#<- will it even find its way into the tag? who can say LOL anyways gnite! or good morning! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelyhan · 1 year

Note

Hii!! minghao + "oh really?" / "yes, really." / "lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart." from the prompts enemies to lovers? :D

— rush hour ⟢

pairing: minghao x reader

summary: you used to be good friends with the newest dancer in your agency, but your competitiveness gets the better of you when he overtakes your spot as the top performer of the month—for three straight months.

word count: 6.7k words

tags: enemies to lovers, dancer au? unresolved sexual tension, smut

warnings: promiscuous behavior in public, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: this . got really REALLY long :D like long enough to have its own header and everything LOL it probably helps that hao has been clawing his way back into my bias line these days, so the brain rot kinda just spilled out,, anyway, thank you sm for sending this in!! i hope you like it :3c

smut tags: porn with some plot ig, public sex, vaginal fingering, exhibitionism, hao is kinky as fuck, dirty talk, degradation

svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @spk93 - @tommolex

minghao taglist: @zeenanigans - @renjunphile - @pluviophile-xxx

Saying that you hate Xu Minghao is a bit of an overstatement.

After all, you were the one assigned to show him the ropes when he was accepted into the agency. While you’re no professional mentor, you like to think he was able to rely on you during those first few weeks. He’s been in Seoul for a better part of two years, and although his Korean can already pass as a native’s, you knew he still struggled every now and again. It’s a good thing that verbal communication isn’t direly needed in your line of work.

Minghao was an excellent dancer—one of the best you’ve seen with your own eyes. You once took pride in having a budding prodigy like him as an understudy. Whatever steps or routines you’d ask him to try out and make his own, not only will he deliver, but he’ll blow your expectations out of the water while he’s at it, too.

It doesn’t help that he knows his own body well enough to channel each movement with passion that makes him look alluring to everyone who dares to watch any of his performances. Minghao isn’t vain or conceited or anything like that, but he’s completely aware of how attractive he is, and that’s a trait that’s further amplified by his dancing.

You suppose the funniest part about this senior-junior relationship you have with him is how he always asks for your input about his routines. Even if Minghao has long proved that he doesn’t even need a pseudo-mentor like you, he still takes the time to hear out whatever you have to say—eager eyes always shining every time you indulge him with an answer.

Another thing that inevitably brought the two of you closer is the fact that you both take the same train and get off at the same station. Your apartment is in a different neighborhood from his, but you find comfort in the newfound company you’ve been given since Minghao’s arrival. Though he doesn’t talk much outside discussions about work and other dance-related topics, having someone familiar to sit right next to you on the train is more than enough to quell the day’s fatigue.

Your other colleagues sometimes voice out their envious comments jokingly—saying that you’re extremely lucky to have such a hot guy as constant company. Almost always, you respond with a vigorous shake of your head before insisting that things between you and Minghao aren’t at all like that. Besides, you know better than to nurse a romantic relationship between your colleagues. You wouldn’t even let yourself have a crush on any of them.

What they don’t know, however, is that on very rare occasions when your body feels just a little too heated, and your sheets a few threads too thick, it’s Minghao that flits into your mind as your hesitant fingers reach between your thighs.

You touch yourself to the thought of him taking you in one of the dance studios. Specifically, in front of the full-stretch mirrors as he fucks you from behind. You imagine him whispering how good you are for him, how you’re taking his cock so, so well.

Subverting the mere image of the kind man who constantly seeks your validation for his performance has you creaming on your own fingers within minutes, and if you weren’t such a terrible person, you would’ve felt bad for thinking about him in such an obscene light.

Then again, what Minghao doesn’t know won’t kill him.

His first month in the agency comes and goes like the changing seasons. Next thing you know, it’s time for monthly evaluations again.

While others would usually dread these assessments, you looked forward to them. You know that they’re less a measure of talent, and more a measure of hard work. Sure, talent could be one of the main driving factors of getting a high score, but you know better than anyone else that talent is nothing if you don’t work hard enough to cultivate it.

That’s the kind of mindset that always landed you in the top of the rankings for every monthly evaluation.

And it’s the same mindset that puts you immediately beneath Minghao.

The agency is always prompt with the release of the results. They’d post the typewritten scores next to the dancers’ names in the bulletin board at the ground floor cafeteria for everyone to see two days after the monthly evaluation.

It was a bit of a challenge to squeeze past the other dancers to get a good look at this month’s results—the crowd being more chatty than usual. Your closer friends insisted that you’d be number one as usual, and that you didn’t have to check at all.

Part of you wants to believe them, but the unsettling feeling that pools in the pit of your stomach doesn’t let you become complacent. It doesn’t help that everyone around you seems like they’re sneaking glances your way—only to look away when you try to catch their gaze.

When you finally make it to the front of the board, you notice that Minghao is already there—already dressed to kill for today’s sets and routines. His black hair is still damp like he just got out of the shower and rushed straight to work, eyes glued to the bulletin board. You would’ve let your gaze linger a bit longer on his gorgeous face, had it not been for the surprise that awaits you on that single sheet of paper plastered right in front of you.

1. Xu Minghao — 100 points

Your vision tunnels in, white noise ringing in your ears.

You could vaguely make out the characters of your name just below Minghao’s, and just a few points from a perfect score. But you didn’t care about that. All you could focus on was the fact that you’ve been kicked out of a spot that’s been yours for as long as you can remember.

No wonder the others were buzzing amongst themselves, flashing you brief looks before whispering their thoughts on the matter to the nearest willing ear. Not a single soul has ever garnered a hundred fucking points from monthly evaluations. The evaluators cut no corners when it came to assessing their dancers’ level of skill and technique, and seeing how they deigned to give Minghao, a complete newbie, a perfect goddamned score—

“Congratulations, bro!”

“Minghao, you’re a fucking beast! How long did you even practice?”

“That’s so cool. No one’s ever gotten a perfect hundred before.”

“You’ve gotta tell us the secret, please!”

Like a bunch of bees, the collective of dancers start to crowd Minghao—giving him congratulatory gestures and greetings alike. Your understudy simply gazes at them as if in a daze, but ever-so slowly, a smile cracks through his typically stoic demeanor.

“Uh, thank you…?”

He’s whisked away to the cafeteria before you can blink, and you can only watch in shocked desolation as they all usher themselves away from the board.

Away from you.

You don’t miss the way Minghao tries to catch your gaze in the midst of it all, the smile he showcased for everyone to see falling the moment he realized you’re still rooted in place. Yet he doesn’t try to break free from the crowd, nor does he attempt to call your name out loud.

Not that you have any plans on answering if he did.

It’s only after today’s session has concluded that Minghao manages to pull you to the side for a conversation. You’re already halfway out of the building when he catches you, and you can tell that the sheer euphoria of knowing you came out on top is still humming in his veins.

It pisses you off.

“Thank you,” he says simply.

“For what?” You try not to sound too gruff, but the pensiveness in your voice comes out anyway. “Letting you take my spot?”

Minghao’s grin dips into a grimace—mirroring his expression from earlier. “What? I meant to say thank you for showing me the ropes. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have—hey!”

You’re probably being immature. No, you’re definitely being immature. Instead of accepting Minghao’s gratitude like a normal fucking person, you continue brisk-walking to the building’s entrance without letting him finish. Of course, he chases after you, asking if he did anything wrong or if you’re simply in a bad mood or both.

You don’t answer him even when he continues pestering you on the way to the train station, and he doesn’t stop despite the lack of responses from your end. It’s beginning to get on your nerves, too, because he was never this goddamn pushy during all those times you went home together. What’s stopping him from being the quiet companion he’s always been?

“Can you just shut the fuck up, Hao?” you end up snapping at him when you finally get off at your shared station—earning yourself a bunch of questioning looks from nearby commuters. “You don’t have to fucking rub it in anymore than you have. I already know the results, okay?!”

“Rubbing what in?” he asks, exasperated. “I’m just asking you what’s wrong because you don’t normally act this way. Is it so bad for me to worry about my friend?”

“Friend?” you echo mirthlessly. “No fucking friend of mine takes away what belongs to me.”

This time, when you storm off, Minghao doesn’t follow you.

Fortunately, that all happened on a Friday. It takes you the entire weekend after that heated encounter at the train station to realize that maybe you went a little overboard with what you said to Minghao.

As you replay your conversation in your head, you’re filled with a crippling sense of embarrassment. The top spot for monthly evaluations belongs only to the best—you know this better than anyone else. The only reason that the evaluators deemed you as a second placer is because Minghao is that proficient in his dancing.

You’re one of the people who was able to watch him closest. You’ve seen the work he put into practice firsthand. You even called him a prodigy.

So why did you make a fool out of yourself by having a meltdown at the fact that you got beaten by someone who obviously worked harder than you did?

Hard work beats talent any day. But Minghao has both honed to perfection.

If you’re going to reclaim your rightful spot on the top, crying about it is the last thing you should do. You’re going to have to put in double the effort to call yourself worthy.

As expected, Minghao has started to distance himself from you after that spat. You don’t blame him. As much as you wanted to apologize for your behavior that night, you wouldn’t want to remain friends with a sore loser if you were in his shoes.

But as his second month in the agency breezes past, you notice that, not only has he distanced himself, but he’s become somewhat…hostile.

He treats everyone else the same way since he came in—stoically with a few words of affirmation here and there. You, though? It’s almost like he’s forgotten all about the time you were assigned to look after him. There’s always this cockiness lingering in his eyes that grates at your nerves more than you thought it would. He’d throw you haughty glances whenever he catches you flubbing some parts of the choreography from the corner of his eye.

The worst part is that Minghao is more vocal now compared to when he first came in—not seeing any problem with pointing out how you’re starting to slack off during practice.

“How are you expecting yourself to take back the crown when you’re already breathless after such a simple routine?” he gloats when he catches you lingering by the water fountain, lips curved into a smirk.

You glare at him while you take a sip from your water bottle. “Fuck you. I’ve been rehearsing all fucking day. Who wouldn’t be tired?”

“People who rank first in monthly evals,” he says boredly. “Oh, but you wouldn’t know about that, now would you? At least, not anymore.”

You’re so fucking close to tearing his face off with your own fingernails that you’re slightly grateful that Minghao gets called back onto the dancefloor to polish his group’s routine. Minghao’s constitution changes in a flash—that arrogant look he reserves for you alone making way for his usual aloof expression while he makes his way back.

He always looks cool and amicable to others, but when no one’s looking he makes sure you catch the patronizing tilt of his lips whenever he pulls off some high level choreography with zero mistakes. As if to remind you that you’re never going to take back what he stole from you. Not in a million years.

Okay. Maybe you do hate Xu Minghao.

You hate him a fucking lot.

…

Minghao proves that the results he reaped from his first month in the agency are no fluke.

For three consecutive months, you’re forced to stand in front of the cafeteria’s bulletin board with his name plastered on the very top. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought that the evaluators were only editing the month indicated on top of the sheet with how stagnant the results always are.

The agency’s rising star consistently comes out on top with little to no effort, while you’re desperately clawing your way back to glory at second place.

You didn’t know what the fucking deal was. You worked your ass off twenty four-seven. Even if you weren’t in the studio, you made sure to study all sorts of routines and choreographies so your body would remember the movements deep into your bones.

But then you remember that even if hard work beats talent, you can never beat a man who has both at his disposal.

You’re at your wits’ end at this point—so close to giving up on the title you thought would always belong to you. Your evasive behavior did you no favors in maintaining a good reputation among your colleagues either. If you listened to their hushed conversations closely enough, you’d catch them saying how pathetic you’re being. Ostracizing yourself all because you’re insecure that your understudy became your adversary.

The only reason you hate what they’re saying about you behind your back is because all of it is true.

Your usual group of friends doesn’t sit with you at your usual table at the cafeteria anymore, but you don’t really mind that—learning this late into your career that silence can be more beneficial than it seems. But every time you see Minghao laughing at a joke told by one of your colleagues, you can’t help but feel that familiar bite of resentment you’ve come to associate with everything he does.

If only he didn’t overtake you during his first goddamn month here. If only he wasn’t the one assigned to be your understudy. Maybe the blow to your pride wouldn’t have been this bad. Maybe you wouldn’t be licking your wounds in your loneliness.

Maybe you wouldn’t have lost a friend you actually liked having around.

…

With an upcoming dance competition, it’s no surprise that the dancers at your agency often stay behind to polish their performances to perfection. Usually, practices would adjourn hours before the sun even sets, but these days, you find yourself exiting the building no earlier than nine PM.

The excessive practice time has been taking a toll on you—this much you know. Your muscles have been sore for days, and no amount of painkillers and Salonpas can easily cure your affliction right away. So for tonight, you decide to take it easy—packing up once the clock hits six o’clock. The last thing you want is to accidentally pull something you shouldn’t, thus rendering your participation in the competition null and void.

But as you walk towards the train station, you realize that perhaps staying later was a smarter move after all. All around you, commuters of all ages and walks of life brush past you in their haste—the need to arrive home as soon as possible like a cloud on everybody’s heads. The closer you got to the station, the more it dawned on you.

It’s fucking rush hour.

You’ve always avoided going home during this time for two reasons. The first is the influx of commuters that’s literally and figuratively too suffocating to deal with, especially when your physical constitution isn’t in the best shape.

The second is…because you noticed that, ever since your platonic breakup, Minghao has started leaving the studio at this hour. Later than your previous commutes home, but earlier than your new work-yourself-to-the-bone schedule. Sure, he’s still the biggest fucking prick to walk the earth whenever he feels like taunting you during practice, but he doesn’t seem interested in working overtime.

If you’re being completely honest, you’re over the monthly evaluation results. Honest! You’ve just come to accept that nothing is ever set in stone.

Things change all the time. Humans used to believe the earth was flat. The Athenians once thought of Plato’s bullshit as the gospel truth, and—

You dared to assume you’ll be on top of the world forever.

What happened months ago was a reality check, and slowly but surely, you’re relearning the difference between ambitious and obnoxious. It’s a humbling experience that you’re honestly grateful for happening because…if it weren’t for that harsh reminder that there’ll always be someone out there who’s better than you, then you wouldn’t strive to improve at all.

You let out a quaint sigh when you settle into the train. As expected, tonight’s commuters have filled it out to complete capacity, and you wouldn’t have caught the last available space near the doors if you hadn't sprinted like a madman. Though your aching muscles practically scream in complaint, you comfort yourself with the promise of a long soak in your bathtub the moment you get home.

The smooth tone of the announcer’s voice rings from the overhead speakers, telling all passengers to step away from the doors, as the train is about to leave. Not that any of you can help it. You’re all packed like sardines in what’s usually a pretty spacious train car if you came in just an hour earlier or later.

All of a sudden, you find yourself missing those days where you’d sit on the side where you could see the sunset breezing past the windows—listening to the stories of someone you can’t even hold a civilized conversation with anymore. But before that train of thought can progress any further, you shake your head as if the mere gesture alone can dispel your longing.

You try to press yourself back to avoid getting crushed by the automatic doors, muttering a quiet apology to the person behind you since you ended up subsequently squeezing him further into the crowd of cramped passengers. When the doors finally close, you hear him say a quick it’s okay, back at you, you’re forced to whip around in the limited space with your mouth agape.

Right behind you is Xu Minghao, looking just as distressed as you are.

He’s changed out of his usual practice clothes—having exchanged it for an oversized crewneck and sweats. His expensive headphones hang unused around his neck, and you wonder if you wouldn’t have noticed each other if only he was blasting music directly into his ears…

The urge to take back your courteous apology is strong, but you would much rather not give him any more of your energy than you already have. You’d take all his insults and badmouthing head-on in the studio, but it’s been a really long day, and you don’t have enough fire going to extend his hostility inside a crowded train in the middle of rush hour.

“Why’re you out so early?”

You can feel gooseflesh prickle the skin of your shoulders when you feel Minghao’s breath next to your ear. A glare settles between your eyes as you jolt away from him in the limited space that affords you to do so.

“Watch it, asshole. You’re way too close for comfort,” you hiss. “And the time I go home is none of your business.”

Minghao shrugs. “I dunno, you always stay late to practice. Is it so bad to be curious?”

“Yeah, because if it hasn’t occurred to you yet, I actually hate your guts, and I don’t appreciate you talking to me like we’re friends.”

He falls silent for a moment, and in the next moment the train lurches into motion—nearly catching you off balance. You’re quick to brace a hand against the door, but you startle again when you feel a large hand around your arm, touching you in a way that’s meant to steady. You spare Minghao another glance, but there’s less vitriol laced in your gaze and more confusion.

“Are we…” he whispers, gaze shied away from yours as he maintains a steady grip on your arm. Then, he gulps. “Are we not friends anymore?”

Again, you scowl.

Is he being real with you right now?

“Dude, I am completely over the monthly evaluations if you think that’s the reason I’m being the way I am with you,” you hiss. “I was going to apologize after I said all that hurtful stuff in the past. But then you went ahead and started writing your very own villain arc. So, ask yourself: were you even my friend at all, Hao?”

The sound of that nickname making its way past your lips is familiar yet foreign at the same time. During these past few months, you’ve never once called Minghao anything else but asshole, dick, jerk, self-centered punk, and other variations of those words. You don’t want to admit it, but calling him by something that’s close to an endearment makes you feel like there’s cotton sticking to the roof of your mouth.

Minghao doesn’t respond yet again, and you force yourself to face forward—leaning your head against the glass of the door so you wouldn’t have to look back at him anymore. You’re pretty sure the salaryman right next to you has been eavesdropping on your conversation this entire time, but it’s not like he has any other choice given the circumstances.

You let the constant whir of the train engine lull you into a calmer disposition, heartbeat finally equalizing after everything you just shot at Minghao. That’s probably the most you’ve said to him all month, and to say that you’re not the least bit embarrassed about how you admitted wanting to apologize for a past transgression is a blatant lie.

But what’s done is done. You’re just going to have to accept the fact that the man you once thought of as a good friend; the same man who’s now the main antagonist of your life and career, is standing behind you in your rush hour commute. Just twenty minutes more, and he’ll be out of your hair soon.

Much to your delight, Minghao keeps his mouth shut until the train pulls over at the next station. The doors open with a mechanical ding, accompanied by the announcer's voice yet again. You’ve heard the monologue thousands of times, but you don’t quite hear it over the throng of passengers rushing to get off the train.

You make way for them by scooting towards the back of the car, and Minghao does the same. But instead of shuffling away from you the moment there’s more room to move around like you thought he would, he lingers closely to your form.

However, the amount of people that got off on this station is quickly replenished by a new horde of passengers—quickly filling in the space you thought would last for at least a few more stations. Once again, you find yourself slowly being squeezed closer to the corner of the car, but for some reason, Minghao wedges himself between you and the unassuming college boy whose wireless earphones are plugged in as he scrolls through his phone.

When you realize what he’s trying to do, you say, “You don’t have to protect me or anything. I’m fine on my own.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “You obviously didn’t see how you looked like you’re about to get crushed. Just thank me and we’re good.”

A biting retort is already resting on your tongue with how passive-aggressive that response of his sounds like. What the hell is his problem? It’s not like you asked for him to shield you from the other passengers.

And yet…

“Thanks, I guess.”

You watch him visibly stiffen at your words, and you feel your heart slamming into your ribcage the moment you utter them. Did you really just thank the same man who’s been making your life at work a living hell for months?

The train starts to pick up speed again before you can answer that yourself.

You practically glare at the corner you’ve been forced into the entire trip to the next station. Minghao is right behind you, but you can’t be assed to worry about that when you’re chewing your lip out of frustration. Part of you feels relieved that you swallowed your pride and thanked him, but the part that’s been receiving the brunt of his antagonism for the past half year hisses in disagreement.

He’s an asshole. He’s a self-centered prick that uses people as stepping stones. He’s—

“...Sorry.”

You refuse to turn around. You refuse to believe that he’s actually—

“I’m sorry for being a jerk to you,” Minghao murmurs, and you feel his fingers graze your shoulder as if to emphasize the words with the sincerity of his touch. “I just… I didn’t know how to act when you lashed out at me back then. Y-You were my only friend, and I thought you’d be proud that I achieved something after working so hard for an entire month.”

You’re at a loss for words, completely stunned by the honesty in his voice. You’ve only known Minghao for a short while—been on good terms with him for even shorter—but you can always tell whenever he’s lying.

This is not one of those times.

“A…friend of mine told me that I tend to act based on how I’m treated,” he continues. “I know that doesn’t excuse how I’ve been acting around you for so long, but… I guess when I got the hint that you hated me, the only way I could cope with that is to hate you right back. Even if I really didn’t.”

No. This isn't real. You’re dreaming. This is probably a side-effect from all those late hours you’ve spent in the studio—

You let out a soft squeak when you feel him rest his forehead against the back of your head, sighing so deeply, it makes you wonder how long he’s been thinking about apologizing properly. Minghao grips your arms again, not to help maintain your balance, but more to anchor himself onto his own.

“I don’t care if everyone else in the studio looks at me like I’m some sort of god on the dancefloor,” he admits, voice so quiet, you could barely hear him. “The only person I’d want to look at me is you.”

Your breath hitches, and you’re sure he hears it.

“Can we please go back to normal again?” Minghao pleads. “I miss hearing your comments about my dances. I miss going home together.

“I miss you.”

The sincerity in his voice singes through you like a red-hot iron poker. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. All you can focus on is the stuttering breaths Minghao takes from behind you.

If you’ve ever imagined reconciling with him, this certainly isn’t the most optimal venue. But now that he’s bared his defenses, you don’t see any benefit to keeping up your own.

“I’m…sorry and I missed you, too,” you admit somewhat sheepishly, thanking the higher deities up there that he can’t see the way your blood rushes to your cheeks. “But I don’t really know how to—”

Your sentence is cut off mid-way when the train abruptly runs into a bump on the tracks, forcing Minghao’s body against yours when he momentarily loses his footing. It’s an accident, and you wouldn’t have minded since some turbulence in this part of the city isn't rare at all. But that split second where Minghao got thrown against you from the impact made you all too cognizant of how thin the material of both your skirt and his sweatpants are.

“Sorry, sorry,” Minghao sighs before bracing an arm towards one of the walls to your left. The rustle of his clothes gives rise to the scent of his cologne wafting to your nostrils—a fresh, not-too-musky aroma that makes your head spin despite.

Just your luck, the train pitches to the side and you feel Minghao’s groin brush against your ass once again. This time, you’re not strong enough to hold down the soft whimper that tumbles out of your lips, and you don’t even feel ashamed about it.

Suddenly, you remember a time from back then where you’d spend your nights getting off to the same man who’s unknowingly sparking your arousal in the unlikeliest of places. You’ve once fucked yourself to the thought of him, so what’s the use with getting embarrassed now? As long as he doesn’t know, you should be fine.

Except Minghao isn’t deaf, and he definitely picked up on that suggestive little noise you just made.

Experimentally, he lets one of his hands dip lower and lower until his fingertips brush the hem of your skirt. That sinfully short skirt that keeps riding up your thighs every time you do a rather bold move during practice. His eyes are completely trained on you even if you’re still facing the corner, and when he feels you shiver, all the blood in his system rushes down south.

“You’re into this?” Minghao chuckles, bracing his hands on your hips before sliding his growing arousal against the ridge of your ass. “My… I didn’t think mending our friendship again would go this swimmingly. How about I take you out to dinner first?”

“Hao!” you chastise him with a poisonous look, but from the way you subtly rock your hips in time with his movements, Minghao can tell that dinner is the last thing on your mind right now.

He chuckles softly, keeping one hand steady on your hip while the other dips beneath your skirt again. When his fingers immediately press down against the gusset of your underwear, Minghao has to bite down a groan because of the wet patch that’s already accumulated at the center.

“Not only did you ditch your shorts, but you’re already this wet? From a little grinding?” he hisses into your ear. “Needy fucking slut.”

You can’t help the way your pussy clenches at the harsh name he just called you. It’s all so strange. You never once reacted this way whenever he called you a bitch or anything similar, but you suppose when you’ve made amends with a friend you’ve secretly been wanting to fuck since you first laid your eyes on him, there’s no use keeping up any charades.

“Your hatred was all just an act, isn’t it?” he laughs, nudging your underwear to the side so he can get a feel of just how wet you areas you spread your legs to accommodate him. “Do you rile me up on purpose because you can’t deal with the fact that you actually want me?”

"You're delusional," you bite back.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

Another low laugh rumbles in his chest and you swear you don't get wetter with each hum of it as he presses closer to your ear. "Lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart."

You’re about to answer him when the announcer’s voice rings from the speakers yet again, saying that the next station is approximately five minutes away. This promptly rips you out of your lustful haze as you realize you’re very much still in public, where dozens upon dozens of passengers still share the same car with the both of you. Minghao seems to pick up on your split-second realization, but doesn’t seem fazed by the idea of getting caught doing this in the presence of strangers.

“Lots of passengers are going to get off at the next station, but not a lot are going to get on like the last one,” he whispers before plunging two of his fingers into your sopping cunt without warning.

You have to physically cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from gasping out loud. When you turn to look at Minghao again, eyes ablaze with disbelief, he simply flashes you an evil smile.

“If you want to come on my fingers, do it in five minutes, whore.”

The sensation of his long, slender digits curling inside you forces you to brace yourself against your tiny little corner of that train car. Your skin prickles everywhere as Minghao grinds his half-hard cock against your backside, all while he works between your pussy lips as if he’s thought about it dozens of times before.

His digits dip in and out of your entrance like he doesn’t know what he wants to do first. Poke and prod at every inch of sensitive flesh there is or fuck you until you’re a moaning mess for everyone to see. Either way, you’re panting all while Minghao maps the expanse of your pussy with his touch alone, and every time those sinful fingers brush against your clit, you jolt in response.

“Shh,” he coos. “Don’t be too obvious, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want the entire train knowing how much of an impatient fucking slut you are—whoring all over my fingers ‘cause you can’t wait to get off the train.”

You involuntarily clench at his filthy words, begrudgingly unearthing a kink you didn’t even know you had. But at the mere mention of the other passengers, you let your eyes frantically pass over those nearby. You don’t know if they’re really preoccupied on their phones or pretending not to notice the act of indecency that’s happening right beneath their noses. The college boy that almost crushed you earlier is still banging his head to whatever song is playing on his phone, and you take that as a sign to let yourself go.

“Now that won’t do,” Minghao tuts before sliding his fingers back inside you, nudging your thighs even further apart before curling his digits just so. “How can you come in five minutes if you’re so distracted?”

“F-Fuck,” you whine as quietly as you can. “Hao, f-feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he laughs softly and your vision goes black for a moment when you feel his thumb graze your clit with just the right pressure. Just how dextrous can he be? “Then focus on my fingers, sweetheart. If you can’t come before the train arrives at the next station, maybe I’ll just go back to hating you tomorrow after all.”

You nearly choke on a moan when he starts to rub your sensitive nub in varying pressures and speeds, nearly robbing you of your ability to speak. “You’re a f-fucking asshole, you know that?”

“You’re a fucking bitch, but see where that got you now?”

It’s almost like you’re hard-wired to rebut everything he says, and you have all those months of shared antagonism to thank for it. But when Minghao crooks his fingers at a slightly different angle, your already sore legs nearly give out when his fingers hit you deep enough to make stars dance in the seams of your vision.

“Oh?” He sounds so smug, you actually want to hit him. “There it is.”

You can hardly believe it. You can barely find your own g-spot even on good days if you don’t put your back into using your toys right, yet Minghao got it in less than five minutes, inside a train full of passengers, no less?

Your brain has all but fizzled out when the pads of his fingers start to massage that sweet, sweet spot inside of you again—milking your body for all those lovely reactions you’re so willing to give to him. Minghao’s cock is an ever-present weight against your ass, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you, and how badly he wants to feel you come apart on his fingers right here, right now.

“You liked being fingered on the train, sweetheart?” Minghao rasps into your ear, relentless in his movements as tears start to line your lashes. “Like it when you supposedly hate the man that’s doing this to you? That’s made you this fucking wet?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’d let him stick his dick into you right now if he wanted, but you know that Minghao isn’t going to risk that just yet. So instead, you focus on the sensation of those skillful fingers—the same ones you’ve dreamt about a long time ago—coaxing out a high you never thought you’d achieve outside the four corners of your bedroom.

You can think about his stroke game later. Those powerful thighs as he thrusts into you. Not to mention how euphoric it would feel to come around his cock, milking him for that white-hot release until it dribbles down your thighs and he inevitably fucks it all back into you—

The stimulation of Minghao’s dexterous digits coupled with the thrill of being caught are the main players for today’s debauchery, but it’s that particular fantasy that pushes you over the edge.

One moment, you feel like you’re on top of the world again, and the next you can taste blood in your mouth with how hard you bite against your lip to muffle your moans. A gush of slick coats Minghao’s fingers as he helps you ride out of your orgasm, peppering the side of your face with butterfly kisses.

“Pretty little whore, coming in record time,” he chuckles.

You can barely just start taming your breathing when Minghao takes his fingers out of your panties—tugging your skirt down back to semi-decency before prodding those same fingers against your lips. Still dazed from the high he just let you experience, you open your mouth, lathering your tongue against each digit as the tangy taste of you fills your tastebuds.

“Good fucking girl.”

The train eases into the next station, and just as Minghao predicted, the car frees up just enough for you to get comfortably seated by the windows again. He sits right next to you the whole time—hand never straying from yours as he holds it firmly in his. For some reason, that gesture of his flusters you more than the stunt he just pulled five minutes ago.

When you both get off the vehicle, the awkwardness begins to settle in your system. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say to him after all of...that. Is there even a protocol to follow after getting finger-fucked on public transportation?

“Hey.”

You startle when Minghao breathes out while the two of you make your way out of the station. It’s the first time he’s broken the silence since arriving, and your heart pounds in anticipation of what he’s about to say next.

“I really am sorry for all the shit I said to you these past few months,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his head like he’s just as clueless about what to do as you are.

You blink up at him. “Um, yeah. You already told me, Hao.”

“I just figured it was worth repeating.”

“Giving me a mindblowing orgasm is a good enough apology on its own, you know.”

He stops walking for a moment, and you look back at him with brows raised.

“Really now?” he asks, and—there’s that smirk again. That no good smirk. “I don’t think I’ve received a ‘good enough apology’ from you yet, sweetheart.”

One glance at his sweats, and sure enough, the evidence of his own raging arousal is still up for grabs. You feel your pussy tingle at the mere thought of what’s to come once you voice out your agreement, even if your overworked muscles are begging for a break.

Oh, well. Might as well stock up on more painkillers on the way.

⟢ end notes: i really really REALLY went overboard on this one and there isn't even any piv sex in action holy fucking shit LMFAO TT to lovely user yourfavoritefreakyhan, i hope i didn't scare you off with the word count JSHFD I REALLY JUST GOT CARRIED AWAY AHAHS hao has been testing me for DAYS and it manifested in this . anyway, pls don't expect every request from my ask game to turn out this fucking long bc this rly was just a heat of the moment creation AJSDHSJHF

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #the8 smut #minghao smut #seventeen x reader #minghao x reader #lovelyhan #🎲 ask games #yourfavoritefreakyhan #🐇 500 #full length fic 📚#💭 request

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mecachrome · 1 month

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landoscar ao3 stats — 2023 overview

notes

retrieved ~sometime in march 2024

methodology: scraped metadata for every fic in the landoscar tag and...... that's it. however one important constraint is that all temporal data is date updated (not posted), so the above timeline isn't exactly a true representation of fic growth but rather how many fics were last-updated at that time. of course this is still its own reflection of fandom health in a way since dead fandoms don't update old fic but well... it's just not quite the same!

this is just info about general trends, fic content, tags etc... so nothing about kudos/comments or any authors specifically

i decided to focus solely on fics last-updated in 2023 (unless otherwise mentioned) because i wanted a tidy set that i can maybe compare & contrast in a year's time, because i expect a lot of details to look different then (tho as stated above this set isn't exactly static... 🤷‍♀️)

ngl i had to re-scrape a bunch of times because i forgot about it for like 3 weeks and then there were 100 new fics 😭 so if there are some minor discrepancies across the post it's because of that halfskh.

also i wanted to include more global comparisons (aka how 814 stack up against the f1 rpf tag in general), but this is also considerably difficult in some contexts since i can't exactly scrape 31,000+ fics can i... or i didn't even want to entertain the thought of trying to do so!!!

why did i do this? who knows.

anyway here's some viz T__T

ship growth

as evidenced in the opening graph, landoscar have been a very fast-growing ship over the past year — although interestingly enough they didn't really start growing substantially until july / the ~better half~ of the 2023 season. here are two views showing their "growth" (by date updated) alongside two other ships on the fringes of the f1 rpf top 10 (sebchal & galex):

landoscar are very much on-track to surpass them and officially enter the top 10 soon, likely before mid-april ❗️ :o

ship characteristics

onto the ship content — another thing i was mildly curious about was how landoscar differs in certain areas from other f1 ships, or the f1 rpf "global" average you could say. for example, here's a breakdown of rating popularity in their ao3 tag:

seeing as explicit is their most common rating, and that i don't necessarily expect this to be true for all ships/fandoms, i compared these percentages with the general f1 rpf tag to see whether some ratings are more commonly represented in 814 fic than average, which produced interesting results:

do lando ships simply skew more HornyTM in general? is it oscar? a secret third thing??? who knows... actually i think it would be fun to do more analysis in this direction but that can wait for another time!!!

similarly i also wanted to see which ships are the most "public" on ao3, as in have the highest share of fic that isn't user-locked... i will refrain from peppering in my feelings about the 4th wall too heavy-handedly but i was curious to see whether some sort of perhaps... er, generational gap (?) of sorts between ships that are more public vs. not could be identified. however i don't pretend to have any takeaways from this LOL i conclude absolutely nothing. (for ref landoscar is currently 72% public, vs. a global avg of 63%)

note that this graph is current stats, not filtered for 2023

looking at relationship tags, i also wanted to know whether landoscar suffer noticeably from Second-Ship Syndrome, so i tallied the first-tagged ship of every fic to find out. i know this doesn't necessarily mean that it's always the "main" ship but it's a good enough approximation. the results were quite positive!

filtered to top ships with count of >1 only

i then also calculated the number of ships tagged for each fic to discern the profile of multi-shipping in 814 ficdom; i did have to do a little bit of string standardization (all instances of implied / background / hinted collapsed to hinted for simplicity's sake + removal of other redundancies), but otherwise i left everything mostly untouched.

as you can see, landoscar also have a fairly promising amount of OTP: TRUE fic:

by the time you get to the fics with 10+ ships tagged, landoscar are less likely to be the primary ship, which makes sense just on a basic statistical level... this is also a very small sample size though

i also lazily tallied the 10 most common ships that weren't NOR/PIA or NOR & PIA to diff their shares of the 814 tag vs. of the general f1 rpf tag, to see which other pairings are more represented in the 814 tag than on average (because lestappen are the most popular by pure count but this is also true of fandom in general, so it would be a misrepresentation to say that their popularity is out of the ordinary):

maxiel's gap isn't really that surprising since i think that, generationally, in terms of when both pairings were teammates there is quite a gap; with carlando—actually let me tally this again but including all instances of "implied" and "past" as being part of the same ship, since that's how ao3 tag-wrangles as well:

Aha ! obviously as a direct ship there is competition between 814 and other lando or oscar ships, but this difference is somewhat less pronounced once we include all formats. tbh none of this really means anything but i thought i'd add it anyway... (it's also very possible that there are several errors in this, in which case my b 😔)

before we move on to additional tags, there are a few more basic characteristics of 814 fic we can calculate. i realize i never offered an overview of Super Basic Stats, so here are a few:

plus, looking at word counts, here is a distribution of those in 2023-updated fic, which shows that a majority of 814 fics were under the 5k mark:

85% of landoscar fics were under 10k & nearly 97% under 25k

i don't really have any reason to believe that landoscar's wc stats differ significantly from average ? so this is kind of just Data To Have Data, and it most likely reflects normal ao3 trends in general... but i thought i'd include it anyway because i already made it lol. similarly, here are word count distributions but stratified by rating:

& same info but heat map view:

i feel like this is also probably something you'd find across fandom in general — that gen fic is likely to have a higher share of under 1k works, since Building Up to sexual content often takes... Literal & Metaphorical Foreplay ! and the longer a fic is the more opportunities an author has to include a sex scene or other explicit content (ofc, not necessarily just porn but also graphic violence & so on). but i thought this was fun to visualize haha

additional tags & aus?

back in my old f1 rpf stats post, i made a table comparing fluff/angst "ratios" (not exactly a direct ratio because of how tag wrangling works, but an approximation) of the most popular f1 ships, and now that landoscar are somewhat popular i thought i'd first do an update:

also current data, not 2023 to make things easier

just like before, simi are one of the most fluffy ships and brocedes are by far the most angsty, but it's interesting to see 814 also extremely high up on the charts, with far and away the lowest % of angst. will be exciting 2 see how that holds or changes as the seasons progress !

finally, i also wanted to do a bit of au/additional tag analysis because you can kind of see this when you use additional filters on ao3 but the previews are limited and get bogged down by the prevalence of *checks notes* Fluff, Angst, PWP, Anal Sex and what have you. which are nice stats to have and all but what of the rest !

disclaimer that the set for these tables is a biiiit outdated because by the time i'd wrangled everything i was like I Am Not Changing It Again. unfortunately i clean my data with shoddy queries and regex functions in googsheetz...

there were 48 tags with at least 10 instances from 2023 fics, shown below, with ones that are (some ~vaguely) nsfw in red just to kind of get a rough sense of which tags get commonly used in M/E fic:

getting a bit too much into small sample size / specific fic territory so if you're an author i sincerely apologize for that... do not mean 2 put u on blast... TT__TT but i also tried to tally the most popular aus people write for 814, which is a bit dubious because people tag in really different ways and i had to accommodate for a lot of string formats but ... it's close enough ! (?)

i feel like this is very little interesting info but idk what else to add so i will stop here for now... well!!! if you made it to the end i hope u learned something or even vaguely enjoyed reading T__T and most of all thank you :')

#*m #landoscar #in a sense 😔#tfw don't have a tableau license so i live life on the edge across multiple unsaved desktop public files......#if ur interested in anything specific pls lmk before my computer inevitably Dies and deletes everything...!#this is so useless nsdflshdfh. Anyway

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minustwofingers · 11 months

Text

exoplanet p.6 (ellie’s journals)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: a significantly different writing voice! this is going to be a very different vibe from the other chapters since i had to write it as i imagine ellie would (which is a lot different than i do). slight nsfw content (mdni), language, mentions of violence/gore, angst, ellie’s pov is actually really depressing

a/n: soooo i know it’s been almost 3 months...and i’m really sorry about that! a lot of stuff happened in my life and i kind of fell off writing for quite some time. but i finish series, so i’m going to get through exoplanet in its entirety so i can finally give you all closure. some preliminary notes: know that these are modeled after how i imagine ellie would journal if she did journal this much. canonically she didn’t do that much writing that follows a narrative like it does here. i think it’s honestly a little ooc for her to be emotionally responsible enough to talk out her feelings, but given that there’s no other way to tell her side of the story (save for legit rewriting it from her perspective, which would take another 6 months or so and be horrifically repetitive), i decided to just suck it up and write it. i’m sorry if it sounds awkward, since she definitely doesn’t write in a voice that i have much experience with. the next chapter will be better!

word count: 5.5k

tags~ @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28

(i haven’t updated this yet bc my tags aren’t working)

a special special SPECIAL thanks to both @roarriita and @elliesflower for being soooo sexy and betaing for me. you both are so wonderful and helped me sm in feeling good enough to post this :)

without further ado, enjoy ellie’s journals!

January 20th, 2038

Today’s been…fucking…

I don’t even know where to start. I don’t get why this sort of shit always happens to me. First it was being bit and somehow surviving. Then it was getting carted off across the country. And now some girl basically falls out of the sky, claiming that she comes from some sort of paradise up North?

I’ll spare the immediate details. I don’t think I’ll forget the basic stuff—her name, the way she looked clutching at her knees in the clearing and shaking. That stupid shirt she had on and that expensive scarf.

I still want to believe that she’s just a liar who happened to get lucky with running into us, but even without Joel vouching for her story, I don’t think I’d ever be able to buy that she’d been living in the same world as us. I’ve never met someone without scars before. I didn’t know that there were people out there who didn’t have marked up arms and faces. Or people without calluses. Did you know that hands can be totally smooth?

Anyway. Tommy says that he’ll try and reach out across the contacts he has. Joel has her living right down the hall from me in the meantime, so now I have to share my bathroom. Hopefully the Terranovan authorities are good at finding people. She takes so fucking long to shower. It’s a wonder the whole compound still has hot water.

[One page of drawings follows: Dina smiling in the snow on her horse, Joel playing his guitar]

January 25th, 2038

Maria says that they’re thinking about breeding Shimmer soon. I know she told me because that means I’ll need to ride another horse for a little until she recovers and I know that we need another generation of foals, but it still made me cringe for Shimmer’s sake. She’s too free-spirited to be a mother. She doesn’t deserve that.

I went stargazing last night. It was pretty. Lots of shooting stars. I ran into the girl while I was coming back from the meadow. She gave me a weird look, and I could tell she wanted to ask me where I’d been but kept her mouth shut. Sometimes I regret dropping off that bag of clothes. I really fucking liked that gray sweatshirt, actually. I’m not even joking. It looks weird to see it on someone else.

[Half a page of drawing follows of the night sky with labeled constellations]

February 5th, 2038

Long time no see. I’ve been pretty busy with patrols and helping Maria with securing the walls. Joel made me try some of that coffee that our new house guest brought. It was just as awful as I remembered, but he seemed happy. So one point for the space girl. I guess.

Dina’s been hanging around more. She just broke up with Jessie (yes, again). She swears that it’s for good this time, but I’m not so sure. She also talks a lot about Y/N and what little detail she’s gathered about her life back in Terranova. I thought teasing her by asking her if she had a crush on Y/N would make her talk less about it, but it just made things worse.

I miss when things were normal.

[One page of drawings follows: one of Shimmer in cross-ties, another of a girl’s face, half-finished with the face scribbled out]

February 12th, 2038

Today I’m sad. I’m in bed with that book about astronomy that Joel nabbed for me on patrol a while ago and there’s a section I wanted to read that’s completely waterlogged. It shouldn't be a surprise. It’s decades old and has survived through an apocalypse. Normally things like this don’t bug me much because I’m so used to it. Half of my Savage Starlight collection is damaged. I don’t think I’ll ever find the first book to actually complete the series, and that’s okay, because I’ve never expected anything more. But now that I know that there’s a world out there where I’d never have problems like this, stuff like this hurts. It’s so stupid. I’m lucky to be alive. Compared to what’s left of the world population, I live a much cushier life than most. But for the first time in a while, I’m wishing for more.

“Greed is the enemy of happiness” is what Maria would say if I ever said this kind of shit out loud. But is it really? Or is it just realizing what life can be?

[Half a page of a drawing of the solar system, with each planet labeled]

February 22nd, 2038

Maria let me pick the sire for Shimmer’s foal. It felt kind of gross, to be honest. I asked Maria if there was any way for Shimmer to choose and I was only sort of joking, but she just laughed anyway and patted my back. I won’t have to worry about finding a new horse for another two seasons or so, she told me. It’ll be weird not having her for a little.

She also told me that there was still no word from anyone who knew anything about Terranova. She said this to me in this placating voice, like she thought that I was going to punch a hole in the wall or something after hearing it. That seems to be common when it comes to people talking about Y/N and me. I don’t know why so many people think I don’t like her staying with us.

I don’t, by the way. Let me be clear. But I mostly feel indifferent about her now. She doesn’t bother me as much anymore, not since she started getting out of the house. I think she might be helping in the gardens, but I’ve never actually asked. We don’t talk a whole ton. I don’t think she likes me all that much.

[A drawing of Shimmer’s head poking over her stall door that takes up one page]

March 2nd, 2038

Today was finally our first nice day of the year. I would’ve enjoyed it more if the bird that lives in the tree outside my window hadn’t blown me out of bed at 4 in the fucking morning. I’m exhausted now. It’s been a long day. Joel says I need to take Y/N out on patrol soon. Why, I have no idea. Maybe he just wants me to actually befriend her or something, and I do nothing but patrols now. He can’t possibly expect her to be a good patrol partner.

Thankfully, I checked the logs when I came back. The route he wants me to cover with her has been the quietest all season. I doubt we’ll run into anything. If we do, I’ll probably be able to handle it. Hopefully.

[Half a page of doodles, mostly of nature and wildlife with the exception of a half-finished doodle of an arm clad in a fabric that drapes like silk and a hand with polished nails]

March 3rd, 2038

Many surprising things were learned today. I can’t believe it’s illegal to be gay in Terranova. Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just—out of all the things they could be bothered by, it’s that? Really?

March 12th, 2038

I haven’t been good at journaling recently. I don’t really want to talk about why. You know why.

[Six pages of drawings, with many unfinished doodles of Y/N—including but not limited to her on her horse, her reading on the couch, and one with her sitting in what is a very loose interpretation of a classroom, taking notes]

March 13th, 2038

I will feel more normal tomorrow. Hopefully.

[Two pages of drawings, all of Y/N. One is her bent over a book, the other is her smiling up at you]

March 14th, 2038

I did something really stupid. I think I should probably just document this here so I don’t accidentally drunkenly spill it all out to Dina at the next bonfire. This is so embarrassing. I don’t get why I feel this way. It’s so stupid, you know? To feel anything towards someone who’s so…I don’t know. Different.

She gives me the weirdest looks sometimes. I can’t tell what they mean. It feels like she’s judging me. And why wouldn’t she be? I bet all the girls she spends her time around back home are just like her—perfect, orderly, pretty, proper. The day before I took her patrolling she gawked at the shorts I was wearing. It was borderline offensive. Actually, fuck that. It wasn’t borderline. It was offensive. You don’t just stare at people like that. She should know that.

Anyway, I invited her over to my room last night. Normal, right? Because we’ve been doing that a little since I took her on patrol, by the way. I’m not sure if I mentioned that before. But this time I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m…I don’t know. Creepy? Strange? Scary? She told me that she thought I was intimidating. And then I called her “untouched”, like how some old-timer devout Christian wackjob or whatever would describe virginity. It was so fucking weird of me. I don’t know what got into me, but she kept doing this thing where she kicked my foot with hers or touched my knee and it just threw me off. It took me forever to fall asleep last night—I kept replaying what I’d said to her, especially how I’d told her that she wouldn’t have made it if she were me like I was some sort of hardcore survivalist. I think I embarrassed her. I’m never doing anything like this again. I’m going to be dead sober every time I see her from now on.

I’ll stop talking about that. Y/N did come back after I’d made a fool of myself and showed me her collection of movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad. I haven’t watched any movies since I was with Cat. When we first started dating, I’d invite her over and she’d sit right where Y/N did last night. I’m trying to not think of the implications, because it’s space girl, and she’s going home sometime soon.

[Three pages of drawings follow—some nature drawings of ferns and moths, others of Y/N with wet hair, her knees tucked up to her chin like she’d been in Ellie’s bed that night]

March 19th, 2038

It’s the Spring Equinox. That’s the first thing Y/N told me this morning when she saw me in the kitchen this morning. She gave me a mini lecture on what that meant for the planet’s axis tilt and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I already knew, since she seemed really excited to tell me.

I made a horrible discovery yesterday, by the way. Maria came up to me and told me that Tommy had decided to reach out to some of his other buddies up North to see if they had any connections to Terranova, and for the first time, I felt myself hoping that it wouldn’t work.

It’s awful. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Even in Jackson, where things are comparatively much better than the rest of the world, there’s risk. Just this winter, one family had to be kicked out when they were found hiding an infected son. No one here is completely safe, just safer. I shouldn’t be selfish. Y/N needs to go where she’s meant to be, where there’s no chance of infection or invasion. I’ll be fine. I just need to get over whatever this is.

Speaking of her, I need to go get her to tell her that we’re heading out on patrol in just a few minutes. Fingers crossed she doesn’t accidentally shoot me, but Joel swore up and down that she knows how to handle a gun now. Sure. Haha.

I’m back. It’s the middle of the night and she only just left my room. I don’t know how much detail I need to go into—chances are I won’t forget this. But for bookkeeping purposes: patrol did not go so hot. I had to give her stitches without any local anesthesia. I’ve never given stitches to anyone nearly in my lap before. I was really nervous, too. I don’t think I’ve ever had to focus so much on keeping my hands steady when it came to stitching someone up before, not even with Joel.

I’m starting to think that maybe I was wrong about thinking that she didn’t like me. I still can’t tell exactly what she thinks of me, and I know that it’s a really bad fucking idea to be entertaining thoughts like these, but tonight she did something that made me reconsider. She got under the covers with me, and instead of moving away to keep us from touching, she rested her head next to mine on the pillow.

I hope she couldn’t hear how much my heart was racing. People can’t hear that kind of stuff, right? Even if they’re close?

I’m being ridiculous. There’s no way she—No. She doesn’t see me like that.

March 21st, 2038

She rested her head on my shoulder today. I don’t know what to think of it. If she was normal and grew up like the rest of us did, I would know exactly what to think. But she’s not normal, and it’s not fair of me to treat her like she is. Maybe this is, like, a culturally acceptable thing back from where she grew up. Maybe rich people just cuddle each other all the time. I wouldn’t fucking know, and unfortunately no one in this godforsaken town can help, because there’s a distinct lack of what Maria calls the “bourgeoisie”. They’re all either dead or back where Y/N grew up, doing whatever rich snobs do.

Even if it is normal for her, I feel like I can’t stop analyzing everything she does. She seems more nervous around me than she does anyone else, but she lingers like she can’t help herself. I’ve noticed that she stumbles over her words and touches me much more than is really necessary. Or at least I think she does—maybe I’m just imagining things.

But even if it means what I think it does, I can’t let myself think like this. It’s not fair to her. No one deserves to live here if they have the choice. At least the people out here know how to handle it. She doesn’t, and I don’t want her to turn into the type of person who does.

When I stitched her up and teased her about being weak and sensitive, I think she thought I was insulting her. I try not to think about it, but if I let myself wallow too much, I’ll wonder what kind of person I’d be if I wasn’t so jaded. Maybe I’d draw more, or read more, or write more. Maybe I’d be an easier person to love. I didn’t get to choose how I turned out. It just happened to me.

So if she has the choice, I’m going to do everything I can to help her make the right one. I don’t want her to be like this.

March 29th, 2038

I had a dream about Riley last night. I haven’t had one of those in years, not since I was traveling with Joel. We were back in the mall, and Riley had just turned the lights on as a surprise. I had this feeling then, like I was being given a second chance. That I could set things straight and do what was right. I woke up before I could insist that we leave.

[A drawing takes up half of the next page. It’s a crude depiction of the mall Riley turned in.]

April 4th, 2038

It’s the middle of the night again. I can’t sleep. I’m so disappointed with myself about what I did tonight with Y/N. At the time, it seemed like a really good idea. She likes me back, apparently. I was right about everything that I wrote about earlier, I guess. But it certainly doesn’t feel like I thought it would.

It’s not like there’s no part of me that isn’t thrilled that she feels the same way. That’s why I gave in and slept with her. But even when she told me how she felt, even before I completely lost my self-control, something heavy was already hanging over me. Regret, maybe. Or guilt. I don’t know. What I do know is that this can’t last. I can’t make this good for her like I want to. She needs to go back, and she needs to be able to feel like she can make that choice without feeling like she’s leaving anything good behind.

I’m not a spiritual person. but even so, I can’t help but feel like that dream of Riley was a sign. This is my second chance. I’m not going to fuck it up this time. I’ve already been an accomplice of so much suffering. Y/N is going home, and I’ll never see her again when she does. That’s that.

It took all I had left in me in the end to kick her out. She looked so hurt, and the fact that she tried to hide it made it even worse. I wish I could tell her why this can’t work, but I don’t think she’d understand.

[A drawing of Y/N kissing Ellie’s palm follows, her hair slightly mussed]

April 6th, 2038

I need to stop making rash decisions like knocking on her door late at night and asking her to come over. I really don’t know what’s gotten into me, because whenever I see her now, I can’t help but freeze up. Like last night, when she kissed me and touched my face and told me she thought I was a good person. I panicked and told her—well, nevermind. I don’t really want to repeat it here. It was mean, but I didn’t know what else I could do to get her to stop.

She was already tearing up by the time she left. I had to sit down and breathe deeply for a few minutes before I was sure I wasn’t going to be sick. I don’t really think I want to write more about this right now. It just makes me sad how unfair this all is. Of course the one time after Cat that I meet someone I really like it just has to be in one of the cruelest scenarios possible. I just have no idea what to do.

[Five pages of drawings follow of Y/N in bed, her head tilted back against the pillow, her eye’s half lidded, and her mouth slightly agape. Ellie redraws this multiple times, x-ing out parts that don’t seem quite right]

April 10th, 2038

I know this is none of my business, but she’s been spending a lot of time with Dina lately. She nearly got herself killed getting a gift for me with Dina yesterday, which feels like some sort of especially cruel joke. The universe isn’t being very fucking subtle right now.

If what I’m worried about is right, at least Dina has the option to come with her up North. She’d test negative.

April 20th, 2038

I would really like it if I could have one short break from the misery that’s my life right now. I turned 20 yesterday, accidentally introduced Y/N to my ex, proceeded to get much drunker than I meant to, completely fell off my rocker and asked Y/N to stay the night, and then discovered this morning that not only has Terranova found Y/N but that my strategy of keeping Y/N at arm’s length completely failed.

She wants me to come with her, and she’s threatening to stay here otherwise. I did the only thing that I could think to do and snapped at her.

I’m so tired of this. I hate having to act like I don’t care. This is the third time now that I’ve had to say something nasty to her to keep her from getting too close. I just want to get in bed and sleep until she leaves and I can pretend like nothing ever happened and that everything is normal.

[One page of drawings of Y/N passed out in her bed and Y/N grinning while holding a lopsided cake]

April 28th, 2038

I know I haven’t been writing much again. Sorry about that. I just can’t bear to think about my life right now. I know I should be relieved—this is what I wanted. I wanted her to go where it’s best for her.

But there’s still that selfish part of me that keeps me up at night. Y/N is going to leave this place never knowing how I feel about her. Logically, that should be what I want. This way I won’t need to say a real goodbye. I know I won’t need to now, since she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. It’s really fucking immature of me to be so hurt by what she must think of me now, but I can’t stop.

I wonder how long it will take for me to stop feeling sad about this. I’ve never had to process anything like this where there’s nothing I can do. With Riley and Sam, I at least got to heal from the knowledge that I was going to help make the vaccine to save the world. But losing Y/N just because of where we come from is totally meaningless. I can go forward knowing that I made it easy for her to make the right decision, but that only goes so far.

I don’t know how I’m going to handle this. I’m going to practically live with Dina so I don’t need to be alone for the first few weeks.

I wish May 8th would just come already so she can go away and I can get on with my life.

May 1st, 2038

Things have changed some. Joel cornered me in the kitchen last night and told me that I needed to grow up and just appreciate the rest of the time I had left with Y/N. I was going to agree and try to walk past him, but he stopped me and told me that he needed me to escort Y/N. I guess he’s right. She can’t go alone, and Joel and Tommy are getting a little too old for week-long expeditions into the wilderness.

He also told me that I need to apologize to her and make things right, saying shit like I’d regret it forever if things ended between us like this. I don’t want to admit it, but I think he’s right. When I told him that she’d originally threatened to stay if I didn’t go with her, he blinked, hard. Then he told me that he had an idea.

I’m faking it. I’m telling her that I’m going, even though I’m going to leave her when she gets picked up. I don’t know how I’m going to pull it off. When I told her in the meadow last night, she was so happy. I know it’s really sappy and cliche to say this, but I felt my heart shatter, bit by bit. I’m not a very good liar, not to people who are important to me. But I suppose I’ve been lying to her all this time, kicking her out of my room and telling her that I didn’t want anything more with her.

I can do this, I think. I have to do this, or else she might threaten to stay, and I don’t think I have it in me to be cruel again. Not to her. I guess I’ll just trick myself into feeling like I’m actually coming with her, like we have a chance of actually being together. I don’t know. We’ll see.

[One drawing of Y/N laying down in the meadow that takes up half a page]

May 3rd, 2038

It’s easier than I expected. Y/N sleeps over in my room at night, and if I don’t think too hard about it, I can pretend like things will always be like this.

I’m getting to be such a sap, though. I almost broke down in the bathroom today while I was getting ready. It was over the stupidest thing—a toothpaste bottle. Y/N always folds it so neatly, making a perfect, tight spiral of plastic near the end. It used to really bother me when I first had to share with her (because who does that—it’s weird and doesn’t do anything since she doesn’t manage to squeeze out the extra in the bottom anyways), but the thought of throwing it out when it finally emptied and having to find another one that’ll never be folded again hit me and suddenly I was counting my inhales and exhales. I don’t really give a shit about toothpaste. It’s just that it was the moment that I realized that she’s really going to be gone soon, you know? Slowly but surely, the evidence of her stay here will be wiped away and replaced. Someday I’ll forget all the little details about her.

She’s knocking on my door. I need to stop being so depressed and go see her before she picks up that something’s wrong.

[One small doodle of Y/N smiling and rolling her eyes while brushing her teeth]

May 6th, 2038

Dina’s coming now. Y/N told me this morning after she went to say goodbye. I feel really shitty about this. I guess I should tell her that I’m not going now, because this way Y/N needs to go home to get Dina the help she needs, but I just can’t bring myself to. I’ll have to escort both of them to the pickup spot anyway since Dina’s weaker now that she’s pregnant, and the thought of having to spend a full week with Y/N after she knew I lied to her makes my skin crawl. I can’t tell who I’m trying to protect by doing this—me or her. Maybe both.

I’m losing my two favorite people here, and they don’t even know it yet. But this is the best option. This is my chance to finally do some good in the world.

May 7th, 2038

I’m about to go stargazing with Y/N for the last time. I don’t think I’ll be writing in here again until I get back. I don’t want to risk losing this while I’m out in case something crazy happens. Which it probably will, but I canonically happen to be really good at living when shit hits the fan. Also—I don’t imagine Y/N to be a particularly nosy person, but if she ever came across this and thought it was a book or something, it would make things really awkward. So, you’re staying tucked carefully under my bed until I come back later this month.

I don’t know how to handle this sort of goodbye. I don’t really know how to handle any sort of goodbye, I guess, but at least I’ve been through them before. I may not do it well, but I know how to live when people I love die. But this isn’t like that. No one is dying (hopefully), and more importantly, I know it’s a goodbye this time. I see it coming on the horizon and I can’t even tell anyone about it. How does anyone deal with that? How does anyone cope?

Y/N’s knocking on my door now. I need to go before I start thinking even more and do something stupid like start crying or whatever.

I’ll be back in about two weeks.

June 1st, 2038

Sorry for not writing. It’s been pretty shitty, actually. It took me 5 extra days to get home because some scavengers gave me trouble. I hardly slept for most of them. I ran out of ammo about 4 days out and had to use my knife for everything I ran into until I was able to raid the cabinets of this abandoned cabin. Nearly got taken out by a clicker, too. It was not fun. It was especially not fun because I was not feeling super great to begin with, for obvious reasons.

Things haven’t gotten any better since getting back to Jackson. Y/N didn’t take her stupid Exoplanetary Systems textbook and now I’m struggling with whether or not I should throw it out. The rational side of me says to keep it because it was published after the outbreak and probably contains updated information that isn’t anywhere else. The rest of me doesn’t even want to look at the stars anymore because it reminds me of her.

It’s really hard not to blame her for ruining everything. I can’t go out and ride my own horse without thinking about the first time we went on patrol together and she dropped my gun and nearly killed one of us. And I can’t even relax in my own home, because I’ve spent almost every night with her since March in my bed. Sometimes when I hear a creak in the middle of the night I assume it’s her walking down to the bathroom or getting water until it hits me again that she’s never coming back.

I know I’m being melodramatic. There are many other worse problems I could be having right now. But I don’t even have my best friend anymore. I wonder if Dina and Y/N are angry with me for lying. I wonder if they’re settling in okay. I hope that Y/N manages to fix whatever her research was and that Dina gets better.

[Twenty pages of drawings of Y/N and Dina together. Some are snippets of them on their expedition to the pickup site. Others are pictures of Y/N and Dina walking around with smiles on their faces in what looks to be a city]

June 21st, 2038

It’s been over a month since I’ve last seen her. I had a breakdown while getting ready for bed when I realized that I didn’t remember what her voice sounded like anymore.

[Ten pages of half-finished drawings, each with its face scribbled over]

June 28th, 2038

I don’t think I really remember what she looks like—not exactly. I’ve been trying to draw her because I’m still in the habit of making decisions that are definitely not good for my mental state. I just can’t do it, and it isn’t for the lack of trying. Every time I get to her eyes I keep drawing something that looks wrong, but I can never tell why. I compare it to my earlier drawings of her from when we first met and it feels like meeting her for the first time again.

Joel says it’ll pass and that he’s proud of me for doing the right thing. Jessie and I have been hanging out more. Even if he won’t admit it, I can tell he’s miserable without Dina. But he understands why she had to go—just like how I feel about Y/N. And Dina too, of course. Jackson feels like a ghost town without her.

July 17th, 2038

I haven’t been writing or drawing in here for a while, I know. I was going to just go ahead and start a new journal—you know the one that Maria gave me for Christmas with the dark blue cover—but it didn’t feel right to just stop without explaining. Otherwise I’ll feel like an asshole for wasting so much paper.

I don’t want to move on from what happened with Y/N and Dina. I really don’t, but I don't think I have a choice. If I keep going on like this, I’ll never be able to live normally again. I’m just sick and tired of being sad all of the time. So I’m not going to write here anymore. I don’t think it’s realistic for me to forget all about it, because I don’t want to forget her. Not really. But I guess if I want to get better, I’ll need something different. So, here’s that. The beginning of my fresh start. “Fresh start” and you call me overdramatic!! haha. Y/N was here!

(You left this on your nightstand. I promise I didn’t read too much. I opened it because I thought it was your sketchbook. I’m going to put this back since I hear you walking down the hall now.)

ok as an aside my blog is broken so my stuff isn’t notifying people when i tag/showing up on dashes or in tags. please reblog if you’re comfortable so people can actually find this! thank you!

final a/n: i totally get it if this wasn’t quite your cup of tea this time—i just really wanted to iron out ellie’s pov before their reunion in the end. which is happening and not a spoiler because i have always promised a hea! this was a change in pace for the story and i promise you that the next chapter will be more normal/align more with my normal writing style. i have also changed my mind (probably) and have decided to stick with writing an epilogue! so two more chapters are coming before this is totally over. thank you so much for waiting and being so patient! i love you all dearly ok bye bye now

#ellie williams x reader #exoplanet #not adding tags because i’ll eventually repost #this is just for people who want to read!

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filtharchives · 4 months

Text

a sfw piece! finally! yippee! happy new year!

four parts total, mostly short aside from the third

summary: cove x reader - you presented as your secondary sex and now you and cove have to cope; just small moments in the omegaverse

tags: sfw, fem/afab reader, omega!reader, alpha!cove, omegaverse, minor implications of predatory behavior towards reader, slight reimagination of the intro to Step 3, kind of possessive cove (very minor tho), blood mention (during bond marking), not edited lol i don’t do that lmk if i missed any tags tho

at fourteen years old, you figured you got the hang of the whole ‘puberty’ thing—or at least understood it enough to live with it. of course, you weren’t done with new changes, according to your parents and your middle school health teacher. you still had to present, which would come sooner or later by now.

it came sooner rather than later. you went to bed feeling a little weird but woke up this morning feeling normal again, only to run into your sister on the way to the bathroom and for her to freeze in her tracks and stare at you in surprise for a moment as she sniffs the air.

“oh, hey. you’re an omega. congrats,” she’d said before quickly entering the bathroom and locking you out as she went about her morning routine.

despite elizabeth’s lackluster reaction, your moms were much more enthusiastic about your presentation, and your ma even taught you how to nest, bringing you to now.

you’re waiting on cove’s bed while he digs through his closet, looking for things to give you for your first nest, as per your request. he was incredibly flustered when you asked and the blush on his face still hasn’t quite gone away.

“is a blanket okay?” cove asks, holding one up and avoiding eye contact.

“ma says that when people give their omega stuff for their nest, it’s usually used clothes,” you say matter-of-factly, pretending not to notice cove’s flinch when you say ‘their omega’. “cause it still has their scent and stuff on it.”

“w-why do you even want my stuff anyways?” cove asks shyly, putting the blanket back.

“ma said that for younger omegas who don’t have mates, their nest usually has stuff from their family and friends, and you and i are best friends, so i need your stuff too.”

cove nods in understanding, a little less embarrassed now, but only enough to look up at you from his place on the floor.

“alright, then. so… wanna look through my laundry basket?” he chuckles a bit, finding the proposition a little weird. you giggle as well but nod, scooting up the bed and out of the way as cove grabs his laundry basket and dumps its contents across his sheets. you grab one of the shirts and sniff, feeling butterflies in your stomach. you don’t even notice you’re smiling as you do, and cove doesn’t have the guts to point it out, instead electing to turn away and pick out another shirt for you.

you put the two shirts to the side and return your attention to the laundry pile, a small snort escaping you before you can cover your face.

“what’s up?” cove asks, raising a brow. you snicker and point to a spot in the pile, where a few of cove’s underwear are visible. cove let’s out an embarrassed sound and quickly grabs at them, throwing them back into his laundry basket. he tosses one more shirt your way before clearing the rest of the laundry off the bed. “i think that’s enough!” his voice cracks at the end but you decide to be merciful and ignore it, thanking him for the clothes instead and asking if he wants to come over and see your work-in-progress nest.

when you return to school after summer–your first day of high school!--cove anxiously sticks by you as you both wave goodbye to mr. holden before he drives off to his shop. after you presented, his father told him to look out for you–a young omega is a target for new and seasoned alphas alike–and even if you would only be on school grounds for majority of the day, anywhere that wasn’t sunset bird suddenly made cove hyper-aware of how others looked at you; especially upperclassmen alphas. it didn’t help that he was a late bloomer who still hasn’t presented yet, as it made him feel like a younger kid who wouldn’t be able to defend you if need be, despite his height and athletic build.

the two of you hang around outside the school building, not wanting to overwhelm your nose with the amount of presented alphas and omegas within before it was time. cove sympathized with you, as even without presenting, his nose had always been pretty keen and for some reason he had a weird feeling in his gut since he woke up this morning. still, even waiting outside hardly comforts him as he watches alphas look at you as they pass by or sit outside. cove holds your hand–whether for your sake or his is debatable–and groans when the bell rings, warning students they have five minutes to get to class.

“do we have to go?” he practically whines as the others outside make their way into the building.

“we don’t wanna be late on the first day,” you say, chuckling at his behavior.

“we’re freshmen–we can just tell them we got lost,” he shrugs. despite that, he relents and stands from his seat along with you. he puts both hands on your shoulders and looks you in the eyes. “text me if anything happens, okay? if anyone makes you uncomfortable or anything, i’ll come over, even if i’m in class.” you don’t doubt he would–he’s your best friend and didn’t care too much about school so long as he passed.

“alright,” you nod. cove hesitates for a moment before pulling you into a hug and you can feel how worried he is to be apart from you in such a big, new school and your perceived vulnerability. if only you had the same schedules, but unfortunately, your counselors didn’t get the memo that you two were a package deal.

cove gives you another squeeze as you hug him back and suddenly something catches your nose, making you sniff a few times. led by your senses, you bury your nose into the side of cove’s neck, making him yelp and pull back in surprise.

“what are you doing?” he squeaks out. you don’t have the mind to be embarrassed as you look up at him in surprise.

“cove,” you say with wide eyes. “i think you just presented. i think you’re an alpha.” cove’s eyes match yours.

“wait- seriously?” he gapes. “wha- how? just now? an alpha.” instead of answering, you pull the collar of your top to your nose and inhale.

“... and i think you just scented me,” you add. cove’s face is pink at that revelation and before he can continue sputtering and apologizing, the second bell rings, meaning the two of you are officially late to your first classes. you grab cove’s arm and all but drag him into the school.

“hey, wait!” cove’s brain catches up and he matches your steps. “uh- what now?”

“now, we go to class,” you say. “we can talk about this all at lunch, but i really don’t wanna be later than we are.” you flash him a grin. “besides, since you’ve scented me, i’m sure no other alpha’s gonna wanna come near me, so that’s good, right?” cove blushes deeper but nods.

“r-right. yeah. that’s good.”

cove is beyond delighted to be an alpha. yeah, he wouldn’t have minded being a beta like his mom and his new friend terri, but being an alpha almost guaranteed that he could keep you safe from other alphas just by his scent laying a soft claim on you.

so, after that first incident, it became routine for you to have cove’s scent on you. even now, in your sophomore year of high school, cove would scent you in the back of his dad’s car on the drive to school. cliff fully supported this morning routine out of concern for how high school alphas would act towards you without this kind of deterrent, even calling cove a ‘good kid’ for looking out for you so heavily. if only he knew cove’s actions were a little less platonic than he let on since the two of you confessed your mutual feelings at 13 (but even without being officially dating yet, cove was pretty sure his dad wouldn’t be surprised).

summer of 2016 rolled around and now you were with cove on the steps outside his house, waiting for the new tenant(s) of the donnells’ former summer home. finally, the sound of a car grabs your attention, followed by the sight of a taxi turning into the street.

“this has to be them, right?” cove asks, eyebrows raised.

“the only people who come out here, live here,” you grin, a chuckle leaving your lips. “it has to be!”

cove let out a small, surprised “oh” when the taxi door opened, revealing a young man around your age, dressed in black and white with swoopy hair to match.

“hello, folks,” the young man greets with a smooth voice. “who might you be?”

“um- we’re the neighbors,” cove replies, only slightly recovered from the surprise. the new tenant’s smile grew in a cocky yet non-malicious way.

“hallelujah,” he says. you and cove share a bewildered look before looking at the young man again, watching as he grabs his suitcase from the taxi and thanks the driver. when he saunters over, you and cove stand up from the steps.

“i’m baxter ward,” the new neighbor, now known as baxter, says. “it’s excellent to meet you, neighbors.” he turns his attention to you and holds out his hand to shake. feeling no bad vibes from him–a sense of familiarity filling you instead–you hold your arms open for a hug instead, which baxter accepts without missing a beat.

“welcome to sunset bird, baxter,” you say before introducing yourself. baxter greets you in kind as you both pull away from each other.

“we’ve met before,” he says, making your boyfriend ask, “what?! when?” baxter continues to smile widely, head tilted slightly to the side as he studies your visage. “it’s embarrassing, but i haven’t remembered that part yet,” he admits with a cordial laugh while cove continues to stare in disbelief. “i’m getting there. don’t tell me. i know you want to, but do not. it’ll come to me.” he sniffs the air from his polite distance, trying to recall where he’s smelled you before, and suddenly recognition appears in his eyes. he announces his revelation with a snap of his fingers. “the cypress, at the summer soiree! of course. mm, that had to have been before any regionals, so, ah, at the time i was about fourteen years old. that makes it… five years ago from now, right?” cove’s mouth fell open.

“are you kidding me?” your boyfriend asks with a raised eyebrow. “is he serious? did you really meet this guy at that country club five years ago?”

“yeah,” you say with a small, disbelieving smile–a little speechless about said guy being right in front of you again. “i told you about him, remember? the mysterious boy who danced with me that night? lee was all over that story.” cove’s eyes widen a little more, both in surprise and realization. he let’s out another little “oh” before baxter speaks again.

“it’s good not to forget a face,” he says. “you see, my parents are members of the cypress. they happened to be passing through on a trip across different states when they heard about the event. funnily enough, the entire reason they joined was for the connections they could make with other members there. looks like that perk has finally hit for me too. originally, i thought it was only any good since i could occasionally dance there.”

“dance?” cove asks.

“yes,” baxter nods. “i’m a ballroom dancer. ah- forgive me. i started talking about myself before you even had the chance to introduce yourself.” he holds out his hand for cove to shake. you see your boyfriend straighten up to his full height–on purpose or not, you can’t tell–as he shakes baxter’s hand, eyeing him carefully.

“i’m cove,” he says. “i don’t know much about dancing, but that’s pretty cool.”

“you have a wonderful name,” baxter grins. “dancing isn’t hard once you get the basics down.” cove doesn’t seem convinced, raising a skeptical brow once more. baxter decides to continue with that same cocky grin. “well, if either of you are looking for a partner, i’m available.” cove involuntarily stiffens, instinctively pulling you closer by the waist.

“i already have a partner,” he says, relaxing as you lean into his side with a hand on his torso. “(y/n) is the only one i’d wanna dance with. she’s my girlfriend."

“you’re both together?” baxter asks with only a little surprise.

“yeah, we are,” you confirm with a soft smile.

“now that’s crushing; but makes sense,” he says with a small chuckle. “i got here too late. should’ve taken a semester off sooner.” cove’s smile flattens out and his eyes narrow at his new neighbor. you can’t help but snort at the sudden flare-up of his scent, lightly patting your hand on his chest. on the other hand, baxter looks unoffended, instead offering another apologetic smile. “that’s a joke,” he clarifies. “really, i didn’t mean to intrude on anything you have with the offer.” cove reels in control of his scent, placated.

“i’ll take you up on that offer sometime,” you chirp with a cheeky smile, giggling to yourself as cove rolls his eyes with an exasperated smirk and a huff through his nose at your agreement coming right after his refusal.

“i really am qualified to give lessons,” baxter says, looking at cove for his blessing.

“yeah, it’s fine,” cove relents, playfully pinching your side. “so, um. what made you decide on sunset bird?”

“oh, yes,” baxter nods, taking in the question. “well, my parents rented a condo so i had a place to stay while i’m off for a semester from college and not living in the dorms.” there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he continues. “ideally, they wanted to send me somewhere that wasn’t too exciting, but, lucky for me, they picked the wrong street. considering the two of you live here.” baxter then preemptively lifts his hands up in front of his chest, giving the gesture for meaning no harm. “it’s nice not to be the only one my age around the neighborhood for an entire summer, nothing more.”

“you could’ve phrased it like that in the first place,” cove sighs.

“i don't feel the need to keep words of praise to myself, but they’re not romantic come-ons,” baxter explains. “i see that you two are very much a committed pair. i’d like to be friends, if we can. but that’s all.”

“it’s… okay,” cove says with a small smile, an attempt at friendliness. on the other hand, you can’t help but grin.

“i’m finding it pretty entertaining.” baxter laughs at that, due to your own amusement or the difference in how you and your beloved receive him you don’t know.

“glad we’re working things out,” he says. shifting his weight to his other foot, baxter tries to move forward. “so, which condo is yours? how long have you been living together?”

“oh- no!” cove sputters again, making you laugh. “we’re… we’re both your neighbors, but we live in different houses with our parents.” the two of you point to your homes directly across the street from each other with your free hands.

“you’re neighbors who started dating?” baxter asks with wide eyes before sighing with a sort of satisfied smile. “what a couple of lovebirds. you’re the backbone of romantic society! honestly, i hope you never break up. if you can make it work, there might be a chance for the rest of us.” cove sighs in exasperation despite the bit of amusement on his face. baxter continues, “well, if either of you are free, i’d be thrilled to hang out this summer, but we can save the schedule talk for later. goodbye for today.” he gives you both a small nod and a dazzling smile. you and cove both give your “bye”s and the newcomer turns around to go to his new, temporary home with his belongings.

with him out of the scene, coves lets out a long breath.

“well,” he says, looking at you with a tired smile. “i don’t know how i’m gonna explain that guy to my dad.” you burst into a fit of laughter trying to imagine the conversation. “at least the job is done. we saw the new neighbor, and now we can go meet up with terri and miranda.”

“yeah, we should get going,” you nod. as you and cove start to walk up the street, you feel him give your waist another squeeze, his arm not having left you at all since he first placed it.

“don’t think i’ve forgotten about how much of a brat you were just a minute ago,” he smirks. “i’ll pay you back eventually.”

“i have no clue what you’re talking about,” you snicker, only for cove to stop walking and pull you into his chest, both arms now wrapped around you. he holds you in a tight embrace as he takes his time rubbing the sides of his neck against yours.

“i should’ve scented you the moment you crossed the street,” you hear him mutter, making you snort at his protectiveness–or is it possessiveness? either way, you can’t say you hate it when you tilt your head to give him easier access. miranda and terri may have to wait a little longer.

it’s a week after your shared heat/rut that cove decides to bring it up. the two of you have been engaged for some time now and he feels like he might just burst.

“you want to bond?” you repeat, a little slack-jawed. “now?”

“yes,” he nods firmly despite the apprehensive look on his face and the awkward squirming in his seat. “not unless you do, of course. but i’ve been thinking about it a lot these past few months, even before we got engaged, and… a-and it was all i could think about doing during- …during my rut.” his face goes even redder at that admission but he forces himself to maintain eye contact with you. “we’re already engaged and honestly… i don’t wanna wait until after the wedding. i wanna be yours, forever, now.” you can’t help the blush that creeps up your neck nor the way your heart pounds, just like you can’t help the smile that spreads on your lips.

“okay,” you breathe out softly, as if not trying to scare your fiancé. “okay. i wanna bond too. i’m ready.”

“r-really?!” cove squeaks out, surprised you agreed so soon. “are you sure?” you chuckle, nodding.

“yup. positive,” you affirm with a smile. “do you wanna go first?” cove gulps as you run a hand through your hair, slightly moving it away from your neck. you bite your lip to keep from laughing when you see the look on his face: eyes wide and focused on your neck while his mouth is slightly open, maybe even close to drooling.

without even responding, cove leans towards you, his strong arms simultaneously pulling you into his lap. he looks you in the eyes again and without a trace of doubt on your face, he smiles shyly before opening his mouth and going right for your closest scent gland. you wince and let out a whimper as you feel his teeth sink in, but you know it has to be done–the bite needs to be strong enough to bleed in order to leave a proper mark. cove gently rubs over your back when he feels you wince, a silent apology for the pain as he gently releases your neck and laps up the drops of blood that remain.

“you did so good,” he says softly, licking and kissing at the new mark on your neck. you meet his eyes for a moment to see the tears welling up, your softie alpha crumbling at how permanent your intertwined lives have become, before he returns to burying his face in your neck and soothing the purposeful wound. “thank you.”

“don’t thank me yet,” you muse, running a hand through his seafoam locks. “i still have to mark you.”

“i know,” he says with a watery chuckle. “and i’ll thank you again after that. just… in a moment. just let me finish with the blood. i don’t like seeing you hurt, even if it’s for this. but thank you for trusting me to do this. for wanting to be with me forever and stuff. for being with me all this time.”

“you’re always thanking me,” you laugh, now just as watery as his voice. “you did the same thing during the proposal.”

“i know,” he repeats, looking at you with a smile despite the tears now falling down his cheeks. “i just have a lot to be thankful for when it comes to you. and i want you to know that. how much i appreciate you and need you and… and love you. i love you so much. and thanks to you, i know it’s not ‘too much’.”

“i love you too,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to not break if you spoke any louder.

“i know.”

BONUS my omegaverse hcs

alphas: liz, cove, cliff, gregorio, jorge

omegas: noelani, lee, miranda, derek, irene, shiloh

betas: pamela, kyra, terry, baxter, nicolas, jeremy

#our life beginnings & always #olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove x reader #i wrote this #omegaverse #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o au

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rubyreduji · 2 years

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high and fucked — hvc

summary: hansol is nothing to you but your ex-boyfriend's roommate, but you still find yourself alone with him while you get high together

tags: smut (minors dni!), stoner!hansol, college!au (it’s mentioned like once) warnings: weed use, watching explicit videos, explicit unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), deep throating, throat fucking, cum eating, fingering, squirting, creampie, slight overstimulation, mentions of pervert!vernon? wc: 2.8k an: this is my first work so pls be nice lol but i hope you enjoy

pt. 2

You and Hansol aren't friends. You probably wouldn't even consider him a good acquaintance. But that doesn't stop you from being alone in his apartment with him on a Saturday night, getting high together.

The only reason you even know Hansol is because you used to date his roommate and one of his best friends. You were over often enough to get to know the boy by some semblance but not enough to say you really know him.

The one thing you did pick up on whenever you were over though was the smell of weed coming from Hansol's room with 50% of your conversations with him being while he was high. Which has led you to where you are now, burrowed into Hansol's bed as you pass a bong between you two.

He was not exactly your first choice but your other two plugs were unavailable and you really needed to get high after a stressful week of being yelled at by your professor everyday. You didn’t have Hansol’s number so you instead walked all the way to his apartment and banged on the door until he opened up (you let out a sigh of relief when it was him who opened the door and not your ex). He was a bit confused on why you were there but when you asked if he had any weed to spare he let you in to share the bowl he just packed.

A few minutes ago Hansol had put on a movie for you guys to watch. You’re not completely sure what it’s about and you’re already a bit confused about the plot but the weed is doing its job at relaxing you so you don’t really care.

You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with Hansol before, let alone within such close proximity. You look over at Hansol who’s completely out of it. His eyes are droopy and his mouth is slightly opened as he stares at the computer screen playing the movie.

You don’t think Hansol is bad looking. You’ve actually always thought he’s quite handsome with his sharp features and soft looking hair. Outside the window the sun is setting and streams through the open blinds, bathing Hansol in the golden light. You think to yourself that if he wasn’t your ex’s best friend you could find yourself wanting to know him better. You decide to quickly look away from Hansol before any more thoughts come into your head.

Unfortunately your eyes land on the screen of the laptop. On screen the female character is stripping and reaching down to grab the male character’s hard cock in her hand. You blink incredulously at the scene as your face goes red.

“Hansol!” You squeak out. “What are we watching?”

“I-I don’t know! I thought it was some murder thriller movie, not porn!” Hansol’s own voice is also a bit high and when you look at him his face is also red. You can’t help but also notice how his hips shift around and how he covers his lap a bit.

“Are you hard right now?” You ask him, your filter already gone due to the weed.

“I can’t help it,” he whines, “this is really hot.” His eyes are still looking at the screen where the girl now has a mouthful of the man’s dick as he reaches down to grab her hair. You feel yourself get a bit wet at the sight as well.

“Well then change the movie!” You find your voice. You look at the wall, too embarrassed to look at the laptop or Hansol.

“But I’m already hard, it’s not gonna change anything. I always get super horny when high anyway.” You can’t see Hansol’s face but you can tell by his voice just how needy he is now. “It doesn’t help that you’re like super fucking hot. I can’t remember the last time I had someone as good looking as you in my bed.”

“W-what?!” You finally look over at Hansol in shock, who is staring right back at you.

“I’ve thought so, ever since the first time I saw you over here. I was so disappointed when I found out you were dating my best friend. I couldn’t help but think about it being me fucking you whenever I heard you guys. Is that wrong of me?”

You blush at this. You and your ex often had sex at his apartment when you guys were together. The sex was probably the best part of that relationship and sometimes you even find yourself missing being filled up by him. You didn’t realize that Hansol could hear you guys, but it’s not too surprising knowing how vocal you can be in bed.

Hansol slowly starts to scoot towards you on the bed until your legs are pressed up against each other’s. His hand reaches out to touch your thigh. You stare down at his thick fingers as they caress your leg.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His voice is low and husky. His hair hangs in his face a bit and he’s looking at you with the most delicious bedroom eyes. You feel yourself start to dampen your panties as you shift your own hips around on the bed. Hansol’s hand continues to creep up your leg until he’s at the hem of your tiny shorts. “Wearing this little outfit, teasing me all night with your lips around the bong. Had me wishing your lips were around something else.”

His words have all of your self control breaking as you lean forward and smash your lips to his. You know that this probably isn’t the best idea but you also don’t care much. You’re horny and high and in bed with a pretty boy.

You want Hansol’s hands all over you. Without even mentioning it Hansol fulfills your unspoken wishes. One of his hands lands on your hip while the other grabs at the back of your head, pulling you closer. He pulls you onto his lap and you can feel his stiff cock rubbing against your leg.

Hansol’s mouth presses against yours with ferocity and you know that your lips are going to be puffy and red later. He swipes his tongue across the seam of your lips and you open up to let him in. His tongue slides into your mouth and his tongue tangles with yours. Your hands are in his soft hair and you grip so hard that Hansol’s hips buck up into yours.

You two pull away to catch your breath. You both pant heavily as Hansol’s hands move down to your waist. He goes to tug your shirt over your head and you help him get the article of clothing off before you grab to pull his shirt off as well.

When you come back together the feeling of Hansol’s warm skin against yours makes you sigh into his mouth. His large hands rest against your back and you wish that he would move them to some place a bit more stimulating. After a couple more minutes of passionate making out you decide to take action and grab Hansol’s hands and lower them so they grab at your ass. Hansol groans at this and starts to squeeze at the plush flesh.

You remove your mouth from Hansol’s so you can press kisses into his jawline before moving down his neck to suck bruises into his smooth, pale skin. Hansol seems to like this as he squeezes extra hard when he feels your teeth graze his neck.

His hands start to travel up your back and he fiddles with your bra clasp for a second before it comes loose. He slides the garment down your arms and throws it onto the floor before he starts to knead at your bare breasts. His hands are skilled and it makes you whimper against Hansol’s collarbone as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers.

You bring Hansol’s lips to your own for a fleeting moment before you’re pulling away all together and sliding off his lap. Hansol looks at you questioningly but he understands when you start to palm at his cock through his pants. His hand grinds up into yours trying to gain more pressure. You reach for his waistband and pull his pants and boxers down in one swift motion. His cock springs out and slaps up against his stomach as you do.

You find yourself a little speechless as you stare down at his cock. He’s a lot bigger than you expected in both the girth and length area. His cock twitches a bit as you stare down at it and you remember what you were in the middle of.

Before Hansol can say anything to you, you’re leaning down and taking his thick length into your mouth. You suck on the tip to start with before opening your throat more and shoving as much of him as you can into your mouth. You bob your head up and down and on top of the noises coming from your throat you can hear Hansol moaning above you.

Your hands move up to fondle Hansol’s balls which has Hansol grabbing at your head to grip your hair. He pushes you farther down on to him and you can feel his tip sliding down your throat even farther. He thrusts his hips in and out of you, using you as he pleases. Your eyes start to water but you don’t stop him because you’re enjoying yourself as well.

“Nngh, Y/N~. Feels so good. M’gunna cum.”

Hansol pulls his dick almost all the way out of your throat till the point where just his tip is between your lips. You stick your tongue out to swipe at his slit and that’s all it takes for him to spill his cum into your mouth. You bring your hand up to pump at his length to empty him fully. When you’re sure he’s fully milked, you swallow down the warm salty substance. Hansol groans as he watches you.

“Fuck baby, that was so hot,” Hansol tells you before grabbing you again and pulling you back into him. Your mouths connect and Hansol sucks at your bottom lip. You pant as the pads of his fingers find your clit. He rubs at you through your shorts and panties and you whine, wanting more. “So needy and wet for me. What a good girl.”

Hansol is then shoving you down onto the bed so he can remove the clothing that is keeping him from where he really wants to be. When he pulls down your panties he licks his lips at your dripping, puffy cunt. You already look so wrecked just from sucking his cock and he wants to ruin you even more.

His fingers find purchase on your clit again as he starts to rub tight, fast circles into the bud. Your hips buck up as he does and he chuckles at you. You’re whining, begging Hansol for something, but he’s too busy staring down at your wet entrance to hear you.

Finally after what feels like hours, Hansol is moving his fingers down and shoving one inside of you. You automatically clench down around it as Hansol starts to pump in and out of you. It doesn’t take long for him to be able to push another inside of you. His fingers curl up into you as he searches for your sweet spot. He thrusts into you once more and you let out a high pitched keen to let Hansol know he found it. He continues to hit that spot before he adds another finger into you.

His fingers are thick and stretch your pussy out. You’re writhing around as his fingers drill into you at an unrelenting pace. Before you know it you’re reaching your high. Your pussy clenches hard around Hansol’s fingers as you release all the built up pressure. Hansol continues to finger fuck you as your walls flutter around his digits. When you finally seem to have calmed down he removes his fingers from you before bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean.

“Fuck,” Hansol whines, “you taste so fucking good. God you’re so hot Y/N.”

“Gonna be hotter when I’m on top of you.” With that you wrap your thighs around Hansol’s torso and flip your bodies so you’re straddling his waist. It’s clear you took him by surprise as he stares up at you with wide eyes. You can feel his dick stirring around as it presses into your ass, already hard again.

“Please ride me,” Hansol says, completely serious, his pupils blown wide.

You lift your hips up a bit before lining yourself up to his cock. Hansol licks his lips as he watches you slide down onto his dick. He can feel your tight walls around him as he stretches you out even more. When you’re fully seated on his cock you wiggle your hips a bit, trying to get used to being stuffed so full.

You two stay like that for a few moments until you feel ready to start moving. You splay your hands against Hansol’s defined stomach and start to lift your hips before slamming them back down into his. You bite your lip to try and keep yourself from moaning too loud.

“Shit baby, don’t do that. Lemme hear you.” Hansol’s thumb rubs itself across your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth. He pulls your lip down, keeping your mouth open as his other hand helps guide your hips.

You moan openly as you feel Hansol’s cock drag across your walls. The sound fills the room and encourages Hansol even more as he helps you pick up speed. Soon you’re full on bouncing on Hansol’s cock, his tip hitting your g-spot over and over again.

“You look so pretty like this. Taking me so well, what a good girl,” Hansol tells you. He watches where you guys are connected, moaning at the way your pussy sucks him in so well.

“Hansol,” you whine out, “please I need more.”

“Anything for you baby girl.” With that Hansol is grabbing at you and picking you up only to slam your back onto the bed. With the new position he can thrust his hips into yours harder and faster than before. You wrap your limbs around his body and kiss him fiercely as he pounds into you.

You start babbling nonsense, going on about so good, need more, please, and so on. Your mind is flooded with Hansol and you can’t think about anything other than how he feels against and inside of you.

“Need to cum, Sollie,” you whimper. “Need you to cum too. Please stuff me full, need it so badly.”

“Cum with me baby,” Hansol tells you as he leans down to suck at your neck. His lips find a particularly sensitive spot and you feel your pussy clenching around him as you let your orgasm wash over you, pleasure shooting through your body. Your arousal gushes down your legs and onto Hansol’s lap as well, sending him over the edge as well. His hips stutter as he grips onto your hips tightly and releases his cum into you. You whimper delighted as you feel his warm cum spurt into you.

Hansol is then pulling out of you and watching as his cum starts to spill out of you as well. He reaches down and scoops up the white semen before he shoves his fingers back into you, fucking his cum back into you. You whine as he does but you don’t mind the overstimulation. When he’s satisfied that you’re thoroughly filled he pulls his fingers out of you before sitting back to stare at your fucked out form.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever done. You were so good for me baby. You squirted all over my lap, so messy. Loved the feeling of you gushing all over me,” Hansol mutters to you. You look up at him with hooded eyes and smile.

“Thank you Sollie. Feel so good right now.”

“I bet you do. How about we get you cleaned up huh?”

Before Hansol can stand up though, a voice rings through the air. You both are a bit startled and look towards the doorway. “You two don’t think you’re done are you? So naughty of both of you to fuck when I was home. Heard you guys the second I walked into the apartment, got me all worked up. I think the least you can do is help me out.”

Standing in the doorway is Lee Chan, your ex-boyfriend and Hansol’s roommate. You can see his visible bulge in his sweatpants as he stares at your naked bodies. You lick your lips before beaconing him over. You are in for a long night.

(read part 2. here)

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #vernon #chwe vernon #vernon smut #vernon fanfic #hansol vernon chwe #hansol smut #vernon x reader #hansol x reader #rru.fics #rru.writes #★ mdni

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autisticlancemcclain · 4 months

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fic rec friday 56

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Shiro's Skunk Hair Steals Lance's Boyfriend by @bleusarcellewrites

Lance nods, eyes scanning Keith’s face slowly, “I gotta ask, though, do you come here often?” Keith snorts, fondness for this dumbass making his heart to beat faster. “Charming as always, I see.” “I can show you ‘charming’.” Lance says, eyebrows wiggling in a suggestive manner and while the others groan behind them at the line, Keith just smiles. “But before that, I’m a man of honor and I gotta know: are you single?” Keith blinks at the question and suddenly he's laughing. [Or the one where Lance can't hold his alchohol and Keith gives up a Cuddle Night of his boyfriend to be flirted by said boyfriend just for his boyfriend to forget he was already his boyfriend. It's a mess but Keith wouldn't want it any other way.]

yall remember bleusarcelle...remember 2018.....crazy times. anyway. this fic is fun and sweet and dorky, nice to read when you want to forget how bad vld dropped the ball and ruined everything :))

2. Your Love Keeps Me Warm by crystalklances

Keith is giving him a look, contemplating, eyebrows drawn together. Noticing his gaze, Lance looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Are you cold?” Keith asks after a moment of a silent staring contest. “No,” Lance replies. “You should’ve said something.” “I just said I’m not—” But Keith doesn’t listen. Already, he’s shrugging out of his red varsity jacket, and he leans over to drape it around Lance’s shoulders. ---- Or, 4 times Keith is determined to prevent Lance from getting sick, and the time Lance catches a cold after all.

I MISS CRYSTALKLANCES EVERY DAY, BRO. no one got ridiculously soft modern au keith like he did. fuck. but at least most of his works are still on ao3. i like this one in particularly one because its soft and im a weenie but also because its a 4+1 which is my favourite genre of fic ever actually

3. what makes you beautiful by seventies

MMA fighter Keith Kogane is admitted to the hospital and gets KO'd by blue eyes that rival the seas and a crooked grin that knocks the air out of his lungs. It hasn't even been a minute in the ring. It's a world fucking record.

rare blue eyed lance appreciation moment from me (old bookmark lmfao). but jokes aside i do love this fic. i will always always always every day of my life love whipped on sight keith idc. its so so funny to me. its funnier when lance is like oh! this is my rival. we are going to be ENEMIES FUCK YEAH and keith is like oh my god if i dont marry him right now im literally going to die. also this fic has matt just fyi

4. Lance and Keith's guide for how to cure insomnia by crystalklances

Keith has always had trouble sleeping, but never told anyone. When they fall asleep together after a mission by chance, Lance finds out and offers to share his bed to help Keith fall asleep. However, sleeping together every night has unforeseen side-effects for both of them.

from the iconic INVENTOR of the smitten keith tag. soft klance, in canon. touch starved keith. sharing a bed to stop the nightmares. i bought my ticket on the first word of the summary like

5. love you so bad by seyama [EXPLICIT]

Keith and Lance sneak off from a party to go and fuck. That's it, that's the whole story.

this was bantery and silly and fun. and the little argument over who gets to be the little spoon....shockingly tender and so so them ive read this one a fewww times lol

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

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autistic-katara · 10 months

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ok i might get blocked by a couple ppl for saying this but the Jackson’s Diary fandom is seriously making me wanna become a proshipper out of spite (read the post before blocking me or whatever please)

like idk if u guys have checked the fandom tag on ao3 recently but theres been a bit of drama surrounding the fact that someone posted a smut-fic of Exer (an 18yo) and David (an almost 18yo, who was aged up A FEW MONTHS for the fic) and they were harassed into taking it down and making a fucking apology post ON AO3, THE PROBLEMATIC FANWORKS WEBSITE.

and this fic was tagged 100% correctly like it was very explicitly tagged as smut n stuff yet there were still a bunch of comments being like “uhm what did i just read 🤨” and when i made a comment defending the authors right to yk, not be harassed for making not even rlly problematic content someone who clearly would suffer withdrawal symptoms if they turned twitter off for too long started arguing with me abt how “erm ackhtually we should be allowed to comment harassment under ppls harmless and explicitly tagged fics cause theres no smut in this fandom and it shocked us” and u could just rlly tell they felt they were more righteous than God in their opinions and yeah so cut to tonight when i’m scrolling through the tag and i see a post titled “i’m so sorry” in which the author made a post basically being like “i’m so sorry for posting that ik it was disgusting it has been permanently deleted” which in the comments a few ppl were telling them that what happened sucked n stuff (myself included // judging by their reply they only did this to stop the harassment which yk, completely fair) and i went back to scrolling since i wanted an actual fic not fandom drama but like 2 posts down there was another post titled “please stop” or smthn like that where someone else made a post basically being like “guyssss can we please not write smut of these characters this fandom is so wholesome i dont wanna ruin it 🥺 anyways sorry this isnt a fic this just needed to be said lol” and like dude, my guy, WHAT THE FUCK?!

this is AO3, this is a fanwork archive that as far as i know was created (at least partially) due to the fact that ppl kept getting their “problematic” works taken down from other sites and the creators wanted to yk archive all fanworks. this is NOT a social media site where u can make callout posts abt how what someone else posted disturbed ur pure wholesome chaste scrolling by daring to uploaded something with *gasp* consensual sex between 2 consenting adults?! (or canonically 1 consenting adult and 1 consenting gonna-be-an-adult-in-a-few-months-but-isnt-much-younger-than-the-first-guy but u get the idea)

like guys, ao3 is not twitter. it is not tiktok, it is not tumblr, its not youtube, its not even wattpad. it is not a social media platform, it is a fanwork archive, specifically one that lets u post whatever kinda content u want (yes, even smthn depicting 2 consenting adult/almost adult participates that are in no way related having sex, ik its crazy what they allow online these days).

and look honestly the callout post wouldn’tve annoyed me this much if it was posted on yk an actual social media. like if it was posted on twitter or tiktok or on youtube as a video essay or even on here, like sure if i saw it id be annoyed that this fandom cant handle the tiniest bit of non-puritanicalism and fuck, maybe if it was on here id even drag myself into a pointless days-long argument that causes me suicidal levels of stress but on archive of our fucking own itself?! for the millionth time, IT IS NOT A SOCIAL MEDIA! u dont make posts like that that u want the rest of the fandom to read or whatever on there because its not that kinda website!

anyways yeah i hope i explained the situation ok, u might be able to check it out urself if u feel like it and yeah idk this whole thing just kinda felt like a wake-up call for me like yes i find incest and pedophilia disgusting OBVIOUSLY and i dont like ppl romanticising it in fiction but idk i’ve seen ppl talk abt toxic antis before and show screenshots of conversations where theyve acted super shitty but idk seeing this all unfold in person and having to argue with these hardcore antis just- i dont wanna be associated with these ppl, if these are what alotta antis r like i dont want anyone to assume i agree with them like at all, whether its other antis, proshippers, or ppl like me who have a super complicated opinion on it. like they harassed a person into taking down their smut and made call-out posts on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN abt how they dont want their wholesome pure fandom corrupted by gross dirty irredeemable sex. and just yeah hope no mutuals i seriously care abt unmoot or even block me over this since ik a few of u r antis but yeah srry for this i just kinda seriously hate this fandom right now :)

also incase anyone is typing out a “kill yourself pedo” reply/rb rn; i turn 15 on Friday, i am 2+ years younger than ur innocent bb minor boy David and his definitely not already a legal adult boyfriend Exer so yk

#jackson’s diary #jacksons diary #ao3 #proshipping #dexer #fandom discourse #will probably regret making this post by tmrw morning but yk thats future me’s problem #again hopefully i explained this ok i’m pretty sure it was quite rambly

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literaphobe · 10 months

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sorry i was feeling things lol um: ladynoir drabble post s5

those first few patrols sail smoother than the big shiny statue of his newly dead father.

ladybug doesn't know that chat noir's father is dead. or, to be more accurate, she knows who he is, but doesn't know chat noir has to mourn him.

or not. wasn't it such a celebration? that his father died and took monarch with him? and everyone clapped and sang praises, but not a single tear was shed?

he doesn't blame any of them. he didn't shed a tear either.

well, not at first.

at every patrol, many new things came to pass. every kwami has a permanent holder now. this doesn't bother him the way it would have torn him to shreds months ago. it all happens too fast for him to feel it happening anyway.

until her ever so present smile cracks, shattering apart, and the facade falls.

ladybug collapses into his chest one lucky day of patrol, one of those where they find someplace quiet, someplace empty. somewhere to stare at the sky.

he can only thank the stars; no one else tagged along.

today, the sky looks pale. they match her cheeks, not in color, but in feeling. empty. all of it's very empty.

he lets her sob. he can barely feel his bones, and he fears her wailing will torture him for weeks to come. she doesn't stop for a moment, not to breathe, not to explain. she's just in pain, and she can't hold it together anymore, has lost her footing, and the only thing she can do is cling onto him, like he's the only thing that matters. like he's the only one who can fix it.

chat noir hasn't fixed much in life. he's far better acquainted with the breaking and ruining of everything. perhaps this power was match-made for him, his soul.

and as long as it lasts, it suddenly stops. everything comes to a halt, and she's looking at him again.

she's devastating, and perhaps a bit too beautiful for her own good, and he's a little too used to finding her beautiful. even if its so wrong to think it right now, he does.

"i needed you there," is the only thing she says, and she's spoken so little of that day, and this gives no more details than before, but... he understands.

he knows. without knowing anything at the same time. and it all builds and builds and builds in him, until his eyes match her own, so blurry and painful. his heart swells and swells until he wants to die, matching corpses with the father he can no longer resent, because there isn't a torso to punch, a face to yell at, arms to dive into. he can't hate him for leaving because he isn't here to hate.

so he cries too. because it's appropriate now. because she's in agony, and he wants to join her. because she hugs him back, holds him close, lets his brewing storm rage and rumble.

there are things she can't tell him. there are things he can't tell her. they both know better by now not to ask or second-guess.

and in the face of all these questions that might go unanswered for a long time, they settle. because today, this is enough.

it has to be.

#text #my writing #ladynoir #miraculous ladybug #ml recreation #recreation spoilers #mlbposting #yeah..............#i hope this makes sense

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cookiesupplier · 1 month

Text

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Thirty-Four

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: Unbeta'd, readers beware as always lol.

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram @sunsshinesunny @malerieee @talialovesmiw @shilohrosechicken @thatchickwiththecamera @tamtam-elizabeth

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

Between the morning at the doctors for Chris, and then spending all the afternoon talking and dealing with the emotional revelations that were coming about from these tattoos. Something that none of them really could have fathomed how they would change their lives. How they might still. Talia wasn’t sure if she wanted to think about it. She was still just a visitor here. Sooner or later, she should go home. Right? She needed to, that was where her life was, wasn’t it? Her job, her friends, some of them, anyway, could she really abandon them? Talia was only supposed to be here to support Ava with her bond with Vinny, and even then, she still wasn’t sure how much she’d done that at all. Did Ava even need her, it felt like everything was the other way around.

Not to mention, that reason, that was when she knew Ricky wanted nothing to do with her. Sure, it was nice that at least that had changed, he seemed to at least want to be friends even if he didn’t want a relationship. He still hasn’t said anything about that changing, and she wasn’t about to make an assumption just because he had been more friendly towards her. These tattoos forcing them closer together wasn’t his fault any more than hers, and she wasn’t going to assume he felt anything for her. The worst part, as much as she still wanted to hate him just a little, for the things he’d done to her before, she kept seeing the glimpses of how wonderful he could be too. It was just, it… he… he was making it impossible not fall in to want more.

He didn’t want more, though, and she had to remind herself of that.

Then there was Chris.

Was it right, to have the feelings she did?

What was happening with this tattoo that was changing on his shoulder? The way it was reacting the same way Ricky’s and hers were reacting was, it was, she wasn’t going to say it was obvious, because she had a feeling that Ricky was right. The sensations were subjective. They couldn’t know what they meant, what they were supposed to mean. A bad feeling could be anger, upset, jealousy, or even fear. Who could say what emotion was causing them at any time. Some they thought were obvious, such as when Chris had kissed her, or when Ricky had touched her tattoo. Both times their tattoos had gone absolutely crazy.

Even then, for all she knew Chris’ tattoo would change back, for all they knew it was just, temporary. Whether for Chris, or for one of them? They should wait to hear from the people he was going to talk to before she let her mind spiral down that path about what his tattoo changing meant, for any of them.

How could they even know if any of their feelings were real, and not from these tattoos pushing them closer. Or, were the tattoos the way they were because of their feelings? How could they possibly know? That in itself was the biggest problem with the phenomenon of the soulmate tattoos, and everything being theoretical.

That was what terrified her.

She couldn’t have certainty, and after her time in that hospital, spending those moments when she started questioning herself, she didn’t need to feel that way again.

Swallowing, she shook her head, no, not again.

“Guys, I should probably go. Ava is probably wondering where I am.”

Ricky looked over at Chris, for some reason, something about the way she’d been looking while they’d been chatting just now made him wary about her leaving on her own, was that wrong? Was it him being an asshole? Chris help him here. They’d been looking over the photos of Chris soulmate tattoo, making out the shadow of the mark and seeing if they could figure out what it was changing into. Sure, Ricky could say exactly what he thought it was turning into, it looked like it might be, but there was still too much of Chris old mark blurring the detail to be able to tell for certain. When it got darker, and the mark more visible, separated from Chris former tattoo, maybe.

“Are you sure? You could stay for dinner, Chris makes a mean vegan chilli, it’s actually fantastic, and I’m not always big on the vegan dishes. Stay, Sweetheart, I don’t think any of us have had a night in a little bit that we haven’t had something to worry about.”

Well, they sort of still did have worries, but, as much as they could, they could at least try to relax, couldn’t they?

“Let us make you dinner, Chris can make his chilli, and I’ll make,”

Ricky paused, pressing his tongue behind his teeth slightly as he considered. With the way now, that Chris was looking at him expectantly, he had this little knowing smile on his face, as if he just knew Ricky was about to try to bullshit his way out of something. Damn him.

“Dessert.”

There, he didn’t have to give a specific answer, yet, right?

“What’s going to be for dessert, Rick?”

Drawing his eyes back over to Chris, Ricky, give him a look, really, really, Chris?

All he got back for the expression was a wide cheeky knowing grin, and a raised eyebrow, smart arse. Turning his focus back to Talia, Ricky smiled, ignoring his smart arse best friend.

“Chris will make chilli, I’ll make dessert,”

“Which hopefully won’t kill us-”

“It will be fine!”

The fact that she started laughing at that Ricky was going to count as a win, no matter how much Chris had decided to be a comedian at his expense right then. Absolutely worth it.

“Now I have to say yes, just to see what Ricky makes, but, Rick, what ever it is, has to be made with whatever is already here. Though, if Chris has to leave to get something for the chilli, then I guess you can give him a list of ingredients to pick up while he’s out.”

Ricky blinked at her for a moment, Talia just smiling at him, he turned his head to look back at Chris, he held his hands up.

“I had nothing to do with this, don’t look at me.”

“So this is a challenge now?”

“Absolutely.”

Talia grinned, he was the one that was putting it out there, she was just making it a little more interesting.

“That is, unless you’re not up for it?”

Oh, he couldn’t have that.

“You’re on.”

Chris had chuckled as Talia, and he watched as Ricky got up from the couch and marched his way into the kitchen and started going through his pantry, his fridge. Mumbling to himself while he did. Probably considering all the different things he could make no doubt. Chris doubted this was going to end well. Next Ricky was scrolling on his phone, Chris tried to peek over his shoulder, only for Ricky to notice and make a disgruntled sound and shove him back, Talia giggling in response at his antics, Chris just rolled his eyes.

“You got ten minutes before I go out to get what I need for dinner, since there are things I need, had I known you wanted chilli yesterday..”

“Well it doesn’t have to be chilli..”

Chris shook his head as he looked over at Talia, smiling softly,

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s easy, and I love making it, it’s one of my favourites, and I know Ricky likes it.. And don’t worry, it's pretty mild, I don’t amp it up until I feel like going really crazy, and that is not going to be tonight.”

He was in no mood to test limits with everything that had been happening around them.

“That sounds perfect Chris, thank you, though now I’m wondering what the amped up version is like.”

Chris offered her a wicked grin at that, laughing, considering the last time he made the intense version of the chilli and how that had gone down,

“Well, I won’t try to sway you with my opinion, others though, I’ve been told it burns off taste buds.”

Watching her expression freeze in place, her eyes going wide slightly.”

“Here! He’s also not wrong.”

Ricky had walked over to them, brandishing a slip of paper at Chris with a few items scribbled on it for him to get from the store that he didn’t already have in the house. He had no doubt that whatever Ricky was preparing to make was vegan, he knew how it went, or at least, he could make a vegan version for him.

“I’ve tried the amped version, if you don’t love spicy, and value your life, don’t do it.”

It was actually Ricky’s fault he made the stronger spiced version in the first place. Chris might never have gone to such extremes if he hadn’t taunted him about vegan food being bland and tasteless, despite him claiming to never really being one to enjoy eating it anyway. This was back when Chris was still learning more about cooking vegan foods, because it was really sink or swim when you were vegan, you either learned to cook it yourself, or struggled like hell half the time. Ricky, had been his chilli taste tester, and boy did he regret it for a time when it came to the spicier version… Suffer that he did.

“Serves you right, telling me vegan food was bland.”

That earned him a giggle out of Talia, he had a feeling she got the picture on how exactly that all went down from that alone. Ricky just rolled his eyes at him.

“Hey, you still can make a kick ass chilli now, can’t you? When you aren’t trying to kill me with it.”

Fair point.

This time when they were sitting around the dining table, Ricky would definitely say that it was far more relaxed despite the day that they had all had. Somehow they seemed to had let that go, Ricky grinned as he watched Chris and Talia tease each other across the table. Chris seemed to have more control over the effect of his tattoo’s reaction to being closer to Talia still. Ricky figured it was either because his tattoo wasn’t fully formed, or just that he had more self-control, he didn’t know. Ricky, chose to stay on the other side of the table for all of their peace of mind.

Maybe it was just him. Possibly Chris felt it all too, he just could handle it better. The fact was that every time Ricky touched Talia he was right back to those moments when they were alone. The way their tattoos flared up, and they were almost crippling with the need for release. He’d been in the middle of mixing the batter for his dessert to put in the oven, reaching across the counter. All she’d done was put her hand out in front of him at a certain angle and all three of them had felt it. Ricky had grabbed the edge of the bench, gasping for breath.. Not Talia.. He stopped himself.. He had enough control to do that, without Chris saying a damn thing, and Talia had excused herself as well.

A splash of cold water, and they all calmed down.

Now though, with their dinner finished, Ricky lifted his glass of water to his lips to take a sip, Talia was looking across the table.

“Is something burning?”

“Oh shit, the dessert!”

Ricky couldn’t run back to the kitchen fast enough, the sound of the other two laughing was his backing track.

Talia sat at the table with Chris, laughing, she couldn’t help herself, it might be mean, okay, it was a lot more than just might be mean. She saw first hand how much work that Ricky had put in trying to get that dessert right. She’d watched him. Checking, double-checking, triple checking that list on his phone as he mixed the list of the brownie batter he’d been baking for them. They were supposed to be some fudgey amazing delights, and he had sounded so proud when he slid the tray in the oven that he’d gotten the batter just as the description had said it should be. Smiling, she had hoped that it would work out just as it should.

Everything seemed to be going to plan, just as it should.. Until they were eating dinner, and Chris caught the smell of something burning in the kitchen. She didn’t know what went wrong, whether he had set the timer wrong,

“Rick, do you need any help?”

She bit her lip as glanced over to Chris when he called out to Ricky after they heard a bit of clatter followed by a very colourful string of curses from the kitchen. Only for them to earn a shout back at them.

“DO NOT COME IN HERE!”

This of course had them pearling into more laughter, leaning into Chris’ upper arm as so she didn’t just slide right out of her chair as she laughed.

“Rick, you did set the timer, right?”

The groan that came from the kitchen in responses did not help her stop laughing at all,

“Of course, I set a damn timer!”

The grumbling that followed, she couldn’t make out, but she grinned, moving to get up from her chair only to have him should out again,

“I said don’t come in! I have a backup dessert, you stay out there! Both of you!”

“Okay, okay!”

Grinning over to Chris as he agreed and they both sat back down at the table. Twenty minutes later, Ricky was bringing out a tray of roughly decorated chocolate dipped strawberries. Of all the things she had thought he would make, she would never have thought he would make something that most people would assume to see as something so, romantic. Talia felt her face flush warmed at the very thought.

She cleared her throat seeing Ricky bite into one of the strawberries, with that knowing grin of his as if he knew exactly where her mind was going. Quickly she glanced over at Chris, and with the smirk as he licked his lips from a smear of chocolate on them, he was no better.

“You alright there, Sweetheart?”

Clearing her throat quickly, Talia picked up one of the strawberries,

“Just, just fine.”

Taking a quick bite of the chocolate dipped fruit, it wasn’t her tattoo tingling that was the problem, as she pressed her thighs together to attempt to stifle the feelings coursing through her body. Talia had no clue who they were for, because the thought of both the men at the table sent shivers through her.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#motionless in white #miw #ricky olson #ricky olson fanfiction #original female character #soulmates #fanfiction #miw band #soulmate au #ricky olson fanfic #chris motionless #chris cerulli #chris cerulli fanfic #fic: every rose has its thorns

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sisterofficerlucychen · 21 days

Note

Do you think Tim and Lucy will get back together? If they do do you think it will be another secret dating era? If they get back together and he is still on patrol that would make him her direct supervisor again like he is now, do you think we would have a repeat of 5x12 or would they be able to date without one of them having to transfer? I think this time it should be Lucy changing jobs.

Do you think.Tim is actually going to get the help he needs? If he does do you think part of it is so that he can a better man for Lucy the kind that he thinks she deserves? Do you Lucy will get the help she needs? Sorry so many questions. Do you think the writers will go the route of having them date others before returning to each other or do you think it will be attempt #2 that will stick?

hi ♡ omg no pls bring ‘em all.

Do you think Tim and Lucy will get back together?

yes, 100%. there’s quite a few reasons why i think they will:

ngl, my favorite reason i talked about here but essentially the foreshadowing through parallels

aside from that, there’s a $$$ component. a big part of their viewership stems from chenford and they know this, they know what it means lol. to quote abril rodas: “that’s bad business” (to not get them back together) 😂

the tca interview where eric said lucy would “help bring out a lot of the best in tim to help him navigate that” — we haven’t seen this and even if it’s not lucy supporting him through this as a couple, i think it’s a step in the right direction. i think past the pain and shock and awkwardness of it all, lucy will worry and want to help when she sees how bad he's spiraling? that's who she is.

there’s far too many hints from the actors for it to be permanent like they all keep saying to have hope and that the finale will end at least with some resolution.

i am delulu and refuse to believe that five years of a slow burn ends here ✨ (i wanted to quote another character but i can't remember who said it lmao. but insert here that line about it not making a good ending to the story or something like that?)

If they do do you think it will be another secret dating era?

idk but i want it 👀

here’s the thing, there’s so much we missed in their secret dating era. like i want more of them sneaking around and almost getting caught, trying to play it off but others starting to catch on, the reaction of everyone finding out they’re back together! oh! and an actual betting pool that we see this time????

plus it has the potential to make sense, i think? because it could be that they’re sneaking around because they’re still testing the waters and trying to figure it out again before letting everyone know.

If they get back together and he is still on patrol that would make him her direct supervisor again like he is now, do you think we would have a repeat of 5x12 or would they be able to date without one of them having to transfer?

hmm, i’m not sure but you bring up an interesting point. i know eric said we wouldn’t see tim in metro uniform for a while and i thought that he was back in metro gear by the finale but he isn’t? which now makes me wonder if he ever will be? i have wonderings about this now lol. but anyway, i could see it going both ways? on one hand, i want to say it’d be a repeat of 5x12 bc its protocol but also, they’ve already been a couple before and worked together so idk what protocol is with that 🤷

however, looking back at the s6 finale bts — tim’s in patrol uniform and lucy’s not? so there may be a chance that regardless if they’re back together or not, lucy ends up moving out of patrol and does make detective? because it's odd that tim, aaron, and celina are all in uniform while lucy and angela are not? like the only other reason i could think of for lucy not being in uniform but still on patrol is that she was undercover and got made/tagged in somehow to whatever's gonna go down?

Do you think Tim is actually going to get the help he needs?

god, i hope so. this poor man has had so much trauma in one lifetime. he needs to heal, he needs a break. i think it was confirmed in an interview or at least alluded to that he does? aside from what we see in the 6x07 promo with sus therapist hopefully. there’s so much he’s holding onto that i don’t think he’s ever fully processed any of it like the majority of his life has been to be in survival mode?

If he does do you think part of it is so that he can a better man for Lucy the kind that he thinks she deserves?

yes and no. from how he broke up with her, i don’t see him going about getting help and healing for her, i think he’ll do it because he needs to. he needs to do it for himself, to heal from the scars he carries and forgive himself to see that he's worthy of so much. i think that would have been an entirely different conversation if he was gonna get help to be someone who he thinks lucy deserves. but i do believe he’ll become that person again though as a result from it.

Do you Lucy will get the help she needs?

i also really hope so. lucy bottles things just as much as tim does except she does a much better job at hiding it because she comes off as such an open book that you’d never know. i think the break up will be the tipping point? ngl, i'm struggling a little more to understand her storyline because it doesn't seem as clear. we know it'll be regarding her mental health but i thought it was going to be fully kicked off with the shooting and then it wasn't? so i'm guessing the break up might be the tipping point? because there's so much she also hasn't processed that she really does need to. i also hope she's able to see the support system she actually has because they keep isolating her and she's not alone but she feels alone which is only going to be magnified by tim walking away (and likely? tamara moving out).

Do you think the writers will go the route of having them date others before returning to each other or do you think it will be attempt #2 that will stick?

i don't think so, at least i hope not. i find it really hard to imagine either of them dating someone else because of why they broke up like they didn't stop loving each other: tim walked away because he thought he was doing what was best for her and lucy was literally grasping for him as he kissed her goodbye. the fact that they were joking about grandkids on their second date, nonchalantly discussing their own kids when they lost jordy, they were building a future with each other. how do you move on from that when you found the person you want to spend your life with? i think attempt #2 will be the one that sticks but i don't think it's going to be easy or quick, there's so much pain there and aside from breaking her heart he also broke her trust but because of it i do think they'll come back even stronger.

#answered #anonymous #the rookie #chenford

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sugar-omi · 10 months

Note

Hi Naeomi 👋

Thank you for replying to my inquiry so diligently (omg, me trying to sound like Baxter XD dead)!

For my Baxter request, I want to understand his character more, so I wanna pick ur brain for some ideas 😄

He is a very considerate person as his approach to the MC's comfort level changes between nervous, relaxed, and direct (i think 🤔😅). I just want to know how he reacts with an MC (on crush/love) who is only anxious around him but relaxed with everyone else. MC would be trying to fluster the crap out of Cove and talking excitedly about nerdy stuff (anime/manga, video games, books, random facts on their interests, a tv series, etc.), but when Baxter comes around they simmer down and smile all giddy his way and talk about stuff they he may like or be interested in.

Honestly, my MC would feel a bit unsure how to act around Baxter at first, but eventually, they become more comfortable over time as he is revealed to be easygoing and welcoming to MC's quirky side. Makes my heart flutter just thinking about it, so cute~ 🥰☺️

hii !!! omg your mc sounds so cute n honestly like me when I was younger lol, so sweet<33 excuse to the format I'm on mobile rn and I'll fix text color n format n stuff once I'm on my computer😎👍👍👍👍honestly i had fun writing this, two darlings taking their time to open up n love each other, embracing each others quirks... its so sweet, pls i feel like i could write another lil drabble abt how happy n cute baxter would be w a playful reader like this, mmm many thoughts

tags : fluff, nervous crush/love status w baxter, multiple choice text, headcanons/drabbles

*edited for format

this man is too cocky for his own good, baxter can easily tell how someone feels about him.

but I think that excludes people he has a crush on, as you couldn't possibly like/love him back.

he has some shame! although it's only enough to not assume everyone is in love with him or likes him in any capacity...

anyway, we'll get to that later~

at first he thinks it's because you want to impress him or maybe you don't want to bore him with what you think is brain rot to someone so mature and elegant as him.

(+ a "small" but darker part of him thinks you might hate him, that you don't want to show a piece of yourself to this weird stranger on your block. he squishes the thought)

so he finds out your interest through terri/terry and by spying on snippets of your conversations with your family or with cove.

and even though he will only admit it if you threaten him with something terrifying, like angry dragons, early mornings, or worse- color. then and only then will he admit he wants you to tease him the same way you do with cove.

you're so close with him, snuggling up to cove's side, and you smirk so tantalizingly as you lean i. close to whisper it in his ear, and you say something dirty or perhaps its something cove finds especially scandalous but now cove is blushing and he's pushing you away with a chastising "y/n!"

and baxter wishes it was him...

he wants you to curl up behind him and blow on his ear the way you do cove. he wants you to pinch his butt as he walks by and he wants you to flirt with him.

and he wants you to show up on his temporary doorstep to show him your favorite volume of a manga that you finally got your hands on.

and when baxter is a hopeless romantic because he's so vulnerable under the blanket of night, he imagines you laying next to him in this big bed and he imagines the music is blending in with your voice as you babble on about something before it drifts off into your soft breath when you fall asleep due to the late hour.

but time goes on and his vacation nears the quarter mark and whenever you two talk he notices that you are getting into some of the things he likes, like rock music, and when you see him walking lazily back to his condo you come rushing off the steps of your porch, abandoning your snickering moms, and showing baxter the new song you found that he had not listened to before.

you light up at the praise in a way that makes him wish he could capture it forever...

finally baxter comes to the conclusion that he should speak to you about the things you like, and the first time he mentions something about your hobby you clam up a bit.

you don't want to bore him or scare him off with your excitement but in the end you're showing him your craft/collection and telling him every shiny detail and he's so happy to watch the light in your eyes as you speak.

eventually though you two get to the point where you try to fluster him.

it's not often, baxter makes you far too nervous and he can see anything coming from a mile away. he's so cool and you love him for it but God is his smirking face irritating when you just want him to blush, giggle and kick his feet like a love sicken school girl.

but you finally get him to flush. it takes more than half his vacation for it to happen but you're standing behind him as he works away at plating the dinner you two cooked up together.

it's simple, both of you combined have the cooking skills of a sea turtle but it's good enough for one night and it's edible.

it's good enough, you know your way around a stove well enough not to burn the house down and with baxter as your assistant you're more focused on how fun it was than anything.

it's perfect, you know how to whip up something delicious and baxter did more chopping and passing of the seasonings than anything.

he doesn't process it at first but then it hits him like a ton of bricks.

you just... said something flirty?

he's short circuting and his ears are red, and baxter pretends that his blush isn't spread down to his neck.

it's such a reward for you, you can't help but gape for a moment because baxter alexander ward is walking away from you with a blush from his ears to below the collar of his shirt and he definitely squealed a bit when he beckoned you to the living room.

it takes a whole summer of talking to you about things you like that he has little or no knowledge in, doing an activity that caters to/is apart of your interest, and soothing you when you cut yourself off when talking (it's okay, he does want to hear whatever you're looking to ramble about, be it something exciting, something that happened when practicing your hobby, or venting about something you thought was terrible or sad in a show/comic you saw earlier that week.)

and he finally gets to a point where you're teasing him a bit more often, even if you don't get the flustered reaction you want, and you're taking a page out of cove's book and the two of you spent a secret night in baxter's condo, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time.

but then he leaves, and he let's you down gently but his rejection stabs like a knife anyway.

so when you meet again, half a decade later, baxter feels his heart fall out his stomach so bad he sucks it in to try and make up for the way his heart clocks out and air leaves his lungs...

you look sad. this wasn't what you either of you were expecting to be faced with and having no time to prepare yourself to face the man who ended your relationship that summer has your eyes glassed over and your fingers dig into your skin to ground yourself.

you look indifferent. somehow that hurts more than if you were sad or angry at him, not that he'd prefer it but the smaller part of him thinks that your empty gaze shows he's lost any part in your life and you stare through him like you can see the rawness of his heart...

your face is schooled into a stony expression and you've folded your arms to match the rest of tour cold posture. he can't tell what you're thinking even though he's searching your eyes and this time baxter can't tell if you want to cry, scream at him, or if you're looking past him to the scenic view. but he sees your fingers twitch, like you want to either grab him by his tie or run.

you look angry. you try to mask it, not wanting to display the unadulterated rage you feel but your lip quirks up and your eyes are sharp and the words that escape your lips lick at baxter's ears like fire. if your thunderous glare could kill a man he'd be a goner..

he knows he's fucked up either way.

and the whole time you're working together, you're distant. although sometimes you snap back, you confront him and you joke with him sometimes.

you're both too nostalgic, you're both too in love.

somehow, you let him start over.

perhaps its the nostalgia and sentiment that came from making the groom cake together, or how beautiful scott and jude's wedding went, or perhaps its the way the other person laughs and smiles that has you drunk.

but now you two are sitting on baxter's couch and you're letting him start over.

he messed up, it's something hard to move past. something you did, for better or for worse but now it's for the better and you're moving on together.

and you're almost as nervous as you were when you first met but this time it's more that you're reserved than anything else.

sometimes he thinks he's fucked up too much, that when you cut yourself short while rambling and when you take more interest in his hobbies than your own, baxter puts a stop to it quickly.

it takes while. you both try too much to insert yourself into the other person's likes, as if that will make the comfortable relationship you had once come back quicker.

but finally, you and baxter are sharing a bed in the middle of your new apartment, and you're laughing about something funny Miranda sent you earlier that day and in the morning you two are spinning around your new kitchen in a guideless dance with your hands intertwined and you're laughing...

and baxter loves both versions of you.

the version of you that's so in love with him you quiet down, letting him take up all the space in the world and the other version of you that rants about something stupid in an anime and pinches his pale thigh when he's searching through his messy pile of clothes for that one specific shirt.

and he's so happy you opened up to him and you still open up to him everyday, loving him the same no matter how shy you are that day <333

#our life: beginnings & always #olba #baxter ward #baxter ward x reader #our life baxter #olba baxter #baxter x reader #baxter x mc #baxter ward x mc

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lovelyhan · 1 year

Text

— mirage ⟢

he loves with a passion that bleeds into his actions, never his words. you can see it in how he doesn’t make a sound. how he’s seemingly on the cusp, teetering dangerously across the knife’s edge. you're nothing but a stranger to him and yet he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

★ FEATURING; wonwoo x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 3.5k words

★ TAGS; strangers to lovers, lawyer!wonwoo, one night stands, smut

★ WARNINGS; graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI!)

★ NOTES; i've been studying non stop for this exam i gotta take on wednesday and instead of getting some sleep, i reworked another old fic into a svt one HEHE this was a tears of themis fic i wrote almost 3 years ago and couldn't help but imagine wonwoo in artem's place 🧍‍♀️

★ SMUT TAGS; no specifications abt gendered anatomy, soft sex, really vanilla, aftercare

★ TAGLIST; i'll update this when i get on my computer lol

You spot him early into the evening—lights dim and music blaring, but the sight of him is no less blinding, no less enchanting to someone like you.

He looks like a white-collar fellow, shirt buttoned all the way up as he hangs a stuffy-looking coat across one arm. Vigilant eyes, neatly gelled hair, domineering presence—everything about the man screams ‘professional’ and ‘sophisticated’.

But what is an Adonis like him doing in a place like this?

You continue observing from a distance, nursing a drink you sweet-talked a college boy into buying for you. God knows where that guy went off, so you let yourself ogle the gorgeous newcomer a few minutes longer.

He’s no regular—this you’re completely sure of. Even if you didn’t spend as much time as you did in this bar, you can tell from the tension in his shoulders that he isn’t well-acquainted with Seoul's nightlife.

The man takes the laminated menu that the bartender slides over the counter, perusing its contents like he’s ordering at a family restaurant. When he’s made up his mind, you could almost hear how polite he probably sounds while ordering the mildest drink on the list. Sparkling water, maybe.

You don’t waste any time.

Mister tall, dark and handsome becomes considerably wary the moment you slide into the stool next to his—complaining about your ghastly work life out loud. The bartender eases into his role as your wingman seamlessly, much to your amusement. He tells you how his new patron needed a break from the monotone of a nine-to-five biorhythm, too.

“No, it’s not that,” mystery man laughs softly, and God, if sex had a voice, he is most certainly the one behind it. “A friend recommended that I drop by when I have the time.”

“You’re not the type to get plastered alone, though, are you?” A tentative smile worms its way onto your face. “This your first time?”

You half-expect him to deny it, like every stingy salaryman you’ve tried to seduce in the past. But Adonis here seems more honest with himself than most.

“Kind of. And I do have my reasons,” he sighs, dark eyes piercing through yours as he holds out his hand. “I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo. Beautiful name befitting of a beautiful man, but thank the gods you aren’t cheesy enough to say that out loud.

You introduce yourself out of courtesy, yet you find yourself quite fond of how the syllables of your name roll across his tongue when he repeats it. There’s nothing even remotely erotic in the way he speaks, but something about this man just pulls you in. Like the polar ends of two magnets, you’re unable to resist the attraction.

The small talk is sparse. You learn he’s an attorney in one of the city’s big-shot law firms, and you tell him about your childhood dream of opening a flower shop in return. He already lives the same cycle of corporate slavery as you do so you doubt he’ll be interested in your trivial work stories.

But…he asks anyway. About your job, your boss, even the work environment. Wonwoo seems like someone who likes to delve into the details—even if you’re no one but a complete stranger he just happened to meet tonight. He’s so catastrophically different from the idiots you settled with for a good time, and you’re afraid he might be setting the bar a little too high. No man looking for someone to warm his bed for the night can be this sincere.

Although, there is one thing that Wonwoo and the unwitting men in this place have in common.

You know the look in his eyes a bit too well. Sadness. Dejection. Resignation?

Who did he lose? A girlfriend? A boyfriend? You have no means of making sure without asking him directly, but you’ve encountered enough heartbroken souls to pick them out of a crowd with ease.

A man as prolific as he is won’t purposely visit a shoddy establishment like this. That’s if he isn’t rearing to forget whatever—or whoever—is weighing on that pretty little head of his.

Wonwoo patiently sips on a glass of bourbon (not sparkling water, thank God) as he listens to you drone about the flowers growing in your balcony. From the looks of it, he doesn’t seem like an ordinary ‘yes man’ either. He even asks for tips on growing aloe vera because he’s heard the natural gel is good for the skin. A handsome hunk that’s polite and gives a damn about skin care? You could marry him on the spot at this point.

“Do you have any favorite flowers?” you wonder.

He considers your words for a moment and you watch the way he traces the rim of his glass with his finger. When Wonwoo meets your gaze, you see it again. That hint of sadness carefully hidden beneath a kind smile.

“Roses,” he murmurs. “As cliché as the preference might sound.”

You shake your head. “Not at all. Roses are big in the market for a reason, but…”

“But?”

“You’re going to think I’m petty if I say it...”

Wonwoo laughs, bringing the glass to his lips as he takes another sip. God, why does he look so unintentionally sexy in everything he does? It’s so unfair…

“I won’t question the expertise of a veteran gardener,” he reassures, and your heart warms at his blatant sincerity. “I take it that you’re not very fond of roses?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. They’re kind of tricky to take care of. Once, I tried to grow a rosebush but I kept pricking myself on the thorns. Roses are pretty but they hurt.”

“Pretty but they hurt,” Wonwoo repeats the words under his breath. “That’s one way of putting it.”

And then comes the silence.

For a moment, you’re seized by a twinge of panic. The atmosphere suddenly became stale the moment Wonwoo uttered those last words, and you aren’t sure how you should respond. Bartender-wingman is serving someone else on the other side of the counter, so you can’t exactly rely on him for moral support. Oh, God. What if Wonwoo thinks you’re just some pick-me person that makes growing plants a personality trait?

“It’s getting pretty late.”

You startle the moment he speaks again. Wonwoo downs whatever’s left of his drink before flashing you another heart-wrenchingly genuine smile.

“Yeah. The night just passes by when you’re enjoying a conversation,” you laugh. “Do you really have to leave so soon, attorney?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “No, not really. It’s my day-off tomorrow. How about you? Didn’t you mention you’re from downtown Seoul? That’s a bit far from here.”

You wave away his inquiry. “Nah. I can just take a train back. I’m used to the commute.”

“But you’re under the influence.”

“But I’m not drunk.”

“My apartment is just a few blocks away,” he insists, clearing his throat. “I think it’s safer if you stay the night first. It was raining quite heavily when I got here.”

You stare at him with your lips slightly parted—the gears turning in your head when you finally realize what he was trying to do.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you say, grinning from ear-to-ear, “are you saying you want me to go home with you?”

His face flushes so badly, even his ears turn red. “Is it working? I mean— I didn’t think I’d really meet anyone worthwhile when I decided to go here, so—?!”

“Good enough for me,” you sigh, getting up from your stool as you link your arm in Wonwoo’s—tugging him along. He sputters a little before fishing out his wallet, and you don’t comment on how he drops a fat wad of cash onto the bar without counting it.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, unfolding his coat to drape it across your shoulders. “I don’t want to be imposing.”

You scoff when he leads you to the parking lot. True enough, the rain still hasn’t pittered out when you got out of the bar. Maybe taking advantage of his offer isn’t so bad after all.

Grabbing Wonwoo by the front of his shirt, you make him lean down to your level with a smile. He makes a disgruntled noise out of surprise, but doesn’t struggle. You take it as a positive sign. The coat on your shoulders smells like fresh detergent and expensive cologne. You’d be a fool to walk away now.

“Yes, attorney, I’m sure,” you tell him sweetly. “Now why don’t you show me where you plan on growing those aloe vera, hm?”

Spoiler alert: he does not get to show you at all.

Despite how demure he looks, Wonwoo is surprisingly responsive when you jump him the moment the door to his apartment shuts. His lips are sinfully soft, molding his flesh against yours as he pushes his coat off your shoulders, onto the floor.

Though you’re very much liking the feel of his large hands slotting themselves on your hips, there's still a hint of hesitation in his touch. Like he’s unsure whether he wants to carry on with this or not. You pull away with a pout, fingers teasing the buttons on his iron-pressed shirt.

“We can just…hang out if you don’t want to,” you offer.

Wonwoo laughs breathlessly, taking one of your hands in his. You shoot him a weird look before heat starts to creep up your face as he plants a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“What makes you think I don’t?”

His hands travel south again, fitting the swell of your ass in those large palms. You sigh, slotting your lips together again as you jump—wrapping your thighs around his waist before you feel Wonwoo pressing you up against the wall.

Even the way he kisses is enough to drive you over the edge. He doesn’t have the displaced ferocity that most of your old flings thought made make out sessions hotter. You’re not particularly fond of overeager men, and Wonwoo’s pacing is tempered just the way you like it.

He licks into your mouth slowly, sensually, as if he wants you to embed the feel of him tonguing his way in your frazzled brain. You can’t help the moan that reverberates in your throat when he detaches himself from your mouth—taking the time to pepper your neck with little bruises.

But while he’s busy making his mark, your eyes end up focusing on the picture frames Wonwoo hung on the walls of his doorway.

You thread your fingers in his dark hair to distract him as you study each picture. One depicted what you assumed is Wonwoo with his colleagues at the law firm, smiling professionally for the camera. Wonwoo himself looked like a million dollars—tailored suit, unwrinkled shirt, debonair visage. You wouldn’t have mistaken him for anyone else.

But you also notice how his right hand is entwined with someone else’s. A man in a sleek gray blazer, his blond hair falling across cat-like eyes.

He’s present in the other frames, too. The first is a shot of him and Wonwoo sitting on a park bench, the other man sleeping soundly with his head on his shoulder. Wonwoo gazes at him with so much endearment in his eyes, it could only be called love.

There’s another photo with two more men in it. The blond grins brightly with one arm draped around Wonwoo's wide shoulders, while the other attempts to headlock another man whose eyes disappear when he smiles. In the background is someone much shorter than the three—equal parts annoyed and amused by their antics.

“Hey.”

You startle enough to lose your grip around Wonwoo’s legs, and you end up barely balancing yourself on the carpeted floor. Wonwoo laughs, and you shoot him a disgruntled look.

“You’re distracted,” he comments.

Well. Now that the cat’s out of the bag…

“Is he…your boyfriend?” you ask nervously, pointing at the blond in the picture frames. “I’m not committing adultery, am I?”

Wonwoo manages a sad smile, undoing the top buttons of his dress shirt before casting a sidelong glance at the frames mounted on his wall.

“He was about three years ago,” he admits. “But he’s getting married soon. You don’t have to worry about being a third party.”

The house is silent as you observe Wonwoo with keen eyes. It’s been three years, yet the grief in his gaze is still so raw. You’ve been with enough people to know if they’re only doing this with you for a good time, or to forget about someone else.

And you’re more than willing to help him with the latter.

You hook your arms around Wonwoo’s neck before bringing him down for another kiss—one with more fervor, more intensity than you would otherwise offer. He doesn’t reciprocate for a moment, seemingly astonished with your sudden vigor. But in time, he melts against your lips until one after the other, both your clothes start to litter the hall.

His mattress is soft when Wonwoo gently lays you atop the sheets, worshipping every inch of skin you’ve willingly exposed. But after he rises back to meet you in a fleeting kiss, he presses two fingers on your bottom lip. You’re embarrassingly compliant, parting your lips at the same time, inching your thighs apart somewhat subconsciously.

You get his long, dextrous digits nice and wet—tongue swirling around his skin as you cover them in a sheen of saliva. Wonwoo doesn’t say a word, but there’s an uncharacteristic glint in his eyes that you never would’ve associated with him earlier in the evening. A smolder in his usually composed gaze that makes you want to see just how far you can push him.

Wonwoo embraces you with one arm when he slides those spit-slicked fingers along your entrance, preparing you with a delicious stretch that has you keening his name into the cold air of the bedroom. He remains silent still, but you can feel those eyes on you regardless. The heat of his gaze penetrates into your being as his fingers make good work between your legs. When he kisses you again, your lungs feel like they’d been set aflame.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper, lips trembling as he rests his forehead against yours. “Please…”

He chuckles again, soft and reassuring as he lifts your thighs with strong hands, bracketing them across his hips. The cut of his abs from where you can see them look so well-defined, you wonder if he works out regularly. But once he maneuvers around to rid himself of his boxers, your thoughts drift to another impressive segment of his too-perfect-to-be-real body.

The familiar sound of a foil package being torn open snaps you out of your reverie. Wonwoo sighs as he rolls the rubber around his length—face red with lust or embarrassment, you aren’t quite sure. But when he glides the tip of his cock along your swollen entrance, you nearly sob.

“Want you…so bad,” you whimper, grinding down against him. “Wonwoo, please, please—!”

His initial preparation is all for naught, it seems. Because when the beautiful man above you finally buries himself to the hilt, you’re momentarily blinded by the pain of his entrance. You gasp out loud—tears welling in the corners of your eyes. But Wonwoo swallows the noise with an open-mouthed kiss, framing an apology on your lips as he wipes away the tears.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, brushing your hair away from your face. “I got a little excited.”

He stays still inside you, watching you get used to the stretch. The patience is a little endearing, given that you’re accustomed to just getting fucked out of your wits. Wonwoo even takes the time to trace comforting shapes along the skin of your thighs in an attempt to calm you down.

“You can move now,” you tell him shyly, turning your head to avoid his gaze.

Wonwoo nods once, pulling his hips back slowly before easing inside you once more. You sigh, burying your face in your hands as he builds you from the ground up, stoking the flame he started inside you the moment you laid your eyes on him.

“I want to see you.”

You jolt when he pins your hips in place with one hand while seizing your wrist with the other. There’s a crease on his brow, like he’s disappointed with you hiding your face from him. But the look immediately morphs into something more captivating.

Then he makes a particularly rough thrust that coaxes a broken moan from your lips.

His sudden, unrelenting pace continues from then on out. Wonwoo grips your thighs hard, but not enough to leave bruises. His discretion makes your heart flutter, but you can’t quite bask in the sentiment given that his cock is hitting all the spots that make stars dance in the seams of your vision. You clench your walls around his length, desperate to get a reaction out of him, and it works. Wonwoo bites his lip like he doesn’t want to make any forthcoming noises, but you bring him back down again for a kiss before anything else.

“You don’t have to hold back so much,” you murmur. “I can take it.”

Those dark eyes widen with surprise, and you can almost feel his self-control snap.

But contrary to your expectations, Wonwoo doesn’t start fucking you into the mattress like a wild animal. Instead, he hoists your hips even higher, holding your body at an odd angle. You’re about to ask what he’s trying to do, but when he plunges his cock back into your weeping hole, the words evaporate on your tongue.

Deep. He’s so impossibly deep that you fear it’ll take you days to sweat him out. A trail of saliva dribbles on your chin as Wonwoo slowly guides you to the apex of an orgasm. Your toes clench, your fingers tangle themselves in his hair. His name sounds like an incantation on your lips, and you wonder if the gods would let you have this man forever.

But…

He loves with a passion that bleeds into his actions, never his words. You can see it in how he doesn’t make a sound. How he’s seemingly on the cusp, teetering dangerously across the knife’s edge. You’re nothing but a stranger to him and yet he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

That man is lucky, you think—to be loved by someone as devastatingly devoted as Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo comes down from his post-coital high a bit later than you do. But regardless, he takes it upon himself to carry you over to the bathroom despite your protests that you can do it yourself.

Even the way he washes the evidence of your sultry affair is equal parts firm and tender. He cleans you up patiently, doing the same for himself before handing you a fluffy white towel from the rack. You blush, noting how the fabric smells exactly like him as you dry yourself.

The two of you climb back into bed thereafter—not bothering with clothes, and instead choosing to bask in the heat of your bodies. It feels nice, pressing yourself against his toned chest, and Wonwoo doesn’t seem to have any complaints to raise either.

You don’t expect any pillow talk, nor does it come. After all, this is just one night. Though you’re curious about that old flame of his, you don’t really want to ruin the nighttime mirage you’ve weaved for yourself.

The rain continues to pour outside his windowpane, but the feel of your bodies slotted together can keep you warm for the night. It’s just you and Wonwoo, legs tangled underneath his expensive sheets.

Nothing more, nothing less.

When morning comes, you’re alone on the queen-sized mattress.

Last night’s rainshower has long passed, and you’re forced to squint at the sunlight filtering through a crack in the blinds. You blink groggily, fumbling around Wonwoo’s room for your clothes. You don’t know where he is, but you’re sure as hell going to see yourself out before he gives you a polite rendition of ‘please get out of my house’.

As softly as you can, you shut the door once you’ve dressed yourself—glancing around in the living room to check if the coast is clear. You remember leaving your bag somewhere on the couches last night, and it should be—

“Hmm? You’re leaving?"

You jolt like a cat thrown into a bathtub at the sound of Wonwoo’s deep voice. When you turn around to meet his gaze, you see him at the entrance to the kitchen. Like you, he’s fully dressed now, albeit in more casual clothes compared to last night’s corporate uniform. But what baffles you the most is the cat-printed apron he tied around his waist. The scent of frying pancake batter fills your senses, and your mouth immediately waters.

“Uhh, I figured you’d want to kick me out first thing in the morning,” you laugh nervously, scratching the back of your neck. “Didn’t want to overstay my welcome and all.”

Wonwoo shoots you a confused look before laughing. “Kick you out? I’m not that terrible a person, you know. Come on, I’ve made breakfast.”

He marches back into the kitchen like you have no say in the matter. Like he actually expects you to follow and join him there. Your jaw drops into a semi-offended scowl…

But you stride after him anyways.

⟢ end notes: if you spot any mistakes, do forgive me. it's 3 am and my brain is mush LOL. and if it wasn't obvi enough, the ex is junhui and the dudes in the photo are the 96z 🫡

#svthub #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #lovelyhan #I CNAT BELIEVE I FORGOT THE TAGS SNDJSA #full length fic 📚

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