#i'm high key judging you

[batsplat]

controversial opinion but I don’t think that in terms of rivalries and feuds marc is that interesting. like if you exclude valentino you’re left with who? dovi? they did have exciting on track battles for sure but let’s face it dovi was never really a huge title threat. and their off track relationship as a result had no tension. but who else?

qualified agreement in that, yes, I also don't think marc's slate of rivalries/feuds is all that satisfying... I just don't feel like this is entirely marc's *fault*. I mean, first off, valentino is definitely a positive outlier in this regard in that he was just working overtime in terms of coming up with compelling feuds. he's not quite the spiders georg of fantastic feuds, but he's not far off either. secondly, when compared to the other aliens + dovi... marc is at a very obvious disadvantage in that those guys were all direct peers who already had a lot of history with each other. dovi made fourteen year old jorge cry, twenty year old casey threw a temper tantrum when dani beat him, teenage jorge was judgemental of casey's fan engagement skills, and obviously there's the jorge/dani of it all. even the bits of that diagram that never had any major beef will have at least had a little bit of sizzling tension, like dovi's wariness of dani as a teammate. marc was always going to be on the back foot here - he really could have done with a pol esparagaro-type figure to crack on and become a big deal in the premier class. you need interpersonal history for a strong rivalry, and marc was always working at a deficit by having to start from scratch

this is the thing, right: imagine a world in which marc is born a few years earlier. in your hearts, do you seriously believe he would not have had a major sustained feud with at least one of jorge, dani, casey or dovi? I'm thinking he gets at least 2-3 in all honesty. casey if they ever ended up teammates is practically a given - and even without that you'd have to say it's a near certainty that it would've gone very badly. I mean good lord, casey vs the marc marquez towing addiction feels like it inevitably ends in casey physically assaulting marc on-track at least once. jorge had feuds with literally everyone, so that one also feels guaranteed. dani was a way less prickly character by the time marc got to the premier class but used to be a notoriously difficult teammate - so those two at honda and, again, odds are pretty good you get something going. dovi's a bit more marginal in that it kinda depends on what their respective competitive situations look like - plus dovi was generally more of a single issue jorge lorenzo hater - but you'd still expect it to be at least a little bit snarkier. so yeah, just a straightforward counterfactual - but it should still demonstrate that the picture is more complicated than 'marc marquez sucks at feuds'. there's clearly more going on here

so I kinda feel like there's two interrelated questions here, right. let's break it down:

how high quality are marc's rivalries/feuds?

to what extent can the quality or lack thereof of marc's rivalries/feuds be attributed to him, versus circumstantial factors that were outside of his control?

now with the first question, again, I do agree that right now in his career... marc could be doing better. he's got one major feud - and admittedly it's a doozy, but it's against a guy who has five major feuds to his name. if you look at that without context then it's quite easy to conclude valentino is putting in all the hard work, with little to no contribution from marc needed. apart from that... well, his other big rivalry on paper is with dovi - which, yeah, that one is lacking in narrative tension. the main issue with that rivalry isn't actually the lack of drama per se, it's that it just doesn't go anywhere. it's a bunch of strong on-track battles with no real arc to connect them, just ends up being completely static past the conclusion of 2017. I never got the sense that the two of them felt massively differently towards each other after 2019 than they had a couple years earlier... that's what kills it imo, like you need something to be happening in a rivalry. you need the two parties to have a substantial impact on each other! you can vaguely make that case for 2017 if you really want to push it - but it's just not enough, it only lasts for a few months, and it's lacking in the build-up and pay-off department. there's no real shift in their dynamic, not in terms of their relationship or their title fights or even their on-track battles... their first big battle is dovi beating marc in austria and their last big battle is dovi beating marc in austria, so you can't even say marc's learned how to deal with the red bull ring's final corner better. the only thing that's substantially changed is that marc knows he'll win the title anyway. look how far we've come

then there's marc's rivalry with dani, interesting on paper and they did have a reasonable amount of tension, but obviously you'd be hard-pressed to mention it in the same sentence as any of the real top tier rivalries. it's just over too soon, marc wins it too conclusively, and they don't have a single memorable on-track battle to their name beyond 'that time marc cut dani's sensor cable'. the jorge rivalry isn't terrible - you've got a few strong-to-iconic on-track battles like jerez + silverstone 2013, mugello + silverstone 2014, mugello 2016, austria 2018... but yeah, the tone is really quite muted and reserved by jorge's standards. there's not a massive amount of development in that relationship post-2013, and it just sort of fizzles out over the years. again, really becomes more of a collection of moments than an actual cohesive narrative arc - like something like austria 2018 is a fun throwback, you've got jorge being mad at marc over the aragon 2018 crash that essentially ended his season, but it also doesn't really lead to anything bigger. maybe there was a teensy bit of hope the honda teammate situation would reawaken that rivalry (me and casey both grabbing the popcorn, mind), but jorge just wasn't competitive enough for that to go anywhere

so, who's fault is this? is marc just mid at starting feuds? why hasn't he started more feuds with a bunch of people who showed they were perfectly capable of starting feuds with each other? why hasn't he given the people more to work with? who can we blame for this sorry state of affairs?

now, honestly, I reckon most of the issues with marc's track record can be put down to circumstance and poor timing. I already said that you'd expect marc to be doing way better if he'd been born early enough to run into the aliens in their primes. this is for several reasons. the first reason is that he managed to miss casey entirely - who on paper has to be the alien you'd expect marc to get on the worst. casey has the most rigid belief structure surrounding riding standards and acceptable levels of aggression, he's the least likely to be okay with marc's 'vicious on-track smiling off it' schtick, he had a multi-year vendetta against the exact sort of behaviour in practise and qualifying marc has made a habit of throughout his career, he is a strong believer in the kind of teammate cooperation in development marc memorably eschewed at honda, he would have also found marc's flavour of media games distasteful at best, he's highly sensitive to anything that could be construed as an attack on him... and marc in turn would have been aware of all this and actively enjoyed pissing casey off. in some respects they feel like an even worse match than valentino and casey. marc and casey on the 'alien compatible personalities quiz' score negative points. so that's just poor timing - marc barely missed out on him! you've removed the most irascible alien from the picture, the guy who had the highest quantity of low level beef with the entire paddock... it's already taken away such a major obvious feud opportunity from marc that you have to be a bit more lenient when judging his record

beyond that, let's turn to two interrelated reasons for why marc didn't get more narrative juice out of his other rivalries with that generation: a) the competitive landscape, and b) how the aliens themselves changed over time. the biggest and most important factor is (a). my general stance with feuds is that it's really really hard to start a feud in year one of a rivalry - you simply need more build-up than that. this is incidentally also 100% true of valentino's feuds. biaggi and valentino already despised each other going into 2001 (incidentally the lack of a narrative arc is why that one's also not a top tier rivalry for me), sete and valentino needed 2003 to set up 2004, valentino and casey were more or less fine in 2007 and ditto with jorge and valentino in 2008 and even mostly 2009. you can likewise point to valentino and marc already having enough significant interactions in 2013-14 to set up the volatility of their on-track encounters in the first half of 2015. for a counterexample, check out valentino and nicky hayden - who were title rivals in 2006 and 2006 alone, and managed to get through that entire year with minimal drama and their relationship emerging entirely unscathed. if hayden had still been more competitive after that year, maybe something would have changed... but as it stands, you do need time to build up the kind of interpersonal history for things to get nasty in a meaningful way. see also btw how dani and valentino's rivalry never got properly nasty, despite some build up in 2006

compare and contrast with marc's situation. 2013 is actually perfectly good set up... except then it's immediately followed by a dud of a season, where marc is dominant enough in the first half to make the title fight essentially a non-starter. after 2013, dani really isn't a competitive threat to marc anymore outside of isolated patches, and marc so effectively wrests control away from that team that he doesn't really need to do anything more dramatic. (also a question of the personalities involved - if you paired up jorge with marc as teammates in 2014, that situation immediately looks a lot more volatile.) now, okay, you might query the lack of tension between marc and jorge in 2015... but marc was just too focused on valentino that year, not least because that's the guy he was actually fighting on-track. and he nukes himself out of that title fight fairly early on, so the interpersonal valentino stuff kinda becomes the main source of competitive stakes for him at certain times in that season. 2016 the title fight fizzles out around assen, and then jorge's off into the competitive wilderness himself at first ducati then honda. and with dovi, you've got the obvious problem is that the seasons are in the wrong order. dovi was a serious title threat... but only in the first year of that rivalry, aka 2017. and only for part of that season! at the start of the year, it was really vinales marc was focused on - hence badgering him in pre-season testing - and it really took quite a while for marc and dovi to establish themselves as the two title contenders. as a season, it most closely resembles the chaos of 2006 - which, again, didn't lead to any drama between valentino and hayden in part because it just wasn't as focused on two protagonists. after that, dovi has a poor start to 2018, and by 2019 marc's just flattening everyone. it's basically like if you switched 2003 and 2004 for sete/valentino (though obviously sete's 2003 is a fair bit more competitive than dovi's 2018)... you needed the proper title fight when they were already established rivals. real take - valentino in marc's situation most likely doesn't start a feud with dovi in 2017-19 for the simple reason that he just does not need to. valentino's feuds typically come from some sense of competitive necessity, or at the very least convenience... casey is the strongest example here, where valentino behaves as closely as he ever has to a rational actor and only really escalates that feud when it makes perfect sense to do so. with dovi, given how little threat he posed in 2018-19 and especially presuming there's not a preexisting interpersonal relationship that can be twisted by the injection of competitive stakes (as there was with sete)... why bother?

this, to me, is really the main explanation for prime!marc's feud record. he runs into versions of the aliens that all eventually drop off competitively, and doesn't have to face the same level from them as a collective as he would have in say 2008-09. he doesn't have to face casey. and his sete equivalent is just not as much of a competitive threat as sete was beyond the first year of that rivalry. feuds do need something to get them going - and generally, competing against the same guy across multiple seasons, feeling genuinely threatened by them, is one of the most common and important preconditions. the second alien-related factor is how the aliens themselves had changed. again, we're missing casey... and then with jorge and dani, well, they'd definitely mellowed from where they were at c. 2006-08. there's a few reasons for this. firstly, they grew up. just a little. it's been known to happen. secondly, you do have to mention the sic factor... discussed a bit here and I don't really want to go into too much depth about it, but obviously it does make a difference that jorge and especially dani had gone through this experience where they'd essentially been feuding with another rider who then died. inevitably, that will have played into how they reacted to marc. thirdly, this is a topic for another post but... jorge and dani (and casey) had become pretty determined in 2011-12 not to give the media and fans what they were so desperately yearning for (drama) - in an act of generational solidarity against the concept of beef. it was a bit of a reaction against how they felt constantly misinterpreted by fans and media, as well as essentially being quite contrarian about being incessantly called 'boring' all the time... and a fuck you to valentino and his supporters in the fanbase + media specifically by having things be more civil between the three of them than they had been in times past (plus how they rejected any sort of hard riding). all this means marc has the misfortune to run into versions of the aliens who are actually very much trying not to start feuds. I mean, even valentino wasn't really out to start feuds, it just sort of ended up happening... it's way harder to start a feud with 2013!jorge than it is with 2008!jorge - and the two major jorge feuds that still flare up past 2013 are one where there's already significant history (like, say, jorge thinking dovi was already attempting to 'undermine his morale' when they were both teenagers)

the other situational factor is the time marc has spent in the competitive wilderness. marc was 27 when his arm injury happened. as a point of comparison, that's the age valentino was in 2006 - by which point he has had two major feuds plus a couple more minor ones. in a way, right, you can say marc wasn't doing that badly at that stage... marc is now 31, aka valentino's age in 2010. by then, valentino had added two more major feuds to his collection; he's quite productive in his late twenties you have to say. but marc obviously hasn't been in a situation where he's going to be getting embroiled in great rivalries... the only title he'd been fighting for before this year was champion of crashes. you're less likely to start feuds when you're in the competitive wilderness - there's just not any point and marc quite frankly had better things to worry about. the thing about 2019 is that at the time, people did feel like marc might have been setting up some juicy rivalries... the most common names talked about back then were rinsy and especially fabio. now, as it turned out, rinsy was outshone by his teammate in the one year suzuki was in the title fight, so that probably wouldn't have become a big thing regardless of marc's situation - but fabio... well, I don't know if I think marc would've started feuding with him necessarily, but you'd at least hope for some flavour of interesting rivalry. admittedly, you were giving marc a bit of an unfairly difficult task here, given the age gap equivalent rival for valentino is casey. again, look me in the eyes and tell me you think fabio quartararo isn't harder to start a feud with than casey stoner. starting a feud with casey is easy mode. give me fifteen minutes trapped with him in a conveniently broken lift and I bet you I could make him my lifelong enemy

still, crucially we never got to see that play out. and without the injury, marc would've already had several years to fight pecco and even jorge martin on equal-ish terms, which again just isn't an opportunity he's had until this year. those were some of his prime feud-starting years stolen from him... though also, speaking of casey vs fabio - I mean, that's the other thing, isn't it. whether you want to blame it on this generation of rider personalities or overly professionalised upbringing or the social media climate or whatever, the general willingness to feud with other riders has massively declined in the paddock. even insulting your fellow riders is pretty rare. casey thought the media and fans were too harsh to him back in the day, to put it mildly, but in a lot of ways it'd be far worse for him now. (incidentally, y'know the whole mir apologising to marc thing - can you imagine casey doing that? the correct answer is no, obviously not, how is that even a question, are you insane.) and even that generation was seen as a milder assortment of characters than valentino's lot, who in turn were at times considered oddly friendly by the guys who came before them. there are no max biaggi's in today's motogp. sete failing to threaten to punch valentino after jerez 2005 was considered disappointingly polite by a lot of the media. It Was A Different Time. it's not just that marc's feud rate is flagging - it's the case for everyone, which is how you get acosta offering to try and spice things up between the current title contenders. marc does need someone to feud with, and it doesn't help if they're all being so awfully conflict-averse

so, that's the marc defence case. marc just hasn't had enough plausible opportunities to start proper feuds, and you can't really judge him by how situational factors keep conspiring against him on that front. now, I think that is probably the main reason why it's been quite so dire for him... but still, it's also not quite satisfying to pretend like marc and valentino are quite literally identical in that regard, that they would have ended up with exactly the same profile of feuds in each other's positions. admittedly I don't really believe valentino would have had a radically different number of feuds in marc's career timeline... jorge is if anything the most proactive of the lot, often not even really needing much competitive justification to escalate a feud. still, you do suspect that there are differences in marc's approach that would always make him a little less likely to come up with these high quality feuds. one factor is motivation - valentino generally needs to get more creative in order to motivate himself to win than marc does, cf how much more flighty he gets when things are going well for him. valentino has long had a reputation for using his rivals to motivate himself, building them up as enemies and so on. there's rivals for which this is more the case than others, and it's a bit more complicated than that... but in general, valentino really benefits from these feuds, and is more reliant on them than marc is. marc can also use his rivals to motivate himself, cf 'his record at misano'. the most egregious example is 2019, where he comes in off the back of two back-to-back last lap defeats, hops onto the rear tyres of the yamaha's for much of that weekend until eventually he has that spat with valentino in qualifying that conveniently gives him the fire to reverse the recent trend and snatch victory away from poor fabio on the last lap. that's probably the most proactive he's been about it, and it's the kind of enterprising spirit I'm always happy to see in my riders. but in general... he does also just seem pretty content to reel off victories without any added source of motivation. valentino needs to jump through a few more hoops to get himself going, which happen to be very feud-inducing hoops. marc is far more capable of showing up and just doing the business

there's a related factor here that's a bit more nebulous and it's just... how they go about winning, both races and titles. now, okay, obviously they're both aggressive riders - marc notably so for the entirety of his career, while valentino got more aggressive after leaving honda and having to compensate for a bike disadvantage (having already been a menace in the lower classes). generally marc is the more aggressive rider, with valentino a little happier to pick and choose his moments and only escalating when he really feels he has to. similar peaks, lower baseline of aggression. that being said, valentino relied on one-on-one duels a lot more in winning his titles than marc did. marc's biggest strengths in winning his titles was a consistent and relentless pace advantage over the opposition, where he was able to score higher on his bad days than they were on theirs. his wins were generally more likely to be dominant than valentino's were (though it is admittedly quite hard to tell at times whether valentino was really riding anywhere close to 100% in his honda days) - and the momentum swings in his title fights tend to be because his opponents had made errors. valentino kinda needed the 1 vs 1 thing to be clicking for him to win his titles, because that's what his whole game is built on. 2004 plays out completely differently if valentino doesn't win any number of close duels - obviously welkom, but perhaps even more importantly the mugello/catalunya/assen stretch of the season he entered with a points deficit and left the new championship leader (with his relationship with sete rather worse for wear to boot). 2008 is obviously the poster child for this, as to a slighter lesser extent is 2009, which has been covered elsewhere on this blog and will be again in the near future... marc, by contrast, kinda thrives on losing close duels against his title rivals that are worrying to them because he was so close to victory at his weaker tracks. you can cite various mugello and austria and qatar races here... again, has been discussed elsewhere, but the point is that it's just a bigger part of valentino's game than it is for marc. and if so much in terms of stakes and championship momentum is attached to these single races... well, that's actually pretty much the perfect trigger point for starting feuds. by the latter half of his prime, marc kinda knew he could get away with losing some of these fights, especially against dovi (vs how he allegedly was 'angry' after the rins defeat and really relished the triumphalism of beating poor sweet fabio). valentino could extremely not afford to lose some of these duels if he wanted to win the title, and often ended up souring his relationships with his competitors in the process of winning. again, laguna 2008 is the poster child here - valentino's behaviour in this race is far more significant in determining that relationship's trajectory than him being 'mildly chilly' towards casey for the preceding one and a half years

the last factor kinda feels like the most obvious one: valentino often was just more proactive in his shit stirring, especially off-track. marc tends to do a lot of his psychological warfare on the track, which is discussed in more detail in the mind games post but is obviously reflected in stuff like stalking specific riders endlessly in practise and qualifying. valentino does plenty of on-track psychological warfare and he certainly wasn't averse to the odd towing shenanigans (just ask casey), but he was also more prepared to just fire a few shots in the media. he's capable of more subtlety than he's sometimes given credit for, had a pretty good feel for escalation... which can actually be quite frustrating, because at times you have to take his rivals at their word when they say he was being mean about them in the media - not always easy to find actual examples of that! he'd also get creative about how to exert pressure on his rivals - for which one of the more obvious examples would be getting proxies like his crew chief jb to do the mudslinging on his behalf. still, it shouldn't be too controversial to say he's more likely to attack his rivals directly in the media than marc is - who ramps up the subtlety all the way and usually just gestures vaguely in the direction of saying something that could be a snide remark... but isn't really direct enough to actually be a clear attack. now, if you set baby casey or baby jorge on the case, notoriously sensitive characters that they were, there'd still be a decent chance they take offence at the sort of thing marc says about his rivals... but as it stands, marc clearly prefers this less obvious approach, and this current lot isn't going to call him out on it. and yes, obviously sepang 2015 and the repercussions thereof will have strengthened marc's conservatism in this regard, a wish to avoid any further drama paired with a desire to show that valentino was the problem in that particular rivalry by avoiding any further feuds. and if marc's less likely to be proactive in media mudslinging and is also less likely to find himself in the sort of race that burns interpersonal relationships... well, it's not surprising he'd be less predisposed to feuds, is it

there's some other stuff we could bring in here, like valentino's tendency to play an active role in narrativising his career that fortunately just happens to also makes feuds more likely (topic for another post currently in the drafts). you could talk about how marc is less sensitive than jorge or especially casey, how he's more likely to brush off criticisms and then commit himself to on-track revenge. how he has a lot of low level beef with other riders that has just never quite been given the space or opportunity to grow into a proper feud. how jorge is more impulsive and is likelier to start fights immediately in response to a perceived slight, versus marc who is far likelier to bottle things up. in general, though, I still put most of the blame on circumstance. while valentino is definitely the frontrunner in the feuding department, there's no single correct way to go about starting your feuds - and jorge, for instance, has really showcased an alternative approach that can also yield some very positive results. marc should have been given more opportunities to figure out his own way to start up multiple narratively complex rivalries/feuds. he has some traits that are well-suited to a strong profile of rivalries and feuds, from his on-track aggression to his tendency to play games in the media to his ruthlessness to his ability to take defeats personally and feel threatened by rivals. the towing thing. his behaviour as a teammate. how uncompromising his approach towards riding is. there's a lot of strong stuff there, it just hasn't been given the chance to shine as much as you'd like

all that being said... he still has time! there's no reason to believe next year won't give us what we hope for in that regard, as long as that's a reasonably competitive title fight. and I don't think it'd be fair to pecco and marc to attribute any heated rivalry between them completely or even mostly on valentino - they have enough reasons unrelated to him to desperately want to beat each other. if anything, the valentino factor is unfortunately more likely to make them both a bit more restrained in that regard, wary of the drama of it all... but here's hoping! and they've already built up a bit of history now, some significant on-track encounters - I'd say that in an ideal world they've done more than enough prep work for them to get to feud territory next year. the other obvious name is pedro, a charmingly genre aware child with what a rather pronounced scepticism towards marc specifically, who feels like he would not only be up for a feud with marc but has quite possibly already game-planned what that feud would look like. hey, you never know, maybe I will successfully barter away my soul to finally make yamaha competitive again... let's see if we can try to get that depressed frenchie interested in some proper rivalries once he's back in the game. hopefully, marc still has a few competitive years ahead of him - and hopefully, he'll also get some help from the other side to get something narratively compelling going. I believe in him! remember, valentino pissed away two entire years in his early thirties but still managed to start his most long-lasting and emotionally devastating feud at the age of 36. isn't that inspiring? it's never too late to burn bridges. I for one hope marc still has something rancid in store for us

[thequeenofsastiel]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but if someone cooks for you, you say thank you, and, unless they're specifically asking for criticism, that you like it.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Can you do an imagine about the reader going out with an F1 driver (I imagine Charles or Carlos), where the reader speaks their language, but doesn’t tell them. One day they walk in on the reader talking to someone on the phone in French/ Italian or Spanish respectively, and have a talk about it. Reader was hiding their abilities due to an insecurity about their ability. Alternatively they could be at a restaurant, where the reader is forced to use that language to order something.

Speak Baby

Summary: you are going out with Charles, you can speak his language, but don't tell him. You were hiding your abilities due to an insecurity about your ability.

Song: Heaven and Back · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

Word count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The soft glow of the lamp painted the room in hues of amber and gold, the late afternoon sun already having dipped below the horizon.

You were curled up on the plush armchair, a worn copy of “Les Misérables” resting open in your lap, though your attention was entirely focused on the phone pressed to your ear. The French words flowed effortlessly, a melodic stream of conversation with your cousin, Élise, back in Paris.

Laughter bubbled in your chest as Élise recounted a particularly disastrous attempt to bake macarons, the familiar cadence of your mother tongue a soothing balm to your soul.

"…and then, the oven, mon Dieu, it was like a volcanic eruption of powdered sugar!" Élise’s voice, tinged with dramatic exasperation, crackled through the speaker.

You chuckled, a genuine, unrestrained sound, “You know you should just stick to painting, ma chérie. Baking is not for you.”

"Oh, very funny," she retorted good-naturedly, “But you should have seen it! The cat even had a dusting. Anyway, how is le charmant Charles?"

You paused, a smile playing on your lips. "He's…fine," you said, a soft giggle escaping your throat. "He's been working late again, as usual."

“And still no clue about your… little secret?" Élise teased, the question a whisper of anticipation.

"No," you replied, your voice dropping slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "Absolutely not. It's…it's better this way, Élise. I’m not ready."

You knew that you were holding out on Charles, but the thought of him judging you for your French was an insecurity that had been haunting you for years.

You had always felt like you were not good enough, that your accent was too strong and that your grasp on the language was not as good as it should be, even though you grew up with it.

You always felt the need to hide, to not draw attention to yourself, and so this was how it was with Charles.

It was easier to communicate in English with him, to be safe, even if your heart yearned to speak in the language that made you, you.

"You're being silly, ma belle. He'd be enchanted, I'm sure of it," Élise said, her tone gentle, trying to reassure you.

Just as you were about to respond, a distinct sound reached your ears - the click of the front door. Your heart leaped into your throat. Charles was home.

Panic seized you, and you quickly pressed the “end call” button, the dial tone a sharp, jarring contrast to the lilting French you had been immersed in moments before. You closed the “Les Miserables” book with an audible thud, feigning a casual air.

You straightened yourself in the armchair and tried to look as though you were simply relaxing, a wave of frustration beginning to wash over you for not being able to share this part of yourself with Charles, but also relief because you almost got caught.

"Hey," Charles said, his voice laced with that endearing weariness you had come to adore, as he walked into the room, tossing his keys onto the side table.

He hadn't noticed the phone in your hands and he pulled off his suit jacket and hung it up on the hanger behind the door. He looked exhausted. "Long day."

"Hi," you replied, your voice a little too high-pitched, betraying the sudden jolt of adrenaline still coursing through you.

You tried to act as nonchalant as possible, hoping he wouldn't notice the flush creeping up your neck, or the way your fingers were still tensed against the phone.

He glanced at you, his blue eyes, usually so bright, clouded with fatigue. "Everything alright? You seem…tense." He took a seat on the sofa opposite you, his gaze intense as he looked at you.

You had been with Charles for a year now, and he was always able to suss something out.

You forced a smile, "Just had a long chapter to read, that's all.” You showed him the book, hoping it would be enough distraction. “It’s quite intense, actually." You pointed to the book, gesturing with your hand. "This guy Valjean, he's been through it."

He seemed to accept your explanation, dropping back against the sofa cushions with a sigh. "Well, whatever it is, you should relax. Maybe we could order some food? I'm starving."

You nodded, relieved. The moment had passed, but the unspoken secret hung heavy in the air between you. The rest of the evening unfolded in its usual way, a comfortable rhythm you both had established.

You talked about your day, laughed at a silly movie, and shared a meal under the soft lamplight. Yet, beneath the surface of normalcy, the secret you harboured continued to prick at you.

He kept stealing glances at you, making you wonder if he might suspect something, but he never said anything.

“So you’re telling me he still hasn’t found out yet?” She asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“No, and I’ll keep it that way,” you replied, your smile fading. “It’s too risky, Élise. What if he thinks I’m a fraud? What if he thinks I’ve been lying?”

“Oh, come on,” Élise scoffed, “He’s clearly smitten with you, mon amie. I can hear it in your voice!”

You sighed, staring out the window at the grey sky. “You don’t know him, Élise. His native language is French, he knows it like the back of his hand. He’d notice if my French isn’t perfect.”

“And what if it is?” Élise countered.

You were about to reply, when you heard his voice from the kitchen. You jerked, your heart leaping into your throat. “I have to go, Élise. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, bisous,” Élise said, and the line went dead.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The roar of the Ferrari engines was a constant hum, a background score to the chaotic elegance of the Formula One paddock. You watched Charles, a whirlwind of charm and practiced ease, navigate the PR games with Carlos Sainz.

They were a study in contrasts – Charles, all focused energy and effortless smiles, and Carlos, a more grounded, almost playful foil. You knew this dance well, the mandatory media obligations that came with the territory of being a Ferrari driver.

You were happy to be a spectator today. You knew, with a familiar twist of warmth in your chest, that Charles would find you later.

You had a few hours of freedom, a rare commodity in this world of tight schedules and constant movement. You decided to explore. The paddock was a labyrinth of team trucks, hospitality suites, and workshops, a microcosm of the competitive energy that fueled the sport.

You wandered, absorbing the sights and sounds, the clatter of tools, the clipped conversations in a dozen different languages. You’d always been drawn to the undercurrents of these places, the human stories unfolding beneath the glossy veneer of glamour and speed.

That's when you heard it – a voice, high-pitched with panic, cutting through the general noise.

"Est-ce que quelqu'un parle français?" it called out, the words sharp and rushed. " S'il vous plaît, quelqu'un ?" Does anyone speak French? Please, someone?

The man, standing near a catering area, was clearly distressed. He was middle-aged, his face flushed, hands trembling slightly as he gestured erratically. A small crowd of staff had gathered around him, their faces a mixture of concern and helplessness.

They spoke encouragingly in English, but it was clear that they didn’t understand a word he was saying, which was why he was getting more frantic.

You hesitated. You knew French, fluently after all. It really was an insecurity you'd carried since childhood, a fear that your accent wasn't good enough, that you wouldn't be considered “truly” French.

Charles, in his easy, casual fluency, only amplified that feeling. It was easier to let him be the French one, to navigate that world without your input.

But looking at the man, his distress growing with each passing second, your resolve crumbled. You couldn't stand by and watch him suffer.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed past the people, your voice hesitant but clear, "Excusez-moi, monsieur. Je parle français. Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" Excuse me, sir. I speak French. What's going on?

The man's eyes widened, his face flooded with relief. "Ah, merci mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, his hands coming to clasp yours. "C'est terrible! J'ai perdu mon sac, avec tous mes documents et mes clés. Je dois partir cet après-midi, et je suis complètement coincé."

His words tumbled out in a rush, a torrent of worries and anxieties. This is terrible! I lost my bag, with all my documents and my keys. I have to leave this afternoon, and I'm completely stuck

You listened patiently, your own French flowing effortlessly as you reassured him. You asked him for details about the bag, about where he’d last seen it.

You found out that he was here for a family visit, and he had to catch a train in the next couple of hours. With a mixture of calm questioning and reassuring words, you helped him retrace his steps.

You spoke softly, your voice a calming balm to his panic. The staff around you, previously frustrated, looked on with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude.

You felt a small spark of pride, a quiet satisfaction in using the skill that you have always kept hidden.

After what felt like an eternity, you spotted it – a small black bag tucked behind a stack of boxes in a corner. The man let out a cry of delight, his face cracking into a wide, genuine smile. "Merci, merci mille fois!" he cried, taking the bag and beaming at you. "Vous êtes un ange!" Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You are an angel!

You helped him check through the contents, making sure nothing was missing. You even offered him some water and a seat to calm him. He thanked you profusely again and again. He finally started to relax and calm down.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you." he said again, this time speaking English clearly, even though he had not, before. He smiled warmly at you.

"It's no problem," you replied, smiling back. A small voice interrupted.

"Hey babe, what's going on here? I saw this crowd?" Charles asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He placed a hand on the small of your back.

"This gentleman lost his bag, and couldn't communicate with anyone here. I was just helping him," you explained.

"Ah, but you were speaking French? I didn't know that you spoke French. Good job ma chérie," Charles said a little surprised.

"Oh, I... I learned some in school," you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. You felt a flush creep onto your cheeks.

You could feel the lie hanging in the air, heavy and uncomfortable.

Charles tilted his head, his eyes searching your face, "That’s really cool." He turned his attention to the man, addressing him in perfect French.

You watched Charles smoothly reassure the man that everything was fine and offer him any help that he needed. The man seemed mesmerized by Charles, thanking him profusely.

You watched them briefly, the ease with which Charles switched between two languages, how comfortable he was in the role of translator. It was a stark contrast to your feelings of self-consciousness.

“So, should we get going?” Charles said to you, turning to you, his hand finding yours.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You’d helped someone out, and it felt good. But the lie, that little secret you still held, bothered you. More so than usual now that he knew.

As Charles led you away, you could feel his gaze on you, a silent question in his eyes. You knew you couldn't keep this hidden much longer.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, dancing shadows across the Ferrari base. The air, still warm from the day’s heat, hummed with a quiet energy. You lay nestled in the hammock chair, Charles’s strong back providing a solid anchor as you sat comfortably on his lap.

The gentle rocking motion lulled you both, a peaceful rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the quiet whispers of the wind. You’d been dating Charles for a year now, and these quiet moments were your favorite.

Being alone, intertwined, was bliss.

He nuzzled his face into your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. You closed your eyes, your own breathing slowing, the world fading away.

You’d almost drifted off, the line between sleep and wakefulness blurring, when a voice sliced through the tranquil silence.

“Monsieur Leclerc, le débriefing commence bientôt!” a young voice called out, the French words sharp and clear. Mr. Leclerc, the debriefing begins soon!

You blinked your eyes open, startled, and looked around for the source of the sound.

A young woman, her face etched with a mixture of frustration and relief, stood a short distance away. She was clearly a member of the Ferrari staff, her uniform a stark contrast to the relaxed atmosphere you and Charles had created.

“Mademoiselle, je vais bientôt réveiller Charles, alors ne vous inquiétez pas,” you said, the words flowing easily, a comfortingly familiar cadence in your mind. Miss, I'll wake Charles up soon, so don't worry.

You watched her face register surprise, then a wave of relief.

“Merci beaucoup mademoiselle Y/N, je vous laisse faire,” she replied, her voice softening. Thank you very much Miss Y/N, I'll leave you to it.

“De rien, je suis désolé de t'avoir fait le chercher,” you said, a slight blush creeping up your neck. You felt a pang of guilt for making her search for Charles. You're welcome, I'm sorry I made you look for it.

She gave you a small, thankful nod before turning and heading back towards the base.

You were about to nudge Charles awake when you felt a movement in your lap. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, were already fixed on you, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"That didn't sound like 'school French' ma chérie," he muttered, a playful yet probing tone to his voice. Your heart lurched, and a cold dread settled in your stomach.

You could feel your cheeks flush, the blood rushing to your head. This was it. Your little secret, the one you'd guarded for so long, was about to unravel.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice coming out a little higher and breathier than you intended. You tried to play it off, hoping your denial would be convincing enough. "I learned some French phrases, that's all."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Some phrases? You just held an entire conversation with Nathalie, in perfect, effortless French. Where did you learn that?"

You fidgeted, your fingers toying with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "Uh...well...you know, it's just...I've always been a good language learner." The explanation sounded weak even to your own ears.

Charles gently tilted your chin up so that your eyes meet. His touch was soft, but his gaze was intense. “Y/N,” he said, his voice lower now. “You’re fluent. Why have you been hiding this from me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your unspoken secret. And you knew you couldn’t lie to him any longer. “It’s stupid, really,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was always just…insecure about it. My native language is English, and I'm fairly average. When I started learning French, which was young, it just came naturally to me. I didn't think I was actually... good. I thought if I spoke it around you, you'd think I sound awful, like those tourists that always try and speak French to you.” You looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

He took your hands in his, his thumbs stroking your knuckles. “Ma chérie, that’s ridiculous. I’m fascinated by languages. I spent so much time learning other languages for the sport, plus how could I ever think you sound awful. You could never sound bad.”

His words were soothing, a balm to your wounded pride. You looked up, your eyes searching his face. “Really?” you whispered, still a little unsure.

He chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. “Bien sûr, Y/N. You’re amazing, in every language. And I am so incredibly curious. When did you learn it? How good are you even?” He had a teasing glint in his eyes now, and the tension that had been plaguing you started to dissipate.

“Since I was a kid. My grandmother was half-French and she taught me, always using French. She wanted me to have another language to use. She wanted me to have something special, so I never told anyone in school or anything.” you admitted.

“And you kept this hidden from me? For all this time?” Charles asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You nodded sheepishly. “I thought you would think I was trying to show off, I guess, and I was honestly just scared I’d be awful.”

He squeezed your hands, his thumb drawing small circles on your skin. “You are far from awful, Y/N, and I promise I never would have thought that, ever. But,” he added, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “I do have a few questions. And you're going to have to answer them… in French.”

“bébé, il faut que tu fasses le point avec l'équipe!” you said, the words slipping out naturally in French. Baby, you need to check in on the team!

Charles only grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me, ma chérie,” he said, his tone warm and affectionate and full of love.

“I know I’m so sorry.” you said, putting your head in your hands, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over you. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was just so scared.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Don’t be sorry, mon amour,” he murmured, his voice husky. “It’s incredibly endearing, and it's one more thing I love about you. You have to tell me everything though from now on okay?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

He smiled, then his eyes glinted with a new mischievousness. “So, you’ve been keeping secrets from me, have you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Only this one, I swear.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning in closer. “I think that deserves a punishment.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, raising an eyebrow, excitement coursing through you.

His lips found yours and he deepened the kiss, pushing you gently back on the hammock. The language barrier was forgotten as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt.

You could feel the passion in him, the soft moaning as he kissed your neck. You could feel yourself falling further and further into him, completely and utterly in love.

It was a long time before you pulled away for air, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing.

“What was I saying about meetings?” you breathlessly said, putting a hand on your chest, hoping your heart would slow down.

Charles chuckled, running his hand through his slightly dishevelled hair. “They can wait,” he murmured, his eyes locking with yours, “There’s something much more urgent that we need to deal with, my petite française.”

You laughed then, and pulled him in for another kiss, knowing that your hidden language was now just another way to connect with the man you loved.

The rain outside continued to fall, a soft and gentle melody to the start of another chapter in your love story.

And you knew, with absolute certainty, that this new language you had shared with each other would only bring you closer, in ways you could never have imagined. . . .

[cordidy]

Just needed to get this out of my head after Sylus's Myth so i hope you like it :)

TW : drunk MC, fluff, it's sad I guess ? No proof read cause i'm a savage, english is not my mother tongue

“......tail ?” 

“What did you just say kitten ?” Sylus asked, gently patting the back on your thigh while steadying you on his shoulder as you exited the elevator together, .

At first he had been quite surprised to receive your call.

Even more so when you bluntly asked him if he would be ok playing bodyguard and keep an eye on you while you indulged in a night of carefree debauchery at the club but hey, who was he to judge ? 

Besides, if you felt safe enough to be in such a vulnerable state around him, going as far as trusting him with your safety and your apartment key to make sure you would make it back safe and sound, he was not going to complain.

“I….I said…ooooh that spins…do…do you ever miss your tail ?” you repeated, your voice tired and slurred, words barely comprehensive despite your best effort.

Sylus couldn’t help the chuckle that came as you poked his lower back through his jacket.

You really were wasted…

But you had a good reason !

Your week has been shitty as hell.

Your nights were even worse lately, barely getting a couple hours of sleep only to wake up either with a sore throat, screaming or crying at something you could not recall.

And, on top of that, you were off duty as Zayne decided you needed a break and refused to sign your abilitation.

“Come on Zayne, look, I’m fiiiiiiiiine” you tried to convince him with a huge smile and so much concealer on your face you could open your own makeup shop.

“As your physician I cannot let you go on field with such results” he retorted not even looking away from your chart “You should be dead with such a high blood pressure”

“I’m a tough cookie !”

“And you’re going to have to stay in the jar until these get better. You’re not only a danger for yourself right now but also for your partner”

That was a low blow but he had a point.

Clearly, you needed a break, something to unplug your brain, something fun, a good night out to leave all your problems behind and get shitfaced to oblivion. What you did not need though was the unwanted attention a young woman alone at the club would probably get and, while you were very capable of handling those kinds of situations, you did not really want to have to be on the lookout constantly or end up in a cell for assault.

You tried Tara, back to her family for the Holidays.

Simone ? Night shift.

Xavier….doing God knew what God knew where….

So, with a heavy heart you picked up your phone and called your secret weapon…

“Not necessary,” Sylus finally answered in a calm, composed voice, as he opened your apartment door, being extra careful as to not bump you in the doorframe. Based on the current humming coming from you right now and your kicking feet, your head was already going to kill you tomorrow.

Better not add “commotion” to the list of your impending issues.

“To be honest, being half human half cat was quite annoying” he admitted, walking you toward your bedroom to tuck you into bed. “I don’t like not being in control of myself and beside, it was bad for business to be away from the N109 zone for so long...although…I kind of enjoyed having to hide here and spend time with you…” he added with his signature smirk, poking your side before tossing you onto the bed, making you giggle like an idiot as you plopped on your back. It was the first time you allowed him into your room and, although he did plan on being a gentleman despite what you could think of him when sober, he couldn’t help the loving smile on his face as he watched you mumble something about a potato bag while fighting with your plushies for room.

“I miss you tail” you retorted in your drunk voice, closing your eyes in hopes it would help with the dizziness while Sylus started to remove your shoes and socks.

“I quite remember you telling me how insufferable it was” the man said in a collected tone while making his way to the kitchen once he was done. 

“Yeah but it was sooooo pretty…I miss how you used it to grab me with it and…and toss me around ! That was funny !” you laughed, mimicking being tossed around like a ragdoll in the middle of your plushies as Sylus was coming back in your room, a glass of water in his hand.

He stopped in his tracks, a puzzled look on his face.

“I never use my cat tail to...toss you around” he corrected. His Evol, yeah, on a daily basis at some point actually, just to annoy you and enjoy those little lovely sounds coming from your mouth, threats mostly.

He had not been able to use it at all during the time those damn kittens from Hell had turned him into one of them though.

Your foggy brain did not hear him though and just kept mumbling in your drunken state, propping yourself on your elbows, trying to focus your gaze on him.

“You would think scales are cold and harsh…” you started, raising a finger to look all serious before falling back onto your pillow, not registering the look of surprise on his usually steady face.

“Kitten wh…” his voice was faltering as he looked at you getting all comfy like you had not just shaken his world upside down with your words.

“...but it was sooooo soft and sooooo warm…” you continued, grabbing your pillow to hold on tight as if you were looking for said warmth. 

Your voice was starting to fade as sleep was settling in.

“...felt safe when you wrapped it around me…I kept holding mine to sleep after…but…”

The glass in his hand fell to the ground, shattering as he froze in place, eyes wide open in shock. 

“…it was not…not the same…” you mumbled before losing consciousness, your body going limp against your pillow, before starting to snore.

______________________________________________________________ Pssssst, you liked it ? P2 is already up here :) https://www.tumblr.com/cordidy/770227784125677568/a-few-days-ago-i-wrote-this?source=share

[canthelpit0]

“We’ll figure it out”

Pairing: Inexperienced!Matt x Inexperienced!Reader

Wordcount: 5.9k +

Summary: what happens when you hook up with your long time best friend? Except both of you are virgins.

Warnings: Smut, nasty, language, use of y/n, pet names (pretty boy, sweetheart, pretty girl, etc), reader has a cat named sun, study session, oral m!receiving, brief crying, oral f!receiving, praise kink, fingering, cowgirl, no protection (wrap it up!), she’s not on BC, creampie

(A/N: English is not my first language. So sorry for any mistakes. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy xx)

You have known the triplets since middle school, and you’ve been close to all of them.

Well, especially with Nick.

Everything was fine, you weren’t too popular, but you also weren’t overlooked. you were middle class, not poor but also not rich. You were pretty, but never got too much attention because of it.

Little do you know, but you’re gorgeous. If you wanted to you could easily be one of the popular girls in school. But you didn’t care for it. High school was temporary, and you knew that.

And that’s exactly what Matt admires about you.

Matt is pretty introverted, and especially around freshmen year, you and his brothers would quite literally have to force him to go to school.

Now he was more calm though. Sometimes his anxiety would mess with him, but he overcame it with you and his brother's help.

For the fact that you’ve only known them since middle school, you went over to their house quite a lot. But sometimes they’d come over to yours as well.

Matt was a virgin. Most people would think that. He’s awkward in social situations and pretty shy and introverted before you get to know him.

Though, he’s had a short-term girlfriend before. Wich, at least was something.

You never dated anyone. You never cared to. You’d much rather focus on your friends and school, than some boy.

You were a virgin. It wasn’t like you never watches porn, or were innocent really. You just never got to the point of losing it to someone. Everything you’ve done was by yourself.

Wich would be fine. But you were in senior year now, and the year was almost over. Most people around you had already lost it, and you felt left out.

You were sitting at lunch, listening to Chris drone on and on about some girl he hooked up with. You purse your lips, your apatite disappearing more and more.

Suddenly Chris looks over to you. “Y/n how was your first time?”

You tense up, Taking in a harsh breath.

“Chris! You don’t just ask shit like that” Nick huffs hitting Chris on the arm.

Matt, who was sitting next to you, puts his hand on your thigh in comfort.

You squint your eyes at Chris, judging him. Or at least you try to make it look judgy.

You lean further into Matt’s side. His physical presence was keeping you grounded.

And when matt noticed just that, he takes his hand off of your thigh and instead wrapped it around your waist to pull you even closer.

“That’s none of your business.” You huff staring back at Chris.

But internally you were embarrassed because you were still a virgin.

★ ★ ★

You had planned a sleepover and study night with matt a few days ago. Essentially, he’d come to your house on Friday, and you would study. until you got tired of it and watched a movie or something.

So after school matt drove his brothers home and then drove to your house.

You got out of the car, watching as Matt reached into the backseat to grab his overnight bag.

You couldn’t help but think back to lunch break when Chris had made that comment. Chris was a player, and you knew that.

But everybody around you had lost their v card, and you just felt so left behind.

Matt huffs snapping his fingers in front of your face. You blink. He takes the keys out of your hand, grabbing your forearm to pull you to the door.

“You back with me y/n/n?” Matt ask. He looks over his shoulder as he blindly fiddles with your house keys.

“Yeah, sorry. zoned out.” You answer simply.

Matt chuckles at the flat response. He looks back at the door and finally twists it open. You two both walk in, both of you taking your shoes on.

“Hello, we’re back” Matt says loudly into the room.

You put on your house shoes and so does Matt.

You look over your shoulder at Matt with an amused expression. “Matt they already left” you huff.

“What? I thought they were gonna leave at 4?” He asks, pulling out his phone from his jean's back pocket.

It’s 4.26 pm

“Oh.” He says flatly staring at his screen.

Your parents had driven out for the weekend to your grandparents house. It was a few hours away. You hadn’t wanted to go, because for one you had already made plans for the sleepover with Matt.

And also because you had the test on Monday and you wanted to study the weekend away.

You were probably not going to anyway, but in theory..

“Yeah. oh.” You roll your eyes. Your siblings went with your parents so the house was empty. It’d be the perfect opportunity for a house party.

But you weren’t one to party, and your parents trusted you.

You and Matt walk to your kitchen. Well, it’s just matt trailing behind you.

“You want a drink?” You ask simply while you take out a Pepsi can for yourself and then put it on the counter nearest.

Matt comes up behind you. He looks over your shoulder scanning the contents of the fridge.

“Pepsi please,” he says under his breath.

You take out another can and then proceed to put it next to your can on the counter.

You slam the fridge door shut. You feel Matt turn you around before he’s hugging you. His arms wrap around your waist as he buries his face in your neck.

Matt had always been a big softie. No matter how much he loves to deny it he loves hugs and being all sappy and shit.

His own love language was acts of service though. He’d do anything for someone he likes.

And so if he finds a song that reminds him of you, he’ll tell you. If you are hungry, he’s immediately googling places to eat. If you look slightly sad or upset, even though you just have a resting bitch face, he’s immediately doing something stupid to make you laugh.

You know each other in and out.

He knows you love physical touch. So he’d make it a point to hug you at least once a day.

The day was long and draining. It was a normal boring school day.

His hug is warm, his arms feel firm around you.

And despite not having known him since kindergarten or something, it feels like you’ve known him forever.

You can’t think of any future scenario without him in your life.

“You always smell so good” he mumbles, dramatically nuzzling his face into the side of your neck.

You chuckle at the compliment.

“Come on pretty boy, we gotta study.” You hum slightly pulling away. Matt dramatically groans in response but reluctantly pulls away.

You pick up the two Pepsi cans and start to walk back to the stairs.

Matt grabs both of your school bags and carries them upstairs with him.

Once you’re in your room you pull out your desk chair and sit down.

Matt puts both your backpacks against the wall. He walks towards the bed to sit down when he spots your cat.

“Sunny” he exclaims excitedly. As much as Matt would love to say he’s a dog person. He loves your cat.

She’s and orange Persian cat. Her hair is fluffy and long. She looks like a ball of hair all curled up in your bedsheets like that.

You look over to matt and your bed. You watch as your cat looks up at him and he coos at her. He slowly sits down and starts to pet your cat.

★ ★ ★

By now two hours of studying had passed. You were both now sitting on the floor on your carpet, the study material all sprawled out across from you.

You and Matt were sitting next to each other, your cat still sleeping on your bed.

“Matt I’m bored” you whine loudly. You throw your head back dramatically and groan.

Matt looks over at you watching you as you complain. He looks mildly agitated himself.

Before he can protest and tell you that you two need to continue studying you start to put the pages and books on top of each other.

Once no books and loose papers are sprawled out anymore you sit back again.

“Y/n” he rolls his eyes and you can feel the lecture incoming.

“Matt please, I’m literally about to die of boredom.”

“You’re so dramatic” he scoffs watching you.

And for a moment You two just look at each other. Neither of you say anything. You just stare. Your face relaxes out of the pout. Matt looks over your features like he’s admiring you for the first time. Like you’re a piece of art.

You can feel yourself start to grow hot. The tension in the room skyrockets.

“You’re so pretty you know that,” Matt says under his breath. Matt leans over on his arm leaning closer to you.

Your mind is blank, and you can’t come up with an answer. You just take in the compliment.

“So fucking gorgeous” he sighs and before either of you knew it his lips are on yours.

You freeze for a second your eyes wide. But like it’s an instinct you immediately kiss back.

Matt’s hand finds its way to your jaw holding you in place, while he tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

You were sitting Chris-cross while Matt was sitting on his legs, sitting just a bit higher than you.

After a while of just innocently kissing, he pulls away. You two stay close though. His eyes instantly widen as if he knew he fucked up.

“Fuck- I’m sorry” he breaths out, taking his hand from your face.

You sit up. Uncrossing your legs. you shift to sit on them, fully facing a blushing Matt. And you’re sure you have a matching red hue on your cheeks as well.

“No.”

the statement catches Matt off guard. He immediately looks back over at you, confused.

As soon as he looks back over at you, you reconnect your lips with his. He sighs into the kiss. His open mouth grants you the opening you need as you swiftly slip your tongue into his mouth.

You’re a virgin. That doesn’t mean you’re fully inexperienced tho.

You two make out heavily for a while. Making out like you’re trying to feel every part of each other.

Somehow you ended up in a position with you straddling Matt, as he has his legs sprawled out.

You pull away, both of you breathing hard.

“Y/n..” Matt starts his voice shaky.

He averts his eyes, the blush on his cheeks and even deeper red than before.

“I’m a virgin” he admits under his breath.

You thought for sure that Matt wasn’t. You were. But you also never dated anyone. Matt used to have a girlfriend though. But he’d never done it?

“Like fully?” You ask out of curiosity.

But it wasn’t like you wanted to use him. You liked him for being, himself. His presence made you flustered, feeling butterflies in your stomach, and all giddy.

“Yeah” he breaths out. You watch him close his eyes as if willing his embarrassment to leave. “I’ve never, done anything..”

You pause thinking of the best way to reply. “Neither have I.” You say softly, feeling mildly flustered as well. But both of you were inexperienced. You were in the same boat.

He pauses for a second at the reply. It was obvious that he thought you at least had one body. He didn’t think you were a virgin too.

“You… you wanna try?” He questions. Now he looks a lot less embarrassed than he did just a few seconds ago.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “If you want to?”

He pulls you back in for another kiss by the back of your neck. The kiss is shorter and more reassuring.

Matt pulls out of the kiss his hands going to your waist “We can figure it out?” He asks hopefully.

You nod in agreement. You could feel Matt’s bulge through his pants with the way you were sitting. And you could feel yourself aching.

What’s the harm in trying. He’s your best friend after all. Besides you’d finally lose it, and to someone you trust.

You peck his lips briefly before you get up off of his lap.

Matt gets up off of the ground too. You pick up your cat and wake her in the process. She meows at you in annoyance before you chuckle and put her on the ground.

Matt opens the door as Sunny finally but reluctantly leaves the room.

You pull off your shirt tossing it away. Matt turns around to see you sitting on your bed with your top discarded, your bra in full view. His eyes widen.

He licks his lips, his eyes shamelessly tracing your body.

Matt comes to hover over you while you sit there. “You’re such a tease” he chuckles. He leans down to capture your lips in a brief kiss again.

It was like he couldn’t get enough of your lips.

“Get on the ground,” Matt says, his tone more demanding and rough with lust.

You obey. You slide off your bed, getting on your knees on the ground.

Matt tugs his shirt off throwing it off to the side. He unbuckles his belt and undoes the button and zipper on his jeans before finally sliding them off and tossing them away.

You curiously watch. The only men you’d seen in this position were in pornos. This though, was your best friend since middle school.

Sometimes you forgot he was an actual man with a dick and all.

And right now, seeing the imprint of his cock through his boxers felt surreal.

He starts to tug on his boxers. Your eyes go up to meet his. “Ever gotten your dick sucked?” You ask sarcastically to cover up how nervous you are.

“No.” He breaths out. While continuing to look down at you he finally pulls down his boxers. He tosses them away too.

Your eyes trail from his eyes to his lips, over his jawline and his chest, down to his dick. The dick that was rock hard and right in front of your face.

Your eyes widen, as you sit back your hands staying on your knees as you just stare.

His tip was the same red he had on his cheeks, leaking pre cum. He had a vain running up his shaft. You always thought that male body part was rather disgusting looking.

But the way Matt’s looks right now…

You don’t know if it’s just the burning lust running through your body. But you actually really wanted to taste that.

Your hand goes to cup his aching cock. He lets out a sharp sigh at the feeling. You touch it gently. You don’t move your hand and stay careful of your manicured nails.

“I don’t know what I’m doing” you breathe out. While you do, you gently start to move your hand up and down your length slowly jerking him off.

“I don’t either,” he tilts his head forwards closing his eyes for a secound. “Keep going we’ll figure it out,” Matt assures you.

His hand goes to the back of your head. His hand starts to smooth down your hair.

“C’mon baby, don’t be shy” he coos staring down at you. Matt looks down at you like he’s done this a billion times before when he claims he never had.

But you guess one of you at least had to pretend that you were understanding what you’re doing right now.

You lean forward leaving a tender kiss on the tip. You do what you think someone would do in this situation.

The way he shudders at the simple touch though, shows that he is in fact, not experienced.

In hindsight, you don’t know why you thought that he was experienced. You just assumed.

“You think this will fuck up our friendship?” You ask while still slowly jerking him off.

Matt’s breaths are slightly shaky, but he chuckles at the question.

“No. I won’t let it.” He huffs.

“So..” you pause your movements. You glance down at his dick and the way your manicured hand wraps around it. And how huge it looks.

You then look back up at him through your lashes. “How am I supposed to do this?” You ask uncertainly.

“I don’t know.” He pauses to lick his lips. The way you, his best friend, look up at him through your lashes like that, was making him even more aroused.

“Just do what you feel like. But be careful of your teeth.” He says slowly. he wasn’t even sure himself.

You raise your eyebrow at his vague response. Neither of you knew how to do it, so you might as well imitate the porn that you’ve watched.

You drag you tongue up his shaft, keeping your eyes locked on his. When you’re at the tip you lick up all the pre cum leaking. You keep eye contact with matt, and it was driving him crazy.

He lets out shaky breaths. He was clearly enjoying this.

You kiss his tip again, before wrapping your lips around his tip. You slowly swirl your tongue around it trying to see how he’ll react.

You watch him to see if he likes it or not.

“Yeah, like that,” he says under his breath staring down at you.

With his praise and encouragement, you start to take him further down your throat. Slowly and carefully.

Matt whispers praises into the quiet room. All of them go right to your core and boost your ego.

You eventually feel comfortable enough to bob your head. You were jerking off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You were bobbing your head at a rhythmic pace and hollowing out your cheeks occasionally.

“I’m close-“ Matt whines. He actually whines.

And that sound. The power you had to make him sound like that was making you feel even more confident.

You don’t slow down your pace. You just keep going.

Until matt puts your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He tugs on it hard, to keep you still. He starts at a gentle but fast pace.

You feel your eyes fog up. The constant hit to the back of your throat makes you gag slightly.

His pace starts to become more and more sloppy as the seconds pass though.

You feel his dick hit the back of your throat before you suddenly feel your mouth be filled.

You feel his sticky load shoot down your throat. He pants, pulling at your hair to pull you off.

You swallowed what you could. But still, you feel a bit of it roll down your chin.

“Sh, sorry no don’t cry.” He immediately panics cupping your face in his hands. He looks down at you, worried. As if he thinks he went too far.

He wipes away the tears. The tears that you hadn’t even noticed had fallen.

Sighing, you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. “I’m okay Matty” you breathe out softly. His facial expression visibly relaxes at the statement.

“I’m sorry if that was too hard”

“It wasn’t, you’re good.” You stand up.

You immediately go to undo your own jeans. You slip out of them, throwing them off to the side.

His eyes roam over your body. The air is thick, both of your bodies pulsing with pure lust and awe.

You watch as his half-hard dick gets hard again.

You chuckle at the reaction. You teasingly take your bra off. And once you unclasp it, it’s Thrown across the room to the rest of your clothes.

His eyes trail your body again. He can’t help himself at the way your boobs look. He’s always admired you from afar. He never thought he’d ever be able to see you like this.

Sure he had imagined you two together like this before, but he never thought he’d actually get to see it. Besides, the real thing, the euphoria, it all felt better than he could’ve ever thought.

“So pretty, baby” he sighs. His hand goes to your chest. you could tell he’d never done this before just by the way he touched you like you were fragile.

But neither of you knowing what you were doing only made this more thrilling.

His hands go to your waist as he pushes you back onto your bed. He hovers over you for a moment, before crashing his lips back onto yours.

You kiss back, but you mostly let him take the lead. After he breaks the kiss, You feel him start to trail his kisses down your jawline and neck, while needing your breast in his hand.

He sits up again putting his other hand on your chest and needing it too, watching the way his hands look wrapped around your tits.

He sighs getting off of you and between your legs.

“Tell me when it feels good, sweetheart, alright?” He hums. He pulls at your panties, taking them off and half-heartedly throwing them away.

His eyes stay locked on your pussy. He admires it, like it’s the first time he’s seen it, which it is.

He puts your legs over his shoulders to give himself a better angle. He uses his middle finger to brush through your folds experimentally, watching you in awe.

You sigh at the contact on your folds. You’ve never been touched there. But Matt’s touch felt so incredibly comforting and good.

Your core was aching, pulsing around nothing. And Matt watched.

After a moment he kissed just above your clit. Kissing a trail down to your clit, before harshly starting to suck on it.

Your moan tears through the room. You were startled by how bold and confident he acted.

He groans into your core at your taste on his tongue. The groan sends pleasure coursing through you and chills down your spine.

“Fuck- matt” you whine. Your thighs clench around his head trying to get him closer. Your hand finds its way to his hair tugging on it slightly.

Your other hand berries in the sheets, trying to find something to hold onto. “God- have you done this before?” You ask rhetorically not expecting an answer.

He licks a stripe up your folds and starts to move his tongue against your sensitive nub. You whine and he chuckles.

“No.” He mumbles against you in answer. You throw your head back in pleasure your eyes briefly closing.

You feel Matt pull at you, tilting his head slightly for a deeper angle.

He was eating you out like you were his last meal. But beyond that also like this would be the only time he got to taste your sweet juices.

“Matt, fuck yeah- just like that.” You keep praising him. You notice how it boosts his confidence and in turn, makes this even more pleasurable for you.

You feel a finger brush at your cunt. Before you feel it slide in. Your hand immediately tugs harder at his hair. Your back arches slightly as you throw your head back in pleasure.

He thrusts his middle finger in and out of your tight cunt. He was turning his hand slightly, twisting it and turning it to get a feel for your body and how you react. And to also make you loosen up a bit.

You whine in discomfort. Matt detaches his lips from your clit still hovering close though.

“You okay sweetheart?” He says lowly under his breath.

Your moaning was loud and echoing through the room.

You sit up in your forearms staring down at him and the way he was fingering you like that. Watching the way his finger disappeared in your tight cunt.

“I’m good”

The words come up a bit slurred. The pleasure of him finger fucking you like that, was making your head feel all fuzzy.

“Never fingered yourself, baby?” He asks teasingly. You watch him and the way he steadies himself on his other arm.

He readjusts his finger, curling it up roughly hitting your sweet spot right on.

The touch sends shivers of pleasure down your spine making you shut your eyes and throw your head back.

“Matt, matt-“ you chant his name like a prayer. It’s the only thing you can think of. Him. And only him. That’s all that’s relevant right now.

He slips his second finger into your soaked core with ease. You barely even notice the second finger added. Until he starts to scissor them apart to stretch your insides even further.

He keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of you harshly. Curling them at just the right spots to make your vision blur.

You lay back down fully, as he is now sitting up more.

“Yeah pretty girl, that feel good?” He asks. Your back arches and your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

He leans up further, your legs fall from his shoulders as he hovers over your lower body. He puts his whole hand on your lower stomach applying gentle pressure on it to keep you down on the bed.

“I’m close-“ you breathe out between loud moans.

“good girl, come for me.” You shudder at the pet name. Your thighs shake slightly at the burning intensity of his gaze and the way his fingers curl at just the right spots.

You squirm under his gaze. And suddenly you feel the intense knot in your stomach snap. You feel him continue to finger fuck you, while your entire body feels burning hot.

You feel so warm and overwhelmed by the euphoria flowing through your veins. It feels better than any high you have ever experienced. Not that you’ve experienced a lot.

Once you ride out your high you breathe hard. Your eyes stay closed as you lay back on your bed.

Matt gently pulls out his fingers, making you whine at the loss of contact.

He lays down on your duvet next to you, turns to his side, and watches you.

You also turn to face him after a moment. You two just look at each other.

Matt looks at you with such intense adoration and love, it’s crazy.

“You actually wanna loose your virginity now?” He asks gently. Ignoring the fact that he was rock-hard.

You two so far had only given each other pleasure, but you hadn’t lost your virginity yet.

“Yes” you breathe out. You feel ready now more than you ever have before. Especially if you get to lose it to matt.

He licks his lips looking over your face.

“I don’t have a condom.” He says simply looking back at you. He knew you weren’t on the pill. He’d be fine doing it some other day.

“That’s fine.” You say though , catching him off guard. How desperate do you have to be to let him raw dog it?

“You’re not on the pill tho?” He questions.

“I’m not” you confirm simply. He raises an eyebrow waiting for further explanation. “You can pull out or something.” You shrug.

“That sounds tacky.” He huffs a laugh at how ridiculous that sounds.

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll deal with that tomorrow morning. Just please fuck me?”

You think he’s going to refuse Until he suddenly pulls you on top of him. You sit on his torso for a moment before you get the memo.

“You want me to ride you?” You ask slowly.

“If you’re not comfortable we can switch?” He offers. But why would you decline to ride him?

You shake your head no, before starting to slide down on his torso feeling his length glide between your soaked folds.

“Can’t be that hard?” You question rather skeptically.

In your opinion matt didn’t seem small. Though you had nothing to compare it to. All the girls in porn seemed to struggle with something that looked as big as Matt.

So either this would be really hard or easy for you. But either way, you wanted to try.

“You’re okay, we’ll go slow” he chuckles at your nervousness but is secretly just as scared. “And I’ll help you.” He assures.

You lift yourself hovering over his crotch area. You take in a harsh breath grabbing his dick and hovering over it.

Matt’s hand goes to it too holding it up. While your hand goes to your cunt as you gently and slowly sink down on it.

You both moan at the contact. Getting in the tip was hard. But once that was in you felt like you could easily slide down the rest of it, not that it wouldn’t hurt.

Matt’s free hand goes to your waist, guiding you like he said he would.

“Doing so good, princess.” You whine at the praise, but ultimately slowly skink down further..

Matt keeps your movements steady as you keep doing your thing. His second hand also goes to your waist using it to steady your movements further.

“Fuck so big.” You moan. Your thighs tense as you pull it out slightly. You could feel the stretch burn.

“It’s okay sweetheart. you only got a couple inches left.” He assures you as he starts guiding you back lower on him. Your cunt was aching around him harshly.

“Fuck-“ you sigh. You can’t help yourself when you take one of his hands from your waist and interlock your hands. You need the moral support.

“Such a good girl,” Matt says as you start to gently bounce on what you have fit so far.

He was occasionally groaning. Your moans filled the room, the air in the room staying hot.

He squeezes your hand. You close your eyes at the mixture of pleasure and pain. When you close your eyes he lets his eyes wander down to where your bodies meet.

He’d never done this and this felt so incredibly good. The sight alone could make him come right then and there.

Matt wasn’t dumb, he knew he had quite the dick. It wasn’t small by any means. And he knew that. It was amusing Watching you struggle with what you had, knowing there were at least still 3 more inches to go.

“You okay?” He asks again just to make sure you are okay.

The pain had subsided and you felt the pleasure. Sure you could take more but you were nervous to. This wasn’t as easy as it looked or as You thought it’d be.

“I’m okay” you sigh. You keep yourself gently and slowly bouncing on the upper half of the length of his cock.

Matt knows you really well. And matt just knows you can take more than that, Despite being a virgin himself. It was just a gut feeling. “Baby, I’m gonna need you to bear with me alright?”

Before you can respond, his hand on your waist tightens, and he squeezes your hand that’s intertwined with his. He rams you down on his dick harshly, making you take it as much as you physically could.

Your legs tense up at the harsh treatment. Your eyes close as a moan is ripped out your lungs. You clench so unbelievably tight around him. And just the sight of himself buried so deep inside of you could have him come at the spot.

He groans at the feeling of it as well. “Good-“ he breathes out. “Such a good girl.”

He keeps his hand intertwined with yours for moral support. His hand trails from your waist over your side soothingly.

You sigh at the feeling of him being completely in you. It’s a foreign feeling. It just feels so full.

“I feel so fucking stuffed” you groan dramatically. You let your head hang forward your mouth open in a silent moan.

“Oh, you’re so gonna be stuffed” he huffs. And somehow, even though pregnancy and birth scares the hell out of you, this type of dirty talk was extremely hot to you.

You huff in response starting to grind into him. You grind on his dick, his Hand on your hips helping you as you slowly try to get used to the size.

You sigh pulling all of your hair back out of your face again. You readjust your legs, taking your hand out of Matt’s. You shift, leaning on your arms to lean back slightly.

You start to carefully ride him your moans and whines still audible. Your head is thrown back in pleasure.

Matt watches the way your body moves in awe. Groaning every so often when you clench around him.

His hand goes to rest over your lower stomach, his thumb goes to rub on your clit gently. “Matt.” You gasp at the sudden added pleasure.

You can’t help yourself when you lean back forward. You just really want to see Matt’s face while you ride him.

“So good for me baby, keep going” he encourages. And with his words, you readjust again now pulling out more and ramming yourself back down.

You feel the knot in your stomach get tighter. You feel really good riding him like this, listening to his mumbles of praise and encouragement.

You continue to bounce on him, now chasing your high. And the harsher you slam yourself down the louder you and matt get. The room is filled with your noises as well as skin clapping loudly, and your lewd wetness.

After a few seconds you feel the knot snap. You lean over him, your arms on either side of his head catching you. Your high feels incredible, the heat washing over you like a wave.

Matt’s hand on your waist gets bruisingly harsh. He holds you in place while he thrusts up into you. You whine at the way he fucks you through your high. He was chasing his own now.

“Where do you want it.” His breath is harsh. He choked out the words in his lust-filled voice. He wasn’t asking, he was demanding to know.

“Inside.” You grit out. You bite your lip harshly, feeling your high subside and overstimulation slowly take over.

Matt grunts an agreement and you feel his thrusts get more sloppy and harsh. Until he gives you one last thrust, finally stopping his movements. He pulls you down to sit on him while spurts of his release shoot up into you.

You were pulsing around him, practically milking him for all he’s got. “Such a good girl” matt breathes out. One of his hands goes to trail over your stomach slightly.

He feels the slight bulge in your stomach from his sheer size.

The idea that this is how you make children is crazy to you. And the fact that you just did that with your best friend.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks softly staring up at you lovingly.

“Warm” you respond truthfully. His sticky seed inside of you makes your core feel all warm, along with the fact that you haven’t gotten off of it yet.

“Do you regret it?” He asks gently. After all, you two were best friends, and he had just lost his virginity to you and also taken yours.

Despite being terrified of the fact that you let him raw dog this, you didn’t regret it. In fact, you felt content, you love matt dearly.

“No” you don’t hesitate. You never realized how much you love Matt. He was just always there with you, he was always your best friend. You couldn’t imagine a future without him.

“You’re paying for the plan b pill tho” you chuckle.

He huffs a laugh. you carefully lift yourself off of him feeling your combined juices leak. You can see Matt watching, his eyes focused on your pussy. Watching the way you’re filled to the brim.

You kneel next to him, as you watch him sit up. “Come on sweetheart let’s get you cleaned up.”

Masterlist

A/N: I know this isn’t the most original idea, but I haven’t read any ffs where both of them are virgins. But if there is one that’s similar to mine, just know it was not intentional. In that case, If someone gives me the @ I can credit them.

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturnioloos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangepepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo

[uramakimochi]

Sirius and Remus walking to the parking lot after finishing shopping:

Sirius: These muggle shops have lots of baby stuff, we need to come back to buy some toys for Harry, don't you think?

Remus, carrying baby Y/n's car seat in a hand: Yeah, absolutely love.

Remus: *puts Y/n in the backseat and closes the door*

Sirius: *tries to open the passenger seat door but can't*

Remus:

Sirius:

Remus: Did we just lock our baby in the car?

Sirius: Did we wHAT?! Did you put your keys in the bag??

Remus: I put the keys in the bag.

Sirius, panicking: Oh Remus i told you nOT TO PUT THE KEYS IN THE BAG!

Remus, trying to calm him: Don't freak out! Don't freak out!

Sirius, looking at Y/n: Y/n sweetheart, it's okayyy!

Remus, also turning to her: A B C D E F G~

Sirius: Why are you singing to her?!? PEOPLE GET ARRESTED FOR THESE THINGS REMUS!

Remus: *calls the Emergency Assistance*

Sirius, running towards the car with a trash can in his hands: I'M BREAKING THE WINDOWWW!

"Emergency Assistance, this is Trina"

Remus: W-We locked our baby in the car and people are judging us!

Sirius, in a high pitch voice: I SWEAR TO GODRIC I'M GONNA BREAK IT!

Remus: Do NOT break the window, you'll get glass on her!

"Sir, please tell your wife to relax, everything is going to be okay"

Remus: That's a man.

"Really?"

Sirius: DON'T WORRY DARLING! DADDY'S COMING FOR YOU!

"Sir, we just sent the signal. The door should be unlocked now"

Remus: Sirius, check the door. Check the door, check the door!

Sirius, aggressively pulling at the handle: It's nOT UNLOCKED!

*The door opens*

Sirius: Oh. That is amazing. How did they do that?

Remus: I don't know, it's just- *awkwardly waves at the people passing by* We got it, thank you!

Sirius, picking up Y/n and hugging her tightly: I'm so sorry sweetheart, please forgive us!!

Y/n: ?

YOUR HONOR I LOVE THEM✋😭

yes this is a Modern Family reference because i love that show

WOLFSTARDAUGHTER!READER SERIE:

previous / next

[cuverale]

can we have us as Lee Byung Hun wife?? pretty please🙏😭 (idk if I'm write it's right, srry, I'm not good in english)

ᯓ bliss — lee byung-hun.

note: loved the idea!! enjoy <3

────────── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ──────────

tmz_tv

liked by ynmybaby, byunghunspookie and others

tmz_tv Actor Lee Byung-hun and his wife, Y/N L/N, recently celebrated their wedding anniversary in style, and fans can’t stop gushing over their heartwarming photos. The couple marked the special occasion with a romantic photoshoot, capturing their timeless love and undeniable chemistry. Known for keeping their private life low-key, the duo gave a rare glimpse into their relationship, sparking admiration from fans and media alike. Their elegant yet intimate celebration was a testament to their enduring bond, proving that their love story is truly one for the ages.

view comments

kissmeyn they’re the definition of couple goals !!

iloveoldermen the way he looks at her 😭

ynmybaby how do they manage to look even more stunning with each passing year? absolute perfection!

randomuser he’s too old for her tho

byungswife nobody asked for your opinion, hope this helps!

ynsluvr proof that true love only gets stronger with time. happy anniversary to the most iconic couple!!!!

number001 alexa play that should be me by justin bieber ✋🏻😭

simpforfictionalmen Lee Byung-hun and Y/N L/N are the real-life ‘happily ever after.’ Disney, take notes!

mrandmrslee GOD I LOVE THEM SM !!! 💗

leebyunghunswife can we just talk about how these photos are better than half the wedding shoots i’ve seen? iconic.

yourusername

liked by byunghun0712, from_jjlee and others

yourusername wifey wifey wifey wifeyyy

view comments

byunghun0712 my love ❤️

liked by author

yourfriendsuser i’m the sniper btw

yourusername stop😭

ynmybaby MY PARENTS

delulugirl happy wife happy life

from_jjlee happy anniversary to my favorite couple!

yourusername love youuu!!

kissmeyn you’re glowing mrs.lee 🗣️

byunghunspookie the chemistry is unmatched

dilflover look at my man with his wife

ynswifey look at my girl with her husband 😞

mrandmrslee their love story is like something straight out of a movie. wishing them many more anniversaries to come!!

inhosimp these photos made my day 😭💗

byunghun0712

liked by yourusername, hoooooyeony and others

byunghun0712 Every moment with you feels like a new beginning, and every year, our love grows stronger. Thank you for being my rock, my joy, and my greatest blessing. Here’s to many more years of laughter, love, and unforgettable memories. Happy anniversary, my love.

view comments

yourusername i love you i love you i love you

liked by author

yourusername literally crying rn

byunghun0712 let me cuddle you then

ilovebyunghun SIR ME TOO PLS

hoooooyeony 💘💘

ynspookie may this type of love find me

wifeofinho relationship goals? more like LIFE goals. can I just be their third wheel forever??

leebyunghunfan their love story is so wholesome, i might have to start writing fanfic. don’t judge me anyone!

ynmybaby LMAO SAME

inholuvr girl you better hurry up i wanna read that now

byunghunswifey Lee Byung-hun out here setting the bar way too high for all husbands. noted, sir, very noted.

iloveyn someone check the dictionary—pretty sure their photo is next to ‘soulmates.’

byunghun0712’s story

[lovelybucky1]

fuzzy pink handcuffs

summary - you accidentally call your boyfriend dad in front of bucky and bucky becomes very curious about the nature of your relationship.

pairing - dad!steve rogers x reader, minor bucky barnes x reader

warnings - fauxcest, mentions of bondage, bucky being a lowkey shitty friend at the end

bucky was sitting at the counter of steve's apartment eating breakfast like he does every sunday morning after they get back from their ridiculously long run. he and steve have a chat while you gather your things -purse, wallet, keys- so you can go back to your own apartment to get some fresh clothes.

you and steve technically don't live together, but you spend way more time at his place than you do yours. you only really go to yours to pick up your mail and to store your belongings.

once you're ready, you walk past the pair on the way to the door. "i'll be back soon, dad," you say casually on your way out.

that word, that little three letter word, sucked all the air out of the room. steve froze and silently prayed that bucky didn't take notice, but of course steve isn't that lucky. bucky is looking at him with eyebrows raised comically high on his forehead, waiting for an explanation that steve doesn't want to give.

"steve-"

"bucky."

"y'know-"

"please."

"my ears aren't as good as they used to be, but i could've sworn she just called you dad."

steve doesn't dare to look at his best friend; he keeps a straight face as he stares at the front door. he can feel his cheeks burning, flushing a bright pink like he used to when they were kids. the serum hadn't changed everything about him.

"earth to rogers," bucky says. "i know she's young, but calling you dad is kind of crazy. how old is she, by the way?"

steve tells him your age in a quiet mumble, but bucky's with enhanced senses, he heard him loud and clear.

"really robbin' the cradle there, stevie," bucky says. what a hypocrite.

steve turns his head to look at him, the blush thankfully subsiding a bit. "I'm a hundred and ten, buck. it's not like i can date within my age range," he defends.

"i heard the nursing home down the street has tons of eligible widows," bucky jokes, but then he gets an inquisitive look on his face. "but really, what's up with calling you dad?"

steve doesn't know what to say. he doesn't want to air out all of your private business to his best friend, but what other explanation is there? steve racks his brain, trying to come up with something, anything, but bucky is waiting for a response and he can't stall anymore.

"she likes it," steve says simply, immediately feeling guilty.

"she likes it," bucky repeats. "it's a sex thing?" steve doesn't have to say anything. bucky's known him long enough to be able to read him like a good. "what kind of shit does she have you doing?"

it could be worse. bucky isn't judging, per se. he's certainly curious and desperate to know more about what you two get up to, but he isn't disgusted at the idea. steve supposes this is best-case scenario.

"she doesn't have me do anything." steve looks away. "i like it too," he adds on.

"damn," bucky chuckles. "didn't know you had it in you, rogers."

"you're not... gonna tell her i told you, are you?" steve asks, suddenly worried. he wants to save you the embarrassment he's experiencing now.

"of course not," bucky scoffs. "but i do have questions and you have to answer all of them."

steve sighs and sits down on the stool next to bucky, figuring this conversation would be easier if they weren't directly facing each other. bucky proceeds to rattle off question after question. how did she tell you? what did you say? does she act like a little kid? steve explains the nature of your relationship while bucky listens, his intrigue evident on his face.

"that's fucked up," bucky says, though not judgmentally. he's chuckling like he can't believe his clean-cut best friend and his seemingly innocent girlfriend are so kinky.

“does that make me, like… uncle bucky?”

steve’s face twists in disgust. “definitely not.”

“hey, i was just asking. i don’t have any experience with this kind of stuff,” he says, raising his hands.

their conversation went on for so long that you interrupt them talking about it when you return to steve’s apartment. you have a big bag filled with your clothes for the week slung over your arm, and steve rushes over to take it from you.

“i got it, baby,” he says as he holds it in one hand without any bit of struggle.

“thanks, steve,” you smile at him.

bucky knows that you’d be calling steve something else if he wasn’t sitting right here. now that he knows your little secret, he’ll never be able to forget it. every time he sees you, it’s all he’ll be able to think about. maybe he shouldn’t have pried.

steve heads into the bedroom to put your bag away and leaves you alone with bucky in the kitchen. you're none the wiser to bucky's eyes carefully watching you.

you really don't seem like the type to be into something like that. you're so sweet and fun, and bucky has liked you ever since he met you. you don't scream daddy issues or anything like that. you seem too normal.

"buck," steve says when he returns to the kitchen and catches bucky staring. "you okay?"

"yeah, all good," bucky says, giving a tight-lipped smile.

you draw steve's attention away by asking him to help you put away your clothes. he agrees and leads you back into the bedroom where you shut the door behind you.

your hushed voices and thick walls are no match for bucky's hearing which, at this moment, seems more like a curse than a useful skill.

"i brought over a little surprise," you say, the smile evident in your voice.

"what's that, honey?" bucky can hear the zipper of your bag being opened, followed by a metallic jingling. "look at those," steve says.

"i thought we could use them tonight," you suggest.

bucky tries to figure out what you could be talking about. your words combined with the sound makes him think of handcuffs, and that image is one he can't get out of his head. little miss sunshine and captain america getting down and dirty in the bedroom with a pair of handcuffs.

"pretty please, dad?" you pout, which makes steve chuckle softly. hearing that word is so strange. bucky wonders how long it took for steve to get used to it.

"yeah, sweetheart. whatever you want, you know that." god, steve is so whipped.

bucky then hears a soft, wet noise that is unmistakably the sound of you two kissing. the sound grows in intensity, then suddenly stops. it's followed by a small whine from you, and bucky is trying to imagine what just happened.

based on the sound of your protest, steve must have been the one to break the kiss. maybe he pulled you away by your hair because you were getting too eager, too needy.

nothing else is said, but he can hear the quiet mix of laughter and the sound of drawers opening. after a few more minutes, you and steve return to the kitchen. you look perfectly normal, as pretty and bubbly as always, while steve looks a little uncomfortable.

he avoids meeting bucky's eyes and he has a pink tinge to his cheeks. he must know that bucky was able to hear you through the wall.

bucky clears his throat and stands up from the counter. “i think i’m gonna head out,” he says.

steve gives bucky a hug, pats him on the back and tells him he'll see him soon. then, per usual, you give bucky a hug. he's never thought anything of it before, but now that he has you in his arms, he realizes how much bigger he is compared to you.

your adorable face looking up at him, those big, wide eyes keeping him from looking away. he feels stuck for a moment, caught in your little web that steve must be similarly ensnared in.

"bucky?" you say, making him realize he's been holding onto you for far too long.

"sorry, doll," he apologizes as he lets you go. "see you guys."

on his way to the door, bucky briefly catches steve's eyes and this time, bucky is the one wearing the blush. he shuts the door behind him and doesn't look back, desperate to get away from the cause of his sudden onset madness.

before today, before being exposed to your lifestyle, he never would have considered being someone's dad. daddy is one thing, but dad is entirely different. it's fucked up, sick, twisted, and not at all something bucky would expect such a perfect couple like you and steve to be into. but now he can't get it out of his head. more specifically, he can't get you out of his head.

[yanxidarlings]

been reading x reader fics with the slytherins and whenever they are together/interact as a group my brain just goes but what if extreme yandere! slytherin gang, reader gets sorted into slytherin and whether or not they knew the slytherins before, you best bet they have now been claimed as the slytherins' and only the slytherins'. not even just the boys but pansy as well, a whole goddamn quidditch team worth of yandere's (platonic? some platonic? some romantic? all romantic??) that the reader is now stuck with.

honestly bonus points if the reader is vulnerable in some way; magical malady, obscurus, bad homelife, all the more reason for the slytherins to be so protective and possessive.

i high key get the vibe that pansy would kind of wring all the boys in (girlboss pansy ftw) from mauling each other over the reader, that or she actively encourages it so she can whisk the reader away "boys, amirite?" (male! reader, blinking: ).

The Theo's™ are feral when it comes to the reader, especially Mattheo, but put those two together and you've got WWE: Hogwarts Special.

Draco would 100% treat the reader as a live in servant but also be way too eager to impress them, and value their opinion to a concerning degree

Honestly i'm still trying to properly sus Enzo out but i get the vibe that he's fully under the impression that he's the readers favourite. A lil too friendly and comfortably with 'em, a lil too invested in whether or not they're still a virgin, that type shit.

I have seen Blaise portrayed a few times as closest friends with Pansy so from now on I will be rolling with that it's now yanon so you just know these two judge the other bozo's from their high horses as if they aren't just as weird about the reader.

the group wouldn't be scared to threaten, manipulate or gaslight the reader either, you know all the buzz words "nobody but us likes you" "we're keeping you safe" "but you like it, right?" and so on and so forth.

F.R.I.E.N.D.S: Dysfunctional Edition

vibing with this au rn might expand on it later

[millimeraki]

A Writer & A Painter

(Part 3 and last part - go check out parts 1 & 2 if you haven’t already :) )

[Real Verso / Fem!Reader]

Part 2 ◂ Part 3 ▸ Masterlist for some lore extensions

Word Count: ~ 8k Rating: M (contains descriptions of loss and blood) Author's Note: Thank you again for all the kindness on this fic, I'm so happy to have provided a a bit of fun with it! 🥰 This last part took longer than I had hoped. I thought a lot about the order of the scenes and feel like I need to point out that I chose to tell the story “backwards”, AND IKYK. Well, that and the first draft was way too long, so I had to shorten it. As you may have already gathered, Clea will play a huge part in this last part (she is such a girlbossing queen aah!). Reader stays fem for the sake of a few specific wordings. I hope you like it, don’t get emotional damage from it, and thank you for joining me on this little journey 💕

The comforting sounds of a perfect life. For some, it was the laughter of children; for others, the peaceful chirping of birds outside the window, or perhaps a deliberate, quiet moment before diving into the next adventure. For you, it was the gently played notes of a piano, gradually singing you out of sleep. You kept your eyes closed, letting out a sleepy, contented sound, your way of telling your body that your slumber was drawing to a close. Still, you allowed yourself to linger in the transition, to enjoy the warm rays of the sun from the window tickling your nose, and to listen to the soft notes drifting through the air.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, blinking to adjust to the brightness. The window was open, and a breeze so warm you could feel it brushing the skin of your upper arm, made the tall, sheer curtains sway mesmerizingly. You watched them for a while, knowing that the other side of the bed would be empty if you turned there. What time was it? Judging from how high up in the sky the summer sun already stood, it was too late. You could hear faint voices coming from down below the window. The others must have been awake for quite a while.

You indulged into the cozy sheets a little longer before leaning over the edge of the bed, reaching for your robe on the floor. You quickly got hold of it and pulled it up towards you as you sat up. The silky fabric felt just as cozy on your skin as the duvet had, helping you peel yourself out of bed and shuffle toward the closed double doors, behind which the peaceful melody continued to play.

Careful not to interrupt him, you stepped into the room beyond, careful not to let the train of your robe catch on the doorframe. Maybe it really was time you got yourself a shorter one. He was sitting at the piano with his back to you, coaxing an authentic, self-revealing melody from the instrument, and no less from himself. Verso always managed to enchant you with the way he played. He always said that seeing your reaction had become at least half the joy of playing for him over time.

Tiptoeing close to his slightly swaying shoulders, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. He didn’t even flinch, just kept playing while you buried your nose into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, his aroma still so irresistible to your senses, no matter how often you were near him. Faster than he might’ve done on his own, he played the last few keys, letting the symphony fade gently, and occupied his hands with you instead.

He turned to you, pulling you down onto his lap, drawing a delighted giggle from your lips. His dreamy eyes rested on you, framed by sleep-tousled curls. A soft smile played on his lips as the hand not supporting you ran through your hair. His lips found yours, so deeply that it stole your breath away, and the last traces of your drowsiness evaporated. You held onto the heavy fabric of his robe, leaning into his reassuring, familiar body and smiled against his captivating lips.

“Good morning, mon cœur. Sorry, did I wake you?” Another whisper of a kiss landed on your lips as his fingers gently tickled your neck.

“Mhm,” you returned, rolling your head to the side to give him better access. A soft laugh escaped him, but he complied with your silent request, his touch now exploring a wider stretch of your comfortably tingling skin.

“I can see why people say pets are like their owners,” you heard Verso chuckle. “Soleil just copied it from you. Of course though –” he leaned in to press his lips to your neck, murmuring against your skin, “you’re much more beautiful than she is.”

“Uh oh, don’t let her hear that, you know how jealous she can get,” you said, amused, but distracted by the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“Oh well, since all is already lost, I don’t see how she could get any more jealous from this, then.”

You squealed as he rose with you in his arms. If he didn’t already make you feel like a princess carried on velvet hands every single day, this would certainly be the moment, with the way your robe fluttered behind as Verso carried you back into the bedroom. Both your dressing gowns were already hanging loosely before you even reached the bed, and as he gently laid you down, you merrily loosened the knot tied around his waist.

He let out a pleased hum as your fingertips traced over his taut skin, outlining the contours of his body. As completely intoxicated by his presence as you were, you still wondered, sometimes, how it was possible to never get enough of him. His coarse beard lightly pricked your skin as he spread kisses along your cheek, your neck, then lower, down toward your décolleté. His robe he shrugged off to join with the floor again, he hadn’t really worn it for long. The concept of clothing had all but vanished in the soft blur of your shared days, though today, or rather, already long ago, you’d planned to rejoin the outside world.

That thought, however, drifted far to the back of your mind at the sight of Verso’s magnificent form above you and the delicious tremors your fingers provoked against his skin.

“As much as I like that pretty little nothing on you,” Verso complimented your lace-trimmed, semi-transparent robe, “I like it even better when it comes off.” His large hands with their long fingers slid beneath the fabric and over your bare skin, drawing a welcoming sound from your lips. “I still can’t get over how beautiful you look with that ring on your finger, Madame Dessendre,” he whispered, his voice turning sensual as he slowly opened your robe.

“I sure hope you never will, Monsieur Dessendre,” you quipped, your smile turning into a soft laugh as he let out a playful growl, pulled you even closer, if that were even possible, and muffled your delighted noises with his lips.

“And I sure am glad my room isn’t next to yours,” a voice suddenly interrupted you from beyond the door to the hallway. Verso froze for a few seconds, burying his face against your neck as if debating whether or not to ignore her. But when you nudged him, he let out a nearly inaudible sigh.

“What is it, Clea?” he called, raising his voice. “We’re a bit busy.”

“Verso!” you scolded under your breath, then louder, “Sorry, Clea!”

"I can hear that, unfortunately. Well, then again, I wouldn't be a proper older sister if I didn't disturb you every now and then, now, would I? We are already waiting for you in the garden, hurry up." Without waiting for a reply, Clea could be heard striding away.

Verso huffed out an annoyed breath against your neck. “Do you think she meant ‘hurry up’ as if in hurry up with lovemaking or hurry up and get out of this room?” Without waiting for your reply, the siblings were more alike than either would admit, he resumed exactly where he’d left off.

You almost let yourself be carried away by his soft lips on your already heated skin, but you knew she’d come back. Maybe even with reinforcements. “I think she meant the latter,” you said gently but firmly, pushing him off you with a soft hand.

“I don't understand why.” He didn’t move much, his hands still roaming over your body.

“Versooo,” you chirped, trying your best to squirm away, “we promised we’d spend time with our families today, remember? So they don’t come in here on a search and rescue mission?”

Finally, his hands stopped their relentless trailing. "Was that today? What day is it?"

“Well, from what I gather, it’s Saturday,” you replied with a soft chuckle. You really had lost all sense of time in this room.

Verso let out another annoyed groan. “I regret making that promise.” Still, with visible reluctance, he pushed himself away from you, placing one final kiss on your chest.

“I think Clea does too,” you quipped, slipping out of bed yourself, regretfully, to be honest, in order to freshen up quickly and not keep the rest of the family waiting any longer.

It took the two of you a little while, but you joined the Dessendres in the garden behind the house before your parents arrived. Clea was currently bent over a small hoop, pushing it into the grass with a labored groan and the help of her body weight.

Aline was supervising Clea’s efforts while Renoir examined the mallet he had traded for his walking stick. He seemed to be seriously studying the material, running his fingers over the wood and weighing it in his hand. You couldn’t help but think that he was either absolutely determined to win or genuinely fascinated by the craftsmanship. You hoped it was the latter, as this friendly afternoon activity already included a lot of competitive people, including yourself. 

“Ah, hello, lovebirds,” Clea greeted you as she straightened up, brushed her long hair out of her face, and noticed you. “Finally come out of that nest of yours?”

Renoir and Aline exchanged a rather amused glance at Clea’s comment, whereupon Renoir approached you, or rather Verso, and clapped him on the shoulder brotherly. “It was a very nice suggestion from you two to spend time together today.” Another pat on Verso’s shoulder. “The honeymoon phase after marriage sure is exciting, we know.” The two of them grinned at each other in complete understanding, while Verso still had the decency to study the ground with mild embarrassment after.

“Gross,” Clea remarked flatly. “I, for one, can’t believe you convinced us to play croquet and then had the audacity to make us set it up.” She gestured at the lawn. From what you knew about the game, Clea had set up the hoops and the pole very precisely. Clea’s perfectionism, however toxic that trait could sometimes be, was something you could relate to, something you found particularly endearing about her, and ultimately the thing that the two of you had bonded over. And that was probably why, despite her protest, she threw you a subtle smile.

“Where is Alicia?” you asked, looking around for the teenager.

“Inside, as usual,” Clea answered immediately, her voice slightly sharpened. “Apparently, you couldn’t convince her to tear herself away from her books either.” She sighed with mock dramatics. “In a way, I admire her iron resistance in the face of outside activities.”

“When is your family supposed to arrive, my dear?” Aline asked you in her gentle yet commanding voice, skillfully changing the subject.

“Oh, they should be here any minute now,” you replied, casting a glance toward the garden gate while accepting that Alicia wouldn’t join in. “Shall we play a warm-up round in the meantime?” You walked over to the rack where the croquet mallets were lined up, and took two, handing one to Verso.

“I like how you’re going for an unfair advantage,” Clea smirked as she weighed her own mallet in her hands, “but I’m still going to beat you. I hope your parents can handle defeat.”

“Remember, this is a friendly game between family,” Renoir chimed in, “especially remember this when I win.”

Clea scoffed. “We’ll see about that.”

“Or maybe maman will surprise you all yet,” Verso said softly, pulling his amusedly smiling mother into a side-hug.

“Exactly, you all better watch out. I’ve been known to have a real mean swing,” she chuckled, and this coming from someone who spent more time with her crafts than any other member of the family, made you laugh quietly.

All those friendly niceties quickly revealed themselves to be empty platitudes once the first strike was made. Even though you were all inside people – you the least so, since you enjoyed sitting in the garden and writing in the sun – you were all very eager to prove your athletic prowess. Every trick, maneuver, and distraction was employed – especially by Clea – to score points, knock other balls off course, or even sneakily nudge one away with a swift kick.

Only Verso seemed distracted, holding back overall and not showing the same level of competitiveness as the rest of the family. You occasionally caught him leaning on his mallet, watching you with a blissful smile, as if he didn’t need to win, because he already had you. That notion distracted you quite a bit. You flubbed your third strike as he came up behind you and took advantage of your concentration to slip his arms around your waist unhindered.

“Verso!” you exclaimed, only half annoyed. He didn’t react to your outrage, instead pulling your back against his chest. You felt his smile against your ear as he whispered, “I love you.” Naturally, that softened your mood, and of course, he knew it would.

Then again… “Are you doing this on purpose? Acting all innocent and not trying to win, while distracting me with your nice hair and perfect charm?”

He didn’t let go of you, swaying you gently from side to side, while Clea ignored you both, searching for a good position to strike her ball.

“Is it working?” Verso murmured the question, the smile against your ear turning mischievous.

“It is on purpose!” You opened your mouth in mock outrage and slipped out of his embrace. With a dramatic gesture, you pointed at him. “I will not let you bewitch me and make me lose!” Verso’s laughter made you grin.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Clea commented dryly as she took her shot.

“Wow, thanks,” you replied, rolling your eyes, your grin widening.

“Don’t mention it. Just looking out for my sister-in-law.” Clea swung her mallet over her shoulder and trotted over to her parents. Renoir had an arm draped around Aline’s shoulders, and she leaned against him in a calm stance, the two of them watching your banter with quiet contentment.

You looked at the family before you, this little wonderful world in Paris, happy and peaceful, grateful that you had managed to set things right, to make it good, to make it perfect.

Your name rang out from the garden gate. Finally, your parents had arrived, waving happily as they approached. An even greater blessing that the two families, despite their differences, got along so well, and that after all this time, a hint of peace had settled between your factions, a cautious, fragile bond born from your and Verso’s marriage.

You raised your hand in greeting, just about to run to your parents and embrace them, when they froze mid-step, their faces still lit with joy, but unmoving. Your arm dropped weakly to your side. Something wasn’t right. The rustling of wind in the hedges around you had stopped, the chirping of the birds had fallen silent. Suddenly, the entire scene had been paused.

“What?” You turned around. The Dessendres were frozen too, their cheerful, welcoming expressions still fixed on your approaching parents. All of them – except one.

“Hm,” Clea said. She looked around as if she were seeing her surroundings for the first time, and you instantly knew that she was. Your eyes followed her cautious steps over the still grass as she inspected her family, the croquet set up, your parents frozen mid-walk, people she didn’t even know all that well. 

“This is a tad tacky, even for you,” she said, the faintest amused note in her voice. “But at least you described me well enough. It’s better than what Aline conjured up in her delusions.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, ignoring the uncomfortable knot forming in your stomach and brushing past the question of what she was even doing here.

“I will tell you,” Clea replied. She crossed her arms, her chilling gaze resting on you. “But first, we need to get you out of here.”

You knew what would happen before it did. It should’ve stressed you more, but you’d known all along that it wasn’t real. You hadn’t let it consume you a second time. At the same time, you’d put a lot of work into this creation and had no interest in leaving it, at least not at the moment. But now Clea was forcing you out, for unknown reasons.

She was the first whose outline began to smolder, her expression completely unbothered by the fact that she was burning away like a sheet of paper from the outside in. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a protective stance as the rest of the family and the manor also went up in flames, and you had to look away. Up, at the blackening sky.

Why did it always have to be fire? Fire had swallowed all your dreams, erased your ideals, burned away your trust in your family, and their trust in you. It had taken your beloved from you and left nothing but ashes. And now, it devoured your sanctuary too.

You didn’t think you had any strength left, but somehow, something carried you through this moment. You didn’t scream, you didn’t wail, only silent tears of regret glided wetly down your cheeks and salted your lips. It was unexpected, how easily, how quickly, what you had written could be destroyed in this way.

You exhaled and closed your eyes, waiting for the destruction to end and for yourself to wake up.

A burning manor before you, your despair suddenly as palpable as it was on that day when your clan had chosen ruin over peace. The terrible flames licked out from behind and through the windows, swallowing a life you had been so close to living.

Just like that day, you ran toward the front door, blind to the fact that it was too late, or that there was nothing you could do, that you'd only die yourself. But you were willing. You had been willing then, and you were now. If it weren’t for the invisible barrier that stopped your approach. You pounded against it, despair overtaking you, but no sound escaped your throat, though you tried. You wanted to scream his name, wanted him to hear you and follow your voice to the safety that had been denied him when he had jumped into the flames.

Instead, you heard Monoco and Noco whimpering, Aline wailing on her knees to the sky, Alicia moaning in pain, burned and collapsed on the ground, saw Renoir baring his teeth as he stared at the fire, and Clea – arms crossed, an enraged expression on her face. That look had already told you that night that she took what had happened very personally and swore revenge.

Her expression, however, softened, she shifted again, and looked at you stoically. What was happening here? Was the work resisting being destroyed? Were you losing control, or had you long since lost your mind? You squeezed your eyes shut.

The next image was distorted, not quite sharp, as if the author wasn’t sure whether it had truly happened, or as if what you were seeing was a strange mix of different styles. It happened quickly: Alicia sat at her typewriter, typing a letter in red ink. You couldn’t make out the contents – you had never read it, after all – but you knew what she was doing. They had explained it to you when they had tried to make you understand that their actions had been justified.

“You see, our writings are connected when they’re written in the same blood. So, when we write, say, a letter asking our councils to make peace because there is potential to have it –” he lifted a piece of paper with some random letters on it. “ – and on the other side of the city, another document is being made with the same blood –” he lifted a second sheet, also written in crimson-red ink, “– then only one of them has to catch fire, and…” He brought a burning candle to the edge of one paper, and both caught fire. “Someone who doesn’t know that would probably store this letter in a drawer, before bringing it to the address we gave her.”

You had run, but arrived too late.

Maybe you shouldn’t have encouraged her. You had so enjoyed sitting beside Alicia after the truth about your nature had finally come out at the manor. Alicia had been thrilled to have someone beside her who loved letters just as much as she did.

You had given her a few pointers on how to improve her poem, and the smile on her lips had been so wide that it had warmed your heart.

“You really are talented at this, you know?” you commented on Alicia’s latest work.

She seemed to grow with pride. “Thank you. You know, being here with you is like having the older sister I always wished for.”

“I can’t believe it happened like this.” You paced up and down the conservatory high up in Dessendre manor. Normally, the greenery around you was a source of serenity, but today, you had dragged Verso there to panic in peace, away from others' eyes.

“It’s not how we planned it, but maybe now’s the time to approach the Painters’ Council,” Verso said, arms crossed, thoughtfully following your pacing with his eyes, thankfully not trying to stop you. He knew that when you were anxious, he shouldn’t interrupt you.

“Absolutely not!” you exclaimed, frightened and far too harshly. You’d had a plan, several, in fact, just as Verso had suggested. All of it had become pointless the moment your damned cousin from the countryside heard about what had been going on in Paris. It had been reckless of your parents to inform the family that they would be staying in the city longer than originally planned. Sometimes, people were just too curious for their own good – you would know.

Your frantic pacing came to a halt so suddenly you wondered if the scene was already ending here, as if no more letters had been written on the page. But Verso still moved. Apparently, it was just your fear. He pulled your trembling body close, ran a comforting hand over your head, and pressed his lips to your forehead. You buried your face in the soft fabric of his shirt, breathing him in to ground yourself in his presence. Why were you reliving this horrible moment again?

“You know that the Painters’ Council has more power than the Writers’ Council. They’d have leverage. My maman would have leverage. It’s one of the plans,” Verso explained, stating what you already knew, but feared too much to act on. 

“But it wasn’t the exact plan,” you argued as you stifled tears of distress. You’d intended to tell the Painters’ Council first, to work on a solution. To maybe establish peace.

“Maybe not, but they’ll find out anyway now. Maybe we should explain ourselves while we still can.” His hands squeezed you reassuringly. “Or,” he pushed you back gently to look you in the eyes with serious conviction, “we can switch to Plan D.”

Run away. That was the emergency plan, and Verso was right, it was one of the plans. With everything suddenly spiraling out of control and the threat from the Writers’ Council looming, it might actually be the best solution.

“Do you think our families will really be safe?” you asked.

Verso furrowed his brows in concentration. “If we stay here, war will probably break out over this. Our families will be in more danger, targets to punish us as long as we don’t cooperate with the Writers’ Council.” His hands grew restless themselves, moving up and down your arms. “Of course, I don’t know how the Painters’ Council will react either. My maman might be the head chairwoman, but the others? I don’t know. We might have to be prepared to leave anyway. To be hunted.”

That was why the plan was so dangerous. If something happened to your parents because you had been selfish enough to fall for Verso Dessendre in secret and then run away with him, you would never be able to forgive yourself, and Verso probably wouldn’t forgive himself either. Still, you refused to do the Writers’ Council’s dirty work. What would they do if you stayed within their reach? No, Verso was right.

“Let's do it, then.”

You should’ve known. That your family wouldn’t be satisfied forever with your evasive letters and yet another outlandish reason why you couldn’t return home just yet. There was something that needed fixing in the house, Soleil was feeling comfortable, you still needed more time for your novella, you were spending more time with friends than expected. It was a miracle you’d managed to stall them for several months at all.

And then, on a day that had been so completely ordinary for you, when they suddenly stood in front of the manor, just as Verso and you were returning from a walk, their eyes wide with terror, staring first at the estate, then at you, you knew that the good times were over for good.

You had invited them in, sat down with them and the rest of the family at the dining table, offered tea. Especially your mother’s eyes kept darting back and forth, searching for the danger that never came. Your father, though stern in expression, had at least been a little more open to having a clarifying conversation.

So you had explained what had happened, how your life looked now. Renoir and Aline had shared a bit about themselves, even a little about the Painters’ Council, cautiously and reservedly, unsurprisingly, but enough to put everyone at ease and coax your parents out of their shells.

After a more or less pleasant evening, you had all come to a consensus, much to your surprise, but overwhelming relief, that the matter should be discussed within the families, and that maybe the time had come for peace. Such a union could be an excellent precedent for that. Your parents had gotten along well, and Verso and you had been given real hope.

If it hadn't been for your parents' message to the rest of the family back in the countryside, and a particularly nosy cousin.

“We are not pleased to come to know about your transgressions with the Dessendre family,” the head of the Writers' Council said to you after they found out.

You stood before the semicircular table where the council members sat, all wearing stern expressions, scribbling something on the papers in front of them. Your parents stood to your left, a little apart from the council and you, their faces filled with concern.

You tried to explain yourself: “I didn't plan on it. I’m sorry I broke the rules.” You gestured to reinforce your words. “We had already planned to tell both councils. The Dessendres, they…” You hesitated for a moment, but then forced the words out. “They are wonderful people. We have a completely wrong idea about them.”

“They are Painters,” another member countered. “As nice as they might seem, they are still the ones creating ungodly abominations.” She looked at you as if seriously questioning your sanity.

Arguing with your leaders was the last thing you wanted – hell, you even understood their point. The sentient paintings still unsettled you too, but you didn’t have to understand them, only accept them. There was no reason for conflict. You were all just artists.

“I understand that,” you said, “but…”

The head of the council raised his hand to silence you. His gaze lingered on the fountain pen between his fingers for a moment, then slid over to you, thoughtful, unthreatening, if it weren’t for the gnawing feeling in your gut.

“I think we can all agree,” his voice echoed authoritatively through the room, “that a union like the one between Verso Dessendre and yourself is abnormal and will not be allowed.”

Your stomach dropped. You opened your mouth to protest but were silenced again by his raised hand.

“However,” a weighty pause, “we can use it.” He leaned forward. “Never before have we had such an opportunity to gain intel on one of the most powerful Painter families.” Your mouth opened more with each word, your shock growing. “Girl, tell us everything you know, then go back and find out more. We can destroy them from within, and then maybe, finally, subdue them, destroy their abominations, control their works. With your relationship with them, it’s possible.”

“W-Wait, this is not…,” you began, then faltering. “This is a real chance to make peace, not –”

“There will be no peace between us and them,” you were cut off. “You do as you're told, child, or there will be consequences.” His gaze drifted to your parents, and the fountain pen twitched in his hand. You followed the gesture, and tears welled in your eyes. Plan A disintegrated before you. You had to tell Verso.

It had all started so promisingly. You found yourself back at the Dessendres’ dinner table. That evening was branded into your memory, never to leave your mind again. One of the most beautiful evenings you could have imagined. Well, you couldn’t remember every detail. For example, not the joke Verso had just told, the one that only Renoir had laughed at because no one else really understood it. You rolled your eyes in amusement as the two shared this moment, then lifted your glass of water to your lips.

“Say, dear,” Aline addressed you calmly, composed, from across the table, “when exactly had you planned on informing us that you’re a Writer?”

The water clashed with your sharply drawn breath. You hastily set the glass down on its coaster to avoid damaging it, then started coughing.

“Maman,” Verso’s voice sounded beside you in a reprimanding tone, before he turned to you and patted your bent-over back. The water really hung in there, and it took you far too long to cough it all out and regain your composure, much to Verso’s growing nervousness, which only eased once you finally rose from your coughing fit, cleared your throat, and dabbed your mouth with your napkin.

“Did you tell them?” you asked him, trying to keep your voice as emotionless as possible.

He raised his hands innocently and shook his head.

“It wasn’t hard to guess,” Aline explained, her chin resting on her folded hands. The confused looks on Clea and Alicia’s faces told a different story. “Also, I am the Head of the Painters’ Council, after all, and I wanted to make sure my only son’s match is suitable, what with all the time you’ve been spending with him.”

Awkward. “And that is my cue to leave, I reckon?” you asked cautiously, as you laid your napkin on the table and gestured toward the hallway leading to the front door. You weren’t afraid of the Dessendres, you’d known them long enough to be sure they meant you no harm. But now, with this new knowledge, would they want you in their home any longer? Better to let tempers cool first.

Verso’s hand settled on your arm, holding you back even though you hadn’t even really intended to get up, at least not yet, rather waiting for an answer.

“Well, it is not exactly a very good match, don’t you think?” Aline continued. You couldn’t read from her tone whether she was angry, pleased, or something entirely different.

Verso beside you opened his mouth to say something, but Renoir beat him to it: “Everybody relax. Aline and I talked about this already. We agree that this senseless war has gone on for long enough. Maybe young love is the key to solving it.” He smiled reassuringly in your direction, the expression reminding you of Verso, only with that fatherly touch your own papa had always helped you with in hard times.

You shifted somewhat uncomfortably in your seat. Hearing them talk about a love you had been convinced you’d successfully kept secret gave you the heebie-jeebies. How long had they known about your identity? You really should’ve told them much earlier. Verso took your hand resting on the tabletop, his gaze as confused as yours must have been directed at his parents.

Aline smiled softly. “It is… unfortunate, that the burden of resolving this conflict now falls on our family. But,” her eyes flitted between Verso and you, “we don’t believe that trying to separate you would be a better solution.” She looked around the table, over to her daughters. “Please don’t speak to anyone about this arrangement until we’ve put the proper measures in place.”

Alicia nodded and leaned in toward you. “So what can Writers do with their powers? Can you show us?”

You blinked. Somehow, you had expected more resistance, more pleading from your side, more explanations from Verso’s, maybe even the worst: that you’d be thrown out. But that the Dessendres would actually accept you? You hadn’t dared to hope for that. Especially not given the unspoken and rather unorthodox way in which Verso and you had met and just sort of unofficially become involved with each other. Then again, everything about this situation was unorthodox.

“I, uh –” you tried to find the right words to express your gratitude, “I really didn’t mean to put you all into this unfortunate situation.” You looked over at Verso, who wore a soft, happy smile that tugged the same one from your lips. “But I am grateful that you consider helping.”

“We will do what we can. Just be prepared that it might not work,” Aline cautioned.

“So nobody’s gonna talk about how this is really dangerous?” Clea chimed in.

All eyes turned to her. Her cutlery lay still in both hands, her expression stunned by the conversation in front of her. She clearly wasn’t convinced.

“I mean, I like you and all,” she turned to you, “you’re a better match for Verso than some others whose families have shown interest.” She scoffed, while you threw a quick sideways glance at Verso, who once again raised his free hand, the one not holding yours, in innocent dismissal of Clea’s words. “Daughters with the most bizarre brush techniques,” Clea continued, shaking her head. “But that’s not the point. It is arguably even more bizarre for a Writer to marry a Painter. What if this conflict only gets worse because of it?” Her gaze turned sour as she cast it devastatingly toward her parents.

"Now, Clea, remember that I, too, was not exactly a Painter yet when I married your mother," Renoir replied, completely relaxed.

"Having to learn how to paint and being a Writer are two entirely different things," Clea countered, though she sighed immediately after. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes resting on you, now somewhat softer. "You're lucky I really like you, and I don’t say that about a lot of people. Fine, then. Try to solve this conflict with love," her hands still holding her cutlery performed a gesture ridiculing the situation. "If it doesn’t work out, I’d like to say I won’t pick up the pieces, but I probably will." That was probably all the blessing you could expect from Clea.

"Look at it this way, if it works out, you’ll be relieved of your duties for a while and can go traveling," Renoir offered the one convincing argument that brought a faint smile to Clea’s lips as she looked back down at her plate and took a bite of her dinner.

In that moment, the scene froze once more. This time, Clea, too, remained motionless, her frame caught mid-chew. Your eyes wandered across the family you'd have loved to become a part of, the faces that had so warmly welcomed you into their home, these thoroughly wonderful people whom your recklessness had destroyed. If you hadn’t gone back then, nothing bad would’ve ever happened to them. You sighed. Verso’s hand was still intertwined with yours, his warmth still tangible.

"This is not what I wrote," you said to the approaching figure, hearing their soft steps on the marble floor. The scene had happened just like this, but you hadn’t added it. "Did you paint over my chapters?"

Clea glided into your field of view, holding a single page written in red ink – your blood. She studied the Clea seated at the table. This wasn’t your work anymore. She had recreated the entire scene in paint. In a way, very Writer-like of her, reconstructing a past scene in such detail.

"Just wanted to see if what I’m planning is even possible." She took a strand of painted Clea’s hair between her fingers. "And I was right about what I said. I’m picking up the pieces," her piercing gaze locked on you, "including you.”

You drew in a deep breath. "Why would you pick up my pieces? Why are you showing me this?" You gestured around the scene. Clea had been looking for revenge on those responsible. You were one of the responsible ones. Had she found you just to execute you?

"I wanted you to remember what you owe this family," Clea answered unexpectedly. "We have to talk. Outside of this." She held up the paper in her hand, and now you could see Clea’s work on it as well.

"The pages really fought back," you told her with a nod toward the sheet, "against you burning them." That must have been it. Clea had burned everything, which was why the manuscript had dragged you both through all these painful memories.

"I saw." Clea looked down at the page thoughtfully. "Still managed to destroy it."

You shrugged. "I’m not particularly powerful."

"More powerful than you thought, aren’t you?" Her eyes lifted again. "That’s what I need to talk to you about. I’m going to burn the last page now."

You had to give Clea that much, she at least had enough decency left to prepare you for what was about to happen, as the final scene – one that wasn’t even yours anymore – began to dissolve in flames before your eyes. Still, you didn’t watch as Verso’s hand crumbled inside yours. You only felt it, how the gentle pressure disappeared, leaving behind cold and emptiness before you were swallowed by complete darkness.

A pained sound was the first thing that escaped your lips. You hadn’t planned to return once you’d entered the pages. Now you were back in the real world – a world that had lost all color, all music, all joy – and every part of your body hurt terribly. The temptation to curl up on the wooden floor beneath you hit you like a thunderclap, but Clea’s voice compelled you to open your eyes and squint into the dim, to you, blindingly bright, light.

You could practically feel your bones grinding against your skin as you rolled onto your back with a groan, the movement alone enough to break cold sweat across your forehead. Clea crouched beside you, observing your efforts with an analytical gaze.

“Still thinking it was a good idea to bring me out of this?” you asked, trying to gather enough breath for the few words.

Clea smirked and stood up while you kept fighting for control over your body. “I don’t have anything against you, if that’s what you’re wondering. But I’m not on a rescue mission either. As I said, we need to talk. Things have happened out here that urgently need to be resolved. I need a favor from you.”

“How did you even find me?” You sat up with a strained groan. All around you, you found the remains of your work, small scraps of burnt paper, nothing else left of the life you had entered.

Clea crossed her arms. “It wasn’t easy. Had to call in a whole lot of favors.” She looked around the high-ceilinged studio. Canvases everywhere, a single old sofa with paint stains, buckets of paint scattered across the floor, and you, in the middle of it all. “Kinda ironic of you to rent out an atelier of all places to kill yourself.”

Your trembling hand wiped across your dry lips. “I wasn’t planning on killing myself. I just intended on staying in there.” You gestured toward the scraps around you.

“I know.” Clea followed your gesture with her eyes. “You told me people don’t come out of works written in blood, remember? Didn’t believe it when you told me, of course, but this work really fought against being burned. One page even regenerated. But –” she shrugged, “I thought I’d give it a try anyway, and luckily I got you now.”

With another groan, you heaved yourself onto your knees. “It took me a really long time to write this, you know?” you asked with a dry chuckle.

“That I know, too. You look ghastly. Really, like when we don’t have enough chroma left to color something in.” She examined your exposed left forearm, where a long, healing cut stretched. “You seem to have used a lot of your blood for this.”

“Yeah.” It had taken you weeks to write enough pages to your satisfaction. Weeks in which you’d opened your skin at the exact same spot over and over again to write with your blood, crafting the life you had no intention of leaving again, always knowing it was only make-believe. If you’d bled out in the process, so be it. But then, when you finally tried to manifest the bloody novel, it had just…worked. Even though it had left you extremely weakened. Somehow, you suspected your powers were the very reason Clea had sought you out.

With tremendous effort, you got to your feet, swaying slightly. Now Clea finally was persuaded to support you with one hand. You smiled weakly, but Clea didn’t return the gesture.

“Didn’t expect you to try something like this, manifesting yourself into a false world,” she said, unappreciatively. “Then again, now we know what you’re truly capable of.”

“I know this isn’t a solution, Clea,” you defended yourself. “I just wanted to take myself out of the equation. I’ve brought enough harm to your family. Whatever has happened lately, I’m sure my presence would only make things worse.”

The guilt over everything that had happened, because of you, had consumed you too deeply to face the Dessendres again. So you had run. Not from reality, but from the consequences of your actions.

“Well, that’s one of the reasons I, still, like you. At least your thinking is slightly clearer than Renoir’s or Aline’s.” Her eyes wandered thoughtfully around the room again.

“What about Renoir and Aline?” you asked, surprised. Were they in trouble?

“I’ll explain everything on the way. Roll your sleeve over that unsightly scar and grab your coat. We’ll get you something to eat and drink on the way.”

Confused, and with your body in no state to resist, you let Clea pull you along, out of the atelier in the district inhabited only by Painters, all of them, when you had moved in, in total uproar over the fire at Dessendre Manor.

When Clea, after you picked up some food at the next boulangerie, your steps no longer so wobbly after having eaten something, led you to an entrance down into the catacombs, in silence, you were briefly convinced that she was going to kill you after all.

But then, as you descended, she finally told you everything that had plagued the family since the fire. You knew Verso’s canvas, he had shown it to you, had told you all those thrilling stories he and Clea had experienced inside. Now, terrible grief held Aline and Renoir trapped in that painting, the last piece left of Verso. You listened without asking questions, understood, but could hardly relate to the motivations, especially Aline’s, particularly when Clea told you about the painted family she had added to the canvas.

“You mean, she painted Verso?” you couldn’t hold back the astonished question.

“A weird, morphed version of him,” Clea explained. “It’s ridiculous.”

You fell silent again while Clea finished her tale just as you reached the canvas before which, exactly as she had said, Alicia stood motionless. She had entered it earlier that very day, after which Clea had come to get you. Deep regret flared in your chest when you saw Alicia’s face, burned, disfigured, all because of you. She had trusted the Writers because of you, had written that letter because she liked you so much. Now, she was only a shell of herself. On top of that, convinced you couldn’t help her, you had simply left her behind, as you left the whole family behind.

“I’m so sorry for what happened,” you said in her direction, barely holding back the tears, and earned a scoff from Clea.

“Don’t get sentimental on me. Now, I’m gonna need your help to get all of them out of that canvas so we can tend to the important things going on out here.” She rummaged through her bag.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” you asked, once more fascinated by the swirling, wobbling magic inside the canvas before you.

“Well, when I started looking for you, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. But now we know for sure that you’re capable.” Clea pulled a quill, an inkwell, and a knife from her bag.

You immediately understood what she wanted from you. “Clea,” you began, but she interrupted you: “You owe this family.” She pressed the items into your hands. “Renoir can’t do it alone. Alicia was painted over by Aline. You have to finish the story so that they all leave the canvas at the end. How you do it, I don’t care. You have all the information you need to phrase it in a way no one will get suspicious.” She pointed at the canvas. “I know your works, they’re good. I trust your skills that far.”

Of course, she was right. You had burdened yourself with a guilt you could never repay, not even by helping Clea now with the affair surrounding Verso’s canvas. But could you even do it? “I don’t even know if it’s possible. Verso –” you hesitated at the sound of his name and the memory you were about to recite, “he once told me they feed you this fairytale that we can overwrite your works.”

“Worked the other way around with yours, too, didn’t it?” Clea countered.

She had a point. “Even if it does work this way as well, I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

Clea rolled her eyes. “You said the same about blood sacrifice, and look what you did. Wrote an entire life, so detailed it would’ve bled someone else dry. Now stop arguing and try.”

You sighed and turned to the canvas. The least you owed her was to try. Carefully, you placed the inkwell on the brush shelf, the quill right beside it, rolled up your sleeve and shifted the knife from your left to your right hand, weighing the heavy metal in it.

“Hey,” Clea interrupted as you already placed the blade against your skin, exactly where you had started the long cut before. “If you survive this, you’ll have to choose a side. I will deliver justice for what happened. You could help – or be one of the enemies.”

“Hm,” was all you said, your thoughts already focused on what you were going to do to the painting before you. Yet, you allowed yourself a moment to consider Clea’s words, to give her the space and respect she deserved. It meant something that she didn’t see you as an accomplice of the council, even after everything that had happened, still saw you as her sister-in-law. Over the months, she had accepted you and, in her own way, learned to love you, just as you had learned to love her.

At the same time, Clea was realistic enough to know that you were still part of the Writers. That it was possible that, once you had at least partially repaid your debt through this canvas, you would choose your clan, your family.

“If I don’t survive this, leave my family out of it,” you asked Clea, even though you had no right to make demands. “They’re not to blame for their daughter’s folly.”

You looked at Clea pleadingly. She hesitated for a moment, then simply nodded. 

“One last thing.” She reached out to gently touch your upper arm, a touch so soft you had only ever seen from her when she sculpted, and for a moment, you felt that behind all the tragedy, there was a great deal of affection between you. That was only confirmed with her next words: “Don’t try to write yourself in there. I’ve been inside. I talked to him. He’s not the same. I don’t even know if Aline gave him any memories of you.”

You gave a small smile and nodded. In that short time, she had really come to understand you. The thought had occurred to you – a desperate one, born from this lingering, terrible grief. Aline had painted Verso in there. He would look like your Verso, sound like him, have memories that made him resemble the Verso who had died in the fire, heroic and self-sacrificing, as you had known him, never afraid of the consequences when it came to protecting the people he loved.

But he had always forgotten that his self-sacrifice sometimes put others in danger too. Did this Verso, inside the canvas, share the same character flaw? Or perhaps a completely different one? Did you want to find out? For that one brief moment, you understood the magical pull the painting had on Aline. 

Until the very last moment, you were unsure which path you would take. Would you try to soothe your aching heart with one last look at a false Verso? Would you help Clea in her vendetta? Would you side with your clan? Or would you simply die?

It was too much. You almost wanted to throw the knife aside, run away, back to the written world, where everything happened exactly the way you wanted it to. There was only one way to force the decision.

With a deep breath, you pressed the knife into your arm.

[magic-shop-stories]

Your content has literally made me cry insanely hard several times now, and I mean that as a compliment. As a break from all that bittersweet, would you maybe be up to writing something sweet/funny about bts introducing their s.o to the members?

💌 Reply:

ahhh... THANK YOU so much for the kind words 🥹💜 Sorry this took ages, but I hope this is what you wanted! I accidentally deleted my draft when I was halway through and had to rewrite it all, so I was a bit pissed and ignored it for a while - I'm sorry... Anyway I hope you enjoy reading! — c —💜

BTS Introducing their Significant Other to the Members - HC

Pairings: BTS x reader Rating: G Genre: fluff, comedy, romance Warnings: none

KIM NAMJOON (RM)

SETUP

plans a "low-key intellectual hangout" at his apartment

= poetry books, ambient jazz, charcuterie board

he spent two hours arranging cheese by acidity levels

he’s nervous

you can tell by how often he adjusts his glasses

How He Introduces You

Stage 1 (Formal)

“Everyone, this is [y/n]. They’re a [job] and… uh… they like Murakami?” 

practiced this in the mirror countless times

Stage 2 (Panic)

when Jin raises an eyebrow

he blurts

“They also hate cilantro. Like me.”

as if this is the ultimate compatibility test

MEMBERS’ REACTIONS

Jin

immediately slides you a glass of wine

“Rate his bedroom skills. Scale of 1 to dimples.”

Namjoon drops his knife

Namjoon: “HYUNG. WHAT.”  You: “Solid 8. Loses points for explaining Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason after.” Jin: “Classic Joon-ah.”

Jin high-fives you

Yoongi

lurks by the bookshelf, then deadpans

Yoongi: “You know he cries during Her, right?” Namjoon: “It’s a philosophical response!” You: “He cried at a McDonald’s commercial last week.” Yoongi: “Keep them.” 

= his version of approval

Hobi

drags you to the dance floor

a.k.a. the 3x3 ft space by the speaker

Hobi: “Teach us your signature move!” You: [attempting the sprinkler] Jungkook: “Iconic.” 

he joins in

Namjoon watches fondly, forgetting to be embarrassed

FUNNY MOMENT

Taehyung finds Namjoon’s Notes App open to “Reasons I Love [y/n] (Draft 7)”

reads it aloud

“1. Their laugh sounds like wind chimes. 2. They don’t judge my plant names. 3. They...”

he snatches the phone

Namjoon: "Privacy is a thing, Tae!” You: “Wait, what’s #3?” Jin: “Obviously ‘they tolerate my hyungs.’”

SWEET MOMENT

Namjoon Checks On You

pulls you aside

hands cupping your elbows

“You okay? They’re… a lot.”

his thumb rubs circles on your skin

“They’re perfect. Like you.”

his ears turn red

“I... uh. Galaxy. You’re my... universe. Or something.” 

= poet ruined

AFTERMATH

Jungkook adds you to the “BTS Group Chat” 

nickname “Joon’s Better Half (Literally)”

Jimin texts you later

“He’s so whipped. Welcome to the family.”

Namjoon falls asleep on your shoulder that night

“Told you they’d love you.”

KIM SEOKJIN (JIN)

SETUP

transforms his penthouse into a "Michelin-Star Experience"

= candles everywhere, suspiciously perfect table settings, a 7-course menu

greets you in a silk robe that accidentally flaps open

"Relax, jagiya! They’ll be jealous of how hot we look."

How He Introduces You

Stage 1 (Grand Entrance)

"Members! Meet the reason I’ve upgraded from ramen to truffle oil!" 

winks

spills champagne on Yoongi’s shoes

Stage 2 (Panic)

when Jimin coos "Aww, hyung’s blushing!"

he deflects

"It’s chef’s glow! Also, they beat my Super Mario Kart record. Marry them."

MEMBERS’ REACTIONS

Yoongi

Immediately sniffs the "homemade" bisque

Yoongi: "Tastes like... Yeosu’s Seafood Palace. Three Michelin stars. Interesting." Jin: "I... adapted their recipe!"

he sweats visibly

You: "He burned water twice this week. We ordered in."

Yoongi smirks

slides you his number

"Call me when he starves you."

Hobi demands a "Couple Dance Challenge!"

Jin: "Observe my tango!" You: "That was the sprinkler, babe."

Jungkook films it

caption: "Worldwide Clumsy."

Taehyung pulls you aside mid-salad course

Taehyung: "He owns 37 BTS plushies. Sleeps with an RJ nightlight. Tell no one." Jin: "YAH! Stop seducing my partner with secrets!" 

flings a bread roll

FUNNY MOMENT

Soufflé Incident

Jin’s "signature dessert" collapses

Jin: "NO! MY MASTERPIECE!" Jimin: "It’s a metaphor, hyung! Like... collapsed dreams?" You: "Or just bad baking." Jin: "Fine! Emergency dessert!" 

pulls out a bought cheesecake

SWEET MOMENT

Jin Checks On You

finds you hiding in the kitchen, overwhelmed

"Hey. Worldwide Handsome to the rescue." 

leans against fridge

"They’re idiots, but our idiots. Okay?"

tugs you close, voice uncharacteristically soft

"Yah. You’re my favorite view." 

presses a kiss to your flour-dusted hair

AFTERMATH

Group Chat Add

Jin creates "Jin’s Prettier-Half Protection Squad" 

= members OT7 + you

first message:

Jin: "RULES: No flirting with my partner! No stealing cheesecake! Jungkook stop sending gym selfies!"

Jimin sends a selfie of him and you and Jin’s abandoned soufflé

"New couple photo!"

MIN YOONGI (SUGA)

SETUP

does not do "meet the members" events

but after six months of dating, he finally caves

on his terms

brings you to his studio under the guise of "needing feedback on a track" 

= a lie

it's just the only place he feels in control

How He Introduces You

Stage 1 (Casual Avoidance)

"This is [y/n]. They're... here." 

gestures vaguely

refuses eye contact

Stage 2 (Defensive)

"No, you cannot interrogate them. No, Jin-hyung, they don't want to hear about my trainee-era mullet."

Stage 3 (Unintentional Softness)

when you compliment his equipment

mumbles under his breath

"They know their shit..." 

tiniest smirk on bis lips

this is how the members know it's serious

MEMBERS' REACTIONS

Jin leans against the mixing board

Jin: "So. How exactly did you tolerate this grumpy cat long enough to date him?" Yoongi: "Hyung. Leave."

he is glaring

tho doesn't deny the "grumpy cat" label

You: "I bribed him with coffee. And silence." Jin: "A soulmate."

Hobi immediately challenges you to a "studio dance-off" 

= a.k.a. embarrassing Yoongi

you attempt the "Haegeum" choreo, failing spectacularly

Yoongi: "Yah. Stop." 

he's hiding a smile behind his hand

Jungkook notices the extra headphones Yoongi bought just for you

Jungkook: "Hyung... you never share your studio."

Yoongi: "They're quiet. Unlike some people." 

you catch his pinky brushing yours

FUNNY MOMENT

Jimin finds Yoongi's secret playlist titled "[y/n] Vibes" 

= full of lo-fi and one Taylor Swift song

Jimin: "Oh my god. Yoongi-hyung has feelings." Yoongi: "Delete that. Now." 

too late

screenshot is already in the group chat

You: "I knew you liked 'Cruel Summer'!"

SWEET MOMENT

Yoongi Checks On You

between members' chaos, he tugs you aside

"You good? They're... a lot." 

his thumb traces your wrist

= his version of a lifeline

you whisper "I love them. And you."

he looks away, but his ears are red

AFTERMATH

Taehyung adopts you as his "new muse" 

starts sketching you during meetings

Namjoon texts you later

"He’s never let anyone touch his studio equipment. Ever."

Yoongi "accidentally" leaves his hoodie in your bag

"It’s cold..." 

it’s July

JUNG HOSEOK (J-HOPE)

SETUP

plans a "fun, casual, totally-not-overwhelming" dance studio hangout

room is suspiciously clean

there's a snack bar with heart-shaped rice balls

he's changed outfits three times

insists "It's just chill."

he is bouncing on his toes

How He Introduces You

Stage 1 (Enthusiastic)

"GUYS! This is my favorite person!!" 

lifts your hand like a boxing champ

Stage 2 (Panic)

when you look nervous, he blurts: 

"They can dance! Probably! Watch this..." 

tries to spin you

you stumble

he catches you

 "...Graceful!"

MEMBERS' REACTIONS

Jimin immediately challenges you to another dance-off

Hobi: "Babe, show him your signature move!"

you do

Jin leans in

Jin: "How do you handle his morning energy? Does he sing while making coffee?" You: "He does the cha-cha while toasting bread." Jin: "Ah. A menace." 

Yoongi lurks in the corner

Yoongi: "They seem… quiet." Hobi: "They’re mysterious! And scary good at Mario Kart." Yoongi: "…Keep them."

FUNNY MOMENT

Jungkook: "Do they know about Hobi’s shower concerts?" You: "Oh, I have playlists. Wanna hear his Noraebang version of ‘Dynamite’?" Hobi: "TRAITOR!" 

chases you

you hide behind Tae

SWEET MOMENT

Hobi Checks On You

pulls you aside mid-chaos

hands framing your face

"You good? Too much? I can tone it down." 

you whisper: "I love your chaos."

he grins so wide his cheeks hurt

"Yeah? Good. Because this is your life now."

AFTERMATH

Taehyung adds you to his "Favorite Humans" list

Namjoon texts you: 

"You survived. Welcome to the circus."

Hobi falls asleep that night, head on your lap

murmuring: "Knew they’d adore you."

PARK JIMIN

SETUP

plans a "cozy movie night" at the dorm

complete with fairy lights, a mountain of blankets, every snack known to mankind

he’s bouncing with excitement

texting you all day

“Hyungs are gonna love you! Just be yourself! But maybe don’t mention the time I cried over Toy Story 3.”

How He Introduces You

Stage 1 (Excited Puppy Mode)

“GUYS. THIS IS MY PERSON.” 

literally drags you into the room by the hand

Stage 2 (Possessive Cuddles)

pulls you onto his lap in front of everyone

“Mine. Look at them.” 

Jin coos

Yoongi groans

MEMBERS’ REACTIONS

Jin immediately tests your humor

Jin: “Jiminie sings in the shower. Rate his high notes.” You: “Depends. Is dying whale a note?” Jimin: (gasps) “Betrayal.”

but he’s grinning

Jungkook: “They’re perfect for you.”

Hobi challenges you to a Just Dance duel

you attempt “Butter” 

tripping over the coffee table

Hobi: “10/10 for effort!”

Jimin claps like you won an Oscar

Yoongi raises a brow

Yoongi: “You know he steals hoodies, right?”

you pull up sleeve to reveal Jimin’s stolen BTS tour shirt

Yoongi: “Ah. Another victim.”

he smiles

FUNNY MOMENT

Taehyung finds Jimin’s Notes App open to “Reasons I’m Obsessed”: “1. Their laugh. 2. Their eyes. 3. They let me bite their sandwiches.”

"TAEHYUNG-AH. DELETE THAT.” 

tackles him

“Wait, #3 is accurate though.”

SWEET MOMENT

Jimin Checks On You

between movies, he pulls you into the kitchen

hands framing your face

“You okay? Too much?” 

eyes wide, earnest

“They’re amazing. Like you.”

he melts

“Jagi… I’m so happy.” 

kisses your forehead

Jungkook awws from the doorway

AFTERMATH

Jungkook adds you to the “BTS Chaos Group Chat” as “Jimin’s Favorite Human.”

Taehyung DMs you

“Welcome to the Jimin Protection Squad.” 

sends a selca with Jimin mid-pout

Jimin falls asleep curled around you

KIM TAEHYUNG (V)

SETUP:

Taehyung doesn’t plan introductions

he orchestrates experiences

instead of a casual meet-up, he surprises everyone (including you) with a "Renaissance-Themed Picnic" in a secluded garde

there are velvet blankets, antique teacups...

How He Introduces You

Stage 1 (Dramatic)

wearing a beret and a silk scarf

presents you like a masterpiece

"Members, behold! My muse... the one who laughs at my bad jokes and steals my sweaters."

Stage 2 (Unscripted)

when Jimin coos, Taehyung pulls you into a slow waltz

"They’re also really good at this." 

you are not?

he doesn’t care

MEMBERS’ REACTIONS

Jin raises a champagne flute

Jin: "Finally, someone who appreciates real art, like my face." Taehyung: "Hyung, please." You: "I do appreciate your face, Jin." Jin: "Keep them."

Yoongi eyes the harpist who has been playing

Yoongi:"How much did this cost?" Taehyung: "Art is priceless, hyung." Yoongi: "That’s not an answer." You: "I’ll Venmo you half." Yoongi: "I like them."

Jungkook challenges you to a "flower crown showdown"

Taehyung: "They’re winning." (you are not) Jungkook: "No way! Mine has daisies!" You: "Yours looks like a salad."

Taehyung wears both crowns for the rest of the day

FUNNY MOMENT

Hobi finds Taehyung’s "Love Notes to [y/n]" journal

reads aloud

"Day 87: They sneezed like a kitten today. Perfect."

Taehyung: "Privacy, Hobi-hyung!" 

but he’s grinning

You: "I do sneeze like a kitten." Jimin: "This is the cutest disaster I’ve ever seen."

SWEET MOMENT

Taehyung Checks On You

pulls you aside under a willow tree

"You okay? They’re a lot." 

his fingers lace with yours, squeezing gently

he kisses your knuckles

"You’re stuck with us now."

AFTERMATH

Jimin adds you to the "Protect Taehyung’s Heart" group chat

it’s just pictures of him crying at dramas

Yoongi texts you later

"He’s never been this happy. Don’t break him." 

then sends a "Just kidding. Maybe."

Taehyung falls asleep in your lap

"Told you they’d adore you."

JEON JUNGKOOK

SETUP

plans a "chill gaming night" at his place - which means:

8 consoles hooked up to a TV (as big as possible)

snack mountain that could feed a small army

him nervously reorganizing the controller cords for the 15th time

How He Introduces You

Stage 1 (Excited Puppy)

"Hyungs! This is [y/n]! They're... they're THE BEST!"

proceeds to lift you in a bear hug

Stage 2 (Possessive)

"And they're MINE so NO FLIRTING ESPECIALLY YOU TAEHYUNG!"

Stage 3 (Panic)

when you wave hello, he suddenly realizes: "Wait... do they even LIKE video games?!"

MEMBERS' REACTIONS

Jin immediately challenges you to Mario Kart

Jin: "If you beat me, you get my blessing. If I win... you have to call me 'Worldwide Handsome' for a week." Jungkook: "NO FAIR HYUNG YOU'RE A PRO AT THIS"

you proceed to absolutely demolish Jin

Jin: "Okay I hate you. Welcome to the family."

Yoongi takes one look at how JK keeps touching your shoulder and smirks

Yoongi: "So. How long until you move in?" Jungkook: (spits out his drink) You: "About three weeks ago?" Yoongi: "Knew it." 

then goes back to his phone

Hobi makes you do the "ARMY chant" as an initiation

when you nail it:

"OH MY GOD THEY'RE PERFECT KEEP THEM FOREVER"

FUNNY MOMENT

Taehyung finds Jungkook's secret playlist titled "Songs That Remind Me of [y/n]"

plays it on the Bluetooth speaker

it's just 'Perfect' by Ed Sheeran 17 times

Jungkook turns tomato red and tackles Tae to the ground

You: "Awwwwww" Jungkook: "DON'T 'AWW' THIS IS SERIOUS"

SWEET MOMENT

Jungkook Checks On You

between games, he pulls you into the kitchen under the pretense of getting drinks

cups your face

"You okay? They're not too much?"

you smile

"You're doing so good jagiya. They all love you."

kisses your forehead before anyone can see

finds you teaching Jimin an English slang word

watches from the doorway with heart eyes

Jimin: "Yah! Your boyfriend is making that gross lovestruck face again."

AFTERMATH

you are added to the group chat as "Kookie's Heart Attack"

Jin sends you monthly "How to Deal With Jungkook" guides

Jungkook changes your contact name to "My Win 🏆"

shows it off to EVERYONE

[dilftaroooo]

hii new anon🎀

ex-boyfriend gojo who has an obsession over you and has been following you around. you’ve “moved on” and invite a man to hookup but he just couldn’t make u cum. as soon as the guy leaves gojo comes over and fucks you dumb.

>.<

gojo being on the sidelines before coming in to finish the job is kinda crazy. i can imagine he followed u from the bar you were in before leaning near the door to your apartment. waiting for your hookup to leave.

★tags/tw: stalking + toxicity + bathtub sex + he fucks u with his clothes on while ur bathing + fem!reader w she/her pronouns + nipple play + unprotected sex + unsatisfied sex (with ur hookup) + ummm home invasion but not, really?? + idfk I'm not a judge + gojo kinda comes in unannounced + attempt at proofread bc im sleepy so some shit might look janky.

The small dicked fucker left as soon as he spurted over your abdomen, the runny substance cascades through the crease between the start of your thighs and the edge of your pussy, which, hasn't released a drop of arousal the whole night.

The man you hooked up with had to blow a glob of spit onto your folds before he'd rub a finger on your make-believe clit, 'Yeah, know you like that. You came to the right person, sweet thing'. Why did you even bring him over? He's not even doing this shit properly. You're sure he wouldn't know where your clit laid even if you made a map and pointed it out for him. If you're gonna be cocky at least do it right.

Your hot bath gave you more pleasure since it was the perfect ratio of water to bubbles. The white foam didn't completely submerge you and you took the time to let the liquid stray you from your mind while listening to the sound of bubbles crunching from around.

Apparently, smelling the medicinal aroma of eucalyptus must've blurred the taps of footsteps making their way into your apartment and into your master bathroom.

"There she is. Taking a bath already? Your one-time fling came here, what, not over ten minutes ago and left? I'm sure you had the night of your life." The mockery in the intruder's tone was evident with each word he spoke.

His hair was still the absence of color, resembling the white sheets stacked high at the corner of your room. His skin was pale and somewhat glossy with expensive moisturizer. Aqua spheres were decorated with flecks of adorable baby blue. He's buff, perhaps buffer than the last time you saw him. But most of everything was unchanged.

He squats next to your incredulous as well as vulnerable figure in the ivory porcelain of your bathtub.

"How'd you get in here?" You inquiry.

"It's no good to leave the keys to your apartment under that more than obvious vase next to your front door. It's corny and you can get robbed that way too." He takes a peek at nipples covered by a translucent blanket. The bubbles had disintegrated leaving you exposed from the lack of foam.

You forgot he knows about the key underneath your grandmother's vase. You're the one who told him about it and you silently wish you hadn't.

"Well, congratulations on committing a federal crime. Now leave, Satoru."

"Oh, but darling you trusted me enough to tell me about those keys so I'm doing nothing wrong. Now, enlighten me, did that guy make you come so hard that he had you seeing stars?"

The lukewarm water kisses your pores in an attempt to soothe your beating heart. The scent of your ex was still riddled with that same lustful scent of mint and cinnamon, a cologne that you remember gifting him for the sole reason of how arousing it was paired with taut muscles and blue eyes.

You felt like a needy omega, shaking in the comfort of your den as your eyes water at the sight of your alpha and cowering at the pheromones leaking off his body and into your awaiting nostrils. He smells so fucking good.

"I know you heard me, sugar plum." You won't forget how much he loved to jeer at you. He wanted to hear you admit how much of a bad fuck your hookup was and how he didn't even get you to come. How you wished it was Satoru that took his place and filled your achy cunt til his balls smack your ass.

You adjust your seating when a warm palm engulfs your cheek whole. Not a trace of your skin color reveals itself under Satoru's hand. He's big even when squatting down to your size. The scowl on your face juxtaposes the grin on Satoru's.

"That's none of your business. We're not together anymore. Stop riding my dick."

"Though I do love a good ride, I think it's you who wants to do the riding, sweetheart."

Fingers crawl over your neck, down to the tops of your breasts, and onto your perky nipples. He continues to tease you by drawing circles around them making you tremble with unadulterated desire.

"Am I wrong? You can't even look me in my eyes. Bet you're not even aware of how heavy you're breathing. Poor girl. He didn't give you what you wanted. Say it." It almost sounded commanding if not for the lithe of his voice

"Fuck, hah, fuck you, Satoru..." The man cheeses.

"Right now?"

"Shit, yes."

"Knew you’d come around."

His patience must've ran thin because he didn't even bother taking his clothes off. Only unzipping his flyer to pull out his aroused dick and fleshy balls before joining you in the now cold water.

You were still his pretty princess as you took him in deep into your cavern, the bath water that surrounded you sloshed with every dominant thrust Satoru pounded you with and you did nothing but moan the name of your supposed ex like a vintage record player.

"Was he able to reach that spot that you liked hit, baby?"

"Mm-mm." You muffled.

"And why is that, huh?" His cock has that cute upturn that repeatedly nudges at your slimy walls which encourages your arousal to spill and combine with the bath water. You were better off taking a shower.

"Because he wasn't you." Your words came out in increments as he beats your pussy raw. The sound of almost every syllable slurred like a drunken man's tongue.

"That's it. You got it now, darling. You still missed me, didn’t you?" The fabric of his clothes is now soaked due to his stubbornness but there was no room for complaints when cotton and denim cling to jutting muscles. The pink of his areolas revealed itself under wet clothes. His nipples were as hard as yours. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

[colebabey888]

Study Tips | THE IT GIRL DIARIES

As the academic year begins to wrap up, things can get stressful with extra workload and faster lessons. I've definitely been a victim of this but unfortunately, I can't afford to slack off if I want that degree, so I began implementing a few tips and tricks into my study method that has helped me a lot.

Summarize and Recite Notes

If you’re good at remembering things like speech notes, try “paragraph summarizing” Those who did orals in pre school, high-school and were good at it, will know exactly what I'm talking about. I take a week’s material and shrink it down to a few key paragraphs with main ideas and keywords. Then, read these notes out loud as if you’re practicing for a presentation. This helps me remember faster. On occasion I make q-cards for harder or more learning material but very rarely.

Use AI !

When I come across hard words or ideas, I use AI tools like ChatGPT or Google. Copy your tricky material, paste it into the tool, and ask it to “explain like I’m five” AI turns it into simple, easy language, making it much easier to understand and remember. This can be so helpful when it comes to work that requires having a good understanding of the topic to actually excel in it. Think of AI as your study buddy that already knows everything. For those who struggle to speak up in class or ask for help, AI is the solution. You can ask the dumbest questions ever and not be judged lmao. Progressive learning 101.

My 3 Step Muscle Memorization

Step 1 : Type out a summary of your notes on your laptop or computer, whatever digital device you choose, I prefer a laptop.

Step 2 : Copy and rewrite them by hand on paper

Step 3 : With a blank sheet alongside you, rewrite your summaries onto it without looking at it, so you'll read off your summaries on your previous page but with your other hand, rewrite it on the blank page. I call it "scribble memorizing" Repeat this until you can do it without looking at your summaries. I do this to basically practice muscle memory so my hand knows what to write without me having to think about it first.

mwah! xoxo, colebabey8.88

[jjjjeonww]

kim mingyu - "i miss my lover."

genre - angst :( ~~in which fans find out you and mingyu are dating, so what happens next? inspired by, "Mr Loverman" by Ricky Montgomery.

on a chilly, rain-soaked eve, mingyu found himself compelled to seek out his beloved y/n, desperate for even a fleeting moment in her comforting embrace. The relentless paparazzi had driven them to this clandestine existence, stealing precious time together whenever opportunity allowed.

as he neared your apartment, his heart pounded with a potent mix of anticipation and dread. slipping inside using the spare key you'd entrusted him, he prayed for a few blissful hours lost in your warmth and love. alas, fate had other plans.

an inquisitive neighbor, spotting mingyu's arrival, wasted no time in alerting the media vultures. before dawn, scandalous images of him entering your apartment plastered every gossip rag and social media platform, accompanied by salacious headlines and wild speculation.

you, oblivious to the brewing storm, was jolted from slumber by an urgent call from her manager. the gravity of their predicament crashed down upon you as you grasped the extent of the damage. meanwhile, mingyu too faced the wrath of his own manager, a man aghast and appalled by his actions.

damage control kicked into high gear, with the agency releasing a statement that confirmed their relationship and announced an indefinite hiatus for the couple. fans erupted in outrage, feeling betrayed and deceived, their disappointment and anger palpable. a scant few voiced support, but the overwhelming majority made their displeasure known.

bound and gagged, you and mingyu could only watch in horror as their world unraveled. separated, phones confiscated, and movement restricted, you were left alone with naught but you thoughts, the weight of their choices, and the dire consequences that now confronted them. the love that once brought such joy now felt like a cruel curse, threatening to destroy all they held dear.

as the scandal unfurled, the couple was forced to confront the brutal realities of their situation. the public reaction was vicious, with hate-filled comments and death threats deluging their accounts. you and mingyu were branded traitors, liars, and worse, every move scrutinized and judged.

the agency, in a desperate bid to salvage their image, imposed strict surveillance and monitored the lovebirds' every action, limiting contact between them. you were dragged before the media for grueling interviews and press conferences, forced to defend your relationship and its love or your group's reputation. .... you sat across from mingyu, the dim lighting of the room casting your eyes, usually so full of love and adoration, were now dull and lifeless, reflecting the inner turmoil that consumed you. you stared down at your hands, folded neatly in your lap, unable to meet mingyu's gaze.

the weight of your choices and his, the consequences of your love, pressed down upon them like a physical force. the once joyful and carefree couple now carried the burden of betrayal and deceit, their every move scrutinized and judged by the unforgiving public eye.

"it's not that i don't want to be with you, mingyu," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "but look at what our love has brought us to. we're drowning in this mess, and i... i don't know if I'm strong enough to keep swimming."

.... weeks after the break up, fans were mad, sad, and happy. mad because why would you break up such a joyful and lovely couple? sad because mingyu and you couldn't be together. happy because some fans claimed you were theirs and mingyu was theirs too. those were all opinions though. but a fact is that: mingyu still misses you. so very dearly.

MUSIC: Mr Loverman, Ricky Montgomery. @min9yu_k: i miss my lover, man. Liked by: ylangelegy, gyubakeries, hanniescookie, etc. COMMENTS RESTRICTED BY OWNER.

[innerfare]

Ace’s Type

Summary: A collection of random headcanons describing Ace's type

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Someone who knows what it's like to be a freak, to be cast out from society. (I'm imagining him with a girl from Skypiea with cute little wings, maybe even antennae, who was treated much like a mermaid and hunted for her unusual appearance and was maybe rescued by Ace; might need to write a fic about this.)

Due to a childhood crush on a certain barmaid, low-key has a thing for green-haired women. It isn’t essential, but if a woman has green hair, she possesses a unique ability to turn him into a blushing mess, which he finds annoying considering he so quickly grew accustomed to turning them into blushing messes. Will fight anyone who teases him about his green hair weakness as it’s actually something of a sensitive topic for him. (Even had the slightest crush on Zoro when he met the Straw Hats for the first time, wouldn't have initiated anything with the swordsman but wouldn't have turned him down, either.) 

The most important thing for Ace is freedom, would have to be with someone who values it just as highly as he does (not just for him, but for themselves, too). Could easily be a one girl kind of guy (trust issues, wants something constant, steady, and dependable) but doesn’t want to settle down with that person. Rather, wants that person to run around the world with him. If you want to stay home and wait for him to come back, fine, but he'd prefer you go with him.

Someone who has a way with words. He doesn’t, so he’d think of your ability to put words to thoughts and feelings he’s had his entire life as some form of magic. 

Someone who thinks he hung the moon. He won’t understand why you think that, but your starry-eyed devotion to him will awaken something in him. Someone who giggles at his dumb jokes, who stands in awe and says, “whoah, cool,” when he shows off a new move, who lights up when he enters the room. Someone who thinks it’s cute when he swoops in and steals food off their plate, who will playfully punch his arm, someone who laughs when he throws them over his shoulder. Someone with a youthful energy.

But the youthful energy can't veer into immaturity. He wants and needs someone wise beyond their years, maybe even an old soul, someone who counsels him against acting rashly without nagging him to stop taking risks entirely. Someone who understands he's a risk taker and has measured criticism of that rather than a complete opposition to it.

Someone who understands that he struggles with emotional vulnerability and will meet him where he is. Also, someone who applauds him when he does put himself out there, someone who will never judge him for his feelings or reject his attempts at connecting. Someone who has very high emotional intelligence. 

He secretly, desperately craves the softness he never got in his childhood. Being cradled as he sleeps, having his hair brushed off his forehead, having food prepared and served for him, someone fussing over his little scrapes and cuts, etcetera.

Sweet. Wants someone who smiles/lights up when they see him, who says please and thank you for every little thing. Someone with very good manners and a singsong voice like Makino. Someone tough enough to negotiate for and take up space aboard a pirate ship, but without being callous and cold. Someone soft and warm, who doesn’t let the ugliness of the world get under their skin and is optimistic about the future- not just their own future, but his future, too. 

Someone very observant. He has a lot of trauma and baggage that he never talks about, and he would fall head over heels for someone who can read between the lines. 

That being said, someone on the quieter side. Doesn’t want to be constantly asked if he’s okay, but wants someone who will notice he’s not and find a way to help him through it. 

Finally, someone who gets flustered when he flirts with them. He takes great pride in his ability to make you blush. If you're the type with cheeks that flush pink, even better.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[sungiescheotluv]

am i the asshole? ⭑.ᐟ lee jeno

pairing: lee jeno x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, meet not-so-cute turned cute, (excessive) swearing, crack (if you squint - or read any of my fics really 😭)

summary: things are looking up for you - a promotion at work propels you into a new, more extravagant apartment that has all you need and more. too bad you forget to look down.

notes: hi hi, i'm back with a new fic! it's been really fun to crank out all these fics in such a short amount of time :) i usually spend a stupid amount of hours mulling over word choice and reading too much into things, which i've tried to abandon with this blog and just write whatever inspires me and makes me laugh honestly. i'm not sure if this is funny for you guys, but i enjoyed the care-free time i had writing this and hope you enjoy it the same reading it! wishing you all the best and thank you, THANK YOU for all the love on my fics! it means so so much to me 🥹💗

also, this fic wouldn't exist this prompt list from @corvase so big big thank you to them! much love! <3

If there is one word to describe Jeno, it’s doting. 

Ever since the moment you two met, you’ve been living a life of luxury. Not necessarily in terms of monetary means (except for the very pretty promise ring Jeno got you a few months back), but in more valuable, sentimental places. Someone by your side that treasures the ground you walk on, someone that makes the effort whoever big or small, someone who’s totally and utterly obsessed with you. For so long, you thought you had your head in the clouds, imagining such a love as an abstract, fictional thing. Like it could never materialise beyond the limits of your mind and yet, there it is. Three years ago, the love you’d wished for on many stars, many birthday candles - right in front of you. 

You meet in a rather…unconventional way. Nothing shady or anything, but it’s a bit of a blunder in comparison with the wholesomeness of your relationship. You’d just moved into your new apartment building, your new promotion uplifting you as the future brims bright. You’d seen it in person before getting the keys and your jaw dropped every time. Admittedly, the office assisted with most of the expenses to keep you in close vicinity of the main building, explaining the lavish skyscraper of a building. Marble floors, polished elevators, key-pad locks. To you, someone who didn’t come from much, this was the high life. A merit your family let you know you deserved for all your efforts over the years, whether it was in academic ventures or familial affairs. Either way, as you are driving through the front gate, the security guard tipping his hat at you, you’re beaming with glee - nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, could ruin your day. 

Except this.

For someone so accommodating, you lacked understanding (and patience) for what you, in a flare of anger, called ‘stupidity.’ Unfortunately for you, this is one of those moments. Pulling up to your assigned parking space (underground, might you add), your eyebrows furrow at the sight before you. There’s a car in front of you making an awkward turn, almost as if they don’t know where they’re going. Maybe they’re new like you, you reason. Your understanding drains from there, as the car goes back and forth, turning its wheels and frankly, looking like a hot mess. You try not to be an asshole, because drivers deserve some grace, especially Learners judging by the large ‘L’ on the back of their car, but just as you’re about to offer some help, you squeal.

The learner attempts to manoeuvre out the tight space it’s wedged itself into, having to reverse generously due to the sheer size of the car and in doing so, it nearly rear-ends you. If you hadn’t had the sense to put more distance between the two of you, the front of your car would’ve been mangled. This time, you honk, a slam of the hand on the steering wheel as you yell, “The fuck are you doing!”

The driver offers an apologetic hand out their window, somehow managing to squeeze into the parking spot they’d been trying very hard to get into. As grateful as you are for the stupid ordeal to be over, a pout forms on your lips as you squint at the parking spot the driver’s parked into. 

Your parking spot.

You’re out of your car before your brain registers, the slam of the car door accompanying the echo of your loud voice as you say, “That’s my parking space.” 

The driver hoops out of their car, a large grey hoodie shrouding their face as they step into view. Under the fluorescent lights of the barren car park, the stranger reveals their face, shadows enveloping the sharp edges of his high cheekbones and jawline. You nearly lurch back, because what the hell? Why is the driver you’d nearly had an aneurysm over unbelievably hot? Handsome? Cute?

At this point, you’d throw a whole dictionary full of words to describe how attractive he is, his pink lips folding into an apologetic grin, bowing to you deeply. “Is your car ok? I’m so sorry. It’s my first time driving this big ole thing - it’s the only car I could fit all my belongings in.”

Then, you see it. Items, belongings cluttering the pick-up truck, and if you really look, you’re pretty sure a pillow’s obstructing his sight from his rearview mirror. 

You exhale, a wave of sympathy drowning the fires of your annoyance. “It's fine, thanks. Just a word of advice, you shouldn’t be driving with something blocking your rearview mirror.”

Why did you have to tell him this? If he's a learner, surely he 1) knew this and 2) had someone in the car with him.

Just then, the passenger front seat opens, another figure in an oversized black hoodie coming round the vehicle. Were they-?

“Jeno, you forgot your dog treats in the-” the passenger cuts themselves off at your presence, lowering their hood to reveal another handsome face. What is this? A traveling circus of hotties? How many more were hidden in there? “Oh, hottie alert.”

Instantly no. 

In the face of a man also sculpted by the Gods, with his big brown eyes and irresistible smile, you scowl. Maybe even vomit a little in your mouth because did he just say ‘hottie alert’ about you…in front of you? 

Nevermind you calling him that first.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” the stranger - Jeno, you’re assuming - looks even more embarrassed, shuffling to shield the glaring ogling his friend does. “He’s got no filter. No sense either, now that I think about it.”

“Since when did the samoyed become the owner?” you make out his friend say, in a headlock that he forces himself out of with a bite through Jeno’s sleeve. 

Samoyed? Owner?

The longer you watch their bickering, the more confused and honestly, more annoyed you grow. A promotion and new apartment, what is meant to be an upgrade from your previously cramped but friendly neighbourhood, only to find yourself caught in the middle of a quarrel. With some themes of petplay, too, you weren’t sure.

All you know is that you’ve got a long day ahead of you, and they’re prolonging it by snatching your parking space. 

“Sorry to interrupt but,” their heads turn at the sound of your voice, having the decency to look embarrassed as you continue. “You’re parked in my space. I’m D7. So, in case there’s been a mix-up-”

“Thing is, sweetie,” Jeno’s friend addresses you, the latter hanging his head in shame. “Unfortunately, someone’s parked in our sweet Jeno’s place. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule, and your space was the only one avail-”

A car honk makes you jump, your head on a swivel, mortified to find a car behind yours, luckily trying to exit the underground space.

Now you look like the asshole.

You huff, exhausted already. “I’m gonna let this car through, and we’re going to solve this, alright?” 

They both nod, the enthusiasm that Jeno nods with earning a fond smile from his friend, Jeno’s sleazy partner ruffling his head of long black hair.

In the end, when you’ve circled back, the person parked in Jeno’s space comes out and profusely apologizes for the inconvenience, citing an emergency they had to take care of and since Jeno’s space was free and close to the building, they snagged it. So, you get your parking space back, a small victory. Jeno’s friend, who notices you’re moving in too - Jaemin is his name - offers his help, to which you politely deny, catching the pure apologetic nature in Jeno’s shiny eyes. 

Minor blunder. A small thing in the grand scheme of things, nothing worth losing your mind over.

Except when you’ve managed to heave your first few belongings to your apartment, the door next to yours opens, Jaemin’s bright smile greeting you as he says, “Oh, I’m definitely coming over to yours more often.”

So, yeah. Not that romantic - your first meeting.

Heck, even your second and third meeting isn’t too great because on one exceptional morning where you’re running late, you collide into Jeno on your way out, your possessions and fingernail flying in the air. You’re lucky your nail-bed remains unscathed, but not so lucky the days following that when you’re walking in the open courtyard of your apartment building, out for some fresh air, time to decompress for the mounting work you’re quickly submerging in.

You’ve got your headphones on, noise-cancelling ones you got for Christmas - how nice. What isn’t nice is that you miss the yell behind you, and the strange texture you step onto. Your body freezes, nose twitching from a foul smell that wafts upwards and when you gaze down to your shoe, you find the worst. The absolute worst.

Shit. Huge, putrid clumps of shit.

It’s so shocking that you slip your headphone off down to your neck, deciding between screaming or crying. Your decision is cut off by a familiar voice, yet again so apologetic.

“I forgot her bags upstairs. I didn’t think anyone would…” Jeno cuts himself off, eyebrows pinched together like he may cry. “Can I-can I do anything for you? Wash your shoe? Scream? Disappear into oblivion?”

“All of the above.”

He chuckles, the furry friend he’s accompanied by nudging their wet snout against your hand, smiling at you like there are no thoughts behind their eyes. Your eyes flicker between the dog and Jeno, the white samoyed eerily similar to his owner.

Was this what Jaemin was referring to when you first met?

“Don’t worry about her, she’s harmless,” he comments, the ghost of a grin appearing against his face. “Except when she takes a dump.”

You have to laugh. Otherwise you’ll cry. “Too soon?”

“No, no - I needed that actually,” you sigh after your fit of chuckles. “Today’s been…well, shit.”

“You don’t say,” Jeno muses, handing over the leash his dog is on. “Do you mind?”

You take it without a word, securing his furry friend as he slips off one of his shoes, bending down near the scene of the crime. Without a peep, he cleans around as best as he can, undoing your shoe and casting it aside, slipping his one on your foot.

“Well, I can’t scream because it’s non social hours,” he leads, wrapping your shoe in one of the bags. “And as much as I’d love to disappear into oblivion, I’ve got a shoe to wash.”

He then hesitates, parts his lips like he wants to say something. There’s something adorable about his loss for words, how his gaze is downturned, flicking side to side in indecision. God, all these awful run-ins robbed you of remembering how cute he is. 

“Did you want to come back to mine?” he finally asks, meeting your eyes. “So, we don’t have to drop each other’s shoes off like some fairytale.” 

“It is almost midnight,” your quick wit earns a chuckle from him, eyes moon crescent and you can’t believe your own. How tragically pitiful and handsome he is. “Why not? I’ve got no ball to be at.”

So, instead of spending your night wallowing in the darkness of your apartment, you’re next door, laughing at the failed attempts of Jaemin’s ‘flirting’ Jeno tells you with his samoyed, Ari, cuddled into your side. Once your shoe dries, that’s when you say you’ll leave - what you infamously tell yourself, picking up the bone-dry shoe hours later, belly full of Jeno’s special bowl of noodles and heart full of infatuation for your neighbour. 

Again, not so romantic. But your following run-ins prove to be a turning point, the close relationship you develop unveiling a world of romance you thought were reserved only for movies and books. Somewhere along the line, your elevator talks stretch into rambling dinner dates, rotating between your place and his depending on the meal since Ari once stole a whole steak off your plate once. You take Ari on your nightly walks Jeno accompanies you for, you meet his friends and he meets yours. You make space for each other, carving out time to spend binging the latest season of your favourite dating show or over a bowl of kimchi stew you reward him with for getting the spider out your apartment. 

It’s like your puzzle pieces come together, initially ill-matched but now, the perfect fit for one another. And even if Jaemin jokes you were a bit ‘rough around the edges’ (code for an asshole) when you’d first met, Jeno kisses the denial out of you, making sure you know how much better his (and Ari’s) life is with you in it.