#but anyway started a second new wip of today to try and get back in the rhythm and just write something fluffy without stakes

[lit-in-thy-heart]

Choose your fighter: being able to feel confident in writing a scene with more than two characters, not worrying about sentence structure, or writing effortless descriptions.

[jensthwa]

show & tell pt. 2 (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

After the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends (idiots) to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 11k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) anxiety attack, attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit part two ft jongho, a new oc being the voice of reason, reader is clueless and in denial i fear, jealousy, miscommunication, fighting so this part is just a tiny bit angsty :(, confessions, teasing, face sitting, hand job, car sex (don't do it in public people, it can get you arrested), pet names (love and baby), a plot line at the end none of you guys are going to get until my new wip drops but it's worth the wait!

NOTES: hey everyone! thank you so much for patiently waiting for this second and last part to drop. i think that, after this one, if you guys want to request any drabbles or if i come up with some scenarios for this couple i will post them but for now nothing is on the works. what is on the works is a wip that's part of the same universe as this one, so pay attention to the new characters i mention if you want any clues! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 28th 2024.

TAGLIST (sorry if i forgot anyone, pls let me know!): @vannerriin / @mingtinysworld / @purple-bell / @bakepotatoman / @nxy3h / @taehyungmami / @nxcxllxsevens / @breadpuddingboys / @hotteokkay

masterlist.

When you wake the next morning, the consequences of restless sleep show up in your face as a reminder of what happened the night before. 

It's not that you regret it, it's more the fact that you feel so unapologetic about messing with the perfect dynamic you have with Mingi that caused you to toss and turn so much. 

Last night, after putting your duvet back on and then crashing into the mattress feeling all tingly and giddy, you asked yourself a thousand questions. 

The main one being: What the fuck did you do? 

The words kept repeating over and over in your head, your voice of reason (or your anxiety) screaming at you to get your phone and make it right before everything becomes a complicated, unresolvable mess. 

You had a brief moment of panic and heavy breathing, your chest tight with unspoken emotion and your eyes filled with tears. 

It was too much, so you forced yourself up and paced around for what felt like hours trying to get your feet back on the ground. Nothing was working, so you sat down at your desk and rested your forehead against it. 

When you didn't feel the usual coolness of the wood, a comfort sensation for when your studies got the best out of you for the day, and instead felt a pen almost stab you in the eye, you -very confused- leaned back. 

Mingi’s notebook and the pen he didn't put back on the pencil case seemed to stare back at you lovingly instead of mocking you for losing control over your own emotions. 

A sense of peace washed over you when you flipped the pages and landed on the instructions he wrote down. Memories of the amazing years you have had by his side started crossing your mind, like recomforting flashes that allowed your heartbeat to go back to normal: 

The first day you saw Mingi, chasing behind a worn out soccer ball and then kicking it so hard it landed on your lawn. 

The first time you two hugged, when your dad scolded you for having bad grades until you cried in front of him. 

The way he held your hand before heading inside to take the college admission exam, last year of highschool. 

His kind eyes. His reassuring smile. The way he made you feel just a few hours back. 

There's no getting rid of me either, love.

We'll figure it out. 

Letting a few contained tears run down your cheeks, you nodded to yourself as if he was there in the room with you. 

Yeah, you'll figure it out.  

And then proceeded to, very much, not figure shit out for the rest of the night. You could still feel his hands everywhere and hear his voice against your ear whispering how much he knows you and pays attention to you. 

You are fucked. 

It's all you can think about when you get ready for the day. It's all you can think about when you help your dad with lunch and when you let your parents know at the table that you are going out that same afternoon. 

“Mingi is driving you, right?” 

“Yeah…” you whisper in response, eyes focused on one specific spot at the table and mind a million years away from the conversation. 

“Good. He's such a good kid, Y/N, I'm glad he knows how to take care of you.” 

Choking on air when your brain finally catches up to her words, you look back up at your mother in shock “W-what?” 

“Yeah honey, what? Y/N can take care of herself,” your father chips in, unaware of your red cheeks or the honest expression of panic you're giving both of them “She's a big girl that carries around that, uh… What was it?— Ah, that pepper spray I gave her, right?” 

“R-right.” 

He lets out a satisfied see? at your answer, gives you a tiny smile and gets up from the table to take his finished plate over to the sink. 

Your mom stays behind, giving you a look you can't quite read before her usual calm expression washes it away. Only then, you can take a proper, very needed, calming breath. 

“I need to get ready. Thank you for the food.” 

“You made it, dear.” 

“I mean! For taking care of the, uh, plates,” you clumsily correct yourself right away, getting up from the table as well “Love you. Bye!” 

You don't miss the confused giggle on your way to your room and when you're behind closed doors, you finally take into consideration that you might be, in fact, overreacting.

Not much, you think, but just enough to give your feelings away. And it's truly a shame, because you were planning on concealing and bottle everything up until it, inevitably, blows up in your face. 

Maybe not the smartest option. 

If you bang your head against the wall with enough force maybe, just maybe it’ll help—

Someone's texting you. 

> gi: heeeeey > gi: just woke up lol > gi: had the best sleep ever tho > gi: how are you, love? 

Okay. So normal texting it is. Maybe your initial plan of just pretending nothing happened is, coincidentally, Mingi’s plan as well. 

So you type in it's literally almost one, ya lazy and let your thumb hover over the send button, eyebrows creased at a sudden realization. 

The casual texting annoys you. 

Sure, Mingi is used to keeping everything casual between him and the people he sleeps with, but you're not just anyone! You didn't sleep together, either! 

Oh, maybe that's why. 

But it ticks you off either way. 

Is he not feeling the same way you do? Did it mean something different for him than it did to you? What did it even mean to you in the first place?

Why, after all the panic you felt the night before, did you have any sort of expectation for today? 

It doesn't make any sense. 

You hit send. 

> gi: aaaaand?  > gi: god forbid a man gets a good night's rest after being thrown off a bed. 

Scoffing, your eyes roll before you can even control it and, to your demise, the giddiness returns. You respond with did you get hurt? awww and raise a hand to your blushed cheek before sending the message.

> gi: yeah wtf  > gi: my butt is all bruised.  > gi: kiss it better? 

Oh. 

Not casual texting. At. All. 

Or maybe it is? 

Ugh.

Blanking on everything Mingi has ever texted you before, you decide it's best to entertain yourself by getting all pretty to sit around the house party tonight and do nothing else instead of torturing your confused brain any longer. 

Using the help of an emoji to flip him off and, hopefully, gather yourself together enough to get ready, you shoot him another text rushing him to do the same because you don't want to be late. 

And he usually takes forever to get ready anyways.

Showering with very cold water, taking a good thirty minutes to decide whether to wear something comfy and fitting or sexy and fitting for the party do the job when it comes to taking your mind off him for, at least, the time being. 

Yunho was insistent the day before in that you didn't need to bring a bathing suit if you didn't want to, but you pack one anyways because you can sense Wooyoung's and Jongho’s intentions even if the youngest couldn't make it to your impromptu gathering yesterday. 

They know you hate when they get away with annoying you and throwing you into the nearest body of water -in this case, Yunho’s pool- in front of many people you don't know (therefore, you are not going to able to go insane mode on them) seems like the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

The last time they did it you weren't really able to scold them properly either, so they laughed and pointed at you until you threatened to kick their asses in a very dishonest but playful way. 

Mingi, of course, did nothing but laugh along with everyone else and then kiss your forehead as an apology later that day. 

That was last summer and since then both perpetrators have treated you to meals and buttered you up enough for you to forgive (as if you didn't do that the morning that followed the incident) but you never forget. 

Maybe you should. It would make the sight of Mingi parking outside your house easier, you think.

You're sure he's parking outside just to give your dad, who comes out to greet him with a hug, some peace of mind. He's very protective of you and he trusts Mingi even if he gives him a hard time everytime he sleeps over or takes you somewhere.  

Like now, you have a very clear view through your window of the sermon he's giving your best friend. You don't hear it but he's moving his hands in the air way too much for it not to be a clear step by step on what to do if you run into any trouble on the way to Yunho's. 

Mingi likes step by step and he's good at following instructions, so you don't think it's going to be an issue. 

God damnit, Y/N, get it together. 

Sighing, you pick up your bag, check your outfit once in front of the mirror, and rush downstairs and out of the door. 

“You do know how to change a tire, son?” 

Mingi is standing in front of your dad with his hands behind his back and a tight smile. 

“Yes sir, my dad taught me and then at the school they made sure I didn't forget about it.” 

“And make sure to—” 

“Could you let the guy breathe, dad?” 

They both turn to, your dad wears a mocking smile and you see Mingi’s tight one breaks into a genuine one a second later. A grateful one, even. 

He looks really good. Which is insane, considering that to you he looked like Chewbacca just yesterday morning. 

Crazy what a good orgasm can do to a person. Or maybe it's the first time you ever let yourself see him in this light. Either way, he's wearing light wash jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to him just right and it's going to drive you insane, you can just feel it. 

“I was just making sure that he—” 

“Knows what to do,” you nod “He knows what he's doing, dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” you give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek and then rush to the passenger seat, giving Mingi a glance so he can get in the car as well. 

“Alright. Love you, take care!” 

“Love you too, Mr. L/N!” Mingi says, getting into his seat and giving your dad the opportunity to see when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn't say anything else, even though he didn't tell Mingi specifically that he loved him and instead gives you both a nod of approval. 

When Mingi finally drives off your street and into the main one, you sigh in relief. 

“He's neeever going to trust me, huh?” 

“He trusts you,” you say right away, cheek resting against the seat so you can take a proper look at him “I'm his only daughter and you're a man after all. Cut him some slack.” 

“He never cuts me some slack!” he fights back but you just laugh and he can't help but join you “You look really good, by the way. A dress? Are you trying to impress someone?” The tone he uses sparks the remaining tension from the night before, like zero time has passed since he kissed you goodnight by your front door. 

When you got into the car with Mingi, you didn't consider that you two would be alone for, at least, forty minutes before getting to your destination. Your mind skipped the fact that he has this new ability to fluster you by just existing near you and you curse it for not letting you prepare well enough for the way he's looking at you right now. 

“Obviously,” you answer in a whisper, clearing your throat a second later “Wooyoung needs to be distracted so he doesn't tackle me into the pool the second we get there. Don't know if it's gonna work on Jongho, though.” 

Mingi clicks his tongue, baring his teeth and pretending to really think about it “I don't think so, love. You'll have to bribe him into considering dropping their whole summer schtick for you.” 

“You can help me with that.” 

“Can I now?” 

“Yeah. You can just… lock him up in a room and my dress can do the rest of the work.” 

Your best friend laughs and then takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll the hem of your dress in between his thumb and index. His knuckles brush against your thigh and you almost -almost- make a noise at the sensation. 

“It's not the dress, love… It's who's wearing it.” 

A bit of silence passes within the both of you. 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

Laughter fills the car and drowns out the honking on the other side of the street and you wonder why you were worried in the first place. 

Nothing has changed. 

Aside from the intention laced with the flirting, it feels the same way it ever did and you couldn't be more glad because now that you know Mingi doesn't hate you (like you thought for a brief moment last night) or wants to hard launch a relationship that doesn't exist to your friends the second he gets them all together in the same room, you can enjoy the car ride and the evening that's about to follow it.

So you flirt with him freely, listen and sing along to songs that just feel like summer summarized in three minutes of exquisite writing and roll your window down once Mingi takes a turn into a hill, trees replacing the buildings you're so used to seeing. 

Your friend is rich rich. His family makes good money and his parents go on lots of business trips. That being said, it's the first time you actually attend one of his parties, and so when you get to Yunho’s house and ring the doorbell, you’re caught by surprise because you can already hear the loud music playing in the backyard and the blend of new and familiar voices through the thick door. 

You expect him to open the door for you but Seonghwa’s smile is the first thing you see before you and Mingi both have the opportunity to step in. 

“You made it!” 

“It's pretty hard to miss this house, Hwa.” 

Your older friend side-hugs you and stays by your side while Mingi takes it upon himself to put your bags for the day in the pile of other bags next to the door “How are you doing today?” 

You're about to answer but when you look at him, you see him staring at Mingi, so you do too. He's staring at Hwa with a little smile “I'm doing good. I blocked her and everything and I can confidently say that…” he turns to you “My ego’s not bruised anymore.” 

If Seonghwa catches the spark between you and you best friend, he decides to ignore it “That's goo—” 

“Mingi!” 

What the hell is she doing here? 

Not, not that bitch from yesterday but this girl who Mingi meets with sometimes. You don't really know her, you just know she's gorgeous and that her name starts with an h, maybe? 

She's a fashion major and it shows in the way she's dressed up today. Truly, an enjoyable company whenever she's around at frat parties, a saving grace when you're tired of surrounding yourself with only men. 

Right now? She's your worst nightmare. 

Wrapping her arms around Mingi’s neck and getting on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, she smiles like she knows she's getting laid tonight and your best friend does nothing to pull her away. 

She doesn't even say hi to you before dragging him to the backyard! You and Seonghwa follow them and when she takes Mingi’s arm and pulls him over to -you assume- introduce him to her friends, you almost stomp your feet like a little kid. 

Trying to get rid of the annoyed frown on your face, you turn to Hwa with a teasing smile and your eyebrows raised. 

“Well fuck me, am I right?” 

“I might!” Arms wrap around your waist and you feel Woo’s chin resting on your shoulder immediately after “That's a very nice dress, Y/N.” 

If Mingi was next to you, like you want him to be, you would give him a I told you so glance. Instead, you just look at Seonghwa with absolute horror before he snickers and goes away. 

“Right? And it looks horrible when it's drenched in nasty chlorine water.” 

“You can't possibly know that.” 

“I know a lot of things and— No! Woo, please don't,” you beg when he lifts you off the ground for a second. Behind you, you hear laughs and, even though you can't see them, you know it's San and Jongho “I just got here and I haven't even changed yet, please.” 

He turns you around and hugs you properly this time before letting you go. You take the opportunity to punch him in the arm and then go over to San and Jongho to do the same. 

“We'll let you get your swimsuit on this time.” 

“You're so considerate, Jong. Seriously, they're going to give you the Nobel prize if you don't stop.” He mocks you, repeating what you just said in a higher pitched voice and you laugh as you sit next to Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend, Gyuri. 

San also has a girl sitting beside him with his arm around her, but you don't really know her so you just wave at her. They're all in their bathing suits already “See how he tried to flirt with me to try to get me with my guard down? He's a monster.” 

“And in front of me, too? The nerve on this guy.” Gyuri, of course, backs you up immediately and you want to return her smile, but you can see Mingi from the corner of your eye and it's distracting. 

“Oh, they're ganging up on me already,” Wooyoung whines, sitting down in front of you both and handing you a drink “It's like my worst nightmare.” 

“He's enjoying it, don't let him convince you otherwise,” San says, getting up from his seat and taking his girl with him “Especially coming from you.” He points at Gyuri and you laugh. 

“We're just friends now!” 

“That's what you told me like three years ago before—” 

Wooyoung gets up to chase after him and San lets go of the girl's hand to try to get away from him. 

Turns out, you're not the one Woo tackles into the pool. This time, him and San crash down on the water hard and a few droplets of water wet your feet. Gyuri laughs and everyone else does too when they realize what's happening. 

Jongho gets up and joins them in the water soon after to try and help (kinda, not really) San escape the wrath of his best friend. 

You almost miss it, because you take the opportunity to look at your best friend and, when you do, he's already looking at you. 

Breath catches on your throat and the lump that forms afterwards has a name and a reason: Mingi is looking at you with so much longing it physically hurts. 

He looks like wants to drop everything and come and confuse your fragile mind even more, just like he did the night before. 

Then why the fuck is he there with whatever her name is and her friends and not sitting right next to you? 

You look away, grasping your drink for emotional support and convincing yourself you're starting to see things that are not actually there. 

“Why the fuck are y'all fighting this time?!” Yunho comes from inside the house and it's the first time you see him today “No choking! No running! It's literally in the rules!” 

“Wooyoung please let go of my boyfriend!” 

Ah. So she is San’s girlfriend. Still, you turn to Gyuri to ask. 

“Who is sh—” 

“San’s new girlfriend, Kyungmi. We don't give a fuck about her or San right now, we're mad at them,” you want to ask who we is, because Wooyoung seems like he's just playing, but she interrupts you again “What the fuck is going on with you and Mingi?” 

Huh?! 

You make a quick mental review of your plan. Conceal? Clearly it didn't work. Bury your emotions deep so no one notices? You probably can't recover from the way you smile just dropped. 

The only thing left on the list is pretend that you're insane, but you're not sure it'll work either. So you turn it on her: “Nothing much. He played Espresso like three times on a row on the way here and I almost kill him, but—” 

“You can't bullshit me, Y/N.” 

Great, that didn't work either. 

“I saw that. Seonghwa did too but he got up before I could convince him to ambush you,” she dramatically sighs, chugging the rest of her drink down “So, what is going on?” 

“Nothing,” that much is true “he's literally with a girl right now.” 

“And she will never mean as much to him as you do. Next.” 

“Gyuri… I really don't know what you want me to say.” 

Squinting her eyes at you suspiciously, Gyuri takes her time before answering and you fidget in your seat a little. Wooyoung liked her for a reason, she's feisty and goes straight to the point and it's something you usually admire but right now it's not the time for her to do this. 

“I just thought maybe it finally happened…” She whispers and shrugs the entire conversation off before getting up “Let's head inside. They're going to start grilling meat at any second and I also don't want to be near Wooyoung when he gets out of there.” She points at him and you laugh. 

Jongho has him in a chokehold and Yunho is trying to separate them while San desperately swims towards his girl that's still waiting for him near the edge of the pool. 

“Sure thing.” 

You pretend you don't feel Mingi's eyes on you as you move. 

This is not unusual. Whenever you all go to parties, hosted by someone inside of the friend group or not, you end up separating from Mingi. 

He does his thing. He's outgoing and he likes dancing while you enjoy conversation and drinking away at the rest of the party, occasionally making out with someone and calling it a night when your social battery runs out. 

So you hang out with Gyuri in the kitchen until the sun starts going down and when the last ray of it disappears you decide it's time to swim a bit before you're too tipsy for it to be safe. 

Grabbing your bag and greeting some new people you don't know at the door, you head up to the bathroom you are told by the host himself it's upstairs. 

When you're tying up the strands of your swimsuit, the door slams open and you jump and cover yourself up with your hands because you're not able to finish the job, so the strands fall down and the only thing holding the top part of the fabric it's you. 

“What the fuck, Mingi?” 

Turning around, you're only able to look at him through the mirror. 

“Lock the door next time! What if it was somebody else?” 

“People usually knock!” 

“I didn't mean to scare you, it's the door’s fault,” he makes a fool of himself trying to prove it “See? I— let me help you with that,” he closes the door again and, this time, he locks it before taking a short step and grabbing the strands of your top “It's the second time this week I scare you like that, huh? I’m sorry, love.” He ties the strands together with a secure knot and his apology finally allows your tense muscles to relax. 

You remind yourself that there's no valid reason for you to be mad at him. You'll figure it out, he said it himself, and maybe today is not the day to do so. 

But he's not stepping away once he's finished, he's not even saying anything else before his hands grab your waist and his chest collides to your back. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you silently ask him with your eyes what he thinks he's doing. He ignores you, bending down so the tip of his nose can trace the skin on the side of your neck. 

“I missed you,” his voice sounds like honey when he says it and you, once again, curse the ability he has to make you crumble “and you disappeared like an hour ago.” 

You let out a sigh. 

“I was in the kitchen, Mingi, not missing and we were in the same space for at least twenty minutes before that and like… forty minutes in a car, together.” You remind him and he frowns “Besides, you were with Ha… Haneul?” 

“Hanni,” he corrects and you huff out a whatever “and she was introducing me to some of her friends that are in the same major as me, just a year over.” 

“Cool.” 

He pecks your shoulder. You do your best to not melt completely into him and fix your hair in the mirror. 

“Y/N…” he starts and you hum in acknowledgement “I missed you.” 

It pisses you off for some reason. The mature thing to do is to let him know but the words that leave you are petty and laced with annoyance. 

“I’m sure you did, buddy.” 

He grins against your skin and you turn around to face him, eyebrow raising. 

“What's so amusing?” 

At your tone, he seems taken aback but his smile stays curving his lips upwards.

“I'm just really happy to have this moment with you,” he says, matter of factly, and you press your hands against his chest to regain some personal space. He doesn't budge an inch “What's going on?” 

He's such a guy sometimes. 

“You're here, kissing my neck, while a gorgeous girl who I'm sure is waiting for you downstairs is probably bragging to her friends about how she's going home with you tonight and—” 

“Y/N, I'm literally taking you home.” 

“I can easily take a car back— Mingi, seriously,” taking a deep breath, you stare at him with all the honesty you can gather “I don't want to do whatever this is if afterwards you're going downstairs to dance and flirt with Haneul or whatever her name is.” 

He looks like he wants to correct you on it again, so you level him with a daring glance. 

He keeps his mouth shut. 

“And I also don't want you to hurt her feelings if you tell her you can't leave with her tonight, so—” 

“I don't give a shit about her feelings, love.” 

“Mingi, don't say that!” 

“I don't! I wasn't flirting with her at all, either! Listen, it's…” he stops to chuckle for a few seconds “I mean, it's adorable that you're jealous but there's no reason for you to—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

It's the second time today you have said those exact words to him. The first time, you also felt your heart bang with such force against your rib cage but for a completely different reason. 

“I'm not one of the girls you fuck on the side when you're horny or bored out of your mind. Don't fucking treat me like one.” You warn and suddenly the image of you telling him that teaching him yesterday could mess you both up crosses your mind.  

“I'm not, Y/N! I'm just saying that you look adorable when you're—” 

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when we are not together, Mingi? I'm literally looking out for the girl!” 

“You don't even know her name, love.” 

“That's not the fucking point!” 

He finally takes a step away from you, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, surely.

Now you're pissed off because he saw right through you and your words. 

That disgusting weight on your chest you felt back by the pool while you kept staring at him from the corner of your eye? Jealousy. 

Now that he brought it up, it makes sense. 

You hate it. 

You always hated being put in a position where you felt the need to compare yourself to others. Always hated how easy it is for anger to run through your blood and infiltrate every waking thought until it clouds your judgment. 

Because you shouldn't be angry. He just said he didn't care about her feelings. 

And yet, all you can think about is that he spent an hour with her instead of you. 

When he turns to you, there's a storm in his eyes and you just don't want to hear it tonight. 

“Save it, keep it, sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow,” picking your dress from the spot on the floor it's been sitting all this time, you put the fabric on, take your bag and then unlock the door “I’m going home.” 

You don't give him the opportunity to say anything else before getting out of the bathroom but you do hear a groan when you're rushing downstairs. 

Yeosang and Yunho are just leaving the kitchen when you trip on the last step and the host jogs the few steps to you after laughing. 

“There you are, Y/N. Listen, there's some meat already grilled back there but we're—” 

“I'm actually going home, Yun,” you cut him short “I'm not feeling that well. My plan was to swim a little before leaving but I don't think I can do it.” 

“Did something happen or…?” 

What happened is coming downstairs as he asks. 

“Nope. Nothing, I just think I'm catching a cold or something. Thank you so much for inviting me though!” You hug your friend quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away. 

“Always…” Yunho is very observant but, as you always do, he doesn't press you with questions about what's going on “He's taking you home?” Pointing behind you, you don't have to turn around to get what he means. 

“Ye—” 

“No. He's having a great time here, I don't want to get in the way,” you shrug “I'll just get an uber or something. Don't worry.” 

Yunho frowns slightly, eyes moving from your face to over your shoulder. 

Immature. Petty. Rude. 

You're sure that's the way you’re coming off right now. But feeling anger bubbling behind the smile you give Yunho, you think it's better they make their assumptions instead of actually seeing you upset. 

You move to hug Yeosang as well and he murmurs his farewell. When you turn around, Mingi is no longer there and you don’t spare a look towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that separate the living area from the backyard because you're sure he's sitting right beside that girl again. 

As he should be. 

You bolt for the door, giving your friends a tiny smile before going down the few steps and into the hill. It's already dark and you're sure no uber driver it's going up this hill for the tip you're able to offer them, so you figure your best shot is to go down and try to find a cab on the main street. 

The light from your phone illuminates your scowl as you walk. Past the bushes and the trees and the lines of parallel parked cars where Mingi’s Lexus is. 

You don't notice him there until he opens the backdoor to block your step. 

“Get in the car, I'm taking you home.” 

Closing the door he just opened to stop you, you shake your head. 

“I told you I'm getting a ride and—”

“I don't give a fuck. Get in the car.” And then he's opening his door and closing it so fast it gives you no room for debating. 

He's angry. Shit. 

You can't even see him through the tinted window to assess how much damage you have done, so you look down the hill one more time and wonder if making the run for it is worth it. 

When your phone lights up with a notification from Gyuri asking you if everything's okay and to make it home safe, you take it as a sign to round the car and get into the passenger side with an annoyed huff. 

The engine comes to life. You're not looking at him but at the trees until the leaves start showing the building lights in-between them and soon you're on the main road. 

You can't even ask him to turn the radio on. Stubborn, you refuse to let the anger inside of you dissipate in fear of shame taking over. It's better being angry than being ashamed, at least in this exact moment because you can practically feel Mingi's anger through the silent treatment. 

But you need to say something. The silence is suffocating and the street is surprisingly empty so you can't distract yourself with anything. 

“You shouldn't have bothered.” 

“I am bothered. You bothered me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you turn to him in disbelief “I told you to stay at the goddamn party so we can fix this tomorrow but I bothered you?”

“Did I stutter or something?” 

“No, you're just not making any fucking sense!” 

“Yeah, fuck this,” you see him look around, biting the inside of his cheek like he's holding his words in “We're fixing this right now.” 

The car makes a harsh turn and you have to grab the door for support. 

“Mingi!” He's not listening to you anymore. His hard gaze stays on the road, it feels like forever before he pulls into a somewhat empty parking lot and when the vehicle stops you go to open the door and get the fuck away from him before you two kill eachother inside this car. 

That's an exaggeration but with the way he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, you know your pride doesn't stand a chance. 

The summer breeze briefly hits your face before his hand is on yours, closing the door and preventing you from, once again, escaping the situation. 

Frustrated, you let out a loud groan “What the fuck is your problem?!” 

“I don't know, Y/N! But I'll tell you what your problem is, alright?” he chuckles. It's a humorless sound, his face painted in something you've never seen before “Your problem is that you assume you know what everyone else is feeling and you assume you're right. But intuition can only get you so far, love, so I need you to take your head out of your ass and think logically for a second.” 

Flabbergasted, you think you murmur something in your defense but he cuts you short. 

“No! You didn't let me get a word out back there so now you're going to shut up and listen,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “You assume you're smarter than everyone else but you're actually so dumb. Dumb, you're acting very dumb and reckless, Y/N! That back there?” he points out of the window to nothing but you know what he means “Leaving— Scratch that. Leaving me and not giving me a chance to say anything back? Trying to go down that hill alone and in the dark? Stupid.” 

Staring back at him with watery eyes, you don't even know what to say back except a whispered excuse me?

“And usually I would beat up anyone who even dares to call you that but I guess all these years I've been wrong about you. Because if you were smart, you would've realized that Hanni means nothing to me and I mean nothing to her. There's nothing, she loves appearances and that's it.” 

You knew that already, but you're not giving your stance up. 

What even is your stance? Ah, right, he treated you like an envious no one back there and not like his best friend.  

“Yeah, I can tell you mean nothing to her from the whiny tone and the hug and the dragging you to meet her friends, Mingi.” Scoffing at the memory, your lips press into a thin line. 

“Well, she's a friendly girl!” 

“She didn't even say hi to me!” 

“So she doesn't like you, Y/N! Who cares!” you sure don't but, again, you just stare at him in disbelief and his open arms, palms to the sky “Do you care? Because I don't! And guess what? I doesn't fucking matter if she likes you or not or if she wants me or not because I like you!” 

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I like you! And I'll choose you over her and everyone else again and again and again until you notice but fuck it's so tiring. You're so fixated on why I let her drag me to her friends that you completely ignored me the rest of the time we were there and maybe if you looked at me more than once you would've realized that I was staring back at you the whole afternoon!” 

You let out an annoyed chuckle “So you were, Mingi.” 

“I was! I was trying to get you to look at me and notice how bad I wanted you to come over, rescue me from that boring ass conversation, grab my hand and claim your place right beside me because—” he pauses, resting a hand on the steering wheel and looking at you like he can't believe he has to spell this out for you “Because I want nothing more than for her and everyone to know I’m yours! I'm sure everyone already fucking knows too, except you. So yeah, sometimes, you're pretty fucking dumb for such a smart woman, Y/N.” 

Words escape you. They escape your mind, your reason and your pride shrinks until it disappears behind all the love you feel for Mingi. 

So that's what you are feeling. That's what you felt yesterday night when the tiredness couldn't drown out your thoughts of him and all he meant to you. 

Love, love, love. In all its forms, in all its possible scenarios. Your heart burns for it and you used to think that your hopeless romantic desires began and died with the movies you tend to see and the books you tend to read, that it was impossible to feel this way for anyone but there he is, chest heaving in the yellow interior light, waiting for you to say something back. 

“And I realize that before yesterday I showed no interest in you but believe me when I say that I—” 

Shakily, you interrupt him with whispered words, heart soaring and hands reaching out to cup his beautiful face “Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

When you kiss him, you make sure to pour out everything you couldn't say a minute ago into it. 

When he kisses you back with the same feeling, it crosses your mind that he already forgave you. 

And when he grabs your waist and drags you over the break handle and the transmission to collide his chest against yours and drag his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip, you think that, for the first time ever, you have to tell him he's right. 

You are stupid. Stupid for not realizing it sooner, stupid for confusing his longing stares for something platonic, stupid for thinking you could wait until tomorrow to tell him he has the right to see and be with anyone he wants to because this is it. 

This. The way your entire body comes alive when he sighs into your mouth and groans at the way your knee opens up his legs to make room for you on his side of the car and partially on his lap. The way his thumbs run through your cheeks and dry the tears you didn't even feel falling down. The way your heart jumps frantically and the way its beats could get confused by his because you're so close. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, you can't recall a time Mingi didn't make you feel this exact same way. It's overwhelming, it expands through you like a fire and it knocks the remaining air out of your lungs enough for you to pull away and rest your forehead against his, shaky breaths tangling together and fingers grasping the neck of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

You sniffle, incapable of not feeling emotional over his confession and your realization “I'm sorry, Mingi. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for treating you that way I was… I behaved like…” 

“An ass.” He nods and you look at him with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod as well “I was an ass. A jealous ass.” 

“I know, love.” He whispers, eyes moving on your face before his lips are on yours again, briefly, sweetly, even if you don't feel like you deserve it “You tend to forget that I know you, hm? That I've seen you jealous before? You were an ass back then, too.” 

“Okay! Okay, stop calling me an ass, I get it.” 

“I'm sorry for waiting for you to do something when you didn't even… I guess you didn't know, right? The way I feel about you?” 

“I know now,” you whisper back, nudging your nose against his and then putting some distance so you can see him better “I feel the same way, by the way. We're shit at communicating, apparently, so I'll just tell you now that—” 

His lips are on yours again and he's giggling against them and shaking his head when he pulls away. Brown eyes search for yours and you're not sure what he's looking in them but he seems to find it, his muscles relaxing against the leather of his seat seconds later. 

So you kiss him again. And again and again until your back starts hurting and the steering wheel is pressed uncomfortably against it, forcing you to shift on his hold. 

“Let me… Wait.” He lets you go to pull his seat back and then closes his legs, forcing your knee to fall on his other side so you can fully straddle his lap “That's better. Now come here.” And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck and stealing your breath away again with another kiss.

The tension shifts right then. When he can fully feel you pressing up against him and when a noise escapes you once his hands drop and give your bare legs the attention you didn't even know you were craving. 

You thought a second ago that the sweet kisses would stop once you were both sated with the sweet aftermath of all the yelling and confessing but now you don't want it to stop. 

There's a lot to catch up on, a lot of missed time you need to make up for. 

You still want to make him feel good. The sparks from yesterday come alive again and soon you're yanking the strands of dark hair with your fingers and letting your mouth explore the skin of his neck. When you sink your teeth into his skin, he lets out the same noise he did the night before and you smile against the mark you just made. 

His lips find your shoulder and he breathes hard into it once your hips start moving at their own accord, slowly yet firmly, the pad of his fingers digging hard on your thighs until you break away from his neck to focus on his face again. 

“This goddamn dress, love.” 

Humming, you caress his red cheek with your lips “What about it?” 

“Been thinking about it all day…” 

“It worked, by the way.” 

“Woo?” 

“Mhm. Distracted him so he didn't throw me in the pool right away.” 

“And Jongho?” 

“Probably plotting against me right now.” 

He laughs softly into your skin “Probably.” 

Chuckling as well, you stop your movements and take in how he looks. Gone, a little too fucked up from just making out, lips swollen and eyes clouded with something you're getting too familiar with, too quick. 

“Worked on you, too.” 

He smiles and shrugs, letting his head drop into the headrest “You look good in everything, love. It doesn't really matter what you wear.” 

“Oh?” 

A firm hand trails up your body, slowly, from you leg to your hip, your waist to the side of your breasts and your until it cops your face with affection you never imagined you would experience. 

“I have always thought you are the most beautiful girl to ever exist.” 

This is it. 

Leaning into his touch, your lips connect to the palm of the hand holding you before you lean forward again. 

“I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't seem surprised by your confession and you're glad he knows. It doesn't really matter if it's too soon, if you even mean it in a romantic way or not, the love you have for him transcends all labels. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And his does too. 

You kiss him until it hurts. 

He kisses you until you're gasping and your body is pleading for more. 

The both of you kiss each other until you're sure nothing else will replace the taste of one another, that it will linger forever even if your paths stop crossing at any point in time. 

It feels like you're trapped somewhere where the clock doesn't tick at all, where you can take your time exploring him with your mouth and your hands. 

And then it doesn't. 

The fabric of the dress starts bothering you, his tight shirt is suddenly not tight enough and the hardness steadily growing and pressing into your core is screaming for attention you can't give him with all these clothes on the way. 

He feels it too, fingers tracing the hem of your dress for the second time today and then they're under it, pulling at the fabric up until it bunches on your waist. 

You're still wearing the swimsuit he helped you put on earlier but it does little to conceal how affected you are. Looking down, you're not even ashamed of it when he follows your eyes and lets his linger on the patch of wetness darkening the color of the bottoms. 

Still, he moves his hands upwards again and soon you're struggling to get the dress off, considering you're almost bumping the roof of the car when you straighten your spine to do so. 

“Wanna know what crossed my mind when I saw you in the bathroom?” 

When it's finally off, he immediately goes for it: His index tracing your collarbone and slowly descending, his short nail dragging against your skin before the rest of his fingers join, right in between your breasts, where there's fabric holding together the top of the swimsuit. 

He could easily tug on it if he wanted to. Instead, he ignores it and presses the heel of his hand against it, forcing you to lean back and almost bump into the steering wheel again. 

Unable to speak and panting, you only nod as a reply to his question. 

“How easy it would be to get on my knees and eat you out. I thought: What if I just…” Using his other hand to mess with the knots that keep the left bottom part of the swimsuit together, he demonstrates what he means without actually doing it, his eyes following the motions “Undo these, get on my knees and make her come all over my face?” 

“Fuck, Mingi…” 

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He smirks without actually looking at you, the hand on your sternum traveling down against your skin before joining the other one, teasing the knots on the right. 

“Y-yes.” 

Maybe he can see it on your face, the sudden nervousness at the scene he painted before you, because he grabs one of your hands and brings them to his lips before drawing you close again “Please tell me your idiot ex-boyfriend ate you out when you were together.” 

Blush darkening, you make a face that gives the answer away. 

He groans “He's worse than I thought, fuck. Come here.” And without any warning, the back of his seat goes down until it touches the backseat with it.

Bracing yourself against his chest, because you went down with him as well, you huff out a surprised laugh “Go where?” 

“Up here. Let me teach you something tonight.” 

“Mingi…” 

“First, you need to make sure your hands are clean—” 

“Stop,” laughing, you interrupt his bad attempt at teasing you with the same words you used on him yesterday “There's no real support for me if we do this, where do I even—” 

“Knees here,” he motions the backseat and you could actually do it, but you would have to sit on his face instead of hovering like you imagine it would be more comfortable for him “hands here” he points to the grab handle and the headrest of the passenger seat and then straightens his spine a little, bringing his face closer to you so he can whisper right into your worn out lips “Turn the light off, I'll do the rest.” 

He looks like he's going to kiss you but then he falls back onto the seat with an excited smile curving his lips. 

What a tease. 

So of course you turn off the light and prop yourself up into the position he wants to. It's challenging, the car is not that small but it feels like it is and you very much would rather do this on a bed, spare his back and yours in the process, but excitement also runs through your body and your brain stops making up excuses for why should deny yourself of the pleasure of Mingi using his mouth to make you see stars the second his fingers undo the knots and peel the bottom half of your swimsuit off your body with ease. 

Lips trailing up your inner thighs and hands on each side of them, holding you in a secure position, Mingi doesn't tease you much before attaching his mouth to your heat and your subconsciousness flies out the window when his tongue flicks your clit. 

You look down at him and the sight of him enjoying himself has you beaming, the warmth spreads through you and the zeroes on your pussy. You don't even try to quiet down your moans, completely forgetting that you're in a public parking lot that can fill up at any second. 

But paying no mind to it either, Mingi also moans encouragingly into your wet folds when your hips move a little, chasing that high. 

He shifts his focus to your entrance, his tongue working itself into you and when you move your hips again at the feeling, his nose bumps into your clit in a way that has you grasping the headrest for support, right hand slipping down and resting on the window while your mouth hangs open and your eyes shut close. 

“Mingi… Baby, fuck, I'll—” he adds his thumb into his ministrations, pressing it against your clit the way he did yesterday and it only takes a few side to side movements for you to come undone on his mouth. 

And again, the intensity of your orgasm takes you by surprise. It's obviously not as intense as yesterday's but it still got you trembling so you want to curse him out for being that good at what he does. 

He eases you into it, slowing his mouth and you only register that it leaves you completely when your thighs are being kissed tenderly. 

Breathless, you look down at him and catch his smile before his teeth are sinking into your skin and forcing you to hiss out a laugh “Good?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, climbing down from your position and hovering over his lap in an attempt to not ruin his jeans. It's very obvious he enjoyed it too, his crotch holding the evidence tight and probably painfully against the fabric there “Really, really good.” 

You want to get on your knees and return the favor, make him squirm in pleasure, but the space is not working in your favor. So even though your thighs are hurting and sweat is dripping down your neck, you start working on the button and zipper of his jeans before he sits up.

He wants to say something, but your tongue is touching his and tasting yourself on it before he gets the chance. Clumsily, a little too far gone for your liking as well, you are able to get through the layers of clothes and let your hand hang over his dick “Are you gonna make me beg for it today?” 

“You don't have to, love.” 

“Beg?” you ask with a smile that he reciprocates “Or touch you?” your free hand brushes the hair out of his face, sliding down until you're propping his chin up with it, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly “Because I want to touch you. I want to make you feel so, so good, baby. Please.” 

He kisses the pad of your thumb and then takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the tip of it until you're panting again and then nods. 

That's all the permission you need before taking him with your hand and pulling him out of his boxers. Taking your hand out briefly, you gather up saliva and spit right into it. 

Mingi lets out a noise at that. Interesting. 

Starting slow, you focus on his expression. Testing the waters, taking note of what he likes because, unlike him, you probably pushed to the corner of your mind every sexual conversation you two had before yesterday. You take a second to look down at it, the size is no surprise but your mouth waters at the image of you taking him into the heat of it. 

Maybe another time. For now, you focus on making him feel good with the little you can offer him in the enclosed space of his car. 

He mouths at your neck, choked up sobs vibrate through the skin on your collarbone and your top gets moved to the side so he can mark the side of your boobs as he pleases. It sets the fire inside of you alive again, your folds getting wetter when he rolls his tongue around your nipple and then throws his head back when you twist your hand in a motion he seems to really enjoy.

“Just like that, love.” 

To your delight, he's not quiet. He's loud, he's grabby, taking the opportunity to hold onto your ass and press down on the skin when you tease his slit and gather his precum on your fingers so you can spread it around his cock and your hand can slide easier. 

Movements get sloppy once he's close, he's no longer paying attention to you and you welcome it as a great sign, his hips bucking into your hand and he moves you forward until you're sitting on his lap again. 

The only thing preventing your pussy and his dick from touching is your hand. 

You glance at him and he looks back, probably the same idea popping up into his mind so you nod once.

The car moves as you two move around, to the back seat, the spine of his seat up and the entire thing moving forward to make space for him next to you, over you, on top of you once he kicks his jeans and boxers off to the floor. 

You reach out to him in a silent plea and he bends down to kiss you soft and moist and hot and breathy, sensually, with sweet sounds escaping both of you when you reach under his shirt and lift it up until he gets what you want. Discarding it with the rest of his clothes, your top follows it and the contentment you feel when his naked chest touches yours is unmeasurable. 

There's no real room to move around and there's not really any patience left within both of you, so when he apologizes when he moves his hips where he shouldn't and his tip brushes your entrance, you pull back from his bruising mouth. 

“Condom. Now.” 

He obliges right away, searching on his jeans for a minute or so and when he comes back he's smirking like he can't believe you “When I told you we needed to raincheck I didn't mean it to be like this. Bossy.” 

Even if you're punching him on his chest and giggling at his breathy words, you take the teasing with pride “You started it, Mingi!” 

Putting the condom on skilled and fast, he's soon resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly again “I wanted you on my bed…” his lips trail down and the giggles die on your throat as he's kissing it, a moan escaping you “On your back or knees or riding me…” he continues in a whisper going down and down and down, giving your nipples attention before going back up and taking your mouth in his again “Making a mess on my cock…” 

He takes the opportunity to enter you slowly and you gasp at the stretch, wet enough so it doesn't hurt you but you're unfamiliar with him, with his size splitting you open deliciously. 

“F-fuck, Y/N.” Mingi leans back to watch you take him in and you whine again. Tilting your head back, you let him work himself in and you moan loudly when he almost bottoms out “Look at you…” 

You don't. You can't. He's pressing his thumb on your clit again to ease you through the stretch and it makes the heat pool in your belly like you didn't come in his mouth a few minutes ago. 

Slowly but surely it gets easier for him to rock his hips into you, mouth parting in pleasure when you remind yourself to look at him. His abdomen tenses when you run your nails against the skin there, softly, until you're detouring them into his back and sinking them in just enough to have him whining at the feeling. 

“Baby… Harder.” 

“Yeah?” 

Hips bucking up to meet his at a particularly hard trust, you reach up to him so he can rest his body weight on yours. Close like this, with the pace picking up, the knot on your lower half tightens and threatens to break. 

“You take me so well, love. Fuck, always knew you would,” you know he can feel your walls tightening around him at the praise, because he smiles and kisses you once before continuing “My pretty, pretty girl… Taking my cock so well…” he punctuates his words with the roll of his hips and you cry out, holding his face in between your hands, his eyes never leaving yours. 

In this position, his lower abdomen bumps into your clit and it's soon tipping you over the edge. 

“So good, so good, oh— Oh, God.” You're mumbling incoherently while Mingi keeps whispering sweet nothings and then the tension on your belly breaks. It takes three seconds of your walls pulsating around him for him to groan loudly into your mouth and come undone as well. 

The only thing you can hear is breathing, all you can feel is breathing. His against your chin, yours blowing on his hair when you rest your cheek on his temple. 

It takes a second to gather yourself again and when you do, you tilt your head back to give him a chaste kiss that he returns. 

“That was so good, baby.” You tell him and he smiles, nodding in agreement “I am sticking to the fucking seat though.” 

Mingi snorts and just like that the energy shifts back to the usual you. Only this time, you come back to it knowing that no one’s ever going to have you the way he does. 

He slips out of you, doing his thing with the condom and you sit up, looking through the windows and becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time since you got there. 

There's a car parked far away from you that's empty and the rest of the cars that were near it have left. You wonder how long this all took, because you lost track of time the second he told you he likes you. 

Chest still heaving and boxers now on, Mingi rests his back on the door and takes your hand in his “Is it dumb of me to assume you're my girlfriend now, love?” 

“Is it dumb that I assumed that's what I was when you said you like me?” 

“No,” he answers right away “not dumb at all.” 

Smiling, you nod “Then I'm your girlfriend, Mingi.” 

He beams at that and then he's crowding you again “Say it again.” 

“I'm your girlfriend.” you repeat, enunciating each word and giggling when he nuzzles his nose into the crimson on your cheek “I’m yours, baby.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he hums in contempt “Good, because I've always been yours too.” 

“There's no way! You two... together? Guys… See, that would be me if I didn't see it coming but I'm smarter and cooler than everyone here so I did.” 

Wooyoung's over the top reaction has Mingi throwing his head back in a silent laugh and you staring at the black haired guy, unamused and a little offended. 

It's two days later and, as usual, you're at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment hanging out. 

After putting your clothes back on and going for some well deserved food, Mingi took you home, kissed you goodnight and showed up the next day after class to break the news to your parents. 

Your mom almost cried. Your dad too, but for a completely different reason. 

In the end, they both agreed they saw it coming and when you told Mingi’s parents, they said the same thing and invited yours to have celebratory dinner without you. 

What happened in Mingi’s room after was worth missing dinner anyways. 

Mingi and you decided to break the news when most of the group showed up for movie night and you were nervous to see their reactions. 

But everyone seems unaffected by it. 

“I knew you guys liked each other the second I met you. Ask Gyuri, she agrees with me.” 

“Sadly, I do.” Wooyoung's ex looks at you from her spot by the door, where she's getting her shoes on. 

She winks at you and you fake a gasp, falling into your boyfriend's lap with an annoyed huff. 

“And no one told us?!” 

“Sorry, Y/N. We didn't want to get in the way.” Hwa is apologetic and Yeosang nods alongside Hongjoong but you gape at them like they betrayed your trust. 

“To be fair we didn't know till’ last week, love.” 

“She didn't know.” Gyuri corrects him and now you turn to her to give her the betrayed look “You were pining over it for six months already.” 

“I say it was more like nine but…” Hwa shrugs and sips his cup, giving the man holding you close a knowing smile. 

Oh, they definitely talked about it, huh? 

“Nine months and no one cared to fill me in, huh?” 

“I’m sure Mingi did—” 

“Wooyoung!” 

“Well I didn't notice.” Yunho interferes with a shrug and gives you a recomforting smile that doesn't work at all. 

San laughs “That's because you're a puppy that can't even tell when someone likes you.” 

“Am not!” 

Everyone, including you and Mingi, make a noise in agreement with San.  

“You're one to talk, though, leave the puppy alone.” Gyuri tells her ex's best friend and Wooyoung laughs at him when his smile drops. 

There's some story there you don't know. 

“Guys… Does someone like me right now? Be honest.” 

Yeosang is about to tell him something but Jongho interrupts. 

“Enough with the love talk! Can we start the movie?” But he's pressing play already, so the answer doesn't really matter. 

Gyuri laughs once and Wooyoung makes his way over to her to give her a hug that she enjoys for one second tops before pushing him away. 

“Enjoy everyone! I'm so happy for you two, by the way, not that these neanderthals would tell you to your face but I'm sure they're too.” 

“Thank you, Gyuri.” Mingi murmurs from behind you and you mouth a thank you as well before she leaves for the night. 

Something about her best friend having a boy crisis. 

You don't miss the way San’s eyes follow her until she leaves or the way he looks at Woo, something clearly worrying him. 

His best friend ignores him, though, so you confirm that might just be a little pissed off at him after all. 

“Tell her to text you what happens.” San asks Woo once she leaves and he rolls his eyes. 

“Mhm. I’ll tell her to stop calling us neanderthals too.” 

You smile “Well, she's right.” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

Jongho has to stop the movie and you see him sulk while everyone else is arguing. Some of them, like Hwa and Yeo, are siding with you and Gyuri. And the rest of them, like your boyfriend, are telling them off. 

When you turn to face him, his argument dies mid-sentence because he stops to smile at you. He takes your face in his hand and kisses you for the first time ever in front of everyone else. The group stops the argument to tease you both and you laugh into his mouth. 

A cushion is thrown at you and Jongho gets up to separate your faces before sitting beside you with a pout on his lips. 

“Can we watch the goddamn movie?!” 

You're the happiest you've ever been.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭“Smile for the Camera!” - Suguru Geto

Synopsis: one night really does change all - where you meet a hefty porn director Suguru and in the process of misunderstandings, you end up in his office, in the cutest maid suit.

— word count: 4.5k (i am sorry i just dk how to stop and how to start)

— a/n: this had been in my wip for so long lmao - it feels a little rushed to me but i'm also a bit rusty since it's been a while so yes lol @indiewritesxoxo you'd asked for a tag so😭hope you do like

— warnings: MDNI!!Fem Reader!! slightly manipulative! suguru, i tried to make him as gentle as i could; dumbification(?); camera; soft!dom geto; very botched representation of the porn industry; i have nothing against porn actors; masturbation; dressing up; Suguru is bisexual here, so is Satoru; reader has fem clothing; leashes and stuff; humiliation; praise kink: oral (fem rec)

The two men sat pretty and sprawled, Suguru Geto, head director of the freefuckforall website, along with Satoru Gojo, the website's longest running and most loyal actor.

“The industry is getting boring,” Satoru rolled his head, eyes closed, words directed towards his best friend who sat across from him on the couch.

Suguru only smirked, eyes stuck and watching every moving slide with lucrative detail - “I’ve been telling you, start filming sex with men, you already have it - just film it, more money, more opportunity,”

Satoru only giggled to himself - the boyish nature somehow suiting his towering self, "you know i have a different sort of fanbase - full of perverts who like seeing me fill up a cunt,"

He popped in his mouth the last of his grapes, eyes hazy as he looked at Suguru, “besides, what for? To fulfill your wretched fantasies? You already act as half a cuck anyways,” 

Suguru snorted along, shutting his laptop then and getting up to stretch, “a. develop a new fanbase then, those who'd like watching you get your ass stuffed, b. someone has to edit and direct, no? Lest you want people to see all the clips where you lie all fucked out - which would fall in common with your new style if you try it,”

The story was so fresh in both their heads - that one time Satoru had been reduced from his cocky self to a pleading and begging mess as the girl rode him - it took a lot of convincing (read: sex and treats) from Satoru before Suguru agreed to keep his ego intact.

Satoru just pouted, reaching over to grab Suguru’s share of snacks - having finished his own, “that was one time - and that girl was such an amateur, just started going at it suddenly,” 

“And the might Satoru, the amazing porn star couldn’t take it,” Suguru teased, his voice a low drawl, “but eh, it’s true, i don’t have fun filming the same shit over and over myself - it’s all repetitive,”

“Any new projects then?” Satoru asked, popping a grape in his mouth, Suguru grinned and shook his head - “not for you, but...I’ve got this new chick, she’s cute,” 

Satory raised a brow now, “cute like…date cute or cute like new fuck and more bucks?”

“Both,” Suguru grinned, “met her last night, at a party - seemed a little slow at first, she was awfully innocent,” he laughed, and Satoru did too.

“So the corruption kind huh,” 

They laughed again.

“I called her for a meeting today, said she had a dream for modelling, wanted a breakthrough in the industry - well, not this industry but..yeah,”

Satoru smirked, “you lied? How’d ya’ get her to agree?”

But Satoru knew all too well how Suguru got girls to agree, especially your kind - a few smiles, a few drinks, a little back story about himself and a little attention sprinkled, as gentle as he could be, Satoru really couldn’t remember any girl who had denied him a second date.

“Didn’t lie or nothin’...just told her i’m a director, we shoot a bit…unorthodox but it is what it is and makes good money, she couldn’t see an issue there,” he laughed.

Satoru did too - it wasn’t a lie, nor the truth.

“When’s she coming?”

Suguru checked his watch, smirked, “15 minutes, better get going then,” he grabbed his phone and laptop, ready to reach his office.

“And when would she really come?” Satoru egged on, with a grin. “Well they usually get wet by the time the camera begins anyway so…” Suguru grinned as he stepped out of the lounge and towards his office, where you were already seated.

-

The buzz felt alive, it made him feel alive.

Another wink to some girl he’d been gazing at - another sleazy line whispered in the ear of a boy who’d been grinding against him all night, none would accompany him to his mansion, he revelled in that itself.

Suguru focused on a waving hand - Shoko’s, he smiled softly at her, striding over to her, “yes ma’am?” he grinned, watching her down her drink.

“Wanna meet someone?” she said simply - a little flicker of a smile on her face. “Like a date?” he asked, before following her regardless, he knew better than to question.

And that’s where he saw you, a sight, he deemed you instantly.

A mini skirt you’d on, and a little top - just a tease - clearly out of your zone as you sipped on your-whatever-drink, eyes instead, drinking into the crowd, obviously searching for Shoko.

“Her?” Suguru asked, leaning down to Shoko’s ear, “sure?” 

A hint of worry seeped into his voice - girls like you often proved to be tough to work with, a little silly, always nervous around his work space and huge cry-babies.

Shoko grinned in response - she’d been tasked weeks ago to find Suguru a new girl for his pieces, a new face, some new energy to spice things up.

What he hadn’t expected was that she’d find someone so…inexperienced with his workspace, clearly.

Well, of course Suguru could tell who was and wasn’t - the director in him was keen, very keen — he saw money shots before one could even consider one.

And just like that, introduced to Suguru Geto you were, a nervous smile, yours and a smirk, his.

-

One drink, three and then a total of five, the bartender merely glanced up as he passed suguru’s bill to him, you sat beside him, all giggly now.

“How much do i…?” you slurred - a grin on your face, Suguru chuckled, “don’t worry darlin’ - got ya’ covered,”

You smiled wide at that, “you’re so nice - at first i was scared of you,” you confessed innocently, promptly, making his grin almost wolfish now.

“Tell me,” he nudged, hand leading you through the crowd so gently, to a secluded spot in the club, to the couch, “what did you think, hm?” 

His voice was smooth, his touch smoother - comforting and yet, you’d felt on the edge the entire night.

And yet, Suguru had nothing but sweet all night, not a single touch that went wrong, not a single gaze that was lifted wrong - just a long ear offered as you spoke and spoke, about work and life, obviously you'd needed this little escape.

Shoko has been gone ever since she introduced you to this gentleman.

“I thought…I thought…” you slowly had your eyes meet his, a flicker of confusion in them now, “i’m still thinking, what do you…do?” you asked - rightfully so - even if you did jump the conversation all too sudden for his taste.

Something he'd been avoiding all night, respite the true intentions of this meeting.

However, You’d bared your days and nights already - a huge mouth that you had, all under the drink of course, otherwise, the sober you was biting your lip beside him so hard that he was afraid you’d bleed.

And all you’d learned about him was that he was named Suguru Geto, and his friend was Shoko, all details shared by Shoko.

Suguru smiled, considering how much to share, “I’m a director,” he mused, watching your eyes widen, “yeah? I always wanted to become a model,” your tone was almost excited,  “what kinda’ director?” you asked next, he shrugged casually.

“Here and there, ya’know?”

You shook your head in a no, he smiled softly and slowly helped you out of the club, it was getting late anyways.

-

You both stood outside, his car was right there in the parking.

“Rather have me drive you home doll? Or do I get you an uber? Whatever makes you feel better but…” his words trailed off as your fingers tugged at him partially from the cold and partially from the many people lined outside the club, “...i think it’s better i drop you, yeah?”

And so, that’s what he did - civic duty? Maybe; Did he find you adorable and wanted to hear you talk more? Definitely.

As you climbed in his car, he hummed - mind unsure but he didn't want to let the shtick drop just yet, “you asked what kinda’ director, yeah?”

You nodded in your seat, as he fixed your seat belt, hands brushing against your plush skin, you licked your lips at the contact, he did too.

“Well, it is a bit…unorthodox,” he said, lips pursed, debating if it was okay - if he wanted to drag you in, “how desperate are you, to be in the industry doll?”

He asked softly, as the car revved, somehow you felt your cheeks heating up, “uhm…it’s like…a dream, i - well, not very ambitious but…if a chance,” you stammered out, he couldn’t help but chuckle, deepening the warmth you felt.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said as he nodded to the directions you gave him for your house, “why don’t you drop by at my office tomorrow hm? You can come, see the work and all, and if you are interested, why not? Shoko will have you filled in with the details, yeah?”

You could only nod, after all, this gentleman wouldn’t be an issue, right?

-

A deep breath inhaled, a lot of regret exhaled.

You flinched every time you heard footsteps approaching, you recoiled every time a moan sounded out from one of the adjacent rooms.

You were officially in a porn-making-building-or-whatever-those-are, wearing the shortest, sluttiest outfit you ever had on - the little maid suit that Shoko had handed you right as you left the house.

“Don’t peek, it’s a surprise,” she’d reminded, and you just complied - like an idiot.

Because now, seated in this dingy office that you were, posters of porn-actresses and actors, you were sure you’d seen some of them a couple of times yourself - until, your eyes panned to the logo of the website in the corner of one of them.

Officially in the office of the biggest porn website - all because a stranger asked you to.

The previous night was fresh in your eyes - well, not really, but the regret was.

What were you even thinking? Letting a random man drive you? Coming to meet him? Talking to him about your work and life?

Perhaps, nothing.

What were you thinking when the said man actually walked into his office? With his busy footsteps and a gaze that meant business now, last night you’d thought everything else - with his charming face and laptop which would essentially also hold your file in a while?

Nothing, you really couldn’t fathom a single thought to be exact.

“Ms….l/n, is it?” he read from his sheet - pretense - yours was the only appointment he’d scheduled for that day, cancelling all others. He didn’t bother eyeing you properly, but he knew well, about how enticing you did look.

He smiled, the same smile, more twisted now, “why hello, nice seeing your pretty self again,” he said with a grin, you could only nod.

You let a small silence etch between the two of you, unacceptable, Suguru opened his laptop promptly.

“How was the ride over? All comfortable? My…” he said in almost disdain, “you haven’t even been offered water? How long have you been-”

“-why didn’t you tell me it is all this?”

The disgust was so evident in your voice, he almost felt bad.

Almost.

He hummed, “I did mention it is unorthodox…”

“How dare you assume i’m into all this - what the fuck?” you muttered, ashamed by just entertaining the thought of you being a pornstar.

“Assume what? That you would want to work in the porn industry?” he smirked, all business now, “you really can’t tell with people and then,” he rolled the cuffs of his shirt’s sleeves now, “the innocent ones like you are often the biggest whores,”

He seemed amused, you seemed tense.

You huffed, “fucking whatever - i don’t…i’m not the kind of girl… and - and this dress? Goodness it is so…” a scowl on your face finished the rest.

Suguru couldn’t blame you.

Geto shrugged, a hand raised, gesturing to the door, “very well then, you can always walk out, i understand, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea…” 

All bluff, the confidence, the flair, all bluff - he wanted you, ever since last night.

You got up, right on cue, all bluff as well, you wanted to play the gamble.

“It’s a shame…” Suguru mumbled, “shame indeed,” you did too.

His eyes narrowed as you turned, eyes dipping then to take an appreciative glance at your ass, “tell you what?” He took a deep breath.

It felt desperate, it was.

“Let me take your profiles, yeah? You’ll get it for free - by a professional of course, just compensation for all the trouble,” he shot you a smile, you gulped.

“I…i’m not sure…it was - last night, just a lot of babbling, i don’t think i’m cut for…you know? And then this outfit also…”

You weren’t sure how a smile appeared on your lips so easily when you’d been pissed the moment you realised what he’d called you for, but it did.

He shrugged again, “just some pictures doll - and who doesn’t like dressing up, yeah? I’ve got plenty more for you to choose from,” he licked his lips, eyes boring into you, you could only nod.

-

“Tilt your pretty face a little to the right, please,” you gulped, still in that maid outfit - which was now being used to its full potential, the top was half open, you were on a steel chair that felt so cold against your flushed skin, and sitting right under the spotlight - while the director sat behind his camera, not rolling, nothing, just making assessments now.

Your profiles had been done half an hour ago, the photos had been sent too, it was a little job for Suguru, you were so compliant after all, following every instruction to the dot.

Which is why it had been harder for him to resist this.

After the pictures you were served drinks again, all hefty smiles and silly conversations - about porn of course. He told you everything, how he’d shot this shot, how long the process goes, how sweet you look, and how cute you are.

“Why don’t you just show me off once again, yeah? Just…so I can see, take inspiration?”

And ever the generous that you were, ever the charming as he was, somehow, you once again found yourself at a loss for no.

Which was how you’d ended up finally, in this position.

“Press your breasts together please…i want to…ah yes,” he murmured as you did what he asked for, albeit with a gulp, it felt so weird.

In front of a camera, his gaze on your every move, and he sounded so professional, dressed well too. And then there was you, just a built in thong with that dress, the top had a sheer torso, your side boob seemed so tantalising to him.

Your nipples had hardened just as well, it was just so cute, matched with your nervousness.

-

Your top lay now open - still on, after all Suguru wouldn’t ask you to do anything out of your comfort zone, right? On the monitor suguru only watched you fidget with your fingers on your thighs, smoothening the hem of the short dress as if it would help - provide some modesty.

Top open, thighs spread - a sheen of sweat from the small humid room and face hotter than ever - hair messy and eyes now dazed, Suguru had halted with his instructions for the moment, and you -? 

You continued staring at his fingers, thoughts ran rogue - you wondered if he’d ever been on camera himself, if he’d used those skilled hands for something other than recording, if he was anything close to as long and thick as his fingers - you looked away.

shameless.

The room went quieter then, just a slight buzz, Suguru stared at his screen with eyes furrowed, “hm..i don’t know, it’s not working out very well,” he said - tone regretful, your face jocked to the side. “What? …why?” 

Suguru wanted to coo at your simplicity - so bothered, he then got up, “you were correct, it’s not for girls like you,”

Such an insult it seemed, an unknowing pout fell on your lips, you got up too, your shorter frame moving slowly towards Suguru, the skirt was so short and given the humidity, it clung to your curves perfectly now - “can i…” you licked your lips, see? 

You wanted to ask that simply but refrained, too shy of his disappointment and too prude to watch yourself.

And thus the secret of the fact that Suguru was recording nothing of you displaying yourself so shamelessly remained all but a secret.

“I’ll…oh, i’ll do whatever you ask,” you ended up muttering - exactly how he wanted to have you.

“You can’t…” he just muttered, not even trying anymore, just a small smirk as he stared at you - all aware of that raging boner in his pants, hidden only because of the dark, all aware that just a glance down would show your pretty tits, all so aware.

“I can,” you said determined this time, “it’s only for your inspiration…right? And if they do come out good…it might help somewhere,” you licked your lips, now he touched you, your cheek - his hands felt warm, sweaty.

Oh but it would help somewhere indeed.

“You sure doll? Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

It felt patronizing, the smile - the eyes, he knew you  wouldn’t say no, he knew exactly how he’d sprawl you.

“So well…” he sighed deeply and then looked you up and down, “take the blouse off actually, please, go in back to the seat,” he spoke smoothly.

And you did just that.

You sat there - breasts, soft peaks - your gasps softer still, all exposed to his skillful eyes, “atta girl,” he murmured, smiling now - finally.

“Play with yourself - don’t be shy okay? Forget i’m here…”

You licked your lips…play…?

If you’d have told Shoko yesterday that you would be found half naked in the office of a man you’d found about 12 hours ago, she’d laugh in your face.

And so you began, hands cupping your tits, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh, they felt so full now - your face scrunched in focus as you tried to make it appear as sexy as possible.

“Perfect, jus’ like that…” suguru encouraged, a gulp of his own drawn - the camera finally began shooting, he couldn’t help himself after all.

your hands  - all over the swell of your breasts, slender fingers kneading and squeezing the flesh, you massaged them, slowly drawing circles around your nipples. 

“Pinch them,” he ushered from front of you, moving the camera closer now, moving towards you - he could tell with your hesitation, you were still nervous.

Your eyes remained stuck on him, so wide as he moved closer to capture your hardened nipples - “so cute,” he mumbled as you flicked them, “you play with your tits often doll?”

“N–no i…well,” you looked away shyly - only so long, Suguru had his fingers grip your jaw quickly, forcing you to look into the camera.

“Rule no. 1: always face the camera,” you nodded, he patted your cheek with a slight smirk, “go on, maybe imagine me…mm’hmm, imagine i was squeeziin’ those pretty tits, yes…”

He smiled - almost proud as you finally closed your eyes, a soft inhale as your back arched, chest obscenely jutting out - same ministrations, much hotter.

And just when you moaned - he paused the recording, “ok enough of this, get up.”

Swift you moved - feeling the shyness coat you again, he himself placed the camera down momentarily - jogging back to his table to grab you a new fabric, bright pink - shorter, skimpier.

“Wear this now, like it better than the last one?” it was small playboy bunny suit, the little bunny ears gave it away - and the tail of course.

“If it is okay by you, of course…you’re already doing so good,” he drawled and then without a word - his own hands latched t your boobs, pressing them softly - feeling them, “mmhmm, so pretty,” you gasped as he pinched your left nipple.

He continued fondling your boobs - as you stumbled a little, his practiced hand held you tight as he switched between your two boobs perfectly - teasing just so perfectly.

And when he did pull away, his fingers had you so sore - you could practically beg.

“Ready to change?” he added with a small smile - chuckling to himself as your eyes cast him a desperate look - exactly as they all did.

He handed you the costume, eyeing you expectantly, and you looked around - for the changing room.

“Uh…here?” your voice was squeakier than you’d have preferred, he laughed, “well don’t be silly,” he booped your nose then, “it’s a small office for me - of course, no changing room.”

So whatever else remained of your little shame, you pulled that down just as swiftly as you pulled the maid-skirt off, aware of just how Suguru stared.

And he did so with utmost detail, he took not of just how your slick clung to the gusset of the built in panties - of how cute you looked, trying to hide yourself, of pretty your entire body was, of how stiff his pants felt and of how he wanted to absolutely eat you up from how adorable you looked.

And he made a mental note of definitely not posting that recording anywhere.

The bodice of the suit was flattering to say the least - the pesky heart cut out for the breasts barely contained anything, and Suguru made you give him a twirl too, only to watch the little tail bounce on the curve of your ass.

“Now…i want you to get on the floor, all okay?” he asked - not caring any longer, “get down and spread your legs f’me,”

The camera was up once again, capturing every detail, the shiny suit and the way you sprawled out.

“I want you to touch yourself - forget that i’m here or we’re recording, okay? Play with that lil’ cunt for me - please?” he added the please with a little pout - as if it would solve the issue at hand.

“T- touch myself?” you echoed, eyeing him now, “isn’t that…oh it’s…”

“Too much? I get it,” suguru was quick to file in - so easy to make you think otherwise, “as i said…you’re not cut for this,”

You sighed - not wanting to prove him right and closed your eyes, “uh…okay but…fuck, okay,” you caved in, suguru wanted to kiss you deeply to comfort you instantly, to tell you that he would be the only one who got to fuck his fist while watching this recording.

But he didn’t, at the moment at least.

Thus you began again, this time your fingers on your clothed sex, rubbing slow - deliberate circles, eyes closed and mind focusing, the camera was set, Suguru simply sat aside and rubbed his own bulge, muttering little praises for you every minute.

Five minutes in and the shiny pink fabric of the bunny suit had ridden up, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of your inner thighs. Suguru felt his mouth go dry at the sight, his heart pounding in his chest.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "Now, I want you to start rubbing yourself faster through the fabric. Slowly, teasingly. Pretend it's my hand touching you, stroking you, making you feel good."

It was a stretch, using his name to get you off - but he knew it wouldn’t fail, never did.

Suguru watched as your hand moved between your legs repeatedly, fingers brushing faster over the front of the bunny suit. He could see the fabric beginning to dampen, to darken as your arousal grew. The sight made his cock throb, straining against the confines of his pants.

"That's my good girl," he praised, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Keep rubbing yourself, doll. Imagine it's my fingers teasing your pussy, my thumb circling your clit. I want to see you get yourself nice and wet for me."

He watched, enraptured as the camera continued recording, as your fingers moved more deliberately now, rubbing yourself more firmly through the damp fabric. 

Your breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling more rapidly as you lost yourself in the sensation.

"Fuck, you look so sexy like that," Suguru growled, his own hand moving faster to palm his aching cock through his pants. "Don't stop, baby. Keep touching yourself, keep teasing yourself for me. I want to see you get so fucking wet, so ready for me."

Suguru watched, transfixed, as your fingers moved, your hips beginning to rock against your  own touch. 

You dared not to look into the camera - or at suguru, “go on, get yourself to cum for me doll,” he called out - eyeing the way your fingers moved more frantically - eyeing the way your breath was more ragged.

But as the minutes ticked by, Suguru began to sense something was off. 

Your touches - more frantic; breathing - more labored,and  yet the telltale signs of an impending orgasm were nowhere to be seen. Your cheeks were flush with exertion and frustration, brows furrowed as you gritted your teeth.

And just like that, Suguru's patience began to wear thin. 

He had expected you to pick up easily - but obviously, your shyness just got the better of you.

Because here you were, struggling, failing to deliver the intense, authentic performance he craved. Irritation flashed in his purple eyes as he watched you, his grip tightening on the camera mic.

"Fuck, y/n," he called, his voice a low, annoyed rumble. "What's taking so long? You should be done by now doll, not just... come on- don’t toy with yourself halfheartedly."

He watched as you tried to pick up the pace, her fingers moving at a frenzied speed, the wet spot on your bunny suit growing larger, darker. But still, no release came. Suguru clenched his jaw, his cock twitching - begging to be the help you desperately craved.

"Dammit, you're not trying hard enough," he snapped, his patience finally snapping. 

With a harsh curse, Suguru ripped off his headphones and stormed out from behind the camera. He marched over to where you sat, panting and flushed, her fingers still moving weakly between her thighs.

"Enough," he barked, grabbing your wrist and yanking your hand away. "Get your fingers out of there. I'm going to show you how it's done- can’t manage nothing without me, huh?"

You looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of shame grappling back at you -  But there was also a glimmer of excitement, of anticipation, at the thought of Suguru finally taking control.

And as promised Suguru didn't waste any time. He dropped to his knees in front of you, pushing your legs further apart, exposing the soaked crotch of the bunny suit to his hungry gaze. Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against the damp fabric, his tongue laving over your clothed slit.

"Ohhh!" you gasped out loud, your back arching off the floor at the sudden, intense sensation - fingers moving to grip his hair.

Suguru was quick still, to move the crotch of your suit aside - tongue lapping on your slick folds.

Suguru groaned against her, “shit, been thinkin’ bout’ this cunt since last night,” the vibrations of his voice did none but to add to the incredible stimulation. He could taste your arousal through the thin   drenched fabric anyways, but what fun would that be ? he could smell the heady scent of your desire. It spurred him on, making him lick and suck at your clit harder, more insistently.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, his words muffled against her pussy. "I bet you're just aching to come, aren't you, baby? Desperate for release? See…told ya’ you’re perfect for this,"

He punctuated his words with a hard suck on your clit, making you cry out, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth studio floor. Suguru could feel your thighs beginning to tremble, your hips starting to buck against his mouth as he ate you out with wild abandon.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low, approving growl. "Let go. Come for me. I want to feel you fucking explode in my mouth. Want you on record as you lose yourself."

He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. 

At the same time, he pushed a finger under the crotch of the bunny suit, rubbing your bare, slick folds, stroking your inner walls.

"Ahhh! Oh god, Suguru!" you choked, your voice echoing off the studio walls. Your body went rigid, muscles locking up as the intense pleasure crested over you. 

Suguru groaned in satisfaction, feeling your juices gushing against his finger, soaking the bunny suit even more. He lapped at you greedily, not letting a single drop of your juices go to waste.

For a minute, neither spoke - as he allowed you to catch your breath - “well, that would make…one hell of a video,” he finally muttered, picking you up along side him, “you okay doll?” he confirmed once, smiling when you nodded.

He sat you down on his chair now - behind the camera as he paused the recording again, “i won’t post it, i just…well, it’s shady but you did say you …i mean,”

You hadn’t known him long - but it felt cute to see him fumble, “it’s okay - i…i liked it,” you said shyly and he grinned - “what will you do with it then?” you asked quietly as he handed you water.

“later use of course…” he chuckled, “you want a copy?” he laughed again when you nodded.

“Say…ready for round two…without that badboy?” he referred to his camera - “with handcuffs and chains maybe?”

You could only giggle at his suggestive eye brow raise.

All of this work is original and entirely my own��please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[prettydreamings]

jamal musiala/florian wirtz wip

rated g - 2033 words

Jamal was tucking the laces of his shoes behind the tongue when leroy sat down next to him. He sat up and sighed. “I dont want to hear it. im serious. not interested.” Leroy rolls his eyes and pushes his phone towards Jamals face anyway. he ignores it skillfully.

“Just one date. come on, bambi. hes a really good guy.” Leroy tries to convince him again. Jamal had rejected the dozen proposals for a blind date by his teammate. “Leroy im serious. im not interested. please leave these poor guys alone.” Jamal puts on his jacket, his one sleeve gets stuck and the fabric of the jacket on his naked arm gives him chills. ew. he fiddles with the sleeves, still trying to get his friend back to his senses.

“I mean, are you just showing me every gay single guy you and candice know?” Leroy snorts, “No?” he swipes on his phone for a second. “Some of them are bi…” Jamal sighs. “Look, i appreciate what youre trying to do, but i promise you, i do not need any help in the love-department.” he zips his jacket up and grabs his bag, ready to leave the dressing room after todays training.

“Oh my god,” the older guy exclaims, jumping up from his seat. “youre seeing someone.” Jamal whips his head around. a croaked “no?” escapes his throat and he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. he was hopelessly alone (maybe even lonely) but he was fine with that. Leroy strides across the room, only michael olise was sitting across them, looking up from his phone for a second, then turning his eyes back to his screen.

“Youre totally seeing someone,” Leroys accusatory finger was prodding against jamals chest, “Youre seeing someone and didnt tell me! how dare you?!” Jamal shook his head frantically. “Im really not. im single.” Leroy snarked. “Ive been trying so hard just for you to be getting laid the entire time. why would you not tell me?” Jamal could practically see the gears turning in his head. Leroy took a step back.

“Oh my god,” he whispered now, “its someone i know!” Jamal sighed and walks over to the door again. there was no way he could rip Leroy out of his high speed train of thought today. maybe tomorrow. but today, Leroy would be useless for any proper conversation.

Leroy was kind enough to not follow him down the hallway, or into the parking garage. Jamal falls into the seat of his car, launching his bag to the passenger seat, and sighs again. he takes his phone out of his pocket, it just vibrated, and unlocks it to see a notification from a text leroy just sent him.

is he a footballer also???

he exits the chat and barely a few seconds later a new one makes his phone buzz.

dont you dare ignore me

he should definitely disable the read notification. he starts his car and makes his way home.

sitting at home, eating microwaved leftovers from yesterday, jamal was scrolling through instagram. he had an unopened email from his management sitting in his inbox, about an appearance for an event of his foundation. he hated stuff like that and not even opening emails about publicity appearances was one of his biggest faults probably. he would get a scolding for not reaching out, he knew that, but he didnt bring himself enough to care.

Instead he liked a few pictures on his feed, teammates from bayern and the national team, then his fingers came to a halt. a new notification glowed up. from a dating app. it was one of those automated notifications that you would get after not opening the app for a while, begging you to come back and take a look, sometimes offering discounts on their subscription packages. jamal never got them, refusing to pay for a dating app. he opened it anyway and his own profile came up first. a few non-descript pictures, mirror selfies with his head cut off, a light thirsttrap of himself which was a mirror selfie in the almost-dark, shirt pulled up to show his torso, sweatpants pulled down low. his displayname on the app was only the letter J, besides his age and starsign he left the profile blank. its not like he was actively using the app. at least not anymore.

he used to hook up with guys like that, but he stopped shortly after coming to germany. the risk of getting recognized became simply too big. he liked to look though, so he tapped on the browse bar and swiped across a few profiles the algorithm offered him. some goodlooking guys, some profiles more explicit than others. his eyes grazed over the distance displayed every time. he was always afrad someone close to him would show up. because that would mean potentially getting recognized. he was a bit paranoid about this nowadays.

he should probably delete this app. its not like he was looking for something. he had a ghosted match sitting in his inbox from a year ago, besides that every other chat was three years old. it was probably for the best. he closed the app and he held the app pressed, the menu appearing on top of it. his thumb hovered on the delete option. Jamal sighed and locked the phone again. he couldnt bring himself to delete it. instead he sorted his dirty dishes into the dishwasher and went to sort out his laundry from today.

the next day Leroy still hasn't calmed down. he was still pestering Jamal every free second he had, up until after training in the dressing room again, listing names of players hes seen jamal talk to, follows on social media or even just breathed into the direction of. even with multiple reassurances and promises that he wasnt dating anyone, Leroy did not let it go, by now the entire team somehow got the memo that “Jamal was dating another player but not telling who”. Some players, like Joshua Kimmich, Michael Olise or Leon Goretzka did not engage, partially because they didnt care (Goretzka, Kimmich) or because they didnt believe he was actually seeing someone (Olise). other players made more or less educated guesses themselves (Serge Gnabry, Manuel Neuer, Aleksandar Pavlovic), others didnt even try to help but instead made stupid jokes that did nothing to contribute to the situation (Thomas Müller). Alphonso Davies only complained about Jamal misusing his trust and whining about how he betrayed him, thinking that their relationship was better, pouting over not being trusted with his secret.

Jamal was getting frustrated, looking over to Michael for help. he only shrugged at him, a sly smile painting his face. idiot. then Pavlo loudly said “Guys, we are going on about this totally wrong,” Jamal lifted his head hopefully, maybe he was about to calm the rest of grown men down? Pavlo smiled from ear to ear, “we have to be more systematic with our questions!” he turned over to Jamal. “Is it a player you know from england?” Jamal groaned, ruffling his hair. how long would this take?

“Its not,” Leroy declared, looking at jamal with an analytical look in his eyes. “Its a german player. someone you see regularly in the Bundesliga. you wouldnt be able to go that long distance…” he came to a halt. “Its someone from the national team.” Aleks gasps dramatically, Davies clutches Leroys arm and Manuel lets out a shocked “Bambi!”

Jamal looks at Leroy with wide eyes. how was he making up this stuff as he was going? where did he get this from? “No im not?” he said, apparently still not convincing enough for Leroy. He was still staring at Jamal.

“Bambi,” he said, voice awkwardly calm, “Is it Flo?” Jamal just gaped at him. he was honestly too baffled to even reply. Leroy took this, once again as confirmation. he clutched his own chest, looking like an actor in a play or something, closing his eyes and nodding slowly. “I get it. forbidden love. the rivals who took our title. that is why you didnt tell me. sleeping with the enemy. my sweet young bambi, betraying our clubs badge.” Jamal, jaw still dropped, looked at the group of men staring at him in disbelief. did they honestly think that he was… had something going on with Flo? his close friend from the national team? just the thought made blood rush into his cheeks. Florian was straight, the straightest man he could think of. not that this was the only thing that made this ridiculous, Florian and him were friends, sure, but a romantic relationship? with Flo???

Jamal watched as the group dissolved, secret now discovered, at least to them. he could not believe what just happened. Leroy somehow got Florian in on the joke, this was the only possible explanation Jamal could come up with. he grabbed his phone, opening the messenger and tapped on Florians chat. it was third in the list, just behind his sister (complaining about uni) and his manager (begging him to read his emails).

did you put Leroy up to this??

if yes, i hate you

he locked his phone again. there was no way in hell this wasnt one big fucking joke. the entire team thinking he was fucking his friend? well, everyone beside michael. he was glad they were so casual about him being gay, it was never a big deal, but now he wished they were homophobic and not even thinking about his sex life. actually, no. he does not wish theyre homophobic. but just a bit more disengaged. his phone vibrates, a text from Flo showing up on screen

?

Jamal rolled his eyes. he would have to call florian in the afternoon to clear this up with him. During training teasing followed him everywhere he went. it got so bad that Kompany gave the team a lecture on it. Jamal was begging the day to be over already.

At home he was eating his prepared overnight oats, sitting on his dining toom table, he phones Florian. “Hey,” Jamal says, swallowing down the honey-sweetened oats. Florian greets him back then immediately inquires “What the hell was your text about earlier?”

“Do you really not know? Didnt you put Leroy up to this?”

“I have no idea what youre talking about, Jamu.”

“Oh,” says Jamal, still in disbelief, “its a weird story. Leroy is constantly trying to set me up but after i refused, he now thinks im dating someone. and the entire team is convinced its… you.”

Florians loud and ecstatic laugh sounds through the metal of his phone. “Are you serious?” he asks and jamal whines.

“Its really not funny at all. they keep teasing me, its so awkward. i tried telling them that no, i am not dating you but they just wont believe me!”

Florian keeps laughing for a while, asking jamal again and again if this is actually true. after he calmed down a bit he suddenly goes quiet, right when Jamal finishes his oats.

“Why dont we tell them its true?” Florian says and jamal nearly chokes.

“What do you mean?”

Jamal is sure Flo shrugged, almost as if he could hear it through his phone. “Tell them that we are dating. messing with them could be fun.”

Jamal doesnt say anything for a while. he honestly didnt even know what he could say to that. the offer sounded so ridiculous, telling his teammates he was dating Flo?

“Im just saying, i wouldnt mind.” continues Flo, “i gotta go. talk to you later?”

“Yeah, Jamal croaks out. they say goodbye and Jamal promises Flo to keep him updated about the situation, then they hang up. uneasiness runs through Jamals limbs. should they really do this?

Jamal wakes up the next day, dreamless sleep plaguing him. he was in a good mood though, he had been thinking about Florians offer. messing with his teammates could be fun. he takes his phone out and sends Florian a quick message.

lets do it

be prepared for the guys to freak out tho

we have to come up w a story too

[thighzp]

Sunday Sentences!

Fam I haven't done a ton of writing this week because I've been working on buying a house (ew real life adult things can you please stop like... happening to me? thanks)

Anyway, tagged by @sophie1973 for today's sentences (thank u babes!!) and I'm here to surprise you ALL with a new WIP I've started that rhymes with 'shmake shmelationship' AU:

One week since his latest album had come out, which meant nearly one week since he’d left his house in the Hollywood hills. The album release party was an absolute banger, his team having gone all-out for the celebration. It was a star-studded event with the most expensive champagne they could get their hands on, sparing no expense to kick off what should have been the most successful phase of Alex's career.  What should have been.  What actually followed was virtual radio silence as the album went public. Hardly any fan chatter online, subpar streaming numbers, abysmal sales. While his team floundered to try to figure out what the fuck went wrong, Alex chose to hole himself up in his home that felt much too big to be in by himself. What was once filled with hundreds of people for the album release party, was now a gigantic prison of Alex’s own making.  He was allowed to wallow, okay? Which made it extra fucking rude that there was a pounding on his door in the middle of his perfectly acceptable pity party. He let out a prolonged groan and forced himself off the couch. At the last second, he remembered to pull a shirt over his head and was immediately grateful that he had.  “You look like shit,” His manager said as she pushed past him and into his home.  “Good morning to you too, Zahra,” Alex grumbled back. 

ahhhh can't believe there are STILL more AU ideas rattling around in the ole noggin

play if you wanna play! and tag me if you do :)

@firstprincehornyramblings @tailsbeth-writes @onthewaytosomewhere @judasofsuburbia @kiwiana-writes

@everwitch-magiks @eusuntgratie @tinyarmedtrex @porcelainmortal @firenati0n

@gayhoediaz @catdadacd @clottedcreamfudge

[hermannsthumb]

omg could we see #62 from the winter prompts list?

62. you’re my college roommate’s sibling/best friend and you’ve come to visit for a week since you’re done school but unlike some people, I have three more finals to study for so kindly fuck off

from winter writing prompts here

stuck on some of my other wips so i'm digging back through my old unfilled winter prompts!! from. well. 2018. can you believe i've been writing fic this long. insane.

enjoy some dumb (sort of?) college boys newmann! I decided to cheat with the prompt a little (a lot) so I could work it to be conceivably not an AU but instead set pre-canon, though I realize it techhhhnically screws around with the newt/herm penpal backstory just a tiny little bit....

------------------------------------

To be honest Newt’s probably paying more for year-round university housing then he would be in rent at an actual apartment at this point, but details like that get a little screwy when you start college significantly before your eighteenth birthday and grow up on campus. His dorm holds more sentimental value than his childhood home at this point. I mean, it technically is his childhood home. Newt did try the spring of his twenty-first birthday to finally move out, but he spent exactly two minutes poking through a Cambridge housing group on Facebook before it made him want to die and he gave up. At least this way he doesn't have to buy new furniture.

He has enough good will left with administration despite all the shit he's pulled to leverage certain things like that in his favor, and he struck a deal to keep his dorm in exchange for letting campus housing utilize it as an actual dorm from time to time. (Which is to say, Newt is kind of broke and needs to save money from his stipend every now and then for, you know, groceries, so he can grit his teeth and deal with a roommate when the time comes.)

His roommate at the moment is a German exchange student (maybe one or two years younger than Newt) who’s currently enrolled in a year-long study abroad program to mess around with electrical engineering—interesting enough guy with just enough neuroses and weird family issues to make Newt feel like the most well-adjusted twentysomething in the world. It's a great ego boost.

Anyway, it’s convenient. There are like three Dunks of varying quality to choose from at any given moment, and Newt only has to walk ten minutes max to any lecture hall to give class. This is especially nice on stupidly cold and snowy days like today where even a ten minute walk feels like too much.

The door to Newt’s dorm is slightly ajar when he finally gets home. In normal circumstances this would make Newt pause and think for a few seconds before stomping inside—rules of horror movies or whatever—because if his roommate is anything, it’s particular with things like that. Shoes off at the door, dishes left in the sink on a firm one-day-max limit, doors very much locked when they leave to protect all their super important possessions from being stolen, like the refurbished Playstation 2 Newt got off eBay or the Brita filter Newt also got off eBay. Very luxurious stuff.

But Newt’s cold and hungry, so he stomps inside anyway. He does kick his boots off, though—just because some people decided to stop following the dorm rules doesn’t mean Newt will—and makes sure to click the door shut behind him carefully. “Hey, dude, you home?” he calls down the hallway. Nothing. His roommate, Bastien, is usually in class at this time of the day, but finals have turned their schedules upside down, so who knows. He wiggles out of his winter coat and hangs it next to an unfamiliar green parka on the wall hooks (maybe Bastien went on a shopping spree?) and tries a second time. “Uh, you know you left the door open?”

Newt's glasses are splattered with melted snow, and he dries them on the hem of his sweater as he fumbles with the door to their room—and is more than a little surprised when he sees the blurry shape of Bastien sitting primly on the edge of his bed, smoothing out his clothing like he’s just woken up from a nap. His bed as in Newt’s bed. Newt startles backwards. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Hey?” Has he fucked up? Are they having a roommate talk about something? …Preceded by Bastien inexplicably taking a nap in his bed?

He pushes his glasses back on. The dark-haired blur on his bed comes into focus, and though the sharp angles, bad haircut, and vaguely sickly pale flush are reminiscent of Newt’s roommate, everything else about him is different, from the brown eyes to the wide frown. It’s a Gottlieb, no question, but which one Newt’s not sure. He knows there are at least three more of them, a concept which has always struck fear into Newt’s heart each time Bastien alludes to having siblings. “Hello,” the guy on Newt’s bed says. He nods. Very proper. “You’re Newton.”

“…Yeah?” Newt says.

The mysterious Gottlieb is kind of hot, which is the worst part. The whole stern professor look he’s rocking—big glasses, knit sweatervest, slightly too-big loafers—is doing him plenty of favors. Normal circumstances, Newt thinks again, coming home to a hot nerd lounging in your bed? It might almost make him believe in a higher power. It’s taking a significant amount of effort to not start flirting. Then again, he is in Newt's bed, and has been clearly been sleeping in Newt's bed, which feels like a flirtation in and of itself.

“Hermann Gottlieb,” the professor-dude says. He gets to his feet with the aid of a cane, which he’d hooked on one of Newt’s bedposts and offers a hand out to Newt like they’re both eighty years old. Mildly bewildered, Newt takes it. He's treated to a firm handshake. “I assume my brother told you to expect me? I let myself in. I hope that’s not too rude of me, but it was rather cold out.”

“Uh,” Newt says again. He’s a lot more…British than Newt expected. Very posh BBC-miniseries about posh English people with large country estates. Especially compared to Bastien, whose first language is clearly German and is very much not British—it’s just not exactly what Newt was expecting. “I mean—he didn’t totally tell me you were coming. Or, at all.” Hermann drops his hand. “I guess he could’ve mentioned it and I just forgot.” This is probably what happened. Newt’s been a little busy lately.

He decides to address the elephant in the room next, the bed thing, and determine if it was a deliberate choice or not. Maybe Bastien has made Newt out to be so irresistible in whatever he’s reported back to the Gottlieb family that Hermann decided to try his luck. This is definitely not the case, but Newt can pretend. “You’re on my bed,” he continues, and points across the room. “Bastien’s is that one.”

“Oh,” Hermann says. He looks mortified in a properly stiff-lipped way and almost trips over himself to cross the tiny dorm room, and for a split second Newt sees a different Hermann behind the dress shoes and exaggerated formalities: an awkward twentysomething probably barely older than Newt playing dress-up to be taken seriously. The belt he’s cinched to the last notch around the oversized waist of his tweed pants is stiff and cracked in places. Bastien mentioned once that one of his brothers is a math whiz who’s followed an accelerated academic path not entirely unlike Newt’s, and Newt suddenly has a strong hunch he’s looking right at him. “I’m—I’m very sorry. I didn’t realize. My flight only just got in, and the time zones—I was a bit tired.”

“No worries, man,” Newt says. He tosses his tote bag onto the Hermann-sized indentation in his bedspread and kicks his docs off one at a time, while across the room Hermann twists the handle of his cane between his hands. “You want some coffee or something? Bastien is usually out until late on Thursdays, so it might just be us for a while, sorry.” He pulls the sweatshirt he’d slung on his desk chair that morning down over his head and straightens out his glasses.

The offer for coffee is a somewhat-pitying lifeline Newt is decent enough to throw out, which he has a feeling both of them understand. Hermann seizes it desperately. “Coffee would be nice,” he says.

He trails after Newt into the kitchen. Apartment-style or not, it’s still a campus dorm, and the kitchen space is cozy at best and cramped at worst. Hermann plasters himself against a row of cabinets in a heroic effort to stay out of Newt’s way as Newt dumps some coffee grounds and water into his cheap pot and digs two mugs out of the cupboard. They avoid making eye contact at all costs while it percolates. “We have, like,” Newt gestures vaguely at the doorway, “a couch? If you wanted to sit? And not stand here?”

“I don’t mind,” Hermann says.

Newt kind of minds, but whatever, he can deal. He pours soy milk into one mug in preparation and offers some to Hermann, who shakes his head. The coffee drips slowly into the pot. Newt thinks about the stack of ungraded finals tucked into a binder in his tote bag, the other stack waiting on his desk, and the final final he still has to proofread and send off to Copytech for, like, seventy copies by tomorrow. “So, Hermann,” Newt says, and tries to think of a polite way to ask why exactly are you in my apartment during finals week? Does the guy not also have finals in England or wherever? “Are you just visiting your bro for fun, or…?”

Hermann’s face twists with a sour expression. “For a week,” he says. “Not all that willingly. I’m in town for a conference and I won’t have my hotel room until tomorrow morning. Bastien offered to let me use his couch for the night.” He adds hesitantly, “I’m due to give a presentation on Tuesday.”

A lecture: almost definitely the math whiz, then, unless overachieving is a family trait. Newt will circle back to that later. He’s not exactly a math expert, but you kinda can’t really pick up that many STEM doctorates without having at least a basic (or, you know, decently advanced) understanding of, uh, everything about math, and he’s keen to hear what Hermann plans to lecture on. “I’ll try to stay out of your hair,” Hermann adds quickly. “I know you’re busy with final exams and whatnot.”

“Ugh, no kidding,” Newt says. The coffee finally finishes with a few rattling huffs, and Newt carefully pours it into their mugs and shoves the less-chipped one over to Hermann. “I still have another left to go,” he continues. “I got stuck with three whole sections this semester, it sucks. I think they just wanted to get back at me for—well, um, I caused a minor fire in the lab last year and they had to evacuate a few buildings, and I put it out right away because I'm the king of lab safety, but whatever, everyone lost their shit anyway. It’s going to take me forever to grade everything.”

Hermann frowns at him, and Newt wonders exactly how much Bastien has shared about his American roommate—or in this case how little. “Not a student,” he explains. “Dr. Geiszler, technically, but do not call me that. I managed to convince the biology department head to convince student life to let me keep living on campus after I—well, I guess I technically graduated undergrad a while ago. After I wrapped up my first PhD?”

“Ah,” Hermann says, and the edges of his sharp cheekbones going the faintest shade of pink. “I’d assumed—Bastien didn’t mention that, is all.” His eyes flick over Newt twice, scrutinizing him and lingering on his oversized hoodie, a DIY screen-print job bearing the latest logo for Newt’s band that he tried valiantly to sell at their last show. “First PhD? Exactly how old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” Newt says. “I skipped a grade. Or ten. Would not recommend it. Anyway, Hermann, you’re some sort of super-genius, right? You were doing calculus in your crib or something?”

If Newt’s right about which brother Hermann is, that means—compared to the rest of his family—Bastien has alluded to Hermann’s existence in all but name three whole times. By familial standards Newt can only assume that means they’re practically BFFs and probably send each other birthday cards every year. If possible Hermann might be even more reserved than Bastien, though, and it’s making Newt want very badly to prod him a little more just to see what happens. Get him to poke his head out of his shell or something. “That’s pretty impressive, you know,” he adds.

Hermann flushes pink for real this time, obviously pleased with the compliment, and Newt’s equally pleased to see him hold his head a little higher. They’re getting somewhere. “It’s not precisely that dramatic,” Hermann says. “But, yes, er—I started university at a rather young age. Comparatively. Before that, my father sent me abroad when I was eight for my schooling. I’d shown a knack, I suppose, for mathematics, and…”

Abroad—Newt guesses that explains the different accent. Not unlike Newt himself. He wonders if Hermann’s family ribs him for the lapses in his German the way Newt’s family does (America is rotting your brain, Newt!), though maybe somewhat less gently. “And?”

“I’ll finish my doctorate in the spring,” Hermann finishes, with a small smile.

“Dr. Gottlieb,” Newt says. “Nice. I like the sound of that.”

Hermann suddenly spills a large amount of coffee down the front of his sweater. He doesn’t seem to notice, though his ears (which stick out just a little) do go red, so Newt doesn’t say anything.

It’s unfortunate how cute Hermann is. Newt briefly debates the ethics of hitting on your roommate’s hot British brother and whether or not it breaches some sort of sacred roommate code. On the one hand, Hermann is only here for a week, so it’s not like they can get up to too much, and Bastien himself will be packing everything back up for Germany in like, six months tops when his study abroad program ends in the spring anyway. And besides, it’s not like Newt and Bastien are tight or anything like that. On the other hand—I mean, that would be weird, right? You can’t just hit on your roommate’s hot British brother, especially not when he's sleeping on your couch for the night.

Newt has over a hundred final exams to grade, and a suitcase to pack for his own trip (albeit one that’s a maybe-thirty minute ride on the commuter rail) out to his dad’s for the break. He kinda wants to hit on Hermann.

He’s going to hit on Hermann.

“Sooooo,” he begins, “you got any plans, or—?”

And it’s then that Hermann’s cell phone begins to buzz in his pocket. “Ah,” Hermann says. “One moment—apologies.” He pulls out a battered flip phone that looks like it’s been passed down from at least two other people and squints at the screen. “My brother,” he explains, “at last. He’s finishing up at the library and wants to meet for dinner.”

“Oh, right,” Newt says. “Of course. Duh.”

Hermann closes his phone slowly and hazards a small, but considering, glance at Newt, and Newt has a fleeting suspicion he’s not the only one weighing the pros and cons of risky flirting. He might just be flattering himself, though. “…Would you like to join us?” Hermann says. “I’m sure Bastien wouldn’t mind. It might be…” He works his jaw a few times. It’s incredibly cute. He’s clean-shaven in a way Newt hasn’t managed to be since he turned seventeen (the Geiszlerian curse of thick facial hair whether you want it or not), and it makes him look even more like a weird kid trying very hard to be an adult. “Fun.”

It's a bad idea. Hermann’s only here for a week, and he’ll clearly be busy with his conference and his big talk and all that, and then they’ll be back on opposite sides of the Atlantic probably forever—Newt would just be setting himself up for heartbreak. And six months of awkwardly dodging his roommate, which is possibly worse. Ugh. Being responsible sucks. “I shouldn’t,” he finally sighs. “I have to finish—”

“—your finals. Of course,” Hermann says. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll let you be.” He sets his mug on the counter by the sink. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Sure, dude,” Newt says.

Hermann works his jaw again, chewing at his lower lip, and then says so quickly Newt almost misses it “If you’re around next Tuesday, perhaps you would like to see my talk?”

Newt tries very hard to be chill. “Yeah, totally,” he says. “That would be awesome. I think I can make it.”

Hermann nods solemnly. “Excellent. I’ll ask Bastien to give you the details later.”

He finally begins to dot at the coffee stain on his sweater with a handkerchief he pulls from a different pocket, and Newt squeezes past him to rinse their mugs out. (No dishes in the sink overnight.) His elbow brushes against Hermann’s as he dries them with a dishtowel. Hermann makes no effort to move away from him, and this close he smells like stale cigarette smoke. Newt can imagine him standing out in the rain in a dreary English landscape somewhere, maybe in the oversized coat he saw hanging by the door, scowling and crushing cigarette filters beneath his cane.

There’s something strangely magnetic about Hermann.

“Hey, listen,” Newt says. He dries his hands off on his pants. Hermann looks at him, abandoning his efforts to clean himself up. “You wanna swap emails or anything…? Maybe we could talk. Collaborate on, uh, something.” He has absolutely zero idea of Hermann’s subfield so he doesn’t know exactly what they’ll collaborate on just yet, but he’ll think of something. Make some notes during the Tuesday lecture. Newt has three PhDs and counting, he can come up with an excuse to talk to a cute boy, okay, he’s not twelve. He’d ask for Hermann’s number like a normal human being if he could dream of affording the international texting rate.

Hermann gives him another stiff nod and the shadow of a smile, which Newt hopes means an enthusiastic yes, Newt, I’d love to be your penpal!, so Newt fishes a pad of paper and a pencil out from the kitchen junk drawer and they take turns printing their emails out as neatly as possible. Hermann folds the slip of paper with Newt’s in half and slips it into his top pocket. “It was very good to meet you, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says, and he offers Newt a parting handshake.

What the hell, Newt thinks, and takes it.

It takes ten months and a split in reality at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean for Hermann to get around to emailing Newt. Newt expects they’ll have a lot to collaborate on in the near future.

[direwombat]

woe, the first wip wednesday of the 2024 be upon us

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton to share some wippy goodness today. here's some more katc interlude ii from gus' pov. please enjoy this VERY ROUGH draft (with brackets and everything!)

There, sitting in the chair beside Augustine’s bed, is none other than Joseph Seed. 

Augustine nearly doesn’t recognize him at first. Not without the sunglasses. They’re a common source of ridicule among his co-workers -- “What kind of asshole wears piss-colored glasses, anyway?” is a common refrain amongst the townspeople whenever the preacher is spotted outside the island where he built his Church. 

Once, back when Augustine was naive and new to town, he’d made the mistake of coming to Joseph’s defense. “Maybe they’re prescription,” he’d posited, believing it to be harmless speculation. “For migraines or something.” 

He’d never been more quickly ostracized in his life. 

It’d taken weeks to get back into his fellow rangers’ good graces, and even then it was only because Ben had convinced them to give him a second chance. “C’mon, he’s new. Kid didn’t know any better.” 

Augustine learned to keep his mouth shut when it came to Joseph Seed and his family. If it’s taboo to say anything nice about the man, then he’d rather not say anything about him at all. 

Hastily, Augustine lifts himself into a seated position and combs his fingers through his hair, trying to make himself look more presentable. “Mister Seed,” he starts, before realizing he has no idea what the appropriate honorific is. “Uh…Pastor Seed?”

“Father is fine,” he smiles. The corners of those bright blue eyes crinkle warmly. 

“Father Seed,” Augustine corrects, but the way Joseph lips thin like he’s biting back a laugh tells him he still didn’t get it quite right. Anxiety coils tightly in his gut -- Already fucked it up -- but he swallows around the lump in his throat, pushing it down. “I ain’t mean for this to sound  rude or ungrateful, but,” he hesitates a moment, warily eying the man in the doorway. Broad shouldered and donning an army field jacket, the man has a hardened and calculating look in his eyes; one that’s very similar to the look Sybille has whenever he drags her out to meet new people. He’s being sized up. This man is judging his actions, weighing his worth, and the rhythmic beeping on the heart monitor quickens at the idea that he may find Augustine wanting. His attention returns to Joseph’s curious gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“My brother, Jacob,” he motions to the man in the doorway, “told me about what happened to you last night. I wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

Although Augustine’s pulse slows to its normal rhythm, blood rushes to his cheeks. “Oh,” he says dumbly. “I -- uh…” His hands clasp together and he bashfully averts his eyes to stare at his worrying fingers instead. “I’m okay. Been better, but…I’m alright.”

“That’s excellent to hear,” Joseph says gently.  

Augustine nods and a long stretch of unbearably heavy silence settles over them. He chews on the inside of his cheek until the bitter metallic tang of blood bursts on his tongue, wracking his brain for a topic of conversation, but he comes up empty. “I’m sorry,” he says after an awkward cough. “I ain’t much of a conversationalist and I’m…Well, I wasn’t…”

“You were expecting someone else,” Joseph nods. [insert something about the compassion and understanding and warmth in his voice, rather than the anger and hostility augustine anticipates]

A lame, “Yeah,” is all Augustine can muster in response. His fingers fidget nervously in his lap. “You, uh…You ain’t happen to know if my sister’s here, do you? I gave Ben my phone so he could call her, but.. Um…” he trails off again. Whatever drug they’ve been using to sedate him and numb the pain has also stolen the second half of most of his thoughts as well. 

Joseph sighs heavily and his brows knit together. He removes his glasses, neatly folding the arms and tucking them into the breast pocket of his vest. A warm hand comes to rest on top of Augustine’s clasped ones. 

Augustine knows what that gesture means. It’s what Mama did when she sat him down to tell him that she had cancer and what the kind paramedic did when she told him she was sorry for his loss after he’d found both Mama and Daddy dead in the living room. It’s the kind of comforting gesture one gives before delivering bad news or condolences. Yet as Joseph’s long, spindly fingers wrap around his own, the warmth, accompanied by a sympathetic squeeze manages to keep the knot of anxiety in his gut from growing larger. 

“The phone lines have gone down,” Joseph murmurs. “I’m afraid we haven’t been able to get through to her yet.”

Augustine’s eyes go wide. “The phone lines are down?” he repeats. The County is no stranger to strong winds ripping through the valley, but last he checked the forecast hadn’t predicted anything strong enough to knock out the phones. “What happened?”

taglist: @marivenah, @florbelles, @statichvm, @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @poetikat, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman, @madparadoxum, @voidika, @strangefable, and anyone else wanting to share a piece of their wips!

[cannibal-wings]

WIP Wednesday For You Pay the Cost I'm currently working on the Méndez boss fight. Here are two little snippets from it. This is probably the most rough I've ever posted. Usually my WIP Wednesday stuff has gone through a bit of editing, but these chunks haven't. They're as close to raw as they can get. Currently the fight is at 3K words, and I'm expecting another 2K at least, since I haven't even hit phase two yet. Anyways, enjoy! I'm off to work. (Update might not be next week, with the holidays this weekend, and I'm hosting, claiming my days off, my time to write will be limited. I wouldn't be surprised if the update drops late next week or early the week after)

1.

“Be careful,” Ashley said behind him. It was clear that she had picked up on his unease as well.

“I always am,” he said but that didn’t seem to have the effect he wanted. He supposed his arm in a sling was proof enough that just being careful wasn’t all he needed to do. The movement to Leon’s right was so sudden and explosive that he hardly had time to turn his head. His body was hit, hard, enough to throw him against the side rail and snap it. The momentum carried him across the open space and he hit the concrete floor below with force. Leon would have cried out in pain if the wind hadn’t been kicked from his lungs.

He rolled several times before he came to a stop face down. He lay there motionless, trying to force his lungs to remember how to breathe. His eyes were watering and his vision was white with pain. Finally, he drew a gasp, then another, like a fish out of water. Something off to his right hit the floor as well, it was heavy, and gave no cry of pain. It wasn’t Ashley. Leon pulled his good arm up underneath him and pushed. Slowly he got himself to his knees and looked over. It was Méndez. He turned so he was facing him, his whole body was still shaking with pain. When he looked up at the where he was, he saw a hole had been busted through the wooden wall. That man wasn’t human, that was for certain. There was no way someone could ram him through a solid wood wall with enough force to break metal and likely bone. Leon carefully felt around his ribs but he couldn’t tell if the pain there was from the giant fight, the bull man’s hammer, or the various other times he had been thrown around today.

Méndez started to walk towards him, slowly, in a manner not unlike something that had cornered its prey. “Little Protector, you have forced my hand.”

Leon was still struggling to process his own bodies movements; words were lost on him. But he heard Ashley call out from above, she was still near the walkway. “Leon! Oh my god, are you ok?”

At the sound of her voice Méndez turned to look at her. “I feel I must apologize, for what I am about to do to your Protector.” At that Leon shook his head and reached for his SG. He was able to get two good shots off. The first one hit Méndez in the back, he turned to look over at Leon and the second caught his chest. Fatal shots to someone who was human. “Cease your pointless struggling. Your body has already begun the change, abandon who you were and accept the will of our God.”

“You’re a shitty missionary you know that?” Leon managed to say between gasps of air. Méndez reached down to pick up his hat, it had fallen when he rammed into Leon from above.

Mendez began his approach again. “Lord Saddler wants you alive. But I think he’s making a mistake. You now share our blood, you have been bestowed our gifts, but you fight us every step of the way. You are unwilling and unworthy, and for that I must destroy you. Surely our Lord shall understand, and the Lady will be provided with a new Protector, one who understands its place.”

Leon didn’t like the sound of that. He shot three more times. It didn’t look like Méndez felt a single one. Leon might as well have been shooting him with BBs. “Oh almighty! Grant me the strength to fix your mistake!”

“Son of a bitch,” Leon muttered under his breath. He was going to have to fight, and the odds were looking less in his favor than normal. He quickly scanned the room for anything he could use to his advantage. This was a meat processing house after all, there had to be something he could use. He spotted a machine, a hoist, for hauling the carcasses up onto the tables, it looked like it was gas powered. Sure enough, there were barrels not too far away labeled “fuel”. Leon forced himself to his feet and shouted up at the walkway, “Ashley! Run!”

“Ok!” Her voice seemed hesitant, but her actions weren’t. With one last look down at Leon she sprinted for the stairs that led to the door to the outside.

Once he saw her orange jacket vanish through the door, he kicked the barrel over and shoved it towards Méndez. It started its roll towards the man and Leon didn’t have time to come up with anything clever to say besides, “Hasta luego!” He shot and the barrel exploded upon impact.

That wasn’t the only barrel of fuel, Leon didn’t notice that others had been stored nearby until he heard them go off. Four more loud bangs sounded off, followed by intense flames and clouds of thick, dark smoke. Another set of explosions pounded in from the opposite side, gasoline splattering the walls and pillars of the room. Everything was quickly caught in an intense blaze. Leon shielded his face with his good arm until the explosions ceased. When he lowered it he couldn’t see what was left of Méndez through the thick smoke. His next move was to try to find his own way out.

He looked behind him but there wasn’t a door, just a staircase to another walkway. The only door seemed to be behind the wall of fire he had just created. “Great,” Leon muttered. He solved one problem with another. He would have to run through the fire to get out. Not ideal. It could very well kill him. He gathered himself and started to move towards the fire when something stopped him, a chill ran down his spine despite the heat. Something else was moving in the haze of the flames.

Leon could hear a snapping sound, like breaking branches, followed by the wet sound of meat being torn apart. Again, that sound hit his ears, then he recognized it, bone snapping. It cracked and popped, blending in with the wood that was burning all around them. Through the fire he could see something twitching, then jerking upwards. With each pop it grew taller and it swayed back and forth on what Leon could only assume were legs. Then the whole figure turned towards Leon and began to advance towards him.

Méndez stepped into view. His upper body had become separated from his lower half. It sat on an elongated, exposed spine. Each set of vertebrae now sported sharp insectoid legs that wiggled independently from each other. It reminded him of a centipede. Leon took a step back, then another. “The fuck?” Méndez grew closer still, he didn’t seem disturbed by his body’s sudden mutation.

“God, I thank you for your gift,” Méndez said as he calmly strode towards Leon. Two bulbus growths on his back burst at once, spraying fluid as his body lurched and rolled. Two more appendages sprang out of his back, insectoid again, long, thick, with five joints. Corse hair and spines glinted fresh in the firelight. The tips were curved and sharp. No doubt they were designed to pierce. The limbs were dragging on the floor as Méndez gathered himself, strong spine pulling his upper body and the new arms back up to their full height.

Leon was already backing up. His claws and carapace suddenly seemed a lot less threatening. He spread his mandibles wide and hissed before he said, “You wanna get ugly? Let’s get ugly!” Bold words from a frightened man.

Méndez once more didn’t seem impressed by his threat display or the words that followed. He simply laughed and said, “I knew God would see my side, I knew he would agree with me. You will not live to regret your choice to turn your back on us. Now, behold the miracle!”

2.

Méndez seemed to be getting frustrated. He lashed out more desperately than before. The erratic movements were harder to predict, harder to dodge and Leon caught one to the side that flung him against the wall. The air wasn’t knocked from his lungs this time and he recovered quickly. He quickly shot a few times to distract the monster as he fully got back to his feet. Sweat was running down his back, or at least, Leon hoped it was sweat. He wiped his face, somehow the carapace on his hand was cool despite the heat around him.

“We share the same blood,” Méndez said as he turned to make his way over to where he had tossed Leon, “why do you resist?”

“I’m not answering that, there’s nothing I could say to a man who’s lost himself.” Leon shot again, this time more bullets hit than missed. He was getting more confident and comfortable aiming one handed. “I don’t share your blood either,” Leon spat. He could feel Méndez’s gaze on him. “D-Don’t look at me! I’m not like you, I’ll never be like you! Some sort of monster!” He flared his jaws and said, “You freaks can mess my face up, change my legs, my arms, I don’t care! I won’t be like you, it won’t work.”

“And that, Little Protector, is why I’ve decided to exterminate you.” In a movement faster than what Leon could see, Méndez swiped and caught Leon off balance. He moved in and grabbed the other man with his human hands. He had long, sharp, talons that didn’t struggle in piercing between Leon’s neck plates. He squirmed and struggled in his grasp. “To think you could be this foolish, to reject a gift as wonderful as this!”

Leon looked at Méndez, if there was a good man in there, he was lost now. That Leon was certain of. He couldn’t reach his knife with his injured arm, nor could he get it with his free hand. He kicked out and slashed at Méndez’s chest with his feet claws. The pressure on his neck tightened and he hissed in pain not intimidation. His heart was beating faster now, he needed a way out and fast. He tried again with the claws on his feet. He managed to rake them across his chest but despite digging in deep Méndez didn’t let go. He moved his hand with the SG just enough to line up with Méndez’s leg. He closed his eyes and prayed he didn’t miss. He squeezed the trigger and shot three times, his knee buckled and Leon felt himself drop to the floor.

He landed and scooted back as Méndez fell against the upper walkway. He roared and looked over at him. Leon felt a chill run through him. Those insect arms were a lot longer than they appeared. Mendez flung them out and they came crashing down on him like trees. There wasn’t any space to dodge, his back was against the wall, he had cornered himself again.

Leon didn’t even have time to swear. He raised his good arm and closed his eyes. Ready to hear the crack of carapace and then nothing as he was crushed under the weight of Méndez’s arms. The searing pain was just what Leon expected, only it hadn’t come from his arm, but his sides. Both sides of his body flashed hot with pain, just below his ribcage, as something split his skin and burst forth from his body.

Leon dropped to one knee and cried out. He wasn’t dead, but he sure felt he should be. His body spasmed. His brain was registering resistance on what felt like an arm, but not the arm he was used to. Through watering eyes, he looked up and saw limbs he didn’t recognize. They were holding off Méndez’s claw, which was far too close to his face for his own comfort.

Leon knew they were his immediately. He didn’t even have to look to see where they were connected, he just knew. He had two more arms now, and they were in the process of saving his life. His body shuddered and the new limbs crawled further from his body. With each push they grew longer and stronger. Leon watched as a hand formed at the end of each one. The fingers that unraveled looked like a human’s for a brief moment, before the pointer and middle fingers fused into a long blade like claw. He pushed back hard against Méndez and was surprised to find the monster giving ground to him.

Leon screamed as his body gave one last push and the arms fully extended out of his body. He stood and shoved the limb off and ducked to the side. He took a brief moment to catch his breath and look at the two new arms by his side. They were thin, more like insect limbs than human, but they had the correct number of human joints, a clear shoulder, or pivot point against his body, then an elbow and wrist. The hands weren’t human anymore, but they did have three fingers. That, Leon decided, was enough to hold a shotgun with.

Blood and fluid leaked down Leon’s sides from spot where the new limbs had burst forth, but already the pain was dulling. That healing factor was kicking in again. Leon holstered his handgun and moved for the shotgun. Sure enough, the new arm responded just like his old, injured one. It found its place on the front of the shotgun, the long blade like claw was easy to rest the gun against and the remaining fingers held it in place.

He moved in on Méndez, firing as he walked. The Merchant hadn’t been kidding, this gun packed a hell of a punch, but he hardly felt it against his shoulder. He fired three shots in rapid succession into the spine and Méndez finally howled in pain. He curled in on himself, human arms wrapping around his exposed spine. When he looked at Leon there was pure hatred burning in his eye. “Why? Why has God given you, a heretic, a gift? Have I been betrayed? Was my judgment not true?” Leon didn’t have the answers that the monster needed. He just shot again and again, pumping him full of lead. Méndez swept out again with the long piercing limb. This time Leon jumped on top of it, his dexterous toes wrapping around the limb and he followed the swing as it moved him closer to the upper walkway. He pushed off and jumped to the upper floor in one smooth movement. This time when he spread his jaws and hissed Méndez flinched. “Maybe it’s time to take this “Little Protector” seriously!”

[harudnae]

The Great Draft Eradication Plan was a good idea, there were a lot of honorable deaths but at least the WIP folder is starting to look good. Today I deliver a Gaban x Reader 420-friendly one-shot!

(Fun fact: I started writing this such a long while ago that I quit smoking since... Anyway, I wrote it so I might as well post it.)

Also posted on AO3 on 2024.01.19

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Gaban x GN!Reader

Summary: You're smoking pot on the Oro Jackson's decks when Gaban invites himself in.

Content warnings : weed smoking, flirting, kissing, rated M for drugs & naughty thoughts, no smut in here, no pronouns used for Reader, no body description either

Word count: <2.5k

🌿 Zamalia

It's late at night and the party is as lively as ever on the decks of the Oro Jackson.

You're already pleasantly buzzed from the rum you looted a couple of days ago from a rival crew, but alcohol isn't the only thing you enjoy in such circumstances. You leave the rowdy crowd and lazily make your way to the prow, then you glance behind you to check that nobody followed you, and finally you lean against the railing and roll a joint. You light it up facing the endless sea, sparkling with moonlight and reflections of stars. You exhale a cloud of smoke and smile to yourself, content with your life at sea, more so as a proud Roger Pirate. You haven't been here for long, but the crew quickly grew on you and you'd never dream of being anywhere else right now. You tilt your head up and let your body relax while you smoke and observe the starry sky.

"What are you doing here?"

You stiffen a little at Gaban's voice behind you, then you turn your head around. You nod towards your half-smoked blunt, a sheepish smile on your face. "Smoking pot."

Gaban grins as he approaches you. "Ah, you don't want to get scolded by Crocus now, do you?"

You shrug. "I was avoiding the cabin boys, mostly."

"That's fair." He leans against the railing next to you. "Would you share?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Didn't know you smoked, too."

Gaban chuckles. "Sometimes. I'm just better at hiding", he winks.

You draw your tongue out as you pass him the blunt.

He offers you a sly grin in return.

You observe the way his lips wrap around the tip as he takes a first drag, and how they part as he exhales a cloud of smoke. Fuck, I never thought I'd wish to be a blunt.

"Thanks. It's good stuff, too... Where did you get that?"

"A couple of islands away. A guy at an inn..."

Gaban smiles wide as he asks, "The one in New Marla?"

You squint. "How...?" Oh, right, he smokes too. You exhale a chuckle. "Okay, never mind", you slide him a knowing glance.

"Yeah, I bought him some, too. I stashed some from Zamalia as well before you joined us, I can spare some if you want."

You open wide eyes. "Zamalia? You bet I want to try! I heard they've got the best stuff there."

Gaban chuckles. "You heard right."

"So you're a connoisseur, huh? How did you pick the habit?"

Gaban tilts his chin towards the ruckus of the partying crew. "It's hard to sleep sometimes with these ones around", he says, smiling.

You heartily laugh. "Yeah, I know..."

He hands you the blunt. "How did you?"

"It helps me relax", you explain as you grab the smoke, your fingers slightly brushing against his. "Somewhat."

Gaban removes his glasses and tucks them across the collar of his shirt, leaning a bit towards you to meet your gaze. "You nervous?"

You barely maintain eye contact for a second before glaring back at the sea. Your face feels warmer in such close proximity to Gaban, and your heart beats faster, too. How could you have known that he'd join you right now? Now you're high enough that his voice does weird things to you, not to mention you acknowledged your crush on him only a few weeks ago and his last sentence sounded like something straight out of a wet dream.

"I didn't think we were so intimidating", he continues, voice deep and slightly playful.

You exhale a soft sigh. "You aren't." Well... in a way, you are, but I'm not about to tell you that. You pointedly keep watching the glimmering sea, but you still see him tilting his head to the side, from the corner of your eye.

"Why the need to relax, then?"

You slightly grin. "It's just... a way to unwind, same as having a drink. Back in my homeland we party more often around blunts than booze, mostly because weed grows literally everywhere while alcohol is pretty expensive in comparison. I do enjoy drinking, but not as much as I like being high."

"That's fair. Do you need a refill, by the way?" He eyes your empty jug.

You nod the negative. "I had enough already, I'm going to keep to smoking now. Thanks, though."

Gaban smiles. "Hm. Wanna try some of of that Zamalia stuff, then?"

A delighted grin curve your lips and your whole face lightens. "Ooh, I'd love to!"

He exhales an acknowledging hum and nods. "Wait here", he says as he gets off the railing and puts his glasses back on, "I'll get a refill and the rest."

"Cool, thanks." Your gaze follows him as he retreats to the lower decks, and you turn your head around only once he's out of sight. You lick your lips and take a deep breath. Okay, so Gaban and I are going to get high together, that's a thing that's actually happening. Wow, holy shit, I hope I won't get awkward, or... horny. Either way I'm going to feast on eye candy for the rest of the night. You take another deep breath and lean onto the railing. Your gaze drifts across the calm sea, a giddy smile curving your lips as you contemplate your luck.

Gaban's unmistakable tread on the Adam wood interrupts your daydreaming, making your heart race at the prospect of quality time with your crush. His footsteps slow down as he gets closer, then they stop a little behind you.

You breathe a little more heavily as you feel the weight of his stare behind you, wondering what he's up to.

"The view's really nice", Gaban says.

You straighten up in alarm, suddenly very aware that you're bent over the railing and presenting your whole backside. A split second after you turn your burning face around.

Gaban doesn't move from where he stands, a couple of feet from where he stood earlier at the railing, not quite right behind you but far enough that he could see both the sea and you. He grins, chin up and moonlight shining in his glasses.

You squint, mentally cursing said glasses for concealing his eyes because you're pretty sure he wasn't staring over the railing just now. Then you reason that you're probably getting ideas because you're already a bit high and you've got a huge crush. "Indeed", you exhale after a quiet while.

Gaban turns to you, smile widening, and hands you a pouch he fetches from one of his pockets. "Do you want to roll one?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, sure, thank you." You breath hitches a little when the warmth of his hand briefly brushes against your fingers, and you try to stay focused on your task, instead of hoping for more than just partaking.

Thankfully, Gaban chit-chats while you roll, a pleasant distraction from your dangerous thoughts. He's always been easy-going with you, from your very first day in the crew, as well as attentive to your well-being as much as the rest of the crew's even though you came aboard later than most. Until now, he's shown nothing but kindness towards you.

You assume that, being so close to Captain Roger and Rayleigh in terms of authority over the crew, Gaban acts the same with every other new recruit. Calm down, heart, there's nothing personal.

Gaban removes his glasses and tucks them across his collar, gazing at you while you light the new blunt.

You make eye contact when you inhale the smoke, keeping it inside your lungs a bit longer than necessary. You turn back to the sea to exhale, cheeks a little warmer. "It's really good", you comment. Your eyes drift to the wisps of smoke rising from the blunt while you focus on the taste. "I can tell it's strong stuff just with one drag... It's not overwhelming, though."

"Yeah! I really liked the the lemony kind of tang, too."

You nod the affirmative. "Mh-hmm". A few puffs in and your skin is a little more sensitive, tingling where the wind blows, heating where Gaban's gaze lingers a little too long – your hand that holds the blunt, your lips when you exhale, your nape or shoulder when you look upon the calm waves under the moonlit sky. Your heart beats faster too. Being high certainly doesn't help, but you're absolutely positive that it's not the only reason... In such close proximity to Gaban you're all fuzzy inside. When did smoking become so intimate? Am I overthinking things? Or am I just hyper aware of things now that I'm high? You turn to him when he detaches his gaze from you to drink from his jug. Warmth coils inside you as you observe the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and you repress the sudden urge to plant a kiss there.

Gaban turns back to you, absentmindedly licking a stray drop off his lower lip. "So? What d'you think?"

Very hot. You blink, clear your throat, and look at the blunt. "Oh." You stumble on your words, "Um, very good. Tasty, strong stuff. Thanks for sharing." You huff an awkward laugh, unable to tell if you're talking about the weed or about him. You purse your lips and pass the joint. "I'll have to take it easy with that one", you confess, already feeling much higher than you expected with just a few drags.

"Alright", Gaban says as he takes his turn, then he laughs. "Now you know why I still have some of this after all this time", he reveals, "so don't feel pressured to smoke or anything. I only want to share if you enjoy it."

You crack a soft smile. "Thanks, I appreciate."

Gaban wraps a hand around your shoulder and gently squeezes, eyes diving into yours. "I don't want you to get sick, okay?"

Your heart misses a beat at his touch, warm and tender. Your smile widens and you look back at the sea as your cheeks heat up again. "Yeah, don't worry, I won't. It's really good, I do enjoy this", you mumble, once again unsure whether you're talking about getting high or not.

Gaban squeezes again, then his hand slides off your shoulder as he leans back onto the railing.

You fight against the urge to lean towards him and chase his body warmth. Instead, you prop your elbows on the railing and lean down to rest your head, purposefully avoiding eye contact. You exhale a small sigh.

"You wanna go to bed?"

Your shoulder tense a little at the mental images of a bed that spawn into your mind – every single one featuring you and Gaban over it in various positions – and your face heats up in embarrassment.

"I mean, I understand if it's strong enough to make you sleepy."

You shake your head to clear your mind of dangerous thoughts yet again invading it. Then you crack a smile and turn your attention back to him. "No, it's okay. I'm just... glad to be here, it's nice."

Gaban grins wide. "You like this crew, this ship?"

You eagerly nod. "A lot." Your gaze idly drifts to his hands. "But I was talking about right now, here."

"Less noise around?"

You meet his gaze again. "Yeah. It's nice to have some calmer moments, too."

He still smiles when he passes you the blunt. "More so in good company."

Your fingers brush against his slightly longer than necessary. You have no idea.

Gaban glances at you, a curious eyebrow raised.

You briskly turn your attention back to the sea as you realize that you just said that out loud. Your smile falters and your heart threatens to burst while you wait for the inevitable, terrible predicament.

"(y/n)?"

Your shoulders tense.

"Is this mutual interest I heard?"

You take a long drag from the blunt. Interest, sure. Mutual, though? Wait– You hold the smoke inside your lungs and turn back to him.

He looks at you expectantly, a small smile curving his lips when your gaze lingers there.

You exhale the smoke and finally breathe out, "Yeah."

Gaban's smile widens, turning mischievous. "Then I'm glad I saw you leave the party earlier."

"You came here on purpose?" You lean back up and turn around to face him. "Not just wandering around and finding me randomly?"

Gaban raises his hands. "Guilty as charged."

You raise an interested eyebrow. Emboldened by your recent findings, you step into his personal space and confess, "Well, you've been on my mind for a while..."

He places a hand on the small of our back, pulling you closer. "How long?", he asks as he leans in, his warm breath fanning over your lips.

"Too long", you exhale before closing the last of distance between you. You close your eyes when Gaban's lips touch yours, full and soft and warm, and you almost melt at the contact. Your hands find anchor on his hips, gently pulling him flush against you when your tongue slides against his lower lip.

Gaban's free hand wraps around your nape and tilts your head to deepen the kiss.

Fuck, he's good at this. You sigh into his mouth and answer in kind, warmth pooling in your gut while your hands mindlessly explore the broad expanse of his back.

He breaks the kiss at some point, and he softly smiles when your lips chase after his. His gaze dives into yours and he runs his fingertips around your neck, following your jawline before tilting your chin up.

Breath short, tense with anticipation, you lightly bite your lower lip.

Gaban softly sighs, then confesses, "I really want you right now..."

You crack a smile. "Me too."

"Wanna move...?" He trails out, tilting his head towards the other side of the ship.

You heartily nod.

Gaban leans in for a searing kiss, and doesn't leave you time to recover before he grabs your hand and leads the way to the lower decks.

You all too happily follow him, elated at the prospect of spending some private time with him. Your heart drums loud within your chest by the time you reach his cabin, and you're absolutely certain it's not only because of the weed you shared.

[bvannn]

Weekly Update March 29, 2024

I’m pretty volatile in terms of mood, but I did get a good amount of actual work done on projects. I’m exhausted, I haven’t fixed my sleep schedule yet because I’m addicted to working. Like I’ve genuinely tried to stop and go to be early or sleep in and I just always ‘just one more drawing, just one more verse, just one more thumbnail, it’s let me find this one perfect instrument, just let me finish these four bars, just let me-‘ and before you know it it’s two hours past bedtime and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. Or eaten dinner. On the bright side all the stuff I’ve done has gone pretty well!

First big exciting point, that little pitch comic I’ve been working on? Thumbnailing/writing is done. Done enough anyway. I might still go back to edit some pages but I can get going on others now, which is great because even though I’ll only post the full thing once I have the whole comic complete, I might post individual panels, so there will be stuff to see! I’m also going to try to keep writing at night, so I can let other episodes and stories play out a bit, but Art priority will be shifting more to the comic. It will be 30 pages so it will likely take a while, but I’m hoping I’ll be able to do 3 or so panels a week while I’m finishing up this semester and switch to a page a day once I have more time.

Music is also going very well. I’m putting the final mixing touches on a vocaloid cover song (unless I decide to go back and redo the guitar, which I might), which I’ll try to start putting visuals to soon, although that’ll likely be pretty slow since I finally got past the thing that was bottlenecking me on the comic project. I’ll also have to get licensing settled, although that currently looks to be affordable. The whole project has given me a taste for blood and now I want to do a bunch of other cover stuff, but good news: I also found a nearly finished cover of another song that I had put aside in favor of the Green Day one. That’ll probably take a while before I can call it ‘done’, though, whereas I could probably release the first cover song today if I really wanted. I have some time tonight where I’ll try to throw some music together, maybe I’ll work on that.

There’s a few smaller nearly-finished songs I dug up from the depths of my WIPs too, one I need to redo a melody line, one I was bottlenecked on finding a specific instrument for, which I did the other day in lab, and a few others that also either need structure or Melodies. Plus there’s those two that are waiting on lyrics still but I’m still chugging at that, just slowly. I might also try that one tonight too, if I finish or can’t do the vocal cover for whatever reason. There’s also a couple character themes that haven’t really been priorities but I did re-outline one that I’ve been working on, so once I have recording time I can go try that one. That one is on its third draft so I really hope this one will stick.

Other miscellaneous projects haven’t seen much progress this week. I’m still thinking things through for that epithet TTRPG campaign, but I’m having a bit of trouble outlining the third chapter. I just need more brain power for that though, so earlier bedtimes would do it. A couple other art things keep coming to mind but I’ve been focusing more on big projects, so that’ll probably continue if I can. This next week I want to focus on keeping my body as healthy as I can, and then comic, second cover song, and visuals for first cover song, in that order of priority. Passive projects I can work on while doing other activities will be epithet TTRPG planning, song lyrics, and outlining future comic stuff, in that order of priority. If I come up with any song Melodies or ideas for visuals for the song I’m finishing up those priorities might shift, but right now I want to stick to more of a plan, since it worked out well this week.

[angstmongertina]

Make Me Write More Results/Sentences

Okay, my poll is over, so it's time to write. As i said in my little update reblog, since I didn't get all too many votes, each fic gets new sentences based on the number of votes it got, in an effort to force me to write more for all of them.

Thanks for playing, everyone (and thank you again to Jilly for the inspiration)! If you had fun, I might do this again on Tuesday for WIP Wednesday. No pressure to vote if you don't want to though. :D

Accountability sentences (and fic premises) under the cut! Please be warned that some of these sentences will probably make no sense out of context, and are also rough first drafts. :P

Letters to Nadia -- From a shared 7KPP 'verse with @teaandinanity's Valya where our characters' kids decided they were in love with each other. (4 sentences but I cheated and added an extra.)

But now, he’s finally, finally, made it back home, back to the safety of the empty study with a decanter of baijiu, free from prying and judging eyes. Free from her eyes. He groans, barely resisting the urge to dash out the door. For one thing, he’s not sure if he’s cogent enough to make it next door, and for another, she’s likely long gone to bed, never mind the fact that there is absolutely no way she’ll even want to see him in the first place. And that is a thought that stings worse than the liquor.

Evenly Matched -- The previously hinted at 7KPP Jaslen/Falon smut that I am PRAYING doesn't start a new ship in me. (3 sentences)

“My dear general,” and there’s the scowl she is familiar with, that seems to make its way across his face with almost military precision, “I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to. Are you quite well?” Her estimation of him is satisfyingly correct.

forever i'm yours, forever i do -- A retelling of Artem's second anniversary card that started as just an attempt to write out the smut and that VERY MUCH grew out of control HELP (3 sentences)

“You’d think you were the one getting married today, not me,” she says, amusement dancing in her eyes as she shoos him away. “Now go and tell my soon-to-be husband that no, he cannot come see me before the wedding; it's bad luck. Nor are you allowed back her to see her either.”

Oh Brother -- Again from the shared 7KPP 'verse mentioned above, Thomas' little sister's version of what happened. It's still in the very early stages so this is more exposition than anything. (3 sentences but adding in a fourth because it was half-finished anyway.)

The eldest daughter of the entire Galeric-Wu clan and the future heiress to the Galerford estate beyond, she could easily have humored and generally ignored a young cousin twelve years her junior and perhaps another girl, another future duchess, would have. But instead, Nadia had chosen to dote upon them all, treating her with the same understanding and love that she gave all of her friends and loved ones. Well, perhaps not all. Because it is an equally well-established fact that, despite all attempts to hide, dismiss, or minimize the fact, Nadia has a favorite cousin.

Spiral Point -- More 7KPP because the brainrot is real, but this time for Camyon's childhood friends AU. Here is their first interaction at the Summit, when neither of them actually recognize the other. :D (3 sentences)

There was no sensible reason why she should have been struck by his appearance, by the way his brow furrowed, first in search and then in recognition, but for one illogical moment, her heart climbed into her throat, only to settle back into her chest with an inexplicable twinge once he spoke. Of course it was about her cousin. He had known Cousin Jiya, a fact that her mother never failed to tease her with, when it came to her own lack of socialization at those academic events hosted by her fellow Jiyelese elite.

Dinghun Zhou -- My attempt at a fairytale AU, it's CinderLia. In an alternate universe in which there is no Summit, but there's still an event to try and find a wife for the perpetually single Duke Lyon. (2 sentences)

She pursed her lips, studying the flimsy pieces of parchment as though they might contain answers, or at least a logical explanation for her misgiving. Unfortunately, and just as expected, none were forthcoming.

Homecoming -- For the CoG story Teahouse for the Gods, because the A'Li romance was right up my alley but we didn't quite get enough of it, in my humble opinion. It's technically two different fics (I should really come up with a proper name for the other one) but I picked the one I had more inspiration for--which you may be unsurprised to learn is probably the angstier of the two. (1 sentence but I cheated again with two.)

It takes a moment for her to clear the memory out of her mind’s eye, to remind herself of the present, and in that time, he’s already stepped into view, though his head is turned, this way and that, as though cataloging every difference in the ensuing decades. Jacqueline darts to her side, half in shock, and she makes a mental note to sit down with the poor thing before his eyes fall on her and the entire mountain seems to hold its breath.

Seasong -- Back to Tears of Themis, a friend did some art for Mermay which inspired an AU in my head that I never got very far in because I am terrible at multichapter things. (4 sentences)

She knew of cages, had seen the ones that sunk, irrevocably, ceaselessly, to the bottom of the sea floor, had heard them whispered of by those unlucky few who had witnessed the capture of one of their own, and the stories of those even unluckier who had somehow managed to escape from such capture. She had heard of the fear, of the isolation, of the greed and malevolence of those humans, who hunted and tormented without need, who captured and traded without compassion. She had heard tales, once meant to frighten her away from the surface, of the many, many who were unable to escape. And now she was trapped in one.

Okay, that's everything, I think. If you read until here, thank you, and maybe see you on Tuesday for another poll? :P

[devondespresso]

WIP Wednesday!

Tagged by @stobinesque 💕💃🪩🕺💕

THE RULES

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

WIPS

~the usual~

Steve Henderson AU

Claudia Henderson Canon Character Masterlist

s3 Dustin funko (physical wip)

Chrissy Cunningham funko (physical wip)

tagging @blushweddinggowns @flowercrowngods @csinnamon-fox @withacapitalp and @wynnyfryd (and anyone else that wants to!! also absolutely no pressure of course! also also just let me know if you don't like being tagged in these💖)

SNIPPET

is it really a WIP Wednesday if i don't share Steve Henderson Au? I don't think so. anyway

(i have no idea how to do the 'more under the cut' thing hopefully i did this right.)

in todays episode the gang is taking a pitstop to drop of Dustin before going to ✨the hospital✨

They pulled up to Dustin's house in no time. It was small but very warm, especially with all the big windows and golden lights. Just as Hopper parked beside a bright yellow Volvo the front door swung open and a very frantic woman made her way to their car. Dustin launched out of the car, forgetting his bag on the floorboards, and ran over to her. Just the sight of him made her visibly relax with a frantic smile, pace slowing and shoulders slumping back to a natural state. It was like every emotion was exaggerated. On display like there was nothing to hide, like the whole world needed to know how worried or relieved she was. 

Or upset, because after a long hug she immediately began scolding him. Steve could barely hear what they were saying, a few words flicking in here and there.

“Worried …  so late ..  Mews..”

Mews. Dustin's cat. Dead cat. Did he tell her? Does she know about the upside down, too?

He opened his door and shouted for Dustin to come over, quickly grabbing his bag as an excuse for wanting to talk to him.

“Left your bag, dude.”

“Thanks,” he grabbed it quickly, clearly in a rush to get back, Steve reached out to keep him just a second longer.

“Did you tell her about Mews?” 

“Of course not! She doesn’t know about this stuff, I can’t just tell her about D’art!” he whispered

“Dusty, is everything okay?” she said, starting towards Steve’s door. Dustin gave him a look that screamed shit shit shit shit shit

“I got it,” he mouthed before she reached them.

“Yeah, everythings fine Mrs Henderson. I was telling Dustin that he should probably explain what happened today.” he lied easily. Her eyebrows raised, looking between them. Dustin still looked really nervous but trying to hide it under a weak smile and agreeing nod.

“Yeah, I asked Steve to help me look for Mews and-’

That got her attention.

“Did you find her?” she asked, voice wavering. Shit.

“No-” 

“Yeah”

Dustin froze.

“Well, we did, technically, just…” he hesitated for effect, then continued softly, “She didn’t make it.” 

She gasped, covered her mouth with her hands, and let out a strangled “oh”. Dustin looked almost as distraught, moreso at seeing his mother so upset. Fuck, this shouldn’t be so hard.

He continued, to complete the lie and to keep Dustin from having to say anything more.

“There was a rabid dog loose, we took care of it before it could hurt anything else, but... we were too late to help Mews. I’m- I’m so sorry.” He said. The story was fake, but the stutter and remorse wasn’t. Not necessarily feeling for Mews, he liked cats but he never actually saw Mews, but more for Mrs. Henderson. He had no idea how important this cat was to her and it was starting to make sense why Dustin kept lying to her about it.

She sighed wetly and Dustin gave her another hug.

“Can we bury her?” she asked

“Already did,” Dustin said into her shirt. He pulled back and looked more sure. Like a calmness swept over him, but too quickly. It had to be an armor, “We buried her in the backyard while you were at work, I can show you in a minute.”

Then he dropped his bag and pulled Steve in for a hug like he did with his mother. It was a surprise, but after a moment to think again he returned it, letting Dustin bury his head in his shirt and holding his onto him gently.

“I’m sorry, dude.” Steve whispered.

“It’s okay.” He said, pulling back and giving a little smile, “I’m going to come visit you, okay? At the hospital tomorrow."

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said, ruffling Dustin’s hat. He scooted back into the car, hearing Mrs. Henderson faintly question 'hospital' before the door shut. Hopper backed out of the driveway and Steve looked out the window, smiling as Mrs. Henderson waved at them before she and Dustin went inside.

[stillheresanctuary]

Finally getting back to this, oh my Lord it has been a stressful week. More than a week? I don't even remember any more.

ANYWAY-! ARTWORK!!! :D

And now for the back story of who the baby bones is and why Ed is missing his jaw!

My bestie @bittybitcurious got curious about my affection for bitty bones, and after much chattering and infodumping, I ended up dragging into the niche world of bitty bones with me. In the process of this, she started helping me with developing more of Ed's backstory, which is something I have very lightly touched on here on the blog but never really got into details with since it was supposed to be something explored in the fanfic that was supposed to accompany this blog way back when (still a WIP and never posted anywhere, woo).

Ed is a Very Old bitty, not in the sense that he's aged or anything, but in the sense that he's literally one of the first thousand Edgy bitties ever made. He's second generation for his type, still a little experimental but stable enough for adoption, and when he was put up for adoption, there were only three types of bitty at all: Sansys, Papys, and Edgys.

As such, when he was taken to the adoption center, he and other Edgys like him were considered kind of the Hot New Thing, and Ed got adopted very shortly after his arrival at the center. He finds out very quickly that the couple that adopted him aren't really who they say they are, as they prove to be bought and paid for proxies who went through the adoption process on the behalf of a richy-rich family that wanted a bitty not to be a family companion, but to show off how rich and on trend and important they were.

Ed ended up forced to dress in all white, in a white cage, in a white room, in the middle of a party of grown ups that looked at him like he was an object, not even a pet, let alone a person.

Good Thing: He wasn't stuck there forever. Bad Thing: He found out he wasn't the only living being that the rich couple treated as a prop to show off their wealth.

The couple's then three year old child let him out of his cage, and several things happened as a result- Ed trashed the white room, the toddler's father overheard, and Ed witnessed a three year old getting backhanded so hard he bounced. Long story short, Ed stepped up to take care of and look after the little boy, doing everything he could to be the best big brother figure he could be for little Roka.

In the canon timeline, Ed ends up having to flee for his life around the time when Roka turns eight, as Roka's father made a solid attempt on Ed's life that resulted in Ed's current missing gold tooth and his leg that never healed right from being broken. He made it into Cell's care after several years wandering the streets, meeting up with Al along the way, and he helped establish the Sanctuary as it is today, all the while trying to find his kid to either sic the authorities on Roka's parents or at least make sure Roka is/was okay.

In this timeline, Roka's dad didn't break Ed's leg. Ed was smashed into a wall hard enough to crack his skull and dislocate his jaw, and Roka realized that Ed couldn't escape by himself. Little eight year old Roka scooped up the injured, nearly dying Ed and fled into the wilderness, never to return.

Roka was born with a very strong Determination SOUL, with a core of Perseverance, that Ed helped nurture and develop to the point where Roka wasn't quite on the level of a true mage, but had a solid knowledge base and could do some minor SOUL based magics, like opening Inventory slots and speaking SOUL to SOUL. Roka knew from Ed's teachings that Determination could stop a monster from Falling Down, but it often had unforeseen and unusual side effects. Roka had limited options, and was terrified of losing his little big brother. Roka drip fed Ed his own Determination laced blood.

Ed barely survived, and not unchanged.

The Determination did stop his SOUL from crashing, but the combination of Determination and the life force infused physical matter of Roka's blood clashed harshly with Ed's own inherent magic and the Dust of his body, and he ended up going through some harsh physical changes as his body and magic was forced to adapt to the influx of Determination and life force while also fighting to heal his debilitating injuries.

While the headwound ended up mostly getting closed, his dislocated jaw had been further detached in their escape, and he ended up losing his lower jaw entirely as he went through a series of increasingly intense seizures as his magic adapted to the Determination in his system. When he finally had recovered enough to stay conscious for longer than a few seconds, Ed found himself grown to twice his original size, unable to talk, unable to access his magic, and with Roka sobbing apologies over him.

Ed never has and never will blame Roka for the changes his body went through, because it was either change or die, and he will not ever leave his adoptive little brother if he has any say in the matter. Roka still blames himself.

In this timeline, Ed and Roka stick to the streets for several years, still coming across and befriending Al along the way, until they end up meeting Cell by complete chance when Cell got curious of some weird noises coming from an alleyway next to their favorite coffee shop. Cell still created the Sanctuary in this timeline, but later than the OG, and therefore had a lot less experience in dealing with situations like Ed and Roka's. They still tried, and after several clandestine meetings involving gifted food and the occasional bit of first aid, Ed and Roka finally allowed Cell to bring them back to the Sanctuary for a bath and a hot meal and maybe even a safe place to sleep.

Fast forward, Ed and Roka have been staying at the Sanctuary for a few months, and Cell ends up tangling with a certain Magic Anon whose spell ends up having further reaching effects than just Cell ending up without legs for a week. Roka ends up turned into a bitty as well, a baby bones that Ed promptly scoops up into a fearsome hug and refuses to let go for a solid 24 hours straight.

I spent all day drawing an AU take on a character here on the blog, and I want to share it, but it involves explaining so much back story as well as a friend's OC that is involved in that back story.

What I'm trying to say is, would peeps even be interested in the alternate take? I'm genuinely proud of the end result, but I'm a little intimidated about how much information I would be dumping.

[writingonesdreams]

How to coax the story out of your head

The key is to find the process that suits you. Duh.

This is actually way more complicated than it sounds and requires some serious autoethnographic exploration and empirical experimentation.

Remember, there are no wrong or right answers. Whatever works for you is the best method. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise.

Writing is serious work. Don't let others belittle that, they obviously don't understand how hard a commitment that is.

Writing requires time. Space. Quiet. No disturbtions. No obligations jumping out the corner.

Sacrifaces of things, easier things you would rather be doing. Visits. That new Netflix series. Scrolling through social media. Reading another writing advice book.

Don't strain yourself. Even if you are in the flow. If you do, you will power down, exhaust yourself and are less likely to start. Your brain will go all defensive and won't allow you to get back into something as straining again.

The hardest things for most people is to start. So don't fret about starting. Idea to try: surprise yourself with sudden jumping to the keyboard and writing. Don't overthink. Overthinking is paralyzing.

Perfectionism is more common in people than the opposite. Everyone wants to do it well. It's the enemy of creation, spontaneity and playfulness.

Let the pressure go woozh. Ideas: Write the worst thing you possibly can. Freewrite. Call it the shitty first draft. If that's too evaluative for you (it's for me anyway, brr) call it the Zero draft. The no pressure draft.

Listen. Redrafts are normal. They are the sign of professional writers. Students and people who don't know how to write go with their first drafts, all vulnerable and unpolished, because they have waited that long or can't look at it anymore or don't want to permit themselves to be mistaken.

Professional writers know there are at least 3 stages to every text. Zero draft where you play and create. Second draft, where you put things in order to make sense. Third draft, where you let out the perfectionist who fine tunes the details. (Use however many more drafts you need).

The edits don't mean it was necessarily bad or wrong. It means the wip could shine even more. Try seeing it as underlining, polishing, highlighting.

The first drafts don't have to be shitty. I'm personally not a fan of this saying, cause usually they contain the most magic. We should value our first drafts for what they are. Sweat and creation, collection of fun and work.

There are outliners and pantsers. They come in all shades in between. Most people use a mix of both, wandering somewhere on the spectrum.

Thing to try: Freewrite about your day before writing as a way to 1) clear your thoughts 2) get into the flow 3) warm up exercise 4) to get rid of the respect before the blank page. Cause you have, y'know, already written something today.

Some people like reading before writing. Sets your brain for words and sentences and nice phrases.

Many people use rituals of their choosing to set their brain into the writing mode. Specific drink, position, smell, place, time, music, reading a similar book, reading what you have written, rereading the outline or notes from last session, etc. This is how you can create a habit. This is how you can get inspired "on command". Trian your muse to show up, when it suits you.

Positive mindset and good mood are way more productive than negative one. Fear, stress, unease all hinder you. Try to have the most relaxed attitude you can. Positive associations with writing are crucial.

When it stops being fun, change something. Take a break. Find the problem and fix it.

Listen to yourself. Trust your brain to connect things and figure them out.

If you are blocked or writing feels too much like a chore, work on figuring out the why. Freewriting is (again, I know) a great way to do this. Let yourself write whatever crosses your mind. Follow your thoughts and see what comes out. Maybe you hate the scene you are writing. Maybe you have a plot point you only feel like you need to have there, but don't actually want there. Be honest and raw with yourself.

When you feel like something has to be there, it's usually just holding you back. Leave it out. Jump over it and come back to to reevaluate it later. It's your work, your story, your tastes. You have all the right in the world to include things you want there. Don't feel like you have to do anything you don't want to.

To try out: Montage writing. Write out of order. Put the things in order later. Jump with your thoughts to any scene/part you want. Put in brackets for things you will figure out/add later.

Lots of novels were created at "walks". This means the writers spend lots of time thinking about their story in detail while on long walks, and then just threw everything they figured out onto the page.

Quick drafting works well to get the most from intense focus on your story and writing it all down as fast as possible. Quick writing also helps to hinder the inner editor - the creep can't keep up if you write fast to keep up with your thoughts.

The speed is really individual though, depending on numerous factors, so don't compare yourself to others and listen to yourself instead.

Depending on your process, speed and care at the first stage, the first draft requires different levels of editing. Not all first drafts have to be shitty and not all of them require the same amount of rework. I repeat, first drafts don't have be shitty, first drafts don't have to be shitty...(the need for editing does not make it a requirement by any means!)

Writing is a physically difficult acitivy. It requires lots of sitting without movement. Don't underestimate the strain it puts on your body.

Writing is mentally exhausting. You literally create something out of nothing (the definition of magic). So be kind to yourself. Take breaks. Refill your creative well.

Writing advice masterlist

[scarlthesnarl]

if you feel you have reached this message in error

~~~~~~~

This is just a short little nothing WIP for the immediate aftermath of episode 20 of G-Witch. I had some feels I had to get out, spoilers below. Based on how "late" it was by the time Earth House found Suletta digging through the rubble, I'm willing to bet that she wasn't answering her comms/couldn't and so there were likely a lot of folks thinking she may be one of those trapped or killed.

Thanks to @red-the-royal for entertaining my brain worms on this one!

Anyway, Miorine's POV for discovering the school's been attacked again but WORSE.

~~~~~~~~

Of all the sights of carnage and horror that have seared themselves into her mind over the past 12 hours, the endlessly scrolling list of the dead from the second attack on Asticassia was the thing that threatened to send Miorine into a full blown breakdown.

Some of the names she recognized from her own classes; most she did not.

The news feed that was playing on the left of the screen was showing images of collapsed buildings and mobile suits accompanied by rescue personnel sifting through the rubble for survivors and the dead in the heart of campus.

Her hands shook as her fingers clumsily tapped through her contacts, trying desperately to reach out to Suletta. Miorine hadn't seen her name on the constantly updating list, but that meant nothing with so many still unaccounted for.

She found Suletta's entry where she'd hidden it at the bottom of her contacts and hit Call.

Distantly, she was surprised it didn't fail to dial as it should have if she was a blocked contact. Even so, the call rang several times before it cut.

Connection failure.

She tried a few more times. Nothing. Perhaps someone from Earth House could be reached.

So she called Lilique.

Then Martin.

Till.

Ojelo.

Suletta.

Nuno.

Suletta.

Aliya.

Suletta.

Chuchu.

Suletta, Suletta, Suletta.

Sixteen instances of call connection failure ping red on her screen. Desperate, she sends a message through the Gund-Arm Inc company employee emailing list for the first time since Suletta's last duel, praying one of them would respond, confirm everyone is okay even if they didn't all receive it.

All possible direct options exhausted, she finally turns to contacting Guel.

M: What in the world is happening up there Guel? Who attacked the school? I cannot get in touch with anyone in Earth House. Are they okay?

Is Suletta? Please tell me she's okay.

Miorine's typing stopped dead the moment she spotted a clip of Earth House came on the screen, showing nothing but a blown out ruin. She felt her heart rate pick up, panic setting in. Was EVERYONE dead?

G: I don't know where to start. "It's bad" doesn't begin to cover it. We've got Shaddiq, but the other one of those witches from the Rumble had been holed up somewhere and she just started shooting everything and everyone.

G: Panlunch is helping with clearing rubble according to Felsi. Earth House was okay last she saw the rest of them and were evacuated safely.

Guel Jeturk is typing…

None of them have seen Suletta since before she went to class today. They're looking for her too.

G: I've tried contacting her a few times myself and got nothing, but you'll be the first to know once I find her, I promise. I have to go, some members of my house are in rough shape, and I need to get back with Lauda to bring them home.

Miorine choked back the urge to vomit as everything sank in at once. It was hard to not know her ex-groom's class schedule by heart. Or shove down the knowledge that the lion's share of the devastation cut huge swaths through the academic buildings. No, no, no. Suletta would have been in the center of it all and was likely buried beneath tons upon tons of debris.

Every last gamble she had taken had failed to keep the girl she loved safe, and now she wasn't even certain that Suletta was still alive. Miorine dropped her head into her hands and despaired.

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

Auriferous  (Jamie Oleksiak)

Hi! Was I ignoring my WIPs to write this? Perhaps. Anyway, this is my fic for @antoineroussel ‘s surprise prompts! I got Jamie Oleksiak and the word auriferous - yielding or containing gold. Yes, I am obsessed with the idea of men being the one proposed to.

Rating: T

Pairing: Jamie Oleksiak/fem!reader

Words: 4295

Warnings: none

Summary: A craft class inspires you to take the next step.

There are a lot of fun things to do in Seattle, as you’d learned shortly after moving here. You’d been nervous that you would regret the move, but it had surprised you how much you love the city. It’s incredibly different from Dallas, in a good way. You’ve spent a lot of the last year working, but there’s been no shortage of things to do in your free time. Jamie loves tagging along when he can, always eager to spend as much time with you as possible. Dating someone who’s away half the time can be difficult, but the two of you have been able to make it work.

The new season hasn’t started yet, but the two of you are back in Seattle and training camp is right around the corner. Two weeks ago, you’d both signed up for a jewelry making class at the Pratt Fine Arts Center. This is your second class, and while you’re a bit distracted as the instructor speaks, Jamie is endearingly focused. He has a little crease between his brows as he takes notes. Sometimes he’s so cute you can’t stand it.

You’re able to pay more attention once the hands-on part of the class starts, having always been a more tactile learner. Last class had been mostly verbal instruction, so it’s exciting to finally have the tools in your hands. You’ve already cut the metal strip for your band, and today’s challenge is to shape it. Jamie is carefully tapping the strip into an oval, concentrating so hard that you’re not sure he remembers that anything else exists. The metal looks tiny in his huge hands, as he hunches over to reach the worktable.

You beat him to the brazing process, using more force than he does and so having your oval done first. It’s a little beat-up looking, but you think it’s pretty good for your first time. The ring glows bright red under the torch and you carefully wrap the solder around the joint before reapplying the heat. Generally, you aren’t super trustworthy around fire, but at least you have proper safety equipment this time.

Both of your rings are brazed and circular by the time you leave. You discuss the class in the car, watching the city pass around you. Once home, you change into comfortable clothes and watch an episode of a show while you have a snack. With the little time that you have left before hockey reclaims Jamie, you don’t mind staying up late.

The class has gotten you thinking along lines that you’ve mostly avoided. Picking up your life and moving north to be with Jamie had made you think this way, too. You really have structured your life around being with him, and you’ve found that it works well for you. That you wouldn’t change a thing. That you intend to stay by his side as long as he’ll allow, whether that’s forever or not.

“Forever” is the idea that’s been haunting you. The rings that you’re making are sterling silver, but that doesn’t stop you from imagining a little gold band in the future. Even in your longest relationship before Jamie, you’d never really seen the appeal of being married. Now, you get it.

The two of you had begun dating less than a year before he got traded to the Penguins, and you had expected it to fizzle out once he was halfway across the country. Instead, he’d put in even more effort to keep the relationship going despite the distance. You’d surprised yourself by reciprocating it, trying harder than you’d ever bothered before.

It had been way too early for you to even consider moving to Pittsburgh to be with him, and luckily he was traded back to the Stars before you had to reconsider that decision. Another two years went by, and he still hadn’t gotten tired of you. Quite the opposite: he seemed to fall more in love with you over time. Even when you’d moved in together and he had to be around you all the time, he still loved you. Even as he learned more of your flaws, even when you fought, he loved you.

So when he got drafted by Seattle, you didn’t hesitate. You’d never known that someone could make you feel the way Jamie does, so you followed him without regret. Despite your friends’ reservations, you knew what was right for you.

Landing in Seattle had been the first time that you considered how a flash of gold would look on Jamie’s finger, and hadn’t been the last.

You’d mostly avoided the thought until you’d started the class, not wanting to examine how you feel about the possibility. It had been made clear to you throughout your life that you’re a bit too much, more effort than you’re worth. Jamie is the first person who’s ever made you question that idea, and by now, you don’t believe that anymore. Most days. But thinking about marriage brings it back with a vengeance. You know that you want to marry him, that there’s never going to be another person you love like him. Your brain just won’t seem to let you believe that he could feel the same way.

He’s spent the last five years proving just how much he wants to be with you, but certain insecurities are difficult to overcome. You’re trying, though.

When Jamie proudly shows you the setting he’s made for his ring the next week, you can’t help but kiss him. Being so careful about the process has made him move slower, but it’s also made the ring look more impressive than you’d anticipated. You look back to your own setting, slightly different than his. The entire class is making the same pattern, but the instructor had allowed some of you to alter it slightly to be more masculine. The wide band has a few small dents in it, and the setting is a little uneven, but you think Jamie will like it anyway.

His first day of training camp sneaks up on you, only really registering when you kiss him on the cheek on his way out. He’s excited, like he always is, despite the way the previous season had gone. He’s in on the ground floor of something brand new, and he truly believes that things will get better. You admire that kind of strength and optimism.

You’d found a nice work from home job when you moved to Seattle, so you get to sit around in your pajamas while he sweats at the rink. The work is a lot of “hurry up and wait”, so you get to be paid for browsing the internet and watching a bunch of Netflix.

Between meetings, when you’re caught up on your tasks, you remember a website that you used to play on all the time. You open it up, being presented with a clean, white page with tasteful text. You used to think it was so fun to mess around designing custom jewelry that you couldn’t afford. You hadn’t been in the same mindset, then.

The men’s rings are mostly either boring or painfully ostentatious. You play around with them anyway, giggling as you design the biggest, ugliest ring you’ve ever seen. Looking at rings is mostly for laughs, is what you tell yourself. You’re just rediscovering an old pastime, nothing serious.

After a couple more meetings, you have some more downtime, and go back to the website. It’s only another fifteen minutes before you see a piece that stops you in your tracks. All of their necklaces are technically “women’s”, but this one could definitely work for any gender. The chain is less delicate than other options, the pendant a rounded diamond shape, almost circular, with a large stone in the middle.

You click it, customizing it without thinking. With your cushy new job, it’s within your budget. Not that you’d decided on a budget going into this entire endeavor, but the price isn’t anything scary. You’ve clicked the checkout button before your brain kicks back in. Unfortunately, you have awful impulse control. Once you’ve decided to do something, there’s almost nothing in the world that can stop you. So you stare at the order confirmation screen, mentally screaming.

Did you just buy Jamie an engagement chain? Yes. Yes you did.

You try to rationalize it to yourself, anxiety bubbling up from your stomach. It doesn’t have to be an engagement thing. Hockey players wear chains all the time, so you could just give it as a regular gift and he would never know. Except you don’t want to do that. You want to get on one knee and offer it up while you ask him to marry you. But you can wait to do it, as long as you want. It’s not like jewelry goes bad. You could totally let this sit in a drawer somewhere for a month, a year, whatever. Nothing you tell yourself helps quell the fear.

When Jamie comes home, it takes him less than sixty seconds to notice that something’s off. You deflect his questions, coming up with a half-baked excuse about work being stressful today. He gives you a look, making it clear that he knows you’re lying, but thankfully he knows when to drop the subject.

You manage to act much more normal than you feel, after that. You have a thorough discussion with your therapist about the situation, and leave feeling both better and worse. She knows you well enough by now to pick just enough at your insecurities and memories that you spend the next two days trying to untangle the knots she’d loosened.

By the end of your final jewelry class, you and Jamie have two silver rings with dark stones in them. You’d decided before you’d even started that you’d exchange them, but you wait until you get home to do it. As Jamie slips the ring onto your finger, a perfect fit, you can’t help the way your heart leaps into your throat. You return the gesture, admiring the way that the ring glints on his hand. Neither of you can stop smiling, playing with the rings and complimenting each other’s skills.

Luck must be on your side, because the conspicuous package arrives while Jamie is at practice. The second the black box is out of the cardboard, you break it down and take it out to the dumpster so that Jamie doesn’t see it. The logo printed on the box was too clear about its contents to keep around.

The chain is perfect. The loose fit of the golden chain links, the shine of it around the black diamond embedded in the center. It takes a couple tries to get it back in the dark blue box neatly.

You’re already tapping the contact in your phone on your way to stash the box in the back of the closet. It rings while you shove the chain into a larger box of random things you never bothered to unpack, buried in the back of the closet.

“Hello?” Penny’s voice is clear through your headphones.

“Hey,” you greet, “How are you?” The pleasantries don’t last long, as if Penny can tell that you’ve called for a specific reason. She tells you a little bit about her training that day, and you confirm that your job is still just as boring as last time you spoke. You make sure to ask after her parents, and she assures you that they’re doing well.

“Y/N,” she interrupts, “What’s going on?” You swallow, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You let out a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Is it outdated to ask the family for permission to propose?” you ask. Her silence is deafening.

“Is this a hypothetical?” she asks. You laugh a little, fiddling with a loose thread on your pajama pants. Upside to having a work from home job is that you only have to wear a nice shirt, because no one ever sees your legs.

“Maybe?” you reply, “I haven’t decided yet.” You can practically hear Penny shaking her head at you. She sighs, saying your name again.

“Hypothetically speaking,” she answers, a smile evident in her voice, “It’s really up to what makes you comfortable.” That’s basically the response you were expecting, but it’s not exactly what you want to know.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you say, “If I were to propose to Jamie, would your parents want me to ask first?” Penny laughs. You were worried about her being too serious about this, or being mad that you called her about this in the first place.

“Hypothetically,” she replies, “I think that they would appreciate it, but wouldn’t require it.” There’s something terrifying about the prospect of asking their parents for their blessing. They’ve made it clear for years that they love you, and consider you part of the family. But there’s always the tiny chance that they say no, or come up with some condition. What if they think the man should be the one to propose? They’re forward-thinking enough that you don’t expect them to feel that way, but there’s always a chance.

“Okay,” you say, “Okay.” You chew on your bottom lip for a few quiet moments.

“Hey Penny?” you ask, waiting for her “yeah” in response.

“Would you be okay with me proposing to your brother?” you ask, fingers digging into the bedspread. Penny loves you too, even calls you her sister to others. Still, you’re expecting even a slight pause that doesn’t come.

“Of course, dumbass,” she says immediately, making you chuckle, “Now I’m gonna be disappointed if you don’t.” That rips the smile off of your face. You swallow hard, throat clicking. It’s weird to have some type of pressure on this, especially when you’re still on the fence about doing it at all.

“Hey,” Penny calls a couple seconds into your silence, “He’s gonna say yes, okay?” You nod, even though she can’t see it. The nodding helps you find your voice.

“Okay,” you say, trying to convince yourself, “Yeah. Okay.” The both of you let the silence hang this time, neither of you sure of what to say. You keep repeating in your head he’s gonna say yes over and over, like thinking it enough will make it true.

“Let me know when you do it okay?” she says with an upward lilt to her voice, trying to lighten the mood “I’d better be the first to know.” A half-hearted laugh is all you can manage.

“I have you on speed-dial,” you reply. There’s not much else to say, so you close with more pleasantries before hanging up. At least one person thinks that this is a good idea.

-

As nerve-wracking as talking to Penny had been, asking Jamie’s parents for his hand in marriage is on another level. You’ve been preparing for over a week, rehearsing exactly what you’re going to say and how to say it, talking to yourself in the mirror like a loon. You have Jamie’s game schedule memorized, so you had already planned to do this on the day he leaves for a long roadie. If it goes badly, you’ll need the time he’s away to lick your wounds.

Alison is both surprised and happy to see you when she answers the FaceTime call, fussing over you and how you’re doing. You get through the mom-ness of it all with a smile on your face, overly fond of how she treats you as her daughter.

“Mom, is dad there?” you ask at the first appropriate pause. Alison’s brow furrows.

“Yeah, he’s here,” she says, “Is everything okay?” You rush to assure her that it’s all fine, no bad news. Well, maybe bad news, if they don’t take it well. You’ve amended Penny’s statement in your head for the past few days to say they’ll say yes, which you start repeating to yourself. Alison fetches Rich, the two of them trying to cram themselves into frame in the awkward way that only older people can manage.

“I have a question for you both,” you begin, all of your carefully rehearsed words flying out of your brain. There’s silence as you grasp for them, trying to piece together something coherent. Rich gives a quiet “go on” in encouragement.

“I’m going to propose to Jamie,” you blurt out, the first time you’ve said it in a concrete way, “And I wanted to know if you’re okay with that.” They both look stunned, eyebrows raised and mouths slightly open. The dead air gives you just enough time to panic. You’re not even sure what you’re panicking more about: asking them that, or the fact that you’ve now officially solidified your plan.

“Of course!” Alison practically shrieks, stifling a high-pitched, excited noise with her hand. Rich’s face breaks out into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him. You let out a comically huge exhale.

“Really?” you ask, mostly in disbelief. This has all been too easy. Not only are they okay with it, they seem excited about it. You’ve known that they love you, but to want you as an official, legal part of the family? That’s more of a surprise than it should be.

“Of course, honey,” Rich replies, his chest puffed up a little in pride, “There’s no one else we’d rather have.” The tears are building up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Being loved and accepted is something you’re still not used to- from anyone but Jamie- and it’s making you emotional.

Alison grills you on the how and what and when, and you answer her questions gladly. She seems to think it’s all incredibly sweet and romantic, which helps your confidence. Even if he were to say no, at least it’ll be a great proposal.

-

Being that you know Jamie’s schedule, you know exactly when to propose. He has a complete day off a week and a half later. No games, no practice, not even media. You spend the time perfecting your plan, figuring out what you’re going to say. Considering how your preparation had gone when asking his parents, you’re pretty sure you’ll forget everything in the moment. It helps to practice, anyway.

It takes pretty much no convincing to get the guys to agree to lunch that day, them being constantly hungry hockey players. You invite a few of his non-team friends as well, wanting all of his favorite people to be there. Only one person can’t make it, which you consider a relative success.

The morning of, you wake Jamie up with breakfast in bed. It’s something you’re prone to doing now and again since you work from home, so he doesn’t question it. You spend the morning lazing around in bed, before casually bringing up lunch. Surprising him with a huge group of friends would tip him off that something is going on, so you make it seem like you’d been invited by someone else and forgotten to tell him about it. He agrees readily, excited when you tell him it’s at his favorite spot.

You use lunch as an excuse to get dressed up and do your makeup. The sundress you wear, dotted with bright yellow sunflowers, is Jamie’s favorite. You do your makeup in shades of gold to match. Jamie wears a simple combo of jeans and a button-up, but you think he looks amazing. You always think he looks amazing, though.

Lunch is a hit, with everyone upbeat and playful. The only thing you’d had to explain was why his other friends were there, but you played it off that you’d just invited them because you hadn’t seen them in a while. Thinking on your feet isn’t a specialty of yours, so you’re proud of yourself for coming up with something believable. You hadn’t told anyone why you’re doing all of this, just that you had a surprise for Jamie.

He chatters the entire way home, entirely unlike himself. The happiness is radiating off of him, making him shine like the sun. Your heart warms to see him so bright.

When you get home, you spend the afternoon watching his favorite movies. It’s peaceful, even with the way you both comment at the screen throughout. Jamie tells you little trivia facts, some of which you’ve heard before, but are glad to hear again. You’d listen to him talk about just about anything. The day is going perfectly, setting you at ease.

Typically, a proposal would involve a fancy dinner at a nice restaurant, but you know better. Jamie likes the upscale places you go on occasion, yes, but he’ll like this better. You take him to the hot dog truck next to the park, ordering your usuals. You walk around the park as you eat, talking amiably about nothing. There had been a similar truck back in Jersey, where you’re from, that you missed when you moved to Texas. When you came to Seattle, Jamie had gone out and found one just for you. This park is a lot safer to walk around after sunset than the one back east, which is a nice upgrade.

Full and satisfied, you head home. You’d made a playlist of all his favorite songs that you’ve been playing in the car all day. He sings along to one of the songs, and you can’t help but join in. You’re both laughing as you walk through the front door, playfully shoving each other.

“Hold on a second,” you say, “I gotta go grab something.” He’s too happy to even be confused by that. By the time you return with the box, he’s moved into the kitchen. You can hear the snap of popcorn in the microwave, Jamie standing in front of it on his phone. The plan is to watch more movies, so you’re not surprised.

You call his name softly and he turns around. The box is in your hand, surreptitiously hidden behind the island. As expected, the words leave you. Guess you’ll just have to speak from your heart.

“Today was nice, right?” you ask. He puts his phone down on the countertop, taking a step closer.

“Yeah,” he replies, “Of course.” That brings you some relief, knowing that he enjoyed your plans. The anxiety is still nearly overwhelming, though. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“Every day is nice with you,” you begin, letting the words come naturally, “Every day since I met you has been the best day of my life.”

“I never really thought that I could love someone at all, let alone the way that I love you,” you continue, feeling yourself tear up against your wishes, “And I definitely never thought that someone could love me back. Especially someone like you.”

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known,” you say, the words pouring out of you, “And I’m so incredibly lucky to have you in my life.” His face has moved from being scrunched in confusion to something soft and bittersweet. You’re beginning to get choked up, so you forgo the other million things that you want to say to him. Ideally, you’ll have the rest of your lives to tell him all of that.

His hand flies up to grip the island counter when you drop to one knee.

“Jamie Oleksiak,” you swallow hard, “Will you marry me?” You brandish the box, cracking it open. If someone had asked you the reaction you’d expected to get, you wouldn’t have said “baffled”. Yet Jamie’s staring at the box, completely perplexed. You tilt the box so that you can look at it too, horror overcoming you.

It’s empty.

What the absolute fuck. The box has been sitting in the back of the bedside drawer since you’d moved it there a few days ago. No one knew it was there except you. Did you somehow get robbed for literally one item?

Suddenly, Jamie starts laughing hysterically. This had been one of the options you’d considered for a reaction, but not for this reason. Your face is burning and you’re truly on the verge of tears. It takes every ounce of willpower to resist the tears, staring up at him with watery eyes.

He steps forward to kneel down in front of you, laughter subsiding into a radiant smile. This is somehow more humiliating than the option where he’d outright rejected you. How could you have been so stupid as to lose it? Jamie cups your face in his hands, kissing your forehead.

“I didn’t realize,” he says, reaching into his shirt with one hand. The chain glints gold in the dim kitchen lighting when he pulls it out. He’s… wearing it. He’s wearing it?

“What?” is all you can say.

“I found it in a drawer,” he explains, “I thought that I bought it and forgot about it.” That is, objectively, hilarious. You sob out a laugh, relief flooding your body. The wetness in your eyes isn’t subsiding quite yet, but at least you hadn’t lost the most important thing you’ve ever bought. Jamie hugs you tight, kissing the top of your head over and over again. You clutch onto his shoulders for dear life.

“By the way,” he says after a minute, “The answer is yes, in case it wasn’t clear.” Now you’re helpless to keep from crying, letting the tears soak his shirt. He’s sniffling too, tear tracks down either side of his face when he pulls back.

“I love you,” you say, kissing him with everything bubbling inside of you.

“I love you, too,” he replies, giving you a quick kiss before looking into your eyes so deeply that you feel stripped bare, “Forever.”

“Forever,” you echo. You both laugh.