#WHY IS THE QUALITY OF THE FIRST PICTURE SO LOW

[stromuprisahat]

"I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream."

Siege and Storm- Chapter 15

Oh nein! Mal has issues! With consequences of his actions he should be grateful for, and his girl not sharing every waking thought with him, when her worst worries spring from his most hated topics- the Darkling and her role in politics.

And Alina once again feels responsible for his feelings.

Yeah, this would have a bit more weight, if Alina didn't do it only for appearances' sake. Or if she granted the position due to merit, not random pick of what she views as the lowest low. Or if she didn't continue speaking as if she were a narrator of wildlife documentary, describing a new species of animal that just appeared.

Not necessarily, but it's one of Alina's less far-fetched deductions.

Aleksander could've been aware of David's fascination with Morozova's work. He could've picked the most skilled in bonework or the one most experienced in forging amplifiers- they're supposed to be rare, so not many Fabricators will have that.

*mumbles* And somehow we're to believe this pragmatic man chose to follow Alina, because... ? She's the good one, or whatever?!

*chants* Double agent Kaminsky, double agent Kaminsky!

Alina: Why would you want to kill this man! How horrible! At least question him first!

She would make a delightful morally flexible character, if she were acknowledged as such, and embracing that quality.

Says who? Zoya?

He KeEpS mE So BuSy!

Saints, Alina, you can't believe everything people say about themselves!

Alina: I'm not sure my three months of training are enough, but I can do like two things with my powers, so let's focus on increasing them further AND on the mythical forbidden art that created my goal no. 1 in the first place. I bet nothing can go wrong...

Only signing? Not reading to get into picture? And who prepares them?!

Bureaucracy, baby!

Welcome to responsibility!

I would sympathize with Alina much more, if she showed genuine interest in those she doesn't know. If her motivation weren't merely "Do the opposite of (what I think) the Darkling did". I she truly believed in her own philosophy.

Shocking!

People forced to sit next to half-strangers they're not used to interact with, create unpleasant atmosphere!

My work experience considered- you're lucky there's no visible enmity- you could've made the wrong people sit next to each other and tableware could've ended up in wrong bodyparts.

Also: How is Nadia sitting next to Marie? I thought breaking up already existing friend groups was a point of this whole exercise.

They're not gifts, Nikolai. They're just your father's property, but let's remember the Darkling didn't wait for the Queen to request a specific one's service, and turned it into a gesture of his own thoughtfulness. Fuck his strategems!

Alina's misplaced sensibilities are incredibly frustrating.

She wants to lead Second Army, but not order them, not assign them tasks directly, because that would somehow make her a bad person, instead of efficient leader.

What if no one will volunteer? What if weak, incompetent Squallers will? You don't look at special assignment and think- Yeah, whoever wants to do it... You PICK the most capable person with both sufficient skills AND suitable personality.

Awwww!

Poor granny deserves an Oscar!

[presidentcircles-assistant]

Norm could always get his emotions across by people being able to actually see his expressions (more or less) instead of just his sides, and so he never really developed the habit of eye luminosity.

[pink-buster]

Some quotes from my friend and I. but delt of runes

Yes I did actually ask if Allison was an actual name once. what of it

Amogus

And. this

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 8

[prompt: phone sex]

male reader x shin ryujin

16k words

The phone rings one too many times, and Ryujin is in the middle of scrunching up the paper slip that Chaeryeong handed her earlier that afternoon when she hears your voice.

The sounds of her scrambling for the receiver and her head smacking against the headboard come through in pretty good quality.

That never gets old.

"Stimulating conversations," you offer smoothly, like it isn't a euphemism and instead some high-brow intellectual pursuit. "How can I help you?"

Ryujin is speechless for an unbearable five, ten seconds until she lets out the kind of low chuckle that probably sounds better than it looks. "Hi," she says, "hello, I, uh- I don't know how all of this works."

"Why don't we start with who you're looking to speak with tonight?" you ask.

Ryujin sighs. She runs a hand through her hair, looking at the messy tangle of clothes on her bedroom floor with mild resentment. She’ll take her chances, figuring a direct approach is the best route when she doesn't really know where any of the lines get drawn or who is allowed to say what and who isn't.

"Um. Okay. Who you got?"

"We have a large variety of operators to suit any taste," you explain kindly. She appreciates that. "Do you have someone specific in mind? A gender perhaps, to start?"

"Well," Ryujin starts, running her tongue along the edges of her teeth. Lia has this thing she constantly says, that there's always a thousand and one reasons not to do something, and Ryujin is the first person to make fun of her for it - but here she is, finally putting that adage to use.

"I was actually calling to, um," she exhales loudly. "A guy? I mean look - girls. Girls are great, but if you - mmm." She clears her throat. Because she knows how she wants to do this, and it's most definitely: "A man."

You wait for a second before replying, and Ryujin allows the stillness to expand over and fill out every corner of her bedroom before a bright, "Alrighty, well," comes filtering out her phone, tinny but as enticing as ever. "That would be me."

"Oh."

"Yeah," you reply, easy and unhurried. You sound exactly like the kind of person whose company people pay handsomely to be around; the professionalism is undeniable, but there's something to be said for your tone. The softness to the vowels, the almost imperceptible upward lilt to the words - Ryujin gets that, maybe.

You're pretty confident in the answer, but you ask anyway, "have you ever done anything like this?"

Ryujin opens her mouth and hesitates for a brief moment.

"Well," she muses. She's tried porn, she's tried her own fantasies, she's tried cranking up the hot water and touching herself with the head of the shower aimed somewhere she's told by other girls: it's there, free of charge. "I haven't."

"But you have a boyfriend," you state. "You have a man, who you enjoy things with?"

Ryujin laughs nervously. "It's...it's been a little while. Not recently. Sorry. I know you don't-"

"No, no, not at all, you're doing fine, it's just that you sound very attractive over the phone. Excuse the assumption."

Ryujin laughs and rakes her fingers through her fringe. She knows it's a line, but she laughs anyway. She could - if she was looking for the deranged fulfillment of it - pore through a billion comments on instagram, on twitter that call her a lot of things: gorgeous, beautiful, hot. The last comment she read before almost deleting her app entirely was someone who decided to textually imitate a dog barking to a picture Yeji had taken of her in a coffee shop. There's a novelty, she thinks, in being charmed by someone who has no idea who she is.

"You have good ears then," she says, smirking into the receiver. "So do you normally do, what, ask questions? I have no idea."

"Yeah, it helps me build a profile," you reply, "but if you had something else in mind-"

"No, please, shoot." She grabs the pillow from behind her back and flops against the mattress, staring up into the ceiling fan.

"Do you feel comfortable sharing your age with me?"

"Twenty," she answers without missing a beat, even though that isn't right. It's weirdly important to her, keeping it private, and she isn't sure why - but then you say something pleasant and complimentary about college and new experiences that she's unable to register, and you ask her for her name so quick she just blurts it out:

"Ryujin."

"Pretty."

"Fuck," Ryujin grins, immediately chewing on her knuckle to bite back a gasp. "Sorry. The name is cute or, whatever. Whatever. Sorry for the curse. God, I don't really have a filter - what about you? Do you have a name, Mr. Operator?"

"I do."

Ryujin lifts a leg up and puts it down again. She doesn't know if she should already have taken off her pajamas or if that's weird. Or if the fact that it doesn't bother her means this is more or less wholesome. She turns over onto her stomach, humming into the phone and now she doesn't know why she's thinking about your face. You could be- well, fuck, you could be anyone, but there's this gnawing compulsion to put something together.

You tell her your name and she scoffs for a second, before quieting down and returning you a, "pretty."

"Ryujin, tell me." There's probably a slightly too long pause from your end of the line before you get on with asking her, "when was your last orgasm?"

She drops the phone right in her face. It bounces off the bridge of her nose before landing in bedsheets beside her and her eyes are welling with tears while she scrambles blindly across her bed, cursing into the receiver and squirming. She pulls the phone to her ear and catches the last couple seconds of you reassuring her that it's okay, that it's completely fine if she's hung up or gone.

"Actually, I have," and she curls her fingers into a fist, "never came in my whole life."

You clear your throat to keep a less than professional sound from coming out. A quiet space she feels necessary to fill: “Not even once.”

"Really?"

"I know. And I've only recently realized that's, uh - er- a pretty un-normal thing." Ryujin makes a waving motion with her hand even though you can't see it, trailing off into silence and blushing furiously. "Sorry," she apologizes. She doesn't know what she’s apologizing for, but she does it again. "Sorry about that."

"I should be the one feeling sorry for you," you rib.

"Fucking tell me about it."

"Hey, this reminds me, would you be averse to the idea of touching yourself?"

The question stutters Ryujin in her tracks, and she doesn't even say no but a drawn-out "nngh" leaks out before she can stumble into something more intelligible. "Isn't that, like, what you're supposed to do on these calls?"

"Every call is different, Ryujin."

She chews on her lower lip, rolling it under her front teeth. You say her name like you know her, and it's throwing her for a loop. The comfort you have with the whole situation - asking her a million questions and not demanding answers, taking cues and reassurances in stride and turning everything into some sort of ploy for getting her naked. Fuck, she'll take a bit of a plunge:

"Should I be touching myself?"

"It's not my place to say."

"Okay, well that's kind of a frustrating answer."

"So you're saying you like being told what to do," you tell her, and you hear the sharp inhale in reply.

"If I knew what I liked, you think I'd be calling a sex hotline and hoping some stranger might take pity on me?"

You laugh out loud, and her response is the quickest, the cutest little, "seriously!" before she chuckles too.

"Ryujin?" you ask.

"Yeah?"

"Are you straight?"

She nearly chokes - because it's like you're able to just read her mind - and if you can do that then there's nothing you can't do, maybe. And here, excitement feels a lot like apprehension. She twists and curls in on herself, thighs rubbing together, the flat of her hand traveling across her stomach.

"I'm-"

"Because no one should have to pretend that they're interested in guys," you interrupt her and, god, for as much time as she's spent dwelling on that, she wishes it were that simple. 

It would be a hell of a lot easier if she knew why she wanted to get her face between Yeji's thighs and drag her tongue all over her clit until that prettier-than-perfect face of hers cinches up in a pleasure that comes with just the right amount of agony - or if she knew why she didn't feel anything like remorse or guilt or envy when her boyfriend came around instead of wanting, you know, to get on her knees with her mouth around his cock too -

Fuck, it's all very complicated.

"Straight," she answers. She likes cock, as much as anyone realistically can, and she knows the body on a man can get her dripping and easy in all the right ways. So, she just swallows. Says, "straight enough."

"If you were to touch yourself, right now, and someone - say, a man - were telling you exactly what to do: what would spring to mind, if anything."

"Mmm. Is this you asking me to touch myself?"

"Again. That's up to you."

Your voice is light. Very pleasant. Very male, Ryujin realizes. She gulps.

"Can you, I mean," she says, running a hand down the length of her thigh, pressing down at the hollow.

"Ryujin,” you say, letting her mull over how it sounds in your mouth. “Take a breath for me, please."

Her exhale leaves her with a heavy push and she tries not to laugh. Nervous tic. She's getting goosebumps, but she feels warmer than before.

"We could say this isn't the first time, you and me, in some very broad and abstract sense. How does that make you feel?"

"Strange." She touches her outer thighs again and arches her back. "Kind of horny," she admits. And it is odd - your words, the things you say - and maybe it's her nerves because the experience is new, and so are you, and so are her feelings, all wrapped in one.

"Do you want to do something about that?"

There's silence between you for what seems like a very long time, your breathing quiet but apparent - a signal you haven't abandoned her in some state of vulnerability. Ryujin inhales deeply. She's shaking in her fingertips. The tension has her taut and waiting, and that's funny, really, because it's what she's been doing for years. The rubbing. The touching.

Her hips rock forward gently and she answers the unasked question with a sweetly husked, "uh-huh."

"What are you wearing?"

"Ah, really?" Ryujin laughs. Her fingers pause at her waistline. "That old, bad porn trope."

"I like hearing about people's clothes, is all," you excuse yourself lightly. "Helps me get a sense of things."

"Yeah, alright. Sweats. Baggy ones." Her lips fall apart. "Shirt."

"Is that all? Nothing sexy."

"What's sexy?"

"Sexy is…"

She listens to you mull it over, listening for a ruffling or two. "For a girl with a nice body - some body - some curves," you continue, and Ryujin has to drop another finger to the hot line of her thigh, her lower belly. "You need lace. Silk. You've gotta leave the best bits a little hidden, at least for a while longer."

"Wow. You sound a hell of a lot like you'd enjoy taking someone's pants off," she half-teases. "Do you make all your calls like this? One sordid fantasy at a time, huh?"

"Something like that," you reply. And then, as if reading her mind, "are you doing anything, right now?"

"I'm touching myself," she exhales. "Are you?"

"Ryujin, not yet. Please be patient."

She makes a face even though you can't see it or taunt her. That's an unfair request - you have an unfair request.

"Just, wait," you tell her. She's drawing lazy, winding circles across her thigh. "Let me show you something, will you do that for me?"

"But, what."

"Tell me everything. All the things you're thinking. Things you want to do."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

She blinks away her initial disbelief and reaches around for her lamp to switch it off. Until it's just the hallway light peeking in through the crack between her door and the door jamb and you, a stranger who won't be seeing her face or hearing her say anything stupid. She shakes out a few more breaths, shuffles against the sheets, and glides her fingertips past her belly button.

Her hand rises up her stomach in one decisive movement, until her fingers curl beneath the bottoms of her bra, trapped in its underwire. "I'm thinking - unh - about, ah. My friend?"

You're quiet and let the silence linger, until she seems like she might not find her way; so you repeat, "Go ahead."

"And a guy she used to like, fuck, she'd show up here, drunk on, ah. A weeknight. Somewhere, fuck, around midnight. Walk past me into the kitchen where we had the - the light. God." Her hips stutter and she grits out the rest through her teeth. "In the refrigerator. Ah, yeah, a midnight snack. Always looked way too fucking good for, um, oh, for a casual booty-call."

"Does your friend have a name?"

"Yuna," she practically pants, and immediately realizes she shouldn't have said that either.

"Did you always know what was going on? Between Yuna and her-"

"Boy-toy, yes - it was so obvious, I always knew, yeah," she said, clumsily grabbing the sheets with one hand as she drifts further between the peaks. "Just - fuck - he'd be picking at, ah, something with chopsticks."

"In your kitchen?"

"My, uh, table. And I'd be working up the nerve to ask."

You sigh over the phone, "ask him what?"

"What it was, like, I knew she was only- shit." She keens high in her throat. "What it was like, fucking taking that cock of his, and bending Yuna's tight little, ah, ass over and, mm, railing her on the side of her fucking bed - and just pumping her full of cum just like that until- Jesus, she would walk around after and sometimes-"

You groan softly. This encouraging little sound.

"-fuck - sorry, I mean. Yeah, he, sometimes he'd make her walk around with his, ah, stuff inside. Down her fucking pants and, it's like, fucking disgusting, I swear-"

"And?" You breathe a heavy edged noise over the line.

Actually okay, so maybe this was more than she bargained for, maybe she bit off more than she can chew - maybe, she feels like her insides are collapsing; all the fire pooling around in her stomach and gathering into a melting sort of weightlessness.

"And it makes me feel fucking-"

"Fucking what."

"Why am I talking about this, why-"

"Talking to me? Fucking wet, Ryujin, answer the question."

She pants down at her phone and then turns her face into her forearm, rubbing and making sounds. She thinks about, oh, fucking Yuna and how she showed up to hang out once, with cum leaking down the crease of her inner thigh, smearing against her skin and down between her legs.

"Wet." She swallows. "How do I-"

"Say that you wish it was you," you tell her. "That you wanted that, to be fucked. To feel a cock inside."

Her head falls back. "That," she manages, "fucking, that."

You drawl so that the question might roll off, easy: "Is that the kind of girl you are? Told not to curse, not supposed to let anyone else play with you - you just need it, don't you? Do you need someone's cum? Just tell me."

"I think so, ah," and she stops moving her hand. "I think I'm gonna go now. This is fucking embarrassing, like. Okay, sorry."

"Don't hang up," you tell her, and the soft edge to it is one she really wants to indulge. "Don't," you repeat, a little louder.

You start talking, about the same sorts of things she's imagined herself: the sex and the sounds and what he can do to her. You build a slow and aching heat between her thighs that has her dripping through her underwear and grinding against her fingers. Telling her how she's the one that needs to be filled, needs a man who can wrap her legs around his waist, get to the deepest parts of her, the parts untouched and willing.

Ryujin gets that - she wonders, half out of it and stroking faster than she usually would be, how much of it has anything to do with who the voice is on the other end of the receiver, and how it could be what a desperate, pathetic, tired part of her has always wanted.

"Are you?" she asks, panting over the phone.

"Am I what?" you whisper back to her.

"Are you," and you hear how she inhales sharply through her nose, a desperate gasp leaving her lips on the exhale, "going to, um. Are you touching yourself right now?"

Your reply is immediate, and her eyes flutter and close the second you tell her exactly what she wants to hear:

"God, yes."

She drags her hand up the center of her body, runs her fingertips over her jaw and presses the heel of her wrist to her neck to feel her pulse slamming hard.

"I'm fucking throbbing, Ryujin; you sound gorgeous like this, like nothing I've ever heard, I'm stroking my cock just picturing you, please-"

"Tell me." She's mouthing into the center of her palm, saying the words, tasting salt and musk. "Fuck, ah," she babbles, "tell me what you would do with me."

"I'd get you on your knees," you tell her without hesitating for a beat.

"Fuck."

"I'd come up behind you and tell you not to be scared, baby. I wouldn't hurt you, I'd just touch you real gentle. Push my fingers past your tongue, slide a little down your throat."

"Uh huh," she moans, her head falling back and rolling, rocking against the mattress.

"Want you sucking on my fingers. Need your hands around my cock, or better, my balls, play with them. You're going to take those fingers - every finger I got, all five, yeah?- all ten of them," you joke, "and open up your tight cunt - like you are now, like such a good fucking girl-"

The girl fucking yelps. Just this honest sound of depravity; it's what she's paying you for. It's a silly line of bullshit, but it makes her bite hard and ache a little around her own knuckles and moan in her palm and dig her nails hard into her flesh. Her thumb fumbles across the top edge of her underwear and you pant again into her ear as if on cue, giving her a small bit of guidance that has her jolting in pleasure. She didn't know that was there, fuck, fuck-

"Like that, Ryujin. Breathe," and she does.

"Please," she whines, trying to find somewhere for her arm to settle, resting finally in her hair - setting the phone to speaker in a foolish moment of lapsed-judgment, just before it nearly clatters off the side of her bed.

Keep going - she's telling you over and over - keep going, and you’re picturing her there: eyes closed, legs spread wide, bent knees quivering and toes curling into the sheets. It doesn’t sound fake - you've heard a million of them, you've learned them in their different tones and accents and you can spot a faker a mile away. And the girl on the phone right now isn't pretending or thinking about whatever's happening somewhere else.

(You don't join in for everyone. You can't. It's an asinine consideration that you'd be rubbing your fist up and down your cock while it's sore and wanting - aching from the neglect or lack of rhythm. You have to remind yourself it's just a job, that the logistics just can't support such selflessness.

But then there's the very fucking premise.

That the girl on the other end of the line is inches from the goalposts, fingering her cunt and sighing into the throes of her first orgasm - first ever, because you did this, you brought her this far - you're the fucking culprit, and no matter how many girls, or boys-pretending-to-be-girls, how many people have gotten off with the help of your voice, your instruction, this one sets a different fucking precedent.

You're not lying when you say, "I'm rock fucking hard, Ryujin," or "there's precum all over my knuckles, baby."

Because there is, and the poor thing chokes out another desperate sound when you tell her.)

"I'm right there, ah, fuck, keep going-"

"I've got my hand around my shaft, just enough that I can fuck it, can't I? The head is getting slick - baby - and my palm is gliding nice and easy. Are you cumming, Ryujin? You better be, you better be cumming right now."

There's a heaving gasp and she calls out for you, babbling curses and "please" and "fuck" in alternating succession, with enough punctuation for you to have to let your lip slip under the hard bite of your front teeth. "Don't stop," she tells you, voice thready.

"You need this so bad."

"Yes," she gasps. "How would you-"

"How would I fuck you?" you finish her thought.

She waits a moment, sucking in shallow breaths and then replying weakly, "I really like... I like doggy."

"On your knees?"

"Yeah," she stammers, "I like when, like- ah, like, pulling my hair."

"Fuck, I love that," you say into her mewling. "Splayed out with your tits against a pillow and getting your pretty, little pussy pounded? I bet that'd feel so good, huh? Hands so rough on your hips, on your throat, squeezing your neck so you'll turn pink. Just to see you smile, I'd probably fucking let you take whatever you want."

You're met with a broken moan, a long string of syllables ending on a note that has your shoulders clenching and cock jumping in your grip.

Tense over the things you can't see: Ryujin biting down into the side of her hand, the other knocking painfully against the wooden side rail on her mattress, her thighs tightening and screaming and clamping around her wrist as she pulls weaker, wilder whimpers out of her chest each time her fingers drag across her slit and the sensitive curve of her swollen clit. She's dying, she thinks, she's going to fucking die - the in and out of her soaked pussy, through all that sticky, satiny skin, slick fingers diving in, twisting until there's nowhere for them to go.

No other recourse than to fuck in, fuck, fuck, like that, fucking god.

There's heavy silence on the line for god knows how long - well, you have to check the log. But for her, it feels like fucking forever. That was - that was it. It's so fucking mind-wracking how good it was, she can't quite wrap her brain around it. Nowhere near. She thinks she'll have a better idea after two rounds, definitely by four. She'll buy something, use the discount, go shopping - an orgasm just to make sure she's not bullshitting herself.

You clear your throat.

She moves sluggishly, away from the side and against the headboard - the heat still unbearably oppressive, her t-shirt clinging and sticking. "That," she stumbles through the afterglow.

"Do I need to apologize to you?" you ask lightly.

"What? Oh god, no - no way. No way. I just."

"Yes?"

"Like I didn't know it was this-"

"Did you just cum, Ryujin?"

She's laying there with the phone pressed to her brow. A hand palmed over her own racing pulse. The faint smell of her own cunt lingering around her face.

"I don't know," she tells you, and promptly hangs up.

-

The darkness in Ryujin's bedroom is punctuated only by the faint, hazy light streaming in from the hall, and her bedroom fan making its creaking little circles, as she waits in her post-nut-high for her breathing to normalize. Her mind is buzzing, and out of all this, she has a hell of a bill and a couple conclusions:

She's a coward and a pervert, but definitely, definitely bisexual.

Or, like. She's in some weird gray area between not liking whenever anyone buys her drinks, but also the girls at least let her dance a little close. That's a strange thing, isn't it? For how often her mouth does stupid shit - you think at least someone would figure it out for her.

But you, oh fuck. You-

She's fucking shaken up, for sure.

-

(It's a home office set-up, actually.

Your desk isn't organized; you're sure the photos on the wall are askew and the paint looks slightly worse for wear if you were to turn the lights on - which you never really do. There's an aging lamp tucked into the back corner, a bottle of scotch next to your handset that's closer to halfway empty than halfway full, and you can't stop imagining it.

Promise, This never happens.

You've got the name stuck to the roof of your mouth even though you know it's fake. Stuck with something so painfully abstract. Imagining this girl that is probably as brash and bawdy as her voice, or more exciting than either - maybe her hair is long enough to brush along her breasts. Or maybe it hangs just over her shoulders. God knows just how that would frame her features.

You can see it, really. You pump a handful of coconut oil into your palm and the details solidify so easily in your head: her pretty mouth, nose, the dimples in her cheeks - eyes glazed and sultry and gazing at you.

Smelling sweet, all the places you need, skin hot, clit swollen-

Just- fuck. Fuck.

Ryujin, huh, imagine that.

Ryujin.

And you jerk off right into the soft embrace of a tissue.)

-

A little more than a week later:

Ryujin's all wrapped up on the couch, with an arm cushioning her head and watching TV when there's a sudden commotion from the front door. Yuna - her friend, her very nice, very male friend who never shows up after midnight unless there's a promise of sex - comes bumbling into the room.

He has no regard for boundaries.

So,

Yuna starts to say, smug, from where the hallway becomes the living room, "Ryujin - look at us. Stuck on a Friday night. You gotta boyfriend or something?"

She's completely unfazed by this interaction. She's pretty sure he has his own key, so like, he should be used to it by now too.

"Kind of." She shuts off the TV to turn her attention towards the topic at hand. "Why?"

Yuna runs a hand through all her long, silky hair and gestures her cock-du-jour on over to the door of her room. "Waiting for a call, maybe." She waggles her eyebrows. "Are you any good, I mean, you never seem to..."

Annoying brat. 

Ryujin smacks the back of her neck and interrupts, "you gonna fuck him? Go ahead and fuck him, Yuna." She checks the lock. The kitchen. Gets up and tries to ignore the heat flaring behind her ears.

"We could pretend," Yuna muses, tugging the waistband of Ryujin's shorts around her fingers before she's out of arm's reach. The elastic flips back into her waist with a dull snap.

"Dumb idea. That's a dumb, dumb idea," she reasons, because she knows Yuna has no self control. None, and it's showing; the second her shoulders sag forward and her eyes dart, craving, Ryujin steps back in. "Don't be stupid."

Yuna's lips are tilted, playful. Ryujin wants to smack that look right off her face. Like she fucking deserves any kind of victory just because she found out she can fuck anyone she wants while lacking the self-awareness to somehow be contented with anyone. She's not going to call her a slut - out of a matter of principle - but god, does she fucking want to.

"Gotta get ready, is what you should do," Ryujin mumbles under her breath.

"Fine." Yuna shrugs and pecks an annoying kiss to Ryujin's temple on her way to the shower, waving a hand over her head with a casual, "If you want something, you've only got a half-hour."

Ryujin pushes her hair out of her face and does what she does best: overanalyze and overthink the situation.

Whatever. Yuna won't give it up regardless, not in any way she'd actually be able to enjoy. Her cheeks go a little redder while she pretends to not be considering it.

God, a threesome in total functional harmony however: her working her mouth on Yeji (Ryujin doesn't know why she's thinking about Yeji, but she is), Yeji working her mouth on her boyfriend, her boyfriend working his mouth on her -

That'd be something, she thinks. Like one of those Escher diagrams, but one where everyone cums at the end.

The thought makes Ryujin wet enough to squeeze her thighs together and stand up a little straighter.

Then she hears the showerhead turn on, and she wonders just why, exactly, Yuna is such a spoiled asshole.

-

Turns out,

The universe just has this habit of providing Ryujin with what she wants right alongside everything she doesn't.

She’s stretched out in her sweats, sat up at the top of her bed again and touching herself beneath the sheet in a pointless attempt to contain the mess. Fucking horny - it's honestly unbelievable - and her left hand's making lecherous, slick noises until it's absolutely gross. Until Ryujin's gasping and panting and sweating from the nape of her neck and the back of her knees.

All because Yuna's the loudest little-fucking-whore of a roommate anyone has ever heard.

She's moaning like she's getting fucking plowed into the next life. And apparently, the cock she's got in her cunt is fucking huge if those little murmuring whimpers are anything to go on. She keeps begging the guy, coy, for a kiss while she's probably folded up like a lawn chair in there, getting railed, and the fact that the boy keeps obliging is as admirable as it is kind of insulting.

"Goddamn," she thinks out loud, because the walls are paper-fucking-thin. The apartments in the area are built in an earthquake-safe way, which in reality, means they can either withstand a magnitude 6.0 and come out without any severe structural damages - or that it's so cheaply constructed the building will go down like a matchbox house before it stands a chance against a tremor of any significance.

They're easier to replace that way she’s told. And Ryujin's apartment is definitely of the latter; she can hear everything.

The skin on skin, their bodies sliding together in the slippery sheets. Her mouth smacking wet around his tongue as he bucks forward and asks her to do a hundred filthy things, asking her where it feels best - that sort of thing, which gets her wound and agitated and frustrated, and fucking horny as fuck. Ryujin's bent-inward and panting when he really gets to work - the creaks and groans, their mingled pants and the constant thudding and swaying of the headboard smacking into the wall.

She doesn't even need to put her ear to the partition like she's sixteen years old all over again, hoping to catch her old brother going at it while her mom was out. Trying to figure out this whole sex thing - what all the fuss was about.

Just the way Ryujin sighs is nothing short of despondent. Slightly pitiful.

And every tight circle she's running over clit feels so fucking good, until she realizes the room goes real quiet for a bit. The stillness - no slapping, no movement, just wet, panted-breaths and muffled speech. She nearly asks aloud what's wrong - but she hears it: Yuna's hushed but totally undeniable,

"Been so long- don't, don't- hold up," she croons in these high, sing-song little huffs. "That - uhn, ah - that's my - that's my good spot, there, keep - yes, harder!"

Ryujin slams her eyes closed, dropping down onto the mattress and wishing she'd slipped her hands into her sweats sooner. Fuck. And as Yuna's back starts banging against the wall - so rhythmic and fucking thorough - Ryujin can feel the heat curling behind the backs of her knees, radiating along her calf and reaching into the smalls of her feet. Fuck. Fuck, she doesn't even get to watch.

Right there. So good, please, so fucking good, is what Ryujin can’t not hear coming right through the drywall.

She’s three knuckles deep in her pussy, all stretched out, and she's practically drooling - "spread me, baby. Hold the, fuck, spread my lips open. See me- unh. Ah - see me? Please, do it-" - the boy groaning about it as he fucks her, and then, Yuna, needling him with a quiet, breathy, "harder, can't you?"

The answer seems to make Yuna squirm and scream.

And Ryujin's nearly rolling - rocking, fucking humping her own fingers because it's starting to ache a little, a cramping in her wrist and arm and jaw that she's trying really hard to ignore, rubbing and fingering and fucking herself closer, the heels of her feet sinking hard against the sheets, throbbing and aching around the flicks of her knuckles, harder, faster - faster -

"Fucking hell-" she seethes and stops moving all at once - because god, Yuna is un-fucking-believable.

The absolute bitch, she's doing it again: squealing and cursing and calling his name into her orgasm and just basking, it sounds like, right in it. Because she always does this, every single fucking time, she acts like it's the best feeling in the fucking world and she fucking loves everything, and that shit just - Ryujin grits her teeth and grimaces and pulls her slick fingers from her body - that just ruins it.

All that build-up and for what?

Fuck, Yuna really has the nerve to go there too. She's talking about sucking her own damn cunt or some bullshit-

Yeah, it's not fucking fair, Ryujin concedes.

Or maybe she's being punished. She could live with that, but god. The unfairness of it all. She tries, for a half a minute, to let her throbbing stop being a goddamn nuisance. But the noises coming from the other room are making her crankier, more angry, more irate - and definitely hornier than she ever really intended, even though she knows Yuna is thoroughly distracted in there.

Ryujin sits up a little straighter. Squares her shoulders, steadies herself and fishes around in her pockets with her uncoordinated, cum-coated hands until she finds her wallet, a credit card, her cell -

And there's an aching, a sore pulse of neglect between her legs; that's all too much. A quick peek down confirms that, yep, she's practically dripped right out of her shorts and even gotten a dark spot in the front of them. How great is that.

Yuna is over there, all, "thank you - ah - can you please do me a favor and fuck my mouth with your big, big, huge, fucking cock-" and this guy, he sounds so patient, telling her how he wants to do exactly that, but he wants to fill her tiny pussy up first, fuck her here, fuck her there, fuck a baby right into her. Wants to get his cum all over her face, smear her mouth and her throat and her cheeks - 

Ryujin inhales through her nose and holds, eyes falling closed in something between misery and anguish.

He's telling her, yeah, of course he'll fill up her throat - give her so much it's leaking out of her fucking nose - and Yuna sounds like she's moaning and garbling an objection to that last part - but it doesn't actually fucking matter.

"Geez," is Ryujin's quiet, little gasped-out response. He just fucking pounds her right back into place; her next orgasm. Fuck-

And there it is: the slew of moans that start back up and just keep on keeping on.

Shin Ryujin is going to lose her fucking mind.

-

Ryujin only lasts a handful more days before she calls again.

It’s another Wednesday night, if only to increase the odds that you’re working. Yeah, she could go with another guy, but another guy might not do everything you did, talking quietly and calmly - so composed while Ryujin was losing some part of her sanity to the thumb she pressed on her clit. 

No, it has to be you.

That's what Ryujin makes herself say when the operator apologizes and explains you're busy.

"Will he be working much longer? Please, I, um-"

"If you give me your number," the operator tells her, "I can add him as a preferred associate. You'll get him next time instead of going to the line."

Ryujin pauses, finger held to her chin. Will he know that? There's all this implication isn't there, that maybe he won't. Maybe you're popular - are you? It's a lot like texting someone for the very first time. And if you did - know, she means - would she be acting like a stalker? It would feel weird, probably, but no worse than some people do it already.

Oh god, this is kind of fucked up.

Maybe a little. Maybe.

Ryujin pauses, finger to her chin. Will he know that? There's all this implication, isn't there, or maybe he won't. Maybe you're popular - are you? It's a lot like texting someone you like-like for the very first time. And if you did - know, she means - would she be acting like a stalker? It would feel weird, probably, but no worse than some of things other people are undoubtedly doing with this service, Ryujin decides, and rattles off the digits so fast the operator asks for clarification.

"If your schedule doesn't open," the line says, "call back and leave a message with when."

Ryujin shrugs and says, "yeah, okay."

-

You make Ryujin sit through forty-five-fucking minutes of on-hold music - this barely audible synthetic noise that signals a connection is still there, truly a genre for no one - all before she just cuts the fucking line and lays down on the couch.

Okay.

Okay, fine.

Whatever.

-

(You are… going through the motions.

Some girl on the other line is barely holding it together; you can hear her thighs making slick noises. God. She sounds desperate, she's holding the phone all tight and saying your name. She's fucking babbling; it's not attractive, not while you're tilted back as far as your office chair will go and staring up in the ceiling.

You're bored, mostly.

"Please, please, I'm-"

"Going to cum, I know, princess." She asked you to call her that. "Mouth all open? Can't help it? Just need to lick it nice and fast?"

The answer comes all choppy: "I can't, ah, a-ah-nymore, no, I, can't, need-"

"Do you have any idea? How hard I'm fucking stroking my cock right now? Sitting right in my lap. Jerking it right for you," you say, and then she makes an embarrassingly wet noise, gasping through a choked whine, "so I'm ready to give you what you really fucking need."

"Yes," she chokes. "There - um, please, I just-"

"The biggest fucking load," you tell her. She has no idea, really, that you've got one hand on the receiver, the other just pinching the bridge of your nose - neither of which are you jerking the cum out of your cock and balls like a fucking hydrant as you’d described. What she doesn't know won't hurt her, and you keep your face turned to the side as she starts screaming. As it starts running into one noise that lasts forever - so unbearable that, this time, you consider going out to the bathroom to grab a glass of water and a handful of painkillers. "Need it deep. Let me pour it in, yeah?"

"Yes," she gasps again, heard on this distant frequency because, yes, yes, you've plugged your ear with a finger.

"That'll satisfy you. C'mon, now, princess - give it right up," you tell her, but your eyes are a little dull when her moan turns out all-gagging and twitchy and spasming through it, until finally:

"Ugh."

You wait a moment for the gasping and hitching to finish.

"Good girl," is your distant reply, followed by a polite, perfunctory, "call back anytime.")

-

Ryujin feels like she's in grade eleven again as she stares at her phone. Boys. Drama. Girls. The drama.

The overanalyzing, the wondering, the hesitating. Fuck. She wishes she knew a way to change this, because she doesn't feel particularly mature and is somehow reduced to this girl, this idiot sitting here all embarrassed and staring and moping about a thousand different calamities at once.

She's looking right at the lock screen: the wallpaper of her and Yeji and Chaeryeong out getting coffee on a random Sunday, all bundled up. Winter. Like three, four years ago, maybe.

Ryujin looks like shit, it's funny.

But Yeji -

How she can make the winter pallor look good is beyond Ryujin's understanding. It's unfair. All the things are. Her brain is back and forth and spinning, spinning like the hands on the old clock hung up on the wall in the kitchen. So stuck on what's not quite normal. Stuck on what doesn't fucking matter - who even fucking cares who the fuck she's attracted to?

She feels it between her legs.

Has been for like a month, or longer, without an outlet. Without anything to give her the hint that maybe she can get back to it - the right it.

She doesn't need to call, she tells herself. She's not some weirdo who's sitting on this for days just in the hopes that her boyfriend is having a bad week with work or whatever. It's only Wednesday, technically. Still way early. Just another few days, she reasons, another few hours - what does it matter?

Wednesday. She can feel the word settle inside of her.

Though only once her bottom lip is chewed to hell, does she pick up her phone and decide she will.

-

(You're in your bedroom this time around, finishing up your own weekday workout - on the bike, fifteen-second sprints - when your phone goes off. A simple dinging. Very unassuming.

The operator comes in with a cool, level, "line two, callback."

Then there's nothing but silence for a few beats.

You towel some of the sweat off your face. It's warm - your skin, flushed. Bouncing your phone in your palm. The same feeling that's been tugging at your throat for the past two weeks starts to flare and swell.

Not quite a hope, not quite expectation: just something close.

"Are they still there?"

The operator confirms. "Shall I put them through?")

-

Ryujin fumbles in her own rush of bravado, hands pressing against the fronts of her thighs in an unflattering, nervous little gesture as the connection clicks and picks up.

"This is him," comes your voice, a little husky and raspy from all the day-to-day talk, but even and easygoing and maybe - just maybe - something she can hang on to. Ryujin gives an acknowledging "Mmmn," like the phone call isn't causing her major inner-turmoil.

"Right, ah." You sound kind of, dare she say, nervous yourself. You clear your throat into the line and ask, "what brings you here, stranger?"

Ryujin pauses at this; the red in her ears reaches her fucking jaw. Stranger. Jesus christ, okay, okay-

She laughs. Stops immediately at how self-conscious she sounds. Clears her throat and tucks some of her hair back - settles herself into it like her life hangs in the balance. "I'm here to get my rocks off."

"It's not usually my place to say," you begin in earnest, "but if you're anything like me, and this is gonna sound completely off-the-cusp, but those two weeks really seem to build up, don't they?"

God.

She pulls her sock off her ankle. There's eczema on her heel, and it's the kind of thing she can imagine Yeji telling her to not scratch - that she's going to fuck up her skin. It's funny the stupid fucking things she can remember and all the things she forgets. Like just now, with your voice in her ear, a little unsure in a way that says you've got other, much more important things you should be doing. But you're here with her.

With Ryujin.

God. She might hate herself a little.

"Um," is how she finds her bearings. "Actually."

"It's a joke. Not that- I mean." She hears some rustling - assumes it's coming through the ear piece. There's an abrupt slamming on her side of the line and it seems like the worst kind of deja-fucking-vu. Her neighbors. She forgets it's even this late into the evening. That other people don't have to work so hard in their free-time.

"Maybe this isn't a good night," she says, not so much as thinking the words.

"What?" you ask. Then it dawns on you. "No, no. If you're there, I'm here." You clear your throat. "Besides, there's nobody I'd rather hear from than a woman so desperate she's signed onto my frequent flier's club."

She stops chewing the insides of her cheeks long enough to give you a tired, irritated sound. "Whatever."

And you nearly choke trying not to laugh.

"I don't, um-"

"What, do I have a nice voice?" You laugh quietly.

Under normal circumstances, that wry edge, the bit of try-hard-humor would have her rolling her fucking eyes clean out of their sockets. So when instead she opens her mouth and a fatal-fucked-flirty-feminine, stop, comes out, the vowel pulled long like a plea or a request - well, Ryujin's forehead drops against her bedspread in immediate regret.

You seem startled by it too, going quiet for a second.

"I-I'm-"

"Cute," you decide.

Her ears are red-hot and her cheeks have to be pinking and god, she hates this. That she's hearing this so soon, and it's making her brain hazy and soft and stuttering through, um's and yeah, well, um's. A part of her can't believe she's paying for this, and then, at the same time, she can't believe she's not actually putting cash down for more right this second.

Because it feels -

Like maybe -

Her shoulders rise. She wants this to be quick; she hates this feeling of embarrassment creeping its way in and grabbing onto her with both hands, like this weird, pseudo-affection. She's a grown fucking woman and here she is, letting all her guard down for someone she doesn't even fucking know.

You can feel the tension, hear it. Your lips purse. You try for something easy.

"Go on and give me the details, Ryujin."

Before you'd even picked up, she'd already half-undone her shirt, the flaps of the collar hanging loose with her hands gently petting her ribcage - so easily giving and pliant that there's a good portion of her, in spite of the doubt, in spite of what seems completely illogical about all this, that has her realizing maybe she wants this more than she can possibly understand.

God, she feels like a fucking fool.

"It's pretty boring."

"Not to me. I've spent the last few weeks talking to a bunch of assholes who don't appreciate what they got in the first place," you reply. She imagines you're a little playful about it. Wonders, momentarily, how good that smirk looks - if your eyebrows are lifting like you've been teasing her since day one. Fuck. 

“Your operator is a total asshole too, by the way."

"Don't say that," is Ryujin's shy reply, practically moaned out. "You sound like someone I'd absolutely fucking hate, jesus, stop that."

"Just because you don't get on with someone, doesn't mean they can't get you off."

"Smooth, or something."

"I'm taking a break, relaxing a little, enjoying an overrated TV show or whatever this is - not really minding my business," you say, but your smile is so audible it's fucking offensive. And she's - she's maybe, definitely into that. Like the fucking embarrassment in this is turning her on. Ryujin puts the tip of her finger in the waist of her shorts, experimentally, gently, this small brush and press to her sensitive lower stomach. And it's true. All she hears is her own breathing in the receiver, a bit labored over the slightest, least indecent touch. It's amazing, how much her body can want even when her head can't seem to catch up.

"What do you like?" she asks. “You’re a person, working bits and all, something’s gotta get you all worked up and flustered, no?”

"Will you believe me if I tell you this is my absolute favorite?"

"Do you always dodge the question?"

"It's just like a courtesy," you clarify, "it's not personal."

"Now I sound like a desperate pervert."

"On the contrary," is your warm, buttery reply, and it is fucking aggravating just how well this works on her. "I think there are much better things people can say about you."

God, that - the thought, the possibility of something about her that has nothing to do with how 'thick' or 'thin' her thighs are, or the silhouette of her ass in safety shorts, or how her voice makes guys want to ask if they can take her home and fuck the answers from her, or any of that; it's kind of liberating, just a tiny bit. That it can be a good thing for some reason. God.

Ryujin rubs herself. "Yeah, well."

She wants it all the same and says nothing, shifting a little until her hips tilt slightly upwards, letting her pull at the drawstring of her shorts, loosening the grip. She's already kind of feeling woozy in all the best ways, soft and feminine in how she slides her hand underneath her shorts. Over panties first, with no clear idea if you can tell and honestly, too distracted to wonder about that, if she should care or not, too caught up with her fingertips over the raised seam in her underwear - where the fabric's wet from her.

A shush comes into the line when Ryujin swallows.

The ache between her legs grows louder.

"You still there, Ryujin?"

"Of course," and then, she finds a little more reassured finality: "fuck, yeah, fuck. Please, I..."

"Ryujin," you say with all the calm and control in the world, "talk to me."

-

(So - truthfully, honestly, factually - you are a total wreck.

You're sitting there in a heap of bedsheets and a cold sweat when Ryujin finally mutters into the silence, "thanks, for that, I, uh- that felt really good, exactly what I needed," and hangs up before you can ask about her day or comment on the weather or suggest calling back tomorrow.

She is just perfect, the way she lets a small "I..." slip when she's close. Perfect, how she groans her little broken, satisfied sigh of a yes, her last, fleeting exhale just a sweet, high, barely there please, her body tensing with every little shudder and moan and pant. How the pace goes fast and then slow - like she's gotta think it out a second, her own fingers bringing her closer and closer until there's nothing but a flurry of movement and ragged breaths - an enthusiastic little mmph noise - followed by Ryujin's wet and slick little laugh that sounds like relief.

Like you did something to help, like she needed you and wanted you.

There's cum sticking all up your torso and along your wrist, the inside of your thigh - everywhere you could manage, frankly - and, shit, it's not fair, you realize:

She can find you, whenever she needs you.

And you -

You're just sitting here. Nowhere near sure she'll even call again.)

-

There's a sizable difference between being lonely and being alone, Ryujin thinks, running the cloth under the stream of the shower and then pressing it damp against her throat, wiping at the backs of her knees.

Lonely means that something's missing - it's something she feels when she catches a glance at the handsome arm reached around Chaeryeong's waist, the way she dances so close to someone she just met, or whenever she tells her that she's thinking about, maybe, probably, definitely, absolutely going home with him if her friends don't stop her from leaving. God, her smile is always so cute when he's near. When someone's calling her over for drinks - hips sashaying like she doesn't know the whole bar is staring at the creases where her thighs flare into her ass - because he gave her a look from across the room, and she's swaying from drink to drink.

Like, of course, they're fucking; it's a known, unsaid thing.

She knows it, he knows it. Chaeryeong fucking owns it.

Alone however, is just what it says on the tin.

That's something else Ryujin has yet to learn - that everyone loves differently, cares for different things. Yuna is still single after all, and she can never shake the feeling that it's simply to spite her for some perceived slight or another; Yuna can't live without company, no matter how brief or short or meaningless, so perhaps it's better she never catches on or finds anyone worth keeping around.

And Yeji?

Ryujin sighs, rakes the comb through her wet hair.

The showerhead is running hot between Ryujin's fingers, and the water coming off of her skin turns to steam instantly, filling the bathroom with a permanent cloud, stuck in flux - rising towards the ceiling. She passes her fingers under it, watches the flow, a quiet hm escaping the back of her throat - and she considers the way it feels beating against her throat and chest.

Down the concave curve of her stomach. How it burns red right over her thighs. The pressure slips and sinks low, lower - and when she puts a palm out for a little stability, her left leg can't help but buckle just so, lifting itself out and off to the side. So she stands, toes pointing against the shower floor, face first into her arm against the cool tile.

Ryujin sees where the rivulets of water have gathered above her clavicle - feels them trail down over the tightness in her breasts and between. A couple images pass through her mind at once - thoughts of fingers trailing a line back up the center of her body and a gentle tap against her chin, turning her face to some perfect all-consuming kiss - a hand squeezing at her calf, rubbing her muscles gently - Yeji smiling into the crook of her neck, the grasp on her hip, wrist flexing. Her back bowed and fingers, broad and experienced -

"Don't need you," Ryujin quietly says to nobody, which -

You're doing so well, Ryujin hears back in her imagination, you're so beautiful, you can keep this up, I know you can. I bet it feels good, doesn't it? Just let go and I'll...

Ryujin whimpers out. She can feel that line deep inside her going taut, buckling in her core, the reverberations down to her wrists and fingertips and toes. If she didn't have the wall in front of her, she knows she'd be on her knees - kneeling to the hot water pulsing around the knots of nerves right behind her clit. The pressure hitting her like the crack of a whip.

"Fuck me," she says to no one, gasping in that way you only can when no one is listening.

Yeji's smile is what's gotten her this close so many times, the smell of the ends of her hair tickling Ryujin's nose. Hell, she can't stop thinking about the way her nose crinkles or her dimples flare just when she finds Ryujin's name in her mouth.

It's not fair.

She's so close to cumming and letting whatever happens happen. The slick of her release pouring right out into the drain of the shower, washed away with the excess. So when her whole hand shifts and catches in just the right, delicious, frustrating way, Ryujin inhales so deep through the end of the sentence that, as a result, her knees wobble.

She feels like fucking crying.

It's that sweet little lilt in Yeji's voice, saying things like: "It's alright. I promise you can keep this up a little longer." And "Oh, god, baby." And, at worst, the way her voice shakes with a "come here, honey. Let me-"

Ryujin has to catch herself when her footing slips a little from under her. Then, your voice, coming in distant at first, grows louder, clearer. Into something catastrophic, right against her throat, like it knows the very inside-and-out of her, "go on. Fuck, please, cum all over me, baby - show me a face no one else gets to see."

And for the first time,

Ryujin gets herself off. Alone.

She moans and sighs out. Gasps, "there you go-" and whispers an, "ah, jesus." She manages the most silent, the least decipherable, fuck, as it leaves her mouth like a prayer. Her left knee twitches, body curling into itself, and her hand moves - fingers closing and her eyes clenched shut, a wave, cresting - she just-

Collapses.

Wanting: Yeji, sure - and she came - but the only thing she can really wrap her head around is the truth that she's so, utterly fucked.

-

"Are you sure there's no one you can bring?" Yeji asks in the middle of slapping the ever-loving shit out of a coffee maker that has, for as far as anyone can remember, never worked.

"Uh," is Ryujin's inconvenienced reaction, the tips of her fingers idly sorting through her credit card statements, which a more-sober, less-horny version of herself is a little out of sorts over. "I'm not sure there's anyone I'd want to bring."

"Uh huh," Yeji replies.

She pauses and rests the bottom edge of the coffee maker on the edge of the kitchen counter, stopping herself mid-smack - leaning away to try and give the stupid thing a once-over.

"Who the hell says it's got to be someone you wanna make babies with? Maybe it's just someone you'd think would look good beside you, smiling at the cameras with. Or."

"Or."

Yeji's lips tilt. "Or someone you wouldn't mind screwing in the bathroom."

Ryujin spins the pen in her fingers and gives Yeji a look that says back off and can you chill out already, in the sort of way it takes years to ferment - the silent understandings, the good-natured naggings, the good-fucking-luck-with-that-buddy's. Yeji knows she's getting on Ryujin's nerves. Knows that has never stopped her before.

"In my defense," Yeji clarifies, "I can count at least a hundred people that would crawl over broken glass to sleep with you and, uh-" She knocks the coffee maker off of its stand and holds it gingerly to her chest like some child, motherly. "-I don't wanna take a bullet for your unintentional chastity, Shin Ryujin."

"First of all, don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor here," she replies. "Second-"

"Can't hurt just asking, right? I could set you up, you know, someone you've never even met - no pre-burnt bridges to maneuver."

There’s a world, and Ryujin imagines it for all of a second, where she stands up and grabs hold of Yeji by her cute little ponytail - if nothing else, just to stop the way it bounces every time she steps - and maybe, she also kisses her on the mouth so hard she stumbles. Or perhaps she could pull that ribbon free of its holdings and unravel it down against Yeji's jaw. Pull a whimper, a tiny little ah that says this was inevitable. Maybe they crash onto her bed. Maybe she gets her fingers sticky with how soaked through the cotton of Yeji's shorts have gotten in those short, heated moments - what a world that would be.

"One of what's-his-name's friends? I’m assuming."

Yeji looks annoyed and proud and beautiful; all at once.

"Yes, and what's-his-name's pillow talk is exceedingly whiny about how my best friend is so incredibly standoffish and abrasive and-"

"Okay. I'll go." Anything to stop the image of Yeji with the comforter pulled up to her tits and hair splayed all over the place; red and flushed. Her lips curling with the curve of the sheets and god -

"Just for an hour?" Ryujin asks.

Yeji finally places the coffee maker back onto its stand.

"I mean, nothing much happens an hour into a birthday party," Yeji reassures. "It'll be fun."

"Uh-huh."

"Trust me."

Ryujin wonders just how far Yeji could go - if she knows that she can snap her fingers together, and Ryujin will be there: ready to do anything.

-

Ryujin is trying to go to sleep, is how she'll explain it if anyone asks. Though she prays to god no one ever will.

She tries books. And she tries scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. And there's this one guy she kinda-sorta-dated's updates: photos of a vacation to Boracay, which seems nice; his chest is a little more defined, more chiseled than when she was seventeen and kind of fumbling her way around a college boy and his stupid fucking preoccupation with who should be paying for drinks at whatever run down establishment was his pick of the night. Ryujin makes a face at the screen, pursing her lips; there's a girl in the photo - she looks too young for how her ass is falling out the one-piece. To the extent that she makes sure to send an unsolicited meme she's tagged herself in - like "here is my past and here are his balls", and gets a block and a report as a thank you.

It makes her feel good. That's what's most important.

And then, with little other distraction and a decent lack of luck, she picks up the phone.

It rings for a while before the operator comes in and says, "You're at number nine."

"What?"

"The queue. This call has you at number nine."

Ryujin slowly leans up from the pillows and squints into her bedroom.

"Huh."

"Would you still like to be connected, miss?

Ryujin thinks it over for a moment. Of course you're popular, a part of her mind comments, because you've got a voice like gravel-slung honey-gold. She's imagining eight other girls just like her, laying in their bed, panties on their ankles and thumbs covered with spit. All desperate for you. All curled up - one right after the other - with no fucking idea.

"Miss," the operator comes back with.

The line goes quiet - a few beats, but not too uncomfortable a silence. Then she gets a soft little exhale out, saying, "can I leave a callback number?"

"If you like." The operator considers the idea. "I can’t promise whether he’ll call you.”

“No, yeah.” Ryujin curls an arm under her chest and plays a finger against the swell of her breast through her night shirt. Gets lost in her own consideration. “Don't think he would anyway."

-

A new day is defined by new possibilities, or something or another you read once stitched into a frame; Something you muse over the rim of your coffee, nose-deep in the laptop at the kitchen counter top.

Last night ended a bit unexpectedly - this not considering the couple's awkward fight which took up two-thirds of the evening. Or the girlfriend-slash-fiancée of that guy, which somehow led you to wonder just how old was too old. But as you were logging your final client session of the night a ping came through the employee portal and let you know that someone had left their number with the operator in the hopes you'd call.

You swig back the rest of your coffee, roll your shoulders and shrug. Oh, there are at least a million reasons not to call a number that randomly, offhandedly arrives in the middle of the night and gets patched through a phonesex hot line under the cover of darkness.

The same number could be out there, defacing the wall of a truck stop bathroom, or inked into the skin of a squat prison convict who's got a brow like the horizon. Maybe, it belongs to that married business man that took your personal phone number as his private line and spent all the time bragging how he was going to quit his wife and make a run for it with you - just you - even though you'd rather stab him with a fork than be involved with that kind of psychopathy and are honestly just looking for that extra bump in commissions every time his wife calls to ask the exact same thing.

Your clients call. You talk.

You take the cash.

The point is: there's more fucking deviants out there than there are stars in the sky. You would know; you talk to a new handful every goddamn day.

Yet it doesn't really matter. You're gonna do it. Because you're feeling restless. Because - and it sounds insane - there's at least some probability, no matter how remote, that you will pick up that receiver and punch in a number and the line will connect with the girl who's been on your mind almost constantly for the better half of two months. That you might listen to the dial tone turn into her answering with a genuinely indifferent, "this is Ryujin," or whatever her name actually is -

You're living in a pipe dream. You're probably reaching, actually. And all you know about this woman, is, what? What does it really, factually, truly amount to, the amount you feel you've come to know about her.

You know more about how she prefers to methodically, meticulously begin, then draw out, and finally end a blowjob to someone that ain't you than you do about any detail in her life story, frankly. You're reaching, and you know it.

You pick up the phone and dial.

-

(It goes straight to voicemail, and get this: that’s her real fucking name.)

-

Yuna has the audacity to ask, as she slides into the booth, "who do you keep texting?"

Ryujin's eyebrow arches.

The younger girl nods towards where Ryujin's thumbs are practically flying over the keyboard.

"No one." Ryujin puts the phone on her lap and crosses her arms over her chest. Then the words seem to echo through the inside of her skull, so she shakes her head a little, in emphasis. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

She's right though - and maybe that's the problem. Maybe that's why it's hard to answer.

Chaeryeong washes the shot of whisky down with a swallow of lemon-lime. Her eyes slide open to Ryujin as she wipes at her bottom lip. Then she spikes a finger into Ryujin's ribs.

"Spill."

It's a dangerous order, and she doesn't realize it at first. Chaeryeong's bad ideas have an annoying habit of flinging themselves on Ryujin, like a bomb dropped at low altitude - sudden, quick, and more than enough to shake everything up. Chaeryeong will make Ryujin go out dancing - and then she'll lose her clutch purse. Chaeryeong will remember she started the evening with a scarf - so they need to walk out a whole block or two to find it.

More importantly: Chaeryeong is not a great drunk.

So, of course she spills. She relays her findings, carefully and as deliberately as she can muster.

"Does he have a nice voice?" Chaeryeong asks.

"It's kind of deep?”

Chaeryeong snorts. Apologizes immediately.

"Not... deep. Sultry. I guess. Smooth, easy to hear." Ryujin tells the two across the table.

Yuna whistles low. "Romantic as shit."

“Fuck, I don’t know. In, like a sexy sort of way." Ryujin raises both palms in a vague gesture. She clears her throat at the two pairs of eyes staring back at her as though the words coming out of her mouth belonged to a foreign language. "Uh. Sort of raspy, or something, sometimes, like he's... on the phone a lot, and you know," Ryujin flushes, suddenly caught and wondering where all the confidence went, "yeah."

Yuna's leaning forward, chin in her palm. "I'm having a hard time believing texting is a sort of standard operating procedure."

"Well try a little harder," Ryujin snaps, eyes finding Yuna's and making herself fucking clear.

Chaeryeong has this look about her, she's trying to keep it all in, but then there's her eyes, cinched at the corners and dead-fucking-giveaways. She puts an arm against the table and points at Ryujin with an up-reaching thumb. "This is the cutest shit, like ever, and you two are texting like actual lovers instead of two, apparently rando-stranger fuck buddies, or whatever."

Yuna - for whatever reason - feels at liberty to throw gasoline on the fire. "Does that mean you think he's going to get jealous if you bring some dude along to Lia's birthday?"

Ryujin sucks in a breath; the fact that he'd never - well.

"Ryujin's in love," Yuna adds for dramatic effect, for the sake of being the worst fucking person. She can be so fucking petty. It's a side of her no one ever sees, because she's just so sweet all the time. Like right now, she's doing that smile-smirk thing that gets Chaeryeong giggling against her hand and then coughing into it a second later.

"Jesus christ," Ryujin starts gathering her jacket and purse. "He's- not- this is- God, I'm done." She slips her shoulder under the strap. "Thanks for listening to me sound like a teenager."

"Isn't that just normal for you," Yuna quips back, pulling at her straw until there's only air rushing through the bend of it. "Where are you going?"

"I can't stay here," Ryujin says as if it's obvious, as well as her point, the argument she's trying to make. "Besides, Yeji is gonna want me to get my dress and shit all sorted out."

"Don't fall in love with one of the robot voices at the cross-walk on your way home, or anything!" Yuna laughs out, giving a flippant wave goodbye.

Ryujin lets her eyes roll because sometimes, she hates her friends.

-

It still throws you for a loop whenever Ryujin pings your phone with a text that says something like:

have you jerked yourself off to exhaustion or is there one more in you for someone like me?

Or,

my roommate is getting pounded through the springs of her mattress, wanna see if you can hear it?

Or,

are you free? I really fucking need to cum. bad.

Each text is something you tuck into yourself. Save and mark and spend all your time in those long-form responses imagining how her face looked when her brain typed out the words for you. You wonder if she's sighing through her fingers or hiding her lips behind a pillow while the heat coils in the pits of her hips.

As time goes by, Ryujin slips a little more. From one text about whatever book or series she was rereading last and another about the sadism of politicians and how people are more likely to agree with what they've heard someone else say than the facts of a given subject, to texts with a few scattered thoughts to strings of sexting that has you cumming into the palm of your hand and through your sheets and in the middle of a dream in which there's no clothes and a pretty fucking filthy proposition.

"How have you been lately," you decide, and consider, briefly, the very strong likelihood this call is gonna send her right through the goddamn roof.

When Ryujin eventually finds herself able to get out: "fine," there's a tell-tale pause, then an even longer pause, that implies she'd definitely rather say anything else. Then she kind of stutters a, "pretty good. Not too bad. All that stuff, I suppose."

And not to say any part of this has felt like routine. Both of you breathing into the end of a telephone and letting your eyes clench tight while you cum all over yourself - imagining everything she told you she wanted you to do to her, how it'd all go: "fucking with my arms grappled behind my back," she'd hum, "head pushed into the bedsheets, you're smothering me, ah- I'd let you cum wherever the fuck you like, but please-" or maybe a bit simpler: "so my thighs are straddling your face?" is about the gist.

A second goes by, another, a third.

"Hang on," you end up having to tell her sometimes, "I need a fucking towel-"

"You really are, huh, jerking off with me- I get you that hot, is what you're telling me? Or is just too much imagining how you'd fuck your way right into my guts through my pretty little pussy? Ah, jesus," the cadence of her voice climbs high before ending up back where it belongs, "Jesus, fuck."

"Can you imagine," is how it'd start, "how good it'd feel? My pussy, or- anywhere, everywhere. I think you'd ruin me for anyone else - you- with how, god-"

You can hear Ryujin shift on the sheets, licking at her bottom lip. Silently cumming. Cumming for you.

"Okay."

"Okay what," Ryujin quietly says back.

The gears turning.

You press your hand into the side of your neck. "Fuck me. Now, in a second. Tell me the last fucking thing in the world you want me to be or do and-"

"Wait."

There's this half-breath. This hmm that almost trips off Ryujin's tongue. Her eyes squinting open to a new thought. You think she's about to be sly. About to surprise you with an offhand fuck yes I'd ride that face like a bus seat; that she might come back with, yes I'll put you right in the middle of the best part of me, god you'll love it, and I promise not to make you cum if you're nice enough not to let your hands wander. But.

It's funny how things are -

"I have a confession," she says, matter-of-factly.

That's not entirely unusual. You've had more of those come through your line in a year than a confessional grate might get in a lifetime. So it doesn't sound like something special to you; Ryujin and you are in this candid don't-ask-don't-tell in regards to payments and the exchange of goods and services, but here you are, still using lines and bits. Practiced.

"In the name of the father, and of the son, and-"

"Funny." Ryujin gets the hint to backtrack. "Uhm, I mean. Remember the roommate I was telling you about?"

You hum a, "maybe."

"Uh," and now the hushed voice from her throat sounds distant, suddenly out of the scope of the receiver, "can I be totally, honestly- just really, extremely honest here, are you- or?"

You stop thinking about the ebbs and flows of her voice, how it dips down then arches up a little. Because now her voice has become something that is nervous, bordering on uneasy. So you stop, take stock and hold on. You weren't expecting a voice of worry or tension, or not at least while she wasn't thrown back into her bed and rubbing furiously at the ache between her legs.

"Yeah, of course," you offer her up.

"This is so embarrassing," she's saying, and some part of you feels ready to sink - you haven't the faintest idea for what, but there is something. Your chest clenches.

You can't help the worry and reply: "Okay, um. I mean- yeah. Me too, I can admit I feel a bit- and you can, y'know, be a little-"

"I'm not straight," she says finally, with a little quiver of her voice right at the tail end.

A blink comes, another - there's nothing coming out of you and you have no idea why that should be at all difficult, so the silence grows long. A new sort of awkward; the kind that you find out isn't just the rush of cum cooling in a pair of sweat-damp underwear. No - this is embarrassment, the kind that taints you.

"What?" You exhale a strained laugh, almost too-bright. "Are you- is this some sort of-?"

"Nope, no, this is crazy, sorry." She laughs. "Sorry."

"You certainly had me fooled." You sit up straighter in your bed, resting elbows on your knees. The moon is filtering through the windowsill and bathing the room in blue - casting light all the wrong ways. Making your own heart beat just a little too fast. "Fuck, um. Can I ask a personal question?"

"Sure." Her voice sounds uncharacteristically soft.

"What are you into?" and you as soon as you ask, you're laughing - because you've heard Ryujin wax lyrical for weeks, pontificate about every manner and way she'd take a cock between her hands, lips, fingers. Every. Single. Place, she wants one in - and now you can't believe this is what you went with: "I mean, like girls?"

"It's probably safe to assume I have some, y'know- degree of- yeah."

You chuckle a bit. The stiffness in your shoulders settling out.

"I've been in love, I realize - boy, with my roommate - for a while."

It's said with a sad laugh - as if this were a little shameful. Some deep, dark secret no one could ever be privy to; some stain on her soul that might wash out only after one final scrubbing with dish detergent and the cruelest bristles. A thing that keeps her up at night -

“Not the roommate, by the way, who we listen to get fucking railed like she’s on-demand pornography every weekend. Just to be clear."

"Good, jesus, that'd be fucking something."

Ryujin sounds more cheerful when her voice comes back through the line, "right?"

You wipe the perspiration of your top lip. You laugh nervously at this girl admitting to being in love over the phone - a stranger, truly, in all ways - to some fucked up audio-fetish sex line personality. And now - the fuck's wrong with you?

"Are you mad?" she asks, and some part of you is wrung. A small string of tension twisting so hard inside your gut, you're losing touch.

"No," you let her know. "No, not at all."

And that is honest. This is honest. There's this itching little scratch all over the insides of your skin that seems intent on driving a fucking wedge. Right at the center of your chest, tearing you apart. It feels as you've lost - not an object, not a material. Not an idea, nor a concept - but a feeling, that for once, was distinctly, overwhelmingly yours, without your wanting, or permission, or comprehension.

Ryujin sighs, this elongated relief coming in. She sinks back against the headboard.

She tells you everything. How Yeji smiles, and it's like the whole fucking room has gone up in lights, just from her and her alone. How there is nothing that she'd rather spend all her days around. She talks and you sit there, silent and listening. She talks about her. Her name and everything Yeji does and everything she wants.

The more you listen, you realize it's all real; she's not confused, or mistaken, or out to play a game or convince herself of something she believes is inherently untrue. She's not frustrated, or longing. She doesn't have this stomach-rolling pit of anxiety digging a cavern at her center because she just can't go through the rest of her life, living a life like everyone else. Not ever.

Because, all you really notice is-

She loves Yeji. The quiet kind. And she's sitting there, legs curled under her ass, crying. Not sad, or frightened, or wounded, just this beautiful sort of awed: it's the kind that only someone who is too inexperienced at crying should have. Where you just-

Look away.

"I'm not taking my phone into the bath with me," is the last thing she says to you, tears flooding out in her last couple words, before you can only offer her a meek: "anytime, Ryujin, I'm here."

-

(Four, five weeks go by in the blink of an eye. A month where you figure it's best to let her text or call or make it clear she wants your voice.

She never does.)

-

Lia is taking her sweet time to apply concealer over the cut Ryujin earned herself trying to get a stupid thing off a shelf - that's how low and unreasonable her tolerance for anything mildly inconvenient is.

"That fucking hurts," Ryujin tells her, wincing.

Lia ignores her.

She keeps on dabbing at the spot on her temple with the makeup brush until there isn't any trace of bruising, or where the jagged scar of a cut ends and skin begins, not anymore. At this point, she has gotten better, has developed a kind of surgeon's eye: zeroing in and unblinking, until every inch of damage is looking like Ryujin did when she was brought into this world -

(which is not perfect, but what it ought to look like, all things considered.)

Lia holds her hands in place on either side of Ryujin's head. "Stay."

It takes less than five minutes, and during those, Yuna just offers from around the bathroom door, "Ryujin, sweetheart, you’re looking hot tonight."

There's nothing more Ryujin wants to do than set the girl straight - the girl can't not keep a chirp to herself, for once in her fucking life. Because this flimsy slip of a dress around her middle feels too tight, the air choked out of her lungs if she shifts her weight onto the wrong foot. The hem rides way too fucking high up her thighs. So, if anyone didn't want a good long look at her ass tonight, they better come up with a plan B if she has to so much as approach a staircase.

"Have I ever not," she bites.

Yuna snorts.

And luckily for Ryujin, Lia feels the same way:

"Yuna, would it kill you to find something productive to do with your time?"

Yuna opens her mouth like she has something to say (she usually does) before retreating further away, the edge of her hair disappearing around the doorway. Then Ryujin's grinning - eyes taking in how Lia glowers a bit back, silently judging the stupidity in Ryujin's expression and also, admiring how good the girl looks. "Not bad, though, really."

Lia tells her with an underhanded wave of the brush and a wink: "historically, you do always get laid on my birthday, remember?"

Ryujin jerks a little, and the scar above her eye throbs into Lia's thumb. "Thanks?"

-

The party is miserable, but it's not Lia's fault. It's not really Yeji's fault either. They tried, that's really all she can say for them - her and her permanent-plus-one whose face Ryujin wants to both claw at and kiss until it’s swollen-

What she really can't wrap her mind around, though, is the guy sitting right fucking beside her. The idiot.

"Really, I'm telling you," her date - who is about 3.5 out of five stars at best and not so much handsome or hot as he is 'okay in a pinch' - grins up at her with the smarmiest of smiles, "if you'd just have taken me up on dinner, I would've spent all our time talking about you. We’d figure out how to enjoy ourselves."

"Likely story."

This fuckwad has the absolute goddamn gall to look wounded when his arm starts circling its way around the space where her dress is suffocating her at the waist, and Ryujin starts to shimmy her way out of hot water - again. God, she thinks, god save me-

"I think," she manages with a stilted grin, "I'm going to make myself useful- drinks, no?"

When he leans forward to grab her hand, it's only so she doesn't leave.

"You're not going to ask for my order?" he presses. The only reason Ryujin hasn't knocked out a couple of his front teeth is because Lia would be the one hearing Yeji whine about cleaning up the fucking mess.

"Just scotch. Neat."

Ryujin's a natural when it comes to smiling fake; it's part of her goddamned job. "Of course," she says, like she's not absolutely loathing him.

"Try the oakier, single-barrel variety, alright," he explains, because what's hotter than a man who's an expert in alcohol and being an insufferable tool? Nothing of course. She hopes he knocks back a few too many and his liver explodes - the painless way out. If god would ever fucking allow it.

She barely manages a half-strangled laugh over the blare of the music before he finally releases her wrist. 

The absolute fucking prick.

-

Here's something Ryujin never thought she'd come to appreciate:

Being alone.

It's just her and the breeze through the open doors of the rooftop garden, which is something every bit as refreshing as it is teeth-chatteringly cold. The wind picks up in gusts and billows, until it starts nipping up the fabric around her knees, like it's any one of the drunk, stumbling guests milling about and looking for a noncommittal lay.

Her left foot slips a step outwards, the uncomfortably tall heel bouncing on the edge of her toe and tapping a tune against the brick. Ryujin slouches on the railing that encapsulates the entire terrace, arms pressed over it, hands folded one-over the other - letting the night sky caress her bare shoulders with its wind-brushed kisses. This, is okay. It's better.

Maybe not ideal, but better.

And all it really took was a few fucking moments where she isn't smiling with pursed, stressed lips; where the pressure in her jaw finally settles out enough for the knot in the back of her teeth to fall loose and for her mouth to actually feel, y'know - good.

Not forced, is what. Not fake, or not real, or whatever-

Ryujin almost fishes her phone from her clutch. Almost. Almost texts to tell you that: this fucking night, like all the others in the past month or two or year, has left her feeling particularly done for, and yeah, no, it isn't helping that she'd take whatever would be the alternative if it meant a face like yours came in handy to lean against, or your shoulder or thigh to use. Like some pillow - that's all.

And you are, like. An option. But not, she sighs out, exactly the right one.

An errant chill shudders through her and down her spine.

"Shin Ryujin."

She'd recognize the tilt of that voice anywhere; even if her ears were pounding and her head filled with static and noise, she'd be able to place Yeji at the end of the world. The truth is easy to see, if only Yeji knew where to look: the corners of Ryujin's eyes screw up tight for a second, an immeasurably long time, in order to not do what they wanted. What it would mean.

She does anyway. "I'd hug you," Ryujin throws behind her with an airy sigh, "but I know where you've been."

Yeji's jaw has set at this point; a twist is still in her lip and she lets out this dry, half-laugh, half-not sound - which is the thing that drives Ryujin a little crazy. Yeji turns her attention from the concrete ground, to Ryujin's profile, her body leaning forward, toes tipping in: "sometimes I wonder if my partner in crime can breathe without saying something incendiary."

"Nope." Ryujin offers no further response or follow-up. Instead, the quiet gush of air makes itself the center of attention and a victim of silence.

"Sorry about-"

"Don't be. Don't give it a second thought." Ryujin stretches, leaning a little over the railing. Her fingers arch before her. Her words sounding the slightest bit cold, "can't win 'em all, right?"

Yeji's eyebrows pull together. "That's not how this was supposed-"

"God, Yeji." Ryujin smiles. Yeji hates that she never knows what that means. "I'm trying, really, I am, but you know - I really, I have tried my best, so can we just lay it to rest?"

Yeji leans over the railing - the fucking moon reflecting in these lustrous pools where her eyes go darker than night - and doesn't say anything for the longest moment. Ryujin chews her tongue, and tries to look as interested in the void of stars and night clouds as possible.

"Fuck's going on with you, lately?"

Ryujin just laughs back.

"Really," and the last word dips in a groan. It's almost childishly tragic how petulantly she insists, "talk to me."

But Ryujin has nothing else to say - no witty, scathing remarks. No deadpan observations or funny asides, not even a morose comment to throw back. There are times and moments and fucking periods of her day where she'd happily chew glass if it meant that Yeji would sit there a second longer, be beside her for a while and smile, just smile at only her, once - for once.

Her only response is the worst kind of lie, this soft: "really nothing."

The moment where it slips and hangs between them, when it lingers the longest -

She could reach out, a hand on her thigh, the small of her back, if she could only reach. And Yeji, she'd listen to her, for once. She'd really, genuinely hear what Ryujin says; like she can see it, plain as day, everything there's in Ryujin's eyes, the thoughts inside her head, written on her goddamn face and across the open night air in neon:

I love you. I'm in love with you, you're too close to me.

The seconds pass. They tick, they stretch and grow thin. Yeji looks at Ryujin expectantly, and Ryujin knows. It is something like being put on the spot and called in. Something like a long, pained whimper caught somewhere in her throat.

She is very much still, unmoving, and feeling nothing at all.

Maybe she can blame the alcohol, the dark, the series of events that saw her hiding away behind a bunch of decorative trees and fighting for breath where the wind blows a little cooler. She can pretend like the stars aren't absent above her, and it doesn't hurt a goddamn bit.

“Yeji, I-” She licks at her lip, ready, willing-

Ryujin grabs at her waist with a hand. Her knuckles white around the black of the railing. And with no further fanfare, she spits it out like venom, with no small measure of shame or guilt or worry for how Yeji will take it - or worse: how she herself would react in the wake of admitting it aloud -

“I love you,” Ryujin says, and it pops out of her mouth as neatly as it had the first thousand times practicing alone in her car.

A blink, and another. The look on Yeji's face is hard and blank, as if she'd understood every syllable, but didn't hear it at all - maybe. Her gaze drops, it trails a path along the long line of Ryujin's pale neck. Of the two ways it could ever go in her head, stuck on loop for as long as she can remember, Ryujin had never considered that Yeji might turn this still and vacant. A sudden feeling, a pull or a grip, starts in the lowest part of Ryujin's guts.

"And not-," she hears her own voice falter, "like-"

Then - it's on the back of Ryujin's head and in her hair, a hand curled at the base of her skull and pulling her head a little downward and her, until their foreheads meet. And before she has a chance to walk it back - to stuff it down where it came from and seal the bottle tight - before she can clench her eyes, shake her head, and spit out anything else like the fact that there was not much that had to change, between them -

Yeji just says plainly: "Yeah, hun. Love you too."

And it's shockingly, the most painful thing - that she just squeezes her hand and pats her back like it's all they could ever be. Without even the wherewithal to reject her properly; to tell her something like "don't ever say that again, god," or "oh shit- Ryujin. Sorry. So, no," or at least to spit back with a scathing laugh: "welcome to the fucking party," like what she always does.

"Yeah." Yeji clears her throat quietly and starts retreating back from the brink - with no apparent aim but to pull away as she draws herself away from the warmth of Ryujin's space, "uh, don't forget to say hello to some of the staffers before they go home, okay?"

Ryujin is left with nothing but the air that follows Yeji's outline; left with her heart sinking into the depths of the night; left trying to make sense of the bitter sting ripping her chest in two.

Left with her own hopelessness - the pining - when Yeji walks away.

To be lonely, to be alone; neither are the same. 

And she hates knowing she is so incredibly both.

-

The worst part is she knows how it looks.

Her pace just on the verge of unsteady, the way her feet come up from the ground: Left foot, the right. The other. Back and back and forth again, faster and then slower and- fuck.

A damsel, severely distressed.

She sits down on the curb. She wants to cry, but even just the way she looks, carrying her heels and struggling with this fucking dress she wishes she'd never bothered with at all - oh, the tabloids would be sure every detail gets pinned under all the wrong lights. A breakdown would only serve to confirm all the right things; it would paint a story for anyone who cares enough to glean from her crestfallen posture and red cheeks that she is yes, a little broken, and that everyone wants to be loved and she's no different - and -

She sucks a breath. This time, when her tears fall, it's a quick, perfunctory action, no show in it.

Her palms rub her face - and she wipes, and wipes, and wipes - smearing at the foundation under her eyes before she takes a long drag of night air. Deep from her core, filling up her lungs until she can't hold anymore. Until it hurts and stings the backs of her ribs - it's enough for a single, fleeting moment. The street is mostly empty; an occasional car will speed by every now and then and it's those few and far between intervals that hurt most, that nearly shatter her: if she can barely do this, alone, how can she possibly be enough for anyone?

Ryujin’s smiling only to hold back her tears, and it fucking stings. She flicks hurriedly past the lock screen of her phone and swipes through the message stream with blurry eyes - there’s a whole host of people that want to know where the fuck she went, if she's safe, why she up and vanished the moment Yeji couldn't keep an eye on her. And well. The girl sighs.

Finds your name in her contacts and puts her thumb right beside it.

It rings exactly three times, and she hates the number. She hates how many things can be associated with that number in those seconds alone.

Four, the pause where you must have had the opportunity, but didn't decide to pick up - just leave it be. Then five - Ryujin is definitely no longer looking forward to any of this.

Six: it stops.

There's this crackle, and through the night -

"Just what brings you here, stranger?"

For an indistinct amount of time, Ryujin drifts in the whirlpool current of that question; it sinks her deeper, into the currents of your voice and the tone and what it's suggesting and demanding from her. All the things your voice is giving her permission to ask of and with and-

Until finally she answers back: "do you ever just, like, wish," a shallow pause for the hitch in her breath, "something, someone was a little more for you- or to- with you-"

The swell of a smile through the receiver; and you can't help your laugh, soft.

"Sometimes," is what you say, "that's just human, don't you think?"

She doesn't understand how something like love or life or desire should be a universal trait.

"Uh, maybe," she shrugs out, and thinks.

"It's pretty normal," you tell her.

Quiet, as if you were right in front of her.

"Look," you start, and you can hear how she sniffs her nose and swipes the pad of her hand right along the side of it, to catch anything stupid and stupid sounding leaking down to her upper lip. "You don't have to. Let's just hang out. Tell me anything."

And for once, she does.

She talks.

-

(The whole story.

From the first time Ryujin realizes the world is never going to be fair - that she shouldn't have to look at herself like she's unlovable because she's seen her friends be held as though they are - or at Yeji like she's completely unattainable or somehow, unlovable, and that someone as amazing as Yeji should have been loved from the moment she was born.

The rest comes through as fragments: the truth of her career. Yeji.

The balcony, the breeze, the bitter-fucking-disappointment.

And what came of that -

When Ryujin isn't a million and one words per minute, it feels, almost, it feels - she'd swear there was less noise in her own head: this thrumming in her brain has settled out; the walls around her and the echo coming off of them - the booming and pulsing - it's, gone.

Because even though there was an indistinct shape for where she had landed, in the aftermath, and nothing much had changed - all that did. You listen, and that alone makes it so you're both exactly where you’re supposed to be, even if this, tonight - you are unsure, if it will actually fix anything - if anything needs fixing at all.)

[twogyuu]

reverse uno

Pairing: Jeonghan x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, dad!jeonghan, mom!reader, uncle!wonwoo

Warnings: profanity, some jealousy (but it's just out of funniness), jeonghan long hair slander, unedited

WC: ~1.5k

A/N: For shits and giggles. I also miss Jeonghan.

Spin-off from Wonwoo's Tasty Cereal (and Milk). Would reccomend reading this one first to have context for this one 😅

. . . .

Jeonghan was seething. 

Never in a hundred years did he think he’d be jealous of Jeon Wonwoo. 

Jeonghan has known the young man for the better half of his twenties from university. They were different as night and day, but Jeonghan never saw anything wrong with that. The two men had their unique qualities. Also, he adored Wonwoo – truly. A quiet fella with well-founded values and a kind heart, it was for those very reasons he could never really, what youth called, “rizz up” a girl despite all the heart eyes sent his way. The man had game; he just didn’t know how to use it. 

Heck, with Wonwoo’s current girlfriend, it took the effort of two armies and Lee Jihoon to get the frustrating oblivious pair together. 

It truly had to be a sick joke for Jeonghan to be standing in the middle of a kid’s backyard birthday party and bear witness to his four-year-old daughter falling head over heels for the four-eyed man. 

Atop a blue-and-white checkered blanket, Nina was seated on Wonwoo’s lap, his hand wrapped protectively over her waist to keep her from falling off, a picture book opened in front of them as he pointed at the illustrations of a Siamese cat dressed in a cape, leaping off a boat. 

She was whipped. 

His little girl, adorned with his big brown eyes – it was blasphemous. 

Nina laughed girlishly and clapped her hand out of joy as Wonwoo read one of the character’s lines in a low voice, mimicking that of a monster. 

Jeonghan has definitely reenacted scenes from some of her favorite storybooks way better than that. His impression of Amelia Bedelia could earn him an Oscar!

“Why are you clenching your fists so tight?” 

Jeonghan turned in the direction of the familiar sound of your voice. Your presence brought him some sense of comfort. At least he’d never lose you to Wonwoo. 

Jeonghan let out a defeated sigh, walking over to your side and snaking his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side. His eyes were still trained on his little girl, though he could feel your fingers grazing across the side of his face as you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. 

Your eyes flickered from his hardened expression to Wonwoo and Nina, and then back. 

“What’s so great about him anyways?” Jeonghan asked. 

“Wonwoo?” you double-checked. 

“I mean, he’s not that great, you know?” Jeonghan pressed on, “I’m a cool dad! I let her eat ice cream for breakfast yesterday morning!”

“You what?”

Oops. 

Jeonghan shook his head, pretending he didn’t spill his daughter’s biggest secret. He scoffed dramatically, “This is ridiculous – she shouldn’t be acting so lovesick! She’s only four!”

You made a mental note to circle back to the ice cream for breakfast, but decided to address the matters of your husband’s current distress. 

“Maybe Wonwoo’s just good with kids,” you suggested, “He’s a teacher after all.”

“A math teacher,” Jeonghan scorned, “For eighth graders.”

“Honey, I think you’re overthinking this,” you tried to soothe him, doing your damn best to suppress your giggles. You hadn’t seen him this worked up in a while. He was always protective of Nina, but this was . . . something else. 

“He babysat her once and now she goes around eating cereal and milk separately, begs to watch Sailor Moon on Saturday mornings, and asks about ‘Uncle Woo’ more than she asks about you – like, this isn’t normal!”

A light bulb goes off in your mind. 

“Maybe,” you turned towards him to face him full front. Naturally, his hands settle on your waist. You reach over and smooth a strand of hair on the other side of his face, your fingers playing with the ends of the overgrown, long strands brushing across his jawline. “She likes his haircut.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jeonghan rolled his eyes.

You shrug playfully. “Hey – Wonwoo is a handsome man and maybe, she’s like me: knows one when she sees one.”

“And what does that have to do with his hair?” Jeonghan asked. 

“Haircuts make a huge difference in someone’s appearance,” you peer over Jeonghan’s shoulder, throwing Wonwoo and Nina a glance. They seemed to have caught your gaze, both waving happily in your direction. A smile spread across your face, turning back to Jeonghan. “His new haircut looks nice.”

Jeonghan cocked an eyebrow at you. “Are you suggesting something here?”

You pull away, his hands slipping off your hips. “Nothing I haven’t said to you before.”

Because that was the truth. 

Despite his best friend’s insistence, you were not a fan of that mane that your husband has grown out and you had voiced your opinion more than once. 

You extended a hand to Jeonghan and asked sweetly, “Cake?”

“But Nina–”

“Relax,” you reassured him, pulling him after you, “Wonwoo’s a good babysitter – it’s just a little crush. Let them be and let’s spend a little time to ourselves?”

. . . .

“Sweetheart,” Jeonghan called from afar. 

Nina looked up from her drawing, the blue crayon in her chubby hands stopped moving at her dad’s voice. Her favorite cup, a white and green coffee mug with baby Yoda’s decorating the exterior, was clasped in one hand as he leaned against the entrance of the kitchen. 

“Yes, daddy?” she replied. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Jeonghan asked softly. 

That was a strange phrase. Usually, she asked her dad questions – not the other way around. Unsure how to answer, she stayed quiet and stared at him wide-eyed. 

“Do you . . . perhaps like Uncle Wonwoo’s haircut?” he asked slowly. 

Nina only stared back blankly at Jeonghan. She blinked, processing her dad’s strange and cryptic words. She knew about Uncle Wonwoo and she knew what a haircut was – her mom took her for one last month. She had sat in a chair shaped like a blue race car. 

“Do you think Uncle Wonwoo is handsome?” Jeonghan tried rephrasing his question. He shoved a hand, uncomfortably, into the pocket of his sweatpants. 

“Handsome,” Nina said quietly, “Like . . . how Cinderella thinks Prince Charming is handsome?”

Jeonghan nodded in encouragement. 

“I . . . think so?” Nina replied, confused.

“Oh,” Jeonghan said softly. 

Nina frowned, her little heart feeling funny at her dad being disappointed at her answer. “Is something wrong, daddy?”

“No, no,” Jeonghan smiled weakly. “Maybe your mommy was just right.”

As he walked away, Nina noted the way her dad tugged at his little ponytail. 

. . . .

“You cut your hair.”

Jeonghan sighed, annoyed as he roughly handed Nina’s night bag over to Wonwoo. 

“I did,” Jeonghan replied curtly.

“Why?” Wonwoo asked cautiously, sensing malice in his older friend’s tone. 

“Just because,” Jeonghan grumbled. He threw a look over his shoulder to make sure you and his daughter were coming along. You were shutting the door of the RAV4, Nina fast asleep in your arms with her head resting over your shoulder. “It was getting annoying anyways.”

“Interesting . . . I guess,” Wonwoo replied. 

At this, Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened at Jeonghan’s harsh tone. A hand flew to the back of his neck. Nervously, he replied, “I mean . . . you just seemed to be . . . really adamant about growing it out – you and Cheol.”

“Well, my daughter likes boys with short hair like yours,” Jeonghan replied curtly. 

“Um,” Wonwoo’s eyes wandered around the living room. “I’m sorry if I’m missing something here, but what do I have to do with your hair?”

Jeonghan inhaled sharply, shaking off all the tension. “It’s nothing –”

“Nina has a crush on you and Jeonghan is bitter because she doesn’t think he’s the coolest anymore,” you announced as you entered behind Jeonghan. 

“Y/N!?” Jeonghan exclaimed. 

You winked in his direction before settling your daughter onto Wonwoo’s couch, adjusting her head in a comfortable position. 

“But I thank you for your service,” you said to Wonwoo. Folding your arms across your chest, you smiled in satisfaction. “I got him to get a haircut.”

“You’re welcome . . .?” Wonwoo asked more than he stated. He was so confused. 

“That’s manipulative!” Jeonghan shrieked. 

You brought a finger to your lips and to shush him, eyes flickering to your daughter. Nina stirred momentarily in her sleep before settling into the cushion again. 

Hooking your arms with his, you dragged your husband away. You remarked, “Manipulative like when you got me to go on that blind date with you?” You waved off Wonwoo. “We’ll be back around 11PM.”

Wonwoo nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“That’s different,” Jeonghan whined. He tried pulling his arm away to no avail – you had a strong grip. 

“I’ve waited almost a decade for this moment: Consider it pay back.”

“Y/N.”

You pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and patted his arm before rounding the front of the car to get to the passenger side. 

“I married a menace,” Jeonghan groaned. 

“So did I!” 

“A match made in the heavens itself!” Wonwoo called from the door. 

The air filled with your laughter. 

A menace, but Jeonghan couldn’t deny, he really loved that sound more than anything. 

[kyemna]

Hazbin Hotel headcanons

TW: Mentions of sex and alcohol. some suggestive themes that's it, it's mostly just fluff.

(English isn't my first language)

Charlie

-Will do anything for you.

-you want flowers? Done. You saw a cute stuffed animal in the store front and you want it? You got it. Somebody harassed you on the streets and you want them punished? Let her take care of it. Normally she's against violence, but when it comes to protecting you? She'll do anything.

-will sing to you, all the time

-made a special song that she sings to you when you've had a bad day

-the best listener ever.

-will sit and listen to you talk for hours

-if she needs to get to work early, she'll make you breakfast and leave you a note that says something like:

-hi, good morning lovely! I hope you sleep well.

I had to leave early.. something happened at the hotel while Alastor was away, and they needed me.

See you 2night, i love you:)<3

-i think her love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation

Angel Dust

-whisper's provocative things to you during meetings

-definitely a physical touch kind of guy.

-Will cling to you at the most random times

-keeps Valentino as far away from you as possible.

-tries his best to keep his relationships hidden from him as well

-if you'd come home after a long day, he'd give you a massage

-is super funny, tell me otherwise.

-has a high sex drive, and is pretty kinky due to his job.

-so expect him to ring you up at the most unexpected times.

-PS. Don't put him on speaker when you're in public..

Vaggie

-was pretty cautious around you in the beginning, but slowly warms up to you

-once she's comfortable, she tells the wildest stories and acts them out for you

-if you don't know how to fight, she'll teach you

-if you do know how to fight, you guys spar all the time

-jealousy issues, and you can't tell me other wise.

-she hears someone talk to you in a tone she doesn't like? Glare. Someone low-key flirting with you? Glare. If looks could kill.. she will actually kill them though, so..

-not super experienced in bed, but she's open to suggestions

-once she finds something she likes/is comfortable with, she askes you for it all the time

-a "words of affirmation" and "acts of service" girl for sure

Alastor

(i am perfectly aware he's ace, but these are scenario's for if he wasn't, don't come for me)

-now, Alastor is a great dancer.

-he has great music taste too!

-listens to 1940's and below.

-i think he's mostly into Jazz and Classical music to be honest

-i do think Amy Winehouse and Dave Brubeck are his exceptions when it comes to listening to 1950's and above

-somehow always knows where you are..? You often see his shadows follow you, so that's probably why

-kills for you. Also because he has a thirst for blood, that needs to be satisfied. So that's 2 birds with one stone

-holds doors open for you

-just a general gentleman

-loves it when you wear dark red, dark blue and dark green

-it can be anything. Lipstick (just red though), a hat, a dress, heels, etc.

-expects you to respect his personal space but doesn't respect yours LMFAO

-gift giving and physical touch

Husk

-knows all your favorite drinks

-loves to dance with you

-also a Jazz person, but I don't think he'd mind country music to be honest

-once he secretly took a picture of you.

-he thought you looked so good, he keeps it in his nightstand.

-doesn't really talk about his problems/feelings, but prefers it if you do.

-respects your boundaries more than anyone.

-you don't wanna talk? He'll kiss your forehead, and leave you alone.

-you don't really like being touched? He'll always ask first.

-other than making amazing alcoholic drinks, he makes great coffee too!

-quality time and physical touch.

It's been quite a while since i've written something, so I apologize if there's any grammar mistakes or sentences that just don't make any sense LOL

Thank you for reading!

[prncessjaeger]

sugarcoat ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

being the smartest girl in your school has its perks, from the free high quality lunches, to the first access of the many scholarships, to even tutoring the cutest guys (and girls) in school, like now. you watched eren jaeger, one of the best and cutest hockey players in the school, work out his math answers correctly, but when he goes and chooses an answer out of four choices, he always chooses the wrong one. “hm…”

“what?” “nothing, just finish those up real quick.” eren nodded and completed his last two questions, giving you the sheet, and as you fully checked through every answer, your theory was proven correct. “eren? uh, you’re working the problem out correctly….but you’re choosing the wrong answer choice? i’m  just stating what i see…” eren looked around your small study shed you dad built for you, glancing at all the plethora of pictures, certificates, and band posters hanging on the walls, “uhh..” “don’t get me wrong, you’re very smart! but why choose the wrong answer?” you could see him biting his lip out of nervousness, and sighed sharply, “i wanted to...hang out?” “hang out?” eren nodded slowly and you carefully brought your hand up to cup his cheek, “well why didn’t you ask?” “you be…busy. and i’m with the guys all the time so-” “nah, i think you’re just too scared to ask me to hang out with you infront of your hockey friends…” eren’s head hangs low, “boy pick your head up, i ain’t mad at you, besides i guess we can hang out now!” you moved his work on a different table and turned towards him, and watched him stare at you in silence for almost 5 minutes, “so..what now?” “nothing i’m just….” he trailed off, his leg jittering rapidly. “nervous?” eren nodded again, “hm…” you got up and stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders, feeling him become less tense. you heard a small gasp from eren once he felt your hands rubbing further down his chest, wondering if eren was gonna stop you but instead he pushed you further, and you giggled in his ear seeing a tent in his lightwashed jeans. rising up, you moved infront of him, sitting on the desk and watched his brow raise. 

you moved your foot up to his print, adding more pressure onto his hard on, which caused eren to grab your ankle, softly whimpering. his hips lifted slightly, humping on the heel of your foot as his hands continued to hold your foot, even added more pressure ontop of him, “f-fuck,”

his whimpers echoed in the quiet shed and while now filing your nails, you yawned in boredom, wondering when was this ever gonna end.yanking your foot away, you put the nail file down and crouched down onto the hells of your foot, coming face to face with his pre-cum stained jeans and rubbing along his thighs again, looking up at eren through your lashes and sighed, “such a dirty boy, humping on my foot like a bitch in heat, right?” noddidng rapidly, he inhaled tensely feeling your hands unzip his pants, freeing up his confined dick and sighed in content when your soft hands rubbed along the shaft.

you build up spit and spewed it righ out on his pink tinted mushroom tip, sitting up some to start a set of rhythmic strokes in which eren moaned out louder, so loud you could probably hear him outside the shed. his hips hunched up but you weren’t going for that, “nope, sit still. if you don’t, i’ll stop, okay?”

“yes, y/n-”

“yes who?” his eye peeked open, seeing that taunting smile on your perfect features and when he felt your hands stroke even faster, he breathed out, “y-yes mommy, i’ll be good for you.”

“you’ll be good for me, huh? you promise?” one hand stroked his tip with quickness while the other rubbed along his shaft slowly, and the constant rhythm switches and change ups had eren see stars, “yeah- i p-promise,” your tongues lolled out of your mouth and eren watched spit drooled down from the tip of your tongue to his, and eren felt liike he was already in heaven, seeing your seductive face practically drooling on his dick was probably the best thing that’s happened to him since…ever! 

you could see him balling up his fists, knowing he could be on the breach of cumming, and once a loud “fuck!” was heard, you felt your hand being covered with ropes of cum and even some landed on your black framed glasses. you watched him come down from his high slowly, and giggled when he looked down at your face with a smirk,

“so same time next week?”

“s-sure..”

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights, 7 * mv1

the news is out: three time world champion, max verstappen, and his girlfriend of 6 years have been broken up since the singapore weekend.

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: -

notes: wow i took thE longest break from this

(series masterlist)

(prev) // (next)

max isn’t typically the type to let panic settle in. at least, that’s what he likes to think. he likes to tell people he’s not bothered but outsiders are always quick to catch up with his suppressed emotions. 

alas, his worst fears have come true. news has broken that you’ve been broken up for almost 2 months. 

he has not been able to talk about it with daniel, so he can only imagine how things will break down in austin. 

he hopes that it’s not actually that big of a deal. plenty of other drivers have gotten themselves in messier breakups — the post doesn’t seem to touch on any speculations about how yours had come about. he can only bank on the hope that journalists are empathetic enough not to bring you up. 

but you’ve been very involved in his career and the cameras on the paddocks. they never missed the chance to have you speak into a mic or have a private conversation with you. 

pictures snapped of you together are never posted, but would be directly sent to either of you to truly encompass the privacy of your relationship. the respect shared between you and everyone on the paddocks was treasured, which is probably why your presence had been notable after you abruptly disappeared. 

he sinks into his couch, phone in hand as he stares at the pictures that sparked up speculations. it’s a low-quality picture of you leaving the red bull home, head down as your hair shied you away from the camera. the second picture is of him coming out of the building, hair dishevelled as he stood with his arms folded over his chest.

“what do i do?” max mumbles, his finger swiping over the screen again and again, staring at the two pictures. as if it would change the course of things if he did it enough. “do i talk to her?”

“i don’t know, man,” daniel sighs, his face in the far corner of max’s screen. “i mean, the best you can do is to wait it out, right?”

“rumours could spread,” charles mutters, looking away briefly with his eyes widened. “if i were you, i’d want to do some damage control. but that’s probably just me.”

max sits back, staring at the empty half of his hotel bed. your absence is always noted when he’s all alone and he's too awake for his own good, once having the luxury of your company and bright smile making him feel giddy.

the difference between this breakup and all of charles' is that there is no controversy in this one. as far as he's concerned, this is all speculation from photos that are now circulating the internet and your obvious absence on race weekends.

nobody can even really confirm if it's true unless you or max say something. for now, they're just rumours. right?

unless you've started speaking to people, and gossip platforms. but you wouldn't do any of that, or at least that's what he's telling himself. but from what he can dig out of the grave in his brain, there was nothing that happened between you that can be twisted.

but what does he know?

he can only keep praying to the fact that you'll keep it as private as you usually do.

his phone is buzzing endlessly, his other friends sending him texts as the news shocks them as much as the world. lando is asking him if he's holding up fine, martin is expressing how he feels for max, and his own mother asking him why he hadn't told her earlier.

only victoria's message will be getting an answer. after all, she's the first person that found out.

"should i talk to her?" max thinks out loud, maximising the facetime call to get a good look at his friends' reactions. "she never does well with things like this, what if people are bothering her?"

charles' picture is overtaken by alexandra's face, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. "you wanna talk to her?"

max shrugs. "i don't know. maybe?"

"would that be the best choice though?" daniel tilts his head. behind him, heidi is approaching cautiously with a small smile. "babe, what do you think?"

heidi shrugs as daniel's camera slowly turns to her. "my opinion is probably not - it's been two months. and judging by the comments that i read, i don't think there's much disrespect that has to be told off publicly."

alexandra nods as charles slowly comes back into the frame next to her. "it's up to you, max. as of right now, it doesn't seem that serious."

max sighs again, this time louder as he feels everything coming down on him. he drops his head back and stares at the ceiling. "i don't know, you guys," he sighs again loudly. "i just want to know if she's alright."

"maybe not now, mate," charles answers sympathetically, frowning at him through the camera.

"just wait it out. it could die down quicker than you think," daniel says hopefully.

max nods, now suddenly feeling disinterest in their conversation. he only craves to be by himself now. "alright, i'll catch you guys in a bit," his eyes turn to the cats sleeping peacefully on the cat tree, "i've got to feed the cats."

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora @lokigoeschoki @avg-golden-retriever

[stark-88]

I'M BACK FOR MORE THEORIES!!!!!!

So, I have been thinking about the scene where they are at the Lakehouse, in the forest leaning up against that tree. And again, my ADHD is working overtime here so it's going to get messy. But, just hear me out.

It has to be their first day there, they would want to have a moment alone since they haven't had a second alone since Alex and Nora went to pick Henry and Percy up. And technically, Alex hasn't told his dad about them yet and Henry I'm sure still wants to have some semblance of safety even though he is with friends and i'm sure the security that has signed NDA's.

Here are some low quality screenshots I grabbed to show my theory of why I think this is the same day.

As you can see Alex is wearing the white V-Neck shirt, yes i'm sure he has tons of these but its for the theory. Also if you notice on the jeans on his knee he has a very distinctive white faded mark on them.

I'm sorry I could not get a better picture of them leaning up against the tree from far away, but you can see Alex's outfit. And the white marking on the knee. And obviously, Henry showed up in some fancy outfit, so he was going to change into something that is more comfortable. I'm sure Alex suggested he wanted to show him around the property, which is just code for I want to get away from people so I can kiss my freaking "casual" boyfriend

When they do get alone, maybe Henry was still just a little bit hesitant about how much affection he should display when there might be people around? So he needed to just close his eyes and just trust Alex, because if he opens them he doesn't want to be looking over his shoulder looking for anyone, he just wants to focus on Alex.

And Alex, sweet, caring, loving Alex, reassures Henry by saying "It's just you and me." And he can barely finish before Henry reaches in and kisses him.

Again, I went on a rampage with this post when all I really wanted to get across was that I think that what Alex says in the gif.

[kisseobie]

p1harmony and the coquette boyfriend trend

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: none

based on this tiktok trend

a/n: just a cute and silly little reaction (while i work on tumblr girls) inspired by @yunhoszn 𐙚 this trend is sooo over but who gaf if i wanna put a bow on my piwon’s biceps i should be able to like… also piwon as a whole give me the vibes of that picture of the rotc kid saluting with the caption “me when a bad bitch tell me to do something” so i tried to emulate that here too LMAOO

౨ৎ keeho

i already know kyo’s chornically online ass was made aware of this trend even before it actually took off, was going to bring it up to you, but being the stubborn man he is, opted out of doing so because he thinks it should be you begging him to let you tie him up in a little bow!! and he’s so real for that!! goes as far as reposting every single video following the trend he comes across, and starts humming the lana del rey song whenever your near so he can hopefully telepathically send you signals that he wants you to put a bow on his bicep and show him off!! his approach is a bit unconventional but low and behold it somehow works, and when you do ask him to film that tiktok he annoyingly pretends he didn’t even know about the trend in the first place, as if you didn’t pick up on his very obvious signs. says shit like “why a bow? but omg you’re soooo obsessed with me!” (and you are!)

౨ৎ theo

i imagine you bring it up to him and he’s just confused as to why that’s a trend and what its supposed to mean, and even when you explain it to him he still doesn’t get it. you show him examples and he still doesn’t get it. ask you meaningless questions like “why put a bow on me? what does the bow represent? i’ve never heard of this type of couple trend?” but his questioning doesn’t mean that he’s opposed to it!! quite the opposite actually, he’s very endeared over the fact that you want to make a tiktok with him despite your relationship being fairly new. i do think he would rather have little bows in his hair rather than the usual tie around the bicep, please put him in pigtails and call him your pretty princess because it’s what he deserves! you two end up laughing the entire time you style his hair and film the video, and it’s little moments like these that make your relationship oh so sweet

౨ৎ jiung

literally will do anything you ask for him because once he’s locked in, he’s locked in. when you timidly bring it up to him he’s gonna nod at you with big eyes and his little concentrated pout, reassuring you with no hesitation that yes, he would love for you to wrap him in a pink bow, and no, you don’t have to be embarrassed to ask him for anything. i honestly think ji has a bit of a possessive side if his radio conversation with keeho about his future gf dancing up on other men is anything to go off of, and the fact that you want to claim him as your on the internet, even if it is for a silly little trend, makes his heart happy and feeds into that quality of his. once you’ve filmed the tiktok, with one of his pretty fingers adorned with a singular pink bow, he gives you a kiss on the cheek and keeps the bow on for the rest of the day, even if he has practice later. this experience leads him to spending more time on tiktok despite his grandpa personality, and he searches for other couple videos you two can make together in the future :] just so sweetie pie

౨ৎ intak

honestly just like keeho he’s on tiktok all the time and gets behind trends pretty quickly, so when intak begs you to do this new trend he keeps seeing on his for you page you aren’t surprised. honestly, you had also been wanting to participate in the trend, partly because it’s cute and partly because tak has gorgeous arms, but you kept it quiet because you wanted him to work for it! it’s pretty amusing actually, he ends up forcing you to come along with him to the gym when he works out much more often just so he can lift heavy weights and flex his arms for you. he just wants you to deem his biceps worthy of being wrapped in a bow!! please don’t tease him for too long because he will have a permanent sad puppy look on his face for the rest of the month. when you finally cave and wrap his arm in a bow he is sooo cheesed. had this goofy grin on his face and flexes his muscles which results in him accidentally splitting the bow in two, which both pisses you off and turns you on at the same time?

౨ৎ soul

literally is so pliable under your hands, much like jiung he will let you do anything to him with little to no complaints or even acknowledgement. he simply exists to make his girlfriend happy! you don’t even ask him to film the video because you already know the answer will be yes (in the form of a strange sound), so you get to work as soon as you make way into his dorm room. you stay true to shota’s reputation of being slightly abnormal by wrapping the entirety of your roll of ribbon around his entire body, mummifying him from head to toe and topping it off with a delicately tied bow at his ankles. he doesn’t complain throughout the entire process, even if you’ve interrupted his gaming sesh with seob. when you film and publish the ridiculous tiktok, you point your phone towards him so he can appreciate the fruit of your labor, and when he finally does get to see the video for himself he lets out the biggest laugh that puts an equally big smile on your face

౨ৎ jongseob

you both actually discover the trend together! you two have a routine of cuddling up and scrolling through one of your for you pages, alternating phones each night depending on your battery levels. tonight, jongseob has your back against his chest as he scrolls through your tiktok when the trend first pops up on the screen, and you both get intrigued and scroll through the let the light in sound on tiktok to watch more. you don’t say anything to him but seob can tell you want to participate, and he ends up sweetly informing you that “we can do this trend if you want! i don’t have ribbon on me right now though..” and with that your eyes light up. the two of you end up buying ribbon at the craft store the next day for the sole purpose of filming that video, and you both rush to his dorm afterwards to film the tiktok. you end up settling on wrapping the dainty ribbon around both of his arms and torso, the pair of you refilming several times to get it “just right”. just like the other boys, seob is just happy to please his pretty gf!

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

ʕ•̫͡ 𐙚

[gamermattsgf]

Horror movie hot takes // Matt + Chris

Again, I’m sorry that this is not my proper writing, but don’t worry! My breeding kink oneshot is on its way, I gotchu guys ;) I’m hopefully going to be dropping it some time in the middle of the week, so this is just some light and fun reading to do until then whilst you wait - if you want of course… pls humour my stupid ideas lol.

Thank you to whoever suggested this because I’ve been dying to give u guys my breakdown. Horror is one of my FAV genres, idk why, I just love scaring myself. Also, I don’t have just one to share with u guys, but three different options each because it’s such an expansive genre with so many probable things to pick from. You guys can probably tell that I have way too much fun with these things… (Plus they’d look good in multiple different genres and I rlly wish I could add more but I don’t want these to get too long bc they’re meant to be hot takes).

Obviously, a couple of the pictures I’ve used for the visuals may be potentially triggering as they contain blood and other disturbing bits of paraphernalia, so please if you’re squeamish, proceed with caution!!

But anyways…

Matt:

First up Matt’s most likely to star in some type of rural corn maze horror. I’m thinking proper Southern gothic style, low quality, out in the sticks and with only a small population in the farming town where he resides.

I could so see the storyline following the main character who moves to this place, but very quickly gets that sinking feeling in her stomach that there’s something not right about the town, from the way the locals look at her to the way Matt speaks when she first arrives. There’s got to be that cliché plot line where something suspicious is afoot, something that she wants to unearth.

Matt’s character gives off creepy neighbour vibes, like the kind that watches the main character from behind his curtains as she unloads the moving truck. This Matt is properly country too, from the cowboy boots on his feet to his red flannel shirt and his shotgun that he randomly carries around because he’s a sheep farmer (do I envision him using his country accent, yes, yes I do).

Long story short, the rural town isn’t just a town, it’s actually a cult, and the reason the farmers rear cattle and mind sheep is so that they can conduct ritualistic sacrifices with them.

(I lowkey wish this was a movie I’d eat this kind of twisted shit up)

For his second movie I’m absolutely obsessed with the idea of putting him in a domestic psychological thriller- so proper stalking vibes. I’m thinking something like ‘You’ but almost making him a more extreme version of Joe Goldberg.

Possibly he’s maybe the main character’s co-worker, who takes the secret affection he has for her a little too far? Or even just an absolutely psychotic ex that refuses to let her go… In short this is the kind of movie that doesn’t quite give you that exhilarating rush of jump-scares, but instead tries to make you as physically uncomfortable as possible with an absolutely horrific instrumental soundtrack playing underneath it.

I’m not sure why I chose this branch of horror, but something about the way Matt looks just really did it for me, it’s so difficult to explain but his physical appearance fits the overall image of someone with an obsessive attitude towards a loved one.

Three words. Found footage horror. These kind of horror movies scare me the most because of that idea of it being ‘found footage’. Equally, ‘based on true story’ horrors also mildly unsettle me just because of that idea that it’s been reimagined from a real life event.

Matt’s found footage is giving ‘The Blair Witch Project’, I can defintely see him out in the wilderness with a bunch of his really close friends, all with camcorders in their hands as they document their time camping in the woods. Until everything goes terribly wrong. And they get lost. And are picked off one by one until Matt is the only one standing.

There is no soundtrack this time, just heavy breathing, crunching leaves underneath running footsteps, the sound of the wind in the trees and the occasional blood curdling shriek of whatever is hunting them down.

(I should seriously become a director lmaoo)

Chris:

Now onto Chris… most people often think Chris would thrive in a classic 90’s slasher flick- like ‘Scream’ or ‘Friday the 13th’ which I’m not going to argue against because he really would look great in one. It fits his overall vibe of being the jock boyfriend that is one of the first ones to die after him and his girlfriend stupidly break off from the group to ‘fool around’.

HOWEVER, I personally think that a game show gore horror is more his speed, it fits his skill set better. I feel like Chris would be really versatile in this kind of high-pressure environment and I’d honestly love to see him in a franchise like the ‘Saw’ movies (I want to hear him whimpering in pain) -WHAT…? Who said that??

This Chris is just an ordinary guy who works an ordinary but depressingly mundane job that does not come with the best pay… so what happens when he gets an ad mailed through his letter box promising money to whoever volunteers to try out this new and exciting game for a reality tv show? Well it’s simple, Chris would do anything for a dollar, so he signs up- not taking into account at all about how advertisements like this aren’t normally personally mailed to a person and that quite possibly this letter had actually been specifically targeted to people who were known to be in desperate need of some spare change.

The result? A wicked sadist trapping these poor people into machines and torturing them for his own personal gain.

(Fuck I love this idea)

This next one is a bit of a curve ball but roll with me here… a deep sea horror. Fun fact about me, I have horrible thalassophobia, and a severe fear of sharks (I know, stupid) but I can’t help it lol, they terrify me. However, still rolling with the overall cocky/jock/playboy characterisation of Chris, I could definitely picture him being some form of deep sea diving protege that’s a cave diving expert.

He’s a side character in the thriller that is called in when they need help with locating whatever monster lurks beneath the waves. Due to his speciality in the field, he’s one of the best, and co-leads a team of divers through a cave to see if they can sus out its location.

This Chris likes to wear a lot of blue things, and he’s constantly either smugly chewing on gum or is biting a toothpick within his teeth with an air of superiority about him. The soundtrack helps with the overall gritting suspense of the movie and keeps you on the edge of your seat constantly with jump-scares around every corner.

And finally, who the fuck would I be if I didn’t rope Chris into a zombie/pandemic apocalypse horror? Because this kind of movie has Chris written all over it, real TWD style. For some reason, within the whole horror genre in its entirety Chris fits the branch of gore horror the best, blood, guts and big spectacles of action packed violence. You name it, Chris looks like he could be apart of it.

In an apocalypse kind of situation, Chris would definitely be either a side character who you meet maybe about half way through the series - possibly from some other rival gang that threatens to steal your weapons - or one of the original main characters that have survived thus far. His weapon of choice is definitely either a trusty crowbar, or a classic metal baseball bat, something that he can really swing and satisfy his frenzied killing needs with.

Aesthetics wise, he wear a black bandana to keep the hair out of his face, a white tank top and army green cargo shorts. Pair them with some heavy duty black boots and you’ve got yourself a mighty attractive apocalypse survivor to spend the rest of your shortened life span with.

Author’s notes: someone needs to take my phone AND my imagination away from me immediately at this point, it’s too powerful when they’re put together. I get wayyyy too carried away with this shit lol. I have such a vivid imagination it’s insane to me, I be writing whole ass screen plays for these Jesus Christ. But anyways, I wanna see those two in a horror movie so fucking bad (if you couldn’t tell hehe). Or maybe just watch a horror movie with them… like- dw baby boy I’ll hold your hand at the scary bits hahahaha.

Again, a list of people who I think would entertain my silly little ideas: @luvmila444 @luv4kozume @luverboychris @mattestrella @mattslutt @nicksmainbitch @ellie-luvsfics @orangeypepsi @sturniolosreads @sturniolowhore @sturniolosstar @imwetforyourmom @thesturniolos @strniohoeee @rootbeerworshiper @lacysturniolo @matthemunch @1800chokedathoe @asturniolos @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @mattscokewhore @stursweet @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @lovingmattysposts @bernardsgf @fake-sturniolos

[bigfatbimbo]

Pls pls pls pls pls molly (angel dust’s sister)

i saw that your allowing reauests for characters that aren’t necessarily on your list 🤭 and 🤭 i might be a tiny tiny bit obsessed with Molly!!::!/&/&@:

warning — fluff and smut, vague but self indulgent guesses on her character’s personality, gn reader.

a/n — all of the pictures I could find of her from the show were low quality so I had to turn to pinterest!

summary — headcanons for molly x reader

SFW HCS —

So I feel like Molly is very affectionate by nature. I mean, have you seen her? She just oozes the overall vibe of kindness.

Needless to say, she’s very big on PDA in the most disgusting, tooth rotting, embarrassing way. She will not falter in calling you things like ‘Shmookums’ ‘Sweetiepie’ ‘Babycakes’ ‘boo-boo’ ‘honey-buns’ in front of all of your friends.

Yes, her pet names are that fowl. And she insists on using them. She’s also all over you all the time. Clinging on your arm, Playing with your necklace while you talk, twirling your hair.

She’s also comedically casual about her life in a mafia family. Like you’re talking and she just brings up the most jaw dropping, conversation stopping, movie plot of a piece of lore about her life. And you literally have to stop, slow turn to her with your mouth mode open, and be like “Girl… ARE YOU GOOD?” And she’s like “Yeah! why wouldn’t I be?” and the thing is it’s not even a lie. From the forties and expects very stereotypical loveydovey treatment from you. Buying her flowers, opening car doors for her, lots of jewelry, overall princess treatment. Now don’t get me wrong, she’s not a brat. She treats you the exact same way. Big romantic gestures are very popular with her. Giving and receiving. For anniversary’s she probably wants you to hire a band to surprise her, set off fireworks that spell her name out, and end the day with rose petals leading to your bed. I think she’s also a very good listener, like she hangs on your every word when you talk. However, I see her as quite the yapper herself, so she ends up interrupting your sentences a lot. Also, she is very big on gossip. But she doesn’t call it gossip she calls it ‘making observations because gossiping is mean!’ It is gossip though. “Oh my gawd, have you seen her shoes? I mean normally, don’t get me wrong, i’d appreciate the confidence. But pared with that yellow skirt? Oh my gawd, I could never!” Loves playing with your hair too, doing fun hairstyles, braiding it, probably temporarily dyeing it. But she’s not could with hair dye so you would end up having a clusterfuck of a hair do. Probably loves painting your nails too, no matter if you’re masculine or feminine, she would just love love love taking care of your nails for you. Also if you’re sick or just not feeling well, Molly is the caretaker of all time. She makes you hot chocolate or tea or whatever you prefer, snuggles with you relentlessly, doesn’t let you do any work in general actually. And by the way, her chest floof isn’t for nothing.

NSFW HCS —

Bottom leaning switch. But even when she’s topping she’s very vocal. I saw bottom leaning but I mean like 90% of the time she’s the bottom. She gives such pillow princess energy, I guess just from looks alone though. But like… she has the essence of a pillow princess. Very vanilla, sorry gang. At most like maybe a slight praise kink. But degrading makes her upset in a not hot way and anything else she just simply isn’t into. Kinda low sex drive but she doesn’t cum fast. Like when I say low sex drive I mean like after one round, she’s pretty checked out for the night. If we’re talking afab reader here, scissoring is her absolute favorite. She is so vocal about it and she has the absolute cutest moans. She kinda also give mommy vibes when she’s topping though.

a/n — this actually isn’t proofread so beware. also credit for the artist! salty_angel cake for the first one and if anyone knows who did the second one, dm me and i’ll update.

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

Never Grow Up

Word count: 3.0K

Summary: Taylor's still going on tour despite having a teen kid and reader just wants to spend quality time with her but Taylor's too busy. Reader thought that Taylor would reschedule the tour dates around daughter's birthday until she saw the tour dates being released online. Reader got mad and that was her final straw so the relationship is fractured.

Warnings: angst, single mom, mention of abortion, hurt/comfort

Pairing: Taylor Swift X Daughter!Reader

First time writing for Taylor! Hope you like it💜

———

Being Taylor Swift’s Daughter had it’s own perks and flaws.

She had you in when she was 20, and your father has always been out of the picture. You never got to know him, never met him and never asked about him but as far as you knew, he wasn’t one of the famous Taylor’s exes, he was just a random guy your mother had fallen in love with. She never talked about him, not her, or her family and since the subject was apparently so delicate, not once did you ever dare ask. There weren’t any pictures in the house, not in photo albums… it seemed like everyone had tried deleting his existence.

However it’s not like you ever needed a father figure. Your family always made you feel loved, you had all the attentions you could ever ask for and you have always been happy, no matter where you were in the world. However the first years of your life weren’t easy for your mother. She was still very young herself, but at the same time she was supposed to be going on tours, concerts and make her fans happy, all while also having to take care of you. Thankfully, her mother was a big help in that too. She would help take care of you and watch you when Taylor was on concerts. She was busy, yes but she always, always made time for you, no matter where you were around the world, wether it be a couple days, and some times even a full week, depending on bow busy her schedule was.

Were you a fan of hers? Yes, of course you were. You have no reminiscence of when you were younger, buy ever since you turned 5 you had been going to every concert of hers. You would either stay in the backstage, or in the booth with your grandma, Andrea, with one of the best views in the stadium, and slowly people had started to acknowledge you too. Taylor had never publicly talked about you, buy everyone knew she had a daughter, and it was easy to know it was you, because you were identical, you were like Taylor’s mini-me, and also because of her song “Never Grow Up” which she wrote and published when you were just one year old. You knew every single one of her songs, you screamed each and every one of them while at times Andrea filmed you and posted it on her social, which is how Taylor’s fans found your social and start following you as well.

Going a bit back in time, when she took a break from music, you were just 7, you hoped to spend more and more time with her and you did, but to an extent. Her mental health wasn’t the best, and she was always busy writing/recording songs and getting ready for her next tours, so her time with you became less and less and less, to the point where you’d rarely get to spend time with her, however, you tried. 

During Covid you finally got to spend so much time with her, after her Lover Tour was canceled. That’s when you decided to follow in on her footsteps. You were 11 and you already knew how to play the guitar, but you wanted to learn how to play the piano as well. One night you were supposed to be sleeping but you couldn’t, so you went where you knew your mom would be. She was in the soundproof room playing the piano and humming, trying to get ideas for a new song. You stood there at the door, waiting for your mom to acknowledge you. That happened pretty soon. She turned around and saw you standing there, in your pjs as you were holding your favorite teddy bear. Taylor smiled brightly at you and beckoned you to walk over to her.

“Hey little one, why aren’t you asleep yet?” She asked in a low, soothing voice. “I can’t sleep” you said in a tired voice, rubbing your eyes as Taylor made you sit in her lap sideways, so that you were laying your head on her shoulder and she could look at you. She kissed your nose and cheeks and forehead, before moving some wild hair away from your face. “How about I sing to you?” She said with a smile, you looked up at her with your big, wide, sweet (e/c) eyes expectantly and she didn’t even need a reply before she started playing “Never Grow Up” on piano. That song is originally meant for a guitar but here she was, playing it on piano and singing it, turning it into a lullaby only for you to hear.

You were asleep in a matter of seconds, and even though Taylor noticed, she still continued singing until the song was over and then she picked you up and put you into her own bed, staying snuggled up to her for the night, feeling as safe as ever in your mother’s arms. “I love you little one” she whispered.

That was the last time your mother sang something to you.

The last time she cuddled you.

The last time she told you she loved you.

A few weeks after she started planning her Eras Tour. She needed everything ready in such a short matter of time, setlist, choreographies, stage shape and instruments, transitions, lights and all the stuff regarding a regular concert. Not a day went by without her on the phone, or working on her laptop, or in studios either dancing or singing. It was moments like this where you wished you had a father figure. Not even the holidays you two spent together anymore. It was like she had completely forgotten about you, it was like you were just one random person in her house she had to cook for.

Two years later, On another identical night of your mother working, you decided to disturb her, just this once. “Hey mom” you said, walking over and sitting next to her on the couch. She was leaning forwards to the table where her laptop was placed. However, she didn’t reply to you. “Mom?” You asked again. You heard her sigh as she gave you an answer, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Yes, sweetie?” She asked, “Can we watch a movie tonight? Maybe we can order McDonalds and watch something?” You said as you leaned in closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder. “(Y/N) I can’t, I’m busy” she said and for a moment you were quiet as you looked towards the screen of her laptop, you could see she was scheduling the dates for the concert. You just hoped she would have a free day on your fourteenth birthday, like she promised.

“Oh come on, it’s just a movie, only for tonight. Please?” You pouted and wrapped your arms around her, hoping this might convince her. “I said in busy. Tour starts soon and I still need to figure out a few dates” she said and you groaned. “Please mom, we haven’t cuddled in a while-“ she interrupted you by removing your arms around herself. “I said no, (Y/N)!” She said, raising her voice which made you look at her with wide eyes, and kind of in shock. She never raised her voice at you until now. “God these days you’re so bothering, just go sleep!” You knew she didn’t mean it, but in this moment you couldn’t help but be hurt at her words. She couldn’t even be bothered to look at you when you got up and ran to your bedroom, locking yourself in as you cried into the pillow.

That was the last time you asked your mother to cuddle you.

From that day on, you barely talked to her. Not that you even needed to, either way. She was still always on the phone. The only differences where the fact that you’d go to your room immediately after lunch, and not stay and watch TV with her, and you’d go to Andrea’s place all day. She noticed you were sadder than usual. She noticed that you were more cuddly with her than usual. She also noticed you were quieter. When she asked if you were okay, you shrugged and said you were, And she also asked Taylor, who replied telling her that nothing was different, and most likely you were just acting up. It was weird to you, how your mother didn’t realize that she was neglecting you and your grandma had realized that just seeing you a couple days.

You ended up telling Andrea what was happening, and she tried to reassure you, saying that she was just nervous for the whole eras tour thing, and when it started things would become easier… but you weren’t sure of that.

A couple weeks later, what you feared became true. You were in your room when your mom made a post on instagram announcing the Eras Tour dates and you scanned through it, until you read it. “KC night 1 7/7/23”. Your birthday. She was having a concert on your birthday. You took your phone and rushed to the living room, where your mom was on the phone with her publicist, Tree. “Mom, seriously??” You asked her, not caring if she was on the phone or not. You heard her sigh “Tree, wait a second” she said and put the phone on mute, looking at me. “What is it?” She asked and you rolled your eyes. “You put a concert date on my birthday” you said and she sighed again. “Can we not do this now? This is important-“ you interrupted her again. “More important than your daughter?” You talked back.

Taylor was silent for a while, before excusing herself with Tree and ending the call, and you repeated what you said. “You put a concert date on my birthday” she nodded, looking confused “yeah, and?” You shook your head. “You had promised me you’d have the day free so you could spend it with me! It’s been a long time since we last had a day together, just you and me…” you looked down, but she didn’t seem to be bothered. “We’ll spend some time together after the concert like we already did.” She looked away from you, eyes back on her phone. “But that’s not what you promised!” You said and raised your voice, making her look at you. “(Y/N), right now, tour’s more important-“ you interrupted her, “then why did you have me?” She looked up back at you, looking more confused than ever.

“Huh?” She asked and only now did she notice that you had tears in your eyes. “Why did you have me if tours are more important than me?” At that, Taylor got up and walked over to you, eyes full of worry and remorse, maybe. “The fact that I’m now busy with tour doesn’t mean that I love you any less” she said and knelt down in front of you. “But you don’t show it! You don’t show that you love me…” You said and she furrowed her brows, even more confused. A couple tears leaving your eyes. “do you remember when was the last time we celebrated my birthday together?” You asked her and saw how she shook her head, thinking of a reply. “It was 6 years ago. I was 8, mom” you said “it was 2017, remember what period it was?” Once again, she didn’t reply, but you both knew what period it was. “When was the last time you told me you loved? I don’t remember it” you didn’t remember it, but Taylor did. You had fallen asleep in her lap and she had just stopped singing you “Never grow up.” She stood up and sighed, watching you cry but she didn’t feel like apologizing would be enough.

“If you knew you weren’t going to have time for me, you could have aborted me” your voice broke as you were saying this, and you rushed back into your bedroom, not knowing that in that precise moment, your mother was bawling her eyes out too. She wanted to spend more time with you, she really did, but at the same rime, she really didn’t have time.

The day of your birthday, you wouldn’t be seeing your mother until the concert. You woke up to no text from her, which made tears well up in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away and went on with your day. Andrea had gifted you a necklace with a dream catcher, which you really liked, but you would have needed no gift if only you could spend your day with your mother, but by now you had given up on that occasion.

The concert went by normally, like any other, and you had spent it in the booth with Andrea, smiling whenever people asked pictures of you as well and exchanging friendship bracelets with them, like grandma had showed you. Soon it was the moment of the surprise songs and you were expecting her to take her guitar, but she didn’t.

She sat at her piano, and started talking. “Well, welcome to the surprise songs” she started and everyone clapped their hands, screaming in joy and adoration. There was a reason behind every surprise song she chose for every night and you were curious as to what tonight’s reasons would be. “On normal occasions I would be playing this song on guitar, but this isn’t a normal occasion” she smiled at what she was about to say, and you furrowed your brows in confusion. Was she talking about your birthday? “As I’m pretty sure all of you know, I have a daughter, her name’s (Y/N)” everyone began cheering even more. Yes, she was talking about your birthday. “I have never talked publicly about her, but tonight’s her birthday, so I wanted to surprise her. She’s here tonight, and she’s in that booth over there with my mom” she pointed over to you with a smile, and everyone cheered again.

“It’s been a rough period for both of us. I’ve been very busy with tour, and she’s been wanting to spend more time with me and I feel like a very bad mother for not being able to give her what she wants, and apologizing doesn’t really work all the time, she’s stubborn as hell” the crowd laughed and you couldn’t help but smile at her words and you leaned into Andrea, who gave you a side hug. “Well anyway as I was saying, this is a very special occasion as it’s her birthday so I’ll play this song on piano instead of guitar, and I would like you all to look at the screen behind me as I play this song. Happy birthday little one, this is for you”

With that, Taylor started playing “Never Grow Up”, the song she wrote about you, for you.

Your little hand’s wrapped around my finger and it’s so quiet in the world tonight Your little eyelids flutter ‘cause your dreamin’ So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

A video started playing on the huge screen behind her. Photos and videos of you as a child with her, both so young and happy. Taylor was smiling brightly and you laughed whenever you were around her and her family, now you understood more the words:

To you everything’s funny you got nothing to regret, I’d give all I have honey if you could stay like that

Oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up Don't you ever grow up Just stay this little Oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up Don't you ever grow up It could stay this simple I won't let nobody hurt you Won't let no one break your heart And no one will desert you Just try to never grow up Never grow up

You started tearing up more with the chorus as you sang along, and behind her more videos of the both of you were being played. No matter where or how Taylor was in life, she always loved you, every day more than the other. A side screen showed her as she was playing this song in this very moment, tears leaving her eyes and more forming in them. As the song came to an end, she spoke again. “Happy birthday babygirl, mama loves you so so much” she said and sniffled, wiping her tears. The crowd was louder than ever, and like other times she stopped to take it all in.

“Can I go to her?” You asked Grandma and she nodded, explaining that she had anticipated this would happen and already had a bodyguard ready and waiting for you. He quickly took you backstage and showed you the way up to the stage, even if you knew it already.

The stage doors opened to reveal you, and everyone cheered even louder as you started running your way to the front of the stage, where your mom was. Taylor turned around to look at you, smiling brightly as she got up and made her way towards you, arms opened for you to get into a tight, warm embrace. When you were finally in her arms, you both cried a bit more as you placed your head on her chest, and her head was right on top of yours. When you pulled back she took her in-ear monitors off, cupped your cheeks, looked at you and said “I love you so so so much, please never forget that”

“I love you too mom” you said almost in between sobs. She kissed your forehead and pulled you into another, tight hug.

[cartierre]

HOT SAUCE | cn

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU clément novalak x fem!prost!reader (fc: lily-rose depp)

side note: i think i'm going to shorten my smaus because i'm working on multiple projects at the moment but still want to keep my followers fed!

♡ liked by arthur_leclerc, clementnovalak, jamesharveyblair and 51,726 others

y/n_prost low quality pictures, high quality time

view all 1,482 comments

user1 i go into shock everytime i see clem in y/n's posts ⤷ user2 real, i keep forgetting they're dating

user3 y/n is so girl boss and clem is... clem

clementnovalak keep your followers on a leash why am i being bashed in the comments ⤷ y/n_prost they're just overprotective of me <3

user4 clem is forgetting we're ALL dating y/n at this point ⤷ user5 she is my girlfriend (real)

♡ liked by y/n_prost, felipedrugovich, olliebearman and 15,374 others

tagged: y/n_prost

clementnovalak y/n has been my girlfriend of literally nearly a year...

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user6 bro is fighting in the trenches against y/n's fanbase ⤷ user7 i mean as he should we had her first?

user8 actually gagged he had to pull out proof and you're all still unsatisfied

user9 does anyone actually know how they got together? like they just kind of were dating out of nothing? ⤷ user10 i guess because she hung out a lot around the paddock because of her granddad and all that?

y/n_prost fight or flight mode: activated ⤷ clementnovalak for you i'm pulling out my fists against anyone ⤷ y/n_prost as you should?

♡ liked by y/n_prost, clementnovalak, maxfewtrell and 163,928 others

tagged: y/n_prost, clementnovalak

lando.jpg happy one year to max's and mine biggest achievement!

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user11 they're so boyfriend and girlfriend

user12 lando the proud dad ⤷ user13 they're literally his children

user14 so adorable lando and max are there for every big moment of their children!

y/n_prost thank you lando and max for forcing clem to ask me out. this anniversary is for you as well! ⤷ clementnovalak i will never hear the end of this`? ⤷ lando.jpg no ⤷ maxfewtrell nope ⤷ y/n_prost never

[earthtooz]

·˚ ༘ 𝙉𝘼𝙂𝙄 𝘽𝙁 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝘿𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙉𝙎

─ ❛ i want to try... to put in some effort ❜

# warnings: minimal hurt/comfort, 2k words of pure fluff and brain dumping, hope u enjoy :p lmk if there are other warnings ! reo and isagi appear

# a/n: SECOND FIC OF THE DAY ??? guys i'm on a roll... check out the rin one i posted earlier MWAHAH (pls)

gamer boyfriend gamer boyfriend gamer boyfriend 🤣🤣🤣

hc that reo set y’all up.

the duo saw you at a café that reo frequents and by extension, one that nagi frequents too.

it was love at first sight with nagi immediately being fascinated by you, and reo, being the amazing wingman he is, notices the heart eyes that immediately appear on the expression of his usually nonchalant friend.

then reo said ‘lemme make your miserable life better’ and walked over to you and told you his friend found you hot.

nagi kind of just stood there in shock, appalled by reo’s shamelessness and even more shocked when you looked him in the eye and smiled.

love at first sight >>>

nagi likes to incorporate you into all aspects of his life.

i mean he only has three things in life that he consistently does which is soccer, gaming, and existing 😐😐

but he still likes you incorporate you into everything in his life <3

soccer? he makes sure to get you premium seats in every match to watch him- bring your friends if you’d like, he can make it all happen, so long as you're there to watch him :p

he becomes more motivated to practice when you’re there.

gaming? he plays games with you, teaches you how to play, likes to have you there when gaming as well.

existing? he eats, sleeps, brushes his teeth, washes the dishes, cleans the house, etc, with you. he’s attached to your hip and refuses to leave you alone so long as it’s within the perimeters of your home.

sometimes, when you two are soccer-ing, gaming, or existing together, nagi also gets upset is you try to leave :( like naurrrr come back…

love language of touch and quality time 🙄

is happiest when he’s touching you somehow.

and naturally, by touching you, he spends time with you so this is a win-win situation for nagi.

and because he literally can’t exist without having you by his side, it therefore means he gets to embrace you however he likes- a win-win situation!

award for most annoying boyfriend ??? it’s got nagi seishiro’s name engraved.

his social media is so low-effort too 😭 – namely his instagram, he's not active on twitter or tiktok that much and when he is, it's for promos that his manager has uploaded.

occasionally, you make a couples' tiktok here and there and those get a lot of traction.

basically; it's not until you came along that his social media presence increased.

before on instagram, it would be just square pictures of him standing with his hands in his pockets from an atrocious angle, some of them had the nasty-ass Instagram filters over them too like boy…

the captions were worse. so much worse.

now he posts photos YOU take 💪 but majority of his feed is photos with you, photos from official photographers during matches, or photos taken after he wins a game :3

his private instagram is much more exciting though:

ynsoneandonlysimp tell me i look hot

megu_megu looking submissive and breedable 👍 ╰┈➤ ynsoneandonlysimp only for yn tho ╰┈➤ yn pls don't say this

nagi isn't jealous but he is, to a certain degree, possessive.

it's not to a point that it's overbearing since he believes you are your own person, but y'know, if he catches someone flirting with you or looking at you a little too long, he gets an urge to hide you away from the world, or kiss you silly until the whole world knows.

he just wants others to know that you’re his and he’s yours, a fact that’s not going to change any time soon.

it's easy to calm him down though!

his pacifism and calmness is actually one of the traits you love about him + how stubborn he is about it.

sometimes ☝️ this is the main reason why he can keep his head on his shoulders - for all things beside soccer.

but,,, one of the traits that have caused the worst conflict between you two is his laziness and how impassive he is towards a lot of things. although he is low maintenance, he is also low effort. 

it's not terribly bothersome, it's just that if he doesn't care about something, nagi expects you not too either. but when it comes to what he does care about, nagi expects you too as well.

and you're not reo, you're not persuasive enough to lug a 190cm man to do what you want - nor are you that willing to compromise for him, like a certain purple-haired is.

you had a fight over this – his insistence on always getting what he wants and never listening to what you want, whether it be going on dates, how you should spend your time together; all couple things that deserved to be equally contributed towards - it was getting tiresome after a while of only fulfilling nagi’s wishes.

in addition to that, nagi is absolute shit at communication because of his laziness, so when you tell him that you'd appreciate a few texts to let you know what time he's coming home, he just shrugs you off.

"nagi, where are you?" you ask quietly in the phone, standing outside the restaurant that you'd booked a reservation at for the night, where nagi promised he’d meet you after a day of errands and practice.

“i’m still at practice, sorry, but i don’t think i can make it,” he mutters. in the distance, you can hear isagi and reo.

a part of you sours, hardening with annoyance. “oh. couldn’t you have told me earlier?” you try your best to hide the irritation out of your tone, really, you do, but you have limits and boundaries, and nagi was beginning to tread real close, especially after making you wait without bothering to tell you.

“hey, what’s the big deal? i didn’t really want to go to that restaurant anyways.”

“are you kidding? couldn’t you have also told me this earlier as well?”

“why are you getting worked up over this? it’s just dinner, i can bring home some takeout on the way or something.”

part of you quells in fury at his dismissive attitude and it worsens with how he tries to play it off that it’s no big deal. your boyfriend has ditched you for a date at a restaurant that you personally love, and not only that, reasoned that he didn’t care much for it anyway, making you feel like shit for even suggesting this place anyways.

with a scoff, you hang up on him before things can escalate and you’re spewing shit out of your mouth that will only damage you more. standing outside the restaurant, you’re trying to keep your cool, resisting the urge to throw your phone at something. you don’t want to go home, not yet, not when you took your time to look good and dress to impress.

nagi, on the other hand, looks at his phone with confusion, now staring at his locked homescreen.

“who was that?” isagi calls out the moment he notices the white-haired has hung up.

“y/n,” he replies, the confusion still laced in his expression.

“oh, why didn’t you let us say hi?” reo asks, jogging over to his long-time friend. isagi follows, hugging the ball by his side.

“i was about to but then y/n just hung up on me.”

only the purple-haired provides a reaction, eyes widening. “uh, nagi, what did you do?”

“i told y/n i can’t make it to a reservation we have tonight because i’m too busy practicing.”

“hey, why didn’t you tell us you had a date tonight?” isagi quizzes, quirking a brow. “if we knew we wouldn’t have asked you to stay behind!”

“it’s fine, i didn’t want to go to the place y/n booked either.”

reo’s eyes widen with panic as he grabs his best friend by the shoulders and shakes him. “and you told y/n that?”

“yeah? what’s the matter?”

isagi too, now looks baffled. what could isagi know that nagi doesn’t? “you are in big trouble, boy,” to which reo nods in agreement, “go home right now and make it up to y/n.”

“wait- what? what did i do?”

“we’ll tell you later- just, go get y/n’s favourite cake from that bakery we always go to and apologise!”

nagi does exactly as the purple-haired suggests, making it back home in no time. yet, when he pulls into the driveway of your shared home, he then notices your car right behind his, pulling up to a spot beside him. he gets out to walk over to the driver’s side of your car, waiting for the engine to quiet down, signalling it safe for him to then open the door for you.

“where did you come from? why are you just coming home n-” the words die on nagi’s throat when you step out of the car, still glammed up in your outfit that you wore just for him. he eyes you up and down appreciatively before meeting your gaze, “this is what i missed out on?” there's a little disbelief in his tone. nagi's beginning to loathe himself for missing out on how stunning you are for some ball?

you shrug non-committedly, shutting your door for him as you murmur out a ‘yeah, i guess it is’. he tenses at the nonchalance in your tone, shivering as he watched you walk away. the cake box suddenly weighs a lot more in his hand.

“wait- y/n!” he calls out, jogging after you whilst you fiddle with the keys, trying to find the one that unlocks your front door. 

that night, there’s a lot of apologies, sweet nothings, and praise murmured between the two of you. safe to say, nagi buying the whole cake instead of mere slices of your favourite worked in his favour and he needs to text reo to say ‘thanks’.

he does improve as your relationship progresses. sure he’s lazy but he also values you as a partner and a companion, and he’s considerate enough to not let the ship sink because his own doing.

ANYWAYS 😁😁 back to the headcanons:

whenever you are (jokingly or actually) mad at him, you always threaten destrouing his gaming consoles. it’s nothing more than empty threats, nagi knows that and because he’s relatively unconcerned, it’s more than enough to end whatever petty fight you were going through because he just pulls out some unprovoked comment.

nagi loves making couples tiktoks with u 😐 u r that couple that makes people comment ‘aww so cute 😍 blocked.’ or ‘the highway looking good rn 🤣’

he also loves taking candids of you and as someone who is on his phone 24/7, he can take a lot of candids !!!

what your boyf doesn’t know is that he unconsciously helped you love yourself a little more from all angles - in both physical and non-physical ways. nagi thinks the world of you so it’s wrong for you to think otherwise :(( if you thought yourself to be mediocre then what does that make him? what does that make everyone else? no one can compare to you <3

hc that nagi is lowkey into photography? he has so many cameras, from digitals, to films, to actual cameras, there is not a time where he isn’t taking a photo of you. 

his screen time alarms you like babes … this is worrying.

but you love him regardless.

obviously since meeting you it’s fallen a little. in saying that, you don’t try to discourage him from games whatsoever. in fact, you indulge him in it, feeding him his favourite snacks, a couple fruit pieces, ask him how his level is going - nagi’s so very grateful that you’re not trying to take him away from the one consistent thing in his life.

he loves u so much <3 if someone else took u away, nagi wouldn’t know what to do :< 

OKAY BUT HOW DOES HE NOT HAVE SHIT EYESIGHT!!! you truly marvel at him everyday because he really is god’s favourite 😭

also now that he is a #maturedmaninlove, his favourite dates with you are beach dates bc he can lie in the sun like a cat whilst you take care of him, and afterwards, he can teach you to skate on the cement whilst the sun is setting. although you’re struggling, nagi still thinks you look beautiful, especially in the golden rays of daybreak.

additionally, he likes going on dates where you make things for one another. whether it’s pottery, painting, whatever, so long as you both get to walk away with something made by the other, nagi is SO happy.

ofc arcade dates and game nights are something he will never grow out of… but he’s starting to warm up to nights where you need to book reservations at restaurants. although he doesn’t fancy the idea of dressing up in a suit and formal attire, he does love the idea of admiring you all night, so long as he gets to show you off, he’s perfectly neutral.

nagi likes to text you updates about his day. you could be sitting next to each other, distracted with other things then he’d just text you a ‘lol look at this meme i just saw’.

you: ‘we’re sitting next to each other rn… that’s funny’

him: ‘don’t lie, i didn’t hear you laugh’

you: ‘try harder then’

him: ‘what a hoe got to do to make someone laugh nowadays :(‘ 

you: ‘you hardly get bitches, don’t think you’re a hoe 💀 ’

him: ‘babygrill :(((‘

you: ‘yeah this relationship isn’t going to work.’

he’ll then lunge at you and pin you to the couch with his weight, huffing when your laughter echoes through the air. at least he made you laugh. 

look idk where this post ended up heading, but moral of the story, nagi seishiro as your bf >>>>>>>>>

i’ll take five please !!!!

[iuciferic]

I usually don’t make text posts on tumblr because I use this site as an archive for the artwork I post online and I think keeping boundaries online is good. But it’s way too long for Twitter and I’m thanking people who use tumblr in it. But I’ve been self reflecting. Well actually, I’ve been reading the work of Nagata Kabi so it inspired me to write this. This is NOT a negative post btw.

TLDR: if I don’t believe in myself, I gotta believe in the people who believe in me

So. I’m my biggest critic, constantly annoyed at how slow my skills progress, unable to see the good or a single quality in it, basically just posting it the same way you’d hand over a test you clearly failed but at least you tried. Well, today I was scrolling my own blog and scrutinizing my own work. But in between all the work there were all those asks from people who made the step forward to come and express what they think about it. Usually when this happens I brush it off as “oh well, they’re just trying to be nice. I will thank them because I appreciate their kindness in trying to make me feel better”. But if it was the case, they’d probably just leave a like or, they don’t know me so they’d probably just ignore it. I kept reading everyone’s asks inbetween criticizing myself and it made me realize, while criticizing myself is GOOD (it means I see my past mistakes and I’m one step closer to improving), I focus too much on the negative. Some asks were pointing things I never notice about my own work. I think it’s like our own appearance. Many of us will think it’s nothing special but other people will like it. Actually this might be a bad analogy.

I wanted to thank each person (who was off anon so I could directly message them) individually but I’m actually a very shy person and I felt embarrassed like “hey, uhh, yeah that asks you probably don’t remember you sent? I read it 2 months later again and I’d like to thank you again”. I assume replying to old stuff is universally seen as weird by other people. The people might be weirded out. But in case any of you read it (anon or not, know that I am really thankful for everything and it’s thanks to you that I’m having this surge of happiness right now).

This triggered a lot of memories. Back in October, when I was drawing a lot of armored core stuff, I got an email in Japanese. At first I thought it was some google translated bot but, it was actually proper Japanese (if easy to make the difference, even if your level is low). The person was complimenting my armored core stuff and later they actually revealed themselves on twitter. It made my week to know that someone would write such a long email just because they saw what was to me a picture online I just felt “meh” about, saying that they wanted to learn to draw now. (The email was very long, I can’t just dismiss someone writing all that)

Also since I was laid off from my studio job last year, I still received freelance work doing concepts and IU for smaller games (and was even requested to do more work for the previously mentioned studio) and was able to live comfortably thanks to that. But to me it was nothing, like I refused to acknowledge my own achievements. I mean everyone has a job. Why would I congratulate myself? Because you’re doing the job you’ve always dreamed of. Yeah, it’s not a in-house permanent contract, sure I’m not working on AAA, but freelance work is still work and small indie games are often the ones doing unique and interesting things. Plus it’s not the 90’s anymore where you could have a part time job on something that would become a cult classic. The joy I felt the first time I’ve seen my name in the credits roll of a game felt like a victory after a long battle. So yeah.

I still DO need to improve drastically if I want to grow as an artist and get hired on bigger projects and have the career I dream of. (I also need to keep studying for my N2 haha). But I’m happy of what I’ve achieved so far and I’m thankful from the bottom of my heart for the people who voiced themselves to remind me to stop looking at a small detail instead of the bigger picture. We’re all works-In-progress so even if we’ve been shitters so far, doesn’t meant it’s over and we can’t get better. Also I’m conscious I’m lucky enough to have people voicing their feedback, while smaller artists don’t. If anyone has ever complimented your artwork, I would advise to read what they said again.

Also I’ve been contracted to do creature/monster design on a console game starting next week so I’m going to go and beat FF7 Rebirth in 4 days before I’m unable to play it for the rest of the month. 🫡