wait was weighed down by dread and predictions of what was to come. After all, for all Terzo's patience and kindness, even he had limits. Sometime soon, his patience with your inexactness would run out and he would come to collect. Experience told you that was just how it was.

You may not have had a pursuer as passionate as Terzo, but you’d had enough instances that ran about the same: There was that high, that thrill in an almost honeymoon period-like chase. Then there came the actual vulnerability where you’d tell them of the conditions that came with a relationship – the conditions that came with you. And yeah, they’d start off insisting that nothing about that changed how they felt about you . . . But then they’d realize your condition would outlast their gimmick.

You felt your face twist with displeasure as sentences of the past began slipping through the cracks and into the forefront of your mind.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Calm down already.”

“Just relax already.”

Then came the pain (both kinds); the giving up; and then you were right back where you started: Alone together, with a body that hated you that you hated right back. The only real difference would be how much your weariness increased, making you more and more reluctant to play along with the idea of any potential romance. Meanwhile, to them, it was a game: You were just playing hard to get, that was all. But you’d surely stop when they and they alone were able to conquer you, to cure you.

Did you really want to wait around and see Terzo become like that?

Your stomach twisted at the thought.

No. Absolutely not. You weren’t sure your heart could bear it, much less your body. Besides, if word got out that he’d shown you his face, then it’d be all over for you. You’d rather incur the wrath of rejecting what many would kill for than face what might happen if they learned how far you’d gotten by doing nothing at all. At least with the former, there was a chance the Siblings let you keep your bones intact.

You had a plan as you prepared yourself to step out and face the day: Keep calm and function as normal until the chance to say those simple words hit you: “Terzo, I am not interested in you in any way, shape, or form. While you are attractive, I am not attracted to you. Please leave me alone from now on.”

A devastating lie, perhaps, but a necessary one. One you would need to deliver by tonight.

But hey, the day was still quite young. There was plenty of time for you to find the courage, right?

. . . Well, you didn’t find it in the hallway when you heard that oh-so familiar, cheerful call of, "Buongiorno, Mia Sorellina !", prompting you to pick up speed and disappear down a different corridor. Nor was it there when you caught sight of a black flutter of robe. It could’ve been a wandering Cardinal’s cassock but you weren’t prepared to stick around and find out.

And even though you spent nearly the entirety of afternoon mass, head bowed, praying for the Dark One to simply grab the strength and shove it into you, you didn’t feel any more emboldened. Apparently, your body meant it when it didn’t allow for anything to enter it – intangible things included, it seemed.

You groaned inwardly from both disappointment and discomfort as you lifted yourself off the kneeler and back into the pew. There was also the added stressor of feeling sets of multiple eyes on you: From Siblings stewing in envy; from ghouls who wanted to take a gander at the Sister who had flirty Papa III wrapped around her finger; and, worst of all, from Terzo himself.

The one time you dared to look up at his seated form on the altar, you caught a hint of a small smile directed at you.

You tried to return it, at least enough to suggest to him you were fine and happy to see him despite your earlier actions, but the sorry attempt lost any pretense of pleasantness when your eyes got caught on something: Even in the sea of his dark robes, you could make out the dull shine of leather gloves poised in his lap. Helping them to stand out more, however, was how each fingertip was adorned with a golden nail.

Correction: A golden claw. The fine barbs would fit right in on the hand of a ghoul or perhaps some other dæmonic creature.

Normally you were fascinated by the accessories but in your increasingly unwell state, these gloves intimidated you. It was like you had been reduced to a fearful prey animal and all you saw was a threat.

A thought, sharp as those gilded talons, slashed beyond your imagination and into the walls of your most sensitive place. They pierced and drilled into the intimate area just long enough for you to know they were there – both in your mind and your body – shanking their way into a place nothing was meant to enter, let alone something so dangerous.

Although a primal need to defend yourself shot through your nervous system, you were too incapacitated to do much more than body-jolting inhale. Your only defense, you had long-since learned, was to freeze. Your brain buzzed in an unpleasant manner as you started to come down from the imaginary fingering.

“You’re overreacting,” scoffed the voice of a past partner. “It’s just a finger.” You hadn’t spoken to them in years, but the disregard in their voice remained fresh, further embittering you to the fact that that was what managed to creep into you rather than the bravery you so desperately needed.

You had to pray once more that Terzo hadn’t noticed anything. A change in your already shifty demeanor, the way your legs twitched inward but not out of lust (not when Primo’s sermon was focused more on wrath today), or how your body’s momentary lurch. Much like your prayer for strength, though, you suspected this plea went ignored. You didn’t need to look up and see Terzo’s smile falter to think that.

The moment Papa Primo dismissed the congregation, you made quick work of the camouflage offered by the uniforms of habits and lace.

When a quick glance back allowed you to catch sight of a confused-looking Papa Terzo, you forced yourself to swallow the pathetic truth: You were never going to find the courage to even say sorry, let alone that you no longer wanted to see him.

What you did find – or rather, what found you – was an overwhelming torrent of grief and frustration as you flung yourself into your room and back into the bed where your day had started with a massive hitch. You shoved your face into your flattening pillow and hoped there was just enough down still left in it to muffle up your screams. And tears. Belial, you told yourself you wouldn’t cry over this sort of thing anymore. Over anyone. You should’ve been used to this type of thing by now, so what was the use in wasting energy like this?

What was the point in dwelling on how nice it all was, how nice Terzo made you feel, or how you secretly looked forward to your conversations, no matter how bizarre or intellectual? You gained nothing but the label of immature whenever you indulged in the schoolgirlish feeling of letting Terzo accompany you in the halls. Indulgence might have been encouraged by the Church, but not when it hurt or disrupted the paths of others’ own pursuits.

There was absolutely no way what you had done wasn’t going to inevitably end in pain of some kind, be it physical on your part or mental and emotional on Terzo’s.

But then again, maybe . . . Maybe you didn’t have to do this after all? Maybe you could make peace with where things were headed. You wouldn’t be able to let him inside of you in the traditional sense, no, but surely that just meant that you would just have to . . . adjust things? Yeah . . . Yeah, maybe that could work . . .

Maybe I could earn his love in other ways? Prove that I’m not ungrateful and won’t waste his feelings? Intrusive visions of you “earning” that love projected onto the walls of your mind. Under more pleasant, more normal circumstances, some of the ideas would’ve been a delight for you in some way. Par for the course of a healthy relationship.

But the possibility that these might be the only ways to grant you worthiness, to allow you to deserve Terzo’s attention and love, to deserve Terzo . . . It felt tainted. It felt like an even worse lie to perform. It burned like a poison through your mind and heart before becoming incorporated with all the other pains rising to the surface.

The knock at your door was a welcome distraction, but only long enough for you to forget the possibility of it being Terzo on the other side.

You contemplated pretending that nobody was home before a muffled voice said, “I can smell you through the door, y’know.” Ah. A ghoul. Better in that it wasn’t Terzo, but worse in that you couldn’t avoid them. To your chagrin, the trek from your bed to the door wasn’t nearly long enough to look presentable or like you hadn’t been crying.

You could practically feel their eyes through the mask, studying your tear-stained ones as they smelled the salt that had settled on your cheeks. Nonetheless, they continued ever professionally with, “Papa III has sent me to come retrieve you.” From the way they barely contained their tail’s amused wagging, it was clear that they were getting a rise out of the insinuations of the invitation.

You may as well have been off to the gallows (or worse, Sister’s office) with how dour your disposition was. Being a part of the Emeritus line, Terzo’s chambers were further away from your humble digs in the Siblings’ quarters. Still, it felt as though there wasn’t nearly enough time from your door to his for you to concoct whatever it was you could say or do. Which, to be fair, wasn’t really much to begin with anyway. You were screwed, your fate sealed the moment the ghoul knocked on one of a pair of the large, wooden doors.

“Entrare,” the room’s occupant answered. Your heart beat icy pumps as you and your escort obliged.

You’d never been inside Terzo’s quarters before, not that you hadn’t been invited. Granted, the first few times had been in the very beginning, before he’d realized that his usual tricks weren’t going to work on an unusual suspect. He never brought it back up again, even as the two of you appeared to grow more comfortable with one another.

It was a shame, then, that you were too possessed with anxiety to properly take it all in: In another, more pleasant mental space, you would have adored the large, framed vintage posters that decorated the rich purple walls, or giggled at just how much purple and gold this guy actually used in one admittedly spacious but still single space.

You couldn’t properly see it, being in what appeared to be more of a lounging area (really, how big was the average Emeritus’s room compared to the lowly Siblings’ quarters?), but you could just make out what appeared to be a bedroom down a small coridor. From what little you could see, there was a bed made of rich, dark wood with a velvety canopy.

Dramatic, but fitting for someone like Terzo, you mused in a split second of clarity before the gravity of the situation returned with ten times the weight as before. After all, here you were, standing in the boudoir of the man whom you’d been avoiding all day. Avoiding because you’d failed to do your due diligence and warn him against pursuing you. And there was his damn bed right freaking there – !!!

That prey animal instinct from mass began to skitter back as you instinctively began to look for ways out of this. Maybe you could leap out that Satanic Tiffany glass window? You’d be killing two birds with one stone if you did: You could get out of a confrontation, and the action would surely unnerve Terzo enough for him to draw back, right?

However, the make-believe agility and will to do so quickly dissolved out of you the moment you heard the voice you’d been avoiding all day once more. “Grazie, Wisp,” he addressed the ghoul. From the sounds of it, he must’ve been in a room off to the side, away from view. Despite Terzo not being visible to them, the ghoul still offered a bow in respect before taking their leave (though not without their nosiness prompting them to sneak one last look into the room).

You winced in sync with the door clicking shut, the soft padding of footsteps on the plush carpeting thundered in your ears as Terzo made his appearance. Even though he made sure to keep some space between the both of you, you still felt increasingly like a trapped animal.

As much as you wanted to cast your eyes down and pretend to be intrigued by the fact that the flooring was black instead of some shade of purple, acting as though nothing was amiss was your best course of action. Even if you felt your breathing hitch both with uneasiness and infatuation over the fact that, yet again, the man’s face was bare of his usual paints. It did, however, carry a small look of concern. While you felt guilty, perhaps him being worried would be easier to work with than him being outright upset?

You tried to predict the sort of things a concerned Terzo might say and what responses would be appropriate when you noticed something else about him: His clothing. You didn’t expect Terzo to be lounging in his own living space in his robes but even then, he tended to favor going about in his suit. This was the first time you’d seen him in anything that could be considered casual and not relating to his position as a Papa. The first time you’d seen him in pants that were actually tailored, actually! It was questionable if a men’s blouse made from what might’ve been silk could qualify as “informal”, but your brain was currently unable to drum up that inquiry.

Instead, it was too busy focusing on how the top was being worn: With only the top two buttons undone, the edge of what was more likely than not an absolute thicket of black chest hairs was visible. (If you were a stronger person – a better, more functioning one – you would’ve absolutely braved that thicket like a safari explorer.)

You gulped, realizing that maintaining eye contact was going to be harder than usual. If you were quicker about keeping your wits, you might’ve tried to speak up first. Maybe with a “Hi, Papa. How ‘bout that afternoon mass, amirite?” But Terzo beat you to it.

“. . . How are you?” he inquired. Surprisingly, there wasn’t even a hint of accusation in his tone. “Are you doing alright today?”

I’m anxious to the point of sickness and contemplating vandalism with your window, you wanted to say.

“’M alright. Just tired, I guess,” you shrugged. Judging by the way Terzo’s lips pressed into a thin line, he probably didn’t believe you. However, if there was anything you’d learned in your time together, it was that Terzo wasn’t exactly the type to prod. It was easy to assume from the flamboyant persona that he was far nosier than he really was. But the unfortunate and lovely reality was that Terzo trusted you. Worse was that he trusted you enough to both see his true face, and to tell him how you felt when you were comfortable. Your stomach dropped when you remembered the fact you’d been crying before this. Were your eyes still reddened and puffy? Did he notice?

“Vedo,” he replied before slowly crossing his arms. "Well, if that is the case, then perhaps we must do a bit of a raincheck for the evening, yes?”

Your brows lightly twitched in a nonplussed fashion. It was then that you finally noticed the full scope of the room you were in. It was more like a den than an actual lounging area, complete with a TV on a DVD loading screen and a couch sat before it.

You forgot to blink as it hit you. This was what Terzo had been referring to during his face reveal yesterday: He was asking you to watch a movie with him! And you, in your lovesick stupor, had agreed wholeheartedly to it!

Logic (and a sense of cowardice self-preservation) would have dictated that you leap at the opportunity to leave. You needed time to regroup. Maybe make a sacrifice to Satanas in the hopes that that might win you some courage to do what needed to be done.

But before you could commit to it, you reminded yourself: You needed to act unbothered. You’d already aroused suspicion in Terzo as it was. If Terzo thought you really wanted to watch a movie with him, as you had outright stated, then you needed to watch a movie with him. All you had to do was sit down at a reasonable distance and appear completely invested. Too invested to possibly think about how you wanted to tangle your fingers into his chest hair. Or how you absolutely shouldn’t want to do that at all.

“N-no, I’m good!” you insisted a little too eagerly. “I can stay up, I’m not that tired.”

He quirked a brow but questioned no further. “If you insist. Come: I have a small setup.”

The setup being an oddly-shaped popcorn bucket (why . . . did it look kind of like a pope hat?) filled with cheese doodles and a bottle of red wine to be shared between two glasses. You took only the smallest handful of doodles to be courteous but turned down the wine under the claim that you were trying to cut back. The reality was you couldn’t risk letting alcohol lubricate you into either melting down or melting into his lap as you both settled in.

The Man Who Laughs, read the title card. A name just vague enough to sound familiar though you didn’t really know a thing about it. When Terzo briefly explained that its main character, Gwynplaine, had been the visual inspiration for The Joker from Batman, you expected some early horror flick. Perhaps being treated to an hour or two’s worth of a spiteful man seeking revenge and wreaking havoc on the innocent. Odd choice in what you could only describe as a movie date, but you were already in too deep and far too high-strung to comment.

But as the film progressed, you found yourself surprised. Not only because the plot was far from what you’d predicted, but also because you also hadn’t been expecting a sense of solidarity. Sure, you’d never been a stage performer whose disfigurement made him a laughingstock to the pauper and nobleman alike. But nonetheless, Gwynplaine’s plight resonated with you. Something about being an introverted, soft-hearted person who feared their worthiness of love was thwarted by something they had no control over.

When you’d settled on the couch that evening, your goal had been to merely pretend to take the movie in. But the tenderness exhibited by the film’s two main love interests made that all but impossible for you. You now existed in a strange and uncomfortable middle ground: Too invested to keep your wits, but too aware of how uncomfortable the relation was. If this were some vintage horror flick, there might’ve arguably been a chance to hide any visible anxieties as suspense-born fear.

But between the “smiling” man swooning into the beautiful Dea’s touch, to him hiding into himself when his insecurities got the better of him, you just kept being reminded of your own circumstances, and how Terzo had given you his full face when you couldn’t even give him the truth.

A wave of self-directed disgust began to boil in you, causing you to briefly tic. Otherwise, though, you remained stiff. It was a fair film, after all, and it was a shame that you were corrupting yet one more thing that was dear to Terzo by equating it with your own problems.

But inside you were the beginnings of a nor’easter of biblical proportions: Deluges depicted you forcing yourself through your fears in a pathetic effort to prove to him he could still love you; the voices of failed relationships past split through your mind like thunderclaps; even the howling winds sounded like your whimpers whenever you trapped yourself in the bathroom, determined but failing to conquer Q-tips and dilators and even your own pinky finger. The flood they all created sloshed and battered about your insides and squeezed at your lungs, brutalizing your mind.

Just relax already, they said.

You’re just being difficult! they had accused.

Quit holding out! they demanded.

The film became less and less visible to you as you tried to steady your breathing and cling to something inside. Please, Dark Lord, great Old One, you prayed once more. Did you want silence? Freedom? For the moment to end, or for everything to pause? You couldn’t tell with all this noise. Please –

Forget it.

Despite being born from the storm, it hung over it, breaking through everything and silencing all. Even your prayer felt muted compared to how deafening the command sounded in your head. The voice did not belong to the Dark One, however. It didn’t even belong to the other Big Guy. You knew this voice, actually. It had been years since you’d last seen or heard from its owner, but you still heard it nearly every day since. And they always said the same thing every time:

No one is going to put up with this if you can't fix it!

You fought to contain any reaction from reaching the surface, but you failed: You shuddered. Violently so. You had to quickly cover it up with an overcorrection of tensing, but you thought you’d managed.

You didn’t even have time to make up an excuse when you caught Terzo moving from the corner of your eye. He was getting closer – no: His arm was getting closer. Angling to wrap around you.

There shouldn’t have been anything intimidating about the idea of Terzo, coming at you with 30% of his hairy chest out, possibly aiming to get some over-the-shoulder action. Unfortunately for you, at this point, you were beyond intimidated. This was made clear with your reaction of jerking away, emitting a gaspy, yelpy whimper you never knew you could even make.

And for a moment, everything but the film froze.

It was an odd juxtaposition, the swelling orchestral music playing as you both just stared at one another without a single hint of romance. You truly were like Gwynplaine now, hands covering your mouth as your eyes stared wide. Terzo’s own eyes being wide was rather commonplace, but the way he stared at you now made you feel uneasy. It was almost as though those big eyes of his were suddenly seeing everything in high definition, able to see now see every crack in the structure that was you.

The soundtrack could’ve played on for an eternity before his low voice quietly spoke above it.

“Mia cara. . .? Are you okay?” He sounded even more uncertain than he did yesterday when he asked you about his face. When you failed to respond, he tried much softer: “(Y/N).”

Your breath hitched, icy and cold in your burning throat. You could count the times he’d used your actual name on one hand. Nearly all of them had been during the very beginning of your interactions. Back when he was trying to prove the extent of his interest. Otherwise, it was always a term of endearment: “Mia sorellina” or “Tesoro mio” or “Piccina mia” and so on.

Always “mio/a”. Always his, even when you had no right to be. But now, as he stared at you, having to resort to using your actual name, he must’ve been starting to realize that . . .

Even though it had done you no favors this entire evening, you let panic guide you to spring into action. You stammered and struggled for words as you tried to make yourself untense.

“I-I’m – I’m sorry, I was just so enthralled –” Did that word even fit here? “I was really into the movie, the sudden movement startled me and –” But it wasn’t so sudden, was it? “I’m really sorry, I just –”

But you just what? You did not know, and it was extremely apparent the more you talked.

“I thought you were cold,” Terzo gently reasoned once your words tapered off. At this, the arm you’d feared was coming to corner you shook gently. In his hand was the edge of a throw blanket you’d been leaning against. “I was going to offer you some cover. I thought you’d been stiff this entire while, and then you shuddered, so I . . .”

His movements were notably slower now. Felt the need to be more careful, even if all he was doing was reaching for the remote to finally pause the ongoing show.

His eyes were less wide as well, but what they left in their wake was a firm yet troubled stare. It wasn’t meant to make you feel so afraid, but the feeling was there regardless.

“(Y/N),” he stated carefully. “If you are not comfortable, then I need you to tell me. I am a big boy, I can understand boundaries. If I’ve been moving too fast or made you uncomfortable in any way, I –”

“The problem isn’t you, it’s me,” you interrupted. God. Satan. Whomever had stuck around to witness this travesty. Being the truth didn’t make it seem any less lame. And judging by how Terzo’s demeanor shifted into being unimpressed, he clearly thought so as well.

“To be brutally frank, Sorella, I was hoping for a bit more . . . honesty.” The delivery of that last word faltered somewhat, but it was more than enough to provide a healthy punch to your gut. Actually hearing Terzo express disappointment towards you was far more devastating than anything your mind could have concocted. He’d already implied on multiple occasions how he’d often found himself on the shorter end of a seemingly mutual trust. Now you were just another person who’d failed to uphold their end.

While true, something in you felt the need to still fight back.

“No, you don’t get it,” you hoarsely insisted against the tightening of your throat. Your fingers immediately set to biting into your arms as they crossed.

“Then help me to!” he finally demanded. “You’ve been acting strange ever since yesterday, so what? Is it me after all? My face? What?!” The frenzy, while warranted, made everything inside you curl inward. Everything suddenly felt too big, too loud for the decreasing space inside you. Your lungs couldn’t expand enough, and you could practically feel the hurricane inside you banging at your eyes to be let out. Your teeth sank into your lips just as your nails sank even more into your arms. Anything to bite back and fight back what was quickly becoming inevitable.

He must have realized what he’d done, or perhaps he just used his eyes to see you practically shrinking. His expression uncrumpled into something more tender and apologetic, but creases of quiet frustration remained.

“Cara. (Y/N),” he corrected, his more patient voice from before returning. “I apologize for my outburst. Really. I do. But . . . Please: What is going on?”

If you opened your mouth, you were fucked.

“I cannot fix things if you don’t tell me what needs to be fixed.”

Soft like dynamite. The dam splintered, it cracked, and then it collapsed entirely. Your body was never one to take things in or hold them, after all.

“You can’t fix me . . .” It was quiet and light and it weighed down on your insides like no other.

Terzo’s brows gathered. “. . . Perdono?”

“I said you can’t fix me, okay?!” you repeated, your sentence made jagged and uneven by its sobbing delivery. The sudden explosion left the normally calm Papa taken aback. His lips parted, surely about to question what you could possibly mean, but the flood was unrelenting as it poured from your eyes and lips.

“I’m sorry! I lied! I lied, I lied, I lied, okay!? My body doesn’t work, okay, it’s fucking broken, and I knew it all along but I couldn’t tell you because I’m a f-fucking coward a-and I’m s-s-elfish – And – !” But this point, though, your throat far too tight and painful to even try continuing. Besides, you’d said all of what mattered, right? That you’d lied to him by omission, that you were broken, and that you were a goddamn selfish coward for pretending otherwise.

The truth hurt but you deserved this pain, having only yourself to blame that you were experiencing this on this man’s couch instead of in the privacy of your room. Everything in you screamed to get up and run back there, in fact, but you lacked the will to do anything other than stay put in a near-blinding fit of crying, probably fucking up the sofa with all the tears you were leaking onto it. You might’ve stayed that way even longer if it weren’t for a sudden nudging at your knee.

Apparently at some point during your pity party, Terzo had taken the opportunity to get up and . . . retrieve a box of tissues? Not leave? Or call for a ghoul to come and get you? Actually, that made a bit of sense: He was too much of a gentleman to kick somebody out while they were crying, no matter how awkward the circumstances.

As much as the punishing part of you wanted to reject it, the suffocation of your snotty nose was intolerable. You accepted the tissue box and dug in until your face stung with how much you had to wipe at it.

Terzo meanwhile resumed his seat, making sure to allow you space as you let out whatever nonverbal emotion you needed to let out. He didn’t force you to talk – not that you could, remaining a coughing, hiccupping mess even as the emotional tempest began to recede.

In fact, he himself didn’t say a word until you’d managed to work yourself down to pathetic, wet sniffles and tremors.

“. . . You know you’re not broken, right?” he asked. You almost didn’t hear it about you

You sniffled, perplexed. Terzo watched patiently as he continued, “Look: I don’t know exactly what’s going on. But what I do know is that you make me laugh. I like talking to you. I like talking with you. I just. Like you. So clearly, something about you must work, si?”

You shook your head. No. No, that’s what they all said. Maybe not like that, but they all said one of two things:

Either they claimed this didn’t bother them and that they could work with your condition, only to later realize they couldn’t keep up the lie; or they would ask to go your separate ways. He hadn’t done the latter yet, but after everything you’d put him through, he at least deserved specification to make that decision.

“No, I mean,” you took in a deep, shaky inhale. Mostly to calm the discomfort. “I mean. My body – It literally doesn’t – I have a condition, Terzo.” You paused just enough to let the words sink in – for the both of you. It never got easier to say no matter how many times you said it. “I can’t have sex. Not in a normal way, anyway. So, like. No penetrating or whatever. Not even, like, a tongue. Shit hurts so I don’t – I can’t bother with it. And like.” You twisted your fingers. “That feels kind of antithetical to the whole ‘living deliciously’ vibe or whatever you’re supposed to be promoting. So . . .”

So there. That was it. In a sick sort of way, you did feel somewhat of a weight lifted. The heavy, gross feeling of rejection still sat within you, but you had a familiarity with it. In time, it, too, would fizzle back into the recesses of your mind. You could . . . live with it there . . .

“. . . So what?” Terzo practically huffed, barely fighting back a smirk, one you couldn’t tell if it was from his own words, or in response to the stunned expression you now wore. “First off – and forgive me for missing any point – but you do realize that the whole of that whole ‘living deliciously’ shit comes from making choices, right? If sex is what you’re talking about, I don’t necessarily need sex. Is nice, yes, but. It’s not my whole fucking life, you know.”

. . . Well, no, but . . . To be fair, that rockstar persona certainly made that easy to not consider. Before you could argue this, he continued.

“Second off,” Terzo held up two fingers. “You do realize sex is more than just insert-dick-in-pussy, yes? Your Papa is . . . Well, he knows he is no blushing virgin, we shall say. No offense.” (At this, your expression blanked. Bemusement was superior to distress, though, you supposed.) “But do you really think that I think there is only one way to make sex count? Cara, per favore: Sex is sex! So long as everyone is having fun – and consenting! – then what is there to worry about?”

“E in terzo luogo,” he added a third finger before giving all three a wiggle, “do you really think that I would do all this if all I wanted was a quick fuck? I mean, think about it, piccina. Give me more credit.”

Well, when he put it like that . . . Your cheeks and ears burned less from humiliation, but from a much softer breed of embarrassment.

“Well . . . no . . .” you admitted. “B-but going back to the choice thing – I thought the idea was to make choices that don’t hurt anybody.”

He nodded with agreement. “Questo è vero. But here we are. And no one got hurt, si?”

You bit your lip, “But . . . I lied to you. I wasted your time, and – ” At this, Terzo’s hand rose, signaling for you to shut your yap.

“I’m gonna stop you right there, dolcezza,” he spoke, his features tame but stern. “You did not waste my time. Okay? I gave you my time. And I wouldn’t ask for a moment of it back. And do you know why?” He didn’t even allow you enough time to make a snarky response: “Because I chose to spend it with you. Even if I’d known, I’d choose you. And why would I not? Sei una bellisima compagnia, and I already love what we do together, even if it’s not fucking. Now, have I thought about us fucking? Yes! Often!” (You felt your blush deepening at his rather blunt confession.)

“But I have also thought about things we have talked about; things I would like for us to talk about; things I would like for us to do – besides each other, I mean. But it here’s a fourth thing.”

No fourth finger this time. Just him offering you his hand. You felt every particle in your abdomen squish and flip over the simple gesture, but curiosity made you pushed through to accept it. Even as his other hand came over on top of yours, any trapped feeling you might’ve had mere moments before never came forward. If anything, you felt . . . here? And for as buzzy as “here” felt, you didn’t want to run from it.

Terzo gave your hand a grounding squeeze as his eyes remained locked with your own. “I’m never gonna do something that hurts you. Alright?” he swore. “And if I do? Then I need you, I beg of you to tell me. Because if you don’t want to do anything, then we don’t do anything. We do nothing but enjoy one another’s company. That is plenty enough for me, dolcezza, I can promise you this. Do you understand?”

You gulped. You didn’t even realize your eyes had widened until you found yourself needing to blink back a fresh, much smaller batch of warm tears. You could practically feel your mind scrambling, trying to reference past experiences that could help you work off of this. Maybe proof he was lying, an argument you could present – something to make this all make sense!

But it found nothing of the sort. No one, in all those times, had ever offered a third thing, let alone one where you felt like you had an actual say in how things went.

Should . . . Should you nod? Could you be trusted to make the right decision here? You nodded. It was uneasy and uncertain, but the smile it gave Terzo seemed to be the proper answer.

“Good girl,” he affirmed. Oh. Yep. That was the right answer, you decided with a jittery exhale.

“Now!” Terzo exclaimed before giving the back of your hand a gentle pat and releasing it. “If it’s alright with you, I would like to finish our movie. Call me a firm nerd but I’ve waited all night to hear your thoughts on this, no joking.”

The change in atmosphere was dizzying as Terzo readjusted himself into a more comfortable position, as though you hadn’t just bared your soul and literal intimacies to him and had him respond in the most genuine and affirming way possible. Not as though it were nothing, but more like it was just not nearly as distressing as what you’d prepared yourself to face. With the storm settling and the fog of anxiety clearing, it became increasingly apparent just how discolored your thoughts had become by your past experiences. Of course Terzo wouldn’t be so rigid about sex: It went against everything he stood for, everything he was!

Of course, complete acceptance on your end wouldn’t be immediate. But you could work with this. Though, there was admittedly one last concern you had before movie night resumed.

“B-but.” You stopped short as Terzo turned his attention back to you. You had to remind yourself that the nerves you felt now were nothing compared to before. You could do this. “But . . . What if I . . . do want to do something?”

A bushy brow at the insinuation.

“N-not now! Not immediately,” you clarified. Suddenly the fringe of the throw blanket required your attention as you began fidgeting with it. “I just . . . You know.” You gave an awkward shrug and glanced up at him, a look of pleading twinkling in your eyes as you hoped he understood what you meant. Not any time soon, perhaps, but . . . Some day? You watched as the right corner of his mouth, the one where that darling beauty mark lay, rose up into a smile.

“Then, cuore mio, we talk about it,” he answered simply. “And, if you still want to ‘do something’ after?” He leaned in, the warmth of his smile heating into a devilish smirk.

“We do it. Whatever that may look like for us.”

You nearly blacked out when the bastard had the audacity to wink at you.

He then clicked play, shifting back into place as Gwynplaine and Dea came back to life. By the time you’d managed to regain your composure and refocus on the movie, Dea was cradling Gwynplaine’s tearful face in her hands. Assuming you hadn’t missed anything, this was the first time the poor soul had actually ever let her touch his face in all its deformed glory. And judging by her jubilant reaction, Dea couldn’t have been happier.

Good for him, you quietly delighted. It was absolutely what he deserved after all that time spent torturing himself over nothing. As you resituated yourself back into the cushions, you briefly noted how the voices from before, while still there, were much quieter. They lacked the power provided by the storm, and any time one of them seemed to try and get louder, you’d hear Terzo’s voice smother it out.

I’d choose you, he affirmed.

Good girl, he praised.

You know you’re not broken, right? he reminded.

It gave you goosebumps, though not the kind that the throw blanket could pat out. But you had a theory.

It seemed that the Old One had finally chosen now to put some courage in you. Better late than never, you supposed as you began to inch closer and closer along the couch until you could feel the heat radiating off Terzo’s body. The proximity in itself was thrilling enough, but the boldness didn’t stop there.

You tested the waters, leaning a little further into him, only for his arm to calmly come around you. Whatever space that remained was quickly closed as you felt yourself being tugged and cushioned into his side. You had only a nanosecond to catch the barely-contained smile on his face before you practically melted into place. Terzo’s touch, his scent, his warmth, his everything flooded into you, filling you with a simultaneous calmness and a vigor you hadn’t felt in years.

Your dream from before had been right after all: You belonged here, right next to your Papa.

#the band ghost #ghost band x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus x reader #papa terzo x reader #cw vaginismus #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x fem!reader #terzo x fem!reader #papa terzo #papa emeritus x fem!reader #stg if Copia gives me any hassle even vaguely similar to what i had to go through with this asshole #i'm getting my goddamn gwimbly ghoul gun #fun fact: i could not for the life of me recall Terzo's speech patterns when i needed them most so i took to youtube #and instead kept having to pause because i kept blushing at the stupidest shit he'd say #it's the Voice man #anyway go watch The Man Who Laughs if only to see a dog named Homo #and to see Conrad Veidt be an absolute babyboy who is disgustingly smitten with Dea #i would've picked a sluttier movie but honestly that movie made my heart so slutty

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