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sceletaflores · 3 months

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isn't it messed up how i'm just dying to be him?

pairing: stanford!art donaldson x stanford!fem!reader

summary: and there it is. there’s that glimmer of attention, that hint of acknowledgement of him. the heavy look of rage taking over your features, the bite in your tone, it’s what art’s wanted for months. your undivided attention.

—or: art tries to get through to you about patrick, it doesn't go how he thought it would.

word count: 6.2k (i'm so sorry lmao pls still read it's good i promise)

warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), switch!art a little bit, creampie, kinda hate sex but not really, more like angry sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, art is lowkey a little gay for patrick (it's literally canon), tiny bit of manipulative!art, art is just kinda an asshole in disguise honestly, hints of mean!reader cause i live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties, art being a bad bro, porn with too much plot, no use of y/n.

authors note: so this is basically a re-worked version of art and tashi’s dining hall scene when he’s trying to convince her that patrick isn’t in love with her. it’s really similar just way more messy and angry and with sex. this is literally just a tiny thought i had that somehow spiraled just a little bit, but i needed some lowkey asshole!art in my life. i had so much fun writing this, like way too much fun lmao. title is a lyric from fall out boy’s "sugar, we're going down swinging" cause that song fucks so hard and it's soooo art coded. okay bye! mwah xoxo

psst! tftw series masterlist!

Art Donaldson is a patient guy. He's nice, understanding, empathetic. It's something he prides himself on, lots of guys on campus are pricks, but not him. He's "the sweet blonde guy that plays tennis, like, really well!" according to most people who've met him.

That being said, he's not blind to the fact that you frustrate him to the point of wanting to shout himself hoarse and rip his hair out.

It's been a while since he and Patrick met you for the first time at the Open, and Art has been through hell and back about a million times over by now.

He still so vividly remembers watching you step onto the court, the almost visceral reaction he had. The crowd was cheering and clapping nearly as loud as they were for Tashi. There were even a few signs made in support of you scattered throughout the stands. Big poster boards plastered with your name and your winning streak and pictures of you playing, tennis balls and rackets drawn from markers decorating them.

It was obvious you were a favorite, and it was more than obvious how much you lived for it.

Smiling and waving to the crowd, fully basking in their respect and adoration. You were nearly glowing, Art couldn't take his eyes off you. He could tell that Patrick was thinking the same thing, if the way his thigh tensed up where it was plastered against Arts was any hint, his breath slightly catching as you started stretching.

"Goddamn..." Patrick had muttered under his breath. Art could distantly see his hand clench on top of his thigh when you bent over to tighten your laces. He always tries to be less shameless than Patrick but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just as affected by you, fighting the urge to shift in his seat.

After you and Tashi walked up to the net with matching smiles and shook hands for a little longer than usual, it was time to start. Art watched as both of you got in position on the opposite ends of the court. Both of your faces lost the easy-going, excited expressions you’d shared when you first walked out, hardening in concentration as Tashi got ready to serve.

Patrick and Art openly gawking at the two of you would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t so fucking justified.

You and Tashi made magic happen on that court.

It was powerful hit after powerful hit. Tashi’s backhand was out of this world, your overhand was a monster. Every rally, every volley, every serve was pure perfection. Art had never seen tennis played like that before in his life, he couldn't help but get sucked into your world the longer he watched.

The match was close, completely neck-and-neck throughout each set, neither of you willing to give an inch to the other. Tashi won by a single point, hardly wasting any time before she vaulted over the net to come barreling into your open arms, crashing into you so hard it knocked the two of you to the ground.

You both grasped at each other like lifelines on the hard concrete of the court as the announcer crowned Tashi the 2006 girl’s U.S Open champion.

Art let out a long breath and deflated a little deeper in his seat. His mind racing, he didn’t need to look at Patrick to know he felt the same. They sat in silence like that until the stands were practically empty.

“What time did you say the party was again?”

Art pointedly ignored Patrick staring at him with a shit-eating grin on his face, stretching his arms out in feigned nonchalance. Patrick just snorted, shaking his head and squeezing Art’s thigh.

That was then, now Art sits across from you in the Stanford dining hall at the same table you two eat lunch at everyday, trying to stay cool as you complain about the latest biology lab you’re doing.

He’s hardly listening to you, too busy trying his best to not glare too obviously at the hoodie you're wearing. One that he knows for a fact belongs to Patrick. You must have kept it the last time he was in town. The Nike swoosh embroidered to the front almost mocks him. Art puts his water down with a little more force than necessary.

Patrick and you being…whatever the two of you are now was something he tried his best to be okay with in the beginning.

Patrick’s his best guy, Art should have been so stoked that you were into him as much as he was into you when the two of them walked up to congratulate you and Tashi at the Adidas party. Only being able to steal you away from the house after you said your goodbyes to Tashi and her parents, inviting you to join them down at the beach.

It was obvious you were playing into Patrick’s attempts to get in your pants. Not blushing or averting your eyes shyly when he blatantly checked you out, throwing out smart comebacks to his sleazy lines, looking up at him through your lashes and biting your lip.

It would have been soul-crushing if Art wasn’t such a good friend. So, he stifled the rising feelings of jealousy and plastered a smile on his face as he watched Patrick shamelessly flirt with you.

It wasn’t like it was your fault. Art didn’t come on as strong as Patrick, he never did. Plus it wasn’t like he and Patrick had talked about who could try and score with you prior to the party, anything was fair game.

Besides, you were nice enough to Art that night. Chatting about college admissions and smiling at him over your coke bottle. Sure, it stung seeing you laugh at Patrick’s stupid jokes while the two of you smoked off the same cigarette, but there was nothing he could do about it.

You choosing Patrick had nothing to do with him. Everyone always chose Patrick, he was used to it by now.

At least he thought he was, but the longer it was just you and him, the more angry he felt each time Patrick would visit and steal all your attention. It wasn’t just jealousy or frustration anymore; it was a gnawing, consuming rage that twisted his insides every time he saw you light up around Patrick.

Patrick didn't fucking deserve you. You were too good for him. Nothing like all the easy, ditsy girls he fucked his way through at the academy. You were special, unlike any girl Art’s ever met. Patrick would just take you for granted. He'd grow tired of you, completely dismissing you when he got bored enough. Any day now he'd call Art to spill on his latest hookup with some chick he met on tour.

But Art didn’t want to sit around and wait for that day to come. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt by Patrick’s inevitable indifference. The idea of you, heartbroken and discarded, made his blood boil. You deserve more than that. You deserve someone who sees you for who you truly are, not just a trophy.

Art knows he could be that person for you if you’d give him a chance, if for once you’d look at him instead of Patrick. He just has to find a way to get you to understand that.

“Pat texted me this morning,” you say from across the table, boredly poking at your pasta. “He’s gonna be here later this week, says he wants to go see 30 Days of Night. You and Tashi should come with us.”

Art hums noncommittally, not looking at you as he takes another bite of his salad. You do this a lot– extend invites to Art and Tashi when you and Patrick go out.

Art knows you think you’re being nice by trying to make them feel included, but getting invited usually means having to watch Patrick touch you and kiss you and walk around with his hand in your back pocket.

Art’s fork stabs into his salad roughly. He takes a slow breath, trying to calm the emotions starting to swirl inside him. “Yeah, sure,” he says eventually, forcing a smile. “Sounds fun.”

He sneaks a look at you from under his lashes. You’re already looking at him, brow raised at his clipped tone. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Art shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, still watching him with a hint of skepticism. “Are you alright? You’ve been weird all day.”

Art lets out a small laugh, but it sounds more sour than sweet, and finally looks up at you. You look back expectantly, concern lingering in your eyes. “Nothing, it’s just…” he pauses, drumming the fingers of his left hand on the table, “the fact that you two are still going out surprises me. That’s all.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it, words sounding way more patronizing than he wanted. His chest immediately tightens with guilt, but he doesn’t wince or shrink back like he normally would, just keeps his eyes on you.

Your brows furrow, a tiny frown pulling at the corners of your lips. “What?” you ask, fork stilling in your hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Art just sighs, putting his fork down and leaning towards you. “I know Patrick better than you do,” he says with a tiny shrug, “he’s always had a hard time with…commitment.” He says slowly, searching for the right word.

You don’t say anything for a couple seconds, eyes scanning over his face slowly like you're examining him. Art forces himself to not start squirming under your intense, studying gaze.

You don’t seem to like what you find, eyes narrowing as you push your tray away from you and lean back in your seat. “Are you seriously shit talking your own best friend right now?”

Art’s brow raises, that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, at all. His jaw ticks in annoyance, his hand balling into a fist on the tabletop.

“I’m not trying to shit talk him,” he says calmly, voice tinged with frustration. “I’ve just seen how things go with him. I’m looking out for you.”

Your eyes harden, disbelief mingling with irritation. “So, what? You think you know what’s best for me or something? Are you my keeper now?”

That pisses Art off, now you’re just being an asshole. His brows furrow, arms crossing in front of his chest defensively. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He says, tone harder than before.

You scoff, anger spilling over your face. “Well what the fuck do you mean then, Art? Because you dancing around whatever it is you obviously want to say is really starting to piss me off.”

Irritation flares in Art’s chest, piercing and sudden. He swallows it down, breathing out his nose slowly to try and calm himself. The air between the two of you is tense now.

You’re loud enough that a few people sitting at tables nearby start to quiet down, discreetly trying to listen in.

“Patrick doesn’t love you.” Art says spitefully, his fingers grip the muscle of his arms tighter. It’s childish, but he doesn't care.

Your eyes widen, clearly caught off guard. You recover quickly, letting out a disbelieving laugh as you push away from the table with a harsh scrape of your chair. "Excuse me?" Your voice cuts through the air, sharp and incredulous.

He stays silent, letting the weight of his words hang heavy in the air. Your eyes narrow, searching his face for any sign of retreat, but Art meets your gaze head-on, jaw set stubbornly.

You stand with your arms crossed over your chest as you stare down at him. “Why are you telling me this? Why do you care if Patrick loves me or not?”

Why do you care? The question makes his heart drop down to his stomach. Dread mixes with the anger in his chest. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he doesn’t want to make a scene in the middle of the dining hall. You’re just being so difficult.

You’re jumping to defend Patrick, not even trying to hear him out, just like you always do. Still refusing to give Art the attention he deserves. It’s fucking infuriating.

“I’m just saying,” he says, voice distant and cold, “he hasn’t been in love with you for a while. He’s told me.”

It’s a lie, he’s hardly spoken to Patrick recently, but he’s in this now. He may as well go for broke, he always plays to win after all.

Your face contorts grimly, another disbelieving laugh punches it’s way out your chest. You don’t seem to notice the amount of heads turned in your direction, or maybe you just don’t care. “Oh, he’s told you that has he?” you parrot back mockingly, head cocked to the side as you stare daggers at him, “That’s fucking bullshit Art!”

Art clenches his fists, jaw flexing in anger. He’s never seen you this mad before, never expected to be the cause of it. But at the same time he’s fucking angry too. Angry at you. Angry at Patrick. Angry at himself.

His eyes narrow, holding your own heated gaze without backing down because if there's one thing he hates most, it's losing. “You don’t get it do you?” He mutters quietly, shaking his head in dismay.

Your jaw tightens, eyes blazing as you lean forward, bracing your hands on the table to get up in his face. He can smell the familiar fruity sweetness of your perfume.

“What’s there to get? The only thing I’m getting right now, is a front row seat to you being a vindictive little prick.” You bite out, breath fanning over Art’s face. “Who even said I wanted Patrick to be in love with me? Who said I gave a fuck about any of that?” You question sternly, brows furrowed as you scowl at him.

Art scoffs loudly, his face twisting in disgust as he rolls his eyes. His blood boils at having to sit here while you bitch him out. He wants to strangle you, to take you by your shoulders and shake you so that you’ll listen.

To make you see what he sees. To make you love him. “Please,” he hisses through gritted teeth, shifting so he’s leaning across the table just as you are, his eyes dark. “Everyone wants Patrick to love them. Everyone wants his attention. You want it.”

You just blink at him, taken aback by his outburst. You stare at him, not budging as your eyes scan over his face for a second time. And there it is. There’s that glimmer of attention, that hint of acknowledgement of him.

The heavy look of rage taking over your features, the bite in your tone, it’s what Art’s wanted for months. Your undivided attention.

After a few tense seconds you just laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You might be the worst fucking friend in the world.” You say simply, like you're reading off this week's forecast.

Maybe he is.

Art can feel the heat rising to his cheeks in anger, in embarrassment, in hatred, in lust. The way you’re looking at him makes something stir deep in his gut. His heartbeat echoes in his ears.

You’re so mad, but in that you’re giving him a hint of your attention, giving him the time of day, and you’re still fucking defending Patrick. Rage seethes in him, hot like fire. Yet even in this moment, you’re the only person that really matters. The intensity of your gaze pulls at something raw inside him.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” His voice is lower, pinched with thinly veiled frustration threatening to boil over.

"And you think you're the expert on what I deserve, Art? Last time I checked, your own love life’s track record isn't exactly stellar."

It’s a low blow, bringing up how Tashi rejected him a while back. He hadn’t told you about that, so Tashi must have. He laughs, but his lips are pulled up in a sneer.

"Don’t start deflecting,” Your name falls from his lips sharply, stabbing through the thick tension in the air. “This isn't about me, it's about you. You're setting yourself up to get hurt, and I'm just trying to warn you–"

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for your fucking opinion," you snap, "maybe you should focus on your own damn problems.”

Art’s jaw tightens further, his frustration finally getting the best of him. "Fine, do whatever the hell you want. But don't come crying to me when Patrick does what he always does— leaves you for someone new."

You stare at him incredulously, shock and anger warring in your expression. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Yeah, well," Art mutters bitterly, looking away. "Believe whatever you want. Just know that he’s playing with your feelings.”

You huff, throwing your arms out at your sides in frustration. “What fucking feelings Art!” you say loudly, not quite shouting but you’re getting there. “Sure, Patrick and I fuck but that doesn’t mean we’re playing husband and wife with each other!”

You’re definitely way too loud, voice steadily rising in volume the more you talk. Seemingly not caring about who’s around to hear you yell about fucking Patrick. “In fact,” you continue, shaking an accusatory finger at Art, “you’re the one trying to get in my head and play with my feelings, you fucking hypocrite.”

His mind whites out, filled with blinding jealousy all over again. He wants you so fucking badly, he could be everything you needed. Why can’t you see that? How could you be so blind? How could you not see that Patrick was using you, just like he used everyone else?

Art leans further across the table as you speak, his hands coming up to grip the edges of it tightly. “You’re so fucking naive, you know that?” He snaps in a biting tone. It’s harsher than he’s spoken to you during this whole fight.

Your voice drips with sarcasm as you lean forward, eyes locked on his. "Oh, well forgive me for not seeing the truth according to Saint Art."

“So fucking naive.” He repeats, spitting the words across the table meanly.

“And you’re a fucking pussy.” You bite back, leaning in even closer so Art can see your lips form around the words maliciously. You sway close enough that the tip of your nose bumps against his. His breath catches, going ragged in his throat. You’re so close to him. He can smell you, can practically taste you on his tongue.

He wants to take you in his arms, to hold you and kiss the anger off your face. The only thing keeping him from lunging out is the way you look. Your whole body is rigid with anger, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. You’re so beautiful. He has to remind himself that he’s supposed to be pissed at you and fight the urge to pull you in and really taste you.

But then you're backing away completely, “I won’t waste my time on stupid shit like this,” you mutter, turning to pick your bag up off the floor. “Thanks for lunch, Art.” You say sarcastically, not even looking at him as you turn on your heel and walk towards the dining hall’s exit before he can respond.

Art’s heart lurches forward at your words, not with pain, but with want. He watches you leave, the regret quickly setting in once you’re not here to play into his resentment. It hits him like a cold shiver, he wants to feel good for speaking his mind, for telling you how it is. Maybe on some level he does, but it’s overshadowed by how awful he feels.

Art stares down at his unfinished salad, appetite gone. He sighs loudly, standing up to toss his own tray plus the one you left behind. He tries his best to ignore the stares he can feel following him as he walks out.

ᯤ

Art wallows in misery for the rest of the day, skipping the practice he had planned after lunch. He just locks himself in his dorm, laying on his mattress and staring at the ceiling as he replays the fight in his mind. Replaying every word you said to him, every word he said back to you, every angry look you gave him.

He thinks about texting you a thousand times. Typing and deleting different messages until he eventually gave up. He knows you’re beyond pissed, that him reaching out will only piss you off more and he wants to try and salvage this before you completely shut him out. The thought of losing you is why he never wanted to bring it up in the first place, regret settles in his gut like a ball of lead.

And yet, there was a small part of him that hoped, despite the shit show in the dining hall, that you’d see the quiet care he showed, the way he was there for you, and choose him for once. But hope was a dangerous thing, and Art wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

Hours go by with nothing from you, it’s the longest you’ve gone with talking since the semester started. He forced himself to study for his biology final in a lazy attempt at taking his mind off you. You’d usually be in his dorm room right now, all spread out on his bed like it’s your own as you talk his ear off about something like your asshole psychology professor.

The longer he sits at his desk the longer the ache in his chest consumes him. Art would do anything to know what you were thinking right now. He’d grovel for your attention, he’d fall to his knees and beg and plead if that’s what it took for you to forgive him.

He’s getting ready for bed when his Blackberry pings on his night stand, it’s almost embarrassing how fast he rushes over to it. His heart stutters in his chest when he sees it's a text from you. It’s only two words, a simple ‘come over’.

Art’s never moved faster in his life, rushing out of his room with only his phone, wallet, and keys.

He makes it to your dorm in record time, nearly sprinting across campus to hurry up and get there before you change your mind. All that needy rushing completely vanishes once he’s actually outside your door.

Art hesitates, staring at the little door decals taped on with your name written on them in black sharpie. He rests his ear against the door, but he can’t hear anything. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, brows pinched as he wrestles with himself.

“C’mon Donaldson, don’t be such a little bitch.” Patrick’s voice rings out in the back of his mind. He takes a breath and knocks on the door.

Barely a second passes before it’s swinging open and you're there, gripping the front of his shirt and dragging him inside your room. Art's back hits the closing door with a thud, his breath catching in surprise. His hands shoot out to brace on either side of the door, knocking over a racket resting on the wall. Everything he brought with him falling to clatter onto the wood floor loudly.

You look rough, eyes slightly red and puffy like you may have been crying. Your breath comes out in short, quick bursts as you stare up at him. All the anger he swore would come rushing back when he saw you drains out of him in a second.

His face softens, a tiny frown on his lips. "Hey, what’s going on?" he asks, voice a mix of confusion and worry. His hands come up to hover near your hips, hesitating at the last second, not sure if he should touch you.

Without a word, you’re flying forward while yanking him down by his shirt. Closing the distance between the two of you with your lips crashing against Art’s. It’s so sudden, so completely out of left field, that Art stumbles forward a few steps, hands gripping your hips tightly to steady himself.

It’s almost pathetic how easily he kisses back, not even hesitating. Flashes of Patrick’s face go through his mind as he eagerly reciprocates, not stopping him from pulling your hips flush against his. He definitely might be the worst friend in the world, all the loyalty he felt to Patrick tossed out of his mind the second your tongue slides past his lips.

It’s intense, there’s no romance or gentleness about it. Your lips move against his almost violently, all the aggression and anger from earlier still very much there. He’s never kissed a girl like this before, it’s not how he imagined his first kiss with you would go. He’s still getting hard in his sweats anyway.

Your tongue fucks into his mouth roughly, it reminds him of the time he and Patrick kissed when they were still at the academy for “practice”. He moans loudly into your mouth, letting you dominate the kiss and just trying his best to keep up. Your teeth clack against his roughly, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to have him whining embarrassingly high and needy.

“It’s over with Patrick,” you breathe hotly, slick lips brushing his with every word. “I want you to fuck me.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Art’s dick feels hard enough to burst out of his sweats by sheer force, but he pauses, pulling away from you with a hesitant look. "I-" he tries, voice cracking slightly. He can feel his cheeks starting to burn as he clears his throat. "I don't think that's a good idea. It's so soon, and I mean you're obviously going through something and I don't want to take advantage of yo-"

An incredulous laugh bursting from your lips effectively cuts Art off, your eyes roll to the ceiling in dry amusement. “God, Art.” you scoff, both hands pushing off his chest to create space between the two of you. He keeps his hands on your hips, the thin material of your bottoms bunching in his grip. “You’re such a fucking little bitch, you can kiss me but you won’t fuck me? What is it? You scared of Patrick or something?”

The taunt hits Art like a slap across the face, he freezes for a second before disbelief gives way to white hot rage. You just stare up at him smugly, lips red and wet. Art bares his teeth, using his strong hold on your hips to force you backwards until your knees hit the edge of your bed.

“You’ve pushed me and pushed me and pushed me,” he spits, glaring down at you as he speaks. “Acting like such a fucking brat. You want me to fuck you?” He pushes you back onto the bed roughly, covering your body with his, letting his weight sink you deeper into the mattress. “Fine, I’ll fuck you.”

Art sits up, ripping his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere behind his shoulder. Your greedy eyes rake down the toned muscle of his torso, hands coming up to lightly scratch your nails over his abs. His breath hitches, goosebumps breaking out all over his skin. He grabs your wrists, forcing them down and pinning them to the bed. “No touching.” he chastises, leaning down to bite the skin of your neck roughly. Sucking hard enough that he’ll definitely leave a mark.

His dick twitches against the inside of his sweats at the thought of you walking around campus with his claim staked on you, at the thought of Patrick, if he was still coming down, seeing it and immediately knowing who left it there. He slides his knee between your legs, he can feel the warmth radiating from your pussy, can feel how you’re so wet it’s soaking through your bottoms and onto his thigh.

You hiss at the sting of his teeth, trying to squeeze your wrists out of his strong grip. Your thighs tighten around his knee, hips bucking up against him. “Are you gonna fuck me anytime soon, Art? Or do I need to find someone else that’s not all talk?”

Art chuckles darkly, nipping at the sensitive skin of your collarbones. “You can bitch and moan all you want, but I haven’t even touched you yet–” he leans forward to whisper directly into your ear, “–And you’re still fucking soaked for me anyway.” He drags his tongue along the shell of your ear in a dirty stripe.

You let out a keen, pretty and high, grinding your hungry pussy against his knee faster. He lets go of your hands, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. Tossing you around like it’s nothing, just manhandling you.

“God,” he groans, big hands coming up to knead the meat of your ass, spreading it lewdly making you moan softly. “You’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, words falling from his lips like he couldn’t hold them in any longer.

Art keeps one hand tight on your hip, the other fumbling with the drawstring of his sweats so he can push them down to finally free his aching dick. Letting it spring out to slap up onto his bare stomach, trailing a thin line of pre-come across his abs.

You squirm under him, feet kicking out as you struggle in his hold. Your head craning over your shoulder and zeroing in on his dick, hard and red and leaking. “You came over here with no panties on, Donaldson?” you taunt, pushing your ass back onto the sensitive length of his erection. “How slutty–”

“Shut up,” he snaps harshly, but his dick twitches where it’s dragging over the seam of your ass. He’s leaking like a faucet, leaking like a girl, all over your light green plaid bottoms. It strikes him suddenly, how familiar they look. He stares at the worn down fabric covering your ass, at the way his pre-come stains the material darker, at the way they hang too low on your hips, too big for you.

“Are these…are these Patrick's,” he asks slowly, voice low as his fingers skim over the soft material. You chuckle wickedly, wiggling your hips back teasingly.

“Yeah, they are,” you say, sliding your ass back and forth over Art’s dick. “You’re leaking jizz all over your best friend's pants, Art.”

Art groans loudly, chin dropping to his chest as hips jerk against your ass involuntarily. A full body shiver wracks through him like lightning, eyes screwing shut as he tries not to come all over your ass. “Shit–” he bites out sharply, voice rough and scratchy. He can distantly hear you laughing at him through all the white noise buzzing in his ears.

He breathes out through his nose, willing himself to calm down. He needs to be in control for once, needs to teach you a lesson for ignoring him for so long.

Art’s hands come up to the waistband of your– Patrick's– pants, fingers digging underneath the loose material and forcefully yanking it down along with your panties, only pulling them down to your mid-thigh. You yelp in surprise, hands gripping the sheets of your bed tightly.

“I need to get inside you, right fucking now.” he rumbles thickly, flipping you onto your back again. He needs to see your face when he fucks you for the first time, needs to burn it into his mind forever.

“Fuck yes,” you reply eagerly, arms coming up to circle around his shoulders. “Finally.”

Art doesn't reply, eyes fixed on your bare pussy, so fucking wet and shining underneath the shitty ceiling light of your dorm. His mouth waters, he wants to drop to his stomach and eat you out until you're shaking and squirting all over his face. His dick drools at the thought, but he’ll have to wait. He needs to fuck you.

He takes his dick in his hand, dragging it through the silky skin of your soaked folds. He spreads your wetness around your clit, rubbing the leaking tip over you back and forth teasingly. You whine, thighs starting to shake on either side of him. He drags his dick back down to your clenching hole, lining up and slowly sinking inside the tight, wet heat.

Art doesn’t give you any time to adjust to the thick head of his dick breaching your tight hole, burying himself to the hilt inside of you with a sharp thrust.

“Fuck!” you cry out, legs coming up to wrap tightly around his hips, digging your heels into his lower back. “Shit, fuck you’re– God, you're so fucking deep.”

“I’m going to use your fucking pussy however I want,” Your name falls from his lips, dirty and blistering. “because it’s the least I deserve for putting up with your bullshit for so fucking long, and you’re going to be good and lay there and take it.” He drives his point home with a mean thrust of his hips.

“Fuck you, Art.” you mutter back, trying to keep up the bratty act even though your voice is going breathless and needy.

Art doesn’t ease into it, pulling back only to start pounding into your pussy ruthlessly. Sharp slaps of his hips stinging your ass each time he drives back in, your eyes roll back in your head, slack lips parted in pleasure as he fucks you.

Art can’t help but lean down to claim your mouth, kissing you a little too sweetly for the moment. He can’t help it, not when you’re under him making the sweetest noises, letting him fuck your perfect fucking pussy like he owns it. God.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Art growls, breaking the kiss to rest his sweaty forehead against yours. “You’re so fucking, tight. Feels so fucking– shit, so fucking good.” His hips speed up, desperately rutting into you.

“Art,�� you whine, nails scratching down his back hard. “I’m so close, fuck I’m so close– keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–”

He cuts off your rambling with a kiss, groaning at the way his name sounds getting fucked out of your mouth. The loud squelch your pussy makes each time he buries himself back inside has his ears burning, he can feel you soaking the skin of his thighs with every thrust.

“Wanna feel your tight pussy milk me dry,” he grinds out through gritted teeth, picking up his pace. “Fuck, I‘m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come.” He ruts into you harder, splitting you open with every thrust. The skin of your ass turning red and raw from how hard he’s giving it to you.

Your hands come up to bury themselves in his hair, tugging sharply to make him look at you. “Inside,” you pant, eyes glazed over and wild, “come inside me Art, please. I’m on the pill you can, you can come inside me.” Your legs tighten their hold on his hips, ankles locking snugly over his lower back so he couldn’t even pull out if he wanted.

“Fuck!” Art shouts your name hoarsely, hips stuttering as he unloads in you. Hot come spraying the walls of your pussy. You let out a broken moan, your whole body shaking as you come with him. Your pussy chokes his dick so tightly, gripping him like a vice, milking him.

Art tilts his head up, catching your lips with his to greedily swallow down all your moans. He keeps going, shallow thrusts of his hips working you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until you’re kicking at his back, whining at him to stop. He collapses on top of you, his sweaty skin sticking to the fabric of your shirt.

It’s quiet for a while, the two of you silently trying to catch your breath. Your hands come up to his head, sliding into the messy strands of his hair. “It’s pretty late now,” you say slowly, nails scratching against his scalp softly. “You could…you could stay here if you want.”

Art hides the wide grin breaking out on his face in your chest, arms coming up to circle around your waist. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He whispers back, squeezing the soft skin of your hips once.

It’s only later, when you’ve fallen asleep on his chest, that he stares up at the ceiling lost in thought. He’s too worked up to sleep, so fucking thrilled that it worked. His plan actually worked. You’re his now. He looks down at you, glowing softly in the moonlight filtering through your window, deep hickeys scattered across your neck. He drags his fingers along your cheekbone, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

This is what he’s wanted for so long, you.

You asleep in bed with him, you curled up in his arms, you with his come steadily dripping out of your swollen pussy.

Art can hear his Blackberry start buzzing on your nightstand, lighting up with an incoming call. Even from far away he can read the name displayed on the screen. Patrick. He lets it ring.

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bvidzsoo · 4 months

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (9)

ー☆ Chapter 9: You (Show Me Where My Days Went)

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 9.8k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hi, lovelies!! LMLAR is BACK!! I am sooo happy I could finally update and just write, y'all have no idea! I am so sorry for making you wait so long for this update, but finishing my thesis was super important! I still have to study and such this month, but I promise next update won't take as long as this one did! (I'm writing other stories too while writing this one, so that kinda backfires sometimes lol) I am forever grateful that you are patient and stick around for the new chapters, this story is so dear to me you wouldn't even believe it. I am also super grateful and happy whenever you leave feedback, so please, keep on doing just that!<3 This chapter only exists because I was randomly inspired, and I'd like to apologize if it's a little rusty, I always have to get in "character" when I write this story lol. I am soo excited for next chapter, I think it's going to surprise you hehe. PLS PLS imagine that airport look from Mingi when reading this chapter, the pics from the moodboard, you'll see during which part! I also have a very small surprise at the end of this chapter hehe. I hope the time jumps aren't too confusing:(( Please, listen to the song called You before or while reading! Enough yapping, I hope you enjoy and leave feedback! (Taglist is always open for those interested! ^^)

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

Later that day

I hate him: hey…just checking in that I got home safely what are u up to?

I blinked, fingers tightening around my phone before I locked it, leaving the message on unread. My mother’s shuffling outside my door caught my attention, bringing a smile onto my lips as I watched her struggle while bringing all the dirty laundry to the bathroom. Then, I got off my bed to go help her.

Friday (11:30 am)

I hate him: i see u still haven’t checked my message… nothing too worrisome u certainly know how to make a man yearn for you lol that was a joke…dont freak out on me pls (lowkey true tho)

Friday (12:50 pm)

I hate him: lol, wooyoung has been bitching about seulgi’s professor for half an hour now mr. kwon u know him? i mean…i suppose he also teaches u i should take a sneaky video for u…wooyoung looks like a clown hanging upside down my bed and pouting like a damn child too (dont say im also one, thanks)

Friday (15:26 pm)

I hate him: well…ik my messages are going through so uh… why tf are u ignoring me???! *cries and dies in loneliness* entertain me dollll!!! im so bored pls oh…u said u had an important assignment…i bet u’re busy with that sorry for spamming u (text back tho when u’re done, im dying here…wooyoung is with seulgi and so is seonghwa with hongjoong…the single life sucks, bestie…lets be single and depressed together<3)

My jaw clenched as I heaved a long sigh, falling back on my bed as the sun shone brightly through my open window, the light breeze making me shiver as I only wore a t-shirt and sweats. Autumn was slowly turning into winter; the weather wasn’t so warm anymore. I threw another look at my phone, unlocked it, and stared at the received messages from Mingi for a second before finally deciding to delete them from my notification center, rolling over in bed to muffle a frustrated scream into my soft, and purple, pillow.

Saturday (9:09 am)

I hate him: i had the weirdest dream and im not even sure i want to tell u about it LOL but uh…a grisly was chasing me??? and then u appeared on a fucking white horse like a prince LOL and threatened to like…slay it if it didnt leave me alone??? honestly…what a slay, bestie good morning, btw, doll hope u had a better night’s sleep than me (and dreamed of me ehehehe)

Saturday (17:40 pm)

I hate him: i cant believe i allowed myself to be fooled like this back in highschool yuyu and i used to play baseball for shits and giggles and hongjoong (that rich prick) rented a whole ass baseball field for us for the afternoon and let us play with some of his (rich af) friends and uh… i think i wont be able to walk straight for another week with how much running i did… hongjoong kept scoring homeruns…i wish yuyu was here to kick his loser ass (dont tell hwa or hong i said that PLS) yo doll…everything’s alright with u? uh u…really havent answered me since… yk…i stayed over and waited for the rain to stop… have i done something wrong?

I sighed and put my phone on ‘do not disturb’, suddenly having lost all of my appetite as I forced the rest of the lettuce down my throat. My mother was sipping her kiwi and apple smoothie, eyes narrowed as she muttered to herself while trying to memorize the recipe of a dessert for later. Desserts were never her forte, unfortunately.

“Is it Seulgi?” She asked absentmindedly as I took a large gulp of my own smoothie, staring down at my salad, steak pushed to the side in my plate.

“Huh?” I asked distracted, eyes still glued to the dark screen of my phone.

“Texting you, your phone keeps buzzing, my starlight.” I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but didn’t bother to comment on it. I took a peek at my mother and her eyes were narrowed at me already, video on YouTube paused. Fuck, I had to answer her now or else she’d pester me all day long. And that would be a nightmare.

“Yeah, it’s Seulgi.” I lied, trying to make my voice sound convincing.

“Well, answer her then, don’t be rude.” My mother chastised me, pressing play on her video again, pursing her lips as she shook her head at whatever the man baking was saying.

“Later.” I whispered, biting my lower lip as my eyes remained glued to my phone, stomach clenching and heart dropping.

But I couldn’t.

Sunday (1:01 am)

I hate him: …you’re ignoring me, arent u? im sorry, y/n, i dont know what i did wrong, but we can talk about it we’re friends, after all…right?

『When you came along, I knew what was wrong

If you want to know exactly what I've missed』

Monday (present time)

It truly would have been a missed opportunity if Seulgi and I wouldn’t have grabbed coffee and went to sit in our usual spot in the back garden. The campus of our University was huge and that was perfect, because it meant people migrated and didn’t stay in one spot for long—at least long enough to irritate me to no end. Last week deemed to be rather rough, and I still didn’t feel like completely myself. To be honest, I thought about staying home today—and for the rest of the week—but I couldn’t afford missing any of my classes as exam period was slowly nearing, and so, I had to force my ass out of the house this morning before my mother could come and nag me about my weirdly unusual broody mood that has been going on for the past few days.

I hummed as I took a sip of my sweet coffee, enjoying the taste of warm caramel as Seulgi sighed loudly next to me, both hands cupped around her own coffee cup. The scent of cinnamon wafted from her cup and I scrunched up my nose, not too fond of the ingredient’s smell. Our classes started early in the morning today and we’d be here for at least four more hours, caffeine seemed like our only hope to stay awake and aware at this point. Given the fact that my baffling thoughts kept me up all night yesterday, I felt grateful that I was still on my feet at two o’clock at noon. As Seulgi fidgeted again, I chuckled and finally turned my head to look at her. She had a sheepish look on her face, and I tried not to laugh as I knew she was bursting to tell me all about her date with Wooyoung on Saturday.

“Well,” I started as I took a sip of my coffee, prolonging the suspense for her, “how did your date go?”

“It was amazing!” I had barely finished asking as Seulgi exclaimed, her cheeks turning rosy—and it wasn’t due to the cold air, “Wooyoung is—everything I thought he would be. He’s sweet and up for anything, he makes me laugh until I feel like passing out, and there’s just never a dull moment with him, you know?”

“One would expect that from him.” I muttered against my cup, laughing as Seulgi nudged my side, not looking too happy with my comment, “Oh, come on, it would be hard for Wooyoung to be different than the way he mostly presents himself; don’t you think?”

Seulgi grumbled something against her cup as she lightly bit into the carton, shooting me a pointed stare, “Well, yes, but…he makes me happy. Treats me well and all that, you know, he’s the perfect embodiment of what a boyfriend should be like.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” I teased with a smirk, wriggling my eyebrows at my best friend as her cheeks flushed an even darker color as she bit her lower lip, trying to mask the huge grin expanding on her lips. But as soon as I started giggling, Seulgi also broke out in a fit of giggles, hiding herself behind her wavy hair, pressing her cup of coffee against her face.

“God, I’m so down bad for him, Y/N, I don’t think you’d understand.” She mused, voice airy as she threw her head back, leaning back against the back of the bench. I chuckled and took another sip of my drink.

“Maybe I’d do.” I muttered, memories of my relationship with Yunho resurfacing. Thankfully, however, I managed to repress them as quickly as they came. They didn’t feel so gut-wrenching anymore, and to my surprise, didn’t leave a bitter taste in its wake either. What has changed? Certainly—certainly getting closer to his best friend didn’t influence the way I feel about Yunho, right? Right.

“So,” I glanced at Seulgi from the corner of my eyes as she swung her legs, looking down at her feet in the process, “how are you?”

“Fine, why?” I asked confused, angling my body to face Seulgi better.

“You’ve been…distant the whole weekend. I could barely reach you.” Seulgi’s voice sounded small and I gulped, feeling bad for making her worry about me, “You know…the last time you pulled away and disappeared, it was bad.”

“I promise you I am doing completely fine, Seulgi, you’d be the first person to know if I was in a bad headspace again, alright?” I reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Seulgi sighed and then raised her head to look at me, lips pulled into a thin line.

“Promise?”

“Of course, I promise.” I smiled at her warmly and she hummed in contentment, squeezing my hand back as she took a sip of her coffee. I followed suit before removing my hand from hers to fiddle with my half empty cup, “I’m just dealing with some things right now. I think I’m confused.”

“About what?” Seulgi asked curiously, leaning closer as I continued to avoid eye contact with her.

“I’ll tell you once I have my thoughts sorted about it.” I chuckled, making Seulgi roll her eyes in displeasure.

“You know, I tell you absolutely everything about myself and how I fell, and you always shut me out and tell me how you felt about a situation when it’s been over for years.” Seulgi pouted, narrowing her eyes at me, “How’s that fair, Y/N?”

“Hey, we work differently, don’t try to guilt trip me now.” I chuckled and took a sip of my coffee, making Seulgi roll her eyes, “Anyways, what did you do on your date with Wooyoung?”

“We went to the cinema,” Seulgi’s face lit up once again, grinning from ear to ear, “He bought me roses, a big bouquet. And after the movie we went for a walk and ended up stargazing in his cabriolet. It was really romantic.”

I smiled, feeling happy for my friend, she deserved someone like Wooyoung, “That actually sounds really amazing…and romantic.”

“Oh, my God, are you really Y/N? Where is my friend that hates anything that has to do with romance, cute stuff, and love?!” Seulgi’s shocked face was mocking and I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I leaned back against the back of the bench.

“I don’t hate it, I’m just not a huge fan of all of those things, okay?!” I shrugged, letting my arms fall from my chest as I pushed them inside my coat’s pockets.

“Who’s the culprit?” When I raised my eyebrows at Seulgi, a sign that I didn’t understand her question, she chuckled and leaned closer, “Who’s the man that’s changing your views on life, huh?”

“Man?” I asked with a scoff, giving Seulgi a deadpanned expression, “Does it always have to be about a man? Can’t it be just the fact that I had a change of mind?”

“Sure, because of someone.” Seulgi had a smug look on her face, acting as if she won the argument. But there was no argument here and she had no idea what she was talking about.

“Whatever—” But I got cut off as her phone dinged loudly. Seulgi, very comically, scrambled to reach for her phone and as she opened it up, a wide grin stretched onto her lips. It didn’t take two braincells to realize who had texted her, and thus, I chuckled and turned my head. I sipped my coffee, taking in my environment while Seulgi answered her boyfriend, giggling quietly every now and then.

The campus was finally silent and not as busy as it usually was in the early morning hours. The cold weather also helped in keeping the garden a little quieter as most people preferred to stay inside the warm corridors and classrooms. But the chilly air was good, it soothed my nerves and erased thoughts that weren’t productive. Similar to that, were the emotions that I didn’t want to deal with again, like the guilt that’s never left me ever since Mingi walked out of my house wearing Yunho’s old clothes. It felt wrong letting him take them without knowing the truth about them, but I didn’t feel ready to tell him yet about the truth. I was scared, surprisingly, of what he’d think of me once he found out about Yunho and I. I was scared that—he’d walk away, like Yunho had once done. And that was a very frightening thought. But when had I become so attached to Mingi? When has Mingi managed to infiltrate himself so thoroughly in my life, that the thought of completely losing him became scary? And why was I taking the past few days so badly? It’s not like we were as close as Seulgi and I, or him and Seonghwa and Wooyoung, yet, ignoring him felt like the wrong move to do. However, the reasoning I always circled back to was the fact that I needed space. I had to clear my mind, to find the purpose of this whole friendship that’s been blooming between us, and to make sense of everything. I had to figure out first why Yunho barely scraped my thoughts now, and why was it was Mingi who I found myself thinking of so often. In case you were wondering, no, I still haven’t found the reason, and it was becoming frustrating quite quickly. That near kiss was a—mistake. Yet, it could have been so much worse—it could have been a real kiss. And a real kiss would have ruined everything. I didn’t want to open up to anyone just yet, not when the memories of Yunho still haunted me in my dreams and drawings. Drawings that now more often than not consisted of Song Mingi.

And to my horror, the flipping of paper sheets is what alerted me back to my surroundings as I had been lost in my thoughts, oblivious to Seulgi putting her phone down and grabbing my sketchbook that lay between the two of us on the bench. As I turned my head, my eyes widened as Seulgi’s expression held surprise but amusement as well. She chuckled as she looked up, making eye contact with me. I lunged forward in an instant, trying to take my sketchbook out of her hands, but she leaned back and away, putting it behind herself.

“Bitch, I’m not the only one who’s down bad for a man.” She said with a laugh, making me groan as I gave up trying to snatch my sketchbook back from her.

“I’m not down bad for a man, Seulgi, stop this non-sense.” I hissed, cheeks burning in embarrassment as she kept flipping through my drawings.

“Please,” She scoffed, turning my sketchbook around and making me grimace as I came face to face with an exact replica of Mingi, sitting in his chair, at his studio that one time he invited me inside, “Who the fuck draws so many drawings of one single person if they aren’t in love with them—”

“I’m not in love with Mingi, stop it!” I exclaimed, heart beating fast as Seulgi raised her eyebrows at me, looking unimpressed, “Don’t ever again say that, Seulgi.”

“Okay, calm down, whatever. You’re not in love with Mingi.” She chuckled, closing my sketchbook but she didn’t hand it back yet, “But let’s face it, Y/N, you have a thing for Mingi. It’s super freaking obvious even without the drawings.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I hissed and finally snatched the sketchbook out of her hands, clutching it to my chest. I knew bringing this along today would turn out to be a mistake, and here I was, facing the repercussions of my actions.

“There’s this glint in your eyes whenever you look at him—”

“Yeah, it’s called dislike.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“And I see how you struggle to refrain yourself from smiling when you’re around him—”

“Bitch, be for real, Mingi and I aren’t even often together around you for you to notice that.” I scoffed, completely appealed by whatever absurd claims my best friend was making.

“So you’re not denying it—would it really be so bad if you liked Mingi?” But Seulgi ignored all my interruption as she raised her eyebrows at me, smiling softly, “He’s a nice guy. Very well-mannered and with a big, and good heart. Wooyoung loves him a lot and is always worrying about him. He says Mingi hasn’t been the same ever since his best friend moved away for college—”

“Mingi is Yunho’s best friend!” I blurted out before I could stop myself, finally feeling like a stone was taken off my chest as I bit my lower lip, averting my eyes from Seulgi’s shocked expression, “Mingi is the best friend Yunho had always talked so much about while we were together. I—do you understand why it would be so bad if I ended up liking Mingi?”

“Y/N,” Seulgi whispered, eyebrows furrowed, “for how long have you know?”

“Long enough.” I muttered before clearing my throat, “So please understand that I’m not ready for whatever the hell me drawing all those sketches of Mingi could mean. A month ago I was close to bursting out crying even at the thought of Yunho, and now I fail to remember his existence on my best days.”

When I dared take a peek at Seulgi, she was smiling softly, almost proudly, “Fine, I’ll pester you about this later on, when you’ve figured things out, but until then—you can’t deny Mingi isn’t hot—”

“Can we stop talking about Min—”

“Hi, girls!” I jumped in fright at the overly excited and shrill greeting as both Seulgi and I turned our heads to be met with…Wooyoung and Mingi. Speak of the devil. Suddenly, there was a lump in my throat, and my heart started beating just a little bit faster as my eyes fell on Mingi’s tall form. It didn’t help that underneath his coat he was wearing Yunho’s sweater—the one I had given him.

“Hi.” Seulgi giggled as Wooyoung leaned down to press a kiss against her cheek, the two looking sickly in love. It was actually endearing, but I’d never admit it out loud for my own sake as I knew I’d get teased about it by Seulgi. I averted my eyes from Wooyoung and Seulgi as they were muttering things to each other, and so, had no choice but to look up at Mingi, who looked—expressionless. Something in my stomach dropped at his cold demeanor, and it was worse that I wanted to assume it was my fault that he looked like that. But just as I was about to look away, he cracked the tiniest smile ever, and I exhaled, licking my lips.

“Hi.” My voice was small as I gulped, eyes trans-fixated on the tall man as his smile became just a little wider. I don’t think I had the power to ignore him anymore, not when he was standing right in front of me, looking like he wished to be anywhere but here.

“Hi, Y/N.” Having not heard his voice in days, it sounded even deeper and raspier than usually, making butterflies erupt in my stomach as my grip tightened around my sketchbook. I felt a little awkward, perhaps even tense, as Mingi didn’t say anything else, just continued gazing down at me with his sharp dark brown eyes boring into my own. I had so many things that I could’ve said to him, but I felt tongue tied. I didn’t know what would be the right way to approach him after I ignored him for so many days. Would he understand? Is he mad at me now? Does he hate me now? Will he forgive me—

“Okay,” Wooyoung chuckled, syllable drawn out and sounding amused, “I feel like I’m interrupting something here, yet they are basically just staring at each other.”

“You’re right.” Seulgi giggled, and I finally looked away from Mingi, throwing a glare at my best friend as she had leaned into Wooyoung’s side, who stood next to the bench and her.

“Shush, you two.” Mingi beat me to telling the two love-birds off, and I couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t poke your nose where it doesn’t belong to.”

“Look who’s lecturing me about poking my nose where it doesn’t belong to—”

“Wooyoung.” Mingi’s tone held a warning, and it made Wooyoung giggle as he leaned down and pressed a fat kiss against Seulgi’s cheek—again—making her push him away playfully.

“We’re headed to class, are you coming over later?” Wooyoung smiled down at his girlfriend, playing with a strand of her hair.

“Maybe, if I get to finish my project.” Seulgi said with a pout and Wooyoung hummed, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips this time around. I averted my eyes, not a fan of seeing couples kiss, only to catch Mingi already looking at me. He was expressionless once again, but he was fidgeting with his fingers, looking almost nervous. And as Wooyoung stood up straight and ruffled Seulgi’s hair affectionately, Mingi took a deep breath.

“Will you come to Outlaw this Friday?” He asked in a rush, sounding almost reluctant as his eyebrows furrowed slightly and he chewed on his lower lip. To my horror, I found my eyes fixated on his plush mouth and I gulped before I quickly averted my eyes, praying that nobody caught it.

“Yes.” I answered before Seulgi could, and nodded, smiling a little bit, “I won’t miss it.”

A beautiful smile spread on Mingi’s lips and he nodded once, looking too happy for something so little. I don’t think I’ll understand anytime soon why he gets so excited and happy when I listen to his songs or watch him perform. I’m no expert when it comes to music, my feedback is merely amateur and I’m not even a fan of his band yet.

“Cool, see you then.” And Mingi didn’t wait for Wooyoung as he turned around and walked away, steps hurried. I didn’t miss the confused glance Wooyoung and Seulgi shared before Wooyoung was off, chasing after his best friend. And maybe I would be soon able to make sense of my thoughts and feelings around Mingi, figure out what they meant and why they felt so real at times.

Monday (16:58 pm)

I hate him: hi Me: hi I hate him: would it be a lot if i asked to meet u tomorrow? Me: no, im free in the afternoon I hate him: cool, me too so uh…we can hang out in my studio? Me: or we can go to that new café with pottery I hate him: really? Me: u did say u wanted us to go… I hate him: i certainly said so i’ll pick u up around 4 Me: u don’t have to i’ll meet you there I hate him: come on, y/n…let me drive u Me: u’ve driven me around too many times by now i’ll meet u there and that’s final. I hate him: okay, boss, see ya there Me: :))

Getting here before four o’clock and having to wait in front of the cute café had no business being this nerve-wrecking. Yeah, Mingi hasn’t shown up yet—but perhaps that’s because there were still ten minutes until it’d be four—and I knew I had no reason to think he’d bail on me, but we hadn’t spoken since yesterday, when he had asked me if we could hang out. And so, waiting for him shouldn’t have had me breaking out in a sweat despite the cold weather, making me bite my lower lip harshly as I tried to smooth down the wool, green, brown, and beige patterned coat I was wearing. First of all, why the hell would I be so nervous about meeting up with Mingi alone at this cute café? He probably wanted to talk about that near kiss, and once we had that cleared, things would go back to normal—right?!

And maybe that was the reason which made me want to vomit on the sidewalk, the thought that I knew Mingi would demand answers—answers that I wasn’t yet ready to hand out. Why did I even agree to this? Because I missed him? I should have just stayed at home and done the project I’ve been procrastinating on—again. But when I heard the rumble of Mingi’s old Honda’s engine, I knew there was no turning back, catching the bus and running home to hide underneath my blanket.

As Mingi took his time to parallel park, I took a deep breath and gripped onto the strap of my tote bag harder, looking down at myself. My apricot orange sneakers matched the color of my blouse, the top two buttons out of five undone, but not showing too much skin. My blouse was tucked inside my washed out high waisted mom jeans, the black belt matching the color of my tote bag—I know black isn’t a color, I’m an arts major after all. My hair was pulled in a low ponytail just to prevent the wind from blowing it in my face, and I was thankful that I chose my wool coat as it kept me warm enough. I have opted to wear quite a few rings today, and because my neck felt too exposed, I decorated it with three necklaces of different length. I gulped hard one last time as Mingi got out of his car and took a few seconds until he managed to lock it. However, those few seconds were exactly what I needed to prepare myself to not pass out at the full sight of him.

Mingi, in true fashion to him, wore all black, except for his jeans that were a very dark shade of blue, almost black too. His turtleneck was tucked inside his jeans, a black coat with a hood keeping him warm from the cold late autumn weather. It almost made me smile upon seeing his own tote bag, black, and funnily matching mine. Except that his was plain, while mine had Claude Monet’s Water-Lily Pond painting painted on it, done by none other than yours truly, me. Mingi’s eyes were concealed by black sunglasses, and I snorted as he almost splashed himself up by stepping a little too enthusiastically into a big puddle. Two necklaces hung around his neck, reaching down his chest. A very obvious and sturdy silver cross necklace, and another longer chain that had pearls scarcely strung on it. And in true Song Mingi fashion, his rings weren’t missing, only two of his nails painted black on each hand, almost as if he didn’t have time to finish doing them. My heart racing in my chest so fast just at the mere sight of him, certainly wasn’t healthy, right?

“Hi!” I squeaked out and wished to burry myself instantly as Mingi chuckled, a very charming smile spreading onto his lips. It was a little annoying that I couldn’t see his eyes, forced to stare at his plush lips instead—let’s be real, nobody forced me, I did it because I couldn’t help myself, “The sun is quite blinding today, isn’t it?”

And of course, in good old fashion, my mouth worked before my brain would agree to saying something out loud, and my cheeks were burning as I knew Mingi saw me look at his lips. I had to divert the attention somehow, and teasing him was my best method, actually. It always worked.

“I’m trying to make a fashion statement,” Mingi grinned as he gripped the sunglasses and took them off in a very unnaturally hot way, “but hello to you too.”

“No need for a fashion statement when it’s just the two of us,” I narrowed my eyes, finding Mingi’s hair very soft and fluffy looking, almost as if he had recently washed it, and it wasn’t completely dry, “I’m not one of your fans.”

“Pity,” Mingi hummed, stepping slightly closer to me, “I thought I might just finally wove you.”

I scoffed, and as I was about to tell him off, he grabbed my tote bag and pulled me after himself, headed for the entrance of the café, “Did you have to wait long for me? Traffic was busier today, I had to take a few detours to get here in time.”

“Don’t worry,” I smiled as he opened the door for me and let me walk inside first, “I only waited half an hour for you to arrive, runway princess.”

“Runway princess?!” Mingi’s eyes bulged for a second before he started laughing loudly, making a few customers glance our way as we made it inside the café. I elbowed him in the stomach gently, not too keen of having people glare at us as he disturbed their peace.

“Don’t like the nickname?” I asked with a raised brow as we neared the front desk. The cashier had a friendly smile on her face while she greeted us as Mingi and I looked up at the menu, trying to decide what we’d like to have.

“Never said that,” Mingi answered with a chuckle as he threw me a quick glance, “it’s just surprising coming from you.”

“Why, can’t I call you a princess?” I chuckled, turning to face the cashier as I have made up my mind about what I’d like to have.

“Up until now you seemed to prefer the term ‘bro’, but I’m fine with whatever you decide on calling me, doll.” The look the cashier gave us made my cheeks flame up and I cleared my throat loudly, shooting Mingi a look that told him to shut up.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered embarrassed, smiling at the cashier, “can I get a strawberry cheesecake?”

“Sure, right away, and you, sir?” Her attention was on Mingi now, cheeks flushing the longer she looked at him. Okay, I could totally understand why. Mingi looked quite good right now, it was hard not to ogle him.

“A mint-chocolate cheesecake and a cappuccino?” Mingi hummed, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he looked down at the cashier.

“Plain cappuccino or with vanilla?” The cashier typed in our orders as she asked Mingi, averting her eyes shyly once he looked at her, pursing his lips.

“Plain,” He decided at last, turning to look at me, “are you not getting anything to drink?”

“An orange fresh will be alright.” I said as I reached inside my bag to fish around for my wallet.

“And would you also like to paint some pottery?” The cashier asked, pointing behind herself at all the displayed options. Mingi and I shared a look and I smiled as I nodded at him, making him grin from ear to ear.

“Yeah, we’ll paint some pottery too. Can I have a cup?” He asked, pointing at one on the higher shelf. It was a smaller cup, specifically made for drinking coffee. The cashier nodded and then looked at me expectantly.

“Uh, a mug will do for me.” I said and thanked her once she handed us the pottery and the paint that was used for painting these. Then, she tapped a few more on her tablet and told us the total. I opened my wallet to pay for my purchase, but Mingi had a card in his hands, the cashier already typing in the total sum for him to pay.

“Mingi,” I hissed quietly, looking at him with a frown, “what are you doing?”

“It was my idea to come here—”

“No, it wasn’t.” I cut him off, fingers curling into the scratchy fabric of his coat as I reached out to hold it, “I suggested we come here instead of going to your studio.”

Mingi sighed and pocketed his card, already having paid, then turned his body to face mine. I didn’t let go of his coat just yet, “Yeah, but when I drove you home during that downpour I asked you if you’d come here with me. So technically, it was my idea. Initially, anyways, it really was.”

“Mingi—” I started, but soon swallowed my words as he stepped closer, invading my personal space. My fingers tightened more into his coat and I gulped, suddenly feeling nervous due to our proximity. He faintly smelled of vanilla, it was a fragrance I didn’t except to smell on him.

“Can you not fight me on this one, please?” Mingi’s eyebrows slightly furrowed and his eyes softened up and I—struggled to breathe for a second as I stared up in his pleading eyes, mouth going dry. He looked—adorable like this, and I did not like the way I felt myself getting lost in his soft gaze.

“Let’s find a table.” I muttered, forcing myself out of the trance he placed on me, and grabbed my mug and the painting supplies. Mingi followed suit as he took his own cup and followed after me closely. We walked further inside the café and found a smaller table in the next room, closer towards the window. The walls were painted a faint orange and were decorated by white stripes that created abstract shapes. The chandeliers were white and hung low, the place well-lit for those who wished to paint pottery.

I placed the things in my hands on the table carefully, and then discarded my coat on the back of my chair and my tote bag by the leg of the table, pulling my chair out for myself. Mingi followed suit, however, he managed to almost send his cup tumbling to the floor when he took his seat. His eyes were wide as he just barely caught the cup, and I giggled as I watched him while opening the box that held all the paint. Thankfully, the table was spacious enough to harbor both our pottery and paints as the cashier brought out our delicacies. She threw Mingi a lasting look before she hurried back to the front desk, glancing our way at times.

“This is going to be a tough one.” Mingi said before scooping up a bit of his cheesecake with his little spoon.

“Why?” I asked with a chuckle, choosing a thin brush to start painting some flowers on my mug. My cheesecake could wait.

“Because I’m literally sat at a table with an arts major, having to decorate some cup by painting.” Mingi sounded stressed and I chuckled as I looked up at him, amused by his expression. His hair fell in his eyes a bit, and I found myself absentmindedly reaching over the table to brush it to the side. Almost as if realizing at the same time what I had done, we both froze. It felt like time stilled around us as I watched Mingi with a gaping mouth, slowly but surely, my cheeks becoming the color of a fire hydrant. But Mingi wasn’t better off as he bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes shyly as his cheeks turned the faint color of pink. Clearing my throat and accidentally choking as I hastily pulled my hand back, I averted my eyes and fought for my life to not choke. Thank God the orange juice was right there, I quickly took three large gulps.

“Th—thanks.” Mingi stuttered, staring at the table as he licked his lips, “Uh, it’s gotten long, my hair, I mean, I have to cut it when I get the time.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, grabbing my mug and chewing on my bottom lip in embarrassment—God, could the Earth swallow me up right now? Why the hell did I do that?! “Yeah.”

“Do you think I should change it up a little?” I paused as I had dipped my brush in red paint, and slowly looked up at Mingi, “Do something fun with it—like going blonde?”

“I hate blonde hair.” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Nice one, idiot. Yunho was blonde while we were together, and thus, yeah, I’ve hated blondes ever since. And to be fair—and this is not me shitting on my ex—but that hair color did not suit Yunho at all.

“Oh, noted.” Mingi whispered, pouting a little. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hating myself for the weird atmosphere I have created.

“Mingi, you can do whatever you want with your hair.” I spoke up, leaning down to try and look him in the eyes as he was busy staring at the table, “My opinion shouldn’t matter. It’s your hair. Go crazy with it, have fun, try out something new. Really.”

“But do you think it would suit me?” Mingi was still pouting as he finally looked up at me, looking quite crestfallen. My eyebrows furrowed and I tried to imagine him with blonde hair. He was quite blessed with his skin complex as most colors looked good on him, but perhaps I preferred Mingi with dark hair—black hair, more specifically. Like he had it right now. He looked—good. Handsome, even. Completely gorgeous. Fuck.

“I think it would suit you.” I settled on saying that. He didn’t have to know my train of thought, like at all. Mingi hummed in appreciation, and I watched as he reached inside his tote bag, pulling out a case that held his glasses. He took it out of the case and put it on, pushing it up on the bridge of his nose. He grinned when he looked at me and I chuckled, shaking my head as I looked down at my mug, finally starting to decorate it.

“There goes the cool, mysterious, hot celebrity act.” I teased under my breath, not expecting Mingi to hear me. But he did, and he started laughing, giving me a cheeky grin.

“Not quite a celebrity yet, but at least you admit I am hot.” Of course he was smirking as I gave him a deadpanned look, about to argue him on his statement, but he didn’t let me as he continued talking, “By the way, let’s exchange our cups when we are done. The mug will be mine and the cup will be yours.”

I tried to fight the smile off my lips, “So that you get the artwork of a talented artist for free to sell for an outrageous price later on when I’m famous?”

“I fear you have misjudged my character, doll.” Mingi’s eyes narrowed playfully, but there was truth to his words. I might just have misjudged his character.

“I still think you’re arrogant and selfish.”

“Of course you do, didn’t except anything less from you.” Mingi winked and then looked down, his cheesecake forgotten as he started decorating his cup, tongue just barely sticking out as he concentrated hard on whatever he had in mind to paint onto the cup. I chuckled and shook my head before focusing on my own mug, the silence that’s settle around us comfortable, as always.

Mingi and I were the quietest table in the café as we worked in silence diligently in, painting our own pottery. Mingi, at times, would hum along quietly to the songs that were played on the radio. Despite his cup being smaller and easier to paint, I finished painting mine before him, and so, I took the time to savor my cheesecake even if it had gotten warm and a little too soft. Mingi was hunched over in his seat, glasses low on the bridge of his long nose, with his full lips either pursed or with the bottom one bitten as his eyebrows would furrow every time he almost made a mistake. It was a funny sight, and I grabbed my phone without thinking much, and snapped a few pictures of him, leaning lower and even closer to his face to get the funny angles, all while Mingi remained oblivious to it. I chuckled as I looked at the pictures I had taken of him, looking at him when I felt eyes on me.

“What’s so funny?” He asked curiously, eyeing my phone for a second.

“You.” I chuckled and stuck my tongue out as Mingi rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he heaved a long sigh.

“I’m finally done.” He grinned and I looked down at his cup, taking in the yellow chicks he had painted quite—clumsily. Well, not all of us had the skills of a painter—not that it was an issue or anything—it’s just that it’s been long since I had seen someone have the skills of a—kindergartner, “It’s pretty sick, huh?”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from giggling and nodded with my eyebrows furrowed, “I’d give it a seventy out of a hundred mark.”

“Hey! That’s too low!” Mingi said, looking offended. I chuckled before shrugging.

“You’ll have to work on your skills for a higher mark.”

“Fine, next time you come to the studio, I’ll make you sing.” Mingi raised his eyebrows, making me narrow my eyes at him playfully.

“Oh, I didn’t know we are in a competition.”

“We weren’t, until now.” He winked and then stood, grabbing my mug and his own cup carefully as he took it to the front desk for drying. I gathered the items we had used to paint the pottery with to place them back in the box, and couldn’t help it but sneak a glance at Mingi. He was leaned up against the front counter, grinning widely at the cashier as she spoke to him, using her hands for big gestures as she was probably explaining something. My eyes narrowed as Mingi leaned slightly closer to her, only to detach himself from the front desk and walk back towards our table. I looked away and busied myself with my glass of orange juice.

“So, we’ll get them delivered to our houses once they are dry and all.” He said with a smile, sitting down, “I hope you don’t mind I gave her your address too.”

“I don’t.” I muttered, chewing on the straw for a second, “I didn’t think you’d know my address.”

“Well,” Mingi flattened his hands on the surface of the table, “I’ve been to your house twice now. I think it’s only right I remember your address, doll.”

“Right,” I muttered, “you’ve been to my house.”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, and I figured he didn’t like the tone of my voice. But before I could correct myself and explain that I had nothing against that, he spoke up, “Y/N, I—I didn’t mean to scare you or—I don’t know—make you think that I want anything from you. I mean—we are friends, and I respect you as a woman and as a friend, and I know we almost—kissed. But I—I don’t want you to think that I’m playing some sort of game with you to get—to get in your pants. I’m your friend. And even if I wasn’t, I still wouldn’t do that to you.”

Hearing him say all that felt wrong. I didn’t deserve any explanation from him. I was the one that’s overreacted that day, and Mingi was the one that deserved an explanation and apology from me for the way I have acted. I knew I couldn’t completely open up to him right now, that some parts of the truth had to be omitted today, but he also deserved to know why I had pulled back. And I wanted him to understand that it wasn’t his fault for the way I reacted to everything.

“Mingi,” I offered him a small smile and gripped my empty glass for some support, “If you think you are the reason why I ignored you, please, stop thinking that. It’s—we both leaned in, okay? We were both about to kiss each other, it’s not like you initiated it or forced me to do something I didn’t want to. And nothing even happened, for God’s sake. I reacted that way because I—”

When I paused, Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned over the table, gently poking my hand with his ring clad fore-finger, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not comfortable sharing it, Y/N.”

“But I want you to know this, Mingi.” I averted my eyes and took a deep breath, embracing myself for what I was about to tell him, “I had a boyfriend back in high-school who completely broke my heart, shattered it into pieces. And I know that happened a long time ago, and yes, I am over him, but I—I am scared people will treat me like he had treated me. I’m scared that if I let you close, you’ll just—leave. Like he did. And I know ignoring you for days was very shitty of me and I shouldn’t have done that—because quite frankly, Mingi, you deserve better—I just didn’t know what to do. I needed a few days to myself, to figure things out. It’s a bad excuse, but it’s the truth, and I think you deserve to know it. Since we are friends.”

Mingi’s face conveyed no emotion for a few seconds and I gulped, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Did he figure it out now? That I was talking about Yunho? That maybe I have started feeling something for him too, for Mingi? Would he stand up and leave? But to my surprise, a wide smile stretched onto his lips and he hummed, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Thank you for trusting me, it means a lot that you told me all that.” I bit my bottom lip, looking down at the table abashedly, “And I was never mad at you for ignoring me. I completely understand you, Y/N, and for the record, I have zero intentions of leaving you. And your ex is a fucking asshole for breaking your heart like that, tell me who he is and I’ll beat him up when I cross paths with him.”

There was nothing funny about what Mingi had said, especially since he was talking about his best friend, but the comically tough look on his face made me snort loudly as I shielded my mouth with my hand, trying to stop myself from laughing too loudly. Mingi started grinning like an idiot, his giggles deep, and making something coil in my stomach. When has Song Mingi become adorable instead of annoying?

“I doubt you’d want to kick his ass once you find out who he is…” I grimaced once that was out of my mouth, regretting it instantly. What was it about today that I couldn’t keep my thoughts and mouth in check? It was turning really frustrating.

“So, you plan on telling me one day?” Mingi wriggled his eyebrows, making me snort, “Like real besties gossiping and shit.”

“You never fail to make me cringe when you call us besties, Mingi.” I shook my head, taking a glance at my wrist watch. Oh, the time had flown away, it was well past five now, and the sun was going down. I’d probably have to head home soon to have dinner with my mother. I was becoming hungry too.

“Well, that’s what we are so…” He cleared his throat before slowly standing up, making me look up at him, “Did you know today we’re celebrating the Festival of Light?”

“Nope, I had no idea.” I shook my head, standing up too as Mingi wore his coat, “I don’t follow the events our city organizes.”

“Pity, it’s really pretty.” Mingi pouted, waiting for me as I grabbed my tote bag and pocketed my phone, “Should we check it out?”

“I mean…maybe?” I shrugged and Mingi beckoned me over as he crossed his arm with mine, making me chuckle as I looked up at him. He wasn’t much taller than me, but his sneakers had a thick sole and they made him even taller, “Where is this festival held at?”

“Just down the street, at the Citadel.” Mingi smiled as he led the way out of the café, waving at the barista as she blushed again, making me chuckle as I subconsciously nuzzled up against Mingi’s side, the air chilly as the sun had set by now.

“That barista totally has a crush on you.” I found myself saying as we walked down the sidewalk, trying to avoid crashing into the people that came towards us. Yeah, there certainly was an event on-going in the city, otherwise you wouldn’t see so many people out and about around this time. Everyone preferred staying inside after the sun had set, not keen of the cold nights.

“You think so?” Mingi mused, bottom lip jutting out as he narrowly avoided a child that was running around, “I didn’t notice.”

“You must be really dense then.” I snorted, eyebrows furrowing as I looked up at him, “She was constantly blushing, and she was totally looking at you with hearts in her eyes.”

“How do you know when someone is looking at you with heart eyes?” Mingi’s question threw me off, and I detached myself from his side, clearing my throat as I looked ahead, pushing my hands in my pockets. He was warm, it made me realize as the cold bit at my skin now that I wasn’t nuzzled up by his side anymore.

“Well, they have this look in their eyes, you know? It’s warm, and soft, and it lasts.” I explained, feelings my cheeks heat up, “And their eyes always linger on you when you aren’t watching them. It’s like…puppy eyes, I suppose? I wouldn’t actually know, Mingi, nobody’s ever looked at me like that.”

When there was no response, I looked back to find Mingi looking at me intensely. My eyebrows furrowed as we have arrived to the Citadel, the gates open for the visitors of the festival. The place was packed, this wouldn’t be so fun anymore. I would’ve turned around and walked back home if I didn’t see how excited Mingi was when I agreed to come check it out.

“There’s lots of people here.” Mingi muttered, and then walked closer to me as I led the way inside, a little baffled by his reaction to my answer. I just merely gave an answer based on my beliefs. It was him that was acting weird now. But as I looked at him, I could see it in his eyes that he didn’t want to talk about this topic anymore, that he wanted us to drop the subject. His last comment was a way to veer the conversation in a different direction. What was it about us today making everything weird? I sighed and just walked further inside, trying to avoid the big crowd which seemed almost impossible as it stretched on and on. The Citadel, however, was beautiful as it was coated in darkness, only the little paper lamps and fairy lights illuminating the place. It had a certain aura to it, almost romantic, and I soon found myself smiling as we walked down the cobblestone path, still trying to avoid people and stick close to each other’s sides. The air was chilly but the walls of the Citadel did a great job at keeping the breeze out, and the crowd certainly kept the place warmer than it was outside the stone walls.

I found myself admiring the décor in wonder, my mouth hanging open as I took in all the little lamps placed down on the ground, following the cobblestone paths, illuminating our way. It was truly beautiful, it almost felt like the scene was taken out of a fairytale. I found myself filled with excitement and happiness as I turned to grin at Mingi.

“This is so beautiful!” I giggled, absentmindedly grabbing the sleeve of his coat and dragging him away from the path and into the dying grass as there was a panel covered with paper, and people were writing on it. Mingi remained silent, but as I searched around for a pen or pencil, I felt him watching me, “What, do you not want to write something?”

“If you manage to find a marker or pen, I will, sure.” He said with a shrug, adjusting the strap of his tote bag before he pushed his hands deep in his pockets. I chuckled and looked around for a marker, but it was hard to see it in the darkness whether they were laying around in the grass or not. To my surprise, a little girl standing next to me looked up at me with a small smile on her lips, and offered me her purple-coloured marker, saying she was done with her drawing. I thanked her with a chuckle and turned to face Mingi with a grin.

“I found one!” Mingi chuckled and took the marker from my hands, being able to reach high up where the paper was still empty, due to his height. The panel was illuminated from the inside so you could actually see what was written on the paper. I watched him as he wrote on the paper, hesitating for a second, before he stepped back and handed me the marker. I raised up on my tip toes curiously, and craned my neck to see what he’s written. ‘The moon is beautiful tonight.’

I felt a smile spread onto my lips as I looked back at Mingi, who’s expression was serious and almost sad-looking as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his tall nose. I craned my neck back once more to gaze at the dark sky, at the moon, and indeed, there she was, beautiful and shining brightly. It was a new moon. Taking a swift glance at Mingi, I raised back on my tip toes and stood close to the panel, reaching up, just underneath Mingi’s writing. Thankfully, I could reach just bellow it, and I grinned as I quickly drew a new moon, adding a little shading to it and dents as well, creating the illusion of a real moon. Mingi remained silent as I took a step back, admiring our work. I handed the marker to another child as I fished my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture quickly of our artwork.

“The moon turned out beautifully.” Mingi commented once we had stepped away from the panel to let others draw too, headed back onto the cobblestone path.

“Still, it’s not as beautiful as the real one, but I tried my best.” I chuckled as I crossed my arms in front of my chest for a second, avoiding a man as he wasn’t looking in front of himself as he raced down the path. Mingi threw him a displeased look before looking down at me.

“Your drawings and paintings are always beautiful, Y/N.” Mingi said and I found myself blushing, thankful that it was so dark he wouldn’t be able to see it. I uncrossed my arms and turned my body a little to face him. There was music coming from one path, the one which led to the southern part of the Citadel.

“Are you nervous about Friday?” I found myself asking him as Mingi veered us towards where the music was coming from. He looked at me for a second, and then shook his head.

“I’m rarely nervous when we have to perform.” He said nonchalantly, the back of his hand brushing lightly against mine. My heart did a somersault against my ribcage, but I ignored it.

“Oh, you’re such a cool guy.” I teased him with narrowed eyes, making Mingi chuckle.

“I rarely get nervous, to be honest, even less when it comes to performing.” He hummed, looking up at the dark sky for a second, “I trust myself and my bandmates that everything will go well, so, there’s no actual reason to feel nervous.”

“But I’ll be there on Friday, that still doesn’t make you feel nervous?” My question was meant to be teasing, part of our playful banter, but the way Mingi gulped and quickly averted his eyes told me that perhaps I hit the nail spot-on. Well, now I have turned things awkward again. I sighed loudly, chewing on my bottom lip as Mingi remained silent, the two of us walking down the narrow path as the music became louder as we were nearing the stage. Jazz music was playing, the lady who was singing had a powerful and smooth voice that carried over the crowd neatly. There were a few people dancing in the crowd.

“Perhaps having you there will make me nervous.” Mingi’s voice was barely above a whisper and I tensed when I felt his pinkie brush against my own, making me clench my hand into a fist. But a very quiet voice inside my head demanded me to accept Mingi’s subtle request, and willing my heart to stop hammering so hard in my chest, I relaxed my hand and slowly slipped it into Mingi’s. If he stopped walking for a milli-second, I didn’t say anything about it, and he also ignored it. His grip turned firm as he intertwined our fingers together, gently pulling me closer into his side as he smiled at a mother who apologised for his son almost running into us.

I gulped and kept my eyes ahead of me, too nervous to look at Mingi. Holding his hand like this meant nothing in particular, but it was a nice feeling. It made my cheeks warms and heart race. And I didn’t have to look at Mingi to know he was smiling like crazy, his cheeks just as red as mine as we came to a stop behind the dancing people.

Have I started falling for Song Mingi?

『It's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm just saying it's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

You, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

You're what I've been chasing

Show me where my days went』

❱❱ Next chapter

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so...the festival of light scene was totally inspired by me and my bestie attending it in our city lol; it was sooo beautiful and the pictures in the moodboard were actually taken by us; also, her and I kept laughing about the romantic vibes we were getting, all in all, we had a nice time...and OFC we make everything about Ateez so :))

I wrote that LOL I'm like Mingi, tall enough to reach the top where people haven't scribbled onto yet lol

also, this is what y/n's outfit looks like for anyone wondering, except for the colors as they are the way I have described them in the scene ^^

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orshii · 9 months

Text

bitter and sweet

Author: orshii

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader

Warnings: Use of word "fuck", smoking, alcohol consumption

Word count: 2k

Summary: When you finally quit your job, you need a distraction. Hongjoong happens to be that.

A/N: Am- hi? This is totally new to me, and I would've never uploaded this story, if it weren't for my bestie @bvidzsoo (ly). She kept saying, how good this story was, so Ig I'm here? I really hope you will enjoy it, as much as I did when I wrote this little drabble. Recently I am very whipped for Hongjoong, so yeah...I just had to write this. Anyways, have fun. xoxo orshii

After a whole month of living like a robot: starting work early in the morning, when the sun wasn't even up yet, until when it hid behind again the buildings of our little town; I slowly started to feel like I was losing my mind. The feeling was similar to when your days are just as monotone as the clock on your wall, never changing its course the opposite way. You become one with your regular human life, which is always clouded, always grey just like the clouds above you; there are no colors.

It started becoming overwhelming, I started getting tired of this feeling of emptiness; I felt the void spread through my body every single fucking day. That's when I decided to quit my job, which wasn't even my dream job. I have been working at a fucking bakery as a cashier, of course it wasn't my dream job, whose would it be…

It was a Friday when I quit, so, as I was an unemployed nobody, the best idea was to celebrate that, wasn’t it? My friends were excited to hear my sudden proposal of going to a party, which was held by the town’s biggest brat, Jung Wooyoung; but I didn't care, I needed to get laid as soon as possible. I just wanted an escape from this shit reality, and not to think about what was going to happen in the future now that I was without a job.

We decided to dress up pretty and sexy for the night with the girls. I was wearing black ripped jeans with fishnets underneath, and a black crop top with some cuts on it here and there, accompanied with my black boots and some accessories.

As we arrived in front of the house of said brat, Wooyoung, we went inside deep into the crowd of swaying bodies, which were flowing with the music. The music was so loud that we couldn't even hear our own voice, the beat punching our chests harshly. The first thing we had to do was to drink, of course, so we headed to the kitchen. We could barely see the furniture inside the kitchen due to the smog filling the air, coming from the people smoking this and that. Finally, somehow we found our love, the meaning of our night: alcohol. We started to take some tequilas shots, and anything else we found, honestly. We just wanted to get drunk. Me, at least.

Eventually, I somehow found myself around the swaying bodies in the living room, but my friends were nowhere to be found.

I started to dance following the flow of the music; I felt like I could finally breathe, my latest months were hard and I just needed to forget all of the shit that’s happened.

At some point, I felt like somebody was watching me, I don't know how, I’d call it perhaps intuition.

When my eyes finally found the owner of two staring lustful eyes, my breath hitched. I have never seen this man in my entire life before, but as I watched him, my heart just started to race like it never has. My heart didn't even race like this when a fucking bear started to chase me, and that’s no fun.

I felt dizzy, maybe because of the influence of the alcohol or I didn’t know, but the sudden emotions started hitting me like I was a fucking punch bag.

The man was sitting on the couch, he was a bit far, but I could see his devilish smile from where I stood. It’s not supposed to be a joke; but with the red lights of the party, he looked like the fucking devil himself. His raven-black hair fell on his forehead, reaching his eyes, making his glare even more intense as he held a can of beer, leaning over his knees.

I haven't moved since my eyes landed on him but somebody, suddenly, bumped into me, and if I remember the guy's name correctly, it’s San. But I was glad, because I somehow found myself back to reality again, as if the last few minutes were in slow-motion.

I tried not to look at the stranger again, since my friends finally found me and we started to dance together, laughing and goofing around. I would be lying if I said my eyes never searched for the stranger again as he had moved from the couch. I felt a bit disappointed that I might never see him again.

And there was a chance that I actually might see him, and after a while, I suddenly felt two warm hands around my waist. I don't know how, don't ask, but I just knew it was the stunning stranger guy from the couch, with whom I had a staring contest like half an hour ago.

We just weirdly danced to the music, feeling the rhythm as it led our bodies in synchrony. It was weird because he was a total stranger but, somehow, I felt safe in his warm arms. I slowly turned around to finally look at the owner of the warm hands, and I was fucking right. I felt like I was going to melt right then and there like ice cubes on a hot summer day.

Why? Because he was the hottest guy I have ever seen in my life, and I'm not joking, I would never joke about things like that. He looked ethereal, and I don't know what led him to me, but I thank God for it, because it was worth every moment. I looked into his eyes as he was glaring at me sharply. I couldn't read his expression, but I saw a small smirk slip onto his slim lips, so, I reached my arms around his neck. Yes, I felt comfortable like this, after all, he was still holding my waist.

“Hi.” I spoke suddenly. Don't even ask me why I had the courage to even say something to him. That night, my soul has left my body surely.

“Hey.” He said with a low tone, leaning close to my ear so I could hear him. I felt shivers running through my body.

“Wanna smoke?” I asked him with questioning eyes.

He smiled, “Yeah, of course.”

And then, he grabbed my hands and pulled me towards the backyard.

I looked back at my friends, but they were just laughing and shouted, “Go get him!”

It made me laugh as I followed the stranger.

As we finally arrived outside, I felt relieved. The weather was nice, I finally could hear my own voice and I got to inhale some fresh air.

We stopped at the terrace of the house, and I leaned my back against one of the pillars as the stranger across from me did the same thing.

We were quiet for a bit as I enjoyed the fresh air, and I felt him watching me. It wasn't an awkward quiet, it was a comfortable one. I stared back at him, taking in the sight of him as his outfit screamed elegance, but at the same time it was casual; he was wearing all black.

“Aren't you going to smoke?” He asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“Nah, I don't smoke.” I said with a serious face.

The stranger looked at me, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

“Then why did you want to come out to—smoke?”

I just shrugged, “I just needed some fresh air, but to not disappoint you—” I started to search for something in my pocket, “I have this.”

I showed him the colorful elf bar, raising it up to his face.

He started to laugh loudly; it was low toned and the sound tingled through my whole body. I loved his laugh.

“Okay.” He nodded, “Then I’m going to smoke a real cigarette.”

He spoke while still smiling as he reached for his cigarettes in his pocket. Damn, he was actually smoking smoking; that’s a red flag, but I like it.

He slowly pulled out a cigarette from the package, and took it in between his parted thin lips, his gaze never leaving mine, only when he lit it up.

I decided to smoke the elf bar which was in my hands. It tasted like a tangle of freshly picked raspberries and blueberries from the wild fields, accompanied with the taste of dark red cherries. I loved the sweet taste as it slowly went down into my lungs, spreading the sweetness everywhere, and then, I exhaled it slowly out into the clear air.

The guy in front of me was staring at my lips as the sweet fog came out from my parted lips.

“Is it good?” He asked, gazing at me.

“It is. It’s sweet, unlike yours.” I said pointing at the cigarette in his hands.

He looked down at it.

“It's not that bad—wanna taste it?” He asked me frowning with a smirk on his lips.

And the look he was giving me sent me to Hell, just for me to return as Lucifer. That's why I was suddenly so bold, out of my mind.

“Do you want to taste this?” I pointed at my elf bar, avoiding his question on purpose.

“Yeah, why not?” He said, stepping closer to me.

I stared at him as an idea came to my mind.

“Wanna double shotgun?” I asked pointing at my elf bar and his cigarette, watching him with inviting eyes.

Just the idea of it was already so exciting, now imagine actually doing it…with a stranger, whom, despite having just met, it felt like I have known him my whole life.

“Hell, yes.” He said in a low tone, it was almost like a thunder. He stepped closer to me, our bodies almost touching, but it seemed like he didn't want to overstep some unsaid boundaries.

And so, I slowly inhaled from the elf bar, inhaling it deep down into my lungs as he did the same with his cigarette, burning the end of it with his inhale.

As we both were ready, we leaned into each other’s bodies, our lips almost touching. We exhaled the smoke at the same time as it tumbled through our parted lips, just to meet with the other's soft lips, inhaling the other's taste. I breathed him in, held it in my lungs, wanting to keep it there forever.

“It's so bitter.” I whispered still leaning close, slowly exhaling the smoke of his cigarette.

“It's so sweet.” He whispered back to me, leaning even closer in, gazing at me with dark eyes, which were telling me so much yet nothing at the same time.

“Wanna taste it on your sweet lips.” He said, reaching out his thumb to brush it against my lower lip.

“Then what are you waiting for?” I whispered against his bitter lips, closing my eyes slowly.

He slowly grabbed my chin and tilted it upwards, and then leaned in to brush his lips against mine. I could taste the bitterness of his cigarette on his lips, blending with the sweet taste of my own lips, which the elf bar has left behind.

Sweet and bitter collided, it was like our own two worlds colliding: he tasted bitter, but somehow, he brought some sweetness into my grey world, painting it slowly full with colors as he brushed his lips against mine.

“You haven’t told me your name.” I said after our lips separated from each other, desiring for more. I wanted to taste him forever.

“Hongjoong.” He whispered, our lips almost touching, “And what's your name, pretty?”

“Y/N” I said, and he smiled at me sweetly as our lips collided again, never wanting to separate.

He filled me up with passion. He made me want to finally step out of my monotone life. I felt like I was alive again. He made my grey life colorful again.

Later on, we were passed out in the back of his car…how’d we let it get this far, I don’t know.

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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spark ( chapter one: company )

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician ) x female original character word count: 13957 told y'all it was just shy of 14k warnings: old southern church ladies being all up in people's business. not the best of marriages. talk of children. copious amounts of sweat. elvis preferring to wear a jumpsuit that's worn in versus getting a new one. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. a bit of negative self talk. this is not safe for work. i am not giving away anything else in these warnings. author’s note: first off the largest and most sincere of thanks to the ever delightful and loving marina who once upon a time just had whispers of a sort of off shoot/same vibe sort of thing for crawfever ( yes this is why this fic has gotten crawfever adjacent as a tag despite it not being the same thing ). and let me take them, burrow into her brain and find the bits and bobs that her brain had dreamed up but not been able to put into words. this fic would not exist without those whispers and without your edits. second, special thanks to my phenomenal wives and besties christi and birdy as well for you two know just how much you supported me in this from when marina did the whispers and i spewed what i affectionately called marina's brain herpes at you two, your screams and thoughts have been so powerful to get me to work on this. third, special other thanks to the charming @prompted-wordsmith for the edit job and the saving my ass on that one spot both me and marina could not figure out words for and putting up with my frankly excessive em dash use. beyond that, thank all of y'all who've enjoyed my vibes posts and have been getting excited based on what i've said to y'all, what marina has said to y'all, etc. just i'm very excited to show y'all this and i hope you enjoy. and quick tiny note, this is set in the 50s, so elvis is a wwii veteran and thus his birth and everything is pushed a little bit back to make this work.

“Call that handyman—the one from the church, I have to get to work,” her husband Nathan calls out as he leaves without a kiss exchanged between the two of them.

Words left unsaid die a quick death on her lips and tongue as she lets out a sigh. Once again she was left alone with barely a goodbye. She supposes she should be thankful he at least waited until she was awake. That he waited till she at least was conscious and able to ask him what she needed to, even if his response left so much to be desired. Call the handyman—Mr. Presley was his name, not that Nathan cared to know. After all, that would require him taking an interest in the church life or her sister’s life. It would require him to see the look on her face when she holds little Elizabeth while grabbing her from Sunday school or dropping her off at Sunday school for Melly. It would require… so many things.

Mr. Presley always told anyone to call Crown Electric and ask for him if they were in need. Some people argue it was some form of shrewd marketing but the pastor likes to reassure the congregation that Elvis, the godly and kind soul that he is, wouldn’t do that willy-nilly. Lilly’s hand shakes as she calls and reaches what she assumes is the receptionist before being reassured that he'll be over in a jiff.

A jiff turns out to be a surprisingly quick time, no more than a half an hour before she hears a knock that somehow sounds delicate and gentle but is forceful enough for her to hear it easily. Adjusting her dress, she smoothes out an imaginary set of wrinkles, nervous for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was because she feels so very silly calling up a handyman for this fix. Truly if she could she’s certain she could fix it herself and she knows Nathan had fixed this very problem before. And yet here she was, about to answer her door. Oh, she hopes he doesn't judge her too harshly—hopes he doesn't think less of Nathan or her.

As she opens the door she is greeted by the sight of Mr. Presley in a simple olive jumpsuit that appeared to be a bit tight in the middle, his paunch pushing at the fabric the same as it appeared to do in the area of his thigh. It's strange for her to see him like this, far more rugged than he ever is in church or at the potlucks. Lilly swears her heart skips a beat in what she thinks is shock cause she looks up at Mr. Presley’s face and sees what is one of the most genteel and warm smiles she's ever seen on a person.

"Mrs. Harris," Elvis greets Lilly with that smile that has Lilly's own lips curling into one even as she bites at her lip and tilts her head down.

"Mr. Presley. You came quickly," A statement of fact while hiding a question of why and how as she moves aside to allow him to enter her home.

“It's not everyday lil Miss Lizzie’s aunt calls for help from me. In fact, I think this is ya first time," Elvis answers while keeping his gaze on her as he enters, carefully avoiding looking around the house. "Musta been an emergency."

"Lil Miss Lizzie’s aunt" shouldn't sting as much as it does and yet she feels herself wince just slightly at the idea of only being known as an aunt, never a mother. Of being known as a barren woman who defied her family's legendary fertility to have an empty house and a husband who tolerated her at best as of late.

"Oh you just have to try harder, Lilly. Must be something—in your diet. Or that stress of yours. Nathan days you've been downright mean when you talk sometimes."

She's been downright mean, it would take a downright mean person to know one wouldn't it? It would take a man who ignores his wife like Nathan does to recognize a woman who's mean when she talks. Frustrated is what Lilly was, dejected is what Lilly was. But mean? No, she tries too hard not to be mean that the idea of Nathan accusing her of such a thing is a betrayal of her heart.

Lilly sniffles slightly, attempting to play it off as allergies. "You could say that, Mr. Presley. Nathan had to rush out and I'm—I can't quite fix it myself. And you did say if anyone needed help with anything to make a call for you."

Elvis opens his mouth to speak before her sniffles hit him. It's as if a grenade has gone off in front of him. It's as if he can see the rubble of whatever had been in front of him at those small, barely-noticeable sniffles. Why…? There was no reason for her to be crying. 'Less she didn't want him to be here. Had he said something to offend her, something that made her emotional? Or was it embarrassment from needing to call him? He shouldn't reach out to touch her, shouldn't offer comfort he isn't sure she needs. But there's something about that small little sniffle that has him frowning and praying it's just allergies or the dust from his suit or something physical causing them. His hand moves to grab her own and—zzzt—that's when he feels a spark shoot into his hand, up his arm and settle in his chest. If he didn’t know any better he swears his heart skips a beat or two as he shakes his head.

"Know I'm not the most charming o' company Mrs. Harris but—I do good work. As for Mr. Harris, I'm sure he's busy bein' a good provider. Givin' ya everythin' ya need. Fixin' things can be a bit o' work for you young ones, ‘specially for the men after a long day. That's why you got ol’ fools like me. Fix things so ya don't gotta worry that pretty head of yours.”

Lilly's lips can't help but quirk into a smile, small as it is, at his words. They're not entirely comforting at face value but the longer she allows them to sit as she watches him set his bag down on the floor by her oven and make moves to actually do his job, the more they settle something inside of her. A final sniffle escapes her before she blows her nose by her sink, turning to face Elvis when she's finished.

Lilly's never put much stock in the idea that someone's entire aura and demeanor can change based on the clothes they wear. After all, she was the same person whether or not she was in her nightgown versus her dress or in the dresses she’d wear around the house compared to, say, her Sunday’s best. Mr. Presley, though, there’s something to be said about how he looks standing in front of her compared to how he looks every Sunday. There’s something to be said about how the jumpsuit he’s wearing almost looks too small for him but it’s just his middle that tightens the fabric. It’s just that paunch of his stomach yanking the fabric forward in an effort to contain him, stretching the fabric across his chest and making it so he has to leave the zipper partially undone before it reaches his neck. Her eyes refuse to linger on his lower half for too long but she can see how tight it is around his legs, around his thighs and she feels a shiver come over her for just a moment. This–this isn’t the same man who dresses in a full suit, jacket and all to church. This isn’t the same man who has his hair slicked back and his suit pants pressed like his mama’d taught him in church.

This isn’t the same man she hands her niece off to every Sunday. No, this is another man entirely, a rugged down to Earth—salt of the Earth man. He’s a man who isn’t afraid to get dirty and afraid to work on things other people might stick their nose up at. He’s a man through and through and Lilly can’t help but wonder what else Mr. Presley’s been hiding. If there’s another side of him she hasn’t seen that is as fascinating and as invigorating to look at as this one.

Not that she should be looking, not that the Lord wouldn't… perhaps this is why Nathan and her still have a fruitless marriage. A marriage of short kisses and dinner on the table and mothers who touch her belly and whisper how soon enough they'll be blessed. Perhaps with two at once. Maybe this is why the lord refuses to bless her—maybe if she didn't wish for company—covet her sister’s and her friends’ growing families. She could have company if she could keep Nathan home for longer than a few hours.

Elvis’s mouth is opening and closing as if words are passing through them and Lilly blinks once, twice, three times before shaking her head to clear it of the thoughts that have started to swirl around it. "I'm sorry Mr Presley, could you–could you repeat what you just said. My mind went… I started trying to figure out what I could scrounge up in case this takes too long.”

There’s a chuckle, warm and inviting that leaves Elvis’s lips at the explanation before he shakes his head. “Got that little faith in me, Mrs. Harris? Think ya gonna be without an oven for a whole day? I’ll have this fixed up in in an hour, two if that.” He pauses and smiles. “Most of the time, it’s somethin’ real simple. Like ya said, you or Mr. Harris could’ve fixed it but ya both got things to do. Him, goin’ to work and bringin’ home the money and you, uh, takin’ care of… the house.”

Lilly’s chest tightens at his words, at how he stops mid sentence. She knows perfectly well what he was going to say, that she would be taking care of the children and the house, but the house is as empty as her womb. There’s a warmth to it, of course, attempts at making things as inviting as can be and yet there’s always the gust of cold air from the fridge or from the screen door opening and closing making the house feel even emptier than it is. Emptier in a way it doesn’t feel right in this moment with someone else in the house. Not with someone like Mr. Presley taking up so much space in her kitchen just from height and bulk by his lonesome. Maybe even just from his presence alone. Still, his words settle her fear just a bit as she watches him bend down to open her oven. She can’t help how her eyes linger on the worn fabric stretched across his backside and under, between his legs. They’re right there, and she hadn’t meant to look, she was just about to say something to him, something that’s been swallowed up by every thought that slams into her head at the vision in front of her. Oh, she–she’s just on edge from this morning and how Nathan left so quickly. That’s all this is, nothing more, nothing less. She takes a breath and moves to grab a pitcher from her lower cabinets unaware that Elvis had looked back to ask something of her before being presented with the sight in front of him. It’s nothing untoward, and is purely chaste but there’s something about the way her dress tightens just a smidge around her backside that has him swallowing his tongue and moving to stick his head in the oven with a flashlight to see what might be the problem.

The problem as he expected was something simple, an easy fix with a part he has in his bag but he notices how there’s a few other things that could be dealt with while he’s down here. He should charge her for them, but… he finds he doesn’t want to. Finds that spending time in her company is worth the extra time he’d be spending in her oven. Especially when he hears her voice softly singing some—he thinks that might be Jo Strafford but he can’t be sure. There’s an element of homeliness that has him sighing while in the oven. Normally he feels this sense of ease in church and here he is with Mrs. Harris and she makes him feel just the same.

“Mr. Presley, are you alright? Do… Is it worse than you thought?” He hears her soft voice above him and bashes his head against the top of the oven, cursing slightly as he does.

“‘M fine. It’s fine Mrs. Harris. Jus’ looking at the work I gotta do. Definitely—gonna take all two of those hours I promised ya but it’ll be good as new when I’m finished with it,” Elvis answers, rubbing at his head and moving his arm down to rummage through his bag, worried about how he’d look if he bothered to pull himself out from inside the oven.

The problem with doing that, the problem with hiding away in the oven as he does, is that even though the thing isn’t on, it’s stifling in the summer heat. Roasting him slowly but surely as he feels beads of sweat enter his eyes and slightly fog up his glasses. His free hand, unoccupied with his work, moves to grab a cloth he has on his belt just to wipe at his eyes. He hopes he doesn’t get any dirt on them. Meanwhile above him, Lilly busies herself with puttering around the kitchen. She’s making lemonade that’s almost as sweet as her sweet tea, but only because she’s never really enjoyed how sour lemons can be, sure that was supposed to be part of the allure but—Lilly’s never been that sour of a person. Instead more full of sugar sweet smiles and sweet Southern charm that had her husband falling at her feet when they were teenagers and had his parents eating out of her hand the moment she said hello.

It takes Elvis damn near the whole two hours to finish, finally managing to finish a little bit after lunch time. Just enough time for LIlly to whip up something real quick, nothing too fancy, but Nathan would understand in this case, after all, it’s not as if he had fixed it before work. She hears Elvis’s groan from inside the oven and she can’t help the way she crouches down at the noise, making sure her legs are covered with her dress and moving to hold out her hand in an effort to help him pull himself out from inside her oven. She notices the dirt on his hands but doesn’t mind in the slightest, knowing she’s got a functioning sink and from that groan he honestly just might need a hand getting up out of it. There's a hesitation and an aborted attempt to swat her hand away before he takes it as both their arms twitch at the same time when their hands touch.

"Didn't shock ya, did I, lil darlin'?" His voice sounds distant for a moment as he uses the leverage from her hand to scoot himself out and then pull himself up into a sitting position.

“No, Mr. Presley, you didn’t—” Lilly’s words trail off as she looks at Mr. Presley’s face and notices just how covered in sweat it is. It shouldn’t be that sweaty, she thinks, it shouldn’t look like he’s practically used her garden hose in the back to hose himself down. That rag should’ve been used to mop up the glittering beads rolling down his cheekbones and collecting in the dip of his cupid’s bow. Unless he has somehow lost the ability to put it to use—but as Lilly’s eyes trace down his strong forearm she finds it’s translucent in a way that brings to mind summers outside and gigglingly waving at the boys across the lake. Being in a confined space like her oven would cause something like this, would cause someone to sweat as much as this but seeing it in front of her, seeing it before her very eyes has Lilly struck a bit speechless. There’s a glass of lemonade in her hand that she plans on offering Mr. Presley but the words refuse to come out, caught in her throat as she just stares at him. Stares at the sweat covering his face and his hair and making there be this curl among all the chocolate brown plastered to his head. It shouldn’t—it isn’t attractive on Nathan or any other boy she had ever seen look similar to this after a football game or after a hard day of entertaining outside. Yet here was Mr. Presley looking so very attractive that Lilly can’t find the words to describe it. This could not be the man she had seen so many times at church, at Sunday School when she dropped off her niece.

Elvis is confused the longer he looks at Lilly, the longer he sees her staring at him like he’s a prime cut of meat. That—he hasn’t seen that look on a woman since after the war, since before his overeating and the nightmares and the grief and the visions he can’t ever stop thinking of unless he’s working. Sure, there’s still the few who try and set him up with their daughters who they figure can’t find another man and the few widows who remember how he was when he first came back to Memphis. But someone who’s Lilly’s age looking at him like that? Like she might be willing to pounce on him despite the ring on her finger? Oh, that was… That is something he cannot entertain, that has to be the heat finally getting to him, finally making him imagine things that certainly aren’t there. There’s no conceivable way someone as sweet as Miss Lilly, Mrs. Harris, Lilly, would ever be looking at him like that. His eyes drift down to the glass in her hand and a grin threatens to overwhelm his face as he grabs it with a simple thanks and starts to down the drink without a care in the world.

Lilly’s eyes watch as a single sweat drop rolls down his skin. Mr. Presley’s neck is stretched out as he drinks, Adam’s apple bobbing. The drops of water on the outside of the glass fall to his neck. They join their sweat brothers in rolling slowly but surely down his throat, tracing a path her mind whispers to her about chasing with her tongue as she had more than once before with Nathan. They roll down past his collarbone and down to his chest—his exposed chest because of that stupid zipper. They make a home in the patch of sweat and musk and warmth that is his chest hair and Lilly’s mouth opens to let out a choked-off squeak, she thinks. Or maybe it was her choking on her own breath, on her own tongue as she tries to say something, tries to tell Mr. Presley to set down the glass or drink slower or that he missed so much sweat on his body. Maybe–maybe it went all the way down, oh, maybe it…no, she cannot entertain this idea, she cannot entertain the way her mind wants to explore the possibilities. Tonight Nathan can help rid her of these thoughts, he can help her forget how she sees all this sweat gliding down another man’s skin. Down Mr. Presley’s skin, down the skin of someone who teaches Sunday school and wears tight jumpsuits that leave nothing to the imagination. The thoughts swirl and swirl as she clenches her thighs together and rubs them against each other. There is a smooth, slick quality to the glide that makes a flush of shame rise to the very apples of her cheeks, or maybe that’s the way Mr. Presley’s body is burned into her mind.

“Oh.” She exhales the word, swaying a little before she shakes her head, “Mr. Presley. You— Your—” Lilly shuts her eyes before continuing. “Are you enjoying the lemonade? My lemonade?”

“My lemonade”? What was she thinking, it was just lemonade, she didn’t have a claim over it, she didn’t want to know if Elvis enjoyed something of hers. That way of thinking—no, she just wanted to make sure she had made it correctly. That she had made it the right amount of sweet for him to enjoy and for it to quench his thirst. A repayment for making him do such a silly job as he just finished doing for her. Her eyes meet his as she finally is able to take her eyes off of his neck, off the vein in his neck that throbbed as he swallowed, at the way his swallows allowed the droplets of sweat and water roll down his throat. Her hand twitches with a desire to touch and hold.

“I loved it. Sweet as anything I‘ve ever had.” He licks his lips, tasting the tangy salt of his sweat cutting through the sweetness of her lemonade. It’s not a lie, he truly does enjoy her lemonade, but he thinks–he thinks he might enjoy her company more, enjoy how she asks if he’s alright and worries about him enough to give him lemonade after he swears he’s practically sweat through his own jumpsuit. Not many people extended such domestic kindness to him anymore. He was Elvis the Pelvis, Elvis the Sunday School teacher, he was Elvis the electrician, but never just Elvis. He wasn’t ever just a man that a pretty wife might offer lemonade to. “Ya mind if I have another glass?”

The way she hands over the pitcher is almost robotic or automatic and Elvis can’t help the way his hand shoots out to grab it, his fingers brushing over hers yet again igniting another spark between them. It’s not possible and yet he swears he feels it from his fingertips up to the top of his arm. Lilly pulls back her hand quickly, cradling it against her chest. “You can have th-the whole… the whole pitcher if you need.”

Elvis laughs, the idea almost as comical as the way she says it with a straight face. Pouring the glass, he shakes his head at her and shrugs, “Can’t polish one of these off myself. If I had help now—”

There’s something inside of Lilly that loosens at those words, at the playful nature of them despite how there is perhaps a flirtatious edge to them. It’s as if there was something inside of her that she hadn’t realized was a problem before that evaporated at Mr. Presley’s laugh and at his smile. It felt like true enjoyable company, the sort of company you’re supposed to have with your friends and your husband, but Lilly can’t remember the last time she felt it with anyone other than her sister. Her mild bitterness at swollen bellies and husbands who came by and kissed their wives on their cheek, happy to see them and see their handiwork coloring her happiness to see friends. God hadn’t seen fit to grace her womb with a child, and Nathan was alright with that despite Lilly’s pleas so she had dropped it all the while pushing those friends away, the reminder of the dream she wanted slipping farther and farther out of her grasp, through her fingers like the sand on the beach.

Lilly smiles and grabs the other glass on the table, it is normally Nathan’s but she can set out another one, she can do the dishes before he arrives home while dinner is cooking. She sets it right in front of Elvis. “If you’ll do me the honor of pouring it. If you’re a gentleman.”

The laugh sounds almost sinister when it leaves his mouth, a dark sort of thing but the warmth in it has Lilly realizing that perhaps it’s a special laugh. Maybe it could be his laugh for only her. Nathan had one of those for her, once upon a time. She misses that laugh and to have another person give one to her is… it warms her soul from the inside out and she swears she feels a part of her, a part she knows has been snapped in half for the past year at least snaps back into place. His words are almost missed but when she focuses, puts him back in focus, she hears him clear as day as he pours her a glass. "God and my mama'd strike me down if I wasn't a gentleman, 'specially to you, Lil darlin."

There it was again. A nickname. Nathan never gave her one, told her that her name was already short enough and pretty enough and yet here was Mr. Presley giving her one. It’s an open secret he’s liberal with his use of nicknames and yet hearing one perhaps only for her has her heart fluttering in her chest, fluttering against the confines of the bones keeping it inside. Lil darlin, a shortened version of Lilly and darling in one simple nickname. Her body warms at the implication of familiarity. “Thank you, Mr. Presley.” Her teeth move to worry at her lower lip as she toys with a question inside her head before looking at him. “Would–Would you like to stay for dinner? Nathan—Mr. Harris might be late and I’m—you’re charming company.”

The way she starts and stops in asking makes Elvis want to say yes, wants to put her at ease and tell her there’s perhaps nothing he’d like to do more that afternoon, but his eyes drift down to her ring glinting in the light and he sighs, shaking his head. The thought is tempting, but thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife and thou shall not commit adultery. While he may not do the second, he knows if he stays much longer he’s likely to do the first. “Not—I appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Harris, but I have to get home. Maybe. A raincheck?”

A raincheck. A promise of maybe another time. A promise of if things were different he would say yes in a heartbeat. A promise that if he could he would stay sitting at her dining table and drink lemonade as she cooked dinner for her husband. Her husband, the one she cares for and loves with all her heart. He— He— There should be no raincheck and yet he wants her to agree to one.

“A raincheck.” Her face had fallen as he let her down easy before the mention of the raincheck, the mention of it making her smile once again. The mention of it having her smile and beam and bloom like her flower namesake, soaking in the attention as if it was water meant to nourish her and fulfill her. “Of course. You—Just finish as much of the lemonade as you’d like and you can see yourself out, if that’s alright? Just—so I can make dinner and have it done on time.”

His eyes watch as she stands up, smoothing out her clothes and sees how she practically glides across the floor of the kitchen as if she’s a natural in it. Her body moves as if it’s used to being around people and used to having people underfoot and Elvis is struck by how it feels like something is missing watching her, feels as if something doesn’t seem right in the picture. There should be someone else near her. He—no, that’s not a path he’ll go down today. After another ten minutes of him just watching her work and two more glasses of lemonade, he sets down the glass and makes his way out the door. “Goodnight, Lil darlin’!”

It feels a little dirty, the way when he gets home and is in bed for the night his cock jumps at the memory of her staring at his chest. He knows she's married, saw the ring clear as day in the sunlight but that look. He only remembers that look from June when he took her once upon a time. Had her husband not been giving her what she needed? Had she not been given the proper water to blossom? Had he been leaving her to wilt inside their shared home that she kept so well? Had he–had he deprived her of the ability to put down roots? The idea knocks the air out of his lungs and has him praying for forgiveness no more than five minutes later as he wipes his hand on a dirty shirt nearby.

Elvis doesn’t see Lilly until that Sunday in church, and yet his mind wanders to her when he’s working with other people’s issues. None of them are as simple as hers was and it makes him almost angry that he’s stuck spending his time with these issues when hers were over far too quick. Time flies when you’re having fun, but had he been having fun? Or was it just that God himself knew better than to allow him to stay in her house for too long, the urges he could feel flowing through his veins almost too hard to ignore. When he does, though, when he does he sees her in the most gorgeous of dresses, a simple baby blue number that matched her sister’s and matched her brother in law's tie. He expects to see her husband. Nathan, she had called him, and instead only sees the three of them and one small little girl in Lilly’s arms. Little Lizzie being carried by Lilly and looking so at ease and happy in her arms that Elvis’s heart twists at the image. A woman like that, a woman who can get a child that was less than a year old to be so calm and collected in a sea of people… now that’s a woman who ought to have a passel of kids, a football team of children. A platoon of children behind her, all in single file, smitten husband bringing up the rear. Yet here she was on a Sunday without her husband and tagging along as an extra hand, helping her sister who, if rumors were to be believed, was expecting again. He sees her wave off her sister and brother in law before she walks toward him, a soft smile on her face.

“Mr. Presley,” Lilly murmurs softly as Lizzie yawns in her arms and snuggles closer. “I was going to hand her off to you but I don’t think I can. I think she’d much prefer to keep her pillow.” She looks down at her niece before looking up at him. “I—If it’s alright, do you mind if I stay here?”

His hand moves in such a way as to brush off her concern. Did he mind if she stayed there? What sort of silly question was that. Did he mind if a woman who occupied his mind as he pleasured himself stayed in here with him. He has to bite back a laugh. If he could he’d let her stay in this room with him until time eternal, until the rapture where those who were worthy would be saved. She would be saved and perhaps–perhaps, if he could resist, he would have mended enough fences with God for him to do the same thing.

“I can always use the extra help, Mrs. Harris.” He motions to the children already around him. “They can be a bit of a handful.”

A laugh that sounds like the church bells ringing leaves her mouth as Elvis watches her bloom like she did at her house. There’s… It’s strange, seeing her so happy because of words he’s saying, almost as if he’s the reason she has to smile and she’s soaking up every bit of attention he can give her. Elvis has never fancied himself a gardener by any means but for her he thinks he might be one. Her husband should nurture her as she nurtures him and their children when they have any and yet he wonders if he does. He wonders if the boy, Nathan, realizes what he seems to be doing to Lilly, how her petals fall without attention, how she withers without his care, without his water nourishing her soul, her body and filling—Elvis shakes his head to clear it.

“You always handle them so well, Mr. Presley. You’re a natural, I think.” The question is on the tip of her tongue, the question of why Elvis doesn’t have children of his own but she stops herself, she stops herself because it’s none of her business why. Maybe he just never found the right woman—a shame, she thinks. He would make a great husband from what she’s been able to see. A loving husband. A caring husband. So wrapped up in her own thoughts she very nearly misses him speaking to her as she sits down, shushing Lizzie’s protests at the movement and making sure the little ones around her quiet down.

"Surprised ya don't have children, Lil Darlin', ain't ever seen a woman be a natural with 'em like you," Elvis says, peeking over the rims of his glasses to a child who looked about ready to cause a complete ruckus. His focus is purely on that as he misses her wince and the way her hand reaches out to rub at her stomach, almost as if to mourn the lack of children from her womb.

"Nathan and I… We've been trying. Less often, lately, but—oh I don't—it just hasn't happened. God's saved those blessings for my sister. Little Lizzie and, and the one she's carrying now." Lilly bites her lip, trying not to let the tears she feels pooling in her eyes fall. She’s in public and Mr. Presley is just an acquaintance as of now, he doesn’t need to see the emotion she’s only ever reserved for her sister, Melly. A sniffle escapes her before she can stop it and Elvis’s hand reaches to grab a handkerchief from his pocket to give her to blow into and to dry her eyes. She takes it gladly.

"God'll gift ya one soon enough, be a cryin' shame if he didn't." A true statement of fact disguised as a reassurance. Elvis doesn’t think there’d be any true justice in the world if the Lord didn’t bless her with a child or several. Even now as they talked just her presence seemed to calm the children as they sat near her, waiting expectantly for him to tell a story or sing a song. Even Lilly dabbing his handkerchief at her eyes looked as if she was waiting for him and what he would do. As much as he wants to continue to talk with her, he thinks perhaps he should just entertain her. He thinks he should show off what he can do for her. His mind doesn’t dwell on the meaning behind it, instead choosing to dwell on how all he wants to do in that moment is watch Lilly be happy with her niece in her lap while she makes children listen and remain calm even if they are excited.

The class is the calmest one he’s had in at least a year.

Things keep breaking in Lilly’s house and if Elvis was a suspicious man—if Elvis felt any hope when it came to Lilly, he would venture she called him on purpose. He would venture that she wants to see him and perhaps breaks things to do just that and yet they’re so different, each thing that’s broken, that he thinks perhaps it’s honestly things just breaking. The one true joy involved in it, though, beyond seeing her face when he’s fixed yet another thing is how she smiles when she sees him.

Elvis is a man. Elvis is a man who can’t help himself sometimes. Elvis is a man who is not perfect. Elvis is a man who cannot and will not avoid the temptation of at least seeing Mrs. Harris more often. He learns Nathan rarely comes home on time except for certain days. He learns how great of a cook Lilly is, the smells wafting around the house when he works. He learns she’s a great cook because he’s tasted it at her insistence that he take home the food she’s made, if not insisting that he comes and eats with her. There is a part of him that thinks he’s playing her husband, replacing the man who is never home and is rarely at church with his wife despite how much it means to her. But Elvis knows he isn’t her husband. Despite what he does when it comes to cooking with her, despite how every so often his body betrays him, pictures her beneath him or on top of him, taking him in a way he wouldn’t think she could… he never acts on it. He never tells her. They haven’t crossed any lines, they are just friends who are becoming closer the more and more time they spend together. Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and before he realizes, before either of them realize it’s been three months and another thing has broken. Something feels different as he finishes up and prepares to leave only to realize that he can’t, not with her the way she seems to be on this particular day.

He knows he should have already left, knows that her husband is liable to be back sooner rather than later, after all today isn’t a day he normally goes straight out with his friends. Today is a day he comes home to eat dinner with his wife, perhaps—enjoy other pleasures with his wife and then leave with his friends. It is a Friday, he has the rest of the weekend to spend with the boys and he knows Lilly will be with him on the Saturday with their wives and Sunday during church and the potluck afterward, not that he enjoyed going to them. But Lilly looks so… she looks so in need of company, something had happened the night before, he reasons, something had caused her soul to curl in on itself to the point where she doesn’t talk nearly as much as she normally would with him. Sure, they had still been floating around each other, and she answered a question here and there and would check to make sure he wasn’t accidentally shocking and hurting himself but there was no humming above him, no subtle roll of her hips that made him ache when he was alone at home. Done with his work, he washes his hands in Lilly’s sink, watching as she busies herself putting the finishing touches on her dinner before she pops it into the oven he fixed a few months ago. Yet he can’t shake the feeling that something else in this house needs to be fixed beyond the oven and beyond the wiring he had fixed tonight. He’s never been one to leave a job undone or hastily finished only for it to fall apart some time later for someone else to repair, damage caused by his carelessness. His eyes against his better judgment watch as she bends, watch as her dress rises and stretches around her backside, highlighting it in a way that has him averting his eyes. When he hears the quiet slam of the oven closing he finally looks back at her and is met by her wiping her brow for a moment before staring at him.

“Do I have something on my face?” The question is so innocent he almost laughs. She has nothing on her face. There’s nothing wrong with her face other than the fact that it’s marred by a frown instead of—at the very least—the small smile he’s used to seeing from her. He wants to fix it, he wants to keep her from wilting, make it so she can continue to bloom the way she has been from the moment they properly met outside of church.

“Ah… No, Lil Darlin, you don’t. Ya jus’—did somethin’ happen with you and Nathan last night? Ya look awfully sad and I—you weren’t even hummin’ today. Felt like I needed to put on a record it felt so quiet in the kitchen.” Elvis tries to choose his words carefully and even so Lilly’s face falls just a hair as she sighs.

“Oh. I–I didn’t realize it looked so obvious. I…We were supposed to go on a date, Mr. Presley. We were supposed to go on a date and he was supposed to take me dancing because we haven’t in over a year and I miss it. But—there was a business meeting that ran late and by the time he got home I was too tired and the dance hall was—”

“Closed,” he finishes off for her, knowing full well what time every dance hall in the general area of Memphis closed. He knew full well that the only one that might have stayed open past a normal time was the army one and Nathan, unlike him, was not an army man. No, he was merely a boy–a boy playing at doing business and taking care of his wife financially but not emotionally. There it was again, that deep unceasing urge to fix it, that urge to fix this even if it’s not his place to try to fix anything beyond her appliances and her wiring. His fingers twitch against the side of his leg as he feels them both loosen, one even bouncing just slightly. It’s as if his body is trying to rev up while his mind reminds him with a traitorous whisper he still has every bit of equipment needed to help—to fix this, even if it's all more than a bit rusty. He can shake off that rust just fine, if it was for her.

“I… Lil Darlin. If—I know how to dance. Know I don’t look it, with this paunch,” he gives his stomach a light slap that has it jiggling just a bit and has Lilly’s eyes widening and a flush of desire coursing through her veins, wondering how that would feel under her hands, not that he notices. “But I used to do a lot of swing dancin’, if—I could dance wit’ ya if ya want me to. Ya can say no, but the offer’s there.”

For a moment, Lilly just stares at Elvis as if he’s grown an extra head. Surely he’s saying this in jest, he doesn’t mean what he’s asking, he isn’t offering to treat her better than her husband did. He isn’t offering to dance with her in the kitchen or the living room. That’s–that’s such a silly notion that despite how their relationship, their friendship has grown he can’t be caring for her more than her husband does. The laugh that escapes her sounds harsh even to her own ears as she winces at the sound, her eyes meeting his as if there's a million and one apologies on her tongue. His eyes make every apology that tries to form disappear in every breath she takes. He's not angry, doesn't think she's mocking him with her laughter. As always he realizes she just thinks he’s joking or that there is no way he actually wishes to do what he’s mentioned because after all, if her own husband doesn’t want to dance with her why would a stranger or a friend of sorts want to? That’s not something you do for a woman when you aren’t married to her. Swing dancing in her living room, that has to be a joke.

Her voice is quiet, though, once she stops laughing and notices how Elvis still looks like he might be expecting an answer, as if she hadn’t practically mocked the mere idea of them swing dancing in her living room. Maybe—oh, maybe he was being genuine. Oh, he was far too good to her, indulging her silly wants and desires as if they were married instead of just merely friends. "You're… you don't have to." There. There, she had given him a chance to take back what he offered and made it so they could move on from this—move on from what such an offer meant to her and how she could feel her throat tightening and her heart in her chest twisting.

Elvis takes a moment to just take her in, take in the way her body seems to wilt at the mere idea of him not dancing with her and the idea of him taking her up on her offer of taking back what he agreed to. The breath that leaves him is overtaken by a laugh, though he tries to stifle it. He holds out his hand and moves to the living room. "Lil Darlin', wouldn't've offered if I didn't. Gonna have to forgive me if 'm rusty. Haven't done it in a while."

"Neither have I."

He's sure he feels a muscle in his jaw tense at those words before he shakes his head to clear it. Soon enough her husband would realize how much he's let his wife wilt from lack of attention, from lack of water to nourish her body and soul. For now though, for now he’s here to help her, to make her smile and be happy in a way she deserves to be. Her hand is soft enough that he almost feels wrong touching it with his callus-filled ones. It feels wrong to have such soft skin against his own but at the same time, it settles something deep within him to feel her hand in his and to feel her pressed against his body. He takes a moment to put on a record, praying it actually is something they can dance to only to realize it’s “Sing Sing Sing”, a song he’s danced to more times than he cares to count. Laughter erupts from in a fit of pure joy as he sees Lilly’s face light up when they start to dance.

There should be a bit of awkwardness that only comes from when you first try to dance with a new partner, and yet they fall into a rhythm so natural his mind swirls with the possibility of dancing with her like this the rest of his life. Her feet move in step with his, easily avoiding his own, before he grabs her to pick her up, a move he hasn’t done in almost a decade but he does with an ease that shocks him as she giggles, the sound adding to the music as if it’s another horn. He’s getting dizzy with the sheer joy of hearing it. It feels so natural to swing and toss and lift her up as she smiles brighter than anything he’s ever seen. It looks like the sunrise in France when there was those brief moments of peace. All he can think is how that smile needs to be there every second of the day, that’s a smile that deserves to be seen, deserves to be shown off to everyone and yet—and yet he hopes not even her husband has seen this smile. Perhaps this is just for him and his swing dancing with her. Maybe no one else has seen this smile, because he swears even when he was younger he didn’t move nearly like this, didn’t smile so hard his cheeks are burning from the use.

Elvis is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he misses her foot positioned a certain way when he moves to pick her up for another lift and stumbles. A short curse leaves his lips as he moves to fall on one knee with Lilly falling onto his other knee. He hisses at the pain, knowing he’ll regret this move later, but he couldn’t have her falling to the ground, couldn’t have her risk being injured because he couldn’t catch her—because he lost his footing like a klutz. Except Lilly is still laughing, she’s still laughing and still putting off every bit of joy in the world in his lap. His eyes run down her body, seeing how she’s breathless, her chest heaving and pushing the buttons of her dress. He shouldn’t look and yet he sees, he sees how her chest is heaving in delight. As if to help himself—to keep himself from staring even longer his eyes dart down to her legs, down to her thighs where, oh Lord, her dress has risen up just a hair. Just enough to reveal more of her thigh, to reveal a hint of a stocking that has his mouth drying up the longer he stares. Her legs haven’t seemed to catch up with her brain and the rest of her body, thinking they’re still on the ground and needing to kick up and down almost like a child. There’s a playful exuberance in the action as she appears to not have a care in the world despite how the action has her dressing riding up that little bit more as she continues to giggle and kick at the air in his lap. The skin and the stockings threaten to overwhelm him as he feels the stirring in between his legs a moment too late as he sees Lilly’s eyes widen.

“Oh.” A singular word yet one that packs such a punch as he realizes what it means. What it means for her to utter it to him like that when she’s in his lap as his cock rises to attention like he’s back fresh from the army, wanting to dance with a new girl every night and yet here is one singular woman reacting in such a calm and startled way that he has to stop himself from tossing her off of him in a huff. Still, he lightly pushes at her in an effort to keep her from feeling just how aroused he is only to have her hand reach out and touch his face. Against his will, he nuzzles into her palm before remembering that he needs to make sure she’s not… she needs to be away from his lap. The—his cock—Lil Elvis was not needed here, she was married and he was not that young soldier returning from war any more, no he was merely this fat old man who let himself go and found himself lusting after a fellow church goer’s wife. His young wife.

He misses her words before she repeats them, allowing them to cut through the haze he feels from having her looking up at him happy in his lap. “Your knee! I’m so sorry, Mr. Presley.” Her words are said in a rush as she scrambles to get up, her hand accidentally brushing across his cock before she finally stands up and holds out her hand. “Let me help you up, are you alright—?”

“‘M fine.” Elvis grunts out, as he pulls himself up using Lilly’s hand and his own strength. He hears his knee crack, wincing as it does. “Jus’... Lil–Lil darlin, I gotta, I need to go.”

Needs to get out of her house, needs to not be in front of a woman who has his cock standing at such intense attention that he knows if she looks down she’ll be shocked and horrified at him. He’s committing such an egregious sin even thinking of her this way, even viewing her in the light of a romantic partner, a sexual partner. Viewing her as his—no, he needs to find his way to his truck and to his house to be free of this temptation that he worries he’s about to succumb to. His eyes notice how her face falls but she doesn’t try to stop him, instead frowning and stepping away, smoothing out the bottom of her dress. As if he’s running away—fleeing her presence like all the other men in her life. He moves quicker than he has any right to, right on past her, forgetting about niceties and being a gentleman and wanting to make her happy, shutting the door behind him.

It only takes Lilly a few minutes to realize that she forgot to ask him something about Sunday school and his plans for this week. The question isn’t perhaps important but to her it is. And Mr. Presley has never once made her feel unimportant, so it is without hesitation that she trots outside to where she sees him still in his truck in her driveway muttering angrily to himself while looking down. Her mama had always told her it was rude to eavesdrop and yet here she was doing exactly that as she walked up to the truck, not immediately announcing her presence. She hears curses and mentions of his cock and “she’s a nice young woman, why are ya standin’ at attention like she ain’t married, boy. Like ya ain’t attached to an old man she’s jus’ spendin’ time with to be nice.”

Lilly wants to correct him, wants to tell him that she values his company because it’s better than anything she’s received in so long and yet she doesn’t, instead choosing to come up to his side of the truck and lean against the window before moving just enough that she’s leaning her head inside the truck as well. What she sees—she could not have prepared herself for what she sees.

Feeling his interest in her is one thing that can be explained through the two of them dancing in a way that had her moving against him. It’s a natural response. Feeling it when she collapsed onto his knee, breathless and laughing with enough joy that she wishes she could chase till the ends of the Earth is one thing. Coming out to his truck because she forgot to ask him about his plans for Sunday school this week and seeing that same interest still there was another thing entirely. Lilly tries to keep her eyes focused on his face, tries to not allow her natural position of leaning into the car to make it easier for her to look down between his legs but her eyes drift there against her will. Her eyes drift and the olive of the suit doesn’t allow him to hide what’s going on. Instead it broadcasts exactly what he feels between his legs.

There is a spot slowly growing in size on his jumpsuit. There is a spot where she felt his arousal. There is a wet spot on his jumpsuit for her. No, because of her. Mr. Presley is aroused by her, he’s aroused so much that it’s seeping through his clothing. Even when she was younger and fooling around with Nathan she hadn’t seen someone react to her as strongly as Mr. Presely is right now. The concept of breathing is foreign as she keeps looking down at it and she swears she sees the fabric twitch under her gaze. Somehow that twitch and the accompanying noise—the whimper, maybe—from him is almost like a harsh smack to her back to force the air to leave and enter her lungs.

“Lil—Mrs. Harris.” Elvis’s words are choked out and he thanks God that his stutter didn’t reappear in that moment, the shame of everything making his skin feel flush and warm even as his cock twitches under her gaze, aching and wanting to play with its new friend, its friend it yearns for same as his heart and mind. Damn the societal norms and what’s proper for a good Christian man, he wants, he wants, he needs her to stop looking at it. “I’m—my face is up here.” His hand tightens against his thigh after he says that, almost as if he wants to wince. “What do ya need?”

Her eyes finally wrench themselves from the spot even as his cock twitches yet again, a wave of goodbye to her eyes—to her. What had she needed to tell him? What–What did she need from him other than—? No, it was church. God. It was about Sunday School. A shaky exhale leaves her mouth before she speaks. “I-I just wanted to make sure you–you might want my help again this week with the children? I know that since everyone—all the children seem to have gotten over the tummy trouble that we’ll—you’ll have your hands full and I—”

The more she speaks the more her mind cycles back to what she’s seen, the more her breaths come by shorter and quicker, her chest heaving right near Elvis’s eye level and that… her dress has just enough of a sliver of skin showing he can see them heave with only her brassiere on, it’s threatening to drive him mad, threatening to cause him to reach out the hand he’s fisting into his jumpsuit to touch the skin. To touch her skin and feel if it’s as soft as it is on her arms and her thigh and—

“Yes!” His answer is barked out, sounding more like an order than him merely answering a simple question in the affirmative. Forcing it out is the only thing he can do to calm his mind, to calm his cock, to get Lilly, Mrs. Harris to lean back out of his truck and to remove the temptation of her, her, her from his view. “You—please, I’d love your help, told ya before—the babies love ya.” He coughs, clearing his throat, as he remembers how she looks with a child in her lap, singing lullabies and cooing. It does nothing to help him calm his body, to help him calm his mind. “Is—Was that all ya needed?”

Lilly jumps a little at his bark, her breasts bouncing as she bonks her head against the top of the truck with a soft ouch leaving her mouth. Her hand moves to rub at her head as she pulls back a little, trying to keep her eyes looking firmly at his face versus where it had been. She hears him curse and feels his warm hand touching her head where she had hit it, gingerly investigating if she hurt herself in a major way. A hum and a feather soft touch that she wishes were his lips are what tells her she’s fine, there’s no damage done to her head. She should pull away, should finally stop leaning into his truck, should stop acting as if she’s a wife trying to have the last bit of attention from her husband before he leaves for work but she can’t help it. She can’t help how she wants to stay where she is, just because of how heady it feels to see his attraction—his desire for her. When was the last time she had seen Nathan like this? Lilly couldn’t remember. Couldn’t… the realization sucks the air out of the truck and Lilly feels every bit of heat and humidity in the cabin and around her skin. Her mouth opens and closes before she smiles softly at Mr. Presley. “Yes, that—yes. I just—I had forgotten to ask before so that was all I needed, Mr. Presley.” Her eyes glance back down at his lap to see how his hand is still clenching the fabric of his jumpsuit and how his cock once again twitches at her attention. She feels her skin flush and she shivers slightly when she finally starts to move back.

Elvis looks at her as she leans back, watches her start to stand up straight by his truck and tries to not focus on her chest, tries to not focus how her breath seems shaky as she does this. His mind cannot think about what this means, cannot think about why she’s reacting in this way. She is not—he is not. They are not one. They are Elvis and Lilly. He’s so busy trying to make sure she’s out of his truck that he doesn’t realize she’s leaning back in until he feels the brush of her lips against his cheek. His head turns as if he wants to catch those lips only to realize she’s already left, only to realize she’s back to standing straight, acting as if she didn’t just kiss his cheek and looking so happy he can’t help but be reminded of an actual lily in full bloom.

“I should–I should get goin’. Mr. Harris should be here soon. Wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.” He looks down at his lap as he turns on the truck and sighs. He needs–he needs to get home, to wash away how dirty he feels in this moment.

“You–you wouldn’t. But, yes, Nathan should be home soon. Thank you for, um, thank you dancing with me, Mr. Presley. I-It was—I haven’t had a good time like that in a bit.” Her upper teeth worry at her lower lip. “Perhaps… Maybe we can do that again some time. The next time I have to call you out.”

“May—you just have to ask, Lil darlin’.” His answer is airy, shocking him in how it sounds almost as if he’s in a tunnel or floating on air at the idea. The truck is finally ready to allow him to back out and he finally lets go of his jumpsuit to wave at her with a tight smile. “Good night, Mrs. Harris.”

Elvis tries to not focus on how she looks in her driveway waving at him as if all her neighbors aren’t peering through the curtains wondering what’s happening next door. He tries to not focus on how she looks so natural waving to him with her arm cupping her waist almost as if she aches for… no, she–she wouldn’t. The heat and the events of the afternoon were causing him to think these dumb thoughts, these dumb desires. A shower would solve his problems once he got home.

His mind wanders in the shower, a consequence of it being one that's meant to relax rather than to just cleanse him of the day's adventures. His mind wanders and rather than settling on the horrors of his memories that he can never get rid of, it settles on her. It settles on the comforting smell of her perfume and how she smells of a soap he swears his mama used to use. It settles on the light he sees in her eyes sometimes that burns brighter than any light bulb or sun or explosion he's ever seen. It settles on the comforting weight of her body against his when he danced with her, lifting her in the air like he was a decade younger and half a person smaller, he thinks. It settles on the weight of her body on his knee, an action that hurt and had him nearly stumbling and falling on top of her, but had him catching himself before he did. It settles on her face, so full of joy and life that it thawed something inside of him. It settles her face with a smile so big he smiles at the memory. It settles on the laugh and the feeling of her kicking her legs while on his knee. It remembers the glimpse of her thigh and—he looks down to see his cock at attention once again, precum already dripping out like he's turned on a faucet and he groans, his fist slamming against the wall as he tries to stop his other hand from wrapping around his cock. He fails miserably and shudders, his eyes shutting and mumbling her name, his mind picturing her sweet hand around it before she puts it in her mouth. His cheek burns when he comes.

Elvis tries to avoid thinking of what happened for the next week. He tries to avoid thinking of how his body can’t forget how it felt to have her notice his arousal, to have her touch his arousal however accidental the action was. He tries to avoid thinking of everything and yet he can’t. It mocks him to the point of near insanity. The guilt of wanting—the guilt of needing—the guilt of wishing has him visiting his mother’s grave one early morning after another restless night of sleep. His joints groan and ache as he sits down next to it.

“I met someone, Mama. I wish she wasn't married. You'd–you'd've loved her. Dances so well, perfect lil housewife. She'd–she'd take care of me like ya did. Take care of ya lil boobie right." Elvis huffs out a laugh. "God hasn't given… Hasn't blessed her wit' a baby and—she'd—it's a cryin' shame. I'd take care of her child any Sunday. Any day."

His mind drifts as he tells her more about Lilly, drifts to a world where it’s their children he takes care of and his stomach flips from the mere idea. Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife and thou shall not commit adultery and yet he feels like he’s edging closer and closer to doing it. Feels as if something is going to break inside of him or between them soon. The prayers he sends to God every night are starting to include pleas to give him strength to resist his urges, to allow himself to remain on the correct path and to not allow himself to fall prey to his base desires. To fall prey to sin of the highest order, to wreck a marriage no matter how much pain and destruction it contains, no matter how the pain threatens to burst at the seams.

“Don’t know why… Don’t understand why God is testing me like this. Lilly—Mrs. Harris—Miss Lilly deserves to be happy. Deserves to make a life with her husband and here the Lord wants to test me by putting–by putting her in front of me like this. By… I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist. I—I wish she had met me before the war. ‘Fore all this.”

Elvis feels a gust of wind in an otherwise calm breeze that settles him down as he tries to work himself up. It settles him down and reminds him of his mother’s listening to him and protecting him even in death. Knowing her, she might be trying to have a talk with the Lord Himself right in this very moment.

“Thank you, Mama,” he whispers as he moves to stand up, running his hand across the top of the headstone. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Something is different about today, another day Nathan where once again told her to send for the man who tempts her, unable or unwilling to mend his own house. It no longer feels like Nathan’s house, and that should be worrisome to her. Instead, something is different in the air between them and Lilly wonders if Elvis can feel it, if he can't feel how her heart is beating out of her chest when their fingers brush against each other as they swap ingredients. If he can't feel how her breath catches every time she looks up at him and sees him staring at her, watching her stir something or sprinkle a bit of salt onto the food. She wonders if he can hear her thoughts, hear what nasty things her brain thinks watching him be so domestic with her. She wonders what it would be like to be his wife instead of Nathan's.

Her hands are dirty, covered in raw juice from the chicken and she knows she needs to wash them before cutting up the collards and the snap peas and—Lord she knows she's making far too much food but perhaps Elvis can take some home and remember today. Remember the care the two of them put into the meal. Her mother had always taught her to put the same amount of love in food as you would put into the person you make it for. Perhaps it should worry her that her heart feels fit to burst with her love for this food. It doesn't take too long for her to wash up and grab the towel and yet it's enough time for Elvis to reach a dish above her in the cabinet by her head. It's enough time to have him press up against her, his stomach a warm and solid yet soft presence behind her. It's enough time for her body to freeze in place, before she feels herself sway back a little and feels her breath leave her mouth all at once. It's enough time that Elvis notices these things, sees his reflection against the glass of the window above the sink and sees Lily's against his. He sees—he sees her eyes shut and her head bow as he feels her body shudder.

A dam—the dam holding back any shred of self control Elvis had breaks in that moment. It breaks the second he feels her body shudder against him, the second he sees her melt into his embrace like she belongs there. A groan leaves his lips unbidden and Lilly, sweet Lilly, whimpers at the sound, her eyes opening and seeing the erotic vision of the two of them still clothed against each other. Her body rocks back even as his arm snakes around her trying to hold her in place, trying to keep her from moving against him and yet it barely works, her body seeks him out, wishes for more than what he’s giving her and he–he can’t oblige. She doesn’t know what she wants. His lips brush against the shell of her ear, his breath a hot dagger against her skin. “You want this?”

A simple question. The most simple question with the most simple answer. A yes or a no determines Elvis’s actions in this moment. A no will have him backing away and apologizing profusely, a yes will have him granting her what she needs, what she wants. It will have him giving into the temptation he should resist but cannot any more. The temptation that the Lord must be putting him through for a reason, some higher plan he doesn’t understand quite yet.

“Elvis, please,” Lilly’s voice is a whisper but Elvis hears his name finally fall from her lips and hears how desperate her please is and before he realizes it his hand moves to unzip his jumpsuit to reach down at the bottom, to try free his cock as Lilly starts to whine, wishing for more. Wishing for his touch.

As her chest heaves with quick breaths that Elvis tries to steady, a hand snakes up her body until it reaches her chest, covering so much of it that it ignites something primal within him. He’s always known he’s a large man and yet the way he sees her breasts rise and fall with his hand covering one is to know another thing entirely. He almost moves it away before Lilly stops him, her own hand covering his. There’s a tug of his hand forcing it into the gap between her dress and the skin of her neck and collarbone and Elvis can’t help but oblige her desire even as the heat from her body threatens to set the whole of his hand on fire.

“I gotcha, Lil darlin'. Elvis's gotcha." His words are practically inaudible, they're said so low and deep from within his chest, but Lilly seems to get the message as her breaths start to slow, beginning to match pace with Elvis’s. He’s got her and she can relax. He’s got her and he’s going to take care of the ache inside of her. The ache she’s felt every day she’s seen him since he fixed her oven. Lilly’s brain swears it hears something about him needing to pull down his jumpsuit fully, something about the damn buttons and zippers and she feels her mouth moving to offer to help before she feels the heat of what has to be his bare chest against her dress.

In another time and in another place he would have her help him, have her lift up her dress and help him with her undergarments but the way she sways and moves against him has him realizing he can’t trust her to do such a thing, he can’t trust her to be able to help him the way he needs her to. It’s not a problem and a selfish part of him thanks the Lord for it, thanks the Lord that she won’t turn around and that she won’t have her hand brush up against his unclothed cock. His foreskin won’t scare her off. He won’t scare her off with the intensity of his arousal and of how his cock is already dripping his precum onto her kitchen floor. It takes some maneuvering and he leans against her, pushing her against the sink, his body practically covering her as he lifts up her skirt and manages to pull her underwear down. Her vagina—her pussy—her flower is glistening just from the touches he’s given her. Nathan truly had been forsaking the wife he promised to love and cherish in the house of God if this is all it took to see this level of pleasure from Lilly. His fingers move to touch, to just feel the slick of her arousal. The cry she lets out nearly has him jumping away and yet he knows he can’t, knows after hearing that noise from her mouth he needs to hear it again. He wants to wrench it from her over and over until she’s hoarse.

Elvis takes his time sinking into the wet heat between her legs, he’s seen the pictures of Nathan and seen the man in person once before. There is no conceivable way she is used to someone of his size inside of her and he'd be damned before he ever injured her in any way. Let alone when he’s—no, he won’t think of that, won’t think of anything other than treating her as she deserves to be treated by a man. By her own husband but he’ll do—he can do what her husband won’t. His eyes can’t help but watch even as his mind tells him not to. His eyes can’t help but watch how her hole stretches around him, trying to take him in bit by bit. The memory sears itself into his brain and he knows in that moment he won’t likely be able to forget this, won’t be able to walk away from this unscathed.

Her body feels full, between her legs feels full, she feels so full even as she knows there has to be more. He’s as long as her husband but Nathan’s never filled her like this. It’s almost as if she can’t breathe, the shock to her system too great. She wants to tell Elvis this, wants to tell him this is too much, she doesn’t know if she can handle this and all that comes out of her mouth is noises she’s never heard. Whimpers and whines as he pushes in slowly but surely, his grip on her never faltering, the reassurances never stopping. He’s got her. He’ll have her through all of this. He’s got her even as he bottoms out inside her, a growl of pleasure coming from deep within his chest. The hair on his stomach is against her backside, rubbing against her bare skin in a way that shouldn’t serve to heighten her pleasure and yet it’s all her mind can focus on- it’s the only thing that is bringing her back to the earth, back to the present moment. His thrusts are gentle… almost slow and inviting in the way he pulls out, the stretch of his cock erring just enough on the side of comfortable despite how she feels almost as if it’s catching on something inside of her but that can’t be true, Nathan’s never had that problem, why would Elvis be having it despite how he possesses more girth.

Elvis wishes this was different, wishes he could have her against the sink with her facing him but that’s—this isn’t about what he wants and desires. This is about Lilly, isn’t it? This is about making sure she knows how someone in this world wants to treat her with the love and care he’s trying to treat her with. This is about making sure the pleasure she feels is almost too much, that it threatens to overwhelm her. This is about her and making sure she is happy and taken care of by him. His head had moved down, kissing at her neck, one hand trying to fondle her breasts while the other hand was resting firmly against her lower stomach, practically cradling where her uterus is—not that he realizes. He knows his body isn’t equipped to last too much longer, his age and everything slowing him down just that little bit and yet the slap of his stomach, the slap of his skin against Lilly’s has his thrusts getting stronger as she tries to thrust back, needy in ways that—from the sound of her sighs—she’s not used to.

“More.” A sob she tries to choke back. “Please.”

The only thing he has to give her is his come, that’s all he has left from his thrusting, he can’t go any deeper, can’t stretch that little pink hole any more than it already is. He can’t give her anything else that isn’t already there as he hears the squelch between the two of them. Hears how his cock is welcomed by her body, how she’s wet and it’s only been made worse by his precum and he–he has to look up. He has to see the picture they make in the window if only for his own sanity, if only to perhaps settle his roaring mind.

A second too late he realizes he shouldn’t have looked. A second too late he realizes that seeing the line of her throat as she leaned her head back against his shoulder in pleasure is too much. A second too late he feels his hips stutter as he feels himself coming, feels his come fill the spaces his cock isn’t filling inside of her, adding even more liquid between them and making the noises louder. Her mouth is open as she pants and as he’s looking in the window, watching as the rays from the sunset illuminate the pair of them in an almost heavenly glow, Lilly looks up and catches his eyes.

Her eyes tighten just a bit as she realizes what’s happened, as she realizes he’s had his release. His hips aren’t moving as he pants behind her, trying to recuperate and trying to catch his breath. Her eyes tighten and her shoulders start to follow suit. This—this is something she knew, this is an outcome she knows. This is where Elvis pulls out of her and leaves her aching and wanting. This is where Elvis and Nathan are the exact same two men when it comes to her desires and needs. She can’t look, can’t watch as he pulls out of her and leaves her to be slumped over the kitchen sink. Minutes pass and yet he’s still inside of her, he’s still inside of her and she can feel half thrusts against her backside, his release and her arousal and whatever else squishing and squelching as he moves. Some trickles down her leg as she shivers in anticipation at what’s happening. There isn’t a reference point, she has nothing to compare this to and yet it feels so right. This feels how it’s supposed to be.

Elvis can feel she hasn’t come, he knows—he may not know her body inside and out but he knows how women tick, he knows if he were to pull out of her he’d be no better than—he wouldn’t have done what he set out to do against this sink. It’s as if his body and his cock know this, too, and through a grace or an act of God he can feel himself firming back up the more he thrusts into her, the obscene noises between her legs spurring him on. Her gasp sounds like a plea and a hymn all in one. She hadn’t been prepared for this, he can tell in how her movements are scrambled as she starts to rock with him. Could it be that she was chasing after her release? Could it be that she just needed that extra push? He’s already in so deep and his thrusts are going deeper and deeper but the angle, the angle is all wrong.

“Elv—” Lilly starts before he shushes her softly, his hand moving to between her legs as she keens softly. He doesn’t go where she feels he needs to, where she can feel her body throbbing and she needs him to understand that he’s missing it—he’s missing where she needs him to be but that’s when she hears it.

He’s cooing, crooning, he’s talking so gently to her, praising her as she tries to stand on her toes, trying to change the angle. If only she was higher up. If only she could allow him even deeper, deep enough for him to be where she feels she needs him to be. A whine leaves her lips as his hand still doesn’t move to help and settles on her thigh, grabbing it and squeezing it as he lifts it up onto the counter gently as he can.

“Let Elvis take care of ya darlin'. You're feelin' something, ain't ya? Somethin' right there, right? You just need help with it, don't ya?” His words have the fire growing inside of her, have her whimpering and nodding because yes, yes, she feels something, she feels that there’s something there. What that is she doesn’t know, only knows that he’s giving it to her, he’s coaxing it from her as she feels him so deep inside she wonders how he fits.

Her hand moves down to between her legs, wanting to touch him, it, herself only to have his hand that had still been fondling her breasts, playing with her nipples to swat it away with a small tsk, “no, no, Lilly, let Elvis—let me take care of you the way you need. Do—can I touch you there? Help you rub yourself there?”

A groan, high pitched and almost anguished leaves her mouth as his fingers finally move between her legs, finally reach the part between her legs that throbs in time with her heart. The sob that escapes her mouth comes from deep within her, a release before he’s even properly touched her. He’s got her. Elvis has got her. He’ll take care of her.

Elvis is taking care of her as his fingers, calluses and all, brush against her clit, slowly but with such intent that Lilly finds herself arching against Elvis, the strength of his body behind her making arching forward impossible. Her pussy clenches around Elvis’s cock, fluttering while still trying to milk him for all he’s worth. It’s hard to tell who’s making which noise as he thrusts into her, chasing his second release inside of her, never thinking of the lack of protection between them. His groans and her moans and their breaths are a symphony of sounds echoing through the kitchen, his glasses askew on his nose as he watches Lilly lean forward whining, almost as if she’s passing out. His own body follows hers, leaning against her, the sweat between them fusing them together as much as their come is.

Their breath is the only sound in the room.

#elvis presley #big daddy elvis #spark universe #elvis presley x oc #big daddy and lil darlin'#elvis x lilly #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #crawfever adjacent #elvis

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solosikoasgf · 1 year

Text

nothing like loving you, chapter one

previous chapters: prologue pairing: solo sikoa x oc (nariah 'riah' perry) themes in this chapter: tense family dynamics (bloodline), initial magnetism + unspoken chemistry word count: roughly 2.4k author's notes: besitos on all the love for the prologue! taglist: @rez-luvs-hook — @southerngirl41 — @harmshake — @christinabae — @dreamsinfocus — @thesamoanqueen — @thewarlordsworld — let me know if you want to be added! song recommendations: heavy by tank and the bangas,

— riah ,

news of the draft flows through the corporate office, and the office is abuzz as our section starts rearranging content schedules to accommodate the changes. rumors buzz through myself and leah, my coworker and other content associate. we met when we both started as wide eyed interns, and we both cried and got terribly drunk when we got hired full time, and spent countless nights up together when we got paired to handle content for nxt. our first year together was spent all over the country, bunking in rooms together, downing red bulls, and making friends with the budding talent. even though it was technically off limits - we saw these people every day, every event. it was impossible to not make some friends.

"i'm so excited for indi," leah mentions, leaning back in her chair to scoot over into my cubicle space. "she's gonna be crazy good on main roster."

"oh yeah. i talked to her a couple days afterwards, she's so excited. the women's division is really ramping up to be something special. indi, alba and isla joining is going to take it over the top, really." i click through a couple press articles, switching to twitter to get a read on how fans are responding to it all. "do you think with the shakeup, we could be changing divisions too?"

with draft changeups came staff change ups - people moved divisions, got promoted, and the like. i honestly liked being at nxt - it wasn't has high as pressure and roadtripping with my work bestie made it even more of a party than work.

leah's eyebrows knit together, and she scooted in closer, leaning her elbows into my desk. "we're the newest, so i would hope not....you don't think dan would try and break us up, do you?" she pouts slightly, running hand through her bright ginger hair. i smile, leaning my head into hers.

"and split up his best content tag team?" i roll my eyes, brushing off her worries - just in time for our manager dan to walk up to my desk.

"nariah, i know our one to one is later, but you okay with it happening right now?" he questions, flashing a smile at leah and i. i nod, picking up my laptop and giving leah a shrug before following. dan was cool - i worked under him as an intern and he got promoted to manager when i got hired. he didn't ride me too hard and always tried to look out for our best interests.

i take a seat opposite him in meeting room we snagged, watching as he settled in, a wide white smile that contrasted with the smooth brown of his skin tone. he leans into the table, like a kid with a secret he can't keep.

"you're getting promoted."

"i'm sorry, excuse me, but what?"

"molly and i have been really impressed with your work. the metrics and engagement on the content you've personally been in charge of has been some of the best posts we've gotten across all our socials. and a lot of the nxt talent has praise for you - especially when you've handled their personal brand posts and not just the ones for general nxt. so we think you can take on some bigger talent. we're promoting you from junior content associate to content coordinator, and we're changing your division." his smile grows even wider with every sentence, and i can't form a sentence.

i didn't think this was going to happen - shit, i thought i would be with nxt for the next one or two years before anything happened. all the content i did was work, but i had fun editing, or brainstorming new ideas. and it was fun to interact with fans and see what they responded best to, to figure out what should be signature for talent.

"too shocked to talk?"

i laugh, shaking my head. "i just did not expect this by a long shot. thanks, dan, really. you really have been my mentor this entire time and i really appreciate you."

"no, nariah. this is all you. i gave you the tools, you went above and beyond with them. that's what we look for."

my smile won't go down, and my cheeks hurt, but i can't stop - until my mind brings leah to the front and it falls slightly. "what about leah?"

"you know i can't talk to you about her, but i am splitting you both up. she's doing good too, but she'll be going to a different division. y'all are both rising up the ranks."

i let out a breath of relief, but a little saddened i'll be away from my partner. "what division am i going to?"

"main roster, men's division. in particular...." he leans back in his chair, with a wider smile. "you'll be assisting in the content for the bloodline specifically."

holy shit?

"excuse my language, but you're shitting me right now. you're putting me on bloodline content?"

"yeah. we think your ideas could be really good in helping where the story is going next. and we've gotten word they want to start pushing solo a little more, and since you worked with him a little in nxt, we think you'd be great to take point on that when the time comes. we actually want you to head down to pensacola to meet with them and start shadowing, since the next two weeks of matches will be down there. you'll be working under tyrese. so after you wrap it up today, head down tomorrow."

i study his face to see if he's serious, but the smile remains, and dan doesn't tend to play games when it comes to work. i leave the conference room a lost for words, replaying the conversation in my head on repeat until i can grasp the full understanding. when leah and i leave later, both shocked with the days events, i hug her a little tighter, and we both look at each other in wonder: things are really changing for us.

________________________

a roadtrip and several phone calls later - including a long one with leah as we bounced around ideas of what we could do for our respective assignments - find me falling in step behind tyrese, who takes point on bloodline content, with some others personally picked by the talent to handle personal brand posts. we hadn't really spent much time together, but word around that he was a good guy, just harsh on deadlines and the kinds of edits that went out. but considering the kind of press that surrounded the bloodline, it made sense, but i'd be lying if i said it didn't put me on edge a little.

"so the guys tend to drift between gyms - josh, jon and sefa all have multiple gym memberships so they go wherever. joe has a spot where his trainer is that he prefers so it'll be rare you really see him like that." he turns to walk backwards, keeping his eyes trained on me. i squirm internally, trying to keep a neutral but interested face. since i had shown up, i had felt a little under scrutiny, and it took me far too long to even pick an outfit, settling on my usual streetwear casual - slightly baggy cargos, a slightly oversized tee, nikes. spent half the morning fighting with my curly bundles to make this slick back low ponytail full. i wanted to feel like myself, but wanted to look approachable. my hands still smooth over my tee, still feeling slight scrutiny from tyrese's eyes as he goes over some scheduling details.

as we round the corner into the training room, i take a deep breath, hearing booming laughter, and try to put on a smile to calm my shaking nerves. we come upon the twins and solo, all engaged in conversation until they see tyrese, who they great with enthusiasm, like a long lost brother. "aye guys, this is nariah, i told y'all she'd be joining us as apart of content."

i smile, swallowing down nerves as both usos take turns shaking my hand.

"damn, new content? i got high expectations since our boy been holding us down." jimmy grins.

"i'll try my best, but i think my work speaks for itself. i think we can add some fun stuff as well as some really edgy things for y'all. as long as your open to it."

my eyes drift to solo, who's held his spot quietly without moving since i came in. his hoodie is just pulled back enough so a peek of blonde shoots through, and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing tatted forearms. he doesn't give a smile, a nod, a word, not a single bit of acknowledgement at my presence. even now, he stares at me with intensity that doesn't come off as friendly, and i'm stuck between feeling awkward and a little offended. truth be told, i hadn't mentioned to anybody how we had met previously, or what had went down.

it wasn't like it was bad, either. it was quick and fleeting, but my neck still felt warm at the thought of our last encounter, only calmed by the thought that he may not remember anything of that night. but then why the hell was he staring at me so hard for?

so i hold his eyes, trying not to let it get to me. "looking forward to working with you guys."

— solo ,

i don't have the time to mess around with whatever new people the office sends down here, seems like one or two cycles through and gets transferred out every couple weeks, not being able to hack it. i'm always more focused on the problems in front of us, and it's always like i'm damn near the only one. as friendly as things seem behind the scenes, there's always an underlying feeling of tension that flows through all of us, even amidst the smiles and camaraderie. when sami left, the rift got a little bigger, and with my brothers losing their titles, it's grown.

if anything, it's left more pressure on me to deliver.

i've never been one for alliances or any of that buddy shit - i've always looked out for myself and made my own path independent of everybody else. i didn't have the elder's support like roman, or have a twin like my brothers. it's always been just me - and that's why i'm solo. but since joining the roster, that feels threatened. i don't know the peace of my own rules and judgement, used as a guard dog of sorts for roman.

and it's not like i mind - the closer i am to roman, the more i have leeway for what i want in the end - but it's almost like i'm a pet, and i ain't never been with that shit.

i like to train when it's late - the quiet of the training facility is easier to navigate. it's just me and tupac, the weights and my own determination. it's what i look forward to - or at least i did, until i find somebody else in there instead. i glance at the clock - one in the morning. the hell is anybody else even doing in here?

there's a low hum of rnb music as the quiet and shadowy figure goes through a series of stretches in front of the mirror. it takes me a moment to place the face as nariah - the content girl from earlier. she doesn't see me and her eyes are closed as she sinks down into the yoga mat, stretching her body over the floor, with audible deep breaths.

i clear my throat and move toward the center, pulling my hood down. it startles her, and she jumps a little, sitting on her knees and her head snapping up. once she recognizes me, she exhales, hand on her chest. "sorry. didn't see you."

"yeah, i can tell."

she doesn't respond, looking at me in the mirror as if she was waiting for words.

"you gon' be in here much longer?"

her eyebrows raise. "maybe. there's enough space for both of us, you know. i won't get in your way."

not the answer i wanted. i shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, scowling. "what are you even doing in here this late?"

"the trip down here was long and fucked up my sleeping schedule a little. couldn't get my mind to calm down so i thought i'd get some time in. i should ask you that. weren't you in here training earlier?"

"don't mean i can't train on my own."

"true." she stands, facing me from her spot. "i won't bother you. unless you want to stretch with me before you get started."

i snort, and i swear there's a playful look in her eyes. "what?" she asks, eyebrows raised. "big guy like you can't be flexible?"

"ain't nobody say all that."

"then come on."

i hesitate, but step beside her, looking at her face in the mirror for guidance. she doesn't smile, but her face lights up just a bit, content in my choice as she leads me through stretches. the lights in the training room are still somewhat dim, so i rely on her low voice to guide me along the sounds of the music playing in the background. after a while, my mind empties - no longer concerned with my earlier problems.

i focus on feeling my body connect with my mind, and the tasks that i've done to get me here. i focus on nariah's voice, and then her face as we sit across each other for seated stretches. her voice fades out a little as i find myself more tuned into her face - dark eyes with light circles under them - no doubt from the late nights. full and glossed lips, long and slender limbs. after a while, i realize i'm not moving anymore, and neither is she, and we're both just quietly staring at each other.

something's there.

i don't know what it is, but it's there. pulling me in, making me want a little more. the air feels a little heavier, and her eyes hold mine with quiet intensity for another moment, but something in the back falls with a clatter, and it breaks the tension, and she clears her throat, averting her eyes and scrambling to stand.

"i'm gonna go. you're good, right?" she dusts herself off.

"yeah..." i stand, putting some more space between her.

"alright then i'm gonna..." she mumbles, rolling up the mat and looking for her bag, "i'm gonna go now. see you later, i guess."

"uh-huh."

i watch her disconnect her bluetooth and scramble out the door, and it takes me a moment to come to myself, shaking my head. no time to be distracted.

with everybody on home turf, the next two weeks were going to be brutal. and i needed to focus.

#solo sikoa fanfiction #solo sikoa imagine #solo sikoa x oc #solo sikoa fic #solo sikoa #wwe fanfiction #the bloodline fanfiction #the bloodline wwe #the bloodline x oc #*ssgf #fic : nothing like loving you

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moonlitinks · 1 year

Text

Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thank you to bestie @writingbyricochet for tagging me! CAN WE JUST START OFF WITH THAT LITTLE WRITING SNIPPET (AND THE KISS SCENE) THAT HAD ME SQUEALING??? I AM SO, SO EXCITED FOR PARADISE LIVED AND DIED. for anyone interested in this amazing writer, her answers are linked here!

1) What motivates you to write?

Whenever I sit there and read a good book in one sitting for hours. The magic. The characters. The romance. The ACTION. It just makes me realize that I want to ignite this same feeling to others, and I want to make my book feel like a second home for them to escape to <3

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

This is my most recent writing snippet that I'm just SO HAPPY TO WRITE I DON'T KNOW WHY

“Well, I think you’re a selfish—” Rip. The sound of her skirt tearing caused her to pause, and the magpie picked and picked at the edges of her dress. What was it doing? Bari grabbed at the remaining pieces before she exposed herself and got kicked out due to indecency. He stared at her with indifference, scowling like he could not take her at all. “There,” he said. “Now you have no reason to cling to me.” He snatched the magpie from the air and Bari cried out in alarm. Even the bird seemed to sense the dangerous aura that the he emitted, pecking at the space in between them. Altair paused at where the magpie pecked, and his gaze slipped for a second, enough to Bari to snatch her bird back, and the lantern in the other. She really did need to get rid of the lantern, but it wouldn’t move because, apparently, even an enchanted object believed that she didn’t know what she wanted. “Tell me to take a voice.”

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Altair, because he's so complex. I always love a character that is more mysterious and has a lot of history to unpack behind them because of all the awful things they've done, but a lot of guilt and regret following them, too. Seeing their transformation arc is BEAUTIFUL.

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Drafting and creating plot twists! And brainstorming / daydreaming about ideas. If you can't tell, I'm not much of a plotter haha.

5) What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Inner dialogue! And I think I really like getting in depth with characters, so you really know them.

6) What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

I think I love it because we're all honest about the writing process. Writing is really lonely and it actually can really drain you mentally without the right mindset. Personally, I have a lot of anxiety, so seeing people that understand me really makes me feel like I can write and simply enjoy it. It also makes me feel less alone.

7) A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Scrivener, my love. I also love watching author interviews like Chloe Gong and Stephanie Garber and just seeing what their drafting and publishing journey has been like, and it inspires me to write! Pinterest is also great for aesthetics, and Spotify is the best for playlists <3

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I love the Enchanted Kingdom (soon to be named...) I've built so far. It's filled with curses that have been unresolved in the first lives that these gods have lived, and now have reappeared to kinda ruin the Kingdom. My world is very fairytale slash studio ghibli esque, so I'm having so fun with the tidbits now!

9) What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Oh, God. DO I KNOW THIS PERSONALLY. I swear my rough patch hasn't ended... writing after nearly not writing for a good two years really does something to you.

Writing is all about mindset. It doesn't matter how much of an oddball idea you have. If you don't believe in it, it'll never get finished. Every time I doubted myself, my anxiety got so bad I shut down immediately. And I was so worried about what other people would think when reading my books, that I stopped myself from writing the books I want to write in the first place. Whether you have people around you discouraging to write, or can't believe in yourself, at the end of the day, it's just you and your book. And what's the point of writing if you're just following a trend? Or slugging yourself to finish a book you can't even connect with? Each book is a piece of yourself, and I think the greatest realization I had is to write the story you want to read. And it doesn't matter if it's about some girl who makes a deal with a god to save her sister, or about some alien on a spaceship, or about carnivals! Writing is so amazing because you can connect with readers who enjoy the same things you do, but it all starts with believing in yourself first.

When you get stuck, don't panic. If you haven't read an article about how Boredom Leads to Creativity, maybe take a quick break about writing that first! Writing isn't about who finishes the book first, but it's about quality and a game of luck. Maybe you need a break away from writing. Maybe you need to reconnect with your characters. Maybe you're just tired of toiling over and over again on this plot line.

There is no set method to returning to your project. But what has helped me is learning why I want to write. It doesn't matter how much I return to my world, or try to force my characters into more trauma if there's no reason why I'm writing this. Like, is it to enjoy it? Is it to have people experience these feelings I've felt months ago, and hold importance to me? Even the simplest reasons are the deepest ones. <3

And finally (sorry this advice is literally a hundred pages long, can you tell I'm procrastinating right now?), writing is meant to be serious, but it's also meant to be fun. The draft is simply just that: a draft. You can get ideas from random lines you wrote, or even take out characters to write a different book about! Don't ruin the one thing you've learned to love. Personally, writing in fun / ugly fonts: Arial, Comic Sans, etc., has really helped me focus on what I want to say instead of whether this book will ever get queried or not. Set a routine. Write everyday, or don't if you're more of a mood writer. The instant you feel the itch to write, JUST FUCKING DO IT, OKAY. THIS IS A SIGN. It doesn't matter if it's a scene in the third act and you're only on chapter 1. It's a sign that the story wants you, and only you to write it.

FINALLY FINALLY, I swear this is my last piece of advice, and the shortest: Believe in yourself, even when no one else does. Writing is hard, but rewarding. I believe in you. <3

wowooww that was long, tagging @orphicpoieses @macabremoons @halfbit @leisoree @sleepysuiteheart @the-chaotic-writer @heymacareyna @hallwriteblr @sculpture-in-a-period-drama @pixelw0rds @thetruearchmagos + other mutuals and anyone who wants to participate! i would love to hear your responses, PLEASE.

#tag games #writing #writeblr #writers #writblr #writing community #writing inspiration #creative writing #wip #writersontumblr #writing memes #writerly memes #writerly woes #writer struggles #writing tips #writing advice

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mymoodwriting · 10 months

Note

Babe! let's have a fanfic date here lol!

7 (do tell, please bestie)

17 so my Rose, about no. 17 (Do you have any fav fic?)

4 Would you ever consider writing with me ? 👉👈

Hi my precious Star! I see you also wanted to play the ask game, I'm so excited >_<

#7 "Have you ever written anything based on personal experience?"

Oh... I think the only one I can say for certain is the Xdinary Heroes one shot I did based of their debut single Happy Death Day. The song hits and, spoiler, I released that one on my birthday. It's really my own thoughts and feelings in that one, and shows how much the song means to me personally.

#17 "Free space– ask anything: Fav fic?"

Hm... if we're talking in regards to my own fics... I'd probably have to pick from each category I have >_< When it comes to my big ones, it's not complete yet but LØV3 is the one I am most proud of. It tells a story I worked hard to craft, and it's only recently hit the point where the whole idea stemmed from. I don't get much attention for it, but I love it nonetheless. As for mini series, Awaken hands down. I love WayV and that comeback was so good I just had to do something big with it. For one-shots, it's The Boyz' Drink It. I always say it but when this MV dropped I fucken CRIED cause I was so mad. I had the idea in my head in that moment but I couldn't just stay up and write it cause I had work in a couple hours and I never got to it until months later. I'm glad it had a good reception though. As for requests... hands down it has to be Sticker. I was already working on it but the fact someone came to my ask box with the request, it touched my heart. NCTzens know me so well uwu

But if we're talking about other authors, I adore @neopuppy's Mean Boys Club fic Focus and their work in general, just great ideas and great story telling. I also love @peanutpinet's works, and there's a certain Jaemin fic they haven't posted yet that I am so looking forward to! And for you my precious Star, I really love your Friends!? series and can't wait for more!

#4 "Would you ever consider writing... with you?"

Yes! A million times yes! I would love to see what kind of story we'd make, and for who too! We have so many great boys to choose from and endless possibilities! We should totally figure something out and see what we can create together, I have no doubt it'd be amazing!

#ask #starillusion13 #ask game

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chaotic---calm · 1 year

Note

Hi! I just read your new XiCheng fic and it looks fantastic!!! I'm really liking the premise (I love omega LXC and political marriages, so both in a single fic make me so excited!) and the writing (LXC and JC's characterisation so far is excellent! LXC holding back the hurt —all the feelings about being unable to be true to himself!—, JC pushing through his own difficulties) so I'm really looking forward to what comes next. How will JC present his case? And the reactions! I'm curious not just about LXC's but also LWJ's, because I think he would find his brother marrying out a terribly hard pill to swallow.

Speaking of LWJ, I can't help but notice that there's no WangXian tag in the fic, I wonder if that means it'll be added later, they won't end up together or if those two won't even be interested in each other here (I don't mind any way it goes, though reading fics without that ship can be so refreshing). And continuing with the tags, I see that LXC & JYL tag! I'm already in love with it! The two omegas bonding! All the commentary on gender expectations (fitting and not fitting and the degrees in between, the limitations of each route, the lack of fulfilment) that could fit there! Yes, I'm very excited about that tag. And also about the NHS & JC tag. I love that friendship. I love the idea that NHS and JC could continue to just be friends even as omega and alpha, especially considering NMJ's prejudices. Speaking of him, I am so excited about NMJ's place in the story in the future! His friendship with LXC is so important to both of them, NMJ will have to face his prejudices and the route already sounds glorious. (Oh! JC was thinking that other alphas would want to marry LXC, would NMJ think marrying LXC would be doing his friend a favor? Oh, I can just see the cracks on their relationship if the offer is made and rejected, the explanation of why LXC would not choose NMJ would be delicious. But that's just a possibility, I don't mind if the story doesn't go there at all.)

Ahem, so sorry for rambling, I just think this fic is already looking fantastic and am excited for more of it. Thanks for writing, author! Keep up the wonderful work! *sending bunny hugs if you want them* 🐰💛

Hello! Ah, I'm so excited to see such a long comment/ask!! Thank you, anon! 💜

Your enthusiasm is awesome. I'm glad you're so into some of the trope set-up I've done (and that you think I've done a good job with characterization). I like political marriage stories a lot as well, and yass, omega LXC is always a refreshing change from the "norm." I'm in the process of writing Chapter 2 right now. I think you'll like all the discussion and reaction from the others; LWJ will definitely find it hard to let his brother go, but there's also the prospect of sticking it to those asshole elders. 🤔

Regarding WangXian, it will be here, but I'm keeping it very much in the background, so I opted not to tag it just because I didn't want to disappoint any readers who really want any lengthy focus on that. XiCheng is much more where I want to keep my focus.

I am SO excited to get to the parts relevant to the LXC & JYL tag. I think you and the other readers will really enjoy it. I've always felt like the two of them would really mesh well together personality-wise, so I'm happy to have the opportunity to give them that here. Plus, someone's gotta help the boys navigate the perils of being married and companions/partners! 😁

I don't want to give away any spoilers, but yeah, I'm going to try to do the best I can with the various relationships. NHS and JC should always be besties, haha! I think it's good when opposites mix: JC can help NHS be a bit more serious, and NHS can help JC keep from having a stroke before he's 30. 🥰 As for NMJ in this fic...let's just say that marriage to LXC is not the first thing that crosses his mind. 😬 (I really do love your idea of him trying to make the offer and being rejected, though! That's not what crossed my mind when plotting this fic, but it would be an absolutely delicious plot thread to follow.)

Please please please never apologize to me for long posts, rambling or otherwise. I can't tell you how wonderful such enthusiasm and joy and praise feels to us fanfic authors. It absolutely made my day to see that this had come in, so thank you so much. If it's not to presumptuous of me to ask, I sure hope to see more comments/thoughts from you as the story continues, whether here or on AO3. 💜

(Bunny hugs are absolutely delightful! 😊🐰)

#asks #my asks #my fanfic #writing #the untamed #xicheng #jiang cheng #lan xichen

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allylikethecat · 1 year

Note

hi ally!

as a fellow needy girl, can you do 9, 21, 26 and 59 for the know your writer

(as someone who is v whiny, i once again need to say how much i appreciate your whiny matty. hoping for sth w contemporary matty & g soon, kisses set in the current era plus the eye and ear infection fics were my fave)

(also if i ever get brave enough to come off anon - are you up for chatting 👉👈)

Yay! Needy Girls unite! 💪🏻 Thank you so much for sending this in! Also I am always down for chatting! I don't know if I ever have anything interesting to say but my ask box and DMs are always open 😊

I have a few more (new!) Kiss Prompts in my inbox (and am always open to more!) and I'm sure I will be writing more pathetic whining Fictional! Matty in the future - I really enjoy making Fictional!Matty suffer. I'm so glad to hear that you enjoyed the Eye and Ear Infection fics and hope you enjoy the next installment in The Infection Fic Verse with the A&E Fic!

Get to know your fic writer!

9. Do you comment on stories you read?

I always try to! I know how discouraging it can be when you write something and don't get any comments, and also how absolutely exciting it is to get comments, so I always try and make sure I leave a comment when reading a fic - I always leave Kudos as at least a minimum though!

21. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

I would absolutely love to! I haven't had the opportunity to yet, but if it was the right idea and the right author I would love to have the experience. I just know I can be difficult to work with - I bounce around from idea to idea very quickly which I know can be annoying!

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Probably one of my older Hockey RPF fics - I was in college and extremely unhinged and the fics reflect that 🤣 Though I do have one I am still actively working on (Hurricane) that I came back to after a year and a half / two year hiatus. Everything Will Be Okay (which is one of my Top Gun fics) has also turned into a major trip - I will finish it eventually, but it got a lot of really lovely feedback from the fandom and ended up on a few rec lists and as a result I completely psyched myself out with it and haven't been in the right mental state to finish it (I will eventually though I promise!)

59. Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

Lol yes. I met my Bestie my freshman year of college and our love of fic and fandom (even though we were in different ones!) was something we really bonded over and here we are nearly ten years later (which is SCARY) living on opposite sides of the country still talking 24/7 and obsessing over our fics (I am very excited I am going to visit her and we are going to see The 1975 in October - she also came out to visit me in March to go to the Eras tour!). I also make a lot of jokes about it to my other IRL friends - however they aren't really in fandom spaces (which is absolutely crazy) and I always joke that they are "outside people" who aren't really online and therefore, they don't really understand what it means or entails. They don't know what I write, where I post it or my username or anything, just that writing is something I enjoy and that I do in fact post it on the internet.

Thank you so much again for sending this in! If anyone else wants to send more of them that would be super cool and I would be so very happy. Thank you!

❤️Ally

#allylikethecat #ask ally #anon ask #fanfiction #fanfic #questions #answers #get to know your fic writer #thank you so much for indulging me #keep it kind

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franciskirkland · 1 year

Note

Hi hi <3

Gimme a tarot reading hun 💵 🧍

hi bestie!!! i would be absolutely honored to <333

so it sounds like you're curious about what the following school year holds for your education. i'm doing a classic seven card spread to gain some insight into what's working in your favor and what you might need to overcome.

to represent the past of this situation, we begin with the fool, and how fitting as he literally represents embarking on new beginnings.

in the context of your education, this might suggest that you've been very ambitious and excited to venture into something you may not have been prepared for. perhaps you took a risk that wasn't as successful as you'd hoped, and you may now feel jaded.

but that's okay, as every journey begins with the fool!! there is learning in failure and you're always free to start again.

the second card symbolizes the forces at work at present, and for you, i pulled the devil. love him. so scary (not really!)

this isn't a negative influence on your reading so don't worry! this is actually one of my favourite cards and it's interesting to see it at present because there are so many things it could indicate, it's a very personal, subjective card.

of course the devil represents the subconscious as well as primal instincts i.e. lust, greed, etc. (just examples, i don't see these as being an issue for you) and other potentially destructive patterns. the death card is technically a better representative for cycle breaking, but when the devil shows up in this kind of reading it moreso sheds light on the bad habits/indulgences and things we do to ourselves that weigh us down.

this is actually empowering, because it implies you have the ability to change your behaviour with the proper determination.

this suggestion of bad habits is enforced in the next card.

the third card reveals the hidden influences at work in your inquiry - i pulled judgement. the judgement card can often represent rebirth, but in this context i'm actually seeing it in a more literal sense.

perhaps you've been too critical/concerned with perfection, or holding yourself back too much because of a past failing. in this position, and in combination with the devil, it indicates this may be a totally subconscious thing. don't let that pesky little voice keep you down! also, be mindful not to pity yourself.

the fourth card suggests obstacles that need to be overcome for your success, and i pulled the three of pentacles.

the suit of pentacles (coins) is concerned with material goods, labor and money. threes often represent growth and collaboration and this card in particular is all about teamwork, craftsmanship and shared ideas!

considering it's preceded by judgement, the three of pentacles as an obstacle indicates a lack of communication. whether or not there's an intrapersonal conflict at hand, you're having trouble getting your voice heard. perhaps you have difficulty asking for help, or you feel as if you're being ignored. please speak up!! not doing so is only hurting yourself.

this idea is enforced by our next card, which in this spread represents the external perspective on this issue and the attitudes of others around you.

i pulled the seven of swords. the suit of swords is equivalent to the element of air - concerning intellect, communication, and rationality. they are focused on thought and philosophy rather than emotion.

this card is a classic symbol of deception, betrayal and dishonesty. i am not saying someone is lying to you, but considering the other cards in this spread, maybe your needs aren't being considered. it also suggests that others around you are not reliable. you should not be distrusting, but again, you need to strive to be heard.

now, the next card is very important as it tells us what your wisest course of action will be, and for you, i pulled the page of swords.

page of swords represents an intelligent young person and can sometimes indicate a disagreement or clash with authority. i'm not seeing that in a literal sense, but it repeats the same idea of self-advocacy that i've been seeing a lot here.

as an action card, it indicates you can take control of your situation by using the advantage of your intellect. following the seven of swords, it also shows you need to demand the respect you deserve from those around you who may not be giving it to you. also, some independence may do you well where others have failed you.

the final, seventh card in this horseshoe spread represents the ideal outcome in this situation. we arrived on the hanged man.

i'm not gonna lie, this is a weird one to end on, as it's very open ended. the hanged man is very much a symbol for patience, waiting, and wisdom. or more negatively, indecisiveness, self-sacrifice, and internal conflict.

but i'd like to see it in a positive light and believe it implies that you have endless choices in this world and any number of paths can take you far.

you're young and smart. you don't need to make any final decisions yet. try new things! maybe a compromise is in order, but be discerning and use your head in the pursuit of truth and success.

to summarize, i'm seeing strong themes of self-advocacy and intelligence. the only thing holding you back is that discouraging little voice in the back your head, but don't listen to it!

1. the fool - you experienced a failure (the first step)

2. the devil - you may have some bad habits weighing you down

3. judgement - you've been hard on yourself/holding back

4. 3 x pentacles - you need to make yourself heard, maybe ask for help

5. 7 x swords -you're possibly being treated unfairly

6. page of swords - demand respect, be self sufficient and use your intelligence

7. the hanged man - be patient, keep your options open and you'll be successful.

thank you so much for letting me do this!! i'm very much an amateur so if anyone notices any mistakes please feel free to correct me.

best of luck to you babe, the future is in your hands xx

#ask and ye shall receive #tarot #tarot reading #7 card spread #once i get better at this i will start charging 5 dollar lmao #but never for you lint my beloved

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bitter-sweet-coffee · 2 years

Note

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25046521/chapters/60661000

You know, I shouls've enjoyed this, because its content of my fave, Shadow, but now I'm just mad. Don't gemme wrong, I LOVE Infinite, but seeing him interact so romantically with Shadow... made my blood boil!!

I honestly feel like this would've worked MUCH better with an shadow x fem!reader. Fake marriage tropes are lit but having it be with Infinite is unrealistic? Because Shadow's straight (I know i date him regularly >//<)

Just imagine it!! Shadow's worried for reader-chan, ans when he tells her he loves her the staff thinks they're married and she gets to meet Sonic and Infinite can even be there!! Then everyone is happy. :)

Sorry, I'm just so disappointed in this fic. Shadow isn't ace or gay he's straight lol

hi anon! thank you for the review of my fic, i know i haven’t updated it in a while but i always enjoy people interacting with my works :)

i’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the fic because of the ship, but that’s why i tagged it as shadow/infinite! i’m not sure how often you use ao3, but anything with a / tag is a romantic ship. hopefully this will help you avoid things that genuinely upset you in the future because that is never the intention of any author.

you are absolutely 100% free to ship shadow with whoever you want (which includes yourself!) but that freedom of interpretation applies to everyone, including ships you may not like such as infinadow. i for one am personally not a fan of x reader fics because they require bland enough writing to make the reader character realistic for ANY reader, and i’m the type of person who likes little details hehehe

anyways, you are definitely 100% free to consume whatever content you want, but unfortunately it won’t come from me because we have different tastes and that’s okay!

one last thing: i’m not sure if you’re new to tumblr or are part of the twitter migration, but do be cautious about sending messages like this to people (anonymous and highly opinionated about fanworks). that’s not how we do it on tumblr, and you will very quickly get written off as a troll, get ignored, or get awfully strong responses from (rightfully) angry people. people make fanworks for free that are often deeply personal to them (like how you care about shipping yourself with shadow) and something like this is considered very rude and will upset a lot of people!

i personally don’t think you intended to be mean at all, and i’m not mad whatsoever since i try to take asks in good faith. you seem really sweet and passionate about your character interpretations! just try to be open minded about other people and their opinions too, okay? some of my besties and a lot of my mutuals on here have contradictory lore and opinions that rarely overlap with my own, but it’s never about “being right” since everyone has their own interpretations, which can all coexist.

if your fic pitch makes you that happy, i fully encourage you to try and write it yourself! even if it isn’t my cup of tea, i always support people in their writing endeavours and i’d love to see where you go with this :)

i am always happy to receive asks, so hopefully this won’t discourage you or anyone since that’s never my goal! people can always review my stuff, respond to my takes, and even pitch ideas like this one here. i might not personally create any of it myself, but i do enjoy seeing other people be happy and excited while gushing about something that means something to them 💕

#shadow the hedgehog #bsc anons #<- new tag for the shy besties

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mickgaydolenz · 2 years

Note

HEY BESTIE i saw your ask and i am eatingggg this article up like it’s my last fucking meal.

i was gonna write out this whole thing breaking down the entire article, but then i realized that all i really need to say in a few words or less is that tl;dr its accurate when it's talking about the Capricorn sign...but a lot of these other things describing Mike are not really Capricious in nature and are more explainable through other placements in his natal chart that the Sun sign doesn't account for nor even influences -- if they're not in aspect to the Sun anyways.

for example, in relation to his Sun, there's this quote that says "he wants to devote much of himself to his career, and at the same time he wants to give much of himself to his family", which immediately screamed at me because i know exactly what placement this is and exactly what's going on: it's his 10th house, where both his Sun in Capricorn and asteroid Juno in Sagittarius reside, and although both under different signs they do technically conjunct, since his Sun is 8° from Juno. any conjunctions under different signs will cause the person inner conflict, restlessness, and discontent, and these signs semisextile, which means that these signs often have difficulty working together, however it's absolutely essential that they need to harmonize, or else. not sure if Mike ever got to accomplish that.

on the flip side, there's this other quote that says "he's wild about traveling both for pleasure and for learning" which is not really in Capricorns nature. this speaks more loudly to his Sagittarius Mars 9th house! it's also in conjunction with his POF in the same sign and house. none of them have aspect to his Sun...but they both are in aspect to his Ascendant, to which they square. that has way more of an affect on his outer personality. another quote from the article that ties it in: "he builds up outasite ideas and stirs them into action with confidence and enthusiasm. [...] rare knack of exciting enthusiasm in others." which is incredibly Sagittarian and not at all Capricious.

i'm not clear if the author totally hyper-fixated on his Sun sign or was able to look at his natal chart as a whole, but i'm gonna assume they were only referring to his Sun sign, which imposes a problem because a person's entire personality is not all embedded into the Sun sign. they say a lot of things here that can be spotted in other placements and aspects in his chart that the Sun sign itself does not account for.

you’d be surprised to know that, way back when, astrologers used to read the Ascendant sign first before going for the Sun sign, because the Ascendant is what people will see and know of when they interact with a person the first time. i have no idea when or why people stopped reading from Ascendant first to Sun first cause i forgor 💀; all i can tell you is that in the mid-to-late 60s we were experiencing an occult and spiritual revival + evolution to the initial early 20th century occult and spiritual boom, and pushing away from organized religion all-together, so somewhere somehow that might've influenced the switch. don’t quote me on that though. it just a very possible reason as to how and why the article was written the way it was.

but yeah, interesting article! although i dont inherently trust 60s teen mags for real & raw info on them, i wonder if they did the same for the other 3, because it's potentially useful for me.

KALE BESTIE I KNEW YOU WOULD DELIVER ME GOLD WITH THIS!!!!!! if i track down anymore astrology related articles to the other guys i will 1000000000000% send them your way!!!! btw as always i am FLOORED by your knowledge, GIRL YOU ARE INSANE AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!!

#i'll never not be impressed by you #rhubarb asks #the monkees #mike nesmith

4 notes · View notes

vneuns · 3 years

Text

— “CHAOTIC DONOS” + Hcs

author's note(s): it's 2 am im tired and need a shower but by the time you see this i'll be in my bed after having a nice shower and everything

cw warnings: light cursing, and anything else i can't think of rn

Dream

y/ntookdream donated $250 !

tell chat about the time you ate all of my sushi. I'm still upset about that, just so you know.

it’d start off as a joke-

you randomly donating large amounts of money to your boyfriend when he was streaming mostly because you couldn’t be in the room with him because of how much you were a distraction

and then it became a routine

in the random times he’d stream, you’d join and call him out on something new

“No, I'm not telling them about that. suck it.”

y/ntookdream donated $300 !

piss baby. chat. your streamer isn’t taking accountability for his actions and needs to be canceled.

“gu- chat! what the hell you fucking traitors don’t side with them. I didn't do anything wrong.”

y/ntookdream donated $350 !

chat, don't listen to him. I love you. get this trending on twitter to end his career

“you know what. new limits 1,000 dollars y/n go do some work.”

y/ntookdream donated $1,000 !

haha can’t get rid of me b word. i finished my work already cLaYtOn

the chat always finds it amusing when the two of you start going at it like this

“they’re crazy chat.” he sighed as he went back to running around the smp

after a few moments of silence dream was certain he got rid of you until he got another text to speech dono

y/ntookdream donated $2000 !

i’m back my bank tried stopping me from giving my money to my own boyfriend. can you believe that chat? who do they think they are?

“babe stop giving me money.”

the chat would ofc break out in awhs whenever you two used nicknames on each other because why wouldn’t they

y/ntookdream donated $5000 !

more you say?

“okay stream i’m ending it here before y/n dumps out their life savings.”

George

y/nfoundgeorge donated $100 !

hungry

“then go eat something.”

y/nfoundgeorge donated $200 !

idk what to eat. chat halp.

and then chat does

they just start spamming common american foods despite you living in the uk with george

y/nfoundgeorge donated $600 !

besties we don’t have burgers and fries here. shut your american butts up.

“okay n/n that’s enough.”

and then he has to set the donos to a thousand as well, in attempts to stop you

y/nfoundgeorge donated $1,000 !

never. chat you suck

george shakes his head smiling as he rolls his eyes

y/nfoundgeorge donated $ 1,500 !

Look at my pretty pretty boyfriend all cute and s word

His face heats up as he pretends to not see the dono and take this moment to self promo

“At least i'm getting the money- while you're at it, subscribe and prime now”

Sapnap

y/nsapsbeloved donated $500 !

Just got finished playing valorant feeling like a bad bitch

“Thats my sexc partner-”

y/nsapsbeloved donated 800 !

Shut the f up. Okay be quite

Chat is eating this interaction up ofc since the two of you are always acting like strangers near each other

y/nsapsbeloved donated 900 !

Omg we’re making our way to the thousand mark omg chat so exciting

“Y/n quit donating or i swear to god i'll make you sleep on the couch

Quackity

y/ninity donated $ 450 !

I miss you stop streaming

Quack would laugh and roll his eyes

“I just started streaming and you’re acting like we didn’t see each other five minutes ago

y/ninity donated $ 700 !

Okay and what about it

So then he’s forced to play along

“Guys im SO famous- i could use this money to buy a taylor swift concert ticket”

y/ninity donated $ 1,000 !

Wow is taylor donoing to you? Didn't think so

And now he’s worried

Do you know about his plan to get married to taylor swift after her first concert in La

Karl

y/njacobs donated $ 370 !

Come give me a kiss pls

“Why didn’t you just text me babe?”

y/njacobs donoated $ 450 !

Too much work

Not wanting you to keep donating a shit load of money he gets up goes in the other room and just snatches the phone from your hand

“Wha-what are you-”

And then the next thing you know it’s in his pants

“Thats TOS if you take it out”

Wilbur

wilbursy/n donated $ 560 !

Hi babe <3

First time you donate its very cute and hes like aweee

wilbursy/n donated $ 1,000 !

Love me m...f

Then second time he's not having it

He would then tackle you while everyone is clueless on stream

“AHH!”

And then he comes back with a phone in hand with a very strong grip and you try to wiggle it out and hes just streaming as usual like nothings happening

Quackity and tommy just on call questioning everything

“So how’s everyones day?”

“WIL GIVE ME MY PHONE BACK!”

@heyskeppy @inniterhq @basilly @yamturds @dysfunctionalcrab @siriushxney @sqpnap @tinyegg @ttakinou @charnease @o-0i @i-mmunity @b3l0v3ds @alice-blue-skies @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @mitzimania

@acidtabletz

#mcyt x reader #mcyt x yn #fluff #sapnap x reader #dream x reader #georgenotfound x reader #dream smp ff #dream team ff #feral boys ff #feral boys x reader #feral boys hc #wilbur soot x reader #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader

4K notes · View notes

goofyhoffy · 3 years

Text

known stranger | jjk | Chapter 1

people say your bestfriend's rival is your rival too. But what if you fall for your rival.

✿ Pairing : Jungkook × female reader, Jimin × best friend reader

✿ Genre : enemies to lovers, stranger au, personal assistant au, manager au, mutual au.

✿ Summary : always seen him around your mutual friend, but one day you noticed the known face. Everyone find you so interesting that they always want to be your best friend, yet you never find anyone close to your heart. Jimin your so called bestfriend gone through the worse break up but instead of caring him you fall for his rival. You never thought of liking someone who would beat your bestfriend, but you fall for Jungkook there. Unfortunately, Jungkook became your personal assistant who hated you the most for supporting Jimin. What if Jungkook also wants you back?

✿ Warnings : fluff, strong languages, reader is a psychopath, angst, anxiety, anxiousness, double faced, bullying, overthinking, mean people, Jimin here is the meanest, ignoring, explicit, smut, fake friends, manager and personal assistant au, mutual friend, swearing, filled with flirty lines, rival, lovey dovey, break up, makeout, humiliation, oneshot, texting.

✿ Series : a drabble fanfiction of 3 sets

✿ Word Limit : 5 k+

MASTERLIST

✿ Author's note : wishing you many happy returns of the day, kook. I thought of making this fanfic a oneshot but my mind never cooperates with me. So, here I'm again with my drabble series. Read it and let me know if you liked it. To get add on taglist, send an ask.

(๑˙❥˙๑)(๑˙❥˙๑)(๑˙❥˙๑)(๑˙❥˙๑)(๑˙❥˙๑)(๑˙❥˙๑)(๑˙❥˙๑)

"See, I changed your contact name to 'Bestie' , it's looking perfect dude." Jimin rejoiced. You just gladly looked at his phone screen with your two owl eyes. "Now, you also need to change my contact name in your phone to 'bestie'. Do it fast, I'm waiting, piggy." Jimin said happily.

"Ya, I'll do it later some day." You weirdly smiled at him. It's always been like that. Jimin being too clingy, always said that you're his best friend, his own girl, whom he adores the most. But somewhere you never felt that. You never denied him of being your friend or you can say your best friend but you always hesitated to accept. You never called him sweetly, never even seen him like your bestfriend but something less than that. A vibe just didn't match with him. Yet, he was always the one who texted you, asked for hanging out, call you by pet names, always loved you, always treat you like his bestfriend. You never showed this emotions neither you did denied all that .

"You always do this things. You know, you're always first for me. First priority,____(y/n)." Jimin sighed.

"Ya, always first. But-" you got intreuppted by him.

This Areum gonna kill me one day. This girl already broke up with me but still cling to me." Jimin said while checking his phone. Few weeks ago, Jimin had a worst broke up. More likely, a betrayal kinda thing happened with him. Before that he was so happy, bright and always busy with his girlfriend. And never ever asked you how were you back then. There you got it, how really a toxic person he was. That's why, you never wanted to call him your special person. Cause after every break up he only comes to you. And during his relationship phase he never even asked you nor did he talk to you. A complete stranger basically.

" Why don't you just ignore her. Block her if she's distrubing you so much." You said.

"I did, but still. Well, she's only for fun. She also have fun making out with me and I do the same. So no problem." Jimin chuckled.

"Also fun when she calls his boyfriend and his friends to beat you up as you're assign of molesting her." You rolled your eyes.

"____, you clearly know that. You have seen that. She was the first who directed me to kiss her , touch her and everything. But later that bitch just called her bodyguard boyfriend to help her out. It's only a strategy for breaking up with me." Jimin sighed.

"Then, why did you do the same thing again Jimin? Just leave her. It really feel bad to see your friend suffering." You asked.

"Bestfriend not friend." Jimin corrected.

"Whatever. Do you want to have red stamps on your ass again?" You sighed.

"No, but I can't. That time I was so mad at Areum so I didn't do any harm to her boyfriend. Unless I would have kicked him in nuts." Jimin giggled.

"Everything is not a joke, Jimin." You rolled your eyes as you left for your daily shift.

◉

You got freahen up after a hectic day at your work. After taking good hot shower, you sat on your bed and checked your phone. You glared at how many messages Jimin had sent you to ask about your day, your mood, what's you're doing and stuff like that. You completely ignored it. Sometimes you feel that, the boy put so much of his time on you just to get some friendly love from you. But at the second thought, you imagine all those moments when he ignored you, your texts, your calls for hours and days just because he don't need you.

At last you saw the flooded messages at the new group chat you got added. You don't have enough patience to read what the group chat was about and who were the members. So, you directly called the one who added you.

It's Bora, who added you. Your long lost another best friend. Who also treated you like her best friend but you never like being her friend. But you felt so glad that someone still remembered you. You called her.

"Hello!" You nervously chuckled.

"____, I missed you bub. Don't you missed me sweets?" Bora excitedly asked.

"Sure. I-I mean I did. A lot. Bora." You weirdly smiled

"Then you're definitely coming to the Mall? Don't you?" Bora asked.

"Mall? About what?" You asked.

"I added you to the gc dude. Checked that. Everyone is coming. Please you also need to come. I have many things to talk about you." Bora pleased.

"I saw that, that's why I called you. Cool idea! Definitely gonna come Bora." You said.

"Call me sunshine. Okayy, tomorrow at eight at evening near the south mall. Don't be late. We all will be there." Bora said happily.

"Sure sunshine. I'll be there promise. Good night. Meet you tomorrow." You said cheerfully.

You're kinda excited to meet your old goldies. Not to lie but you missed them so much. All the shit they talk, crazyness they do and everything about them is all you need right now. You missed Bora in real. Like, in days she was so toxic that gives you anxiety unnecessarily but still she missed you. You always love the person who mentioned you anywhere unless or untill it's Jimin.

At the Mall, you're already late to go their after your hectic schedule. But still you're not late as it's only nine and they asked you to be their till eight. But you always a late lateefa. More like a queen for whom everyone waits. You saw Bora, and ran cheerfully towards her.

"Sunshine!" You sang.

"_____, again late." Bora exclaimed arrogantly.

"Really sorry Bora. Tell me if I missed anything." You asked.

"Everything. Legit everything." Bora said.

"Why? I'll cry dude." You sighed

"Everyone already gone for movie. I'm just here to wait for you girl. Thank me." Bora rolled her eyes

"Then let's go for the movie. We can join the movie." You cheerfully smiled.

"Wait. I didn't call you here to hangout with you. I need to tell you many things." Bora said.

"Then whom we're waiting for. Let's have some goosip coffee, Sunshine." You chuckled as both of you just walked upto the near counter coffee shop. There you sat the same place you used to and have endless laughter.

She explained how she's going to marry the man of her dreams. Tells you everything about what happening in every one's life and their love life. During your old days to, Bora was the one who tells you all the goosip and love life of others. She was so much interested in other life than her own. Unfortunately you were always the one who used to hear all those boring goosips. You were never interested, neither you are now interested.

As the weather is getting happier the dark clouds surrounds the mood. You saw Areum and his Boyfriend Seokjin was also there at the mall. They're strolling down the Mall with grabbing eachother hands. They looked so happy. But you felt so bad for his boyfriend Seokjin. He never knew the actual face of Areum. You have seen after Jimin's break up also, she used to make out with him. Jimin share each and everything about that. How she bite his upper lip so much and how she was acting that everything was good and still were together. Jimin was an actual fool and you knew that. He didn't understand that, the thing which he was telling fun and gain is actually the entire opposite. Areum was all having fun with her new rich boyfriend and having a good physical life with Jimin. But here Jimin was always so sad because of her. She's an actual bitch and act like an innocent fool.

"Bora, this is the girl I'm talking about." You pointed at Areum indirectly.

"She was Jimin's girlfriend? Ew. I always know he had a bad taste." Bora said.

"See the boy beside her, he's her new boyfriend. A total bitch." You fumed. As both of you sitting at the corner of the coffee cafe looking at them and goosiping.

"That's Seokjin. Lord." Bora yelled.

"You know him?" You asked.

"For sure. He's the friend of Jungkook. That boy is way too flirt." She giggled.

"Jungkook? You mean that boy?" You asked.

"Ya, remember during the high school party I invited him. You met him quite a few time, ____" she said.

"Wait. There's a Long story about him also dude. Let me finish." You chuckled as you sipped your cold brew.

You explained her how during the break up of Jimin and Areum, she called her new boyfriend. With his new boyfriend there was Jungkook there to threaten Jimin. You had witnessed all the threatening Jungkook given. The way he said 'back off your little ass' , 'fuck another girlfriend, leave Areum' , 'seokjin is like my brother, if anything happens to her girl I won't leave you". All his aggression, confidence in his eyes and a way of firece. Not to mention you liked it.

All this years, you have seen Jungkook. You have seen him in the partis, malls and streets. But after he threatened your bestfriend, you kind of liked him. After that you noticed him in real. How he was flexing his arms while talking to Jimin, how he was rolling his eyes, how he was just standing there looking immensely handsome. With the white t-shirt on and cargo pants, he was looking handsome. That's the first time you actually noticed him.

You really felt bad for Jimin that all the boys get over him. But a certain part of your giggling to recalling all the moment of Jungkook. You never talked to him, neither he took an interest on you. You both were just a known stranger to each other. Known by the faces and stranger by the identity.

At the end of the meet and greet day, you were on your way to outside. Bora was with you. You both were laughing. You met with other old friends too after so long. You took some good memories photo and you felt so good at the end.

"Bora! Hey!" Someone shouted at Bora who was standing beside you at the exit of the mall. She looked back and realized it's Jungkook.

"Hey, Kook. You're here." She giggled.

"Come here with Seokjin. You too here?" Jungkook asked.

"Yeah, with _____(y/n). Meet my bestu." She pointed at you.

"I see." Jungkook just rolled his eyes on you. It's completely like ignoring you. You also completely just looked at your phone to cut off eye contact. It was like ignoring both of their conversation.

You know why he always looked so uninterested on you. After Jimin's broke up, you took Jimin's side and then all those so called cold war started. He absolutely hate you because you opposed him and supported your friend. But you know you were correct. But that never mean that you could not have a crush on him.

His dark hairs falling at his eyes with the little puppy eyes look immensely fierce. His everything is quite recognisable and you remembered each of the detailed about him. But always a guilt that you never spoke to him. You wanted to but his expression kills your inner whore.

"Then spend time with Seokjin. Meet me soon." Bora said.

"Cool. You also spend time with your bestu. I'll meet you soon." Jungkook greeted as he left both of you alone. He gave you a scary look before leaving which you clearly noticed but rolled your eyes.

◉

You entered at your work place. That day you had a lot of work to do. So, you piled up all the papers needed for the work. Basically, you were working as a manager in a hotel as you want to have enough money to publish your book. You work daily so hard to accomplish all your dreams to be a writer. Being a manager you saved enough for your book and have enough to spend the rest on your own. Your work was always way to comfortable for you.

"Good Morning,____." Your boss entered at your work place and greeted you.

"Good morning boss. Do you need something?" You asked.

"I want you to meet someone. Kook! Come in." He shouted to call someone. As he called, a guy entered in the room and it's none other than Jungkook itself.

"Meet Jungkook. From now onwards he will assist you. Your personal assistant." He said.

"Dad! I'm not anyone's assistant here. I'm not doing this thing." Jungkook barked angrily.

"You have to think about that before the car accident. To be more sincere, you have to work as an assistant until or unless I'm sure you can do something on your own." Your boss hissed. You never knew that Jung kook was son of your boss. Your boss looked quite young for a big boy like Jungkook. And never did Jungkook had been in this five star hotel you worked at. You were quite shocked while giggling inside that he had to assist you. That's mean proper supremacy.

"But dad -" Jungkook been cut off by him.

"Meet _____(y/n). I really want you to work with her. She's sincere as well as profound at her work. I think you will be a good Manager - assistant thing." You boss said. As he mentioned your name , Jungkook looks at you. He was as stun as you.

"Thanks Boss. Hello Mr. Jeon Jungkook." You greeted and try to be as professional as you want to stop him from invading in your personal life.

"Now, you both can start your work. I'm leaving." You boss said as he left your work place leaving you and Jungkook alone.

For few minutes it was like a dread silence. Only your computer making the typing sound. You don't know how to start a conversation. The only thing you know was that you should be professional with him. No perosnal talks. Only see him as your assistant or more like your boss's son. Jungkook was there right behind you still astonished and don't know from where to start. He was already feeling so sad about being someone's assistant but it made worse after realising it's you. You were his manager. Internally he hated you, but you liked him. You know he hated so much. But neither you had talked to him nor he talked to you. It was an internal war of friendship. Because both of your mutual friends were rivals. So, you both also knew you have to be each other rivals too.

"You work here?" Jungkook smirked.

"Yes, Mr. Jeon. As you're my assistant now, I'll teach what you have to do." You weirdly smiled.

"I'm not your assistant first of all. It's for my dad sake. Or I would never have to work here." Jungkook arrogantly said.

"It's okay Mr. Jeon. But I have to abide by my boss rules." You said.

"What's with Mr. Jeon? Don't you know me?" Jungkook asked smirkingly.

"Do I?" You asked.

"Dude, you're Bora's as well as Jimin's bestfriend. I clearly have seen you hundreds of times. Don't deny that you never have seen me." Jungkook smirked.

"Sorry, Mr. Jeon. But I'm at my work place. No perosnal talks please." You hesitantly said. You felt like a large piece of stone got off from your heart. You never want to talk to him about your personal matters or it would go real wrong.

"Stop calling me Mr. Jeon for God sake. Call me Jungkook." He ranted.

"Okay, Mr. Jungkook. Anything you like." You said.

" God! You're so annoying dude. No more formalities please. Jungkook only." Jungkook yelled at you. You know how to annoy people. You were just testing his patience and as expected he was way more patienceless than you have thought.

"Okay Jungkook. Call me _____(y/n) then." You smirked.

"Whatever." Jungkook rolled his eyes as he sits at the table.

He was on his phone through out you were working. You thought of giving him some work. But the way he was sitting, getting annoyed by you and those priceless smiles across his face whenever he was playing in his phone. You can't deny but you want to admire him all day long. You and Jungkook was all alone in the room. No one was there. You were working on your files and peeping at him when he was not looking at you.

"Dude, give me some work or something. I'm getting bored." Jungkook sighed as he put his phone aside and looked at you.

"I thought you don't want to work! But sure, being your manager I'll give some work to do." You proudly said.

"Only for my dad. And also I'm bored so thought doing something with you." Jungkook said.

"Something with me?" You asked. Your sarcasm is way too knowledgeable to your friends. How you turn simple things to some random jokes.

"I-I mean some work with you." Jungkook stumbled.

You told him everything he have to do. All the rules and regulations he had to follow. But at all your words he just rolled his eyes. That kind of annoying to you and you want to beat the shit out of him. But you can be a bigger annoyance than him. And you decide to be one. As Jungkook would never find you interesting or beautiful but you would force him to do so.

After the work, when you finished all your daily work and wrote down all the things you have to do tomorrow on your diary. You were ready to go to your home and work in your book and have some delicious coffee.

"Jungkook now you're good to go. See you tomorrow." You greeted him with a smile.

"So, now what are you gonna do?" Jungkook asked.

"We did all the work today so early. So, now you can go home and so do I." You said.

"Go home! Don't you have anywhere to go? Hangout or parties?" Jungkook chuckled devilishly.

"I prefer home Jungkook. Meet you tomorrow." You said and you're on your way to exit.

"Wait ____. I'm trying to start a conversation. And you're only ignoring me." Jungkook yelled.

"I'm not ignoring. It's just I have pile of work to do." You laughed

"So, if your professional life ended can we talk about your personal life?" Jungkook asked jokingly.

"No. I don't want to." You said as you left the venue for your home. Jungkook was standing there all astonished that why you react like that. Thinks if he asked you something wrong.

As soon as you reached home, you got a text from an unknown number.

You're internally giggling and smirking that it was not you who texted first but it was him. You were happy that finally you got his number. But still you don't want to show that you liked him or anything. You just want to be professional with him so that he'll beg you to talk to him. You're way too annoying and you want to show that to him. You now just want to go tomorrow and annoy him more and more.

◉

"You did well today. You should be proud of yourself!" You smiled at him.

"I'm always proud of myself. Well, now home?" Jungkook asked.

"Yeah, let me just get my things and we'll be good to go." You said as you packed your bag up.

There Jungkook standing looking at you and your curves. He was really so rude to you at first but now he was cooperating with you. He does everything you told him and obediently he did that. As you were busy packing your things. He grabbed your diary across the table to hand over to you.

But before that he looked through the pages of the diary. First few pages, you marked all your day to day plan. Yet as he turn the pages over he looked the brief description you have pointed about everyone. This was something you do whenever you find someone interesting. You always note down their physical and behavioural characteristics about them. Because in a thought that maybe it'll help you in the near future on your books. You always make your books character with attachment of the real people existed. It's kind of a thing you really like.

"His deep ocean eyes when he looked at his rival. For me it his dark hairs which he glides with his veiny hands." Jungkook louldy sang. As you didn't noticed that Jungkook already have your diary and you're looking for it. But those lines he sang just clicked your mind.

"Jungkook! What the hell? Give me my diary." You shouted at him and punched his arms.

"Dude, I'm giving. Wait, let me read some more." Jungkook chuckled devilishly.

"Give me or I'll leave." You rolled your eyes. As he gave the diary back to you. You look at the pages he turn over and generously you looked at it. Properly examining if he fold any of the pages.

"It's okay. I didn't eat your pages." He rolled his eyes.

"I'll check that up." You arrogantly said as you pick your bag up and left for home.

The lines Jungkook read loudly was actually about him. You have written everything about him which you find interesting. You don't want to reveal your secret that you liked him. But you just wished that he didn't read his name there.

As soon as you went home, you got Jungkook's text. It's now kind of become a routine for you to get text from him at night. The whole day you just spend with him and at night we wished you 'sleep well' to end the day. You can't thank your boss enough for him. He's rude but kind. You're annoying but sweet.

"Today we don't have many work Jungkook. You can take a leave today. " You said as you pile up the papers.

"It's okay, I'll help you." Jungkook nonchantly said.

"Well, I also don't have work. So, I'm leaving already." You chuckled.

"It's only afternoon dude." Jungkook sighed

"So? You're so enthusiastic to work, huh?" You asked.

"For you." Jungkook sighed under his breath.

"Wait. You're free now? Any plans for evening?" He asked.

"No I guess. Will eat and watch something so far." You excitedly said.

"Let's hangout?" Jungkook smirked

"Huh? With whom?" You dumbly asked.

"With me of course dude. You and me. I never have talked to you in person. You always so professional." Jungkook giggled

"Umm... I might be - " you got intreuppted by him.

"Please don't say no. I also want to know why every one wants you be there bestfriend." Jungkook pleased. You really want to go at the first go but you want him to plead to you. And he did, and you accepted that.

"Okay then but home by night." You smiled.

He accepted and asked you to wait for him till he take his car at the front. You waited for him at the main door. But you saw he forget his phone at the table. And repeatedly his phone just lights up as there were messages flooded on his phone. You decided to peep into it. Your inner detective rises as you checked his phone. You know it's wrong to check anyone's personal thing but he also did first with your diary. You looked at the top messages, it's filled with many flirty girls texts, some work related texts and lastly Seokjin text which popped up as soon as you open it.

Your inner self was burning right then. You thought Jungkook was not like that but you were wrong. He was like that, a total rude brat. But before you he acts like all sweet and flirty. Yet he was totally the different personality in real. He still thinks of you as a ugly and rival person. You can't process what did he mean by 'I'll fuck a pig than you'. You were keep repeating the lines in your head. The more you imagine it, the more your blood was boiling for him. He was traitor or a chameleon who only knows how to changes colour. You can guess how he thinks about you. He only thinks about you as a ugly, little and fatty bestfriend of his rival. You just want to see him and kick him so hard and want to know why he acts like he actually interested in you.

You were already been worse , you don't want anymore to get worst. You only need to go home and drift in your blanket and sleep till you forget that Jungkook is okay to fuck a pig but not you.

You left for your home without greeting Jungkook a bye. You don't want to hangout with him anymore. You now just want him to beg you to fuck him. You're a total psychopath for this. Your ego is far more bigger than anything in this world. Either he should beg you to fuck him or you never will see his face. You know your ways how to do that. As you think, Jungkook already called you to enquire why did you left after promising for hanging out. But you declined the call. He texted you over hundreds time to know what's wrong with you. But neither you did answer. You were completely ignoring him.

The past days you just ignored him, his texts and calls everything. Everytime he comes to talk to you at interval you just passed him. If comes to ask you something you directed him to the other managers. Even ones he asked you why you were acting so differently and ignoring him. But you straight up rolled your eyes on him. He got so annoyed by your actions. He only wants to know if he made some mistakes. But more than the mistakes you feel that it's a double game. He only wants to insult you and nothing else. You also know it's better to stay away from double faced people.

You were at your workplace constantly ignoring Jungkook. You never pick any personal calls during your work. But as it's lunch time and Jimin was calling you, being a good bestfriend you picked it up.

"Bestie! You're at work?" Jimin asked through the phone.

"Umm.. yeah. Anything?" You said.

"Today, I prepared dinner for you. Specially for you. Please come over at my place." Jimin said.

"Ahhh! Jimin! Tonight I can't. There's a lot of undone work." You ranted.

"You always say this things. Shut up, you have to. Else I will pick you up. Okay?" Jimin asked smiling.

"No need to come here. I'll come, it'll be late." You sighed.

"Great bae. Love you always." Jimin sang.

"Meet you tonight. Bye." You said.

"Say it back, piggy." Jimin shouted.

"Ahhhh love you Jimin! Bye." You also sang the same way he did and declined the call. You were already tired and again you have to go there.

Someone was there to noticed all the things you were doing, it's Jungkook. He heard all the talks with Jimin. Heard the way you have a plan tonight with Jimin, the way you sang love you to Jimin and the way you were giggling all the time talking to Jimin and not him. His inner spirit boiled to know you were again talking to that little brat who was his rival and he got jealous that you never hangout with him but you at once get ready to hangout with Jimin. He couldn't sit with his inner boiling ego. He need to ask you what happened, why did you hangout with Jimin and many other questions which a boyfriend need to ask his girlfriend. Time by time there was some sudden urge which keep him engaged with you. It could be your personality, your way of showing emotions and everything you do. He also fall for you but still didn't know it.

Jungkook just entered the room where you were working and shut the door arrogantly. You were amazed what he just did but without caring much you did your work.

"Working, huh?" He asked. You just nodded a yes.

"Free tonight? Thinking of taking you to any restaurant." Jungkook smirked.

"Busy tonight. Hope you will understand." You rolled your eyes.

"Busy tonight with your boyfriend Jimin, huh?" Jungkook chuckled devilishly. Your eyes just burned to hear that. You frowned.

"Sry, my mistake. I mean your so called best friend Jimin." Jungkook rolled his eyes.

"Jungkook, mind your own business." You shouted. He walk up to you and stand straight right before your face.

"Now,I understand why Jimin broke up with Areum. Jimin got you." He said as he pinned you at the wall. He thoroughly looked into your eyes leaving no gap. His hot steamy breath could be sensed by your cold skin. Each word he spokes makes your heart pound. His wide chest touches your torso. He was furious and angry that time you could clearly guess. But more he come nearer to you. You felt like hugging him. Instead of asking him to leave you, you just glared into his eyes. Both of you were stolen in each other eyes. No one was taking back.

"Love you Jiminiee." Jungkook mimicked you.

"Jungkook, stop it"

"Tell me that you love Jimin and I'll leave."

"What if we stand like this forever." You winked.

"Don't play with me, ____(y/n)" Jungkook smirked as he come closer to your face.

"What if I kiss you now?" You smirkingly said.

"Then do that! Jimin again got a cheater girlfriend. Poor Jimin." Jungkook giggled.

"I'm glad that he didn't get a girlfriend like Areum." You frowned.

"Mind your business. Dare not to speak anything about them." Jungkook arrogantly said.

"Who started, huh? Who's now pinning me? Who's jealous about Jimin? Who wants to take me to dinner? Hear yourself, baby." You playfully winked as you punched him to get off from him. He took a back from you.

"Seokjin is right my taste is real bad. Live with your Jimin happily." Jungkook said.

"First of all he's right to say that. Having a friend like Seokjin shows your taste. Secondly, Jimin is not my boyfriend. Lastly, don't ever dare to talk to me and fuck off." You ranted as you leave the room.

(✿ ♡‿♡) (✿ ♡‿♡) (✿ ♡‿♡)

TAGS : @mellie1409 @pariyansha @alienatedkitten @chans-baby-girl @mwitsmejk @hello-stranger24 (sry the tags are not working)

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