#tiny dancer five

[shuaflix]

the xu minghao dilemma

❝ i was having more fun talking about how objectively and subjectively good i look. ❞

PAIRING ▸ xu minghao x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, humor, suggestive, coffee shop au, college au, childhood friends to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, slow burn, weed consumption, tooth-rotting fluff, lowkey jeongcheol and verkwan if you squint, everyone being whipped for minghao, a somewhat heated makeout scene, friend group antics as per usual, minghao being the living embodiment of a green flag, ft. yooyeon from triples

SUMMARY ▸ like most film students, you find yourself experiencing the worst creative block of your life when you're tasked to film a documentary for your final project. enter: your old childhood best friend turned stranger, xu minghao—an (incredibly handsome) ex-dancer and barista who just might be the spark of inspiration you need to make the best film of your academic career. on the flip side, minghao needs this film to win him the scholarship that lets him dance again. despite all, your circumstances don't stop your old, repressed feelings for minghao from resurfacing.

PLAYLIST ▸ insomnia by zerobaseone • kidult by seventeen • meme by &team • heart surf by kep1er • glue song by beabadoobee

WORD COUNT ▸ 20,606 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this is for user junyangis my favorite bot

“THE TIGER: ICONIC SYMBOL OF THE WILD, AND AN APEX PREDATOR THAT WE FEAR AND ADMIRE.”

You panned your camera to focus on Yoon Jeonghan, who was currently sifting through the mess of papers and notebooks across his desk. All of the drawers were turned out with their contents scattered across the carpet. His frantic search for his missing vape had been going on for the past twenty minutes, and you were certain this was his fifth time going through his belongings again. 

Normal people, such as yourself, would’ve given up within the first five minutes, but your best friend’s resilience was admirable. His unwavering persistence was exactly the sort of character you wanted to showcase in your films. Without the context of the vape addiction, of course. 

“And here,” you continued in the best David Attenborough impression you could conjure up, “we see a tiger in the wild.”

“Go to hell, dude,” Jeonghan snapped back. You squinted at him through your viewfinder to catch him carding a frustrated hand through his hair. “My Circadian rhythm needs flavored air to function.” 

The tiny red light flickered once, then vanished as you stopped recording. “Try regular air. It’s good for you—and free.” 

“Yeah? Then maybe this is my calling to get sober.”

(It was important to note that Jeonghan tended to say this very frequently.)

He finally rose from the corner of his dorm room where he had strewn the contents of his drawer all over the floor. Jeonghan crossed over to where you were sitting—on his bed, leaning against the wall with his Doraemon pillow—and plopped down beside you. His eyes, glazed-over and half-lidded, were fixed on the ceiling, as if he was going over each groove in the drywall. 

For the past two hours, you had been agonizing over ideas for your documentary. Jeonghan was typically great when it came to bouncing ideas off each other, so you often pestered him until inspiration struck. Today didn’t seem like a particularly stimulating day for either of you, though. Your best friend paid attention for maybe half an hour, but even he started running out of ideas for potential documentary content. 

“By the way,” he added, still stuck in a faraway trance, “do not use whatever you just recorded for your film project. I don’t consent to being exploited for views.” 

It had been weeks since you came to terms with the fact that Jeonghan didn’t want to be the subject of your documentary. You had a semester to complete this project for your documentary class, and although you still had a decent amount of time left, you were starting to get worried because most of your classmates already started outlining their ideas. You hadn’t even found your main character yet.

There were quite a few reasons why you wouldn’t have chosen Jeonghan in the first place; it didn’t just chalk down to his disinterest in being filmed. You wanted to capture someone with a story—a progression or growth that tugged at the heartstrings of your audience—and using someone you weren’t already close with would help you film more objectively.

You raised a brow at your friend. “You? I was clearly filming a wild animal in its natural habitat.”

“Recording without two-party consent is tasteless,” he reminded. “And just for that, I’m not telling you the incredible, brilliant idea I just had.”

“You haven’t exactly shared that many incredible, brilliant ideas for me to feel disappointed about that.”

“No, trust me. It’s really good.” He used his elbows to prop himself up, shooting you a wide grin. His resolve to withhold his proposition crumbled within seconds of his excitement. “It’s the best idea I’ve had since that one time I stole Seungcheol’s towel and t-shirt while he was showering.” 

You glanced at him through the corner of your eyes. “All you did was make him walk around shirtless.”

“Exactly.” Jeonghan returned your look with far more judgment than you had given him. “That was the best part.”

The memory was hard to forget. During your freshman year, you were living in the dorms where your RA was Choi Seungcheol. It was safe to say that a solid majority of the people on your floor had eyes for the dreamy Resident Advisor. Jeonghan only contributed to the noble cause of fan service by ensuring that Seungcheol would end up having to walk through the hallway with his glorious abs on display, his chiseled body beaded with water droplets. 

“So what’s your idea? Ask Seungcheol if I can film a strip tease?”

“No, it’s—wait, that’s so good. If we can get that greenlit, you should totally—”

“Nope, definitely not doing that,” you interjected with a firm shake of your head. You were not going to present a half-naked Seungcheol as your final project. “Give me something more PG-13.”

“Boring, but fine.” After mocking a pout, Jeonghan’s lips immediately curled up in a smirk. “Xu Minghao.” 

The very mention of his name made you straighten up. You hadn’t spoken to Minghao in years, and although your friends would tease you about being his childhood friend, you didn’t see your past with him as anything worth mentioning. After all, being close friends during middle school was nothing compared to the plethora of memories you made after the two of you grew distant. 

“Huh?”

“Xu Minghao,” he repeated. “Streets are saying he’s quit dancing.” 

You frowned. “Minghao quit dancing?” 

That couldn’t be right. Minghao? The same Xu Minghao who snuck out of his house to practice for hours in dance studios? The same one who took eight trains, walked fifteen miles, and hitchhiked to get to dance camp on his own? The same one who shed tears when he won his first dance competition? 

Dance was Minghao’s life; it came as naturally as breathing to him. You so clearly remembered his overwhelming passion that drove him to practice tirelessly for years. Just watching him move to the beat made you feel like he was born to express himself that way. You couldn’t imagine your childhood friend, who had been dancing his entire life, to just throw away all his hard work and talent on a whim.

“Streets also mentioned he hurt his foot real bad. Poor guy can’t compete at nationals anymore.” 

“Streets?”

“I’m protecting anonymity, okay?” After you peered at him for a moment, Jeonghan caved under the pressure of your stare and added, “Fine. It was Seungkwan.”

You scoffed. All credibility of the rumor vanished like a wisp of smoke. 

“Seungkwan also claimed Vernon needed to go to the emergency room when he got a paper cut,” you replied, unimpressed.

“No, I think it really is serious this time. You can check it out for yourself, if you want,” Jeonghan said. “He’s working at the café like, every day now.”

“His mom’s café?”

“Mmhm. He stopped for a while ‘cause of school, but he just picked up his shifts again.”

“And you think that’s what I should do for my documentary? Minghao quitting the one thing that could be worth filming?” 

“I don’t think he actually wanted to quit,” Jeonghan said, looking down at his intertwined hands in his lap with a puzzled expression, as if the Xu Minghao Dilemma™ had been keeping him up at night. “I don’t know what it is. Seungkwan said he seemed kind of off when he was talking about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, and Jeonghan continued, “You also find it weird, don’t you? It doesn’t make sense that he’d just quit like that.”

“I mean, if something’s really going on with him, then I don’t think it’s right for me to ask if I can turn that into a documentary,” you said. 

“I’m not saying that, but…” He trailed off before shrugging. “I just think it wouldn’t hurt to check in on him.”

You arched a brow at him. “Why don’t you check in on him? Aren’t you two friends?”

“We’re bros,” he corrected. Cue a dramatic groan from you, which was promptly ignored as Jeonghan elaborated, “our way of showing that we’re there for each other is by queueing up on League together or talking about the Roman Empire.” 

“Jeonghan, you have never once mentioned the Roman Empire.”

“Jokes on you, I did a research project on it in middle school.” He shut his eyes to wave off the tangent he started going off on. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that you’re a girl—a woman. Women get to the point. They get things done.” He gave you a resolute nod, and you were starting to wonder if he was simply trying to use flattery against you. “Hence why I think you can figure out what’s going on with Minghao.”

You sighed. “But Minghao and I haven’t even spoken in so long. I don’t want to overstep.”

“Look, I’ve texted Hao—even met up with him in person—but the guy won’t budge. He just gives me that customer service smile of his and says he’s fine.”

“And what makes you think I’ll be able to do anything?”

“I’m not saying you will, but I think he’ll turn around when he realizes more people are concerned about him.”

On one hand, you didn’t exactly have any sort of relationship with Xu Minghao that gave you a reason to visit him. Did he even remember your name? You could only imagine the confusion drawing his brows together upon seeing you after years of silence. Or perhaps he wouldn’t care at all. The two of you could probably pass by each other as complete strangers, and he wouldn’t experience the same flicker of old memories that made your heart ache.

On the other hand, you truly were curious. And it wouldn’t hurt to visit the old café, either. 

Plus, you would never admit it out loud, but part of you had been waiting for an excuse to talk to your old friend again. 

You felt utterly stupid as you stood at the entrance of the café.

First, your heart was beating unbelievably fast for something that shouldn’t have been this difficult of a feat. It was a coffee shop, for crying out loud. All you had to do was walk inside and order something without making a fool out of yourself. Couldn’t be that hard, right? 

Second, it was hard to pretend like you were only here for coffee when your only intention was to check up on Minghao. Now you were wondering if you should’ve texted him first, but that probably would’ve taken you a few days to work up the courage to send. 

And the cherry on top of your miserable cake was that you didn’t even like coffee. Maybe you could get something to eat, but you weren’t big on pastries, either. You just had to force yourself to get whatever seemed the most appetizing and hope that Minghao took notice of you. 

That was another thing; you didn’t even know what hours he worked. Your plan was to work in the corner of the café until you saw him coming in. Knowing your luck, he probably didn’t even have a shift scheduled for today. Still, you were determined to wait it out since you had come this far already. 

With a shaky breath, you pushed open the door and were immediately greeted by a rush of warmth. You instinctively tugged your cardigan tighter around your frame as you scanned the space. It had been years since you stepped into the café, but everything was about the same; almost all the tables were occupied with teenagers or lone adults who came to get work done, the back wall had a space reserved for people to leave cute notes and drawings, and a familiar barista was eyeing you from the get-go. 

There he was, watching you from the counter. Clusters of stars encased in two midnight pools.

Xu Minghao, who you skillfully managed to avoid interacting with for the past six years, was looking at you with the same familiarity that stirred in your chest.

Your first reaction was to flee, but you would’ve looked ridiculous running out of the shop, so you walked to the nearest empty table first. Did people look for tables before they even ordered? You were starting to forget how to normally function as you set your bag down on the smooth oak wood. 

“Sample?” a gentle voice called from behind you as you were fumbling with getting your laptop out of your bag. You looked over your shoulder to see Minghao with a tray of bite-sized slices of cheesecake with toothpicks sticking out of the top. A warm smile graced his features, so dazzling to the point where it was blinding. “It’s one of our signature desserts here.” 

“Oh,” was all you could say at first, disoriented as you picked up one of the cheesecake bites. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be at the front whenever you’re ready to order.”

He left before you could get another word out, and you shoved the cube of cheesecake in your mouth so that you didn’t look completely frozen (which you were). Minghao probably went around giving samples to every customer, but surely he recognized you, right? It wasn’t like the two of you were completely oblivious to each other’s existence. Minghao had to know you two had mutual friends from the Instagram stories and posts you were featured in.

Moreover, his leg seemed fine. Boo Seungkwan had once again proven to be an untrustworthy source.

You worked up the courage to walk to the register after going over the menu about twenty times, finally deciding on getting a mango fruit tea. As soon as you were in front of Minghao, though, your predetermined order disappeared from your head and the menu looked like a blur of words.

Your mind went completely blank. 

“Uh…” You were floundering for something to say—anything. Coffee was the only drink coming to mind, but you weren’t sure the caffeine would be good for your nerves. “I'll have, uh…” 

This was so stupid. You waited for minutes on end to decide on your order and ended up looking like a complete fool in front of Minghao.

“Would you like a recommendation?” he offered smoothly, as if this was a routine response for him. You wondered how many other customers lost their train of thought upon seeing his face. 

“Yes, please.” 

“I know it's chilly outside, but our fruit teas are pretty popular. And, if I remember correctly, you've always been a fan of mango,” he said. You swore he was trying to avert his gaze now, although he had been maintaining proper eye contact up until this moment. “Injeolmi toast is a favorite here, too. I know you like injeolmi, unless your tastes have changed…” 

Wow. Maybe you were off the mark all along. Minghao clearly hadn't forgotten you; in fact, he remembered more of you than you could even recall yourself. 

“Mango fruit tea—that’s right. That’s what I wanted to order.” You let out an awkward laugh, brushing your hair over your shoulder to distract yourself from how hot your chest felt. “Then I’ll order both. I’ve never had injeolmi toast, but I do still like injeolmi.” 

His face broke into a bright smile—the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Oh, good. I was worried I didn't remember correctly,” he admitted sheepishly. After entering your order into the tablet, he turned the screen around for you to pay. You were so focused on tipping that Minghao startled you when he asked, “How’ve you been?” 

When you looked up, his gaze was sincere. A torrent of warmth rushed through your body.

“Good. I mean—college, you know?” Everything you wanted to say sounded garbled in your head. You didn’t even know where to begin. “I barely have any free time these days outside of assignments and working on sets.”

“Oh, right. You’re in film, huh? How’s that been for you?”

“It’s been good so far. I’m actually getting ready to film a documentary right now.”

He looked up at you with wide eyes, gleaming with genuine interest. Since Minghao had been no more than a stranger to you these past several years, you hadn’t expected to see such sincerity in his enthusiasm. 

Your heart must have skipped a beat or two.

“A documentary? About what?” But then his attention was lost, his eyes unfocusing to glance at the customer waiting impatiently behind you. You immediately felt guilty for taking up so much time, but then Minghao said, “I get off in an hour. Are you still gonna be around?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Great. Save a chair for me.” He flashed one of his shining, award-winning smiles again. “Your order will be out in a few minutes, Y/N.”

The injeolmi toast was cold. 

It tasted good enough for you to not mind, but when you saw someone else carrying a tray of the steaming bread, you figured that Minghao simply forgot to heat yours up. You were disheartened that you were doomed to eat cold, chewy injeolmi, but the sweet and nutty flavor was so delectable that you ended up scarfing it down within minutes anyway. The café seemed rather busy around this time, so you didn’t put it past Minghao to rush your order.

The mango fruit tea was incredible, though. By far the best fruit tea you’ve had. It was compelling enough for you to download Yelp to leave a glowing five-star review. 

When you opened Café du Soleil’s page, you noticed that your dear friend Seungkwan (credentials: Yelp Elite Squad) had already left a review mentioning the same drink. 

★★★★★ Nov 7, 2024 Incredible customer service. I love Xu Minghao. The mango fruit tea changed my life for the better.

You left a review about the mango fruit tea and injeolmi toast (conveniently leaving out the fact that yours wasn’t warmed up). A much more comprehensive review than Seungkwan’s, you would say. 

Your nerves were still buzzing from your conversation with Minghao. It had been years since you two had spoken to each other, and now you were waiting for him to get off his shift to catch up with you. If you maintained a friendship with him all these years, then maybe all of this would feel natural. Maybe this would’ve been your designated table to wait for Minghao after his shift, spending time with him after work and walking home together.

An hour passed by faster than you thought it would. The first ten minutes felt agonizing, watching the minutes tick by painfully slow, but once you were consumed in a discussion post for your Narrative Production class, Minghao was making his way over to you before you knew it.

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted, pulling out the chair across from you to sit down in. Your eyes followed the slice of cheesecake he brought over on a plate before he nodded toward the empty plate on your tray. “What’d you think of the toast?”

“Really good,” you gushed. You opted to leave out the part where your bread was cold. “I was almost about to go up to order again.”

“Ah, right.” He pushed the plate in your direction. “This is for you.”

“Oh,” you answered, startled. “How much was it? I can pay—”

“No, don’t worry. It’s on me,” Minghao cut in smoothly, signaling his objection with a wave of his hand. “I forgot to ask you if you liked the sample earlier, but I ended up bringing it over anyway.”

Just as you remembered, he was always thinking about others first. Minghao was so earnest in his words and actions that it was hard for you to grasp that he was real. Even in his adolescence, you remembered he had a different air of maturity from the other boys just because of how kind he was. You wanted to pick him apart and dissect his brain to figure out if he was just biologically wired to be perfect.

He was so different now—not completely different but just enough to set you on edge. Minghao had grown into his features so beautifully and still spoke in that calm and soft voice, but there was this newfound confidence he carried that seemed almost unshakeable. 

With the way he was staring at you so intently, you felt pressured to give your opinion on the cheesecake right away. You forked a sliver of the cake into your mouth, hand hovering over your mouth as you chewed. Mostly because you were trying to swallow as fast as possible so that Minghao would stop being so laser-focused on you.

“It’s good,” you mused. “I should come by more often.”

He perked up at your words, and soon Minghao was enthusiastically asking you to give him a recap on everything that was going on in your life. You hardly knew where to begin—or, rather, where to pick up after the two of you stopped being close. 

You told him about how your parents disapproved of your film major, how it took months of convincing and begging until they realized that you were serious about your passion for filmmaking. He listened intently as you talked about all the short films you made on your own to persuade your parents, and he even watched one of them on your phone, giving you nods of acknowledgement and an impressed hum.

The conversation bled into different aspects of your life, and Minghao was able to join in while you two talked about how you met your mutual friends. You explained how you met Jeonghan and Wonwoo at a party, somehow hitting it off so well that you two ended up hanging out the morning after. Minghao met Jeonghan when they were placed in the same orientation group, and you thought about how funny it was that the world was small enough for you two to have grown apart and still ended up with mutual friends. 

It was getting dark outside by the time Minghao was giving you the rundown of how he met Seungkwan, detailing the encounter in a way that made Seungkwan seem a little insane. Apparently, Minghao had gotten Seungkwan’s number at a dance workshop and the younger boy spammed him with texts one night until Minghao agreed to hang out. Thankfully, Minghao found Seungkwan’s persistence to be charming. A stark contrast from how you went home early during your first time hanging out with Seungkwan because you were so overstimulated.

When Minghao started talking about going to a dance workshop with Jeonghan, you realized this was your opening.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, feigning a casual tone, “Jeonghan mentioned that you were quitting dance?”

A sad smile dawned on his face. “At least until I finish college. I just needed to take some time off to focus on school.”

“That makes sense, I guess. But weren’t you supposed to have a competition at the end of the year?”

“Nationals,” he clarified. “I’ve been pushing back my withdrawal, but I’m gonna have to do it soon.”

You noticed his gloomy expression, and it was making you remember Jeonghan’s words about how Minghao probably didn’t actually want to quit. If he really wanted to drop out of the competition, then you were certain the corners of his mouth wouldn’t be tugging down, nor would the light in his eyes dim. 

The Minghao you once knew was honest about his feelings. He unapologetically wore his emotions on his sleeve, and he prepared himself for every possible outcome so that he could keep a strong front. You always admired how he was able to stay so calm and collected as the world weighed on his shoulders.

Now, the Minghao before you looked like a kettle sputtering water from its spout, a whistle away from overflowing completely. 

It was a bold question for someone you weren’t close with anymore, but you asked, “You don’t want to withdraw, right?”

With his mouth set in a grim line, Minghao shook his head. “If it was up to me, I’d still be dancing.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“It’s just… complicated,” he said. “Our café’s been doing decently, but it’s not enough for it to stay up and running. We were barely keeping up with rent and now they’ve upped the prices, but…” He moved his leg from under the table so that it was stretched out to the side. “I tore my meniscus around four months ago. It’s a lot better now—still sore sometimes—but we had to pay for physical therapy on top of everything. I’ve had to pick up shifts here because we’re so understaffed now, so there isn’t really enough time for me to focus on dancing.”

“If we had enough money to cushion our rent for the next three months, I think this place would be saved,” he continued, “but if I’m gonna make that happen, I have to dedicate all my time here.”

Oh. You sent Boo Seungkwan a mental apology for ever doubting him about Minghao’s injury. Perhaps he wasn’t as unreliable of a source as you assumed he would be. 

You knew that the situation must have been serious for him to quit dancing, but you didn’t expect the café to be at stake. Of course, you had zero knowledge on what it took to be a dancer at a national level, but you just couldn’t wrap your head around Minghao giving up this easily. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s my decision.”

You asked, “Are you okay with that, though? Not dancing?”

“It is what it is.” He shrugged. “Our studio’s tuition on top of competition fees, private lesson fees, and workshop fees… it’s just not feasible for me to be able to keep doing this right now. Of course I could just practice on my own in the studio, but we just don’t have enough people to cover every shift here.”

You nodded along. He really sounded as defeated as his explanation made you feel, and you realized you were going to have to recount this to Jeonghan to get him to give up. This situation was far too nuanced for either of you to push Minghao to keep dancing out of pure passion. Sometimes that just wasn’t enough. 

Minghao eventually had to go to close up the shop, and you had to turn down his insistent offers to give you more food until he basically shoved a bunch of pastries into your arms before you left. As you walked back to your apartment, braving the icy bite of the wind, one thing was for certain: you were most definitely not making a documentary out of Xu Minghao’s tragic story.

“I’m running a survey,” you declared, “because this is a democracy and I value all of your opinions.”

You had called for an emergency meeting the day after you met up with Minghao. Your friends were all sitting haphazardly around your room; Seungkwan had his legs up against the wall and his body sprawled across your bed, Jeonghan was right next to Seungkwan, Junhui was sitting on top of your laundry basket despite being scolded about crushing it, Vernon was on top of your desk, and Wonwoo was the only one sensible enough to be sitting in a proper chair. 

Jeonghan scoffed. “She just doesn’t want to do the Minghao documentary.”

“There is no Minghao documentary,” you said. “There was never a Minghao documentary.”

“There was”—Jeonghan paused for long enough for the rest of them to think he had finished talking—“to me.”

Junhui leaned forward, nearly toppling over the laundry basket. Vernon was able to hold it down with his foot in time, although Junhui hardly even noticed his friend’s silent efforts to save him. 

“What’s the Minghao documentary?” he asked, his eyes bigger than ever. “Like, Xu Minghao?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan answered. “Wouldn't you watch a Xu Minghao documentary?” 

“I’d pay to watch a Xu Minghao documentary,” Junhui said, reaching over to high-five Jeonghan, who was extremely pleased that someone else supported his cause. “What can I say? He's a beautiful man.”

“Okay, there is no Xu Minghao documentary,” you repeated. “It's more of a… Xu Minghao dilemma.” 

“So you called us here because of Xu Minghao,” Vernon chimed in.

“No,” you replied pointedly, “I called you here because I really value your guys’ opinions and want to hear your suggestions about what I should include in my documentary.”

“Xu Minghao,” Jeonghan supplied.

“Except for Jeonghan. I don’t value his opinion.” 

“I think someone should die,” said Junhui with bright, sparkling eyes. “Something super tragic.”

“Or we can all live,” Seungkwan said.

Vernon offered, “Or how about something more sentimental—”

“—where everyone dies,” finished Junhui. 

“Okay, that wasn't what I was getting at,” Vernon said with mild concern crossing his features. “You scare me.”

Seungkwan, distressed at this point, spoke up louder to rehash, “Why don’t we all just live?”

You let out a resigned sigh. “Jun, let’s keep in mind that I’m filming a documentary for a college film class, not a Marvel movie.” 

This was going nowhere. Clearly, you misjudged when you decided your friends were the people to go to for serious inquiries. At this point, you were considering following up on the email you sent to the local ice skating rink a month ago, outright begging them for the chance to film their team practicing. (Spoiler: They ghosted you.) 

“How about the geology department?” Wonwoo suggested, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re researching crustal processes during the Hadean geological period right now. Exciting stuff.” 

Because Jeon Wonwoo was an incredibly persuasive man (mostly because of his lethal attractiveness), you were immediately swayed by the idea. “Wait, that’s an incredible idea, Wonwoo.”

“That is the worst idea I’ve heard in my life,” Seungkwan blurted out. “If you make a documentary about the geology department, I will personally come to the screening of your film myself just to throw tomatoes at you.”

As much as you hated to admit it (or, rather, hated to admit it in the presence of Wonwoo), Seungkwan had a fair point. Presenting a documentary about crustal formations was probably categorized as a form of social suicide. You had no true interest in the topic to make it sound interesting, and the only selling point would be geology major Jeon Wonwoo and his face of the century. The lackluster content coupled with your indifference toward rocks was a disaster waiting to happen. 

Maybe you could make geology sound interesting. You entertained the idea for a few seconds before recollecting the time when Wonwoo got four shots deep and started rattling off about the demand for lithium in China. Your freshman year self was almost charmed before those beguiling minutes stretched into long, torturous hours of Wonwoo breaking down geopolitics until you blacked out. 

No, you could not make geology sound interesting. 

“Thank you for that visual, Seungkwan,” you said. “Now that I’ve returned to my senses, I’ll accept ideas that aren’t about Xu Minghao or rocks.” 

“What’s wrong with the geology department?” Wonwoo spoke up, his hand shooting up in the air to get the room’s attention.

Jeonghan snorted. “Dude, what’s she gonna film? Planet Earth?”

Wonwoo accepted his defeat wordlessly as his arm slowly retreated back to his side.

“Not that I don’t think you can come up with better ideas,” Vernon started carefully, “but why are you so against making a documentary about Minghao?”

“I’m not against it,” you clarified. “It’s simply out of the question. He doesn’t even have time to dance right now because of how busy he is with the café.”

“If that’s the issue, I can literally ask around to see who’s interested in working there,” Jeonghan said.

“Minghao’s going through a lot right now. I personally think it’s insensitive to push him to do something when he’s got so much on his plate.”

The men finally quieted down at your words, and you came to the realization that your girl friends would have probably been more useful for this sort of conversation. Maybe it was because the guys were all on good terms with Xu Minghao that they were pushing for you to ask him to work with you. It was the only conclusion you could come to with how insistent they were on you choosing Minghao.

Then, Jeonghan spoke up, “Didn’t you say you wanted to make an impact with your documentary? What if you could really help him out?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just think about it.”

Your forehead creased. He clearly did have something in mind and just wanted to complicate matters for you, but you held your tongue instead of pressing Jeonghan further. 

Later that night, while you were laying in your bed with your laptop warm on your stomach, you could only think about Xu Minghao and his sad smile when he talked about quitting dance. He didn’t really want to quit, but there was just too much going on for him to juggle that along with the countless other balls being thrown at him. 

But was it right for him to just quietly let go of his dream? A passion that he had chased his whole life? 

If you were in his shoes and you had to give up your dream of film, you weren’t sure you could go down without a fight. Even when your parents were against film school, even when everyone around you questioned your abilities, you pushed yourself to take on every opportunity that came your way. Your situation had never been as dire as Minghao’s, but you could imagine how he must have felt for his dream to crumble in the palm of his hands. With the right amount of support, you believed he could mold that dream together again. 

In the still hours of twilight, you opened up a Word document and started typing away like your life depended on it. 

“You look like shit.” Kim Yooyeon’s eyes were wide when she watched you walk out of your room right when she was about to leave for her 8:00 a.m. lecture. She was in the middle of her bowl of cereal when you crossed her on your way to the couch. “Did you even sleep?” 

Your hand flew up to gently prod at the tender skin under your eyes. “Do I really look that tired?”

You all but fell against the couch, sinking into the cushions like it was quicksand. Normally, you could pour yourself a cup of coffee and get through the day, but you had accumulated enough sleep debt over the past few weeks to reach your breaking point. 

Your roommate snorted. “Remember when you stayed up for three days straight during finals week last year? You look exactly like how you did back then.”

Thanks to Jeonghan’s cryptic words, you ended up spending the entire night researching and planning ways for you to help Minghao—or, at least, what you thought would help Minghao. Your document spanned almost forty pages, and you weren’t even sure if you would be using any of it. Your intention was to share your proposals with Minghao in hopes that he would find at least one of them to possibly work out. 

The problem was: you were seconds away from falling asleep on the spot and your eyes felt sore every time you blinked. There was no way you could make it to Minghao’s coffee shop and deliver your pitch in this state. 

“I stayed up all night working on something for Minghao.”

Yooyeon’s spoon clattered against the bowl. “Xu Minghao?” 

You gave her the same rundown you gave your friends yesterday—a much more vague one because you didn't want to get into the nitty gritty details of Minghao’s life, especially when Yooyeon probably didn’t even care. Plus, you were too tired to get into the specifics. By the time you were finishing up your story, your mouth was hardly moving in time with your brain and your eyelids were drooping. You weren't even sure if you were speaking coherent sentences.

Yooyeon had her bag slung over her shoulder and was asking you something. You couldn't quite tell what it was because you were hanging by a thread at that point, but you definitely heard Jeonghan’s name at some point—maybe. All you could muster was a noncommittal sound before you drifted into a slumber.

A flash of red behind your eyelids roused you from your dreamless sleep, but you didn’t have time to squint before the nuisance of a light source was instantly blocked. You opened your eyes to see Xu Minghao sitting by your feet, using his hand to block the ray of light that shone through the window and landed directly on your face. 

Perhaps you overreacted, but you were sure anyone would scream at the sight. 

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Minghao stood up, alarmed. 

Clearly. 

You scrambled to sit up while he awkwardly shifted to the middle of your living room. 

“No, Minghao, I was just warming up my vocal cords,” you deadpanned. “I don’t think it’s weird at all that you’re inside my apartment while I’m asleep.”

“Oh.” Minghao went still for a second. You watched the puzzled look on his face morph into one of dread once he seemed to understand how odd the situation looked. “Oh.”

After a few more moments of gawking at you, he started again, “This looks pretty bad.”

“Yeah, just a little.”

“I swear it’s not as creepy as it looks. Jeonghan said you wanted to see me, and then your roommate let me in. She told me to just wake you up, but I felt bad after a while. That’s why I just let you sleep.”

That must have been what Yooyeon was asking you while you were half-conscious, and you probably stupidly agreed despite not catching anything she said. This wasn’t how you wanted to talk to him; you needed time to mentally prepare yourself to meet Minghao—preferably in an outdoor setting where you were appropriately dressed—but now he had caught you completely off-guard.

It looked like he had just gotten back from the gym with his flushed cheeks and the sleeveless top that showed off his toned arms. When he raised his arm, you could even catch a glimpse of the infinity tattoo inked across his shoulder blade. 

“I can leave,” he suggested, unsure. 

“No, stay,” you said. “It’s just that I was gonna go see you on my own. How long have you been waiting here for, anyway?” 

“Maybe ten minutes? I tried calling your name, but you asked me to let you sleep a little longer.”

You flushed, mortified. On top of accidentally inviting Minghao over to wait for you to wake up, you were sleep-talking in front of him too? Any semblance of professionalism you had was crashing and burning before you. 

“I think I was sleep-talking with my roommate, too. That’s probably why she thought I needed to see you now,” you explained with a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “Sorry about that.”

Minghao laughed and took a seat once he realized you weren’t going to shoo him out of the apartment anymore—or perhaps now he felt less guilty about showing up unexpectedly.

“So we’re even, right? Your stalking is forgiven,” you said, “but not forgotten.”

His eyes went wide with mock surprise, feigning a gasp. “Stalking? I could sue you for defamation of character.”

“Then sue me,” you challenged. “I have an outfit that I’ve been dying to wear in a courtroom.” Minghao raised his eyebrows with mild interest before you reached for your laptop on the coffee table. “Anyway, I wanted to show you something that could probably make you rethink that defamation lawsuit.”

You then turned to face him and clasped your hands together out of sheer desperation. “Please let me make you the star of my documentary.” 

Minghao blinked at you for a few seconds before asking, “The documentary for your class? You want me in it?”

You nodded eagerly. “It’ll be all about you—your dancing, the café—everything that shows how hard you’ve worked for your dreams.”

“I don’t know, Y/N…” He looked slightly uneasy at the prospect. “I might not have the time for this. I already have shifts at the café every day.”

“I think I have a solution for that, too.”

“That’s great and all, but either way, I don’t even know how much longer we’re gonna be able to keep the café running.”

“But Minghao, listen, I have it all planned out.” You scooted closer until your knees were bumping against his, and you angled your laptop for him to see the screen. “There’s a scholarship offering twenty thousand dollars, and they’re asking for a video submission on what success means to you. It’s specifically for the arts—something you’re passionate about.” 

“You mean…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on the screen.

“I say we kill two birds with one stone; I film the documentary for my final project while you use it to win that cash prize.”

Minghao looked from you, to the screen, and to you again. There was a suspension of fear across his face that was coupled with a sparkle of hope in his eyes. It looked as if stardust had scattered across his irises and lit them up. 

“Twenty thousand dollars,” he started before mouthing the words again in disbelief. “That kind of money could save the café.”

“And pay for nationals,” you added. “I stayed up all night planning this out. If you trust me, I think we can actually make this work.”

“You really think so? But do you really think people would be interested in watching something that’s just about my life?”

“No doubt about it. That face sells,” you deadpanned, which caused the tips of his ears to go an endearing shade of red. “I wouldn’t have done all this work if I didn’t think we could pull it off.”

“This is all assuming I even get selected.”

“I’ll make sure you do. It’ll be my best work yet.”

After Minghao spent a considerable amount of time scanning your document over and over again (you were pretty sure the words were probably burned into his brain by now), the corner of his mouth quirked into a mischievous smile. “So, how good are you?”

“Good at what?”

“Filmmaking. I’ve never seen your work.”

You folded your arms across your chest. “I’ll have you know that I’ve had plenty of experience. I’m just using you for my big break.” You didn’t realize you had stiffened up until you let your body relax. “Do you want to see something I’ve filmed?” 

“Can I?”

“Of course. I can’t have you agree to something before you know the standard of quality you’re getting,” you said with a prideful puff of your chest that deflated too quickly when you realized that you would have to show Minghao something so vulnerable. Maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal for him, but you shed your heart and soul into your craft; it was precious to you. You opened the video file and looked at him expectantly. “We don’t have to watch it.”

“No, I want to,” he said in a voice so earnest that you wanted to believe him. He focused on the file name at the top of the video player. “A Bite of Summer—what’s it about?”

“It’s pretty short. I’ll just play it for you.”

You hit play and moved the laptop onto Minghao’s lap instead, watching both the screen and his reaction to your videography. He was so zeroed in on the film that he hardly seemed to notice the way you kept glancing at him. 

Summer was sweltering. Growing up, you always spent your summers surrounded by friends and family, whether it was going to the beach or going to the park. Living in the moment was simple back then; you weren’t confined to responsibilities and commitments that kept you from enjoying what life had to offer. In fact, some of your best summer memories were shared with Minghao. The two of you laughed without a care in the world as the warmth of the sun enveloped you.

Once you entered high school, however, summer felt so humid that it was suffocating. You were up to your neck in assignments, exam preparation, and part-time jobs. It became difficult to enjoy your youth when you had countless hours of work to do. Coincidentally, it was your first summer spent without Minghao; you weren’t sure if things would’ve been any different if you two were still friends back then, but maybe it would’ve simmered the ache in your chest. 

Your short film, A Bite of Summer, was created amidst your summer blues. The film was about a girl named Rhea who meets her younger self at the beach she once used to frequent during the summer. It represented the relationship the older you had with your younger self; you were excited to grow and move forward as the seasons changed, but summer was always a bittersweet reminder that you had no time to grieve over your childhood. You didn't know what you lost until it was gone, but perhaps that made the memories even more precious. 

You were still looking at Minghao, but you could hear your main character, Rhea, asking her younger self, “Are you ever scared of growing up?”

Minghao was watching intently, hanging onto every word. You weren’t sure why you felt so nervous about him watching. In your last year of middle school, you and Minghao began to have long conversations about how terrifying it was to grow up. He would open up about how much pressure he felt from balancing dancing and school, and you would tell him how you felt like you couldn’t breathe in the summer heat. Perhaps he had forgotten by now. Perhaps he wouldn’t connect your film back as being so personal to you.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his reaction during the scene where the younger Rhea reaches for the older Rhea’s hand, gripping tightly even as cold waves started to lap at their feet. Minghao watched quietly, dark eyebrows pulling together as he focused.

“I am,” the younger Rhea answered.

“You are?”

“It sounds exciting, but nothing scares me more.” You watched as Minghao’s lips parted, chestnut eyes glistening when she continued, “Maybe it doesn't feel that way because you don’t have to live through those hard times anymore, but I’m glad the good times stuck. That means this feeling will pass”—their hands dropped to their sides—“and yours will, too.” 

And that was when a tear fell from Xu Minghao’s feathery lashes. 

You’ve never witnessed anyone cry over the work you created. Sure, it tugged at your own heartstrings since it was so personal to you, but to watch someone else have such strong feelings over your film made tears well up in your eyes.

“Are… are you crying?” you stammered out, a tittering laugh following as Minghao used the pads of his thumbs to smear his tears off his cheeks. It was a pretty sight, like watching wet clay come undone before you. 

“It was really good,” he mumbled, giving you the most adorable pout you had ever seen on an adult man before turning his head away to keep wiping at his tears. “I’m serious. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen someone react like that to my work.”

If you were just a little braver, you probably would’ve thanked him first before telling him that you were touched. You would’ve told him that no one had ever peeled back your layers without making it uncomfortable—sometimes even painful—but he handled you with so much delicacy. You would’ve told him that this film was about you, at your core, and perhaps he had already picked up on that, but you would’ve been brave enough to express yourself.

But you weren’t brave, so you just smiled at the lone tears that streaked Minghao’s face before he wiped them with his sleeve. 

“Seriously, you’re incredible,” he said, still staring at the paused video on your laptop. The corner of his mouth lifted. “That was so short and it still made me cry.”

You couldn’t help the wide grin that stretched across your face. “You’re actually crying.” 

“Well, yeah. Are you having fun watching me suffer?”

Was it borderline psychopathic that you were smiling while Minghao cried? Probably. On the other hand, you were simply glad you didn’t burst into tears alongside him. You nearly felt like you could’ve with the way he got so emotional about your work. 

“A little,” you admitted. Surprisingly, that got a smile out of him. “I’m just happy you like it.”

“I do,” he said. A pause, then, “Why’s it called ‘A Bite of Summer,’ by the way?”

You scoffed. Actually, you had your reasons, but no one had ever asked you about that film specifically.

“I hate summer, that’s why,” you told him. “I can’t stand the heat.”

“Really?” His brows lifted. “I think summer’s pretty overrated, too.”

You cracked a grin. “No, you don’t. It’s your favorite season.”

“Hey, I can still acknowledge my favorite season’s overrated.”

He grinned and held the palm of his hand out to you. You were confused before Minghao gently grabbed your wrist and put your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and giving you a firm shake. Your hands were too clammy to be gripping Minghao’s calloused palms, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Use me however you want, director,” he continued, and the sparkle in his eyes was something magnificent. “I’ll be your best star yet.”

“No lawsuit?” you asked.

Minghao laughed. “No lawsuit.”

You were sweating like you had just run a marathon. (You practically did; the distance from your apartment to Jeonghan’s location in the library was a mile and a half, and you were sprinting half the time.)

Since you needed some time to plan out your filming, you exchanged contact information with Minghao and told him that you would contact him when you were ready. Your nerves were buzzing with excitement now that you actually had a subject for your documentary. Conversations with your classmates would no longer make you feel like you were desperately hurrying to catch up with everybody else. 

Your friends usually claimed the big table on the third floor. It was positioned at an optimal location next to the bathrooms and the elevator, so you were quite proud of your unassigned-assigned table. Junhui and Wonwoo were normally the ones who spent the most time in the library, whereas Seungkwan and Vernon usually only stopped by if they wanted to mess around. 

“You bitch,” you spat, pointing an accusatory finger at Jeonghan, who was trying to frantically wave off clouds of smoke when he coughed in surprise. You collapsed into the chair next to him, catching your breath while Junhui and Wonwoo hardly batted an eye. “You should be prosecuted for vaping in the library, by the way.”

“I know, right?” Junhui frowned disapprovingly. “Take it outside, Jeonghan.”

“Addiction kills,” Wonwoo added, doleful. 

“I was gonna ghost it!” Jeonghan cried in defense, lowering his voice toward the end once he realized they were, in fact, still inside the library. He turned back to face you. “Anyway, why am I a bitch again?”

“You invited Minghao into my apartment!”

“Okay, a lot of accusations here. What about a hi? A hello? A congrats-on-finding-your-vape-Jeonghan?” 

You fixed him with a glare. “It’s one accusation that has already been confirmed, Jeonghan. Start talking.”

“Yooyeon told me that you needed to see Minghao. All I did was pass along the message,” he explained before a smirk grew on his face. “So what did you need to see him for?” 

“Oh, right.” You cleared your throat. “I’ve decided on doing the Minghao documentary.”

Jeonghan’s lips parted in surprise, the corners of his lips twitching upward again. “Oh my god, you’re actually doing it! I mean, I had a feeling after Yooyeon called me, but…” 

“Good choice,” Junhui said. “He’s an absurdly attractive man.”

“Phenomenal face for the cameras,” Wonwoo agreed, humming along. 

“Okay, since when were you guys the Xu Minghao Fan Club?” You looked around the table and shook your head once you saw Junhui’s dreamy expression. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Point is, the Minghao documentary is in motion and I have a shit-ton to plan.” You turned to face Jeonghan. “You said you’d help out at the café, right? You’ll get paid, of course, but Minghao can’t keep taking shifts every day.” 

“They’re still having money problems?” Jeonghan asked.

“Unfortunately, but he said that hiring part-timers is better for them financially.”

He hummed, nodding along to your words. “Well, I didn’t say I’d be helping at the café, but I’ll find you someone.”

“They’ll still have to be interviewed, of course. Oh, and they’ll have to be trained, and—”

“Don’t even worry,” Jeonghan assured. “I have the perfect person in mind. Actually, I think I can find you a few more, too.”

“I’m a little scared.”

“When have I ever let you down?” Before you could point out that there had actually been a few instances, Jeonghan seemed to realize the flaw in his question and added, “Rhetorical question. Anyway, just leave it to me.”

To an extent, you did trust him. Not only was Jeonghan involved in several clubs and organizations on campus, but he was also a freshman orientation leader for two years in a row. This was especially useful in the sense that he had connections to students you had never even seen in your life; when you used to have inquiries on subjects you wanted to film, you always asked Jeonghan for any references, and he almost always had a name in mind.

After a pause, your friend gave you a quizzical look. “Did you run all the way over here just to say that?”

“Uh…” 

“You know you could’ve just texted me, right? Or called? Modern technology works wonders, Y/N.”

“Oh—right.”

Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so excited over something that you full-on sprinted to tell your friends. It begged the question of whether you would be this ecstatic if you weren’t filming a certain someone. The ice skating rink surely wouldn’t have gotten this reaction out of you. 

You were fairly certain you knew the reason behind your lapse in judgement, and it was becoming clear that Xu Minghao was tangled right in the center of everything. 

Filming started the following Monday. 

You captured Minghao throughout his everyday life at first, which meant you had to follow him around all day to compile footage. Mentally, you weren’t very prepared for this. Following Minghao from campus, to the café, to his dance studio, and wherever else he decided to venture made you feel as if you were intruding. It was as if you were peaking into a world that you weren’t allowed into. 

He wasn’t that great when it came to school as a kid, but now Minghao really tried to study hard, even if that meant dozing off in the middle of reading a page of his textbook. Just a few days ago, he invited you over for a movie, and you were really supposed to be editing your footage, but you caved within minutes of him asking. You remembered Minghao had always been a sucker for coming-of-age movies, but you were dumbfounded when he shed tears during Little Women. (What you wouldn’t dare tell him was how endearing you found him). 

You toed the line as someone between a friend and a stranger; perhaps to Minghao you would be considered a friend, but you weren’t quite sure why you couldn’t see yourself fitting in that space again. Still, as you filmed him and shot his interviews, you were so intrigued by the new sides of him that kept coming up, as well as the parts you nearly forgot about. It felt strange to hear such sincere accounts of Minghao from the interviews with his instructors and peers, yet to be the one behind the camera that couldn’t hold onto him before.

Today, he was waiting for you at 11:30 a.m. sharp outside of the Arts building. It had been a little over a month since you and Minghao started working together, but you were more worried about the scholarship deadline than your own assignment’s deadline. Filming was going smoothly, but you still needed to get interviews from his friends and family. Editing the dance footage was going to take the entire night since you were in the studio for hours. 

You were overwhelmed, to say the least. 

Minghao was finished with classes for the day while you had an annoyingly long gap between your morning and evening classes. You were supposed to shoot some B-roll, but that completely slipped both of your minds as you were well into scarfing down the breakfast wraps you two had bought before sitting on a cold bench.

Dark, gray clouds moved like smoke across the sky. It was getting chillier, and you were suddenly reminded of when you’d wait for the school bus with Minghao in middle school. He was always carrying around hand warmers back then, offering you one without fail whenever you started to shiver. Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder without thinking too deeply about how close you were. Now, with the awkward gap between you two, you wished you could go back to those simpler times. 

Maybe you were already considered friends. Maybe you were overthinking all of this.

You rarely analyzed your other friendships this thoroughly.

You would rather shrivel up and die than admit that you missed being the closest to Minghao, but whenever he said something particularly sweet or gave you that gentle smile where his eyes crinkled at the corners, you felt your heart soar just a little higher. Maybe—just maybe—if he pressed enough, he would get it out of you.

“I told my mentor I’m gonna keep practicing for nationals,” he said once he was waiting for you to finish the last few bites of your wrap, “and I told my mom about the scholarship. It took some time trying to convince her that it could actually work.”

“She was against it?”

“At first, yeah. I mean, I don’t blame her. We’re doing this on the off-chance I get selected—nothing’s guaranteed.” He gave you a crooked smile. “But, at the end of the day, it could save our café, so she’s touched that you’re trying.”

You took the last bite of your wrap instead of replying. Of course Minghao meant well, but you couldn’t help but feel your stomach pitted with anxiousness at the mention of how everything was riding on this film. It made you feel even worse because Minghao had more to lose than you did. Nationals and an assignment grade; it was almost ridiculous how high-stakes his situation was compared to yours.

“Jeonghan actually managed to find part-timers for the café,” he continued. “They’re coming by in the afternoon.”

“That’s good news, right? You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised. We hardly get people who wanna work there.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s not as convenient as an on-campus job, so most people aren’t willing to walk that far for a part-time job when they can easily find something closer.”

You didn’t mind the commute yourself, but you only visited the café occasionally; it would’ve been a different story if you were heading to work there every single day. You hoped whoever Jeonghan found was actually committed to their job.

Then, Minghao asked, “What’re you gonna be filming today?”

“I was thinking we can get some footage of you training the newbies,” you said. “Speaking of, now that you have more employees, does this mean you won’t have to work at the café as much?”

He grinned brightly. “My shifts are cut down to three days a week now. I’ll have plenty of time to focus on dance. We have other employees to train the new guys, too, so it’s not all on me.” Minghao then leaned in a little closer (making you laser-focused on stepping on every crunchy leaf at your feet to ignore how your brain was spinning) to say, “Jeonghan thinks there'll be a lot more girls coming to the café.”

“Because of the new baristas?”

He shrugged. “They’re good-looking guys.”

You thought back to the demographic of cafégoers when you first visited Café du Soleil. The majority were, in fact, teenage girls. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you discovered that Minghao’s face was the selling point, but to have multiple men like him working there? Not only were you worried that the coffee shop would turn into the Ouran Host Club, but you simply couldn’t picture even more people of the same visual caliber as Xu Minghao. 

Before you could reply, Minghao noted your pause and asked, “What’re you thinking about?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Curious about what?”

When you looked at him, his gaze frantically scattered about before he returned to looking down at his wadded-up wrapper. You wouldn’t have found it weird if you caught him looking at you, but the fact that he looked away so quickly made you feel conscious of how warm you were getting under your jacket. 

“Just wondering if they’re really all that. I find it hard to believe that whoever Jeonghan called is gonna bring in more of a crowd than you already do.”

Minghao looked baffled before he chuckled. “I don’t bring in a crowd.”

“There were so many girls when I visited yesterday! Didn’t you notice them giggling after you left their table?”

“They were probably just giggling over whatever teenage girls giggle over.”

Minghao was oblivious by nature. He was also a man, therefore he was stupid. 

Coupled together, it was a disastrous combination that resulted in wildly attractive Xu Minghao being utterly useless when it came to recognizing that he was blessed with a first-rate genetic sequence. 

“Hao,” you started slowly, “teenage girls giggle over guys.” 

“Oh.” He frowned, and you held yourself back from rolling your eyes as you witnessed him take actual offense to what was supposed to be a compliment. You figured he had deeply misunderstood what you were getting at.

“Cute guys,” you corrected.

“Oh.”

You straightened up and stared back at him, bewildered. “You don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Your—” Unable to articulate what you were trying to say (partly because it was far too embarrassing to outrightly call Minghao attractive), you made a dramatic gesture to refer to his face. “That!” 

To your horror, he turned incredibly smug. “What, my face? What about it?” 

“Uh…”

“Are you trying to say I look good, Y/N?”

This just in: Xu Minghao was a sick and twisted man. 

In this very exact, very precise moment, you felt the most vulnerable you had ever been in front of the dancer, and he was using the very opportunity to humiliate you even further. 

“I’m speaking objectively,” you said. 

“You’re objectively saying I look good.”

“Yes.”

“What about subjectively?”

“Can we circle back to the café instead?” you offered, buffering as if you had to muster up the strength to push the words out through your teeth. “I’d much rather talk about the café.”

“Really? I was having more fun talking about how objectively and subjectively good I look.”

A groan fell from your lips. “You objectively and subjectively need to shut up.”

Minghao laughed at your reaction before standing up and reaching into his pockets. “C’mon, let’s get going before it gets late,” he said and pulled out a hand warmer from his coat, holding it out to you. “Here.”

You took it from him. “What’s this for?”

“You’ve been shivering this whole time.”

While Minghao chatted your ear off on the way to Café du Soleil, all you could think about was how he surprisingly paid attention to the little details about you that most people would miss. You were formulating a rough theory in your head: Xu Minghao had to be some sort of otherworldly being because there was no other explanation for how perfect he was. 

Yoon Jeonghan was going to the deepest circle of Hell.

As soon as you saw Choi Seungcheol in an apron, you knew your insufferable friend had an agenda of his own when he was scouting out potential baristas. To Jeonghan’s credit, the other two baristas he found seemed like they had been objectively scouted (no offense to Seungcheol, but you were 99% sure Jeonghan just wanted a chance to see the man as frequently as possible).

“That’s Chan.” Jeonghan jerked his chin in the direction of the younger guy who was fumbling with the cash register, and then you followed his gaze over to the barista who was fixing an acrylic pin of Elphaba from Wicked to his apron. “And that one’s Seokmin.”

Apparently, Jeonghan met Lee Seokmin through a hiking club. More specifically, Jeonghan met Seokmin at a hiking club party while they were trying to puke their guts out in the same bush. 

Lee Chan, on the other hand, was a family friend’s son that Jeonghan adored. You recalled him bringing Chan to a college party once and never again; the high school senior was later given twenty bucks to keep his mouth shut about Jeonghan hitting his vape. 

After his eyes lingered on his eye candy (read: Seungcheol) for a ridiculously long amount of time, Jeonghan finally noticed the reproachful look you were giving him. “What?”

“I know damn well you just wanted to get Seungcheol in an apron.”

“No,” Jeonghan sneered, as if he was disgusted by your accusation. “I was trying to see him with his sleeves rolled up. There’s a difference.”

“Whatever, dude. They both boil down to you being a whore.”

“Hey, I mention a hiring notice to the man I want,” Jeonghan started with an air of confidence, leaning back in his seat to take a sip of his latte, “and you turn yours into the star of your film. We’re basically birds of a feather here.”

You nearly choked over your own drink (the mango fruit tea—again), and you were suddenly grateful that Minghao was currently training the newbies behind the counter despite feeling jealous earlier about them getting most of his attention. It was a relief that you two were alone at a table and out of earshot. Jeonghan needed to stay far, far away from Minghao; he was clearly not to be trusted to run his mouth around the dancer. 

You gave him an incredulous look, ignoring the burst of heat that exploded within your chest. “First of all, lower your voice before someone hears you and actually takes you seriously. Second of all, what?” 

“What’s wrong with me wanting Seung—”

“I’m talking about the other part!”

“I said what I said—and if you think about it, you’re crazier than I am.”

“Excuse me?” Your whisper might as well have been a shout. You quieted down again before speaking, “I’m not crazy, and I don’t want Hao.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jeonghan replied, unconvinced, “So you’re telling me that you didn’t feel any sort of way after he gave you a piggyback ride home from the club last week?”

It would be impossible to forget, even if you were blasted out of your mind. After much persuasion from Seungkwan and Jeonghan, you were convinced to invite Minghao last-minute to your night out. You were already several drinks in when he finally showed up at the club, so your first instinct was to throw yourself into his arms. Not your finest moment. But he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer by the waist, so you couldn’t help but let yourself get carried away. 

Several shots later, you found it impossible to walk with how your balance was completely off. Minghao, being the knight in shining armor he was, opted to carry you home on his back while holding onto your heels. 

You settled for saying, “He was just being nice.”

“That wasn’t my question, and I don’t think he was just trying to be nice.”

“Is it so hard for you to believe that he’s just a genuinely good guy?”

“Well, he is, but it’s not like you guys just film your little documentary and move on with your lives after,” Jeonghan said. “He hangs out with you, texts you every day, finds literally any excuse to invite you over, and you guys even bought matching pajamas!”

“They were on sale!”

“Lots of things were on sale, Y/N; it was literally Black Friday.”

“It was Cyber Monday,” you corrected in a grumble. 

“You specifically chose the pajamas to wear with him.”

“We’re friends,” you insisted, although it sounded like you were more so trying to convince yourself than Jeonghan. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the undercurrent of your emotions tugging at your ankles, but that was not a revelation you were meant to have at Café du Soleil with Minghao in your vicinity. “We’re just doing what friends do.”

Jeonghan slurped his drink in a ridiculously loud manner. You shot him a disapproving look.

“You know what I think?”

You were certain that you didn’t want to hear what Jeonghan thought, but nevertheless, you entertained his attempts to provoke you. “What now?” you snapped.

“I think you’re still hurt by how you two drifted apart—you and Hao,” he said, “and you’re probably thinking it’s gonna happen again. That’s why you’re too scared to admit he’s being a little more than nice to you.”

Bullseye. Jeonghan had watertight intuition when it came to the people he was close with, and you were no exception. His words were so on the mark that you felt vulnerable and exposed, like your skin was suddenly clinging too tight around your bones.

The thing was, you still couldn’t exactly remember how you and Minghao grew distant. You recalled the throng of memories of when you two were friends, but everything leading up to your falling out was hazy. Could you even call it a falling-out if there weren’t necessarily any hard feelings? He certainly hadn’t done anything that made you want to block him out of your memory (it was Xu Minghao, for God’s sake), but you couldn’t imagine why you would be so hurt over growing apart from an old friend.

“You really chose the worst possible time and place for this conversation,” was all you could mutter in response.

“We have air conditioning and cheesecake. What could possibly be better than this?” 

Whether Jeonghan was selective about what he chose to be perceptive about or simply didn’t understand the gravity of this situation, you couldn’t tell; you just gave him a dumbfounded stare. “Anywhere else! Anywhere else would’ve been better!”

“You’re so picky.”

“And you can’t read the room.”

“You know what I can read,” he started with a cheeky grin while his eyes focused on something—or someone—else behind you, “Xu Minghao’s name tag.”

“Oh, do you like it? I drew Seungkwan’s dog and Vernon’s cat next to my name,” came a breezy voice from behind you, making your heart plummet to your stomach. 

How long had he even been standing there? You thought you could just ignore Minghao, but you found yourself turning around to see his two pets he doodled on his nametag. Unfortunately, they were cute, but you were still too mortified to give him a proper reaction.

“How—how long have you been there for?” you stammered. “Did you hear what we were talking about?”

Minghao raised a brow. “Not long. Why? Is it something I’m not supposed to hear?”

You balked before answering, “No,” but the inflection in your tone made you sound as if you were questioning yourself. 

(Jeonghan made direct eye contact with you and mouthed the word pussy. You made a mental note to deal with him later in a potentially homicidal manner.)

“By the way, Jeonghan, the guys you brought in are doing great,” Minghao went on to praise. “I don’t think we even need to train them for that long. Seokmin’s a natural at this.”

Jeonghan let out a wistful sigh. “I knew I recognized his potential.”

“Didn’t you guys meet at a party? How’d he manage to show barista potential?” you asked.

“I was thirsty and he brought me water.”

Nice. That was one way to prove himself, you supposed. 

Then, Minghao turned his attention to you. “Were you gonna get some more shots today? Chan says he won’t make a run for it if he sees the camera this time.”

Earlier, you were trying to film Minghao showing Chan the proper technique of steaming milk, which Chan hardly was able to pay attention to because he was too busy gawking at the camera. As soon as Minghao was done talking, the high schooler hurried into the break room. 

“I think I got everything I needed,” you answered, tilting your head up to see him smiling fondly down at you. The look in his eyes made you feel like something syrupy was trickling down your throat, as if you were drowning in his endearment. “Why’d you call Jeonghan over here, anyway? He’s pissing me off.”

As expected, your words got a rise out of Jeonghan. “All I did was sit here!” 

“And you opened your mouth. That’s basically a misdemeanor.” 

“Jeonghan, quit bothering her,” Minghao scolded. (“What? What the hell? What did I do?” Jeonghan went on to complain. “This is going in my Yelp review, by the way—one star for betrayal and terrible customer service.”) He looked back at you with a softened gaze as Jeonghan’s maundering turned into background noise. “You’re not leaving yet, are you?” 

You were about to head out, but your legs suddenly didn’t feel like moving once Minghao looked at you with those warm eyes of his that made your insides feel like they had been doused in kerosene and lit aflame. 

Jeonghan, who was hell-bent on his mission to push you and Minghao closer as much as you resisted, appeared to take your hesitation as an opportunity. 

“We’re going back to my apartment to smoke,” your friend declared. Although that had never been the plan, you kept your mouth shut to see where Jeonghan was going with this. “You coming, Hao?”

Minghao snuck a glance at you. “Tonight? I don’t know. I might be free.”

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan gushed before Minghao’s words could even properly register in your ears, leaning over the table to put his hand on top of yours. “I should invite Soonyoung. Remember? The guy from our orientation group that you thought was cute?” 

Of course you remembered Kwon Soonyoung. How could anyone forget a face like that? But you wanted to reach over the table and strangle Jeonghan for bringing him up in the worst possible context and potentially screwing up your non-existent love life for good. As you fought down your murderous tendencies and glanced nervously between the boys, however, you noticed a muscle in Minghao’s jaw twitch. 

You started, “Soonyoung? I mean, sure, but—”

“Actually, I’ll be there,” Minghao cut in, his face void of emotion. “What time?”

Jeonghan simpered, quite pleased with himself. “Eight?” 

“Sounds good.”

Without another word, the barista walked off, leaving you in stunned silence. Did you just witness Xu Minghao get jealous? There was no way for you to spin this as anything else; it was pure, unadulterated envy that bled out of him. 

As your face grew increasingly hot, you spoke in a frantic, hushed voice, “He cut me off. He cut me off! Have you ever seen Hao that mad? I’ve never seen him that mad.”

But Jeonghan didn’t seem the least bit worried at all. In fact, he looked far too smug. “He’s really mad, isn’t he?” 

“What’d you say all that for? I don’t think I can handle Hao and Soonyoung in the same room after this. I haven’t even brought up Soonyoung since last year, you douchebag!”

“Relax,” Jeonghan replied coolly. “I’m not inviting Soonyoung. I just said that to fuck with Hao.” A Cheshire-like grin spread across his face, and he pulled out his phone to start tapping away in front of you. “I’ve never seen him that jealous before. Maybe you should wear something nice and lace—”

“Shut up,” you interrupted with a scowl. “There were never any plans to begin with, were there?”

“Yes, there were—now,” he said, causing you to groan at the end. “I just told the group chat about it. You can thank me later.”

“I am not thanking you for the amount of torment you just put me through,” you said, hesitated, then stiffly added, “but thank you.” 

“See? I’m always looking out for you.” He gave you a sincere look. “Now do me a solid and please get Seungcheol to show up.”

“I knew there was a catch.”

yoon jeonghan: smoke sesh at my place @ 9  yoon jeonghan: be there or our friendship’s over

boo seungkwan: i have no weed  boo seungkwan: lost my vape too

you: real hustlers would never make excuses

wen junhui: she’s right

vernon chwe: i have your vape seungkwan

boo seungkwan: wtf give it back boo seungkwan: wait my vape with vernon’s saliva 🤤

vernon chwe questioned “wait my vape with vernon’s saliva 🤤”

you: alright chill

boo seungkwan: if i close my eyes i can almost taste him

vernon chwe: um. vernon chwe: i'd like to give it back because it’s yours but idk if i should anymore 

jeon wonwoo: Why are we having a smoke sesh on a random ass day  jeon wonwoo: I have a midterm tomorrow

boo seungkwan: leave tomorrow’s problems for a Tomorrow You

jeon wonwoo: True jeon wonwoo: Ok see u guys there

yoon jeonghan: i’ll provide the smoke sesh essentials

wen junhui: i have 11 edibles wen junhui: each person gets 1 and fight to the death over the rest

boo seungkwan: pog

you: thanks for that

jeon wonwoo: Amazing

vernon chwe: incredible

You were blasted out of your mind.

True to his word, Jeonghan didn’t invite Soonyoung to his gathering; and true to your word, you roped Minghao into bringing Seungcheol along. 

You were initially worried that things would be awkward between you and Minghao, but he seemed to be in a significantly better mood by the time you got to talk to him. He didn’t even know that this whole night had been Jeonghan’s maniacal plot to set you guys up, so Minghao was completely oblivious when Seungkwan ushered him to sit next to you on the couch. 

The night started off with Junhui passing out his edibles and auctioning off his last three to whoever did the best animal impression (one went to Minghao, one went to Jeonghan, and one went to Vernon). You were content with your one edible because you never had that strong of a weed tolerance, and halfway into watching Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle, you felt your eyes starting to grow heavy.

There were two types of people when high, though: one was you, who could probably be considered motionless and inanimate; and the other was someone like Seungkwan, whose not-so-wise ideas seemed to increase tenfold.

And, of course, since Harold and Kumar wanted to go to White Castle, Seungkwan and Vernon wanted to go on an adventure, too. 

After much planning (which you weren’t part of because your body felt as if it was sinking into the couch cushions), your friends mobilized their efforts to come up with a scheme to bring back food from three different restaurants at once. They split themselves up into teams; Jeonghan and Seungcheol were going to Taco Bell, Seungkwan and Vernon were going to Panera Bread, and Junhui and Wonwoo were going to Chipotle.

If you were sober, you probably would have reminded them that UberEats still existed—or that they should probably look up the closing hours.

Naturally, you and Minghao were left in Jeonghan’s apartment. You didn’t mind because they promised to bring back food, but Jeonghan had definitely orchestrated getting you alone with Minghao. This meant you were probably expected to make a move or do whatever else was deemed entertaining in their eyes.

“Why didn't you go with them?” you asked Minghao. Everything seemed much more amusing to you all of a sudden, like the tuft of his hair that just wouldn't stay down. 

“I’d rather stay here.” He shrugged and nudged your arm with his elbow. “Why? Do you want me to go?” he teased.

You reached over and patted down the strands of hair that kept sticking up. “No, stay. I need a witness if Jun’s edibles kill me.”

He laughed. “You’re not gonna die.”

“I am.” You placed a hand against your chest, right where your heartbeat thundered at lightning speed. “Please don’t be mad at me if I flatline.”

“No, you’re fine,” he said, taking your hand and placing it over his heart. His heartbeat was fast but probably not as fast as yours. “See? They’re the same.”

You thought Xu Minghao should’ve done the right thing for your heart and not look so devastatingly good all the time, but he always managed to catch you off-guard with that sickeningly sweet smile of his. He also should’ve been making an effort to not touch you so casually when your heart was already running at a million miles per hour. It wasn’t very fair that you were cursed to control your emotions every time you saw him from a decidedly good angle (which was almost every angle). You needed to bury whatever you were feeling before he entered a dangerous territory of your heart. 

On second thought, you weren’t sure you could keep him out.

“No, they’re not,” you said. “I think it’s because of the weed and the fact that you’re very close.”

You swore you saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips, but Minghao expertly concealed it by raising a brow at you instead. “Oh? You’re blaming it on me now?”

“Blame is a strong word.”

Even he couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin from appearing on his face as he leaned in closer. “Then why am I such a problem for your heart, Y/N?” 

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “You just are.”

“Does it have anything to do with me being objectively good-looking?”

You groaned. “You won’t let that one go, will you?”

“Unfortunately for you, I think I like where this is going.”

Something very dangerous was brewing in your chest.

You weren't sure if it was the weed that was making you bolder, but the haze was surely letting down your inhibitions. Instead of feeling like you were sinking deeper into the couch, you felt like you were gravitating closer to Minghao. 

“Will you ever give me an answer?” he asked, and your breath caught in your throat when he delicately held your chin with two fingers, turning your head to look at him. 

“No, I don’t think so.”

He pouted, and then you mocked his pout in return.

And just when you thought he was done messing with you, Xu Minghao dipped his head to seal his lips over yours, kissing your pout away. 

Alarmed, you pulled back immediately, your eyes wide and unblinking as you stared at him in shock. He didn’t seem all that fazed himself, but he pressed his lips together tightly and withdrew his hand slowly. It was a short-lived kiss, but you were so close to getting hooked and losing all semblance of self-control.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

“W-why are you sorry?” you stuttered, pitchy. 

“I should’ve asked first.”

“Yes.”

“What?”

You shook your head to clear the mess of tangled thoughts. This was the worst possible conversation to be having while you were both high out of your minds, but you were also feeling a lot more courageous now that you knew that Minghao actually wanted to kiss you. 

You wanted to kiss him, too. Now that you had a taste, you couldn’t resist thinking about how his lips would feel against yours again, how he would touch you again with such tenderness.

“Sorry, I thought you were asking,” you said.

“Asking what?”

“To kiss me.”

“Oh.” Minghao went silent for an entire minute. (You counted the seconds.) You watched as he stared blankly into space before the weight of your words seemed to finally register. “Oh.”

Your face felt hot. “Don’t just oh me.”

Minghao chuckled in response. He shifted so that he was turned toward you, one of his hands finding purchase on the back of your neck and the other on your knee. You nearly forgot how to breathe as you were so focused on how his touch burned your skin.

“No, I was just thinking about how cute you are,” he clarified. 

“Huh?” You were pretty sure your voice was an octave higher, judging by how Minghao now looked even more amused by you. “Cute?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” His hand started to inch up from your knee, torturously moving up and down. You swallowed thickly. “I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You choked out a laugh. “Are you kidding?”

“I’m dead serious,” he insisted, and you could tell he was by the way his eyes darkened and his hand slid higher up your thigh. “You know I’m not a liar, Y/N.”

When you didn’t respond, he lowered his voice and continued, “You know, a big part of dancing is about the finer details.” Minghao’s hand dragged across your skin so slowly that you couldn’t hold in your trembling breath full of want. “I always make sure to pay extra attention, so I think you can trust me when I tell you you’re pretty.”

For a moment, you were floundering for words. You were already feeling dizzy by his mere touch, and then he went on to say something that made you feel even more feverish. Xu Minghao truly was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

“Here,” he said, “let me just show you.”

He moved the hand on your thigh to grip your chin again, pressing a few tentative, experimental kisses to your lips before finally capturing them in a longer, desperate manner. Your heartbeat was hardly a rhythm anymore, just a steady line of white noise that rushed loudly in your ears. Kissing Minghao was addicting, and as you moved your arms to wrap around his neck, you found yourself losing the last shred of control that was keeping you from him. 

By the time Minghao made the daring decision to slide his hand up your shirt, you two had been kissing each other senselessly. Your legs were haphazardly strewn across his lap while he bent you down to kiss you at a better angle. 

Part of you was worried that this was moving too fast; the other half was begging you to speed up.

You couldn’t make sense of anything when his tongue slid against yours so languidly, sending delightful shivers up your spine. One of your hands moved up to entangle your fingers in his roots, tugging just enough to have him groaning into the kiss. 

Just when you were certain things were going to escalate further—and god, did you want them to escalate—a loud knock at the door had you and Minghao pulling apart like two magnets with opposite poles. 

“I don’t have a key!” Junhui’s muffled yell was heard through the door. 

You and Minghao exchanged a look before he stood up to get the door. You ran a hand through your hair to look presentable again, even though your half-lidded eyes were a dead giveaway that you were floating elsewhere, high up in the clouds. 

With his taste still on your lips, the tangle of an unspoken truth wound itself tighter around your throat. 

You used The Kiss™ as an excuse for some space. The excuse you gave Minghao, however, was that you “needed a week for editing.” 

This was a (white) lie for two reasons:

Minghao wasn't going to interfere with your editing process to the extent of needing to completely push him away.

You definitely did not need a full week for editing.

The cherry on top of your excellent decision-making was that it only took you a little over a day to start missing Minghao again. 

The worst part of it all was that being the sweetest man to grace this planet, Minghao understood you right away and stopped texting you immediately. And, of course, you started to overthink his silence, as if you weren’t the one who needed time. 

After you and Minghao had been rudely interrupted by Junhui and Wonwoo, the two of you carried on like nothing happened. Apparently, Jeonghan had been very strategic about where he made everyone go to pick up food: Chipotle was close by, and he claimed it was important that you and Minghao didn’t spend too much time alone in case things got awkward; and the other two were mostly for Jeonghan’s convenience (Panera Bread because he wanted a charged lemonade, and Taco Bell because it was the farthest away and gave him more time to be alone with Seungcheol). There were good intentions, yes, but you were bitter because the only part of Jeonghan’s plan that was supposed to benefit you was the part that ended up cockblocking you.

The guys made it impossible for you to get some alone time with Minghao for the rest of the night. You couldn’t even see him the next day because you ended up sleeping in so late that Minghao was gone by the time you woke up. 

Going back to your apartment the next morning felt like The Walk of Shame. 

Now, you were sprawled across the couch in your living room, laptop warm on your stomach as you sifted through your camera footage. Yooyeon was sitting on the carpet and doing her nails at the coffee table. Earlier in the morning, when you gave her the rundown of the events from last night, The Kiss™ had her jumping on the couch for so long that you ended up banishing her to the floor.

“After everything you just told me,” Yooyeon said, “I think you should just tell him how you feel. Don’t mince your balls. Just get right to the point.”

“Mince my balls? I don’t think that’s an expression.” You paused for what felt like forever until the appropriate idiom dawned on you. “It’s mince your words, dumbass, not mince your balls.”

“Mince your words, mince your balls—same thing.”

“It’s really not.”

“Okay, but you two have had this weird back-and-forth for, like, a month now,” she said. “It’s not like he’s gonna say no to a date.”

“But what if he does say no?”

Yooyeon rolled her eyes. “You guys literally kissed. Pretty sure that’s a free pass to ask him out.”

You thought back to Jeonghan’s words, how he suggested that you were still hurt by you and Minghao drifting apart in middle school and that you subconsciously thought it could happen again. It was uncharacteristic for you to hold a grudge this long, though, but you really couldn’t remember what was the turning point that made you feel like you had to walk on eggshells around him. 

After putting your headphones over your ears, you clicked on the next video file to decide whether you were saving it for the film or not. The thumbnail that popped up was Minghao’s arm around your shoulders while you were trying to record the both of you sharing takoyaki outside. It was one of the videos that you took for fun in the middle of your shoot, but the sight made your heart flutter in your chest.

“I’ll feed you,” Minghao in the video said, a wide grin on his face as he stabbed a toothpick into a takoyaki ball and inched it closer to your lips. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Your face twisted as soon as the searing hot takoyaki hit your tongue. You remembered how you were about to drop your camera and spit the takoyaki out, but in order to not embarrass yourself in front of Minghao and everyone else around you, it was crucial that you kept your composure. 

“I said it was hot!” Minghao exclaimed when you shot him an icy glare. 

As you attempted to eat the takoyaki without burning your tongue, some of the batter dribbled down your chin. You let out a muffled yelp when it scalded your skin, pointing frantically at the mess you were making. It looked like your lips were trying to frame the word tissue, but you immediately covered your mouthful of takoyaki with your hand. 

Minghao laughed at you, a dimple carving into the corner of his lip. “Stay still. Let me get it for you.” 

The video cut right while Minghao was wiping your chin with a spare napkin. You remembered how gentle his hold was on your face, as if you were fine china. The fond smile fixed on his face wasn’t doing your heart any favors. You glanced over at Yooyeon to make sure she was too preoccupied with her nails to catch the growing smile that kept creeping onto your lips.

When you opened the next video file, the thumbnail wasn’t a frame you recognized. Minghao was in his dance studio, facing the camera at the full-length mirror to capture his entire body. You remembered the exact day he must have filmed this because he let you attempt to braid his hair on the bus ride home. 

“Hey, Y/N, I’m recording this without your permission,” he started, a mischievous grin playing on his face. “Since you’re out getting snacks, I’ve decided to vlog the choreo I just came up with.”

This time, you realized too late that your face had broken into a smile so affectionate that Cupid may as well have sent an arrow right through your chest. You were seven minutes into watching Minghao trying to master his self-made choreography when it finally hit you that you had spent the entire month with Minghao—laughing, hanging out, watching movies, going on long drives, studying at his café, and getting to know him all over again. All of that was under the pretext of filming your documentary, but now that you were realizing there was no excuse for you to be around him anymore, a strange feeling of apprehension consumed you.

You could say that you and Minghao were friends now, but your life had become so intertwined with his that you weren’t sure how you would feel when things went back to normal. 

Your attention snapped back to your laptop screen when Minghao stopped dancing to speak to the camera again. 

“I know you’re probably procrastinating on editing this, so you owe me five dollars if you haven’t watched this by the 19th,” he said. You checked the clock to confirm that it was, indeed, past said date and well into the week after. Just as you were about to make a note to send Minghao the money, he lowered his voice and continued, “But, since you watched till the end, I’ll tell you a secret. You can’t tell anyone, though, especially not Jeonghan!” 

You noticed his face was flushed a faint shade of pink when he confessed, “Now I’m only telling you this because it’s been bothering me for weeks. You never brought it up, but… I intentionally didn’t warm up your injeolmi toast that day because I wanted you to bring it back so that we could, um… talk, I guess. I still can’t believe you ate the whole thing without realizing.”

Your heart stuttered—tripped, fell over, got up again, repeated the process—and, oh, you were a discombobulated mess on the inside. 

Minghao chuckled to himself and started going off on a tangent about the injeolmi toast, but you were unable to move on from what he had said. (“You know it’s supposed to be warmed up, right? I figured you just didn’t know because you’ve never had it… maybe I should’ve given you the wrong drink instead.”)

The answer was jammed in your throat like a pill you couldn’t swallow: you liked Xu Minghao. 

And, strangely enough, the feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. 

You remembered exactly what it was like to long for the sun. You’d fallen in love with all of Minghao long before. A rush of repressed feelings from your middle school years bubbled to the surface, and perhaps they didn’t make any sense to you in the past, but it was all too clear now. What you felt for Minghao wasn’t anything new; your first love blossomed long ago, and you plucked out all the petals of your feelings before they could grow any further. 

You just didn’t nip enough of them in the bud. 

If you remembered correctly, you and Minghao started growing apart the day he got his first girlfriend. It wasn’t that you two had a proper argument or fell out, but you safeguarded yourself from the heartbreak by distancing yourself until you were out of each other’s lives. He must have been too caught up in his new relationship to realize it himself, but of course you couldn’t blame him when you were the one who pulled away first. 

But things were different now. You were different now. 

In the past, you made sure to swallow your feelings down, no matter how painful and thick they were lodged in your throat. Now, however, despite how hard you tried to suppress them, you felt as if you were glowing in the light of reciprocated love. It was maddening—agonizing even—but so wonderful. 

“I think I like him, Yooyeon,” you blurted out, only looking in your roommate’s direction when you heard her knocking over her collection of press-on nails. The mess was hardly a concern to her right now, though. “Minghao, I mean.”

“Can I tell Jeonghan?” 

You reached around your laptop to grab a throw pillow and whack her over the head with it. “I’m having the most insane revelation of my life and pouring my heart out to you here, and your first instinct is to tell Jeonghan?” 

“Okay, damn, I’ll give it a few hours.” Yooyeon set her phone back down and turned around to face you again, her eyes lit up with excitement. “Now tell me everything. Like, everything. I need you to explain from start to finish.”

“That might take a while,” you warned. 

She snorted and picked up her nail file. “I think I can make time in my very busy schedule.”

Your interrogation with Yooyeon didn’t take a few hours, as you expected it would; rather, your discussion cut into the late hours of the night, keeping you and your roommate up until dawn. Jeonghan joined over FaceTime at some point and screeched loud enough for you to worry about noise complaints (Wonwoo made a guest appearance, too), but you also learned that your friend group had seen this coming from the beginning. You weren’t sure how you felt being the only one out of the loop, but Jeonghan made sure to point out that you were just completely oblivious.

You didn’t exactly discuss your next steps, though. Yooyeon mentioned asking Minghao out on a date, but you weren’t sure how to do that without acknowledging The Kiss™ first. You had to bring it up somehow, but you kept putting it off to work on editing. 

Thinking about Xu Minghao proved to be dangerous for your motivation. It had only been a week but you instinctively kept checking your phone to see if he texted you. (Spoiler: he didn’t.) It took all of your willpower, but you forced yourself to push him out of your head and focus on getting the documentary done. 

Editing was torturous. You practically spent all day and night glued to your laptop, whether it was in the dining hall or in your bed. For something that was only supposed to be ten minutes long, there were hours of footage for you to get through, some of which ended up being unusable, much to your frustration. 

Finally, though, after long days of tirelessly working, the finished project was in your hands. 

Of course, Minghao was the very first person you told. You were so giddy that you called him immediately, your heart soaring when he picked up on the second ring. In under an hour, you found yourself running to Café du Soleil to show him the documentary. 

Upon seeing Minghao’s bright face, before you could even get a hi out, he crushed you in his embrace. You breathed in the addicting scent of his cologne—gaiac wood and cedar. It was clear that neither of you wanted to pull away, but you took a step back first.

“Congratulations,” he praised, rubbing small circles on your upper arm with his thumb. “Do I get to watch it now?”

“If you have ten minutes to spare, we can watch it together,” you said, pulling out your laptop once you reached your usual table. “I wanted you to be the first person to see it.”

“I’m off my shift,” he replied, pulling up a chair right next to you, “so I’ve got time to kill.”

You handed him an AirPod to listen along with you. Sound was one of your favorite parts of creating a film—setting the atmosphere, building the tension, playing with senses and emotions—so you really wished you could give Minghao the full experience, but since you were in a public setting, this would have to do. 

The documentary opened with Minghao at his dance studio, sweat glistening on his toned muscles as his body moved to the beat. The demanding choreography coupled with his exhaustion didn’t stop him from showcasing an almost flawless performance. There was a brief exchange with his mentor before the scene cut to an interview with Minghao explaining how his passion for dance started and how he had grown into competing in national-level tournaments. 

You added a compilation of clips from Minghao’s previous performances, as well as accounts from his peers about how hardworking and motivated he was. His mentor gave a particularly heartwarming speech on how driven Minghao was as a dancer and how he put his all into everything he did. The part you were the proudest of had to be getting Jeonghan to give his two cents on being Minghao’s friend, and you were pleasantly surprised that he took it seriously and said something sweet.

“To me, success is about working hard despite my circumstances,” Minghao said. In his interview clip, he took on a more serious tone. “I don’t have to be the best dancer in the world as long as I’m doing what I’m passionate about. At some point, I think I lost myself for a while… but someone special pulled me out of that slump and pushed me to keep going. I can’t thank her enough, honestly.”

You knew it was coming because you put the clips together yourself, but your face still grew hot regardless. Minghao being right next to you wasn’t exactly helping your case or making you feel any less flustered. Perhaps most people watching your documentary wouldn’t realize who he was referring to, but you knew that he was talking about you. 

The film then got into Minghao’s financial struggles with the café, showing segments of his mother talking about Café du Soleil and how much the place meant to her family. You then showed the new part-timers being trained (with extra screen time for Seungcheol, as per Jeonghan’s suggestion—or, well, persuasion), and Seokmin even gushed about how much he looked up to Minghao in his own interview. 

The documentary ended with a few words from Minghao, switching back and forth between the dance studio and the café. The screen then faded to black with the bustling sounds of the café gradually fading out. 

It was only when your screen was dark enough to see your reflection that you realized there were tears in both yours and Minghao’s eyes. You already watched it about five times yourself, but something was different about watching it alongside the person you worked with for over a month to bring your ideas to life.

And, apparently, you two weren’t the only ones tearing up.

Minghao flinched when he turned his head to see the part-timers sitting at the table behind them and peering at the laptop screen. “Fuck, you guys scared me.”

“Sorry,” Seokmin apologized, hastily wiping at a stray tear. “It was just so beautiful.”

Chan gave you a nod of approval. “The only thing it needed was more screen time from me.”

“You literally ran away every time you were on camera,” you said, swiveling around to look at the two baristas. “Were you two just sitting behind us this whole time?” 

“Yes,” Seokmin confirmed. “We appreciated the subtitles.”

Truthfully, you were extremely satisfied with their reactions. Your short film, A Bite of Summer, bringing Minghao to tears was enough to rile you up for days, and now you had two other people who got emotional over a documentary you filmed and produced with your own two hands. 

“You really outdid yourself,” Minghao murmured, and when you turned to him, he was looking at you as if no one else was in the café except you. He reached his hand out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

With a shy smile, you said, “It wouldn’t have come together without you.”

Through your periphery, you noticed Seokmin and Chan exchanging a look.

“Alright, they’re having a moment,” Seokmin announced, standing up and gesturing for Chan to follow him. “Let’s get back to work.”

Minghao, whose ears were a bright shade of red now, tried to awkwardly laugh off the embarrassment. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he looked back at you, and you burned up all over again once you remembered how his soft lips felt against yours. Unfortunately, one of the symptoms of having a crush on someone was that your mind often went blank and filled itself up with all things Xu Minghao instead, so you couldn’t exactly think straight right now. 

“I’ve finished the application and essay for the scholarship,” he said, “so I guess all there’s left to do is submit.”

“I’m sure no one else had an incredibly talented film major directing and producing their video,” you joked. 

“No, you’re right. If I don’t get the scholarship after this, I might take it personally.”

“Oh, please,” you muttered quietly, “you’re too nice.”

“I’m not that nice, Y/N.” To your surprise, Minghao’s eyes hardened. You had never seen such an expression on his face, and it made your stomach instantly sink to your feet, but he bounced right back to his cheery self soon after. “I’ll walk you home after we submit these?” 

“Y-yeah.”

Minghao pulled his own laptop out of his bag while you copied the link to your video in Dropbox. You pasted the link into an email, but your finger hovered over the send button for far too long. Once it went through, you were officially done with this project; it no longer tied you to Minghao. 

You sucked in a breath and sent him the link.

You could only stare at your Canvas submission page. The link to your documentary was already pasted in; all you had to do was hit submit, but you felt so anxious. Maybe you missed one of the guidelines, or maybe you needed to watch it again, but you knew deep down that you replayed it several times and it was as close to perfection as you wanted it to be. 

“Hao, I’m scared. Let’s submit ours at the same time.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have anything to be scared of, but yeah, let’s do that.”

It took another thirty minutes for Minghao to prepare himself, though. He read over his application and essay again, handing it over to you afterward for a second look at it. When Seungcheol eventually entered the café for his shift, Minghao had him take a look at it, too. 

Finally, you and Minghao were both ready with your submissions. You both had your cursors hovering over the submit button just before he slipped his free hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ready?” he asked.

With the heat of a thousand suns burning your cheeks, you nodded eagerly. 

You submitted your film.

It felt like a truckload of weight had been lifted off your shoulders, but the feeling of relief didn’t come without the slight unease. You looked over at Minghao, who had just submitted his and was being clapped on the back by Seungcheol, and you felt weird. You felt so incredibly proud of yourself, but another part of you couldn’t accept that it was over now. 

“Hey,” Minghao said softly, grinning when your eyes met his. “We really did it.” 

You sort of melted under his gaze, the corners of your mouth hitching up into a lovesick smile. “Yeah, we did.”

With that, his hand slipped out of yours to tell his mother about finishing the scholarship application, and you felt cold again. 

Minghao offered to walk you home, but you could hardly hold a proper conversation with him; your head was a mess.

Maybe it was wrong for you to feel this way after your week of radio silence, but something about this felt so final. You were scared that once you reached your apartment, you would go back to the life you had before you reconnected with Minghao. As much as you told yourself that you were just overthinking, there was a nagging fear in the back of your head. Maybe it was from the high of submitting your project, but you felt a rush of adrenaline course through you.

You wanted to hold onto Minghao one more time and tell him how you felt. 

It had been on your mind ever since you had your revelation yesterday, and sitting next to him in the café and pretending like you weren’t mad for him was nearly impossible. As you two trudged down the cobblestone street, your hands balled into the pockets of your coat, you realized that something along the lines of a confession was ready to burst through your lips. Minghao kept droning on about a holiday-exclusive drink that was coming to the café, but you couldn’t even listen to him properly without your brain screaming at you to tell him how you felt. 

It was when he brought the conversation back to your documentary that you found the perfect opportunity to bring up the secret video he filmed. 

“We must’ve filmed hours of content,” he was saying, throwing his head back and groaning at the mere thought. “I can’t believe you watched all of it—wait, did you watch all of it?”

“I did watch everything, Hao,” you said quietly.

“Hm? What was that?”

“I knew that the injeolmi toast was supposed to be heated up,” you blurted out. Minghao froze in his tracks and stared at you, wide-eyed, and normally this would’ve made you shy away immediately, but you wanted to be braver. You stopped walking too, and you raised your head to meet his eyes. “I thought you forgot to warm it up by accident, so I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

At your sudden admission, Minghao was speechless, even more so when you continued in a breathless ramble, “And I want you to know that the only reason I chose this subject for my documentary was because of you; and I missed you all of last week because all I could think about was how you kissed me; and I really fucking hate summer, Hao, but you made me fall in love with the sun.”

“And… and I like you,” you confessed. “I liked you back in middle school, and I like you again now.”

Minghao’s jaw went slack as he searched your eyes, as if looking for a lie in your words, as if he could hardly believe that what you were telling him was real.

“Are you serious?” he asked quietly, almost scared that you would say no. He walked closer to you. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Your courage threatened to falter, but you kept his gaze even as he reached out to hold your face with gentle hands. “I’ve never been this honest in my life.” 

With a shuddering breath, he said, “You’re telling the truth.”

“Yeah, I—”

“Do you even know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?” Although Minghao spoke in a murmur, your words died on your tongue the moment he started talking, especially after his eyes dropped to your lips.

You could only blink back at him in stunned silence.

“You were my first love, too,” he confessed.

His words struck you right in your chest. The winter bite no longer chilled you to the bone; if anything, a wildfire was ripping through your body. For a split second, you wondered if you were actually on fire, so you remained perfectly, unmovingly still until you realized that Minghao was waiting for you to answer.

You swallowed hard. “I was? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I guess I was scared it would ruin our friendship… but I didn’t do a very good job of salvaging it, anyway.” You could see the regret painted on his face, but then he steeled his nerves. “I don’t care if I don’t win the scholarship, Y/N—I mean, I sort of care—but no matter what happens, I’m happy just being with you.”

Your heart beamed.

Even days ago, the mention of your past with Minghao would’ve been a sore spot for you. Now, however, you didn’t want it to keep weighing you down like an anchor buried deep within the sand. Maybe you were both just stupid kids who didn’t know what to do with their feelings.

But all of that hardly mattered now that your souls found each other again. You weren’t ever someone who was big on the idea of destiny, but if there were stars out there that predetermined fate, they must have been shining for you and Minghao.

This time, you initiated. It was almost effortless how your arms found themselves circling around Minghao’s neck, drawing him closer to you. His eyes looked as if they were still in a dream, but after a few seconds, his gentle hands found your waist. 

“I’m happy as long as I’m with you, too,” you said, your voice only loud enough for him to hear. 

Minghao let out a breathless sort of laugh, almost like he was still in disbelief, and you smiled before pressing your lips to his. Compared to your first kiss, which was charged with lust and intoxication, this one was so loving and calm that you lost yourself in him so easily. He smiled into the kiss, and you couldn’t help yourself either once you felt his lips curve up against yours.

His hand found your chin, pulling away for a brief moment to take a good look at you. Let the high of your reciprocated feelings sink in. Your eyes flitted from Minghao’s lips to his twinkling eyes, your heart doing a series of backflips and spins when you saw his lips curl into a smirk.

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice, “I think I can get used to this.”

And when his lips found yours again, you were sure your souls touched, too. 

(“So, are you gonna tell me if I’m objectively good-looking now?” 

“Let it go, Hao.”)

EPILOGUE

Vernon scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know if I was tripping out, but I swear they just had us watch Kim Mingyu doing tricks on a skateboard for ten minutes straight.”

“I think that was an actual film.” Seungcheol looked through the pamphlet of student films that were being screened and read, “Kim Mingyu Does a Kickflip—yeah, that’s the one.”

“Whose bright idea was it to make us take Jun’s edibles?” Jeonghan, who was fitted in a formal suit and tie, complained as he slouched deeper in his seat. His eyes were a few shades too close to red to pass as sober, but he was at least able to function on his own. “This shit has to be laced with something.”

“This is your fault, dude,” Seungkwan replied, exasperated. He didn’t seem as faded as Jeonghan was, but he looked more like he had just woken up. “You told us this would be more fun if we got high!”

“Okay, and who listened to me?” He sat up to catch Seungkwan, Vernon, and Wonwoo’s guilty heads hanging shamefully. “Exactly.”

Yooyeon shot you a withering look. “They're stressing me out.”

It was the night of your film’s showcase. After you passed the class with flying colors, your professor recommended your documentary be screened during the showcase for all the film majors in your year. It was an annual event, but only a certain number of films were selected from the students. In short, this was big for you. You invited your friends, of course, although you were starting to regret it now that you had to put Seungcheol and Junhui in charge of babysitting them. 

“Jeonghan, you really didn’t have to dress up like that,” you said once you noticed the contrast between his formal attire and Seungkwan’s sweater and jeans ensemble. “This isn’t even a formal event.”

Jeonghan leaned over Seungcheol to tell you, “This is important to me, okay?”

“Aw, Jeong—”

“I have to be the hottest one here.”

Alright, then. 

“Jeonghan, remember what we’re actually here for,” Junhui prompted, motioning to the front of the theater. 

You put a hand over your chest, touched. “Jun, you’re too sweet, I—”

“To see Minghao’s gorgeous face on the big screen,” he finished.

You decided you were going to let them finish their sentences from now on. 

Minghao, who was sitting next to you and gripping your hand, raised your hands to press a kiss to each one of your knuckles. He saved his public displays of affection for rare occasions, such as your grand showcase.

You two had been dating for the past five months at this point. It wasn’t much of a surprise to any of your friends, but what did change was that Minghao spent a lot more time with your friend group now. (Sometimes you worried if they liked him more than you, but you weren’t one to vie for attention.) It was also safe to say that you two weren’t exactly out of the honeymoon phase yet. Your heart still fluttered whenever he did anything particularly sweet, and Minghao still went bright red whenever you were feeling a little bolder. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice tickling your skin. “You said your professor recommended submitting it to a film festival, right?”

“Mhm.” You grinned and used the hand he wasn’t holding to pinch his cheek lightly. “Your face could be seen by thousands.”

He laughed. “It’s really all about you, not—” Minghao paused when his phone buzzed from inside his pocket. You two exchanged a nervous look before he fumbled to pull it out. “I think it’s them.”

A week ago, the announcement of the scholarship recipient was supposed to be sent out. However, there was a complication that led to them postponing the results until today. You and Minghao had been on edge all week, but having to think about the outcome on the same day as your film showcase was nerve-wracking.

“It is them.” Minghao bit his lip when he saw the sender in his notifications. He looked over at you and squeezed your hand tighter. “I’m gonna open it now.”

With suspended breath, you tried to gauge his reaction as he opened the email. (It wasn’t very hard to read Xu Minghao’s expression when he wore his heart on his sleeve.) He took so long that you thought he was reading over each word twice, but then you watched as his expression morphed into one of pure astonishment.

“What is it?” you asked. “What does it say?”

“I…” He swallowed thickly. “I got it.” He turned to you again, mouth twitching into a grin. “I actually got it!”

Your life had been going so smoothly recently that the scholarship results had been plaguing your thoughts for the past few weeks. You didn’t have to worry about your project anymore, so saving the café and getting Minghao his chance to compete had been weighing heavily on your mind. 

Now, though, upon hearing those words and seeing his eyes light up, you felt like you were glowing yourself. They selected Minghao, and they watched your film. Your work was going to save his mom’s café. It was going to let him keep chasing his dreams. 

You let out a yelp so loud that dozens of heads turned in your direction, but you didn’t mind any of them as soon as you reached over your armrest to tackle Minghao into a hug. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“I knew they’d pick you,” you told him. “There’s no one else who deserves it more.”

“It’s seriously all because of you,” he said. When you pulled apart, Minghao looked absolutely winded from being so overjoyed. “I have to tell my mom as soon as we get home. She’s gonna be so happy that we get to keep the café running.”

Jeonghan, who was brazenly eavesdropping, patted Seungcheol firmly on the chest. “Hear that? You just got saved from unemployment.” He reached over Seungcheol (again) to dap up Minghao. 

You felt someone tap your shoulder from behind, and you craned your neck around to see your professor gesturing for you to go up on stage. That was your cue to introduce your film, and you gulped down the bundle of nerves that rose up your throat. 

Yooyeon squeezed your shoulder as you were getting up. Shakily, you straightened up, smiling weakly when your friends started cheering obnoxiously loud for you. Minghao caught your wrist before you walked to the front and gave you a reassuring squeeze that managed to calm your jittery hands.

You recognized a lot of your friends from your classes, so it wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be, but you were hopeful that the unfamiliar faces would be cheering for you by the time they saw your documentary. 

“We know her!” Jeonghan and Seungkwan were screaming from the top, pointing you out to every stranger in their vicinity. “That’s our friend!”

At the right wing of the stage, you were handed a mic and instructed to walk out to the center. You had never been in front of a crowd this huge, but seeing your friends in the seats melted away whatever fears were holding you back. 

“Thank you everyone for coming out today,” you spoke into the mic, smiling when it resounded throughout the grand auditorium. “My name’s Y/N, and I’m so excited to share my documentary: The Xu Minghao Dilemma.”

TAG LIST ▸ if you made it all the way here, thank you so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed xu minghao's dilemma 💗 first and foremost, this was written for @junyangis so shoutout my film major inspo. i tried to emulate the film student experience to the best of my ability so i hope it delivers 🙏 also you might notice the banner has jeonghan as the writer which sort of sounds misleading but it's because he was the one orchestrating everything between mc and minghao, so i thought it was fitting :') first fic of 2025, yay!! i hope to share more of my works with you this year & sending my love to everyone reading this right now ♡ thank you to everyone who asked to be part of the tag list as well !! 🫂

TAG LIST ▸ @jenoentry @wonudazed @aaniag @ily-cuz-i @fancypeacepersona @tokitosun @jeonnyread @reiofsuns2001 @markleeloveletter @dawn-iscozy @fennecnco @kookiedesi @nijisanjigenshin @xylatox @cookiearmy @nightshadeblooming @sillyuin @outrologist @flowerrpwrr @melonacco @sknyuz @enhasrii @skzdesi

[strayingawayy]

dance class with daddy!

...where your little girl teaches her daddy, the main dancer of one of the biggest kpop groups, how to dance

“you’re doing it wrong!” your daughter shouted, hands on her hips as she glared at minho.

minho, ever the professional, stopped mid-spin, eyes wide. "what do you mean, i’m doing it wrong? i’m literally following you!" he tried to mimic her tiny movements, his arms flailing in all the wrong directions.

“no, daddy! like this!” she spun in a perfect circle, her arms extended gracefully, before stopping to point at him again. “do the feet! the feet!”

minho blinked, clearly confused. “the feet? you didn’t tell me about feet!”

“do the feet!” she demanded, bouncing on the spot, her voice serious like a little dance instructor.

you were on the sidelines, biting back your laughter. minho, the literal main dancer of stray kids, was struggling to keep up with your toddler. it was hilarious.

minho tried again, his feet doing some awkward shuffle. “like this?”

“no! no! you need to do the other feet!” she screeched, pointing at the floor dramatically. “other feet, daddy!”

he froze, looking at you for help. “what other feet?” his voice was desperate, almost pleading for you to intervene.

“i have no idea,” you said, barely containing your laughter. “she changes the choreography every five seconds. just follow her.”

you watched as your daughter stomped over to minho and grabbed his hand, tugging him into position. “now we jump!” she announced proudly, before proceeding to jump up and down in rapid succession.

minho gave you a wide-eyed look, his body already aching from the "dance." “she’s a drill sergeant, not a dance teacher.”

"jump, daddy!" she yelled, practically jumping herself into the air, her little legs barely lifting off the ground. minho sighed, giving a half-hearted jump. “like this?”

“no!” she shouted. “like this!” she then proceeded to twist her body in a way that looked like an interpretive dance move gone wrong.

you were wiping away tears of laughter, watching minho try to follow along. every time he thought he had it, she changed the move. "she’s a genius" you teased.

minho collapsed onto the couch, defeated but amused. "i’m officially her backup dancer."

your daughter, hands on her hips, nodded seriously, as if she were the one making the final judgment. “good job, daddy.”

minho grinned, rubbing his sore arms. “i’m never going to live this down.”

but you knew, as the three of you giggled together, that these were the moments minho would treasure most. no stage, no spotlight—just his little girl and the other feet.

___

@staytilldeath @somedumbthings @itisjustpaula

[wihltedmoved]

soft, girlish giggles bubble to her lips from his comment. she knows he isn't busy ━━━ even if she hadn't asked him about his work schedule ❪     she couldn't help being curious !     ❫ she squeezes his hand, thankful that she isn't being forced to pay attention to anything else. she focuses on watching his blue eyes, rimmed with pretty lashes and shining with the light of the streets as the pass under the rare lamp. every time that their eyes meet, she feels butterflies in her stomach. serena sighs to herself ; where did she find him, again ? in a neon pantheon in the dark, on a blackened alter ? even the paleness of their skin is different ; ian's veins show icily against his wrist while serena's cheeks are rose - blushed. she doesn't know when following him around the video store turned into hang outs, which turned into make outs in the back of his car and picking her up from ballet, but she's thankful nonetheless.

❛     i hadn't thought about it,     ❜ serena says. taking in his profile, she understands what he means with the least amount of words. ballet was about a certain standard of beauty ; but what did that matter when serena finds ian so beautiful anyway ? and she's happier anyway if no one else agrees with her ━━ then there was no one to take him away from her. ❛     i don't want you to be uncomfortable . . . but i really do want you there. these are front row, so you'll be able to actually see me. um . . . most people wear formal clothes to ballet, so you should wear something like that, but . . . whatever you want to wear that's formal ! if it's not suitable to you, and just what everyone else is wearing, i'll be upset.     ❜ though ian would look so gorgeous in a suit, she didn't want to see him conform to the others.

the warmth seeping from her hand into his much colder one only made his fingers curl around a little tighter —— attempting to perhaps selfishly absorb some more of it... ( it's only a bonus that he also doesn't want to let go. ) and even though he's unfortunately forced to keep an eye trained on the windshield, he can hear the coy tone at his side... he wants to see if there's a matching look paired with it. but he doesn't —— instead letting his own smile stretch a little wider while he waits for her to feed into his curiosity... and the disc ( sloppily scrawled with sharpie the date he burned it ) that was shoved into the mouth of the radio quietly moves on to the next song.

❛❛ i'll have t'check my schedule. ❜❜ but that's obviously just a joke, as proven by the small laugh that rattled around somewhere in his chest after he says it —— probably under one of the same ribs that protect his heart. ( he felt it do something weird at the sentiment. ) truthfully, he'd been curious for a while now ! occasionally watching her practice wasn't the same as seeing her on stage... but that stupid little nagging voice in his head liked to tell him that she probably wouldn't want him at one of her shows; he'd stick out like the sorest thumb you'd ever seen. dirty in comparison and detract from the beauty. his index finger gently caresses the closest piece of skin in his grasp, and his tone ( his smile ) softened some before he continued. ❛❛ 'm sure they're worth it... you really want me there? y'don't think i'll, like... look weird being there? ❜❜

[kisses4themissus]

Girl Scout Cookies | M.R Blurb

lovebug series | send me your lovebug thoughts!

- - - - - - - -

Tiny footsteps was hidden under the hustle of the ED department, lacey sighed as she walked through the hospital’s ambulance bay, jake right behind her, carrying a backpack.

Jake smiled as he approached central to see dana with her arms open for a hug.

“Oh there’s a dangerous pair!” Dana teased, embracing jake in a hug before moving ot hug lacey who smiled and quickly reciprocated the hug.

“Is robby expecting you? What are you two doing down here?” Dana asked, looking at the playful smile on jake, “Lace had me help her drive around the neighborhoods nearby-!” Jake was cut off by lacey who was now standing straight, opening her coat to show her girl scout sash, her dance leotard underneath.

“I’ve been getting people to buy lots of my cookies aunty dana!” She beamed, quickly walking to the inside of the station and rolled her shoulders back. “I’ll show you!” Lacey looked around for someone, her little eyes switching from residents to patients then to the security before landing on langdon who sat at a desk, scrolling on his phone.

With a straight face lacey marched over and tapped frank on his leg to get his attention; as he went to greet the dancer he was stopped as she gently raised her hand and spoke. 

“Hello there i’m lacey, let me introduce myself, I am almost six years old, i am a ballerina and a soccer player in the off season, i’m also a girl scout and i hope to raise money for my troop, would you like to buy a box of cookies from me–!” Lacey’s eyes narrowed as she read frank’s badge before nodding. “Would you like to buy a box of cookies from me, Dr. langdon?” She asked, watching as a grin grew on frank’s face.

“You seem like a trefoils kind of guy..” Lacey added.

He sighed and placed his hands on his knees. “I don’t got any cash on me, ms lacey..” He played along, lacey just smiled and motioned for tablet in jake’s off hand. “I have venmo, paypal and accept tap to pay.”

Langdon let out a hearty laugh before nodding, pulling up his apple pay on his phone and motioned for lacey and her tablet. “Alright, you got those trefoils for me?” He asked, lacey beamed and began to list of the cookies in stock.

Robby sighed as he walked out of the trauma room, his brows furrowed as he saw a small crowd around central, he walked up worried a nurse had been hit by a patient but sigh in relief as he saw a mini line with lacey at the front, holding her tablet up as donahue tapped his card on the square reader lacey had attached to her pink tablet.

He walked over and smiled down at lacey who was not looking up as she tapped on her tablet. “No cutting the line please, i have lots of cookies for everyone..” She spoke, not herding as jake began to snicker as robby stared at lacey.

“I’m sorry miss but I don’t believe you have permission to be selling in my ED department..” Robby crossed his arms over his chest, watching as lacey looked up at her dad with a straight face and nodded.

“I have permission!” She defended. Making robby smile at her antics. “Oh you do, do you have proof?” He asked, thankful the ED hadn’t been busy at the moment. “Mhm!” She shrugged off her coat and pointed to the top of her sash where her full name was embroidered.

Lacey Robinavitch

“My daddy is the day attending sir!” She sassed, earning a laugh from robby, he quickly picked her up and motioned for his staff to break up the line. Robby carried her towards jake and grabbed her tablet to scroll through her sales.

“...where have you taken her?” Robby asked jake, a bit shocked at the amount she had made. 

“Just a few neighborhoods and only a few people answered, she’s mostly a big sell out here.” Jake explained smiling as lacey had been up to five hundred dollars already, the top of her troop by a lot.

“She’s hitting up the ICU waiting room next..” Jake joked, looking as lacey counted her own crumbled dollars she had in there from chores.

Handing to jake she grabbed a box from her backpack and walked to earl who sat by central, eating his sandwich. “Here you go mister, on the house!” She smiled before walking away, waving as earl thanked her.

“Alright, alright go up to your mom before gloria finds out i’ve got a cookie dealer down here..” Robby smiled as jake and lacey walked to the elevators to the ICU.

Mel sighed as she ran up to central, santos and whitaker behind her. “Is she here still?” Mel asked, looking around for lacey. Robby chuckled and shook his head and pointed upstairs. 

“We’ll be back!” Santos told robby, as he went to protest collins shushed him, following the interns. “You just had to make her leave the floor!” Collins sighed before moving to the elevators leaving robby laughing as he looked over the ED to see some patients and residents with girl scout cookies.

Later that day, robby watched you counted the last of cash lacey had accepted that day.

“Including card, she’s made eight hundred and sixty dollars…i think she’s gonna be a businesswoman micheal..” You said in disbelief at the amount of money. 

“She was a hit in the pitt today..” He sighed, a grin on his face.

“...she’s like scarily good robby, i’m not joking she sold three boxes to gloria, saying how she knew what kind of woman she was and pulled out three kinds of cookies!” You laughed, shaking your head as you sipped your wine.

“She wasn’t a s’mores kind of lady..” Lacey sighed, walking into the kitchen, her princess pajamas, a capri sun in her hand. Robby nodded and helped her on a chair and cheersed his water bottle with her juice pouch.

Lacey sat with you and robby as you three talked over your day, sipping on your drinks in peace as if you three were older friends who were now catching up.

[moon-ttokki-x]

Hi hi! So I’ve like been seeing edits of this one Chan look

Just image your like yapping about how annoying it is and you say something that really gets him into “watch your tone” type mode and gives you this look!

Like agghh I was wondering if I could make this a request. You make it however you like but this is just so like ahhhh.

Love you babes!

-haeso🐨

omg the LOOK... fr send me edits of this chan bc i cant find them anywhere TT

make me - bang chan

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: you pull a prank on chan with minsung and seungmin

genre: crack, idol! au, kind of suggestive ngl but nothing risky lol

a/n: yall are gonna have to use your imaginations for this bc i aint writing anything 18+ it's too cringy for me TT dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

"Y/n, have you heard of that one TikTok prank?"

You look up to where Jisung is splayed over Jeongin's lap, his wide boba eyes blinking up at you from his odd position. Jeongin doesn't look particularly happy with the position and shoves his hyung off, muttering something about a dance practice, then leaves.

Jisung lands on the studio floor with an oof and takes up a new position on Minho's lap, seemingly unfazed. He blinks like nothing happened, the conversation apparently continuing.

You tilt your head at him. "What prank?"

Jisung grins as Minho wraps his arms around his tiny waist. "The one where you purposely piss off your partner by talking smack and then film their reaction."

You shake your head, laughing. "Nope. Seen others like that though."

Minho peeks out from behind Jisung. "You should try it on Chan-hyung. It'd be funny."

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. "He won't fall for that. He's already too used to Felix being chronically online. He'll know if I try to prank him with something I saw on Tiktok."

Jisung whines and shifts off Minho's lap, kneeing him in the process. He flops down next to you, ignoring Minho's groans of pain, and pulls out his phone to show you a video.

"So basically, all you have to do is rile him up and then we'll film him," Jisung grins.

You deadpan. "Then Seungmin will be begging me for blackmail material. He's annoying when he wants something."

"Fine," he groans. "We'll just spectate."

Minho, who has recovered from Jisung's unintended attack, looks up from the floor with a pained grin. "You're gonna do it then?"

You nod and Jisung whoops loudly.

✧

The whole thing turns out quite well, it happens, as there's a whole group dance practice at the end of the day. Most of the boys are sweaty and tired within the first few minutes, with the exception of Minho, with his main dancer core, and Hyunjin, who has had too much caffeine.

You watch from the sidelines, taking note of Chan's current mood and assessing whether it'd be wise to prank him; you don't want to catch him at a bad time, since he's usually stressed. But today, he seems a little more relaxed, dancing smoothly, with his voice soft and quiet, though still authoritative. The members seem more relaxed too because of it.

Jisung makes eye contact with you halfway through the dance, his arms up as he turns to the left. A devilish grin paints his face for a split second and you nod subtly. He slips up on purpose and Minho pretends to scold him, telling everything to take five.

Minho turns away and mouths something to you.

Now's your chance.

You casually walk over to where Chan is, touching his arm as he takes a swig of water from his water bottle. He smiles at you before kissing your cheek, and you almost feel bad for what you'd about to do. But you're curious too, about what his reaction will be like, so you keep on track.

Minho, Jisung, and Seungmin all walk up too. They must have told Seungmin about the prank, because he's clearly interested, though it's carefully hidden behind a straight face. Minho is the same, though Jisung is clearly struggling to keep a poker face.

"Hey, love," Chan smiles at you. "Anything you noticed during practice?"

You shake your head. "It all looks great at the moment, I think. Very energetic."

Chan raises an eyebrow. "Nothing at all? Usually there's at least one thing you say that we could all do better."

You whine a little, smiling. Trying to rile him up, make him huff a little. "Why is it my job and not yours, Channie? You're the leader, not me."

"Because," he says, matter-of-factly, "It's easier for you to notice where we're going wrong, because you're watching. It's harder to notice when you're dancing and moving. You can miss things."

You keep smiling and nod in response. He's not being rude, just telling you how it is. That's Chan for you.

Your mind is whirring, trying to think. He doesn't miss a beat, your Chan. It's difficult to piss him off or even argue with him. Of course, if you were one of the boys, it'd be easier. But Chan talks to you on a 300% softness setting, and apparently it's permanent.

"Well," you say slowly, pretending to think. "Maybe those last few moves, the turning ones? You could have done them better."

Chan tilts his head, seeking feedback. Even though you're not a dancer, he likes seeing it from your perspective. "How so?"

It takes all your effort not to burst out giggling. "Maybe you should copy Minho's dance moves more often. And actually listen to him."

Chan's eyebrow shoots up into his hairline. Minho simply looks at his leader, Seungmin doing the same. Jisung is clearly struggling to contain his laughter, and for a second you worry he might give the prank away. But it's Jisung, so no one bats an eye, least of all Chan.

His voice is a little lower, though still playful. "Are you suggesting I don't listen to him?"

You shrug nonchalantly. "I mean, if you had, you'd be as good as him. But you're not, soo..."

You can see the glint in Chan's eyes. Something swells in your chest, a tidal wave of mischief.

It's working.

"Yeah, hyung," Seungmin adds flatly, his face expressionless. "Listen to Y/n. Maybe if you'd taken her advice to begin with, you'd be main dancer. Must be a shame to be outdone by someone younger."

Jisung loses it then, the studio reverberating with his laughter, and even Minho cracks a tiny grin. Chan, however, is unamused.

Trust Seungmin to piss him off, you scoff internally. Probably why they brought him over here.

Chan says something in Korean then, which you can't understand, and Seungmin immediately leaves, walking away with a smirk. Jisung shuts up too. Must have been a threat.

He turns to you and you almost shrink under his gaze. It's dark and challenging.

"Continue, sweetheart," he drawls, leaning one muscled arm on the long cabinet against the wall.

Minho and Jisung are quiet.

"I-I wasn't saying anything wrong," you stutter suddenly, cheeks pooling with colour.

Chan tilts his head again, slightly raising one eyebrow.

You muster up all your confidence then, feigning nonchalance as best you can. "You'd be a better dancer if you spent more time practicing than shouting at everyone to get their shit together."

You see Minho and Jisung shoot wary glances at each other and you know immediately that you've crossed a line. An unspoken apology and several pleading phrases hang on the tip of your tongue, but your eyes flit to Chan's, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes are narrowed, head tilted, half a smile hanging off his lips. It's terrifying and hot and also scary at the same time. You try your best not to shrink under the intimidating look but it's like his gaze is a laser directed straight at your face.

You can't look away.

Chan steps closer and leans in slightly, his voice dangerously low. You can almost hear the smirk in his tone. "Take that back, sweetheart. Right now."

You fight against every survival instinct you have and keep your mouth pressed shut.

Chan asks one more time, his voice ever lower, and you spit out two words.

"Make me."

Chan's eyes flash with the challenge and he lets out a little, dark laugh. Minho, meanwhile, has a hand up against Jisung's face, most likely in preparation to quickly cover his younger member's eyes if something Chan making you take it back in front of everyone happens.

Chan doesn't even have to look at Minho and Jisung; he waves them off with two fingers, his gaze never leaving yours. You're stuck in position like prey being circled by a predator, waiting for the moment you'll be struck.

"What do you think he's saying to her?" Jisung whispers as he crosses the room with Minho.

He shrugs in response, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sits down, leaning against the floor-to-ceiling mirror. "Dunno. Probably something risqué."

"Minho," Jisung slaps his arm, a hushed laugh escaping his mouth. "You can't say stuff like that."

"What?" he protests. "Technically, it's all your fault because you put Y/n up to it."

"Aw, hyung," Jisung whines. "You agreed too. Should we confess and tell Chan-hyung it was a prank?"

"Nah. I mean, we could, but only if you admit it was your idea."

"That's the highest form of betrayal-"

"CHAN-HYUNG!" Minho suddenly shouts to him from their position on the opposite side of the room. Every head in the room turns towards them, including yours. "IT WAS ALL JISUNG'S IDEA-"

Jisung claps a hand over his friend's mouth, frantically attempting to muffle him. "Minho, shut up! You traitor!"

You take the opportunity to escape, ducking behind Seungmin. He's the only member not afraid of his leader, and both of you watch as Chan apparently forgets about you, instead stalking towards Minho, who is sitting eloquently unfazed against the mirror, and Jisung, who is frantically spewing apologies and pleading phrases, clutching to his friend's arm, eyes wide.

Seungmin lets out a laugh as you watch, poking you hard in the side. He raises his eyebrows suggestively. "Might as well escape before Chan remembers he has to make you take it back."

"CHANNIE!" You shout. "IT WAS SEUNGMIN'S IDEA-"

"Shut it!"

a/n: i know exactly what was going through yalls minds 📸

[kiss-of-moonlight]

HOME SWEET HOME | LEE MINHO

warnings: multiple rounds, cockdrunk lee know, reader is whipped and so is minho, like four lines of dialogue, language, unprotected sex —w.c:1.2k A/N: happy pride month!!

You've been closer than ever with the new dorm arrangement-just you and Minho in a cozy apartment. There were two bedrooms but you barely glanced at the second one. The two of you shared a room, both of you arranging your things in the same wardrobe in an unspoken agreement. You'd wake up together, tangled in each other's arms, with you pulling him closer with a sleepy "five more minutes.." Minho stayed, of course, nuzzling into your warmth- you, who had become his everything. You'd cook together, and spend sweaty dance practices with close contact and quiet studio sessions with stolen glances together. There were the failed baking attempts where you'd have to call Felix from next door for help, hands covered in flour.

Then there were the not-so-tender moments, the ones Minho thought he'd take to the grave. The ones were Minho would jerk off to pictures of you. He'd cry after, thinking the two of you would never be real. Minho didn't think that even if you do get into a relationship, you'd survive in this industry. But he'd do anything for you. For the way the light catches your eye. For the way his name sounds in your voice.

When you came home from the studio one day, you thought you had walked into heaven. Minho was wearing the tiniest pair of shorts and your too-big hoodie that drowned him in fabric. Seeing Minho in your clothes and barely anything else— his godly thighs almost fully bare, his pretty collarbones showing as the hoodie slipped off one shoulder, the sleeves falling past his small hands as he padded around with adorable sweater paws, the way the hoodie fell beneath the hem of the shorts, making it look like he wasn't wearing anything except it, the way he looked home, tiny and comfortable in your clothes—made your heart lose all control of its rhythm. You looked at him, expression too complex to be read. A mix of feelings swirled in the depths of your eyes—adoration, love, affection, devotion, but also lust, desire, hunger- anyone else would've collapsed under the weight of that look. But not Minho, who had gotten too used to you looking at him like you'd press him to the floor and ravage every inch of him. He was used to wearing your too-big hoodies, and his too-tiny shorts, wishing that he would end the day with more than just your eyes on him. And because you couldn't take it anymore, because Minho didn't stop you, you pressed your lips to his, finally crossing the line you stood so precariously before.

The kiss was soft, sweet, gentle, everything the two of you were. Then it turned heated, passionate, hungry, desperate. Again, nothing the two of you weren't. Because you couldn't take it anymore, because he'd gasped against your lips when your hands slid up his shirt, because he begged with his voice melting like honey when your lips found his pulse, you ended up in bed with him. It was as if you were homesick and he was your front door. You peeled off his clothes, grinning when he made grabby hands at you to take yours off. You kissed down his body, admiring every vein, every curve and dip of his body, every muscle that flexed under your touch, every hair that stood under your breath. He retaliated, pouncing on you like a starved beast. He kissed you again, shoving his tongue into your mouth as your hands guided him onto your lap. He kept your head titled up with a hand in your hair as he put his mouth on your neck. You tasted divine to him, as he moaned into your neck with each suckle of those plush lips.

Before he was finished worshipping you, you had him on his back, looking at you with starry eyes. When you entered him, his voice curled with your name so beautifully you could've come from that alone.

After rounds and rounds of lovemaking from the two dancers with inhuman stamina, Minho was cockdrunk. And beautifully so.

As you fucked him deep, letting him feel every inch of your cock and every vein and ridge of it, and how you shuddered with the warmth and tightness of his eager hole, as you hovered above him with the moonlight making you look like you were crafted by angels, with eyes more luminous than any gem, Minho was drunk. Lost.

Minho was lost in the way you looked above him. He was so fucked out on your length that moved in and out of him with the same energy you've been fucking at for hours. He was a beautiful sight—skin flushed and sweaty, drool leaking from his lips that were parted in moans and incoherent babbles, eyes rolling back as tears streamed down his rosy cheeks, as sobs left his lips, hickeys and bite marks littered over his skin just like the ones on your body that he left, small hands kneading at your chest or desperately grabbing at your forearms which were streaked with lines from his hunger. Minho begged, completely fucked out, for more as you thrusted in deep enough that Minho thought you were in his throat.

When you grabbed his cock, fisting it as your hips moved like a machine, spurred on by his desperate moans and your name leaving his lips like a prayer and a plea all at once.

"F-Fuck..h-hyung please.." He sobbed, hands gripping your biceps. His and your stomachs were sticky with the multiple orgasms before, the ones that seemed endless as you stopped just long enough to kiss his forehead before your cock twitched and throbbed inside him with him clenching around you in a plea when his mind refused to conjure up a word that wasn't your name.

After you've lost count of how many times you've both cum, you buried yourself to the hilt one last time, flooding his insides yet again. You collapsed on top of him, hips aching, shoulders bruised from his grip, arms straining from holding yourself up, lips finding his in a desperation that no one except him could ever see in you. You gasped into his mouth, still slowly rolling your hips, not being able to stop.

"I love you, baby.." You somehow found words, heart swelling at how beautiful he was under you—flushed, utterly blissed out, and yours.

"Hyungie…love you too.." He rasped out, hands cupping your face and bringing you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so sweet you were sure the reason you couldn't feel a toothache was the pleasure flooding through your veins.

This dance was much sweeter than the one you were dancing around the line between friends and lovers.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Choose One (Chapter 2) by Uzumaki Rebellion

Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).

Warning(s): Explicit Sex, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.

Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.

Word Count: 3.3K

Masterlist HERE.

"See-line woman (see-line)

Dressed in green (see-line)

Wears silk stockings (see-line)

With golden seams (see-line)"

Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"

Bodies jammed to music next to other bodies crammed inside Bernice's tiny third-floor apartment. A phonograph played the hot jazz they liked and shiny Black faces shimmied and shook the floor down. Max manned the drink table with his girl, and Bernice collected money at the door.

Lena clutched Stack's hand, and he grinned from east to west entering the raucous rent party. Two seconds after tossing five dollars into Bernice's finest church hat, he entwined his fingers with hers and joined the sweaty dancers cutting the rug.

Oh, he could dance!

Lena squealed as he spun her around. She wiggled her hips, stomped her feet, and threw her arms in the air. Her friends, neighbors, and co-workers eyed him up and down as he swiveled his hips and thrust against her. Later, they shared some cheap reefer and glasses of terrible hooch, then bought plates of fried chicken wings, pickled pig's feet, and potato salad.

Bernice threw an old scratchy Charley Patton record on, and Stack squeezed his eyes shut. He threw one hand up and moaned, "Ohhhhh, shit! Some down home blues!"

He ground his hips against Lena, and she matched his seductive ways with a steamy, slow drag. His hands wandered up and down her back, but once it headed further south and palmed her ass cheeks, they had to leave.

"Follow me," she whispered in his ear.

She led him out of Bernice's place and guided him down a flight of creaky stairs to her smaller kitchenette apartment. She stopped at the shared bathroom on her floor.

"If you need to go, there it is," she said.

Inebriated, he could still tell her living conditions weren't great. He took a quick piss, and she waited for him outside the door. Despite the substandard housing, Lena liked the people who lived in her building.

Stack flicked water from his hands after washing them and trailed behind Lena to her place.

"It's not much, but it's home," she said.

They kissed in the doorway until she felt his dick poking through his pants. His eyes were glassy while peering at her, and she chewed on her bottom lip, studying his expression.

"What do you like about me?" she asked.

"Everything," he said.

"Be specific."

"I like your beauty…your hair…the way you look at me all night. I like the way you smile…dance…everything. Is that satisfactory for ya, or should I keep going?"

"Keep going."

"I like the way your lips feel pressed against mine. I like how you feel against me, all soft and warm and made for me…"

His lips danced along her neck, and he sucked the skin on her collarbone.

"Make love to me, Stack."

"I will."

He lifted her into the apartment and kicked the door closed. Her place only had two rooms, so he went to where the small bed was.

He kissed her clothes off her body. When she was completely nude, he memorized every inch of her, even the twisty strands of her midnight black spiral curls that everyone always admired and women copied.

"I'll be right back. Gonna wash up first," he said.

"Okay. I'll get you some soap and things."

She gathered up a clean towel, a bar of soap, and a brand new pink wash rag.

He left her apartment and padded down the hall to the shared bathroom. She went into her kitchenette and used the sink with another wash rag to clean herself. Drinking a glass of water, she rinsed out her mouth and waited for him.

While she reclined on her soft bed, he returned with only the towel wrapped around his waist. He carried his shoes, garments, and underwear in his hand. Tossing them on a dresser in the room, he climbed onto the bed next to her.

"I have rubbers," he whispered.

He held out a square tin box in his hand that housed condoms.

"Good."

It didn't matter. Lena couldn't have human children, anyway.

Stack reached for her, and she hugged him tight, sharing her lips with his. She carefully kissed his forehead and eyelids, and puckered both his cute cheeks and groomed chin, leaving lipstick smudges. Lena kissed him long enough until her lips were swollen and tingled. He chuckled softly against her mouth and the warm breath added another rich sensation.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I'm usually knee deep in pussy 'bout to bust by this point."

"Is that what your other women like? Fast sex?"

He leaned back on her pillow and she cuddled on his wide chest, tracing her index finger on his soft chest hairs. His fat dick rested on her thigh, leaking teardrops of pre-cum. He cupped one of her upturned breasts and admired the pert cocoa brown nipples ready for his lips.

"It's not always fast, but I'm usually on the go…working all hours…traveling for the boss. Things get tense. Got no time to waste."

"Seems like the stresses would make you take your time and enjoy yourself. Sounds like you're spent before you even get your trousers off, Mr. Moore."

"Stack."

"Stack…"

She poked the tip of his nose playfully.

"Let me show you how to do it right," she said.

"Hold on."

He opened a condom and rolled it down on his erection.

Lena climbed on top of him and slid down his length, letting his penis stay warm inside of her without moving her hips. She lowered her face to his and kissed him softly, enjoying the languid time she spent just exploring and loving his mouth. His breath shuddered against her lips as he rested his hands on her hips.

She used her teeth to snag his bottom lip and bit it playfully, clenching her vaginal walls to squeeze his heavy dick twice.

"Fuck…!" he gasped.

She still didn't rock or bounce on him, simply allowed her natural lubrication to coat the rubber with a gradual slippery ease. The cock warming worked on him. He stayed focused on her eyes. His lips parted, and he panted her name.

"Lena…Lena…Lena…shit…Lena…"

"You feel so good inside my pussy, Stack. I'm so full of you…"

She slipped her tongue between his lips and their tongues tussled and twisted with groans spilling out. His skin felt like fire and she matched his temperature. She squeezed that big dick again and his eyes widened with the pleasure.

Lena started bouncing then, and he helped give her more girth by thrusting up. His fingers sank into the soft flesh of her backside and her bed suffered the strain of their weight humping each other.

He played with her breasts, licked and sucked her nipples tenderly, letting their passion rise to a scorching level. She slammed her ass on him and his body handled the loud smacking of their erratic friction. His eyes narrowed, and she brought him to the place she needed him to be.

"Show me why they call you Big Stack," she cried out.

The energy in the bedroom shifted and Stack flipped her over and rutted inside of her like a man with a serious mission. She yelped in surprise at the ferocity. He grunted with the exertion of stretching her walls to kingdom come…and then some.

Clawing his back, she stared up at the paint peeling on the ceiling and understood completely why the women flocked to his dick. He pumped in and out like a locomotive trying to reach the other side of a tunnel. The curve of his dick tugged on her clit and kept her in a maddening state of almost cumming, but not quite. It made her wetter, and she started crying because it felt too good to be true.

"Fuck me, Stack…oh…Big Stack…baby…!"

She thrashed under him and he pushed her legs up to her ears and fucked the sin outta her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she waited for the bed to crash down to the first floor. Glancing at the wall, the distance had changed. They'd fucked the bed a good seven inches from where it originally sat.

She jammed her cheek against his and hooked her legs over his hips. Her body writhed, keeping pace with his thrusts.

"Fuck… baby…fuck…oh…fuck that dick…fuck me…Lena! Lena!"

"Yes Daddy," she huffed in his ear, "Give it to me…I wanna feel it deep!"

He hunched over her and his body weight pushed her deep into the mattress. His release roared out of his throat, almost scaring her.

He collapsed on top of her, and she stroked the back of his neck.

"What did you do to me?" he gasped.

He rolled over and pulled her on top of him. She peppered his face with tiny kisses, and then jumped off the bed, grabbing her robe off the hook of the bedroom door.

"I'll go pee…wash up… and then we can do it again," she said.

Stack peeled off the condom.

"I'll be ready when you come back."

"You better. That was just the appetizer," she said.

"My God," he yelped.

She dashed out of the apartment and headed to the shared bathroom.

Lena and Stack kept their connection lowkey.

Very private.

A week after they started sleeping together, he moved her from the shabby apartment and paid to keep her in a luxury one inside a newer building with a doorman. She no longer had to share a bathroom and delighted in coming home to a hot bath inside her own space. He spoiled her with new clothes, jewelry, and fancy perfumes. If he couldn't see her, he'd send an errand boy to bring her the roasted peanuts she loved with some flowers. Just to let her know he was thinking of her above all his other paramours. At work, they pretended to be platonic acquaintances even though Max and Bernice knew better from the rent party.

None of the material gifts mattered to her. She only wanted his company and lovemaking.

However, she was greedy.

Lena turned her eyes on Smoke.

Out of the two brothers, Smoke was the more subdued and introverted. Women desired him as much as Stack and took great pains to catch his attention, but the man seemed to be in an insular world of his own. Contemplative. Not overly friendly. One who moved in shadows. He was pleasant with the Sunset staff and stuck close to Ernie as one of his lieutenants, like Stack.

When she knew Stack had to travel to Detroit, it surprised her that Smoke didn't go with him. They ran together on most syndicate runs as Ernie's reps, and this trip shouldn't have been the exception. Yet she stood behind the bar counter working and watching Smoke run the club and the streets while Ernie and Stack were away.

He ran a tight ship.

Lena liked that.

He exuded a quiet power that permeated the club. If Stack acted like a red rooster, strutting around and crowing orders to the staff, Smoke was the hawk watching far above, ready to swoop in with talons raised like a silent assassin.

A big band played to a packed crowd and Smoke perched himself at Ernie's table like a king observing his subjects, keeping them in line. She mixed him a Cohasset Punch because he liked dark rum, and walked it over to his table.

"You always seem to know when I need a drink," he said.

She set the glass down in front of him. Tried to think of a way to engage him without being a nuisance. Caroline, the server in that section of the club, bumped into her on purpose.

"I know what you're trying to do," Caroline hissed.

Lena stepped away from Smoke's table.

Caroline followed her.

"What are you talking about?" Lena said.

"You tried getting Stack, and that didn't work. Now you're going for Smoke. Stop flirting. He's off limits."

"Says who?"

Caroline put a hand on her hip. Her svelte physique was better suited to be a dancer instead of a server. She had the fair skin and keen features to be the next Fredi Washington.

"Stay away from him if you know what's good for you."

She jabbed her finger just under Lena's throat. Lena grabbed her finger and twisted it.

"Is there a problem, ladies?"

Smoke approached them with a neutral expression. Lena yanked her hand back from touching Caroline.

"No, sir," Caroline said with a slight grimace from the pain.

"We like to keep our reputation as a classy establishment. Can't have the staff bickering in front of customers. What's the issue?"

"Nothing, Mr. Moore. Just a misunderstanding," Lena said sweetly.

Lena tried to give him an openly carnal stare. He ignored it.

"Back to work then," he said, pivoting to his seat.

Caroline glared at Lena and quickly stomped off to see about a guest.

Lena had to figure out a way to attract him. Being pretty and using lethal stare-downs didn't work on him. He didn't chase tail. All kinds of pussy surrounded him and she never witnessed him taking advantage of it like his brother did.

All night, she plotted how to catch him. Because he had to run the club, he'd be there all week from opening until closing each night.

Two days passed. She tried everything from chatting him up to changing her hairstyle to see if he noticed.

Nothing.

There had to be a way to capture his attention.

He loved the big bands. Loved the dancing of the chorus girls and the patrons on the dance floor. He especially loved the vocalists who enchanted their audiences. She watched him get lost in the music, sometimes closing his eyes and tapping his fingers on the table.

On an especially busy night with a young horn player from New Orleans enthralling the club with an improvised solo, Lena watched Smoke struggle to roll his favorite tobacco. Taking a break from her job, she wandered over to him and helped roll the cigarette. Without saying a word, she handed it to him and even lit it with his gold lighter. He took a puff, blew out a stream of smoke, and eyed her.

"Thanks," he said.

She left him alone and twenty minutes later, before he could summon Caroline, Lena had a fresh drink ready for him at his table.

Snooping among her co-workers, she found out what brand of tobacco he liked and pre-rolled a few for him in her apartment. She left them in a silver cigarette holder with his first drink of the evening the next day.

It aggravated Caroline.

The other female servers, too.

The Smoke Stack twins had the raw animal magnetism that dampened panties and inflamed hearts. They were dangerous in the forbidden bad-boy way that made being around gangsters titillating. All the square broads and loose women preened in front of the brothers with their tongues damn near hanging out of their mouths like stray alley cats in heat.

Smoke became dependent on her for his comfort at work. He didn't want anyone else making his drinks or serving it to him…not even his meals there. The head chef told her that Smoke requested for her to bring his evening meal, not the regular servers on duty. She did so and Smoke stayed his normal, subdued self.

Except…

He started looking at her.

She'd wipe down the counter, retrieve bottles, joke with Max and Frank, serve guests with the charm and professionalism that garnered her a sterling reputation, and now and then, she'd feel eyes on her. When she glanced his way, he'd turn his head in another direction.

It surprised her to see him approach the counter and check in with the bar staff. He still said very little to her unless it was complimenting her hard work.

It clicked in her head to disappear.

Call in sick.

Smoke believed in order and things running smooth on his watch. If she threw a wrench into that comfort…

She called Max and told him she was down with the flu. Would be out for three days. She sat in her apartment listening to old blues records Stack liked and played with new styles for her hair. Ate candy. Cooked greasy foods. Napped for hours.

On her second afternoon playing sick, someone slipped a black envelope with a gold wax seal under her apartment door.

Lena used a letter opener to slice under the seal of an hourglass embedded in the wax. Inside the letter was plain white cardstock with a name written on it in gold embossed script. She memorized it, then placed the envelope and card on the floor, where it burst into flames. It withered away until there was only a whiff of smoke left. Sighing, she opened her bedroom window and quickly undressed.

Lying on her bed, she waited quietly for her transformation.

It always started as an intense heat in her toes that worked up to her midsection before painfully engulfing the rest of her. Her physical form liquefied into a gooey mass of black matter on the bed as her consciousness hovered above it, waiting to re-connect.

The essence of her floated down into the corporal form of a large crow.

She hopped off the bed and made her way to the window, perching on the sill. Leaping out, she spread her wings and soared above the tree near her apartment, and used a warm draft to carry her to the person she needed to see.

An elderly Black man sat on a park bench dressed in a smart blue suit holding a bag of breadcrumbs. He fed some pigeons vying for his generous offerings near his well-worn shoes.

Lena dropped next to him and the man glanced at her.

"You want some too, big fella?" the man said.

He sprinkled a small amount of crumbs for her on the bench, and she accepted a few to be polite. She cawed loudly and all the pigeons flew away. She needed his undivided attention.

"That wasn't real nice fella, those other birds weren't bothering you…oh," he said.

He gazed into her left eye, finally noticing the iridescent color.

"Oh," he said again, clutching his arm.

His breathing became haggard, and he grimaced before relaxing.

"I guess it's my time," he whispered to her.

Death came then.

She walked down a path unseen by other humans in the park. Mothers pushed baby prams, children ran around with nannies in tow, and young couples in love strolled in the sunshine holding hands.

Death wore a long sable veil that covered her entire body and trailed behind her into eternity. Underneath the covering, her obsidian skin shined brightly in an ethereal light, creating a tangible warmth that was as comforting as the womb the old man floated in when he was a baby. Back then, Death came to him as Life, coaxing him into the world. She was the first to hear him take his first breath as an infant beyond the veil. Now she had returned for his homegoing journey.

"Do not be afraid," Death said, reaching for him.

Unshed tears shined in his eyes.

"I'll try not to be."

"Thank you for finding him, Lena," Death said. "You may go now until I need you again."

Lena flapped her wings twice and leapt into the air. Looking down, she watched Death pull back her veil and envelop the old man in a loving embrace.

They vanished.

The bench held only the empty vessel that had once been Mr. Parnell Thomas James. Seventy-five years of age. He left behind a wife, four adult children, and five grandchildren. One day Lena would have to visit them, too.

But only when Death called for her.

Chapter 3 HERE.

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[withlovemark]

you were never mine

warning(s): suggestive

pairing: minho x reader

words: 400+

an: hi friends, anyone here watched xo kitty? i know this is a little different from your usual steve harrington fics but i cant get this cutie out of my mind, i had to write something :)

summary: minho's on tour and you're a back up dancer on tour with minho's brother. you are also minho's childhood friend turned best friends (with benefits). but thats all there ever is! really!

-

hands entangled in the hair of the boy towering above you, lips in sync, minho's warm hands leaves a burning sensation around your waist as he pulls you in closer and closer - the feeling of want escalating throughout the enclosed space of his hotel room. sounds of his tiny whines and grunts occupying every second of your headspace, until… 

“kitty-”

you quickly push him away, halting every movement. silence. 

“what did you say?,” you asked, in shock of the name that slipped past his lips. 

“i-i said…pretty,” minho stumbles over his words for a second before his confidence returns, standing his ground and twisting reality. 

“you’re joking right?,” you let out a sigh, sitting up at the edge of his bed as he quietly joins you, slightly afraid. 

sitting side by side, you decide to end his torment, playfully nudging your shoulder against his “i knew you still liked her,” you giggled and he lets out a sigh of release, quiet laughter mixing in with yours.  

“i’m in trouble aren’t i?,” his shoulders droop down, looking like a defeated puppy, awaiting your answer.

“why don’t you tell her?” you suggest to the broken hearted boy beside you. 

“i already did that remember,” he reminds you. 

“how could i forget?...you facetimed me as you were leaving the plane and complained for a straight six hours about how much she’s missing out and that you’re the best there ever is and blah blah blah” you smiled at the memory, remembering the sadness in his voice, one that he tried so hard to mask off by playing it cool. 

“it was actually five,” he corrects you, the two of you bursting into another fit of giggles. 

“i also remember,” you say as the laughter dies down, “that you confessed to her literally the same day she broke up with dae,” you remind him. 

“yeah, and?...she still rejected me,” he argues back. 

“well, time can change things y’know?,” you point out, “but this thing between us is not gonna help you get the girl,” you continue, catching his attention. 

you knew that if you really wanted your best friend to be happy, you would have to spell this out for him.

“are you giving me away?” he playfully smirks, eyes on yours, as gentle as ever. 

“you were never mine,” a quiet laughter escapes your lips, replaced by a sad smile. a snap back to reality that this - this thing between the two of you, was never meant to be. 

pressing one last gentle kiss on his lips, you savor the feeling, completely aware that it's over. 

“friends?,” you whisper against his lips, forehead against his. 

“friends.” he agrees, pulling away and sharing a smile of recognition.

his heart belonged to someone else and just like every other kiss with him, there were no butterflies in your stomach flying around when his lips touches yours.

but still, it was good.

it was safe and comfortable, and completely…over. you tell yourself. 

-

an: im such a kittyminho shipper im not letting you have him. sorry! requests are open for minho fics! thank you for reading<3

[jo-com]

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡° ➛ Recital

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Ballet reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: They show the whole world how proud they are for you by attending your recital, along with them was your cutesy little angel.

Genre: throuple and Wholesome moment with them

Note: This is not proofread and they contain grammatical errors also google translated french and dutch but i hope you enjoy

───── ─ ୧⋆｡🩰✧ ─ ───────

“Maman?” Your two year old daughter babbled, her hands moving up and down and fingers balled up to a fist—creating a grabby hand like gesture.

Motioning for Charles to carry her to which he gladly obliges.

“Yes, mon bébé, we are going to see maman” Charles said in a toddler like voice and then proceeds to twirl her in the air earning a cutesy giggle from their daughter.

“Stop, papa” she laughed, gripping tightly onto charles’ shirt to avoid slipping off his embrace. “Okay, okay, i’ll stop in one condition.”

Charlotte cocked her head to the side curiously; waiting for her dad to continue.

“With a kiss” Charles added, grinning mischievously as he stared at their daughter’s expression. Her once curious gaze turned into happy ones after hearing his “condition.”

“No papa, kisses are only for maman” she shook her head a ‘no’ and rested both her hands on her tiny hips.

She was trying to look intimidating but with her doey face she just looked like a bunny trying to act tough.

With that Charles erupted into a fit of laughter at their daughter’s movements. Making charlotte lean her head to the side and looked at her dad confusingly— thinking what made him laugh like that.

“What are you guys doing? Have you even finished getting ready?”

Charles freezes, hearing a familiar voice that came from the corner of the room to where the door was— and let me tell you; that voice does not sound happy. At all.

“Ah mon amour, yes we’ve finished” he chucked dryly.

“But papa, we haven’t put in my bows” she whispered, well she was trying to at least.

“I heard that” Max said, his brows knitted to a frown and hands rested in his hip. Wow like father like daughter.

Charles widened his eyes and scratched the back of his neck, mumbling a low ‘oh hehe’.

Max rolled his eyes, not in a mean way though more like a ‘i am going to kick your ass later’ kind of way. “We’re going to be late” he muttered and carefully took charlotte out of charles’ arms.

“Come on Mijn liefste (my sweet), let’s get you ready”

“Do you need any help, Mon cœur?.” Charles asked, wanting to ease his lover’s anger. He smiled from ear to ear showing of his dimples and of course max can’t resist that look.

He shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes this time, “sure darling”— Charles’ heart then swelled with love at the nickname.

Without a moment to spear the two of them started to fix Charlotte’s bow.

…

Finally, after what felt like forever they had arrive at the theater to where your recital was happening.

They walked along the crowded floor; looking for their reserved seat, and once they spotted their names they soon sat down and waited patiently for the show to start.

…

“Curtains up in five people,” the assistant director yelled, loud enough for only the people in backstage can hear.

You sighed nervously— shaking off the nerves with a few practice Battement tendu. You do that every performance you do, just to let out some of the pre show jitters. It somehow calms your nerves down.

After five minutes was up, the spoke person started to announce the performance and tiny little information about the recital; along with it was the curtains being pulled up to reveal all the ballet dancers including yourself.

The First song was then played and all of you started dance gracefully to the beat of the sound— who ever watched it, will be amazed on how Synchronized you guys were. As if you all were one person that’s playing tricks on their mind making them think that you’re plenty.

Amidst the crowd, there charlotte was. Her eyes fixated on your dancing figure; she was at awe on how beautiful and elegant you look just by dancing alone.

She mindlessly tugged Max’s tux without breaking her eyes off yours.

“Maman is so pretty papa” she mumbled.

Her heart full of adoration for her mom. She wishes she could be there at stage with you and hug you like crazy.

Max smiled, looking at their daughter as she gazed at you; eyes filled with proudness and love. He then tapped Charles on the shoulder and whispered what charlotte said to him.

Now the three of them were smiling brightly.

…

After the show ended, the three of them made their way backstage to your dressing room.

Charles was holding charlotte in his arm but she was quick to go down as soon, as you guys stepped in-front of your door.

She knocked frantically, waiting for you to open the door, when you did she ran as fast as she can and hugged you tightly down your waist.

“Maman, you looked so amazing back there” she yelled, her hug only getting tighter with excitement.

“Merci mon bébé” you smiled, stroking the roof of her head soothingly.

Both Charles and Max went towards you two and kissed the both sides of your cheeks.

“If you were there, you could see how adorable she looked” charles chuckled, making charlotte pout.

“You’re not supposed to say that papa” she grumbled and broke from your embrace and softly hit Charles’ leg.

Max and you giggled at the two; seeing them ‘fight’ was the cutest thing ever. At that moment you were so happy to have them, if you were to choose to replay one memory it would be this— the laughter from both your husbands and the pouty face of your daughter. Everything was just so perfect.

…

Miss.y/n just posted!

Liked by Charles_Leclerc, Balletreview, Maxverstappen and 1,378,025 others

Miss.yn Merci to my number 1 supporters!🩰

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…

Sorry I couldn’t write for a while because of my writes block😭😭 but i js finished this and there are more in my draft so i hope you enjoyed!!

[ruggiesbiologicalfather]

What The NRC Boys Wanted To Be When They Grow Up (circa 4 years old)

Heartslabyul:

Riddle - obviously when you ask, he's going to tell you he wants to be a doctor. every christmas and birthday, he gets a doctor kit. and he likes them! but... if you ask him on a warm afternoon during his free time between the thousand things on his tiny shoulders... he'll tell you he wants to be a painter

Ace - astronaut. hands down. he 100% had those little glow in the dark star stickers on his ceiling and he didn't take them down until high school. on his fourth birthday, his parents got him an astronaut helmet and it was practically welded to his head by the time he turned five. little man yearned for the stars

Deuce - race car driver. he was born with the need to go fast. he would beg his mom to let him watch races on tv and stare with an open mouth as the drivers went around and around and around. he was a big fan of taking big cardboard boxes and running around the yard with them like they were race cars

Trey - dentist. he was an anomaly when he was little: a kid who wasn't afraid of the dentist. he loved going. as a matter of fact, he would often make his friends (mainly chenya) play dentist with him and not understand why they wouldn't let him put his pretend tools in their mouth.

Cater - he desperately wanted to be hannah montana. not like a singer or a dancer, no... hannah montana SPECIFICALLY. the wig, the microphone, everything. he had three hannah montana themed birthday parties in a row

Savanaclaw:

Leona: he could never give an answer when someone asked him what he wanted to be. he knew from a very young age that he couldn't really be whatever he wanted. not in a way that means anything. he wanted to be the king like his daddy, but it was always made clear to him that he could only dream of that. so he just played games and looked at the stars and didn't think of what he wanted to be, just who he was right then. and right then, he was the chess champion of the kingscholar bloodline

Ruggie - cowboy! honestly, he still kind of wants to be a cowboy. he wanted a horse and some cows and a big pasture - the whole nine yards. he never actually got to ride a horse, they were far too expensive, but he would still beg his mom for a cowboy hat and a pair of boots. he got them both when he turned nine and was so excited, he slept with them on. he didn't care that the hat squished his ears and the boots were a little scuffed. he wore them until the soles became more hole than rubber. he still has the hat tucked away in his closet. just in case...

Jack - classic firefighter kid. one day in preschool, a fire truck came to visit in the parking lot, and he was so shocked that he couldn't say a word. the firefighter let the kids sit in the truck and his teacher literally had to pry him out of the seat when they were done, and he cried all the way back to the classroom. the firefighters still made sure he got one of those flimsy plastic hats and a golden sticker of a badge. he thought firefighters were heroes. he still does

Octavinelle:

Azul - scientist. any kind of scientist. he wanted to have a big lab of his own where he could mix up all kinds of chemicals and just... see what happens. obviously at that age, he had very little idea of what scientists actually do but he knew it was the place for him

Jade - he managed to sneak a peek at the original karate kid movie and his life radically changed. from that moment on, he knew he was going to grow up to be a ninja. unfortunately for everyone else involved, this meant he was going to spend years coming up with elaborate plans to sneak up on and attack his brother. his parents quickly became used to the sound of loud, crashing scraps from all corners of the house. but they weren't worried. floyd could handle his own

Floyd - if you try to ask this kid what he wants to be when he grows up and he'll look you dead in the face, say "bagel" and return to his toys. whatever kid

Scarabia:

Kalim - he didn't want to be anything when he grew up, but he wanted to do everything. he didn't want to have a job. in fact, he was never actually told he could do that. instead, he wanted to experience all the joys of life. he wanted to paint and dance and sing and write poems and raise sheep and sail in the ocean and grow figs and play drums and everything

Jamil - this boy practically came out of the womb dancing. he wanted to dance every moment of every day. when there was no one around to play music or kalim was too busy to sing, he would hum little tunes to himself just to have something to move to. he wanted to be one of those dancers who performed all over the world and were applauded with showers of flower petals. he quickly learned that his dream was far from reality. but he kept tapping his toes while he worked

Pomfiore:

Vil - princess. there's no way this boy did not dream of growing up to be a princess. he was obsessed with all things gaudy and sparkly and would try on every single costume available to him. he rarely went to preschool without some sort of mismatched getup on. but his dad didn't care. you can only be this young for so long. so what if his boy wore a crown to school? no one would dare say anything about it, lest they feel the wrath of the schoenheits. vil wouldn't accept any comments that weren't compliments. snide remarks were met with an impressive eyeroll and a flick of his sparkly cape. after all, a princess didn't care what commoners thought

Rook - garbage truck driver. his rich-ass parents were FLOORED when he said this the first time. "honey, don't you want to do something... bigger? like you could run the whole garbage company and make a whole lot of money!" "no! i wanna ride on the back of the truck!" no one could persuade him to dream of anything else. he is immune to your classist ideologies. viva la garbage man!

Epel - he wants to be a vet but SPECIFICALLY a horse vet. like if you mention him wanting to be a vet, he will correct you. the horses around his hometown captivated him and he wanted to be around them all the time. when he was tiny, he would weave around their legs in the pastures and give his family heart attacks. he just loved them so much and they loved him too

Ignihyde:

Idia - he saw sonic the hedgehog once and decided he was going to be dr robotnik. his parents could not decipher why, and they quickly stopped trying to

Ortho - even when he was really little, he wanted to be a teacher. he would line up all his toys and tell them about everything he was learning in preschool. sometimes, the lessons were wrong and idia would pop in to correct him. but that made him mad. he was the teacher not idia! after all, what did idia know that he didn't?

Diasomnia:

Sebek - a swordsmith. not a blacksmith who makes all sorts of things, specifically a swordsmith. he wanted to swing a great big hammer around and make huge, fancy swords. he was often shooed away from the forges and told to stop bothering the craftsmen. but he wasn't trying to bother them, he just wanted to get as close as he could and maybe they would let him hold one when they were done

Silver - he didn't have many ambitions he would admit to. he was a shy kid and didn't like feeling interrogated. but he liked to watch his father play the lyre especially when it was dark and the fire was warm and he was feeling sleepy. lilia always said when he was big enough to hold the instrument, he would teach him to play. maybe it would be fun...

Lilia - he wanted to be a witch. [i hear you saying, "but Ruggie's Biological Father, they're mages so he's already a witch" and i say to you... Wrong]. he didn't just want to cast spells. he wanted a pointy hat and a giant robe and a frog for a friend. once, his mom walked into his room to discover he had her largest cooking pot filled to the brim with no less than nine mystery substances. and it was somehow smoking...

Malleus - being a precocious little boy, he always told people he was going to be a geologist. but he didn't really know what that meant, only that it had to do with rocks which he liked. his dream job was actually wandering around and stuffing his pockets full of rocks. it became a nightly occurrence before bathtime for malleus to stand in front of the bathtub with both arms out to the side and let lilia empty all of his pockets and sleeves and boots. he would laugh loudly as the pile of random stones became a mountain at his feet. lilia would always chuckle, plunk him in the tub, and say "there, now you won't drown"

[russo-woso]

hiii would you please write something like arsenal women are playing just dance as a team bonding and reader is really really good at it to the point where everyone is shocked and filming it and the fans make loads of tiktok edits that the team all see and send round each other and reader manages to get viv to join in next time (she usually refuses but loves reader to much to deny her anything) maybe teen or early 20s reader?! thank you!!

Just Dance || Arsenal Women

Summary The girls support you no matter what, even when you’re doing just dance.

“You don’t understand, I used to do just dance all the time in PE. If it was raining, we’d all be in the hall doing just dance. I’m a pro at it.” You tell most of the girls.

Everyone was in the changing rooms after a training session and were all discussing team bonding that was taking place at Leah’s, and your, house.

Being only 17, the team agreed that it wasn’t best that you lived by yourself and so Leah offered that you moved in with her.

Living with Leah had its advantages and disadvantages.

For starters, she had the appetite of a five year old, only eating chicken nuggets and the most basic foods.

However, it came with many advantages that outweighed all the bad ones.

Leah was one of your team mums, along with Kim, Beth and viv, but Leah was the one you were closest to.

With your parents living up north, Leah took it upon herself to make you feel at home in north London.

And that’s exactly what she had done. Now it wasn’t just Leah’s home, it was yours and Leah’s.

“Y/N, our living room isn’t big enough to do just dance.” Leah pointed out, packing her stuff into her bag before starting to pack yours, knowing that you’d forget to do it otherwise.

“It’s enough for me to do just dance and maybe one other person. Come on, Le. Please.” You looked at her, battering your eyelids as you did your best puppy eyes.

Leah loved you with every ounce of her body, but the one thing she hated, was your eyes.

Them stupid eyes had you hooked around her finger.

Leah tried to fight them this time, but as you put just as strong a fight, Leah sighed before nodding her head.

“Thanks, le le. Right, it’s official. I get to show everyone just how good I am at just dance.” You announced to the changing room, a smile appearing on everyone’s faces at how excited you were. “I’m gonna beat all your arses so best get your dancing shoes on.”

“Sure you will mini gunner.” Katie’s Irish accent filled the room as giggles escaped everyone’s mouths.

“You just wait and see McCabe.”

————————

Later that evening, the whole team was gathered round in yours and Leah living room whilst you set up just dance on the TV.

You were going to go up against Alessia first but lessi being the clumsiest person ever, went and fell off the sofa, nearly breaking her neck.

To Alessia’s disappointment, you insisted that she didn’t play, scared that she’d somehow break her leg.

Instead, you decided to just do it by yourself.

Everyone got their phones out, ready to capture the embarrassing moment.

But what everyone didn’t expect, was their phones to capture a moment where you showed them the truth.

You really were a pro.

Finishing with a perfect score, you turned around and saw everyone’s jaws on the ground.

“I told you. I perfected my dancing in PE.”

Everyone took it in turns trying to beat your score but it was no use.

The night continued, and one by one, everyone left leaving just you and Leah.

You out something on the tv as you cuddled up to Leah’s side, freezing cold even though the heating was on.

“I’m gonna head up, le. See you in the morning.” Leah hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Night, tiny dancer.”

————————

“Viv! You posted it on Instagram?” You shouted over the phone.

You had woken up about five minutes ago, and picked up your phone.

You didn’t have many notifications but there was one that stood out.

Viv had tagged you in a video.

You clicked on it, curious as to what video she’d tagged you in, but as soon as the familiar setting of your living room, and the tv with just dance in it appeared, you knew exactly what viv had posted.

That’s what led to a very angry you shouting at your phone.

“It was too good not to post. I had to.” Viv explained, but you were too focused on Beth laughing in the background.

“Beth, do you seriously find this funny? You don’t understand, everyone is making edits of me playing just dance.” You stated, your mouth wide open at the fact they find this funny.

“Kid, you were good. Viv isn’t the only one who’s posted videos of you dancing.” Beth pointed out and you jaw dropped to the floor.

“What? Who else has?”

“Alessia, Katie, even Leah.” Viv responded.

Jumping up from your bed, you stormed over to Leah’s bedroom, banging on the door before an annoyed what was heard.

“You posted the video on TikTok. Out of everyone, I thought you’d be the last one to post it.” You said to Leah, a sense of betrayal in your voice.

“Sorry, kiddo, but I had to. And anyway, the fans love it. Look at what the fans are saying.” Leah suggested and you opened tiktok, Beth and Viv still on the phone.

“Listen, Y/N, the fans loved it. They even want more just dance videos.” Beth stated, as you scrolled through the comments of fans saying how well you did.

“Forgive us now, kid?” Leah asked, noticing how the frown on your face had disappeared.

Whilst Leah spoke to you, a specific comment caught your attention.

We need Viv and Leah to do it now

“I will, but under one condition. You and Viv do a dance with me.” You grinned cheekily, knowing that you were a soft spot for both Leah and Viv, so you knew they wouldn’t say no.

Leah’s face dropped and Viv let out a grunt of annoyance.

After just a matter of seconds, both of them agreed and you knew that this was gonna be good.

————————

“Viv, you’re doing it wrong! You go to the left, not the right.” You exclaimed in a fit of laughter as you recorded Leah and Viv dancing.

The whole team had gathered round to watch whilst they all recorded the embarrassing moment.

“I am going left! Leah’s just going the wrong way.” Viv defended, throwing her hands up in annoyance and anger.

“Follow the instructions on the tv. It’s easy.” You explained and both, Leah and Viv, turned around to look at you, disbelief written on their faces.

“It’s easy? No it is not, kid. This is fucking exhausting and hard.” Leah shouted, out of breath from the dancing.

“We couldn’t all do just dance in PE.” Viv pointed out and Leah nodded in agreement.

“Yeah because you’re both old.” You muttered under your breath, thinking you’d get away with the snarky comment but boy were you wrong.

You heard a gasp from next to you, turning your head to be met with Kyra and a cheeky smile in her face.

“Y/N just said you’re both old.” Kyra snitched and you squeezed your eyes close, dreading what was to come.

“You little shit. You make us do just dance and then call us old?” Leah frowned, hand on her hips.

“Fine. Maybe you’re not that old, but you’re not exactly young.”

“Right that’s it.” Leah grabbed ahold of you, tickling your sides as you helplessly tried to get her off you.

Desperate for help, you called out to your other teammates but it was no use, everyone was in a fit of laughter.

“Say you’re sorry and I’ll let you go. Actually, I’ll stop if you let us have chicken nuggets tonight and not complain.” Leah said, despite the laughter that was leaving your lips.

“Fine, fine. But only if I get to post the video of you and Viv dancing.” You compromised and Leah thought about it for a moment.

“Deal.”

“Hey, I never agreed!” Viv shouted, and you gave her a confused look.

“Sorry, I don’t understand you with your Scottish accent.” You stated, the sneaky comment sending laughter throughout the team.

“Right, that’s it kiddo. Leah, have chicken nuggets for the rest of the week.”

[lordprettyflackotara]

summer of sam || sam golbach

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. wooo it’s getting hot in here. tw: subby sam, stripper/dom reader, humiliation, degrading, overstimulation, sub/dom dynamics in place, dry humping, choking, etc this is just complete and utter filth. ps: this is my first time writing the male to be submissive on this blog. W? L?

You were a professional at what you did.

Every summer in between college semesters you’d work the same strip club, earnings thousands of dollars all summer long. Ohio wasn’t known for its popularity in exotic dancers what so ever, your presence spicing up an otherwise dead club.

Over time you had grown a consistent fan base of men who awaited your return every summer. You were now on year five, your degree so close to being obtained you could practically taste it. It’s what kept you motivated to keep coming back. You had to pay for your degree somehow even if it was deemed shameful by your peers. Which is why you traveled to a town in Ohio far from your hometown, determined to make enough funds to scrape by the semester.

It was only week two of your return, word of your arrival spreading through the town. In an odd way it made you all jittery, feeling like a little celebrity. You were in your dressing room, pampering yourself with makeup before your set time on stage. Your eyes flickered to the door opening behind you, continuing to pat your brush across your cheek. Your body guard was the sweetest man alive, his chocolate eyes meeting yours.

“Hi Tommy, big crowd?” You asked. You had met Tom during year two of your ‘career’, the man fully dedicated to protecting you from creeps. “I’d say so, but I have an offer from a new comer. Wants a private dance,” He informed you. You set your brush aside on the vanity, grabbing a tube of lipstick. “As if, that crowd out there will provide me ten times whatever he could,” You replied. Tom cleared his throat, your gaze straying away from your plump lips to him. In his hand sat two wads of cash.

“This is fifteen thousand. He offered more if you come.”

You never did private dances. You had admittedly become egotistical over time, your time precious during the hotter season. The private dances were no where near as cash filled as public ones were. Undoubtedly you were the star of the show in this little town and you belonged in the spotlight. Your eyebrows had furrowed at the wads of cash, quickly sliding out of your chair. Your heels clicked as you grabbed one, running your thumb through it.

“They’re real?” You questioned. You already knew the answer, the tiny bumps across the blue band of the hundred dollar bills giving it away. “Every single one. He’s in room six,” Tom answered you. You nodded, handing him back the wad. “Stand outside of the room if you don’t mind. I want to see what this guy is all about,” You say.

You had almost forgotten what the hallway to the private rooms looked like, new purple led lights illuminating the dim hallway. Finding room six was a breeze, the numbers in bold letters hammered to the doors. You glanced over at Tom, nodding affirmatively for him to stand by its side. You shook off your nerves, remembering who you were. How many men would die to be in this one’s position. Your slender fingers gripped the doorknob, pushing it open.

The sight before you was not one you expected, a clean cut blonde sitting on the middle of a circular couch. His legs were spread, thin framed glasses sitting on his nose. His blue eyes met yours instantly, an undeniable intensity flooding the room. Tom closed the door behind you, giving you some privacy. The blonde awkwardly stood up, adjusting his tie. “Hi, i’m Sam,” He greeted. You watched as he held out his hand to you, waiting for you to shake it. You tried to conceal your confusion, shaking his hand. Your stage name fell off of your lips with ease,

“I’m Kailani.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Here um, sit sit,” He said, gesturing to the purple velvet couch. You followed his request, sitting down. “So Sam, what exactly did you request me here for?” You asked. Sam sat down as well, visibly nervous. He ran his fingers through his hair. “For a private dance..?” He replied, his tone sounding as if he was asking a question more than answering. You raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart no one around here pays fifteen thousand just for my consideration. What do you actually want?” You asked. Sam gulped, his adams apple moving as he fidgeted with his hands.

“It’s kind of a long story,” He began. You could feel your patience thinning. “Time is money and unless you plan on beginning to pay me for this I will not-” You began. Your words were sharply cut off as Sam reached in his pocket, setting another wad of cash on the clear coffee table in front of you. “That cover it?” He asked you. Affirmatively you nodded.

“My name is Sam Golbach, i’m a famous youtuber with an obsessed fanbase. I’m from here and heard through the great vine about you. Might I just add you’re even hotter in person,” Sam began. His name didn’t ring a bell, but his face did look vaguely familiar. “I’m here because you’re just as discreet about your line of work as I am about what I do in my spare time in the bedroom,” He continued. You arched an eyebrow, questioning his words. “You’re very obviously not from here, only here during the summer. My guess is that you’re in college or something similar, probably in a different state,” He answered.

Your stone cold expression fell, your face visibly telling Sam everything he needed to know. You felt the urge to get up and leave, the blonde seemingly reading your mind. “No no listen I totally get it, i’m not here to judge you or anything,” He rambled. Your eyes shot daggers as they met his blue ones. “Get on with it. What do you want?” You questioned.

“It is extremely hard for me to get laid without the media making a big deal out of it, I have some things I want to uh, try in the bedroom that the media would have a field day with,” Sam told you. You audibly scoffed, rising to your feet. “I’m not a goddamn prostitute. So what was your big idea? To come here and have me call you daddy and beg for your cock? Fuck you,” You snapped. Hastily you turned towards the door, Sam’s large hand grabbing your waist. You began to protest, Sam’s meek words cutting you off.

“Quite the opposite,” He said. He was practically shaking with nerves, his cheeks flushed pink. You froze in your tracks, looking at the desperate blonde. “I-I want you to use me. To treat me like a slut or something. I don’t want to be in control,” Sam explained. His cheeks were turning a deeper shade of red, his hand dropping from your wrist. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a black credit card. “If we make this arrangement for the entire summer, this is yours. It’ll pay off anything you need it to. Until next summer, where I’d like to do all of this again,” He offered.

You took the tiny piece of metal between your fingers. You had never held such a heavy credit card before. “What are your conditions?” You questioned. Sam lowered himself back onto the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. “No stripping while i’m around, which will be all summer. Obviously no telling anyone you ever saw me and um, I want it rough,” He answered. The offer was tempting, the boy in front of you practically a puppy dying to be played with. “Any hard limits I need to know about?” You asked.

“No anal, nothing too weird, I guess. I just want you to use me. I want to be your submissive who you use to get off.”

“And you want to start now?”

“Please.”

Fuck, his desperation was making your core throb. You slowly approached him, straddling him as you looked down at his flushed face. “Safe word is red if you want to stop for any reason,” You whispered, leaning close to his ear. Your breath was hot against his skin, a small groan escaping his lips. You rolled your hips against his, the blonde below you audibly whimpering. “There we go, keep making those pretty noises for me,” You cooed. You brought your index finger and middle to his lips, pulling them down teasingly.

“Open your mouth,” You purred. Sam opened his mouth, flattening his tongue out on display for you. You grinned devilishly as you shoved your fingers into your mouth. He groaned as you grinded down against him. “There we go, now the harder you suck them the faster I grind against that hard cock of yours, hmm?” You offered. Sam nodded profusely, groaning around your fingers as you rolled your hips against his. Your thin red panties bottoms creating the perfect amount of friction against your clit. You moaned as he swirled his tongue around your fingers, his hands placing themselves on your hips.

They slithered to your ass, massaging the mounds of flesh as you grinded against him. His whining noises were music to your ears. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” You say. Sam’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head, bobbing profusely on your fingers. “I’m gonna cum,” He moaned around your fingers, his words muffled. You grinned, a sadistic idea coming into your mind. If he wanted to be treated like a fucktoy, you’d treat him like a filthy fucktoy. “Go on, cum for me you pathetic thing,” You ordered. His hips stuttered, loud groans muffled by your fingers as he came in his pants.

You took your fingers out of his mouth, bringing them to your own. You licked his saliva off, his blue eyes blown with lust. Sam swallowed as he admired you. “Let me taste you, please,” He whispered. You grabbed his face, teasingly dragging his bottom lip downwards. “Get on your knees and keep begging. I’ll think about it,” You ordered. Sam quickly slithered out from underneath you, dropping to his knees without a second thought. He looped his fingers around your panties, your hand stopping him.

“Oh baby boy I didn’t say you could use your hands,” You chuckled darkly. Sam was in a state of euphoric bliss, your degrading words making his cock grow harder in his cum soaked boxers. You spread your thighs, the blonde nuzzling in between them. He put his hands on your knees, his submissive mind trying to figure out how to obey you. You frowned at his hands on your knees. “You just can’t stop using those hands of yours,” You noted. You leaned forward, the blondes breath hitching as you undid his tie.

He could smell your perfume as you leaned over him, grabbing his hands and tying them behind his back with his own tie. Sam gulped nervously as you sat back, giving him a mischievous smile. “Go on baby boy, put that tongue of yours to good use,” You cooed mockingly. Sam brought his head in between your thighs, biting the hem of your panties with his teeth. You bit your bottom lip as he dragged them down your thighs, your core throbbing in anticipation. This is what you deserved, a rich submissive man who was willing to do whatever you wanted.

Sam dragged your panties down to your ankles, watching you slowly step out of them. He nuzzled himself back in between your thighs, flattening his tongue against your folds. He groaned at your taste, your cunts sweetness an addicting sensation. “You taste so sweet,” He mumbled into your slick, his eyes fluttering shut. Your hips had a mind of their own, grinding shamelessly against Sam’s eager tongue. He sucked and lapped at your clit, before teasingly sticking it inside of your entrance. Your fingers raked through the roots of his hair, tugging at the roots.

The pain only made Sam moan louder, his cock growing fully erect in his pants. You could feel the cord inside your stomach tighten. You’d never had a submissive partner before, your core on fire from the pleasure the eager blonde was giving you. You’d never felt more empowered. “You’re doing such a good job Sammy, just like that,” You moaned. Sam whined as he shifted awkwardly in his pants, seeking any sort of friction for his own throbbing needs. He latched his lips around your clit, sucking harshly as you finally came.

Once the blonde saw your legs tremble, he began lapping up the juices you had produced. It was like a reward. “Just like that. Lick me clean or I won’t touch you,” You threatened, swallowing to regain your authoritative tone. Once you were satisfied with Sam’s performance you grabbed him by his button up, switching places with him once more. Your fingers played with his belt, your doe eyes meeting his. “May I?” You asked. He nodded profusely, licking his lips.

“Please.”

He lifted his hips, the two of you managed to slide his pants and boxers down to his ankles. In front of you was his hard cock, his cum covering the sides. “Such a filthy little boy, making a mess like this,” You commented. You straddled his hips, lining yourself up with his cock. Your eyes met his blue ones, studying his face carefully. “This okay?” You whispered. You leaned closer to the trembling man, his face flushed pink from lust. “More than okay, please,” Sam whined. You smirked as you lowered yourself on his cock, biting your bottom lip to hold back your own moans.

His cock was stretching you much wider than you had taken before, your walls fluttering around his cock. “Oh my God,” Sam groaned, throwing his head back. Once you sank fully onto him you grabbed his throat, your slender fingers applying pressure to the sides. “Look at me while I fuck you slut,” You ordered sternly. Sam forced himself to look at you, his hips attempting to move upwards to fuck you. He needed you. He needed you now. “Awe are you really trying to fuck me? Like the filthy whore you are?” You asked mockingly. Sam groaned as you applied less pressure, your hand still settled on his throat.

“N-need it. Need you. So bad,” Sam whimpered. He wished he could touch you, his hands still bound behind his back with his own tie. It was so demeaning, so humiliating. Yet he adored every second of it. He knew from the moment he saw you that you were the one for him. The one he wanted to give control to. To dedicate his body to. As you rolled your hips against his you could feel the vibrations of Sam’s whimpers against your hand through his throat. Sam was a panting mess, your hips bouncing on his cock faster by the second.

“My fucking God- you are so tight,” Sam panted. You squeezed his neck tighter, his vision becoming hazy. “Yeah? Fuck you’re such a cute little thing,” You huffed, his cock abusing your g spot with each roll of your hips. Your hand released his throat, his lungs immediately gasping for air. You wouldn’t ever admit it, but he felt fucking amazing. Far better than any other man you’d ever had. You weren’t proud to admit your career didn’t start off on such a high note, your legs having been opened for one too many creeps.

You’d had all kinds of affairs and arrangements, ones that fizzled out immediately. But Sam? The whimpering mess beneath you? You wanted to ride him like this forever. You felt yourself getting close to the edge, taking his cock as you pleased. “Mmm i’m close,” You murmured, biting your bottom lip. Sam was convinced he hadn’t seen anything near as sexy as you cumming on his cock. Your walls spasming around him sent him into a frenzy, his dick twitching and cumming inside of you. His face was beet red, his mouth dry as he panted below you. You were a slice of heaven, one he wanted to experience every chance he could.

You grinned as you leaned back, before lifting yourself off of him. Sam had foolishly expected it to be over, before watching you drop to your knees. “W-what are you doing?” He questioned softly. He watched in fear and lust as you licked up the side of his shaft. “I’m cleaning you up silly, i’m not rude you know. I have manners,” You answered. You began bobbing your head up and down his cock, his shaft growing harder in your mouth with each passing second. He squirmed as you swirled your tongue around his shaft, sucking both of your juices off of him. His body trembled as you licked his slit.

“Holy fuck that’s t-too much I-” Sam babbled. You pulled off of his cock, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You pumped him with your hand, giving him a devilish smirk. “You can handle it. Let me clean you up. Be a good boy for me and take it,” You told him. Sam threw his head back as you began to deep throat him, your gagging only turning him on more. “I didn’t say you could look away Sammy. Look at me. Watch as I suck out your soul,” You purred. The blonde forced himself to look down at you, his legs trembling as you resumed sucking his cock.

His moans were incoherent babbles. “Fuck fuck fuck i’m so close,” He whined. The pleasure was becoming painful, your devious tongue and sinful lips showing no signs of stopping. You wanted to milk him dry. Sam’s hips jerked upwards as he came, his cum painting the inside of your mouth. You swallowed it with ease, before teasingly licking his slit. “You taste good,” You praised. You pulled away from his cock, the blonde shaking from euphoria.

You could feel his cum leaking down your upper thighs, an unholy idea popping into your head. You stood up, grabbing him by his shirt and forcing him to lay back on the couch. You straddled yourself over his head, your cunt inches away from his face, his blue eyes meeting yours, awaiting instructions. “Go ahead, why don’t you find out how you taste Sammy?”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 185 (Pearl in the City)

At the age of nine, Pearl Richards received placeholder admission to the San My Ballet Company - the professional arm of the ballet school she'd attended since she was five years old. Most dancers who entered the company as Junior Students needed to audition, but Pearl was a prodigy. She'd already been getting special mentorship from several of the older students for years.

The San My Ballet Company knew they'd lose her to another somewhere else if they didn't hold a place for her, but Pearl didn't take it for granted. Every day since she received her offer of admission, she practiced at every possible opportunity to be sure she was ready when she turned thirteen.

Whether practicing in the performing arts centre's dingy old basement, the updated school studio, or her bedroom, Pearl never stopped dancing. If her mother or grandmother asked her to help with dinner, she inevitably ended up practicing her moves in the hallway. She was so consistent, her father and brother couldn't resist teasing her from time to time.

"Look at us? We're ballerinas, too!" Darrell said, cackling as he and Gavin moved decidedly unlike ballerinas while she tuned them out. She practiced her "stage face" as often as her moves.

She was fairly skilled at ignoring Darrell when he'd try to distract her from her combinations by peppering her with questions.

"Pearl, did you want to hear a joke? What's a ballerina's favourite day of the year? February 2nd because it's 2/2! What do you think would happen if you stopped dancing for five minutes? How do you stand on your toes after you broke two last year?"

Eventually, his game of questions always wore thin. "Mom! Dad! Darrell's being annoying!" she would yell, and they'd come in to find him something else to do.

Pearl, of course, could see no future but one in which spotlights illuminated her as she moved across the biggest stages in the world. Her name would be synonymous with ballet far beyond San Myshuno, and sims would travel from far and wide to see her dance.

Dylan and Gavin were supportive of their daughter's talent and passion, but they also tried to steer her toward other interests. They knew ballet was a small and competitive industry rife with injuries, and they wanted to prepare their daughter for any possible outcome as she chased her dreams.

When she wasn't at school or practicing ballet, she was often volunteering her time down at the Soup Kitchen. Now that she was almost thirteen, she spent less time with the kids at the shelter and more time helping with chores to keep the place running smoothly.

But while Gavin coached Darrell on the basketball court in the yard, disinterested Pearl usually found herself practicing her dance moves.

The family had surprising news when Dylan learned she was expecting a third child. Darrell was already ten years old; she and Gavin had thought they were past the diaper stage. But they welcomed the news with the encouragement of Dylan's mother, Susan, who lived in the spare bedroom of their apartment.

The tiny place they'd lived in when Pearl and Darrell were younger was a dive they quickly outgrew, but even though they now had a much bigger place in a well-kept historical building in the Arts Quarter, everyone was a little bit worried about adding a needy infant to the family's fairly organized chaos.

After her closest friend, Ash Landgraab, moved back to Brindleton Bay following the death of his grandfather, Dylan caught Pearl frowning before dinner. "Mrs. Landgraab said you asked about Ash at the studio today. Do you miss him?"

"I don't miss him that much," she argued. "But he used to come to the shelter with me and no one else wants to help."

"None of the other kids at school want to volunteer with you?"

"No. Cristal and Noemi Zest said they'd come before Ash moved back, but now they're too busy with all their dogs and the dancer they're hosting for the Company."

"That's the boy from Evergreen Harbour, isn't it? Charlie Wise?"

She nodded. "I haven't met him yet."

Dylan forced a smile, hoping her daughter might catch it. "Well, you will soon. And you'll see Ash again. He'll be back to visit the Landgraabs before too long."

"It's not about Ash, Mom!" She rolled her eyes. "I know I'll see him again."

Dylan let her moody daughter have a moment to herself, heading to the kitchen to help Susan get dinner on the table.

The arrival of her baby sister, Felicia, led to a joyous but hectic few months in the Richards household, which meant a quiet birthday celebration at home when Pearl became a teenager.

Susan made three matcha tea cakes for her health conscious, dance machine granddaughter (because she took a slice of the first and Darrell took a slice of the second before Pearl could blow out the candles, to my utter delight 🙃), and Pearl aged up with her family cheering her on.

Pearl grew into a beautiful teen ballerina with drive to spare, and she set her focus on her dreams for the future with the full support of her loving family. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: If you read on Wednesday that Pearl still needed to audition because I was supposed to change that line before it posted (I changed it roughly an hour or so after it was posted!), know that I considered having her audition but ultimately decided there was no suspense to it because I've been talking for ages about what a prodigy she is. I was always going to give Pearl the professional ballet career from @janesimsten's Ballet mod! Now that she's in high school full-time, she also spends evenings at her new job. That's dedication!

NOTE 2: Shout out to @changingplumbob for approving the appearance of Natasha Lobo (originally created by @bloomingkyras) as Pearl's older student mentor in the opening photos. I love Natasha, so thank you for letting me keep her canon to my sims' timeline, too! And we have a reappearance of the spa/studio Barre Raized by @oimygiblets, which is such a great build! Thank you for creating pixel people and pixel boxes I can play with!

NOTE 3: Felicia Richards is the first baby born in my game's latest boom, by the way. First of many to come, including both Pleasant twins! But who else?? 🤔

[quillsandcravats]

Voulez-vous? // Anthony Bridgerton x fem!Reader x Benedict Bridgerton (18+)

Summary: You're a burlesque dancer in Paris. One night after a performance, two handsome brothers approach you and offer you a proposition, "Voulez-vous coucher avec nous ce soir?" .. "Do you want to sleep with us tonight? (1940s/World War II! AU) Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome) Rating: 18+/explicit Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, explicit sexual content, 1940s!AU, m/m/f threesome, no incest!, alcohol, cigarettes/smoking, dirty talk, oral sex (both f and m receiving/giving), vaginal fingering, exhibitionism/photography, pulling out, not-pulling out/cr3eampie, breast play, vaginal sex, mentions of world war ii and related events, mentions of sex work, the reader has a french accent/is french?, reader is a burlesque dancer, mentions of n*zis as relevant to the storyline, mentions of war and violence in general, has some fluff at the end if you squint. Crosspost: AO3, do not repost my fics anywhere!

My Masterlist

A/N: this is dedicated to a few of my best friends - @dorianellle & @monaskydancer. happy galentine's day! i love you both so much for individual reasons but i am so thankful for your friendship(s). and nothing says thankfulness like bonding over our mutual slutiness for benny and ant <3 PS:I don't speak French so if there are some mistakes - I apologize!

Paris, 1942 – German-occupied France

Paris, once bustling with energy, had succumbed to an eerie silence under the weight of the occupation. The usual chatter and laughter that filled the cobblestone streets of the City of Light were muted by the imposing presence of the Third Reich. Yet, behind the thick velvet curtains of Le Papillon Rouge, things often felt normal. Men, in particular, sought solace in the burlesque lounge. Here, amidst the swirl of sequins and the soft strains of a jazz band, they could momentarily escape the horrors outside, if only for the duration of a song or a dance.

Backstage, you stood before the mirror, applying your final stroke of crimson red lipstick with a steady hand, or at least you hoped it was steady. Your hair was expertly twisted into an elegant pin-up roll and adorned with a scattering of tiny, shimmering pearl hairpins. As you stood before the mirror, the reflection staring back at you seemed like a stranger. In a way she was, the woman you became during your nights at the lounge felt in many ways to be someone entirely different than who you truly were.

The club manager strode past you, the soles of his Italian leather shoes whispering against the polished marble floor. A half-smoked cigar dangled from his lips, leaving a thin trail of strong-smelling smoke in its wake. His mere presence grated on your nerves, but you forced a smile to your face. After all, he was the gatekeeper to your paycheck tonight, and you had to play the part of a cooperative performer, even if it made your skin crawl.

"Y/n, cinq," he said, holding up five fingers before gesturing toward the dimly lit stage with a sharp point. You nodded, trying to radiate confidence, and offered him a reassuring smile as you took the last drag of your cigarette, pressing it into the ashtray as it let out a small hiss.

You rose from your chair with a practiced elegance. You paused, letting a slow, calming breath fill your lungs, and then exhaled as you slipped your arms into the sleeves of the red silk robe. The smooth fabric brushed against your skin, concealing your seductive black lingerie, crafted with delicate lace and smooth satin.

As the velvet curtains parted, you were enveloped in the warm glow of the stage lights, mingling with the flickering candlelight that cast shadows across the room. Your ensemble shimmered under the intense beams of the spotlights. A few rowdy whistles echoed from the back of the room, prompting you to glance over your shoulder with a playful wink. The crowd of men erupted in cheers, their enthusiasm sending a familiar thrill coursing through you.

The initial note of the music floated into the room. Soft brass instruments and a smooth piano intertwined, creating a lush, seductive song. Your lips curled into an assured smile that transformed into a sultry gaze as you absorbed the spotlight's warmth. With expert precision, you launched into your performance, the stage lights casting an enchanting glow on your form. On stage, you became someone else entirely.

Your hips swayed in a languid rhythm, each step deliberate and fluid, like a cat prowling with intent. The sound of your heels clicking on the stage punctuated the music's sensual beat. Your fingers trailed down your body, tracing the curves beneath the silky fabric, teasing the love-starved soldiers in the audience with a tantalizing promise of what lay hidden. A slow roll of your shoulders sent the delicate sleeves of your robe slipping down, brushing against your skin. You turned, allowing the fabric to fall just enough to hint at your body before you gathered it again, a wicked gleam in your eyes as you strung the men along.

It was then that you locked eyes with one particular soldier in the crowd. His eyes were a deep, enchanting blue, like a midnight ocean, as he slowly sipped from his beer bottle, never breaking the gaze he held with you. Though many men in the room were striking in their polished uniforms and self-assured stances, this man was different. He had a seductive charm that made him utterly unforgettable.

You moved toward the chaise at center stage, draping yourself across it with effortless elegance, arching your back as you let your robe slide open to reveal the glint of jeweled lingerie beneath. A single finger beckoned, slow and commanding, daring the audience to desire more. Once again, you met the blue-eyed soldier's gaze, letting your lips curl into a devilish grin.

With a flick of your wrist, the robe pooled at your feet, leaving only lace and temptation in its wake. Rising from the prop couch, your body became a sinuous wave of motion, stocking-clad legs crossing and uncrossing as you toyed with your garters, drawing out the moment. One glove was tugged free, fingertip by fingertip, then discarded with a tantalizing toss, followed by the other. You turned, back arched, offering one final reveal as the music swelled to its crescendo.

And then—darkness.

You dabbed at the beads of sweat trickling down your forehead as you walked off stage, listening to them men continue to hoot and holler in your wake. You began to unravel some of your tightly wound curls. You were relieved when you were finally in the dressing room, you hurriedly changed into a loose, soft dress. At the mirror beside you, one of the other dancers meticulously reapplied the charcoal liner beneath her eyes.

“Zere are a lot of ‘andsome yankees ‘ere tonight,” she remarked, her voice laced with a playful French accent. A mischievous grin was lighting up her face. "Perhaps one will fall for me and whisk me away to America!"

"Oui, ze Americans are nice, but I'd prefer an Englishman," you joked, your tone filled with amusement. Your laughter joined hers. You were thankful for her friendship. When you were alone backstage with your fellow dancers often felt like being a part of a family — a sisterhood. You leaned down and gave your friend a platonic kiss to her cheek before gathering your things and heading out into the bar.

You found yourself perched on a worn leather stool at the dimly lit bar a little later, the cigarette smoke in the room wrapping around you like a familiar blanket. Every few minutes, a man would come up to you and try to get you to leave with him — free or paid. You shook each one off, politely declining. You took a slow sip from your glass, knowing that the vodka you had mixed with cherry juice was not enough to cure your nerves. Life had stripped away much. Since the war, nearly everything dear had slipped through your fingers. Your home stood cold and unwelcoming; food was hard to come by. Yet, here at the club, at least there was the solace of a steady paycheck, a small certainty in an uncertain world, no matter how it was earned.

All of a sudden, two strikingly handsome men clad in crisp Allied uniforms appeared by your side. "Ello, darling. We just fancied sayin' we enjoyed your dance tonight," the first one remarked with a warm smile.

You looked up, ready to turn down yet another advance, but you stopped yourself. Those same striking blue eyes, twinkling with admiration, were unmistakable—you remembered vividly from when they first caught your gaze during your performance.You took a moment to study him closely. His lopsided grin was endearing, and his dark, tousled hair was slicked back with just a hint of gel. The man standing beside him, who bore a striking resemblance, maintained a quieter demeanor but radiated a palpable strength. His deep, chocolate-brown eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

You paused momentarily to observe their uniforms, noticing the same name, Bridgerton, stitched above their breast pockets. Turning in your seat, you glanced at both of them. "Many men say I dance well," you remarked. The one with blue eyes mischievously plucked the stemmed cherry from your drink and popped it into his mouth.

"Wouldn't you care to acquaint two British chaps with more of Paris?," the brown-eyed one asked with a playful grin, his body leaning casually against the polished wooden bar while he crossed his arms. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, a sensation that tingled and spread like electricity, trailing a familiar, tingling path downward and between your legs.

“Maybe it's time we make our introductions,” the first one said, his eyebrow arching with a playful curiosity. His voice was smooth and rich, like a cup of warm tea. “I’m Private Benedict Bridgerton, hailing from London, or to be a bit more precise, Kent.”

The other man nodded and added, “And I am Captain Anthony Bridgerton.”

“You are brothers?”

They nodded, exchanging glances with each other before turning their eyes back to you. “We are. You could not tell? Some women say we look very similar, as is the same with our other brothers.”

You smiled at the politeness of their conversation. You waved your hand to the side, gesturing for them to sit. They took your guide and sat down. Then, you waved the bartender over and leaned over to him, “S'il vous plaît, apportez une bière à ces deux beaux garçons britanniques.”

Benedict quirked an eyebrow. “What did you say to him?”

“Please get zese two charming British boys a beer,” you grinned, taking another sip of your drink.“So, you are from Britain, non? Do you 'ave family there? Wives, per'aps?”

Benedict lifted his hand with a flourish, turning it back and forth to reveal the absence of a ring on his finger. Following suit, Anthony mirrored Benedict's gesture, emphasizing the lack of any jewelry. The two shared a silent understanding, you realized.

"Girls, indeed. But when the war began, we didn’t hesitate for a moment. It was for king and country,” Anthony explained as he picked up the beer in front of him and took a long drink.

You lingered in the lively conversation for a while after that. You exchanged laughter and nods of understanding as you talked about as many topics as you could think of. The Bridgerton brothers proved to have many stories to tell. They told you of their family — their siblings who longed for them and their mother, Violet, who was undoubtedly awake with worry over them at this very moment.

You found it curious when you watched Benedict sketching on a paper napkin. Your eyes sparkled when he slid his finished project over to you; a messy but well-done sketch of you.

"Ah, Private Bridgerton, you should stay in Paree! We'll showcase zis at ze Louvre!," you quipped, leaning over to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Merci, Benedict. I will keep zis close."

You would not admit it to yourself, but you were disappointed when you realized the club was beginning to close up for the night. You slid off your chair, yawning a bit. "Charmed to meet you, Captain and Private Bridgerton. However, I really must be going now. Take care, and do come by again soon. I've got a fresh dance prepared for tomorrow,” you smiled kindly, sliding your sleeves into your hand-me-down coat.

They both rose abruptly, leaving you taken aback by their urgency, your eyes wide with surprise. You glanced down as Benedict's hand covered yours. When you glanced up, your eyes locked with his. His blue eyes were intense, brimming with desire, and seemed somehow different—darker. This moment hung between you both like a secret, charged with anticipation.

"Voulez-vous coucher avec nous ce soir?,” Benedict's voice rolled out in a velvety murmur, his lips brushing softly against your earlobe as he leaned in. The tender caress sent a shiver cascading down your spine, and you blinked, momentarily mesmerized by his boldness. Though taken aback, a comforting yet intense yearning began to unfurl within you, a familiar and irresistible sensation stirring deep in your core.

Meanwhile, Anthony leaned in on your other side, his breath a warm whisper tinged with the subtle allure of whiskey. A soft, amused chuckle rolled off his lips, its vibration caressing your skin like a breeze. With a slow, deliberate motion, he brushed your hair aside, letting it cascade over your shoulder. Tilting his head slightly, he murmured in a low, seductive tone, "Do you want to sleep with us tonight?

You let out a gentle, teasing laugh, thinking it was just a playful remark. Yet, as you gazed deeper, you noticed a fire in their eyes. This was uncharted territory for you. Perhaps the girl you once were, before the war, would have shied away. But tonight was different. Tonight, you would embrace the thrill. You would be daring.

"I do not usually accommodate ze soldiers," you murmured, delicately placing an unlit cigarette between your lips, the match bursting to life in your hand with a flick. "Ah, but for you charming gentlemen, I believe I can find some space tonight, oui?"

As you reached your apartment, your heart pounded intensely. You sensed the looming presence of the two tall, brooding Englishmen behind you while you fumbled with your keys. Once inside, you switched on the light, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow. "May I offer you something? Perhaps a little water? Regrettably, zat is all I 'ave. I apologize if it is a bit cold,” you said softly, slipping out of your jacket and hanging it on the coat rack.

"We're fine, love," Anthony assured with a warm smile, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on your cheek. That simple gesture was all it took to ignite a moment of sheer courage within you. You couldn't just linger around all evening, offering them drinks or fiddling with the radio. No, if this was something you truly wanted, you had to seize the moment. You turned your gaze toward Benedict, captivated by the sight of his plump, luscious lips that seemed to beckon you.

With a determined grip, you firmly grasped the collar of his army green uniform, the fabric rough and unfamiliar beneath your fingers. Benedict responded with a gentle eagerness, his lips meeting yours in a soft yet fervent claim. His tongue ventured beneath your parted lips and you gasped softly.

Meanwhile, Anthony's hands moved with deliberate intent, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your blouse one by one. Before you realized it, you were pressed up against the cool wall of your flat, their hungry hands and mouths exploring over your lips and neck. They were insatiable; their intensity was palpable in every touch and kiss.

Anthony and Benedict took their time, each savoring the moment as they gently removed your clothing. Anthony gently removed your dress, tossing it across the room with a smirk. Their teasing was playful and intense; their gazes smoldering as their fingertips traced lightly over the delicate curves of your skin. You found yourself breathless, longing for more, as

Anthony leaned in close, his breath warm against your skin, and placed a tender kiss on your shoulder. "Up close, you're even more breathtaking," he murmured. "I loved watching you dance tonight."

A gentle smile curved your lips as Benedict's fingers deftly unclasped your bra, his lips trailing down your shoulder with feather-light kisses. His mouth found your nipple, drawing it in with a hungry tenderness. A soft, feminine gasp escaped your lips as his warm tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, the sensation causing your nipples to harden under his touch. He moved with deliberate care from your right breast to your left, ensuring each received equal attention. Behind you, Anthony's hands slid down your sides, his fingers skillfully slipping your panties down your legs in a smooth motion. Benedict's gaze met yours, his blue eyes framed by thick lashes, his lips glistening with moisture as he looked up. "Keep your stockings and heels on for me, please?" he asked.

You nodded, unable to find your words. "Oui."

Benedict led you to your bed with Anthony following closely. For once in your life, you were thankful that your flat was just one large room, not a full home. You sat there, waiting, clad only in your stockings, garter, and heels, while they quickly removed their clothes. You gently touched yourself between your legs, feeling how slick you already were.

"Excited, are we, pet?" Anthony grinned, reaching down to simultaneously snap both suspenders off. You simply nodded, mouth agape with desire. By the time both men were undressed, you could scarcely keep your eyes open. Their bodies were sculpted, honed to perfection through their military training. You looked at each of them in turn—alike, yet distinct; each of their erections prominent and pulsing.

Benedict's hands, firm and insistent, wrapped around your ankles, dragging you until your calves hung over the mattress's edge. Your breath hitched, a sharp intake of air filling the silence. He began at your feet, his warm breath tickling your skin as he trailed kisses up your legs. You could feel the heat of his mouth even through the silky fabric, his touch leaving a path of goosebumps in its wake.

His voice was low and husky, a rumble against the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. "I have not been this close to a woman since leaving England," he confessed, his words punctuated by soft, languid kisses.

You could feel his body tense as you parted your legs further, inviting him closer. He groaned, a primal needing sound that vibrated from him. Benedict’s mouth was so close now, you could feel his breath hot against your most intimate places. "Mmm," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against you softly, reverently, before his tongue began to explore, flicking gently between your folds.

You felt the mattress moved and watched as Anthony’s muscular thighs flexed as he made his way over toward you. His knuckles brushed against your jaw as he tilted your chin upwards ever so slightly. "Open," he commanded softly yet firmly. Obeying instinctually, you parted your lips ever so slightly in anticipation of what was to come next. And then it was there - the head of his cock sliding into your hot and waiting mouth. Saliva pooled in anticipation around his tip, and you flatted your tongue, relaxing your throat to allow him full entrance.

"Fuck," he groaned deeply from deep within his throat; his voice reverberating through your core. With one final push, he slid his thick shaft fully past your pouty lips into your hungry mouth; eliciting a gasp from both of you. Benedict's lips and tongue worked skillfully on your bundle of nerves, causing you to let out a muffled moan against Anthony's cock as he thrust deeper and harder into your mouth.

Being in this intimate space with both of them felt surreal yet thrilling. You were completely enveloped in desire; taking in as much of Anthony’s cock as possible while Benedict eagerly attended to your cunt. You wished this moment could last forever — laid out beneath them, ready to give whatever they desired.

Anthony bit back a growl and withdrew from your mouth before reaching his peak, wanting to prolong the experience. It had been so long since he felt truly satisfied, and he knew he was already close. Benedict shifted away from your center, causing you to let out a disappointed noise. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss you, and you moaned, tasting yourself on his lips. Benedict then bent down, retrieving a 35mm Leica camera from the bag he brought along. Although officially prohibited for soldiers, many carried them to capture their experiences abroad. “I want to capture this moment. Our night in Paris,” he said, holding up the camera. “Would you like to pose for me, darling?”

You nodded eagerly and they both smiled. You sat up onto your knees, resting your ass onto your heels. You gently laid your hands on your thighs, leaned forward to arch your back just a bit. Anthony moved a bit of hair from your face, angling your chin upward. Benedict lifted the camera and took a few photos, allowing you to smile and pout or do whatever felt right in the moment.

“Beautiful,” he said, slipping the camera back into his bag. “Now we will never forget our French girl.”

You let a small smile grace you lips. “Oui. Now, are you going to do what you came to do, Private Bridgerton?” You turned to smile at Anthony, “And you, Captain Bridgerton?”

The brothers looked to one another. Anthony tilted his head toward you, “You can do the honors, mate.”

Benedict stalked toward you and you grinned devilishly as he slid a hand between your legs. You let his fingers dance between your wetness before sliding them into your core. You moaned and he did as well, in tandem. He could feel how tight you were; how good you would feel fitting around his cock.

He withdrew his fingers, dipping them into your mouth. You made eye contact with him, bobbing your head and slobbering on them, showing him what you were capable of. He fisted his cock a bit before teasing it at your entrance. Then, with a fluid movement, he pushed his hips forward, sinking his hard cock into your pussy. He began to thrust, hips snapping with perfect rythym. Anthony stood by, slowing pumping his cock with one hand, making sure to himself right at the edge as to not ruin his own chance to fuck you. Benedict bent down to kiss you, allowing you to massage your tongues together. He pulled back, his nose against yours, breathing in the others air.

“You’re so tight, so good,” he rasped, pressing your foreheads together. Your hands rested on his shoulders as he moved within you, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. His hand found its way between you, rhythmically stroking your clit. Your body quivered with pleasure, your back arching as your breath caught in your throat. It was a moment of pure ecstasy — every nerve in your body was alive. Benedict maintained a steady pace, but you felt him falter as he neared his climax. Soon, he was fully on top of you, his forehead against your shoulder, moaning and grunting in your ear. You felt him withdraw quickly, warmth spreading onto your bare belly. As Benedict moved away from you, you barely had a moment to collect your thoughts before Anthony replaced where Benedict had been.

“Sensitive now?” You nodded in response to Anthony's question, words eluding you. “I’ll be gentle, sweetheart.”

“Do not be,” you encouraged him. He could have devoured you then and there and god damn it, you would have let him. He plunged into you and a gasp escaped your lips. You noticed the differences between them; Anthony was slightly bigger and his movements were more fierce than Benedict’s. Your hands found their way to his biceps as he moved with an intoxicating rhythm. Benedict drew near, gently holding your legs apart to complement Anthony's passionate movements. A soft gasp escaped your lips when Benedict leaned in, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss before showering one of your sensitive peaks with affection, his fingers skillfully teasing the other.

Your face was buried into the tufts of Benedict’s hair at the top of his head; hips bucking back in time with Anthony’s thrusts.

Before you could think, another orgasm washed over you. A loud cry tore from your throat, your entire body shaking gently. It hit you like a wave; like flames in a fire. Anthony finished then, not pulling out, and you could feel his warmth flooding into you. Fear flickered within you, but you did not stop him. As the high faded, you wordlessly took turns cleaning up. You bathed quickly, dressing yourself in Benedict’s oversized button up shirt.

"Do you want to stay over? It gets cold at night," you suggested, anticipating a refusal. After exchanging glances, they nodded, and you nestled between them, with Anthony on your left and Benedict on your right.

You drifted off into a dreamless sleep and awoke at first light to find the men gone. Another sketch was on your bedside table, one of you sleeping peacefully.

A soft sigh and smile escaped your lips as you read the message: ‘Merci, Mademoiselle. We shall not forget Paris. - B. and A. Bridgerton”.

[tinydefector]

Marine Centre 3- merformers AU

Warnings: talking about mating, loss of babies. Arguments

Word count: 2.1k

Masterlist

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Here's some information on how the Pods kinda work in this fic. If you want more details on the pods let me know.

Here are the Five Pods that reside at the Yawk-yawk Marine Rehabilitation centre. Mind you, there are other pods, but they don't reside at the centre but will make appearances in this fic later on.

Pod 1 - Autobots

Optimus

Ratchet

Bumblebee

Jazz

Prowl

Beachcomber

Ironhide

Pod 2 - Decepticons

Megatron

Starscream

Thundercracker

Skywarp

Soundwave

Shockwave

Pod 3 - Young Autobots (off branch Pod/ Young of other members)

Rodimus

Sunstreaker

Sideswipe

Bluestreak

Smokescreen

Mirage

Pod 4 - mixed members

Windblade

Drift

Pharma

Chromedome

Rewind

Whirl

Arcee

Pod 5 - Combaticons

Swindle

Vortex

Onslaught

Brawl

Blast Off

________________

Little thrills and chirps come from the cove as a tiny blur of yellow and black zips through the water, Chasing the human who walks along the shore line. The little pup eagerly calls out with little noises trying to catch their attention. A chorus of soft crooning rises among the mingled pods at the greeting of the tiny pup.

"Hello Babybee!" The human calls out softly to the baby mer. many of the other oceanides kept looking out over the pup, but they were already aware that the human wouldn't hurt the little one.

The little mer thrills delightedly while trying to drag himself onto the sand closer to them. "No, no, no baby you can't come onto the sand." They call while trying to usher the little yellow and black pup back into the water.

A pout forms on the little one's face, tiny fins flapping in dismay. But just as swiftly Dancer is there in an instant, gracefully scooping the youth back into the safety of the pool.

It's only the deep rumble of Big Blue which makes Bee turn around quickly and call out loudly to his Sire. But he doesn't move. "You haven't been annoying your papa while he's been healing have you?" They inquire only for more little thrills and chirps to leave the pup. Big blue emerges then from the depths, red and cobalt scales gleaming serenely as ever in the midday light.

Bee pouts but subsides against his sire's side, tiny purrs and trills of disappointed longing leave the pup as he clings to the larger mer.

_______

Windblade is first to respond to the little pup, drifting nearer with grace. "Bumblebee, there you are! You know better than to crawl on the sand" she Coos softly to the stripped pup.

Starscream scoffs, though his fins lay flat in disinterest. But ever-playful Skywarp spins gleeful loops around Windblade and pup. "Aww, lookit the little bitlet! You're getting so big, your colours are looking bright" he hums while gently looking over the pup.

"Now now, little one, you know the rules. The beach side is for walking friends, not us, can't have you getting yourself beached." She soothes, calming his upset with the practised ease of a carrier well versed in youthful disobedience. "Aww let him have his fun, Blades! We were all curious pups once."

It's only the deep rumble of Optimus which makes them all go quiet. Bumblebee turns around quickly and calls out loudly to his Sire. But he doesn't move from Windblade’s hold. Optimus slowly takes his pup from her hold cradling the little one close.

"Bumblebee," he rumbles gently, "you know the rules, little one. No going on the sand, you are too young." Gently yet firmly he lifts the pup into loving arms, cerulean eyes glowing with warmth at his little one.

Bumblebee pouts but subsides against his sire's powerful arms, still emitting little Trills of disappointed longing. Optimus meets the caretaker's eyes, they both watch each other for a moment as he continues to cradle his pup.

A mournful stillness falls over the mingled pods as they watch Optimus with Bumblebee.

"last season was a difficult one. But I'm glad to see your little one out and about" Her field pulses faint sadness, she had lost her own too early, taking quickly to Bumblebee as many of the pod did.

“As am I, I'm forever grateful for all the humans have done for Bee, I doubt he would have survived without their help” he rumbles softly. Windblade continues to wiggle her claws at the little one who giggles and grabs them.

"We can't keep losing generation after generation like this. Something's thinning the gene pool and we're not breeding fast enough to replace what's lost." Ironhide calls out while swimming closer. “Hey pup” he hums, giving the little one a head rub.

Starscream hisses uneasily. "There are fewer pods venturing near each cycle. It's those land crawlers doing, mark my words they are the reason for it!” He huffs out.

"I'm aware of the drop in our numbers but as it is, the only help we have received with our young is from the humans, had I not taken Bee to them when I did we would have no surviving pups." His words give them pause. they all knew Optimus was right, Bumblebee was very sick and without the marine centre's help he would have perished.

Optimus to turn to Starscream. “How is Megatron?, I haven't seen him since out fight”

"Megatron's wounds mend, though slowly." Starscream's fins flick in agitation. "The stress is getting to him, he wonders why Primus forbids him his own spawn. But spared yours”

Skywarp chitters nervously. "It's never been this bad before, not for long cycles. Even Megatron knows something bigger's going on, making it hard for the little ones to survive.”

"Maybe the softskins are right and it's more than just bad luck or genes. Something's changing in the deep, and we're on the losing side regardless of the cause." Ironhide shoots back

But Windblade flashes her finned guardians a quelling look. " What matters now is caring for Bumblebee and hope that we are granted a change with the next season."

Windblade continues stroking the youth gently. "Bumblebee would not be here if not for the humans' care. It seems...our song may rely on theirs, if it is to have any hope of continuing in the seas."

Her words are met with uneasy hesitation never before have the Oceanides relied upon outsiders, but Optimus had. Drift speaks up as he Drift's beside Rodimus "Our numbers fall while theirs climb ever higher. If we do not accept assistance, soon there may be no pods left at all."

Starscream hisses uneasily. "Dolphins grow ever more bold and numerous, harassing us when we feed where once they gave a wide berth. The orcas too have tasted our energon and now we have to be wary of them."

Ratchet croons in concern. "The humpback and grey kin have fallen silent, their great pods have moved on. No allies remain in which we can seek refuge when predator numbers swell, our best option is to stay here till they return to these waters."

"The great sharks now prowl only the farthest blue edges, driven from their feeding grounds by the loud noise and flashing lights of human undersea vessels. We have no kin but our own, our safety is the shorelines unless we are in number but with a youngling we can not take to deep waters yet."

Bumblebee chirps again, wiggling in his sires' hold until he escapes, disappearing from Optimus' side and swimming back to the human on the sandy shore again. It earns a laugh from the human as they scoot forward a little. Gently brushing the little frills of his head. It makes Optimus' spark ache.

Starscream vents quietly. "Few among us have known the happiness of sparking and rearing young. I doubt the other pods are having the same issues as us, perhaps we need new mingling when they come to the sands again"

“ It could be an option, considering our five Pods seem to not be having the best of luck” Sunstreaker mutters softly.

“ I'd like to see Chromia again, Hopefully Elita’s pod returns ” Windblade murmurs to herself, she could only hope that Chromia had better luck with a pup. But she did miss her bonded.

“You know the landers don't seem to have much issues with offspring, maybe they'd be willing to help us out” Rodimus blurts out, he wasn't exactly paying full attention to what was being said.

Windblade's fins flare in startled protest. Turning towards the bright orange and Red Oceanide. "Mating with outsiders goes against the sacred bonds of pod and kin!"

"Mating season nears and our numbers dwindle," Rodimus insists. "I'm not saying we have to do anything, it was just a thought!." He huffs out but lounges back against the rocks, his eyes watching the human now playing with Bumblebee in the shallows. But it does make many of the others stop to think. Humans seemed to have much better luck with their young than the Pod. But even that there was no promise of young or if a coupling of that sort would be viable.

Skywarp speaks up next. "If it means pups, what does it matter who their carrier is?"

Ironhide rumbles grim concerns. "Involving outsiders in matters of our Pods could alter both species in ways none foresee."

The younger mers pulse with surging field and logic as Rodimus presses his point. Bluestreak begins voicing his opinion. "Look how the caretaker cares for Bumblebee. Is that so different from how one would care for our young? And see how the little one beams at their touch, as content as any podling among kin!"

"He's got a point - the softskins aren't so strange. And if it brings pups, what's to lose?" Vortex states while watching the other pods continue to argue over the subject.

"Frag the fleshies, if it means more bitlets! Who cares? if it saves our pods I'd say it's worth it” Onslaught remarks only for other mers to hiss at his crash words.

But steely Jazz croons, despite his love for their little caretaker and the other human's of the centre he didn't trust that other humans wouldn't use it to their advantage. "Breedin' another species ain't no simple thing, mech. what's to stop the softskins wantin' somethin' back we ain't willin' to give?"

“We mate freely when the tide flows, so why not them? On land or sea,” Swindle shrugs, it was true, some mers had multiple mades others single, but due to the times they had taken to mating with multiple in hopes for young.

Rodimus refuses to relent under Elders stinging reprimand. "Do you think I propose this out of boredom or mere lust?" he retorts hotly. "Since my own youth, our numbers have halved - and how many more fading cycles must pass before no pups remain at all?, this season we have one surviving, one Pup between Five pods"

"The landers recognize as we do that something ails us. If natural means no longer can restore our numbers, then must we not embrace other paths, however unorthodox, hey im all for if we find another way, but what happens when next season we have no pups"

Rodimus spins to pin each dissenting elder with a fiery piercing glare. "Or would you have us fade to nothing instead, condemning future generations to exist only in memory?" His impassioned defence strikes silence from many.

Optimus' gaze turns to watches with quiet intensity as the human and pup interact, observing how they handle the bitlet with such care.

Long has he guided his pod, but he too knew something was amiss. The broods he once bore long since ventured into the deeps few remained. Yet...if agreement could be found, built, why not try. “If by this season we have no young It will be something the human will know. They are intelligent. If they are willing to assist, we will gladly take their offer” Optimus rumbles, it's the end of discussion as he slowly moves away from the others towards his bitlet.

____

"Yes, yes hello sweet baby, you know I'll get in trouble if I'm around you too much, vets said you need to be around your pod, can't have you getting too attached to me" they hum mainly to themself knowing full well the little pup didn't understand.

Bumblebee thrills piteously, tiny claws outstretched and straining toward them, flexing futilely. "No test today baby, you look so healthy now!" They chimed but sigh as the little one drags themself into their lap. Slowly scooting down the sand they sit in the water so Bee doesn't dry out too much. Their eyes watch the larger Oceanides talk amongst themselves. It almost sounds like a melody with the sweet sounds they made.

“Are the adults boring you baby?” They tease softly only for the little yellow and black pup to snuggle Into their side purring contently. “Gonna get me in big trouble with Quin Beebee.

It's a long while before the older mers finish what seemed like an intense conversation.

Gracefully Big blue nudges nearer, slowly beaching himself close to them, trying his best not to startle either of them. gently but firmly he lifts the pup away, cerulean eye meeting their own with gratitude beyond words. They smile and laugh softly as it earns a grumble from the little one who didn't want to be disturbed.

_______________

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[inkspiredwriting]

Candlelight Confessions

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The sudden flicker and then the complete darkness caught Five Hargreeves and Y/n off guard as they were finishing dinner in their cozy home. The hum of the refrigerator died, and the glow of the overhead lights vanished, leaving them in a silence only broken by the rustling of leaves outside and the distant roll of thunder.

Five groaned softly, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like the storm knocked the power out.”

Y/n, her eyes sparkling even in the dim light, shrugged playfully. “Well, it’s not the first time we’ve dealt with a blackout.”

Five smirked, reaching for a candle on the table. “When we ended up dancing together without music, just a room full of candles and the two of us.”

Y/n giggled, nodding. “Exactly. You have to admit, you’re quite the dancer when you want to be.”

As Five fumbled for the lighter, Y/n found her phone and used the flashlight to help him light the candles scattered around their home. Soon, a warm, flickering glow filled the room, casting long shadows on the walls and giving the space an intimate ambiance.

“See?” Y/n said, setting her phone down. “This is kind of romantic, don’t you think?”

Five grinned, pulling her into a hug. “Leave it to you to make a power outage romantic.”

They settled on the couch, a soft blanket draped over their laps, the candles flickering around them like tiny stars. Five glanced at the window, the rain tapping gently against the glass.

“So, what should we do to pass the time?” he asked, leaning back and stretching his legs out.

Y/n tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “How about we tell each other stories? Childhood memories, maybe. Things we haven’t shared before.”

Five raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You want to dive into the nostalgia pool, huh? Alright, you start.”

Y/n smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay, let’s see. When I was six, my family took a trip to the beach. I remember building this huge sandcastle. I spent the entire day working on it, imagining it as a grand fortress.”

Five’s eyes softened as he watched her, captivated by the glow of the candlelight on her face. “What happened to the sandcastle?”

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “A big wave came and swept it all away. I was devastated at first, but then my dad helped me build another one. He said, ‘Sometimes things get washed away, but that just means you get to start fresh and make something even better.’”

Five nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Your dad sounds like a wise man.”

“He is,” Y/n said softly. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me something from your childhood.”

Five sighed, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling as he thought. “Alright. When I was around eight, before I got pulled into the apocalypse mess, I used to sneak into Reginald’s study. He had all these old books about time travel and science. I’d sit there for hours, just reading and imagining all the places I could go.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you were into time travel even back then.”

Five chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I was always fascinated by the idea of bending time to my will. But the funny part is, I once tried to build a time machine out of cardboard boxes and kitchen utensils. I was convinced it would work.”

Y/n laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I wish I could’ve seen that. Did it work?”

Five shook his head, grinning. “Not even close. But it taught me to keep experimenting, to never give up on the things that intrigued me.”

They shared more stories, each memory painting a picture of who they were and how far they had come. As the evening wore on, the flickering candles casting a soft glow around them, they found themselves inching closer, the warmth of their shared history wrapping around them like a comforting embrace.

After a particularly funny story about Five trying to impress a girl at Griddy's Doughnuts with a poorly executed magic trick that Klaus had taught him, Y/n leaned in, her laughter fading into a tender smile. “You know, Five, I love hearing these stories about you. It makes me feel even closer to you.”

Five reached out, taking her hand in his, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “I feel the same way. It’s like we’re weaving our pasts together, creating something even stronger.”

Y/n’s eyes shimmered with emotion, and she squeezed his hand. “Promise me something, Five.”

“Anything,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll always be there for each other. Through every blackout, every storm, every unexpected twist in our lives.”

Five’s gaze locked onto hers, a fierce determination burning in his eyes. “I promise, Y/n. I’ll always be there for you. I’ll love you through every moment, no matter how dark or challenging.”

Y/n’s smile was radiant, and she leaned in to kiss him softly, the warmth of his lips grounding her in the promise they had made. “And I promise to always stand by you, Five. No matter where time takes us.”

They sat in the quiet glow of the candlelight, their hands intertwined, feeling the strength of their bond deepen with every shared story and whispered promise. As the storm outside began to wane and the first hints of power flickered back to life, Five and Y/n remained on the couch, wrapped in the glow of their memories and the certainty of their love, ready to face every blackout together.