#all lee pace's fault

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2k+

Summary: 

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"  

Alternatively, 

You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.

Warnings: implied smut, explicit smut, emotional sex, very sad (don't underestimate the angst huhu), depressed yoongi, reader is pining so hard lord!, creampie, unplanned pregnancy, NSFW!!

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon

A/N: Lemme know if you want a part 2? (even though I already know the answer hehe).

Arrangement.

You would rather call it an arrangement - the thing that is going on between you and Yoongi. Anything you have been feeling for him, outside your usual practice, is your, solely your decision or more likely… fault. 

Hence, it’s a given. A given that you shouldn’t feel your heart dropping to your stomach, crashing on whatever is available inside your body and shattering into a thousand pieces, when you find Gyuri walking inside the room. 

Beside you, Yoongi tenses. His body goes rigid as the air inside the room thickens beyond repair. And all of a sudden you can’t breathe. 

Now you understand why Namjoon has been avoiding to reveal the name of the artist all along.

Lee Gyuri - One of the most successful solo artist as well as Min Yoongi’s one true love, who had left him broken so bad that you once found him on the street, unconscious, vomit all over his clothes - is now back in his life… in your life, which has been revolving around him. 

Where she left - You started. 

You picked Yoongi up, put him into pieces, not that you were able to heal the cracks but you at least conjoined it all together. 

And just like that - one night after a long heart to heart talk and a few beers, you found him seethed deep inside you. Yoongi chanted your name again and again as if it’s a mantra that will heal the cracks of his heart all while he rutted in you like a mad man. 

It started from there - the arrangement. 

At the end of long days and even longer nights, whenever both of you were too exhausted to go home, you spent the nights crammed together on Yoongi’s studio couch. 

Quiet whispers, curse words, wandering hands, secret body parts slick with arousal - everything had made your existence dwindle dangerously through his fingers. 

Yoongi always fell asleep right after but you stayed awake, tracing the slope of his nose, bow of his lips, map of his pale skin glinting in the dark. 

You had made a mistake. 

You fell in love.

Now as Gyuri slides inside the room with natural elegance, you hear Yoongi’s breathing getting quicker in pace. 

He is anxious. 

You place a hand on his knees, under the table. It’s a practiced habit that you adopted over time. Your fingertips help to calm him down. 

Everything is the same. 

Except this time, Yoongi doesn’t relax under your touch. 

“Yoongi, can we talk for a moment?” Gyuri requests with a timid voice at the end of the meeting. Her eyes quickly lock with yours for a fraction of a second. 

You half expect for Yoongi to say no. You pray to the universe for his answer to come as negative even when you know –

“Yes. Sure.” 

That Yoongi never stopped loving her for a moment. Yoongi loved, loves and will love only one woman - and that’s not you. 

Even though you don’t feel your legs anymore, you stand up. You choose to take the stairs to exhaust your body so that your sadness can be masked. 

But even as you climb down floors after floors - your heart stays confined in that room locked with two lovers. 

“She said she wants to work it out this time. She has been missing me terribly... she said.” Yoongi doesn’t look away from the blaring computer screen. 

He probably doesn’t have the heart of looking into your eyes. 

Somewhere he, too, knows of the deepest secrets you have been hiding from him. 

“And? What did you say?” You chew on the inside of your mouth, again praying for him to answer something of your liking. 

“That I will think about it.” you knew he would say that. 

“What is there to think about, Yoongi? You still love her.” you force the words out of your mouth even when your throat closes up. 

Tears threaten to spill from the corner of your eyes but you blink those away.

Yoongi finally looks at you, his own eyes glinting with moisture. 

“But what about you?” The question is rhetorical - metaphorical. 

“Me? I will go back to where I started from.” you lie, heart threatening to leap out of your chest. 

You would go back, but not where you started from, you would go back to the night when you picked Yoongi up from the street.

In simpler terms, you would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timelines. 

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, pretending not to hear anything at all. 

Even though you have to summon all of your willpower to do so - you stay still in your bed. 

Your tears though - keep falling, rolling down the apple of your cheeks and making a small puddle inside the curve of your ear. 

He keeps rambling on the door. 

Sometimes the knocks are steady, sometimes infused with anger but his voice stays low. You wouldn’t hear him calling your name if you weren’t attentive enough.

“Y/N! Please open the door.” Yoongi requests again. Through the wood of your door it sounds like a whisper, “Please. I- I want to see you once.” 

Every pore of your body woozes out the desire of letting him in, taking him inside your arms and never ever letting him go. 

But you are afraid. 

He has never once visited you by his own will. 

He only tagged along when you asked him to. 

So you are afraid. 

Afraid of what he might say. Afraid that he might say what you don’t want to hear. You already know everything - know enough - if he points it out now that he is going to leave you behind as the love of his life is back then you might as well break down, which you definitely don’t want to do. 

You have always appeared to be nonchalant before Yoongi about this arrangement, about his kisses, his marks, his simple ignorance - and you want it to stay that way. 

However, your resolve breaks when you hear a sob, muffled by the door. 

Is he crying? Why? Why is he crying at your door? 

So you get up, pad towards the door and swing it open. 

Yoongi’s head shoots up and you look at his face. 

He is a mess - a mess that you love. 

With dark hair all disheveled, face smeared with tears, lips chapped, Yoongi says, “I am here to end things.” 

This. You were afraid of this. 

Your insides churn and mold into a ball of nothingness. There are words sitting on the tip of your tongue but you choose to stay silent as always.

“Okay.” you reply, holding the door knob again ready to shut it on his beautiful face for once and for all. 

Yoongi forces his hand at the edge of the door, preventing you from closing it. 

He steps inside your apartment and within a few moments, you are being pushed to the door, closing it with the force of your back. 

Yoongi kisses you with everything he has left inside. You kiss him back. 

You don’t know what is happening but if this is for one last time, then you will accept it. 

Your hands wrap around his neck on their own accord. His chapped lips mold perfectly with your moisturized pair. 

They move in perfect sync, perfect rhythm - the rhythm of destruction. 

“Y/N” Yoongi whispers in between the kiss, “I am sorry.” 

You don’t pay his words any mind, rather you let your fingers get lost in his long dark hair. 

The kiss grows hungrier by every second you spend in each other’s hold. 

Yoongi starts directing you towards your bedroom and your small apartment space takes no time to be crossed. 

You soon feel the edge of your bed behind your knees. 

When you fall back - Yoongi falls with you. 

He looks into your eyes, his own eyes telling a thousand different stories all together. But tonight, you don’t try to read those. 

What’s the point when your own chapter is ending? When memories of you will be left to collect dust on the surface? 

What’s the point when he knows he is going back to the one he has always loved? 

His rough calloused hand comes in contact with your cheek. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers again as he reaches down to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m sorry.” he kisses your right eye.

“I’m sorry.” he kisses your left eye.

“I’m sorry.” this time it’s the tip of your nose. 

“I’m sorry” and lastly it’s your lips. 

You have never seen Min Yoongi this emotional. 

After Gyuri left him, he became numb. You were never able to thaw the frozen parts of him. 

But tonight you see a completely different Yoongi. Is this Gyuri’s magic? Has her return made him a human again? 

Yoongi - who never touched you or kissed you more than it’s needed, is now apologizing while kissing every small part of your face? 

You take a sharp breath and reply, “it’s okay.” even though you don’t know what he is apologizing for. For not being able to reciprocate your feelings? For using you when you let him? For leaving you behind after tonight? 

He has already started placing kisses around your jaw, throat, collarbones. His hands fist the hem of your pajama top and he pulls it up revealing your naked chest. 

He doesn’t waste time diving down and taking one of your perked nipples inside his mouth. 

He sucks on it softly, sweetly - like a lover. Your tears start spilling from your eyes finally. But you completely lose it when you feel his own tears on the mound of your breast. You let him sob, as you sob quietly. 

It doesn’t take much time for your clothes and his clothes to join as a hip on the floor of your bedroom. 

Yoongi pumps himself, preparing for one last time to enter you. When he lines his cock on your entrance, he takes a quick glance at your face, as if asking for permission. 

Your tear stained face lights up in a small smile - it’s not fake. 

He enters you, takes up every corner of your walls, fills you with himself - both of your body and heart. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything anymore. He pushes himself inside you, pounds into you with an unusual pace. 

His face comes to rest on the crook of your neck. You embrace him to stay there, stay with you as long as it lasts. 

For the first time ever, Yoongi doesn’t fucks you - he makes love to you. 

The realization makes you shudder. 

Why now? Why now out of all the time? Why now when everything is ending? 

His breath starts getting labored, you feel yourself hanging close to the edge as well. 

And after a few more thrusts, you let go. He fills you up following your invitation. 

Both of you stay like that even after the deed is done - for a moment, an hour? You don’t know.  

You feel his disposal running down your inner thigh, when he finally slips out of you. 

You sneak a glance in his dark orbs for one last time. With a sore throat and an equally sore heart you whisper, “Be happy, Yoongi.” 

You see one last drop of tear slipping down his eyes when he dips down to cage your lips in his for one last time. 

It’s been a month since that night. 

It’s been a month since you last talked to Yoongi beside work. 

It’s been a month since you last saw Yoongi outside work. 

It’s been a month since you withdrew from Gyuri’s project.

It’s been more than a month since you had your last period. 

As you stand in your bathroom, with the tiny testing kit, those two red lines mock you. 

You thought that night was the last time? But this after effect - where will you go with this? Who will you confide in? 

It can’t be Min Yoongi - can it? 

You have let him slide through your fingers after all. 

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[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our Little Love part eight - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

Mr Kim has a chapter all to himself of 6.8K words, please enjoy and PLEASE let me know what you think. Trigger warnings: manipulation, coercion, corruption, interrogation, mentions of murder and other crimes, swearing, jealousy, possessive yandere behaviour, fingering, orgasm denial, mirror sex, light choking. I am awful with warnings, please forgive me.

Namjoon wasn’t all that impressed with seeing the Chief of police visiting his cell, the syndicate boss was dressed too well to belong there, it was almost an eyesore. A glance to the camera, the normal red blinking light absent tells him all he needs to know. There were no eyes or ears to this conversation. 

“I thought I paid you to keep your men in line,” Namjoon says in lieu of greeting. “Was a bullet to the knee not warning enough for your dear Captain?”

“He wasn’t an issue when I spoke to him, the man was on leave!” the chief replied. “Your girl was the problem he-”

“Be very careful how you finish that sentence,” he advised with a deep angry rumble from his chest. “I am well aware who is at fault here, and regardless of what our little love does, she is never to blame.”

Chief Lee Soo-man only nods once, biting back his complaints.

“I asked you to sort out Kim Suho, I told you to keep him in check,” Namjoon growls. “Keeping your pockets full isn’t an act of charity Lee, it’s a purchase. I own you.”

“Yes sir,” he mumbles in response. “I assure you this arrest is just a formality, the case won’t stand once it’s revealed Detective L/n-”

The glare the man in the blazerless three piece suit gave him was enough to stop him in his tracks. Right, he couldn’t involve you in this, that was going to make things harder than they needed to be.

“What do you recommend then sir?” he asks when he finds his voice and wavering courage. 

Namjoon sighs harshly, and the Chief swears he can almost see smoke. 

“I want to be alone with my little love,” it’s not a request, the chief didn’t let the soft lilt of his fool him. 

“I don’t know how that would be poss-”

“I want-” Namjoon cuts in, unable to bear another second of this blithering idiot, “her to be the one to interrogate me. And I can trust you understand the rest.”

“Y-yessssir,” he stutters, not completely hearing the words between the lines, and that was clear enough on his face. 

“I want her alone, Sooman,” Namjoon repeats himself, if this were one of his men he would never have needed to. “I don’t want a single soul witness to what I’m going to do to her.”

—

Suho tugs you along by the arm, stumbling in his urgent pace, pulling you out of ear shot.

“We have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“I’m technically on health leave, brass says I can’t interrogate him,” he stares a hole into you as if his eyes were telling you the rest but you couldn’t understand.

“Okay so who’s replacing you?”

He huffs out a breath of air from his nose, knowing you weren’t going to like the command from way over his head.

Your heart beats hard in anticipation, why was he looking at you like that?

“As far as Brass are aware you were deep undercover,” Suho informs you slowly, deliberately, looking like he was about to tear your world to trash. He sighs, unable to get the words out.

“Suho what?”

“They want you to interrogate him,” he breathes, you think you’ve misheard him, but you know you haven’t.

Your world spins, you’re already shaking your head.

“I can’t,” you whisper, he knows full well that you can’t. “I resigned, I’m not a detective anymore.”

He sighs again, hesitation in his eyes. 

“I never processed it,” he confesses.

“Y-you di-”

“I couldn’t, I knew you would see reason, I knew you would come back,” he doesn’t let you process the shock, explaining himself quickly. 

“Suho I can’t I can’t,” you beg, the conviction you had to punish them now suddenly taking a back seat as fear overtakes you, “right now they believe I was deep undercover but he’s not going to let that-“

“Listen to me,” he interrupts you before you can fully submerge into a panic attack, taking your hand in his. “I’m going to be in the next room, as soon as he says anything that compromises you, I’ll turn off the cameras, okay?”

“But-“

You’re interrupted again when the door opens, both of you whipping your heads to see him being transferred by four officers to the interrogation room. His eyes find you, staring stoic holes into you before his gaze finds Suho’s hands comforting yours. The snarl of displeasure is brief but you definitely see it, and you can’t breathe.

Suho draws your attention back to him, tugging your hand softly.

“Do you trust me Y/n?” he implores you, eyes searching yours in a way that made Namjoon want to strangle him with the chains on his handcuffs. You look up at your Captain with such light in your eyes, a way you should never look at another man, and then you have the audacity to nod. 

—

You’ve done this a hundred times, if not more. So why were you hesitating at the door? Your hand on the handle, all you had to do was turn it and face the music but you couldn’t even manage finding your breath. 

Interrogation was a science, it was like riding a bike, you knew what you had to do, you had to command the room. It almost sounded like a joke, the worst one you’d ever heard. Command a room when Kim Namjoon was in it? 

The thought makes you hyperventilate. No, it wasn’t going to be easy but you could control what you could. You borrowed clothes from an old colleague, a skirt and blouse, simple but professional. Suho’s old blazer too, as if layers would protect you. You had splashed water on your face in the bathroom, using makeup from evidence to make yourself look presentable, composed. Your impromptu freshening up had meant you left the syndicate leader waiting for a long time, and it absolutely 100% was not because you were trying to kill time, it was to make him stew in the room, a technique you had used multiple times prev- who were you trying to convince? 

You needed to get this over with. 

Your face is impassive when you finally open the door, his gaze is on you immediately and you can feel a certain type of guilt and shame try to seep its way into you, but you push it down far enough that you can pretend it’s not there.

“Mr Kim Namjoon,” you greet him stoically.

“Detective L/n,” he returns, playing along with a small smile, as if seeing an old acquaintance after a long time. The way he addressed you shouldn’t cut you, logically it made no sense not when you’re the one that got him in the box, but it did. 

You approach the table he’s chained to, looking at the wood instead of his eyes as if he didn’t matter, or at least that’s how you wanted it perceived. Avoiding eye contact with the most dangerous man the whole country had ever come to know, meant you missed the way his stare moved to your clothes, particularly your blazer, recognising it was a man’s, and he could confidently guess exactly who it belonged to. Any friendliness on his face disappeared, he wanted to play games and now he just wanted to torture you a little, punish you for you actions. Patience, he tells himself, that would come later.

The file in your hands slaps the table as you throw it down, taking a seat opposite your boyfriend, a man you now convinced yourself you wanted behind bars. 

What do they say about a woman scorned? Namjoon thinks to himself, admiring the fire he could see burning underneath your skin, and though he knew he would feel the burn, he would welcome it. It was no secret that he had a fantasy about you interrogating him, he introduced the role play to the bedroom soon after your return to them but it lacked the flames of heat he could feel today. 

“Allow me to formally introduce myself,” you reply. “My name is detective Y/n L/n, I’ve been undercover at your… establishment for the past year and a half.”

“Is that right?” he barely suppressed his amusement but it didn’t phase you. Your professional head was on, this was just another criminal you had to put away, that was it. 

You open the file, sliding out photos of him that you had sent in as intel in your early days undercover as well as surveillance photos that Suho had taken since you were MIA. 

“Do you know who this man is Mr Kim,” you say, sliding the first of the photos to him.

“Can’t say I do detective,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not even glancing away from you. 

“Do you want to try looking at his face first before you answer,” you insisted unimpressed. 

He smiles, still staring at you. 

“I don’t recognise him,” he repeats himself slowly. 

“So this isn’t you in the photo?” You ask.

“I don’t know,” his grin only grows.

“This man, Jackson Wang, is dead, and the last person who saw him alive seems to have been you Mr Kim, at least based on the time stamp on this photo and the time of death from the post mortem.”

“Is that right,” he says again, sounding like a broken record. His eyes swim with admiration for you, you can see it though you can’t understand it at all with the current scene. Why wasn’t he fuming, why wasn’t he demanding an answer or explanation?

“Okay let's cut the crap since I know you’re far too clever for that Mr Kim,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes. “I have gathered evidence of your crimes from the last 18 months, and I will stand in court as a witness against you.”

“Are you allowed to do that little love?” he asks, the name has a pang of panic hit you, but you tell yourself you can explain it away to brass.

“The charges you're facing so far are murder, battery, and grand larceny to name a few,” you state ignoring him, flicking through the photos, throwing each one in front of him. “There are many more to follow.”

“I didn’t know partners could testify against each other,” he mused, smirk still strong on his face.

“I’m not your partner,” you object. “I was undercover.”

“No,” he contends, shaking his head like this was just a game to him. “You can’t fake a love like ours, heaven.”

You almost snort as if his point was ridiculous.

“I don’t think I could ever love someone like you Mr Kim,” your stare was ice cold, that finally wipes the smile off his face. 

“You’re angry,” he states as if it was new information for you. “I get that little love, but this is a bit too much, don’t you think?”

“I think justice needs to be served, don't you?” you sneered. “People got hurt, some people died, someone needs to pay.”

“You and I both know they deserved it,” he declares as if there wasn’t a camera recording his confession. “You’re just angry because I stepped on a bug.”

Utter rage brewed like a storm in your chest, and you wanted the downpour to drown him. 

“You sound like you’re ready to sign the confession Mr Kim,” you don’t break your stare. “That’s great, saves us a lot of time, thank you.”

You close the file, pushing the chair back to stand. 

“I’m not done with you,” he growled.

“But I’m done with you.” 

“Y/n sit,” he commands calmly, composing himself. “Throwing a fit isn’t going to fix things.”

“Throwing a fit?” The audacity of this man, you stand there in shock. 

“Let’s talk it through,” he says to you as if you were being hysterical. 

“Fuck you,” you spit. 

“Talk to me Y/n,” he scolded you like you were a child. “Without this bullshit.”

“Fine! You wanna talk about it Namjoon,” you snapped, taking the seat again, throwing the file haphazardly on the desk. “Let’s talk about it.”

The glare you present him with doesn’t make him flinch, it doesn’t phase him. You hope Suho had enough sense to turn the cameras off by now, this would go nowhere. 

“You manipulated me, you lied to me, you made me play the fool.”

He didn’t react, not a single muscle on his face moved and it fanned whatever flame explode inside of you like a bomb. This was his true colours underneath the mask of love and adoration he created for you.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore Namjoon I can see right through you,” you state. “And you are never touching me again.”

That made him look at you, really look at you, something shifted in his gaze, a slight smirk as if he was mocking you.

You could cry kick and scream about the injustice he put you through in the name of this fucked up love and he wouldn’t flinch. He would sit there and watch and then the fucker would have the audacity to laugh afterwards. He must’ve laughed at how stupid you were in trusting him when he lied.

“At least if you go to prison, I’ll finally be free,” you whisper like it’s a life line.

He’s still unmoved, sitting there as if you were invisible and it irked the fuck out of you. He was the one who wanted to talk, why the fuck was he silent now? 

You wanted him to hurt you wanted him to feel an ounce of what you did in the light of his betrayal. He tore your heart out and you weren’t going to forgive him.

“I must’ve looked so pathetic,” you say in a self deprecating tone, looking at the ceiling as if someone could answer you. “Suho was right.”

That comment makes his blood boil hard enough to show on his face. There it was, the reaction you were waiting for and you took the bait without thinking about what you were trying to catch or what you were trapped with.

“I should’ve trusted him, he’s always had my back and my best interest at heart.”

His jaw clenches, a fist squeezing nothing but air although he probably wished it was the captain's neck.

“Kai and Suho are all I have left,” you goad him, unsure of what exactly it was that you wanted to prove. “And finally I’m back where I belong.”

“If you don’t want a bullet in each of their heads, you need to stop talking love,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

Something inside of you felt vindicated and you realise then what you wanted from him, proof he fucking cared, that you weren’t some pawn or prize in this game of crime. You wanted him to soothe the very cuts he caused, or rip your heart out hard enough that you could bleed him out of your system forever.

“Oh please Namjoon, just admit why you kept me around for so long,” you scoff. “I can only imagine how it felt to have the lead detective on your case in the palm of your hands, like a trophy, a big fuck you to the justice system.”

You laugh sounding a little maniacal.

“You had me, and I fell for all of it.”

“You’re forgetting I didn’t know your true origins at first little love,” his low voice is a warning, he looks at you like he needed to remind you who you belonged to.

“And you’re forgetting I know you,” you bite back. “Any hint of betrayal and you pull the trigger first and ask questions later.”

He stares at you, grimacing.

“And yet here I am, alive.”

“Because I love you,” he says it so casually it throws you off, like it was a fundamental part of his being, like breathing.

“Because you saw an opportunity,” you rationalise.

“Because I could never lose you,” he confesses. “You could rip out my heart, little love and I would still want you, why else would I be here?”

You frown, what did he mean? He was here because you paid an eye for an eye, you betrayed him.

“What’s done is done,” you say as if you were unconcerned. “I will testify against you.”

He leans closer across the table, words for your ears only.

“Do you think you’ll be able to handle seeing Jungkook in prison, love?” Namjoon whispers. “Knowing you put him there? It would kill you.”

The pain his words brought forth only proved them to be true. You did have a soft spot for the youngest, always had. You break eye contact first, looking down at the file and turning back and forth a page as if in contemplation but really to cool your nerves.

Were you really doing this? Sending Yoongi, Jin, Hoseok, Jimin, Tae and Kookie to jail because of an angry outburst? Now your emotions had time to settle after the bomb that exploded when you saw Suho; you weren’t so sure.

“I never thought you could betray us like this,” he says solemnly, continuing to manipulate your guilt, but he forgot about your fire. He could almost see the coals ignite in your eyes, a misstep on his part, one he realised when a snarl forms on your lips.

“You. Lied.” You state ferociously. “I asked you if you hurt him and you lied to me.”

“So you decided to have us all arrested,” he continues, “for a man you stated you didn’t care about like that.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethe, unable to sit with him any longer, pacing the room before you raised a finger to his face. “You played me like a fool Namjoon, and I refuse to play the part anymore.”

“I wanted him dead, little love,” he states in a low voice through gritted teeth. “Do you understand what a mercy-”

“I asked you not to hurt him!”

“Then you underestimated our wrath!” he retorted. “I couldn’t let him go in one piece, and you didn’t need to know.”

“No. You underestimated MY wrath Kim Namjoon!” You burst, slamming the desk with your hand, the sting burning, your face heating more and more with rage as it concealed your heartache. “I am not some docile doll for you to play with, and manipulate and LIE TO! You took my love for granted when it was a damn fucking privilege.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, he stayed composed while you looked like a wild animal finally let out of her cage.

“You think this obsession is love,” your voice broke at the last word, the floods of heartbreak dampening the fires. “And I did too, but it’s fucked up everything.”

His silence was eating you alive, his face giving nothing of his heart away while yours laid bare out between you.

“You know what I’m done,” you breathe, “have fun rotting in jail Namjoon.”

Tears drop out of the corner of your eyes as you walk away, his piercing gaze doing nothing to deter you. He might’ve had power over you once but that was before he betrayed you. You reach for the door handle, tugging, ready to leave him behind until his trial, but the door doesn’t budge. You still, mind blank for a second before panic overwhelms you. You try again with all your might, pulling as hard as you can over and over before releasing your grip with a harsh breath. You take a gulp, calming yourself, he planned this.

You’re not surprised when you hear the sound of the handcuffs undo or the chains hit the floor. Fucking bastard. An alarm started blaring in the building, loud and overwhelming, but it came too late. Red lights flash, the room glowing as if warning you about the oncoming danger.

“Are we done with your outburst little love,” he says coldly, like your grievances were nothing more than a tantrum.

You turn to face him slowly, more tears dropping without a sound, shaking your head at the way his words cut you down to nothing.

When he stands from the seat your heart gallops with fear and panic. Although it’s helpless you turn back to the door, trying with all your might to open it and escape him. The fire alarm blaring does nothing to ease you, you hang onto the door as you feel him approach, tears falling out of your eyes without control.

Fuck, you were stuck here with the man you sent to jail, you were left to his mercy. His presence looms over you, you can feel him a hair's width behind you, not touching you, not really, but he’s so close it’s overwhelming.

It’s when you feel his breath you freeze, your body shutting down with dread. He presses his cheek to your hair, inhaling you softly. The action makes you jolt away, turning to the side but he grabs your wrist tightly. You don’t look at him, you stare into the two way mirror, your cheeks pathetically wet. You were supposed to hold the power in this room, but you could feel it dwindle away to nothing but smoke.

You’re slammed against the door hard, a whimper escaping your lips as your eyes scrunched in pain. You miss the flash of guilt in his eyes, realising he pushed you too hard. An apology on his lips but the glare when your eyes open stops him. He’s seen anger in your eyes before, hate even, for he knew love didn’t come without it. But fear? Never of him, not even in the days when you were undercover and your life was one unveiled secret away from ending. 

“Get away from me,” you seethe, meaning every word, even when you saw the hurt in his eyes. 

Regret, Kim Namjoon never knew the feeling before, but he knew he never wanted you to look at him the way you were. He needed to keep his calm, one wrong push and you would tear him out of your own heart.

Your eyes fly all over the room, trying to piece together a way to gain some distance. Suho… maybe he was still behind the glass. You tug your wrist as hard as you can, taking steps away from him but his hold is relentless. The blare of the alarm stops ringing but the flashing red lights remain, staining the walls like blood pumping.

“Little lo-“ he starts to say with a sigh, he was being patient but there was only so much time left.

“Suho?” You call desperately trying to look through the glass. You know you’ve made a mistake before you even said his name but fear drives people to do stupid things without thinking.

The most notorious criminal in all of Seoul pulls you back against his chest hard. An arm wraps around your waist, the unforgiving grip on your wrist turning lethal. He rests his chin on your shoulder, staring at you through the mirror. The hairs on your skin stood on end at the frightening change in his eyes, danger rolled off of him and you had no choice but to take every wave.

“Do you think he’s there, love?” The corner of his lip lifts in a smirk that makes you think of a snake, the saccharine tone of his voice hypnotising. “Do you think he’s watching us?”

The palm on your hip moves down to your thigh, he squeezes the flesh. You could feel your heart jumping in your throat.

“Should we give him something to watch?” He murmurs seductively, turning his head to bring his lips so close to your neck. The bruising clutch on your wrist is gone only to find its way to your hair, yanking it back to give himself better access.

Your eyes in the mirror are begging but the inner turmoil from his touch is making you question what exactly you’re asking for. Reason tells you it’s for Suho to save you, to grant you escape, but the way you feel a familiar heat swim to your core has you doubting yourself.

“If he was in there,” he whispers, his lips now on your ear, “don’t you think he’d come in here and try to take you from me, love?”

He chuckles to himself, a joke only he can understand.

“Fuck I’d love to see him try.”

His groan has you aching, your body relapsing to what it knows, anticipating the pleasure and pain only they could provide. 

​​“I’m not mad at you for having us arrested, heaven,” he whispers in your ear, gaze softening for a second in the mirror lulling you into a sense of security you couldn’t tell if it was a trap. “In fact I’m a little in awe, a little proud.”

The smirk he gives you seems genuine.

“We deserved it I know,” reassurance fills his voice, he wants you to hear his sincerity. “What I’m mad about, little love…”

The softness is gone, eyes turn piercing, the proverbial snake about to strike.

“Is the fact you let another man touch what’s mine.”

The guttural rumble of his possessive claim sent waves of need down to your cunt, you could feel it pulsing. 

“I’m mine,” you return meekly, trying to find your resolve, but it sounded like a whine.

“Make no mistake Y/n, you’re always going to be mine.”

You didn’t have it in you to argue, not when he sent your eyes rolling back and a shiver down your spine. Fuck he hadn’t even touched you yet, maybe it was true, maybe a part of you would always belong to them, but that didn’t mean all if you did.

“Look at me,” he commands, his breath hitting your neck.

Your blown out eyes meet him in the mirror, that predatory but protective gaze piercing through you. He hums in approval the deep vibration fucking with your senses, making you hazy. 

You both hold eye contact even when you can see the fingers on your thigh stroke soothing circles up your skin. Your lips part with a harsh breath when they rub your mound through the fabric of your panties, the touch light and testing and not nearly enough. 

“You’re fucking soaking wet baby,” he calls you out with a grin.

You grab his wrist when his fingers cup your heat, his thumb soothing circles on your clit. You press against him, the warmth of his chest enveloping your back. You both fit so well together, you were forgetting why exactly you were so angry at him, but simmers of it still remained even through his touch. 

“You know,” he says, opening your leg with his knee to give him more access, “a lot of couples fuck through their problems, should we try?”

He hides his grin, burying his head in you but you can feel it against your skin, the arrogant asshole. 

“You can go and fuck yourself,” you sassed back, lying to yourself that you could be fine if he stopped now, that it wouldn’t leave you a needy mess. 

“But I’d rather fuck you,” he chuckles, breathing you in, savouring the moment while his fingers slide the fabric aside. 

You choke back a moan at the contact of his skin right where you wanted him, the way he spread your wetness until every inch of you was covered in it. 

“You can pretend to regret our relationship all you want, but this,” he emphasises his point by slapping your cunt hard, making you gasp, “still wants me.”

“It wants to get fucked,” you spitefully remark through gritted teeth, “doesn’t have to be you.”

That makes him pause, and you have to bite back the words of displeasure. 

“You’ll pay for that next time love,” he murmurs dangerously. 

“There won’t be a next time,” you try to ridicule him through a laugh but his fingers circle your entrance. 

“You’re lying,” he hums, “next time, I think we should tie you down, make you watch other women touch us in ways only you’re allowed to.”

You bury the fury that ruptures at the image, clenching your jaw to keep from swearing at him and proving the point he was trying to make.

“Maybe then you’d have a semblance of understanding of what you did- the torture you put us through.”

“I wouldn’t care,” you breathe, squirming against his fingers, he needed to shut up and move.

“Liar,” he chuckles knowingly, seeing right through you. Before you, there were many females in his organisation, until his little love demanded he get rid of them all. The memory stretches his grin wider. 

“Why the fuck was it me?” You whisper, your eyes starting to water at the vulnerability of your tone, remembering the same moment he was. “When I went undercover there were so many beautiful women-“

“They’re not you, little love, don’t for a second compare yourself to them,” he kisses your temple softly in reassurance. His face is in your hair, his hand on your throat as you preen to his touch. “You were sweet and addicting with a fire you were trying so desperately to contain.”

He thrusts two fingers in gently, watching your face contort in want in the mirror, smiling at the way your eyes rolled back. You whimper when he squeezes his grip on your neck.

“To think that passion we saw in your eyes was hatred at first,” he smiles as if amused, watching every little reaction you gave him, every proof of love.

“I did,” you confess, pressing your ass against his hard length and making him groan, “I hated you.”

“You were sent to destroy us, love, but instead you reached into our souls and thought there was something worth saving,” he chuckled, nuzzling into you softly as if he wasn’t knuckle deep inside of you, feeling every part he knew so well. “And save us you did, it was so dark before you our little light, how could we ever let you leave?”

“You’re fucking with my head,” you whimper, head falling back to his chest, it rumbles when he laughs.

“Hmmm? I’m definitely fucking your brains out today Y/n,” he promises with a chuckle, kissing your temple again, but emphasising his point when he scissors his fingers reading you for his cock. “If that’s what you mean.”

This was your fault, you knew what you were getting into when you fell for them. You especially knew Namjoon was the worst of them all. You let his soft side brush away his true nature, and while you never forgot his ruthless persona, you put it to the back of your mind. You foolishly thought you had tamed his cunning cold cruel- 

“Oh fuck,” whatever train of thought you had died, the palm of his hand rubbing your clit, stimulating your already aching cunt to the edge. Your parted lips open wider to release a silent scream, his fingers stroking so deep.

You were so close, you could taste it, unable to control the delirious sounds escaping you. So when he stops and slips his fingers away from you, you have to stop yourself screaming in protest. 

“Up against the mirror Y/n,” he commands gruffly, but you don’t move, you were so fucking close. Fuck him, fucking asshole, you were so fucking close. 

He picks you up with ease, pushing you against the wall so your breath fogs the surface. You hear the zip pull down, your forehead falls forward, your core pulsing in anticipation. He grabs your leg, opening you for him, the head of his cock sliding across your folds until you're whining.

“Stop squirming love,” he warns, but you don’t listen, of course you don’t, so he makes you listen. 

The sound you release when he slaps your clit with his hard dick over and over has him questioning his restraint, fuck he wants to just pound into you but you needed to be taught a fucking lesson. 

“Joonie sensitive,” you whine, but he’s relentless, making you cry out over and over. Fuck you could actually maybe cum like this. 

His self control wavers, his jaw clenched with such a force he thinks it’ll shatter. He couldn’t take it anymore, the swell of his head finds your entrance. Inch by inch, he relishes the feeling of your walls hugging him so fucking tight, the pulse of them pulling him in. He leans over you, trying to regain composure but you feel so good he doesn’t want to move, he wants to stay like this forever, inside of you where he belongs. 

You try to push back into him, but he grabs your waist with one hand to keep you still, grinding his hips against you and he knows it’s not enough. 

“Look at you arching your back little love,” he smirks, “Your body knows where you belong, it’s a shame you tried to take it away from me.”

Your hands ball into fists on the mirror, you can’t even look at yourself right now, you can’t stop writhing on the surface, trying so hard to get him to move. You squeeze him hard, making his head fall against you with a grunt. 

“Behave little love,” he warns, “or I’ll show your colleagues just how well you can take me.”

“Make me,” you dare him even though it comes out as a mumble. 

You were dizzy and disorientated and all you wanted was for him to fucking move. He pushes you against the wall hard, every inch of him covering you so you couldn’t budge. You whine, the cold of the hard surface making you seek his warm body, you slot against him like a damn puzzle piece. He was hell bent on torturing you today, as if you hadn’t suffered enough. 

“Joonie move,” you almost sound like a brat, trying to order him around. 

“I’ll move when I’m ready,” he growls animalistically, barely holding himself back, but he needed to savour this.

You do everything you can to break his control, writhing against him like a bitch in heat. He swallows hard when you clench again. He spanks your ass hard in return, the air gets thicker, you find it harder to breathe. You keep still, the sting of your ass satisfying your craving for a moment, but not for long. 

He picks up your skirt, watching himself inside you, watching the beautiful mess you were making. So wet, so perfect, how did you ever think for a second he would ever let this go? The sight is too much, he releases a restrained groan, done with holding himself back. 

His hand grips your cheeks, turning your mouth to his, forcing his tongue down your throat as he finally pulls out only to push back in impossibly deeper. You took every punishing thrust, his presence surrounding you everywhere, even in front of you where his reflection painted the surface. He smothered you with his existence, the heat of him scolding, but you liked it, you craved it. 

“Do you think your ‘friend’ understands who you fucking belong to now detective L/n?” He chuckles deeply watching your fucked out face in the mirror.

He uses his grip under your knee to turn you towards the camera in the corner of the room.

“Think they can all see little love?” He pants. “How well you fucking take it? How good you are for me?”

You shake your head in protest but it feels too good. Your head falls back on him without the mirror to lean against. His fingers find your clit, his sole purpose to make you lose yourself to him. 

“Fuck look at you shaking baby,” he groans, feeling you pulse around him, drawing closer to the edge. “Your poor pussy just needs to come huh?”

You can hear the smirk in his tone, fucking self satisfied prick. 

“Not as badly as you need it,” you taunt back, feeling your defiance flare despite how your body was begging you to behave.. 

“Fuck you might be right,” he groans, going harder, faster. “I’m always going to need it.”

His confession takes you over, the words pushing you so hard you come apart violently, thrashing against him as you unravel, but he holds you tight. He doesn’t let you fall. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could feel was him and the burst of pleasure that carried on wave after wave, and you never wanted it to stop.

“This is mine,” he grunts as he comes undone inside of you, fucking his cum deeper until it got through to your soul. 

He was a part of you, and you could try to deny it now with his mistakes on the table, but he was so embedded in the fabric of you he couldn’t see where he began and where you ended. His entire existence was for you, it was only fair your cunt, body and soul belonged to him. Maybe the others too, as an afterthought, but you were his first.

He feels the mess slide out of you as he leaves your warmth, turning you softly so you could lean against him as you catch your breath. He holds you tight, arn arm around your middle like the steel of a bar. He has every intention of letting you recover but the way you look up at him with those glossy eyes confirms the fact he will never be satiated, he will always want more of you even if there was nothing left to give. 

“Our little love,” he breathes in your face, stealing a hard kiss, “our little downfall.”

His mouth held you prisoner again and again, humming pleasantly as you let him devour you in so many ways. His kiss was bruising, hungry, overindulging.

Your eyes search his as he parts reluctantly, your mind still hazy, the bliss of sex still circulating your body.

“Why did you lie to me?” You whisper breathlessly against his lips as you come down, and he can hear the vulnerability in your tone, it makes a guilt spread across his chest that feels almost alien. The way you could make him ache like no one else, he should cast you aside for introducing a weakness in him but he wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he confesses sincerely. “I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I asked you not to hurt him,” your eyes tear up again, and he curses himself and the existence of Kim Suho.

“I know.”

“But you did it anyway,” you continue, “and then you had the gall to lie to my face.”

You wipe away the tears that fall harshly, your mind clearing. You push him away and fix yourself up, knowing from the glances in the mirror you were a mess.

“You always own up to your actions, right or wrong, you never hide them,” you laugh and you think you must sound psychotic. “The Kim Namjoon… I remember the days you would drop dead bodies in front of me without remorse, without ever feeling the need to explain yourself.”

“I was testing you then,” he grunts, remembering those days well. “I needed to know you had the stomach to be with us.”

“I hated you so much,” you confess, swallowing down a sob. “And for the first time since I fell in love with you Joonie, I can feel that hate grow again.”

His jaw clenches, his fist too. He could feel a threat on the tip of his lips, one where the Captain's head would end up on a plate in front of you for dinner but he holds himself back.

“You don’t mean that,” he says between gritted teeth.

“I had you fucking arrested Namjoon,” you argue back fiercely. “Don't tell me what I mean or don’t mean.”

“You also fucked me after the fact,” he states and the harsh words slap you hard. You did. You let him defile you here only moments ago.

“Old habits die hard.”

“Not with me love,” he dismisses the thought. “Not as long as I’m alive.”

“We’ll see,” you challenge, feeling that earlier conviction rise. 

“Understand something Y/n,” he says seriously, his face solemn and hard in a way you had witnessed rarely. This was Kim Namjoon with something to lose. “You can run, you can fight, you can hate me if you need to, but there isn’t a life worth living for us without you in it.”

He takes his seat back in the interrogation chair, putting his handcuffs back on with ease, all while keeping his eye contact with you. 

“You want me here, you want to punish me,” he continues, “fine, this where I’ll stay until you’re appeased, until you forgive me.”

“I won’t,” you deny, shaking your head. 

“You will.”

[hannie-dul-set]

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING.

p — LEE JENO x female! reader. g — gang leader! jeno, actress! reader, humor, tension tension tension, jeno gets kidnapped by his celebrity crush, this is stupid, this is dumb, don't take this seriously. w — swearing, kidnapping, morally dubious characters HAHHAHA. 935 words.

note — happy birthday jeno. to the anon that sent the trope list curated for me, this is your fault. take responsibility. the prompt "accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss" suddenly terrorized my brain while i was studying. enjoy.

when lee jeno opens his eyes, a dull ringing in his ears, he sees nothing but the faint impression of a lightbulb burning through the sack covering his head. it’s dark. there’s an echo when he grunts and tries to move, but upon feeling the rope pressed against his wrists, the stiffness of his shoulders and the metal scratching of the chair against the rough ground— he’s quick to understand the situation he’s in.

the last thing he remembers, he was about to board a plane to japan. to spend a few months lying low after the particularly risky job his gang had to undertake not too long ago.

seems like someone managed to sniff him out before he could flee.

splash!

“wake up, you slimy son of a bitch.”

cold water hits, seeping into the fabric covering his face and crawling down to his collarbones. now, considering his line of work, jeno isn’t too fazed by this situation. he has a lot of enemies. maybe this one’s from a rival gang. could be a relative seeking revenge for a brother’s cracked skull, or some shit. doesn’t matter. he’s not gonna stay sitting for long anyway.

“did you really think you could cheat on me and run away scot free?”  

cheat? the sack gets thrown off from his head, a hand yanking a handful of his hair to pull his head back and he lets out a grunt. the chair is tipped back. jesus fucking christ, that felt personal. but when the sudden illumination stops blinding him, and he can finally see who the hell had the guts to jump and kidnap him, he’s a little taken aback.

jeno has a lot of enemies. the list goes on and on.

“use your fucking mouth, bast—”

but he’s pretty sure that the darling angel of south korea’s film industry isn’t on that list.

jeno watches as the vivid scorn and disgust in your eyes slowly meld into confusion, then realization, then a slow but sure descent into panic alongside the loosening of your grip.

“oh.”

must be the skills of an award winning actress. he feels almost a hint of disappointment when you stop pulling on the roots of his damp hair.

“oh, shit. one moment.”

clang! the chair he’s tied to settles once more into the ground with a clatter, and jeno watches as you quickly secure a distance between you and him, pulling your phone out of your sweats while biting the tips of your thumbnail. it’s a little funny seeing the nation’s sweetheart pacing back and forth all jittery in what looks like a basement— maybe your basement. as far as jeno can remember, you’re always casted for romance films. those feel-good, slice of lives and the pocari sweat commercial you once did echoes in the back of his head. but maybe you have a hidden knack for some thriller.

he starts fiddling with the ropes tied around his wrists right at the moment you screech into your phone. dispatch would have a field day if they see this.

“you got the wrong guy! my ex isn’t this hot!”

his fingers slip. his skin scratches the rough threads of the rope.

“i paid you useless fucks a shit ton of money to get the job done, but you can’t even get— ugh! nevermind. just go and bring me the actual son of a bitch i asked for this time.”

the knot is almost loose. this is quite the show. it’s better than all the movies he’s seen of you.

“what?! hello?! what do you mean you can’t help me anymore, what about our—”

drop. jeno gets up from the chair. he stretches his joints, neck cracking, watching as you sputter out a trove of profanities at your phone. his clothes are still damp from the water you splashed him earlier. maybe he should have a bit of fun first before leaving. it’s not everyday that you get to meet your celebrity crush.

“hey, dollface,” he calls out. you freeze. you look at him with the drop of a needle, eyes growing a little bit wider when you realize he should be sitting down. damn, they really need to cast you in a grittier film. “you should pay a bit more attention when you have someone hostage.”

a beat of silence. 

“uhm,” your voice croaks. jeno takes a step towards you. you take a step back. “listen, haha, there has been a misunderstanding.”

your steps stutter a little, moving back and back and you swallow nervously, looking at him with almost sheepishly— a sense of feigned bravery in the midst of retreat, teeth tugging on the skin of your lips. “oh, yeah?” he says, and you visibly rattle. you’re prettier like this than when you’re batting your eyes and flirting at the camera. you’re definitely prettier.

“yes, ahaha, there was a minor switch-up, you see i— i didn’t mean to...uh, escort you from the airport, i actually meant to target someone else, and— o–oh, and there’s a wall behind me. oops, haha. do you mind backing away a bit, um—”

“how about i help you with the ex boyfriend problem you have?”

the tables turn. it’s him digging his face up against yours this time, but the mention of your ex strikes a chord. you’re looking at him, gaze unbreaking. he can feel your shallow breaths on his skin.

“who are you exactly?”

“someone who can do the job better that the fuckers you sent me, definitely,” he chuckles. “how about it?”

he won’t ask for much. maybe just an autograph in return.

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[taylorswiftstyle]

Out and about | New York City, NY | September 21, 2024

Vivienne Westwood ‘Black Bea Cropped V-Neck Sweater’ - $540.00 Vivienne Westwood 'Green Stripped Trench Coat’ - $1,910.00 Stella McCartney 'Frayme Scale Embossed Bag' - $1,595.00 Ramy Brook ‘Derrick Belted Plaid Mini Skirt’ - $365.00 Vivienne Westwood ‘Pleaser Boots’ - $790.00

Clowning and egging (and bears - oh my!) aside this feels like a very classic Fall!Taylor ‘fit. A knit crop, a pleated plaid mini, and boots are an easy, seasonal uniform. One that Taylor has employed many times over in past autumns (Fashion History incoming!). The skirt, esp, has fall vibes all over it. I feel like I’m waiting for what has become a seasonal “pumpkin spice” sweater from her now that we’re officially ushering in fall as of *checks calendar* tomorrow! 

Speaking of, the combo of colours and prints here are also typical of Taylor, who, notably, has always liked to throw in something slightly ‘off’ to an ensemble. And by that yes I am staring at the juxtaposition of the skirt with the boots. Were it me, I would have gone for a single-hued black boot for a more 🥪 style moment to coordinate with her top. Though perhaps she felt the laces did that job in a more subtle way? Ultimately, could I fault her the opp to dangle a snakeskin print in front of us? I suppose not. That said, I’m making mental notes for my own fall ‘fits for an (adjusted) copy + paste (swapping in a turtleneck + tall boots). Don’t think I didn’t notice though how nicely the hardware elements of her Stella bag tie into the belt detail on her mini skirt or how her softer, dusty auburn lip (a change of pace from her typical red that suits her well) also tied into the skirt. I see + appreciate it. 

The coat! The greeeeeeeeeeeeeeen coat. Which, if it’s not obvious, I love and would love even more to see with a different, more complementary ‘fit. Once again, I feel like the buttons on her outerwear are working overtime to tie in the disparate colour elements of the ensemble. Those brown buttons and decorative elements are doing the most to coordinate with the autumnal tones of her skirt. It’s also another pattern, this time a jacquard stripe, on top of the plaid of her skirt and the snakeskin on her boots. That said! What I do *really* love is the tension between this very oversized, boxy piece of outerwear - pulled from the mens section - paired with smaller, more feminine and girly pieces. She did this a lot last fall with the brand Gant. 

While her bag and shoes are by familiar and favoured brands, the skirt designer is new to Taylor. Ramy Brook just so happened to open a brand new store this very same day on Madison Ave in NY which feels like conspicuous timing to my fashion brain. Bravo to them for the v synchronised placement. 

Photo by Jackson Lee / @gr8images

[wileys-russo]

Leah Williamson “I leave you alone for 5 minutes” park

left unsupervised II l.williamson

"don't run mia, walk!" you yelled in warning after your niece who sprinted off the moment leah helped her out of the car and her feet hit the ground. "did you ever walk at that age? you hardly sit still now love." your girlfriend teased, holding the door open for you.

"she was born with two left feet, i have fantastic coordination." you scoffed defensively, leah clearing her throat as you reached in and grabbed mia's backpack.

"chivalry isn't free babe, kiss please." the blonde puckered her lips as your own curled into a smile. "clingy." you teased, but rewarding her none the less with a gentle kiss as she beamed, practically skipping off after your niece.

"great, now i have to babysit two kids!" you sighed watching the defender scramble off into the playground after her four year old accomplice who'd been stuck to leah's side from the very first moment you'd introduced her to your entire family.

it was quite endearing really despite how much their alliance drove you up the wall at times, the pair having far too much fun ganging up on you. then when mia's mum, your eldest sister, was around it was an all out three on one mutiny that had you pulling your hair out at the best of times.

"leah! get her down!" you cupped your hands over your mouth, pointing toward mia who was squatted and readying herself to leap off the top of the jungle gym onto the sand below which was an easy six metre drop.

"nah she's got it!" your girlfriend dismissed with a flick of her hand, moving to stand beneath her with her arms open clearly ready to catch her as mia's face lit up.

"ready? one, two, three!" you winced and looked away as the girl leapt off and landed safely in leahs awaiting arms as you exhaled and shook your head, your phone starting to ring in your pocket.

leah now pushing mia on the swings as she let out an adorable string of giggles you stepped away to answer it, your sister asking if you were able to have mia for an extra few hours as she was caught up at work which you promised was more than fine.

doing shift work as a nurse and a single mum meant your niece had spent a good portion of each week in either your or your own mums care since she was a baby, but you wouldn't want it any other way.

you were pulled from your thoughts as there was a tug on your shirt, glancing down you met the bright green eyes of the four year old in question as you bid your sister goodbye and hung up.

"you alright shorty? where's leah?" you bent down to her level, smiling at the way she rolled her eyes. "not short!" she warned with a huff, poking harshly at your shoulder. "shorter than me." you teased, brushing away some sand from her knees.

"aunty lee needs help!" mia announced as now you frowned. "help playing a game? i told you mi sometimes aunty lee only looks cranky because she likes winning but really-" you started to explain your girlfriends horrid sore loser tenancies but mia shook her head, tugging on your shirt again.

"come on! you're so slow and she's stuck." mia interlaced her fingers with yours with a small groan, pulling you away with a slight stumble as you hurried to keep pace with her tiny legs which pumped furiously.

"oh my god." you gasped as you arrived where in fact your girlfriend did need help. "i got help aunty lee!" mia announced proudly, patting your girlfriends cheek fondly. "yeah you did, thanks buddy." leah mumbled, cheeks flushed red clearly embarrassed as you crossed your arms and jutted out your hip, cocking an eyebrow.

"i leave you alone for five minutes." you sighed with a shake of your head, leahs own dropping in shame. "it was an accident!" leah whined, kicking at the sand with a huff and a scowl, refusing to meet your eyes.

"what happened babe?" you grinned, leahs head somehow wedged between the bars of a makeshift shop counter. "she dared me, its her fault!" leah pointed toward your niece whose posture now mirrored your own, hip jutted out and arms crossed.

"no! aunty lee dared me to and i said no then she called me a little chicken." mia huffed as leahs cheeks blushed even brighter red as your niece stuck her tongue out at her and ran off to keep playing.

"so the four year old is the chicken for saying no to doing something very dumb that you, the twenty six year old adult then did to prove you weren't a chicken, and now you're stuck?" you recounted making sure you had the facts right, still keeping one eye on mia who was busy trying to build a snowman with the sand without much luck.

"no." leah mumbled again kicking at the ground and refusing to meet your eyes. "no?" you questioned, lips curling into a grin. "maybe." your girlfriend admitted quietly, gaze flickering up guiltily to meet your own.

"maybe?" you sung out teasingly as leah groaned. "for fuck sakes would you just help me!" leah whined, struggling to free herself with a grunt. "how the hell did you even fit your head in?" you shook your own with disbelief, moving around behind her and trying to help her pull herself free.

after five minutes of fruitless struggle you had to make the call. "babe no, please no!" leahs eyes widened as you pulled out your phone with an apologetic smile. "i have to love, there's no way we're getting you out of here without help." you dialed the right number as leah moaned, head dropping dejectedly as her body language slumped.

"stop filming me!" your girlfriend growled as you stood in front of her with a grin, mia latched onto your leg as you filmed the fireman cutting off the bars, a small crowd of onlookers gathered around from the neighboring houses at the sound of the sirens.

"lookin good williamson...and she's free!" you cheered happily, leahs face glowing bright red as others joined in the clapping, the firemen doing their best to disperse everyone as the captain gave leah a stern talking to about her actions.

"no i promise i learnt my lesson sir, i am so so sorry for wasting your time." your girlfriend apologised profusely as the older man nodded, calling his team away as they all clambered back into the truck and leah pulled her hood up over her head.

"we're leaving, right now." leah warned, grabbing your hand and dragging you off to the car as you held onto mia by the backpack on her shoulders.

"why the rush baby? i wanna see if you can fit your head through the monkey bars next." you teased causing your niece to giggle and your girlfriend to give you a venomous glare, snatching the keys from her pocket.

mia buckled in securely and leah for once on the receiving end of the four year olds teasing the blonde huffed and jammed the key in, starting up the car. "mia if i hear one more word from you the next time you sleepover you're sleeping under the stairs like harry potter!" leah whipped around and warned as the girls face paled and she was instantly silenced.

"you're gonna be a top mum one day babe." you smiled patting her knee as she narrowed her eyes at you and put the car into drive as you connected your phone to her speaker system.

shuffling the kids carpool playlist you know your niece liked leah groaned quietly as mia began to belt out the lyrics to five little monkeys.

"what are you smiling at?" leah asked suspiciously a few minutes later, glancing to you as she stopped at a red light finding your attention buried in your phone with a smirk. "the video of you getting cut out." you grinned as leahs face shifted into a glare.

"delete it!" her hand reached over to try and grab your phone as you pushed her away, warning her sternly there was a child in the back and she needed to keep two hands on the wheel.

"you better not have shown that to anyone." "i didn't." "good! keep it that way." "i haven't shown anyone but i did send it to a few people." "you what!" "yeah! just your mum, my mum, your cousins, my sisters, lia, beth, laura, viv, steph, jen, alex-"

"oh you are so sleeping on the lounge tonight."

[utilitycaster]

Do you think part of the D20 journalistic bias comes from D20 being edited? It gives the appearance of much more effortless play and lets them control the pacing in a way unedited play like CR simply can't do. They get to (potentially) hide a lot of stuff people would jump on as flaws while CR has no choice but to let it all play out. I greatly prefer CR's approach, despite it biting them in the ass a bit through no fault of their own.

Answering these both together to group cause and my opinions, and I do want to note this is specifically about journalism/press coverage, not their respective fandoms even though there's obviously some overlap.

I think there's a couple things, but I do want to note this was actually prompted by Daggerheart, not Critical Role. The response from several prominent voices in the Actual Play journalism community, whom I will not name here but whom I do not respect intellectually, really was, within hours of the open beta (which as far as I know they didn't have early access to - more on that later) "um it could be better, I don't like xyz and also it's sooooooo important to have criticism" and again, it is important to have criticism, but also you act like D20 has never had a mediocre moment and that Kollok is brilliant, so.

This...got away from me a bit. I'd say I'm sorry but actually I adore writing thousands of words about actual play and it will happen again but I'm putting the detailed answer below a cut. The short answer is I think a lot of Actual Play journalists actually sort of fell into their jobs through being vaguely involved in nerd spaces and aren't actually equipped to talk intelligently about TTRPGs and actual play as a medium that should, at its best, be a perfect fusion of narrative and mechanics. So instead they're distracted by flashy edits and bright lights and cool noises and some abstract concept of "novelty" and write only about that. Also Critical Role is the 700 lb gorilla in the AP space (though not, actually, the TTRPG space) and doesn't give them early access and that's meaaaaaan. Indeed, for all I think a lot of their coverage of D20 and Worlds Beyond Number is obsessively fawning, I also think it's extremely surface level, frequently factually wrong, and fails to get at what's truly excellent about those shows either.

I think, honestly, the biggest one is that I don't actually think a lot of Actual Play journalists watch series in full. I was looking for Polygon coverage of Fantasy High Junior Year and they have one glowing article but it's more about Fantasy High as setting and institution and D20 "changing the game" (also more on this later) to the point of outright contradicting the pull quotes they used from interviewing Brennan Lee Mulligan (also more on this later). So I started looking through their coverage and actually, quite a number of their write-ups are based on only one episode, or half a season. Clearly, they haven't read the full open beta (nor have I, but I think their complaints about the character build process belie a profound misunderstanding of what TTRPGs are, also more on this later). So editing is certainly part of it because it's really easy to see cool special effects and sound design within one episode and shit out a hacky article about it, whereas actually getting to the substance - character relationships, cohesive narrative, storytelling - requires work that I do not think they're doing. And on the one hand I do kind of get it, because yeah, if journalism is your livelihood then you perhaps do not have the time to watch 4 hours of D&D a week for 2-3 years if you're only going to get one article every six months out of it. But I don't think the answer is "focus intently on Microsoft Powerpoint-esque scene transition tricks while ignoring that nothing occurring at the table is actually fun to watch." For more on this, see this post.

The second, which is very relevant to Daggerheart but also is actually a big gap in D20 and WBN coverage in my opinion, and which I put in the tags, is that I actually don't think a lot of journalists have a solid understanding of TTRPGs nor of most genres. And I think Critical Role has a particularly good understanding of both these things, actually, if one skewed towards collaborative storytelling that is not rules-light. I think one really big example is that one person within the space is mad at the Daggerheart questions for the character archetypes because what if your character doesn't fit these. I think this is dumb as shit. I actually think that a common criticism of D&D - that you can't play ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING - is not valid, or rather, it's a valid opinion to hold but if you want to play a character who doesn't fit into the available archetypes perhaps you need to find another game. We all inherently understand that Blades in the Dark characters will be members of a criminal organization in a relatively low-magic setting, correct? That you can't show up to BitD and play a lawful good wizard prince because that's not the story being told? Or like, how in Honey Heist, you are a bear and you are trying to get honey, and you cannot play a human child investigating the old abandoned house at the edge of town, but there's a cool game called Kids on Bikes that will let you do that? Great! Why is this suddenly so hard to understand in the realm of heroic fantasy, that you will fit into specific archetypes? Why do people's brains, if they have them to begin with, vanish suddenly? I know I just did a big old rant that included this within it but genuinely I think a lot of people are deeply ignorant of heroic fantasy, or don't like it, and either is fine, but then they get mad at the heroic fantasy game for having heroic fantasy archetypes when the answer is "maybe this will never make you happy because it's not for you." (Frankly, I think this is also why they love D20, because it doesn't really do straight-up heroic fantasy, and that's fine, but they do keep acting like doing a Game of Thrones pastiche is equivalent to the invention of the wheel.) Like...I remember in the Midst Q&A that Xen said they tend to not like playing typical D&D classes, but their solution was to, you know, create Midst instead of sitting around going "actually, because D&D doesn't support cyberpunk narrative and the character archetypes within very well it is an utter failure." (I could go on forever about how actually TTRPGs are not a showcase for your already extant OCs to prance around but that's a totally separate post).

Mechanics and story are inherently intertwined, is what I'm trying to get at (sorry I'm really tired and have a lot to do but I'm passionate about this answer, it will be rambly, she says like 3 pages in) and I really don't think most actual play journalists get this. At all. And I do think that CR, and Daggerheart, and the people working for it, and especially Spenser Starke, Rowan Hall, Matt Mercer, and Travis Willingham, get this more than almost anyone else in the field. I also think Brennan Lee Mulligan and Aabria Iyengar get this, and the thing is, for all the praise showered upon them, much of which I think is deserved and most of what I think is undeserved is not because they are lacking but because the person writing about them is an idiot crediting them for things they (Brennan and Aabria) would never claim to have invented, their mechanical prowess is rarely if ever written about well. Fantasy High Junior Year's downtime mechanics actually fill in a famous gap in D&D, namely, downtime, and provide an excellent marriage of story and mechanics in my opinion, and I haven't really seen any discussion, because that would require watching the part of the TTRPG show where they play the TTRPG, and knowing the vague word on the street about D&D criticism that isn't just "*nods sagely* capitalism is the BBEG."

And finally: related a bit to the edit but Critical Role used to not be able to provide any early access to press, because it was literally a live show, and I suspect they never broke the habit, and I think that is for the best. As discussed a lot of D20 coverage actually feels like they watched the press screener and then never returned to the show. And I do not know the politics about them, but given that several of these publications (notably Polygon, but some others) have been shitting on Critical Role for several years, and just generally given the way CR's leadership vs. how D20's leadership respond to fandom pressure, I suspect Critical Role does not give these journalists a ton of early or increased, if any. Honestly, why should you, if you're getting interviewed in Variety? And I think the journalists are mad, because they think they're special and should get treated as such.

I do want to wrap something up, and I want to thank @captainofthetidesbreath for talking a little about this in game design/ttrpgs and giving me the idea, but in story, you should be challenging your audience, expanding their horizons, and being new and interesting. In the actual playing of TTRPGs, especially a new one, it is vital to be inclusive and easy to understand and patient and provide points of reference. I really feel like many Actual Play journalists and some TTRPG ones as well have this equation flipped and are looking for challenging concepts that most people will never be able to get a group to be willing to play, and bells and whistles in production, but leave story as an afterthought. Critical Role designs games to actually be played and to be used specifically to tell good stories, and puts story before production, and I think that undercuts those journalists' whole deal.

[wnobin]

BIT BY BIT… 💭 anton lee socmed! au

pairing: college student! anton x campus crush! reader

genre: college! au, social media! au with written portions, slow burn, pining, strangers to friends to lovers.

series synopsis: in which the quiet girl in anton’s language class who seems to never sit with anyone catches his attention. anton makes it his mission to get closer to her bit by bit and break down her walls. the only issue? she’s the last to arrive and first to leave, never allowing anton the chance to approach her.

chapter warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, anton and sohee being idiots, sungchan being an idiot and getting karma, fully written chapter

series masterlist | 12: three rules

first rule of being team manager: make sure the boys’ water bottles are always filled before their breaks.

“they only get 5 minute breaks in between sessions so you need to make sure their bottles are filled and ready so they don’t waste any unnecessary time. there’s a water cooler at both ends of the gymnasium.”

it was yours and eunchae’s second time at the basketball team’s training and chaewon was explaining the three main rules managers had to follow while the team was busy warming up and running laps. eunseok and shotaro, the captains, were leading the rest, seunghan and sungchan trying to outrun each other as the other three jogged at a relaxed pace, chatting amongst themselves.

“for the last time anton, i’m not hitting you in the face, or anywhere else for that matter. even i think that’s too far.”

“oh come on, you had no issue doing it last time!”

“that’s because it wasn’t intentional last time! and besides, it was your fault for jumping out and scaring me when the gym’s power went out.”

anton rolled his eyes, increasing his speed and deciding to jog up to sungchan and seunghan in front, trying to see if any of them would be up to giving him a black eye.

“for some reason eunseok doesn’t like his water cold so you have to use the water cooler at the left side of the gym, it dispenses room temperature water.” chaewon explained as the three of you began gathering their bottles, highlighting how the red bottle, which belonged to eunseok, was the only one that had special instructions. eunchae brought the captain’s bottle to the other side of the gym while you and chaewon headed to the other water cooler, busying yourselves with refilling the bottles and talking about how your classes have been.

“so i texted her again and she told me she dropped the class? well, not really dropped it officially, but she stopped showing up and told me she doesn’t mind failing it. she was the only one in that class that i talked to on a regular basis,” you had a somewhat disappointed tone, admitting to your friend that you were struggling to find people to connect with in some of your classes, with most of your classmates already finding their cliques and settling down as it was well into the semester already. it wasn’t that you were unpleasant to be around or unfriendly, it was just that you were too introverted for your own good and didn’t know how to approach people, a flaw that always ended up coming to bite you in the ass.

you handed chaewon a blue bottle with a brachiosaurus sticker on it as she hummed, reassuring you that this phase would eventually pass and you would find someone you click with naturally, just like how she and sakura became friends when they were freshmen. “don’t you know seunghan and anton? they’re in your class too, right?”

“i’m not close to them, i’ve only talked to anton once. they seem to be together all the time.”

“ah, that’s because anton is too shy to go anywhere on his own. he always makes sure he has either seunghan or sohee with him.” chaewon motioned to anton, who was currently chitchatting with seunghan as they were finishing their last lap, the younger male putting his hands together and seemingly begging his teammate for something.

turning off the dispenser, you and chaewon brought the heavy bottles back to the benches just as the team had completed their warm ups. the group of them had collapsed on the floor, panting as they gulped down their water desperately. while they were cooling off, chaewon began to explain what else you and eunchae should remember as managers.

second rule: make sure there are always ice packs ready.

just behind the gym was a small utility room where the team kept extra basketballs, towels, and a mini fridge used to store ice packs. “injuries happen a lot more often than you think. a lot more. i would say we go through about three ice packs a week? minimum three. oh, and sometimes the team members use this fridge to store ice cream for when they finish practice. if they leave without taking it, it’s yours.” you and eunchae bent down, inspecting the contents of the mini fridge which had four ice packs, two bottles of banana milk, and one vanilla ice cream in it. chaewon proceeded to show you two around the room, showing where the first aid kit was and where the spare towels were kept. while that was happening, all three of you were unaware of the chaos outside.

“taro hyung, i told you i needed them today!”

“i’m sorry, i was running late and forgot to bring them! why do you even want my old shoes? they’re so worn out and they have no friction, you’ll basically slip on the court.”

anton whined as his vice-captain continued to question his intentions for wanting his worn out and tattered shoes, confused as to why the younger male was suddenly asking such odd favours from everyone on the team. between initiating a conversation by going up to you and getting someone else to physically hurt him, anton decided the latter was much easier. seunghan and sohee told him that he was insane but he didn’t care, he was just desperate at this point. it had been two months since he started having lessons with you and the furthest he had gotten was that conversation with you in the hallways. sure you two would smile at each other when you bumped into him around campus but anton wanted more and he was willing to do whatever it took. just not approach you first, obviously.

“what’re you doing, sohee?” seunghan creeped up behind his friend who was holding onto a basketball, squinting as he tried to perfect his aim. his aim which was directed towards anton. “i’m trying to see if i can get this ball to hit anton in the face. it’s better to do it when he’s distracted, this way he won’t see it coming.” instead of calling sohee insane too, seunghan held onto his hands, guiding the ball to the left. “this is a better aim.” sohee muttered out a soft thanks, fully focused on making sure his one and only chance of hitting anton would not be wasted. once the both of them were finally satisfied with their position, sohee launched the ball towards anton, hitting him right in the face and making him fall backwards from the impact.

the sound of the ball coming into contact with his face was so loud, it got your attention even from inside the utility room. “sounds like someone just got hit by a ball. y/n, this is your time to shine.” chaewon pushed the first aid kit towards you, ushering you and eunchae out of the room and back onto the court where you were met with the sight of anton holding his face in pain while the other team members surrounded him. you quickly went up to him, helping him up and holding his arm to guide him to the bleachers carefully. you saw a slight trickle of blood and panicked, tightening your grip on his arm. you didn’t even notice how the male had a slight smile on his face and turned around to give his friend a thumbs up, sohee giving him one back as well.

you slowly guided anton and helped him sit down as you opened the first aid kit and got some tissues ready. you gently pressed the tissue to his nose to clean up some of the blood, fingers lightly touching the bridge of his nose to make sure it wasn’t broken. “does it hurt when i do this?” you applied pressure on some areas, your face dangerously close to his. anton held his breath and he nodded, a little faster than he could currently handle, wincing in pain. you held onto his chin, your touch gentle and soft, tilting his head back slightly.

“um… aren’t you supposed to tilt the head downwards for nosebleeds?”

“oh. right,” you awkwardly giggled, changing the position of anton’s head and tilting it downwards with your other hand on the back of his head for support. you gently patted the back of his head, stroking his hair unconsciously as you occasionally replaced the tissues and checked to see if the bleeding subsided. throughout all this, the two of you remained silent but it wasn’t an unpleasant silence, with your gentle caresses and actions, anton felt comforted by you. once his nose stopped bleeding, you threw away the dirty tissues and left to get an ice pack from the mini fridge before returning and holding the cold object to anton’s nose. eventually the male decided it was time to do what he came here to do and speak up. “how’s your assignment with yoon going?”

“sucks. yoon dropped the class so i’m stuck doing it on my own.” anton tried to hide how the corners of his lips were beginning to turn up, internally thanking that so many of the students in this class were dropping it. “really? i got paired with ricky but he dropped it too… he even blocked me when i tried to message him.” the both of you laughed at how you were in the same situation, the awkwardness between you two melting away. “do you… wanna do the assignment with me? since we both don’t have partners! but it’s totally fine if you would rather do it on your own and—“

“i would like that a lot,” anton’s nervous rambling was cut off by you saying yes and he felt like the world just came to a stop. after weeks of never getting the opportunity to talk to you and get paired up with you, it was like the universe finally aligned and gave him what he needed. he was about to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone for you to type your number into when he remembered he kept his phone in his locker. seeing anton reach into his pocket and coming out with nothing, you realised that he must’ve wanted to exchange numbers. you still had your phone with you, so you took it out and gave it to him to enter his number, which he saved as ‘anton :)’. you gave him a small smile before putting your phone away and inspecting his nose again, removing the ice pack and lightly touching the tip. “does it still hurt?” you had your eyes on his nose, which was red and looked like it would bruise, but anton had his eyes on you, pupils dilated and dazed as he shook his head. “that’s good. looks like you can go back to practice now.”

before anton could begin to thank you for taking such good care of him, sungchan’s voice could be heard from the court. “anton, stop flirting with eunseok’s sister and come back!”

the rest of his teammates erupted into giggles only to get silenced by the sound of a basketball coming into contact with sungchan’s face, thanks to no one other than eunseok himself.

third rule: don’t piss off eunseok when he’s holding a basketball because he has the best aim, that’s why he’s team captain.

taglist (closed due to the limit!): @andromedawillburyyou @imsiriuslyreal @beckiiee00 @dreamiestay @babigriin @kyusqult @eumppappaswife @sserafilms @annswwa @lecheugo @llearlert t @nyuoqi @thesunoosshining @yangasm @mmsriza @myizhuos @miyawakiblossoms @hyucksdelicate @ilovejungwonandhaechan @snowyseungs @soobiary @ilovejaketoomuch @cla1r20 @darlingz99 @chiiyuuvv @lilacarat @ohmykwonsoonyoung @sonjuyeonnie @nicholasluvbot @haechology @luvnicho @numberonetaleprince @addores @revehosh @jscvhs @istphanie @b-riize @miszes @shnnzsworld @ppoddorii @cowsmicwu @kiwigyuu @chuutaroo @dcvvr @delulu4soobs @l0ve-joy @ffixtionista @would-bee @renjuneoo @yunjinsbbg @brachiotoni @jakeists @brachioswrld

if i didn’t tag you, please check your account settings > visibility!

[rosinaparker]

I love your 9th member imagine, I love to see a full one shot. I’m not picky about the subject, maybe something happens on stage (good or bad) or maybe a conflict with another member or another group (with a positive ending)

It was an accident..

A/N: YOOO I’m so happy we’re getting requests again😭 (glad to hear you liked the 9th member imagine! Let me know if y’all wanna read more of these) -Rose

Genre: angst, with a good ending

pairing: platonic!skz x f!reader

warnings: arguments, yelling, bruises, accident happening, cursing, mad Lee know

It has been a tough week for you and the boys, lots of mistakes have been happening on stage, lots of arguments happened..the air was tense between everyone. You had managed to withdrawal from any arguments but you’re time was coming too and you knew it.

Today was a very important day. The mama show was happening. The concert you and the guys have been practicing for almost 3 weeks. Most of the petty arguments that happened earlier were starting to cool off. It wasn’t long till it was your turn on the stage. The song that you had to preform was thunderous. Not as bad as it sounds like.

Everything was going smoothly till the pants that the stylists chose for you started to get in the way. Han had already stepped on them several times, you had to pull them up constantly and to top it all off, minho tripped on them at the end, making you fall off balance as he stepped on them. You quickly catch yourself before you fall onto the ground too hard. It was a disaster, Chan waited till the lights went off and came to check up on you, a bruise was definitely forming at the knee.

Suddenly Minho took the in-ear monitor out and put his microphone away from his face.

“What the fuck was that?” He spat at you, giving you a nasty look. The others didn’t want the show to end badly, since they were still on stage. The audience was still watching, even if it was dark you could make out that someone was arguing.

“Guys dont make a scene” changbin called out. Chan saw how frustrated minho was and immediately pulled the members off the stage and into the backstage.

“Couldn’t you watch your damn step? I almost tripped to the fucking ground” he snapped back. He started pacing around the room “the whole crowd saw us falling onto the ground because of you” he groaned.

You weren’t having any of it, immediately shouting, “Its not that big of a fucking deal!”

“Guys dont argue. It was very obvious that this show was not going to be successful” hyunjin called out, trying to calm the situation but only making it worse

“It wasn’t successful because she fucked it all up again.” The other yelled, getting all up the tall ones face.

Chan got between them, making sure they don’t get violent “Hyunjin is right. The show wasn’t going to do well. And y/n wasn’t at fault here”, he points to your pants “the pants were just too long and make it hard to dance in.”

Han spoke up “i agree, i kept on stepping on them.” he gestures a ‘sorry’ to you for doing so.

“The past few weeks have been tense guys. WE have been tense.” Chan exclaimed, “we have been arguing with each other the whole time, obviously the performance is gonna fail” he sighed, turning to leeknow.

“It was an accident, stop blaming her already.”

He still looked pissed, but tried to see a different point of view “fine, fine. Sorry for bursting out like that” he glanced at you. “Sorry for making you trip” you look at the rest of the guys. You felt stressed. Shit was too much right now and you let your members down..

“I’m sorry guys-” you were cut off by felix “don’t apologize. We’ll just have to tell the staff that the pants were horrible”

It seemed like the situation had toned down, everyone went back to their seats. Eyes were following the group, whispering something to each other.

Yeah, there was no doubt that the audience knew there was a fight.

Seungmin noticed the bruise on you knee getting darker “need an ice pack for this?” He points at it.

“No i think i’ll be fine” you give him a weak smile.

“Hope you won’t limp around for the next few days” i.n butted in. The rest of the night went on quietly. The ride home was silent. It seemed a bit akward between you and minho..

As you were about to enter the dorms, he kinda holds you back “hey, are we good?” He asks quietly, to which you give him a small smile “yeah. You were just frustrated, don’t worry”

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. How about i buy you korean bbq?” Your face lights up, he knows how to make things better between you “sound good to me :)”

You had an ice pack pressed against your knee the whole night long though-

-Rose✩

A/N: its a bit different from what I usually write. Hope its good enough!!!

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 7

Prompt: Virginity Pairing: Stablehand!Minho(Lee Know) x fem!reader WC: 4.7k (ish) Summary: Laundry day, the watercooler of maidens, maids, and matrons. When faced with the harsh reality of what being a wife means, you ask your old friend Minho to help break you in a bit. A prequel my Two Princes series. You can read it without the context (as it is a prequel and thus before the events of that series) but it’s the same world. If you’ve read the series, it’s not SUPER tied or needed as context but it was a little thought i had when working on chapter 2 or 3 that I’d started to write at the same time.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Minho or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

Additional TW/CW Under the cut

TW/CW: Minho calls reader “little chick” and one “good girl”, unprotected penetration, bodily fluids, very VERY aggressively consent driven like tons of asking if everything is okay. 

TBH after last week’s prompt i needed something fluffy. It’s hard for me to come up with TW/CW outside of “they fuck consensually and nicely and fuck stuff happens.” Minho is a little bit of a teasing jerk i guess but in the most fluffy careful way possible.

 Pulling your skirts between your thighs you run from the kitchen, out alongside the fence of the small doctor’s garden, and onto the dirt road to the stables. Mind made up, you couldn’t slow yourself down now. You knew you only had precious few hours to catch him and daylight was dwindling. It wasn’t your fault, it was the matron’s who’d found your posture during the tea service “inadequate” and kept you late as punishment.  Huffing and puffing the stables near, no man nor horse in sight. You pick up the pace as much as you can, knocking furiously at the side door. Sweat dripping and hairs all out of place, the matron would’ve scolded you for showing up to anyone’s door this way. In all honesty her scolding would’ve started much before then, if she’d found out just whose door you were pounding on.  A man swings open the top half of the door, vest loose and sweat just beginning to soak through his white undershirt. He licks his lips and smiles. “Well, well, well. It’s been some time, little chick, since you last called.”  “Minho, I need you to take me.” You don’t mince words with him. You know not to.  His eyebrows shoot up, head shaking with confusion. The lower half of the door swings free, smacking loosely against your legs. “I’m concerned and intrigued,” he says, beckoning you in.

 Earlier in the week you’d made up your mind. You needed to lose it. When the older women had already headed back with their linens already hung neatly, the younger had stayed chatting a while longer. It wasn’t known what exactly started the conversation but if you were a betting woman you’d assume it was the rumor of a woman’s pregnancy only lasting a total of 5 months. Betrothed to a wealthy baron of the town and assumed a virgin, she’d quickly inflated with child upon sealing their vows. You’d expected giggles of disapproval but instead saw quiet shrugs.  “It’s like that sometimes,” one of the girls shrugs. “It’s probably best she went into that marriage knowing rather than it being her first.”  “I’d rather have it done by someone handsome and rugged and marry well later. She got a good deal there. Risky but a deal,” another concurred.  “Isn’t there value in learning together?” Your voice quivers slightly as you try to speak up. The girls blink back at you, like you’re an alien.  “Sure, but it’s a risk.”  “It’s expected but, to be upfront with you, I don’t know that I’d endorse it. Most men can’t button their own breeches in the morning, you can’t expect them to know what to do as it comes to women’s ways.”  You nod solemnly, hoping they didn’t press further into your history. Or what history you could claim. Mostly you’d learned from word of mouth or the occasional poorly discarded dirty pamphlet. Until that summer you’d assumed to most you were invisible, that was until your body grew into itself like a puppy growing into it’s ears. Even then a couple quick pecks behind an arras was nothing to boast about.

 Sliding the lock behind you, Minho pulls himself up on a gate, stretching his arms long to pull down the ladder to the loft. It had been ages since you’d last been in a place with him alone. Growing up under the watchful eyes of the castle as children inside the walls you’d been able to run freely around with him, a plethora of adults there to intervene if the two of you got into trouble. One to stick more to the shadows, he always pulled you into the sunlight. Coaxing you into his outdoor adventures, finding creatures to befriend and forging for snacks. The matron hated this of course, but you were a child before you were a girl. Somewhere along the line it shifted, becoming a girl first and foremost. Minho changed too.  Hopping down and landing softly in a cloud of dirt, he brushes himself off. “Ladies first, little chick.”  Hands on the ladder you begin to pull yourself up. Feet barely past the second wrung, Minho comes in behind you, bracing the sides of the ladder, face close to your lower back. “Won’t you be able to see up my skirt that way?” You turn and ask, eyes narrowed.  “Oh now you want to talk about modesty? When you were just at my gate shouting about bedding down.” Everything is phrased as a joke but his expression is serious. It’s hard to tell if you should laugh or not. “If I don’t stabilize the ladder and you tumble ass over kettle the matron will have much more of me than my head so I suggest you scurry on up, for the both of our sakes.” He smiles, patting your butt lightly.

 The loft has a low ceiling but wide footprint. It’s dimly lit but charming nevertheless. Minho has all he needs. A wash basin, chest of drawers, full length mirror, a bedside table with a small lamp. The bed is paradoxically huge and luxurious, albeit on the ground, but the biggest you’d seen outside of the guest’s quarters.  “I don’t have a place to sit but-” Minho’s head pokes over the edge of the flooring as you gasp. “The bed is comfortable. I caught it as they were turning over a room and smuggled it up here myself. Almost passed out trying to pull it up.”  You flop dramatically down, the boning in your bodice restricting your waist movement, freezing you in perfect vertical lines rather than letting your body naturally curve. Sitting bolt upright your lungs feel like they are in your throat, your feet hang off the side of the bed to keep your dirt laden shoes from the comforter. “It’s nice,” you bleat. “Soft.”  Wordlessly Minho kneels by your feet, pulling the laces loose and slipping your feet free of their confines. He looks up at you and your heart skips, his hands are rough on your stockings but somehow you don’t really mind. His expression quickly snaps to a devilish grin as he smacks your feet onto the mattress. “You can get comfortable then, little chick. Am I a stranger?” He stands quickly and moves to the washbasin, scrubbing the days work from his hands.  “You aren’t a stranger but,” you sigh deeply or as deeply as the bodice allows. “It’s been-”  “We’ve changed,” he nods, shuffling off his shoes and collapsing back into the other side of the bed. “Physically I mean. But what’s this about me ‘taking’ you? What has you all in a tizzy, little chick? Showing up at the stables asking for-”  You smack his arm and take as deep a breath as you can manage, “I heard a rumor,” you trail off.  “About me? Or you? Or someone else?” He barrages you for details.  “Let me get to it Minho! So bothersome, gosh.” You wince as you try to breathe again, leaning back to your elbows to give your organs more room to shift and relieve your lungs.  His hand comes to your shoulder and lightly presses you forward. “It’s tight right? Let me-” he pulls at the knot at the base of your spine, pulling each cross at your back loose.  “Oh AH,” you moan and slump forward as the bodice releases. “The matron-”  “That bitch,” he whispers under his breath, tickling your shoulder, just loud enough that you can hear it.  You giggle and lean back again. “Yeah, the matron said that if I laced it tighter I wouldn’t have such problems with my posture and took the opportunity to correct the matter.”  “So, back to the rumor you heard. Me, you, someone else? Why are you in my loft, in my bed, and allowing me to undress you?”  You roll your eyes at the ceiling. “Fine,” you huff, “First, the rumor was about this baron’s wife who spent only a few months pregnant before birthing the healthiest baby boy the midwife had ever seen. We got to talking and, well, there was a debate.”  Minho turns on his side, leaning over you slightly, just in your peripheral vision. “A debate? About me?”  “Not everything is about you, Minho, let me continue!” You spit back in frustration. “Anyway, the topic of trying the milk before buying the cow came up-”  “Virgin 'til the wedding night or sneaking off into a hay bale. I see.”  “Not a hay bale!” You smack his thigh lightly. “But yes, essentially. Should a woman be a little learned in the ways of the world or an innocent. The more the group talked about it the more I thought. Well it was a dumb thought. I worried,” you stutter, suddenly unable to get your thoughts out under his watchful gaze. “It’s nice to see you again.”  “All this talk of bedding down and you thought of your long friend Minho,” a smile creeps across his face. “What a strange little chick you are.”  “If you must know Minho, it wasn’t a fully innate thought of mine. Your name was mentioned. Positively.”  He smiles softly and flops onto his back. Both of you staring at the ceiling in silence for a moment. “I suppose, I train people to ride horses…” he drifts off.

 You thought laying in silence with a man might be awkward, especially after confessing your motives to him. With Minho it wasn’t. Ears full of the soft sounds of the horses heavy breaths below you instead of idle chatter. It was easy to imagine laying for hours letting your mind wander the landscape of sounds.  “So, little chick, truthfully, which did you want to investigate more? My aptitude or..”  “My problem. Or, it’s not a problem but, my…lack of experience. I trust you more than any man and to hear others tell it, my trust in this matter wouldn’t be misplaced.”  “Ah,” his small noise of acknowledgement is all you get from him.  Your stomach twists and plummets to rock bottom. Some part of your imagination expected him to leap on top of you and rip your clothes off. His chill attitude is hard to read, you don’t even know if he’s agreeable to it. “I was hoping maybe you’d…if today would be okay?” You ask and want to die.  “Right, yeah,” he turns over again to loom at your side. “I will absolutely comply with your request but I need you to be honest with me. Are you completely untouched? Truly and totally?”  You nod, ears burning, you turn away from him to hide the embarrassed expression you wore. “That’s the…I don’t even know where to start. I wouldn’t know where to start.”  His calloused fingers trace your forearm, small goosebumps prickling in his wake. “Well, we can start slow. You will tell me what you like, what you don’t, where to stop and I, in turn, will make it well worth both our time.”  “Really?” You spin around to face him, excited, mood totally lifted. He’s smirking to himself, an unrecognizable glimmer in his eye. Your heart beats out of your chest, tongue tied into knots. He’d always been Minho, your Minho. You’d seen him up close plenty of times but you’d never really looked at him like this. Strong nose, strong cheekbones, strong brow, strong jaw, everything about him was quietly strong. Even the line of his muscles below his shirt were long and lean, perfect for horseriding.  “Do you want me to undress you then? Or will you do it yourself? Some like the power of choosing what to reveal, others prefer the careful caress of another’s hands. You could start yourself and have me assist you or…”  “You. You please.” You sit up again, shuffling your back to him, offering your laces.  Every move he makes is languid, like moving through thick molasses. The string pops through the eyelets until the contraption falls forward, freeing you. He waits, gaging your reaction with a watchful eye. You’re unflinching, steadfast in your resolve. “Some men, are not as gentle as me.  Trying to keep your composure, your heart leaps to your throat. “Oh, I-” you stutter, unsure of the response to give.  “I’m known on occasion to not be so gentle too. If you would like, I can be with you too.” His tone is smooth as his hand travels down the soft cotton of your chamise. You’d never imagined how good a simple touch could feel, as though every nerve along your spine was sparking asynchronously, like a fire spitting tiny flames.  “Oh err, I suppose just, this? This is good, yeah.” You lean back into his palm, eyes closing.  Minho watches your face relax. Jaw unclenching and brow melting as he reaches the base of your spine, briefly stiffening as he loses contact to start back at the nape of your neck again. “I’m going to take off your skirts and stockings now, sweetheart.” He directs you, hands working at the knots that hold your skirt, waistbands loosening and falling around your hips. “I’ll need your help the rest of the way.”  Sliding back into the sheets, your hold your hips up to let him drag the skirts off in one bunch. “I’ve heard you use this tone before. With the horses,” you laugh nervously.  “Humans and horses aren’t so different,” he mutters under his breath, mildly annoyed with the perceived slight. “Both require respect to be ridden well. Respect, confidence, and trust. Otherwise one might hurt the other.” His words are reverent as he looks down at you. The orange hue of the late afternoon sun warms his skin, lips open ever so slightly. You realize his hand his placed carefully on your cotton covered bent knee. With so much as a flick of his wrist he could reveal you, the thought of which has your entire system vibrating on edge. Instead he maintains eye contact as his palm presses the fabric to you, slowly but surely guiding it down your thighs. It’s enough to have your body on fire, chest heavy as you remember to breathe.  The way you lean into Minho’s touch has him more turned on than he cares to admit. This entire experience was about you. It was not about him. It was a favor to you, not something for him to take advantage of. Yet he couldn’t help the pit of guilt twisting his stomach, almost relishing in the feeling. Your knees knock together cutely as the last bit of slip falls to your hips, leaving only your stockings for warmth. Your eyes could bore holes in him the way they are fixed on his lips. With a chuckle his hands run the length of your thighs, parting them and stripping back the last vestiges of fabrics on your lower half. “You want me to kiss you? I can kiss you.”  “Yes!” You practically yelp, tingling turning to burning turning into bursting in your gut. The press of his lips to your inner thigh is like salve, sensation just as intense as your back arches up and away from the mattress. “I like that. I like it a lot,” you pant as he hovers, waiting for you.  “Have you ever touched yourself?” His eyes flick to your pussy, legs akimbo and fully exposed.  You start to shake your head no and catch yourself, the shock of sudden embarrassment sending jets of cold down your spine. Could he tell? Could a man tell? “Not touched but I found this…lewd pamphlet in the trash…” you begin, forcing yourself to focus as his lips slowly travel towards your sex. Minho hums to indicate he’s still listening as he teases you. “...so I read that pamphlet and my stomach felt funny and the only thing that made it feel better was sliding my pillow between my thighs-”  A millimeter away from kissing your cunt he stops abruptly to look up at you with a grin. “Naughty, naughty, sneaking away with crass material to waste yourself on a pillow,” he laughs. “So never in yourself? Just riding your pillow.” He can barely contain his excitement, hand cupping you, middle and ring finger slowly stroking around your slit. Slowly he works his middle finger into your hole, tighter and wetter than he’d thought it could be. His digit moves with your hard breaths, stroking just barely inside of you. “I’m going to stretch you out a bit. How does this feel?”  “Like you’re petting my belly button from the inside,” you squirm, every other word catching for a second in your throat.  A second finger slips in alongside the first, eased by the gathering wetness. The pressure is strange at first, not painful but not comfortable. Not until Minho presses the heel of his palm to your throbbing mound, grinding it down as your eyelids flutter in delight. “You can moan if you want, if it feels good.”  Your mouth hangs dumbly, hips naturally working with his hand. “I don’t know how!” You pant as your ride his hand.  “You don’t?” Minho’s voice lilts with false sympathy. “You seem to be doing just fine with this. Just relax, no one can hear you out here. No one but me.”  Eyes closed you don’t even realize you’re moving in sync with him, face scrunching cutely. You follow him blindly, chasing an unknown feeling on a strange path. Suddenly your stomach swoops, eyes flying open with a gasp as your entire body tingles warmly.  Legs snapping shut on his body, you wriggle away from the stimulation. “I think I died. I think I’m going to pass out. What was that,” you ask. Your vision feels slow, body foggy, heart beating both too fast and too slow.  “Well the French call it the little death, if that helps.” Minho smiles and withdraws his glistening hand, holding in the light like a trophy. “Most oafs can’t do that, you know, that’s why all your little friends can’t keep quiet about me. They just go about blinding, inserting themselves and pounding away. Idiots. Animals.”

 Minho turns completely away for the first time since you got into his bed. Tugging the white shirt free, his back looks strong, stronger than you remember it being. Not that you thought about it much back then, him or his back. But now it was the only thing on your mind.  Pulling off his shirt his thumbs hook into the top of his drawers, pausing. “You’ve…seen a man before right,” he asks over his shoulder. “You know what a cock looks like.”  You can’t help the small nervous giggle that passes your lips. “I’ve seen one, yeah,” you reply with your stomach all aflutter. You’d seen them in passing or in paintings but not so closely. It feels surreal to think on the other side of him is that sort of thing.  “You know you should never giggle at a man in such a precarious position,” he scolds. “Now do you want to do it or shall I? We can stop now if you’re too nervous.” Minho really hopes you aren’t too nervous. With the time and effort he spent prepping you he’d inadvertently wound himself up as well, teetering on the edge of discomfort as his swollen cock pulses in its confines. God, the sheer thought you might take him up on his offer to stop here has his stomach swooping, playful expression turned serious.  Sucking in your breath and closing your eyes, “you. You do it. And tell me when. And then I’ll look.”  Nose scrunched and adorable, he smiles again. “Okay little chick, we’ll do it your way then. I’m going to unbutton my breeches, slide them off, and then you can open your eyes, or tell me to sod it and put everything back on.” Slowly his fingers slip the buttons through their eyelets, hissing with relief as his shaft springs free. He’s more naked than you now, although not by much, your chest still covered by your chamise. Fighting a smile as he looks at your both eager and apprehensive expression he announces his state of dress to you.  Cracking an eye open you see it, briefly and blurry. Instinct snaps you eyelid closed with a jump. Sheer curiosity gets the better of you quickly, screwing your courage up to open both of your eyes on your next exhale. “Oh wow,” you inhale sharply, eyebrows lifting with your lids. A few stiff blinks have your eyes cleared “It’s…you’re…” you can’t find the right words. He’s not like the paintings of men or sculptures or those you’d seen in passing, all of which had them loosely hanging, passive between their thighs. This, this is different. Veiny, thick, truly a muscle pointing proudly up and out from his stomach. The boost to his ego is unimaginable as you stare agog. Even knowing it was your first didn’t seem to fight back his swelling pride.  “Want to touch it?” It twitches as he talks. You hadn’t even realized you’d slowly raised forward from the sheets to look closer at it. Taking your hand in his he guides you to it until you’re naturally curling your fingers, around it. It’s softer than you thought it could be, velveteen and warm. The veins and muscle making ridges and grooves all down the shaft you stroke it slowly, face full of wonderment. Minho sighs deeply, shuddering. Though you don’t know the details of a successful handjob your eager curiosity makes up for it. A shiny bead gathers just on the slit, your thumb rubbing over it and smearing the substance over the head.

 “As lovely as your hand is, I think we have other matters to attend to,” Minho says and pushes you back to the mattress. “You’re lucky I have some oil for just this sort of occasion.”  He produces a small bottle from the opposite side of his bed, uncorking it and dribbling a small amount along his length. “You’re still sure?” He checks again, pumping his fist along his shaft to coat himself. “You’ve done so well today, there’s no shame in it. Ever. Even when it’s not with me.”  “Minho please, I’m not so little anymore. I’m not a child. It’s my decision. I want you. I want you to fuck me. I want you to be my first. I trust you. Can you just…do it already?”  He half laughs, more huffs at your frustrated outburst. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you were.”  “Then WHY?”  “You’re really cute when you’re frustrated with me,” his smirk sends your heart flutter as he closes in on you. He hoists your hips with one arm and places a pillow beneath your hips, the display of raw strength sending the pack of butterflies from your heart into your sex. The blunt pressure of his cock, poised at your entrance, has your toes wriggling.  Your expression opens into something between ecstasy and agony as his hips press forward. A half caught grunt escapes your throat from someone deep in your gut. The stretch isn’t the most painful, it just feels so foreign it catches you off guard. Suddenly acutely aware of how little space there is between organs there’s still a dull ache as your walls adjust. “Hu-hurts a bit.” Your knees catch his hips to keep him from going any deeper.  “Let me distract you.” He starts pulling up your chamise, yanking it over your head with an urgency not yet seen from him. You don’t think your breasts are anything special to look at, especially splayed akimbo as they are. Yet Minho’s eyes say otherwise. Minho’s mouth says otherwise, attaching to your neck, mouthing away at your soft skin.  Your body reacts autonomously, hips rolling back and forth on his half speared cock. Nipples pebbled, his tongue lathes over one, rolling the other between his fingers. “Oh, oh, ohhhh lord,” you gasp and moan. “It’s good oh fuck Minho, it’s good.”  Grin grazing your oversensitive nipple he pushes his hips the final length in and stills, trying to keep himself from cumming immediately inside of you. Hot, tight, wet, he’s almost delirious with need as he hears your punched out groan. Releasing your tit with a pop he leans back to enjoy his handiwork. Impaled, your hair is wild on the pillow, chest rising and falling as you fuck yourself helplessly on his stiffened member. “It’s like you were made to take cock, you’ve already got the hang of it.”  “Feels good,” are the only words you can blubber out dumbly in response. Your half hearted excuse. “More, need more.”  “One man can’t exactly give that,” he chuckles. “You’re squeezing the sin from me, you know.” He groans as your walls flutter around him in a weak orgasm. He thrusts a couple times into you, noting how you meet each one, pelvis bouncing him deeper. As much as he loves when your chests touch, the intimacy of looking in your eyes, you asked for more. Taking what’s left of his strength he pulls from you, a look of shock and sadness crossing your face for a second.

 “You’re going to ride me now, since you wanted more.” He says laying on his back. “Climb up buttercup, thighs on either side” he slaps his own thighs to indicate where he wants you. “Now what you’re going to do is take my shaft and slowly sink yourself on it.”  He’s sticky with release but you oblige, eyelids fluttering as you sink down, swiveling and stirring him with your hips. Minho fights to keep his eyes open and watchful as a wave of ecstasy washes over him.  “Now bounce on it, doesn’t need to be fast just the one pace.” His hands at your waist help manuver you, holding just enough to help keep the rhythm. And what a delicious rhythm, tits bouncing dramatically with each smack of your ass to his pelvis. Curses you’ve never heard nor had yet been invented flow from his mouth as you hands start to explore your body. You touch the source of the white hot heat, clit engorged and sensitive. Slowly you circle it in time with your bounces, as though winding a music box.  “It’s happening again!” You whine and buck. “Minho, Minho, Minho, it’s happening!” Your bouncing stops, hips frantically grinding back and forth on him, hand trapped between you. Moaning and groaning your instinct takes over, working the man below you like an object.  “That’s it, cum. Let it happen. Let it go. Cum on my cock like a good girl.”  Its like he said the magic words, a floodgate opening as your walls flutter and bare down on him. He helps you along, holding you in place and fucking up into you through your climax, barely able to pull you off of him in time to spill his seed on his own soft tummy. It’s not a second too soon as you can hear the dinner chimes in the distance, the first reminder that you are being watched.  “Damn it,” he says through clenched panting. “The matron-”  “That bitch.”

 A bit bedraggled you dash back up the dirt path as the third dinner bell rings, the last of the series, marking you officially late. Other than the dull ache of your cunt you feel no materially different. Still you wish you could’ve stayed in the loft for ages. Your thoughts cloud your once empty skull with anxieties. You really wish you could’ve stayed.

 The light from a guest room shines down as you trot past the small kitchen garden. A man sitting by the window watches you, blonde hair haloed by the light. There’s something enchanting and honest about your disheveled state. Truthful to humanity. He had to see it closer. He had to be the cause of it. Taking out a pad of scratch paper he sketches quickly as he can, unprepared to attempt to capture your brand of beauty in quill and ink. He keeps the accompanying memo short; “a birthday idea.”

If you’re interested and HAVEN’T read Two Princes, it is linked in my masterlist. It’s FAR spicier so heed those warnings.

I felt a little weeeee bit rushed on this one but it was already so long, I might redo, I might not. IDK.

[minnielvrr]

It's okay to run slower~

Lee: Minho Lers: Chan, Seungmin Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: @itzsana-kiddingmenow 👀Happy one year Sana💐🥳🎉🎊Thank you for making your blog and choosing to write, you're a gift to everyone in the kpop tickle community💞🩷💖Hope this can cheer you up even a tiny bit🤭🥰 I love you!!🤗🩷

It felt like an eternity since they’d started. Minho was certain that he’d run through the lyrics at least a million times and by now and his throat felt dry and sore. Why did their new songs have to have so many English parts?

After a fruitless recording session that left both him and Chan exhausted, the leader let him go, knowing that Minho needed some rest and he himself needed to cool down.

Chan watched through the glass as the younger straightened his clothes and fixed his hair, then stalked out. He looked ragged, all sunken cheeks and dark circles under his doe eyes.

Hours later when Chan arrived at the cuties dorm, he found a worried Seungmin standing in front of Minho’s room.

The younger startled when he spotted the older, but quickly beckoned him close. “Minho hyung was crying when he came back. Did something happen hyung?” The kitten in question was currently simmering in a pot of frustration and self-hatred in his room.

Chan guiltily explained the situation. “It’s not your fault hyung,” Seungmin said firmly, rubbing the leader’s back. “Let’s go talk to him.” Seungmin knocked on the door, the duo walking in once they heard a muffled ‘come in’.

Minho was face planting his bed, still dressed in his outside clothes. “Hey baby. Can I talk to you?”

Chan slowly turned him over, grimacing when he noticed the kitten’s eyes, feeling crushing guilt curl in his stomach at the redness in Lino’s eyes.

Minho nodded but stayed quiet, not quite looking at Chan yet. “Are you mad at me?” The leader’s voice broke towards the end.

That made the kitten look up at him in surprise, a hand coming up to cup Chan’s cheek. “I-I’m not hyung. I promise I’m not.”

He sat up on the bed, reaching out a hand to scratch at Chan’s scalp. The older leaned into the touch, letting out a sigh, tugging at Minho until he was on his lap and hugged him tight.

“I’m not mad at you hyungie. It’s just-I- I’m frustrated that I can’t seem to grasp the pronunciation as quickly as everyone else. I feel like I’m holding everyone back and- and like I’m wasting so much of your time because I can’t get it right.”

“You know I don’t mind that, love, you should take your time. We have to learn things at our own paces and you’re doing so well darling. You improved a ton over the last few months so don’t be so hard on yourself, yeah?”

Feeling a little playful he started rhythmically poking Minho’s torso, singing My Pace in a goofy voice.

“There's no need to rush, my pace~🎵 Don't compare yourself with others~ It's okay to run slower~ Just follow my lane, my lane🎶 Take it easy~ Just look ahead and run~🎵 You ready? Let's go!🎶”

It earned him some huffed out giggles, and rolling his eyes, Minho pushed him off. Chan hugged him tightly, clinging onto the kitten and squeezing at his sides as Minho tried to extract himself.

“Tryna run away? I’m not gonna let you~ You’re stuck with me allll night!” Chan threatened in a baby voice, littering more pokes all over Minho’s sides. “Hyuhuhuhung!”

The younger giggled, squirming around but not really fighting it. He buried his face in Chan’s shoulder and let it all out. The leader continued his ministrations, shutting his eyes and simply listening to the sweet sounds Minho made.

“Can you stop laughing? We’re having a serious conversation here! How rude!” Minho just cackled, unable to come up with any sort of retaliation.

“Ooh hyung’s being all soft and gross.” Seungmin chirped from behind them and although Chan had known he was there, he startled just as much as Minho.

“Shut up, you brat!” Nonetheless, the kitten was sporting a deep blush at being found out.

“Can you hold him down Channie hyung? I’m bored.” Seungmin’s hand wormed its way over to scribble at Minho’s side, weakening him as Chan wrestled his arms above his head and sat on them.

Seungmin straddled the older’s hips, leaning back with his hands on Minho’s thighs as he lazily looked him over. With a sudden grin he squeezed the spot, watching as the lee’s body jolted, sweet giggles spilling from his lips.

That’s when Chan began the teasing, wiggling his fingers in the younger’s face then quickly moving it to just barely graze over the kitten’s sides. Minho yelped, flinching away from the evil hand, Channie giggling in amusement at his reactions.

“Aww, you’re pretty cute like this hm? Guess all we needed to do was tickle you~” Seungmin’s condescending voice flustered him more than Minho expected.

Unable to come up with a sufficient retort, he was saved when Chan finally kneaded into his sides. “AH— Chahahahanihie hyuhuhung NAHAHAHAHA!!”

The squeal that tumbled from his lips before the giggles started was priceless and Channie couldn’t help but coo at him.

“It’s been forever since I’ve heard that laugh!” Chan sighed happily, fingers skittered up Minho’s sides to his armpits then back down to his upper ribs. Loud, joyful cackles filled the space, Minho’s face scrunching up with how much he was smiling.

He tried screaming loudly, over and over in the hopes that Chan would cringe away from the deafening sound but the leader seemed to have anticipated that, quickly drilling his thumb into the kitten’s exposed armpit.

His screams dissolved into wild belly laughs, Minho flopping around crazily as he tried to escape, almost throwing Seungmin off.

The puppy retaliated by gripping onto the older’s thighs and digging into the sides with the tips of his fingers, laughing along with Minho when the poor kitten went ballistic.

It was truly unfair that they were aiming for two of his worst spots at once. Seungmin was mean when he was the one doing the tickling, using all his accumulated knowledge on his victim to have them losing their minds.

On one side, his fingers dug into the sides of Minho’s things and squeezed while his free hand skittered lightly over the top and inner parts of his left thigh.

“KIHIHIM SEUNGMIN IHIHI WILL KIHILL YOU!!” He hollered through uncontrollable cackles but Seungmin only laughed at that, a soft tinkly sound.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to threaten me hyung. I could make this so much worse for you, you know…”

He pressed his nails in a little harsher and Minho screamed again, this time from the sheer ticklishness of the technique.

Apologies fell from his lips immediately but there was no going back. Seungmin was ruthless as a ler and Minho had just dug his grave.

Chan on the other hand was almost lazily tracing and swirling his fingers in Minho’s armpits, occasionally flitting down to land a quick scribble to his upper ribs.

Minho blushed when he made eye contact with the older, averting his eyes at the teasing look he got. Chan pouted at that, going a little harder in revenge.

How could his kitten not even look at him! It was unacceptable!

“Plehease, please I cahan’t, can’t take thihihis!”

“You're so cute like this, just a little bit more. I know you can take it, my little tickle toy.” Seungmin’s voice was a soft croon, with a cocky edge to it.

Minho died at that. He didn’t think he could ever feel normal again.

The name replayed over and over in his mind as they wrecked him. No amount of bucking or thrashing or pleading could get him out of this. But he didn’t really want this to end just yet anyway.

Then the duo switched spots. While Seungmin worked on his sides, Chan gently held the soft lobes of Minho’s ears between his thumb and index finger and rubbed at the skin, occasionally dipping downwards to flutter at his sensitive neck.

It seemed to work, with the kitten’s giggles going up in pitch immediately and his squirming turning to thrashing.

“OHOHO GOHOD! It tihihihickles, ihihit tihiHIHICKLES!! Chahannie hyuhung!”

“It’s supposed to baby.” Chan replied with a fond smile, watching his cute bunny lose himself to the tickles.

“Hmm?” Seungmin mused as he watched the exchange and without another word, he handed Chan a long white feather. Grinning at the fearful expression on Minho face, Chan began to wreak havoc on Minho’s ears and neck with the new weapon.

Bubbly giggles escaped his soft lips, squirming violently but Chanie was too strong. No matter what he did- be it throwing his head back or mouthing pleas to the older.

Chan only cooed at him, not letting up. “Hehehehe!!” Minho sounded like a child with the way he was laughing, his little sounds so soft and innocent.

Eventually they let up when Minho’s loud laughter had dissolved into mere wheezing and small huffs of airy giggles.

Chan gathered him back into his arms, cradling his boneless form while Seungmin ran to the kitchen to fetch some water.

“I’m so so proud of you darling,” Channie whispered softly into Lino’s ear and heard the kitten sigh in relief.

With a sudden tug, Minho pulled the oldest even closer, smothering him in a bear hug,” Thank you for always being so patient with me hyungie. I love you.”

Chan squealed internally, needing to take a moment to calm himself down.

“I love you too Linoya~”

[outro-jo]

go or stay

pairing: lee minho x gn reader

type: imagine

warnings: kinda angsty?, reader is afraid of thunderstorms

song inspo:

not taking requests at this time

masterlist | info

————————————————

“i think we need to take a break.”

8 words you’re starting to regret leaving your lips. well, not really starting. in truth, you regretted it the moment you saw the light leaving his eye. minho isn’t overly expressive, but you could certainly see how he felt in that moment despite his face hardly changing. that twinkle in his dark brown irises faded and you could see them growing more distant along with the pit in your stomach.

your regret only worsened as you now sat in your apartment alone, surrounded by boxes, the thunderstorm raging outside your windows. ever since you were a kid, you hated thunderstorms. the incessant pounding of rain mixed with the intermittent crash of thunder frayed your nerves. before minho would wrap his arms around you and make you feel safe. the only thing you could do now was tuck your knees into you chest and watch the terrifying flashes of lightning illuminate the dark room. you desperately didn’t want to be alone.

for the life of you, the reason as to why you broke things off with minho was becoming more and more unclear. you didn’t mind how his work took him away from you. since you moved to seoul to be with him, he’s actually been pretty good about making time for you. even before the move he was excellent with communication. maybe it was self sabotage, maybe it was the fear of commitment. all you knew that loving him while being without him was the worst feeling… and it was all your fault.

interrupting you pity party was a knock at the door. you cautiously pulled yourself from the bed and slowly treaded to the door. to your surprise stood minho dripping wet.

“minho… what are you doing here?” you asked.

he raised a finger, pointing upward, “thunderstorm. i didn’t want you to be alone.” he spoke so matter of fact, like you should have known the reason why he was here, like it was so obvious.

guilt gnawed at your insides and you wanted to melt into the floor. wordlessly, you turned to rummage through the stacked boxes to find as fowl as he let himself in.

“what’s with the boxes?” he inquired.

“i don’t see the need in staying, i guess.” you handed him the towel, avoiding eye contact…you couldn’t bear to look at them again.

minho’s chest tightened as he dried himself off. you couldn’t be leaving. it all seemed so ridiculous to him, the break up and now move. what were you running from? what did he do wrong?

those questions would have to wait since another crack of thunder rattled the apartment, sending you right into his arms. habit.

you looked up at him and sheepishly offered him an apology as you stepped back. he wanted so badly to pull you back in, to keep you close. it was what he was here for after all, but he wanted to respect you.

“um, i think i have some clothes you left.” you said in efforts to diffuse the awkwardness in the room.

taking off down the hall, you knew his clothes were in your room. the open cardboard box in your closet labeled “minho” was full of clothes and things he’d left at your place. you knew that if you called him to come pick it up, he would have been there within the hour to get it. that’s why you didn’t have the heart to tell him.

as you picked out the tour shirt and sweatpants from the box, he made his way back to the bedroom, intimately familiar with the layout of your apartment. you handed it to him and he mumbled a thanks then went to the bathroom to change. your mind raced in his absence, wondering what to say next while you paced the floor and chewed on your thumb in thought.

should you reconcile? should you kick him out? what if he didn’t want to get back together? would he really be here if he didn’t care or want to get back together?

mother nature seemed to want to reunite you two because just as he left the bathroom, yet another roar of thunder drove you into his arms. this time it was minho that instinctively pulled you into him. he wasn’t fighting it this time. his arms wrapped around you tightly and a hand reached to bury your face into his chest. the warm embrace and smell of his lingering cologne was enough to help you through the noise.

an ache started to grow in your chest as you realized how much you missed him, how wrong you really were. but how could you admit it now? it felt like you were too far gone now to change your mind.

you had said those awful 8 words. your life was all packed up in cardboard around you with plans in place to take you back home, though it felt like you were already home in his arms.

finally you lift your head to look into those dreaded eyes, nearly black in the dimly lit room, but you couldn’t miss the unmistakable sadness.

minho cleared his throat awkwardly and gulped. “um… i don’t have to stay if you want me gone.” he offered softly.

“no,” you whispered back, tears forming in your eyes. “please stay.”

once again, minho couldn’t hold his instincts back. before he could even stopped to think he enraptured you in a kiss, not caring about the potential repercussions. as he always did, he felt so soft and safe. your minho.

regret washed over you like a tidal wave as the tears fall down your cheeks and an involuntary whimper left your throat. his heart ached and he deepened the kiss in response, wanting so badly to get physically closer to you but it was impossible without consuming you entirely. you’d let him.

it all become too much for your poor heart and you had to pull away. “sorry.”

“no, don’t—“ minho shook his head. “i don’t… i don’t understand why you broke things off.”

silence fell over the room. you didn’t quite have an answer for him.

“i don’t really care, if i’m honest. i just don’t want to lose you.” you look up at him. “so, if you—i dunno—regret it or maybe feel the same way… please, don’t leave.”

minho wasn’t one to beg. he wasn’t one to fight for anyone or plead for them to stay in his life, but you weren’t just anyone and you certainly weren’t someone worth losing.

“i dunno why i did it.” you told him and hiccuped. “i guess i just thought that i wasn’t attractive enough or smart enough or—“

minho had heard enough to be in utter disbelief, eyes shut and lips parting slightly. he took your face into both of his hands.

“stop, stop talking. please.”

you obeyed, looking up at him wide eyed.

“do you know now how amazing you are by now? have i failed so terribly as boyfriend to not remind you of how incredible you are and how much i need you in my life?” his eyes flit back and forth between yours. intense, almost mad but sure.

“no?” you let out in a tiny voice.

“well, i would like to do that starting right now until the rest of my life… as long as you want me to stay.”

“please”

you inhale him back into another kiss. this one is more passionate and heated than the first, tongues starting to get involved as the two of you fumble backwards onto the bed. a loud bellow of thunder interrupted, reminding you why minho was there in the first place and he pulled you into his chest once more.

“look,” he started once the thunder passed. “let’s just try to get some sleep, ok? you have a busy day of unpacking tomorrow.” minho teased you with a playful smirk making you laugh.

you settled in with your head on his chest, letting his steady heartbeat and strong arms distract you from the storm. the next morning you woke in his hold, ready to start again anew.

[sserajeans]

you are in love | 20. should've said no (written)

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER?" hanni paced back and forth in the hospital’s waiting room. hands either scratching furiously at her scalp or resting on her waist.

her and minji, along with a severely allergy-ridden y/n, arrived at the hospital in less than 5 minutes after picking their friend up from her home. now, the former stayed outside in the waiting room, dealing with their worries in drastically different ways.

with hanni pacing back and forth, stress radiating from her (you could probably feel it a mile away), minji sat still on the cold metal chairs of the hospital. her fingers fiddling with the ends of her sleeves.

"danielle or y/n?"

hanni stopped in front of minji, “damn it… BOTH! how do you forget you have a fucking allergy? and how do you not know y/n has a pollen allergy?" her arms flailed around in efforts of expressing her frustration.

"hanni calm down i'm sure danielle didn't know okay?-"

"well if she's gonna act so o-"

"it probably slipped y/n's mind and she just wanted her date to have fun... i don't know..."

"she could've asked."

"that's not usually first date conversation, pham." minji guided hanni's arms to get her to sit down beside her. "look just... sit down, okay. y/n will be fine this isn't her first allergy attack."

seeing hanni finally calm down a bit, minji continued to explain in the most soft-toned voice she could reach.

"she'll be fine. they'll medicate her, keep her overnight maybe just to monitor her progress, but she'll be fine."

hanni remained silent, her eyes glued to the vending machine in front of her. after a few seconds, she muttered to herself, so softly minji couldn't catch what she said at all.

"she should've said no."

"what was that?"

"nothing."

minji sighed before leaning against the backrest, and right before pulling her phone out, the emergency room doors slammed open.

"HELLO? hi i'm here for an emergency room patient who just came in? her name is lee y/n a-"

"hyein!" minji recognized the voice of her best friend's younger sister immediately and stood up to greet her.

"minji-unnie!" hyein ran to the older girls in panic. "what happened?"

"she got an allergy attack. we wouldn't have known had hanni not texted, so your sister had a lot of time for the reaction to get... bad." minji explained as she settled hyein down to the other seat beside her, positioning herself in between hanni and hyein.

"damn it i should've had mom buy the epipens last week." hyein sighed, her right hand aggressively scratching at her head.

"it's no one's fault, hyein. even if it was, it definitely isn't yours."

"yes but-"

"no one's fault, hyein."

a few minutes later, a nurse approached the three with a board in hand. she glanced at the three before reading the name on the file before speaking, "relatives of lee y/n?"

"she's her sister." minji pointed her thumb hyein's way.

"that is okay. are you two..." the nurse paused to look down at what they assumed were words written on the board. "hanni pham and kim minji?"

hanni stood up within milliseconds, startling the other 3 around her. hyein followed, then minji. the two aforementioned girls nodded their heads in response.

"you three may visit the patient, come with me please."

the nurse turned around and guided them through the halls of the different patient rooms, occasionally glancing back to make sure they were still following.

once the door to y/n's room opened, hyein dashed towards the patient bed, dropped her bag by the chair, and threw herself over her older sister's frame.

y/n looked fine now. or as fine as one could be after an attack that severe.

"UNNIE!"

"hi, hyeni."

"you look terrible." hyein remarked when she pulled away and got a good look at y/n's skin. "but i assume you looked worse a while ago."

"yeah, thanks. you're not very good yourself!" y/n joked around before pulling her sister in again for a less panicked, more warming hug.

hyein backed up after a good minute before minji and hanni stepped forward.

"hey guys! thanks..."

"are you stupid?"

"...sometimes i think so." minji chuckled at y/n's response, hanni remained unamused.

"you had us worried sick, y/n." minji smiled as she sat by the foot of the bed. "hanni was becoming a backseat driver."

"you were having your share of panic too!" hanni sighed and walked closer to y/n, laying the back of her hand on your forehead. "you good, though?"

unknown to hanni though, a light warmth spread itself across y/n's cheeks, and maybe figuratively, over her heart too.

thank god for the room's dim lighting.

"yeah.. they said the hives will fade by tomorrow, and they're just keeping me in for tonight. maintenance." y/n stated, a deep sigh making its way out after she spoke. it was her body's reminder that she was, after all that, exhausted.

"okay good." hanni nodded, taking a seat by y/n's right arm on the bed. "now how the hell did you forget about your pollen allergy? it's not like you have so many to keep track of. it's literally just POLLEN."

"well there's lots of factors into it... the whole going-to-the-park thing was sudden, but i thought that well, i haven't had an attack in a while, so i didn't think it'd get bad again." y/n began listing off, her gaze fixed at the ceiling in attempts of avoiding hanni's eyes for the life of her. "and i thought wearing a mask would lessen the pollen intake and make me react less too. i didn't think i'd need the meds anymore, really."

hanni closed her eyes, there was no arguing with lee y/n. even if her points were invalid (they were very much valid), she just could not.

after letting out the nth sigh of the day, hanni gently rested her body's weight on y/n, hugging the girl from under her arms.

"don't give us a scare like that again okay..."

if one could visualize y/n's brain right now, it'd be the gif of multiple spongebobs running in a fire. it was almost like hyein was a mind reader, because with the amused smirk on her face, it most definitely seemed like she could tell how her older sister felt about the interaction with her best friend.

"yeah... sorry, i really wasn't thinking about it."

"i understand okay? you were having fun... on your date." hanni pulled away and chuckled as she reminded y/n of how she got the allergy attack.

y/n mentally, and maybe physically too, froze at the word said out loud.

right. she went on a date. that's the reason why she landed here in the first place.

"...yeah."

minji let out a fake cough before allowing herself to speak, "anyways, don't worry too much about practice tomorrow. i'm sure coach will understand. you haven't had a single absence this year yet so."

"yeah, i'll text him a little heads up too."

"we'll get going now. you rest well okay?" hanni stood up and got her bag that sat beside hyein's on the chair. "we'll see you when you get out."

"yeah. thanks for everything again, you two."

"i'd never forgive myself if you died 'cause of me, bro."

"bro i probably wouldn't have di-"

"your wind pipe was gonna close bro."

"well..."

"hyein, we can drop you off?" hanni turned to the younger lee sister, eyebrows raised offering the ride.

"no it's okay, unnie. i'll stay here for the night."

"thanks, hyeni... i know you're missing a night of skincare for me." y/n laughed, her tone laced in sarcasm.

"this isn't for you... dad would kill me if he found out i left you alone."

"oh guys, and one more thing?" y/n spoke right as minji opened the door for her and hanni to exit.

the two best friends looked at y/n with a questioning look, signaling her to continue what she was going to say.

"don't tell dani about this."

masterlist. next.

taglist: @yyeonmis @lostamoeba @jisooftme @yoontoonwhs @awkwardtoafault @kvnii @lcv3lies @limbforalimb @spritin @kaypanaq @i06kkura @manooffline @kimsgayness @justme-idle @jenaissantex @mightymyo @sewiouslyz @txtbrainrot @li0ilthecxnt @captivq @paranoxic @sofakingwoso @daniellobers @pandafuriosa60 @haerinkisser @staryujinnie @wowowowcake @lesleepyyy @haechansbbg @rosiehrs @jiwoneiric

[hees-sweetheart]

|~ Slowly but Surely. ~|

──Pairing: !f1 racer heeseung x reader

──Genre: angst ? / VERY SUGGESTIVE.

──Synopsis: you're heeseungs f1 racing manager, and starting to have a crush on him !

──A/N: 2nd fic !~

"Lee Heeseung, if you dont get over here right now.. i swear to god i will smack you."

Heeseung looks at (y/n) through the corner of his eye, a playful smirk on his face. It seems as if he was thinking for a second, debating on whether to obey her, or get smacked. He took the first option.

"Yes, (y/n) ?" He says, acting like a child as he does.

"My god, you arent six. Anyways, we need to go over the directions around the course for the upcoming race." She looks at her clipboard, but Heeseungs eyes are glued on her figure. The way your dress hugs your figure in the most perfect way, makes him feel a little tingle.

He snaps back to reality, as (y/n) calls out his name. "Oh uh, yeah?" He says, scratching the back of his neck.

"were you even paying attention at all..?" Shes asks, clicking her pen and writing on her clipboard. "Or do i have to explain it all over again?"

"Eh.. explain it.. please." He says, and embarrassed look plastered on his face.

(y/n) and Heeseung had always had a tumultuous relationship. (y/n) was Heeseung's manager, tasked with keeping the fiery F1 racer in check. They constantly butted heads, their personalities clashing like two storms colliding in the sky.

But, beneath the surface of their bickering, there was an undercurrent of attraction that neither could deny.

(y/n) found herself drawn to Heeseung's determination and competitive spirit. Despite his fiery temper, there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made her heart flutter.

Meanwhile, Heeseung was secretly enamored with (y/n)'s cool and collected demeanor. The way she handled every situation with grace and confidence, even when dealing with his impulsive behavior, was admirable.

He tried to hide it, of course, burying his feelings beneath a facade of mockery and teasing. But it was evident in the way he secretly sought out her company, craving their approval and validation.

As they worked together, the tension between them continued to grow. The late-night strategy meetings turned into heated arguments, their faces inches apart, bodies charged with electricity. Every touch, every glance, sent sparks flying.

Heeseung would test (y/n) with his words, pushing her buttons to get a reaction. But beneath the teasing, there was a hint of pleading, a wish for something more than just a professional relationship.

(y/n) tried to resist, reminding herself that it was unethical and unprofessional to have feelings for their client. But every time Heeseung smirked at her or sought her comfort and support, her resolve grew weaker.

One race day, everything came to a head. Heeseung had a difficult time during the race, and his frustration was off the charts. After the race, he came storming into (y/n)'s office, anger radiating off of him in waves.

"Why didn't you warn me about that turn? I could've won that race!" Heeseung yelled, pacing back and forth in front of (y/n)'s desk.

"I did." (y/n) says, a cold expression on her face. "YOU were not listening."

Heeseung's anger flared at their sharp retort. "I was too busy focusing on driving! That's your job, isn't it? To give me the best information?"

He slammed his hands down on her desk, towering over her with seething irritation.

(y/n) met his gaze, their composure unwavering. "I did give you the information. It's not my fault you decided to ignore it just so you could try and be the star of the show."

Heeseung's eyes narrowed. "Is that what you think? That I was trying to showboat?" His voice was low, almost a growl. "You really think I'm that shallow, huh?"

(y/n) leaned back in her chair, crossing their arms. "What am I supposed to think when you ignore my advice and act like a stubborn child? You think just because you're a superstar racer, you can do whatever you want and blame everyone else when things go wrong?"

Heeseung's jaw clenched, anger and frustration battling inside him. "You wouldn't understand." He turned away from her, his voice quieter now. "You're not the one out there, risking your life every race. You don't know what it's like to have everyone watching your every move, waiting for you to fail."

(y/n) softened, her expression gentling. "You're right, I don't understand that part. But that doesn't give you the right to take your anger out on me. I'm on your side, Heeseung. I want you to win as much as you do."

Heeseung turned back to her, his anger slowly fading. "I…I know. I just…I get so frustrated when things go wrong. It feels like everything is riding on me, and if I fail, then it's all over."

(y/n) stood up and walked over to him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch soothing. "I know it's hard. But you don't have to carry that burden alone. That's what I'm here for. We'll figure it out together."

Heeseung's breath hitched at her touch, his frustration melting away under her comforting presence. He stared down at her, swallowing hard. "Why are you always so good to me? Even when I act like a jerk."

(y/n) chuckled, her lips curving into a soft smile. "Because I see who you really are, beyond the competitive racer and the hot-headed attitude. You're passionate and dedicated. I admire that about you."

Heeseung's heart swelled at her words. No one had ever seen him the way she did, understood both his strengths and his flaws. It was both terrifying and liberating. "(y/n), I…I don't deserve you."

(y/n) placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "You don't get to decide what you deserve. I know what I believe. And I believe that you're worth fighting for."

Heeseung's eyes widened at her statement, his heart racing in his chest. He'd always been so used to people expecting greatness from him, that he'd forgotten what it was like to have someone simply believe in him. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

(y/n) let out a soft gasp as he pulled them against him, their bodies pressed together. She could feel his breath hot against their neck, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Heeseung…" She whispered, her voice trembling with sudden vulnerability.

Heeseung lifted his head, his eyes locking onto hers. "I…I can't resist you anymore." He murmured, his grip on her waist tightening. "I've been trying to deny it, but…I can't pretend I don't feel something for you."

(y/n) felt her heart flutter at his confession, a mixture of surprise and relief flooding through her. "You're not the only one." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying so hard to keep my feelings in check, but it's been impossible."

Heeseung let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, his expression a mix of relief and nervousness. "So we're both idiots then." He said with a chuckle, resting his forehead against hers.

(y/n) barked a surprised laugh. "Yeah, I guess we are." She lifted her hands to cup his face, her thumb tracing his jawline. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent. "What do we do now?"

Heeseung leaned into her touch, his eyes closed as he savored the feel of her skin against his. "I don't know." He admitted, his voice filled with uncertainty. "But I know I don't want to hide these feelings anymore."

(y/n) nodded, her fingers tracing the slope of his nose, his cheekbone, his earlobe. "Neither do I." She murmured, her body pressed flush against his. "But it might not be that simple."

Heeseung sighed, his fingers playing with the edge of her shirt, rubbing idle circles against their skin. "I know. We're both professionals. We have a job to do. And…well, I'm not exactly known for being the most stable guy."

(y/n) smirked at that, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "You say that like I didn't know what I was getting into." She teased, lightly swatting his shoulder. "I've been dealing with your temper tantrums long before these feelings came into play."

Heeseung had the decency to look sheepish at that. "Yeah, yeah. You know me too well." He chuckled, his hands moving to grip her hips. "I still can't believe you put up with me. You're either a saint or a masochist."

(y/n) chuckled, her hands sliding up to wind around his neck. "I don't know if I'd go that far." They joked, her fingers lacing together at the nape of his neck. "Maybe I just have a thing for stubborn, hot-headed racing prodigies."

Heeseung's eyes darkened at their words, his grip on her hips tightening. "Is that so?" He smirked, his face inches away from hers, his breath hot on their skin. "Are you saying I'm your type?"

(y/n) swallowed, her heart racing at his proximity. She tried to keep their expression light and nonchalant, but the way her body was reacting betrayed her. She could feel her own pulse racing, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "I…uh…I didn't say that." She stuttered, her cheeks flushed.

Heeseung's smirk widened into a cheeky grin as his lips teased over hers, just barely touching. His breath mingled with hers, their faces so close that they were sharing the same air. His gaze locked onto hers, studying her reaction, waiting for her to take the bait.

(y/n) resisted the urge to shiver, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt his lips against hers. The feeling was electric, shooting sparks up and down her spine. She found herself leaning into him, her body craving more. But before she could fully surrender to the moment, a small part of her brain nagged at her sensibilities. They were still in her office, anyone could walk in at any moment.

As if sensing her hesitation, Heeseung pulled away, his eyes shining with a mixture of amusement and disappointment. "You're thinking too hard." He murmured, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her hip. "You always do that."

(y/n) opened her eyes, her expression a comical blend of flustered and guilty. "I can't help it." She muttered, looking away from him. "What if someone sees us? We're in my office, remember?"

Heeseung rolled his eyes, a scoff slipping through his lips. "As if I care who sees us." He leaned in closer again, his body pressing against hers. "I want to kiss you, right here, right now. Screw anyone who walks in."

(y/n) gasped as he crowded her against her desk, his body practically pinning her in place. "Heeseung, we can't…" She protested, her voice weak and unconvincing. Her hands came up to grip the front of his shirt, her knuckles turning white from the force of her grip. "We…we have to be professional…"

Heeseung chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief as he pressed even closer to her. His lips found the sensitive spot below her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. "Does this feel professional to you?" He whispered, nipping gently at her earlobe.

(y/n) let out a shaky moan, her resolve crumbling with every press of his lips against her skin. "N-no…" She admitted, her hands gripping his shirt even tighter. She knew she should put a stop to this, push him away and resume their professional relationship. But her body had other plans, arching towards him, seeking more of his touch.

Heeseung smirked against her neck, his hands roaming over her body, tracing every curve, every dip. "That's what I thought." He mumbled, his lips trailing a path down to her collarbone. He nipped at the exposed skin there, his teeth grazing over a sensitive spot, eliciting a gasp from her. "You may try to act all professional, but your body tells a different story."

(y/n) bit her lip to suppress another moan, unable to resist the effect he had on her. "You're a…a menace…" She managed to stammer out, her voice wavering as his hands continued their exploration. "We really…really shouldn't be doing this here…"

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers finding the hemline of her shirt. "You're not exactly protesting, are you?" He said, starting to slide the fabric upward. His hand was warm against her skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensation wherever he touched. "In fact, I'd say you're enjoying this just as much as I am."

(y/n) swallowed hard, her head tilted back as she surrendered to the sensations he was igniting within her. His touch was like a spark of electricity, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She was torn between indulging in the moment and her nagging sense of propriety. "We…we have to stop…" She said weakly, her body arching against his.

Heeseung chuckled against her skin, his fingers now tracing the edge of her bra strap. "Or what?" He challenged, his tone playful. "You'll fire me? Stop giving me those amazing strategies?" His lips moved to the base of her neck, nipping at her pulse point. "I think we both know you won't do that. You love this too much."

(y/n) inhaled sharply at the mixture of sensations - his lips against her neck, his hands on her body, his words in her ear. She couldn't deny it, she was enjoying this far more than she should. "We…we at least…need to lock the door…" She panted, half-conscious of her dwindling restraint.

Heeseung pulled away slightly, a sly smile on his lips. "Smart thinking." He murmured, his eyes glinting. Without waiting for her response, he turned away from her, walking over to the door and locking it. When he returned to her, he caged her in with his arms, his body pressed against hers again. "Now, where were we?"

(y/n) found herself trapped between him and the desk, her heart hammering in her chest. She had never seen Heeseung so assertive and dominant before, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating. Her hands came up to grip his biceps, her body responding to his proximity of its own accord. "You…you're playing dirty…" She accused, her voice soft and breathless.

Heeseung smirked against her lips, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He wasted no time in taking control, his kiss deep and demanding. All the suppressed desire and tension that had been building between them exploded into that single moment, their lips meeting in a fiery collision.

(y/n) moaned into the kiss, her body melting against his. Her hands moved to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper. All her earlier reservations melted away under the heat of his touch, replaced by a hungry need that coursed through her veins.

Heeseung responded eagerly, his tongue delving into her mouth, seeking out her own. His hands moved over her body, mapping out every contour, every soft curve. He drank in the sounds she made, the way her body responded to his touch, fueling his own hunger.

"You're gonna be the death of me.."

[lovinbarzal]

THE GREAT WAR

kacey dutton x fem! reader

summary: kacey always told y/n he only had eyes for her so what happens when he comes to the ranch only to announce he got another girl pregnant?

warnings: angsty, not very happy ending?, not kayce endgame sorry ://, ab4se, and john dutton

i'm not a huge fan of this lmao but enjoy ig

i also just realized i spelt kayce wrong but i'm too lazy to fix it sorry 😞

masterlist

Y/n and Kacey had gotten into a fight which caused Kacey to storm out.

He was gone for exactly 2 weeks before he arrived back home. Y/n had just gotten back from riding around the mountains.

"Kacey!" She jumped off the horse and bolted for him. She jumped onto him and held him close to her but was quick to notice that he didn't return the hug.

"Are you ok?" She questioned running a hand down his chest. His eyes softened.

"We need to talk." He said as Y/n furrowed her brows. The two walked into the house since no one was currently home.

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

"Darling, I'm sorry." He said as she shook her head and paced.

"You slept with another girl, got her pregnant, and all you can say is sorry!" Y/n screamed as tears pricked her eyes.

"I was upset about our fight so I got drunk and it just happened." Kacey explained but Y/n was already upset.

"Fuck that! I cried about you! I was worried about you and where were you? Fucking another girl!" She yelled as John and Beth walked in.

"Who got who pregnant?" John asked taking his hat and coat off.

"Your son, sir." Y/n said calmly while crossing her arms. John thought of Y/n as one of his daughters since he was best friends with her Dad before he passed.

John didn't say anything. He walked up to Kacey and punched him square in the face. Y/n looked down and grimaced. It wasn't unusual for John to hit his sons and she knew better then to interfere.

"You know better, Kacey. Get out!" John yelled and Kacey scrambled to his feet before running out.

"I'm sorry, dear." He said placing a kiss on her forehead before walking upstairs. Beth was long gone probably with Rip so it was just her.

She walked outside to see if Kacey had left. He hadn't. He was sitting on the porch with his heads in his hands.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think he would hit you." She said sitting next to him.

"It's not your fault. I'm gonna go. He doesn't want me here and I don't think you do either." He said standing, hoping that Y/n would argue and say she wanted him there.

She stood and walked back into the house.

That was the night I nearly lost you, I really thought I lost you

Years later...

Kacey never thought he would see Y/n so when he saw her attempting to train the horse he found, he was shocked.

"Fuck." He mumbled seeing her fall off the horse. He ran to her, with Tate following, as she layed in the same spot.

She was fine. She justed wanted to take a break for a second.

"You ok?" She heard from a voice she knew all to well.

"Peachy." She said sitting up. She got back on the horse and started slow. She didn't notice the kid with him.

"What are you doing here?" Y/n asked as she went in circles slowly.

"Came to see my dad, have you seen him?" She laughed.

"He's probably in the house." She said leading the horse to the barn. She jumped off and took the saddle off the horse. She turned around and saw Kacey with his son.

"You must be Tate." She said bending down to his height as the boy nodded shyly.

"I'm Y/n." She said tipping her hat in his direction.

"You look like you would make a fine cowboy." She said standing up.

"I'm an Indian." He said and she raised a brow.

"Cute kid." She said directed to Kacey who looked down.

"Y/n!" Someone called as they walked out of the barn. Ryan turned the corner with a smile.

"The boys are wondering if you wanted to play poker with us." Ryan asked with a smile which made her smile.

"I would love to but Lee asked if I could go riding with him, Jamie, and John. But I'll swing by later and kick all of your asses." She said crossung her arms. Ryan shook his head with a smile before running back to the bunks.

"You and Ryan?" Kacey asked as she shrugged.

"Fuck no. He's my best friend." She said as the three walked back to the house.

"Monica left me." He said walking towards the bunks.

"You must be husband of the year." Y/n said walking next to him.

"I wasn't boyfriend of the year either." He said as she laughed lightly.

"You sure as hell weren't." She said as the two reached the Bunkhouse.

"Well, goodnight, Kayce." She said turning to walk away.

Kayce wanted nothing more then to kiss her but he couldn't. She wasn't his anymore. She was her own person.

She wasn't his girl.

[manslaught]

mikayla's done her best to hold her shit together all day — as well as anyone could in this situation, at least — but she could feel herself starting to crumble now, so she distanced herself from the others, trying to get a hold of herself. she's never actually believed in some higher power, in karma, in anything like that, so she's not sure why she's so in her head about what laura lee and jackie said, but it's eating away at her anyway. what if this is her fault? what if they crashed because mikayla gave into the one person she did her best to stay away from, because she couldn't be the type of person her father wanted her to be? rationally, mikayla knows better, but it's getting to her now, making it harder to breathe.

she's pacing, hands tangled in her own hair, her breathing labored, so when she hears someone nearby, she stops completely, trying to calm down, because she needs to be stronger than this. mikayla's annoyed as she turns to face the sound, jaw clenching when she realizes it's @ladyintree— because of course it is. “ fuck, ” she mumbles under her breath before letting her head fall back, her hands lifting to cover her face. “ what the fuck do you want, taissa? ”

[jaylaxies]

KINKTOBER DAY 15 — BIRTHDAY SEX

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, pull out method, fingering, cunnilingus.

WC: 946 words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: omg it’s hee day! and this fic is for @gobighee and i really hope that you’ll enjoy it! :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all <3

A pile full of birthday presents, a house full of friends, innumerable birthday wishes and a day full of surprises. Lee Heeseung could have sworn it would have been the best day he had ever experienced.

It was his birthday, after all. Everyone loved him, giving him the most thoughtful and sorted gifts, none of which he opened. The party was still going on in full swing, however, Heeseung was distracted, unknowingly ignoring some guests who came up to wish him. It wasn’t his fault though, especially when his closest friend had only sent him a text saying happy birthday, a red heart emoji accompanying the small text.

It won’t be a lie to say that he was disappointed, even more so when you didn’t end up showing up to his party without giving him any prior notice regarding it. The disappointment doubled when he realised that you probably don’t like him as much as he likes you, more than friends at that.

Deep inside, he was also worried when you didn’t pick up his calls or answer any of his messages.

“Aw birthday boy, what’s wrong?” Sunghoon asked, a smirk on his face as Heeseung was quick to swat his hand away from his shoulder.

“Ouch, someone’s grumpy today. Try checking your room,” he simply spoke over the loud music, knowing well how his mood was sour due to your absence.

Heeseung registered Sunghoon’s words faster than the speed of light, rushing upstairs and towards his room, pushing the door open with a newfound sense of rush.

He was quick to close the door behind him once he saw you in the room, eyes widening and suddenly everything made sense to him.

The way you had been touchy from the past few days, the way you had been looking at him, eyes darkened with something he couldn’t decipher back then.

He was only half a bit sure that you knew how much he had wanted you, in more ways than you could ever imagine, but he was never sure of you being aware of his situation until this very moment.

He gulped, taking a step closer to your smiling figure, his own eyes darkening with lust taking over his senses.

He called your name out in a low tone, reaching near you on the bed as he looked down at you lying down on his silky sheets.

“Happy birthday, Hee,” the words sounded so innocent coming out of your mouth in contrast to your outfit choice.

It was everything Heeseung had dreamed of, you on his bed, devoid of clothes, except for your red lacy panties and a big gift bow which covered your chest.

You were his birthday gift.

“Won’t you come here and open your gift?” You asked, tilting your head slightly which further drove him insane.

He was on top of you in no time, lips inches away from yours as he stopped for a second, “are you sure, Y/n?” He looked into your eyes.

“Yes. I am,” you confirmed, cupping his cheeks, “fuck me, Hee. Claim me as yours.”

“Fuck, you’re driving me insane,” he groaned, smashing his lips onto yours in a rushed kiss, your fingers tugging at his silky roots, making him moan into your mouth before slipping his tongue in, humming once he got to taste you.

“So fucking pretty.” He looked drunk even though he didn’t drink a sip of alcohol.

He looked drunk in the essence of you.

The bow didn’t stay on your for long, now thrown away down on the floor as Heeseung’s lips replaced it, placing wet kisses all over your body, his hands squeezing your tits, also mentioning how long he had been waiting to do this, making you shut your eyes with the pleasure.

“Hee—” you whined, toes curling.

He only increased his pace, kissing the expanse of your waist, down to your lower abdomen. He was restless, cock hardening once he sat back to remove all his clothes, eyes travelling up and down your body, lip bitten as he took your beauty in.

Your panties didn’t stay on long after that, his fingers having fun while teasing your clit, his mouth on your pussy, placing small kisses to tease you, making you whimper and ask for more.

“Such a bad girl, didn’t pick up my calls, didn’t answer my texts.” His fingers slipped into your wet folds, “you don’t deserve to be fucked.”

“No! Please! I was just t—trying to give you a surprise, fuck!” You moaned out when he curled his fingers in your pussy.

“Yeah?” He took his fingers out, turning you around with ease as he lifted your ass up, your head on the pillow as he spanked your ass, “I’ll fuck you then.”

You cried out at his length once he pushed his fully hardened cock inside you, thrusting in a few times to bottom out, hitting your g-spot with how fast and powerful his thrusts were, moving your body.

The sound of your actions were loud enough to conceal the faint sound of music coming from downstairs.

He spanked and thrusted, the pain felt more like pleasure to you than anything else, and soon, you found yourself clenching around his length helplessly, not being able to control your orgasm that was building up at a quick pace.

He too was breathless, pulling out once you made a mess on his cock, legs shaking. He emptied his liquid all over your back, soon flipping you over again to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss.

He breathed out, looking into your eyes with a sudden shy smile—

“You’re the best gift I could ever get.”

TAGLIST:

@en-cityzen @seungkwan-s @eunoia-kth @lix-freckle3 @woniebae @baekhyunstruly @sungniverse @criceofpain @starryjakey @wntrsgf @heelariously @liliansun @hoonstrology @abdiitcryy @w3bqrl @9900z @cha-raena @faethefairy @seo-thicc-bin @lilacboba @fallinforgyu @jayegalaxy @violevantae @ivyvesisi @sunshine-skz @nicksszzz @candidupped @celestialsjy @enhydiaries @woniecf @ultenha @dreamyenskz @keixeds @j5aker @donghoonie-3 @jkmonica @neocityhoe @zhaixiaowen @seuomo @hwhjsthetic @shreyerii @jngsngie @jjhmk @jongseongsmirk @iqeot @duolingofanaccount @bunhoons @yunskies @jaysbiceps @nyfwyeonjun @goodforgyu @enhacolor @cyuuupid @luvyun @sunghoonight @bambisgirl @taekbokki

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