#(how to listen to it for it to be a story about the love triangle)

[ashofalltime]

i truly have no idea what to make my "art brand" other than Hot Boys With Thick Eyebrows :/

[divkazkdovikde]

life update

(a vomit of random thoughts)

my insomnia is kicking again, and i’ll be sooooo fucking tired when they’ll call me to the work during the day. but. anyway.

guys guys guys. i’m manifesting so hard rn. i’m looking for flats with my friend, okay. and we found the prefect one. and we fell so much in love with that flat? like we would have each our own room? with a fucking french windows? (french fucking windows!) and it’s only a little over our budget? and an ideal location just between our unis? huh what really oh my god?

yeah yeah yeah

we absolutely must get that flat. we have a tour planned in a week, so we hope everything goes alright and they’ll rent it to us. we’re not the only ones who want that flat, but damn we hope we’ll get it. so, manifesting. everyone must manifest in our favor. oh i’m begging the universe like i never did before.

yeah, hopeful very. i’ll go insane if this won’t work out, so it better will, because no one wants that to happen, me to go insane, that is.

also i’m currently slowly planning how i want to furnish etc my future room. my dad is a joiner, so i’ll have to ask him to help me re-do a bit of some of our old furniture that’s waiting for me to take to a new home. and there’s some stuff i’ll have to buy (really how fucking hard it’s to find an ideal chest of drawers? fucking hard and annoying, i’ll tell you. and too bloody expensive, for no fucking reason. i would have my dad make it but has enough work as it is, but goddammit, just let me have some nice drawers, i beg you.) and i’ll make some stuff myself too. can’t wait.

when we’re at spending money, i bought me marshall headphones last week, for no fucking reason. i absolutely didn’t need them, i had a perfectly fuctional headphones at home already. but nahh, little ol’ me decided she wants to throw some money out, but damn they cute and the sound? oh, i definitely do not regret it. i have the brown ones, so cute.

i’m currently reading a little life, guys. yeah… not doing okay, no. and i’m only at page 100-ish. i actually haven’t touched the book in two weeks. i needed a break already and now i don’t really have time to get back to it. but i will! it will destroy me, that’s for sure, though. also you know what i found out just yesterday? the name jude means among others also ‘praised’ and ‘prince’. and i haven’t been the same ever since. cuz like in the book, jude is basically everyone’s in the group centre of life, consciously or not. and if the author did this intentionaly? oh my, genius. if not, what a hell of coincidence.

oh and, i discovered this new theory about folklore by taylor swift. there’s this specific order in which you can listen to the album and it’s like a whole story based on the folklore love triangle betty-james-augustine. and it makes so much sense, it’s insane. so i absolutely have to pass it further. look look look:

insane. i know taylor said something else about the love triangle, but this absolutely makes sense too. also, i found this playlist on spotify, where are both folklore and evermore in a specific order, and that order makes such sense as well, it’s amazing.

4am now. i’m dead already. i’m so tired but can’t sleep, i hate this.

day before yesterday i saw my friend i have a huge crush on, and lemme tell you, i’m so deep in friendzone, he didn’t even need to say it. i actually don’t know shit. i have such huge mixed signals from him, i just wanna die. we were on a beer okay, didn’t see each other for a few months and it was a spontaneous rendezvous among friends. and he paid for me. you don’t do that on friends rendezvous dude- but like he did it so casually, jesus christ. also when we were saying goodbye, we hugged, which we normaly don’t do, cuz we have this weird history and thus we’re too awkward with each other in those stuff. see? mixed signals! and i’m not even talking about how much i enjoy talking to him. anyway. i freaked out about this to my friend after. then i calmed down and came to the conclusion, that he’s litterally just a guy and went on with my day.

hmmm. i made me four new playlists.

oh and i bought these georgeous rings and star-earings from this one small business and i’m so excited, they are so cute! i have the rings already, earing are on the way, yaaayy.

i really should stop spending so much money. i’m doung that a lot lately.

also i’m going to austria in two weeks. can’t wait. i love it there. but i’ll probably die on some hill there because i lost all my sport abilities since i stopped competing. my lungs will betray me, that’s for sure.

and i’m booked for another two tattoos! can’t wait for that either. especially since the tattoo artist is my friend and i haven’t seen her in a while. will be nice to catch up again!

mhm. there’s so much and nothing happening at the same time these days. it’s kind of weird. but, well, it is what it is. could be better, could be worse. ew, anyway. i’m too tired for talking deep shit. there will be time for it some other day. so i’ll go try to fall asleep. because, yeah, i’m surely gonna die at work today. wish me luck, bye.

[lord-luminous]

Someone called Bill Cipher and Ford Pines a doomed soulmates pairing and I haven't been able to stop thinking about that.

Being doomed soulmates, to me, always felt intrinsically tragic. One of the few examples I could think off hand are Achilles and Patroclus, two people loved each other so much but they weren't destined for happiness. Greek heroes 99% of the time never are. Soulmates as a trope is defined in someone being destined to end up with their perfect match.

That's why Bill and Ford being doomed soulmates is so utterly fascinating. BillFord is probably the most anti-romantic pairing Gravity Falls (show) could honestly conjure. So much of that pairing is built on manipulation, lies and transaction. Bill is using Ford to get into the a physical realm so he can rule it, while Ford is idly using Bill to learn more things about the unnatural side of the world. So those two being soulmates on any level is going to be anything but healthy. I mean, even in the show, Bill tortures Ford for information.

Furthermore, it can be used in such fascinating theories and AUs. When we read the story as them as explicit doomed soulmates, while pairing information we have from the show and fandom theories you can bring to life fun concepts.

When the show was airing, there was a theory post-ATOTS that Blendin Possesed By Bill had messed with Ford's project to further ruin it than Stan had. Which is why it looked more damaged coupled with the "Blendin was here" with a triangle right there in the episode. So what if it was Bill that ruined the project? That would make the Stan Twins fight and go their separate ways, while this intentionally led Ford right down the path to meet Bill eventually in Gravity Falls. The path that eventually lead to their partnership, Ford being pushed into the portal, 30 years trapped in the Dream Dimension, and later, Bill's defeat.

And that's just one idea I came up for some random fanfiction floating in my brain. The reason I even like that particular concept is that it does more than absolve Stan of wrongdoing, but rather shows you how twisted Bill Cipher could be. There's more you can do with it. Doomed soulmates destined to find each other, and destined to ruin each other. Bill being half the reason Ford was pushed through portal or how he let Ford go insane through fear while Ford being a part of the Cipher Zodiac that could vanquish Bill or using the memory gun on Bill to erase him from existence.

It's so interesting because even if BillFord isn't my ship, you can unpack so much through their dynamic through this lens. Like what makes them click together and what drives them apart.

You guys might have already realized all this, but I just needed to get this off my chest. Finding out more about Bill and Ford's relationship has altered me on a fundamental level. Doomed Soulmates is actually the most appropriate way to define it. How else would you define it?

Thank you for listening to me, a semi-casual fan of Gravity Falls.

[17020]

RULE OF THIRDS

High school is home for a lot of things, including jealousy and drama. My boyfriend's misery is your enjoyment this time! This is love triangles, with the Wind Breaker men. Warnings for manga spoilers (last blurb), drinking, ooc ume (sawrryyyy) !! tagging @kaiser1ns !!

A NIGHT OF REVELATIONS.

REN KAJI, featuring TOMA HIRAGI

Ren Kaji set aside his ego and pride to attend some afterparty because he knew you would be there. That meant a lot.

And at first, everything was... fine? He stepped out of his comfort zone, headphones down as he listened to the beats of the music which played over the speakers. His eyes met yours, with you linking your pinky with his.

"What? You wanna dance with me?" he questioned, his tone almost accusatory. It was what he wanted more than anything, yet he made it sound as if it was your desire. The mere thought of your skin grazing his made his heart want to burst out of his chest.

"You want me to dance to Feid? No fucking way Rennie, I don't dance to that. Plus, you should take care of Toma, he's on another planet."

Sure, the song was ass, yet he still felt his heart shatter. He watched as you waltzed away, heading towards your friend group to chat. Kaji turned his head to the side, only to find his upperclassmen staring back at him. His bloodshot eyes were puffy, lips pursed before he raised an almost empty bottle of god-knows-what to his lips.

Great. Now he has to babysit.

When he sat down next to Hiragi, Kaji had a bad feeling.

“M’gonna do it tonight, Kaji.”

Call it foresight, or a crazy good intuition, but Ren Kaji knew his heart would sink this very night. “Good” he hummed. It was the only thing to come out of his mouth, as he felt his stomach churn from the anxiety.

“Ya sure ya don’t feel anything for her?”

“All good” he squeaked, “let me know how it goes.”

When he found you a while later, Kaji was stunned. There you were, drunk out of your mind and blowing smoke out of your pretty lips, body swaying to one of Fanny Lu's greatest hits.

With Kota. Fucking. Sako.

It was a night of revelations, seeing as the once grumpy blond had a tiny smile on his face, mouthing the lyrics to Don Juan while facing you. His stiff body was now in sync with yours, chuckles escaping your lips as you commented on how great of a dancer he was.

Kaji saw you stumble, and he took that as a sign. He knew he had to care for you. That, and the fact that he also had to get you away from Sako, for his own mental wellbeing. With his hand getting ahold of yours, Kaji guided you to a more secluded space of the patio, patting your head and asking if you're okay.

"You should go home, Yn. You've had enough to drink."

When he asked to hang with you the day after, Kaji was wary. Sitting down next to one another in one of Cactus Bakery's booths, he sighed.

"You got home safe?"

"Mhm."

"You didn't dance with me."

"Yeah, I didn't."

"You did with Sako, though."

Resting your head on his shoulder, you laughed. "Fanny Lu is certainly not denied to anyone! If you had chosen another song other than Feid's, I certainly would've danced with you, Rennie."

A small smile appeared on his face as his mind raced on about what could have been the greatest night of his life, only to come back to his senses after he realized it could have been someone else's.

"Anything else happen?"

"Yeah" you shrugged, "Hiragi texted me this morning, said he liked me."

He froze. Since when was he Hiragi to you?

"...well, what'd you say?"

Ren Kaji thought he was going to die.

"Turned him down. He's like a brother to me, and I made that abundantly clear. He took it well, so that's that! He thanked me for being so mature about it."

Last night was now certainly the greatest night of Kaji's life, as he realized he still has a chance.

WHEN ONE STORY CLOSES, ANOTHER OPENS.

HAJIME UMEMIYA, featuring JO TOGAME

Hajime Umemiya was going to pop a blood vessel when he saw none other than Shishitoren's second-in-command's hand holding yours, noses nearly grazing each other as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. Your giggles, which were once his favorite tune, were now like nails on a chalkboard.

Because it was Togame who made you laugh.

His anger was indetectable, a smile plastered on his face as he observed the way in which you laughed at his jokes, how you tilted your head to the side and looked at him with those alluring eyes of yours, how you reached out to him when talking.

Screw that, it was so obvious that Umemiya was fucking jealous, as his eyes were squinted, his face had an expression of disgust, and one could swear that his left eyelid was trembling.

When you went to him a few days later telling him you had exchanged socials with Togame, Umemiya simply nodded with a smile on his face, congratulating you on how well things were going. He thought his soul was going to leave his body.

"He said he used to play street ball, and he played as a striker, and he wants to play volleyball with me! Can you believe that, Ume?"

"That's great, Yn! Y'know I used to play street ball too, I was well-known for that back in the day, I used to play for my middle school as a striker" he grinned, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I could teach you to play both sports if you'd like! You wouldn't have to hop onto Shishitoren turf that way."

Hajime Umemiya was utterly adorable.

That same night you received a text.

UME !! <3 This Thursday me and my siblings are gonna play ball! You wanna join?

Umemiya's t-shirt fit you like a glove.

Having little attire for a match, Umemiya offered to gift you one of his shirts for you to play in, and the white and baby blue stripes made you look fantastic. To him, you were an angel sent from heaven to bless his eyes, as well as the football 'field'.

After playing like total lunatics, Umemiya sat down cross-legged in the middle of the park's grass, you laying down and having your head resting on his thighs.

What Umemiya wanted to do in that moment was kiss you senseless.

"Hey Ume... can you help me with something?"

"Sure thing."

"Togame's sort of being a bit pushy, and I don't have any interest in him at all. Can you take a picture with me so that he'll shoo?"

His eyes sparkled more than the world's most expensive diamond. He excitedly nodded, asking you to open your phone's camera as he gently moved so that he laid beside you, resting his head on your shoulder and his arm wrapped around your waist.

Click!

Umemiya felt like the luckiest man in the world when he found out Togame had seen your story with him and had suddenly ghosted you.

GOOD PEOPLE, GOOD DEEDS.

HARUKA SAKURA, featuring YAMATO ENDO

When Haruka Sakura heard of a certain someone's temporary return to Furin, he thought nothing of it. Except for when that certain someone came waltzing up to him after seeing him interact with you a few minutes prior, a smug smile on his face.

"So, Sakura! Mind slippin' me her number?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah! That girl you were talking to before, she's totally my type."

"And why the hell would I do that?"

Endo laughed as he placed his arm on Sakura's shoulders, seeing how the boy in question's face turned beet red. "Because, Sakura, you're a good person! Good people do good deeds!"

There was no way in hell Haruka Sakura was giving him your number. Matter of fact, he didn't budge!

So why in the fuck were you giggling in front of him at Pothos, telling him Yamato Endo was in your messages asking you out to breakfast?

Sakura's eye started to twitch as he asked how he got your number, nearly spitting out his omelette rice when you told him Nirei had given him your number. When you told him that Endo was planning on coming to Furin on Saturday to meet up with you, his face became a newfound shade of red. Whether it was from anger or from Endo's affection towards you, he did not know.

Friday came by, and to Sakura's surprise...

"Oh gosh, Haru!"

"What's going on?"

"Endo cancelled breakfast, said he couldn't make it since he's on his turf and can't come to Bofurin's."

"'s a shit move to cancel last minute."

"But, Tsubaki told me there's a party over at Keisei street tomorrow night. Wanna come with? I don't wanna go alone."

Sakura's ears and cheeks were flushed as he stuttered a reply: a meek and simple 'yeah'. You smiled as you wrapped your arms around Sakura, too excited to even let him react. When Saturday night came around, you thought you were going to die.

Yamato Endo was in Keisei street, grinding on another girl as he asked for her number.

Your jaw dropped to the floor. To your surprise, Sakura was even more enraged than you were. Grabbing your wrist, he dragged you over to a bench, sitting you down and placing your head on his shoulder.

"Let it out."

Confused, you asked what he meant by it. He laid his head on top of yours, with you feeling how his stiff body slowly softened as he sighed.

"I said let it out. Yer obviously hurt by that asshole, so let it out."

Your sobs were swallowed by the blaring music, but for some reason, the sadness quickly faded away, instead being replaced with a sense of tranquility. As if you belonged there, with Sakura by your side.

Sakura was sure that Yamato Endo was a good person, doing him a favor by leaving you all to himself.

note. this is for my boyfriend. this is what you get for calling me your stinky poo. i am not a poo. the poos are your friends who tried to get with me later on. or perchance the poo has been you all along, because you did not give one shit that they liked me and you made your move. love always, your PRINCESS NOT POO.

[runawrites-blog]

Where The Fuck Did She Learn That? (Deadpool x Reader)

Summary: After accidentally teaching his daughter a swear word, Wade tries to teach her other words before you come home. You still end up finding out. (Female Reader) Word Count: 1,850 Warnings: Swearing. Kid-Fic. Wade is a Girl Dad. Minor Arguing. No Y/N. No Deadpool and Wolverine Spoilers. A/N: The child character is named Bea (nickname Bee) after Bea Arthur from Golden Girls because, in the flashback scene from Deadpool, we see Wade wearing a shirt with her likeness on it. Also, someone asked me to tag them in my other Deadpool fics but I am not sure if that means ALL Deadpool fics I write or just series, so I didn't tag them. I am new to people wanting to be tagged in my writing, so please if you want to be tagged clarify what you want to be tagged in so I (a dumbass) can understand it. Sorry ^^ Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58276927

---

“There she is!”

Wade smiled softly when his one-year-old daughter babbled happily as he picked her up from her playmat on the ground, hoisting her up over his head and making her giggle excitedly. He grinned back at her as he bounced her a few times before settling her on his hip, nodding along to her mostly nonsensical babbles. You’d told him that after around twelve months you two could expect her first words and he was now eagerly waiting for it every day.

He would ever admit that to you because he knew you’d tease him relentlessly about it and as any of his readers knew you were only allowed to do that in bed. But as to not do you injustice, he had to admit that most of the time you weren’t teasing him about how he interacted with his daughter, that most of the time you thought it was absolutely endearing.

“Did you have fun stuffing shapes in boxes? Bet that was absolutely riveting!”

The excited way in which he always spoke to her never failed to make her gurgle excitedly, bouncing in his grasp as her little hands reached up to pat all over his face. Wade just chuckled at her excitement, leaning over to examine the toys on the ground, pretending to be deep in thought.

“So help me out here, the star-shaped block goes into the star-shaped hole right? And the triangle one into the triangle-shaped hole?” He mused, crouching down and pointing at the corresponding shapes and nodding along to his daughter’s babbles. “Got it. Thanks, Bee.”

It was a nickname you two had used for the baby ever since your pregnancy because she had always moved around a lot, making you two call her a busy bee. And when your daughter had been born you two had decided on a fitting name but since you had so adamantly fought Wade on how you couldn’t call a baby Bee and he had not really wanted to argue with you after you’d just given birth, he’d agreed. And like that, you two had decided on the name Bea, only for you to later find out Wade had suggested it because he just loved ‘Golden Girls’.

“How about we get you a snack?” Wade asked in a soft voice, bouncing Bea on his hip as he made his way to the kitchen. “I could try apple bunnies like Mommy makes them but don’t get upset when they come out looking like apple roadkill instead! Deal?”

He had out his pinky at Bea and she reached for it, grabbing it with her whole hand and shaking it around a little. Wade just shrugged at that.

“Close enough!”

Sitting her down in her highchair, Wade started cutting up some apples for Bea, humming along in agreement to whatever she was babbling about behind him. None of her words were distinguishable as of yet but she loved babbling to herself. You’d once said that she truly was Wade’s child because he could never keep his mouth shut, either. When he’d called you fucking rude for it you had almost tackled him with how fast you’d tried to cover his mouth, chiding him for using foul language around Bea. His joke about how you could always gag him had only made you roll your eyes.

“Almost done, Bee. Just keep telling your story. Daddy’s listening.”

As he readied his knife to try and cut into the apple twice, so the two cut-in areas could be lifted to simulate ears, he slipped up and sliced right into his thumb. Dropping the knife onto the counter he shook his hand a little.

“Fuck!”

“Fuck!”

Cut thumb and apple forgotten, Wade felt his blood run cold and he froze in his spot before slowly turning his head to see whether or not he had heard that right. When he looked over his shoulder he saw Bea giggling happily, clapping her tiny hands as she repeated the word over and over again.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He was dead. You were going to come back and find out that your child’s first word was a swear word and that it was his fault, on top of that. Then you were going to tear him a new one and not in a way he would like you to. Panicking he rushed over to the highchair, crouching down in front of it and shaking his head.

“No, no, Bee. You can’t say that. It’s a bad word.”

“Fuck!”

“No!” Wade exclaimed in desperation as his daughter giggled on and repeated the word. “Can you be a sweetheart for Daddy and stop saying that? Please?”

It was dumb to try and reason with a baby, he knew that. None of his readers would have to remind him of that but in his desperate state of mind, it was the only thing he thought of trying. But it didn’t help. Bea was repeating the word still and Wade stood up in frustration, burying his face in his hands.

As he imagined how you would react, how you would make him sleep on the couch for months he realised the worst thing was that would would likely get upset about this. So he quickly thought of an idea. He had to make Bea forget the swear word and try to get her to say something else.

So quickly, he picked her up again, holding her close as he sat her down on his hip and went around the kitchen, pointing out random objects only to get the swear word as a reply again. Then he moved on into the living room to try doing the same there.

“Flower.”

“Fuck.”

“Table.”

“Fuck.”

“Couch.”

“Fuck.”

This went on for some time until eventually Wade went into Bea’s bedroom and walked around, once more pointing out random objects until they reached her crib and the mobile hanging over it. Bea reached out for the little aquatic creatures hanging from it and Wade got an idea -- a word that was as short as the swear word and also started with the same letter. Gentle, he stopped the mobile and grabbed a small blue fish between both his fingers.

“Fish.”

“Fish!”

“Yes, Fish! Good girl, Bee!” Wade said and nodded, beaming as his daughter repeated the word a few more times. “Fish. That’s a fish.”

The front door opening made him turn and freeze. He hoped his plan had worked as he walked out into the living room where you quickly spotted him and came over, cooing at the girl in his arms before taking her into yours. You bounced her around a bit as you leaned in to kiss Wade before looking back at Bea.

“Did you have fun with Daddy, Bee?”

“Fish!”

Your mouth fell open and a smile overtook your features as you stared at your daughter in disbelief. Then you looked up at Wade in absolute delight, bouncing Bea around on your hip as the girl giggled happily.

“She said her first word? That’s amazing! And it’s so funny that it’s fish.”

“I guess it’s because of her mobile.” Wade shrugged and then leaned forward to kiss Bea on the head as he continued lying to you. “She’s been going on about it all afternoon.”

“It’s just sad that I wasn’t there to hear it.” Your smile faltered just a bit but then your face lit up again. “Maybe I can see it on the baby monitor.”

Wade felt his blood run cold for a second before he realised why that wouldn’t be possible. “She said it in the kitchen. The baby monitor is in the bedroom, so I guess you won’t be able to see it. Sorry, Honey.”

Once more your face fell but it quickly lit up once again when Bea kept babbling on about fish and you looked up to smile at Wade, seemingly having decided that it didn’t matter because it was a wonderful thing nonetheless. Wade was about to embrace you and Bea when you piped up again, a big smile on your face.

“Wait a second. The baby monitor has two devices and both of them have cameras, so you can use them back and forth.” You mused, snapping your fingers and making Wade freeze as he realised where the other device was. “I left the other one in the kitchen yesterday!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, and now I can see our daughter speak her first word for the first time, too!”

Before Wade could come up with a lie you were on your way to the kitchen, Bea in your arms. Once there you sat down the footage of the empty kitchen until Wade saw the video of him putting Bea down in her highchair. His hands clamped down on the back of your chair as you started playing the footage, turning back to smile at him and tease him quietly about how sweet he was for always talking to Bea. But he wasn’t really listening, eyes trained on the monitor.

“Fuck!”

Wade felt himself freeze as you turned around in your chair, a deep scowl on your face as you looked up at him. “That was our daughter first word? And she said it because of you?”

“I am so sorry, Honeybun. My sweet pookie-bear, I swear it was not on purpose. I cut myself and it was out of reflex. Please, don’t kick me out!”

“Give me a second.”

You stood from your chair and walked into the living room to place Bea down on her playmat where she began playing with her shapes and blocks again. Wade followed you, head turned down as he waited for you to go off on him. As you marched over and guided him into the hallway, just far enough to be out of earshot but close enough to keep an eye on your daughter, he knew he was in for it.

“Bad enough that you teach her to swear, but you also lie to me about it!” You snapped quietly, probably not wanting to raise your voice and scare Bear. “I can’t believe you!”

Wade raised his hands in defeat. “It’s totally my fault, I know. But you gotta admit that I at least got her to quickly forget it. Now she’s just saying ‘fish’, so that’s good!”

“Yeah, I guess that’s good.” You sighed and shook your head, putting your hand on your hips. “At least you fixed this.”

“So really, if anything you shut be thankful!”

“Shut the fuck up, Wilson!”

”Fuck!”

Wade burst out laughing as you turned in horror, finding Bea on the floor, repeating the word over and over again. He watched in amusement as you hurried over and tried to redirect her to saying ‘fish’ again but it was of no use because now that Bea had been reminded of the word she was not going to stop saying it. Wade grinned to himself as he approached you, leaning in close to whisper in your ear so Bea wouldn’t hear him.

“Where the fuck did she learn that?”

[neoneun-au]

CAN'T HELP MYSELF; CHAPTER IV: HEAR ME OUT

―PAIRING: wonwoo x fem!reader, mingyu x fem!reader ―GENRE: love triangle au, fluff, mild angst, romantic comedy, suggestive, smut ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, mild language, alcohol consumption, therapy, 18+ only ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far, this is really only fun with interaction and it helps keep me motivation to finish !

iv: hear me out

.

.

.

The morning dawns bright and bleary-eyed and you starfish out in bed, stretching your limbs and feeling more relaxed than you’ve felt in months. You take your time getting ready–a leisurely shower, a lengthy scroll through social media, closing and re-opening the same work email five separate times to reassure yourself that this recent project was in fact not due first thing Monday morning. A weekend of peace and freedom–no looming threat of work obligations and marginally less sexual frustration than usual. Pure bliss.

Sounds of life start to filter in through your door from the hallway about an hour after you first wake up; the rest of condo inhabitants up and about after their own late Friday night escapades. You had heard a few of them coming in around 2:00am or so as you began to drift off to sleep but otherwise what time everyone got in and got to bed was a mystery to you. After a few minutes lingering at the edge of your mattress listening to your stomach rumble, you drop your feet to the ground and step out into the hallway in search of breakfast. 

Mingyu, it seems, had the exact same plan as you. His door clicks shut behind him just as you close your own and you stand facing each other like you had just run into your long lost lover at a train station someplace far from home. 

“Good morning,” he says after a beat, the hint of a smile beginning to creep in at the corners of his mouth. 

“Morning,” you reply, feeling the fog of contentment settle back down to reality as you stand opposite him–your hand tugs gingerly at the hem of your old floral nightshirt. 

“How did you sleep?” he asks and you can’t tell if there’s an edge of conspiracy in his voice, an ‘I know what you did last night’ gleam in his eye. You’re probably imagining it. You hope to god you’re imagining it.

“Quite well,” you respond, shaking off the thought and stubbornly refusing to give in to the fear that he had heard you in the midst of your fantasies. You cross your arms over your chest in defense–warding off any further psychic connection. “You?”

“Good,” he replies and you nod in acknowledgement. His gaze flitters from yours to the hallway behind you, pointedly avoiding drifting lower than your face and you realise after a second that he has a fairly decent top down view of your cleavage. You let your arms fall back down. “Got any plans today?”

“Meeting up with some friends later, but aside from that nothing, thankfully,” you reply with a shrug. “How about yourself?” 

“Not much,” he mirrors your shrug and you worry for a second that you are going to be left repeating yet another stunted hallway conversation. Thankfully he opens his mouth after a breath to continue, “Though, I think Seungcheol is trying to recruit me for some promotional video for his gym. I told him to ask Vernon since Vernon is the actor.”

“But he still wants you to do it?” you ask, closing the shutter on the mental image of Mingyu lifting weights before it can imbed itself in your subconscious alongside his bare nipples. 

“Yeah, he told me Vernon has the body of a wet noodle.” 

You laugh, the veil of tension that had descended on the pair of you relaxes back into normalcy at the comment and you’re glad for the distraction. “I would say I’m surprised but that tie-dye is pretty baggy…” you trail off with a grin and Mingyu tosses his head back in laughter before turning with you to head down the hallway. 

The kitchen is abuzz with activity when you enter, Seungcheol is deep in a lecture aimed directly at Vernon who appears to not fully be listening despite the occasional cursory nod. The distinctive scent of eggs permeates the air and you notice an array of food already laid out on the table in front of Jeonghan. 

“Morning you two,” he greets, one eyebrow raised. As usual, seeking out some sort of intrigue. “Late night?” 

“Not really,” you reply, shaking your head and refusing to take the bait. You sit down at the table and swipe a slice of bread from the side of his plate; sinking your teeth into it before he can admonish the theft. “I’ve been awake for an hour already, just hanging out in my room before joining you animals.”

“Is that so?” he asks, unwilling to give up the narrative he has built in his head. You knew confessing to him about your micro-crush (if you could even call it that) on Mingyu was a bad idea, but you thought that after the stern warning and lecture he had given you that he might actually be normal about something for once in his life. No such luck. 

You open your mouth to reply, more than ready to raise your own sword in this duel, but you’re cut off before you can begin as the rest of the household takes a seat at the table to join you.

“Mingyu, how did that date go last night?” Seungcheol asks, relieving Vernon of his lecture for now. An apparent relief as Vernon immediately gathers up a small plate of food before retreating from the kitchen completely.  

Date? The word shoots through the room like a lightning bolt. Jeonghan glances at you, fox-like features alight with malicious curiosity. You stare wide-eyed at Mingyu as he opens and closes his mouth like a trout caught in a net. “Oh uh…I cancelled it, actually,” he carefully avoids your gaze, instead burying his face in his mug of coffee. 

“Cancelled it? Why? I thought you said she was cute?” Seungcheol asks, blissfully ignorant to the relay of glances darting around him. He waits happily for Mingyu to respond, grabbing a few slices of fruit from Jeonghan’s plate before he can swat his hand away. 

“She was yeah,” Mingyu concedes with a small laugh. You see a faint hint of red starting to colour the tips of ears as all three sets of eyes around the table fix their attention fully on him, all for different reasons. He rubs at the back of his neck and feigns a nonchalant shrug, though it’s plain to see that he could not be feeling more chalant. “I just didn’t think it was really going to go anywhere, so I cancelled it.” 

Seungcheol laughs, taking a bite of his prize apple, “since when have you ever cared about it going somewhere before?” 

Mingyu bristles, hackles raised at the implication in the question. An uncharacteristic frown deepens in the corners of his mouth, marring his handsome features. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not just a slut. I do actually want a relationship.” 

You’re so caught up in listening to the exchange that you don’t notice his eyes darting to meet yours before it’s too late to avoid them. You find yourself locked in his gaze again, a beat too long to go unnoticed by Jeonghan as he chuckles next to you. 

You feel the air around you thicken and scramble to your feet to beat a hasty retreat, following in Vernon’s footsteps. With slightly trembling hands you collect a mug and grasp for the box of assorted teas from the top shelf. 

Seungcheol, it seems, has given up on ribbing Mingyu about his dating life and instead turns his attention towards you just as you try and make yourself invisible in the corner while you wait for the kettle to boil. “Ready for another jog tonight?” 

“Oh, no I uh–” you stutter, “I actually have plans tonight so I won’t be able to.”

He frowns, wide brown eyes shimmering with disappointment and you feel like you just let your parents down. “This isn’t an excuse to get out of training, is it?” he asks and you shake your head, frantic to dispel the thought. 

“No, not at all, one of my friend’s is back in the country, she lives in England and she’s only here–”

Seungcheol holds up a hand–flat, open palm halting your excuses. “Say no more,” he says, “we can reschedule for tomorrow night. Friendship is worth the sacrifice.” 

“Oh…okay thanks,” you reply, unsure of what else to do with the proverb. The kettle whistles and you pour the hot water into your mug–careful to avoid sloshing it over the sides.

Tea in hand you turn to rush back towards the safety of your bedroom as Seungcheol and Mingyu strike up a conversation about the national soccer team’s prospects. Jeonghan keeps you locked in his sights as you walk by, fixing you with an evaluating look that would be withering if it weren’t mostly just irritating. You snatch his last slice of toast without looking back.

.

.

.

The hum of the sports bar fills your senses, dulling your thoughts (a not unwelcome intrusion). 

It’s the sound of pool balls smashing against each other as they shoot across the beer-stained green top of the billiards table. The faint scent of chlorine bleach mixed with body odor and stale cigarettes. The round robin of songs floating out from the made-to-look-old jukebox in the corner. It was as familiar as it was revolting and you found yourself lost in your surroundings, half expecting an old college fling to rear his ugly head up from behind the bar. 

It had been Yerim’s idea to visit a few of your old haunts from before she moved away. Some burst of nostalgia propelling her on a mission to hunt down every decrepit pub and restaurant that you had all graced with your presence–pockets lined with scholarship and loan money intended for tuition and books but all too often spent on cold coffee and hot street food. 

Most of them had since closed for business (much to her vocal distress), but the few that she did manage to remember and locate had now become items on her itinerary during her visit. 

Thankfully work obligations had kept you busy through half of it and she was mostly content with dragging her English friend around with her, but you knew you weren’t going to be able to avoid it forever. And despite the chaos that usually followed her around like a shadow, you did want to see her before she left again.

So now you’re sitting across from Seulgi and Yerim in some sports bar in Itaewon that you barely remember the name of having been unceremoniously thrust upon arrival into the booth next to Yerim’s friend Sam. 

He’s tall, lightly moustached, and smells faintly of bargain bin cologne. He greeted you with an appraising nod that made you somehow both appalled and flattered and now he’s talking at a steady monotone into your ear about some observation on the local food or another while you sip on your lukewarm pint of ale. You’re nodding at the appropriate intervals, giving little hums of approval where needed, but your mind is occupied watching the game of darts across the bar and not actually hearing a single coherent word come out of his mouth. 

“It’s a rather tepid way to play, I always thought–” 

His voice drones on in the background, roughly the same decibel as the ambient noise of the room so it was easy to ignore. You flick your eyes from his face down to the table and back over to the group of men playing darts. You used to be good at darts. You recall the weight of the slim bolt of metal as it would rest in your palm, waiting for your turn while you were already half-cut on happy hour brews and whatever the guy of the moment was buying for you. 

“You know, I’ve always admired a woman’s natural ability to–”

One of the darts group strolls over to the bar, trying to catch the bartender’s attention as he leans against the back wall and chats with the sole waitress in the place. She looks young, maybe 21 or 22. She’s probably in college, working to pay her way through school or just for some extra spending money. That ash blonde balayage can’t be cheap to maintain…

“Don’t you think so?”

Isn’t that Wonwoo’s friend? Or boss? Or whatever? That short guy with the black ponytail throwing darts? You vaguely recall him from a work dinner years ago at their company, but according to Wonwoo he was a big homebody so you rarely ever saw him. 

“Hello, is anyone alive in there?” Seulgi’s voice cuts through your mental fog and you snap back to attention, blinking the focus back into your eyes as you notice everyone at the table staring at you. 

“What? Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew, what were we talking about?” 

“Who?” Yerim asks, craning her neck to try and spot a familiar face. None appear in her immediate line of sight and the disappointment is evident on her expression as soon as she turns back around. You’re not sure what her intention was in dragging everyone back here but you wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibilities that she had brewed up some fantasy of running into a washed up ex-boyfriend and getting the chance to flaunt how successful and worldly she has become over the years. Not that you could blame her for the fantasy, you would probably be doing the same in her position. 

She excuses herself to the bathroom and you watch as she slips out of her seat and saunters across the room, head bobbing side to side to make sure that there was no one there that she knew before disappearing around the corner. 

“You’re so distracted tonight,” Seulgi states, pulling your attention back to her. She’s eyeing you with suspicion, one eyebrow slightly raised, as she sets her empty pint glass down onto the table.  

“It’s just been a long time since I’ve been back here, it’s kind of weird.” You shrug off her suspicion, pointedly ignoring her amused scoff. Someone clears his throat beside you and you’re forced to remember Yerim’s gangly British friend. 

When you first met up for dinner earlier, Yerim had pulled you aside while he and Seulgi were discussing the cost of beef in Korea vs the UK to gauge your interest in him and through a series of frantic hand signals you were sure you had successfully communicated that you had absolutely zero interest in this cardigan-wearing man even if he was mostly polite and non-threatening. Yerim pouted for a minute, as she was wont to do, before shrugging and reaching for another slice of pork belly and dropping the matter. 

Afterwards, it felt like someone had let the steam vent off on a pressure cooker. You were able to relax and Yerim mostly stopped trying to force conversation between yourself and Sam.  

Without Yerim around now, though, you realise how out of his element he must feel. A twinge of guilt for how quickly you had written him off started to creep up inside you. Maybe you didn’t want anything romantic with him but did that mean you couldn’t get to know him a bit? Maybe he wasn’t all that boring. Maybe you could get lost in a nice, simple conversation with someone who didn’t have the full documented history of you or your many neuroses. 

“So, did you grow up in London?” you ask and he startles, taken off guard by the sudden attention.  

“No, uhh–” he stammers and you watch a slight layer of breath fog up his glasses as he snorts a small laugh, “it’s a funny story actually, I–”

“Oh my god!” Yerim’s voice breaks through his sentence as she rushes back towards the table–cutting him off before you have the time to decide whether it actually is a funny story or not. 

“Guys, red alert,” she stage-whispers, crashing back into her seat. She’s panting, eyes wide as saucers–for a split second you wonder if she had done a lap outside in the cold. “I just went to the bathroom and you’re never going to guess who–”

Her voice fades into the background as your vision narrows to a point. Wonwoo’s eyes catch yours from the hallway Yeri had just run back from and you feel your heart plummet to its assured death in the pit of your stomach. 

When had he gotten here? He’s half a foot taller than most of the people in here, how had you not noticed him earlier? Were you that painfully oblivious or had he crawled in under your nose? 

You sit transfixed–frozen solid at the sight of him–and judging by the expression on his face he’s just as shocked to find you here. You’re sure he hadn’t anticipated running into the girl who broke his heart in a random sports bar in Itaewon. 

Everything slows to a stop, like one of those scenes in a rom com where the main characters see each other across the room and everything else goes blurry. It’s just them, their feelings, and whatever indie love song was chosen for the soundtrack. You wonder if the actors in those scenes feel it as strongly as you do now. It would be hard to act when you feel like your stomach is going to fall directly out of your ass. 

In the span of a breath, as abruptly as it had begun, the spell is over. The director calls cut, the background actors return to normal, the sounds and sights of the bar rush back into your periphery and you’re stuck frozen in your seat, staring at Wonwoo with your jaw slightly unhinged while your friends exchange knowing glances. 

“What’s happening?” Sam asks, his voice pinging off the side of your attention like an errant tennis ball. 

“I swear I had no clue he was going to be here,” Yerim starts, an edge of panic coating her words as they spill out of her mouth. You barely hear her. You’re too busy watching in horror as Wonwoo seems to also snap back to reality. You see his eyes flit from you to Sam and back again–he seems to be hovering on the precipice of a decision, wheels turning in his mind as he considers all exit strategies. Or at least, that’s what you would be doing in his shoes. 

The horror rises higher and higher in your throat as he starts to grow bigger in your vision. A trick of the mind. The object of so many of your thoughts and anxieties exploding into IMAX sized pixels right in front of your naked eyes, expanding over the whole screen of your view until he seems to loom over you like an omnipresent being. It isn’t until he’s about a foot away from you that you realise this is just because he was walking in your direction. 

“Hey,” he greets, caution clear in his voice. 

You gape at him, open mouthed and floundering, and Seulgi (blessedly) takes over the interaction in your stead before it gets too awkward and everyone explodes in the wake of your embarrassment. “Hello,” she supplies, “did you just get here? I’m surprised we didn’t see you earlier.” 

“Yeah,” he nods, a slight awkward laugh cushioning the word as he speaks. “I’m here with some colleagues from work, one of them is a huge Arsenal fan so he wanted to catch the game down here.” 

“That’s cool,” she nods and you feel her nudge your shin with the toe of her boot under the table, forcing you out of your slack-jacked state. You snap your mouth shut and take a sip of your drink, averting your eyes from Wonwoo as you feel heat creep up your neck. 

Seulgi, uncharacteristically polite, continues, “do you remember Yerim?” the woman in question smiles at him as her name is said and he nods his acknowledgement, “she’s back in Seoul with her friend here. We’re just catching up. How have you been?”

“Good, good,” he starts and then, thinking better of it, clears his throat to retry, “well, not bad. Work and…everything, you know? How are you?”

“Oh, I’m just great,” Seulgi smiles and boots you again. You take the hint and finally lift your gaze, catching Wonwoo’s eyes as they flicker over your face. 

“How are you?” he asks again, voice softer. The question is directed at you and you feel the weight of it sink in as you try and sort through your scrambled thoughts for any semblance of a coherent response. 

“Fine uh, yeah,” you nod, head bobbing on your neck like a loose spring. “Good. Long time no–umm…Jihoon, is that? How’s every–? You’re? He’s–work good?” 

Wonwoo is silent for a second, processing the tangle of words that had just spilled free from your mouth, before you see him connect the dots. “Yeah, he’s doing well. Work is…well the same as always, really. Not much changes there.” 

“Right, yeah,” you nod, a pained half smile stretching over your face. You’re sure you look horrific–terrified or terrifying. The heat continues to rise up your neck and into your head, further suppressing any hope for conscious, articulate thought as you buckle under the weight of Wonwoo’s gaze. Seulgi kicks you under the table a third time and you think you might scream. 

“I was uh,” he pauses, chuckling lightly. You can see his fingers clutching at the edges of his sleeves, worrying a loose thread as he collects himself. You watch as he wraps and unwraps the thread around his index finger, twisting the rest of the fabric up in his fist. He’s anxious. 

You remember making fun of him once–early in your relationship–for this habit. He was even more shy and reserved back then, unable or unwilling to tell you what he was thinking half the time, and unsure the other half. But you could always tell, once he started tugging his sleeves further and further down his arms–hiding his wrists, then hands–that he had something he needed to say. Something he had been worrying about for a while. Truthfully you found it cute, a grown man with sweater paws like a child in his dad’s clothing, but you couldn’t help but tease him anyway. He looked so sweet when he blushed about it, continuing to tug at the ends of his sleeves. And you just wanted him to tell you. You wanted to know, whatever it was on his mind, fraying the ends of his sleeves.  

Wonwoo clears his throat and you refocus your gaze on him, heat slowly draining back down through your neck as you do. The feeling of being hunted for sport subsides as you come to your senses finally. “I was actually going to text you, but I just…” he trails off and you nod, encouraging him to continue. You’re sure the three extra sets of eyes boring holes into him with the laser beams of their curiosity is not helping his anxiety. Your own dangerous cocktail of anxious curiosity was a second away from implosion itself. 

“There’s some stuff…at the apartment. Mail and…a few things you left behind. I thought you might want to come and pick them up, but I wasn’t sure if…” he gestures vaguely and you nod again. A strange swell of disappointment starts to creep in. That’s it? 

“Oh yeah, of course,” you say, swallowing the disappointment down as quickly as it comes. What else could you have been expecting? “I’ll come and take those off your hands. Just um…text me when you’re free?” 

He nods and, after a quick wave goodbye, heads back towards the small group of men that had been watching from across the bar. Your eyes follow his retreating back, watching his hands clasp and unclasp the fabric of his sweater as he does, before turning your attention back to your own group. 

“Oh my god,” Yerim exclaims in a stage whisper, eyes saucer wide with glee. “He wants you to come over!” 

You frown, the intrusive feeling of disappointment returning, “just to pick up some stuff, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Oh who cares about a bit of old mail, I would have just thrown it out if I were him,” she huffs, blowing a strand of hair out of her line of sight.

“Isn’t that a crime?” Sam asks but the question falls on deaf ears against the wall of possibilities that Yerim is now crafting in her labyrinthine mind of reality tv plots. 

“Listen,” she starts, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction and you wonder why you’re being lectured to all of a sudden. You haven’t even fully processed running into Wonwoo in the first place. You aren’t even sure you’re inhabiting a corporeal form right now. “Clearly he’s still in love with you.”

“Oh please,” you start but she shakes her head, resolute. 

“Don’t fool yourself, what scorned ex-boyfriend goes out of his way to run into the love of his life in a sports bar accidentally.” She throws heavy air quotes around the word ‘accidentally’ and you just roll your eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure it was just accidental,” Seulgi chimes in, the voice of reason. 

“Yes, thank you, Seulgi. This is just a weird coincidence,” you sigh, spinning your glass around on its coaster.

“Or fate,” she beams and you want to laugh but the feeling dies before the sound can materialize. It feels too pathetic. 

“Strange thing for fate to do, months after I’ve already broken up with him.” 

“Wait, you broke up with him?” Sam asks, now invested in the drama despite all lack of knowledge surrounding the people and situations involved. You envy his ignorance.  

You sigh and nod, “yes. I broke his heart and then left some reminders of it around the apartment we used to share so he’s asking me to come and take them so he doesn’t have to deal with it anymore.” Yerim opens her mouth to speak but you stop her with a glare, “it is not his way of somehow getting me back into his life, he’s just too nice to throw my stuff out without warning.”

“But what if–”

“No, there is no ‘if’. This is it. I’m going to go there, pick up my mail, say goodbye and that will be it. We’ll never have any reason to see each other again and he can move on and date someone else and I–”

I can too, you think–swallowing the words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” Sam says, breaking the spell of silence that had descended on the table. “You broke up with him but…you want him back? Or he wants you back? How long have you guys been broken up?”

“I’ll explain later,” Yerim whispers.

“No, no you won’t, because I don’t think you know completely either,” you sigh, angling to face Sam but aiming the bulk of the speech right towards Yerim herself. You glance across the room briefly–a cautionary look to make sure Wonwoo isn’t in earshot. 

He’s leaning up against the far wall, pool cue in hand, watching as Jihoon leans over the table to line up a shot. The old Wonwoo would have left the second he saw you here, but there he is. Standing within 15 feet of you without breaking out into a cold sweat (as far as you can tell). 

Maybe he has changed, you think. He must have felt you watching him because his eyes meet yours for a split second before you tear your gaze away from him–stare burning a hole into the table next to your hands.  

You sigh again, feeling like you’ve aged 10 years in the past hour. “I broke up with him because I didn’t think either of us could give the other person what they needed. It was hard, and I still,” you blink back the threat of tears as they start to form in your eyes. Whether tears of frustration or otherwise you didn’t exactly feel like crying in a bar in front of your ex-boyfriend and some random British dude. “I still love him but I’m not in love with him. I’m moving on and…so is he.” You conclude, remembering the last time you ran into him. The girl he was with. The cold shock of ice water in your veins. 

“I still don’t–” Sam starts but Seulgi cuts him off, her radar detecting the potential torrential downpour of anxiety and stress that is clouding your current emotional landscape. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she waves the topic away with a swing of her hand, dismissing all further comments on the matter and releasing you of the risk of overexplaining yourself once again. “What’s done is done and whatever will happen will happen and it’s not up to us to decide what the best decision is when we’re not actually involved. So, are we getting another round or should I call a taxi?” 

“Ooh, I was hoping we could go get some food now actually, there’s this super cute toast place a few blocks from here that I’ve been following on Insta and I need to get a pic with their neon displays.” Yerim, whether consciously or not, pivots immediately into a spiel about the rest of her plans for her vacation. You exhale slowly, relief sinking into your bones, and mouth a ‘thank you’ to Seulgi before she gets up to pay. 

You sit silent, alone with your thoughts for a moment, and trace idle patterns over the wood grain of the table; listening to Yerim ramble as she takes Sam on an Instagram-based tour of all the places she intends on dragging him to for the next few days. Seulgi returns after closing out the tab and everyone starts gathering their things to leave, Yerim excitedly narrating the toast menu as you do. 

Before you step out onto the night, you chance a final look across the bar towards Wonwoo to find him in the same position he was when you last dared to look at him. His eyes, slightly obscured by his glasses, were still fixed on you and you wonder if he had looked away at all over the past few minutes. He nods once, a minute tilt of the head, barely registerable unless you were paying as close of attention as you were, and you return it in kind before falling in line behind Seulgi and turning away from him. 

It’s not until the cold air hits you that you start to feel the heat of his eyes dissipate into the night. 

.

.

.

Minghao sits across from you, glasses perched delicately at the tip of his nose. His brown eyes evaluate you in silence as you adjust your posture in the brown leather wingback chair in his office–simultaneously too aware of your body and not aware enough to find a comfortable position. You finally give up fidgeting and decide to just tuck your wayward hands under your thighs to trap them there, offering him a small apologetic smile which he does not return, but he does nod and that is something isn’t it? 

It’s been years since you saw a therapist. The last one was at university, just before the start of the second term in your second year. Right at the cusp of a break up and a full blown anxiety induced existential crisis. The persistent thoughts of ‘oh god I’m ruining my life I need to drop out or change majors or move to Australia and work with the Wildlife Warriors Foundation’ had devoured every sane idea you had until you found yourself in shambles in the Students’ Union all but begging for help. 

The counsellor you had seen then had listened to you ramble in near silence before printing out some worksheets on deep belly breathing and anxiety management and sent you on your merry way to figure it out for yourself. So you did, eventually (though your GPA took a bit of a hit that semester), with some help from Seulgi and a TA that had taken pity on you and two years later you were graduating with a Bachelor of Design with a Minor in Print Media and those worksheets were buried somewhere deep in the recesses of your room, unread save a cursory glance. 

This time felt different. 

Instead of the wildfire of desperation and despair that had propelled you into the office in University all those years ago, you had (of mostly sound mind) reached out to Minghao with a formal request for an appointment and scheduled a time to sit down. For a few days leading up to the appointment you tried to collect your thoughts, formulate a plan for what you wanted to get out of these sessions, and corral your myriad of feelings into a neat script to recite to him—carefully crafted to best convey your current dilemma and also avoid a lot of those little things you did not feel quite ready to face yet.

“So,” he starts, offering you a small smile to ease the tension that always fills the office during first appointments, “let’s start with what you’re hoping to achieve from this session, and any going forward. What are your goals?” 

Despite all your careful preparation, your mind goes as white as a sheet of paper. Goals? You ponder the word. Unsure now if you’ve ever had any goals at all or if you’d just been floating along aimlessly this whole time, somehow still alive through mere circumstance.

To be less of an anxious wreck? Sure, maybe that was one. But was it a goal or just a product of your neuroses? Were you even really that anxious or did you just overthink everything too much? Is that the same thing? Did you want to tell him that? 

You chastise yourself silently, steering your errant thoughts away from the cliff they always careened off of and trying to remember the lists you had scribbled down prior to this appointment. 

“I think,” you start, wincing at the weakness of the verb. How unsure you must appear to him. You glance at his face briefly. It’s carefully composed–no hint of the impatience you’re sure he must be feeling. “I mean, I was hoping we would be able to work on my trust issues and um…anxieties in relationships, find out the roots of those,” you start again, following the script you had mentally prepared, “and maybe come up with some strategies to heal from past relationships and maybe make future ones…easier?” 

Good, good, you breathe a sigh of relief. These were not insane things to say. You are a normal person and these are normal goals.

“Okay,” he says, “that’s a good place to start as far as an end goal.” You smile, being careful not to let it grow too big to appear too pleased at the validation. Minghao continues, “when you say ‘relationships’, I’m assuming you are meaning mostly romantic relationships, correct?” 

You fool, how could you forget to clarify that! 

You feel a rush of mild panic swell up in your esophagus but you stave it off. You nod, clearing your throat, “yes, romantic relationships, exactly.” 

“They all tend to overlap in a lot of ways but I just want to make sure we’re on the same page,” he smiles again, that same soft smile, and you worry he noticed you were starting to panic. “Why don’t you tell me about your last relationship?” 

An open-ended question, okay okay. We were prepared for this, you coach yourself in silence, flipping through the mental pages of notes. Thankfully this one was easy. You had turned the problem of ‘me and Wonwoo’ in your mind over and over like a rotisserie chicken. You knew it inside and out. Every juicy morsel, every dry bone. 

“We were together for three, almost four, years before we broke up, lived together for two. We met through mutual friends at a party and just…it was just us from there. Me and Wonwoo, Wonwoo and I, always together in the same sentence and the same places. It was a good relationship, but I just…I don’t know if we were compatible, really.”

“Well, you were together for 3 years, it’s hard to spend that much time with someone you’re entirely incompatible with,” Minghao interjects and you grimace in spite of yourself. “Is there anything specific that makes you feel like that was the case?” 

“Specific…” you hum the word out loud. Despite all of the sleepless nights spent wondering this exact same thing alone, you were having a hard time summoning up any examples. “No, nothing…I don’t know,” you feel your house of cards start to lose its balance, the cracks begin to show. 

“Let’s reframe, then,” Minghao suggests, noting the distress beginning to creep into your voice. “What attracted you to him in the first place? What made you think ‘yeah, I do want to date this guy’?”

“He was hot,” you shrug then when Minghao doesn’t laugh at the flippant comment, you backpedal. Embarrassment creeping in at the edges. Clearly your tactic of deflecting with humour had no power here. “I mean, obviously I was physically attracted to him, and since we met at a party that was sort of initially the only thing I cared about. But as I got to know him I think he was just…different.” 

“Different in what way? From your usual type?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, extending the hands of your memory into the past. Trying to grasp at the Wonwoo you fell in love with in the first place. “He was quiet, and he listened–listens really well. He’s smart, too. Could have been a doctor or professor but he said the amount of school needed for that wasn’t worth it. Which I guess I sort of agree with, it was just a shame.”

You glance at Minghao, who is still watching you from under the rim of his wire-frame glasses. You wonder briefly how he and Mingyu met. Whether or not it had been a good idea to book in with a therapist that was a good friend of your roommate/budding romantic interest. He wouldn’t tell him any of this…would he? 

Minghao’s expression betrays no answer to these questions, just a silent cue for you to continue. 

You sigh, releasing the thoughts, and do so, “before him, I had always dated really active guys. Guys that liked to be the life of the party, that always had something to say and never second guessed themselves. I was attracted to that confidence. I thought it was nice to be with someone brash and loud. It made me feel less alone in my own loudness and chaos. They never lasted, but they were always fun. Everything was so exciting and I was never bored. Even when it was bad it felt…dramatic. Like a movie. And it was college so I didn’t really ever feel like I had to sit down and ponder why the relationships didn’t last, only that they didn’t. We fought too much, partied too often, the whole relationship was just some drunk fling, whatever. It didn’t matter.”

“But Wonwoo was so…not any of that. He would come out to parties if I asked him to, but he usually spent them in the corner talking about books or petting a cat or following me around. He always wanted to leave early. He was always so eager to be at home.”

“And you weren’t?” Minghao asks and you barely register the question before you’re hurrying along to answer it. 

“No, yes. I don’t know. At first I found it quite sweet–like he just wanted to spend a lot of alone time with me. And it was so novel and different that I never stopped to think it might be something I didn’t like.”

“At first?” Minghao clarifies and you nod. 

“After a little while, I started to feel like I was forcing him to go out when he didn’t want to. I was being the overbearing, annoying girlfriend dragging him to these parties against his will. So I stopped going to a lot of them, and the ones that I did go to I said I could just go alone.” 

“Did you ever ask him whether he felt the same way?” The question brings your thought train to a dead stop. Minghao can see the confusion twisting your brows so he continues, “you stopped going to parties because you thought you were being annoying by dragging him along but did you ever ask if he felt like he was being burdened by these outings?” 

“No, I just…he never…he didn’t look like he was having a good time,” you flounder for an explanation, trying to remember what it was that had brought you to this conclusion in the first place. Had you ever talked to him about it? Were you just making all of this up?

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, maybe he really didn’t enjoy them. From what you’re telling me, he definitely does seem like more of a homebody,” he says, but you take little comfort in the words. “I am wondering, though, what brought you to this assumption without him mentioning anything about it. Did he ever say that he didn’t want to go? Or that he wished you wouldn’t?” 

“I don’t…I can’t remember…” you say slowly, mind fogging up. A cloud of confusion overcrowding your thoughts.  

“That’s okay,” he says but you do not feel like it is okay, actually. Had you ruined everything years ago without even realising? Was scheduling this appointment a mistake? “I don’t want you to overanalyze the specifics, those are often the least important part especially when something is in the past. We can’t change those things, only learn from them. It’s just helpful to know whether or not these trust issues have manifested more internally or because of external situations. To find out where they tend to stem from.”

You nod, the clock on the wall ticks as your thoughts wind through time. You want, so desperately, for there to be some solid memory to tie this all back to. Something from your past or your childhood to point to and say ‘look, there it is!’ A magical moment to blame all your issues on so that you can be born from this session a new person. But sadly nothing was ever that simple, and you couldn’t ever remember not being this way. Were you just…like this? Some untenable part of you broken at birth, barring you from ever developing a healthy, functioning relationship without feeling like you’re sacrificing some integral part of yourself while you do so? Or without feeling like it was all some illusion bound to disperse into smoke and mirrors with the snap of someone’s fingers?

“What are you thinking?” Minghao asks, clearly taking note of the darkening of your expression. The tension creeping into your brow. You don’t want to tell him. Don’t want the confirmation of being beyond help. 

Or maybe that’s not it. Maybe it’s the opposite that you’re afraid of. That this image of self as someone floundering through life with all these worries and struggles, someone broken beyond measure, has just been that–an image. Something you made up to keep yourself safe somewhere along the way and really you could just change it all if you felt like that. If you threw off your cape of comfort and accepted the help you’ve so long denied. 

“I just,” you start, rubbing at a sore spot developing on your temple. You try to push through the sudden urge to bolt out of his office right now and not look back. “I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid but I feel like I fucked everythig up. Like it’s my fault, and maybe if I could have just talked to him or trusted that he lo–loved me despite our differences…maybe everything would have been okay.” The distinct prickling of tears starts to burn behind your eyes but you blink them away, not willing to give into them so easily. 

“Maybe,” he starts and you feel a pang of icy shock at the acceptance of this self-blame. You had expected the same pity and denial you get from Seulgi. You keep your gaze fixed on a small scuff on the top of his nice brown leather shoe, unable to meet his eyes as he continues. “Maybe if you had been able to accept that you are worthy of love from someone, regardless of your perceived flaws, or if you had been able to communicate more openly to be able to meet both of your needs within the relationship, maybe things would have been different.”

He pauses, whether for dramatic effect or to let you process what he’s saying, you’re not sure. You suspect the latter, but considering he’s a friend of Mingyu’s you can’t be completely certain. 

“Maybe, or maybe not. Maybe even if you had done everything perfectly and nothing had ever gone wrong you still would have broken up. A break up is not a failure–not of the relationship and not of the individuals within it. There is always the chance that you had just outgrown each other without either of you fully realising it, and that’s okay. We don’t examine our past to further deepen self-blame and pity, we do it so we can learn what we need from them and accept these lessons so we can carry them forward into our future. And that doesn’t mean that we won’t have more break ups or more perceived failures, it just hopefully means we will be able to accept them as part of the process instead of a barrier to it.” 

The speech slots itself into your brain, wiggling between long believed ideas and perspectives that had lived in there for years. Forcing its way in between them all. You feel it nestle in, planting its seeds until you can fully appreciate the thoughts he’s offering you. For now, you try to just fend off the part of you that resists everything he’s saying and listen to the (slightly quieter) part that knows you need to hear it. 

“Do you–” you start, pausing to clear your throat of the lump that had built up while he spoke. “Do you think I will be able to get to…to that point?”

“Yes,” he nods, decisive. “How long it takes, though, will depend entirely on how willing you are to change. The fact that you’re here meeting with me shows you are at least ready, in part, to begin the process of releasing these old thought patterns. But there is no magic pill, and it takes time and effort. I am here to help, but ultimately it’s only you that can make this change.” 

“And if I can’t change?”

“You can,” he says, shutting down the doubt immediately, “if you choose to.” Sensing your next question he continues, “and if you don’t then you continue life as you are and it changes you. The self is an adaptive state–always transforming. With or without my help or your conscious effort, change will happen. It’s just smoother a lot of the time if you can work with it instead of waiting for it to happen to you.” 

.

.

.

“This is really too much, Mingyu.” 

A plume of steam bursts out of the pot on the stovetop as Mingyu lifts the lid off to taste the sauce. He rears his head back to avoid the heat but still plunges his spoon-wielding hand into the steamy abyss to stir at the bottom of the liquid. 

You watch, leaning against the counter behind him, in a state of concerned bemusement as he takes a few minutes to adjust the heat on his various pots and pans. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, turning around and mopping the sweat off his brow with the dish towel he had draped over his shoulder. A few stray rivulets of steam trace their way down his neck and disappear into the collar of shirt. You try (unsuccessfully) to avoid thinking about the sheen on his skin as it glints in the light of the kitchen. 

“All this,” you gesture vaguely to the arranged on the table, the splatters of food on his well-worn “Kiss The Cook” apron (a gag gift from Jeonghan, apparently). ”I figured we would just…I don’t know, order some fried chicken or something,” you explain but his expression remains puzzled. “You know, just casual. It’s just Seulgi.” 

“Does she not like Italian?” he asks, a look of mild panic starting to etch into the corners of his eyes. “I knew I should have asked but I thought Italian would be the safest, most people like pasta but if she doesn’t–”

“No, no,” you cut him off before he can spiral further, “she likes Italian food, I’m pretty sure it’s one of her favourites actually, but I mean like…it’s just Seulgi.”

“But she’s your friend,” he states the fact like it should explain the fresh baked focaccia cooling on the counter behind him or the ludacris wine bill you got a look at earlier in the day. “Do you not like Italian food? If you really want fried chicken we can order some.” 

One of the pot lids sputters with the force of steam it’s holding back and you choke back a laugh as Mingyu whips around to stir it back into submission. 

“No, no, I love pasta I–” you pause, words dangling on the precipice of your lips, ready to say more, but you think better of it, remembering what Minghao had said at the end of your session about controlling outcomes. “Thank you for doing all this, I’m sure she’ll love it.” 

He grins wide, relieved, and you pack away your lingering worries before leaving him to battle the remains of dinner alone. 

The living room has transformed over the space of a few hours–soft lighting and soft blankets adorn the area and you’re greeted by the faint scent of grapefruit as Vernon moves around the room lighting a series of candles. 

“Are we proposing to her?” you ask, taken aback by the effort put forth by all of your roommates. 

“Do you think she’d say yes?” Vernon quips, turning around with a half-smile, and you roll your eyes.

When you had told them you were thinking of inviting Seulgi over for dinner (ostensibly to meet everyone, but more so to have a night with her where you didn’t have to bother leaving the comfort of your own home) they had reacted…minimally. Mingyu seemed excited at the prospect of hosting a dinner party and apparently had run wild with the power of doing so, but you didn’t think the other three had much cared beyond a vague curiosity about your friend. But even Jeonghan, who already knew Seulgi well, had gone to the trouble of purchasing flowers to liven up the living space. 

“I just don’t know why everyone is treating this like we’re having an idol over or something,” you shake your head, flopping down on the couch and letting your head fall back against the cushion. 

“Well,” Vernon says, taking a seat next to you, “to be honest, it’s mostly Mingyu that insisted on all of it.” 

“Why?” Curiosity bubbles up and you take a cursory glance back towards the kitchen where Mingyu is still standing, glistening over the stove top as he maneuvers various dishes and pots around. You knew he was prone to overdoing things like this if your first big meal with the household was anything to judge from, but why would he bother to go to such lengths just to impress your friend that honestly would have been more than happy with a plate of fried chicken and a cold beer.  

Vernon just shrugs before pushing himself off the couch into a full body stretch. “Well,” he says, “you know Mingyu.” 

I guess I do, you think, curiosity unsatisfied by the lack of answers. You know Jeonghan might give you more insight but whether it was truthful or if you wanted to bear the brunt of his scrutiny for even asking was another question. Instead, you try to just let it go and text Seulgi an inquiry into her ETA while you listen to the clamour of dishes in the kitchen as Mingyu finishes assembling his feast. 

Fifteen minutes and three introductions later, you’re all seated around the candlelit table passing around a dish of tajarin al tartufo. 

“Where did you even get white truffles at this time of year?” Seulgi asks, sipping gingerly from her glass of Chardonnay (specially chosen for the occasion). 

“I know some people in the industry,” Mingyu replies, tone casual–you can still see the glimmer of pride shimmering his eyes in the dim lighting however. 

“Oh, do you work in the culinary sector?” 

“No, not at all,” he shakes his head, “but I did a bit during school so I kept in touch with some people that way. Plus some of the people I graduated with ended up in the acquisitions side of the restaurant business.”

“Well,” she nods, setting down her glass, “I’m surprised honestly, this is like restaurant quality food. I wouldn’t have been shocked if you told me you were a chef.”

Mingyu brushes off the compliment with another laugh, but his smile again betrays how pleased he is by the validation. “It’s just a hobby, really. I like cooking for people.” 

“And we’re happy to benefit from it,” Jeonghan chimes in, “we’d surely be starving if it wasn’t for our private cook.”

“Hey, I can cook,” Seungcheol grumbles, reaching for another slice of focaccia. 

Jeonghan pats his arm with a solemn nod, acknowledging his skillset. “You’d get by fine, but these other two?” he gestures vaguely in yours and Vernon’s directions with a shake of his head, “hopeless.”

“Who needs to cook in this golden age of delivery?” Vernon asks, and you nod your agreement. 

“Someone on a broke actor’s wage, maybe.”

“Touché,” Vernon shrugs, uninterested in defending himself further. “Won’t be broke much longer though, I booked a gig for next week so get ready for riches beyond our wildest imaginations.”

“Oh congratulations, what’s this one? Another commercial for a dog grooming spa?”

“Nope,” Vernon says, brushing off the light dig at his resume, “a bit part in a drama on KBS. I’ve got a name and a line and everything.” 

“Riches beyond our wildest imaginations, hey?” Mingyu jokes, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what your imagination is like. It does pay though,” he shrugs, content to inhale another forkful of pasta.

“That’s actually great, Vernon,” you say, diverting the round of teasing towards something more supportive. “Congratulations.” 

“Thanks,” he replies, casual as always, “it's something at least. Saves me from having to go work retail for a bit anyway.” 

“Well, if you do need a job at any point after this my cafe is hiring, I just had to fire my last guy,” Seulgi says, setting her fork down at the side of her plate. 

“What happened this time?” you ask. You’ve been out of the loop of cafe drama for far too long. You were having trouble remembering if this was the same guy as the one that kept mixing up decaf and blonde roast. 

“He got in a fist fight with a customer.”

“What? Like…at work?” 

“Yeah,” she replies, dabbing at her mouth with the edge of a napkin. “To be fair the customer he beat up was sleeping with his girlfriend and he hadn’t exactly expected to see him there after finding out but still…it looks bad on me if I let it slide.”

“Still working at the cafe?” Jeonghan asks, “what happened to the start up?”

Seulgi grimaces and you can feel the annoyance seeping through her pores at the mention of her old job, the bitterness from the whole fiasco still running deep in her veins. “It went tits up, and turns out the CEO was embezzling money from the company so there weren’t even any severance packages. Haven’t been able to find anything since then, it’s a nightmare.” 

“You work in tech?” Mingyu asks, leaning over to refill Seulgi and your wine glasses, finishing off the last of the bottle. 

“Software development,” she replies with a nod of thanks for the wine. 

“I might know someone hiring for Samsung, I could ask around for you if you want?” he offers, sitting back down in his chair across from you. 

“You know someone that works at Samsung?” she balks and you watch her expression shift to open excitement at the possibility. 

“I do,” he nods, “he was a nepotism hire, honestly, his dad is head of logistics but he owes me a huge favour so I could ask.” 

“Mingyu,” she says, eyes narrowed to fine points as she stares at him from across the table, “I will give you my first born child in payment.” 

“Oh, uh–” he laughs, a tinge of colour reddening the tips of his ears. “It’s no big deal, really. Just happy to help a friend.” 

His eyes flicker towards yours in the candlelight and you offer him a soft smile of approval. The look does not go unnoticed by Jeonghan, a slow, sly grin spreading over his features as he drains the last of his wine. Conversation drifts, continuing to flow throughout the hour, as time melts away with the candle wax dripping onto the table cloth.

Once the food is polished off the group moves into the living room to play some games and to no one’s surprise, Seungcheol ends up winning most of the rounds of Jenga through sheer intimidation alone. Seulgi, however, does manage to best him at Uno which immediately results in a half-pouted plea for a one-on-one rematch. Vernon excuses himself to head to bed early for an audition in the morning and Jeonghan lingers behind to watch the match, betting on Seunghceol’s downfall much to the man’s chagrin. 

You stay for a minute, watching the cards fly across the table with a vengeance, before your attention shifts to the sounds of running water and clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen. Mingyu took the revenge match as an opportunity to clean up from dinner and a pang of guilt bounds through you at the thought of him doing both the cooking and cleaning for the night entirely alone. 

“Do you want a hand?” He’s hunched over the sink as you enter the kitchen and walk towards him–tall frame bending to accommodate the height of the counter, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on a pot. 

“You don’t have to,” he replies, glancing over his shoulder, “I can handle it.” 

“Mingyu, you already cooked for everyone, the least you can do is let me dry them or something.” 

He evaluates you for a moment, confirming that your offer isn’t born purely from pity, before nodding, “alright, these pots are clean already if you want to start there.”

You nod and grab a clean tea towel from the drawer next to the stove, moving to stand hip to hip with him at the sink. You work in companionable silence, nothing but the squeak of soap on porcelain and the distant complaints of Seungcheol as Seulgi hits him with another pick up 4 card. 

You had never hosted any gatherings at your apartment with Wonwoo. Not that it was ever something he said he didn’t want, it just never came up. He tended to use his home as a retreat from the world and while you loved a good get together, you weren’t much of a host yourself, preferring instead to just join in when invited. Tonight was your first real, adult dinner party and while you hadn’t actually been much of an active participant in the planning of said party, it still felt like you had some ownership over it.

Now, standing here in tandem with Mingyu, cleaning up while your guest and other roommates were occupied with each other, you had to admit that there was something so comfortably domestic about the whole thing. You were surprised at how natural it felt, and you knew that if you let your mind amble down the path of no return, you would find yourself in this same position over and over again in your imagination. Scrubbing pots next to the man that had just fed you and your friends pasta.

“Did you have a good time?” Mingyu asks, sensing your thoughts and cutting them off at the head before they can get the best of you again.

You pick up the last pot in the stack, letting your hands continue working as you nod, a soft smile gracing your lips, “I did, yeah. It was really nice.”

“Good,” he sighs, letting a soft laugh out with his breath, “I’m glad. Wasn’t too much in the end, then?” 

“No,” you reply, soothing the hint of insecurity in his question. “It was perfect. Sounds like Seulgi had a good time as well.” 

“That’s a relief,” he says, dipping his hands back into the sink to finish wiping off the last few plates. 

“Were you worried she wouldn’t?” you laugh, slightly incredulous at the lack of confidence coming from a man who just cooked you a Michelin star worthy dinner. 

“No, I just,” he laughs again, hesitation creeping back into his voice. “I wanted to make a good impression.”

“I don’t think you could have made a bad one,” you mumble, wiping your hands off on the tea towel before hanging it on the cupboard hook to dry out. 

“Well, that’s good,” Mingyu says, angling his body towards yours after pulling the plug in the sink drain, “because I…” he pauses, hesitant. You turn to face him, watching as he tugs the hot pink kitchen gloves off his hands and sets them down at the side of the sink. A faint blush is spreading out over his cheeks and for a second you wonder if he might not be feeling well. 

“Mingyu–” you start–unsure whether to inquire about his well being or just to prompt him to continue. He raises his gaze to meet yours and you get the distinct feeling that he just made some sort of decision, come to some resolution within himself. 

“Listen, I…” he starts and you maintain his gaze, heart picking up pace in your chest as your thoughts fly at a mile a minute trying to guess what he’s about to say. “I’m sorry if this is too forward or something, but the whole reason I went to all of this trouble tonight was for you.” 

“Me?” 

“I like you,” he blurts the words out without ceremony, stumbling over them as they tumble from his mouth. You stand still, a few feet away from him, in shock as the laughter from the living room fades to a distant murmur. “I think you’re beautiful, and funny, and smart and I would like to get to know you more and I know you’re still getting over a break up so I’m not trying to…pressure you or anything. And I know that maybe this is super awkward given that we live together and everything, but I just needed to tell you before I start to feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Oh.” It’s the only word you can manage. You feel like your brain is stuck on a loading screen as your mouth frantically tries to hit refresh. Nothing happens. You’ve lost connection.

“And if you don’t feel the same now, or ever, that’s okay. But I just needed to tell you that,” he sighs, “that I like you. And I’m very interested in you, and I get the feeling that you are also interested in me but if I’m wrong or it’s too soon then that’s okay. I can wait. Or not. Up to you. But…I like you.” 

“I, umm…” You try. Try to form a coherent thought or sentence but nothing comes to you. Internally, you’re screaming at yourself. Isn’t this what you wanted? Haven’t you been pining after this man since you moved in here? What’s the hold up now? 

All these questions, self chastisements, and more come spilling forward in your brain. A flood of confusion clouding all your judgement as you stand frozen in the middle of the kitchen in front of a man that is still waiting for you to reply to him. A man that has just laid all his cards out on the table for you to see. No tricks, no reversals, just ‘I like you’ in plain language. No guesswork. And still, all of your fears and worries and anxieties overwhelm you anyway. 

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he says, finally, giving up on waiting for your brain to kick in. “But, if you do…feel the same…you know where to find me. And if not then,” he laughs, attempting to clear away some of the awkwardness lingering in the air as a result of your inability to speak, “then I hope we can still be friends and I haven’t…made this too weird or anything.” 

A loud uproar booms out from the living room–Jeonghan’s victorious laughter accompanied by Seungcheol’s cries of devastation. Another win for Seulgi. Mingyu glances behind you towards the sound before smiling and brushing past you, leaving you to pick up your jaw from the tile floor. 

“I really have to go now,” you hear Seulgi say–closer behind you now as the games draw to a close. You snap to attention, shaking off your temporary paralysis, and turn to rejoin the group feeling like an entirely different person than when you had left them barely 30 minutes ago. 

“One more game, all or nothing,” Seungcheol urges, but she shakes her head. 

“I don’t think you can afford to lose another one,” she says with a smile, “and I really need to get back home, I’m opening in the morning. Thank you for the dinner, Mingyu, it was great. And I look forward to hearing from you friend.” 

“Of course,” he replies, the picture of a good host. He hands her her coat from the hallway closet before wishing her a good night and disappearing towards his bedroom. After some prompting Jeonghan and Seungcheol follow suit. 

Seulgi turns to you with a smile, but it falls from her face the second she sees the slightly dumbfounded expression still plastered on your own. “Are you ok?” 

“M-me? Yeah, fine, I just…” you pause, wavering on the option of telling her what just happened but the second you get close to the confession you stall. You don’t want to. Not yet. Not until you’ve reckoned with it on your own. “I think I’m just coming down with a cold.”

“You have a terrible immune system,” she says, shaking her head. “Well, good night then. Call me tomorrow, hopefully you feel better after some rest.” 

“I will, I will,” you nod, opening the door for her as she slips into her shoes. “Text me when you get home.” 

She waves a final goodbye and you watch her walk towards the elevator before closing the door and twisting the lock. With a sigh you lean against the solid wood, grateful for the support as you continue to try to regather your wits. Mingyu’s confession replays, over and over like a highlight reel in your mind.

This is a good thing, isn’t it?

© 2024, neoneun-au. all rights reserved.

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

[bruh-anator3000]

im obsessed with the Black Cat, I hope that's clear, too. and Miguel. And Logan and Wade, so what if we mashed them all up in a blender and see what happens?

Edit: I didn't mean for this one to get so out of hand, but it did, so its a short story now I guess.

Warnings: sexual themes, hella suggestive, SPOILERS HINTED from the new Deadpool, tension sexy styles, I might get Gambit '97 involved so we can listen to '4 big guys' for part two, it is a love triangle/square, trust and don't worry. Everyone's bisexual. No pronouns for reader used, but written w fem!reader in mind, that's why I'm saying bisexual, but this could just be gay for my amabs.

Parinings: Black Cat!reader x Miguel O'Hara x Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson (uh-huh. I said what I said)

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

Like, you didn't want to bring your roommates along with you for this heist. God. You didn't even want their sticky fingers on the paper plans. But you were running low on rent, Blind Al was a bitch now that they suspended her coke supply, and your normal crew got sick!

Dr. Boris Korpse was the smartest man alive. He could hack any system, jimmy any lock, and blew the ones he couldn't up. Bruno wasn't the brightest, but he was the bravest. And he had the muscles to prove it. He was a great getaway driver, too. And they were sick.

Wade was smart... enough. Logan was... decently strong. Logan was more of a brute, actually. Careless with his strength when it came to it, but trusting Wade Wilson to drive you home safe? With his self destructive streak? It was safer to have him do the code cracking. Hopefully.

"I wonder how many people caught the earlier exposition is from the actual comics," Wade grunted under his mask, typing in a special security code into the keypad.

Looking around with furrowed brows, he did realize it was just you three, right? You glanced at Logan, wondering if he understood what Deadpool was saying. He only gave a slight shake of his head.

"It's a quick in and out," You reminded the two, walking past the gates as the hissed open, thanks to Wilson. How he knew the password so easily, you didn't know. He said something about 'writer being too lazy to build up to the reveal,' which made it 'easier to follow if he just knew.'

Logan grunted as he followed. It frightened you how well he could retain the plans you've gone over so many times this week. It was great for him, and for you! But also sucked, because they guy replacing your 'smart guy' still needed a refresher.

You take your stance beside the large bars hiding the painting. Idly looking around while Logan let out a primal roar as he pried the gap between the metal bars wider.

"I bet that's what it sounds like when you're close, huh?" Wade snickered, pinching the yellow fabric on his hips. You cringed for several reasons. Wade's constant immaturity. And, God's above, Logan's ridiculous outfit.

Honoring the X-men or not, the yellow was as bright as a trafficlight.

You slipped through the widened gap now, ignoring Wade's whistle behind you. "You do realize this is supposed to be a silent mission?" You sneered, now on the other side of the enclosure.

Wade shrugged. "Don't worry, peaches. Nothing bad ever happens to the sexy ones. Logan might get left behind, but you and me?" His mask hid the way he bit his lip and winked. It looked like he was just staring at you.

"Alright." You sighed and moved on. That was the best way to handle these two. They gave you no other choice. I mean, you could give in and fuck them, but you were planning to save that for later if they did a good job tonight.

With the painting carefully removed, the bars bent back in place, and Wade managing to keep his pants on for a few minutes, all that was left to do was leave. You had Logan carry the painting as you all ran back to the World War 1 exhibit - the way you entered through.

You made sure the two were in front of you the entire time. You couldn't risk them getting lost, their bulk and dead brains might break something if you weren't watching them carefully. And the red and blue lights glowing as you ran past were not any help.

You stopped dead in your tracks. That wasn't your normal bisexual lighting. There were no sirens, either.

You jogged back a few paces, stopping by the archway of one of the many halls in the museum. Face to face with the digital glow of a blue and red mask.

"Hey Spider," Grinning softly, you leaned on the doorway. The Spider-Man hung upside-down on his red wire webs, per usual. You didn't need to see his sexy face to see that stoic pout he always wore.

"Good evening." He greets in that deep voice, hinting with an accent you loved. The red outlines of his eyes squinting as you boop his nose. "Are we really going to do this tonight?" He scowls, and you swoon.

He flips down, landing on his feet. Broad shoulders and thin waist beautifully extenuated by the suit that was more code than fabric. Towering over you, red blades on the back of his forearms.

"At least take your mask off," You taunt. To which he does. When has Miguel ever denied that request? As infuriating as it was, it was also a very freeing day when the two of you finally put the suits aside and fu- talked. In bed.

His brown curls looked neat today. Dark red eyes watching your every move. That pout on his sharp angled face was too cute. He was so grumpy all the time.

He glances behind you, leaning over slightly to look at the damage you've done. "Portrait of Madame X?" He notes the missing piece of work. Thick brow arching in suspicion.

You shrug. "She's an idol of mine." An idol worth 20 million to your buyer. But he didn't need to worry his pretty little head about the details.

"Do you want a 10 second head start?" He offers, placing a hand by your head and leaning in. Keeping you between his hard chest and the wall. His lips parted with a slight smirk.

"Bub, where'd you go?" Logan's gruff voice grows closer. Wade skipping alongside him. Both of them stopping dead in their tracks at the sight of Miguel.

His mask quickly ripples into place and he steps back, snarling. "Who are you?" His eyes dart to the painting you were supposed to be stealing, in some other man's hold. Keeping his body towards and more in between to block you from the other two, he snarls.

"I am soaking wet right now." Wade groans softly, admiring this little stand off. He wasn't kidding, Spider-Man had been in his 'hit' list for a few years now.

Miguel bristles, back going tense. And as great of a view that was, you knew it meant trouble.

"No, they're with me." Grabbing his broad and beefy shoulder, you push him back. Accidentally putting yourself in the middle of this odd triangle you've created.

Miguel glowers at you. "My regulars were out. I needed an extra hand." You shrug it off. That's all they were. Extra hands. In a heist. You totally weren't going to make out with them on the car ride home.

Tension thick, your shoulders weigh down as you look at all three of the men. A tinge of embarrassment hits you as you realize how similar their figures looked. You definitely had a type.

Wade breaks it up, or attempts to with another sentence you don't exactly understand. "Jesus, if the writer would get over themselves, I would fuck you two so hard." He gestures to Logan and Miguel. Earning an angry grunt from both of them that just seems to further his excitement.

"I'm so pissed we have to wait for a part two."

"Part two? Of what?" You raise a brow, looking at Wade.

He waves a hand. They don't get it.

...

But you do. And if you want a part two, please let me know! This was just an idea festering (that got out of hand a little) and I'm not sure what to make with it just yet. I also need a title for this, so if you guys have any suggestions, please let me know. Love you!

[thevirtualvalentine]

TAPE SIX : DOWNWARD DOG !

Starring… ‘Black Leg’ Sanji 📸

SET SCRIPT : “ooo what about sanji and yoga?”

MATURE WARNING(S) : smut, unprotected vaginal sex, dom!reader, mirror sex, yoga teacher!reader, student!sanji, handjobs, cunnilings, semi public sex, fingering, flirting, pervy!sanji, cum eating, femme!reader, minor cum play, “miss” used as a title, reverse cowgirl.

DIRECTORS CUT : for my first tumblr mutual @sanjisjuul !!!! I had to deliver the best for the ceo of Sanji. I got off that vc and started cooking in my drafts, I thought you’d enjoy the fic going in this direction. 🤭

Sanji did not really know what to expect using his “1 free session of yoga” ticket that zoro ended up gifting him for his birthday (long story). At the very least he was hoping he wouldn’t be there alone. However, of course fate casts its cruel hand and he’s the only one there in the studio.

Occasionally, his anxieties will get the best of him. He began frantically pacing the floors like a mad man and sees you walk in, his entire mood does an immediate 180. Just a second ago he swore he would destroy Zoro, now here he was singing his blessings in fine tune.

“Here all by yourself handsome?” you say smiling while walking through the studio doors to set down your belongings. One thing you adored was teaching beginners how to practice yoga, but it is very rare to have a male student. Especially one this handsome.

To be fair, for all his womanizing it’s rare that Sanji is shown the same energy back. The second your sultry voice slipped past your plump limps and called him handsome, he thought he was going to start hyperventilating or maybe salivating on the spot. You are the most beautiful woman he thinks he’s ever seen in his life, bountiful curls tied up in a silk scarf, a matching set that accentuates your undertones, and a set of eyes that pierce straight through his heart.

If Cupid shot him, he wouldn’t mind one bit. “Is it really just me in here?” He asks turning around the room to see if anyone had appeared from thin air within the last second.

“Don’t be scared, I don’t bite hun,” a shiver runs down his spine, “I’m y/n, your yoga instructor for today, just gonna be me and you so let’s try our best!” You clap your hands in excitement as you queue up some music.

Sanji will try his upmost best to not freak you out with his habit of love bombing and undying adoration for the mere ground you walk on, but only if you knew what he was thinking, ‘A beautiful babe and so radiant, goodness you could be the sun itself… a perfect goddess here before my very own eyes. Thank you stupid moss ball, but only this once.’

As you begin to work with Sanji, you quickly realize he’s excelling at all the physical parts of yoga, just not the mental ones. So, while he may be able to hit the cleanest triangle pose you’ve seen a beginner do due to sheer flexibility, he can’t seem to relax or concentrate at all.

“Deeper breaths Sanji, relax for me honey.” Well, he can’t when you say things like that to him. He is pleased to know you can’t tell it’s a furious blush overtaking his face because he can blame it on exercise and perspiration.

“I—,” your place your hand on top of his diagram, squatting down so you’re eye level with him, “can’t..” the weight of your palm makes his heart rate sky rocket

“Let’s try something different then, yeah?” How could he deny you when you ask so nicely with a pretty smile? He nods, waiting for further instructions. Sanji is an excellent student, what a good listener.

“Kay, I want you to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. Try to breathe in, and out deeply.” You motion for him to follow you to the mats, sitting down behind him as he tries to find his centering.

You curve your body behind him like a puzzle piece, ‘helping’ him by placing your hands on him once more. “Mhm, yes. Just like that.” He’s supposed to be watching himself in the mirror, practicing his breath, not watching your hands essentially grope him. Fuck. He’s going to get hard, he can already feel the blood rushing there with the help of your hot breath on the back of his neck.

You keep talking him through it, pretending not to notice the unruly state you’re leaving him in. He shudders continuously, unable to regulate his bodily functions when your hands begin to trail down his abdomen.

“I can help you relax better y’know, just ask,” your teeth graze the shell of his eat and he can’t help himself from begging for your sweet beautiful mercy.

Sanji is a big man, but he utterly trembles in your hold. His hard cock out in broad daylight as you stroke him for anyone to see if they walked into the studio by chance. You have him practically sitting in your lap with his legs spread wide open, pumping his cock in your hand as you turn his head to kiss you sloppily. He’s panting into each kiss, barely making the timing because he can’t stop moaning like a whore.

“Fu—fuckfuckfuck, ngh— wait slower slower,” he chokes out, his balls feel heavier knowing you’re watching his every twitch and whine in the mirror. You are beautiful but oh so cruel and he loves it.

“Slower? Didn’t you just say you wanted me to go faster? You don’t seem to be very smart Sanji,” you continue to pump him up and down as he feels his orgasm rearing its head already, he hasn’t gotten to feel you, he can’t cum yet.

The way you tut your head to belittle him makes Sanji want to squeal out in mind-numbing pleasure, it was just so perfect. “I’ll cum!! D-don’t wanna,” he pathetically whines.

You decide you’ll reward him for his honesty, slowing your hand to bite the sensitive skin of his neck. “Then switch places with me,” you offer, letting your eyes meet in the mirror. The pad of your thumb swirls over his oozing tip waiting for an answer.

If it wasn’t for the fact he was catching his breath, evident from the steep rise and fall of his chest, Sanji would have already been behind you. “Yes, pl..please.”

He helps strip your shirt over your head, massaging your breasts lightly and twirling your dark nipples between practiced fingers. You sigh into his touch, letting your head rest against his shoulder, “I like it hard and fast, can you do that for me Sanji? I wanna make sure it’ll all fit,” you pur.

“Fuck me,” he whispers under his breath, he’s still leaking. Yet he’s no where near as drenched as you are when he slides your panties down your legs.

Pools of it running down your ass crack, he coats his fingers in the white translucent substance. “Help yourself,” you tell him, eyeing the way he plays with it between his fingers. He spreads its before sticking it back together. What a perv.

He almost gags himself trying to taste it all, desperate for the sweetness. He plunges his fingers into your sopping cunt, sticking one knuckle deep while testing the waters. He prods around trying to see what you like, when he finds the one that makes you tighten around him, he smiles; adding in another lithe digit.

You’re leaning against him for support as he works up his pace, pounding his fingers into you like clockwork. Once he starts he can’t stop the inertia, feeling his muscles burn in his bicep and forearm.

But it’s worth it, all worth it when he hears your guttural whines and praises. Your pussy rewards him with even more slick that he stops himself to taste, gorging himself on it. “Let me taste it please, I have to taste the real thing, miss please,” oh and he begs so sweetly.

With a nod he scrambles around to wrap his arms around your thighs, strapping himself to your cunt. His tongue is hot and heavy on your lower lips, lapping at anything he can. “Augg-ahhh Sanji! Oh my god,” you can feel your eyes roll back into your skull as you prop yourself up on your elbows for some stability.

But he doesn’t stop, exploring further, pressing his appendage at your entrance. The smooth ring of muscle no match for his hunger as his tongue guts through you. “It fe—fuck—els so good, don’t stop!” If anyone else needed to come by the studio you’re sure it would sound like murder with the way he was killing that cat, no mercy.

He’ll scissors his digits, press his greedy fingers against your gummy soft walls while sucking your clit. Then maybe prod at that spot that makes you go limp. He’s just so excited he is getting to make you feel good he didn’t even realize he was also moaning. You were just so addicting, he felt at peace.

He stops when he realizes you came all over his face, coating him in the residue that he begins to lick up like an obediently trained mutt. You’re gripping his scalp with your nails to stop him from overwhelming you as he hisses. The sight of him below your mound is enthralling, so you drag his face in your cunt to work off the aftershocks. Grinding into his plush pink tongue.

You decide you’ll mount him reverse cowgirl on your feet (with help of course), he holds your hip as you find balance. You feel him start to stretch your entrance, welcoming the painful burn. He’s long and skinny, hitting a spot inside you that has you saying, “oh fuck,” as you try to take more of him.

You watch yourself in the mirror, his inches disappearing behind your pussy lips, form crumpled over trying to selfishly fit him all inside.

But you keep going, needy to hear more of what you could pull out of Sanji. Bounce by bounce you pick up the pace, swallowing his cock with each clap of your ass.

The view was unreal, your thick curls beginning to fall down your back as you worked up a sweat. Titties bouncing up and down as you rock back n’ forth on your feet. “More! More! Please, need it so bad miss!” His hands help piston you on top of him, wanting to lend you whatever support you might need from him. He’s just hoping you can’t see the way his toes curl from how tight and wet you are.

You place your hands behind you on his chest for even more balance, the new angle making you feel even fuller than before. You both felt on fire, your hot breaths began to fog up the mirror as you made love on the floor.

Sanji, desperate to feel you even deeper, thrusts up to match your pace. It makes his cock drag just right on your clit and the pressure begins to build again in your stomach. It’s not like he’s much better though, a blubbering mess underneath you even if you can’t see his face, the desperation of his hips is evident enough.

A few moments later you’re both a sweaty and convulsing mess on top of each other as he makes you cum harder than before. It knocks the wind out of you as you shake in pleasure. Sanji is left whimpering underneath you, unable to pull out.

“So, same time next week?” You ask.

Enjoy? Reblog & click to see event masterlist!

[splaede]

AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 5)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER FIVE. armin's move

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: The night at Connie's house doesn't go the way you expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: a little suggestive(?), petting

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

It was Saturday again.

Everything between you, Armin, and Eren seemed to fall back to normal, just as they were before. And it was better that way, considering you’d have to see them soon.

Eren's phone call wasn't anything to stress over, but Armin's request on the other hand...

You couldn't just gloss over that so quickly.

But if you were to bring it up, what would that mean next?

Dim, closed-off images of last night resurfaced in your head—images of him, disheveled, strewn with sleepiness, tilting in so close to you as his warm breath fanned over your lips, all in a hazy order of events that you couldn’t force yourself to rearrange. 

A slow, unconscious sigh escaped you. You needed to stop thinking about it.

Because in reality, you liked it. 

You liked how tempting he looked in the dark—eyes half-lidded and attractive, shadows contouring his face—and how tantalizing the situation was, how intimate he made it.

The recent lack of love in your life must be taking a toll on you because you didn't mind doing…whatever that was with your long-time best friend. 

All while you had a crush on your other best friend. 

You were fucked.

"There's sushi in the fridge if you want some," Connie blurted, switching on the TV and collapsing onto his couch, where he watched you from your spot by the kitchen counters. "It's the good kind."

You had been grabbing a drink before Armin had invaded your mind, and you were glad that someone could finally push you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, do you want me to bring it out?" you asked, referring to the coffee table laid with plates of snack food. 

"No, that's the good sushi. I only wanted to ask you."

From behind you, the shrill beep of the microwave resounded throughout the kitchen, followed by Jean's gruff, sardonic voice. "Don't fall for it. He's just trying to butter you up."

"Am not!" Connie rolled his eyes. "I'm sure doing it better than you ever can," he mumbled lowly.

You sent him a glare.

"You can keep your fancy sushi, Connie,” you playfully scoffed, moving towards his sprawled-out form on the couch and sinking into the cushion beside him.

Only a few of your friends were already here at Connie and Jean’s shared apartment for the planned hangout, and you were the third to arrive. 

It was late evening, just an hour after sundown, and the slow warmth from the night outside bled into the living room's atmosphere. Beside you, Connie rambled about some show he watched as he carelessly scrolled through Netflix titles, the sound of previews playing loudly from the speakers. Across from you, Sasha sat curled into her seat while Jean griped about the food he microwaved for her from inside the kitchen, but he only went ignored as she cackled at something on her phone.

If you listened closely enough, you could hear Ymir sneeze from inside the bathroom.

You loved nights like these. It truly felt like summer, just you and your little group of friends. The picture was candid and carefree, a nostalgic reminiscence of your teen self instead of the adulthood you were approaching.

You hoped everyone would arrive soon because you were looking forward to this night for some odd, cheesy, unexplained reason.

At the thought of seeing Armin, your stomach churned. But like the invasive, overpowering person that Eren was, thoughts of him suddenly intruded your mind instead, and the feeling in the pit of your stomach only intensified. When you weren’t thinking of Armin, you were thinking of Eren.

Your phone lit up.

Two texts from Eren.

Of course. Speak of the devil—for the nth time again. He somehow managed to show up at both the right and wrong times. Every time the situation called for it, he always appeared. 

Tapping on the notification, you were greeted with a video followed by a text message that read, “on our way.” 

Our?

The video was his front view from the passenger seat of a car, the road and blocks of storefronts—a location you very distinctly recognize—moving past the window as the car drove forward. But what stood out to you was the little stuffed animal keychain that hung from the rearview mirror along with other cute decorations: a silly-looking My Little Pony plushie. 

Was this Mikasa’s car?

A strange feeling grew in your stomach, twisting and churning until you felt your heart finally sink. You shouldn’t have been disappointed since they were friends and all, but you couldn’t help the little pang in your heart. If anything, this was expected of them, and you just happened to notice it more due to your recent confession.

That damn My Little Pony plushie. 

You kept staring at your screen, long enough for Connie to peek over your shoulder.

"Damn, I didn't know you were a brony."

You quickly retracted your phone, whipping your head around. “Quit stalking! I'm not a brony. And neither is Mikasa."

"That’s Mikasa? Is she on her way then?” He punched your arm. “Finally!" 

You shot him a perplexed look, confused at his odd show of excitement. "Don’t get too excited, Mr. Pissed-His-Pants,” you retorted sarcastically.

Connie’s face suddenly contorted to something mortified and alarmed, mouth agape with creased lines on his forehead. "You saw the picture? Listen, it’s not what it looks like! Sasha spilled her drink on me and thought it’d be funny to say that I pissed myself, I swear. Dude, Sasha needs to stop spreading that picture around. She lied to me, too. She said she didn’t send it to anybody, but as soon as Eren sent me that picture, I—”

Light knocks at the front door suddenly cut Connie’s rambling off. 

Connie shot you a knowing glare, and his expression told you everything you needed to know. 

“Fine, I’ll get it,” you huffed, standing up. 

The doorknob wriggled under your fingers as you twisted it, and the door flew open with more force than you’d intended. 

Armin.

You looked at him wide-eyed, more shocked that it was him in the flesh and not because you hadn’t meant to open the door so harshly.

He matched your surprise, staring at you with doe-eyed confusion, hands in his pockets, but it quickly morphed into a suave smile. You noticed he ditched his glasses today. Probably swapped out for contacts.

"Hey."

Armin looked you up and down, fleetingly, in the usual way that he looked anybody up and down. 

But you swore it was different this time. A hint of something teasing laced in his keen pupils, a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. 

Moving back from the open door, you cleared your throat. “Hey, Armin.” 

He stepped in, just once, before running a hand through his hair. A nervous tick. He’d been doing that a lot lately. 

“Armin?!” Connie blurted, dumbstruck. He scrambled up onto his feet and bounded over to where Armin stood, who only gave him a small smile. “New haircut? You’re sexy, man.”

“Thank you.” Armin laughed shyly, looking Connie up and down, but not in the way he looked you up and down. 

“Woah, Armin!” Sasha, no longer glued to her phone, stood up from her seat. Next thing you know, she was grabbing onto Armin’s shoulders and squinting at his side profile. 

“Fade so good she had to inspect it.” Connie snorted and slapped Armin’s back, hard, and when you were expecting him to jolt forward, he stood, steady, a glint of unfamiliar irritation in his blue eyes. Oh. You sometimes forgot how strong he was.  

Sasha finally released her grip on Armin’s shoulders when Jean stalked out of the kitchen, saying, “You look good, bro.”

Connie sniffed. “I smell bromance.” 

Jean was quick to retort something bitter, and then it was that same routine of insults and banter between the two. But your attention shifted to Armin, who watched your friends joke around with an amused crinkle in his eyes. 

Sensing your gaze, he turned to look right at you, and before you could even speak, images of last night replaced his figure in front of you: that dark, hot, expression of his that you tried to bury. You attempted to speak again, but it was futile because you’d already forgotten what you were about to say. 

“You okay?” He nudged you on the arm with the back of his fingers, concerned. “What are you thinking about?”

At that, your eyes widened. You couldn’t look at him anymore or you’d start thinking about him again. Damn him for saying that. 

His brow lifted slightly. “Nothing bad…right?” he asked, cautious. His words sounded reassuring, but the sudden smile that crept onto his face said otherwise. It was almost as if he was teasing you. 

And you should’ve been less obvious, but you quickly looked to the side in shame. It was weird seeing this side of him. 

Did he know? As perceptive as he was, he still couldn’t possibly know.

Unsure of what to say, you rasped out, “No, nothing bad.”

A lapse of silence that bordered on awkward followed suit, but Armin was quick to change the subject. “Eren and Mikasa are on their way.” 

“Oh. I know.” You paused. “Did he send you a video, too?”

He nodded. “Yeah, why?”

You peeked at your surroundings to see if your friends were near you, and to your relief, Jean, Sasha, and Connie were all huddled near the tiny dining area, far enough and loud enough for them to not hear. 

Turning back to him, you shrugged. “Because I’m such a hypocrite. I’m over here worried about them being together and alone all the time, but you know, we’re doing that. They probably don’t like each other like I’m thinking.”

He nodded slowly, skeptically, then smiled softly. “Yeah, yeah. No, you’re right. It’s most likely nothing. You’re just…paranoid. Your brain is just making things up. That’s all.” 

“You don’t sound too sure.” You chuckled, turning around and throwing yourself back onto the couch. He followed you and sat down, legs slightly spread with a clasped palm resting in between. 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” Armin paused, not quite meeting your eyes. He looked away. “They don’t like each other.”

You doubted the confidence in his statement. 

“That was the worst shit of my life,” came a voice in the hallway. Ymir walked out, wafting a hand over her nose. “Don’t go in there.” 

Jean made a noise of disgust. “Gross. That’s my bathroom.”

Ymir stepped a foot forward before fully stopping, raising a halfway, accusing finger as she stared dead straight at Armin. “That’s new.” She spared a knowing glance to you, to which you furrowed your brows. “Trying to look good for someone?” 

You put two and two together, immediately averting your gaze when you realized what she meant.

“What, no!” Armin shook his head. “I just—I just wanted to.”

She didn’t look too convinced, but before anyone could say anything, there was a knock on the door yet again. You nudged Armin. 

“I’ll get it,” he announced.

It was Eren and Mikasa. 

Unconsciously, your face lit up at the sight of Eren. He looked good, in the usual collectedness of his demeanor that contrasted the messiness of his tied-up hair. 

His mouth opened, but for a second, the words died in his throat as he finally took in the sight of the blonde standing right in front of him. 

“You cut your hair?! Since when?”

Mikasa peeked out from over Eren’s shoulder, brows lifting in surprise. 

Armin sheepishly smiled. “Just recently.” He opened the door wider as he stepped back. 

“And you didn’t tell us?” Eren raised a brow, smiling nonetheless.

“Surprise.” Armin’s smile multiplied tenfold, and he was all teeth now, grinning like he was proud of himself.

“I think it really suits you,” Mikasa added.

“Yeah, I agree.”

Everyone greeted the two, and there was a new commotion in the apartment space, bustling and familiar, a distinct aura that only seemed to appear when Eren walked into a room. Great, another dot to the list of things you liked about him.

Armin finally sat back down next to you, snug against your side. 

Eren found a way to your other side, and when Mikasa sat down next to him, he scooted toward you, squishing your limbs together as he attempted to make room.

There was a moment of silent shuffling that everyone followed as Armin scooted further down to make space for all four of you. 

You were now sandwiched—practically squeezed—between the two most conflicting boys in your life right now. On your right was the guy you liked, and on your left was your relationship mentee and potential—

Would you ever help me physically?

—friends with benefits. 

It was even worse to actually think about it. You didn’t need to say it out loud for it to sound embarrassing. It wasn’t that having a friends-with-benefits relationship was embarrassing, but that it was with Armin Arlert. And it hadn’t even started yet. 

You squeezed your thighs together. 

“You guys wanna play a game?” Connie threw two controllers in your direction before picking one up for himself. He sat down on the adjacent couch. 

Eren laughed out of his nose, retorting, “Well, you already gave us the controllers, so we don’t have a choice, do we?” 

You watched again as Connie scrolled through a list of game titles. 

But you were all too aware of the bodies pressed against you, shoulders caging you in, almost as if you were under them. 

Feeling uncomfortable, you stood up. What you didn’t know was that at the other end of the couch, Mikasa shifted in her seat, which prompted Eren to scoot your way. And in the process of you standing up, Eren’s body knocked right into yours, catching you off balance. And then there was something firm beneath your thighs when you fell, nothing like the softness of the couch cushion. 

Hands quickly came to brace your hips.

You were basically sitting on half of Armin’s lap, straddling his thigh as he caught you. Your hand instinctively shot out to support you, landing on his other leg.

“Oh,” you said before you even realized it. And the hands on your hips left as quickly as they came. 

“Oh,” he repeats. “Sorry. Careful.”

You fully stood up now, sparing a glance at Eren like you did something wrong, but before your eyes could meet his, he abruptly turned away, like he was caught red-handed. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, embarrassed, but with your back to Armin and the delay in your response and the whole falling-into-his-lap thing, you wondered if you made it more awkward.

Because it definitely was awkward. Especially with whatever there was between you two. 

You stalked into the kitchen and hoped that you’d find something to do. 

“Y/N, can you get the good sushi?” Connie waved you off, not even offering you a single glance. Judging by the fact that he’d been oddly quiet, he probably hadn’t seen what happened. 

You rolled your eyes but were thankful that you now had a real excuse to be in the kitchen.

There was a sudden wave of new voices from behind the front door, and a series of knocks followed right after. 

Armin stood up again to open the door. 

And as soon as he did, four people that you hadn’t been expecting walked through. Reiner, Bertholdt, Historia, and Annie. This was a perfect opportunity for Armin. 

“Oh, hi guys,” Armin greeted, pausing, eyes panning over the blonde girl. “Hi, Annie.” 

You chimed in a quick greeting, too, watching as Bertholdt and Annie took the seats where you and Armin once sat with Reiner next to Connie on the loveseat.

That left Armin without a spot, standing aimlessly, as he spared you a glance through the kitchen’s pass-through window. 

The moment you made eye contact, though, he came closer. For a moment—and only a moment, your breath constricted in your throat and you stilled in anticipation for a reason you couldn’t even explain. Maybe because then you would be alone with him. Before you could process it, Armin was standing right next to you. 

His lips parted to speak but closed the moment you tugged on his sleeve.

“Hey.” You pulled him deeper into the kitchen, leaning in. “This is your chance. Annie’s here. Talk to her, get closer to her…make a move.”��

He visibly gulped at your words, shooting a wary glance to the side. 

“But everyone’s watching.” 

“That’s why you have to be subtle,” you suggested, to which Armin only raised a confused brow. “Sit next to her—like, really close. Maybe if we’re watching something, you could like, whisper in her ear. Or maybe teach her how to play a video game. Annie’s not with our group that much, so just make her feel welcome.”

“Okay. I’ll try,” he breathed, quiet, and you finally realized how close he stood to you and how close you had pulled him in. 

Your mind wandered to him again—him asking you such an outrageous, yet tempting, question, almost kissing you, and being so intimate with you.

Now that you’d seen him in a different light, it was hard to suppress thoughts like these. 

In a different light.

Wasn’t that his goal the whole time? To be seen more like this? You wondered if he even needed your help because, right now, it seemed like he had already achieved his goal. 

Suddenly, he tapped your waist. 

“You’re spacing out again.” 

But you didn’t reply. No, instead—it was almost instinctive the way you did it—your gaze fell to his lips, bouncing right back to his eyes when you realized what you did. 

His brows rose by just a fraction, and his gaze shot to your lips, almost like it was instinct. You watched his throat bob, just as breathless as you were, before his eyes flitted back at you again. There was longing in the way he stared at you, so evident and bright in his blue irises. 

“Do you…”

He trailed off, an unsure look painted on his face. 

This was really bad timing, but you were just so swept away. You don’t entirely know what or why, but it was along the lines of wanting to just kiss him—be close to him—or the thrill of just doing it behind everyone’s back.

“I know you want it,” he breathed, regaining his composure.

It was sinful. His voice dropped an octave, reduced to a raw whisper. You didn’t think he meant for it to sound this provocative and straightforward—or did he? You didn’t expect this, especially coming from him of all people. 

It. He knew you wanted it. It wasn’t “I know you want to” but “I know you want it.” And with the way he spoke to you, it could mean a lot of things.

You swallowed the lump that was building in the back of your throat, taking a sidelong glance at the direction your friends were in.

The living room and kitchen were obscured by a wall, with half of it being a kitchen pass-through window. You were standing just to the side of the window, so if anyone looked in, they wouldn’t be able to see you two.

Right out of eyeshot and—hopefully—earshot. 

You felt hands slide onto your waist, slow, delicate, and reluctant. Almost inexperienced, if you could put it that way.

And then you heard footsteps approaching. 

Quickly pushing him away, you whirled around, facing the fridge directly behind you, and opened the doors in an attempt to look busy. The plate of sushi. Right. What you came for in the first place. 

“You’re so obvious, Armin.” 

You stilled for a moment, sushi plate halfway in your hands, because you recognized this voice all too well, even when it was hushed, and after a second too long, you finally processed the words. Wary, unblinking, you turned around, letting the fridge shut on its own.

Eren stopped to bend down and grab a water bottle, eyes locked on you the entire time. 

“What?” Armin gasped.

“I know you like her.” Eren shrugged.

You looked at Armin expectantly, caught off guard by Eren, but you couldn’t see his face from this angle. 

“Do you mean Annie?” you asked. 

Eren was aware of Armin’s crush; that was common knowledge. She was the only person he could possibly be referring to. Unless he was talking about…

You really wanted to know what expression Armin was making, and your confusion only doubled when Eren’s gaze drifted to your form. 

Unless he was talking about you?

“Nothing. You know what.” Eren’s eyes were still on you when he popped open the cap and took a gulp of his water. 

“You could at least keep it down a little…” Armin cautioned, voice low in a whisper. 

A haughty, coy smirk crept up his lips, not directed toward you, but to Armin. “You should at least make a move tonight.” 

He shrugged again and stepped out of the kitchen.

“Um, okay. I will,” Armin answered, so faint it was as if it were to himself.

Eren didn’t spare a glance back. 

You were standing there still clutching onto the cold plate of sushi, focused on the back of his head. “That was weird. Is he in on this?” Your voice dropped to the quietest whisper you could muster. “Does he know about our…”

“No, no,” Armin answered quickly, shaking his head as he turned to you fully. “It’s only between you and me.” 

You muttered an “okay” before you moved past him and into the living room, but as you walked back, you let your head fall in the gutter, and you felt it again now—your heart sinking, stomach churning. The plate was cold under your fingertips, a sensation that brought you back to reality about what just happened. What could’ve happened. 

Your lips pressed together on their own—in some shameful, self-aware way. Because your lips were just a second from being on his.

The living room filled your ears with blurts of cries and cheers of what you assume must be a really competitive game of Mario Kart. You placed the sushi plate onto the table, and someone screamed at you to not block the screen, but Connie was nowhere to be seen.

The seating had changed now: some of your friends had switched around, and the rest were missing.

But that wasn’t important. The only important thing was that someone left the spot next to Eren empty and the spot next to Annie, who moved to the other couch, empty. 

A perfect setup for you and Armin. 

Armin, who you had been getting a little too close to. Who you couldn’t help but want. You wanted him as much as you wanted to help him.

You slid in next to Eren, so naturally and effortlessly that when your thighs and arms met, he wouldn’t have suspected a thing. Because either way, this was normal; you were friends, and that should’ve been enough of a reason for you to be close to him. 

In full swing, Armin followed right after, sitting next to Annie—not touching, but a safe distance between them. And for once, as you put the weird tension aside, you were content for the night. 

As per tradition, Connie put on a movie, all lights turned off. This was the last movie of the night, a “really funny one” as quoted by Connie himself.

Every time you laughed, you immediately self-sabotaged and glanced at the loveseat, where Armin at Annie sat, brushing shoulders, to see if they were laughing, too. And every time, you heard it louder than your own. You were torn between supporting his advancements and indulging this sense of… selfishness.

You felt the same way about Armin as you do with Eren—felt this strange possessiveness. He was your best friend. And seeing him with someone else made you feel a word you didn’t want to think aloud.

Even though it was the whole point of your agreement, Armin was coming to you just to end up with another girl in the end.

They were close now, smushed together because Sasha wedged herself in the other end of the couch, but she wasn’t part of their world. Armin did exactly what you told him, talking lowly in her ear about God knows what.

You were spiraling. You thought of the almost-kiss from last night, the lap incident, the almost-kiss from earlier, and Eren’s odd comment, and you wondered if Armin was affected, too, just as delirious as you were right now.

Eren was lightly snuggled up right beside you and you to him. You had better things to worry about, like enjoying Eren’s closeness. Granted, Mikasa sat on his other side, but you needed to remember she was your best friend, too. 

You turned to talk to Eren, but you were immediately met with green eyes, familiar and watchful. His eyes widened ever-so-minutely, frozen for a second, and flitted to a spot behind you. You didn’t even have to look to know who he was looking at. 

Shit, did he catch you staring?

He leaned into your ear. “What are you doing for the rest of the night?” His voice was a prickle against the skin of your earlobe, all low and husky and warm. 

“Nothing,” you whispered. “Why?” 

“Just asking. We”—he gestured to himself, you, Mikasa, and Armin—“could go somewhere or do something after.”

“It’s midnight.”

“So?”

“I have work in the morning.”

On that cue, the movie ended, music blaring, as the end credits rolled in. Connie had been torturing everyone with movies back-to-back. The kitchen and living room were a scattered, trashy mess of cans and bottles, stacked with empty pizza boxes. 

You stood up and stretched, and several of your friends followed.

Jean had already retreated to his room for the night, and some others had left earlier; you were just one of the stragglers that stayed behind. 

The lights switched on with a flick, and chatter resumed. Judging from the tired sag on everyone’s faces, you knew this was the end of the night. 

Armin was the first to go. “I’m going to head home now. Bye, guys!”

As soon as he finished that sentence, his gaze darted to you for a brief moment. And a little awkward.

You didn’t like this tension between the two of you. But at the same time, you didn’t hate it either.

Your friends said goodbye to him like it was the most casual thing ever, and then he was gone. Seeing him leave early, you felt…sad. Even though he was the one missing out, you felt like you were missing out on him. The movie just ended, but you planned to talk a little more before you left. 

Eren came up from behind you. “So, you don’t want to come to my house? I’m gonna text Armin if he wants to, too.”

You startled before peering at him. As much as you wanted to, and as much of a tempting invitation that was to hear from Eren, you needed rest.

“For what?”

“Late night swim in my pool. Like we all used to.” 

“But I have work,” you sighed. “How about tomorrow?”

He sighed, too. 

“Fine.” 

You helped throw away the main horde of trash, because knowing Connie and Jean, they probably wouldn’t clean it up until the next morning. Or the next. 

The moment you said your goodbyes and closed the door, you were ready to unwind from all of the little things that happened. 

But before you even got to your car, you spotted something. 

Was that Armin’s car? 

From what you saw from his window, Armin only sat there, still and contemplative, reclined against his seat, for a reason you didn’t know except that it was just like him to do so. You wondered why he hadn’t driven off yet.

He must’ve caught your reflection in the side mirror because his shoulders jolted in surprise, and he turned to you with an expression that melted from listlessness to outright relief. The window rolled down, and you greeted him with a smile that he reciprocated a little too quickly. 

“Hey. You left so fast. I still wanted to talk to you,” you said. The scent of his cologne wafted to you in an almost comforting yet overwhelming way, but you ducked down to lean further into it. 

He sat up straight, and his head came closer to yours as a result. “Really?” It was boyish—the way he said it, soft and almost sad. “Then…what are you doing for the rest of the night?”

“Nothing,” you replied. “Going home.”

“Can I come over?” 

You shot him a look of surprise. The skeptical part of your brain was nudging you, asking you how such a good opportunity like this was actually presenting itself to you. But the giddy pounding in your heart was desperate to let something good happen—to resolve this weird magnetism. 

“You want to?” You sucked in a breath. Now you felt bad for saying no to Eren, but you knew that swimming at his house would mess up your sleep schedule even more. “Okay, but you can’t stay for long. I have work in the morning.” 

As long as he stayed for just a little, it’d be fine. 

“Okay.” A flush of pink steadily rose to his cheeks. “Thank you.”

The whole walk back to your car—no, the whole drive back to your apartment, you were reeling in disbelief. Because you knew something was bound to happen and he was going to ask more from you and the kitchen situation from earlier was left unspoken. 

You arrived and piled out of your car. In the distance, he parked and quickly hopped out, jogging to you. 

“Sorry, I hope I’m not bothering you with this. I just…” He trailed off. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh yeah, how’d it go with Annie?” 

“It was fine. She’s hard to open up. I think I was just saying the wrong things.”

“No, no, I can tell she’s just a reserved person. Did you take my advice from yesterday?”

“Um, yeah I did. I tried my best, at least, but I felt like I was overly nice.” He chuckled dryly.

“It’s fine. At least you’re one step closer.”

He hummed in response, shrugging, watching you fiddle with your keys in the doorknob. You both got a whiff of warm apartment air as soon as it unlocked. It was dark and empty; your roommate wasn’t returning until tomorrow. 

His hands found purchase in his pockets, eyes looking around idly. “Wow, I haven’t been here in a while.”

“Yeah, sorry. My roommate is always home, and she doesn’t like guests. But she’s not home right now.”  

You immediately curled up into your couch and closed your eyes, sleepiness washing over you like a tide. The cushions dipped beneath your body as Armin took a seat. 

You could fall asleep like this. You’d even let him sleep right here, too.

It was silent for a while. The more it prolonged, the more you started to tense. 

His voice cut through the silence like a knife. “Hey, sorry for earlier. Back at Connie’s. I don’t know what came over me.” 

Your eyes shot open, but you stayed curled up, quiet, because you truthfully didn’t have an answer. This conversation was bound to be brought up. You slowly untangle yourself from your position, sitting up. 

“No,” you denied. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me either. You don’t have to apologize at all.” An instinctive gulp hit you quickly and forced saliva down your throat, and you were just there, choked up over your choice of words. 

“I—I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. That was really unlike me. It’s good that…it was you, at least.” 

Whatever force came over him at that moment…was working. His advances were working. All Armin needed to do was to let that confidence take him over again—to let himself be bold. You shook your head. Neither of you looked at each other—just sitting, talking. And there was something thick and unspoken in the air, resting heavy on your shoulders. 

“Armin, I don’t even know why you need my help. I can already see you in a different…” You backtracked, stepping over your words. It was hard to be transparent without making things weird, to salvage as much friendship as you could. “I mean, whatever you’re doing, it’s working. You seem like you know what you’re doing.”

Armin laughed quietly out of his nose, not out of amusement or mockery, you thought, but relief. “R—Really? I don’t know what I did, it just felt right, bad timing and all,” he said.

“It’s fine. It felt right for me, too. You can do anything—” To me. You stopped. “Um, what I—what I mean is, think of it as an extension of our agreement. We can try anything you want. For educational purposes.” 

You mentally cursed yourself at your horrible attempt at saving yourself as heat rose to your cheeks. Everything you’d been saying sounded like a confession. 

From the corner of your eye, you could vaguely see him dropping his head, face scrunched into a sheepish frown. “Are you sure? What I did wasn’t weird or anything, right?” 

This time, you finally faced him. “If I was uncomfortable that time, I wouldn’t have leaned in…I don’t mind at all.” 

He laughed again, but this time, it rang sweetly, bashfully. “Okay, um, then can we—can we try something?” he stuttered, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, the certainty leaving his voice as he spoke.

Your heart thumped in your chest as the air surged out of your lungs. You remembered last night, an exact replica of this moment. Dark, late at night, and alone with each other. And he again threw you such a hard request that had your stomach flipping.

Taking in a deep breath, you asked, “What do you want to try?”

He was looking at you now, and God, his eyes were so innocently bright, peering at you with so much eagerness that you wondered if he would always look like this when…

“Teach me how to kiss.” 

It came out in a needy whisper, voice fracturing, as if he said it all in one breath. The tension in your chest burst and blood rushed to your head like a storm. 

It was one thing to just be kissed—to let it flow in the feel of the moment—and another to be asked for it. 

The weight of his words laid on you now, expectant. He came to you for this, and who were you to refuse him?

“S—Sure. We can.” So you shifted closer to him, and you swore the air got heavier, harder to breathe. Your heart felt like it was wrenching itself out of your ribs, beating so hard that it filled your ears. 

His eyes bored into you still, unchanging, glossed over with a look of desire that looked so tempting. The blush on his face darkened when you placed a hand on his face, nearing closer and closer. He was soft under your touch, warm and ablaze as you lightly swiped your thumb across his cheek. 

“Try to match me, okay? We can stop any time.” 

With the final push, you pulled him in. 

Your lips slotted against his, slowly and methodically, like you were both trying to get the feel of things. His lips were soft, pliable, and you could feel their plumpness as you pressed into him, urging him on. He moved hesitantly and gently, slower than you, but somehow matching your pace perfectly and so fittingly. You began feeling lightheaded the wetter the kiss became because you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. 

You could sense his arm reaching around your body, stopping when his hand grabbed your outer thigh, and in one swoop, he pulled you into him, closing the remaining distance between your bodies. Now, your side was pressed up against his, heat radiating off of him, almost scorching you, reminding you of how close you two were—physically and emotionally.

And then you heard shuffling and the quietest, littlest click, like…like he was silencing his phone.

The kiss was still slow and steady, pushing and pulling, and you could tell he was gaining more confidence. Suddenly, he tilted his head further, pushing, which caused a hitch in your breath. His hand found its way to the back of your neck. He was taking the lead now. 

Your face was flushed with heat and your chest was heaving. Lost in the haze, you started lightly sucking on his lips. 

It was like this for a while. Sensual and solid and rhythmic as your lips moved in perfect tempo. He was good. A fast learner that took initiative. 

You didn’t like having to twist your head like this, so with a bated breath, you pulled away and stood up, hoping for the best. Confusion swam blue in his eyes as he watched you move, like a puppy. Cute.

Lifting your knees, you clumsily scrambled onto his lap, hands gripping onto his shoulders. You refrained from sitting too close because too fast, you thought, too fast for the current lesson and too fast for the anticipation already building in your stomach. 

But your plan quickly went out the window because you somehow, somehow, slipped a little too far, inches away from his crotch.

He inhaled sharply as his legs spread wider to support you and his hands instantly grabbed onto the base of your waist. The force of it pushed your shirt up a little, revealing the tiniest sliver of skin. 

This reminded you of when you fell into his lap, except this time, you were straddling both of his legs and facing him, and the feeling was nothing like the adrenaline from before. It was all-consuming with desire and just him him him.

“You’re shaking.” You squeezed his shoulders, but you swore you were shaking, too. “Breathe and relax. It’s just me.”

It was ironic; he was nervous now, when before at Connie’s apartment, he wasn’t.

Armin breathed out a shaky laugh, not daring to meet your eyes but rather on a spot on your neck. “I know. It’s you that makes me nervous.”

You couldn’t fight back the smile that crept up your lips, the beat of your heart, and the warmth that traveled up your cheeks. 

Looking at him, you noticed it now. The feverish tint of red on his cheekbones and the blown-out pupils, eyes lidded and so dark in this lighting that they almost looked gray. You wondered what you looked like to him right now.

His arms unexpectedly wrapped around your waist, tugging you all the way in until your chests and torsos were flushed against each other and your noses touched. He really did it now. 

“Will your roommate be home soon?” 

Oh, that was bold. That was bold because he looked up at you with those eyes and pleaded with that voice. You peeked at the time on your living room clock. Just a little past one in the morning. 

You weren’t getting any sleep soon, you realized. You remembered Eren—remembered how you declined him because it was late, but here you were.

When Armin didn’t receive an answer, he caught you off guard with a tiny peck to your lips. 

You gulped. 

“No.”

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[jinkiezzsstuff]

Rivalry To Romance

velvette x f!reader

Summary: You worked in cosmetics at the Vee tower alongside Velvette, unfortunately you’ve never gotten along. You found her obnoxious and she found you to be a pest. However you struggle with yourself on whether you truly hate her or just can’t accept your true emotions.

Warnings: Fem reader, reader throws things again so does velvette, valentinos presence yuck, suggestive but nothing serious. No mention of readers hairtype, bodytype or skin colour, shorter than i originally wanted womp but I think that’s it but lmk

Word count: 2.5k

we need more velvette i love her so much and there’s like no info on her character or back story at least that i could find woomp womp im trying clear up what i have drafted but sheesh im so picky and a perfectionist about it i wish i was a writing machine that it could come directly out of my brain like i see it y’know?

“I fucking hate her!” You screeched tossing make up across the room at your assistant. “Please, calm down, my head hurts.” Angel whined from your couch as you paced around him, your assistant booking it after the second thing, that being a vase, was thrown.

“I can't, she's intolerable, seriously. A brat.” You grit plopping down onto the cushion beside him. The two of you were in the Vee tower, you being what Velvette would call ‘the shadow of the vees’, you got in on the triangle based on accessibility; for the Vees that is. You were a cosmetic creator and produced varying products for demons of all kinds, not only was it beneficial for Valentino's pornstars but Velvette’s models.

When you were a self employed business it was still very lucrative, and getting around quickly. Gaining the opportunities to work with overlords, sinners you never expected as well as selling and gaining quicker than you could’ve imagined. It wasn’t long until Velvette had caught onto the rage, and that’s how you ended up in the tower working alongside her.

It was terrible from the start; you weren’t some meek little demon, yet Velvette treated you like you were some Imp! You hated her bratty, disrespectful loud mouth and you never failed to let her know.

BIting your nails down too low without realizing, Angel grabbed your hand successfully stopping you, and leaned forward. “Hey listen I know how it is to have a sucky boss. Heh, literally.” Angel snickered to himself while you muttered that she wasn’t your boss. “But if i’m being honest, it sounds like sexual frustration,” He twiddled his fingers at you while a sly smile pulled at his lips.

You gaped at him, head falling forward in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me, hah, no fucking way dude!” You exclaimed, leaning back, you sighed frustrated at the conversation. “Oh shit, gotta go toots, boss is calling. Thanks for letting me up, see ya later.”

You waved by to Angel watching him go. Sitting with your elbows on your knees you stared off into space. Sure you suppose you admired her, sure, she was pretty, occasionally sure you’d check her out admiring how the clothes fit her, but that was purely platonic! Velv was a fashion designer, of course she knows how to accentuate her natural beauty.

And perhaps there were times when you couldn’t quite decide what you felt for her questioning your intentions second guessing your actions. Sometimes as you gazed at her while she worked, you wanted to ease her up a little, relax her from the stress whether that be from praise, a gentle rub or kiss, or something a little more promiscuous; you simply wanted to be her relief.

Other times you wanted to fight her and bitch her out, and then fuck her? You actually didn’t know and it drove you insane, but Angel was the first to spot the way you acted, overly aggressive.

You groaned, frustration emitted from you very clearly as you tugged at your hair. Standing you walk quickly toward Velvette’s and yours’ work sections on the tower's mid floor. Velvette stood at a table when you walked in, she only barely turned her head to you, too busy studying fabrics and colours.

“What’s the pretentious brat got cooking today?” You say walking up beside her looking down at the table. Rolling her eyes she turned to you hand on her hip. “Can you piss off? I’ve got shit to do, real work, not lazing around with a whore.”

Rolling your eyes right back at her, you looked down to the table. “Angels no more of a whore than that filthy moth.” You muttered fingering the fabrics, eyes dancing around the blueprints for an outfit.

“What’re these for?” You ask, meeting her gaze, a bored look plagued her face, but she loosened up slightly at the mention of her work. “These are the new blueprints for our outfits for the upcoming broadcast Vox has planned. He wants to market tech, pornos, clothing and your cosmetics so everything’s gotta be right.”

Velvette looked down harshly at the things laid out in front of her, you could see the gears working in her head as her eyes flicked around the different blueprints, fabrics and rough drafts. You hummed, flicking through a particular set of blueprints that caught your eye. “I’m sure you’ll do great hun, always do.” You muttered absentmindedly, barely focusing on the praise that came from your lips.

Velvette’s head jerked back a bit, eyes watching you. She wasn’t expecting such softly said words to come from you so suddenly, but she definitely didn’t mind it. “Do you want something specific?” Looking toward her you shrugged, trying to ignore the yearning you had to be nearer.

“Just a dress, suppose the only request I have is that I look the part.” You didn’t mean for it to come off sad however, it did, and Velvette felt the rare sting of guilt ping past her heart. She was in fact the one who fought with you the most on who was worthy in the tower, but she always felt you were trying to replace her as “the guru”.

The fight you had earlier was present in your mind as you stood there, it was dumb another thing that sent you spiralling. You stomped off and straight into Angel, thank goodness for that because his presence calmed you surprisingly. The fight was about time slots with models, mainly because one model had been held up by Velvette because she was being a snooty princess again about what the model wore, meanwhile time was ticking on how much time you had to do said model's makeup.

Which ended up spiralling into a screaming cat fight, where you tossed things at her and she tossed them back slinging a slew of colour insults at you as she did so. Normally you and Velvette never apologised but as you stood there beside her looking over stuff you felt as though the moment of peace was close enough to an apology.

“Do you really wanna go to this?” You asked breathing in deeply, catching hints of her perfume that left a warm familiar feeling in your chest. “Hm not really, but we have to.” Picking up navy blue colours, she stacked the square fabrics together.

Swallowing you ask; “What’s your favourite colour?” Stunned Velvettes hands stalled their actions, her eyes meeting yours. You were waiting looking neutrally at her, you simply wanted to know. It was easy to see Voxs was arrays of blues, Val’s pink and red, you fancied emerald and sea greens, and her.. you didn’t know, hot pink?

“I fancy whites, purples, plums…” Trailing off finger to her mouth in thought, she nodded one sternly. “White and plum.” You smile ever so slightly it was a decent conversation for sure. But it definitely didn’t help you inner fight about your feelings for her.

~

Today was the day of the broadcast, the lot of you ventured to Valentinos floor of the tower, doing it up for a big show. There were tons of tables set up, lighting, cameras; the porn stars were done up thanks to you and Velv, they sat on a plush couch their section was going to be an ‘interview with the stars’ no doubt being entirely fake lies. Angel was a part of the cast, much to your dismay, you’d rather him be far from Valentino, but that wasn’t possible. Another area was new improved tech, with tech nerds ready to present and push the new models Voxtech had made.

Off to the back was Velvette’s section where various manikins stood cladded in Velvette’s best work, there were also models present around waiting to pose with the manikins. Your area felt blander than the rest, your cosmetics sat on varying different platforms that lifted them aesthetically, and you had a few head models with you, cameras focused in on only their eyes and lips for the occasional shot. In the middle of the room was where you, Velvette, Vox and Valentino would be.

The lot of you were going to be standing tall with wide smiles, the only one who was set to talk was Vox, the rest of you were just their to claim name to your things. Velvette was running around taking Sinstagram stories and pictures of everything around, building anticipation and hype for everything to come.

You watched her bounce around every now and again yelling at a worker or model about their place here, before getting back to puttering around. She wore a white dress with hearts at the bottom, and her hair was done up in a classic poof instead of her straightened pigtails. “Admiring the goods?” Angel asks, scaring the shit out of you, gasping you grabbed your chest in shock. “Fuck Angel don’t do that to me, and ye- wait what?”

Angel cackled an accusatory finger pointed to you. “Oh cmon! Even Val knows you’re into her, and that’s him.” You stared in disbelief before shaking your head no rapidly. “How would he even know? We barely spend time near each other, I hate him more than Velv.”

Angel scoffed, crossing two sets of his arms he leant against the wall next to him. “Please Velvette’s always ranting about how annoying you are over the phone, telling Val when Vox is probably too sicka her to hear it! Then she goes off saying how you can’t be nice and how you always make it a mission to come and pester er’ and Val said it’s because you wanted to fuck her!” Angel exclaimed slyly leaning forward into you and than backward away.

“That’s not true, we just can’t get along.” Like the devil heard your words, Velvette skipped up to you three, pulling the two of you into her. “Alright! The bitches! That’s more like it!” Velvette shouted, snapping a picture, Angel defaulted to his actor ways posing lustfully at the camera, meanwhile you just smiled unbelievably at Velvette. Once the picture was taken she wasted no time stepping back and sending off the post with a series of different hashtags.

“You look happy today?” You ask more than say watching Velvette smile around the room. “Of course people have stayed quiet, and not been a dickhead all day. Not to mention Vox and Val aren’t in moods.” You nodded in agreement, eyes casting briefly over to the TV who walked around checking the different cameras while Val smoked in the back.

Angel not so subtly snuck off giving your back a shove closer towards Velvette. Even if you could admit to yourself you felt more than platonic emotions for her, it would be extremely hard to accept it or attempt to make a move when you didn’t even know her sexuality.

She’d never seemed interested in Vox or Valentino, but you’ve not seen her eyeing women either. It made you more uncomfortable to ponder the future of accepting your feelings when you could just be cruel and ignore them. “What’s up with you spacey?” Velvette suddenly asked her phone off facing toward the floor.

You anxiously fiddled with your short dress wondering if now would be a good time to start something. “Nothing Velvette, just nerves i guess.” Velvette rolled her eyes, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You’ll be fine, always are anyways. We don’t do shit, it’s all Vox.”

Fair enough. Although that’s true it didn’t really matter considering it wasn’t what was really bothering you. “Are you straight?” You blurt suddenly, hand jerking upward to cover your mouth. Velvette’s eyebrow raised a ‘huh’ falling from her lips.

With a decision in mind, you couldn’t deny it, knowing that even Val saw something you know how you can’t hide it. The daydreams you have of her warm skin next to yours in the morning, the friendship you wish you had, the desire to have her lipstick smeared against your lips, wanting to post cheesy couple pictures together all over Sinstagram.

“Uhh, yeah, are you straight because I haven’t ever seen you around anybody, like, ahem, that.” You stutter out staring at her trying to gauge every little emotion on her face. “Suppose I could be considered, but i fuck who i want no matter the package.” She finally replied, returning to herself after spacing out, looking calmer than you.

“Would ya fuck me?” Scratching the back of your neck as her eyes scanned your face rapidly, trying to read you, trying to tell if you were serious. “Yeah, if you weren’t such a bitch.” You hum watching her once more, this time she looked a little meeker, shifting from foot to foot, her gaze casted downward.

“And what about love? Y’know not just wanting to have a hook up?” You asked a little apprehension evident in your voice, you craned your neck back trying to distance yourself subconsciously.

Softly you felt Velvettes gentle hand on your shoulder, focusing all your attention on her, you watched as her face turned out to the side, only looking at you through her peripheral. Her other hand crawled up to your other shoulder, before drifting softly to your neck, sending shivers down your spine and straight to your toes.

Velvette was still at fully extended arms length, so you stepped forward, cupping her cheeks gently like she was made of the fragilest material. Now eye to eye the two of you simply stared waiting, while invading eachothers space. Cautiously you leaned forward thankfully being her height, you hand your eyes closed already hoping she’d get the message, and either pull away running or indulge.

You were more than shocked to feel her lipstick covered lips meet with yours, soft yet eager. You kissed her back slowly, trying to convey the emotions and feelings you felt without speaking, the apology you wanted to say but didn’t know how.

Pulling you closer by the neck, you fell into her slightly, wrapping your arms around her like she was your world, fully absorbed in the passionate kiss you were sharing. Just as the kiss turned slightly heated, tongues introducing and slipping past the barrier of eachothers mouth Vox screamed. “You’ve got Velvettes makeup on your face, FUCK, why?! Why?! Five minutes before we’re live!” Jumping apart the two of you looked toward Vox who was already glitching out, meanwhile Val just stood smuggly sucking his pipe.

“Don’t worry he’s just mad that he now owes me one hundred dollars, losers weepers,” Val breathed his smoke wafting around the TV’s head. Velvette threw the bird at Vox before turning to you pulling out a handkerchief. “Weren’t you calling someone geriatric, now you’re pulling out handkerchiefs?” You teased, her hand coming up to wipe her black lipstick that stained your face.

“Oh piss off, or we’re both fired,” She scolded but there was no malice in her words like before making your heart flutter. “So how long before this gets out, our little before the air make out sesh?” You inquire as she handed the cloth to you, you wiping her smeared lipstick just as she did for you. “Based on the vibrations from my phone, not long.”

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Love Triangle

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

i have an idea... a love triangle.

now, hear me out.

an actual love triangle. not the love corner disguised as a love triangle.

bucky loves you, you love steve, and steve loves bucky. imagine the angst. the pain.

after all, no one leaves a love triangle unscathed.

no one.

we'll start with bucky, self effacing, self sacrificing, noble, bucky barnes. he swore he loved you from the moment he saw you. the one and only person to welcome him to the compound after his stint in wakanda.

he remembers it perfectly. every detail of the moment he first laid eyes on you. but mostly, your smile. it was that damned smile. so warm. so genuine. from ear to ear, you greeted the both of them. you reached out a hand to him. it was so unexpected, he couldn't remember the last time someone voluntarily stood that close to him. he couldn't remember the last time he didn't see fear shining in a stranger's eyes. you reached out your hand to him, only for him to kiss the back of your hand. you blushed and a little chuckle bubbled from your lips, and he fell just a little more.

you showed him kindness he'd long forgotten. a warmth that almost thawed all his years as the winter soldier. you listened to him. held his hand as he told his story. how easily you slid past his walls. he loved you so much it hurt.

and that smile. that damned smile.

it didn't take very long for him to realize that smile wasn't for him.

he could pinpoint the exact moment he figured it out. a mission gone wrong. him and steve barely made it out with their lives. he limped off the quinjet with steve hobbling right behind him. the door slammed open and you skidded across the hangar. panic and tears welled in your eyes. that smile. that smile bloomed across your face at the sight of them. he smiled back. his heart warmed at the sight of someone actually caring about him.

bucky couldn't help but think that maybe this would all be worth it if you were always there to welcome him back.

you sprinted up the ramp. you and that smile blew right past him. right into steve's arms. bucky's heart broke as steve wrapped his arms around your waist. even more as you nestled your head against steve's chest, right over his beating heart. all he could hope was that you didn't hear the sound of his heart shattering.

he sees you walking past him in the compound and he wonders how he never noticed it. how after all this time watching you, pining for you, he never saw it. your eyes don't search for him, they search for steve. his heart beats for you. and still, your heart beats for steve. of course it does, why wouldn't it? steve is everything that bucky is and so much more. this only proves it.

you're friends. that much is true. but your eyes, your heart, that damned smile, it's all for steve. and there's nothing he can do about it.

he'd give you up in a hearbeat. bucky would hand over the dream of holding you in his arms. the hope that one day you would look at him like you look at steve. he would give it up to see you smile like that for the rest of your life. he would live his life on the outside looking in, watching steve live the life that bucky wanted. he could take another lifetime's worth of hurt if it meant that you would be happy.

and then there's steve, captain america himself, head held high, stoic and unflinching. a moral compass personified. the moment he came out of the ice, he pined for the man that he promised forever to, he longed for bucky.

until the end of the line, he promised.

and he meant it.

it was wrong, he knew. at first, he liked your company. it only dawned on him months into your friendship that you felt differently than he did. he wanted to tell you. he just didn't want to hurt you. he didn't want to lose you. he liked the way you looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars. he liked being loved.

he wanted to love you, desperately so. he told himself he just needed time. loving you would be so easy for him, all he needed was time to move on from his first love.

the moment he finds out bucky is alive, he knows how wrong it really is. because he'd do just about anything for bucky, even breaking your heart over and over again without a second thought.

no one could ever compare to the man he spent more than seventy years loving.

he fought his way back to bucky. fought through all the politics, war, all the time lost, back to bucky. foolish hope bloomed in his heart when bucky uttered those same words back to him, 'until the end of the line'.

for a short moment, steve thought it was the start of a love story for the ages.

it only took watching bucky watch you, to know that bucky didn't mean it.

not the way steve did.

he wasn't sure why he thought it would be any different. beneath the serum, steve was still that kid from brooklyn. the kid that bucky defended, protected. he was bucky's friend, but he was never truly his equal. bucky had never given him any reason to think that he was remotely interested in him. he never gave him so much as a second glance. not in the way he wanted. not then and most certainly, not now.

bucky had eyes for you and only you. of course. you were amazing, exactly the kind of woman that bucky deserved. exactly his type. more than steve would ever be.

why would bucky ever look in his direction when you were right there?

how could he take bucky's chance at the love that he deserved? bucky deserved that, as much as bucky believed he didn't. steve knew he deserved that and so much more. so he stood aside. tall and unflinching. and watched bucky love you the way that steve always wanted bucky to love him.

and you. you came much later into their decades long saga. you were his first real friend when he came out of the ice. it didn't take long for you to fall.

you knew your mission. help him, be there for him.

you tried to talk yourself out of it, to keep yourself from falling. you were just an agent. just a friendly face to him. he was captain america. you were the shield agent that followed him around like a lost puppy. he never made you feel like that, never treated you as anything but his equal.

there was something about the way steve looked at you.

there was something about steve rogers that you couldn't let go.

he made you feel almost worthy of his love.

perhaps it was the way steve would call you in the middle of the night when he lie away sleep evaded. you didn't mind it, not one bit.

perhaps it was the way steve always held out an arm for you to hold on walks through new york city. you liked listening to his stories, watching him point out the things that were still the same.

maybe it was his warmth. the warmth of his overheated skin that could warm you from the inside out on blistery days. the warmth that radiated from his skin when he would hold you in his arms, listening to the sound of his beating heart soothing you like the most comforting of lullabies. the warmth of his smile. the warm blue eyes that you wanted to fall into.

sometimes, you thought he could love you, too.

until bucky catapulted back into his life.

it happened so quickly. and still, you'd never forget the moment you realized he would never love you like he loved bucky.

'you're going to do something stupid, aren't you?' you asked him on your final call before he disappeared.

'i love him' steve whispered into the phone. it was the way the words fell from his lips. love. it wasn't the sort of love that you declared for your friend. it wasn't familial, platonic. it was an intensity he'd never felt for you. in that moment, you're sure he never will.

a breath lodged in your throat. your heart splintering. 'you love him?'

'until the end of the line.'

and still, you couldn't stop loving him. you loved him enough to become a fugitive for two years. enough to run by his side knowing that he would never want you. two years worth of pain isn't enough for you to learn your lesson and walk away. it's not enough to stop you from loving him either.

even after the dust settled, when steve returned with bucky barnes. none of it is enough for you to walk away from him. and steve rogers is far too love struck to notice the way you watch him.

you curse yourself, how foolish you were to think that steve ever loved you. that was not steve rogers in love. it's clear to you now. it's clear because watching him like this, you know what love actually looks like on steve rogers. he never had a fraction of that for you. he never looked at you like that.

he never loved you. not even a little bit.

there's a part of you that wants to hate bucky, but you can't. you can't because he's pretty incredible too.

you can see exactly why steve's spent seventy years loving him.

you'll take your pain and bear it with the bravest of faces because he's perfect for him. you'll swallow all the hurt, the broken pride, the bruised dignity, all to see steve finally at peace. after all the decades of suffering and pain, they deserve their happy ending.

you wonder if he knows. if either of them know.

you wonder if you'll ever escape this feeling.

you don't think you will.

none of you will.

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310

[baddiejjk]

MY SWEET OBSESSION – index/teaser

Synopsis: You were obsessed with him, but he had a girlfriend.

Paring: Jeon Jungkook x female Reader x Kim Taehyung

Genre: Smut, angst, love triangle, drama, friends to lovers

Warnings: Love triangle, explicit language, mature content, unhealthy relationships, alcohol consumption, cheating, friends with benefits

W.C: 63k

a/n: I finally got the courage and I'm going to start posting my story here soon. Hope you like it.

You were sure that flexibility was his strong point. And you loved flexible men. You couldn't help but gaze at Jungkook while he stretched, wearing those thin shorts and that white shirt that accentuated his biceps. You were devouring him with your eyes, but nobody noticed.

Since the day you first saw him, you harbored an impressive sexual desire, but you never got anywhere with it. Even if you tried for years, you wouldn't succeed. Even if you had to overlook his girlfriend who was right beside you, talking about how hot he was and drawing all the attention to him.

"He's been working out a lot," she says casually, as if it wasn't obvious.

You rolled your eyes because the jealousy you felt consumed you, and every day you cursed your best friend, Charlie, for introducing the two of you. You were so happy without them - just you, Namjoon, Charlie, Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung. You couldn't stand having to listen to her talk about the man you wanted but could never have.

But she did. She had the man you always dreamed of, and it was Charlotte's fault.

© baddiejjk, 2024. I do not give permission to repost or translate my work

Coming soon!

[rxmqnova]

Love triangle

NO ONE'S POV "Hey, Wands" Y/N smiles, sitting on the barstool next to the brunette. "What are you up to?"

"Well, hey there. I'm still working on my mission report… just like 10 minutes ago when you asked" Wanda lets out a quiet sigh. She know Y/N has a crush on her, but she likes someone else.

"There you are" Natasha smiles, stepping into the kitchen as well. She's been looking for the girl she likes ever since she got back from the store.

"Hey, Nat" Wanda smiles warmly, receiving a small smile from the redhead.

"I got you something" Natasha's smile widens when she locks eyes with Y/N's, holding a box of Y/N's favorite chocolates behind her back.

"Okay, I'll leave you two here" Wanda sighs, taking her laptop and leaving.

"No. Wanda, wait!" Y/N calls, sighing when the brunette doesn't come back.

"I got you your favorite chocolates" Natasha smiles, handing the box to Y/N.

"Oh, thank you. You didn't have to" Y/N eventually gives Natasha a smile back.

Don't get her wrong, she loves Natasha… but as a best friend. Y/N likes Wanda, Wanda likes Natasha and Natasha likes Y/N. That's a love triangle with no escape.

"I also got you this" Natasha admits, showing Y/N a little teddy bear which is holding a tiny heart she got in the store along with the box of chocolates.

"Nat" Y/N sighs. "We've talked about this, I-"

"I know. But when I saw it, it just made me think of you and I had to buy it for you" Natasha explains. "I was hoping that we could go out together? Tomorrow maybe? As friends, I mean"

"… fine. I have nothing to do anyway" Y/N sighs once again. "But as friends" She raises an eyebrow, earning a nod and a smile.

———

"No, did you really?" Y/N laughs out, listening to Natasha's story about some of her missions.

Natasha and Y/N went out for dinner… as friends like Y/N wanted. They had a great time, talked a lot, laughed a lot. But now they're walking back home, they're evening coming to an end as they enter the front gate of the compound.

"I did, it was really funny. You should have seen his face" Natasha laughs along, Y/N's laugh being her absolute favorite sound.

Y/N's laugh dies down suddenly and she stops walking. Natasha tilts her head in confusion, stopping to walk and turning back to look at the girl.

"What's wrong?" She asks, noticing the tears that are filling Y/N's eyes.

Y/N doesn't say anything and just runs inside the compound which confuses the redhead even more. Natasha looks around, wondering what got Y/N so upset and then she sees it… Wanda and Vision… kissing.

Natasha's blood boils at the sight. She knows Y/N likes Wanda, but right now she's more jealous than ever before.

She doesn't know what to do first. If she wants to go after Y/N and comfort her… if she wants to go and yell at Wanda for hurting Y/N… or yell at Vision… or maybe just yell at both?

In the end she decides to go check up on Y/N. The yelling can wait and all she wants is to make sure Y/N is okay.

Ever since that moment Natasha completely switched her behavior towards Wanda. They were friends before, except the fact that Wanda had the biggest crush on her, but now the redhead's super cold towards the witch, and also because Y/N's trying her best to win Wanda over.

Y/N has been cooking breakfast for Wanda, giving her flowers, always leaving sweet notes and Wanda's favorite snacks for her, but it still doesn't seem enough.

The poor girl doesn't know what more to do. She would love to take Wanda out, but her asking always ends up in rejection.

"Y/N!" Wanda calls from the kitchen.

And even though she doesn't sound happy at all, Y/N smiles and happily makes her way to the kitchen, not knowing what's coming for her.

"Hey, Wands" Y/N smiles brightly at the sight of her favorite girl, giving her a wave.

"Y/N, how many times have I told you to stop giving me things?!" Wanda asks, her voice slightly raised as she's pointing at the chocolate bar on the kitchen counter, a note attached to it.

"I went to the store and saw it. I know it's your favorite, so I just bought it for you" Y/N explains, her face dropping in disappointment.

"What's happening here?" Natasha questions, now standing behind Y/N, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Nothing" Wanda scoffs, crossing her arms as well.

"It's not nothing. I just don't understand. Why can't you give me one chance, Wanda?" Y/N blurts out, her anger finally showing.

"Because I just don't like you, Y/N. What's so hard to understand? I like you as a friend, but nothing more" Wanda responds quickly, Y/N's eyes filling with tears. "Besides, have you ever noticed Natasha's head over heels for you? Do you know how lucky you are?"

"… You like Natasha?" Y/N asks, her eyebrows furrowed at the realization while tears are running down her face.

It takes a few seconds for Natasha to process everything that's happened over the last few minutes before she finally speaks up.

"… Well, but in that case we're in love triangle with no escape"

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

WandaNat masterlist

Masterlist

[clarkegriffins]

do u ever stop to think about this whole love triangle discourse and end up laughing bc there shouldn't be a discourse to begin with? like one boy wants nancy in his life and says that she's the most important part and the other boy looks like he's two seconds away from being put out of his misery because of his relationship with nancy to the point he's ghosting her and she thinks he's cheating. also do u ever think about how both of these boys talks about nancy? how they describe her? and the reasons they love her? how they see her?

first we have jonathan saying this:

first of all, i love his lack of energy go girl give us nothing (why he looks like he wants to d word, ur literally talking about ur girlfriend 😭) so, that's him saying all the reasons he loves her, and ofc we know that nancy is like that but why he's talking about her work ethic and not about her, like u should all read this post about how much nancy cares about other people and how being a reporter allows her to listen to other people's stories and help them, but jonathan only talks about that, work work work, how she behaves in work, how she is ambitious at work which we know she is, that's not a bad thing at all, i love how determined she is, how she works hard for that, it's actually one of my favorite traits of nancy, but i don't see people (and jonathan) talking about what drives that ambition forward which is helping other people, now going back to jonathan's speech which is even more ridiculous when we watched s3, because according to him he loves how hardworking nancy is, and yet:

wait a second, drop the story? i thought you loved how she's never done a single thing halfway in her life? and then:

anyways, that doesn't sound like someone who loves all these things he listed in season 4, now moving forward to steve, i was talking before how jonathan only said things about nancy's work ethic and not about her and what drives her forward but can u believe that steve does that? and not the fully developed steve in season 4, no, the s1 steve, the one who still messed up from time to time

i think it's very refreshing to see someone describing nancy and acknowledging how caring she can be, how she worries about other people, how she wants to help people, and he sees that, and this isn't even a big speech bc good knows narrative wasn't at their side in s1-s2, it's just crazy to me how there's scenes of nancy being there for jonathan in awful times (when will was being possessed, she held his hand, she was there, and yet not a single thing about that, about how much she's caring and protective) it's just sad bc do u see how she describes him? "caring, compassionate, protective, never back down from what's right (only when he wants to lie to her countless times i guess)" how could he not do the same for her? THE nancy wheeler who stood in front of A CAR to protect him and her friends when billy was about to crush her, and you know this isn't just an issue with jonathan, i feel like this is an issue with the fandom too, i feel like the fandom only seems to care about that side of nancy, like her career is the only thing she cares about and nothing more, and that's just isn't nancy wheeler, but then again, she's one of the characters people misunderstand the most in st (just like her brother, i guess is the wheeler's curse) we have 14 year old mike wheeler listing how much he loves el on her bad days, on her good days, with her powers, without her power, for exactly who she is, and all jonathan can say about his girlfriend is "she works 👍"

[greg-montgomery]

energetic!reader going on long rants while grumpy old man aaron just sits and listens with a small smile. he lowkey loves being able to be silent for long bits of time.

-🍒

“Mmm…you smell so heavenly,” you murmured against Aaron’s neck, curled up nicely on the couch, right by his side. His hair was still wet from the shower he had taken and you felt little drops of water falling on your cheek.

Your fingers pushed back his hair and ended up scratching his temples, causing him to close his eyes in bliss. “That’s nice,” he said.

You’d keep going forever if it meant Aaron would be happy.

“I missed you today,” you pouted. “I wish you had the same days off as me.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” He kissed the side of your head and spoke again. “Tell me about your day.”

‘Tell me about your day.’ That was a sentence you heard from your boyfriend almost daily, whether he was right next to you like he was at that moment, or in a hotel room away from you and whispering on his phone.

You suspected it was therapeutic for him, to listen to you talk about silly things and forget about his work problems, even for a moment or two.

“Well, first of all I went on this long walk in the morning, after you left,” you said, continuing to play with his hair. “And I tried those new headphones you got me!” You shifted from your comfortable position and sat on your knees in excitement. “They’re perfect.”

He smiled softly, and reached out for your face. His thumb stroked your cheek, gently, for a few seconds and then his hand was back on his lap.

“And then, on my way home, I went to this little coffee shop that I showed you last week I wanted to try. And the barista drew a little heart on my cup, how cute is that?”

Aaron chuckled, softly. “Very cute, honey.”

“Then I made lunch and watched TV for like two hours,” you laughed. “I liked being lazy.”

“You deserve it,” he answered.

“But then I got all motivated!”

“Oh?” he raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah! I cleaned out our closet. All your ties are organized by color now, so it’s easier for you to choose one every morning! Same with your suits and shirts."

"That's very thoughtful, baby."

"I stole some of your old sweatshirts, I hope you don't mind," you said acting guilty with your palm covering your mouth.

"I don't," he smiled.

"Then Jessica called and we facetimed for about an hour. Jack is so excited to come home tomorrow. He said he has some new projects to show us! Something, about Spider-man, apparently. I know, shocking," you said, laughing at your own joke.

Aaron joined you with a more quiet laughter, but genuine anyway.

“What else?" you paused, thinking. "Oh! Earlier in the evening I started reading this story.”

“What is it about?” he asked, always happy to hear about your interests. You adored him for it.

“It’s about this girl…she’s dating a really sweet guy, but then she falls for his older brother. It’s like a love triangle.”

“With two brothers?” he asked, intrigued.

“I know. But the older one is hot, so I kind of don’t blame her,” you giggled.

“Hmm…” he said.

“It’s only because he reminds me of you” you said, and pressed little kisses against his jaw.

He grinned and his hands went to your sides, bringing you to his lap and soon you were straddling him.

“Come here,” he whispered and you leaned in giving him a sweet kiss on the lips.

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Make my world so beautiful.”

You got flustered at his words and hid your face in the crook of his neck. “I love you, Aaron. I’m happy to have you back home.”

“I’m happy to have you here waiting for me, my love.”

[leehaner]

Talk: Chapter 1

pairing: leehan taesan x fem!reader

genre: ANGST, love triangle, slowburn, eventual smut, fuckboy!leehan, college au, undecided ending + genre tbh im lit writing this on a whim bffs

word count: 2k

summary: find out

warnings: none for this chapter!

“Please tell me this is the last fucking box y/n” said your friend Jaehyun as he put down one of your many boxes of clothes for the semester.

He’d offered to help you move into your dorm at your newly transferred school, which he also attended.

“You maybe carried one box in here and it was the lightest one, if you were going to complain so much why'd you offer to help move me in? Sungho was going to come instead”, you said in between laughs and you’re sure he replied back with something equally as dramatic as what he’d said earlier but you were deep in thought thinking about whether or not you made the right choice to transfer here.

“Are you even listening to me?!” he says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? oh. Sorry….what’d you say?”

“ I saiiiiiiiiid that one of my friends is having a party near campus tonight and you’re coming. It’ll be good for you to meet new people other than me and Sungho. I’ll come get you and everything!”, he says, leaving almost no room for you to say no and pleading with his hands for you to say yes. It was always really hard for you to say no to him because he’d been one of your closest friends since high school and he always knew what was best for you before you even knew it, so, you agree under one condition.

“Okay whatever just don’t leave me alone at the party because I will leave so fucking fast”

“Then how else will you learn to make friends”

“not going”

“OKAY DAMN I won't leave you alone…. it’s not like sungho won’t be there anyway and i'll introduce you to our roommates'' he says while putting your clothes on hangers in annoyance.

Roommates. That word unexpectedly makes you nervous because up to this point you’d heard crazy stories about Jaehyuns experience with them and the thought of meeting people is always out of your comfort zone. You wouldn’t call yourself shy, but you’re more closed off than you’d like to admit.

“ I should probably also warn you ...one of our roommates, he’s kind of an asshole. So don’t take anything he does too seriously”

Ugh, you’re already dreading this.

“Okay”

And with that you and Jaehyun spend the next two hours or so fixing up your single dorm bickering and fooling around for most of those two hours but you finished nonetheless.

“okay see you later y/n and take your phone off dnd, you’re not getting out of going to this party tonight” he says walking out of your dorm gathering his phone and hoodie from your freshly made bed.

“wasn't planning on it!” you lied. you were definitely planning to shower then sleep and blame the no response to his texts on dnd.

“yeah OKAY, bye~!” the boy says, taking one final stride out of the door and letting it slam behind him which makes you roll your eyes.

After roughly 20 minutes of mindlessly scrolling on your phone you decide it’s time to shower and get ready for the party you were dreading with every fiber of your being.

8:36pm

It's now been an hour since you started getting ready and you were now checking your outfit in your mirror. You were a bit unsatisfied but not enough to change for what would now be the third time of the night. You were dressed rather provocatively but you didn’t care, it made you feel good.Your makeup was already done and now all that was left was to spray perfume and check your phone to see when Jaehyun would be coming to pick you up.

You remembered that he’d probably be bringing his roommates and you were happy to see Sungho as you hadn’t seen him in a while but it was intimidating to meet the rest of them. Still, you were able to, for the most part, shake that feeling off.

myung: hey im like a min away rapunzel let down ur hairrrrrr

you: need you to b normal so bad

myung: HURRY TF UP im downstairs

You walked out of your dorm room and sprinted to the nearest elevator pressing the buttons urgently and waiting for it to come up for a few seconds but it felt like a thousand years were going by so you thought maybe it’d be quicker to take the stairs and slowly started to turn around.

beep

The elevator doors open and someone grabs your arm and turns you around gently. you had an immediate reaction to take your arm back but in an ever-so gentle manner.

“you don’t have to take the stairs” a husky voice says to you

you looked up at him and scanned his features for what felt like years to you but was only for a split second. He had long brown hair and even browner eyes that looked like the entire galaxy was in them.He ran his fingers through his hair with the hand that had just turned you around and put his phone in his back pocket with his other hand.

“Do you always grab strangers into elevators?” you ask him.

he took a few steps forward in order to hold the elevator open on one side

“technically you’re not in the elevator yet but this is my first time, hopefully I was easy enough on you” he replies cheekily with a smirk forming on his face.

You were shocked at how he could just make something so regular into a sex metaphor but somehow it worked. Still you rolled your eyes at the comment, making an automatic assumption about what kind of guy this stranger is.

“and a thank you would be nice”

“thanks” you respond making your way inside the elevator purposely avoiding the side he was evidently holding open for you. You notice he looks down, poking the side of his inner cheek with his tongue and smiling. He steps back into the elevator and you both reach to press buttons. You went for floor one while he went for floor two.

“Got a ride waiting for you or something?” he asks with what sounds like genuine curiosity.

“yeah, are you gonna follow me and kill me?” just as you say this jokingly the elevator doors open once more.

“Just curious but that does sound enticing” he smiles and faces you as he walks backwards out of the elevator trying not to break eye contact with you once.

You smiled to yourself at the small interaction knowing you’d never see him again as he was probably just heading to a hookup judging by the fact floor two of your dorm building was girls only. But ,still, you couldn’t help but feel butterflies from the chemistry filled banter you’d just had with a random stranger even if he was about to go fuck some random. It felt good.

myung: btw. you may or may not have to sit on someone’s lap because my car is not that big SORRYSORRYSORRYSOORY

you: bro im going back upstairs

myung: NO c'mon they’re excited to meet you and sungho has gummies in the glove compartment.. 😁

you: ….bribing me is crazy

myung: it’s the only way i fear🤦🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️

myung: i see you coming down the stairs just walk straight then turn left a little and you’ll see my car

you follow his instructions and see his red car looking absolutely packed with men whom amongst them you only see one familiar face, Sungho.

“Y/N!!!!!!!! I haven’t seen you in forever, i missed you” the tall long haired boy says to you as his passenger side window is rolling down.

“ I missed you too” you gave him a warm smile. Jaehyun then steps out of the car and opens the back door for you revealing 3 boys, one with pink hair, another with short brown hair and the very last with long dark hair and a streak of blonde in the back of it. damn you thought, he’s attractive.

“ So from left to right this is Riwoo, Woonhak, Taesan and obviously you all know this is y/n” , Jaehyun says smiling and gesturing to everyone then you.

There was a sudden flow of nice to meet yous after that coming from all of you and they all seemed rather nice, you felt instantly welcomed by them especially Riwoo who you felt you’d grow close to quickly, he reminded you a lot of Jaehyun in a way you couldn’t exactly pinpoint but was there nonetheless.

“ Now that you’ve met …any of you want to sit on each other's lap so that y/n can sit?” Jaehyun says while scratching his head.

“ I don’t mind," Woonhak says, smiling and shrugging. You smile at his kind gesture and you and Jaehyun walk over to the other side of the car, he gets back into the driver's seat while you stand at the backdoor. Taesan opens the door, steps out and Woonhak follows suit, you assume he’d be sitting on Taesans lap in the middle. However as Taesan stepped out of the car you were shocked at how tall he was, he didn’t seem all that tall from the view you had of him at the start of this interaction but there he was, standing at probably six feet tall at least.

He very clearly checked you out from head to toe and smiled at you politely as he waited for Woonhak to step out of the car, it was like he was going to say something to you but he himself didn’t know what to say first. He then went to sit in the middle of the backseat shuffling into place and tapping his lap with both hands gesturing for Woonhak to sit there.

“Don’t ever do that again” Woonhak says laughing which also makes you and Taesan laugh and you then take a seat next to them and finally close the car door. You all then take off to the party.

On your ride there everyone was mostly on their phones or having small conversations over the somewhat loud music Sungho had on aux. You were looking out of your window and could see Taesan from your peripheral vision occasionally doing the same. Whenever he wasn’t looking out of the window he was staring at you, it felt like he was piercing through your skin with his eyes and maybe that feeling rooted from the fact you wished you could look at him back in that moment but then he’d know you could see him looking at you that whole time.

“Nah man don’t worry about it, he'll probably just be at the party later anyway”,Jaehyun says. You were curious who he was referring to as you overheard bits of his and Sunghos' conversation.

“ I don’t get why he didn’t just come with us” Sungho responds.

“don’t think too much about it seriously , he's always weird like that”, Jaehyun reassures him and with that the conversation ends leaving you wondering who they were just talking about.Ignoring your curiosity you put one of your earbuds in so you could listen to music for a bit.

now playing: the smiths - there is a light that never goes out

“I love the *muffled speech*

“What?”, you take off your singular earbud to ask what Taesan had just said to you

“I said I love the smiths”, he says to you with a smile that was so contagious, you smiled without even noticing.

“Do you want to listen with me?” you ask sweetly, to which he nods. you hand him the other earbud and you listen to music the rest of the car ride there.

you couldn’t help but feel butterflies from how he’d somehow get a brand new smile for each song that played or tapped his foot along to the sound, signaling that he liked your taste in music.

He’s so endearing you thought.