#I want to be able to make plans and go out without conditions

[ocelotted]

within arm’s reach | kusanagi haku

In any other scenario, asking Haku to accompany you to your cousin’s wedding as your fake boyfriend would be a brilliant idea. He is perfect on paper and flawless on your arm, able to smile through anything and everything, an expert at not letting the inscrutable something that stays with him always seep through the cracks of whatever mask he has decided to employ. In any other scenario, it would be a faultless plan.  It’s too bad that in this one, you are very much in love with him. Complications ensue. 

relationship – kusanagi haku/f!reader

contains – fake dating, regular au?, shitty relatives (amen), pining, requited unrequited love, friends to lovers (well. partway there), trust issues, use of ‘princess’, angst without a happy ending (there is one in my mind for later but not in this one. sorry)

notes – the writing is Rough because this started out as a drabble and then… yeah. i kid you not i wrote this in a dream. do you know the story behind tartini’s the devil’s trill sonata? this is my version of that. i will never be free. i hope you enjoy

notes – 2.8k (free me)

“Honestly, when I imagined you asking me to be your boyfriend, I didn’t expect it to play out like this.” 

You inhale deeply and murmur a quick prayer for patience in the back of your mind. Haku smiles across from you, languid and unruffled and soft in the haze of your living room lights.

To be fair, you don’t know what else you were expecting. When you first received the wedding invitation in the mail, accompanied by a very passive-aggressive note from your aunt about how your life was going, you seriously contemplated seeking out the nearest paper shredder and moving on. You should’ve wanted nothing to do with them. You’ve known for a long time that any place they call you to has nothing for you but emptiness and sharp-edged memories that awaken the grasping, buried child sitting heavy in your chest. 

But then your eye had caught on the shiny ‘plus-ones allowed!’ printed across the glossy sheet, and the shadow of an idea had wormed its way into your head. Your relatives had been pestering you nonstop about settling down, after all. Would it have been so bad to finally relent? You had just the perfect candidate, after all – someone known for his easy smiles and airy words, who could undoubtedly navigate the cesspool of one of your family gatherings like it was second nature. 

That was how you ended up here: with one of your closest friends seated expectantly on your couch, a request hovering still in the air.

"Fake boyfriend, Haku. It’s a very important distinction.” You clasp your hands together. In all the years you’ve known him, Haku has always been good at pretending. It is an immutable fact, and right now, it is something you need. "Please? I’ll owe you."

"Come on, princess. Who do you think I am?" His eyes are glittering with amusement, and your heart is turning in your chest. He leans forward. "Don’t worry, I’ll tag along. But you better finally go on that date with me afterwards, alright?"

You sigh. "You’ll be able to drop the act once the wedding’s finished, you know."

You don’t give him a chance to reply (probably with another flirtation that’ll strike another tiny crack into the porcelain of your heart, or some age-old variant of it’s not an act, princess that makes you want to scream) before you’re rattling off conditions and venue details and all the necessary information about your extended family.

"You really thought this through, huh?" You glare at him halfheartedly. He huffs in surrender. "Okay, okay. I’ve got it. Take it easy."

You resist the urge to glower harder, and shove down the ache in your throat. “That’s what I thought.”

A month later, you show up to the venue with a racing heart and Haku on your arm, tall and beautiful and shrouded in something holy under the fairy lights. It's a Western-style ceremony; he's never been to one before, but he's easy as ever, just the right amount of charming, meeting every incessant question with a devastating smile. It's a funny story, really – we met a couple years ago, on the train. I knew she was something special the minute I saw her. Hm. You really think so? I was surprised no one had snatched her up yet, to be honest. If anything, I'm the lucky one.

He squeezes your hand throughout the evening, every time your smile goes taut when someone sighs about how they thought you'd be alone forever and can't believe such a handsome, charming boy would go for someone like you. You were always so reclusive, always so hesitant to let them all in, but they're glad you found someone, they really are! It's just so, so hard to believe – you can't really blame them, though, can you?

Oh! I think that's our cue. The snack bar's calling, I'm afraid. Haku flashes another disarming smile and his gaggle of admirers protest in unison before eventually stepping down. You're a little bit out of it, not quite yourself, not quite there (you have long learned that you cannot afford to be) but a familiar warmth around your shoulder and a song in your ear recalls you back to earth. "Let's go, princess."

You blink. The world swims in your peripherals, and then he is leading you through the crowd, deft and unwavering, past the snack bar and the dance floor and into a quiet, secluded area wreathed in shadow where the clamour is killed, just a little, and it's a fraction easier to breathe.

"You okay?"

Haku's eyes are soft, citrine flashing in the low light. You inhale and imagine letting the cut of them sear through the knots in your chest until rope tumbles to the floor.

"Yeah,” you mutter. Your hands twitch at your sides. You cannot fall apart - not here, not now. not ever. Not in front of him. "Sorry for dragging you out here. My family's..." you suck in a breath, something like a mirthless smile rising up behind your hand, "... not great company, I know."

Haku's still looking at you, a gentle, mending kind of gaze that makes you want to hide. "I had a feeling when you were telling me about them before, but I didn't think it'd be this bad."

You hum. "Yeah, well. Surprise."

You know he understands. Haku doesn't talk about his family much, but when he does he is cavalier about their love (or lack thereof), detached in a way you have tried to be your whole life. You cannot help but want; that is how you've always been. An immutable fact.

(Maybe that's why you asked him here in the first place, you think, idly. To taste what it is like, being held by someone who cares for you. To prove something to people who don't. To punish yourself for doing both.)

"We should head back,” you murmur, forcing yourself to meet his eyes and ignoring the version of yourself that rests in the black of them. "They're probably missing you out there."

He looks on the verge of protest, but there's a silent, screaming plea in the way you look at him, and a glint that says you are ready because you have to be. You smile, pained but real (as real as it can be, at least), and slip your trembling hand into his.

"Okay." He acquiesces. He knows there is no use fighting you right now. "If you're sure."

You are relieved when the mask slips back on. Despite what your heart says, it's easier to be with Haku when he is wearing one, and doubly so when you are, too. Confusion, grief, love, pain, understanding. None of it matters when you are shielded so.

The celebration is still in full swing when you emerge. As predicted, it takes less than ten seconds for another group of your relatives to swarm you two again. You fall into step beside him, laughing off every question and every remark in tandem, and when your shoes are beginning to hurt and the final small crowd disperses you both collapse onto a nearby sofa.

"I think you'll owe me a lot more than a date after this." Your name leaves his mouth on a soft sigh.

"Alright, alright." You let your head loll back to where his arm is wrapped around your shoulder. Familiar. You wonder how many people have seen him like this. "I'll take you to Happo-en when we've both recovered from tonight."

He raises a brow. "That's a pretty popular wedding spot, you know. You trying to tell me something?"

"Not one second of peace with you," you grumble, although your heart flips. "I don't think it's all that crowded, usually, and there's a nice koi pond."

A grin tugs at his lips. "You know me so well."

You laugh wryly, and turn your head as if you can ignore the gossamer thread of sincerity winding through his voice, the one that hurts you more than anything. Haku is good with easy flirtations and light remarks he can laugh off as second nature, but every now and then something more creeps through – quiet and shimmering, delicate the way light is when it dances across the water at dawn, so sacred and fragile that the prospect of holding it sends terror coursing through your veins. 

He knows this. No part of you escapes him, even the ones that want to more than anything, and yet—

“Can I kiss you?”

You don’t register it, at first. The words sink their teeth into you slowly, the same way water pulls away from the shore before a tsunami, exposing all your layers to the light. Amidst the music and the chatter, your eyes snap to him. He’s closer than you anticipated – gaze expectant, the line of his smile like cut grass, his namesake, like home.

With all reason stolen away by the sight, you can’t do anything but nod. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s slinging an arm around your waist and kissing you into the cushions. The rest of the world and everything you have ever been crumbles away under his touch. Lightning rushes up your spine; he’s warm and you’re pliant with the shock but somehow you manage to pour a little bit of yourself back into him, shoulders loosening for the first time that evening, letting a fantasy you thought you’d long crushed play out in a blur behind your eyes of a shared bed and spring streaming through the window and the honey-sweet taste of I love—

You feel significantly colder when he breaks away, something small and glinting tucked away into the line of his kiss-swollen mouth that you can’t quite bring yourself to decipher.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Your aunt’s been eyeing us all night. Thought it might’ve been good to give her a little show.”

Ah.

Your lips part in understanding (your heart cracks, just a little. Nothing you cannot mend). True to his word, she’s settled in the corner of your eye, eyes darting back to the two of you intermittently, mouth curled with disdain.

Of course. Haku is good at pretending, and the less foolish part of you remembers that he enjoys it, just a little, as well. Immutable facts.

You swallow down the burning and smile. 

“Good call.” Your voice comes out shockingly steady, as if your mouth isn’t still laced with the taste of him. “Think it worked?” 

Mirth flashes in his eyes. “Well, she’s definitely uncomfortable.”

You huff. “That’s enough for me.”

How very damning those words are. They are true, though, you think, once the rush dies down and all you're left with is the ghost of him soft on your lips. The swan wing curve of his neck settles into velvet plush and you know he is the only person who could ever break you like this, that you have never wanted anything the way you do him in all your years.

Deep down, the awareness looms: you could satisfy yourself if all you have one day is the memory of his smile pressed against yours, raw and heartrending. It could be enough, indeed.

He turns to you in the corner of your eye, something round and gentle ready on his tongue, and a part of you accepts that it will have to be.

"Well. Mission success."

Roughly four hours later, you and Haku are on the train back to your flat. His tie is loose around his collar, jacket folded over one arm, and your head is filled with cotton and a faint dream of finally getting out of your shoes. The Tokyo skyline cuts across the horizon; you think faintly of an autopsy incision, colours bleeding into the inky darkness of the bay. 

"Mission success," he echoes lightly. You can hear something weighing down his voice. Questions, no doubt, and worries you always knew would be dredged up in time. 

You heave a sigh.

“God, I’m tired,” you mumble, letting your head thunk against the window. A picture flashes through your mind of settling into his shoulder instead, breathing in the faint scent of petrichor that somehow clings to him wherever he goes. You bite back a curse and a memory at once. 

Haku lets out a hum. “We should be back at your place in twenty minutes, if you can avoid dozing off on me for that long.” 

You’re half-surprised that he hasn’t met you with some kind of teasing remark. A muted possibility flares at the base of your ribs — that he is more affected than you know, that maybe he saw something in you amidst the candlelight and crystal, that you could be substantial enough to change him in any way—

You’re being delusional.

“Will do,” you murmur, and when you focus on the chill of the windowpane seeping through your skin you imagine yourself being encased in resin, preserved in a final moment with Haku by your side. 

He calls you gently to attention when your stop arrives. You go through all the motions. He nudges you into tapping off first at the exit gate, walks on your right-hand side to tuck you into the quieter part of the sidewalk, and the two of you talk idly and stifle your laughs to not disturb any passerby and let the night wrap you up in its arms like a lover you will never have. Things are easy with Haku. You wouldn’t give that up for the world. 

You reach your door a couple minutes later, and are searching through your purse for your keys when his voice breaks the silence of the hall. 

“I meant it, you know.” 

You still. Heart dropping into the hollow of your stomach, you glance back, wary bemusement sharp on your features. The air has changed. 

“The kiss.” He’s gazing at you, deliberate and earnest, and in spite of it all you are spellbound. “It wasn’t because your aunt was looking. I wanted to kiss you. I have for a long time.” 

Cold metal digs into your fingertips. You draw out your keys, pressing the ridges of them into the flesh of your palms as if believing that the pain will rouse you from this — the sweetest dream and very worst nightmare you could ever conjure up. 

“Don’t joke about that, Haku.” You blink rapidly, vision blurring, the burn of your eyes like flames licking at your ribcage because he knows you hate this game and you don’t know what you’d do with yourself if he knew how you feel about him, too. Your tongue is whetted sharp, unable to measure out your words before they’re spilling over your scalded lips. “Don’t— don’t take pity on me.”

“Do you really think I’d joke about something like this?” 

The fragment of hurt glinting at the edge of his voice guts you open, undulled by the softness in his eyes. A traitorous part of you, one you thought you killed, thinks that this was always waiting to happen. It just didn’t expect it to come so soon. “I love you. Just– let me.” 

“Stop.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and feel his breathing still in the lamplit air. “Please.” Your voice cracks; you fumble for the keyhole with shaking hands. “If you’re saying this to make me feel better, I–”

“Is that what you think’s going on here?”

“This wasn’t what I wanted.” 

When you’d asked Haku to join you at the wedding, you thought you’d have a fantasy at best: one where you were different, where you didn’t have to dismiss his advances, where you might’ve been able to melt into his side donning the armour offered by an act after an eternity spent warding him off. All you wanted was a night where you weren’t who you had always been – to your family, to Haku, to yourself.

You’re standing here now, falling apart at the seams in front of your home, and oh, how ironic that turned out to be. You have never been more yourself than you are right now – ruined and breaking and alone, alone, alone. 

“What will it take for you to believe me?” He asks, quietly. 

The lock clicks.

“I don’t know.” 

It is the worst thing you could say to him. In some ways you are glad for it. You remind yourself that he has to be, too. Why else would he bring this up now – right at your door, after all the laughter, the holding, all the pretending you are so familiar with? He can’t expect you to believe him. If you force yourself past the walls of your heart, this is a reckless decision made in the afterglow of something brilliant, of which you are wholly undeserving; not a lie, but a mistake – pure and simple.

I love you. Just let me. He knows you well enough to know that you can’t.

“Thank you for tonight, Haku,” you murmur. “Get home safely.”

You step over the threshold, darkness and cold air piercing your flesh. 

He doesn’t follow you.

thank you for reading and my sincerest apologies if you're here :) this idea appeared to me in a dream. i wrote this down in a dream and woke up in a cold sweat with fake dating haku running circles in my mind. i truly wish i was lying. anyways i had to get this all out before i forgot so!! i hope you enjoyed (?) and have a wonderful 24 hours !!

[bunnis-monsters]

Spread

Male!Zombie x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 9th

Oct 8th

Oct 10th

summary: you’ve barely been surviving with your childhood friend during the zombie apocalypse, so when he gets bitten you’re ready to die along with him. But instead of eating you, he fights the urge to spread his virus… and instead pins you down and spreads his seed.

warning: dubcon, breeding, very rough sex, pregnancy hinted at the end

Human beings are social creatures. Living alone for too long can drive one insane, so you would imagine losing the last person you loved during a zombie apocalypse can really break your spirit.

It had been a normal scavenging trip. Lately the zombies had become slower and rotted faster due to the summer heat, so it made moving through town without harm a lot easier.

It was unfortunate though, the zombies trapped indoors were in much better condition than those exposed to the elements. This wasn’t something you had planned for, and it cost your friend his life.

The two of you had been searching through a grocery store, one that had been surrounded by zombies before. Now, only a few skeletal bodies remained outside the doors.

You knew you probably wouldn’t find much, but you both hoped for at least a few canned goods and powder milk…

While searching the store, you were suddenly shoved, a sickening crunch heard behind you.

“Go, run!”

You watched as your friend held off a zombie, his arm being bitten…

“No…”

Tears welled up in your eyes, your mind filled with images of life without him. You wouldn’t make it, you’d surely lose your mind with loneliness and go insane!

He was able to fight the zombie off and bash its head in, panting from the stress. All that movement caused his blood to pump faster and the virus to spread before he could yell for you to run again.

His mind felt fuzzy, his heart slowing before stopping completely. His limbs kept moving without his control, and he was approaching you, shambling.

‘Why isn’t she moving?’

He was stuck inside of his body, unable to do anything as he pinned you down. Tears were running down your chubby cheeks, and he could barely make out what you were saying…

“I won’t leave you! I don’t want… to be all alone!”

Drool fell from his dry lips, his pupils dilated as he stared down at you. Was there nothing he could do?

Memories played through his head, everything moving slowly as if he was pushing through something gelatinous.

He could picture you in your school uniform, the two of you skipping class to hang out at the arcade. He watched as you sobbed into his chest after discovering your parents were dead, and how you weakly pushed him back when he tried to kiss you a week ago.

Although he was now undead, his entire being ached for you. Since you were kids, you had always been someone he cared for, adored to no end. You held his hand, smiled at him, made his days so much brighter.

Of course he would push you out of the way when a zombie threatened to take your life… to take you away from him.

He loved you… and that was just enough for him to hold himself back from sinking his jaws into your soft flesh.

A low growl escaped his lips as he buried his face into your throat. He needed to do something, the urge to spread the virus and infect you was pulsing through his veins…

It’s when you whimpered that he regained some control. His body no longer had control of itself, so the erection he’d been barely holding back every time he smelled your sweet scent was pressing into your crotch.

“Please… don’t go… I don’t wanna… lose you…”

You were crying, his sweet girl that tried your best to keep a smile on your face even at the toughest of times was crying.

And it made him almost… feral.

He snapped his jaws around the strap of your backpack, needing to bite down on something as he rubbed his bulge against you. He was humping you like a horny mutt, the veins in his face visible through his now pale skin.

“M…m…ine���” he growled, struggling to get the word out.

Hearing your soft whines and embarrassed moans made his chest rumble with some strange, satisfied purr, and his fingers were down your pants and in your panties, fumbling around with your pussy lips before sinking into cunt.

It wasn’t great, he could barely control the speed and way his fingers moved, but you were wet enough that he felt he fuck you without hurting the most precious person in his life.

Or well, death.

He ripped your pants off, not having the mobility to elegantly pull them down. Part of him felt bad, he knew you didn’t have many pairs now that the world ended, but this was a matter of life or death.

His cock was now large and swollen, a purplish tint to it. His engorged tip pressed against your tight hole, and he was unable to hold himself back from fucking into you.

For years he had fantasized about taking your virginity. In his head, he had imagined it would be somewhere romantic and he’d kiss your head, being as gentle as he could be.

But in reality he was rough, groaning as his hips jerked forward into yours. The pace was uneven, leaving you whimpering out and begging for him to be more gentle.

He wanted to be, god he wished this could feel as good to you as it did for him, but the virus was telling him to breed, to fill you up until you were close to bursting with his cum.

It lasted so long, too long. By the end you were a mess of tears and snot, your face flushed with embarrassment after orgasming so much.

But part of you was happy. Your friend seemed a bit more lucid after pumping you full of his hot and sticky load. His fingers awkwardly traced over your bulging, chubby belly, his head resting on your chest.

You didn’t go home alone that night… instead you still had your friend, and another member of the family along the way in your belly.

You’d do anything to keep him with you, after all… he did care for you, didn’t he? The two of you had been friends since you could remember… and if having to sit through a few hours of rough sex meant you could keep him by your side, then you’d do it.

Humans are social creatures after all.

If you want more, send me a Kofi! I really like this concept and would love to expand on it with my thoughts on how the relationship would progress :3

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

[traveler-at-heart]

Sharing is caring

Summary: Natasha doesn't like to share.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

A/N: Thank you to @jujuu23 for reading this before I posted :)

Natasha wanted to have a good day.

But then recruits were stupid, Steve was being annoying about paperwork. And now, this.

Her favorite mug. Gone.

“Did you do this?” is the first thing she says to Sam as he enters the kitchen.

“No, I like the idea of keeping all my fingers”

And precisely then, you walk in.

Newest addition to the team, top of your SHIELD class, expert in weapons, languages and the most delicious desserts. Steve had to enforce a rigurous meal plan when even Bucky gained a good five pounds.

Natasha likes your easy smile, beautiful eyes, and those full lips that can be both alluring and mysterious.

That perfect mouth that is now sipping from none other than Natasha’s mug.

Sam crosses his arms, expecting the Russian to say something. But she stays glued to her spot.

As you enter the room, you feel two sets of eyes on you. The attention makes you falter, but you push through. There’s no place for shyness when you’re an Avenger.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Real nice” Sam says, and you nod, considering if it’s a good idea to address Natasha directly. You still haven’t quiet figured her out. 

“Do I have something on my face? You’re staring”

“No” Natasha rushes to say, before Sam can tell you that you’re holding her mug, the one that made her rip Barnes’ arm off when she saw him using it.  

“You sure? Dirt? Chocolate?”

“Your face is perfect” she hurries to say, and Sam has to cough to hide his laughter 

“Smooth, Romanoff”

“Ok, then. I made coffee and added a little nutmeg. Wanna try it?”

You offer her your mug and she takes it, smiling. 

“This is really good!”

“Finish it. I have to train. I don’t mind sharing” you wink at her, and Natasha has to keep from smiling. She doesn’t like new people knowing she can go soft.

“Can I have some?” Sam steps in.

“No” Natasha cuts him off and you laugh, waving goodbye. 

—

Heroes can save the day, but forget to bring out an extra chair when doing mission debriefings. 

This is the first time the entire team has been on a mission together since you joined, and now the conference room is crowded. There’s no place to sit, except for a small sofa in the back of the room.

That’s where Natasha usually sits, because it gives her a view of everyone. She can read their expressions, guess what they think, take that information to asses what needs to be refined in their team dynamic. 

Right now, though, she’s one of the last people in. The minute she looks at her spot, she sees you, leaning against the sofa, your hand discreetly holding your side.

“Rookie, you’re in Red’s spot” Tony says, walkign right after Natasha. 

She shoots him a murderous glare, but all you do is laugh, trying to stand up without anyone noticing you’re injured.

But Natasha notices.

“We can both sit here” she rushes to say, and you nod, knowing your voice would be strained if you thanked her out loud.

Mission debriefing goes by in a blur, your breathing heavy. 

Natasha is ready to tell Steve to can it, but Tony steps in, and everyone leaves the room.

Everyone except you. 

Natasha can’t leave either, worried about your condition.

“It’s nothing major” you say, knowing why she’s still sitting next to you.

“What is?” she tries to play dumb, but that makes you laugh. You wince after a second, though. “You should go to the Medbay”

“Cracked ribs, that’s all. The doctors won’t be able to fix that either way” you smile at her, but make no effort to move. Natasha stays put too, and you know she’s patient enough to wait it out. “Fine. I’m going”

You expect Natasha to leave for her room once you promise to get checked out. But instead, she follows you.

“Just in case you need something”

The doctors confirm what you already know. Rest, painkillers, no training for a couple of days. What you had missed were a couple of cuts, since you didn’t even change out of your suit until now. A nurse cleans them up and patches you up, but you’re left in nothing but a tank top and your tactical pants. 

Why is the Medbay so damn cold?

When you open the door, Natasha is already waiting, a hoodie in her hands.

“I’ve told them to fix the damn AC a thousand times” is all she says, and you smile, grateful. You struggle when you have to slide the hoodie down your body, and Natasha’s hands are quick to pull the fabric down gently.

“Thank you, Nat”

“Come on, you need your rest” 

Walking back to the living quarters, you can’t help but wonder if she’s being nice out of pity or something else. Whatever it is, you just hope she doesn’t see you as the rookie that screws up during their first group mission.

“You know where to find me, if you need anything” 

You nod, waiting until she walks into her own room to get inside.

The first thing you do in the privacy of your room is enjoy the fact her hoodie is soft, and smells just like Natasha.

You might not give it back to her.

—

Tony’s idea of a party is shut down the next morning. You can guess that Steve is aware of your injuries, as the doctors are required to submit a report.

Still, Stark insists on some team bonding activity and by a miracle, Natasha gets him to agree to movie night.

That’s how you end up in the entertainment room. There’s popcorn, soda, pizza and chocolate. 

Once again, and unbenknowst to you, you end up sitting on the couch Natasha takes up for herself.

“Hey” she walks up to you, vaguely aware that the rest of the team is waiting to see if Natasha asks you to move. “Mind if we share?”

“Not at all!” you say, moving to the side so she can sit. It’s hard to pretend you’re not excited about Natasha’s request. 

Considering she’s always keeping her distance, sharing the couch during movie night seems like a big deal.

“Everyone settled?” Tony asks, his gaze lingering on you two. Natasha glares, so he turns around and starts the movie.

After a couple of minutes, you reach forward to open the pack of M&M’s that no one seems to want. You can’t help the laugh when Natasha reaches for them at the same time.

“We can share these too” you say, handing them to her.

Natasha is trying to pay attention to the movie, but you’re shifting in the couch, sometimes your knee brushing against hers. 

“You’re not eating the green ones” she notices, leaning close to you to not interrupt the movie.

“Oh, shit” you laugh, somehow sensing that Natasha wants to know why. “My brother and I would agree to leave those for last, and then split them. Stupid”

“Wouldn’t want to mess with tradition” she says, separating them. You watch her, holding back a smile.

—

“Y/N’s all packed up and ready to go, right?” Steve says, reading over a file. 

“Yeah, she walked by like five minutes ago. Medics gave clearance” Sam says. “It’s just a recon mission, either way”

They’re going back to reviewing the team’s schedule when Natasha sprints past them.

“Yo, what’s going on?” Sam says, hoping there’s no threat to deal with. Steve is about to walk out as well, when he hears Natasha’s words.

“I’m going with Y/N! How could you be so irresponsible to send her away when she just recovered?”

Captain Rogers decides to hide behind the door, Natasha’s anger making him feel small.

“Alright, have a good one” Sam gives her a thumb up, and the redhead just rolls her eyes. He sighs, going back inside.

Steve stays silent for a second.

“The safe house only has one bed” he says, considering if it’s worth telling Natasha that. "Should we tell her?"

“No, thank you”

—

Recon missions suck. 

There, you said it. Unfortunately, those are the most frequent ones for you, as the newest member of the team and being practically unknown to the general population.

You’re walking to your car, hoping the mission can be done quickly. It’s a day and a half and being alone makes it specially boring. As soon as you open the driver’s door, you find Natasha sitting, smiling up at you.

“Jeez! What are you doing here?”

“Backup. Cap asked me to come last minute” 

“Oh” you get quiet, nodding.

Natasha tries to stay neutral when she notices how your face falls. Did she read into the situation? A part of her thought you liked being around her.

Either way, she can’t back out now. Once you’re settled in the car, Natasha drives out of the Compound, to the small office you’re meant to infiltrate.

“Is… did…?” you mumble a couple of times. Natasha keeps a poker face, waiting for you to speak again. With a sigh, you finally let it out. “Did Steve send you to babysit me? He thinks I screwed up because I got injured, doesn’t he?”

“No, it’s nothing like that” Natasha says, mentally kicking herself for rushing to join you. She didn’t even consider your feelings, too eager to spend time together. “I just didn’t like the idea of you going alone”

“Oh” you say again, this time blushing. Natasha can sense something shifts from your tone alone, so she turns to look at you. Your eyes meet hers and you smile. “Yeah, I was actually thinking how boring it was going to be. So, I’m glad you tagged along” 

“I’m glad too” she says, trying not to smile.

“Let’s see if you keep saying that after I put on my roadtrip playlist”

“Bring it”

Natasha tries to enjoy the songs, though she’ll never tell you that pop music isn’t really her thing. What she does enjoy are the gummies you offer. In your words, road snacks are key to the trip.

As you park close to the safe house, you leave your bag in the living room and then go down to around the corner, checking you have everything you need in your jacket pockets. 

“Wanna go over the plan?” Natasha says, trying to keep calm. It’s just a recon mission. You’ll be fine.

“Bug the conference room for the meeting happening tomorrow. Hack into Russo’s computer and download everything. In and out, easy peasy” 

Natasha nods, and you wink at her.

“If I finish in under 10 minutes you buy me dinner”

“Deal” Natasha says, and she wishes she could tell you she’ll buy you dinner no matter what happens.

You finally go, walking up to the building, strolling casually. As you’re about to reach the doors, a man leaves the office and you snatch his ID to get past the gates.

That’s the easy part. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of people in the hallways still, and the office you’re supposed to infiltrate is at the end of the long corridor.

The conference room should be close to the elevator, so you decide to take a look around. As you approach, you hear voices inside.

It will be difficult to bug a room with other people in it.

Looking around, aware that you’ll be suspicious if you just stand there, you think of a way out.

And then you spot the distraction you need.

Well, whatever it takes to get the mission done.

—

Natasha finds a cafeteria that is across the office, and she gets to sit by the window, looking out as you skilfully snatch the ID from someone who’s leaving.

Standard time for a mission like that should be under fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, the man whose ID you stole is coming back exactly five minutes later. 

Natasha’s not sure if he forgot something, or if he noticed he was missing his ID and decided to return for it. The fact of the matter is that if someone notices you used it to get inside, you’ll be in trouble.

She suddenly wishes you had a comm with you so she could help out. Hell, if the man keeps talking to security, Natasha will find a way to make a scene and distract them long enough to get you out.

Just as she’s about to stand up, one of the cleaning staff walks out and hands over the ID. Did you notice what happened and dropped it? Were you still inside? You didn’t need the ID to exit the building, but still.

The man takes his ID, and walks back inside. 

It’s been nine minutes. Natasha will give you five more before she intervenes.

She’s so focused on looking out the window that she misses the moment you step inside the restaurant, and sit in front of her.

“What…? “ the redhead does a doble take, and you take great pride in that.

“Janitor’s closet, grabbed one of their uniforms. Nobody questions cleaning staff”

You pass her the USB, smiling at her shocked expression.

“And you gave him back his ID, as if you weren’t the one who took it”

“All under ten minutes. You know what that means?”

“Of course. Let’s check the menu” Natasha says, smiling at you.

After ordering a couple of cheeseburgers, you read over the desserts.

“We could share a brownie” you say, holding back a smile. You’ve noticed Natasha has a sweet tooth, and is less than inclined to share her food, especially if it’s a dessert.

“Sure” she says after a beat, and you clear your throat, speaking after the waitress leaves.

“You know, I can handle rejection”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m the youngest of three. I’m used to people telling me to leave their things alone” you say, smiling at her. “If I’m bothering you…”

“I don’t mind sharing” she cuts you off, her shoulders tense. It’s a bit uncomfortable for her to be vulnerable like this. “Not when I’m sharing with you” 

“Oh” you blush, biting your lip. The way her words affect you make Natasha regain some of her confidence. 

“How come you didn’t want to do a recon?”

“I don’t know. I like group missions. Or at least going with someone else. Like I said, I have siblings and I guess being around the team makes me feel like at home”

“Well, I like them because I can take a break from everyone. But that’s just because I’ve been dealing with those boys for years now” she laughs.

“Yeah, I get it. It can feel like a frat house sometimes. Let’s have girls night, no boys allowed” you joke, but perk up a second later. “Wait! That actually sounds fun. Oh my Gosh, we could go to the movies, or a museum, or dinner…”

“Sounds like a date to me” Natasha interrupts your rambling, pleased when you play with your hands.

“Yeah. That could be a date” 

Once the food arrives, you eat and chat. Natasha does agree to sharing dessert, which makes your heart melt a little at the gesture.

The last part of the mission is supposed to happen tomorrow, when a couple of shady businessmen meet at the building you infiltrated. All you have to do is sit and take pictures of whoever walks in, so intelligence can run background checks.

After dinner, you head back to the small apartment. For the first time since you arrived, you walk past the entrance to check the space.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asks when you come back, fiddling with your hands.

“There’s only one bed”

“Oh”

“You can totally take it, the couch looks fine…”

“No, you’re still recovering, I’ll sleep on the couch”

Natasha and you speak over the other for a few minutes until your voices die down and you stare at each other.

“We could share?” you suggest.

“Ok” Natasha nods, trying to pretend it’s not a big deal.

But when you change into an oversized t-shirt (no shorts because you truly thought you’d be alone here), and lie down in the small bed, your heart is practically beating out of your chest. 

“You ok?” Natasha says, trying not to move.

You give up with a sigh, turning on your side and moving closer, until you’re inches apart.

“Just need to sleep on my side. And I usually hug a pillow. Don’t ask me why, I just do”

“Well… here” Natasha moves even closer, taking your arm. She places it around her waist, and pulls you closer. Your breath hitches for a second, but Natasha smiles reassuringly. “Is this better?”

“Yes”

As a matter of fact, it’s the best sleep either one of you has gotten in years.

—

You’re not in the mood for parties.

But that’s never stopped Tony before.

After waking up cuddling Natasha, (and barely completing the mission because you didn’t want to leave bed) you were eager to ask her out, or have her ask you out. Whichever was fine by you.

But as soon as you parked the car, Cap was waiting with a frown and a big file.

“We leave in an hour” he said, only to Natasha.

Apparently, this was going to be a very demanding mission, and Cap didn’t want you pushing yourself.

So, Natasha, Sam and Steve had been gone for a few days now.

Tony was mildly disappointed, but this was Pepper’s birthday party and he wasn’t about to call it off for a few working Avengers.

Still, you try to cheer up and put on a good face, mainly for Pepper. You’re not sure she really wanted this big of a party, but she seems happy enough.

Most of the people attending are from Stark Industries, so you try to blend in and speak to some of them.

“Hey, do you work in legal?” a young blonde asks when you go get another drink.

“Oh, no, definitely not”

“Thought I knew you. I’m in HR”

“Fun” you say, but the tone you use makes her laugh. Before you can do anything, she changes seats and moves closer to you.

“I’m Sasha”

Reluctantly, you give your name. Even after the bartender hands over another glass of Chardonnay, Sasha keeps talking to you, though she doesn’t really care if you work at Stark Industries or not. After your third glass of wine, you begin to relax, and say a couple of jokes that make her laugh a little too loud.

She’s definitely flirting.

“Wanna take this conversation somewhere else?” she asks and you look around.

“I think I need some air…”

“We could…”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence, because Natasha is by your side in an instant. Little drops of water wet your shoulder as she approaches you, having rushed from the shower to see you.

“Hey, detka. Having fun without me?”

“You’re home!” you shout, excited at seeing her again.

“I am. Come on, let’s go to the balcony” she says, taking your hand. You’re halfway there when you remember Sasha, and try to turn back to say goodbye.

“I don’t want to be rude”

“And I said I like to share with you, not share you” 

“Oh” you blush at that, and stay silent as Natasha drags you out of the party. 

“Was that too much?” she asks when you finally get to the balcony.

“No. I just drank too fast and I’m happy to see you” you say, your hands going around her shoulders. 

As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, Natasha holds your waist and pulls you closer to her.

“I’m happy to see you too” she leans her forehead against yours. “And about that date…”

“Yeah, I’m up for it” you confirm with a nod. Your faces are inches apart, and Natasha  can tell you’re sneaking small glances at her lips.

“As for other stuff…” 

“Mhm” you hum, aware that she’s leaning forward. You let her lips meet yours, and the kiss is short but tender. “Will this date have more of these?”

“Hell, yeah” she nods, making you laugh.

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Can’t wait” she nods, kissing you again.

Unfortunately, you’re interrupted by Sam, who is sporting a shit eating grin.

“Anything you two wanna share with the team?”

“No” you answer at the same time.

Some things, are meant to stay between you two. 

[chahnniesroom]

to love and to cherish

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: chan comforts you when you have a bad day and are struggling with insecurity.

word count: 1.6k

tags/warnings: sad, hurt/comfort, reader is depressed

a/n: this fic was inspired by this reel and this reel. portions of the dialogue were taken directly from them. i actually had a super cute lee know fic planned for this title in the collection, but never got around to writing it so here you go instead 😅 this is the last fic for this collection, thank you to everyone who has read it!

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Chan has resigned himself to a life that's the opposite of routine. Between comebacks, promotions, and tours, there's always something new to juggle. 

He wouldn't have it any other way, but sometimes he craves an ordinary life.

That's one of the things he loves about you. How he can come home and get lost in the simplicity of cooking dinner, going grocery shopping, or folding laundry together. One of his favourite things is being able to spend a quiet night in with you.

As a regular office worker, your schedule is more predictable. You leave at the same time every morning and although you often have to work overtime, it’s a manageable amount.  

In the beginning of your relationship, Chan often felt guilty about how chaotic his life was in comparison to yours and always felt that that it made him seem unreliable. It’s still something he worries about from time to time, but after a couple of years, the two of you have learned how to balance it all.

—

Chan knows something is wrong when he gets home and all the lights are off. He can tell  that you’re home because he can see your shoes neatly lined up by the door and your work bag is hanging off one of the kitchen chairs.

He carefully takes his shoes off and makes his way further into the apartment, trying to stay quiet in case you’re sleeping. He feels his heart clench when he finds you awake instead, curled up in bed with tears running down your face. Even though you haven’t seen him yet, he can tell that you’re suppressing your cries, trying not to make a sound.

“Baby,” he says gently, kneeling on the floor beside you to get your attention without spooking you. “What's wrong?”

“Channie?” you look up at him with a sniffle. “How come you're home?”

“Nothing important, just tell me, what's got you so upset?”

You shake your head instead of responding, burrowing further into the makeshift nest that you’ve created by piling all the pillows and blankets into one side of the bed. Just the very top of your head is visible and even though he's concerned about how you're acting, Chan can’t help but think of how adorable you are. He extends a hand out and, when you don’t pull away, strokes through the bit of hair that’s still exposed.

“Did you have a hard time at work?” he asks.

“Mmm, no it was okay.” Your voice is faint, muffled by the blankets and hoarse from crying. Chan tries not to think of how long you must have been like this for your throat to be in such bad condition.

“Did you get any bad news? Is your family okay? DId something happen to one of your friends?”

The longer you stay silent, the more scared that Chan gets. He doesn't want to overwhelm you so he feels bad that he's practically bombarding you with questions. It's just that his mind is racing, thinking of every terrible thing that could have happened between when he had kissed you on your forehead as a goodbye this morning to now.

“Did I-” Chan asks tentatively. “Did I do something to make you upset?”

That’s what finally gets you to reply.

“I'm just having a bad day,” you say softly.

 “Is there anything I can do to help?” Chan asks, immediately in problem-solving mode. “Did you eat yet? I can make us something and we can watch a movie or-”

You interrupt the beginnings of Chan’s rambling by reaching out and wrapping a hand around Chan’s wrist, tugging him towards where you’re lying.

“Just stay with me.”

Chan is quick to obey. He strips off his hoodie and pants before settling in beside where you're curled up. When you rearrange the blankets and shift to lean against Chan, he gathers you into his arms and tucks your head under his chin. 

Neither of you say anything for a while. Chan focuses on controlling this breathing and is relieved when you slowly match him.

Chan can tell that you need a bit more time to calm down and he knows that you'll talk when you're ready, if you want to talk at all. He feels a pang of regret for not realising earlier that you were struggling so much today.

“I'm sorry that I'm depressed,” you say all of a sudden.

“Why are you apologising?” Chan asks, genuinely confused. “You have nothing to apologise for, it's not like you chose to be depressed.”

“I just- Don't you ever wish that I was more normal?”

“What?”

“I mean, you could easily find someone else to date, someone better-”

“I'm going to have to stop you there,” Chan says firmly. “Yes, I could find someone else to date, you could too. But I don’t want to, you’re the one that’s best for me, you’re the one I want to be with. I chose you.”

“Yeah, but you chose the old me, the happy version of me. I- I’m not good to date right now.”

“I chose you and I will continue to choose you. You’re still you even if you’re depressed. Depression doesn’t decrease your worth or make you any less lovable than when I first met you.”

“But it sucks that you have to take care of me like this, that you have to deal with all my bad days.”

“I don’t like it when you have a bad day either, but it’s not because I don’t want to take care of you. A part of any close relationship is taking care of each other and I would do even more if it would help your depression. I just wish there was something I could do to make it so that you never have a bad day again. And it’s not like I’m always looking after you, you take care of me all the time too,” Chan reminds you.

“But that’s different,” you mumble, turning to hide your face in Chan’s shoulder. 

“Is it?” Chan asks. Instead of trying to coax you into looking at him, he just wraps his arms around you tighter, rubbing slow circles onto your back. “You took on all the cooking and cleaning when I injured my wrist, even though the doctor said I could still do everyday tasks.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “You injured yourself and had to rest, otherwise you wouldn’t heal as quickly.”

“You help me when my insomnia is bad and I can’t sleep at night. I used to feel so bad because I knew that you would get scolded at work for showing up so tired after staying up with me.”

“It wasn’t your fault!” you say quickly. “I wanted to, you didn’t make me stay up.”

“Just like how I want to help you,” Chan reminds you. “I know what you’re going through is difficult and I want to do anything I can to make it easier for you.”

“But what if I’m like this forever?” you ask in a small voice. “What if I’m always sad?”

“Listen, just because this is how things are now, does not mean things will always be this way, okay? I know it can be hard to think that way, but I’ll always be here to remind you.”

"It just feels like I'm never going to get better."

"What does getting better mean to you?"

"Being back to what I was like in the past, when I was happier."

"I think if you look at it that way, you won't be satisfied. But I see you, I see your progress. You've been seeing a therapist, and I know they have helped you a lot. You've told me that the medications you've been taking have improved how and what you feel."

"I guess," you say reluctantly.

"I see that you're trying. You won't always be happy. That's natural. The important thing is that you'll learn that you can experience disappointment or misfortune, that bad things will happen, but you will still survive. I know that it's hard, but I'll be here alongside you."

“Can you promise me something?” you ask tentatively, peeking out to look at Chan.

“Anything,” he agrees immediately.

“If you ever get tired of all this, of me, promise that you’ll tell me. Promise me that you’ll leave. I don’t want you to feel trapped in this relationship.”

“As long as you do the same to me,” Chan says.

“What? I wouldn’t ever have to-” you start to object.

“And I don’t think I will either.”

“I’m sorry that you have to always reassure me,” you say quietly.

“I told you, I don’t mind-”

“I think this is the worst version of me,” you say all of a sudden. You hold your breath, as if you’re bracing for Chan’s reply. He doesn’t even have to think to respond.

“I feel safe with the worst version of you.”

You’re quiet for so long that Chan starts to worry that he didn’t say the right thing. He shouldn’t have made it sound like he agrees that this is the worst version of you, he should have reassured you more he-

“I feel safe with you too,” you finally reply and Chan knows that everything is going to be alright.

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[taeyongdoyoung]

wolf and bunny

summary: you ask your best friend to fuck you in your sleep but your bottled up feelings come out to the surface... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to lovers warnings: cnc/somnophilia, discussion of boundaries, eating out, touching, groping, unprotected sex, spanking, stranger+wolf/bunny roleplay, little red riding hood references, face-slapping (once), size kink, cockwarming, multiple rounds, feelings (ew), pet names, discussion of future scenario 👀 (i know i said this is the end but...we'll see) author's note: hii everyone, this is the third and final part of my wolf and bunny series, thank you so much for going on this nasty journey with me 🤍 part one & part two word count: 2k

You and Chan are having a bit of a disagreement in connection with the circumstances surrounding your next game.

“But I want to know exactly which night you’ll do it.”

“If you know, you won’t be able to fall asleep,” Chan reasons with you. “Kinda like Santa Claus. Kids stay up all night waiting for him and then he never comes.”

“Please, even if the kids were asleep, he’d still never come ‘cause the parents are putting the presents under the tree!”

“It was just a metaphor.”

“A bad one. You’re gonna have to work harder to convince me.”

“Hey, wasn’t this your idea in the first place?” Chan reminds you teasingly. “You’re the one who wants me to fuck her in her sleep.”

“Ey, don’t pretend you won’t be into it,” you shake your head.

You are both so stubborn you don’t see this ending unless one of you retreats. Then, after a brief consideration, you speak again.

“Fine. You can keep the secret of the exact night you’ll do this. On one condition.”

“Sure, bunny, let’s hear it,” Chan listens eagerly.

“If I wake up, you won’t stop. I’ll just pretend I’m still sleepy and we keep going.”

“Is that even possible? I mean, for you to not wake up?”

“It is if you drug me or something,” you shrug.

“Ugh, don’t give me such evil ideas. You never know when I might take advantage of you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it, wolfie.”

“But are you sure the sleep thing is a great idea? I mean, you wouldn't be able to say a safeword...” Chan can't help but worry, always putting your needs first and planning every scenario in great detail to make sure you're alright. Damnit, could he get any more perfect? He's so sweet and considerate you wish you could just tell him how you feel. But what if that scares him away? What if you lose not only your wicked game buddy but your best friend in the entire world? You wouldn't be able to live with yourself.

“Yes, I'm positive, Chris,” you place your hand on top of his. “I trust you 100% and know that you'll look after me. The question is, do you trust my judgement?”

“I mean, I do trust you. It's just that last time you didn't communicate your discomfort clearly and I wouldn't want to risk messing up to the point of accidentally hurting you,” Chan verbalizes his anxieties.

“I get what you're saying but it's not like I'm open to doing this with a stranger. It's you we're talking about. You've always been great at taking care of people so I know you wouldn't go too far. But at the same time, I wouldn't mind if you went loose. If anyone can take it and accept you fully, it would be me.”

“Yeah, I know. You're right. But just in case, I want you to know beforehand that I care about you and respect you like a lot. So, even if I get carried away, I still want you to feel safe.”

“Aww, Chris, ya old softie! I always feel safe with you, it goes without saying!” you insist.

“Well, I like hearing you say it.”

You gulp nervously. His voice is so commanding and yet so reassuring that your words have never rung truer. He's more to you than a safety net and you hope he knows it. He's incredibly thoughtful and infinitely kinder than the first impression. He's a riddle in the way he keeps surprising you and yet you wanna keep learning more about him. He's hundreds of the loveliest words in the dictionary multiplied. He's more comforting than your favourite blanket. He's warmth personified and you would be an idiot to let him go.

“I'll try to say it more often, then,” you promise. “When I'm with you, I know no harm will come my way. But here's the thing...you're the only one I'd willingly let hurt me.”

“I don't want to hurt you, though.”

“You don't?” you pout, suddenly feeling guilty. Then, what have you been doing? Was he forcing himself to act out these fantasies for your sake alone? You genuinely thought he was enjoying them as much as you were.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” Chan is quick to explain. “I like our games. I meant that I don't want to hurt you emotionally. Ever.”

“Ah, yeah, that makes sense,” you chuckle, feeling a little stupid. “Well, you don't need to worry about that. Glad we had this talk.”

“Me too,” Chan gazes at you fondly.

“So, which night are you fucking me while I'm asleep?” you attempt to find out while he has this dazed look in his eye.

“Next- Hey, nice try! I'm not telling you, you impatient devil.”

“Aw, man, I was so close,” you bemoan the uncertainty of your future.

“You wish.”

The long-awaited night finally arrives. Chan has a key to your place so entering it is too easy. He makes sure he picks a night when you’ve complained about being exhausted and sleepy all day long. And he is certain that you’re passed out in your room, not suspecting a thing. Well, a part of you is always anticipating what could happen, but still.

He’s beyond glad to find you sound asleep. You’re wearing nothing but a t-shirt and some flimsy panties. Chan admires your sleeping form for a couple of brief moments before he gets down to business.

He wonders where to start. Should he tear them up? Or maybe push them to the side? Should he grope your boobs through your shirt? Or perhaps slide his hands beneath it, stroking your nipples directly? So many opportunities. He wants to do everything, he decides.

Chan starts by moving your panties to the side and licking your tiny pussy. He touches you with his fingers, gently prodding your entrance but not exactly sticking them inside yet. Then, he sneaks his hand underneath your shirt, teasing your nipples. Fuck, you’re so soft.

He marvels at the knowledge that you’d trust him with something like that. Though the previous scenarios were hot and intense as fuck, this one hits different for him. Maybe because last time you were awake, you were still in control because you could say the safeword whenever. Maybe because you want him at your most vulnerable even in your sleep. Or maybe because he’s slowly falling for you, but he doesn’t know how to say it.

It’s okay. Chan’ll show you, instead. He pinches your nipples lightly and continues to make out with your pussy. You are so wet already it’s adorable. He wonders if you’re dreaming of him, as you shift slightly in your sleep. He wants to drag this out. But how?

He uses his nails to trace circles on your skin, which causes goosebumps to appear. Are you cold? He wants to keep you warm and full at all times. Chan can’t take it any longer and takes his cock out, sliding in so perfectly. As if you were made for him. Made to take his cock and let him do crazy things to you. His sweet little bunny…

You moan desperately and the spell is broken. You’re awake. He wanders if you’ll speak or he’ll have to make you. Both options sound quite appealing. But he wants to hear your voice more than anything.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Chan whispers gently.

“W-who are you?” you cry out.

Aw, you’re gonna pretend not to know him? That hurts. But it can be fun, he thinks.

“Just the big bad wolf,” he chuckles at the irony of it.

“Please, don't do this,” you fake not wanting it, even though you've never wanted anything so badly in your life.

“Oh, bunny, but I already am,” Chan replies, spanking your ass a couple of times in the meantime.

“G-gonna split me in h-half,” you mumble, voice muffled against your pillow.

“Yeah? G'na ruin my sweet girl?” he speaks to you so softly you want to melt right there and then.

“Feel so full 'n so s'eepy,” you slur helplessly.

“Aw, tiny, go back to sleep, then,” Chan pats your head soothingly.

“Can't. What a deep voice you have!” you play along too well.

“All the better to degrade you with, my slutty bun,” Chan laughs, while still continuing to fuck you.

“What big hands you have!” you keep saying.

“All the better to grab your tits with,” Chan chuckles and makes good on his promise by playing with your boobs.

“And slap me with!” you remind him playfully.

“As you wish, princess,” Chan growls and slaps you across the face harshly but not harsh enough to actually leave a mark.

“What big eyes you have,” you sigh wistfully.

“All the better to stare at you fall apart,” Chan responds cleverly.

“And what big cock you have!” you scream, barely resisting the urge to laugh. Are you a silly little bunny or Little Red Riding Hood? At this point, you don't care, but it feels too good regardless.

“All the better to fuck you with,” he grunts loudly, spilling inside of you.

You follow rightaway and urge him to stay like this for a while. Maybe round two is in order?

“You know what else is big?” Chan teases you.

“Oh, shut up, Bigfoot!” you reply and are no longer able to hold it in, breaking into laughter. Chan also finds the interaction hilarious and buries his head in the nook of your shoulder. You stroke his hair without realizing. Shit, he's so adorable you almost say the three words. Is it too risky? Too soon? You need a distraction. You need... “Fuck me again.”

“Already? Aren't you tired?” Chan wants to make sure.

“Fuck me till I fall asleep again,” you ask him.

“Um, okay, sure,” Chan looks a bit confused but does as you ask.

This time there is less talking and more fucking but no matter how many rounds you go, sleep doesn't come again. You both orgasm more times than you could count, but somehow, it isn't nearly enough to distract you from the inevitable. You love him. Your heart knows it, your pussy knows it, even your brain knows it but is stubborny telling you not to confess for fear of somehow ruining things.

Once Chan decides he's completely spent for the night, he pulls out of you and rips off the bandaid.

“Are you alright? Something suddenly shifted but I can't quite place it,” he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and nudges you softly with his shoulder.

“Do you want the truth that might mess up everything or do you want me to lie to you and say I'm fine?” you ask, even though you're already on the verge to tell the truth.

“With you? Always the truth, please,” Chan clearly states his preference.

You sigh deeply and tilt to the side so you're facing him properly.

“I think...no, I know I love you.”

“I love you, too, babybun,” Chan responds fondly and kisses you on the nose.

“In a non-friendly way. And I don't mean just sexually, either. I mean, the friendly way and the sexual way haven't diminished, of course. But I also love you in a...I want to be yours, your girlfriend, your lover, your romantic partner, your everything.”

Chan is taken aback by your words. You...feel the same?

“You already are,” he confesses genuinely.

“Huh?” you blink in shock.

“I mean...you are already my everything. But, if you'd like me to officially ask you, then...will you be my girlfriend, angel?”

“You...you'll have me?” you are still in disbelief.

“I thought I already had ya,” Chan pinches your cheeks lightly.

“Damn right you do, Mr. Wolf,” you giggle and pull him into a kiss.

He smells like autumn, his embrace exudes warmth and his lips taste like home.

“You have no idea how badly I've wanted to tell you about my feelings,” Chan confesses. “When I found that story of yours in your drafts, I just couldn't resist the opportunity. I hoped that if I turned your fantasies into reality that you'd eventually fall for me.”

“Oh, Channie...I've been falling for you for longer than you realize,” you admit shyly. “How could I not? You're everything I've ever wanted.”

So, this is what it feels like to have the world in your hands. Huh. You could get used to it.

Bonus:

“No, I'm not kidnapping you!” Chan is adamant as you two sit in a nice restaurant.

“But Chriiiis,” you whine. “You said you'd do anything for my birthday.”

“Anything but that!” Chan shakes his head in amusement.

“Why not? It can be fun!”

“Fun? What if something goes wrong, what if someone sees us and thinks I'm actually kidnapping you, what if...hear me out, here, I go to prison for it?”

“Well, duh, then I'd bail you out!”

“As if you could afford it,” Chan rolls his eyes.

“Hey! But seriously, I'll just tell the cops that I asked you to kidnap me.”

“What if they don't believe you and think you have a Stockholm syndrome?”

“I'll...think of something. Come on, we're going too far with the what-ifs.”

“You gotta be prepared for any situation. You'd know that if you carried the heavy burden of being a dom,” Chan tsks at you.

“I'd know that if you let me,” you give him a wink.

“That will only happen the day I agree to fake-kidnap you.”

“So, tomorrow? It's a date!” you grin excitedly.

“Keep dreaming, darling.”

“Oh, I will.”

The End

[daechwitatamic]

You Think You Might - Chapter 2 || csc

(banner by @itaeewon)

You Think You Might (masterpost) Seungcheol x fem!reader angst smut fluff fake dating!au, kind of sort of exes to lovers?

NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Seungcheol agrees to be your fake boyfriend at your sister’s destination wedding, under the condition that it “stays there”. You didn’t expect it to hurt when he holds you to that promise.

WC: 54k total, this chapter 11.7k

Warnings: angst, reader working through some Stuff, language, drinking, Soonyoung is reader’s biological little brother, family drama, scoups and his ex are mutually toxic when together but neither is villainized, full warning list on the masterpost

A/N: thank you to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-ing, and @kkaetnipjeon for naming almost every background character and teaching me about the Levels of Noona.

You wake up facing the other direction - Seungcheol’s direction - cuddling something. As soon as your brain processes this, you freeze, trying to calculate how bad the damage is.

You open one eye, afraid of what you’ll find. Seungcheol is still asleep, facing you - but he’s still a good six or seven inches away. You’re cuddling, you realize with relief, the sheet you two had rolled up and put in the center of the bed. You have woken up spooning the Blanket Wall.

But at least you aren’t spooning Seungcheol.

Slowly, you extract yourself from the Blanket Wall’s sweet embrace and roll back to what is safely your half of the bed, and lift your phone to check the time.

It’s almost time for your alarm anyway, so you check your socials and your texts. Your mother has texted already this morning, confirming your breakfast plans. You shoot back an affirmative, and head for the bathroom.

When you emerge, dressed, it seems like Seungcheol is still asleep. You creep to the foot of the bed and wiggle one of his feet through the blankets, gently.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Mmm?” he responds, turning his head towards you and making a definite attempt to open one eye.

God, he’s cute. 

You shove the thought away - it’s neither productive nor helpful.

“I’m sorry,” you say, still whispering. “But we’re - I’m - supposed to meet my family in like forty minutes and I didn’t know how much time you’d need to get ready. If you’re coming with me. Which you don’t have to.”

“Thanks,” he tries to say, though it sounds like he says it around marbles, letting his head drop back to the pillow. Then, a minute later, he says - much more clearly - “If I’m not out of the bed in five minutes please hit me with a pillow.”

You laugh, then move to open the curtains, hoping a well-lit room will help him wake up on his own. You dip back into the bathroom to hang up your towel, and when you come out again, he’s upright, stretching his arms towards the ceiling and yawning loudly. You decidedly do not look at his arms as he does this.

You take your phone out on the balcony, able to enjoy the view of the ocean now that it’s daylight, to give him a little space while he gets ready.

When it’s five minutes until you should walk down to the resort’s main dining room, you head back inside. Seungcheol is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at something on his phone, face serious - but he’s dressed and looks pretty ready, his hair pushed back to frame his exposed forehead, his shirt sleeves clinging to his biceps.

You force yourself to look elsewhere. You clear your throat, and he pulls his gaze away from the phone screen to look up at you, eyebrows raised in anticipation for whatever you’re going to say. “Just one final time - you don’t have to deal with breakfast with my mom if you don’t want to. You and I could meet up later.”

He tilts his head a little. “I’m here to sell the idea that we’re a serious couple, right?” he asks, unnecessarily. You both know the answer. “It would be weird for you to go to breakfast without your boyfriend.”

“I guess,” you admit.

He pushes himself to standing, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I agreed to do this,” he points out. “If you spend the next two days worried about whether I really, really want to attend each event, you’re going to make yourself crazier than you would have been if you’d come alone. I’m here, so let me do it right.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Just… I appreciate you. And I know some of this won’t be fun for you, and I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, takes one small step closer. “Don’t be. It’s all part of the job, right?”

Something had been simmering in you, unnamed, since you’d kissed last night with sand between your toes and the stars’ reflections on ocean waves. At these words from Seungcheol, you feel it jerk to a halt behind your navel.

He’s right. You’d agreed, explicitly, on what this would be. You don’t want a mess - neither of you does. You need to be better than this - you need to be able to handle some muscley arms and kissing. 

“Yes,” you say belatedly, when you realize you hadn’t replied. “Yes, part of the job. Okay, well, if you’re ready… we can walk down?”

“I’m ready,” he says.

You check your hair and makeup in the mirror as you pass, grab the cute purse you’d bought just for this sundress, and head for the elevators, your fake boyfriend trailing just a step behind you.

“That dress is nice,” he tells you in the elevator, his voice innocent and even. You flush anyway, murmuring a thank you.

You spot your family right away when you pause at the dining hall’s entrance. They’re seated near a large window overlooking the beach. Behind them, the sun streams down, bright and unrelenting. Your stomach clenches when you see your mother’s profile, but loosens when you hear Soonyoung (and Chan, god, you can’t believe Dumb and Dumber are here with you) laughing.

You reach behind you blindly, fumbling for your fake boyfriend’s hand. He slips his fingers between yours and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Ready, babe?” he asks, one side of his mouth twitching, an eyebrow raised playfully.

Whatever shut down inside you when you were upstairs gives a tiny sign of life at the endearment.

“I am if you are,” you say, and then lead him through the dining hall, weaving around other tables until you reach your own.

“There they are!” Chan cries happily. “We thought perhaps you got delayed, what with the romance of the beach and -”

“Chan,” you say, smiling through gritted teeth, “I would like to remind you that you are not a member of my family and therefore I have zero qualms about ending your life.”

“Didn’t even make it to 9am without death threats,” Soonyoung sighs dramatically.

Your mother has risen to hug you, so you drop Seungcheol’s hand to return it.

“Um,” you say, stepping back when she releases you, “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Seungcheol.”

Her face tightens, but she covers it with a quick smile, reaching out a hand to shake Seungcheol’s. “Nice to meet you, boyfriend Seungcheol,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. She doesn’t even try to make it subtle. Then, she turns back to your little brother, who is still seated - eternally unbothered. “Did you know your sister was dating someone?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Of course I did,” he says easily. “They met through me. I didn’t know that you didn’t know. Noona didn’t say it was a secret.”

Everyone looks at you again. You flush. “It wasn’t a secret,” you say defensively. “I just… I don’t know. It felt weird to bring up, and…”

You trail off, sheepish, and Soonyoung pipes up to defend you. “Ah, Noona’s always been private about this stuff,” he points out. “She didn’t tell the family about her new job until she’d been there long enough for her first promotion, remember?”

Chan rests his chin in his hands, leaning closer to you from his side of the table. “Why are you so secretive? Have you ever explored this in therapy?”

“Chan,” you growl threateningly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seungcheol interrupts, his deep voice coming from your left. “I’ve been telling her to set up a dinner with you for ages, but she gets so wrapped up in work - you know how she is when she’s focused on a project.”

You glance sideways at him, curious. Does he know this chink in your mother’s armor, your work? Or was it a lucky shot? Either way, your mother softens slightly, and gives him a more genuine smile.

“Yes, she can certainly have a one-track mind when she’s got a goal to meet,” she says warmly, sliding back into her seat and opening her hand towards the two empty chairs, inviting you to sit.

The rest of breakfast goes well - better than you could have hoped, really. Seungcheol fits into the conversation easily, having years of friendship with Soonyoung and Chan. You almost feel like the outsider in the conversation - though, once he’s done eating, Seungcheol leaves his arm casually draped over the back of your chair, absently drawing lazy shapes on your bare shoulder. You fight back a shiver at the sensation, and Soonyoung meets your eyes across the table, folding his lips all the way back into his mouth and biting on them to keep from outright laughing at this turn of events.

You might kill him and Chan both, “family” be damned.

Your mother asks, as you expected, about how you got together. Seungcheol follows directions and lets you tell it. You keep it simple, and Soonyoung helps by acting all smug that he set you up, to which Chan argues that he hadn’t done it on purpose and shouldn’t act like he did. It’s all so normal, so natural, that you could almost believe the story yourself.

“So if you’ve been together almost a year,” your mother muses, dabbing at her lips with the linen napkin, “you must have been together for the holidays. I’m surprised we didn’t meet then.”

“I was with my family,” Seungcheol says easily, with a small shrug. “We’d only been together around five months by then - holidays with the family felt a bit heavy.”

Your mother purses her lips, her eyes on you even though Seungcheol is the one who answered. 

“It wasn’t that serious yet,” you chime in. “I think I got him a sweater as a gift.”

“Hey, I like that sweater,” he complains, joining the bit without delay. You love how quick he is. 

“Hm,” your mother says tightly, and sips at her tea. She isn’t buying it, not completely. You need to turn it up.

You send Seungcheol a sideways smile, trying to make it a little sly. “Better presents are on the horizon,” you promise. “With our first anniversary coming.”

He raises his eyebrows at you, leaning back in his chair to look at you appraisingly. “Oh, are they?” he asks playfully. “What did you get me? A car?”

Soonyoung laughs. “Maybe a Hot Wheels,” he cackles.

“Shut up, Soonyoung,” you snap, but there’s no heat behind it. 

“Better get me a few Hot Wheels,” Seungcheol says, “if you want to keep up with what I got for you.”

Your eyes widen, even though this is a fake present for a fake anniversary. “What did you get for me?” you ask in a rush, leaning forward towards him, reaching for his hands. “Is it sparkly?”

“Yes, it’s a mirror. Enrichment for your enclosure,” Chan quips.

You turn to face him, Seungcheol’s hands still in yours. “Chan, you are quite literally the worst part of my morning.”

Your mother, the actual worst part of your morning, watches this but says nothing. 

And then, blessedly, the conversation moves back to the wedding you’re here for.

“I assume you’re joining us later, at the salon?” your mother asks.

You fight to keep your face neutral, to keep the scowl off. “Yes,” you say, as evenly as possible. “I saw that on the itinerary.” 

You’d been emailed an hour-by-hour schedule, in fact, detailing exactly where you needed to be and when for the entire weekend. You’re supposed to meet with Nayoung, her one bridesmaid that isn’t family, and your mother at a salon just off the resort to get your nails all done together. “Bonding”, Nayoung pretended, but you know it’s because she wants to make sure you all match.

“What are you gonna do all day while the girls get pretty?” your brother asks, and next to you Seungcheol shifts in his seat.

“Hadn’t really thought about it,” he admits. “I mean, we’re at the beach, so I figured I’d find something to do. Walk the beach and see if I can score any numbers -”

You elbow him in the ribs harder than necessary. He laughs, squeezing your shoulder playfully.

“She’s too easy to wind up,” he says, smirking at you sideways.

“Don’t think you’re safe just because you’re tall and handsome,” you warn.

You can feel your mother’s eyes watching this teasing exchange and you try to ignore the prickly feeling of her dissecting the interaction. As you work on avoiding her gaze, Soonyoung invites your date to join him and Chan for the afternoon.

“Do you care, babe?” he asks lightly, turning to look at you.

You can’t help it - you laugh. This is all so absurd. Him calling you babe. His hand on your shoulder. Him asking permission to go hang out with his friends. What a stupid situation you’ve created.

“Of course not,” you say brightly, your nose growing an inch as you do. “I’ll text you when we leave the salon? I think we’ll have a few hours between that and rehearsal dinner - maybe we can go down to the pool or something?”

He gives you a little squeeze again. “That sounds good,” he agrees.

When you all rise, he waits behind your chair, pushing it in for you after you vacate the seat.

“See you later?” you ask quietly, stepping into his space and looking up at him. It’s code, and you hope he hears it - we’re good? You’re okay for now?

He leans down and kisses your forehead, and something inside you longs to close your eyes and lean into it, thirsty for affection.

“All good,” he says, giving you a sweet, dimpled smile. “Text me when you’re heading back.”

“I will,” you promise, and then, since everyone is watching, you rise up on your tiptoes and give him a quick kiss on the lips goodbye. You step away lightly, but he tugs you back by the wrist and kisses you again, firmer, lingering.

“Have fun,” he says, still smiling, when you pull away from his surprise attack.

“Don’t get too many numbers,” you shoot back.

“You two are disgusting,” Chan complains.

“Quit crying because you’re single,” you sniff.

It’s believable, you think. We’re doing it.

But as you follow your mother through the dining hall - intending to share a ride to the salon - you feel something twinge behind your ribcage. It feels like nerves, like you’re afraid that when you step away the whole facade will crumble.

–

Nayoung and her other bridesmaid - her college roommate, Sheyla - are already there when you follow your mother into the nail salon.

“Oh, good!” your sister cries, rising from her seat. “You’re here!”

She hugs your mother first, then you, stepping back and saying, “Eomma says you brought a boyfriend.”

As if she just saw you last week, and this didn’t come up in conversation. As if you usually tell her things about your life, and you omitted something. As if you have some kind of relationship, and it’s normal and expected for her to tease you.

When the truth is you have no relationship, no room to tease this practical stranger, no reality where she knows even the barest details about your life. You could be married and she wouldn’t have known - just like you stand here today, not even knowing what her fiancé looks like, knowing his name only from that embossed invitation that came in the mail months ago.

“Should I have left him at home and brought the mailman instead?” you ask, a bit acidic. 

She smiles at you like your petulance is cute, while behind you your mother whispers your name sharply. 

“No,” she laughs quietly. “I just meant, it’s so weird that you’re even grown up enough to come with a boyfriend, share a room, all that stuff. You should still be too little for all that.”

Yes, you think, because the last time you were around me for any length of time, I was nine. 

You’re here for her wedding. This weekend is about her, and her new husband. You can be a brat later, in private. 

“I don’t think me having a serious boyfriend is really the big news here,” you say as lightly as possible, despite the churning need to barb that you feel. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”

She laughs and Sheyla lets out a “damn right!” from her seat. You’ve never met Sheyla before - only know who she is from your mother’s unsolicited updates about Nayoung’s life.

You let Nayoung dictate the shade and shape for your nails. You try to engage in the conversation just enough that you don’t look sullen. Mostly, you watch your sister - like if you watch her long enough, she might start to look like someone you know, and not a stranger. Like if you watch her long enough, she’ll become the sister you remember from childhood, who watched Saturday morning cartoons on the living room floor with you even though she was “too old” for them, who helped you with homework while your dad cooked dinner, who let you sleep in her bed when it thunderstormed.

It doesn’t happen. She stays a stranger, a woman you don’t know at all.

You hear all about Nayoung and her fiancé - how they’d known each other in college, but never dated, how they’d ended up working together by chance and had fallen into a relationship. The story’s sweet, you can’t deny.

“He’s so whipped for her, it’s appalling,” Sheyla jokes.

“Is not,” your sister protests, giggling. “We have a very equally-matched relationship, thank you very much.”

“Mutually whipped.”

“Sheyla, I know where you sleep.”

They kind of remind you of yourself and Soonyoung, and even Chan. 

“There’s a restaurant down this block,” Nayoung tells you and your mother as you stand near the front of the salon to pay. “Sheyla and I were going to grab a small bite and a drink before we head over to get ready for rehearsal. Do you want to join?”

“That sounds lovely,” your mother says, seemingly for both of you.

Absolutely not.

“I should get back to the resort for a little bit,” you say, trying to sound apologetic. “Seungcheol’s been with the guys all day - I should see what they’re up to.”

“I’m sure they’re just fine,” Nayoung says. “He’s with his friends at a private beach - they’re probably having a blast.”

“Maybe I miss him,” you say, a bit of challenge creeping into your tone.

“So cute,” Sheyla coos, and you can’t even examine if it’s patronizing or sarcastic or genuine because your mother’s eyes narrow and you need to get away before you cave and do what she wants instead of what you want.

“I’ll grab an Uber,” you say, turning before anyone can argue. “We’ll grab a ride to rehearsal with Soonyoung and Chan later, okay?”

You’re a thousand percent sure they’re talking about you as you slip out into the hot sun. You’d rather wait inside, in the aircon, but you’ll have to tough it out, now. Luckily, the car doesn’t take long, and you’re back to the resort in no time.

From the car you send, “omw back. where is everyone?”

Seungcheol answers, “at the pool furthest from the entrance - less crowded. see you soon”

And then the fucker sends a heart.

You roll your eyes.

You: is that really necessary?

Seungcheol: you have to admit its a little funny

Seungcheol: i have to amuse myself somehow

You don’t answer; it’s not his fault you’re in a terrible mood. You head up to the room first, relishing the quiet and the chance to be “off” for a few minutes as you fish a bathing suit out of your suitcase and get changed. You pull the same sundress back over the suit and grab your phone and a pair of sunglasses.

You have two missed texts from the few minutes you were changing.

Seungcheol: you joining us?

Mom: It’s a little rude of you to go spend time with the people you see every day when you have the rare opportunity to visit with your sister.

You slap your phone back down on the counter and try to take a deep breath, closing your eyes against the wave of fury that rises up in you.

Kind of rude of you, you answer in your head, to think I should spend all my time with someone who hasn’t cared about my existence in over fifteen years instead of the people who give a shit that I am alive.

You answer Seungcheol first - “stopped in the room. be there in a few”. Then, after much pacing, you send your mother, “sorry. feel bad letting my date fend for himself. i’ll see nayoung lots tonight and tomorrow.”

Then you head for the elevators, putting your phone on do not disturb so that your mother cannot continue to disturb you.

When you reach the last of the resort’s three pools, you spot your brother first, sitting on the pool’s edge with his legs in the water. You sit down next to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your face against his sun-warmed arm.

“Thank you for not being a horrible sibling,” you say, releasing him.

He blinks at you, surprised by this display. You and Soonyoung are close, definitely - but this isn’t a common occurrence.

“It was that bad, huh?” he asks, as Chan approaches with one of those umbrella drinks in hand.

You sigh. “Not really. Just. Made me appreciate you.”

“Well,” Soonyoung grins, “I appreciate the appreciation.”

Seungcheol swims over, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “Hey,” he says. “How’d it go?”

You shrug. “I survived. Did I miss anything fun?”

“Just this,” he says, placing his palms on the hot cement next to where you’re seated and pushing himself up out of the water to plop down next to you, water dripping from him and running underneath your legs.

“You want a drink?” he asks, and when you turn to look at him he’s looking at you so seriously, brows furrowed, as if he’s scanning you for wounds.

He may have found one. You suddenly feel choked with emotion under his investigative gaze, and you look away before he can see it on your face.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Actually, a beer sounds fucking amazing right now. Thanks.”

The concern gone from his face, he sends you a quick wink as he stands, still dripping pool water. “Anything for my baby.”

You groan, leaning against your chuckling brother again. “He’s enjoying this too much,” you complain as he walks away. You do not watch the muscles across his back ripple as he walks away.

When he’s out of sight, you sigh heavily. “Mom’s mad at me,” you tell Soonyoung. “Because I didn’t go get drinks with them after nails. But I really, really would rather be here with you guys.”

He gives your knee one quick, sympathetic pat. “Sorry,” he says, and you know he means it but doesn’t get it, because she never does this to him.

“It’s okay,” you say glumly. “She’ll get over it.”

“I think we were actually going to go upstairs soon?” Your brother says this like a question; he’s scared it’s going to upset you - you can tell. “We both wanted to nap a little before rehearsal dinner tonight.”

Your heart sinks. You wonder if Seungcheol will have the same plan, leaving you alone for the rest of the afternoon. The thought depresses you further. But when Seungcheol returns, he has two beers in hand, so he must be planning on staying for a little.

“My brother and his date -”

“Roommate!”

“-are abandoning me,” you tell him. “To snuggle.”

“Take naps in separate beds!”

“Would you like to go snuggle?” Seungcheol asks you seriously, handing over your beer.

You groan in exasperation. “No,” you assert. “I want to stay here, drinking until I’m not annoyed at every single family member I have. I just wanted to know what your plan is.”

Seungcheol nods, clearly amused at your ranting, one eyebrow raised and mouth turned down in mock-consideration.

“Well, I guess,” he says, finally, coming to take his spot next to you on the pool deck, “as your boyfriend, I better stay and help you get unannoyed.”

“Teasing me is a step in the wrong direction,” you mutter, but to be honest, the banter is kind of fun. A healthy outlet for your annoyance, really.

“I did get you a beer,” he points out.

“That was helpful,” you agree.

To your right, Chan and Soonyoung have both toweled off and gathered their stuff; they stand waiting to say goodbye. You agree on what time to meet in the lobby to head to rehearsal dinner and then they waddle off in matching slides. You watch them go forlornly, and then turn back to the sparkling pool.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” you tell Seungcheol, just in case. “If you want to go rest before tonight or something, feel free.”

His whole face scrunches. “Will you quit trying to get rid of me? I’m trying to enjoy sitting poolside with a beer and a pretty girl.”

You feel yourself flush. “You don’t have to say that when no one’s here to hear it,” you mutter, embarrassed and pleased.

“Eh,” he says, as if he isn’t so bothered by whether or not you have witnesses. “It’s true, so why shouldn’t I say it?”

“Well, thanks,” you say to your knees, swishing your feet around in the water self-consciously.

“Do you want to talk about what pissed you off?” he offers.

You sigh. “It’s nice of you to ask, but no - I’d rather just have fun and enjoy my afternoon with you.”

You sit in silence for a few minutes. Then, you ask, “Will you watch my beer for a minute? I want to cool off.”

“‘Course,” he says, going so far as to pull your plastic cup closer to his own, as if to guard it.

You slip into the water, which feels wonderful after you’ve gotten warm under the unrelenting sunshine. You tread for a minute, then slip beneath the surface and push hard off the wall into a streamlined glide. You kick and pull all the way across, then surface with a splash, pushing your hair out of your face. You tread on that side for a minute until a couple of kids splash too close to you, and you move closer to the middle and roll to float on your back. Above you, the sky spans uninterrupted blue in every direction.

You’re surprised by fingers touching your wrist and you sit up, turning to see Seungcheol has joined you.

“Who’s watching the beer?” you ask, feigning indignation.

“I finished them,” he laughs. “The water looked good.”

“It is good,” you sigh happily. “I want to live here. Do you think someone would bankroll me to just live at a beach resort year-round?”

He laughs again. “I’m sure someone would, if you tried the right website,” he jokes.

You grin. “I could be a sugar baby. I’d be great at it.”

“You would not,” he says, starting to paddle away from you. “You can’t control your attitude. Those guys want a sugar baby, not a spice baby.”

You follow him, trailing by a few feet. “They want a spice baby sometimes.”

“You don’t pick the right moments,” he tells you, treading water near the spot you’d been sitting before. Your beer cup, as he said, sits empty next to his.

“I can’t believe you drank my beer,” you complain.

“See?” he says, raising that eyebrow again. “Spice baby.”

This makes you laugh, because damn, he’s right.

“So,” he says suddenly, reaching up to grip the edge of the deck, holding himself in place instead of treading. His voice strikes you as suddenly deeper, but you’re not sure if it’s your imagination. “Am I boyfriending okay?”

The smile is on your face before you can even fully process the question. “So far so good,” you tell him, smiling warmly, delighted by the bit. “I thought breakfast with my mom was particularly strong Boyfriending.”

He nods, feigning humility. “I did try,” he deadpans.

“It was commendable, especially for a novice,” you tell him.

He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s not much heat behind it. “I’m not a novice boyfriend,” he argues. “I was with Jieun for -”

“Not to be a total spice baby about this,” you say, holding up a hand to stop him mid-thought, “but you have to calculate by uninterrupted dating time. What’s the longest you two went without breaking up?”

You swear he flushes a little, but it could be the sun or the beer causing the tips of his ears to go red.

“Five months,” he mutters, looking away from you to pick a leaf out of the water.

“And how many of those five were things actually good?”

His head snaps up, and you can see all over his face how he’s ready to fight.

“No judgement,” you add quickly. “My point is only that… it’s different to Boyfriend during a rocky five months where you’re constantly cycling between fighting and making up, and to be years into something steady. The roles are different.”

His face has gone stony. “I didn’t realize you had so many opinions about my love life.”

“I don’t,” you say, as gently as you can, but your pulse is racing; you hadn’t meant to piss him off or hurt his feelings. You try your best to do damage control. “I just have a lot of opinions about the right way to Boyfriend after the eight month mark. There are rules.”

You can almost watch him weigh the moment in his mind, deciding if he wants to lean into his hurt feelings or if he wants to let you off the hook.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and push on when he looks surprised. “I wasn’t trying to, like… make a statement about you guys. I’m sorry it came out that way, and I’m sorry if it made you upset. I’ll watch what I say better.”

His stare is absolutely blank, a hint of petulance still on his almost-pouting lips.

“People in long-term relationships have to own their mistakes,” you tell him sagely. “And apologize, and take steps to do better. That’s one of the rules.”

He continues to stare at you like you’ve sprouted an extra limb. Then, he laughs a little, shaking his head. “So you’re the expert now?”

You push back the defensive wave that rises in you. “Out of the two of us,” you say, shrugging. “My last relationship was over two years.”

His mouth twists as he considers this. “I didn’t like that guy,” he says off-handedly, as if he’d forgotten. Maybe he had. “So, why’d it end, if you’re such a pro?”

This sobers you a little. “Oh,” you say, and you hate how you can hear how small your voice is. “It was…”

He moves suddenly, pressing closer, reaching out. “No, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “You don’t have to tell me. That was douchey.”

You smile, a little relieved. “I feel like it’s only fair,” you say. “I broke up with him because… it was two years, but I just never felt secure, you know? I never felt like… he was it, and I definitely didn’t ever get the sense he felt that way about me, either. It was just kind of… fine? And I…”

You lift your eyes to meet his, darkly watching you, the water around you glinting white in the bright sun. “I wanted more,” you admit quietly. “It was selfish, probably, but… I wanted to love someone, like… I wanted to be in the kind of love that makes you crazy, that you make bad decisions for, where you miss them before they even leave - that all-consuming, stupid love. I never felt, like, wild stupid in love with him.”

He gives a wry laugh, and when you look up at him he’s peering off at the horizon, where the sun is beginning to descend over the ocean. “That’s funny,” he says, something acidic in his tone that you’ve never heard before. “I feel like I’ve only had the bad-decision, stupid thing. I don’t even know what it’s like to have something… calm. Or sensible.”

Sensible. What a boring word. What a boring way to love.

“I think it’d be really refreshing to level up to questionable decisions instead of dumpster-fire ones,” he adds, smiling that half-smile you’re coming to recognize.

“Questionable decisions do sound better,” you agree, smiling back.

You tread closer, the water bobbing with the movement of other swimmers and pushing you closer than you’d intended. Your fingers brush his arm innocently as you both work to stay afloat. The air between you feels charged; for a second, you think about kissing him again.

Instead, you push yourself back up to the pool deck, laying back and relishing in the warmth from the cement seeking into your water-chilled skin. There’s a splash and a shadow over you for just a second, letting you know that your fake boyfriend has joined you.

“I think,” you say to the sky, “I’m gonna lay out until I’m dry, and then head up to shower."

“I’m gonna go replace your beer,” Seungcheol says, and you look over to see the little smile he sports. “And get my own.”

“Don’t overdo it,” you warn. “We’re gonna need a lot of alcohol to get through tonight. Or I am, anyway. Gotta pace ourselves.”

“I’m good. I only had like a third of yours,” he assures you, before lumbering off again. When he returns, you’re stretched out on one of the loungers, reaching for the cup he offers you. He settles on the lounger next to yours, and a minute later you feel him poke your arm as he offers an earbud, as he had in the airport.

You take it gratefully, and for the next hour you don’t speak, only sit in companionable silence, sipping at amber liquid, watching the blue sky, listening to a thundering bassline against the rhythmic crash of ocean waves.

You think you might feel happy.

—

You take a while getting ready, and when you finally relinquish the bathroom, Seungcheol is out on the balcony, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” you say, poking your head through the doorway, “bathroom’s all yours.”

He closes whatever he’d had open and turns, and you’re surprised to see a look akin to anger on his face before he schools it, shooting you a belated smile.

“Okay,” he says, rising. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, without really thinking it through.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m gonna go shower, if you’re done in there.”

He pushes past you, and you take a step back to give him room. He disappears into the bathroom, the door closing with a definitive click.

You settle carefully on the bed and start scrolling through social media to pass the time. You had posted a picture of the beach earlier, and you check the few comments your friends have left you before scrolling the new posts on your feed. You smile to yourself when you see that Seungcheol had posted an almost identical picture, coupled with a selfie in which his wet hair is pushed back from his face and his eyes are closed in laughter.

There’s one comment underneath, from an account that couldn’t be anybody else: Jieun.

“gorgeous,” she’d written, and nothing else.

Seungcheol doesn’t emerge from the bathroom until four minutes until go-time, and you’re standing near the doorway fastening the straps on your heels. He stops short as he takes in your appearance.

“You look nice,” he says, a little haltingly.

“Thanks,” you say. But you’re thinking about that instagram comment. You’re wondering if that’s why he’d looked mad when you’d called him inside.

It doesn’t matter, you know. This isn’t real. But you’re curious. What’s the deal with the two of them - what does it mean that she’s showing up in his comments? Is he happy to hear from her? Or is this a sign of trouble for him?

You don’t know how to ask. You’ve never talked about this stuff with him. And what if he thought you were bringing it up out of jealousy?

You ruminate on this the whole time you’re in the car with Soonyoung and Chan - who chatter cluelessly the whole time - heading for the venue.

You’re among the first to arrive; your mother and Nayoung and a handsome man who must be her fiancé stand outside the front doors, deep in conversation when your Uber pulls up. You slide out first, followed by Seungcheol and the younger guys.

Nayoung beams at you and Soonyoung as you approach. “Guys! I’d like you to finally meet my fiancé, Jeongwoo.”

You ignore the finally, shove down the defensive voice that says whose fault is it that we’re only meeting him now?

Instead, you show your teeth like a good girl and move to shake his hand, but he moves with clear intention for a quick hug. You adjust quickly, patting his shoulder lightly and pulling away.

“Great to meet you,” you say, as warmly as you can manage. You introduce yourself and then Seungcheol, who reaches forward to successfully shake hands. Soonyoung and Chan do the same.

“Which one’s actually the younger brother?” Jeongwoo asks, looking at Soonyoung and Chan with uncertainty.

“Both of them, really,” you joke, and then you realize that for Nayoung that simply isn’t true. As much as Chan has been like your second brother since the first week of his undergrad, this is her first time meeting him. It strikes you again, as it often does, how differently you and Nayoung experience this family.

“I am,” Soonyoung says, saving you from the moment.

“Ah, I see it now,” Jeongwoo says kindly. “You have Nayoung’s smile.”

“Should we go in?” your mother asks, just as another car pulls into the parking lot. You all pause, waiting to see if it’s another member of your party.

It is.

Everything leaves your head - Seungcheol’s bad mood earlier, his ex on his instagram, Nayoung’s absence in your life, the weirdness of meeting her almost-husband. You’re left with nothing but static as your father walks around the front of his parked car and opens the passenger door for his date.

Your mother’s hand slips into yours and squeezes tight.

You squeeze back. For all her bullshit, for all the times you get annoyed with her, she’s yours and you love her, and you know this is shitty for her. You know the family blames her, and you know more than they do how much the ruined marriage was a two-person job. You were there to witness it all.

He strides over, and you squint at the date he brought. She’s expensive-pretty, and young - probably not too much older than Nayoung. Don’t be judgy, you think to yourself. Don’t be judgy.

He hugs Nayoung for a long time, long enough that you wonder if he’s been more present in her life than yours since the divorce. Was the split two sides, not three as you’d always thought? Was it Nayoung and Dad versus the rest of you? How had you not known that, for all these years?

When he disentangles himself with Nayoung, he gives Jeongwoo a firm clap on the back and it’s immediately clear that, yes, they have met before. You keep your mother’s hand firmly in yours, squeezing tight. You feel Seungcheol shift behind you, not far from your side.

Your father moves to Soonyoung next, making a fuss over your brother’s muscular build. Something sour simmers in you and it surprises you. You’d known you were mad at Nayoung for leaving you all behind. You hadn’t really examined if the sentiment carried over to your father, too. Apparently it had.

You talk on the phone about as much as you talk to your mother… and sure, you see him on most holidays, way more than you see Nayoung. But still. He had left, too, hadn’t he?

When he hugs you, it takes you a second before you can force yourself to return it, your mother stepping backwards to give you room, to put space between herself and the man who’d left her - or whom she’d driven away, depending on who you asked. Or both.

When he releases you, you turn to Seungcheol, ready to introduce him. You find him watching this exchange with a peculiar look on his face, as if he’s doing calculations in his head - and you really don’t know if you’ll like the answer he gets.

“Dad, this is my boyfriend, Seungcheol,” you say quietly, and Seungcheol steps forward, clasping hands. There’s something hard and unreadable on his face as he shakes your father’s hand, no sign of the warm, dimpled smile he usually sports.

“Boyfriend, eh?” your dad says, and you watch his eyes flick over Seungcheol, evaluating. You feel weirdly protective, like you want to step between them. Which is stupid, because Seungcheol isn’t yours, and he doesn’t need protection from anyone even if he were.

“Nice to meet you,” Seungcheol says, his tone as hard as his expression.

Your father responds to this with a hmm that makes your blood start to boil. “I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity to talk later and get to know each other better,” he says, and to you - and probably no one else - it sounds like a threat.

Then he turns to your mother, saying her name flatly and extending a hand. They shake, and you again fight the urge to step between them. You aren’t used to this - wanting to protect everyone from the potential to wound each other. You haven’t felt this way since before the split, when the fighting was at its worst, and you’d only had your brother to protect back then. You’d put years and distance between yourself and this impulse, and it feels dizzying to be back in it so completely.

Your father introduces his date to your mother - he hadn’t for any of you kids - and you watch her smile tighten as she fights to remain gracious, reaching out to shake hands.

Seungcheol steps closer to you, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and pulls you against his side. “It’s okay,” he says, tucking his head closer to yours and speaking so quietly that no one else could possibly hear him. “It’s not your job to fix it.”

You look up at him, sideways. This moment of kindness, of soothing, is real, is from him - your friend Seungcheol. Not fake-boyfriend Seungcheol. (But it is still really good Boyfriending.)

You nod once, giving him a thankful nudge with your shoulder. He gives you a quick squeeze, but keeps his arm around you for show. You glance around, but Nayoung has her back to you now, talking to her fiancé. Soonyoung and Chan are both on their phones, side by side like oblivious bookends.

“I need a drink,” you mutter, and Seungcheol’s mouth quirks.

“Should we go in?” he asks the group, and Nayoung turns at the sound of his question.

“Oh,” she says, sounding a bit lost. “Sure, let’s head in. Everyone else is on their way.”

The restaurant staff inside lead you to a side-room which Nayoung has clearly rented out for the night. The table is set with place cards, and you find your name between Seungcheol’s and your mother’s. You set your purse on the chair and look around, finding the bar and making your way over. You glance over your shoulder to see where Seungcheol is. He’s hanging his suit jacket on the back of the chair next to yours, chatting casually with Chan on the other side of the table. It’s the happiest you’ve seen him look tonight, so you leave him alone.

At the bar, you order a beer for him and a cocktail for yourself, leaning on your elbows as you wait. Someone comes up behind you, close, and whispers in your ear, “Can you believe the nerve of him, showing up with a practical teenager? What’s he trying to prove, that he’s a big man?”

You close your eyes and take a breath. “I don’t think he’s trying to prove anything,” you say as neutrally as possible. “But I’m sure it feels very weird and uncomfortable for you, and I’m sorry.”

All those eldest daughter memes leave something out. If the real eldest daughter moves out at eighteen and leaves the middle daughter in the house, then the middle daughter gets the Mom’s Therapist responsibilities.

She continues to mutter next to you as she waits for the bartender to bring her glass of wine; you nod and mhm and pat her hand until your two drinks come.

“I’m bringing Seungcheol his beer,” you say. “I’ll be at the table - you’re sitting next to me.”

She stops her litany of complaints and nods at you, letting you go. You make your way to the guys, pressing yourself up next to Seungcheol and holding out his beer.

He looks surprised as he takes the glass from you. “Thanks,” he says. “You didn’t need to do that.”

You shrug. “Sure I did.” Then, thinking of how he’d been teasing you this whole time, you add, “Gotta take care of my man, don’t I?” You give a playful head tilt as you say this, feeling a smirk on your lips.

“I think I just puked,” Soonyoung complains.

Seungcheol’s smile crawls across his face like he’s not sure it’s safe, like he can’t believe you’re playing along with his little game. “I appreciate that,” he says, and there’s something new to his tone, something lower that makes your navel tug.

More guests have arrived and you know none of them - Jeongwoo’s family members, probably, and maybe some of the couple’s friends and coworkers. The room fills with people and noise, and you feel yourself relax a little as you lose track of everyone except the three young men you’re sticking close to. But, maybe an hour in, you catch sight of your mother - standing alone, mostly empty wine glass in hand, looking around the room like she’s lost.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you murmur to Seungcheol, stepping away before he can ask any questions.

“Hi,” you say simply as you stand next to her.

“Hello,” she says evenly, but you can see the relief in her shoulders. “Are you having a nice time?”

You shrug. “You know I don’t like events like this. Too many people. Too much small talk.”

She gives a knowing mm, eyes scanning the room behind you. “You father certainly seems like he fits into this crowd,” she observes lightly, but you hear the accusation behind it. Nayoung has let him into her world, and your mother is realizing she’s on the outside, just like you.

“He lives closer,” you try to rationalize, though you don’t know why you do it. Seungcheol’s words echo in your mind - it’s not your job to fix it. But you want to anyway.

“It doesn’t matter if you know all their work friends,” you say firmly. “Nayoung loves you. You’ll always be important to her.”

Your mother looks away, suddenly misty-eyed, reaching out and squeezing your bicep gratefully.

You glance over your shoulder to check on Seungcheol, but he’s still with Soonyoung, so you stay put. You stand in silence for a little, just so she won’t be alone.

“Jeongwoo seems nice,” you say finally.

“He’s a good man,” she agrees, turning to look at where Nayoung and Jeongwoo stand close together, talking to an older couple - maybe his parents. “She did alright for herself, even after everything.”

This confuses you. “After everything? What everything?”

She sighs, drains her glass. “Ah. You were there - you know already. Things were so ugly at the house… I’m not blaming anyone… but she left as soon as she could to get away from it all. We put her through college financially, of course, but she didn’t have the emotional support she should have; we were both very distracted by our own mess. I regret it very much. Those years are so formative, and she was all alone. I’m proud of what she made for herself.”

You don’t know what to say. You hadn’t thought about it like that at all. And you wonder, but won’t ask, if she’s proud of you and Soonyoung - for standing witness to the burning rubble of your family unit, for holding up the frame of the collapsing house for as long as you could, for keeping each other going when home became a warzone. You both grew up from that - moved on and made lives for yourselves, too.

It isn’t worth it. Not here, not now.

“She seems really happy,” you say, instead, because it’s the most appropriate thing you can. “I’m going to find the bathroom real quick. Do you want another glass when I get back?”

In the bathroom, you place both palms flat on the counter and heave a breath, shoulders sagging and head flopping forward. When the door creaks open behind you and someone says your name, you almost swear out loud.

It’s Nayoung, and she slips into the restroom, letting the door close behind her.

“Hey… is Mom okay?” she asks quietly.

You stare at her, weighing your choices for an answer. “Don’t worry about Mom,” you say finally. “It’s your weekend. I’ve got her. She’s fine - everything’s fine.”

She stares back, like she’s trying to decide if you’re lying - like she’s trying to decide if she should let you shoulder this responsibility. “Okay. Thanks,” she says finally. “If you need me, let me know.”

I needed you fifteen years ago, you think, but, god, maybe it’s time you let it go. It is what it is - you can’t go back and neither can she. Maybe you all just did your best in a shitty situation.

“I will,” you say. 

She nods again and slips back out through the door as quietly as she’d come. You take another minute, check your reflection, and rub absently at the backs of your heels. Your shoes are killing you, blisters forming on both feet. You check the time and calculate how many more hours you’ll have to power through the pain. Too many, it seems. You sigh heavily, give your heel one last sympathetic rub, and then rejoin the party.

You scan the room for Seungcheol, knowing you’ve been away from him for a while and should probably check on him. You find him quickly, in the far corner of the room, still standing with Soonyoung. But now they’re joined by your father.

“Oh shit,” you blurt, and beeline for them.

“Ah!” Your father says cheerily when you sidle up to Seungcheol again, reaching a hand around his waist and pressing up against his side, your spare hand coming to rest lightly over his stomach. “There she is!”

“Sorry, I was with Mom,” you say. “Everyone good here? You need anything?” You direct this question up at Seungcheol, who smiles down at you.

That is not his normal smile. That is not his happy smile. He, like you, is baring his teeth and doing his best to hide the threat in it.

Your stomach sinks. You wonder what you missed.

“The guys were just catching me up,” your father tells you. “I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“Yeah,” you say, giving a little awkward laugh. “We were trying not to put a lot of pressure on it at the beginning, and then… I don’t know, time just passed, right? And here we are. It felt weird to, like… announce it.”

Your father clicks his tongue. “You’d think it would come up over the course of a year.”

“Less than a year,” you point out unhelpfully.

“For what it’s worth, sir,” Seungcheol says, and something in you sits up straight in alarm, “I’ve been around for a lot longer than that. Since college, actually. I was there when she graduated with honors, and I was there when we all cooked to celebrate when she started at her job. I was there helping Soonyoung get her sofa up the stairs when she moved apartments after her first promotion, too.”

He says this very off-handedly, looking sideways at you, but the lightness of his tone is a lie that’s meant to be seen through. You all hear, loud and clear, the end of his thought: you, her father, weren’t there for any of that.

And he’s right - about both parts. Seungcheol has been in the periphery of your life for years now… you just hadn’t really given him much thought. And your father… he’d been around, but he hadn’t been there.

Across from you, Soonyoung’s eyes are wide. Next to him, Chan is literally pressing his hand against his mouth, eyes dancing between the two men.

Your father clears his throat. “She’s lucky to have good friends,” he says, sidestepping the dig.

“It’s not luck,” Seungcheol says, his hand tightening almost uncomfortably on your waist, “that she’s surrounded by people who love her. It’s because of who she is.”

“Cheol,” you murmur, reproach and apology both present in your voice.

He turns to look at you, and seems to snap out of it. “I’m sorry,” he says, giving your father a quick bow. “What I mean is, you raised two great people. I hope you see that.”

“We need some air,” you interrupt. You don’t wait, don’t apologize, don’t look back. You grab Seungcheol’s hand and tug him towards the doors that lead to a small, outdoor patio.

“Holy fuck,” you say, as soon as the doors close behind you. Outside, night has fallen, the sky the mottled purple of late sunset and early dusk.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, grabbing for your hand like he’s scared you’re going to take off and leave him there to think about what he’s done. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have popped off. I just got mad - I have been around for all those things, all these pieces of your life, and he wasn’t there for any of it. How does he get off demanding answers from you?”

“It’s okay,” you say, though you’ll probably have to answer for this at some point. “It’s fine. This is just… this is just what they do.”

He sighs heavily, rubs a hand down his face. “It’s not okay. I’m supposed to be making this weekend easier for you, not causing problems. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say again, voice almost a whisper. You feel raw, coming down from the rush of adrenaline, hands shaking a little at your sides.

He notices.

“Hey,” he says gently. “God. I’m sorry.” He steps forward and wraps his arms around you. This isn’t fake-boyfriend Seungcheol, either - there are no witnesses, no one to fool. But you let him envelop you, and you take a shuddering breath in the safety of his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, voice low. “I’m sorry, really - I’ll go back in and apologize -”

“It’s fine, stop apologizing to me,” you say, swatting at his ribs lightly. “He deserved it. And I’m fine.”

To prove this, you step back out of his embrace, looking up at him so he can see your face.

“Your family is intense,” he tells you seriously. “I should have known, how else do you end up with someone as crazy as Soonyoung?”

This makes you laugh. “Is my need for emotional support making a lot more sense to you now? You haven’t even met the jackals - they won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“Honestly,” he says, leaning against the stone balustrade, “it really is.”

You both go quiet for a minute, listening to the distant crickets and frogs, the sound of muted laughter from inside. You take the opportunity to lean heavily on the low wall beside you, slipping a finger beneath the offending shoe-strap over your heels, loosening each, wincing as you do.

Seungcheol watches you silently, plump lips downturned.

“That was some very good Boyfriending,” you point out as you adjust the other shoe. “Very believable.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he admits. “That just came out.”

“You’re a natural, then.”

“You’d think I’d have a better track record to show for it,” he says darkly, and the reference to Jieun sends you both back to silence.

“You really have been around for a lot of stuff,” you muse eventually, to move you on from the moment. “I never really thought about that.”

He sends you a wry smile. “Crazy, right? College feels like yesterday, when we would all be squeezed into Seungkwan’s dorm since he had the best tv.”

You smile, remembering. “We barely fit in there. I always ended up on someone’s lap, and not in a sexy way.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow. “Not mine.”

“Jieun would have beat my ass. Or keyed my car.”

“That’s… probably true. Sorry.”

You shrug - it’s ancient history, and a bit funny now with the years to soften the edges.

“Do you remember that one Halloween?” he asks.

You know instantly which one he means. You and Seungcheol’s senior year, Soonyoung’s junior year, and Chan’s sophomore year you’d gone with the rest of the guys on a Halloween pub crawl in the city.

The group had split up into three after the fourth bar. Joshua, Vernon, Seungkwan, and Mingyu had continued on with the pub crawl, shouting raucous goodbyes into the night as they followed the crowd onto bar number five. The rest of you had gotten into three different cabs to head back to campus.

You’d ended up in a cab with Seokmin, Seungcheol, and Jieun - who at the time, was definitely still his girlfriend. They’d been wasted - you all were - and they’d been arguing next to you in the back seat. Seokmin had turned around from the front passenger seat and looked at you, wide-eyed, as you both witnessed the shouting and crying going on next to you.

Back at the dorm, it was clear that the cab with Soonyoung, Chan, and Jeonghan had arrived before you. Soonyoung had greeted you at the door, face drawn, with, “Chan’s throwing up.”

This was quickly evidenced by the sound of heaving from the small, dorm bathroom.

Behind you, still in the hallway, Jieun was screaming at Seungcheol, “And what about last week, when you didn’t text me for two whole days?”

He shouted back, “What did you need me to text you for? Wasn’t Rob from Econ class enough company for you?”

You covered your face, feeling the ghost-white face paint sticky against your palms. “Where did Hannie go?”

“Back to his room to sleep,” Soonyoung tells you, then turns to peer into the bathroom to check on Chan. “Chan, dude, stay by the toilet, don’t come out here -”

“Alright!” You’d called out, voice carrying, clapping your hands once for emphasis. Everyone went still and quiet. Probably shocked. You weren’t a yeller. “Lee Chan, get your body back to the toilet and don’t leave until noona tells you to, got it? You two -” you pointed at your brother and Seokmin - “are in charge of him. You two -” this, you directed at the couple still standing furiously in the hallway, “you need to come have this fight inside before someone calls campus security on you. Let’s go. Inside.”

Your sudden yelling seemed to snap everyone out of it. The guys shuffled into the cramped bathroom to babysit the baby, and Seungcheol glowered as he led his lady friend into the dorm, sulking behind him.

“Okay,” you’d said, mostly to yourself. “The rest of the guys should be back here any minute. Let’s just put on a movie or something and all relax.” You crossed the dorm - Soonyoung’s, but you were there enough that it felt like home to you, too - and dug some water bottles out of the mini-fridge.

“Here,” you said, handing a bottle to Seokmin, who was hanging in the bathroom’s doorway, unable to fully fit inside with Chan and Soonyoung. “Make him take small sips. You have one too.”

You turned to get more for the rest of the room - Seungcheol and Jieun - only to find them on the couch. He was seated, feet planted wide on the floor, and she was straddling him, body pressed tight to his front. His hands were up the back of her shirt and her hips rocked noticeably as they kissed.

Your hand flew to cover your eyes. “Maybe,” you had said loudly, hoping it would get through to them even in this drunken state, “if you two are going to make up now, you might want to go to that in your own dorm instead of my brother’s common room?”

You uncovered your eyes when you heard them shuffle close to you. Sure enough, they were on their way out. Jieun gave you a nasty side-eye as she passed, but Seungcheol had the sense to look a little embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he slipped by you.

You’d texted Jihoon - “you guys almost back?” - and went to check on the bathroom crew.

The aftermath of the night had rippled out. It was the night that cemented Chan and Soonyoung’s close friendship, one of those things you come out stronger for. Seungcheol and Jieun had broken up for two weeks and then got back together for three more.

And the guys in the third cab, who didn’t make it back to campus until sometime the next day, had somehow ended up in international waters on a boat forging a lasting friendship with a billionaire named Big Jerry. They still talk sometimes. It was a whole thing.

Now, years later, you say, “How could I forget? I can’t believe none of us got arrested that night. Or alcohol poisoning.”

“I think Chan technically did have alcohol poisoning,” Seungcheol points out. “God, we were all such a mess. That was me and Jieun at our fucking worst.”

Me and Jieun. It sounds so natural coming off of his tongue, a phrase he’s said a million times.

The moment feels heavy, now that he put it out there. You’re not sure if you should let the moment pass, or press on it. You decide, after everything he’s been through for you today, to risk it.

“I saw she showed up on your instagram today,” you say, trying to keep your voice light, free from accusation. “Is that… normal?”

His face twists with annoyance, but you don’t think it’s at you. “She shows up like that every few months, I guess,” he admits.

You wait him out, unsure if he has more to say. When he doesn’t follow this up, you tentatively venture, “Does it bug you? Or…?”

He shrugs. You wait. You know he’ll answer.

“Yes and no,” he finally says. “I get… it pisses me off sometimes, the way she shows up when I’m good, when I’m happy, like she can’t stand that she’s not part of it. But when we’re together, she could give a shit if I’m happy.”

You stay silent. You’ve wondered often about their on-again-off-again thing - mostly wondering why either of them would go back at all, after you’ve witnessed firsthand how bad things seem when they’re together. Your whole group of friends has watched time and time again as they repeated the cycle: great for a few weeks, a few weeks of fighting, a loud breakup, a few weeks of bitter silence, and repeat.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” you say quietly, after a few minutes. “It shouldn’t be like that. Whoever you’re with… they should want you all the time, not just when they feel, like, fomo or whatever.”

“Is that one of your long-term relationship rules?”

“No,” you say meekly, responding automatically to the bite in his voice. “I think it’s just… true.”

Just common sense, is what you wanted to say.

He shakes his head a little, his gaze far away. “You think it’s possible?” he asks. “You watched your parents break up - I did, too, with mine. You think there’s actually an ending, for anybody, that isn’t just hating each other?”

“Yeah,” you admit. You don’t even have to think about it. Despite everything you witnessed growing up, you really do believe in happy endings, in lasting partnership. Maybe it isn’t promised, maybe it means effort. But still. “I do.”

He gives a soft huff of a self-deprecating laugh. “I wish I could. Maybe then I could say no to her. But most of the time… she feels like the ending I deserve.”

You move closer, sadness weighing you down. “Everyone deserves to be happy, Seungcheol. Including you. Including her.”

He shoots you a sideways look like he doesn’t believe you, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he glances back at the lit-up windows behind you. “Should we head back in?”

“Probably,” you say. “Though I’m much happier out here.”

“Come on,” he says, cajoling. “Let’s go in, or we’ll miss dessert.”

Inside, he walks ahead of you and goes straight to your father. You follow at a clip, heart pounding, your eyes on your father’s tight face - he won’t be taking an insult twice. 

“I’m sorry for how I acted before,” Seungcheol says seriously. “I just get protective when it comes to her. It makes me… kind of crazy.”

The kind of love that makes you crazy, you’d said earlier, at the pool.

He reaches backwards as he says this, reaching for you even though he can’t see you, as though he can sense you coming near. 

As you take his hand, let him pull you closer, you’re struck by how much you could believe the lie he’s saying.

—

You survive the rest of the night. You stay quiet in the car back to the resort. You feel your brother watching you carefully, but he doesn’t say anything. Back at the resort you say goodnight quietly and head to the room. You don’t talk much as you take turns showering.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, mentally organizing what you need to have ready for the wedding tomorrow, when there’s a quiet knock on the door. Seungcheol’s closer, so he opens it, letting Soonyoung in.

“Hi,” your brother says. “I just wanted to check on you?”

There’s a second where you almost ask him why, almost deny that you need checked on. Then, you shake your head, eyes rolling in frustration at your whole existence. “Tonight was a lot. Mom’s a mess, Dad’s a jerk… Nayoung’s oblivious…”

Soonyoung frowns at you. “One more day to go?” he says, his voice hopeful. You know he just wants to help. But now, in the safety of your room, the events of the evening seem to come crashing down around you. The pressure you’d been holding up finally crushes you, and you cover your face with your hands and take a shuddery breath.

“It’s fine,” you say automatically, before anyone can react. “It’s fine. I just need to get some sleep, get through tomorrow, and go the fuck home.”

There’s a tense silence above you, and then - inexplicably - Seungcheol says, “I’ve got it, bro. You can go to bed.”

Got what? you think, lifting your head, but you already know. You. He’s got you, even here in the privacy of the room where there’s no one to see it.

When Soonyoung is finally convinced enough to head back to his own room, Seungcheol sits heavily on the edge of the bed next to you.

“I shouldn’t have done this to you,” you say bleakly, all apology. “It’s too much. The family stuff, there’s so much, I didn’t mean to drag you into our mess so badly…”

“It’s really okay,” he assures you, looking over at you seriously. “I’m not part of this, it doesn’t affect me the way it affects you. Don’t worry about me.”

You look at him silently, not believing it.

“Stop worrying about me,” he repeats, this time smiling a little, knowing you’ll be hard to convince.

You shake your head, leaning back. “I’ll try,” you say finally.

“We’re all good,” he promises. “I’m doing what I’m here to do. We’ve got one more tough day, and then you’re free.”

You groan, thinking of the wedding. “God, tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

He slaps at your knee playfully. “You need some rest if you’re gonna make it. Want to watch a movie or something? Until you’re tired?”

You consider this. “That actually sounds nice,” you admit.

He pulls up a streaming service on his phone and hands it to you. “Pick something while I brush my teeth,” he says, and then lopes off to the bathroom.

When he emerges, you’re under the covers, having turned out all the lights except the small one above his nightstand. He slides into his side and reaches for his phone. You start to adjust your pillows so you can see his screen better, but he lifts an arm and smiles over at you.

“Come on, fake girlfriend,” he says, that tease back in his voice. “Come watch the movie with me the right way.”

You hesitate, unsure if this is wise. “Are you sure?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer, just gives the arm he’s still holding open for you a wiggle in invitation.

After an apprehensive moment, you follow directions, sliding closer and laying your head on his chest. He lowers his arm around your shoulders and hits play on his phone screen. You glance up at him a few times, lit up by the phone, his hoodie pulled up over his head, but he’s always dutifully watching the movie, paying no attention to the girl curled up against his side. Eventually, you settle in, relaxing against him, letting your hand rest over his stomach. You can feel it rise and fall with his breathing, can hear his steady heartbeat beneath your ear where you rest.

At some point, you fall asleep this way.

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[covenofagatha]

The Psychology of Love (Part 11)

The Study Date

Studying for the exam becomes your priority with the promise of Agatha's reward hanging over you

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: masturbation

The entire way back to your dorm, you can still taste the fruit on Agatha’s breath, can still smell her perfume, can still feel her hand on your hip sliding up, up, up…

“Fuck,” you say out loud when you stop at a red light. 

How are you ever going to be able to move on from that? You think the phantom vibrations might never go away—and you’re not sure you ever want to forget what they feel like. 

The look on her face as she was leaning in to kiss you for the first time flashes in your head and you tighten your grip on the steering wheel. Agatha had been struggling, fighting to restrain herself. You had told her that it was okay to wait—you even pretended that you could. 

But Agatha couldn’t. 

You are a good girl. I just don’t think I can. Fuck—

A searing heat tears through you and the throbbing in your clit only gets worse. 

It does things to you, knowing that she was the one to break. That she wanted you so bad she threw all caution to the wind. 

So much for delaying gratification, you think with a smirk. 

Either way, you think you’re going to end up with the bigger reward in the end. 

If you do really well on your test on Friday, I’ll make sure to give you a really good reward.

What could it be? Even the thoughts of the options have your mouth salivating. Does she mean sex? Although, you frown, would she really stake that on how you do on her exam? 

But once you consider everything else she’s done—the way she’s been conditioning you—it doesn’t seem so far-fetched. 

You need to do well on it and make her proud, even without the promise of a reward hanging over you. It would be rather embarrassing if the student she was actively taking a risk on—not to mention that she’s helping you plan for the future—got a bad grade in her class. 

Studying can wait until later though, because the ache inside you is screaming to be relieved. 

Your same parking space from earlier is miraculously still open and you park before quickly running up to your room, which is thankfully empty. 

The nightstand drawer squeaks when you open it and your fingers close around the vial of perfume. Hands trembling and breath heavy, you perch on the side of your bed, thumb tracing over the cursive lettering spelling Black Opium. You imagine Agatha getting out of bed—out of the lavender bed sheets from the picture she sent you—and walking over to her vanity before daintily spraying it on her wrists and then rubbing on her neck. Maybe, one day, you’ll get to watch her do that. 

Maybe, she’ll even let you spritz it on her. 

Does she know the effect it has on you? 

How just the smell of it is enough to get you wet now? 

You can picture the smug grin on her face if she ever does become aware of that and yet, you get the urge to text it to her just to see what she says. She’s been rewarding you for honesty. Although, she might not be so keen on you telling her that while she’s still at the mixer, especially after her light scolding for the pictures you sent earlier. 

Do you think that’s what a good girl would’ve done?

So instead, because the heat between your legs is becoming consuming, you get up onto your bed and lay on propped pillows. Your fingers slide your dress up toward your hips slowly so you can feel the warmth against your thighs. If you close your eyes, it becomes Agatha’s fingers inching closer and closer to where you most need her. 

Once the fabric is hiked up, you run the perfume bottle over your underwear and gasp. You are absolutely drenched, just from kissing your professor. The wetness sticks to your folds and it’s cold against your skin but you can also feel the heat radiating from your center. 

You slide the vial up to rest against your clit and the pressure has you grinding your hips up against the glass. It sends delicious tingles up your spine and you can’t even be mad about how quickly you’re going to come right now. 

Your hips roll against the perfume a few more times before you need more—you place the bottle right next to your nose so you can smell the faint coffee, vanilla, and spice, and then your hand delves into your underwear. Your folds are hot and wet and swollen and you bite your lip to stifle the noise that slips out of you. 

Agatha’s tongue stroking against yours. Her thigh between yours, pushing up just slightly. Her hand on your back. 

Wetness seeps out of you as you rub your clit and your walls clench around nothing. 

The look on her face when you said her name. When she finally gave in. Your hand in her hair. 

You fill yourself quickly with two fingers and your cunt bares down on them. Curling them roughly inside you, you let out a small moan. Your palm hits your clit roughly with each thrust. 

Her praises. Her conditioning you to be her good girl. 

The sound of your wetness fills the air and you inhale deeply, the Black Opium filling your nostrils. Agatha’s here, smirking at you, wanting to shape you just for her. You want her to, you need her to—

You let her. 

The gasp the tears itself out of you surprises you and your eyes shoot open as you fall over the edge, pleasure exploding through your body, and you frantically keep grinding your hips against your hand to keep the feeling going. 

It takes longer than usual for you to come down from your high and you feel a little light-headed. Your fingers are soaked and you take them into your mouth, imagining it’s Agatha making you clean yourself off for her. 

You can almost hear her voice purring, That’s my good girl. 

——

Agatha posts the study guide early Sunday afternoon and you head to the campus library, eager to open it and get a head start. You’re rather methodical when it comes to studying: you like to fill out the guide and then hand-write flashcards based on that and study those every day. And considering you already feel like you’re struggling with the biology section, the earlier you can start on this, the better. 

The nook from Thursday seems to be calling your name, a siren song if you’ve ever heard one, and you fall into the same chair you rocked against until you came only a few days ago. It takes you a minute for the daze in your mind to clear up but the history still lingers over you. 

You pull out your laptop and Personality Psychology notebook and click on the attachment Agatha sent out before making a copy. It’s a four page document, which makes you groan and almost pick up your phone to procrastinate, but you resign and begin to work. 

The questions about Trait theory are easy: define personality, reliability and validity, projective tests versus objective tests, and more like that. It doesn’t take you long to fill in that half, but when you get to the Biological approach, you get stressed. 

With a hand on your forehead, you flip through the pages of notes you took from Wednesday and yesterday, heart sinking lower and lower. Agatha talks pretty fast and there was a lot written on the slides so you had to write really quickly, which more often than not, scribbling down the text in a half-cursive, half-print script that is almost impossible to read. You spend a good three minutes trying to decipher if one word is slap or sheep before finally determining that it must be sleep, simply because the other two don’t make sense in this context. 

And you apparently forgot to write down a single thing about the brain hemispheres, which she asks about. 

Chewing on your lip, you stare at your screen, feeling defeated. You scroll down, hoping there’s some toward the bottom that you’ll be able to fill in, but she hasn’t even talked about that stuff yet. 

You’re about to live in her office for the next week. 

But then an idea sparks in your head. You know you probably shouldn’t, but your fingers are already typing the message out. Plus it’ll be a way to talk to Agatha for the first time since yesterday. 

What’s the difference between the left and right hemispheres in the brain? 

You’ve barely set your phone down before it starts buzzing and you almost fall out of the chair. 

Agatha is calling you. 

Raising your phone to your ear, you hit the green button. “Hello?” you breathe, afraid to speak too loud. 

“You really want that reward, don’t you, honey?” she husks and you feel a twinge of heat in your stomach. Before you can stammer out an answer, she continues. “The left side is involved in language, reasoning, and organizational abilities. The right side is involved in visual perception, spatial skills, and intuition.” 

You stop writing after the first few words, having completely forgotten what she said. “Can you repeat all of that slowly?” 

Agatha chuckles. “Where are you?” 

“Um, I’m—” your voice drops to a whisper, “I’m in the library.” 

She hums in amusement. “Not ruining any more chairs, I hope?” Your breath catches and your professor laughs again. You duck your head down like she can see you but there’s no denying the fresh wave of arousal that rushes over you. It’s becoming a slight problem how easy she gets to you, but you wouldn’t dream of changing it. 

“No, of course not,” you say sheepishly. You want to suggestively retort that you could be, but you think better of it. 

Agatha is silent for a moment and you pull your phone away briefly to make sure she hasn’t disconnected the call. But then she starts speaking again. “I’ll be there in ten.” 

“Wait—what?” you choke and you can almost hear her smirk through the call. 

“It seems like you’re having trouble and I just want to help my student succeed,” she coos. 

You finally regain your footing. “Or you just want me to do well so you can reward me.” 

She doesn’t dignify your quip with an answer, only says, “Be out front,” and hangs up. You stare at your phone like it will magically give you the answer to what is happening, but your screensaver of you, Nat, and Wanda last Halloween just stares back at you. 

It takes you down to the last minute to pack up, mostly because it seems so surreal that Agatha is actually coming here to pick you up. Where is she taking you? To another restaurant? To a different library? 

To her house? 

The thought makes you falter—maybe she’s not actually coming to help you study. The memory of the kiss flashes in front of your eyes again. Does she just want a repeat of yesterday? 

Or maybe more? 

You make it outside on shaky legs, fingers fiddling with the strap of your tote bag. You keep checking your phone, half expecting Agatha to text and say that she was just joking. 

But after another minute, the black Range Rover that you know too well pulls around the bend and stops right in front of you. You swallow roughly and you step forward, still feeling a bit blown away that this is actually happening. 

You open the car door and slide in, closing it behind you, and then turning to face her. She’s wearing an oversized black sweater and a pair of jeans, hair loose, long, and wavy. The sleeves of her sweater are pushed up her forearms and the veins running from her fingers up her wrist make you lightheaded. 

Heart pounding, you buckle your seatbelt and clutch your bag in your lap. “Hi,” you rasp, looking from her blue eyes down to her pink lips that quirk up. The thought of leaning in to kiss her crosses your mind before you realize that might be incredibly stupid. 

What if she regrets the whole thing, says it was just a momentary lapse in judgement? 

She’s here, isn’t she? 

Agatha puts the car into drive and lightly presses on the gas, pulling out of the lot. “Enjoying your weekend?” 

You shrug. “Yeah. Yesterday was a lot better than today though. At least so far.” She glances at you and you can see the darkness starting to swallow up her eyes. It makes you shiver. “How was the rest of the mixer?”

“Hm,” she thinks and you twist the straps of your tote around your fingers, “I have to say it wasn’t as fun once you left.” 

Feeling emboldened and falling back into your bratty streak now that things feel comfortable again, you smirk. “Maybe you should’ve come with me then.” 

She shoots you a look and your smirk morphs into a perfect, innocent smile. Agatha shakes her head with faux exasperation and pulls into the parking lot of a coffee shop that’s only a few minutes from campus. There’s barely any other cars out front and you figure it’s because it’s a Sunday afternoon. Everything around campus is usually dead this time of the week. Although, you still can’t help but feel a little disappointed that she didn’t take you to her house, no matter how far-fetched that thought was in the first place.

You open the car door, step out, and follow Agatha into the shop. The chilly air makes you cross your arms, your short-sleeve shirt doing little to protect you from the air-conditioning. 

“Do you want anything?” she asks and you scan the menu before shaking your head. 

“I’m okay, thank you.” 

Agatha smirks at your manners and points you to a table with four chairs against the window. You sit down and she sets her phone and keys down on the spot next to you. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to get a coffee,” she says and while she does that, you pull out your notebook and laptop again. 

You tap your fingers against the table while you wait, but it’s only a minute before she comes back with a small cup of coffee and a piece of pound cake on a plate. She slides the plate over to you and you look up at her in surprise. 

But before you can say something, she waves you off, sits down, and leans over to look at your computer screen. 

“Can you check the ones I’ve already filled out just to make sure they’re right?”

Agatha gives you a knowing smile and tilts your laptop to face her. “Really taking this seriously, aren’t you?” she hums and you take a big bite of pound cake while you shrug coyly. She huffs out a laugh and scrolls up the beginning, murmuring your responses under her breath while she reads them. It’s endearing to watch her, how her eyes scan from line to line and she mouths the words to herself. Her lips curl up and you know she can feel you staring, but you don’t care. 

She turns the laptop back to you once she gets as far as you did and she looks pleased. A pleasant warmth grows inside you. 

“It’s looking really good,” she says and your cheeks heat up too. Agatha must know what her praise does to you. And then she nods to the keyboard and recites what she said earlier about the right and left hemispheres. You type it, finding it much easier now that she’s slowing down and waiting for you, rather than just throwing the definitions at you. 

You fill in a few more things and as you’re trying to make out your notes again, you ask, “So, what does a weekend for Professor Harkness look like? Other than, of course, helping your students study for an exam.” You’ll feel a little guilty if she actually did have something going on, but a bit triumphant that she’s once again proving that you are special. 

Take that, Rio. 

“Not much. Just some grocery shopping and working on research. A bit of reading,” she says and you glance over at her. Instead of watching you type, she’s staring at your face and her eyes dart away when you catch her. 

“Reading anything good?” You peer harder at a word on a page in your notebook while she thinks. 

“Just a book by Freud. Beyond the Pleasure Principle. We’ll probably talk about it once we get to the Psychodynamic approach in class next.” 

You hum and type something about the amygdala. “I’m not sure if I was expecting a twentieth century book about psychology to be your definition of ‘a bit of reading’ but—” you look at her again and your muscles relax, “it’s very you.” You can see Agatha now, curled up in bed with the DSM-V just to learn a bit more. The thought makes you long to see her in that kind of space. 

Agatha purses her lips into an unconvinced smile. “Thank you, I think. What about you? What else do you get up to during the weekend?” 

Masturbating with the perfume bottle yesterday flashes in your mind and your cheeks heat up. “Not much. I just try to get ahead on school work or watch television. My roommate, her girlfriend, and I will usually hang out and do something.” 

“That sounds like a good way to relax,” she says and you nod and answer the next question. 

Agatha reaches over to point at something on your screen, maybe a typo or just to pull your attention to something, but in the process, accidentally knocks over her cup of coffee. 

If it hadn’t been sitting there for a while and adequately cooled off, it certainly would’ve burned you when the cup falls over and spills all over the edge of the table and onto your shirt. You gasp and jump up, your chair screeching against the tile. 

“Oh, fuck—” Agatha says, running over to the napkin dispenser on the counter. She comes back with maybe twenty napkins and you stand there, still slightly in shock, as she pads your soaked shirt. The napkins do very little and you know the coffee’s going to leave a stain. Agatha accepts this too and meets your eyes with a sigh. “I’m so sorry.” 

You wave the apology off and pull the fabric away from your body so it doesn't cling to your skin. “Don’t worry about it,” you say. 

But she doesn’t accept it and takes your hand before dragging you to the bathroom. It’s a single, and she locks the door behind you. Your breath catches—you’re alone with her now. 

She turns on the sink and looks at you through the reflection of the mirror and you know what she wants. 

“If you wanted me to take my shirt off, you could’ve just asked,” you rasp and she chuckles before she bites her lip as you reach down to grab the hem of your shirt. You move in slow motion, pulling it up and over your head, and then you’re standing in the bathroom in a green bra and shorts with your professor. 

Who looks like she’s imagining bending you over the sink right now and having her way with you. 

Not that you’d be opposed in the slightest. 

You hold out your sopping wet shirt to her and Agatha turns around to take it, her fingers brushing against yours. She can’t stop her eyes from darting down to your cleavage, to your breasts, to your stomach. You take a step closer to her as if daring her to do something about it. 

Agatha runs your shirt under the water for a few minutes while you desperately try not to stare at her fingers kneading the fabric. You keep imagining them on your skin, tracing patterns, moving down, down, down to where you most need them. Your cunt aches already from almost nothing and you can’t stop thinking about her lips on yours yesterday. 

When she looks up to meet your eyes in the mirror again, you realize with a jolt that you’re standing almost right behind her now. She turns again to face you and you’re so close to her…

“This is the best I could do,” she says quietly, holding your shirt out between you. There’s still a faint brown mark but it’s much better than it was. “I can take it home and wash it for you. I know the dorm laundry room is a dire place.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. It feels like if either of you speaks too loudly, the moment will be ruined.

Her eyes roam your face, looking for any sign of hesitation or reluctance because you both know what’s about to happen again. 

You’re not sure who leans in first, but it doesn't matter because Agatha’s lips are on yours again and you finally feel like you can breathe again. Like now that you know what it’s like to kiss her, you need her to survive. 

It starts out slow, much like yesterday where the timidity and nerves had taken over, but this time, you’re both just exploring each other. She tastes like the coffee that’s now staining your shirt—the irony is fitting, really—and she lets out a small sound when you sweep your tongue against her lips and then into her open mouth. 

Her hands find your waist and then her fingers are against your bare stomach and you gasp—suddenly so sensitive and her touch goes straight to your cunt. She chuckles darkly against your lips and grips you tighter to pull you closer. Your own hands stroke up and down her biceps, feeling the soft polyester of her sweater, before curling into it. 

“I can’t—” you breathe, feeling dizzy, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Agatha pulls back just a smidge, just enough for you to see her grin. “Good,” she husks, and then claims your lips with hers again. Her conditioning is working, or maybe it’s just you being obsessive. 

Her kisses get more possessive, more forceful, and she nips at your bottom lip while her hands slide up the expanse of your chest again. Her thumb strokes over your nipple through your bra and you let out a moan. 

“Got to be quiet, honey,” she murmurs and trails her mouth down, planting open-mouthed kisses against your chin. Her eyes flick up to watch you bite your bottom lip and she purrs, “Good girl.” 

Heat flares up in your stomach and you instinctively rock your hips, eliciting another chuckle from her. 

“Please, please,” you beg, your fingers digging in harder to her arms. 

Agatha answers by sinking her teeth into your neck and then soothing the spot with her tongue. You hope there’s a mark tomorrow—you think about walking into class sporting the bruise that your professor gave you and it only makes you wetter. Your nerves are on fire as she nips at you again and then drags her lips down your neck to your bare shoulder. One of your hands buries itself in her hair. 

Her tongue traces against your bra strap and you’re both hot and cold at the same time, the sensations making you feel like you’re out of your body. It’s too much, yet simultaneously not enough, and when she mouths at your nipple over your bra, you let out a strangled groan—too loud.

In an instant, Agatha steps back and you’re left wet and burning and panting. “I’ll be quiet,” you say frantically and she gives you a wry smirk. 

She reaches out a hand and ghosts her thumb over your swollen lips. She comes closer like she can’t help it, leans in, and chastely kisses you before tugging on your bottom lip with her teeth. Heat flares up again, brighter and hotter than ever, and your arousal is making your head swim. 

“You need to learn how to follow directions and you have some more studying to do,” she says and other than the gravel tone in her voice and the flush in her cheeks, Agatha seems almost entirely unaffected. Meanwhile, when you look in the mirror, you look very much like a mess. Hair messy, skin and chest splotched with red, pupils blown wide. It makes your breath catch. 

Agatha’s stain on you. 

She seems to be caught up in it too, looking approvingly at the obvious desire painted on your face, and for a second, you think she might give in. 

And then she reaches down and takes off her black sweater, revealing a lilac button-down vest. The neck dips down low enough to have your mouth watering and you can see the edges of her gray bra. Her shoulders are bare and you can feel her skin on your fingertips from touching her yesterday. 

Agatha must know what you’re thinking because her lips curl as she holds out her sweater to you. You take it with trembling hands and put it on, becoming enveloped in her. Her perfume engulfs your senses and your clit aches. 

She sees the shifting and squeezing of your thighs and her eyes light up with a teasing gleam. “Need a moment, honey?”

You can only imagine the look on her face if you said yes, even though your body is screaming at you. Would she stay—would she watch? Offer to help? 

Most likely not, you decide. Agatha would just leave you in here and go back out, probably counting how long it took you to get yourself off. You’d have to wait a few extra minutes so you don’t seem too desperate. 

“I’m okay,” you rasp and she chuckles like she knows it isn’t true. But she doesn’t question it; she only advises you to splash some water on your face. 

The cold water sobers you up just slightly and your reflection in the mirror looks more like you, rather than someone ravaged by lust. But when Agatha unlocks and opens the door, you feel as if all the employees and the two people sitting at a table somehow know what you did. You’re wearing Agatha’s sweater, your hair is still mussed up, and your lips are rather swollen.

But your professor doesn’t seem fazed at all, her head stands tall as she struts back to your table and sits down in the same chair from earlier as if her tongue wasn’t in your mouth five minutes ago. One day, you vow, you’ll make her lose her composure, more than you already have. You want to see her visibly affected and not able to hide it or cover it up. 

Agatha discards her spilled coffee cup and points at your computer screen again. “We’ll be talking about neurotransmitters tomorrow but I can give you a brief overview now if you want.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you agree, but when she launches into it, you find it almost impossible to pay attention. Her hands are waving in the air and you’re finding it hard to pull your focus from her fingers that were on your body, on your hips, on your breasts, and you can’t stop from imagining them elsewhere. 

She says something about dopamine and the suggestion in her voice makes it sound pointed, but then she pauses with a frown. Your eyes have been following her hands and she’s finally just noticed—or finally cared enough to do something. 

“A little distracted there?” Agatha teases and you snap back to attention, making eye contact. Your cheeks flush and she smirks knowingly. “I hope you won’t be for the test. I’d hate for you to not get your reward.” 

“What will the reward be?” you dare to ask and she reaches over to lay her hand on your wrist, subtle but everything to you. Her thumb traces circles on your skin and it’s like you can feel her touching your clit. 

She thinks for a moment. “How about…” Her words are emphasized by her fingers tapping on your arm, “if you get a one-hundred, I’ll let you ask for anything you want.” 

Your throat suddenly goes dry and your heart skips a beat. “Oh,” you choke out and Agatha’s tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek as she tries not to smile smugly. 

“Any ideas?” 

“I—I think,” you swallow roughly, mind spinning at the possibilities, “I think I want to taste you.” 

Agatha’s breath catches in her throat and you get a thrill out of catching her off guard. But she recovers quickly, as she always does, and lowers her voice. “Oh, honey, you don’t need to get a perfect score on my exam to do that.” 

Which only makes the heat inside you worse. Your breathing is ragged and you look at her desperately but she just winks sweetly. 

“What if I don’t get a one-hundred?” 

She tuts. “As long as you get above a ninety, you’ll get something. But where would the fun be in telling you what?” You pout and Agatha playfully raps your wrist. “How about—if you really want to know—I’ll tell you, but it won’t be as good of a reward as if you just waited.” 

Another delay of gratification experiment. Because of course. You laugh at how you should’ve known. 

“I guess I’ll wait and hope I do well enough,” you concede and Agatha nods toward your computer screen. 

“I think you’ll do well. It always helps when you’re sufficiently motivated, even if you got a little distracted.” 

You snort. “Can you blame me? Maybe if you wanted me to focus, you shouldn’t have made out with me in the bathroom and then denied me again.” 

Agatha shoots you a look. “You’ve got to earn your rewards, honey. But if you’re not going to study, why don’t you pack up and I’ll take you back to campus? Maybe you can clear your head a bit before getting back into it.” 

The suggestion makes your mind go blank. “Are you—I—what—” Your words don’t make any sense and it’s almost frustrating how easy it is for her to knock you off balance. Sometimes you’re smooth, but other times she knows just what to say to wipe out your ability to think. 

She leans in and you instinctively look around just to make sure no one else is looking at you. The couple at the other table is engrossed in a conversation and the two employees behind the counter are cleaning the countertops. 

“I’m going to take you back to your dorm,” she whispers slowly and you feel your cheeks heat up, “and then you’re going to be a good girl and touch yourself for me.” Another strangled gasp rips itself from your throat and you want to start packing your stuff up immediately, but you can’t move. “And once you finish—which I doubt will take very long—you’re going to study some more for this test so you can get a good grade. Okay?” 

You nod shakily and then muster up, “Will you?” 

Agatha raises an eyebrow as she pulls back. “I don’t need to study,” she says, fully knowing what you mean. 

Because, as your theory stands, she likes when you use your words. 

“Are you going to touch yourself?” Your heart pounds in time with each word and you look down at her lips again before meeting her dark eyes. 

She shrugs noncommittally. 

But it’s enough for you, because you see the pink in her cheeks and hear the way her breathing is just slightly labored. You nod, finally able to move again, and slide your notebook and computer into your bag and stand up. 

Agatha chuckles at your enthusiasm and follows you out of the shop to her car. 

The short drive feels like an eternity, and while you don’t want it to end, you can’t wait to get back to your room. 

Not many words are spoken, but tense looks are exchanged. The knowledge of what you’re both going to do is hanging over you. For a brief minute, you’re considering trying to get her to come up with you but you shoot it down because she won’t say yes and imagining Agatha in your two-hundred square foot dorm room is almost laughable. Plus there’s a very good chance someone would see and wonder why your professor is coming to your room with you. And if Wanda was there? 

Agatha pulls up in front of the building and you give her one last longing look. 

“Have fun studying,” she says, reaching out to swipe her thumb against your lips one last time after she checks that no one is walking around, “and put some concealer on your neck tomorrow.” 

You smirk at her and open the door before getting out. Agatha raises a hand as a goodbye and you watch her drive away, leaving you standing there hot and bothered and still in her sweater. 

Will it smell like you if you fuck yourself in it? You think about handing it back to Agatha tomorrow in class with the fabric smelling like Black Opium and sex. 

That’s the image that spurs you on and you quickly make your way to your room. Thankfully, it’s empty. 

You climb in your bed, shove your shorts over your hips, and inhale the perfume from her sweater one last time before finally following your professor’s directions. 

Part Twelve

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @500daysofmarissa @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge @hannibalcanniballz @chloeelou02x @hapuchika @xblinkx2 @xanthreee

[flamingwell]

Making Your Podfic (especially with Music and/or Sound Effects) More Accessible and Listener Friendly

So you're planning to make a podfic with music and/or sound effects, and you want to think about ways to make it more accessible? Awesome!! This will guide you through some steps you can take to make your podfic more accessible, some of which will also make for a more pleasant listening experience for listeners without accessibility needs, but the focus will primarily be on accessibility. Some of this will also be applicable to podfics with multiple recording sessions without music or sound effects, but again, that's not the focus.

What's the number one thing you can do to make your podfic with music and/or sound effects more accessible to those with noise sensitivity, auditory processing conditions, who are somewhat hard of hearing, or other auditory accessibility needs?

MAKE A CLEAN VERSION, with NO music or sound effects! This can be a very easy change to your process for most people! After editing out mistakes and doing your audio clean up but before you add music or sound effects, simply export your audio. Upload it wherever you upload your final version, drop in a second link to the no music/sound effects version, and that's it! Of course, this may not be trivial for some people, depending on your individual process or other factors. I hope you will decide that it's worth doing anyway. As someone with audio accessibility needs myself, I can tell you it makes a HUGE difference. There are podficcers I love who I can't listen to some of what they've recorded because there's no version without music/sound effects, or sometimes I can only listen on a good day. There are fics I love where there's a podfic version, but I will never be able to listen to it because there's more music/sounds effects than I can handle. This one change will make people like me VERY happy and will expand your audience!

Secondly, especially if you've got a lot of audio dynamics (really quiet whispery bits and also really loud shouty bits), be sure to use the Compressor tool. Long story short, the compressor makes the actual noise level of the quiet bits louder and the loud bits quieter, while still leaving the impression of whispering or shouting. In other words, keep the emotion, but don't force your listeners to keep changing the volume on their headphones/speakers/hearing aid to be able to hear what you're saying or avoid getting their ears blown out (very useful for other listeners too, especially people listening on headphones or in the car). A quick overview of how to use the Compressor settings (this is for Audacity, which is what I'm most familiar with, but most audio editing tools will have something similar):

Threshold: how loud do you want to go before starting to make things quieter?

Make-up gain: after compressing the loud bits down, how much do you want to make everything louder to make up for it?

Knee width: how quickly and starkly do you want the compression to apply? At 0db, this will be a very sharp change. Lower levels will lead to less sharp changes

Ratio: for the loud bits that are getting compressed, how much compression should be applied? The higher the Ratio the more the loud parts of the audio will be compressed.

Okay, but maybe you want to ALSO make the version with music and/or sound effects more accessible, since that's your vision for the podfic and you want as many people as possible to be able to experience it? Great! PLEASE still make a version without music/sound effects as noted above, because even doing everything you can won't be enough for everyone. But it's also great to do what you can to make your music/sound effects version accessible for those that are able to enjoy it with some changes. So….what are some things you can do?

As much as possible, avoid putting music or Foley over your words. For people with audio processing issues especially, it can be very difficult to parse words when there's background music (and especially background music that itself has words).

If you're going to have music or Foley over words, make sure the words are significantly louder than the music. You can use the Analyze Contrast tool (in the Analyze menu in Audacity) to compare the relative loudness of two selections.

For music or Foley between words (like in a section break), make sure it's not too much louder or softer than the sections that come before and after. Again, use that Analyze Contrast tool to compare selections.

You can also use Analyze Contrast to even out the sound between recording sessions!

For sound effects that modify your voice, go only to the point where your voice still sounds very intelligible to you. Someone with auditory accessibility needs will likely struggle with intelligibility well before someone without those needs.

Hope this was helpful!

(This is written from my perspective as someone who has audio accessibility needs, as well as being a podficcer myself. Beta help and additional thoughts from @writerproblem193 @keriarentikai @xiaokuer-schmetterling and others not on Tumblr. But this is not The Definitive Guide To Accessibility or anything, so please add your perspective!)

[daretoassume]

77 quotes to change your perspective

carl jung

"if the path before you is clear, you are probably on someone else's."

"until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate."

"the world will ask who you are, and if you do not know, the world will tell you."

"it all depends on how we look at things and not how they are in themselves."

"there is no coming to consciousness without pain."

joe dispenza

"can you accept the notion that once you change your internal state, you do not need the external world to provide you with a reason to feel joy, gratitude, appreciation, or any other elevated emotion?"

"if you want a new outcome, you will have to break the habit of being yourself and reinvent a new self."

"if you were to start investing your attention and energy into the unknown, your body would then be able to follow your mind into the unknown—a new experience in your future."

"if you cannot get beyond your stresses, your problems, and your pain, you cannot create a new future where those things do not exist."

"if you focus on the known, you get the known. if you focus on the unknown, you create a possibility."

eckhart tolle

"the primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but your thoughts about it."

"life is not as serious as the mind makes it out to be."

"you find peace not by rearranging the circumstances of your life but by realizing who you are at the deepest level."

"pleasure is always derived from something outside you, whereas joy arises from within."

"most of the so-called bad things that happen in people's lives are due to unconsciousness. they are self-created, or rather ego-created."

wayne dyer

"when you judge another, you do not define them, you define yourself."

"you are not stuck where you are unless you decide to be."

"begin to see yourself as a soul with a body rather than a body with a soul."

"be miserable. or motivate yourself. whatever has to be done, it is always your choice."

"you are what you choose to be today. not what you have chosen to be before."

louise hay

"every thought we think is creating our future."

"i do not fix problems. i fix my thinking. then problems fix themselves."

"you have been criticizing yourself for years, and it has not worked. try approving of yourself and see what happens."

"there is no written law that says that because you once believed something, you have to continue to believe it forever."

"the more we love ourselves, the less we project our pain onto the world."

jen sincero

"if you are serious about changing your life, you will find a way. if you are not, you will find an excuse."

"your life is your party. you get to choose how you invite people and experiences and things into it."

"you need to go from wanting to change your life to deciding to change your life."

"what you tell yourself on a daily basis is more powerful than you know."

"comparison is the fastest way to take all the fun out of life."

tony robbins

"it is your decisions and not your conditions that determine your destiny."

"you cannot have a plan for your day until you have a plan for your life."

"belief in limits creates limited people."

"the only thing that is keeping you from getting what you want is the story you keep telling yourself."

"if i could uncover what beliefs and values control me, i could literally redesign myself."

marcus aurelius

"the happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts."

"our life is what our thoughts make it."

"the best revenge is not to be like your enemy."

"every living organism is fulfilled when it follows the right path for its own nature."

"today i escaped anxiety. or no, i discarded it because it was within me, in my own perceptions—not outside."

jay shetty

"the more we define ourselves in relation to the people around us, the more lost we are."

"actually, the greatest detachment is being close to everything and not letting it consume and own you."

"it is impossible to build one's own happiness on the unhappiness of others."

"if you are satisfied with who you are, you do not need to prove your worth to anyone else."

"the grass is greener where you water it."

mel robbins

"if you only ever did the things you do not want to do, you would have everything you have ever wanted."

"you are one decision away from a completely different life."

"when it comes to change, goals, and dreams, you have to bet on yourself."

"change your decisions, and you will change your life. and what will change your decisions more than anything? courage."

"if you have the courage to start, you have the courage to succeed."

alan watts

"man suffers only because he takes seriously what the gods made for fun."

"never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command."

"you are under no obligation to be the same person you were 5 minutes ago."

"a person who thinks all the time has nothing to think about except thoughts. so, he loses touch with reality and lives in a world of illusions."

"hurrying and delaying are alike ways of trying to resist the present."

ram dass

"the quieter you become, the more you can hear."

"your problem is you are too busy holding on to your unworthiness."

"i can do nothing for you but work on myself…you can do nothing for me but work on yourself."

"free yourself from the illusion of good and bad days. labeling time makes us nostalgic for the past and demanding the future. there is only here and now. let it be."

"no matter what someone else does to you, never put anyone out of your heart."

lao tzu

"care about what other people think, and you will always be their prisoner."

"the best fighter is never angry."

"respond intelligently even to unintelligent treatment."

"if you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading."

"nature never hurries, yet everything is accomplished."

muhammad ali

"if my mind can conceive it, and my heart can believe it—then i can achieve it."

"do not quit. suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion."

"he who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life."

"i have never let anyone talk me into not believing in myself."

"i am the greatest. i said that even before i knew i was."

steve harvey

"you cannot leave what is important to you up to someone else."

"stop wasting time looking at someone else's reality while doing nothing about yours."

"the dream is free, but the hustle is sold separately."

"your dream has to be bigger than your fear."

"you cannot tell big dreams to small-minded people."

albert einstein

"i am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. imagination is more important than knowledge. knowledge is limited. imagination encircles the world."

"anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new."

𓍯 entryfromsane004 (extracted from the old blog two years ago)

[smallestapplin]

Wing cleaning

Predaking x gn!aerial Cybertronian reader.

Warnings : none, just fluff and wing cleaning with Predaking. I just need fluff 😔

-

-

Predaking’s displays of affection were slightly odd to you, he stays in his alt mode more often than not making seeing his face limited, but he curls around you for cuddles centering you in the middle of his hoard to keep you safe. In his alt mode kisses are usually nuzzles or him licking your face or even your wings, no matter how much you tell him not to.

His purrs are at least soothing, you suppose, always so deep and rumble so nicely it makes for good white noise to sleep to.

“Preda, this isn’t necessary.”

He only answers with a huffed growl making you sigh deeply and accept your fate. His large ribbed glossa crosses the top of your helm, making you face scrunch up at the new wet feeling. Predacons, still had much more animalistic behaviors, which, fair, you didn’t see a problem with, until it’s your face plate being licked. He wants to take care of you in a way that is familar to him, you know this and love him for it, but sometimes you wish he’d take it easier around your wings, or makes you squirm from the intensity.

“Stay still, you are filthy.”

A pack bonding activity, he said.

Only mated pairs help clean the body, which is why he is so sure and determined to lick your wings clean, which granted you know your wings aren’t in the best condition from thousands of years of not being able to clean them properly.

But this feels….weirdly intimate to such a level it’s overwhelming.

Predaking purrs loudly as he licks over the center of your left wing, sitting proudly in his draconic alt mode as he cleans you up, tail lazily swiping across the den floor, so happy his chosen mate is finally letting him clean their wings without issue.

you sigh, body twitching and jerking when he licks too firmly or starts getting close to you wings joints, those are the worst spots, but also the most sensitive.

“Hey, maybe don’t get there yet, please?”

The con makes a confused hum, before moving his head over your shoulder to look at you, noting how nervous you seem to be.

“But you are having rust build up there, they need to be cleaned.”

“I know, I know! But…I just…hnn.” your wings droop, looking up at him with a pleading gaze, but it doesn’t work on him.

“Please, My King, it’s just overwhelming, no one has touched my wings in so long, I-“

“Turn, face me.” His deep voice cuts you off, before he retracts.

You hear him transforming back into his base mode just before you turn around, now your optics meeting the imposing mech. you squeak as he grabs your waist, picking you up and placing you on his lap. your arms instinctively go around his neck, as you still have to look up at him, wondering what his plan is.

“Hold onto me, I will clean your wings this way.”

you hesitate, your optics glancing around the hoard, noting him grabbing one of the fancier looking clothes he stole from who knows where. But he waits, waits for you to get comfy, his yellow optics tracing up your body as he waits for your orders.

Small scars and scratches here at there adding to your already impressive frame, such a small mech, at least small to him, able to withstand so much, so strong, perfect for defending the nest.

you hype yourself up, knowing if your wings don’t get cleaned soon it could lead to transformation issues, or flying issues in general, but still it’s so deeply personal.

But they trust him, as rough around the edges as he is, he’s saved and protected you countless times, and is always waiting for your words and orders, only listening to you and waits for you to give him the okay.

You sigh, trying to relax before leaning against his chassis and fanning your wings out so he can reach better. Predaking purrs loudly, nuzzling his helm into the top of yours as he gets to work.

He’s happy now to have stashed polishes and cleaners from that one flashy red bot, who knew it would come in handy? you tenses feeling his touch, feeling the damp cloth touch your wing joint as he rubs it in slow circles, applying gentle pressure to get anymore dirt and grim from your wings.

He doesn’t speak, letting his purrs echo in the cave to soothe his little mate, occasionally nuzzling his helm against the side of yours.

Who knew such a big brute could be so gentle? But for you, he’d burn this planet for you.

[northgazaupdates]

Please support our friend

Graphic design artist and journalist Moataz Abu Sakran @moatazart was still finishing his beautiful home in Gaza City when the IOF bombed it. They destroyed everything he and his wife Maryam had built, leaving him, Maryam, and their baby girl Maria homeless. Moataz lost the ability to work, and his family is struggling to get food. They have been repeatedly under siege by the occupation, including during the long siege of the Al-Shifa Medical Complex area.

Despite all of this, Moataz continues to make content about Gaza, risking his life and going to unimaginable effort to inform people about real conditions on the ground in the north of the Strip. His tumblr (above) and Instagram accounts are both active, and you can view his work there. This blog often cites Moataz, and major news outlets like Al Jazeera as well as social media influencers have also used his photos and footage, usually without any recognition.

Moataz, Maryam, and Maria were about to evacuate to Egypt to temporarily resettle there for their own safety. Their plan was to find safety in Egypt, and find work there until they were able to return to Gaza. The border is currently closed due to illegal IOF seizure, but it will reopen. They still plan to travel to Egypt for their own safety and to find work, but for now that is too far into the future to be of any consolation. They have no intention of leaving Gaza permanently, they love their home and are determined to rebuild it.

You can help them rebuild their home by supporting them here. The rebuilding cost is significant, and the fundraising will have to be done in stages. Unfortunately, this first stage has seen very little progress. You can help Palestinians be able to keep living in Gaza by supporting their reconstruction funds. No amount is too little, and all reblogs and reposts are immensely powerful.

We are also putting together an art drive to raise funds, and are looking for artists and other creatives who are interested in contributing. If you have experience organizing art drives, or want to contribute your work, please reach out to us.

Thank you

The legitimacy of Moataz’s case has been verified by this blog, as well as other tumblr users

[batsybat91]

Shymoob's Summer Event - July 7th (Heatwave)

Leon S. Kennedy/Reader

Rated T for Teen

Leon's day off is today... in theory. He's always working - taking phone calls, writing emails, writing reports, and going out on impromptu missions. You know he tries to make time for you, but it's hard with his job at the DSO.

"Alright, alright. I can come in tomorrow. Not today," Leon says into his phone. "Why? Because my woman hasn't been able to spend a single day with me without my work interrupting. No, no arguments. I am not leaving today." A pause. "Goodbye."

You look up from your book, only to see Leon dressed in a well-fitting white tank top and black basketball shorts. His beautiful muscles are on full display for you, rippling over his arms, across his shoulders, and down his back. "Ugh, you look too handsome for a lazy Sunday," you tease.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," he says with that dopey grin of his. "Too hot to wear my usual compression shirt, black jeans combo in the house today."

"It's very inconvenient," you huff dramatically. "We're in an air-conditioned home, and you chose to wear something far too hot. I'm afraid I'm going to ask you to change."

"I'm afraid not," he tsks at you. "I had some very important plans regarding cuddling my girlfriend and kissing her until the sun goes down."

"Oh, you know, that doesn't seem to work with your girlfriend's schedule." You stand from the sofa, tossing your book on the coffee table. "See, your girlfriend was going to-"

A loud clank interrupts you, which is then followed by a series of concerning grinding sounds. Then, of all things to happen on this godforsaken 110-degree day, the AC shuts off completely. You look at Leon. Leon looks at you.

In unison, you both exclaim, "Fuck!"

"I guess your girlfriend is going to the Home Depot," you grumble. "Or Lowe's."

"I guess her boyfriend is going to come with her." He kisses the top of your head. "Let me get dressed and see what it needs."

"I'll get dressed, too," you sigh. "Hottest fuckin' day of the year and our AC shits itself."

"We can get ice cream," he offers as he pulls a light blue compression shirt over his head. "And after we fix our AC, I can make dinner."

You tug on your shoes, tying them quickly. Then you give a soft, reluctant sigh. "I suppose that's not a bad deal."

"Come on, pretty girl." He grabs your hands and yanks you to your feet. "Let's fix this thing."

The trip to Home Depot is like going to Home Depot with your dad. Leon drags you through aisles, pausing to look at things that he might need for other projects. He goes to look through the lumber, then at the power tools. "Leon, baby, we're here for stuff for our AC. It's been an hour," you remind softly. "Let's go home."

"I know, I know," he replies, "I just like this store."

"You can come play in the store all you want when we don't have a broken air conditioner at home," you say, ruffling his hair.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"I promise I will buy you some new toys for your garage on your birthday," you assure him, rubbing his back. "Come on."

When you return home, after ice cream and Home Depot, Leon spends about an hour fixing the AC. A string of foul curses leaves his lips, normally followed by "It's too fucking hot." Eventually, he gets the damned thing working again, mumbling something about how it "took a goddamn miracle."

"Leon," you say, opening your arms for him. "Take a break."

He flops onto the couch, putting his head in your lap. You card your fingers through his silky hair, and the tension just melts out of his muscles. "Stupid thing," he huffs.

"But you fixed it. And we will be cool once again." You kiss his knuckles.

"I hope this heatwave ends soon," he sighs, rubbing his eyes.

You nod in agreement. "It will, baby. But for now, just rest."

[fourorchid]

NSFW Alphabet — Viktor

notes: hi! no one asked but ive always wanted to make one of these so here’s my take on the nsfw alphabet for viktor hehe also if you have any one shot/fics/other post requests feel free to send them my way id love some inspo!!

- - - -

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

sex is a lot of exertion for him, so he’d make sure to check in with you/ask how you are feeling as you would for him

you’d both take care of each other but he always insists on tending to you first, he’s slow and meticulous when he cleans you up

sometimes you both get in the bath together to help clean up/wind down too

he’d also like to curl up with you against him in bed, not so much in a smothering way but more of a peaceful way, arms and legs intertwined and breathing in sync, i feel like he would especially enjoy playing with your hair

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

viktor’s favorite: hands

viktor’s favorite of yours: waist/hips/thighs just that whole area, he loves to leave little love bites on the inner part of your thigh and lower stomach as theyre extra soft

also lips, just your mouth in general really

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

prefers to be cleaner with it, really doesnt like the idea of coming on your face idk it just feels a bit too degrading to him, does however enjoy when you swallow and will come almost anywhere else you prefer

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

before getting together, he would think about you often when in bed at night, some times in a lewd way, other times in more wholesome scenarios

could see him drunk calling you to confess his attraction/feelings but then ending the call before you can pick up, brushes it off the next day smoothly saying it was an accident

stares at you/your body a LOT but tries to hide it and do it when you arent looking as he doesnt want to feel like he’s objectifying you but its like he cant help himself, youve got him hypontized

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

has experience in the bedroom but not like a crazy amount

he is, however, well read and a quick learner and has had no complaints

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

taking into account his physical condition, something where hes more stationary and youre on top, whether hes on a chair and your straddling his lap riding him or youre both laying down on your side and hes rocking into you

on a good day/if the pain didnt matter, i’d lowkey say missionary but not in a boring way more of like a he wants to be able to watch as he makes you unravel underneath him sort of way

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

absolutely can be silly but in the heat of the moment his focus would be solely on pleasure for both of you so the intensity of it can come off more serious, definitely able to laugh off any mishaps though, he appreciates the human nature of it and doesnt let you get embarrassed when things dont exactly go according to plan

he’d comfort you/smooth over awkward moments with kisses, like if you accidentally smacked your ankle on the bedside table he’d press a kiss to it as he continues, something small but attentive and sweet

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

not clean shaven but like not a total disaster either, the type that doesnt keep up with it when hes single but when hes with someone he makes sure to pick up a regimen to keep things tamed

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

can be very romantic during if thats the sort of mood that feels right, but sex and romance arent both needed at the same time for him if that makes sense, like hes down to have filthy sex sans romance or like have a super romantic night out that doesnt necessarily end in you two doing anything in the bedroom, its all about balance

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

when hes single its a sort of thing where like he wont do it for months but then suddenly has a two week spurt where he just cant stop

when hes with someone i think he’d be more inclined to make masturbation an activity between you both OR likes having you both hold out until the next time you see each other, just to see how desperate you get

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

to do to you: overstimulation (conducts “experiments” to test your limits), light restraints, blindfold

for both of you: edging, hair tugging/pulling, worship, slight dom/sub dynamic

also likes to have you straddle his thigh and grind against it to get yourself off and will push his leg up against you to help

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

most likely the bedroom because its convenient and easier on his body, similarly enjoys doing it in hotels and if your room comes with a hot tub probably there too

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

oh my god you wearing tights like sheer classy black tights GOOD LORD you have to hold him back, just you dressed up in general honestly

your voice is another one, sometimes you will say something or make a noise that just gets his imagination going before he can stop it

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything too degrading or hazardous to either of you i cant imagine he’d really be into that much

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

im gonna say it, this man is a munch

he equally enjoys receiving and giving

and he absolutely loves when you put your hands in his hair while he does it

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

both, and it can partially depend on the state of his health, but it also depends on what is best suited to the moment, loves to change it up alternating between rough and fast and agonizingly slow just to hear you whine

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not necessarily opposed but not preferred, he likes to take his time with you

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

can’t really afford to take any big risks for obvious reasons, but he’s absolutely open to experimenting with different things

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

mentally: high stamina, VERY high, he almost will never crack first in a battle of willpower

physically: on the lower side, but good at pacing himself and supplements with other activities (using his mouth, using his hands, using toys)

regardless, he would make sure you both could go multiple rounds if you wanted to

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

definitely appreciates the utility of toys in the bedroom

he prefers using them on you rather than on himself, although something that vibrates in/on you that he can also feel while inside is a plus

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh definitely a tease

in public hes subtle and has a crazy poker face so he’d do stuff like let his hand linger on your waist, or if youre sat across from each other he might run his shoe against your leg in a way where it could plausibly be an accident, placing his hand on your thigh below the table with his fingers just barely slipping under the hem of your dress, leaning closer to whisper in your ear in a more crowded room even if its not really necessary, small stuff that he knows drives you crazy

when you both are alone he’s more playful and outright with it

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he definitely isnt silent, but overall would say his partner is going to be the more vocal one, he gasps and groans more than anything, mostly focused on hearing the sounds he can pull out of you

also i feel like he’d whisper in your ear or speak lowly against your skin during, either something absolutely filthy or sweet nothings

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

loves when you wear red lipstick

he likes to see the mess he can make of it by the end of the night and the stains on his skin the next morning

also doesnt say it because it looks rather uncomfortable to wear and doesnt want to admit to the cliche, but lingerie gets his heart racing, especially if you wear it under your clothes throughout the day and he catches small glimpses of it poking out around your waistband or neckline if you do wear it be prepared to pay for it later

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

just a bit bigger than average, tip is extra sensitive, i’ll let you imagine the rest

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

when hes single its sporadic, when he’s with someone its more consistent

i’d say about average, besides the odd week out here and there where hes either craving it everyday or not feeling up to it so much

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

entirely depends on how he’s feeling healthwise, some days it helps him sleep, others it can flare him up, but he never regrets it LOL

also feel like he’d be a big pillow talker, like you both would lay in bed up into the early morning just talking softly, theorizing about literally anything, you both love picking each other’s brain

and he likes feeling the vibration of your chest against his as you talk, like the human equivalent of a cat purring, he finds it relaxing

[jjkamochoso]

Imagine… Soshiro Hoshina Finding You on the Brink of Death

Angst, Hurt/No Comfort

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of injuries, ivs, death

Part two with fluff can be found here!

It looked to be the end of the line for you. Your Defense Force suit had long overheated, leaving you exhausted and vulnerable in your solo fight against the kaiju. The oversized monster saw how weak you were, becoming even more excited at the prospect of devouring yet another human. You kept shooting its snarling face in your desperation, round after round bouncing off its armored body since you wielded no extra power. The kaiju’s tail whipped around in a flash, hitting your slow moving body in the abdomen and making your gun fly from your grip. You were now splayed on the ground, unable to run and barely able to breathe. You didn’t want to give up but things were utterly hopeless. Your communications had been down the entire time of your 1 on 1 skirmish and your team had no idea where you were, you having been separated from them for far too long at that point. The kaiju strolled over to you, an aura of bloodlust surrounding it as it snatched you up in its jaw. You had no fight left in you—you just hoped your head would go first before all your bones were snapped.

“No more dinner for you tonight, you ugly shit.”

Was that… Soshiro? He came for you? You heard the faint unsheathing of swords as your eyes closed, ready to pass out. In its anger at being disrupted, the kaiju dropped you from its mouth and you tumbled onto the asphalt. The last thing you saw was a blur of violet hair and a whole lot of kaiju blood.

It was almost totally quiet when you came to again, save for the wheezing of your labored breaths. The sun was hanging high in the hazy sky and the weather was perfect--not too hot, not chilly at all. You wondered what Soshiro was up to. Was he still fighting the kaiju? You smiled at the thought. He was always so brave, the first one to jump into action. The relief you felt when he showed up to save you was insurmountable, though you probably weren't going to survive with your extensive injuries if you didn't see a doctor soon. What you wouldn't give to see his face again for the last time. No matter, the memories that you had together were more than enough for you. Maybe it was better this way. You couldn't imagine him setting eyes on your condition right now, you didn't want to burden him with your death. You prayed to whatever spiritual guide to let you pass before someone found your body; there was no way you'd let him lecture you about being more careful as you died.

"Vice Captain! They're still alive!"

You sighed as much as your broken body would allow. With Kafka around, your peaceful death plans would have to wait.

"Y/n, stay with us. Don't fall asleep, okay?"

His kind voice, though loud, was a welcome sound. Even still, your eyes were struggling to stay open as your head lolled around, but now your body was being maneuvered by someone whose touch had become a familiar comfort--

"Soshiro," you muttered, opening your eyes to find bright purple irises boring into your own. "Did you kill it?"

"Kill it? He obliterated that thing!" exclaimed Kafka, excitedly gesticulating. "He was all, swoosh with the swords and the honju was like, ahhh! Don't dice me up! But Vice Captain was like too bad, you should've thought of that before putting your hands on my y/n-"

"That's enough, Hibino."

"Yes, sir. I'll just, uh... stand over there."

Kafka ran off without another word, leaving you in the arms of the man you loved most.

"You’re my knight in shining kaiju armor," you choked out, trying to get a laugh from Soshiro, but he wasn't having any of it as he patched up your external injuries the best he could with his field first aid kit.

"I almost lost you, y/n. You almost died because I was too slow."

"Soshiro, that's not..." The blood you coughed up mixed with the blood on Soshiro's uniform.

"I know this might be selfish of me, but I can't let you die because I can't live without you. I don't want to live a life that doesn't have you in it. I would do anything for you." He placed a large bandage on a cut on your face, letting his fingertips rest there for longer than necessary before getting back to the task at hand. "I remember you said all those years ago you would do anything for me, too. Would you please hang in there and survive this? For me? For… us?”

He was right, you did say that. It was about a year after you both joined the Defense Force. You were both underdogs and no one seemed to believe in you and your abilities, except for each other. You had bonded over being underestimated and swore to each other that you’d never leave one another behind, in anything. He very obviously made good on that promise today.

You coughed up more blood and you could see the worry and pain in Soshiro’s gaze as he looked upon you, lying in his arms like a broken doll. He so gently wiped away the tears that were falling down your cheeks.

“It-everything hurts,” you whimpered.

“I know, I know it does. But we’re gonna get you the help you need, okay?”

You didn’t respond, causing Soshiro’s heart to plummet.

“Y/n. No, no, no, you gotta wake up. C’mon, this isn’t funny,” he pleaded, tapping your face, but getting no response.

“Shit! Hibino!” he yelled, trying his best to stay composed. “We need medic right now! Y/n won’t wake up!”

“Coming right now, Vice Captain!”

Sure enough, a doctor came rushing over, immediately placing down a stretcher. Soshiro loaded your unmoving body onto the hard plastic and he couldn’t help but think of how fragile you looked. Normally you were such a bright light in his life and a formidable ally not easily defeated, but right now, you looked one step from death’s door. He and Kafka dropped you off in an ambulance, ivs immediately being pumped into your veins. As those doors closed, Soshiro getting one last look of the love of his life, he prayed to whoever would listen that the door hadn’t closed on the opportunity to tell you how he truly felt.

PART TWO

[waitingonher]

A LIFE WITHOUT YOU ISN'T A LIFE AT ALL

summary: the aftermath of your injury. [percy jackson x reader]

author's note: finally on break so hopefully i can post more?? also i wrote this all in one sitting so i hope it makes sense...

percy jackson can take physical pain. he’s used to it. he’s seen everything in the book, from blood to broken bones, and it’s become easier to digest over the years. yet, what he can’t ever seem to get over, is the sight of you hurt. there’s nothing that could ever prepare him for the inevitable moments where your life would hang in the balance. today just happened to be one of those moments. 

first, percy heard the screams, then he saw the blood. it was a strategically crafted ploy to hit him where it hurt—you. honestly, if you asked percy, he wouldn’t be able to tell you anything of what had happened in the following moments. all he knows is that he fought like hell to get you back. 

“y/n,” a familiar voice pleads, “wake up, please, wake up,” fuzzy. everything was fuzzy. but then there was the familiar scent of lemon verbena—the candle will always lights in the infirmary. your hands begin to roam as you feel the cotton bed sheets, why are you in the infirmary? your eyes shoot open and immediately meet percy’s. he seems to be frantically talking, but you can only hear the ringing in your ears. 

all of a sudden your hearing rushes back, and you really wish it hadn’t. people shouting orders and people crying over their loved ones wasn’t necessarily what one would want to wake up to. percy’s eyes widen in relief as he kisses your hand, “thank the gods. i almost thought i lost you.” 

pause. you and annabeth were supposed to be leading the charge against the monsters on the northern borders of camp. where is she? how is she? despite being in no condition for sitting up, or for anything in that matter, you attempt to get up, “percy, i- me and annabeth, i need to get back,” an excruciating flash of pain pulses in your gut and you cry out. 

percy immediately ushers you to lay back down on the bed, “y/n you need to-”

“no percy,” dazed, you fight against his hold, ignoring the burning pain, “please, let me go. annabeth, she needs my help and i can’t just-” 

“y/n,” he interrupts, his voice ever so slightly raised, “listen to me,” percy cups your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. blood. there was so much blood on his face. then you notice the wild look in his eyes, “you’re okay. annabeth is okay. everyone is okay. it’s over, we won.” 

you slowly nod as you take everything in. everything hurt. you had a relentless pounding in your head and an awful pain in your stomach, “what happened?” 

percy pulls in a chair and closes the curtain around your bed, “from what i’ve heard from annabeth, your team arrived at the planned meeting spot, and instead of the couple dozens of monsters you guys expected…there were hundreds. i guess they somehow knew that you were assigned the northern border so they-”

“they focused all their divisions on the northern border, where i was,” you realize. it makes sense, and quite frankly, it was a good plan. why go for the rest of the camp when you could aim for the one person percy cares for the most? you sigh as you sink your head back into the pillow, a potent mixture of guilt and frustration eating at you. 

percy takes your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over your bruised knuckles. he knows all too well what it’s like to be in this position, “y/n please don’t be so hard on yourself. nobody knew that this would happen.” 

you purse your lips, “i know, i just can’t shake the feeling that i could’ve done something differently. i mean look around, this is the busiest i’ve seen the infirmary since the last titan war. and you, you’re hurt too,” your arm weakly raises to wipe away a bit of crusted blood on percy’s cheek. you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself if percy died because of you.

“y/n, you did everything you could. and besides, we can’t control everything, especially when it’s war. we knew the risks the moment we decided to fight back,” his hand meets yours as you caress his face.  

you sigh, “you’re right. thank you percy.”

he gives you a reassuring nod, “and i’m okay, i promise, i already got everything looked at,” he adds, “will said i should be back to normal within a few days.” 

you hum in approval and you two lapse into comfortable silence. percy opens his mouth as if to say something, but lets it fall shut. instead, he reaches for your hand again, holding tightly as if you were to fly away at a moments notice. you look at your boyfriend, finding him deep in thought, “percy what’s wrong?”  

his gaze falls to the floor and a few moments pass before he lets out a shaky sigh, “i was just so scared. i mean, when i got there, i found you and you were just laying there,” he pauses, his brows furrowed and lips pursed, “i don’t think i’ve ever ran so fast in my entire life,” percy’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

your heart begins to ache knowing how hard this affects him. but you also can’t help feeling happy knowing that percy feels so strongly for you.

“then when i got you here, even will was concerned, and you know how good he is. and then he was working on you for hours, and there was so much blood and i just…” he pauses before looking at you, his eyes swimming with desperation, “i've realized that i can’t live without you. so please-”  

“percy," you grasp his shoulder tightly, almost as if proving your existence to him, “i'm alive. you saved my life. and i wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. you realize that, right?” 

percy nods his head slowly, he himself finally realizing that everything would be okay, “yeah.” 

“good, now give me a hug, my love,” you chuckle, “you’re too tense.” 

and he does not need to be told twice. percy practically jumps (very carefully) into your arms, squeezing you in a tight hug. at the end of the day, you’re going to be alright, and that’s all percy’s asking for.  

“i love you,” he whispers. a quiet oath to always be the one to find you, to always be the one to save you. 

“i love you too, percy,” a promise to do the same.

[thesimsideofluca]

Sims 4 Apartment Lobby Override [BASEGAME]

Tired of the bold, bright colors and outdated carpets in your San Myshuno apartment lobbies? I’ve got the perfect solution for you!

I created six lobby overrides that transform the wallpaper and flooring in the following apartment buildings:

Alto Apartments

Landgraab Tower

Spiral Tower

Chic Street

Culpepper House

Jasmine Suites

You can download them on my Patreon: [download]

Completely free! However, you’ll need to be subscribed to access the file. If you’re not following me yet, it may appear blurred—just hit that follow button, and you’re good to go!

How It Works

This override replaces the default wallpaper and flooring in these lobbies, giving them a fresh, modern look. Keep in mind that once applied, you won’t be able to use the original wallpapers and flooring in the game anymore (not that you’d want to, let’s be honest 😂).

Important Note

The Jasmine Suites override affects the default concrete flooring, which is also used in many empty rooms throughout the game. If you’d prefer not to override that, I’ve made it a separate file:

📁 TSSL_Jasmine_Suites_Floor_BASEGAME.package

If you’re okay with the Jasmine Suites floor override, download both files and place them in your Mods folder.

If you’d rather keep the default concrete flooring, only download the main file (without Jasmine Suites floor) and place it in your Mods folder.

You can always test it out and remove the file if needed!

I wanted this first override to be accessible to as many Simmers as possible, so it works with just the base game! However, you will need City Living to access the apartments.

I’m already planning future lobby overrides using other packs (and if cc creators agree also with their content) so stay tuned!

Want to take customization even further? I highly recommend using the T.O.O.L mod by @twistedmexi! It allows you to adjust lighting and add furniture pieces to truly make the space your own.

Terms & Conditions

Share freely, but please give credit.

Do not use my files to create your own reshades or overrides.

DOWNLOAD HERE: [download]

Completely free! However, you’ll need to be subscribed to access the file. If you’re not following me yet, it may appear blurred—just hit that follow button, and you’re good to go!

Happy Simming <3

The Sim Side of Luca