#I have no idea what any of this shit is about but I’ve chatted with bambinella on here off and on for a while and can’t seem to find anyone

[thebest-medicine]

tbh not sure why this was sent to me lol?

[augustinewrites]

“okay! i finally have a plan for your bachelorette party!” shoko exclaims, rubbing her palms together gleefully. 

“shoko, no,” you start, closing your laptop with a sigh. “i already told you, i don’t need a party!”

with the wedding only a week away, the excitement was beginning to sink in for you, satoru, and all your friends. 

“at least hear my plan first,” she insists. “i’m thinking male strippers, penis straws—”

“count me in,” satoru says, joining you on the love seat. your fiancé wraps an arm around you, kissing your temple before looking to shoko. “what time should i be there?”

“no,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “no boys allowed at the bachelorette.”

“could i come if i was the stripper?”

that is an awful idea for so many reasons, the most prevalent being the time satoru tried to do a strip tease on your anniversary and broke his…you know.

but you promised you’d never talk about it again, so you’re relieved when shoko comes to the conclusion on her own.“you have the grace of those inflatable men at car dealerships, so absolutely not.”

gojo mocks her absolutely not in an obnoxiously high pitch, sitting back and fixing her with a petty glare. “who put you in charge?”

“i’m the maid of honour, which means i’m in charge of everything that happens at this bachelorette.” 

you hope that she misses the quick glance you and your fiancé exchange, wincing when you see she doesn’t. 

“what? what’s with the looks?”

“it’s just— tsumiki’s my maid of honour…”

you feel awful when her expression drops. “oh…”

“i’m sorry, i’ve been meaning to tell you,” you apologize quickly. “but she’s like our—”

thankfully your best friend recovers quick, shaking her head and sending you a smile. “you don’t have to explain. it’s okay, i get it. i’m okay with just being a bridesmaid.”

satoru takes a long sip of his drink. you look away guiltily.

“i don’t even get to be a bridesmaid?!”

you scramble for an explanation, looking to satoru for help. “well, he only has one best man and no groomsmen, so it’d be asymmetrical—”

“because that loser doesn’t have any other friends i don’t get to be in the wedding party?!”

“hey, i have friends!”

“you have nanami,” she deadpans, unimpressed. “you guys don’t even hang out.”

“actually, we’re planning on getting lunch tomorrow.” then, after a moment, “if we’re both free…”

“you can be our flower girl!” you blurt before satoru can embarass himself further. 

shoko sits back, considering this. 

“do i get to pick my own dress?”

“sure,” you agree.

“alright, deal. but i’m still throwing you a bachelorette party.”

“shoko!”

_____

“we are not crashing your fiancée’s party.”

“we don’t have to. i can crash it on my own.” satoru points out. 

nanami deeply regrets agreeing to be best man. deeply. “shoko specifically instructed me to stop you if you attempted to pose as a stripper.”

he only scoffs as if he isn't afraid of shoko ieiri himself. “only because she’s scared my pelvic sorcery is too powerful.”

“no, because you lack the grace of a dancer and broke your penis last time you attempted a strip tease.”

“what?! you guys know about that?!”

"of course," nanami shudders, staring forlornly out the window of the cab because he has seen some shit. "we have a group chat."

[fruittt-punchhh]

Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad's best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can't help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, dad's best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, female masturbation, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, getting caught in the act, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/ affectionate names, age gap (reader is 24, Toji is in his 30s), Toji calls reader (doll, slut, bitch, etc.), big dick! Toji, cunnilingus (f! receiving), fingering, just smut tbh.

Word Count: 3.7k-ish

Notes: hello again lovelies! here is pt. 4 of pop my cherry! I hope you guys have been digging it bc I def have❤️‍🔥🫶 also, reader finally gets her coochie ate🗣️🗣️🗣️can we get some w’s in the chat or some hoorays because we finally made it lmao. lemme know what you think!!! enjoy you filthy rat🐀💖🫶💋‼️ also, credits to kithsune and reveriesources for the banners! check them out!

“Poor baby, can’t even make yourself cum. You need Toji’s help, huh? Lemme show you, love”

Toji has you on your back with your knees pressed to your chest, his mouth hovering over your pussy. You can feel his breath on you as he takes in the sight before him.

“You have such a cute fucking cunt, you know that? Can’t believe no one’s knocked you up yet, girl.”

You feel your pussy clench around nothing as you try not to beg him. Anything would be better than him staring you down like this.

“T-Toji, I’m nervous. I-I’ve never done any of this before, what if I-“

“Just be quiet and let me eat, y/n. Haven’t eaten all day and I’m fucking starving.”

He trails sloppy kisses from your thighs, down to your juicy pussy. He licks a long stripe on the side of your pussy, and sucks on your outer lip. He chuckles at how you squirm. He loves watching you melt for him. He’s desperate to pound into you but he knows he’ll break you if he doesn’t properly stretch you out first. Even the most, ahem, experienced of women have a hard time adjusting to his size.

“Lemme make you feel good, okay doll? Wanna watch you come undone for me.”

Without any warning, he flattens his tongue to lap up all of your juices as he licks your entire pussy. You moan and instinctively grab a fistful of his hair to ground yourself.

“Kinky are we, huh? Gonna have to grab it harder than that.”

You do as your told as Toji eats you out like a man starved. He’s full on moaning into your cunt as he sucks on your swollen clit. You taste so fucking good for him. Like candy.

“Like w-what?”

Oh. Toji freezes before he’s looking up into your eyes.

“Yeah baby doll, this pussy is sweet like fucking candy. I could do this for hours, but I don’t think you could handle it. I need you to cum all in my mouth, can you do that f’me princess?”

You cry out as he goes back to devouring you, bucking your hips into his mouth. You feel out of control at this point. You’ve been basically edging yourself all day thinking about Toji. Now, he’s in front of you eating you like this is his last meal. You didn’t know how much more you could take. You felt that familiar burning in the pit of your stomach as your orgasm approached.

“F-fuck, mngh Tojiiiii, m’gonna c-cum”

Shit, he wanted to say something to send you over the edge, but he didn’t want to stop his work on your clit for fear of you not finishing. Besides, you tasted like fucking gold on his tongue and he’d be damned if he let a little dirty talk stop you from cumming on his face.

“Oh my, ohmygooood, m’cumming baby fuuuuck”

Your orgasm crashed into you, hard, and you thought you were going to pass out. No one has ever even touched you like this before, let alone devoured you whole. It felt sinfully good and you were cumming so quickly. You had no idea why you had waited this long to get some head, but you were surely addicted at any rate.

Toji doesn’t let you rest from your high, instead intent on overstimulating your abused cunt. He needed to taste every last drop, so he shoves his thick tongue inside your tight hole. If he could drink you until the well ran dry, he would.

“T-Toji please, s’too much, mmmmhh”

You were seeing stars at this point. His tongue plunging in and out of you, and his big nose was rubbing on your clit in a way that you thought should be illegal. You couldn’t help but hump into his face, desperately chasing your next orgasm much too soon.

Toji came up for air to take you in as you lie before him. He had to grip his cock again, nearly bruising the base of it. You had this dreamy, fucked out look on your face. Tears streaming down your temples, hair ruffled, and lips nearly bleeding from how hard you were biting them. He still held your legs taught against your chest, not giving you anywhere to run.

“It’s not too much, girl, I know you can take it. We’re just getting started, babe.” He says as he licks his lips and chin obscenely, trying not to waste any of your sweet nectar. He releases the hold on your legs, much to your relief. You finally felt like you could take a deep breath for the first time since you two began.

Your relief was cut short.

“Hold your legs up for me doll, need’ta stretch her out nice and good for me. Don’t want ya’ cutting my dick in half with that tight pussy of yours”

You obediently wrapped your hands around the back of your knees, pulling your legs back up into their original position. Of course, the original position had you bent entirely in half thanks to Toji’s brute strength, but this would do just fine. You bite your lip as you look down at him. You know what’s coming. You’ve been thinking about it for the past twelve hours and now that it’s happening, you don’t know if you should be elated or terrified.

“Good girl, hold ‘em just like f’me”

Toji looks at your glistening cunt and feels like he is suddenly 25 again, bursting with hormones and energy. Your pretty pink pussy was making a wet spot on the bed, but a little more couldn’t hurt right? He spits on your pussy, watching it drip down your clit, your folds, and inside of you. He was supposed to be ruining you, but goddammit if he didn’t feel as ruined as ever looking at your cute, helpless expression.

You yelp out as Toji lightly slaps your pussy. Not enough to hurt, but the stinging was still there. At this point, you were so desperate for him, you think you’d let him kill you if it’d meant he’d fuck you first.”

“S’probably gonna hurt, but I’ve gotta get you ready, okay love?”

(not toji being.. sweet?)

Toji runs his two fingers along your glistening slit, coating himself with your wetness. He places a sweet kiss to your clit before he’s pushing his middle finger into you, slowly.

“H-holy shiiit, ohmyg-ooood,” you choke out. It was better than you could have imagined. You fingered yourself once in a blue moon. It wasn’t your favorite past time since you could never make yourself cum that way. But this felt worlds better than what your small fingers could do. He’s barely starting pumping into you before you’re a whining mess underneath him.

Toji is rutting his cock into the mattress below, desperate for any sort of touch. You were driving him insane with those cute little gasps and whimpers. He could only dream of how slutty you’d sound when you were stuffed full of his cock.

“Fuck, look at you. Already ‘bout to cum, huh?”

You lift your head up to look down at Toji while he finger fucks you. He’s going almost too slow, but the stretch told you it was necessary. He wasn’t even eating your pussy anymore. His eyes were glued to the beauty in front of him.

He loved watching how your tight hole almost sucked his digit in, and he couldn’t imagine how heavenly you would feel clenching and sucking around his cock. He felt his mouth watering for another taste of you. He locks his lips to your clit and with a harsh suck, he starts moving his finger faster.

You were a writhing mess for him and you already felt your orgasm creeping up on you yet again. You were sure you could cum just from him fingering you alone. The sight of him taking in every part of you, watching you so closely while you whined for him; it was too much. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he starts suckling on your bud and pumping into you faster and faster.

He keeps pulling away from your clit, sucking on it and releasing with an obscene pop! He keeps giving you little kitten licks to tease you while you huff in frustration. You grab a chunk of his black hair and pull him into you, forcing him to stay glued to your clit. In doing so, you released one of your legs, letting it rest on the bed as Toji devoured you.

Well now, that simply wouldn’t do. While he didn’t mind you being aggressive with him, he needed those plush thighs up and out of the way so he could consume every part of you.

“No ma’am, hold those legs or imma do it for you,” he winks, and you feel yourself losing it. You didn’t know if you had the strength to hold them anymore. The pace he was going at, his tongue feeling too fucking good on your clit. Your legs were starting to shake and they were tired, and you were scared you might clasp them together on his head whenever he made you cum next.

Noticing your failure to pull your legs back up, he takes his hand off of his long cock and uses it to shove your knees back to their original position.

“H-holy shiiiit Toj-“ you can’t even finish your exclamation before your breath is stolen from you. He pushes another thick finger inside of your soppy cunt and just goes to town, sucking and moaning on your clit.

“-told ya’ t’watch that mouth, bitch,” he says, muffled by your sweet pussy as he tries his hardest not to fuck you within an inch of your life on his fingers.

The stretch was painful, but it only added to the sensations you were overwhelmed by. Your high still hadn’t worn off, so Toji, who would normally be considered a 10/10 pussy eater, was feeling more like a 100/10.

“Mmmmh, I bet you wanna cum so bad, huh doll? Should I give it to you? Have you earned it?”

Toji smirks as he sees the look on your face. He has never seen anyone look so desperate and needy for anything in their life. As if you were a glass of water in the desert and she was dying of thirst. That look might kill him if he stares too long.

While he awaits your answer, he continues torturing your pussy with the slow thrusts of his big fingers.

“Y-yess, oh god, yes, I-I promise I’ve been good for you, sir”

Have you lost your mind?? The nicknames Toji gave you made you weak, so you wanted to try one out. What if he thought it was stupid???

Sir? He didn’t want to let on that the little nickname you just gave him had his dick spurting precum all over the mattress. You were so desperate to cum, he started to almost feel bad for you.

“Sir, hah, you must wanna cum real bad, huh? Do it then, bitch. Cum on my fingers if you want it so bad,” he says as he quickens his pace, and starts curling his fingers inside you with every thrust. He figured he had teased you enough and you looked like you’d explode if you didn’t get your release. He started sucking on your clit again, anxious to feel how tight you’d get when you came for him.

“Fuck, baby please, just-just like that, I-I’m, shit, gonna cum, ohmygoooood,” you whined. You thought it couldn’t get any better until he was curling his fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. That was the spot you would fail to reach every time you fingered yourself, so you hardly bothered with it. He kept hitting that spot, over and over again. You were going to cum any second now. Your felt your stomach tighten so much you were scared you’d burst. You knew your orgasm was approaching, but it felt so much more.. intense. It was almost like the pressure you feel when you have to pee really bad, you thought. But you had used the restroom when you came in from tanning, so surely you didn’t have to go again, right???

Toji looked up at you while he ate you, listening to your moans turn into gasps and cut off breaths. You were so close, he knew it. He couldn’t let up now, he needed to feel you cum. He had to mentally prepare himself for how tight you’d get when you were cumming on his cock later.

He speeds up his movements, not letting you have a moment without constant stimulation. He was going to pull this out of you one way or another. With one final thrust of his fingers, you were screaming.

Your pussy clenches on his fingers so tight, they’re nearly pushed out of you from the sheer pressure. He never lets up, drinking in your juices as you squirt all over his face. Jesus Christ, you couldn’t stop. You were groaning with how intensely your orgasm washed over you. You thought squirting was just a thing in porn! You never knew any of your friends to do it. But here you were, gushing around Toji’s big fingers like you were on cam.

Toji thought he might cum seeing you like this. You were screaming underneath him, attempting (poorly) at pushing his head back, your thighs squeezing together as the stimulation was beginning to be too much. Your pussy squeezes his fingers so tight as you squirt all over him. He was in fucking heaven.

“Atta’ girl, look at you. You’re ready for me now, yeah?”

“T-Toji?”

You look down at him, still shaking as he pulls his fingers out of you, the sudden loss of his warmth making you whimper. You watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your cum off of them. He even licks his fucking palm. God, he was feral. He still wasn’t looking at you. Was he talking to your pussy?

“Shut up, girl, wasn’t talking to you. I was asking her, hah,” he laughs. He was so far gone he didn’t know if he’d be able to go another moment without your pretty pink lips on his cock.

“O-oh, s-sorry, Toj-“

He interrupts you, not giving you a chance to finish whatever apology you had come up with.

“You talk too much, brat. Need to stuff that mouth shut.” Just the thought of his dick anywhere near that pretty mouth had him feeling out of control.

Opting to keep your mouth shut like Toji wanted demanded, you (somehow) managed to sit up, crawling on your hands and knees towards him. You continue forward until he is leaning on the footboard of your bed, with his hands placed behind him, holding him up. And what a sight it was.

His cock was stiff, leaking precum all over his shirt. The sight of you crawling towards him like a little minx, tits hanging in front of him, had him going insane.”

“Come here, doll, lemme show you how good you taste”

You sit on his lap, being careful to not sit all the way down on his cock. You were still so sensitive from the orgasms he had yanked out of you. You had to hover on top of him so you wouldn’t yelp from the overstimulation.

You wrap your arms around his neck, ready to have your lips on his after such a long intermission. You close your eyes, ready for him to meet you halfway, when you feel his (still wet) hand grab your chin roughly.

“What, are you scared of it or somethin’, woman? Put that pussy on me, bitch, need to feel how good I did for ya’,” he growls, grabbing your hips as he pushes your heat down onto his throbbing cock.

He wasn’t going to last at this rate. Your hands were in his hair, tugging on it while you moan into his mouth. He had your sloppy cunt running up and down his length, covering every inch of him in your lust. He thrusts his tongue in your mouth, wanting you to taste how good you were for him. It didn’t exactly taste like candy like he claimed earlier, but it wasn’t bad. It was a little sweet, even. He was intoxicating.

Your hips were aching as Toji’s hands were bruising you from the grip he had on them. You felt another orgasm approaching, very apparent from your shaky legs and pathetic moans.

“You sound like such a little slut for me, baby. Ya’know, next time you should record it. We’d make a killing, you just sound too good.”

Next time??? You hadn’t even thought that far ahead yet. You were so lost in the moment you failed to realize that Toji may not ever be able to get enough of you. It wasn’t far from the truth to say you felt the same too, as conflicting as it was. At this point, you were too far gone and you felt too good to care anymore.

You stilled your hips, needing a break and you found it hard to talk with your pussy grinding on Toji’s lap like you were, “T-Toji, god that’s so embar-“

“I didn’t say stop, woman. Learn how to talk while I please you or we’re not gettin’ anywhere,” he says as he grabs your plump ass and rubs you against his cock again.

“S-sorry sir, I just feel like… I s-sound weird, mmmnh,” you respond, moaning as he plants a firm hand on your ass cheek, spanking you.

“Shut the fuck up little girl. Can you see what you did to me, huh? I’m about to cum just looking at you and you sound like a fucking pornstar,” you can’t help but hide behind your hands as you blush for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Don’t hide that pretty face, doll. Ya’know what? You don’t have to post it or nothin’. Just send it to me so I got something to beat off too later, okay?”

The thought of Toji pleasing himself to your voice had you melting. Maybe he’s just super pent up from work and hasn’t got laid in a while? Surely that had to be it. You were a 6/10 on a good day, and you had maybe 1% of the sexual experience that he had.

“Okay, okay yeah we can try next time, I-I guess. Would you really…. touch yourself to it? Why?” You ask, knowing that the plethora of porn available at his disposal was immense. Why would he pick a shitty homemade video of you moaning for him for jack off material??

“That’s it, good girl. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, you know that, y/n? If I had a video of you moaning on top of my dick, it might be the only thing I cum to ever again”

Toji was fucked. Since when is he this honest? To a woman he barely knew, nonetheless. It was so true, though. Having you whining for him, pleasing yourself by using his cock on cam? Pfft, he might not even need to get laid again if you got that video (false).

Your face was beet red at this point. You moaned in response to his confession. Instead of question him further, you decided to take the initiative for once. You kiss him as you finally rub your hands under his tight shirt, feeling how rock hard his torso was. He was sweaty and had just a few chest hairs and you didn’t know why you wanted to rip his shirt off so fucking badly.

“If you wanna see, all you have to do is ask, hun”

“Please Toji, I want to see all of you. Please, I’ll do anything,” you confess, because it was true. You wanted to see him just as exposed as you were right now.

“Oh, anything, huh? Even if I wanted you to suck every last drop of your cum off my cock?” If you kept grinding your little pussy all over him like this, he was going to finish well before he intended to. If you sucked him off, at least he could have a break from the constant friction you were giving him.

“Oh… I mean, yes, yeah I would. I wanna be a good girl for you, Toji,” and to be fair, you had been dreaming about how he would taste, and how quickly he’d fill up your mouth with his massive cock. Your mouth started to water as you waited for his response.

Jesus Christ. He didn’t think you’d be so quick to agree, but he also didn’t know just how wrapped around his finger you were. The thought of stuffing your throat full of him was intoxicating, and he was scared he may not last long enough to fuck your tight cunt like he needed to.

“That’s what I thought, baby doll,”

He watches your heavenly figure as you lift off of him, scooting back to come face to face with his throbbing dick.

You were impossibly nervous. You wanted to do a good job, but all the other blowjobs you’ve given before were for much, much smaller dicks. You’ve never even made a guy finish with just your mouth before, always being interrupted by roommates or your jaw being so tired that you had to jerk them off to finish the job. But you were determined to make Toji feel good after how hard he made you cum.

“Uh-uh, what do ya’ think you’re doin’, woman? Get on your fucking knees,” he spits. He knows with his extreme size and girth, it’d be much easier for you to take more of him if you were on your knees and had your throat at that angle. Plus, seeing you on your knees throating his cock was a requirement at this point.

“Okay, yeah sure, s-sorry,” you say as you step off the bed and get on your knees in the floor in front of the wall. You sit back on your heels as you wait for him, the excitement rushing through your entire body.

“Girl stop apologizing and just make it up to me, yeah?”

pt. 5

@scorpiosugar mwahahah

[moonlinos]

Invisible string (pt. I)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader / Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: With your terrible history of boyfriends during high school, you swore off love and vowed to get through university without a relationship. Things are great: you’re in your junior year, in an uncomplicated arrangement with a friend with benefits, and living in a nice sharehouse with two amazing roommates. But things begin to change once you meet Lee Minho, a student in your new class who vows to change your perspective on love.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut, light angst, pining, jealousy, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits

♡ CW: Swearing, sexual themes and discussions, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: This is a three-part story because I can’t shut up. The second part will be posted sometime next week, and I’ll link it here. I’ve been writing all my life and have written for maaaany fandoms, but being on Tumblr as an active reader of SKZ fics made me want to write for them. So, yeah, guess this is what I’m doing now.

part II →

You are woken up by Hyunjin shifting beside you on the bed. He groans, arm reaching to mess with your already closed curtains. You chuckle.

“You know, the curtains won’t close any more than that.”

“I keep telling you your bed is in a terrible position,” He grumbles as you turn to face him with a smile. “Who thought placing a bed right under a window would be a good idea? Mornings are fucking hell here.”

You shrug. “Well, it’s not my house so I didn’t exactly have a say in that matter.”

“I told you a million times I could help you move it.”

“And I told you a million times Mrs. Choi doesn’t like for us to mess with her furniture,” You explain, turning under the sheets so you could face him before bringing your fingers up to pinch his cheek. Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “Speaking of which, you need to leave. You know her rule: no—”

“No boyfriends spending more than two days at the house,” He interrupted you with an eye roll. “I’m not your boyfriend, though, so that rule shouldn’t apply.” He shrugs.

Hyunjin has been one of your best friends since you first met over two years ago. It was Hyunjin’s first college party and one of the many times your housemates had dragged you along on a night out. His friends had dared him to try and chat you up, arguing it would be hilarious to see him get turned down by an older girl. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for Hyunjin’s clumsy attempt at flirting to be so endearing to you; his pink cheeks and bowl-cut hair made him look like a helpless kid despite his height towering over you. Before you knew it, you had spent the entirety of the party talking to him about everything and anything, only stopping once your housemate Eunha emerged from inside the house to drag you home with her as she desperately tried to dodge a rather insistent guy’s advances. After that day, you and Hyunjin became almost inseparable.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you began hooking up. It was meaningless in the best sense of the word. It was simply something that had happened. All you can remember is that Jisung had recently bleached Hyunjin’s hair after yet another dare from his friend. It had started with cuddles, which turned to kisses, which turned to touches, until you eventually slept together for the first time sometime last year after an excruciatingly stressful exam period. It had never once gotten weird between the two of you; the line was always clear: you were just friends who hooked up due to convenience. Everybody had needs and stress and shit complicating their lives, and fucking your best friend was far more practical and safe than going out to look for a random hook-up whenever you needed it.

You find yourself smiling at Hyunjin once again. His now long black hair fell in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Yes, you’re not my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to explain what we are to a little old lady?”

“Doesn’t she always say she’s super modern?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you with a chuckle. “Maybe she’d like a situationship of her own and you’re depriving her of that by keeping this knowledge to yourself.”

You roll your eyes at his words, attempting to push him off your bed. “Why did you sleep here, anyway?”

Hyunjin sits up on the bed, a pout on his full lips. “I had a shitty date. I was sad and lonely. Glad to know you were paying attention to my story.”

“Hyune,” You sigh, ‘When you tell me said story while fucking me, can I really be blamed for not remembering anything?”

Hyunjin flicks your forehead lightly. “Yes, you can. At this point, it’s like our thing to vent about bad dates during sex,” He argues before getting up from your bed, finding his shirt, which had somehow been thrown over your study desk.

“You mean it’s your thing,” Correcting him, you get up as well, turning to fix up your sheets. “I don’t even go on dates and you know that. The only thing I vent to you about is how awful academic life is.”

Once you turned to face him again, Hyunjin was busy messily tying his hair. His brows promptly furrowed as he took in your words. “Remind me why you literally never leave the house again?”

“Just don’t want to get distracted. Getting my degree is more important than getting a boyfriend.” You lie with a shrug.

Your history with relationships was something you kept secret from everyone you met after high school. You feel embarrassed, as if it was all somehow your fault. After five failed relationships where you had been the one to be broken up with or cheated on, you began to accept that maybe the problem really was you. Maybe something about you makes men want to yell at and cheat on you. Perhaps you are just bound to be a distraction until they find someone better.

Which is why you don’t date.

Would anyone go through the hassle of reading a long, tedious book if they already knew about the bad ending?

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your degree isn’t going to keep you company when you’re eighty and alone.”

“Well, my degree isn’t going to wake up one day and suddenly decide to leave me either,” you refute, earning an annoyed groan from your friend as you walk past him to leave your room.

“You literally never have fun, though. All you do is go to class, work, and study. You should at least pick up a new hobby,” Hyunjin insists as he follows you, walking into the kitchen-living room area. “Go out more, stop avoiding college parties like the plague before it’s too late to experience the joys of watching your friend throw up on some random person’s couch.”

You make a face at the offers, grabbing your mug from the cupboard. “Why would I want to see that? Besides, I have hobbies.”

“I meant a social hobby. Sitting in your room watching fucking iceberg videos isn’t sociable,” He explains, and you let out an aggrieved gasp. Your iceberg videos were educational and entertaining, thank you very much. Behind you, your housemate’s bedroom door opens, and you turn to watch as she stumbles out of her room, looking half-awake. “Soojung, don’t you think she should get a new hobby?” Hyunjin addresses the blonde girl, who stares daggers at him.

“If I say yes, will you two stop speaking so loud?”

Hyunjin slams one hand on the kitchen counter, his other pointing a finger at you. “See, she said yes. You’re outnumbered, now you have to stop spending all your free time holed up inside your room.”

Soojung groans, stepping into the kitchen and shoving Hyunjin to the side. “He’s annoying, but he is kind of right,” she mumbles.

Truthfully, you did feel bad about having essentially wasted three years at university by actively avoiding parties and invitations any chance you got. The only parties you did attend, however, only served as an irritating reminder as to why you shouldn’t put yourself in those situations. Parties and bars only meant desperate college boys. Desperate for sex, for attention, for a potential relationship. For someone’s heart to break. You had met Hyunjin at a party, for fuck’s sake. Who knows just how south things between you two could’ve gone if he had become interested in you romantically?

But, as much as you hate to admit it, Hyunjin is right. Your life is essentially an endless loop of studying and working. You only socialize when your roommates are home, when your few friends come over, and when you and Hyunjin hook up. But you aren’t ready to step out of your comfortable bubble of avoidance, so you settle for the best thing you can think of.

As Hyunjin rummages through your fridge like he lived there and Soojung stirs her coffee blankly, you loudly set your mug down on the counter. “An elective course,” you announce.

The both of them turn to face you with the same puzzled expression.

“The fuck?” Hyunjin questions, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll take an elective,” you explain matter-of-factly, “The university offers a lot of great courses in things I’m actually interested in. It’ll be a way for me to get out of the house without having to watch a friend of mine puke on a couch or whatever atrocity it is that you said.”

Hyunjin slams the fridge door closed, earning a scolding scream from Soojung, and walks over to where you’re standing. He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You’re such a fucking nerd, what the fuck, but I’m so glad your hermit life is coming to an end.”

The elective course you choose is Japanese. It’s a language you’ve always been interested in learning, and while you know the class is merely introductory, you figure it will be fun to learn some phrases and expressions. You might even find yourself wanting to learn more in the future, and you’ll undoubtedly be glad you took this class during university.

Even if that means having to endure Hyunjin calling you a weeb.

You are able to begin attending classes a week after signing up; the lessons lining up with your work schedule to a T. The professor explained that, since you had joined the course late, you would likely need some guidance with phrases and words the class had already been taught. You didn’t mind, actually feeling excited in the morning despite your boring routine classes since you knew you would be doing something new you enjoyed in the afternoon instead of simply killing time around your house until it was time for you to work.

You walk into your first class ten minutes late, mentally cursing Eunha for being so good at telling stories about her weirdly entertaining life that it made it physically difficult for you to drag yourself away from her. You mouth a brief apology to your professor before scanning the room and scurrying over to the only available seat. 

You sit down in haste so as to not disrupt the class any further, swinging your bag over your chair and accidentally knocking over your seatmate’s water bottle all over his side of the desk. Luckily, the bottle lands on the soft surface of his notebook, barely making any noise. Unluckily, said bottle had been filled with coffee, staining his notes a faded brown color. You silently gasp, instinctively reaching out your hands to fruitlessly try and dry the pages that are now sticking to each other.

“I am so sorry, what the fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to inspect his notebook frantically. “I’ll buy you a new notebook and another cup of coffee as soon as class ends, I promise,” You whisper to him, your eyes boring holes into the stained pages as you watch the bitter liquid slowly dissolve some of the black ink. At this point, you’re rambling out of nervousness, but you can’t seem to stop, adding, “Hell, I’m so angry at myself for what I did I’d bind you a new notebook and brew you some fresh coffee myself.”

You mentally berate yourself for your word vomit. It was just your luck that you would make someone hate your guts on the first day you attended a class.

After what feels like minutes of silence from him, you are prepared for the imminent burst of rage bound to come your way, the guy’s wrath more than likely stirring inside him as he sits beside you and watches as you foolishly shake the piece of paper, hoping it will miraculously return to its untainted state.

However, what you aren’t prepared for is the small burst of laughter that leaves your seatmate’s lips; it’s quiet, but you’re close enough to him to be able to hear it.

You furrow your brows, finally mustering the courage to look up at him for the first time.

“Did you…” You trail off. You feel a strange sensation inside your chest as your eyes meet his. It was something you had never felt before, a small burst of a fluttering that briskly washed over you before disappearing just as quickly. Like a pinwheel was placed inside of you and a strong wind had suddenly started blowing. You shake your head, returning to the matter at hand. You are probably just experiencing some anxiety due to what has happened, you argue mentally. “Did you just laugh at me?”

As you finally take him in properly, the guy before you looks as dazed as you felt just now, courtesy of your minor panic attack; his lips agape and his round eyes blinking while his dark pupils are fixed on you. You two remain that way for a few seconds in an impromptu staring contest that causes the peculiar feeling to bloom inside your chest once again.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “You… offered to bind a notebook for a stranger,” His lips twitch into a grin. “It was a little funny.”

You open your mouth but promptly close it, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make you appear like more of an idiot than you already do. You sigh. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice low as well. “I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“You two, on the back,” your professor calls out in a louder voice, however still keeping her calm demeanor. You and your seatmate turn to look at her. “I’m going to teach a few new phrases useful for traveling now. How about you two talk after class? This is actually quite perfect. Minho is one of my best students, so he could help you catch up to where we are.” She offers the two of you a small smile, and you feel your cheeks burn.

This class wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t need it to get your degree. It is still a class, nonetheless. Ever since high school, you’ve always hated people who disrespect their professors by brazenly talking or sleeping during class.

“I’m sorry, professor,” You muttered. Beside you, your seatmate — Minho, as he was just called — scoots closer to you and whispers something you don’t understand under his breath. You look at him, confused. He chuckles, and you feel his breath on your cheek. It makes the odd fluttering return.

“Gomenasai,” He repeats more clearly, his voice louder, “It’s ‘I’m sorry’ in Japanese.” He offers you a smile, and you soak in just how good-looking he is. Ever since you first raised your head to look at him — when the pinwheel inside your chest rapidly spun and unexplainedly made you feel nervous — you knew he was a handsome guy, but his soft smile and calm eyes made him look even more annoyingly pretty.

Before you’re able to do it yourself, your professor speaks again and pulls you out of your trance.

“In this case, Sumimasen would be a bit more appropriate,” she corrects Minho, who clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath. The woman chuckles at his reaction. “It’s okay. This is also something you can explain to Y/N after class.”

As the class went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Minho didn’t take any notes. Your mind latched onto how you ruined his notebook and how it was your fault that he couldn’t properly study during today’s class, so you couldn’t find the courage to offer him some paper so he could take notes.

After almost an hour of unrelenting guilt swallowing you up slowly, you place your hand on Minho’s shoulder as soon as the professor announces class is over after assigning the students a small written assignment.

“We could talk outside? If you want,” you offer him, feeling the now-familiar nervousness come back, making your mouth speak faster than your brain can even think to rationalize, “There’s a bench I really like outside this building. It’s a good spot. There’s a nice shade, and it’s secluded enough that people don’t bother me when I’m studying. Or googling how to bind a notebook.”

Minho lets out a brief chuckle. “Okay. I would love to talk on your favorite bench.”

You blink at him. “I don’t have a favorite bench.”

“Hm, it sure sounded like it. You listed some good attributes of that bench,” He argues, a grin etched onto his lips.

“I told you I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow at your words. “You’re nervous?”

“Of course I am. I never bound a notebook before.”

Minho lets out a hearty laugh this time, his head thrown back and his eyes turning into crescent moons before he shakes his head. He picks his notebook off the table, showing you the crinkly light brown-tinted pages. “It’s dry now. I actually kind of like it, gave the pages a sort of vintage vibe. You don’t have to bind me a new notebook,” He reassures you, placing the small book into his bag. “As much as I would love to see how that would turn out.”

And just like that, your nervousness fades away. You smile at Minho, asking that he follow you over to your favorite bench.

The two of you talked for almost two hours. During that time, Minho helped you catch up with the vocabulary and phrases you had missed in class. When you asked him how he was able to know so much off the top of his head, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he sheepishly told you that he had been taking Japanese lessons since he was in high school. He explained that because he procrastinated signing up for an elective course, the advanced class was full by the time he got to it, so he decided to go for the introductory one instead. You chuckled and questioned why he would choose to spend his time on a course when he already knew everything being taught. He shrugged and explained that it was nice to have at least one class in which he didn’t have to try and that the fact that it made him feel smart also helped.

Not even your shift at work was able to make your conversation stop flowing, as Minho offered to walk with you to the coffee shop upon realizing it was near his apartment.

That was one of the many coincidences and things in common you found to have with each other that day.

It started with ordinary things like the fact that Minho had three cats back home just like you and how he had been collecting plushies since he was a child, while you had started your own collection as soon as you had access to money of your own. Or how your favorite authors were Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë — Minho swore you would die if you saw the special edition books he had back at home.

Then, it became a bit more amusing as you found out that Minho had worked at a convenience store chain when he first finished high school, and it was the same one you worked at for your first job after starting university. And you both had worked there for exactly a year and two months before quitting. You then told him about how you ended up attending this university after your top three choices turned you down, and his choices were the same as yours. And just like you, he also got rejected by his top three options, which led him to attend the same university as you.

You two couldn’t hide your bewilderment, eyes widening and lips bursting into laughter as these linked facts kept spilling out during your conversation. It was strange, you thought, but in a comforting way. It was almost as if you two had been living weirdly similar lives, all while having no clue about the other’s existence.

The two of you approach the small coffee shop while talking about your degrees. You try your best not to bore Minho with your ‘existential crisis-inducing psychology talks,’ as Hyunjin always put it, and you mostly listen to him as he talks about programming. He tells you that his dream is to develop cozy games that people can jump into without much thought, simply to relax. He says he knows how stressful life is and that people sometimes need something they can mindlessly do to get their minds off of shit. You resonate with it more than you care to admit, as cozy idle games are one of your favorite things to do while locked inside your room.

“So I do these freelancing gigs to make money but I’m actually set to start my first quote-unquote real job in two weeks,” he beams as you two stop in front of the coffee shop. Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he started speaking about his degree, and although you didn’t understand most of the terms he used, it is always endearing to watch someone talk about something they’re so passionate about. “There’s this guy who’s graduating soon who recruited me and a friend for a project he’s working on, so it’s not technically a job and we’ll work in his living room. I’ll still get some money and the chance to actually develop something, though, so it’s better than nothing.”

You smile at him. “If you like programming as much as your words led me to believe, I’m sure it won’t even feel like a job.”

Minho’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and he scratched his head. “Sorry, I talked your ear off about shit you don’t even understand.”

“I think everybody likes to hear people talk about things they like,” you assure him, “It was a good talk. I still can’t believe we have so many things in common. It was kind of funny how they kept coming up.”

Minho chuckles, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Guess the universe is giving us signs that we should be friends.”

“It seems like it.”

That day, you work with a persistent smile engraved on your lips. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good about meeting someone new. Despite your awkward first encounter, you found that talking to Minho was as easy as talking to an old childhood friend. It felt refreshing. The last friend you made was Hyunjin — whom you were so grateful to now for pushing you out of your comfort zone — and after that, you had unknowingly closed yourself off.

Minho had managed to open up your mind to the idea of letting someone in almost comically fast. And you loved that.

It’s been a month since you’ve been attending Japanese classes, and your studying sessions with Minho — which always turned into long conversations on what now had really become your favorite bench — were a weekly appointment, much like having him walk with you to work twice a week.

Today, however, Minho stopped you with a hand on your shoulder as you made your way toward your usual spot. When he asked you if you would like to study at his favorite bakery today instead, his eyes rapidly blinking as he looked at you through his bangs which had grown to slightly cover his eyes since you met him, you just couldn’t say no. He stammered as he promised that the place was even closer than the one where you worked, so you wouldn’t be late for your shift.

You smiled at his apparent nervousness, finding it endearing. You knew all too well how stressed you felt when offering something new or initiating plans with a new friend, and Minho seemed to be the same.

“Good thing you made this offer today, on my day off,” you bumped shoulders with him. “It’s almost like you knew.”

You begin walking, and Minho gently pushes you to the side so that he’s the one walking on the edge of the side of the sidewalk. You shoot him a questioning look, and he blinks at you again.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he chuckles, “My mom taught me a guy shouldn’t let a girl walk on the street side. I know it’s old-fashioned and probably made me seem like an ancient guy who wouldn’t let his wife work or something. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s kind of sweet. I never had anyone do that with me.”

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

The two of you approach a familiar building together. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in the floral curtains on the windows and the pretty font adorning the store sign of your favorite bakery. You think about how it would be nice if you two came here on another day. Maybe you could use that opportunity to finally introduce Minho to your other friends.

You only realize Minho has stopped walking when he calls out your name. When you turn around, he’s standing in front of the bakery with a smile.

“This is the place.” He points toward the white door with a nod as you return to where he’s standing.

No fucking way.

“This is your favorite bakery?” You ask, although it is a stupid question. Minho nods. You play with the strap of your bag. “Okay, this is starting to sound ridiculous, but I swear I’m not lying. This is my favorite bakery, too.”

Minho’s eyes widen at your words, and his lips curl into a smile again. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not,” You chuckle.

Minho opens the door and the two of you walk inside, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods bringing back great memories you made in this place. You often come here with your two roommates; it’s close enough to both your house and university that you can skip out on taking the bus, the atmosphere is always relaxing and comforting, not to mention the delicious cakes they sell. You smile to yourself as you remember Eunha scuffing down far too many slices of their chocolate cake after a nasty breakup a couple of months ago, tears streaming down her face so violently that the poor little old man who owns the shop appeared to check up on her.

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

You and Minho speak concurrently, with you unable to even finish your sentence before you both freeze for a couple of seconds in front of the only small table available at the crowded shop.

He’s the first one to move, pulling out his chair a bit awkwardly. “We should…” He trails off before clearing his throat as you sit down before him. “Should really make a written list of things we weirdly have in common.”

“At this point, I think it’d be easier if we made one of what we don’t have in common.”

You two settle for the obvious choice of two pieces of lemon cake with a cup of coffee for him and a glass of cola for you. Minho almost looked offended when you informed him that you hate coffee, wondering out loud why you even worked at a coffee shop before ensuring he could change your mind with just the five amazing facts about coffee he thought about off the top of his head. You shrugged him off with a grin. You couldn’t deny the irony of being a barista and having to make endless cups of a drink you despised daily, but you were sure Minho could never change your mind about coffee.

You two talked about your improvement in Japanese in the last month until the waiter returned with your order. Minho insists you’re a natural and could be on his level in a couple of years if you tried, but you roll your eyes at his compliments. You’ve never been naturally good at anything. That wasn’t about to change now.

“You know,” Minho begins once the waiter steps away from your table, looking around the coffee shop. People slowly started to leave as it got later in the day; the place was now much quieter, and the atmosphere even more cozy. “I used to think I would meet somebody in a place like this.”

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

Minho hums, still looking out to his side. You notice his side profile is really pretty, and you have to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

When he returns his gaze to you, he’s the one smiling. “Yes, in a romantic sense. Like being destined to meet someone.”

“Look at you, a hopeless romantic,” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. You never thought of Minho as someone like that. He seemed rather methodical, always following a routine and too engrossed in his codes to be preoccupied with something like love.

Minho furrowed his brows. “Why the eye roll?”

“I just don’t believe in that stuff,” you shrug with a small smile, “Stuff like destiny, soulmates, love…” You trail off, taking your spoon and poking the slice of cake in front of you. “Love has the awful tendency of being bad.”

Of course, you once believed all those things. Doesn’t everybody? But love has shown you time and time again that those are things reserved only for some people. And, clearly, you are not one of them. So why believe in it?

“It’s the most amazing thing in life,” Minho’s voice almost startled you as you were so deeply entranced in your thoughts.

You don’t lift your head to answer him, instead drawing mindless shapes on the icing on top of your cake.

“What is?”

“Love,” He replies in a soft voice. When you finally look at him, you’re surprised to find Minho’s deep eyes already looking at you, a small smile adorning his lips. “Love is the most amazing thing in life.”

You freeze.

You tear your eyes away from him, gaze focusing on the plate in front of you again.

You were careful with your rules. No parties, no bars, no talking to your male co-workers unless absolutely necessary, and no male friends unless they were in a relationship or proved beyond a reasonable doubt to only be interested in you platonically — which was what Minho was. So, why did him bringing up love make you feel so nervous?

Under the table, you unwittingly bounce your leg. This was stupid. Minho has been your friend for a month now; you see each other twice a week, and you talk for hours, always so comfortable around each other in a way that is still so new to you. He has never flirted with you or treated you in any way that led you to believe that he wanted anything more than to be your friend. You will not let your foolish trauma ruin what was proving to be an amazing friendship. He was simply sharing his thoughts on a topic. That’s all love was: a conversation topic.

You force out a chuckle as you snap yourself out of your senseless panic and look up at Minho once more. “We can just agree to disagree?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, something you can’t quite pinpoint swimming in his deep eyes as he looks at you. Instead of breaking the silence, he scoops up a piece of cake with his spoon and raises it like a glass. You shake your head with a giggle as you realize what he’s doing, toasting your spoons together at the center of the table before you both eat your spoonfuls of cake.

“You know,” He speaks as soon as he’s done eating, his eyes having never left yours. “Love can never be bad. I don’t think so, at least. It never makes anything worse. It can only ever make things better.”

You hum and shift in your seat, lowering your gaze toward the table. The truth is, you hate talking about love. That — coupled with your shame regarding your past relationships — is the reason why you never indulge in this type of conversation, even with your own mother. But years of swallowing down your thoughts and opinions whenever the subject was brought up only caused a buildup of emotions in your throat. So much so that you only realized you were talking once you were midway through a sentence.

“Love can make so many things worse,” you affirmed, your eyes following the polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth, “Losing someone is bad enough, but put love into that equation, and it just worsens tenfold.”

Minho nods. “By that logic, you can say that having someone by your side is always good, but if it’s someone you love, it makes it better tenfold, right?”

You let out a chuckle as you realize you two could go back and forth about that subject for ages.

But it felt good to finally speak out your feelings on the matter, so you continue, “Love can’t be that great if people can so easily fall out of it and for so many different but equally stupid reasons. You’re suddenly not attractive to them anymore, or you have different opinions, or they love picking fights but hate it when it’s the other way around…” You trail off, swallowing down a lump in your throat as you speak out of experience. But Minho didn’t need to know that. You lift your eyes. “Not to mention falling in love with a new person all while supposedly already being in love with someone.”

“That’s not genuine love,” Minho shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, as if it was his first time hearing of such things happening. “Real love is unconditional and understanding. Real love makes the person you love beautiful simply because they’re them. Real love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself as well.” His expression softens, and his eyes lock onto yours. “And real love makes it so that you can only see the one you love. You can’t possibly fall in love with someone else if you’re truly already in love.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nodding slowly. You hate the fact that part of you is desperate to believe that what Minho said was true. And you hate it even more that an even bigger part has already dismissed every single word that left his lips.

Desperate to shift the subject from Reasons Why My Exes Left Me — which only leaves you feeling sad and pathetic — back to Love Is Amazing, you decide to try and lighten the mood.

“Okay, but then explain to me how love is so great when you can just have sex with anyone, and it feels the same either way?” You question him with a teasing grin on your face. Minho shakes his head with a smile and eats another bite of his cake. You continue, “Be it a stranger at a party you met ten minutes ago or the love of your life, sex will always be sex. Therefore, you’re wrong, mister Love-Makes-Everything-Better.”

Minho chuckles around his mug, eyes closing as he almost spits out his coffee. His eyes are like crescent moons when he looks at you again, clearly amused by your words. “Well, yeah, of course, sex will always feel good no matter who you’re doing it with. It’s sex, and sex feels good,” He shrugs dismissively. “But sex with love is different. You aren’t just fucking, just fulfilling your own desires selfishly. Love makes sex better because you feel good simply by making the person who’s so important to you feel good. It makes you want to melt into the other person and become one with them because close isn’t close enough when you’re in love.

“Touching them feels like a gift, like heaven. Tasting them feels like heaven. Hearing their voice in their most blissful state feels like heaven. The trust and connection you feel in that moment is heaven, and that’s only possible through love. You can have sex with anyone, but you can only make love to someone you love, and those are two different things. That’s how love makes sex better. Therefore, I’m not wrong.”

As you take in Minho’s words, spoken so casually, like it was common knowledge, they leave you speechless. You watch him as he smiles triumphantly when he realizes you aren’t going to refute him — because you can’t refute him.

You berate yourself mentally as you notice the familiar feeling of arousal wash over you as you repeat his words inside your head. Not because it was Minho who said those things, but simply because that kind of sex sounded so good. Good in a way you had never once experienced before. Like heaven, as he had put it.

Your experience with sex has always been simply about fulfilling desires. You thought that was all there was to it.

Until now.

And even so, with your ex-boyfriends, it was always unbalanced. Ninety percent about their pleasure and only ten percent about yours. The first time you had a guy go down on you was the first time you had sex with Hyunjin, and by that point, you had already had five boyfriends. It felt weird when it happened, and you remember Hyunjin whining about how you didn’t have to ask him every five minutes if he was really okay with doing that. It had always been different with him, the good kind of different. He had never been selfish during sex; if anything, Hyunjin was too much of a giver, sometimes forgetting about his own pleasure in order to focus on yours. You thought that was the best sex you could ever have.

Until now.

Because, even with Hyunjin, there was never a genuine connection. It never felt like a gift to touch him and have him touch you. It was never anything more than sex, more than something you both did because it felt good and it was easy. He slept in your bed, and he cuddled you until morning came, but it had never once felt anything close to what Minho described.

You can’t help but wonder if Minho has ever experienced that. You desperately want to ask him, but you two aren’t close enough for that yet.

You also can’t help but wonder why you spend the rest of the evening raging a war against yourself as your mind is consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to experience that kind of sex with him.

It’s late in the night on the following Saturday, and your phone incessantly vibrating under your pillow rudely demands your attention just as you’re about to fall asleep. You squint your eyes as you type in your password. You sigh as you see Hyunjin’s name on your screen because of course it’s him.

Hyune: I’m outside open the door Hyune: please open the door? quick? Hyune: mrs. choi is gonna kill me if I use the intercom pls I don’t wanna die Hyune: I’m in my pajamas do you know how humiliating this is

Hyune: and I’m highkey pissed off Hyune: I WILL sleep on the bench outside your house if you don’t let me in and then I’ll die and who’s gonna live with the guilt? Hyune: you Hyune: OPENM TEH DOOR

You roll your eyes at his dramatic texts, stepping out of the comfort of your bed and padding across the floor as quietly as possible so as not to wake up your roommates. You open your front door and speed past the hallway and Mrs. Choi’s home, reaching the outside door in record time. It’s something you’ve done more times than you care to admit in order to let Hyunjin into your house. Your tenant was a sweet woman, insistent that she was modern and understanding of ‘young people’, but she despised people coming into your home any later than midnight.

You step outside, finding Hyunjin pacing back and forth like a creep in front of your house. True to his words, he stood in his checkered pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail, the strands messily sticking out everywhere like he had tossed and turned in bed before coming here.

“You look like shit,” you speak up, causing him to jump and let out a gasp. You chuckle as he scowls at you, climbing the few steps to reach the door.

“I had a fight with Mingyu,” he grumbles as you two walk toward your front door. “He told me I spilled paint on his favorite shirt, which is fucking impossible since I don’t even paint anywhere near his shit.” 

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

Hyunjin shoots you a look as you close your front door behind you. You take off your shoes and walk toward your bedroom in silence. This was routine. Hyunjin knew the rules: no knocking on the outside door, no buzzing the intercom, no shouting from outside, keep your voice down in the hallway, no talking until you reach your bedroom. It was all automatic at this point.

His voice is louder when he speaks again inside your locked bedroom. “First of all, I am not a messy painter. The paint is messy, not me. Second of all, if Mingyu wasn’t a fucking idiot, maybe he wouldn’t leave his favorite shirt on the floor of the living room right by my art corner,” Hyunjin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, “If that’s how he treats his favorite shirt, I feel bad for his girlfriend.”

You let out a chuckle, which is cut short by him pulling you into his arms. “Hyunjin, that analogy makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does. You treat your favorite shirt like shit, you treat your girlfriend like shit,” he states matter-of-factly before pulling you into a kiss.

This was routine. It was all automatic at this point.

Hyunjin kisses you like he’s angry. Because he is, and that’s one of the reasons why you two do this. You let out your frustrations during sex. You complain, and you let off steam until you both feel okay again. It’s been this way for a year and some months now, and you never once thought anything of it. It was beneficial for you both, so why change or question it?

But that was before your talk with Minho. Before you were awoken to the truth that you’d been having meaningless sex your whole life.

When you’re pulled away from your thoughts, you’re already laid in your bed with Hyunjin hovering over you. His lips and hands wander through your body as he mumbles things you can’t quite understand; you can only make out your name and Mingyu’s mixed with curses. You try to bring yourself back to the moment, bringing your legs to wrap around Hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to you.

He stops kissing your neck and yanks his shirt over his head, his hair untying in the process and falling on his face like a curtain. You giggle and try to fix it with your fingers. Hyunjin pouts.

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

You frown and hope he can’t see your confused expression in the dim lighting. You truly weren’t paying any attention to what he had been saying, too engrossed in your thoughts and too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin’s tendency to tell you about his frustrations during sex always left you a bit puzzled, but it was also oddly sweet. It was like he trusted you so deeply as a friend that he believed he could share anything with you, no matter the time.

So you nod, lightly pulling at his hair. “Of course you’re right.”

He hums and buries his head on your chest, grinding his hips into your clothed core. “Of course I’m right,” he mumbles under his breath.

Everything is a blur after that, your mind insistent on repeating Minho’s words like an annoying echo. When Hyunjin’s tongue fucked you hastily, and he murmured something about you tasting so good, all you could hear was Minho’s voice telling you how tasting the person you love feels like heaven. When Hyunjin pushed his cock into you, his hands gripping your thighs and head buried in your neck, all you could think about was how this sex paled in comparison to what you could’ve been having — what you could have already had — if only you weren’t so damn unlovable. 

You knew that Minho didn’t intend to make you feel bad with his words. They weren’t targeted at you. But that didn’t stop your mind from sabotaging and putting yourself down. It was one of your biggest talents, after all.

Your body was present and responsive the entire time; you moaned because it felt good, and you kissed Hyunjin because you wanted to. But you were mentally somewhere else.

And the worst thing is, you’re a hundred percent sure Hyunjin doesn’t even notice it.

Because this wasn’t love. This was only sex.

And this was all you had ever known.

Time flies by faster than your brain can comprehend; before you know it, another month goes by. You only managed to go to your favorite bakery with Minho one more time before your work hours were changed, your shift now starting a mere thirty minutes after your Japanese class ends. He still walked you to work twice a week, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t upset you to have to let go of your weekly talks.

Minho also became busier due to his own job. With so little time to see each other face to face outside of class, most of your talks took place over text. He talked about his job with so much adoration it made you a little jealous; his partners were now simply friends he worked with, and his joy over finally being able to create a cozy game made it so that he pushed himself over his limit, often sleeping on his friend’s couch after working until four a.m. and getting through the next day on excessive amounts of coffee.

That was how you two came up with the idea of Minho dropping by the café where you work to pick up coffee for him and his friends. He would drop by at least twice every day, his friend’s house — which also served as their office — only one bus stop away.

The first time Minho came by, he had his wallet and phone in one hand, a sharpie and a block of sticky notes in the other. You eyed him curiously as he scribbled on the piece of paper while your co-worker prepared his coffee. When he was done, he stuck the note to the monitor in front of you on the counter. You furrowed your brows as your eyes shifted from the Japanese words on the bright yellow note back to Minho’s smug face. You were certainly grateful he at least had the courtesy of including the romanization of whatever he had written down. Not that it helped you in any way.

“Since our studying sessions after class were rudely taken from us, this is your extra homework. It’s all words we already learned. You just gotta think a little bit, and you’ll figure it out. You’re smart, I know you can do it,” He assured you.

Expect you weren’t that smart and ended up giving up by the time you got home that night. The piece of paper was no longer sticky on the border due to you carrying it around all day, boring holes into it as if that would magically give you the answer. You snapped a picture of it as you got ready for bed and sent it to Minho, begging him to put you out of your misery and simply give you the answer. ‘I want to drink coffee,’ he replied. You slapped your hand over your forehead with so much force you were sure the entire house had heard you. He was right; you did learn that in class. Curse the Japanese language for being so difficult.

After that, it became a routine. You waited expectantly for Minho’s visits daily, but you are extra excited today. It’s a Friday, and your birthday is tomorrow. After much pestering from Eunha, you agreed to have a small gathering at your house. It only made sense to invite Minho; he’s become one of your closest friends in the two months you’ve known him, after all.

As he walks into the coffee shop, sticky notes and sharpie in hand, you chuckle to yourself. You two chat about the development of his game, with Minho kindly using layman’s terms when explaining it to you. He also tells you about how one of his friends got so frustrated with a code that he threw his phone at a wall before immediately regretting it and crying on the floor next to Minho’s desk. Before you can get worried, he assures you that it’s just an ordinary day at the office, and the three of them end up laughing everything off at the end of the day.

After taking his order, you watch as he begins writing down your homework for the day on the small piece of paper in his hand. As you look around the coffee shop, most tables are empty, and the sun is starting to set outside the glass doors.

“You wanna come over this Saturday?” You ask Minho, who looks up at you before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. That was one thing you learned about Minho since he began coming over: he wears glasses. Not every day, but enough times for you to notice how good he looks with them. But friends find each other attractive all the time, you justify it. “You never came over to my house, and my roommates really want to meet you. Plus, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Your birthday? And you save that information to the end?”

“It’s not a big deal. I usually never even celebrate.” You shrug lightly. You’ve never been big on birthdays, as you just don’t see the reason why it’s supposed to feel different from any other day of the year. “But my roommate pestered me to do something this year, so I agreed to have a party.”

Minho shifts on his feet. “I… really hate parties…” He trails off.

“It’s not a party party. I promise!” You hold up your pinky finger. “It’s more of a get-together, just my roommates and my only two other friends. And, you…” You trail off, “If you come.”

Minho blinks his eyes a couple of times before tearing the piece of paper he was writing on from the pad and crumpling it in his hand. He quickly jots down something new and sticks it to your forehead.

“Minho!” You scold him, to which he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. You advert your gaze from him as your persistent thoughts regarding how unfairly pretty Minho is begin to flood your brain once again. You take the note and analyze it:

はい (Hai)

You smile as you understand the word, looking up at him.

“I’d love to come to your birthday party,” He beams. “Thank you for inviting me.”

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

He gets out of his car twice, ready to march back inside his friend’s apartment like a coward and pretend that nothing happened both times. Only when he thinks back to how you smiled at him when he agreed to your invitation does he find the courage to start the car and drive to your house. He’d noticed for a while now how much he likes you. But it was when he agreed with the idea of going to the café you worked at to pick up coffee that it truly dawned on him that he really liked you. Minho hated taking the bus, he hated doing anything other than zoning out on the couch during his breaks, he hated bustling shops, and he hated how his co-workers both managed to have such intricate coffee orders.

Yet he agreed to that idea, even suggesting he drop by two times a day.

He noticed he’d felt a familiar small whirlpool inside his chest whenever he was with you, when he heard you talk about something you liked or saw you smile. He’s also noticed that this tiny whirlpool has been growing bigger and bigger the more he’s been around you.

But that doesn’t scare him. Minho loves love. He loves to be in love, to love someone, and to make that person feel loved. It’s his favorite thing about life. If he was honest, he missed it so much he didn’t know how he was able to live without it.

Just down the block from your house, he parks his car and gathers his phone and his present for you — clearly clumsily wrapped, even with his co-workers’ help. He feels another wave of nervousness wash over him as he approaches the house; he’s an hour late and needs to mentally prepare to socialize with people he’s never met before. Minho chuckles as he realizes a silly party makes him more nervous than the prospect of possibly falling in love.

You open the door almost as soon as he rings the intercom, and he walks down the hallway into your house door; the crooked box he’s been holding makes his hands sweat. The first thing he notices as you open the door is your styled hair with a big white bow on the back, looking much prettier than the ugly bow he and his friends managed to stick on top of his present. He smiles at the sight and scratches his ear in a futile attempt to stop them from turning red.

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him with a smile. Minho notices the quiet music playing inside the house, the simple decorations, and the cake on top of the kitchen counter. He mentally sighs in relief. This truly wasn’t anything like a big party. “You’re wearing your glasses again,” you point out as Minho walks inside and removes his shoes. He subconsciously reaches his left hand to touch his wire-rimmed glasses that sit on his nose bridge. He grimaces and curses at his friend for making him stay later than he was supposed to today.

“I had no time to go home and change,” He apologizes, fingers now toying with the stupid bow on top of the box. “I usually wear contacts, but they make my eyes dry if I stare at the computer for too long, so I just… wear my glasses at work…” Minho trails off, suddenly feeling stupid, his eyes looking anywhere but toward you.

You chuckle, lightly touching his glasses for a second before moving away again. “You always come to the coffee shop wearing them, and I think you look really good,” you assured him. His eyes quickly met yours, only for you to advert your gaze this time. “You should wear them more often.”

Minho only hums, lightly nodding his head. He feels stupid all over again as the image of himself throwing his contact lenses down the drain crosses his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally hands you your gift. You giggle at the mismatched wrapping paper and poor excuse of a bow, which makes Minho let out a chuckle and murmur an apology. You open the box, and your eyes light up when you spot the stuffed bunny you have been raving about since you two met. It was the only animal missing from your collection, but you couldn’t find the right time to save up money to buy it. Minho didn’t need to ask if you liked it as he watched your smile grow bigger as you looked at the brown bunny.

“Come, I gotta put him in my bed now,” you beamed and took Minho’s hand in yours, leading him to the living room. There, five people sat on the couch and on the floor. Minho furrows his brows as he takes in a head of light brown hair covered by a familiar beanie. “These are my friends. Eunha’s the girl with short hair on the floor, and Soojung’s the one with blonde hair next to her. They’re also my roommates,” You point at them as you speak. “That’s Jisung sitting next to Soojung; he’s also her boyfriend. And then Hyunjin, with the long hair, sitting next to Chan on the couch. Everyone, this is Minho from my Japanese class.”

With that, you pad off to your room with your bunny in tow. As Chan finally turns to look at Minho, his shocked expression mirrors his. They stare at each other for a while before Chan finally breaks the silence.

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So this is why you had to leave an hour earlier today?”

As you come out of your room, you chuckle. “Chan is your co-worker?” You ask Minho, “I can’t believe this. He’s been our friend for longer than I’ve known you. He came like a package deal when Jisung began dating Soojung.”

“Damn, dude, you hate me so much you never talked about me to your friend?” Chan gasped, a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

Minho rolls his eyes but is unable to stop a small grin from forming on his lips as the entire living room erupts in laughter. “Of course I talked about you. I talked about you and Seungmin all the time. It’s just I…” Minho shifts on his feet, shrugging. “I never said your names.”

More laughter seeps out of the group of people, including Chan, and Minho finds himself laughing along this time, shaking his head at his own stupidity. 

He sits beside Chan on the couch while Hyunjin heads to the kitchen with you. He quickly asks him how he came to be friends with you in the first place. Chan explains that he’s been in a class with Jisung for almost two years, and the boy had always pestered him about ‘old people’ needing to hang out with people their age. That’s how he ended up meeting Soojung as soon as she became Jisung’s girlfriend. You and Eunha were an inevitable addition, seeing as you were not only roommates but also great friends.

You offer Minho a beer, which he declines. As much as he wanted to, no beer was worth having to take the bus back home. He silently sips his cola as he watches your group of friends chat. You end up sitting beside him on the couch, your friend Hyunjin to your right.

Minho finds that he missed getting together with people like this and didn’t even realize it. His only friends were left behind back at home, and although they were less than an hour away by bus, their busy lives prevented them from meeting in person. Minho’s favorite memories from his teenage years were having his friends over and just doing nothing for hours, talking about stupid shit until their stomachs hurt from laughing. Eating takeout on the couch with Chan and Seungmin after work came close, but they were always too tired and too stressed to entertain the idea of making jokes. Those were times when Minho realized he had really become an adult.

Jisung’s loud voice suddenly booms through the living room and startles an already drunk-looking Eunha, who murmurs something about the younger boy giving her a heart attack one day. 

“I’m bored,” he grumbles, draping his body over Soojung. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

Soojung rolls her eyes at him, flicking his forehead. “Are you a teenager?”

Jisung pouts, sitting up straight once more. “We’re in university. University students play this fucking game all the time,” he states matter-of-factly. “Don’t make me regret falling for an older woman.”

“Jisung, I’m only three years older than you, I’m not—”

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

Soojung inhales deeply before turning to face the people sitting on the couch, placing one of the empty beer bottles scattered around her feet on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play spin the bottle. But let’s do dares instead of kissing, that’s too boring.”

Jisung beams, cuddling close to her like a needy child. Minho chuckles at the sight.

Eunha scoots closer to the couple so the group is seated in a circle around the coffee table, half of them on the couch and half on the floor. Minho never had the chance to play spin the bottle, which seemed to be such a staple game of one’s teenage years. By the time his friends were off sneaking into clubs and drinking behind their parents’ backs, he was already in a committed relationship and well aware of the fact that he didn’t enjoy parties.

It seems silly, but he’s glad he won’t live past his youth without experiencing such a trivial thing.

Soojung spins the bottle, and the neck stops facing Chan while the bottom faces Jisung.

“Take your shirt off,” Jisung waves a finger at Chan, who looks somewhat disoriented. Minho chuckles under his breath just as you do the same. You two face each other and let out a hearty laugh, your arm coming to rest on his bicep before retrieving back to your lap faster than Minho hoped it would.

Soojung squishes Jisung’s cheeks and places a small kiss on his lips. “You’re such a fucking chaotic bisexual,” she giggles, “Y’know, Chan, Jisung has had the biggest crush on you since you two first met.”

Chan shakes his head with a stifled laugh and proceeds to remove his shirt, neatly placing it on his lap.

Jisung is next to spin the bottle, this time landing on Soojung, who you dare to show her most embarrassing text. After showing the group a string of texts showing raunchy screenshots of a manhwa she’d been reading at that time, all sent to one of her class group chats which included some professors, she lets out a heavy sigh and orders Eunha to spin the bottle before any questions can be asked.

This time, the neck faces you while the bottom faces Eunha herself. With a smile, the short-haired girl dares you to kiss Minho.

He feels his smile drop at the very second the words leave her lips. This was not what he had in mind for tonight.

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

Eunha shrugs, adjusting herself so she’s seated upright and staring right at you. “Well, he’s the only one here who would be actually fun to see you kiss. Jisung and Soojung are okay with each other hooking up with other people, so that’s no fun,” she explains, using her fingers to list her reasons, “I’m not into girls, so that’s no fun for me. Hyunjin is too obvious. We all already know Chan, so it would also be boring. Minho is like fresh meat. That is fun.”

Minho’s brain begins finding a suitable excuse for why you two can’t kiss, because he’s certain you have no interest in doing it. Not only are you friends, but your reaction didn’t exactly exude excitement at the prospect of kissing him. Just as he’s ready to lie through his teeth, you turn to him and place your hand on his shoulder, a touch so soft he’s barely able to feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Is this okay with you?” You ask him, the tone of your voice so sweet Minho feels like it melts his every thought until his brain is nothing but a sugary pool filled with only you. So he nods because god, yes, this is okay with him.

You gingerly place your right hand on his cheek, bringing your faces closer until your lips press together. The whirlpool inside his chest spins fast, like a vortex dragging every sense of his body toward you and only you.

You remain still for a few seconds, Minho’s eyes opening slightly to search for any sign of regret on your face. Before he can even properly look at you, your lips begin to move against his — gently and carefully, like you’re not sure if this is what he wants. Minho deepens the kiss and hesitates three times before committing to placing his left hand on your waist. The giggles around the two of you nothing but a muffled murmur to him. He presses another kiss to your lips, his body shifting until he is all but caging you against the back of the couch. But just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you push him back with a smile, Minho chasing after your lips.

He blinks a couple of times, eyes zoning into your smudged red lipstick. He subconsciously bites his own bottom lip, wondering if any of the color transferred to him. The surrounding murmurs bring Minho back to the moment this time, awkwardly clearing his throat before lifting himself off of you and sitting upright on the couch. He tunes out every comment regarding the kiss to the best of his abilities, focusing his energy on slowing down his heart rate. When he catches you giggling while looking at him, your arm touching his bicep yet again, he nods, grabbing his cola bottle from the floor and taking a sip.

Minho can’t remember the last time kissing someone got him so worked up. He entered a long-term relationship at such a young age that he’s only now realizing how unaccustomed he is to kissing someone new, to the rush that comes with having your lips pressing against the ones of someone you like. It was exhilarating and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He was awkward, unsure where to put his hands, uncertain if you were enjoying yourself. He was also greedy, wanting the moment to last for much longer than it had.

This had cemented the fact that he does, in fact, really like you.

After kissing you, the whirlpool living in his heart had now fully transformed into a tiny hurricane — with great chances of growing even bigger.

Minho only notices the game has continued upon hearing your voice complaining beside him. He watches as Soojung shrugs.

“It’s the only thing I could think of, sorry.”

“But why?” Hyunjin asks, placing his cup on the coffee table. “It’s a stupid dare.”

The blonde girl scoffs. “No, it’s not. I’ve had to basically live with you two for the past year, and it’s common knowledge how easily you get a boner for her.”

“Not true,” Hyunjin retorts, although it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Eunha blurts out, “You once got a boner watching her stir a cake mix.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth before groaning, pulling you into his lap by the waist. You apologize to him quietly, to which Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

Minho feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

You sit on Hyunjin’s knees, almost falling off his lap as you clearly try to keep some distance between the two of you. Hyunjin clicks his tongue and pulls you closer to him until your back is pressed up against his chest. He whispers something in your ear, to which you lightly slap his arm as his lips upturn into a grin.

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

At some point, you turn so you’re sitting across Hyunjin’s lap, your body now facing Minho. He can’t help but watch with dark eyes as the younger boy’s hands wander through your body; playing with the buttons on your blouse, squeezing your thighs, and caressing your skin a little too close to the hem of your skirt. He furrows his brows as he tries to understand your relationship with Hyunjin, seeing as you’re obviously not put off by his hands on your body.

Minho is so transfixed by the sight and his racing thoughts that he only realizes the game has ended when someone taps his shoulder from behind the couch.  When he looks back, Chan is holding a cigarette and motioning towards the stairs that lead to the house’s terrace.

In the chilly open space above the house, they sit on a bench behind a tall vertical planter. Minho wonders who tends to the garden as he observes the various flowers, as well as some vegetables and herbs scattered around him. The terrace is small; the garden taking up all the space, an old wooden railing that overlooks the quiet street the only other thing in his sight.

He and Chan chat about school and work, as they often do nowadays. After Chan recently broke up with his girlfriend, Minho found that his friend had become much more closed off, so the list of subjects they would talk about became minimal. Chan bites his thumb before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckles when he mentions being scared of graduating next year. Minho bumps his shoulder with him, arguing that being in his situation is worse. He admits that he regrets starting university late and that being in his first year when he should already be in his third is discouraging. Chan dismisses his worries, reminding him of how Minho is often the one to fix broken codes and come up with ideas for their game whenever Seungmin gets stuck.

“A degree is just a piece of paper,” Chan says, throwing his cigarette butt at a nearby trashcan. “You’re already a fantastic programmer, Minho.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your ass today.”

Chan shrugs. “You’ve saved my ass basically every day since we started working together.” After a beat of silence, he asks, “Why did you start uni so late, anyway? You never told me.”

Minho hums, digging his brain for a way to sum up the entire story. “It’s complicated—”

He’s interrupted by footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. A loud giggle echoes through the open space before you and Hyunjin step into their field of vision. The long-haired boy holds you from behind, and you two stagger toward the railing.

“Wish everyone would go home already so I could just fuck you,” Hyunjin whines as he turns your body around so you’re facing him. Minho almost chokes on nothing at those words, and Chan stifles a laugh with his hand. He curses the small space as they’re able to so clearly hear everything you’re saying.

You playfully kick Hyunjin’s shin. “Don’t say it like that, Hyune, what the fuck.”

“It’s true, though,” Hyunjin continues, pressing you against the railing. He towers over you, so the only thing Minho can see from where he’s seated is your white skirt floating in the wind behind the tall boy. “I had a stressful, terrible, awful, dreadful week. All I kept thinking about was coming over and relaxing with you.”

“See, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so awful.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “There’s nothing awful about fucking. I know how much you like it, don’t act so coy.”

Minho watches as your hands clench around Hyunjin’s gray shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him softly, much like you had done to him a few moments before.

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He connects every dot available to him inside his head and suddenly feels pathetic.

Hyunjin being too obvious of a choice for you to kiss, his hands all over your body, his words about fucking you, the way you kissed him like it was a habit.

If you had a boyfriend, why did you agree to kiss him?

The words swarm Minho’s brain. He vaguely recalls you and Hyunjin eventually walking out of the terrace. Chan starts a one-sided conversation about one of his classes, with Minho humming after every couple of sentences to appear like he’d been listening when his head is too busy wondering how to feel about everything.

Minho recalls Eunha walking up the stairs and shouting for the two of them to come downstairs to sing you happy birthday. He recalls Hyunjin’s hands wandering through your body throughout the song, his lips pressing small kisses on your face and lips as you smiled. He recalls feeling confused, stressed, jealous, and pathetic.

Minho is only truly back to the present moment once Chan’s voice bids him a loud goodbye, and the door slamming behind him makes his senses finally return to him. As he looks around, he notices that the only people left in the living room are Jisung, Hyunjin, and you. Beside him on the couch, Hyunjin stretches with a loud groan.

“I’m gonna take a shower. D’you have any of my clothes in your room?”

You sigh from where you’re sitting on the floor, resting against the television stand. “Of course, I do. You’re always living shit behind, you’re like our third roommate at this point.”

Hyunjin chuckles, walking over to give you a small peck on the lips before disappearing into your room. Minho gnaws on his bottom lip with a bitter smile as he realizes Hyunjin will sleep over at your house. The ugly feelings return as he remembers his thoughts about you these past few weeks when he unknowingly cultivated too big of a crush on you. Even on his way here tonight, when he had chuckled to himself at his lack of nervousness in the face of potential love.

Love.

Minho can’t help but wonder why your view of love is so negative when you’re in a relationship. And, at the same time, he doesn’t dare to think about it for too long, fully aware that his foolish affection-filled brain will come up with a myriad of reasons — all where your boyfriend is the sole culprit for your distaste — and Minho knows better than to let those thoughts linger for too long inside his mind. He knows himself all too well, knows only awful shit would come out of assuming things about your relationship; the urge to beat Hyunjin senseless for being a shitty boyfriend and making you think that way about love being the worst of them.

“I’m too drunk to go back to my dorm,” Jisung suddenly speaks, his eyes glazed over as he stares ahead. “Gonna crash here tonight, too.”

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

You walk him outside, a small smile on your face the entire time. He feels guilty not being able to reciprocate the gesture. As you tell him goodbye, thanking him for coming, you pull him into a hug. You hadn’t hugged much since you met, and Minho foolishly wants to draw you closer to him, to feel your body pressed against his just as it was pressed against Hyunjin most of the night. But he can’t do that.

“Are you okay to walk back by yourself?” You ask him as you pull away.

Minho nods, forcing out a small smile. “My car is parked just down the block.”

“That’s why you didn’t drink!” You exclaim with a giggle, “I forget that most people our age already drive. My anxiety didn’t allow me the chance to even try and get a license, so I just accepted my fate of taking the bus.”

“I could drive you…” Minho trails off. There he goes again, being pathetic. “If I have the time… You can give me a call and I’d be happy to drive you anywhere.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another embrace. Minho smiles genuinely as he buries his head in your hair.

The drive back home has Minho feeling stupid all over again as he thinks about how you’re probably in bed with Hyunjin by now. The whirlpool is back inside his chest, but it isn’t good or welcome this time. It’s agonizing and painful.

Love had never been painful. Love had never been bad.

But he had never experienced love toward someone who already loved somebody else. Although you brazenly state that you don’t believe in it, you must feel some type of love toward Hyunjin if you’re willing to be his girlfriend.

As he silently drives home, Minho finds himself agreeing with you.

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

He had always thought of himself as a logical person. Programming had taught him that everything is predictable and fixable if you work on it hard enough. A broken code? It may take him six hours of staring at the computer to figure out it was nothing but a missing semicolon, but he will get there in the end. It was annoying and frustrating, but it was always something easily fixed.

He thought love was like that. It had always been like that with him.

Until he fell for you.

Minho was coming to terms with the fact that maybe love and programming were nothing alike. Love isn’t predictable. Loving someone who is already in love with someone else isn’t easily fixed. He can’t backspace and delete your boyfriend from the equation.

It’s been a little over six months since you two first met. Minho has consistently gone to the café you work at every day, and you two still had endless talks over text messages. You talk about everything and anything, from silly things like sharing pictures of both your growing plushie collections or your love of that particular coffee shop’s lemon cake to more serious topics like how Minho learned how to cook when he was twelve so his mom wouldn’t have to do it by herself, and now his roommates take advantage of that, or how sad you are that next year you will have to leave the house you’ve grown to love so much.

But, whether it is in person or through text, you still avoid the topic of love. You don’t ever bring up Hyunjin unless he’s part of a story you were already telling, and Minho feels his heart heavy as he slowly allows himself to imagine what it could be that led you to hate love so much.

He desperately wants to ask you, know your reasons, and make sure you’re happy with your boyfriend. But he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and doesn’t know how to go about it without scaring you. So he never does anything, like a coward.

Minho finds himself coming over to your sharehouse on most weekends since summer break ended. Your countless get-togethers at that house have become a hard-to-break habit. Hyunjin, Jisung, and your roommates are always assured to be there, with Chan joining whenever he isn’t overwhelmed with work or school, which was rare.

Minho had always been a hopeless romantic, always doing things for love that people repeatedly warned would result in regret. This time, it was forgoing visiting his parents and friends back home just to spend most of his summer with you. Despite not being able to pursue you in the way he truly wanted to, Minho still wanted to be your friend. You were still a fantastic person he loved to have around; that didn’t change simply because you had a boyfriend. Although he could feel a bit of his heart cracking every time he had to see you, all while knowing he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you.

He couldn’t change your perspective of love if he weren’t allowed to love you.

In all the time he spent at your house during summer break, he ended up becoming good friends with Jisung, as you tended to stick next to Hyunjin most of the time. Minho didn’t mind it; he is your boyfriend, after all. At least, that’s what he repeats to himself every night he comes over like a mantra as he almost masochistically forces himself to watch how Hyunjin kisses your lips and caresses your skin or how you play with his hair and snuggle with him on the couch. He also endures the countless nights he’s left your house knowing all too well that Hyunjin would be spending the night with you in a way that Minho can only ever dream about.

Tonight, in particular, Hyunjin seemed to be all over you like bees on honey, buzzing around you everywhere you went, his hands never leaving your body as he pulled you closer to him every time you even slightly pulled away. Because god forbid your bodies not be touching in some way for even a split second. Before he knows it, Minho is downing his third bottle of beer of the night.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, Minho rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can while he watches Hyunjin pull you to sit on his lap on the floor as you all get ready to play a game of cards. He gnaws on his lower lip because he knows he’s being petty and borderline childish. You’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Of course he’s all over you, of course he wants to be close to you, of course he wants you on his lap. Minho concludes with a bitter chuckle that he is, indeed, pathetic when it comes to you.

He gulps down more of the awful-tasting cheap beer.

The night comes to a close after far too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with Jisung winning more than half of them. His ethics and morals fly out the window the moment the cards are handed to him, as he manages to create the most absurdly offensive phrases known to men every single time. Minho found himself groaning and yelling at the younger boy as the alcohol took over his system. He doesn’t know how much of it was simply his annoyance at Hyunjin clinging to you like a koala throughout the entire game disguised as competitiveness.

He doesn’t think he’d like to know either.

Like every night he comes over, Minho is the last person to go home. He has to call an Uber, far too buzzed to want to sit at a bus stop all alone at this time of night. He hadn’t even noticed how he kept downing his drinks until he felt the familiar buzz of inebriation wash over his body a while before the game ended. Although slamming his fist into the coffee table with a whine about how he had only been given lame cards should’ve been a sign.

As he waits outside your house by the fence, he suddenly hears the door shut behind him and your voice calling out to him. He smiles at the faint slur of your speech and the way you drag out the last syllable of his name like you always did when you were a bit drunk.

“I told you to wait for me!” You reprimand, opening the gate to stand next to him. “Look how lonely you look here all by yourself.”

Minho just shrugs with a smile, shaking his head. He did wait. He waited almost half an hour after announcing he should leave as you disappeared into your room with Hyunjin. He was still waiting, in fact, only mindlessly scrolling on his phone for the past ten minutes instead of finding a ride as he hoped you would come outside when you saw he wasn’t in the living room anymore.

You poke his shoulder, bringing his attention away from his phone to your smiling face.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it? Especially that last round when Hyunjin won after being tied with Jisung for the whole game,” you grinned, “Seeing Jisung make a whole damn case about how much better his card was really made my night. Think that’s the first time I’ve seen him act like a law student since I met him.”

Minho chuckles, bringing his attention back to his phone. Seeing your smile and how your eyes light up while you talk about something you like brought back the whirlpool inside his chest, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling any longer. It made him glum to think how a once beautiful feeling had turned into nothing but discomfort simply because he was lovelorn.

He hums. “You must be proud to have your boyfriend put an end to Jisung’s annoying winning streak.”

“What do you mean?”

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes wandering through your puzzled face. He furrows his brows for a second. Maybe you’re both drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean, it must’ve been nice to see Hyunjin win after Jisung basically made us all want to quit the game,” he explains, watching as your expression turns from confusion into shock before you let out a loud laugh.

Minho’s eyes widen, worried your laughter might wake up your neighbors. He gently shushes you, his arm grabbing your shoulder, but your smiling face only makes his lips stretch out into a grin. He suppresses a giggle as you catch your breath, shaking your head.

Minho smiles at you so fondly he’s certain he looks like an idiot. “What’s so funny?”

“Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend,” you explain like it’s obvious. “We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”

Minho only then realizes he had never once heard you refer to Hyunjin as a boyfriend, nor had any of the people around you. But his assumptions weren’t so ill-judged, either. You two acted like a couple. It wasn’t so absurd to assume that you were one.

He finds himself staring at your amused face for a few seconds before forcing himself to turn his attention back to his phone.

You acted like a couple, but you were just friends. Minho groaned mentally.

“So, you’re like friends with benefits?”

“Yeah… I don’t particularly believe in love anymore, Minho. I thought you knew that from our talk a while ago,” You chuckle, shifting on your feet. “Hyunjin is one of my best friends. We just hook up ‘cause it’s convenient.”

Minho hums, his fingers ghosting over his phone screen. “Sounds like you’re running away from love.”

He blinks a couple of times as he takes in his own words. He would have never said such a thing if it hadn’t been for the liquid courage flowing through his veins.

You shrug, moving to sit on the white bench just outside the house. “Well, yeah, that is what I’m doing. Love hasn’t been kind to me at all. I have no interest in going after it, only to be hurt again. It’s a movie I’ve watched before and I hated the ending every time.”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, finally clicking the button to find a ride, his thumb pressing on his phone screen more forcefully than he intended. He felt angry. You didn’t deserve to settle for a friend with benefits due to convenience. Had you wanted to be in that situation, it was your every right to do so, but you were in it out of fear of being hurt.

He felt sad. He wished you didn’t equate your past experiences with love to everything it could be. Bad experiences in love were possible for everyone — even for him, who used to believe unwaveringly that love could never be hurtful — but that didn’t mean it was all there was to it. Minho desperately wanted to show you that. The good side of love, the side that made him put it above everything else in his life on so many occasions, the side that made him crave it even now when it hurt more than it felt good.

And, strangely, Minho felt relieved. It was a small percentage of the chart of current emotions he was experiencing, but prevalent nonetheless. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt happy Hyunjin wasn’t your boyfriend and, most importantly, that you weren’t stuck in an unhappy or toxic relationship, as he had so often feared.

His ride arrives, and he’s overcome with a wave of courage. Minho would much rather live with regret than with a constant ‘what if’.

Shoving his phone inside his pocket, he offers his hand to you, who looks up at him curiously from where you’re sitting on the bench before taking his hand. Minho pulls you to your feet and hugs you. With his hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer to him, finally holding you tightly the way he’s always wanted to do. He presses a kiss to your head, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, “I’m gonna change your mind.”

He feels your body shake with a chuckle, but he only tightens his hold on you.

“What?”

“About love, I’m gonna change your mind,” He answers matter-of-factly, “You deserve to feel love without being afraid.”

Minho pulls back from the embrace just enough to see your face, and he’s surprised to find you smiling up at him. He smiles back.

“I will change your mind.”

Minho had just dropped you off at your house, ready to drive around aimlessly until he absolutely had to go back to his dorm, when Seungmin texted him.

Kim Seungmin: hey my sister’s engagement dinner is tonight Kim Seungmin: and i might have fucked up something in the code i was working on so now there’s a chance that you fish 100 rare fish at once 🤪 Kim Seungmin: pls pls do me a solid and fix it before chan sees it and kills me? Kim Seungmin: love you hyung 💚

Minho initially groaned at the messages, thinking of the many ways in which he could murder Seungmin and get away with it. But, ultimately, he didn’t want to go back to his dorm anyway, so he gladly turned his car around. If he was lucky, this would take hours and he would have a valid excuse to crash in Chan’s cramped living room.

He punches the code to the front door and his friend greets him with a puzzled expression.

“I forgot to do the, uh, troubleshooting for this week,” Minho blurts out. It’s the first lie he can come up with, and he hopes it’s convincing enough. Chan nods slowly. Seungmin might have saved him from having to endure his roommates on a Saturday night, but he still owes him.

“It’s all good,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’m most likely gonna pull an all-nighter designing these new characters. Anyway, how did you waste your time today?”

Minho has been taking you on what he likes to call Subtle Dates for a month now.

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting down on his own desk. “We went to Han River and walked around till sundown, then watched the Banpo Bridge water show.”

Days like today were rare, so Minho was happy. Most weekends, it seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against anything he planned with you.

“Oh, how romantic of you,” Chan gasps, feigning amazement. “Did you at least kiss her this time?”

“You know I can’t just kiss her like that. I know she’d freak out if I tried to do anything romantic with her,” Minho taps his fingers on his desk, knowing he sounds ridiculous. But he has a plan. He just hopes this plan actually works out soon. “I don’t mind being patient.”

He hears Chan scoff. “So, you took her on another one-sided date and then drove her home so Hyunjin can fuck her?”

Minho’s fingers stop tapping on his desk, his hand coming down to slam on it before he can stop himself. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Chan mumbles an apology. But, the truth is, he knows his friend is right. Just last weekend, Minho dropped you off straight into Hyunjin’s arms, the younger boy waiting for you to come back in front of your house.

And Hyunjin wasn’t the only inconvenience that rendered it almost impossible for the two of you to spend time together. Minho had to cut most of your dates short due to Chan calling him about something urgent that only he could fix at work, or you canceled altogether because your roommate was upset and you didn’t have the heart to leave her alone like that. There were also times when Minho was too tired to even go out at all, like on the day of his birthday, which resulted in you coming over to Chan’s apartment and eating cheap takeout food with him and his two friends.

Minho found himself dealing with countless bumps in the road when it came to finding a way into your heart.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Chan says hesitantly, “You clearly like her a lot.”

Minho repeatedly opens and closes the code he’s supposed to fix. He sighs. “I like her more than a lot, and I don’t even know when that happened.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” His friend explains, his face disappearing behind his own computer screen. “I just can’t see what will change if you go on dates with her when she doesn’t even know they’re dates and if she’s just gonna go home and have sex with someone else. I don’t get it. What difference does it make?”

He can hear Chan scoffing, although he tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. Minho shakes his head.

“It makes all the difference because that’s not love. I wanna show her what love is, and that it isn’t always bad. I promised her that I would.”

Chan sighs, sliding his chair toward the mini-fridge by the couch. “Agree to disagree?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it in Minho’s direction. He grabs it mid-air, just before it hits him in the face, and clicks his tongue.

“Agree to disagree.”

Minho plugs his headphones into the computer, drowning out the noise of Chan’s pen sliding across his iPad with his brown noise playlist. But he can’t drown out the obstinate thought ringing inside his head, screaming at him that Chan is right.

Taking you out on dates — which you don’t even know are dates — doesn’t really make a difference if you’re just going to go back to your convenience with Hyunjin at the end of the day. If you think you’re just friends going out together, and you go back home at night to the comfort of sex without the love you’ve been running away from for so long, what Minho is doing truly is useless. 

It’s just like when he argues with Seungmin through their codes, screaming at the younger boy in all caps about something that’s broken, even though he knows he’s going to be the one who will end up having to fix it.

Minho’s fingers come to a halt on the keyboard.

Closing his work, he opens up Google and finds the first flight he can to Japan. Almost as if he’s on autopilot, and his brain is completely shut off. He books the flight and the cheapest hotel he can find, using almost all the money he’s saved up to move out of his hell of a dorm. It might be the most idiotic thing he has ever done in his life, but he’s so in love it hurts him. And he loves love, and love with you — the thought of that alone has his heart beating at his throat. He doesn’t want to keep on with these futile attempts at trying to make you see that love is good and that, maybe, love can be good with him.

The truth is, he feels scared. Maybe even more scared than you do. He is terrified of knowing the answer, of finding out that maybe he could change your mind about love but that it would simply lead you to someone else’s arms and he would have to endure the pain of unrequited love until it inevitably faded away with time.

Minho would gladly live with that pain if it meant you were happy.

But he needed to know.

He adjusted his glasses — a childhood nervous habit that returned after he started wearing them more often since you complimented him months ago — and retrieved his phone from his backpack.

He typed and deleted more times than he’d like to admit.

Me: Hey, it’s late sorry  Me: Just wanted to know if you’d be up for a trip to Japan? Me: In two weeks Me: For study purposes Me: We’d finally have the chance to use what we learned in class lol Me: Chan was supposed to go with me but he has a family thing so he can’t anymore Me: Everything’s already paid for and he said he doesn’t mind if you go in his place Me: Lmk what you think

Minho’s fingers typed as his brain came up with excuses and lies, sending more messages than he needed to. He couldn’t tell you he booked a whole damn trip with you just to see if maybe, possibly, you have feelings for him too.

He all but throws his phone across his table after turning on Do Not Disturb. He’ll need to muster up the courage before reading your answer, and having his phone buzz for anything that wasn’t your reply would just be torturous. He felt stupid, would feel even more so if you turned down his invitation. He almost doesn’t want you to answer, wants to pretend he never even sent anything.

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

Worst-case scenario, he’s stuck with Chan in Japan for a weekend while he laughs at him.

Best-case scenario, he spends a weekend with you in Japan. No letting you go back to another man at the end of the day, no more hiding that he is taking you out on dates, no more distractions, no more inconveniences of your daily lives.

Minho opens the code he was working on again, quickly typing out:

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

meet-cute

part one part two! part three

lando norris x fem!reader

summary - y/n is giving lando a run for his money in playing hard to get, and lando knows he's in love so so soon. 

masterlist

author's note! should i make another part or possibly make this into a series? lmk what ya think!

-

you woke up to a distant ringing running throughout the room. slowly rubbing your eyes and giving a bit of a stretch, you roll over in an attempt to find your phone. once found, you grimace at the time yet your smirk grows when seeing the contact read ‘mr mclaren’. 

“yes?” you answer the phone while letting out a cough to remove the sleep from your throat.

“did you just wake, love?” lando replies. you can practically see his teasing smile through the phone as he questions you. you rearrange your body so that you’re leaning against the headboard of the bed while biting into your answer, “mclaren, it’s currently 8am on a sunday, no person alive should be awake right now,”

you hear lando’s contagious chuckle from the other line along with a bit of shuffling around on his end, “i wanted to know if you were busy tonight,” he gently asks. you could tell he was a bit nervous from the small quiver in his voice. it had been around two weeks since your first meeting at the coffee shop, since then there were texts and calls constantly, but never an in person meeting since. you didn’t want to just be used by lando, expecting him to be a prick due to his celebrity status. there were certain insecurities that would become undone with seeing him in person that you were yearning to keep at bay for the time being. lando, on the other hand, only grew more attached to you. ever since he even saw you in the coffee shop he was beyond forward which he had never done before. sure there were girls in clubs that he could easily chat up, but he would never be so bold. and so sober. he knew from that moment - you were something special. something he needed. he enjoyed that you didn’t care about his celebrity status and were making him work, it gave him the reassurance that you liked him, not his wallet size. 

“i have dinner tonight for a friend's birthday,” you sigh, “maybe a quick lunch before?” you add on in haste for lando’s peace of mind. you honestly were not trying to avoid him, but his schedule was hectic with travel and you had many friends with whom you’ve made previous plans. 

“i’ve got plans during lunchtime,” lando says, you could practically hear the irritation in his voice, therefore leading to your next line, “i’m really not trying to avoid you, lando. I’ve just got a loaded schedule,” your words are gently said, attempting to ease his brain. 

“I know, love. I just really want to see you,” 

and then your next words came out of your mouth so quick you couldn’t even think, “come over,”

“what? i-i mean, are you sure?” his excitement was not hidden, yet the hesitation was purely based on his knowledge that you had just woken up, and only ever been with each other in person once. and that was your first time meeting. and nothing overly romantic happened. and now he’s invited straight to your place. 

“well, shit, if you don’t want to come thats fine ill just head back to sleep-”

“no no no no,” he interrupts sporadically, “i’ll be there soon, send me your address please,”

“hmm, i don’t know. you’re lack of excitement really turned me off from the whole idea i think i’ll keep my address to myself,”  you giggle a bit into your teasing. lando wants to be annoyed - he truly does. and if this was any other girl he just may have been. he most likely would have given up this chase the minute any other girl turned his request down in the first place. yet - there was something about you. you were different. and you were so worth it. 

lando clears his throat and begins to speak in a dramatic tone while giving your teasing right back, “that’s alright, y/n. i will drive all day and night if i have to, knock on every door. trust, my love, i shall find you,” your loud laughter rings through the phone and he swears his heart skips a beat. 

“ah mr. norris, your lovely sense of humor and perseverance have allowed you access to my apartment,” you smile once more and rattle off your address. once the call has ended, you jump out of bed and begin to get ready as lando said the ride would only be about 10 minutes. face washed, teeth brushed, perfume and lotion on, quick change of clothes from your ratty old pajamas to cuter loungewear, hair tied up to look as though you didn’t even try - all in record time. just as you finished the last spritz of your perfume, the knock on your door echoed through your home. 

sauntering over towards the door and swinging it open, you’re met with the face you hadn’t realized you miss so dearly. “why hello sleepyhead,” he chuckles. you usher him into your home while replying, “y’know you’re the one being irrational here? its currently 830 in the morning, it is crazy to be up right now. on a sunday,” he laughs once more while grabbing your wrists and lightly tossing them around his waist. his own arms then wrap around your shoulders as he plants a kiss to the top of your head. “i’m not being irrational, darling. but if you want to head back to sleep i would not be opposed to a nap,” you look up at him from where your face was resting against his chest, “please,” lando plants a kiss to your nose, “lead the way,” 

lando wakes up around an hour later, tucked into your bed with your head adorably pushed into his neck. he soaks in your appearance, one leg thrown over his hip, head cuddled into him, arm thrown over his chest and he relishes in it. the two of you hadn’t even kissed, hadn’t gone on a proper date, for the past two weeks only had fleeting phone calls and yet - this was normal. this was home. you were home. he thought as he laid with you curled into his side, he thought about a future, about a new beginning, about how adorable you would look in a certain papaya color, and god how his mother would just love you. lando couldn’t help the thoughts. he didn’t even know if you had siblings or anything remotely deep about you however he knew for sure three things. one - he was and forever will be completely, head over heels, insanely in love with you. two - his future has you and you only in it. and three - you both were so unconventional in your ways and in your soon to be love story that he knew his life would never be boring as long as you were in it.

[concreteangel92]

Be Careful What You Wish For

Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Warnings: Cum play, mentions of spanking, dom/sub relationship, slight humiliation kink and degradation kink (not too heavy) male masturbation, just Noah being a typical brat tamer

So this is kinda filthy even for me ahaha but it’s not massively detailed as it’s a head canon styled piece but I am working on proper detailed works as we speak so hopefully I will get those out soon.

This actually started as an idea from the other fic I’m writing but it didn’t fit into that scene properly so I decided to make it a separate piece so the thought wasn’t wasted haha and fyi the story I’m currently writing has definitely been inspired by the new tour content, that’s absolutely feeding me right now 🥵

Masterlist

•You’ve been playing up all day and winding Noah up in front of people when he’s been working

•Just genuinely being a brat because you found it funny that day

•That’s fine but Noah would 100% punish you for it when you’re alone

•You’d be face down on the counter, underwear round your ankles while counting each spank he delivers

•But what’s one more dig?

•”That the best punishment you got? I’m getting bored of it now”

•Those spanks would instantly stop

•”Is that so?”

•Oh yeah, he’s pissed now

•You’d feel Noah’s grip on your hip tighten and hear the sounds of his trousers hitting the ground

•”Spread your legs”

•Noah would have a deeper growl in his voice, clearly not impressed with your attitude, but that’s ok, he’s happy to take it up a notch just teach you a lesson

•You’d feel his fingers scissor you open with a dark chuckle “bored are we? Do you want to tell that to your dripping cunt”

•That would most definitely pull a low moan from you, now Noah loves dirty talk, but to be that vulgar is very rare, even for him

•You could feel movement behind you and hear the sounds of him groaning and skin slapping on skin

•”So my punishments aren’t good enough eh?…” You could hear his words get caught in his throat, you knew he was touching himself behind you, his other hand now not leaving your hip

•”Well lucky for you…shit….I’ve got the perfect punishment for your cocky little attitude”

•You’d keep your head on the counter, pussy aching to be touched but you know that’s not going to happen any time soon

•“Did I forget to mention….that the guys will be here…any….any minute for the afternoon?”

•Noah hadn’t mentioned that they were all coming round for a gaming afternoon, you suddenly felt a sense of fear at what he had planned

•Noah’s groans became louder as he sped up his pace, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer

•”fuck..I’m gonna cum”

•You’d feel him release onto your heated core, Noah would quickly bring your underwear back up and press the material into your folds, making sure not to let any of his juices slip out down your thighs

•You’re eyes would go wide, a choked moan escaping your lips as you now knew what his punishment was, it felt so wrong and dirty but fuck me were you turned on

•You’d hear Noah fix his clothes and then he’d grab you by your throat, bringing your back onto his chest so he could talk into your ear

•”let’s see how cocky you are walking round with my cum in your pants, and don’t think you can run away and hide baby. You’re going to sit with us until I say otherwise, is that clear?”

•”I’m in a dress, what if it…slips out?”

•You’d receive a hard smack to your ass and then Noah turned you around so he could stare down at you

•”You should have thought about that before you decided to be a brat and telling me that my punishments are boring”

•Noah grips your chin and gives you a hard kiss

•”Be careful what you wish for baby”

•That’s the moment you’d both hear keys in the door and the guys walking in with pizza boxes, Noah pulling your dress back into place and stepping away from you

•You’d do your best to walk normally and act all innocent when everyone started chatting, trying to sit without anything ‘leaking’

•Your cheeks would have a permanent blush for the afternoon

•All the while, that cocky smirk never left Noah’s lips as he stalked your every move

[emphistic]

Em, lovely Em, how are you? Let me tell you I'm super proud of your progress so far <3

Soooo I'm here with a little proposition, two options for you to choose from...

1. (Low key) Princess treatment

2. Late night drive

With who else than the love of our lives SUKUNA RYOMEN!

-With love starlet★

A/N: hi hi hi, starlet, i am doing pretty good actually except for the new crack in my phone screen, but thanks for asking! and i really appreciate that — hard choice, but i choose option 2

The wind rushed through the open windows and pervaded the car. Your hair blew and billowed. And Sukuna watched you through the mirror as the moonlight fell upon your face, gracing your already blessed features, and goddamn, Sukuna thought you looked absolutely ethereal in the night.

The music blasted from the car’s built-in speakers, but he had already stopped listening an hour ago, more focused on staring at you.

“You cold?” Sukuna asked, in that deep, raspy voice of his — that you had grown accustomed to after these last few weeks.

“Mhm. Just a little,” you nodded, leaning onto the head rest behind you and turning around to face the man himself. Sukuna laced his fingers through yours on the console between the both of you, a warmth fluttering in your stomach in an instant.

This whole arrangement between the two of you. . . It all happened like a blur. You guys had met through a mutual friend at a college party and had hit it off ever since. What started as innocent tutoring sessions turned to friendly hangouts. Consequently, those turned to dates, and those dates led to now: present time — where you two were in relationship. A secret one, at that.

The mutual friend was Itadori Yuuji. Let me rephrase that, he’s your friend. But not Sukuna’s, because, well, they’re brothers, actually.

You didn’t mean to hide this whole thing from Yuuji, you just didn’t know how he’d react if he found out. Would he think you two were going behind his back? Would he accuse you of using him to get with his brother? You weren’t, and you never would try to get between the Itadori brothers. It’s just . . . you felt guilty about this whole relationship thingy. You loved Sukuna, you really did. And you loved Yuuji, as a friend, of course. But, you didn’t want to cause any misunderstandings or any problems, so you and Sukuna came to an agreement about keeping this under wraps.

However, unlike you, Sukuna couldn't care less if his younger brother found out about the both of you. But choosing to respect your wishes — like the good boyfriend he was, he would keep things low key, just for you.

So, late night drives like these were one of the only opportunities the two of you had to have time to yourselves, without having to worry about any younger brother finding out.

Sukuna pulled up into an empty parking lot; you guys usually drove around for an hour or two, listening to music, before parking the car and chatting to your hearts’ desire.

“So. How was your day, baby? Anyone bother you? You don’t look too happy. Do I need to kick somebody’s ass for ya?” Sukuna turned to face you, but like always, you shied away and avoided his gaze.

“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you.” Sukuna hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your head to meet his eyes.

“That’s better. Keep your eyes on me, pretty girl.”

You complied, though your eyes flickered between each of his, contrary to his unwavering stare.

“My day was fine. I just . . . I’ve been thinking about your brother: Yuuji, and—”

Sukuna rolled his eyes; you paused. “You’re seriously thinking about another man right now? Even when I just asked you how you were doing? Can’t believe this shit.” Sukuna scoffed, though you knew he was only joking. Or so you hoped. . .

You cheekily giggled. “C’mon, ‘Kuna. Don’t be that way.” You cupped the side of his face with your free hand; he leaned into your palm, placing a tender kiss upon it.

“Anyway, as I was saying.” You cleared your throat. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to continue what we’re doing . . . together.”

At this, Sukuna lifted his face away from your palm, his hooded eyes staring back at yours, waiting for you to explain yourself.

“Fuck you mean this isn’t a good idea?”

“I—how would Yuuji feel if he found out? If we told him now, he would probably ask why we didn’t tell him earlier. And then what would we say? That we didn’t even plan on getting into a relationship in the first place? And we were just friends with benefits?”

“Do you want to tell him?” Sukuna pursued.

“I . . . don’t know. I mean, we were just fucking around earlier. And then we got exclusive. And . . . I thought you weren’t really looking for an actual relationship. As boyfriend and girlfriend, I mean.”

“That’s complete bull. Don’t let me catch you saying that crap ever again.” Sukuna grabbed your face in his hand when your eyes started to drift elsewhere. “You’re the only girl I would ever even think about dating. You hear me? So get that shit out of your pretty little head.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “Okay.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear. Anywho, go on. Tell me about your day. I’ve been longing to hear your voice ever since I started my shift.”

“Oh, please.”

“Deadass.”

You started to talk about your classes, your annoying professors and their annoying assignments, your lunch that took ten minutes to arrive at your door, you told Sukuna everything. Well, you were planning on that. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure start to approach the car. Though they were still a long distance away — fortunately — they were getting closer, and Sukuna didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy listening to you speak your heart and mind.

Your eyes widened, and you shook Sukuna’s arm, as if to get his attention. Which, in that case, did nothing, really, because his undivided attention was already on you, but maybe you forgot. Silly you.

“Babe—babe, I think there’s someone in the parking lot.”

“No shit.” Sukuna let out a laugh.

“No, like, besides us. I think they’re getting closer to the car.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, assuming your eyes were just playing a trick on you, but then he saw it. He saw what you were talking about.

There was indeed a person — a man? Perhaps so. And they were quickly approaching the vehicle. In the light of the posts, it could be detected that he was wearing nothing other than black and dark colored articles of clothing.

What the hell?

All the shops and restaurants in this area were closed, save for the 7-Eleven, but that wasn’t as relevant. There were no cops or cop cars, nothing, so who was this person? And what did they want?

“Kiss me.”

“What the what? Are you okay?”

“Damnit, always making me have to do everything these days.” Sukuna grabbed your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks together in the process, and messily slotted his lips against yours.

Your lipgloss smeared across his mouth and even added a little shine to it, but neither of you paid attention to that.

And albeit a little surprised at first, you melted in Sukuna’s hands and kissed back sooner or later. You guys moved against each other like rabid animals in heat, well—Sukuna did, you were a little more civilized than the pink-haired man. Which wasn’t a new thing.

But could you really blame Sukuna? When he tasted you against his lips, he nearly went feral right then and there. You were as sweet as the day you guys first indulged in something like this together. The real reason he started calling you ‘sweet thing’ in the first place.

While trying to catch your breath, you murmured against his lips, not yet pulling away, “Is he—is he gone now?”

You felt Sukuna smile against your lips, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards.

“Been. Been gone, sweetheart. For probably a few minutes now. Coward turned into a straight pussy. I saw his face; he looked ‘bout ready to piss himself when I shoved my tongue in.”

You pulled away — emitting a disappointed groan from the man — to fix your messy hair and overall disheveled appearance altogether, before moving to wipe the remnants of lipgloss off Sukuna’s face. He, in turn, only pushed back his hair, not really caring about how he looked on the outside.

Let people know, let people know he just made out with his favorite girl. If he really felt like it, he would even make a full PSA for the world to see.

“So. . . You still want to stop this thing between us?”

“Oh, shut up.” You delivered a light slap to his arm, before attempting to stifle your growing grin.

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your area 7

masterpost

Chapter 7 

…Jason slowly put down the book and turned it cover up, shell-shocked from that interaction. He lifted his phone and took a photo. He sent it to Roy. 

“What do you see?” He typed. Jason bit his lower lip and tried not to scowl while he waited for a response. 

It wasn’t that Jason was unused to conflict. Jason was great at conflict. He won every conflict! (Almost.) But what the hell had this shit been? Why had that guy been so pissy about the book? What the hell was wrong with the book that Jason didn’t see?

“Gibberish?” Roy texted back a few minutes later. “It gives the impression of wonky Cyrillic to me. But it's got a terrible energy to it. The hell is that?”

Jason looked at the cover. To his eyes, there was a serif font declaring it Sense and Sensibility Universe D version 5. 

“Thanks,” he sent, ignoring the question and then the barrage of heart emojis. Shit, okay. 

That answered one question. But it didn't answer enough. What the fuck had that college kid been seeing that was so offensive? 

‘And why'd he think we would meet again?’ 

Jason pushed deep, deep down any awareness that he hoped it was true. That had been weird enough that it would bother him forever if he didn’t get answers.

He sort of hated the idea of getting his nosy family involved, but they would ask different and in some ways, less annoying questions than other groups he could poll. They'd know not to lie to him, at least. So he sent the picture on to the family group chat with the same question and grimly finished his tea. 

The elderly proprietor came out then and noticed that her other customer was gone. She looked confused for a moment, scanning the seat to see if his book bag was still there. She picked up the cash he'd left on the table and then started stacking dishes.

‘He’s a regular,’ Jason guessed, honing in on the opportunity to learn more. He flipped the book open but held the apparently offensive cover down towards the table, out of her line of sight. He needed to know what had gone so wrong. Jason wasn’t normally the kind of person that cute college kids had beef with.

He'd never been in this café before, his intuition had just told him to duck inside.

“I think he forgot something,” Jason offered casually, pretending to just look up from his book. “Ran out real quick in a panic.” 

The lady let out a soft “Ahhh,” of comprehension. “Something for his afternoon class, perhaps,” she agreed, looking a little happier. 

“Yeah, it looked like he was getting ready to settle in for a long study session and then he bolted,” Jason lied, watching her underneath his lashes. He had been paying a little more attention than he ought to when the guy came in. He was Jason’s type, aside from the thing where he’d hated Jason’s face for no apparent reason-

‘No, actually, everyone I’ve ever been into hated me on sight.’

Ouch. As Jason digested that embarrassing truth, the owner continued talking.

“He does that,” she agreed, apparently not thinking it was odd at all for them to talk about the habits of another customer. “Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's a sharp cookie, did you know that?” She continued, and oh, she had halfway adopted this college kid, huh? There was warmth and a hint of pride in her tone.

Jason valiantly swallowed the snort. “He looks familiar, but I don't think we have classes together,” he fished. 

“Mm, he's doing some kind of math and engineering,” the lady helpfully supplied. She gave Jason her full attention as she stood up from the table. “And you?”

“Modern language and literature,” Jason said, and sort of wished it was true. He didn't really have the time. Did he? Spoiler was a full-time student, wasn't she? …Huh.

While he chewed that over, the lady had drifted a couple steps closer.

“...Those are two meaningfully different courses?” 

“Modern language is learning additional languages, I'm doing Russian and Greek right now,” Jason lied easily. He was fluent in both already. “Literature is mostly classics, for my purposes. I'm focusing on Regency Lit.” 

She looked very interested, but she detoured away to deposit the dirty dishes behind the counter. They kept up a light conversation about books as she wiped off the table and reset for the next customer. 

When she left, he finally had the chance to check his messages. There was a full-on fight in the group chat. The last message was from Stephanie. She had tagged him and asked, “Is this an optical illusion??? Like that dress?”

Ah, fuck. Jason felt a rock settle in his stomach at the confirmation that something hinky was going on.

‘I can’t read this in public if it’s saying something I can’t control or even know.’

Fucking hell. Jason scrolled back up and checked. Damian listed the correct title. Dick saw what, ‘I thought was Greek at first.’ Stephanie might have been joking but she argued vigorously that it was pictographs that started with a bird. Drake had sent “You rediscovered Minoan Linear A? Cool.” and then not participated in any follow-up discussions. Duke had sent only a stream of confused and tearful emojis.

Cass had marked it read.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Jason muttered to himself. Resentfully he put the book back in his bag. 

What had that guy seen? If he’d just seen something foreign but illegible he wouldn’t have gotten so pissy about it. And who the hell had he been, anyway? Why was he so special?

Well. That was something to do with his afternoon. Jason paid up his bill and gave Phyllis his well-wishes for her doctor’s appointment tomorrow on the way out. Phyllis was a good contact, he would definitely come back for more of her jasmine tea no matter how mad that guy got at him.

…Jason really needed a name.

And found…

He headed to Gotham University and used the student computers to look up departments and then hack into the registrar. Jason flipped through photos until he found his guy: Danny Fenton, 19, sophomore double-major in the Engineering department. Good grades, no notes on his account about academic dishonesty or conflict.

'Little weird to meet two Dannys in a 24 hour period.'

Jason searched the guy online and found…

He let his mouth drop open in disbelief at the batshit insane website design he had stumbled into. The Fenton family had a website, apparently, and they had maybe let a 7 year old design it in 2008. The colors… The lack of centering… The.. the neon choices.

His eyes watered. It took a while to fight down his aesthetic grief and actually start comprehending the text.

He had expected this to be like, an online family newsletter. And it was! The link he had followed detailed “Danno going to college in the big city!!!” The boy himself looked extremely resigned in the attached photo. Seriously, Jason had seen much less mortified mugshots. The thing was, that on the same page, alongside posts about other kids going college (Jazzypants!) and someone called Alicia recovering from “supergout!” with "her eight favorite toes remaining!!!", there was also a lot of mention of ghosts.

Like, a lot.

Jason scrolled in pained disbelief. There were photos that showed extremely weird and dismayed green people obviously flinching away from a camera. A beautiful green woman with her hair halfway over her face snarled through a flood of smoke under the title “Wishywish Ghostie Interviewed: Learn what drives her generous heart!” and an ugly robot motherfucker was seen fleeing under the caption, “Skalker indicates that spook is a GHOST SLUR!”

….Was it a shit post? Just one long shitpost? It had to be a joke site.

Well. No. Jason buried his face in his hands and came to terms with the horrible fact that not only were ghosts real, he was accidentally married to one and this bombastic midwestern family already knew about it. This was his best lead for getting that 'beyond death do you part' separation.

They had been blasting the existence of ghosts for all the world to read, and it hadn’t been news. The Justice League didn’t know about this whole society. The journalism done by– Jason lifted his head to check– Jack Fenton interviewing clearly very unwilling ghosts was the only primary source that he knew of. 

He took a few deep breaths. He came to terms with grief. He decided to block his family from any further involvement in this shitshow, for what remained of his dignity. And he grimly noted down Jack Fenton’s email.

Jason cleared this history and closed down his tabs, feeling a decade older than he had when he had entered the library. He ignored the sultry ‘come talk to me’ eye contact that the student worker was shooting him from behind the counter as he slouched out. 

He stopped for a moment on top of the stairs to watch campus move. He saw the theatre building and the modern language headquarters from his vantage point, along with about half of the student center. There was just a trickle of foot traffic between buildings along paved paths. A few people were hanging out on blankets in the grass. An old man in a suit was taking a phone call next to a crawling rose garden. 

‘Maybe I should go to school.’

Well. After this shit was sorted out. Obviously he could not go to school before he got divorced. It would be torturous to hang out with cute boys his age and be committed to some hot dead mermaid who didn’t even wanna make out with him sloppy. Loser shit on absolutely every level, goddamn.

Jason shoved his hands in his pockets and jogged down the stairs. He kept an eye out for Danny, but had no luck.  

Not that he cared. It was interesting that he had a lead: Danny clearly had some connection to ghosts, and he had been able to read… 

‘Maybe he realized it was a ghost’s property and he thought I stole it?’ Jason realized in a stroke of inspiration. That made more sense. If he knew enough to recognize it as ghost language or whatever, then he might have felt affronted about Jason having it.

He went through his mental checklist to pick out what he did and didn’t know. Once he felt he had a hang on his priorities, he beelined to his own laptop in his favorite safehouse and started looking into the Fentons in more depth.

It was a great lead. It was suspiciously good, in fact, he thought as he found Jack Fenton’s online family newsletter again. What were the odds that he would run into Danny Fenton in a cafe that Jason had never even been in before? It had been a total fluke that he’d entered. He’d been walking past to a favorite place and then just had the urge to try the dark little family cafe.

‘…Ah, fuck’, Jason sighed. More ghost shit. It had to be. Something about Danny Fenton’s ghost shit had registered to him now that he’d been exposed to ghost central.

[angelkissiies]

pancakes for dinner

abby anderson x reader

cw : love confessions , anxiety , hockey!abby , girly!reader (glitter n pink fan) , modern!au

wc : 2.5 (HOW DID IT GET THIS LONG)

a / n : i never meant for this to be so long but i adore a love confession n hockey!abby ,, anyways ! enjoy ! also if you see grammatical issues SQUINT i didnt proofread this !!!

based off of emotions i get from THIS song ,, and some ugly dude being mean to abs on twitter ..

You stared down at the blank sheets of paper, fluffy fountain pen twirling in between your fingers as you let your playlist restart. You had so much to say, that you almost didn’t couldn’t find a way to say it, the itching anxiety pulling at your heart as you glanced at the clock. ‘7:38 PM’. Her flight was landing in a couple hours, you internally kicked yourself for waiting so long, but finally made the first move to start writing. 

‘Bee, Abby, 

This seems extremely silly right now and I kinda want to throw up at the idea of you actually seeing this’ 

You let out a sigh, striking out the line before continuing. 

‘I need you to know some things, some things I've been meaning to tell you for, well, forever. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember and as much as I don't want to risk losing that, I can’t not tell you. I’ve been very clear about my sexuality and you’ve been so supportive of me– but I can't let you set me up with any more of your hockey friends (you’re probably wondering why this is soo important but just keep reading.)

Don’t get me wrong, Nora was a lovely date– opened the car door for me and everything, but it just wasn’t right. I know you and as you’re reading this you’re probably shaking your head and muttering something about ‘you just didn’t give her a chance,’ but just stay with me here. 

I have gone on dates and I have tried all the dating apps, I’ve even had my fair share of hookups–

but Abby, I can’t stop thinking about you. 

From the day I met you, I think I've always known. You have been all I've wanted and I really understood that this year, I mean seeing you hooking up with all of those girls made me jealous– as stupid as it sounds, and no, It wasn’t because they were prettier than me or something, but it was because they had you.’ 

Your stomach churned as you halted, taking an unsteady breath, your finger moving to skip the song that had come on– ‘Heather’ by Conan Gray being in bad taste for the moment. You had the urge to rip the paper apart, hiding all evidence of the confession of your love, and nestle into your bunk bed– waiting for the inevitable knock on your door when she arrived back, begging to chat about her travels. Though, you remained still– chewing on the flesh of your lip before forcing yourself to continue. 

‘I’m saying this now because I fear, if not now then never. Your absence gave me a chance to figure out my feelings about you without worrying about you accidentally finding out. I needed to overcome my fear of losing you and came to realize that I can't, so writing this all out is seriously freaking me out. ‘ 

A ringing from your phone made you jump, the music pausing briefly as you checked the caller ID, the air caught in your lungs as you realized who it was. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” You chanted, staring at the little picture of her that accompanied the tense ringing in the now quiet room. ‘Shit!” You huffed, at last, letting your finger swipe across the screen to accept before placing her on speaker. 

“Hey!” Her groggy voice rang out, accompanied by the loud bustle of what sounded like a crowd. “Did I wake you up or something?” 

You let out a small, confused noise before answering– hand shaking slightly. “No, no. Just doing some work. What about you, you sound like shit.” You teased, taking a deep breath to gain your composure. The last thing you needed was to queue her on to anything, letting her remain clueless for as long as you possibly could. 

Abby snorted, rolling her eyes as she pulled her heavy suitcase behind her through the crowds of people. “No, just tired, they managed to get us on an earlier plane at the last minute– I had planned to sleep all day before the flight but surprise, surprise.” She hummed, watching as her team slowly began to disappear out of the double doors. “Anyways, because I'm getting back so early, I wanted to see if you’d be up for a movie tonight.” 

You felt time slow down, eyes shooting to the unfinished letter on your desk, you could barely find it in yourself to respond– feeling borderline dizzy at the rapid thumping of your heart, “Y-yeah, that sounds great. What are we watching?” She wasn’t supposed to be back for hours, and now you're getting told that she was already here? That you had to finish your declaration of love, now?! 

“I was thinking we could see that new avatar movie, what was it called?” 

“Way of water.” You spoke quietly, putting your pen down so hard on the sheet of paper– you were almost sure it was gonna rip. “That sounds great, when will you be here? I need to get ready.” Your pen began scribbling down the rest of your thoughts, handwriting less neat than it had been before. You didn’t know if you cared though, the thought of being caught in the middle of doing this was more mortifying than being articulate. 

“Say..” Abby trailed off, pulling up her hoodie sleeve to peer at her watch. 8:20 PM. “Does 8:45 sound good? Airports not far from campus.” 

You could’ve choked, forcing yourself to nod– even though she couldn’t see you. “Yeah, perfect. I’ll meet you downstairs, I’m sure you wanna change.” 

“Finally, a girl who gets me.” She joked, pushing the double doors open, and glancing around for the team bus. A chill rolled down her spine as she pushed the varsity jacket closed, blocking any more chill. “I've gotta go, I'm getting on the bus– but I’ll see you soon.” 

“See you soon!” 

You practically threw the pen down, doing a quick once over of the letter before folding it neatly– placing it inside its designated pink envelope. Your heart was racing, making you sweat slightly, as you slid out from your chair. You’d planned this all out so perfectly, yet, here you were– sliding on your crocs as you exited your dorm in an attempt to make this confession as seamless as possible. You were terrified of the possibility of her saying she didn’t feel the same, terrified that she wouldn't want to be friends anymore, terrified that she was still in love with her ex. Just terrified. 

The hallway passed in flashes, your mind too preoccupied to take in anything else as you speed walked to her door. It was as it usually was, empty, with the exception that her roommate had drawn a little moth in the corner of the whiteboard next to the number indicator. She was a neat girl, Ellie, but it always confused you at how they’d come to be assigned together– seeing as Abby was majoring in sports medicine and Ellie in physics. You shook the thoughts away, practically beating down the door with how hard you knocked. 

A few moments passed and you heard the soft pattering of feet on the carpet before the door swung open, a very disgruntled girl standing before you. “Dude, I literally have an exam tomorrow, what do you want?” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. From all the times she'd met you, she was used to the intrusion– almost finding it funny how often you came by. “Abby isn’t here.” 

You nodded, pushing the envelope forward, watching as she looked at it and then back at you. “Can you put this on her bed? Just leave it there, that's all.” You gushed, glancing at the digital clock on her desk before dropping it into her now outstretched hand. 8:33 PM. “I have to go, so just please make sure she gets it okay?” Your feet were already moving, taking large backward steps into the hall before turning on your heel– leaving a slightly confused, slightly curious Ellie peering down the hall as you disappeared around the corner. 

The door to your dorm was still slightly ajar, making it easier for you to slip back in and begin changing out of your – what you’d begun to call – lesbian pajamas. The reason was that they had little hearts in varying shades of pink and orange dotting the fabric. By the time you’d had a chance to even pull on your shoes, It was already pushing 8:40PM– meaning that any second Abby would be passing your dorm to go change and you’d be practically bouncing off the walls with pent-up anxiety. 

Abby trudged up the stairwell, making a mental note to email the maintenance guys about the elevator, her suitcase hovering just above to not smack against the concrete. She tossed her braid over her shoulder, using her free hand to push the metal door open, stepping out into the warmth of the hallway. A soft sigh left her mouth as she paused, eyes fluttering to the door that bore your name in glitter peel-and-stick letters, a small smile pulling at her chapped lips– internally debating on stopping to talk to you, but coming to the conclusion that she’d just come back in a couple minutes. It always popped into her mind, upon thinking about you, she practically had to drag herself away from you to get anything done. 

As she passed by your door, she heard soft music– particularly a song she’d heard many, many times before. It made her heart skip slightly, upon the realization that you’d actually started listening to the songs she recommended, that being more than a small victory in her books. She glanced up at your whiteboard, it being pretty empty besides the few hearts you’d forgotten to erase from valentines day, before uncapping a marker to leave a tiny drawing of two girl stick figures in the mass of hearts. 

You were lying face down on your pillows, biting back the screams that tempted your lips as you waited for the alarm on your phone to sound– the idea of seeing Abby making your stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. The words of ‘Pancakes for Dinner’ by Lizzy Mcalpine permeated your thoughts, making you sigh aloud, she made it seem so easy. Too easy. You just wanted to say all of what you were feeling to her, see her face when she realized, and know instantly whether or not your friendship was over. The waiting made it all so much worse. You sat up, lifting your phone just as the annoying beeping started, making you groan. 

The music stopped as you swiped off of the app, pulling yourself up to sit on the edge of your bed– sliding your crocs over the pink fluffy socks you’d slipped on in spite of the dropping temperatures. “You can do this. You can definitely do this.” You whispered, coming to stand before grabbing the dorm keys from your bedside table. You couldn’t back out now, though you desperately wanted to, shuffling out of your room and into the hallway– already missing the comfort of your room. 

Ellie had greeted Abby at the door, the realization of the letter finally clicking in her head, an annoying smug grin on her lips. It was beyond confusing for the blonde, giving her an odd look as she let her suitcase fall on the floor in front of her bed. “What is wrong with you?” She finally asked, digging through her drawer, feeling the auburns eyes burning a hole into the back of her head. “You’re being weird, er, weirder than usual.” 

“Nothing, nothing. You have, uh, mail.” She coughed, covering a small chuckle, turning back to her computer as she sat down– keeping an eye on the pink envelope sitting perfectly on the dark surface of her bedspread. 

Abby knitted her brows together, following the girl's gaze to an envelope she automatically recognized as yours. How did she know? Well, you were the only girl on campus who used pink envelopes and she didn’t think that another could have manifested in the short time she was away. She instantly lost all interest in what she was doing, practically tripping over her bags to get to it. “Did she say what it was about?” She asked, turning the little thing in her hands, noticing the little star sticker you’d used to seal the envelope. 

Ellie shook her head, putting her hands up as if to say ‘i dunno’ before looking back down to her work– leaving Abby to tear open the pink paper hastily. 

You sat outside on the bench, tapping the toes of your shoe onto the pavement as you waited, jumping at every noise of the door– hoping, praying, that she even came. It had been so long since you’d felt this kind of scared, less schoolgirl more double homicide, as you pondered what could possibly come of this. The best case scenario being she felt the same way, and the worst case scenario was that she hated your guts and went around telling everyone that you were just some weird girl with a crush on her– that wasn’t likely though, seeing as that wasn't Abby. She’d never be so harsh. The reality was that she’d let you down easy, slowly but surely ghosting you in the process. You didn’t know what scared you more, good or bad news. 

The loud squeaking of the hinges drove you from your thoughts, making you glance behind you, a strained breath catching in your throat as you saw her– glancing around before she saw you. “Abby, hey,--” You began, standing to meet her in the middle, hands wringing nervously behind you. 

The blonde didn’t speak, her hands coming up to cup your cheeks, dipping down to press a needy kiss to your lips. Nothing had ever been so important, the letter being more than enough to send her practically flying out of her dorm to find you, she’d been waiting for the day she’d come to admit her feelings out loud– though as she felt you melt into her, hands now bunched in her jacket, she knew words were unnecessary. You’d been what she wanted this entire time, all the girls and the parties and the one-night stands being in spite of her budding feelings. She’d been trying to get you off her mind, protecting the friendship that meant more than anything to her. Your words flashed through her mind, making her smile slightly against your lips. 

You pulled away, taking a much-needed gulp of air, before looking up at the burly woman. The light was blocked out by her head, making a kind of halo around her. She looked beautiful, she always looked beautiful, but this was different. “Abby..” You breathed, eyes meeting her own. “Are you–?” 

Abby nodded, using her thumbs to caress the blushed flesh of your cheeks. “I am.” 

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (final chapter)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): And we have reached the end! Thank you to everyone who has been following this story and I hope the ending was worth the wait. I also wrote at least some of this and the last chapter while delayed at a train station/on the train so any offhand references I make to either of those things are because of the haha.

And happy new year!

Series masterlist can be found here.

warnings: anxiety, train stations, small amount of cursing

wc: ~1400

~~

Jon blinked awake to Damian tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Huh?” 

“We’re almost there,” he said, nodding out the window. Outside, the scenery had changed from the green of Pennsylvania to the cloudy skyscraper city of Gotham. “Alfred’s meeting us at the station. I’ve already asked and he’ll drive them home if they’re comfortable.” 

Jon looked over at you. He couldn’t remember if you or he had fallen asleep first, but he felt privileged that you did at all. Sure, some of it might have been the exhaustion of the last day, but he had a feeling you wouldn’t have fallen asleep if you didn’t trust them to be there and wake you up. Based on your complaints about the station there, there was no way you wanted to end up in Newark. Or New York. 

Jon shook you gently. You opened your eyes, confused, then sat quickly upright. 

“Shit, I fell asleep? I didn’t mean to.”

“If it’s any consolation, so did I,” Jon shrugged. 

“I didn’t mean to miss the last hour,” you argued. 

“Last hour of what?” Damian stood up in the aisle, pulling Jon’s carry-on out from where he’d tucked it in. Jon grabbed his backpack then helped you pull your suitcase upright. 

“Of—thanks Jon—of time left with you guys.” You winced. Maybe that was too honest. Tugging your backpack over your shoulders, you followed Jon towards the exit at the end of the car. Damian stopped at the car door. You braced yourself with your suitcase to avoid toppling over as the train shuddered on the tracks. It really did feel like the plane turbulence from earlier. 

“This stop, Gotham Station,” the loudspeaker declared. One thing airplanes have going for them, you thought, better sound systems. The train’s announcements were barely audible. “Doors will open on the right side of the train. Please watch your step.” Anything further was indecipherable under the burbling of the speaker. 

“Wait, why did you say the last hour?” Jon asked as the three of you took the escalator up to the station's main area. 

“I have no idea how to contact you after this.” You pulled your suitcase over the lip of the escalator with a tug and continued on. Despite the amount of public transportation you’ve taken, Damian seemed to know the station better than you. You followed him as he weaved through the groups of people sprinkled around the area, Jon right behind. 

Damian stopped just outside a side entrance, and you moved around to his other side to avoid blocking the door. Jon followed. 

“We do all have phone numbers,” Damian suggested pulling out his phone. You assumed he was texting whoever was picking up him and Jon. 

“Oh, duh!” 

Jon’s excitement made you smile. The thought had crossed your mind earlier, but you’d dismissed it as a non-starter. You felt a little silly for that now. 

Jon’s phone was already open to a new contact sheet when he handed it to you. You weren’t sure if you’d ever actually given them your last name or if they remembered ever seeing it on your train ticket or boarding pass, but there was bound to be someone between Gotham and Metropolis that shared your first name, so you added it in anyway. Jon took it back from you and started typing. 

Your phone buzzed straightaway. You pulled it out of your pocket, smiling. 

“hi :)” the first message read. It was sent to you and a third number. Then “it’s jon”

“Huh,” you mused, reading it. “I’ve never seen anyone spell it like that before. That’s cool.”

You unlocked your phone, opened it to the group chat, and held it out to Damian. 

“Would you mind? So I don’t misspell your name?”

Damian muttered an assent and took it from you. He returned it with both contacts filled out. 

“Oh, great, thanks.” You chuckled at Jon’s contact. The name, instead of the Jon offered by the initial text, had been filled out as “Jonathan Kent.” Damian’s name, you were proud to say, was spelled the way you imagined it was. The last name was a funny coincidence, you thought, considering he lived in Gotham. 

“Wayne?” You asked, about to make a teasing joke. 

“Like Bruce Wayne, yes.” Damian said, carefully watching your reaction. 

“Like ‘Wayne Enterprises’ Wayne?” He nodded. “Holy shit. Wow, okay, I didn’t expect that. Wow.” You couldn’t read the expression on his face. Some part of you wondered if he was waiting for you to make a comment about his money or his father. 

“Why did you take the train with me?” You asked instead. The concrete was rough beneath your shoes, a noticeable contrast from the smoothness of airport flooring. “You could have easily had someone pick you up. Pick both of you up. So why–?” 

“Because we wanted to,” Jon answered simply. 

“I am not in the habit of making,” Damian hesitated, “friends and then leaving them behind.” 

“Yeah,” Your heart thudded loudly in your chest. “I’m glad we agree on that.” 

An unfamiliar black car pulled up beside you. You took a couple steps back. It was nice, but anything unfamiliar, nice or not, wasn’t worth the risk. 

Damian, on the other hand, moved in closer. He opened the passenger door and said something to the driver then turned back towards you. 

“Do you want us to drop you off at home?”

You hesitated for a moment. Jon was looking hopefully at you. Damian’s “friends” echoed in your head. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “That would be great.” 

Jon’s face split into a grin. The corner of Damian’s lips quirked up. There was some warm feeling in your chest at the fact that you caught it. You smiled back. 

Alfred Pennyworth, as you learned his name was, stopped the car right outside of your building less than thirty minutes later. 

“I’ll get your suitcase,” Jon offered, hopping out of the car as you collected the rest of your things. 

“Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” 

“You are very welcome,” he answered. 

You shut the door behind you, now face to face with Jon. 

“Is a hug okay?” You asked him. “I’m not sure if that’s a thing you do but-“

Jon gives good hugs, you decided immediately. You could feel the weight and warmth of his arms where they circled your shoulders. 

“I’ll text you, okay?” He let go, hands moving to shove in his pockets. “I’ll take a picture of Metropolis when I get home and send it.” 

You smiled at him; there was something concrete to look forward to. Damian came around the back of the car. 

“You’re not a hug person, right?” You asked him. He shrugged. 

“Only for certain people.” 

You nodded, oddly disappointed. Damian opened his arms. 

“Are you sure?” You asked him. He nodded and you let him set the pace, tightening your grip only when he did. Damian was a good hugger too, you realized. You wondered if the older brother you heard of hours ago on the plane and Jon both had something to do with that. 

“You guys know where I live now,” you adjusted your backpack over your shoulder and pulled up the handle on your suitcase. “So come visit sometime, okay?” Your gaze wandered over to Jon. “Well if you’re in town, I guess. Metropolis isn’t exactly walking distance.” 

Jon chuckled. 

“I’m here pretty often.”

Damian scoffed a quiet laugh. 

“We will. And keep in touch.”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “You guys too.”

You gave a final wave before heading into your building. A cloud of melancholy followed you inside. You ignored it, pulling dirty clothes from your suitcase to toss in the hamper before heading to take a shower. 

Hair dripping but finally clean, you flopped onto your bed, reaching for your phone. Three messages were waiting for you. You answered the one from your parent, asking if you’d gotten home safe. The second was an email. You’d deal with that later, after you got some sleep. The third was a picture from Damian. 

He didn’t even make it through my shower, the attached message read. On your screen, Jon was lying on a couch underneath Damian’s large dog. He was fast asleep. 

You laughed and replied, then set your phone down. A nap would definitely throw off your sleep schedule, you knew, but Gotham was nocturnal anyway. You slept the afternoon away.

[writingchalamet]

ross request 👀

basically y/n is friends with adam & carly and they’ve been trying to set them up for months with ross but something always happens (someone is sick, touring, etc.) but finally ross & y/n meet and it’s basically a match made in heaven

Adams Bestfriend

warnings: ☁️ v fluffy, babies if you consider them a warning!

A/N: this is soooo freaking cute

You had been a close friend of Carly's for many years, naturally becoming close with Adam over the years too. The pair having you over for any movie nights, dinners and outings. You loved nothing more than third wheeling the pair, and when their sweet baby came you practically clung to the couple even more. The two of them adored you and the way you were with their son. It was initially Adams idea to introduce you to Ross after hearing you complain to Carly all night about how terrible your date was, you had called Carly half way through asking her to come and bail you out which she gladly obliged, and after hours of venting, crying and getting wine drunk with Carly you fell asleep on their sofa bundled up in a blanket, head resting in Carly's lap. Adam sat next to Carly quietly chatting as she stroked through your hair. "Do you know who I think would be really good for her?" Carly's eyebrows raise as she looks at her husband with a quizzical look on her face "Ross..." suddenly her face lights up, eyes practically gleaming, "holy shit that's the best idea you've ever had!"

That was over a year ago now, the pair had tried numerous times to get you and Ross in a room together but to no avail, several plans had been foiled, neither of you actually knowing Adam and Carly's true intentions. You were supposed to meet at Christmas, but Ross had to cancel to see his brother. Then again for dinner at Easter but you double booked with your parents, and more and more occasions just like it, either one of you was sick or the both of you double booked, it was a complete disaster. But the one time you did finally meet was completely by mistake, Ross was round Adam and Carly’s babysitting for them, when you unexpectedly dropped by having forgotten your purse when you were visiting a couple days earlier.

You knock on their front door tapping in a singsong manner fully expecting to see Carly’s beautiful head of curls answer the door, only to be completely blindsided by a tall dark handsome stranger, you knew to be one of Adam’s friends answering. He was clutching onto baby Hann whilst he screamed bloody murder looking very distressed as he looked at you confused. “Hi, I’m y/n, Carly’s friend, I left my purse here the other night and was coming to get it but if it’s a bad ti-“ Ross cuts you off almost in a pleading notion “Y/n! Yeah They’ve mentioned you a bunch of times, come in, I think I’ve seen a purse in the living room” he sidesteps out the way to let you into the house, you slip off your shoes knowing Adam’s strict ‘no shoes on my carpet’ policy. You can’t help but wince at the screeching sound of the babies cries as Ross helplessly bounces him trying to get him to calm down. You spot your purse in an instant but the maternal instinct in you has you reaching out for baby Hann. “Are you okay?” You ask softly, trying not to pry but feeling genuinely concerned not only for the baby but for Ross’s sanity, knowing how stressful it can be the times you’ve looked after the baby not knowing of you’re doing things right, sometimes reassurance is needed. Ross sighs and turns to you fully, it’s now that you take him in fully, he looked tired, his hair was falling out of his bun, his shirt was wrinkled probably from holding the baby against him most the day, and his forehead was forming faint stress lines. “Uh, I’m not sure, I feel like I’ve tried everything and he won’t calm down, he’s not hungry, he doesn’t wanna play with any toys, I’ve tried listening to music, he doesn’t want me to sit down with him he doesn’t want me to be moving around, I just don’t know what to do” he lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding, “here let me take over for a minute, you sit down” he would resist but the way you’re already two inches from him gently taking the baby from his grasp has him dizzy, so he takes a seat, he watches as you place the babies head on your shoulder holding around his back, patting his bum in a steady rhythm that has the baby soothed and falling asleep in a matter of minutes, “see, just exhausted” you give Ross a soft smile and join him sitting on the sofa next to him, “how the hell did you do that” he shakes his head laughing in disbelief “lots of practice, I have lots of nieces and nephews” you continue to sooth down the babies back as you settle down and get comfy on the sofa.

“So it’s nice to finally meet you” you smile staring across at the brunette who looks slightly more relaxed now. “Adam and Carls talk about me too? I hope you haven’t heard anything bad!” He winks at you, and you swear you feel a swarm of butterflies erupting through your stomach. “Nothing bad about you, Matty on the other hand…” you trail off as the baby stirs slightly, but you lull him back into his slumber by shushing and rocking him, Ross can’t help but admire you. “I really don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t have shown up here, maybe started crying myself” he speaks in hushed tones and lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t be silly, you would been fine, he would have tired himself out anyway, it’s just stressful to listen to when they’re in that mood and nothing you’ve tried is working” you place your free hand on top of his, gliding your thumb across the knuckles, you couldn’t help yourself, you almost felt drawn to him. He looks down at the your hand and smiles, turning his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze, a sort of silent gratitude. The two of you being too comfortable to take your hands away so you just left them there and chatted for at least an hour and a half while baby Hann slept soundly on the comforts of your chest. You got to know the ins and outs of each other feeling as if you had known one another for years. You hadn’t noticed Ross shuffling closer to you, or more so you didn’t mind as he slipped an arm around your shoulder so the three of you were close while you spoke in hushed tones, and you definitely didn’t hear the front door clicking open, and the quiet footsteps of your friends coming home to greet their baby, when they stubbles in on a sight and a half. Their best friends huddled up on their sofa whilst their baby slept safely between the pair, the two of them giggling at something the other had said, a squeeze of the shoulder, a pat on the thigh, their faces were close, it was everything Adam and Carly had hoped for when they wanted them to meet. The sight being almost too cute break, but sadly Carly had mummy fever, and had to see her baby. “Well, well, well… what’s going on here then?!”

And at the sound of his mothers voice, and frankly saved by the bell, baby Hann awakens and emits his cries for his mother and hunger. Saving you an explanation, for now. The two of you clear your throats as you struggle to separate from each other, Adam finding the scene particularly humorous to watch. You had the baby over to Carly who coos at the baby calming him instantly making Ross shake his head in confusion, “I told you Ross, he’s a ladies man” Adam chuckles walking over to his friend and patting him on the back, judging by the fact that his hair was falling all over the place and you were the one holding the baby that Ross had been struggling. “Honestly mate, that was the hardest babysitting gig of my life, if Y/n hadn’t of shown up, me and jr would have been joining you at dinner”

You laugh and sigh shaking your head “you weren’t doing that bad, you just needed to pat, not bounce” you wink at him this time and you watch as his mouth falls agape. Adam pats his friends back in sympathy but laughs all the same. “Well, I guess I better get my purse and get going, it was lovely to see you guys, and nice to meet you Ross… finally” you say the last word pointedly to him directly, grabbing your things giving Carly a quick hug and kiss before heading down the hallway. You hear your name being called just as you reach the front door so you turn and see Ross taking long strides towards you.

“Hey y/n, um this may be strange as we only met today, but I was wondering if I could take you out sometime?” You can’t help the raging smile that appears on your face making your cheeks ache, you nod instantly “yeah, yes that would be nice” Ross leans down to give you a hug and you hear a muffled “yes! I knew it would work!” From Adam in the living room making you chuckle and nuzzle your face closer into Ross’s warm and welcoming chest.

[cup1dt3a]

Well, I had an idea for you to do. The reader is a streamer who enters the Welcome website and, together with the live people, gets to know this Welcome and Yan! Wally... Well, how would Wally react to that? And as time goes by wally falls in love with the reader, how would he see the reader's fans and his job of doing live, playing games, watching videos?

-🐰

Tysm for the request! I love this idea I don’t think I’ve seen anyone do it yet but I could be wrong too! Hope you’re doing well or that things get better 🐰!

this hasn’t been spelll checked so sorry for any errors in my writing!

“Hello everyone and welcome back or to my stream! Today I’m looking at this website called “ Welcome Home.” You greeted explaining the website you found while starting your stream.

You’ve been a streamer for a few weeks, but you’ve managed to gain a lot of popularity due to keeping up with the popular topics of the months. And out of nowhere you had found the website “ Welcome Home”. You don’t know how or why it just one day popped up in one of your emails probably from some fan of yours wanting you to review it. Strangest thing about the email was how nothing was said about the website and the email even seemed to be sketchy, but curiosity got the best of you.

So without thinking or whatever had possessed you made you click on the website. For a second the bright colors and themes of the website blinded you as your eyes tried to adjust to it. The bright colors and theme of the website amazed you. As you looked further into it the website explained it was an abandoned puppet studio they had found. And wanted to revive or find out more about the old show that seemed to have been wiped from history.

You’ve heard a few things about the website and it’s fast rise to popularity so it would probably do you some good to check it out. What’s a little curiosity going to hurt?

” There’s glitches in the website?” You questioned as people flooded your comments with all the glitches in the game.

You decided to check them out after previewing the characters information about them. Though one character in particular caught your eye. Wally Darling he was the only character who ever made eye contact with the viewer. Especially in official art or any on the website his large black eyes almost followed you around in a way. It was creepy, but you guessed that might have just been something the maker of the website did.

Little did you know it wasn’t. As the lively black eyes followed you are still peering into your own eyes. Even peaking onto your stream. As you chatted to your so called “chat” about the website.

“ Hello and welcome to or back to my stream!” You said doing your usual intro for your stream.

“ Sorry if the quality is bad! I’ve been having some trouble with my computer, but that won’t stop me.” You announced.

Ever since you went onto the welcome home website you’ve been having technical difficulties with your computer. You’ve rebooted it twice, brought it to someone for repairs, and after all that you were told nothings wrong with it. Now here’s the oddest thing today as you streamed your graphics and everything was fine. No buggs or anything it was fine. Acting as if there wasn’t anything wrong with it for the last week!

“ Well I’ll just end the stream here. Thank you all watching!” You said as you finally ended the stream.

Sighing out you looked at your now glitching computer. You brought your lips to a pout still thinking of what possible way your computer would be fine. How could it be fine if it’s doing this? And what’s with the eyes that would always pop up randomly. The eyes seemed so familiar in a way too. Were you being hacked? This was just starting to get ridiculous. Who and what is doing this shit?!

Your ‘streams’ as you called them were always so interesting. He’s never really seen anything like this and you even do it for a living? A very fun job in his opinion! To just info dump, review, and give your own input on whatever you were doing sounded like a dream.

As you talked he couldn’t help but become mesmerized with your voice. It was just so addictive to just watch you all day doing your streams without a care in the world. Especially as his dark eyes watched your face contort into so many different emotions. Whether it be anger, sadness, disgust, or even adoration all of them looked so beautiful on your beautiful face. He looked forward to watching you ever day. In a way you could say he was your number one fan because he was always the first one to watch your streams every day.

But once they ended he still had front row seats to his next favorite stream. What you did when the camera was off. This was when you didn’t put on your little persona for the camera and everything was just artificially you. He loved this part of you the most. Even if you didn’t know he was there he always was watching you. You were all his thoughts had clouded over with. A fog of nothing but your sweet face saying his name in admiration just as he hoped to someday say to you.

Oh, how he just yearned to be with you! But not yet, no it’s not time. Not yet…

Tysm for reading this hope you’re alll doing well or that things are getting better!

sincerely- Cup1dT3a💖

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 16

Not the Love Actually India footage! https://archiveofourown.org/works/40600110/chapters/101720886 by @inspiteallthedanger is a favorite I should revisit after this painful day.

“Yes, what Were we doing?” Literally, why did you start this conversation, Paul? What did you think John and George were going to do? Just let you have your little casual chat about the footage? Come on, you know them better than that. “In your room?” “Yeah, right. I remember, yeah.” You set yourself up for this, babe. 

I would LOVE to know the real context for John’s mic-job. Because yes, that is real. He really did do that while staring like That at Paul. But it wasn’t after he said, “I don’t regret anything. Ever.” What was the real moment where John decided that was his move? And did Paul really just keep talking right over all of that? Beatles tumblr deserves access to all that footage just for all the obsessing we do. 

It is noteworthy, certainly, that we know for a fact that a good chunk of John’s India footage is just Paul, but in how much of that footage, I wonder, is Paul also focused on John?

We all know Paul approves, but why did we have to use valuable time to show monkey sex? I did not need to see that. 

“I have all the tapes, too.” Those laughs. You guys aren’t as sneaky as you think you are. Also, @ Lennon estate you won't release the tapes. Chickens.

George is just SO sick of their shit. “Because that was the purpose of going there was to try and find who yourself is.” AKA ‘I took your dumb asses on this beautiful spiritual retreat and you had to make it about your stupid psychosexual obsession just like you do with everything else.’ “And if you were really yourself, you wouldn’t be any of who we are now.” AKA ‘if you two would stop fucking hiding, we – me and Ringo too, you’ve dragged us down with you – wouldn’t be in this hellish mess.’ And here’s the thing. He’s pissed off. And rightly so. But he’s still going along with their veils and secrecy. A callback to his strumming over Paul ranting at him. He’ll still protect them even when he fundamentally disagrees. George is such a beautiful person and so underrated by people like me.

 Paul’s appreciative little look as John finally ends the difficult conversation. 

"Bye, Bye Love” is DEFINITELY *meaningful*

John calling Two of Us “Four of Us” is so sweet. Like saying to George and Ringo, “You are important too. Just because we don’t have weird thoughts about your physical adjacency to Elvis Presley, doesn't mean we don’t love you.” 

I think John’s willingness to be taught is also an underrated leadership quality of his. All the old men obsessed with Leader Lennon won’t acknowledge it, but that’s what it is. It’s humility and a recognition of other’s strength and it’s leadership.

Literally everyone else: Just don’t look and it’ll go away. John: what? Don’t look at Paul? I don’t know how to do that.

George and Ringo honestly had the patience of saints to just sit there and play through Two of Us eight million times so John and Paul could do their little accents and silly voices.

And then John can also do the traditional leadership, too. “Start again, ey. Shh, don’t talk when he’s playing there, gang.” And really, he’s the best of the four for that job by far.But it’s far from acerbic or cutting. Get Back John is certainly almost undiluted Lovely John. 

Quick reminder to anyone who may have forgotten: those boots George is wearing are literally Paul’s hand-me-downs. Earlier on the nagra reels, George was describing a kind of boots he’d like a pair of and Paul was like “I’ve got some you could have.”  Permanent baby brother status. 

“That’s a good idea, John.” “Yeah, well I’m full of ideas like that, I’m famous for ‘em. Literary Beatle, you know.” Puhlease. I know fics with more realistic dialogue.

“The things that’ve worked out best for us haven’t really been planned any more than this has, it’s just. You know, you just go into something and it just does it itself.” Yeah, George. Because of Brian. 

Paul really wants to do a big Thing at the end, because he loves performing, yeah. But what’s this about John and Yoko’s black bag? Does he think that performing together will remind John that being a Beatle with Paul is what he loves? Or does he just want closure before everything falls apart?

He really does hate to see him upset, doesn’t he. Like, I think he does a lot of things purposely to get a reaction out of Paul. And sometimes he needs to see him hurt to know he even cares. But from the way he’s watching Paul chewing his nails and rocking, you’d think Paul’s worries affected John physically. And then he breaks into “I Lost My Little Girl” almost as a sort of knee-jerk comfort instinct.  

These two shots are comedic gold.

My cabaret boys again. Heck, maybe I’ll write it just for myself. Honestly though I love that the two Beatles who loved performing and who would’ve been performers in any life (would’ve been performing circus elephants if they’d been reincarnated as animals) got to continue doing it into their eighties. One of the few happinesses in the end of the Beatles.

Get Back really is such a great character study, though. George hands John a drink. John takes it without looking at George, let alone the drink, and gulps. George hands Paul a drink. Paul smiles at him, then proceeds to sniff it and swirl it and inspect it like it might be poison before he gives it a taste. 

John chewing the mic. I hope you didn’t do That to Paul’s dick in India. What if that’s all that happened?

Bitching and gossiping: top requirements in the job description for John Lennon’s Codependent Special Person.

In these last few minutes of the day, I’m relating more and more to George. I’m sick of John and Paul and all their drama and stupidity. John suggests they write another verse of Let it Be together, and Paul looks frankly horrified at the idea.

So John lays his head in Yoko’s lap, reminding me painfully of that “ . . . except you can go to bed with it and it can pet your head without . . .” quote.

And then a few minutes later, Paul’s spiraling again and asks to go home to which John responds with a tease. “I’m just tryna get the group working, you know,” and “You’re gonna have to be strict, Paul.” And it’s just dizzying and frustrating at this point. Where are they possibly going to go at this rate?

[holybatgirlz]

Had to do another response to bridgertonbabe’s spouses groupchat

(All credit goes to @bridgertonbabe)

—

🐝 The Children Group Chat 🐝

Eloise sent a picture.

Eloise: I think we should submit this to Merriam-Webster to put in the dictionary next to the word ‘heavenly’ because holy shit what happened last night was the closest I have ever had to a religious experience.

Eloise: And yes, I already created and bought matching sweatshirts with this image on it for everyone. They say ‘I survived the Pictionary Incident of ‘16’ on them.

Hyacinth: I swear to god if you two idiots scared Sophie off I’m going to finish what she started.

Anthony: Do I have to remind everyone that both Colin and myself were assaulted last night?? Or did you not see the photo Eloise just sent??

Violet: Do I need to remind you both that you purposefully dropped a keg on your brother’s hand?!?

Colin: Mini. It was a mini keg.

Colin: We’re not stupid enough to drop an actual keg on Benedict.

Violet: Well, you could have fooled me.

Violet: The doctor told me your poor brother broke two fingers and was a millimeter away from needing to have surgery on his hand. And in his dominant hand no less.

Violet: Do you have any idea how this is going to impact your brother? His painting? His upcoming gallery showing? He still has three paintings he needs to finish before next month and I have no idea how he’s going to complete them now that you two have gone and done this to him.

Colin: Yes, yes mother. We know. Benedict’s your precious little baby. Heaven forbid he do anything wrong. Like yelling at his girlfriend because she nearly made him lose Pictionary.

Colin: A girlfriend who, I would like the record to reflect, slapped me.

Anthony: Sophie also gave me a black eye. Kate has spent all of this morning laughing at me every time I walk into a room and she sees it so I think we’re even.

Violet sent a picture.

Violet sent a picture.

Violet: What did you not understand about almost needing surgery? You practically shattered his hand!! You nearly destroyed your brother’s art career!

Hyacinth: If Sophie stops talking to me because of the shit you two bozos pulled omg I’m going to end you both.

Colin: I’m surprised the coke can you nearly hit her with didn’t already do that.

Daphne: Hey. We may have a situation happening.

Francesca: What’s wrong?

Violet: Is everything alright?

Daphne: Simon’s panic pacing in our living room right now and I heard him say something about Sophie. I’m trying to figure out what happened. Give me a second.

Daphne: Hold on.

Daphne: SOPHIE’S PLANNING TO BREAK UP WITH BEN!!

Francesca: What??

Eloise: Say sike Daphne. Say sike right now.

Gregory: Seriously??

Colin: Oh shit. For real?

Francesca: How do you know?

Daphne: Simon and Kate are texting with her right now. I only figured it out because Simon’s stutter comes back when he’s stressed and mutters to himself to stay calm.

Daphne: But Sophie’s said she’s going to break up with Ben when he wakes up because she thinks we all hate her!!

Violet: I need to get back to the hospital right now.

Hyacinth: YOU IDIOTS!!!

Hyacinth: I’M GOING TO KILL YOU BOTH!!

Colin: Gregory. Since I know u r with her. Scale of 1-10 how pissed is Hy right now?

Gregory: Hy right now:

Gregory sent a photo

Gregory sent a photo

Colin: Ah. 100 then.

Gregory: Yeah

Colin: Well it was nice knowing everyone

Anthony: Why on earth would she think we hate her?? You were all cheering her on when she was assaulting us.

Eloise: By far the hottest thing I've ever seen. I think watching her throw that punch rewired my brain chemistry. Watered my crops. Cleared my skin. Ended my depression. And helped me finish my graduate applications. I’ve never felt so alive.

Eloise: Fuck Wollstonecraft. Fuck Steinem. Fuck Atwood. Their works do not even compare to the straight prose Sophie was shooting last night while she was yelling at you two.

Eloise: And if we lose her now because you two idiots made her think we despise her I am going to HELP HYACINTH BURY YOUR BODIES!!!

Francesca: Mum, how close are you?

Violet: 30 minutes out. John is driving as fast as he legally can to get me back there.

Violet: I knew I shouldn’t have left her there alone. I knew something was off. She was far too quiet to have been okay with all of this.

Daphne: Do you need us to come meet you there?

Violet: No. The last thing we need to do is overwhelm her.

Violet: This is all my fault. I should never have picked Pictionary. I shouldn’t have even allowed a Game Night to begin with!

Violet: I forgot that I have wolves for children. That you all were swapped with changelings as babies.

Hyacinth: Why didn’t anyone stay with Sophie???

Eloise: Because she’s a grown woman who knows how to handle herself. She seemed fine last night.

Francesca: She seemed pretty overwhelmed to me. I found her crying in the bathroom after Benedict yelled at her.

Violet: She was crying?!!!

Francesca: I think she was just taken by surprise and she told me Danbury had called her earlier about the lawsuit with her stepmother so I thought she was probably already stressed before she arrived at the house last night. I told her Benedict didn’t mean any of it. And after the beat down she gave Colin and Anthony I thought she would be okay.

Hyacinth: Mum you need to get there!!

Violet: Sweetheart, I’m trying to get there as fast as I can.

Hyacinth: Omg Mum hurry up 😩😩😩 My sanity is on the line here.

Gregory: Anthony and Colin’s asses are literally on the line right now. Hyacinth might actually commit to killing them.

Hyacinth: I swear to God I’m going to actually lose it if Sophie leaves. We finally were about to have a cool in-law in the family and now you IDIOTS RUINED IT!!!

Gregory: We were almost able to say we had a felon in the family 😖😖😖

Daphne: Gregory. Sophie nearly going to jail is not something to strive for.

Francesca: She also isn’t a felon. She would have had to have been convicted for that to be true.

Hyacinth: Firstly, she was falsely accused and this has been a known fact for weeks now. Keep up. Secondly, and according to the police report, Sophie almost outran the cops and got away. Like they chased her seven blocks before they caught her. Full sprint the entire time. And then she elbowed one of them while they were arresting her so they nearly hit her with an assaulting police officer charge because of it.

Hyacinth: Thirdly, Ben said Sophie completely decked her stepmother once it was revealed that Armabitch lied about her stealing from her (which honestly should have been a heads up for tweedle dumb and tweedle dumbest not to FUCK with her)

Hyacinth: And FOURTHLY, she literally got broken out of jail by Mum and Ben because yours truly was smart enough to make sure her location sharing was on.

Hyacinth: She’s a literal icon of icons 😍😍😍

Daphne: Hyacinth, you never answered this the last time we asked. But did you hack Sophie’s phone?

Hyacinth: No

Hyacinth: I just made sure she was sharing her location with me while I was putting my number in her phone. That’s all.

Violet: Alright I’m back at the hospital.

Hyacinth: Mum you need to find Sophie! You need to stop her!

Violet: Oh I plan to. Not going to allow all my hard work to go to waste. I’ll text you once I’ve spoken to her.

Eloise: Are you two idiots happy with yourselves now??

Eloise: Was this worth dropping a keg on Benedict??

Colin: Again

Colin: Mini keg.

Colin: And right now, since I am currently praying to every God in existence to make sure Sophie and Benedict don’t break up, the answer is no.

Anthony: If she was bold enough to hit me in the face, then she was a perfect fit for this family.

Anthony: Mum, if you don’t stop her, tell me. I’ll come out there and speak to her myself.

Hyacinth: Anything?

Daphne: Oh my god this wait is killing me.

Francesca: Mum any updates yet?

Benedict sent a picture

Benedict: I lived.

Daphne: Benedict! Where’s Sophie? Is she with you?

Hyacinth: DO NOT LET HER LEAVE US!!!

Benedict: She here ❤️

Benedict: she finance

Eloise: ????

Benedict: Soap finance

Daphne: Benedict what are you trying to say

Eloise: What the hell does this mean???

Benedict: Soap

Benedict: Finance

Benedict: SOAP MY FINANCE

Benedict: soap finance

Benedict: Duck

Francesca: Benedict are you still high??

Benedict: No. Typing 1 hand. Hard

Eloise: I think we should all take that as he’s still high.

Benedict: Soap Bucket my finance

Gregory: This is some fucking DaVinci code level shit.

Francesca: Are you talking about Sophie??

Benedict: Yes

Benedict: Finance

Benedict: She finance

Francesca: She’s fine?

Eloise: What about Sophie’s finances??

Violet: Fiancée. He means fiancée.

Violet: Sophie and Benedict are engaged!! Well, technically, engaged. Sophie told him he has to propose again once the drugs wear off but I got here just in time to see Benedict asking her to marry him after he woke up and hearing Sophie tell him yes. We’ve all been celebrating. It was quite lovely 🥰🥰

Benedict: Mum cryin rite now.

Eloise: No doubt ecstatic she no longer needs to worry about you dying alone.

Colin: Oh thank Christ.

Gregory:

Francesca: 🥳🥳 Congratulations Benedict

Daphne: Congratulations!!

Hyacinth: This is literally the best news I could receive 😭😭😭

Benedict: Thank you ☺️

Benedict: V happy rite now.

Eloise: V high 2

Benedict sent a photo

Benedict: High on life 😌😌😌 On love 😍☺️🥰

Eloise: Omg 🤢🤮

Eloise: Freak

Eloise: No one asked to see your kissing selfies.

Violet: Benedict. Sweetheart. Since I apparently have to text you this as well. Put the phone down and go back to sleep.

Benedict: NO

Benedict: Engaged!

Benedict: Every1 celebrate me b engaged

Anthony: Congratulations brother.

Benedict: Asshole. Hat u. U no celebrate.

Benedict: Hate other asshole 2. Were Colin?

Colin: Hey Benedict. How’s your hand?

Benedict: Duck u

Benedict: Fuck u

Benedict: Hate u both so much rite now.

Colin: Listen. Ben. I’m really sorry for almost crushing your hand.

Benedict: Hand no long matter. U hurt Soap. I kill u.

Colin: She slapped me!

Benedict: Deserved. U deserved. Drop keg on me n face Soap wrath.

Benedict: God she was so hot 4 that.

Eloise: So hot

Benedict: So hot. My gf is so hot.

Benedict: Finance! She finance now.

Anthony: Benedict. Please tell Sophie how sorry we are for last night and that we are all incredibly happy for her. For both of you.

Anthony: You can also tell her she has an impressive right hook.

Anthony: …

Anthony: Benedict?

Anthony: Benedict are you there?

Violet: He’s not going to answer. Sophie finally took his phone away. But I’ll tell her.

Daphne: Everyone say thank you to Kate and Simon. They spent almost an hour trying to talk Sophie out of leaving Benedict while we were all freaking out.

Francesca: Do they know?

Daphne: I told Simon

Anthony: Kate knows

Gregory: Kate and Simon right now probably

Eloise: Anthony. How much did you just drop on ‘thank you for saving my ass’ jewelry for Kate?

Anthony: Fuck off.

Francesca: I texted Kate. She’s checking the bank account.

Francesca: About 5k by the looks of it. And he’s taking her to Paris.

Anthony: I hate all of you.

[b0nten]

HEY, MONA LISA, COME HOME

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ you know you can’t roam without caesar. hanma reacting to you drawing him.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ this is so cute. not a kanye fan but i couldn’t help quoting flashing lights. hope this is to your liking anon <3

“whaddup, baby?” hanma waltzes into the living room, casually, as always. he greets you with a smile, but it dissipates once you don’t answer. he stands there eyeing you, and he can’t help but wonder what it is that you’re so concentrated on.

your eyes scan the weasel, and you let a big sigh out. your hands find their way to your temples and start massaging small circles. you close your eyes and sigh again. when the ritual is complete, you get up to go into the kitchen, but when your view expands, you’re scared of how and when hanma got into your apartment in the first place.

“what the fuck!” you scream and take a step back, almost falling, “shuji! when did you get here?!” you question and he just bursts out laughing.

“i’ve been here for… like ten minutes?” he says sarcastically, mimicking looking at a watch, but it’s just his bare wrist.

“oh.. i’m so sorry i didn’t see you..” you apologize and get closer to him, falling into his embrace.

“what’s bothering you, shortcake?” he asks, eyes softening on you figure.

“oh, nothing, that damn weasel just isn’t holding the paint correctly. thought i should spare some money, got this piece of crap instead of my regular ones. now i gotta suffer.” you half-laugh, and so does he.

“well, i’m assuming you’d like to have a break, right?” he says, lifting the white nylon bag he’s been holding all this time in his hand. “guess what i got.”

“ice cream is just what i needed, thank you, shuji.” you kiss him to on the cheek and snatch away the bag, running into the kitchen.

“hey! leave some for me!” he shouts from behind, following you.

you eat your ice cream and chat a bit. it’s refreshing, and when you finally sit back down to confront the painting, you actually feel optimistic. picking up a brush and an enormous tube of white paint, you bring the canvas back to square one. ready to start anew.

“i’m just gonna sit here and read… this, that okay with you?” hanma asks and randomly picks up a book.

“are you sure you want to read ulysses? that shit’s tough.” you smile while asking. he flips the book around in his hand and shrugs.

“i’ll manage, i’m a big boy.”

you nod and continue brainstorming for ideas. you scan the room, close your eyes, sing a song in your head, but seemingly nothing seems to spark up any ideas. your glance drifts off to hanma, peacefully reading the book you had warned him about.

then, something in your head lights up and you grab the paints and start it.

half an hour, an hour, two, it had been just three when the valhalla leader decided he had enough of that bullshit. the words were too many and reading all pf that book was tiresome. he got up and started stretching. once he turned to you, he couldn’t not notice how deeply invested you were in that painting.

slowly creeping behind you as not to bother or disturb your work, he wondered what it could be that your were painting so passionately. once he saw it, his heart dropped, albeit in a good way.

there he was, sitting on your emerald sofa, manspreading, with the book in his hand. everything was down to a t, the kitchen behind you, the lights, even the colors of his clothes, not to mention his hair or facial expressions. you were working on what he thought was shading when he finally spoke up.

“you’d like to design a tattoo for me?”

you jump up, paintbrush flying into his face.

“shuji, babe, i’m so sorry!” you quickly snatch a wet wipe and clean his face, while continuing to apologize.

after maybe the tenth apology he takes your hand in his, chastely kissing it.

“i’m sorry for scaring you, baby.” he says, “but the offer’s serious. you’re crazy good, i look even hotter made out of oil paint.”

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

You guys, what the fuck is up with the increase in stealing and plagiarising in this fandom lately? When did that become a thing that was okay to do?

The first time I was flat out plagiarized was almost four years ago in a different fandom. A well known author in that fandom took the first paragraph of a short one shot, one of the first things I’d ever posted and that I was incredibly proud of, switched a few words, and then used it as the summary for their slightly longer fic. They then went on to steal the premise of my ficlet and just…make it longer. This was brought up in a discord server a friend of mine was in that I wasn’t and the general consensus was “who would believe you? You’re nobody.” So I kept my mouth shut and I deleted my fic because seeing it made me feel like shit. Something similar then happened to a friend of mine with the titles of her fics being stolen, flat out and word for word, for the same characters. And again it was “no one will believe you.”

We shut up. We stuck it out. And then when it kept happening, to us and to others, we left that fandom.

I was so, so excited when HotD aired. I was back in my ASOIAF phase that had never actually ended. It was a new opportunity to make friends with common interests and my writing improved so much because of how passionate about the canon material I was. I have made some of the most incredible friends, like life-long, stay up all night talking, come to my house or let’s hang out when you’re in my state/country kind of friends. It’s pretty amazing. But this fandom is a whole different beast than any other I’ve been involved with. I have no idea if it’s the general age of the fandom, or the lack of prior fandom experience, or what us old people call the “tiktokifcation of fandom.” But it’s different. And while that’s usually a good thing, there are so many times when this has been awful. There is a huge lack of accountability here. People are stealing things. And the weirdest part is, they don’t care! It is plagiarism to have someone else's story opened while you write yours so that you can tone match the other writer. It is plagiarism to take people’s well thought out ideas and then use them beat for beat. I get it, it’s fic, nothing is wholly original, we are going to see idea recycling! That’s just fandom. But to model your entire story off of someone else’s is heinous. And it’s wrong. And this literally just happened to a very good friend of mine. When she mentioned she was uncomfortable with it and had blocked the person who did this, someone she considered a level headed mutual (who has recently admitted to plagiarising someone else themselves, mind you) told her that she was just drama baiting and didn’t have the right to be upset. The same thing happened to me with a now deleted creator who told me that she dragged me in her discord server and that her friends (all big name creators would essentially “black list me” for saying anything).

It’s not dramatic to not be okay with your work being stolen! This is a normal fucking reaction. In trad publishing or academia, this shit gets you banned, expelled, etc. It can ruin your life.

I received a slew of anons recently asking for help with graphic making and editing. And I was so excited about them. That shit is fun for me. We chatted for a while, with them on anon, and that was that. Until I got an anon letting me know that the person I was talking with was someone who had stolen ideas and storylines from me and other creators. So I looked, I asked friends to look, and the consensus was “yeah, this is fucking plagiarism, and it’s weird.” All of the edit stuff she’d asked about was used on an edit that was a direct rip off of my own. But I elected to not make a thing of it, to ignore it, to wash my hands of it because of the weird fucking trend of calling out theivery being labeled as drama baiting. And I didn’t want that, not after I had genuinely made the mistake of thinking that someone had stolen an idea from me when they hadn’t (calm down, we’re really close friends now). This person deleted their old blog and so I thought it was over. And then yesterday I got a dm from this new blog I didn’t even know existed accusing me of sending them harassing anons.

A blog, who had stolen from me and at least four other people, who had reached out to me on anon for help and ideas, that at this point I didn’t even know existed anymore, said they knew I was sending hateful anons accusing them of theft. I wasn’t, of course, because I had no idea they even existed, and it made no sense that I would even know they’d created another blog. I only found out about their new blog when they dm’d me from it. But they had obviously done this to enough people that they were now getting called out on it.

You guys, we have to fucking stop acting like this. This fandom needs to stop stealing from each other and eating our own. And if someone brings up that they’ve had an idea stolen, we need to take them seriously instead of insinuating they’re only attempting to cause drama. Stop sending people unhinged anons because you feel like you’re guilty of lifting from another creator and just work on creating something original. Writing is hard. Giffing and making edits is fucking hard. And no, nothing will ever be 100% original, that’s just impossible at this point, but stop fucking taking things that aren’t yours and claming them as your own. Do better. Grow up.