#we’re navigating at least that’s all I can ask for

[sunrizef1]

imgonnagetyouback

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!singer!reader

Warnings: Cursing

Authors note: I guess I lied about the Lando thing… this songs just so Lando I can’t explain it and I’m actually obsessed with this song rn. You probably have to at least know the premise of the song to understand the second half of this.

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍New York, New York

liked by maxfewtrell taylorswift and 13,998,887 others

yourusername hello, New York!

tagged: taylorswift

Load comments…

user1 my fav

user2 love her

user3 so pretty 🤩

taylorswift 🩵

yourusername 🤭💋

user4 welcome to New York, so real

user5 I miss Lando

user6 hi queen!!!

user7 new music when

user8 “I love NY not you” lmao Lando get up

user9 now why in the world did max like this

user10 and now Lando will post an Instagram story of him partying with some random girl to prove he’s having more fun than y/n is, we know how this goes

user11 you can not tell me they don’t miss each other

sabrinacarpenter pretty 🤩 🤩 🤩

yourusername no u 💋

user12 I just need a video of her English ass trying to navigate new York please and thx

maxfewtrell hey bestie!

yourusername oh my god get out of here

user13 wtf is max doing 😭😭

gracieabrams I ❤️ u

yourusername 🥰

oscarpiastri hi

yourusername hi?

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landonorris added to their story

user14

Now wtf

user15

user10 was right

user16

Alright ig

oscarpiastri

oh okay

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

oscarpiastri

Still can't believe you convinced me to do that

yourusername

You'll be fine, ill get you concert tickets

can't even tell its you either

oscarpiastri

fine

they better be vip

yourusername

Dw they will be

—————-

maxfewtrell

???

yourusername

Dw its just Oscar

maxfewtrell

Jesus i cant believe you

yourusername

He started it. This is the first time I've included a guy in my posts, landos been doing it for months

maxfewtrell

you're gonna be the death of me

yourusername

💋💋💋💋

maxfewtrell

take care of yourself though y/n

yourusername

I am

Thx tho max 🫶

maxfewtrell

Yeah yeah 🙄

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yourusername

📍Paris, France

liked by charles_leclerc oscarpiastri and 21,008,771 others

yourusername I can tell when somebody still wants me

load comments…

user17 oh yay they're gonna sneak diss in their Insta captions again

user18 I miss dad ☹️

user19 she's so pretty omg

maxfewtrell oh wonderful we’re doing this now

yourusername leave

user20 lando its your turn

user21 IM IN LOVE WITH HER

charles_leclerc I'm amused

yourusername congrats

user22 they're so messy I love them

oscarpiastri great he's about to drag me into doing something stupid because of this

yourusername that is not my problem

user23 I sense new music coming along

user24 I do genuinely think he still wants her lowk

user25 they want eachother, don't lie. Its defo mutual

user26 😍😍😍

taylorswift 🤩

yourusername 🥰

jackantonoff 🤪

liker by yourusername

user27 why is jack here???? New music???

————————————————

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell martingarrix and 12,008,998 others

landonorris I have what I want

load comments…

user28 oh… yay

user29 🤩🤩🤩

user30 say what you want about their shitty personalities but they sure do know how to make an aesthetic post

user31 the shade is immense

maxfewtrell im nauseous

landonorris 👍

user32 they’re so into each other it’s actually insane

user33 OH MY GOD WE GET IT YOU MISS EACHOTHER

user34 🤩🤩🤩

user35 he’s so fine

user35 LANDO-

user36 now what’s y/n gonna do

user37 how long until they both apologize and get back together… these are not the posts of people who have healthily moved on from their previous relationship

user38 fine as hell lowk

oscarpiastri this is 100% the most healthy way to handle this

landonorris I didn’t ask

user39 all of their friends are so annoyed and it’s so funny

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yourusername added to their story

maxfewtrell

Is this a song where you admit you’re still in love with Lando so you both can finally get over your emotional immaturity???

yourusername

kinda

maxfewtrell

Oh fr?

I thought you’d just be mean to him for the whole song

yourusername

Uhhh-

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yourusername

liked by sabrinacarpenter taylorswift and 21,000,111 others

yourusername imgonnagetyouback out now 🩶

Load comments…

user40 IM GONNA GET YOU BACK

user41 oh my god it’s so good

user42 LANDO GET UP

user43 THE CAPTION FROM PARIS WAS A SONG LYRICCCCC

user44 oh so she’s still in love with him

user45 “you were never not mine” 💀

user46 I CAN FEEL IT COMING HUMMIN IN THE WAY YOU MOVE

user47 PUSH THE RESET BUTTON WERE BECOMING SOMETHING NEW

user48 SAY YOU GOT SOMEBODY ILL SAY IVE GOT SOMEONE TOO

user49 EVEN IF ITS HANDCUFFED IM LEAVING HERE WITH YOU

user50 “I’m an Aston Martin” okay lance strollll

oscarpiastri “I’ve got someone too” no you do not 💀

yourusername oh my god shut up

user51 she’s still in love with him dhmu

maxfewtrell when I asked if this was going to be emotionally healthy and not a diss I can now see why you were conflicted…. Bit of both tbh

yourusername 🫶

maxfewtrell 👎

user52 told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same 😭

user53 SO GOOD

user54 WHETHER IM GONNA BE YOUR WIFE????

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landonorris added to their story

maxfewtrell

…

what does this achieve

landonorris

What do you want

maxfewtrell

Mate come on

you’re still obviously in love with her

and the song litteraly shows she’s still in love with you

all you’ve done is post a thirst trap of yourself with song lyrics on top

landonorris

It’s not a thirst trap

maxfewtrell

I hate both of you

text her mate

you’re happier together

And I’m tired of both of you annoying the shit out of me

landonorris

Fine

Maybe I will

maxfewtrell

Thank god

It’d be the first time you listened to me

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MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

maxfewtrell

That better be Lando or so help me god

yourusername

Calm your tits

It is

maxfewtrell

YEAHHHH

Finally

I can stop playing matchmaker

yourusername

😒😒😒😒

————————————————

oscarpiastri

Oh so this means you’ll both stop dragging me into your dumb shit

yourusername

🖕🖕🖕🖕

oscarpiastri

🫶

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TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

landonorris

liked by yourusername maxfewtrell and 13,001,881 others

landonorris told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same

load comments…

user55 YEAHHHHHHH

user56 Y/N LIKED WE’RE SO BACK

user57 my favs

user58 my parents are back together 😭

user59 unlike your real ones

user58 woah???

user59 🤷‍♀️ it’s the truth

user60 I missed them so much 😭😭😭

user61 admitted you love your ex-gf on main, this is self-improvement

yourusername pick your poison, babe

landonorris I’m poison either way

user62 I appreciate the repeating lyrics at each other because it is cute but those are not the kindest lyrics to be repeating 😭

user63 who knew that shit-talking your ex in a song could get him to re-admit his love for you

maxfewtrell took you long enough

landonorris legitimately who asked you

maxfewtrell I’m the reason this even happened in the first place. Watch your tone.

landonorris thanks i guess

maxfewtrell “I guess” @/yourusername this is how happy he is to have you back

yourusername landoooo

landonorris sorry. Thank you so much max, I’m so grateful you brought the loml back to me.

maxfewtrell you’re welcome ☺️

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yourusername

liked by landonorris maxfewtrell and 20,887,991 others

yourusername got you back

load comments…

user64 she got him back 🥹

user65 YEAHHHHH LFG

user66 awwwww

user67 I love them so much

user68 sleeping on the highway tonight 🫶

oscarpiastri 🥳🥳🥳

liked by yourusername

user69 these pictures are so cute oh my god 😭

user70 IM GONNA GET YOU BACK

landonorris you decided wether you’re gonna be my wife or smash up my bike yet?

yourusername still not sure… maybe both 🤔

user71 BOTH?????

user72 YEAH YEAH THATS FUNNY AND ALL BUT SHE JUST SAID SHE’D MARRY HIM

maxfewtrell congratulations nerds

yourusername thanks mate

user73 I’m in love with both of them

user74 they’re both so much happier together I really hope they stick this time

user75 and when she releases a love album then what

landonorris ily 🫶

yourusername ily2 🫶

user76 Jesus Christ they’re such teenagers 😭 USE FULL WORDS 😭😭😭

user77 no I get them. I wouldn’t post full love confessions in an Instagram comment section either lmao

user78 they got each other back 🫶

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Taglist: @casperlikej @evie-119

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main Part 5

Masterpost

“We have to stop for snacks!” 

“We are not stopping for snacks.”

They started this conversation two whole minutes ago.

“We have to stop for snacks! It is a quintessential part of the road trip experience. This is our first road trip. Do you really want to deprive your family of the full experience?”

Apparently, the Waynes have never been on a full road trip, usually flying places instead, so Dick is insisting we make this a whole experience. Danny is willing to bet car games will be played at some point.

“It’s a long drive, we’re not stopping unless necessary.”

Danny wonders how long the discussion can last as it reaches the four minute mark. 

“ But-”

Tim taps Dick on the shoulder to shut him up. “I have to go to the bathroom.” He deadpans at Bruce. 

Bruce looks at him in the rearview mirror, looks back at the road, looks back at Tim. Bruce sighs.

“Everybody is going to the bathroom. We can get some snacks, and then we are not stopping for at least four hours.” 

Dick cheers, and Danny chuckles at Tim’s smirk. They’ve only been on the road for forty-five minutes, by all rights no one should have to go to the bathroom yet, but Danny was enjoying the family banter in the car.

The first forty-two minutes of the drive was mostly just everyone settling in, Dick in the front as navigator, though it didn’t seem like Bruce needed directions. Danny had asked and he’d never been to Illinois before, but they’re probably still in familiar territory, he might need a map later. Danny is in the back seat, sitting behind Bruce, Tim is sitting behind Dick. Dick and Tim both brought backpacks with them for the drive, Tim has at least two tablets in his. Danny knows they put a bunch of stuff in the trunk as well,  overnight bags and other assorted items, he thinks he saw a pillow. Danny knows somebody went to pack something for him/Jason when they get there, but doesn’t know who. He doesn’t have any entertainment, because he doesn’t have anything except Jason’s phone on him. 

They pull into a gas station, Bruce is determined to get the most out of this stop. Bruce pumps the gas as Danny, Dick, and Tim head inside. They do all go to the bathroom, and Bruce comes in to use the restroom as they raid the snack aisles. Tim has three canned coffees in his hands.

“You know if you drink all of those we’ll have to stop again.” Danny points out. “ Plus it’s late, can you not sleep in cars?”

“Can’t sleep at all usually. We’ll see, but I have some stuff to work on anyway.” Tim points to the drink displays. “Anything you’d like?” 

Danny knows that they don’t mind paying for him, at this point it has been debated multiple times, and he knows he won’t make the whole trip without any snacks. He grabs a Monster and a Gatorade for the road. They meet Dick in the chip aisle. It looks like he’s already grabbed one of every candy, and he’s well on the way to one of every chip.

“Hey, what do you like Danny?” Danny stares at all the food precariously balanced in his arms.

“If you’re sharing, I think we’re good.” 

Dick and Tim laugh.

“We will be sharing most of this. I got all of our favorites, but everyone has something that they’re not willing to share as well. Why don’t you pick out something that’s just for you.”

Tim has grabbed sour gummy worms and is making his way to the checkout counter where Bruce is waiting with a very resigned look on his face. Danny grabs a bag of beef jerky and walks with Dick to the checkout. The look on Bruce’s face when Dick walks up with his arms full is hilarious and Danny actually snorts at Bruce’s ‘I can’t control these children’ apologetic look he gives the cashier as Dick dumps his haul onto the counter.

They pile back into their seats, the seat between Tim and Danny now stuffed with all the snacks. There is not one empty cup holder left in the car. They spend the next short stretch getting resettled, opening up their first snacks and drinks. Tim Pulls out a tablet, but doesn’t start working on anything, too busy texting someone. Danny considers pulling out his phone, remembers it’s not his, and then decides not to. He wouldn’t know the password anyway, maybe he can ask if his brother’s know what it would be.

They’d just about hit the first hour mark on their 12-hour trip when Dick turns around in his chair to face the backseat. Danny sees him slip his phone away.

“Hey, Danny, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Tim has put his phone down.

“Well, I’m still in highschool. Should graduate soon, hopefully.” Danny starts tapping his fingers on his thighs. He hopes he can graduate. “You know I have a sister in college. I have another sister, she’s a traveler, she doesn’t do school.” 

“Do you like school?” Dick prompts.

“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “I’m not great at it. I like learning, but it’s not a great school and there’s only so much learning you can do from inside a locker.” 

“You fit in a locker?” Tim asks.

Danny looks at himself, quickly realizing that they have no idea what he looks like as he sees Jason’s bulky frame. He chuckles, rubbing the back of his head with a hand.

“Ha, yeah. I’m more…. Tim to Damian size? I think I’m around your height.” He said in Tims direction. “Maybe an inch or two shorter, but I have no muscle mass, so It’s a bit of a squeeze but I fit well enough. Never get stuck. Tucker got stuck once.” 

Dick frowns. “Do a lot of people end up in lockers at your school?” 

“Sure. Me, Tucker, Mikey… Maybe Wes if he ever really pisses someone off. But he’s more likely to annoy me than Dash, and I’m not going to shove him in a locker.”

Tim nods sagely, like he understands high school. Dick is frowning like he doesn’t. 

“Dash a sports guy?” Tim asks.

Danny nods. “Football quarterback and basketball.”

“Geek or nerd?” 

“Personally, nerd probably.” Danny thinks about it. “But there’s not much opportunity to explore engineering and space in high school, so I’m mostly average. Tucker is a big geek, he’s great with computers. Does most of the coding for my more technological fixes when I’m working on my parent’s stuff.”

“You work with your parents a lot?” Dick’s phone chimes, but he ignores it.

“Not with them so much as on their stuff. They create it, they come up with a lot of cool stuff. I reverse-engineered a lot of it once it’s done.” 

“You said a lot of it was weapons?” Tim’s phone dings. “Damian says not to ignore his text.” 

“Oh!” Dick grabs for his phone.

“Some. They built other stuff as well, but they specialize in weapons and defenses against ghosts.” 

Dick immediately turns back to look at him. “Ghosts?” 

Danny could hear the doubt in his voice. He sighs. “Yeah, they’re ecto-biologists. Amity has a big ghost problem, that’s why we live there, they wanted to study them.” Danny has a slight shiver, but suppresses it. “They develop a lot of technology using ectoplasm-” Danny shudders for real this time. His squeezes his eyes closed, feeling a deep roiling in his gut that is vaguely nauseating, and a fire in his brain that is making his blood feel like it's burning. This is strange. His brain goes on overdrive, thinking about his parents, the blob ghosts he has had to free from their basement, the threats they make, them shooting at him. Danny recognises the churning in his body as ectoplasm riling up a core. His core.

But he’s not in his body, he shouldn’t have… Jason has died too. Danny opens his eyes and they’re glowing.

[emptyjunior]

Can I say how much I love how Ouran High School handles the rich boy/poor girl in love trope. 

Like I absolutely believe it’s discussions about classism and elitism to this Day still hold up! 

I will admit there is so much weird stuff in ouran😭, but we see the Handsome ‘Unlimited Money’ Male Lead a LOT in anime and I feel ouran gets a lot of points of the characterisation SO right, that a lot of other shows just don’t! 

Ouran does the whole love story/harem/all the boys want brown hair girl that we project on, trope. Like they do that, but they show that at the foundation, the root of all of it, those rich boys are JEALOUS. They aren’t approaching Haruhi with the need to protect and own her, at their core the rich are envious of her! Even though they have everything, they want what she has! 

Like we see in the real world with how the rich cosplay as poor! And say "ohhhh I'm so broke please venmo me for lunch" and wear their ripped jeans and strained sweaters and take pictures at the met gala with a box of McDonalds fries in their hand. 

The classist comments made towards Haruhi ARE comedic relief, but the joke isn’t on characters like Haruhi, the joke is on THEM. 

They are the ones who can’t do anything! They are the ones who are stilted and emotionally closed off! They are the ones who can’t make an instant coffee or go to a mall without help! 

THAT is why Haruhi is the center of this harem, why she is the one they’re chasing. They are jealous of her insight and world experience from living independently, from living a REAL life. That is her enviable trait. Haruhi GETS people! And they don’t. Their wealth has isolated them and now there is a barrier between these characters and the rest of the world and they have no idea how to navigate it. 

And this is the foundation of 90% of the problems/conflict in the show! 

The holiday ep when Hikaru has feelings because Haruhi reconnects with Nice Guy Arai? Hikaru says he doesn’t like this guy for all these reasons and most of them are like ‘he’s just some nobody from nothing who only knows Haruhi cause they went to some stupid public school together’. Like okay? Haruhi has all of those ‘bad traits’ as well but you still seem to like her?  

Because it’s not about that, it’s never about that, it’s not even about the love rival/romance angle (at least not completely).  

Hikaru is scared and embarrassed! He already was when they got there, when these rich boys crashed Haruhi’s summer to find out she is an employee here and she is working with her own two hands. This is not a break for her! And then he’s so worried when Haruhi and Arai find each other because what they have is so untouchable to him. Same background, same class, they can meet each other’s needs! And know the other's needs! And this is a chasm that Hikaru has no idea how to cross so he starts lashing out. 

And that episode concludes with Hikaru being told about Haruhi’s fear of thunderstorms, finally actually listening and empathizing with what that means, and then going to her and giving her the stuff she needs to deal with that problem (blanket, headphones, support, protection etc.). 

He has to LEARN that none of those poor people inherently know all this secret knowledge! They just care and ask each other stuff! You can ask Haruhi what she's afraid of and then help her with that! It was always this simple! Just because you’re not the same class as her and knowing her isn’t as easy as it is with people the same as you, doesn’t mean you’ll never know! Learn! Listen! Keep trying! 

Ouran shows their rich characters being hurt by their wealth. Their elitists mindset does NOT benefit them and they’re only narratively rewarded when they break out of it, THAT’S why the arcs are so good. 

(And also while we’re here, I LOVE when they do eps that show Tamaki’s character is actually a parallel of Haruhi’s. Tamaki grew up as an illegitimate child, hidden away in France with his mother. He knows what it is to not be at the top of the food chain, and he learns the skills to keep living! Tamaki is a survivor in a world run by a man who was ashamed of him and did not want him. That can destroy a child, but Tamaki doesn’t let it. He learns how to work people and he learns that belief in yourself is the most powerful asset someone can have. And this is the life experience he imparts onto Kyoya and this SAVES Kyoya, who was barreling towards a black pit of despair and chasing his father’s shadow. The ‘poor’ characters of this show have power that the rich people desperately desire, and in the end they learn that it’s not something you take it’s something you build for yourself.) 

[loveinhawkins]

Underneath the hum of the RV, Steve asks Eddie for directions to The War Zone.

Steve does not need directions. Eddie knows this, because when he’d shown it on the map, drumming his fingers restlessly, Steve had leant over his shoulder and muttered, “Got it,” with such confidence, like he’d committed it to memory within seconds.

Eddie slides into the passenger seat anyway.

“Isn’t this kinda… stupid?” he says hesitantly, gesturing to himself and the front window. Sure, the roads are quiet now, but…

“Don’t worry, I’ll push you off if anyone gets too close,” Steve says with mock gravity.

It makes Eddie laugh. “Thanks, very gallant of you.”

He still hasn’t given a single direction.

“You’re not, by the way,” Steve says casually, as he makes another turn.

“Uh, not what?”

“Living up to a name.”

Eddie looks away. “That was a joke.”

“Right.”

“It was.”

“I know,” Steve says quietly. “Just…” He shrugs with one shoulder. “Just so you know.”

“I do,” Eddie says, clipped. Bites his tongue—hates that he gets like this whenever…

“Okay,” Steve says, still so patient; Eddie can’t understand it. “You’re not really living up to the whole freak thing either.”

Something in Eddie’s stomach relaxes: this, at least, is slightly safer territory.

“Sorry to disappoint, Steve.”

“Yeah.” Steve heaves a huge sigh like it’s an actual problem. He’s smiling through it. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re painfully normal.”

Eddie scoffs. “S’not what others would say.”

“Fuck them,” Steve says cheerfully.

Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that. Just sits in silence as they get closer and closer to The War Zone. Feels inadequate.

He wants to say something, at least—wants to speak through the nerves that keep surging back, wants to stumble through an apology, look, I’m sorry I’m such a mess when you’re so—

“Hey,” Steve says like it’s an ordinary day, like he’s asking to borrow a pencil in class. “Wanna talk when we’re not, like, terrified out of our minds?”

But you’re, Eddie starts to think.

Then he sees Steve’s hands on the wheel, gripping tight. Recalls the sharpness in his eyes as he read the map. How he said, “Got it,” like a vow.

“Please?” Eddie says. Can’t stop the word from going up in question, you can take it back, I won’t—

Steve nods.

They’re swinging into the parking lot, and instead of him pushing Eddie off the seat, it’s more of a gentle nudge.

Eddie hides round the back of the driver’s seat, one knee to his chest.

Steve catches his eye halfway out the door. He winks. “Great navigating.”

And as Eddie waits for his return, he thinks about it. All of it. Middle school and everything that came before; dropping his plate in the cafeteria and feeling all those eyes on him, the anxiety suffocating, that they could read it on his face somehow, yeah his dad’s in jail, kid’s a mess…

Maybe Eddie will tell Steve Harrington everything.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (7.5)

chapter 7.5: limbo

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; minho's pov; non-explicit smut, kissing, grinding, implied unprotected sex; alcohol consumption, non-linear storytelling (jumps around a few random scenes before we get back to the present that picks up from the end of chapter 7), cursing, the final line :-?; not that unedited i am so so sorry lol word count: 5.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / series masterpost / taglist

Wishing fountains, we pray for change in the dark Moving mountains, we end up right where we start The world’s not falling apart But you and I, baby we are

Wishing Fountains - Bad Suns

“What does it say?” Minho asks.

You sigh, your eyes trailing the words on the small piece of paper in your hands before you shove one half of the fortune cookie in your mouth. It seems dry; you look like you can barely swallow it.

“Bullshit,” you say simply, a little bitter before you hide behind a mask of indifference, turning to him as you ask, “Yours?” 

He breaks his own fortune cookie in half, pulling out a similar piece of paper that reads, “‘Jeg elsker deg’ means ‘I love you’ in Norwegian.”

You're both lying on a fluffy rug on the floor of your bedroom, with an empty bottle of rosé sitting somewhere near your head. “That’s... random,” you say, casting your eyes to the ceiling. “But I mean, at least it’s kind of educational. Now you know a phrase in Norwegian.”

“Sure,” Minho laughs, testing out the syllables in his mouth and butchering them in the process. “Who would I even say it to?”

“Impress your future girlfriend with your worldly knowledge. Or say it to Hyunjin, I’m sure he’ll swoon and blush like a schoolgirl.”

“That’s the last thing I want. He’s already clingy enough as it is.”

“Alright. Well, your loss then.”

He only hums in response. “You’re really not gonna tell me what yours is?”

“I told you. It’s bullshit.”

“Wanna tell me why the fortune cookie is evil at least? I’ll fight it for you.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder with a playful scoff. “It just got me thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

It takes a minute for you to gather your thoughts into one semi-cohesive pile. 

“Just… reminds me how I don’t really fit into anyone’s life,” you start, your voice coming out a little small and timid before you seem to let the alcohol give you enough confidence to say what you want. “I don’t feel like I’m worth anyone’s time. Everyone’s going to outgrow me eventually, if they haven’t already. Their lives will only get bigger and bigger, and they’ll have to leave me behind at some point. All that space but none for me.

“I think I’ll be stuck like this forever, in this fucking… limbo. And I know it’s dramatic because we’re still young and we’ve got our whole lives in front of us and whatever else that people say. But it feels like wherever I go and whatever I do, my life will always be this small while you all move on. Chan and Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, Felix, even Hyunjin and Jisung when they’re not too busy being idiots. Everyone’s got everything all planned out, and they have other things to fall back on if those plans don’t work out. If I fall, I think I’ll just keep falling until I hit rock bottom.

“And you… you’re gonna do great things too. You’re gonna live your life and it’s going to be a good one, and you’ll forget about me too. A few years from now, when everyone’s already moved on, I’ll just be a girl that you used to know. I’m just a stop along the way.”

Then you pause, and the laugh you let out afterward is choked up and not at all sincere. You rub your hands down your face, groaning a little when you say, “Ugh, that was depressing. Sorry, it’s the wine. Forget I said anything.”

You have beautiful eyes, that’s what Minho has always thought, the kind that holds all the universe’s sparkles and all its sadness too, a bittersweet balance. The kind that makes one want to stop and admire for a while. He loves when they light up before the joy gradually spreads across your face, like watching the sun peak over the horizon before it colors the sky with ethereal pinks and purples and blues. You’re a wonderful sunrise, his favorite part of every day.

He even loves your faraway gaze when you’re here but you’re elsewhere simultaneously, hiding in your eyes musings that are privy to nobody else. You’d stare into the distance and he’d watch you the whole time, wondering if any of the thoughts that occupy your mind are about him.

Minho has an urge to take you into his arms and hold you tight and tell you that everything’s going to be okay. That no one’s going to forget about you because you’re not someone who can be forgotten so easily, let alone be forgotten by him. That he isn’t going anywhere if it’s not by your side, that he wants to be in your life until you decide you’re sick of him, not the other way around.

He wants to tell you he loves you because that’s the truth. He was gone the minute he saw you at that stupid party years ago when you had walked in shyly with Chan and Jess. You had tried to make yourself smaller in a roomful of strangers, but you’ve always been the only one Minho could find in a crowd.

Years and years from now, when he thinks back to his youth, the highlight reel that will pop up in his mind will be of his idiot friends and the good memories they’ve shared with one another. How they laughed and cried, how they fell and got back up together time and time again.

And at the center of it all will be you. Green grass, blue skies, his golden days and you, the focal point of his youth.

He loves you. Would it help, or would it scare you?

He doesn’t let himself debate that question for long. Regardless of what the answer is, now isn’t the right time. So instead, he says, “For what it’s worth, everyone’s just taking it one day at a time, even if they seem like they have it all planned out. You’re not falling behind. You’re going at your own pace, who cares about other people?”

You turn your head to stare at him, your cheeks flushed with a rosy tint from the wine you had shared and a pensive look on your face. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but he holds your gaze anyway.

“And I can’t speak for anyone else, but you’ll always have me. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

A quiet moment passes. If Minho focuses hard enough, he thinks he might be able to hear the faint beats of your heart.

His gaze flickers to your lips for barely a second before it returns to your eyes, quick enough for it to escape your notice.

Then, you’re holding yourself up on one elbow and shuffling into his orbit until you’re right by his side. He doesn’t move a single inch; he only watches as you get closer, and closer, and closer until there’s no more space between the two of you. He blinks, and in that split second he misses the way you let your eyes shut as you lean down to press your lips to his.

He’s surprised, but pleasantly so.

You taste like rosé, like something he’s always known that he wants to chase.

It stuns him enough that he forgets to respond, his mind focused solely on the feeling of your soft lips on him, the scent of your jasmine perfume and how you’re so warm pressed against him like this.

Maybe it’s the stillness of his body that shocks you out of it, because you pull away after a few seconds with an instant look of mortification in your eyes, trying to scramble back to your original spot on the rug like you’ve just committed an unspeakable sin. Running away, he thinks, is your first instinct.

But Minho is just a tad quicker than you are. He doesn’t let you stray very far when he props himself up to cup your face with one hand and bring you back to him.

He’s kissing you again and for a brief moment, he feels like he could die.

You don’t break from him this time. Instead, you’re kissing him back just as deeply. You let him lower you back to the floor as he holds himself up above you, his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips while his thumb strokes your cheek softly, keeping you there in his loose hold so you could still run if that’s what you want to do.

But you stay with him, your hands trailing up the expanse of his chest to find purchase on his shoulders, your legs parting so he could perfectly slot himself into the space that you’ve allowed him.

When he rocks his hips into you experimentally, you bite on his bottom lip, a whining sound from your throat comes out muffled against his mouth.

He strays just long enough and far enough so he could look into your eyes, with your pupils blown much darker than they had been at the start of the evening.

He says your name, the gentlest sound in the world, then a question. “What do you want?”

Minho half expects you to overthink your answer and come back to your senses, to choose flight because it would be the easier option.

But you don’t. There’s a dazed look in your eyes as you lock onto him, and there’s something underneath the pool of lust in your gaze that leaves him breathless and wondering.

“You,” you say quietly, “I want you.”

And it’s with this simple answer that you pull him back to you again, not the other way around. You kiss him more fervently than before if that’s even possible. When he slides his arm around your waist, you let him pick you up to cross the few steps it takes to get to your bed, his lips never leaving you even after he has laid you onto the mattress. They follow the path where your jawline leads down to your neck, then where your neck meets your collarbone, and he savors every little whimper that you make for him even though he’s barely touched you yet. There’s hardly any patch of skin that he leaves unkissed, and when he reaches where your shirt begins to hide the rest of you from him, he only looks up at you, quietly asking for more permission.

You don’t give him a verbal answer. You take matters into your own hands, lifting your top over your head and flinging it somewhere on the floor.

Then your bra follows to join your shirt, wherever it may be. Minho assumes they’ve landed on the bottle of rosé, only guessing by the sound of the glass being knocked over and rolling around. He’s not sure but he doesn’t care about it enough to look, not when he’s got you right here under him, so beautiful and so willing that it makes his head spin.

He’s imagined this before, just a few times whenever he's drunk enough to let his mind wander without the guilt that comes with it when he’s sober. He has wondered before what it would feel like to kiss you breathless and have you kiss him back, to touch you in ways that no one else ever has, to taste how sweet you are and feel your warmth. None of it is appropriate, not at all platonic. He’s well aware of it.

It's been years, ever since Minho met you at that party when he was 19 and you had been too awkward to start a conversation. Years of walking with you in the rain after class, sharing umbrellas that are too small to shield the both of you but it’s okay, because he doesn’t mind leaving half of his body exposed to the harsh weather as long as the rain doesn’t get on you. Years of making sure you get home safely after nights out with your friends, years of insisting that he sees you walk inside your building and up to your floor whether it's 11PM or 4:30AM. Years of lingering glances, of pretending he isn’t bothered whenever Felix offers to introduce you to someone, of smiles sent your way that are far too endeared to mean nothing at all.

Years of loving you in silence because he’s your friend first and foremost, and his friendship with you means more to him than the feelings he has for you.

And yet...

He’s here in your bed, watching you with mesmerized eyes as you take off the rest of your clothes before helping him discard his, as you kiss him just as deeply as he’s wanted to kiss you for the longest time, as you keep pulling him into you even when he’s already as close to you as humanly possible. His lips on yours, his heart pressed against the other side of yours. His fingers intertwined with yours when he slips inside of you, and how your hands stay interlocked the entire time you’re wrapped together. You cling to him so tightly, as though it would hurt you if he were to ever let go.

It’s the way you look at him, like he’s the only person that exists in your universe. It’s the broken moans that you give him, the nonsense babbles that make his chest swell with pride at the knowledge that he’s making you feel so good that the only thing you know how to say coherently is his name. It’s the heaven between your thighs, absolutely divine and infinitely better than any fantasy that he could ever let himself indulge in.

Just for tonight, Minho can pretend that you're his, even though he knows that he’s already been yours since the first time you met. He’s been yours for as long as he can remember, even if you don’t know it yet.

Later on, when he’s collapsed next to you on the bed, there’s a safe distance between your tired bodies and a certain tension in the air that’s heavy with the consequences of your actions. When he takes your hand, the one that’s shaking as you grip the sheets between your fingers, it alleviates some of that anxiety.

“The fortune cookie, what did it say?” he asks, like you’re simply continuing the conversation from before.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Seriously?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Seriously.”

You purse your lips as you look at him for another second before you cast your eyes to the ceiling again, like you’d done just an hour ago. “It said ‘You’ll be loved.’”

You are, he thinks to himself. You’re loved.

“Open wide.”

You give him a look, to which he only responds with a shrug and a sly grin. 

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you say, but you take the spoonful of chicken soup that he offers you anyway. You can’t focus on the taste but it’s warm and the relief you feel is instant when it soothes your throat.

You’ve practically been on bedrest for the past three days, slowly rotting away in your apartment with a bad strain of the seasonal flu until Minho came over and unleashed his inner mama bear on you. Now here you are, wrapped up like a burrito on the couch (Minho insisted; he wouldn’t have it any other way) while he spoon feeds you homemade chicken soup.

You were stubborn about it at first, as one could probably imagine. When you told the group chat that you wouldn’t make it to movie night at Chan’s place last weekend, you were adamant that you would be able to sleep it off and bounce back in no time, despite Minho offering to make you some food and bring over some meds and cough drops.

The symptoms worsened overnight though, and you developed a fever along with a cough that’s worse than any you’ve ever experienced. When Minho called you to make sure you were still alive, you could barely even speak.

He hates your cavalier attitude when it comes to taking care of yourself. He hates himself even more for believing in your nonchalance and not bulldozing his way over sooner.

“I’m enjoying this because I was right,” he says, feeding you more of the soup. “I told you instant ramyeon wouldn’t cure you.”

He lets his I told you so triumph go easily, even though he suspects that you have much more to bite back at him if you could get through half a sentence without wanting to hack your lungs out. You make a noise, and he isn’t really sure if it’s one of agreement or protest but it’s most likely the latter. He thinks it’s cute that you close your eyes after every spoonful, lazily eating like one of his cats back home whenever they’ve run out of energy. You’re probably tired and can’t wait to get into bed.

When the soup is finished, Minho fetches you your meds and a glass of warm water. He doesn’t know if the scrunched up face you make after every pill is because you hate the bitter taste or if the tablets keep dragging against your already sensitive throat on their way down, but he strokes your hair all the while you wash it down with water, a gentle hand on your head as if to say You’re doing well.

He tucks you in bed not long after, despite your weak protests as he carries you to your bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you had managed to croak out. “I’m not that helpless.”

“I know,” came his response and a teasing smile. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

You’re pliant once you’re laid gently on the mattress though, idly watching Minho as he wraps the duvet around your shoulders and fluffs your pillows just the way you like. This is awfully domestic, he notes, and he can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to your forehead, not when he’s absolutely endeared by the way your tired eyes try to keep themselves open just so you could look at him.

When his lips leave your warm skin, he thinks he might’ve imagined the blush that colors your cheeks.

But he blinks, and you’re still flushed, your lips slightly parted as you stare at him, mild surprise evident in your drowsy gaze.

Something passes over the two of you, a kind of silence that he isn’t accustomed to when he’s with you. It isn’t bad, it’s just… strange.

One beat, then another. “Want me to stay with you?” he asks.

He knows you’d say no, and yet he can’t help the disappointment when you tell him, “You don’t have to. Go home, Min. Thanks for taking care of me today.”

“You sure? I can take the couch. It’s fine.”

“I’m sure. Chan and Jess said they’re coming to check on me in the morning.”

Minho lets out a hum, and purses his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you look like you want to.”

“Just… y’know,” he starts, gauging your reaction all the while, for any signs of physical discomfort or otherwise, “I like you like this. You’re not hiding when you’re like this.”

“You like me frail and on the verge of death?”

He rolls his eyes, pretends to flick at your forehead. “You know what I mean.”

When you giggle, it’s immediately followed by a wince, like the movement is hurting your sensitive throat. “Do I hide when I’m with you?”

“Sometimes.” He moves his hand to caress your face, gentle fingertips tracing the apple of your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him, if only for a little while. “It feels like you’re always ready to leave.”

“Are you worried I’m gonna run away?” you ask, covering your hand over his to move it away, but you still let his touch linger when you only lower his hand to your neck, where he starts twiddling your hair between his fingers. It feels like you want him close, close enough that it matters, close in a way that still lets you have control over how it matters. “I physically can’t. I’m sick.”

“Does that mean you’ll run away when you get better?”

You seem to ponder the question for a moment. You’re holding onto his wrist and Minho is almost certain that you can feel his pulse. He would do so many things for you if only you’d let him.

When you answer him, you keep things light but your tone is soft, gentle in a way that tells him your sentiment means more than the words you cherry pick on the surface.

 “No, I have finals in two weeks.”

The first time that Minho gets to wake up next to you, nothing feels real. Not the pleasant scent of your shampoo greeting him the minute he opens his eyes, not your soft breath fanning his bare collarbone where you lay with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, not even the feeling of you in his arms, safe and warm, as though this is where you’re meant to be. None of it seems like anything other than a dream.

When memories of the previous night come rushing to the surface, it also brings back the annoyance he felt watching Yeonjun openly flirt with you at the party, and the bitter feeling that accompanied the reminder that Minho couldn’t even really do anything about it but stand idly by. 

But you stir in his arms, and all of the annoyance and bitterness goes away. Because you’re here with him and not anybody else. There’s a certain ego boost knowing that he’s the one you kiss, the only one you allow in your most personal space. To know you is a privilege, and it’s one that you grant no one else but him.

Last night, something happened. Something changed, he felt it when you were the one who asked him to stay. You let him put his shirt on you, let him hold you as you slept, even welcomed his embrace and snuggled further into his body in a way that you’ve never done before.

How you kissed him just hours prior, how you looked at him… God, he thinks he could just spill all of his secrets if you did it again.

But when you open your eyes, Minho is already pretending to be asleep again. How would you react? He’s curious to know. Would you scramble away the second the realization kicks in that you let him break your rule? Would you leave his side and act all nonchalant about it when you inevitably have to face each other later? He’s willing to bet that you would.

But you surprise him again. He feels you watching him for a moment, then your touch ghosts upon his features. It almost makes him falter in his act, your gentle fingers tracing his temple, his cheekbones, the slope of his nose down to his lips. There’s a sigh that you exhale, and he misses your touch the very second it leaves his skin. He itches to bring you closer to him again.

So that’s what he does. Minho keeps the facade going, pretending like he’s now just waking up with his limbs stretching out. You stiffen when he hugs you tighter, but you soon relax after he starts stroking your hair. 

Nothing has changed for him, but can you say the same?

“Dude!”

Minho flinches into action when a voice calls his name right by the car window, loud enough to startle him even through the thick layer of glass. When he turns his head, he finds Changbin’s face all pressed up against the window, struggling to hold three bags full of supplies that are threatening to spill out. “Help me with these!” his friend says.

It’s the week of Jisung, Felix and Seungmin’s birthdays; you lot tends to go all out for the quadruple birthday bash every year (Chan’s birthday is only 11 days later after all). Seungmin’s family has a lakeside cabin a couple hours from the city, that’s where everyone goes to unwind for a long weekend with plenty of food and even more drinks. This year, it’s no different.

Minho and Changbin are on drinks duty, tasked with picking up all of the alcohol and refreshments for the weekend ahead. He doesn’t really know what the rest are doing, just that you and Jeongin are babysitting Hyunjin to make sure the latter doesn’t deviate from the proposed budget and go way overboard when getting snacks and decorations. You sent Minho a text a while ago, a video of you facepalming and rolling your eyes before you flip the camera over to show Hyunjin and Jeongin bickering like children over a mega pack of chips.

Once everything is in the car – cases of beer safely loaded into the trunk, bottles of water and soft drinks set in their designated plastic bags in the backseat, Changbin comments from the driver’s seat, “You looked weird. You were smiling.”

Minho only stares at him for a moment, a neutral expression on his face as he blinks those typical Minho blinks, before he turns his head to the other side to lean against the window.

He was thinking about the first time your tradition started, the first year Jess had to drag you on the trip. She used to do it often; you were shy in the beginning.

He’s got a favorite memory of you, and it wasn’t you and him sitting together on the bank of the river during the sunset, while the others were in the water, splashing around and having the time of your lives (you two were the only ones who couldn’t swim, but it was okay, you didn’t feel like you missed out on anything because at least you had each other).

His favorite memory of you wasn’t running into you in the middle of the night when he went into the kitchen for some water and you were out by yourself on the adjacent balcony, sitting with your chin resting on your folded knees and the crescent moon for company. He stayed there for a moment, dazed, wondering if he was still dreaming or if it was just you. When Minho finally made his presence known, you told him you couldn’t sleep and he suggested that you break into Hyunjin’s secret ramyeon stash, because going to bed with a full stomach always made him feel better whenever he was restless. 1:58AM, you ended up almost burning your hand on the stove, too busy trying to keep your giggles down when he made a stupid joke.

Minho’s favorite memory wasn’t of you falling asleep on his shoulder on the drive back either, with you squished in the backseat between him and Felix, and your light snores reminded him of Soonie whenever the cat would doze off on his chest. It wasn’t any of these moments, even though he thinks he might’ve loved you in every instance.

His favorite memory of you was the evening before that trip had to come to an end, the last night you all spent together before you had to leave your safe little bubble. It was after dinner and some drinks, everyone was buzzed and the air was crisp, chilly every now and then. When you were gathered on the dock overlooking the lake, each holding a sparkler that Jisung had prepared, you were laughing. Everyone else was laughing too, but yours was the only sound Minho could focus on.

“Be quiet. I’m gonna take a nap,” he tells Changbin, ignoring the comment entirely as he closes his eyes. “Wake me when we get to Chan’s.”

The lights, and your friends, and the moon hanging high up in the sky like a guardian angel back then.

You were watching how it all reflected so beautifully in the rippling waters below. He was watching you.

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

His question hangs in the awful silence as you stare at him. Minho can see your nails digging into your palms where your fists are clenched, your glassy eyes and the frown between your brows, like you’re trying your hardest to hold back tears. Why else would you be so upset?

He’s known about it for a while, or at the very least, he’s had an inkling of how you feel about him. He knows he isn’t in over his head when he says there’s a certain glow that radiates from within you when you’re together, a side of you that’s tender and at peace, one that he’s never seen you show anyone else. The way you look at him, it’s the same way that he looks at you even if you don’t realize it yet, or maybe you just don’t want to admit it out loud.

It hasn’t been one sided for at least some time now, he knows it.

But it’s frustrating to watch you try so hard to fight it. He’s the only one holding on, and you’ve been willing to let go at every turn.

“See what?” you challenge.

This isn’t how he planned to ever say these words, but the moment is here whether he likes it or not. It’s staring at you both in the face even if you are doing your best to hide from it.

Minho holds your gaze for a few seconds before he steps toward you again. This time, you stand your ground.

“You asked me if things changed for me and I said no. That was the truth, I never lied to you. We’re friends but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you as something more from the beginning.”

He pauses there, watches your eyes and how you take it in. They soften a little, filling up some more as you process his words. There’s surprise in the look that you wear, sure. A little confusion, yes. But most of all, you just look sad. When you call out his name, he can tell by your tone that it’s a warning, that you’re about to run away for real this time if he presses on, and yet he can’t stop until he says his piece.

“If you want me to spell it out for you, I’ve had feelings for you since we first met. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you, and it drives me crazy that you don’t see any of it. The thing that makes me even crazier, do you know what it is? I think you feel something for me too, but you won’t admit it to yourself and you always resort to shutting down instead of facing your feelings. How much longer are you going to run away from me?”

When the first tear unintentionally spills over from the corner of your eye, Minho knows he’s struck a nerve. He wants to reach out and wipe away the tiny stream that rolls down your face but you beat him to it, wiping at your cheek in angry motions.

“You’re wrong.” Your voice is tight when you tell him, “I don’t have feelings for you.” It’s the only thing that you address.

Sometimes, he searches for your answer at the bottom of a glass, or on the other end of looks that seem to linger just a beat too long. But as he’s standing here, right now, he finds it in your hesitation to speak, in the lie you give him when you finally do.

It’s the answer he’s always wanted and yet, the knowledge brings him no satisfaction at all. It only lodges a lump in his throat, an overwhelming sense of dejection when he sees how hard you’re trying to fight this.

“I know you,” he sighs after a moment, a little defeated. “I know when you’re lying.”

“Maybe you don’t know me that well after all.”

You’re stubborn. You’ve always been stubborn.

Minho takes another step forward. It feels like it’s a step closer to the end as you both know it, because how else is your relationship going to come back from this? He sees the slight shake in your shoulders that you try to suppress, but he’ll always be the one to notice. 

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he says quietly, his final resort. A challenge but it sounds an awful lot like a plea. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that things can take a turn for the worse in just two weeks’ time. The last time you both were here, you’d kissed his endeared smile and held him so impossibly close to you. Now, everything is falling apart, the seams coming undone one by one. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Minho meant what he said, about how loving you drives him crazy sometimes. Even when you’re breaking his heart, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. A noticeable sting settles in between the cracks of his ribcage at the sight of your quivering bottom lip, your balled up fists and his own reflection in your glassy eyes.

“Do you want me to say it so badly?” you ask, and he can only stare at you when your voice comes out harsher than it was before, though it cracks toward the end as you try to keep up with the facade. “Fine, I’ll say it.”

It’s not what he asked, but it’s confirmation nonetheless. It’s acceptance but not how he wants it to be. Acceptance that you do love him, and yet, you say it in a way that he’s never expected to hear from you.

“I don’t want to love you.”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.08.2024]

[jobean12-blog]

Locked in Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 1,161

Summary: You and Joel are clearly pining for each other but neither of you will act on it so Ellie and Tommy formulate a plan.

Author's Note: This is just because I want to be locked in a dark space with this man so he can have his way with me. I'd never feel safer. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's soft and sweet and fun and there's flirty tension and lots of touching...Ellie is a menace in the best way, a curse or three.

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

“Ouch!”

Joel turns his head to the left, listening with his good ear.

“For fucks sake! Son of a…OW!”

His lips twitch with a smile and he moves closer to the old shed.

“Hey darlin’? You ok in there?” he asks.

As he gets closer to the door he starts to hear the rattling of metal against wood and lots of banging.

“Darlin’?” he calls again.

The door is slightly ajar, letting only a small fraction of the light from outside in, so he steps inside.

He catches the briefest glimpse of your ass as you’re bent over a pile of old tools before the door slams shut behind him and he’s bathed in shadowy darkness.

“Oh no,” you mutter. “Did the door just shut?”

“Um…” Joel starts and reaches behind him to test the rusty knob.

A long moment stretches without words while Joel fumbles with the door lock.

“Shit,” he sighs.

“Joel?”

“It’s me darlin’,” he answers. “I heard some noises comin’ from inside and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thank goodness it’s you.”

Your words rush out in a relieved exhale.

“But I’m pretty sure we’re locked in here now.”

“Seems that way,” he says, giving the knob one more good jiggle.

You try to take a step forward but the darkness makes it much more difficult to see and you walk into an old pile of wood.

“Shit,” you curse with a hiss.

“Don’t move,” he says as he extends his hands out in front of him. “I’m comin’ for you.” 

You stay still, waiting for the touch of his hands. You can feel his warmth first though and before his fingers make contact you’re enveloped in his familiar scent of earth and spice.

“There ya are darlin’,” he whispers when his fingers wrap around your arm. “Sure you’re okay?”

“I am now,” you answer, your breathy sigh washing over him.

You instinctively lean into his touch, pressing your shoulder to his chest and clutching his shirt in your hands.

“What are you doin’ in here anyway?” he asks.

You sigh and roll your eyes even if he can’t see the motion in the darkness.

“Ellie asked me to help her build her bookshelf and told me I could probably find an old hammer in here and maybe some other tools.”

He scoffs and shakes his head.

“Well there might be somethin’ in here we can use to open the door at least,” he muses.

His deep voice is close to your ear it sends a warm shiver down your spine.

“Ok,” you whisper but you don’t let go of his shirt and for several moments he stays still, pressing himself closer.

“Guess I should look around,” he says quietly.

When he does finally start to move you move with him, his arm slipping around your waist to secure you to his side.

At first he navigates the dark space well, only bumping into something small but at some point he makes a turn and the next thing you know you’re backed up against the wall.

“Oof,” you mutter, placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself.

Both of his hands slide to your waist.

“Fuck, darlin.’ Sorry. I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay,” you assure him as your hands move higher to his shoulders.

He murmurs your name in an almost desperate manner before he eases closer, crowding you against the wall.

You drag your fingers downward, reaching his stomach and savoring the feel of the softness beneath your hands.

His grip tightens and he asks, “what are you doin’ darlin’?”

“Making sure I don’t trip or bump into anything else,” you explain.

Your hands don’t stop their roaming and when you glide them back up and find the open buttons of his shirt your fingertips slide under the fabric and caress his warm skin.

His breath accelerates and he dips his head. You lean in and your lips meet his scruffy cheek.

With deliberate purpose you ghost your mouth along his jaw until you find his ear to whisper his name in a plea.

Your back molds to the wall seconds after the sound leaves your lips and he swallows your surprise with his mouth.

Even in the dark he kisses you like he’s memorized the shape of your lips, gently nipping and then soothing the spot with his tongue. His large hand traces the curve of your body before it settles along the back of your neck, his thumb delicately sweeping across your cheek.

“So soft for me,” he murmurs, releasing your lips.

You can feel him staring in the darkness and your hands start to wander again, fingertips grazing lower until you meet his belt buckle.

He drops his head to your neck, breathing against your throat as he rolls his hips.

“Fuck darlin’,” he growls.

Your lips meet again but only to lightly slide together, the anticipation hanging thick in the small space of air between you.

The door to the shed flies open.

Joel operates on instinct and crowds you against the wall, hiding you protectively with his body. As soon as the light from outside floods in you duck your head and tuck it under his chin.

He squints into the brightness and as his eyes adjust he grumbles out a curse.

“Told you it would work.”

At the sound of Ellie’s voice you peek out over Joel’s shoulder with narrowed eyes.

“Did I just hear her say what I think she said?” you ask Joel quietly.

“You did,” he grunts. “Damn kid.”

“Who was she talking to?” you ask next.

Before Joel can answer you hear the heavy footfall of boots followed by Tommy’s distinct laughter.

“Darn right it worked,” Tommy grins and then you hear him and Ellie high five.

Ellie looks pointedly at Joel and then you, giving you both a triumphant smile before sauntering off.

“Should I just leave you two…” Tommy starts, his eyes sparkling as his finger waggles back and forth. “I can lock the door again.”

Without releasing you, Joel takes a threatening step forward and Tommy retreats with hands held up in surrender but his knowing smile still unwavering.

Once Tommy is gone Joel’s eyes turn softly to you. Calloused fingertips brush along your forehead before tracing the outline of your lips.

Your breath hitches under the heat you see in his gaze, the intensity making you acutely aware of every sensation he draws from you.

“I’m not done with you yet. Far from it darlin’.”

Very deliberately he drops his hand from your face, grazing every exposed inch of skin he can find on his way down to the hem of your shirt and slowly, gently slips his fingers beneath.

Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and you let out a rush of air.

“Can I touch you?” he murmurs.

“Yes.” The answer bursts out of you in a desperate whisper, as if you’ve been holding it in forever.

@lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @lizette50 @littleseasiren

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.12. MEN ARE STUPID

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . uncomfortable by eyedress

she feels stupid waiting for him in the kitchen. if he's upset with her she doesn’t want to be the first thing he sees in the morning. but she wants to fix what she did wrong or at least talk to him about it. she wants to show him that she cares.

so she keeps waiting. her head almost gets the best of her and she’s about to take refuge back in her own room when his door creaks open. 

she’s silent as she watches him navigate through the kitchen. she hates this. she’s never had to feel uncomfortable around him, as if she was walking on thin ice and one wrong move could ruin everything.

she doesn’t hide the fact that she’s watching him, and he doesn’t look at her. she looks down at her fingers, splayed on the kitchen counter, and begins to pick at them to try and calm her nerves. “...i don’t mean to bother you, but i just wanted to check in on how you’re doing,” she finally speaks up.

“i’m good,” he responds, placing down a mug he’s grabbed from a cabinet above.

“are you?” she answers quickly and then immediately tries to soften the blow, “i mean, i’m just worried. you won’t look at me. i feel like i did something wrong.”

he pauses for a moment before resuming what he’s doing. “you didn’t,” he replies quietly. it’s clear he wants her to leave it, but she can’t bring herself to. she wants to talk to him. she likes to talk to him. she likes him.

“then why won't you look at me?” when she says it out loud, it sounds pathetic. “i feel like there is something. i don’t want to assume, but i can’t help but overthink this. is it because i was out with atsumu yesterday?”

he finally looks at her but she immediately regrets asking him to do so in the first place. he looks nothing like how he acted and spoke with her when they were texting yesterday. “why would i be mad about that?” he asks. “we’re not actually dating or anything, i don’t care who you're with.”

everything seems to freeze for a moment. the world goes silent. even her pulse she could hear so loudly only seconds ago has paused, and she keeps looking forward. no longer at him, just on the wall past him. she doesn’t blink, she doesn’t breathe, she doesn’t move because it’s all she can do to keep herself from falling apart. she’d been the one to read everything wrong. she had let her feelings get the best of her. they'd agreed to pretend to date and she had selfishly pushed further past those boundaries; he had just played along. “yeah. you’re right,” she almost gives up trying to hold herself together when her voice cracks, “sorry i asked. see you later.”

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

nothing fun about this chapter??

special shoutout to the runnerup songs almost picked for this chapter bc there were many options

after you cry (the anxiety & willow), we had to end it (cuco), pain (pinkpantheress), weirdly enough the mortal boy king (the paper kites) and needs (verzache)

shoutout to my grandma who called my music taste depressing and lonely which is apparently true?? bc there were so many songs that went with this chapter

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @r0seandth0rns @gsyche @kitnootkat @seillarium @tamimemo @myromanempiree @coldcigarette @eclipticnikki @squiishymeow @vivian-555 @cryptictheseus @eclecticeggknightpsychic @kodzukein @kawaii-angelanne @luvly-writer @kodzuken-hoe @kodzuken88 @bookworm-center @theweirdfloatything @glitch-karma @spicana

[angstywaifu]

He's Watching You Again - Bodhi Durran x Reader

Request: You’ve been catching Bodhi staring at you for weeks. Each time he quickly looks away and is too shy to actually speak to you. Until one day when you’re trying to carry too many books or weapons or something and you drop them all. Bodhi rushes over to help you pick them up and offered to help carry them which causes you to strike up a conversation, and suddenly shy little baby Bodhi becomes YOUR little baby Bodhi A/N: I am such a sucker for some cute Bodhi fluff. I hope you guys enjoy. Requests are open if you guys want to send anything in! Masterlist

It had started a few weeks ago. At least I had started noticing it a few weeks ago. Every now and then I would catch his eye before he quickly looked away, his cheeks flushed. I couldn’t help but admit it was cute, even peaked my curiosity about him. But every time I approached him or got close to him, he would bolt in the opposite direction like I was the plague. Often earning confused and worried glances from his friends at his sudden disappearance.

”He’s watching you again.” Imogen teases as we grab our packs and head out of battle brief.

I roll my eyes at her and shove her shoulder as I push past her, leading our way over to the Scribes Quadrant where we had been instructed to pick up some books for training later with some of the first year cadets by Xaden.

”Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I mutter as she catches up to me.

”Oh come on Y/N, we’ve all seen him starting at you. Or my personal favourite, when he runs away from you like you’re the plague. Never seen that boy run so fast in my life.” She muses as we push through the crowd trying to get to lunch.

”You’re looking too much into it.” I try to tell her confidently as we finally break through the crowd of cadets.

She cocks an eyebrow at me as she bites into an apple she must have snuck into her pack at breakfast. A smug look on her face.

”Something tells me his stares have caught your attention.” She teases, her turn to shove into my shoulder.

There was no hiding it from Imogen. We’d practically been attached to each other since day one here in the quadrant. We had never known each other prior to the rebellion or starting here, but we we’re one of the few marked ones in our year and in the same squad. So it was only natural we had gravitated towards each other. But despite that, it had not granted me friendship with Bodhi who she knew quite well.

”Look, I won’t deny it’s caught my attention.” I tell her as we stop in front of the doors to the archives, waiting for a scribe to come and help us. “But thats it. He wants nothing to do with me Imogen.”

”Are you sure about that?” She asks.

”He runs away anytime I am near him or go near him. Trust me, he either wants nothing to do with me or he’s scared of me or something.” I state as I hand the list of books to the scribe that has approached us.

Imogen’s laugh echoes off the walls, a few scribes in the archives glaring at the sudden outburst. “Girl he hangs out with Xaden and Garrick. Trust me, he ain’t scared of you.”

”Then he wants nothing to do with me. Simple as that.” I tell her bluntly.

”You keep telling yourself that.” She muses as the scribe returns with trolley laden with way more books than I was expecting.

We aren’t allowed to take the trolley, but the scribe is at least nice enough to help us stack the books into our arms before sending us on our way with strict instructions to have them back within the week. The walk back to the riders quadrant is slower than our trip over as we can barely see around the stack of books in our arms. Imogen and I tactfully using each other to help navigate our way back. Which so far had been a success. Right up until my boot catches on a small lip in the stone floor in the courtyard, books flying everywhere as my hands dart out to catch my self. I barely register the sound of rushed footsteps approaching till someone is kneeling in front of me.

”Are you ok?” The slightly unfamiliar voice asks.

I look up to see Bodhi kneeling in front of me, hands stretching out to see if I’m ok. As our eyes meet, his eyes go wide as if realising who he has rushed over to help. I can’t help but get lost in his dark brown eyes. They’re almost dark enough to pass as black, but up close I can see the dark chocolate hue to them.

”Yeah I’m ok. Just couldn’t see where I was going is all.” I tell him softly with a smile, hoping it might ease his nerves and not have him running away from me.

Bodhi breathes a sigh of relief and nods before looking at the books strewn across the ground. They we’re everywhere. I turn to find Imogen, but all I find is her retreating back as she leaves Bodhi and I alone in the empty courtyard. Bitch.

”I can help you carry them if you like. But it’s ok if you don’t want me to. And I’m not saying you can’t carry them, you’re definitely more than capable of carrying them yourself. Definitely don’t need my help. But I can if you want and-” Bodhi rambles before I reach out and place a hand on his arm, his body going rigid as he looks up at me in shock.

”Bodhi.”

”Y-yeah?”

I stand up and offer him my hand, pulling him up as he takes it. Gods he was tall. My neck craning to keep eye contact with him as he stands to his full height.

”I’d love for you to help me.” I say with a smile.

Bodhi smiles so wide it takes up most of his face before he rushes to pick up the scattered books, dropping a few in the process. He rushes back over to me with a far smaller pile than I had before. Clearly wanting to make sure I had a clear view of my path after my incident a few moments prior.

”Can’t have you falling in front of me again can we?” He jokes as he starts walking off in the direction Imogen had gone in with a pile of books placed firmly in his arms.

But little did Bodhi know, I was. I was falling. But instead of falling towards the floor at an alarming rate, I was falling head over heels for the shy and bumbling boy in front of me.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Partners-In-Crime

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Rating: General Audiences

Warning: angst (like very substantial amount), fluff, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT), boyband

Relationships: !idol Mingyu x !idol f reader

Summary: In a whirlwind of fake dating to avoid breached contract lawsuit, Mingyu and Y/n navigate growing feelings, blurring lines between pretend and real.

Trope: Fake dating

---

Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the ninth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

I never really thought I’d find myself in this situation: fake dating one of the hottest idols in South Korea. Yet, here I am, sipping an iced caramel macchiato in a corner cafe, pretending that being next to Mingyu from SEVENTEEN is the most natural thing in the world. In reality, my heart is racing, and not in the good way.

“Y/N, could you, like, pretend to be happy?” Mingyu whispers through a tight smile, his voice barely audible over the ambient music and chatty customers. His dark eyes flicker with a mix of annoyance and desperation.

“I am happy,” I snap quietly, struggling to adjust the fake smile plastered on my face. “Well, as happy as I can be, considering I’m fake dating you.”

A little louder than intended, I notice a few heads turn our way. I can feel the pressure mounting. We’re supposed to be the doting couple everyone envies, yet the tension between us is thicker than the whipped cream on my drink.

His fingers drum impatiently on the table, the dull thud echoing my pounding heart. “This was your idea, remember? To throw off the media frenzy surrounding both of us.”

Sure, using the classic “fake dating” trope to divert media attention seemed brilliant in theory. We both had enough scandals and rumors hovering around us to last a lifetime. Pairing up would squash at least half of them.

Mingyu suddenly leans in, looking intently at the menu stuck between the salt and pepper shakers, but I know he isn’t paying attention to the array of overpriced sandwiches. “Y/N, if we don’t pull this off, Dispatch is going to have a field day. Again.”

I sigh, slumping back in my chair. “I know, I get it. But couldn’t we have found another way?”

He opens his mouth to argue but instead, a genuine laugh escapes his lips. “Like what? Publicly announce we’re focusing on our careers and ask for privacy?” The sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on me.

“Okay, fair point.” I roll my eyes but can’t help a small smile. “So what’s the plan now, Mr. Perfect?”

His grip tightens on the table edge before he looks up with a smirk. “We’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow morning for a ‘couple’ branding campaign. We just need to act like we’re head-over-heels for each other, got it?”

I groan inwardly. Nothing like forced intimacy to kickstart a beautiful, fake relationship. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Only if you make it one,” he teases, his smirk widening. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly. “Or maybe you’re just afraid you’ll actually fall for my irresistible charm?”

I snort. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

==

The next morning arrives faster than I’d like. The cosmetics studio is buzzing with activity. Staff members rush around, juggling makeup palettes and camera equipment, their energy palpable.

“Y/N! Mingyu! Over here!” the director waves us over to a pristine white set, where we’re expected to coo and swoon

“Showtime,” Mingyu whispers in my ear. His peppermint breath sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. This fake boyfriend thing is harder than it looks.

I force a smile, slipping my fingers through his as we pose for the cameras. Each flash feels like a dagger, reminding me this isn’t real. But for the sake of our careers, we plaster on the affection.

“Y/N, could you look at Mingyu like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” the photographer instructs, eyes focused behind the lens.

Like he’s the best thing that ever happened to me? Easy. I turn, my gaze softening as if on cue. As much as Mingyu frustrates me, he’s also been my confidant and partner-in-crime through this chaotic idol life. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

Mingyu meets my eyes, his expression unexpectedly tender. The lines of his face soften, making the acting feel less like an act.

We’re mid-pose when Mingyu decides to speak. “You know, you’re not as bad at this as I thought you’d be,” he says, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

I raise an eyebrow, still maintaining my “loving” gaze for the photographer. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that maybe we should fake date more often. You’re adorable when you’re pretending.”

I falter, the smile slipping slightly. “Watch it, Mingyu.”

==

The hours pass and the shoot finally wraps. We receive a round of applause for our “chemistry,” and Mingyu pulls me into a side hug, his hand resting on my shoulder. Pretending becomes so much easier with each click of the camera.

“Good job today,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with genuine warmth.

For a moment, I almost forget we’re pretending. Almost.

“We pulled it off, didn’t we?” I muse, pressing my temple against his arm briefly before pulling away.

“Yeah,” he admits, his eyes locking onto mine. “We make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

Something in his gaze makes my heart stutter. It feels like he’s trying to say more, like he’s testing unfamiliar waters.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it. This is still a temporary arrangement.” I remind myself more than him, with a fleeting half-smile.

==

Weeks roll by, and the line between fiction and reality starts to blur. Mingyu and I are inseparable, seen at award shows, interviews, seen leaving our "shared" house, and even the occasional late-night ramen shop. The media loves us. Fans dub us “the power couple of the decade.”

One evening, as we rehearse a choreographed routine for an upcoming awards show performance, the tension boils over. Mingyu’s patience breaks first.

“Y/N, you’re a step behind!” he snaps, frustration evident as he stops mid-spin. “We’ve done this a thousand times, what’s going on with you?”

Anger flares in my chest. “I’m sorry if I'm not perfect like you, okay?”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not about being perfect, it’s about working together!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” I shout back, breathless. “This whole thing...it's draining, Mingyu. Maybe fake dating wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” he challenges, stepping closer. “Maybe we should just end it? Announce it was all a prank?”

The space between us crackles with unspoken words, and I take a small step back, my chest heaving. “Maybe.”

His eyes search mine, the anger simmering into something else entirely—something raw and real. “And what if I don’t want it to end?”

Time stands still as his words hang in the air. The intensity in his gaze makes my heart race for an entirely different reason.

“What exactly are you saying?” I finally ask, needing clarity even if it feels terrifying.

He takes a deep breath, before lifting my head with his thumb on my chin and two under. “I’m saying...I don’t think this was ever just fake for me. And I don’t want it to be.”

My breath catches. Neither of us moves. The air feels charged and heavy with possibility.

“Me neither,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper, finally understanding the depth of my feelings.

A slow, almost relieved smile spreads across his face, and he reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together much like the first time we “acted” in love. Only now, it feels unforced, genuine.

The journey to real from fake has been messy, fraught with disagreements and tension, but standing here, looking into his eyes, I realize it was worth every moment.

“Looks like we’ve got a new script to follow,” Mingyu murmurs, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

I smile, leaning into the comforting warmth of his presence. “Yeah, and this time, we don’t have to pretend.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[planetkiimchi]

the first drops of rain | k.mg

summary — mingyu's your first love. your first date with him could be described as fairytale like, at least until it begins raining. even then, maybe the rain is a paid actor, teaching you to slow down in your fast-paced student life.

featuring: mingyu x gn!reader, highschool au

word count: 2729 words

a/n: first seventeen work! kinda thought my first svt work would be seokmin or minghao but HAHA we’re here instead with a mingyu work. it’s based off a very precious memory of mine, and i felt like mingyu’s personality was the most similar to the guy i went out with <3

mingyu: we’re meeting at the start of the trail at 9, right?

You react to his message with a thumbs up, pulling up your shoes and glancing outside. The start of the trail is only a few hundred metres away from your house, so you’re not in a rush.

Mingyu asked you out on this date a few months ago, but you were overseas during the winter break, and weren’t able to go out with him. After a few months of discussing where to go, you finally settled on going cycling with him.

The sun rose quite a while ago, and the temperature is rather warm, but you figure that it’ll all be fine.

You check the time again and head downstairs, cycling over to the subway station to meet Mingyu.

You’re a few minutes late, so you expect to see Mingyu waiting there when you arrive, an apology already on the tip of your tongue, but you’re surprised when he’s not.

In fact, you have to wait another ten minutes before he finally arrives, a little out of breath and completely lost, without a bicycle. He smiles sheepishly at you, tucking his hands into his pockets.

He mumbles a “sorry”, curly hair falling in his eyes as he looks earnestly at you, shoulders raised in his nervousness.

Your annoyance at his tardiness dissipates once you see him in this state, genuinely apologetic and well-meaning. You let a soft sigh escape your lips. It’s okay.

Mingyu raises his phone and hesitantly says he needs to pick up his bike.

You’re about to reply when an old lady comes up to you, one hand clutching her grocery stroller. She politely asks if you know where the Flower Market is?

You nod. It’s right next to your apartment block, and you often go there to buy groceries yourself. You point the lady in the direction of the market, turning back to Mingyu.

Once again, before you can speak, Mingyu jerks his head at the stairs that the old lady has to climb up to get out of the subway station and onto the pavement. She lifts up the grocery stroller, and you rush to help her with it.

She smiles at you. Thank you.

You smile back. No problem.

Tilting your head towards the stairs, you beckon Mingyu to follow. The bicycles are located at the lowest level of the apartment block directly opposite yours, so you’re heading in the same direction as the lady anyway.

Once you’ve helped the old lady get her stroller up to the top of the stairs, you wave goodbye to her, prepared to head back down the flight of stairs to get your bicycle.

Fortunately for you, you don’t have to. Mingyu holds your bicycle in his hands, setting it down at the top of the stairs, and your heart warms, just a little.

It takes a longer time to figure out how the bike sharing system works than you thought it would. Mingyu scans the QR code on the back of the bicycle, frowning as he navigates the app, trying to figure out how the payment works. You stand to the side, holding on to your bicycle’s handlebars, watching his eyebrows knit themselves into a knot, before the wrinkles in his forehead slowly iron out when he finally gets the app to work.

All set? you ask.

Mingyu nods. All set.

You climb onto your bicycle, eager to head off, and Mingyu follows behind.

With the sun beating down on your backs, the two of you start off on the trail, figuring out a pace that works for both of you. You haven’t cycled in a long time, and you can’t go too slow, or you’ll be too unsteady for both of you to ride side-by-side on the narrow path.

The greenery on both sides of the trail helps to keep the temperature down, and you’re grateful for the shade it provides in the heat of summer. Next to you, Mingyu asks how school has been. You reply with one of those blasé “school is good” type of answers, but he doesn’t accept that.

Mingyu keeps prodding.

And, with your feet pedalling hard underneath you and the glare of the blue sky overhead, you find yourself opening up.

It’s started drizzling slightly when you reach the bicycle racks, so you chain your bicycles up and head to the nearby subway station to seek shelter. While you’re standing there, you ask Mingyu where he wants to go.

Originally, you wanted to go to watch a movie, but since the date was so impromptu, you didn’t check the movie timings out beforehand, so now you realise that none of the timings are convenient for you.

It’s fine, Mingyu insists. He’ll figure something out.

It doesn’t take long before he’s dragging you down another path you didn’t notice earlier, one that leads to a train station that’s no longer in use. Two carriages of the trains are left on the tracks as a memorial to the old train station, and despite the red tape covering the doors, Mingyu climbs up into the carriage.

You’re standing on the edges of the train tracks, watching him grin at you from inside. He leaps from the seat with a yelp, almost knocking his head, and he quickly exits the carriage.

What’s wrong? you ask.

He lifts his hand to show you that the seat was wet.

You laugh whole-heartedly and he pouts, but the joy in his eyes betrays him. His poorly-concealed excitement only grows when he looks ahead to see a bridge, breaking out into a run towards it.

You attempt to follow him, still balancing on the edges of the train tracks, quickly giving up when he doesn’t show any signs of waiting for you.

He turns around at the start of the bridge, and you grin at him as you step up onto the train tracks. He steps onto the edge next to yours, your feet moving in sync along those parallel metal lines drawn across the wooden tiles, his arms waving wildly as he fails to keep his balance.

Mingyu shakes his head out when he’s fallen three times, running his hand through his hair, glancing at you with the widest smile you’ve ever seen.

Your sunshine. That’s what he is, walking alongside you as you tread across the train tracks, hands carefully tucked into his pockets, watching your every step.

He speeds up when you hop off the tracks, and you follow him into a neighbourhood with two-story houses. Plants line the sidewalks, with overgrown creepers crawling up the walls and trees overhead shading you from the sun.

He points at the sign and tells you he came here once before, after his mother scolded him. It’s dangerously close to his home, a place that contains memories you can’t be a part of, a place you’re not sure you’re ready to intrude into.

You do anyway.

Mingyu leads you to the playground he’s only been to once before, when he was running away from his mother, and you pass by the empty basketball court.

You love basketball, you tell him, your steps slowing down. He whirls on his heel, looking up at the hoops, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand. Really?

Really, you say. You tell him how you used to play basketball during your half-hour long recess in elementary school instead of eating. Even though you were really bad and only played with a group of 5-6 other friends, it was still fun.

He understands.

You teach him how to climb onto the roof of the playground, your hands and feet making holds out of the railings and slides. You show him a view of the world that you loved as a kid, a view that makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. Like you’re unbeatable, invincible, and that the moment will last forever.

Slithering off the roof, you discreetly pull out your phone, but Mingyu spots you quickly enough. Don't film me, he pouts, eyebrows in a knot as his foot staggers around for a foothold.

You laugh and keep your camera pointed at him.

He hops down—ungracefully, you’d like to add; you think you were pretty graceful when jumping down yourself—and beckons you over with his hand.

Mingyu leads you to a sheltered area where the playground floor and gravel gives way to grass and soil, the trees overhead casting so much shade you get the impression that you’re in a rainforest. You can barely see past the crowns of the trees to the sky, which you’re sure is a shade of blue-grey. You can tell that it’s not raining, or the playground would be getting wet, but it isn’t quite sunny yet either.

The creak of a red swing brings your attention back to Mingyu. He smiles at you in warm invitation, and you take it, stepping up onto the swing. Your legs are on the left of his, your knees a fist’s width away from his. Opposite you, Mingyu lifts his eyes to yours and begins to speak.

How’s school, how’s life, how’s that toxic friend group in your dance club? he asks.

Stressful, interesting, shitty as ever, you reply.

He asks things like why, tell me more, is that leadership position working out for you?

You reply with much longer answers than you thought you would. The words flow from you like air leaking from a balloon with a hole. There’s so much pent-up frustration, bottled-up confusion, anxiety, envy, and even sadness you didn’t notice you were suppressing. They find their way out of your mouth in words you're surprised are coherent enough for him to understand, but somehow he manages it.

You’re not the only one telling stories, though. You ask Mingyu questions too, stuff like how’s being drama club president, do you like your juniors, what do you want to do at university?

And he, too, replies with amazing, I love them, I don't know but I’d like to be a counsellor someday.

And you learn.

From his smiles and nervous fidgeting and “um”s, you learn that he’s nervous. From the way he leans forward to talk to you and nods when you speak, you learn that his interest in you is genuine. From the tone of his voice and the smile in his eyes, you learn about his habits of joy and excitement. You pick apart his every move to learn something from it, absorbing a little more knowledge about him each time.

An hour or two passes. As it starts to drizzle again and lunch hour approaches, Mingyu gets up from the swing, not forgetting to hold it while you step off, and goes to the bench to get his tote bag before his things are drenched in the rain.

With a hand above your heads shielding you from the drizzle, the two of you half run-half walk to the mall nearby for lunch, raucous laughter echoing in your ears.

Mingyu offers to pay for your lunch thrice, and you refuse each time, reluctant to let him take money out of his allowance to pay for your meal. He insists you should let him pay for it, telling you that his father will give him more money. Still, you decline.

When he goes to visit the restroom, you quickly take your chance to buy your food before he gets back.

You take a seat successfully and wait for him to return, and he does—not without him trying to slide the bill into your bag first. After a while, he finally gives in, and the two of you settle down for lunch.

Lunch ends at around the same time the sky clears, and the two of you are rushing to climb onto your bicycles and leave before the rain starts up again. The weather has been unpredictable that morning, and you’re unwilling to take your chances. Instead of lingering around the mall, you’re unlocking your bicycle, fiddling with the stubborn lock, and Mingyu waits patiently beside you.

All set? he asks for the second time that day.

You reply the same way, All set.

Then you’re off, legs pedalling furiously, your balance miles better when you’re moving fast. In the morning, you had to keep swerving to avoid knocking into Mingyu at the slow pace you were going, but now you’re just trying to get home before it rains again. Your curfew is pretty early, and if you dally any longer, you’re definitely going to get an earful when you’re home.

Mingyu easily keeps pace with you, following your lead. From time to time, he’ll catch up and ride beside you for a stretch, and then you’ll pedal faster and he’ll fall behind again.

You feel the drizzle beginning when you ring your bell, bypassing yet another jogger on the trail. Cursing, you pick up speed, and Mingyu doesn’t question you as he follows behind.

The rain grows heavier more quickly than you’d expected, and soon there���s a steady stream of water raining down. You wipe futilely at your forehead from time to time, glasses sprayed with raindrops, and Mingyu calls out after you, laughing.

I’m not supposed to cycle in the rain, you tell him. My mum is going to kill me!

He seems to get it, but when you seek shelter under an overhead bridge to wipe your face with the remaining dry part of your T-shirt, he’s laughing at you.

You roll your eyes and point out the bits of water on his face, but he shrugs. You’re going to be cycling through the rain again anyway, so he doesn’t see the need to dry his face.

You clench your jaw, resolved to get home as soon as possible. The two of you climb back onto the bicycle, and start cycling home.

As if trying to deliberately annoy you, the downpour only gets heavier on your way home. It keeps coming down, and you fight to keep your balance and not skid on the watery path. You’re forced to slow down a little, your legs no longer pedalling as fast.

Your anxious heart begins to slow, and Mingyu's calm, sure voice carries over to you, despite the rain falling steadily around you. The sun is still high in the sky, and you wonder if there'll be a rainbow. That would be befitting for Mingyu, you think.

The whole way back, your mind is occupied by Mingyu's questions, his curiosity warming your heart. He genuinely cares about you, and this care distracts you from your fear of reaching home late. All thoughts of what your mother will say go out the window, until he's returned his bicycle and you've parked yours near the subway station, heading to the toilet to change into a new, dry shirt.

Mingyu didn't think to bring change, so he waits for you outside. He offers to help carry your bag, but you insist you can do it yourself. Just the thought that he's there, waiting outside, comforts you.

The two of you walk alongside each other on the way back to your home. You won't stop him from walking you home, especially not when you enjoy his company so much. He mentions something about his future family and you stiffen, afraid that he's jumping the gun. Your commitment issues start to resurface, your mind whirring as your heart jumps into panic mode, but you force yourself to take a few deep breaths and laugh.

He seems too happy to notice how forced your laugh is. Instead, he's asking for your mother's name, repeating it the whole way to make sure he's got it right.

Mrs? he asks.

Aunty, you correct.

Aunty, he repeats, and you nod your head. He asks for your father's, too, and he's still mumbling their names when you come up to the door. You ring the doorbell, and your mother comes to open the door, greeting Mingyu with a warm smile and a hearty welcome.

Come on in, she says. Mingyu shakes his head bashfully.

I've got to be going, he says. See you, Aunty.

You step into the house and wave at him until he's out of sight, your mother watching his retreating figure with you.

He seems like a nice boy, she says.

Oh, he is.

[ilguna]

Hi again this is from the supply run. Could you please do #17 from aisle 1 and # 22 from aisle 2 with finnick? Thank you! 🎉 -🪐

☼ only friends (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, gore, blood mention, death, death mention.

wc; 5.7k

prompt; 17. denying their relationship strongly. 22. "They won't take you away from me ever again."

—

“Tomorrow morning, when we pull Katniss Everdeen’s body from the ashes, we will see exactly who the Mockingjay is. A dead girl who could save no one, not even herself.” Snow’s voice is haunting as he gives the final word. The Capitol seal replaces his face, the anthem plays, and the television shuts off.

“Except that you won’t find her.” Finnick says to the empty screen, turning his head to glance at you.

The Peacekeeper’s that will be sent to retrieve the bodies tomorrow will be missing twelve of them, actually. All they’ll come across is Boggs and one of the Leeg sisters. The rest of you made it out safely.

“We can get a head start on them at least.” Katniss says, pulling out the Holo. She moves closer to Jackson, listening to a set of directions on how to work the device. She manages to get the coordinates in, and a projection of the surrounding streets fills the air.

The silence is suffocating as you watch all the different colored blinking lights. No matter what direction you decide you’re going to go, there will be hundreds of pods waiting for you. And these all happened to pop up in the past couple of hours.

You look at Finnick again, and find that he’s got his eyes on you already. This trip has just gotten ten times more dangerous, and your options on travel are beginning to dwindle, quickly.

“Any ideas?” Katniss asks.

“Why don’t we start by ruling out the possibilities.” Finnick tears his eyes from yours. “The street is not a possibility.”

“The rooftops are just as bad as the street.” Leeg says.

“We still might have a chance to withdraw, go back the way we came.” Homes suggests. “But that would mean a failed mission.”

Katniss frowns briefly. “It was never intended for all of us to go forward. You just had the misfortune to be with me.”

“Well, that’s a moot point. We’re with you now. So, we can’t stay put. We can’t move up. We can’t move laterally.” Jackson shakes her head. “I think that just leaves one option.”

“Underground.” Gale agrees.

Your nose crinkles at the idea, but you force your face to smooth. Now is not a time to be picky, especially when you’re being cornered so harshly. You want to make it out of this city alive, which means you’ll do anything for it to happen.

Katniss switches the Holo to show the pods beneath the surface. While it appears that there’s not nearly as much pods underground, the sewers are going to be harder to navigate. The streets are straightforward, the sewer is full of twisting and turning tunnels. It’s a mess.

With no other option, it’s decided.

“Okay, then. Let’s make it look like we’ve never been here.” Katniss says.

You all get to your feet, picking up empty cans to send down the trash chute, while packing the full ones into your bag. The others flip the couch cushions over to hide the blood, wipe the tracks of black oil from the tile, and lock the second bolt on the door from keeping it from looking like the door got kicked in.

Peeta sits on the blue sofa. “I’m not going. I’ll either disclose your position or hurt someone else.”

“Snow’s people will find you.” Finnick tells him, you stop next to him, crossing your arms.

“Then leave me a pill. I’ll only take it if I have to.”

“That’s not an option. Come along.” Jackson says.

“Or you’ll what? Shoot me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Peeta.” You say.

“We’ll knock you out and drag you with us.” Homes says. “Which will both slow us down and endanger us.”

“Stop being noble! I don’t care if I die!” He shouts, proceeding to turn to Katniss. “Katniss, please. Don’t you see, I want to be out of this?”

Katniss stares at him for a long moment. “We’re wasting time. Are you coming voluntarily or do we knock you out?”

Peeta takes in a breath, burying his face in his hands, letting out a long sigh. He then gets to his feet to join you.

“Should we free his hands?” Leeg asks.

“No!” Peeta snarls, pulling the cuffs closer to his body.

“No.” Katniss agrees. “But I want the key.” Jackson pulls it out, handing it over to Katniss, who slips it into a pocket in her pants.

With this decided, you all begin to head for the maintenance shaft that you have to enter through the back closet on the upper floor. From there, two doors down, a vertical tube connects the row of apartments to the tunnels below. When Homes opens the small metal door to the shaft, it’s clear that the shells Castor and Pollux are wearing will not fit.

They shed them, stashing the shells in the closet, because that’s the only option they have. Castor and Pollux settle on using their emergency cameras, which are roughly the size of a shoebox.

You let them go in through first, motioning for Finnick to go next. He does the same, the two of you stare at each other for a long second. “Come on, Finnick.”

“I’m not letting you take up the rear.” He tells you.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Which is why you’ll be going first.” He raises his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, shedding your backpack to drag next to you while you shuffle through the tight space. You sidestep past the first apartment, and join the others in the second one, where they’ve already begun to crowd around the tube to the tunnels.

Messalla frowns at the circular cover behind the utility door. “It’s why no one ever wants the center unit. Workmen coming and going whenever and no second bath. But the rent’s considerably cheaper.” He mutters, when he looks up and sees the way you and Finnick are looking at him, he adds, “Never mind.”

The cover opens easily, there’s a wide ladder with rubber treads on the steps to allow quick movement up and down. You don’t bother to argue with Finnick about this one, sliding down the ladder, gathering at the bottom.

It’s terribly dark down here, even with the strip of dim lights. You wait for your eyes to adjust, while being forced to breathe in the smell down here. A sickening mixture between chemicals, mildew and sewage.

“Are you alright?” Finnick asks, moving a hair out of your face. “You look like you’re going to puke.”

“It’s the smell.” You rub your nose.

Pollux is pale, sweat running down the side of his forehead. He grabs onto Castor, holding on with white knuckles.

“My brother worked down here after he became an Avox.” Castor says. “Took five years before we were able to buy his way up to ground level. Didn’t see the sun once.”

It’s quiet between you all, no one knowing how to respond to something so horrid. You couldn’t imagine being forced down here for an extended period of time. You would go crazy. You’d break out and run and get yourself killed because you’re so desperate to see the sky.

“Well, then you just became our most valuable asset.” Peeta says, turning to Pollux. Castor laughs, and Pollux manages to smile.

Pollux leads the way down the first tunnel, you and Finnick walk side by side in the very back, behind Jackson and Gale, who are watching over Peeta like hawks. He doesn’t seem to care, hunched over, watching the ground. 

It turns out that there’s a network of wide tunnels that corresponds to the main street plan above. They call it the Transfer, because small trucks use it to deliver goods around the city. The pods are deactivated during the day, but at night it’s a different story. It’s as bad as the ground above. 

Pollux knows details that would be dangerous for a newcomer. The tunnels hold hundreds of additional passages, utility shafts, train tracks and drainage tubes that work together to form a multilevel maze. Some offshoots might require gas masks, have live wires, or rats the size of beavers.

He'll alert the gush of water that sweeps through the sewers like clockwork, and anticipates when the Avoxes will be changing shifts. He even brings you into damp, obscure pipes to hide from almost silent cargo trains. And most importantly, he has knowledge of the cameras. There aren't many down here, except in the transfer.

You make remarkable time, compared to when you’d been traveling above. Still, after six hours, everyone is tired and irritated. It’s three in the morning, when Katniss suggests to rest. Pollux leads everyone into a small, warm room that hums with machines. He holds up his fingers to tell you that you must be gone in four hours.

Jackson works out a guard schedule, one that has you take watch right in the middle. You grit your teeth, unhappy because you won’t be getting much sleep after all, but Finnick objects and tells her that he’ll work your shift, and his.

“Stop it.” You whisper to him. “You need to sleep too.”

“I feel fine.” Finnick looks at you. “You can’t think straight when you’re tired.”

You narrow your eyes. “Yeah? And you become a walking hazard.”

“I’m not arguing with you.” He laughs. “Just be grateful I’m your best friend and go to sleep.”

You press your lips together, tilting your head back to rest against the wall. It’s not very comfortable, you adjust several times, until Finnick pushes your head to rest on his shoulder. You let out a snort, and he shushes you.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, but it’s too easy to wake you. Finnick slides out from where he’d been sitting next to you, and you can’t fall back asleep. He sits next to Pollux, watching the opening you came from. You watch him quietly with tired eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Finnick murmurs to Pollux.

He nods, waving away Finnick’s concern with a hand. And then, he motions to you and Finnick, and signs the word ‘date’. You can see Finnick begin to turn his head in your direction, so you close your eyes and fight the smile that wants to come across your face.

It was only a matter of time before he asked, Cressida already did yesterday. She watched Finnick give you a hand down after doing a propo with Katniss. He made a joke, you crinkled your nose at him in response, and he told you that he thought it was cute when you did that.

Cressida had bumped your shoulder a few minutes later, and asked if you and Finnick were dating, or if there was anything between you two. You had to tell her that you and Finnick are only friends. You’ve known each other since high school, which was a decade ago. If either of you had feelings, then it’d be obvious.

You’re used to the assumptions by now, that’s why you’re not bothered by it, and you find it funny.

“No, we’re not dating.” Finnick says, you peek your eyes open to see Pollux blink in surprise, and begin to move his hands. Finnick lets out a laugh. “Yes, I know sign, so does (Y/n). Annie, the victor that was rescued, uses sign language from time to time to communicate when she’s having trouble.”

Pollux nods, making a face, and begins to sign again. Finnick falls quiet enough for the drowsiness to wash over you. You tilt your head back to sleep.

—

“(Y/n).” Finnick shakes your shoulder. “We’ve got to go.”

You take in a breath, holding it for a second, until it erupts into a yawn. When you open your eyes, you’re met with Finnick, making sure you’re alright. You squint, rubbing your face to make yourself more awake.

“You didn’t sleep well.” Finnick says, it’s not a question.

“I woke up after you moved.” You admit, “It’s fine, I fell asleep again.”

He makes a noise, going to open his mouth to speak, when Katniss shushes the group of you. She’s got her eyes on the entrance, listening hard. For a second, all you can hear is the humming of the machines around you, and then you make out the hissing sound.

“Katniss.” 

It echoes throughout the tunnels, coming back to you, repeated over and over. Katniss is confused, glancing back at you briefly, before looking away. She jumps at the sound of her name coming from inside of the room, and lands on Peeta. She waits, slowly pulling an arrow out to put on her bow, positioning it over the sleeping Peeta.

He jerks up before she can act on her violence. His eyes are wide, head whipping in her direction, but it’s not because of the arrow pointed at him. “Katniss! Get out of here!”

Katniss lowers the bow slightly. “Why? What’s making that sound?”

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you.” Peeta says. “Run! Get out! Go!”

Finnick gets to his feet at the sound of that, holding his hand out for you. You let him pull you to your feet, adjusting the straps on your body until they’re comfortable again. This makes the others move as well, Katniss returns the arrow to where it came from.

“Whatever it is, it’s after me. It might be a good time to split up.” She says.

“But we’re your guard.” Jackson tells her.

“And your crew.” Cressida adds.

“I’m not leaving you.” Gale shakes his head.

Katniss looks between the eleven of you, eyes going from person to person. “Okay,” She agrees. “Finnick, give a gun to Castor. Jackson, will you eject the empty cartridge from Peeta’s and load it with a real one? And (Y/n) do you still have the other Leeg sister’s gun?”

“Yes.” You reach for it, pulling it out for her to see.

“Give it to Pollux.” She tells you. She and Gale then give up their guns, handing them over to Messalla and Cressida because they have their bows. They give a brief lesson on how to shoot the guns, which is all you can afford to do at the moment.

Everything is cleaned up and packed into backpacks, including empty cans to avoid leaving a physical trail, just a scent. When you step foot out of the room, the hissing becomes louder, coming from a fair distance behind you. Without a second thought, you go out in front of Finnick, and you can feel the weight of him grabbing onto your backpack.

You try to move quickly and quietly, but it’s nearly impossible with this many people. The sounds of your shoes splashing in water, the clang of a gun against a pipe, and Katniss giving directions. Still, you manage to cover more blocks before the screaming begins.

You go rigid.

“Avoxes.” Peeta tells you without missing a beat. “That’s what Darius sounded like when they tortured him.”

“The mutts must have found them.” Cressida murmurs.

“So they’re not just after Katniss.” Leeg says.

“They’ll probably kill anyone. It’s just that they won’t stop until they get to her.” Gale says, and he’s right.

Katniss shakes her head. “Let me go on alone. Lead them off. I’ll transfer the Holo to Jackson. The rest of you can finish the mission.”

“No one’s going to agree to that!” Jackson says.

“We’re wasting time!” Finnick whisper-shouts, leaning over your shoulder.

“Listen.” Peeta whispers.

The screams have stopped, and the hissing has resumed, much closer than it was before. Katniss nudges Pollux wordlessly, and the twelve of you begin to run through the tunnel. She opens up the Holo when you reach a staircase, scanning for another route, when she begins to gag.

“Masks on!” Jackson orders.

Katniss forces her way through a door, stumbling out onto the Transfer. She begins to move, pulling out an explosive arrow to activate the pod. The streets are pastel, smooth, easy to run on. The road is empty from deliveries as far as any of you can tell, but cameras could be at any corner.

Regardless, she sprints for the next intersection, telling you to keep close. Finnick lets go of your bag, running past you to grab a hold of her. “Katniss!”

A beacon of white light encapsulates Messalla, who is as still as a statue inside. With his head tilted back, on the ball of one foot, mouth opened wide. You watch in horror as the flesh melts off of his body.

“Can’t help him!” Peeta shoves you from behind, making you stumble a step. “Can’t!”

You begin to move again, following after him and Katniss, dodging beams of light as they come down from the ceiling. You’re sweating bullets by the time you’ve made it to the next intersection, where a spray of gunfire brings you to a stop.

Peacekeepers are running down the Transfer after you, shooting. You swing your gun up to start shooting back, because you have nowhere to go past here. This is the pod that Katniss wanted to activate first before moving on. The others begin to join you, and together, you manage to bring down a good portion of the Peacekeepers before more begin to swarm in from the door you’d just come from.

You can’t help the startled scream that leaves your mouth when you realize that these aren’t, in fact, Peacekeepers. They’re mutts. They’re naked, about the size of a human, with heads that are jutted forward, arched backs and reptilian tails. They hound the Peacekeepers, living and dead, and begin to rip helmeted heads off of shoulders.

It’s only seconds before all the Peacekeepers are decapitated, and they’re slithering toward you on their bellies.

“This way!” Katniss shouts, hugging the wall and making a sharp turn to avoid the pod. As soon as you’ve successfully cleared the pod, Katniss shoots at it. Mechanical teeth burst through the street and begin to chew the tile to dust. She turns to Pollux, you keep your eyes on where the mutts should be coming from. “Forget the mission. What’s the quickest way above ground?”

Pollux moves, going down the Transfer and through a doorway. The shiny tile turns to concrete, Finnick pushes you in front of him as you travel through a tight pipe and onto a ledge that leads you to the main sewer. 

A yard below, a nauseating brew of human waste, garbage and chemicals slide by, bubbling when it touches the wall. It’s hard to tear your eyes away from the parts of the surface that are on fire, and you can physically see the vapor that it emits.

You hurry down the path, over a narrow bridge and into an alcove on the far side. Pollux smacks a ladder with his hand and points upward. Katniss turns to look at you, and her face twists. “Wait! Where are Jackson and Leeg One?”

“They stayed at the Grinder to hold the mutts back.” Homes tells her.

“What?” She lunges toward the bridge, and Homes pulls her back.

“Don’t waste their lives, Katniss. It’s too late for them. Look!” Homes nods to the pipe, where the mutts are coming out by the dozen.

“Stand back!” Gale shouts, firing an explosive arrow into the bridge’s foundation. It snaps, bringing down a good number of mutts.

With them being so close, you’re able to see what they actually look like. Their mouths are wide, teeth sharp, smeared blood on their reptilian skin. Their clawed hands and feet have chunks of flesh stuck between them. You gag.

The mutts throw themselves into the sewage without thinking, wanting to get their hands on you. Everyone open fires, and this lasts for a good few minutes, throwing everything you have at the monsters. They don’t die easily, though. Not even with a dozen bullets in their body, which causes everyone to come to the same consensus. 

You have to run.

You have no other option, especially because of the sheer volume of them that are still coming out of the sewer pipe. Finnick tries to make a grab at you to swing you toward the ladder, but you shove him first.

He opens his mouth to speak, but doesn’t get a chance to when you point your finger and bark, “Go!”

Finnick begrudgingly grabs the ladder rungs and begins to climb up after Peeta, Cressida following directly on his trail. It’s you, Gale, Homes and Castor left at the bottom. You shoot what you can, making a big enough gap for Gale to begin to climb the ladder. When Castor goes to follow, a rogue mutt from the sewer river reaches up and grabs him. He disappears over the edge. 

“Go ahead!” Homes shouts at you, “I’ll hold them!”

You make it to the ladder, you’ve got your right foot placed on a rung, looking up to see how far you have to climb. You’re met with the sight of the Holo, falling down in your direction, projecting a bright blinking red light, and beeping like a dangerous bomb.

“No!” You scream.

Homes turns to see what’s happening, when your body slams into his, bringing the two of you to the ground. The mutts begin to pile on top of you, just as the bomb explodes.

The blast pierces your eardrums before you have a chance to cover your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the ground shake beneath you. A shower of wet and clumped matter rains down on you. When you open your eyes, you find that the mutts on top of you are gone, and with their sacrifice, you’re still alive.

You roll over, the mutts in the surrounding area are dead. You struggle to breathe through the smoke and debris that rains down from the ceiling above, your throat and lungs already raw from breathing in the poisonous soup below. You look at Homes, shaking him to get him to move, because the ringing in your ears is so strong.

He doesn’t move. You turn his head, and it moves with no resistance. You scoot away, eyebrows twitching, heart pounding in your chest at the sight of his face, half blown away from the blast.

You struggle to get to your feet, limping over to the ladder, which is covered in the gore from the mutts. When you look up, there is no opening like there had been previously. They threw the cover over. You begin to climb quickly, and at the top, you try to swing it open. It doesn’t budge.

They locked it.

You hang off of the ladder for a moment, taking deep breaths. You have to get out of here. You’re not going to be trapped here. You go back down, and shuffle through the bodies of the mutts to stare at what’s left of the bridge that Gale decided to blow. It’s not much.

It’s possible, though. You swing your bag off of your shoulder and throw it the distance to the other side. You watch helplessly as it slides on the ledge, coming close to falling. Right when you’re sure it’s going to stop, it slips over the side, and into the sewage.

You let out a defeated sigh.

You stare at what you have to work with, and it’s virtually nothing. The bag wouldn’t have helped much, anyway. It just had food and other supplies if you managed to get stuck down here for an extended period of time. 

That won’t happen, you’ll get to the other side of the bridge. You grab a hold of Homes’ body, flipping him onto his stomach to expose the back of his vest, which is clean of blood. You carefully push him to where the bridge should be, and then walk all the way back to the ladder, where you’ll start.

You can cross the gap, the issue is slipping on the blood. That’s why, when you break out into a run, you use Homes body as a launchpad. Your stomach is in your throat the second you’re off of the ground and flying over the gap. You come into harsh contact with the cement on the other side.

You get to your feet, starting to backtrack the way you came. It’s through the tight pipe, down to the doorway until concrete turns back to cute pastel tile. It leads you back to the Transfer, where the grinding pod has stopped. You pick up a piece of broken tile to throw at it, and when it doesn’t start back up, you go through it.

There’s a sea of bodies of Peacekeeper and mutt alike. Among them, you find Jackson and Leeg, both decapitated. You start to head in the direction of where you’d come from, from here. The sight of Messalla stops you, and you turn around to go back through the grinding pod.

You begin to walk down the street of the Transfer, taking your time, occasionally throwing broken tiles in the direction you’re going in hopes that it’ll set off a pod. The familiar sound of hissing seizes your heart, making you stop dead in your tracks. You turn your body slightly, afraid to see if it’s true.

It is.

You begin to run down the Transfer, abandoning your original plan of taking your time to find a place to crawl out. You have nothing to defend yourself with. You almost took the gun off of Jackson, but you thought that you were past the mutts and you had to worry about the pods. You should’ve known better than to trust the silence.

You throw yourself at the first door you see, slamming your shoulder into it because you expect it to swing open. It’s locked, a pain begins to blossom in your shoulder, but you push through, heading further in.

Every door you run across is locked. The mutts are practically on top of you, if you slow down for even a second, it’ll surely mean your death. You don’t know how long you go on like this for, triggering pods, trying to kill what’s sent after you, getting injured because of it.

It must be an hour later when you finally see a door ajar. You throw yourself into it, right as you step off of a tile that had sunk with your weight. It explodes, launching you further into the hall. This does nothing to stop the mutts, as it went off too soon. A sharp claw scrapes your ankle, beginning to pull you toward it, when you slam your foot into its absent face.

You manage to scramble back to your feet, hurrying to the ladder that’s waiting for you at the end. You cross your fingers that this latch won’t be locked, because it’s your last chance to get out of here. You can’t go back, they’re swarming beneath you. The ladder isn’t slippery this time around, you yank yourself up in record time, reaching the top of the ladder in a matter of seconds.

You shove the cover open, pulling yourself out. When you’ve cleared the top, you slam it shut, twisting the latch to lock it. The mutts pound on it from the other side, you sit directly on top of it, gasping for air after running for your life for an hour straight.

You hold your arms out, looking at the cuts and bites you’ve received. The blood that’s on your body is more than your own, it belongs to the mutts and Homes, too. You won’t know the real damage until you’re clean, and that could be days from now.

When you feel like you can move, you get to your feet, stumbling to the next ladder that’ll surely lead you to the surface. You’re not going to run around in this tunnel looking for the others. They have to think you’re dead, which means they’ve moved on to the next place. 

Thankfully, you know where that is.

At the top of this ladder is another cover, you open it to find that you’re in a utility room, which means that you’re in someone’s apartment. You pat down all of the pockets in your pants, trying to find a weapon. You come across something solid further down your pant leg. When you pull it out, you can see that it’s Finnick’s knife.

You let out a breath of relief, flicking it open. There are times when he makes you mad when he doesn’t listen to you. Other times, it comes in handy. If you run across anyone in this building, you have only one choice.

You open the door, heading into the room quietly. You can hear the sound of a television playing a room over. You slip into the hallway that’ll lead you to the front door, stealing a glance at the bedroom to see a Capitol woman with brightly colored yellow hair and white skin laying on a bed.

You make it to the kitchen and out the front door, into a small hallway with one other door. You leave down the stairs, almost going out to the street, when you see the light pouring through the windows. You back up, shaking your head. You need a disguise if you want to go out there. You’ll be spotted in the matter of minutes, every Capitol citizen knows your name and your face.

You sigh through your nose, going back up the stairs and into the apartment you just came out of. You fix the knife in your hand, creeping around the kitchen and to the hallway that leads to the bedroom. When you peek, she seems to be sleeping. Still, you don’t risk going up close, throwing the knife from where you stand.

Now you enter the room, leaving her body while you go to search through her belongings. You find several large coats, all brightly colored, and outfits you wouldn’t imagine wearing if it weren’t forced on you. You throw several aqua blue and lime green items onto the bed, pulling the knife out of her skull.

The front door is unlocked, so you relock it. In the woman’s bathroom, you start the shower, shedding everything you’re wearing to step beneath the warm water. It stings every cut on your body, you grit your teeth, watching as the water turns pink and doesn’t run clear for several minutes.

When you step out, you get dressed in the outfit you’d set aside. You tie your hair back into a tight bun at the back of your head, and opt for pulling on a brightly colored wig. As soon as you’re dressed and fairly disguised, you drag the woman to the utility closet, dropping her body down the ladder. The outfit that District Thirteen provided for you follows, as well as the bloodied bed sheets and towel. By the time you’re done, it doesn’t look like you were here at all. You shut the cover, lock the latch, and leave the apartment building.

It takes you a moment of wandering down the roads before you begin to recognize where you are. You’ve been here before, a couple times, actually. The Peacekeepers escorted you to these buildings, and then back to the Tribute Center when you were done working.

It takes you over an hour to get to the designer shop that Cressida was talking to you about. By then, the sun has risen and it’s got to be around noon. You enter through the door, trying to be casual about the way you do. It’s warm inside, there are pants and shirts and underwear made out of fur on mannequins, but there’s no sign that your friends were ever here.

“Can I help you?” A voice purrs. 

You turn to see a tall woman, who has been surgically altered to have the appearance of a tiger. With her skin pulled back tightly, tattooed to have black and gold stripes. Her nose has been flattened, there’s whiskers protruding out of her lips. She wears a long fur coat that matches what she’s wearing.

“Possibly.” You murmur, “Are you Tigris?”

“Yes,” She says, looking over your face, eyes squinting. “And you are?”

“Looking for some friends.” You say, pulling off the wig. “I was told by Cressida that you could help.”

She hums, walking past you to the door. You turn to watch her, body tense, terrified that she’s about to shout to everyone out there that you’re a fugitive. Instead, she turns a lock, coming back your direction. 

“Follow me.”

You do, she brings you behind a rack of clothes, sliding open a panel at the base of the wall. You peer inside and find that there’s a staircase on the other side. You look at her.

“Thank you.”

You have to crawl through the space, she slides the wall shut behind you. You go down the steep steps, eyes searching the darkness. You run into a hanging chain, which you instinctively reach up to pull on. Light fills the room, and you’re met with the sight of several people on the floor, now covering their eyes as they struggle to see their intruder.

It’s easy to spot Cressida, Pollux and Gale. You have to take a few more steps down in order to see Katniss and Peeta.

“(Y/n)...” Cressida’s voice is quiet.

“Where’s Finnick?”

The sound of moving fabric makes you turn your head. Finnick’s on his feet, coming in your direction, arms outstretched to take you in a hug. You run into him, pulling at his vest to bring him flush against your body.

He’s breathing heavily into your shoulder, a hand on the back of your head, the other wrapped around the middle of your back. “It’s okay.” You tell him, fingers wrapped in his curls. “I’m okay.”

“They won’t take you from me ever again.” Finnick tells you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You close your eyes. “I know.” You stroke his hair for a moment, and then pull away to hold onto his face. Finnick searches your eyes, you offer him a soft smile. “I’ll never leave you.”

--

this is part of my 3k celebration!!

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Your robin and franky fic was chefs kiss but would you be willing to write some solo franky?? Im really into water 7 franky and would love to see what you’d come up with !!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING FOR THIS! YALL I promise you any time anyone requests a Franky fic I WILL BE WRITING THAT SHIT. This is my dream man and no one gives me enough opportunities to write for him! So, I'm sorry I turned this into a smutty nightmare if you wanted fluff... I just need to service the Fellow Franky Fuckers out there.

Pairing: (pre timeskip) Cyborg Franky x Fem!Reader

WC: 2800

Taglist: @generaldaij0bu you might need to see this

Summary: The Sunny malfunctioning is driving you up a wall. You make a request for repairs and end up getting way more than you bargained for in the workshop.

TWs: ROBO-BONING, BABES! P in V sex, unprotected sex (pls don't) sex toy use, forced orgasm, safe words, light bdsm, communication is key and Franky respects it so hard and he's so hot for it, very much dirty talk...

Too Hot (+18)

— — 

It was hot. 

The sun beat down on the Sunny all day and the unwavering heat was barely dispelled after sunset due to the humidity. You lay sprawled on the deck next to Usopp and Chopper, groaning in the unbearable heat. 

“I think I’ll die here…” Chopper groans with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to burn to death after all the horrible monster’s I’ve fought… it’s not fair!” Usopp moans and wipes his brow. 

“Just throw me overboard at this point.” You sigh. 

“But don’t you have devil fruit-“

“I DON’T CARE THROW ME OVER!” You screech at Usopp. 

Before you could murder the cowardly sniped in a fit of heat-induced rage, Sanji steps through the door to the deck from the galley. 

“Okay everyone, dinner’s on. Air con works fine in here.” Sanji calls from the doorway. 

You push Usopp and Chopper behind you as you spring to your feet and sprint towards the galley. 

After entering the swinging door, the cool air hits you like stepping through a cascading waterfall. You sigh in relief. Your bliss was furthered when you see bowls of cool gazpacho at each place setting on the dining room table. 

“Thank gods…” You grumble as you hop onto the bench and start eating. The cold soup alleviated your discomfort from the inside out and you couldn’t help but groan in content. 

“Relax, it’s just soup.” Zoro puts his bowl down next to you and gives you a concerned look. 

“Oh I’m sorry swords-for-brains, did you not notice it’s a billion and five degrees outside?” You scowl at the swordsman seated next to you at the table. 

“Who cares?! This soup is great!” Luffy chimes in and extends his rubbery arms to grab every bowl that wasn’t licked clean and shovels them down his gullet. 

You sigh. 

“Nami please tell me this heat wave will be over soon. I’m getting crows feet ON my crows feet from this sun.” You turn towards your friend and navigator. 

“I wish I had better news but it’ll be at least a few more days before there’s any relief in temperature. We’re just going to have to stay in the shade and inside where the air is working. You’re tough, y/n, you can handle it.” Nami states as she sips from her bowl of cold soup. 

You roll your eyes. 

The dishes were promptly slurped clean by your captain and Sanji cleared the table. The blaring rays of the sun had exhausted so you so you decided to take a shower and head to bed. 

After taking a cool shower, you throw on a t shirt and shorts over your panties and sports bra and lay on top of the covers of your bed. 

“Gods it’s almost like it’s hotter in here than it is out there!” You say to yourself as you lay in bed, sweat soaking through your pillow. You decide to hop up and check if the air conditioning was working. You walk over to the vent in the corner of your room and press your hands against it. HOT air was spewing out from the grate in your room. You walk backwards and fall back onto the bed. 

“Fuck.” You throw your shirt over your head and slip your shorts off and flop back onto the bed. Sweat drips from your chin down your neck to your chest. 

*whoooosh*

Hot air was being pushed out harsher and faster through the grate in the corner of your room. The temperature continued to rise and your sweat soaked through your top sheet. 

“I’m not living like this!” You shout in frustration as you push your way out of your room, without bothering to throw your clothes back on. You head down into the belly of the ship in your underwear. Upon reaching the door you were looking for, you slam it open without knocking.

“FRANKY!!!!!” You yell angrily. 

“Jeez, y/n where’s the fire? I could have been naked in here!” Franky pushes his sunglasses back on his head as he turns towards you from his work bench. 

“You’re always naked!!! Also, more importantly, why is the HEAT ON in my bedroom?! Are you trying to cook me like a rotisserie chicken?!” You pant out, still very sweaty. 

“Oh that’s no good… I’ll have to go check the generators.” Franky rises to his feet, towering over you. “Sorry you were so uncomfortable, little lady. I’ll get this sorted out super quickly. Why don’t you get some shut eye in my bed for awhile? It’s still nice and cool down here.” He gestures to his bed in the corner of the room while he grabs his toolbox. 

You sigh. 

“Honestly that would be great, I feel like I’ve been in an oven all day.” You walk over to Franky’s bed and flop down on your back. Being this deep in the ship, there were no windows on the walls, but you were so sweaty and tired you didn’t care. 

“Alright well I’m gonna go fix this for ya, try and get some rest. Your room will be back to super condition in no time!” Franky leaves and you settle into the pillows and close your eyes. The sweat covering your body began to dry and you were finally comfortable again. You find yourself relaxing into Franky’s bed, smelling slightly of cola and motor oil, and drifting off into a light sleep. 

You wake up to the door of the bedroom closing and you snap your head up. 

“Woah, what do we have here?” You hear Franky’s booming voice as you rub the brief sleep from your eyes. It must have still been late at night. 

“Some dream ya must have been having, huh?” Franky stands above the bed and nods towards your spread thighs. You look down at where he was gesturing and notice a huge soaked patch in your pink panties. It was at this moment you notice the wanton ache in your core and abdomen… you must have been having a very wet dream and were awoken before you got to the good part. You instinctively slam your thighs shut in embarrassment and cover your face with your hands. 

“Look at you, so shy but dripping all over my sheets?” Franky continues with a smile, noticing your bashfulness. 

“I-I’m sorry I-“ You stutter and try to explain yourself. 

“It’s okay sweet thing! It’s totally normal. Looks like you’re pretty pent up, huh? I can fix that for ya, if you’re interested.” 

“I.. I mean that would be nice I guess…” You pull your hands away from your face hesitantly. 

“Aaaoooww!! That’s what I wanted to hear! Let’s get started then!” Franky grins and leans down to grab something from underneath his bed. He retrieves a large metal box and pops open the lid. 

“Hmmm let’s see… Some of these… definitely this…” Your robot whispers to himself as he roots around in the large chest. He rises and brings a pile of items out and flops them onto the bed. These were things you’ve never seen before, so your eyes were darting from chain to leather to silicone you had no idea what to focus on. 

“Take that bra off for me baby, I wanna ask ya some things before we get started.” Franky grabs the hem of your panties and gently tugs them down your legs.

You did as you were told and unclasped your bra, tossing it to the side and leaning back again. Franky softly sets your panties down on his bedside table and remarks, 

“I’m keepin’ these.” 

Your body shudders when you hear the sinister tone in his voice.

“Ok doll, now tell me…” Franky traces his hands up and down your thighs, parting them in the process. “How do you like it? I can edge you for an hour or so… or you could cum until you cry… any preference?” Frankly asks casually as he organizes the objects he had turned over onto the bed. 

“I, um…” You were young, not a virgin but not very experienced. This man was almost 10 years older than you, how were you supposed to know what you wanted from him?

“I… I wanna cum… I think…” You eventually squeak out. 

“Ok babydoll, good choice. Can ya promise me you’ll say ‘red’ if you want to stop?” Franky cups your jaw and makes sure you’re looking into his eyes above you. You nod. “No no, tell me you will.”

“I will say it, I’ll say red. I can do it.” You breath out, so ready for him to please you already. You rub your thighs together. 

“And you’ll tell me if there’s anything ya don’t like, hm?”

“Yes of course I promise!” You groan out, impatient to feel Franky’s touch on your skin. 

“Super! I’m going to put you in a spreader bar now, sweet cheeks, so you can’t close your legs on me. It’ll just go around your legs like this…” Franky explains to you methodically as he straps your legs into the homemade device. You tentatively try to close your thighs to see how effective the bar was… and it certainly did its job. 

“OK and these are gonna squeeze your nipples, just like this…” Franky gently attaches the nipple clamps onto your sensitive buds. 

“Oh!!” You cry out as he tightens the screws on them. Franky pulls back and admires his handiwork. You were laid out on his bed, metal clasps squeezing your nipples, causing you to writhe against the spreader bar forcefully separating your legs. 

“Fucking perfect. If you want I can gag you, too…” Franky approaches you with a ball gag in hand. 

“Wait, no. I don’t want that.” You state clearly, even through your lust filled haze. Franky grins down at you. 

“Gods, you’re so fucking hot when you tell me what you want baby. Good idea sweetie, that way everyone can hear how good I’m gonna make you feel.” Franky squeezes your breast, eliciting a whine from your lips. He moves to grab something from the foot of the bed. It a large long, black, wand like device. 

“Spread them for me, I wanna see that cute little pussy.” Franky grabbed one of your knees and pushed it open. 

“I didn’t shave…” You try to cover your face with your arm so you didn’t have to see Franky’s eyes on your most intimate bits. 

“Good! Smells much better like this…” He takes a deep inhale. 

“Fuck,” You sigh out. “You really are a fucking pervert- OH!” The device Franky was pressing against your sex suddenly sprung to life and vibrated against your clit. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced in your life and your stomach tenses immediately. 

“Wait- fuck, Franky! Wait holy shit, wait- ah!” You scream as your orgasm sneaks up on you and takes you out like an assassin. You legs give out and flop against the bed. Franky removes the toy and cups your sex with his free hand. He feels your hole still gently pulsing against his palm.

“Oh poor baby, ya really are wound tight…” Franky coos down at you from your side. “We’re gonna need a lot more of those before you’re ready for me..” He removes his hand and returns the vibrator to your sex. You cry out as he drags it through your wet folds at the lowest intensity. He eventually keeps it at your clit and increases the vibrations. 

You squirm and moan. 

“Hey,” Franky scolds as he pulls on the chain between your nipple clamps, causing you to moan louder. “Don’t fight it, doll face… just cum, I know you’re there again…” He presses the device harder into your flesh and you crash over the edge again. This time it was even more intense, spasms continuing long after the euphoria ended. 

“Franky… It’s so much…” You whine as he leaves the vibrator pressed against your sex even after you’ve cum for a second time. 

“You can take it. I know you can. You know what to say to get me to stop…” Franky meets your gaze and raises an eyebrow. 

You pull your thighs closed to escape the sensation but the bar prevents you from doing so. 

“Come on baby, one more like this, I know you can…” Franky increases the speed of the vibrator. 

“Shit! I can’t!” You arch your back away from the stimulation. 

“Then say it, sweetheart.” Franky increases the speed again. 

“Fuck! I’m- I’m cumming!” You cry out and violently lurch forward on the bed. You grab Franky’s forearm and sob in pleasure. You hear the buzzing of the machine stop and your spasms start to slow down. 

“Think you can take me now, sweet thing?” You are broken from your post orgasm trance by your cyborg lover slipping off the only piece of clothing he had on, his red swim briefs. 

“Mmmhmmm….” You seductively whisper as you roll onto your stomach and push you ass backwards with your knees, exposing your puffy, red wet hole to him. 

“So ready for me, what a good girl.” Franky coos as he strokes down your back bone. “I’m gonna fuck you now, take a deep breath…” 

“SHIT!” You cry out as Franky’s enormous cockhead breaches your hole. You were wildly wet and open after 3 orgasms, but his sheer size was causing your insides to stretch beyond compare. 

“Its- ah” *sniff* *hiccup* “It’s so big, Frank! Ah!” *sniff* 

“I know sweetheart, it’s a lot at first, but you gotta relax and let me fuck you. You gotta open up more baby..” Franky leans forward and places kisses on your shoulder blades. He feels you lessen your grip around him and he pushes in further. “Gooood girl… stretching so nice for me…” He finally pulls back out and shoves himself into you again. 

“Oh!” You cry out in surprise. You continue to yelp helplessly as your powerful cyborg lover drilled into you from behind. 

“Yes there it is mama, cum on this dick. Feels good, huh?” Franky has the audacity to laugh as he hammers into your G-spot. 

You were involuntarily pushed over the edge and sent screaming into yet another orgasm. You sob and Franky uses his massive strength to flip you over onto your back. He enters you again and you moan out in overstimulation. 

“Come on, one more doll, bet you can squirt on me…” Franky thrusts into you from above, holding your hips into his at the perfect angle to hit your spot. 

“No, I- I can’t” You pant out breathlessly, knowing this is something you aren’t capable of. 

“Yes you can baby, come on just try it for me.” Franky pulls back and places one hand on your stomach and the other on your clit. He begins to rub circles into your sensitive nub and applies deep pressure to your lower abdomen, all while thrusting deeply into you with his cock. You snap for the nth time that evening and tears spill from your lash line as your hips spasm in pleasure. You feel different, like some sort of physical release in your bottom half deeper than the normal climax. You look up after catching your breath and see that your fluids had soaked both the bed and your lover’s abdomen and thighs. 

“Hnnnnhhhh” You whine and weep in overestimation. “It’s too much, Frank, please!” You cry out and claw at your cyborg’s back. 

“Almost there mama, take it for me…” Franky rasps into your ear as he reaches his own climax, huge cock buried deep against your cervix. The loudest moan you’ve ever heard reaches your ears and you toss your head back into the pillows. The both of your whine as Franky carefully removes himself from your body. 

You lay there in a daze and didn’t even notice that your lover had left until he returned with a warm towel to dab at your swollen, messy sex. You twitch involuntarily as he cleans your sensitive bits. He unlocks your legs from their hold in the bar and gently pulls the clamps off your nipples, soothing them with the wet cloth.

“You room should be cooled off by now, glad I could occupy your time until the repairs kicked in.” Franky helps you snap your bra back on behind your back. 

“Thanks for the help, and thanks for the distraction.” You reach up and grip Franky’s jaw to kiss it. You slide off the bed bend down to grab something. You hold the worn red pair of swim briefs up to your face. 

“I’m keepin’ these.” You giggle and bolt out of the room with Franky’s bikini. 

“HEY! Those are my only red ones! This is not very super of you!”

—

Xx 

[hiveworks]

Interview with Mad Rupert, author of Sakana

September 2023

Sakana, the story of life and love in a fish market, is coming back from its hiatus soon! The strip comic style webcomic began in 2010 and follows Jiro, Taisei, Yuudai, and Chie as they navigate their relationships and learn to face their feelings. We asked creator Mad Rupert, author of Robber Robert and artist of Bunt!, for an interview to celebrate the series return.

Read Sakana | Shop books & merch | Read more Hiveworks comics

Sakana has been your baby for 13 years. What has the webcomic journey been like for you over the past decade?

It really has been over a decade, hasn’t it! There have certainly been ups and downs, periods where I was updating as much as I could, and also long hiatuses. I feel like webcomics have always been an amazing space to practice my craft and stretch my writing and drawing skills alike. You can kind of do anything you like with webcomics, and oftentimes people come up with wackier, and imho more interesting concepts than if they were beholden to a large publisher. Not that I haven’t made my fair share of traditionally-published comics and graphic novels… but there’s just something so gratifying about coming up with your own wild story and working towards its end on your own time. Webcomics are incredibly tough and time consuming, but also the ultimate form of self expression. 

What is the origin of Sakana? What made you want to tell this story?

Sakana actually started as a class project when I was a junior at the Savannah College of Art and Design. I had been accepted into the Sequential Art department’s yearly Japan trip to study comics and cartooning in Tokyo for a few weeks, and our final project was to create 11 comic strips based off of something that made a strong impact on us during the trip. We had visited the old inner market (now demolished) of the Tsukiji Fish Market at 4am one morning, and it was the most incredible place I’d ever been, so I decided to craft a short story that took place in the market. Beyond the first 11 strips, I decided to continue the story for as long as I could as a way to practice the comic techniques I was learning in class. That was over a decade and 600 strips ago! It really has become the most ambitious project I’ve ever undertaken.

Do you have the ending already written? Do you see a conclusion in sight?

Yes! I’ve always had something at least resembling an end in mind throughout most of the comic’s lifespan. For a long-format comic like SAKANA, I think it’s very important to have a rough ending planned out as early as possible, otherwise it becomes difficult to keep the narrative moving in a satisfying direction, drop little tidbits of plot that will pay off later, or even maintain your enthusiasm for the project. To be clear, the details of Sakana's “end” have changed many times, which is only natural with a very long project like this. But I’ve always kept crucial details the same: basically certain characters in a certain place at a certain time doing certain things (to keep from getting too spoilery haha.) HOW they get there, WHY they’re there, and WHAT exactly they’re doing will ebb and flow as the years go by and I myself get older and older. But having a general sense of the end in mind has kept things moving all this time. The story’s got one more volume to go, and then I’ll be done!

Your hiatus is a result of working on a traditionally published graphic novel, coming in 2024. Is there anything you can tell us about your book?

My new graphic novel is called Bunt! and it’s a collaborative effort between myself and my dear pal, Ngozi Ukazu (author of popular webcomic Check, Please!) Ngozi wrote the book and I drew it, and we’re both really proud of what we’ve made! It’s already available for preorder all over the place and it will officially be out in stores in February 2024. We’re really looking forward to getting out there this fall and winter and spreading the word about it!

You recently successfully completed a Kickstarter for an 18+ comic, Robber Robert, as well. What is it like balancing these different narratives, genres, and mediums of publishing comics?

It’s definitely been a struggle at times to balance everything, and I definitely don’t recommend working on 3 giant projects at the same time! I finally had to admit that I couldn’t do it all at once, which led to me putting Sakana and RR on hiatus to finish Bunt!, and then keeping Sakana on hiatus while I finished up RR. I really burned myself out on comics for a while, and it’s been a huge struggle to get myself back to a good place with my work. Finishing Bunt! and RR Chapter 1 has really helped reenergize me, but I can always feel myself trying to overload my work schedule again and again. It’s my greatest weakness as a professional artist.

What keeps you inspired?

Making something for myself, practicing my craft, and putting my own stories out there are all huge driving forces in my life. Learning to stop overwhelming myself with work has also helped a lot. Looking back on all the art I’ve made and all the different things I’ve tried makes me feel like I can do anything I put my mind to, so long as I give myself the time and space to enjoy the process.

Do you have any webcomic or graphic novel recommendations?

I’m a big fan of anything fantasy or sci-fi, especially if the narrative approaches the fantastical elements in a weird, unique, and kind of gay way haha. My favorite manga is currently Delicious in Dungeon, but I’m also a fan of historical series like Golden Kamuy and Bride’s Story. For webcomics, I love anything by Evan Dahm, like his long-format series Rice Boy and Vattu. As for Hiveworks comics, there’s too many to list individually but my current favorites are Fairmeadow by KP, and Tiger, Tiger by Petra Nordlund. 

Any advice for new readers of Sakana?

I would say…despite its high page count, it’s not that long of a read! The strip format keeps it moving at a pretty quick clip when read all at once (but it certainly didn’t feel like that over the last 13 years updating one page at a time!) I know that the format and the black and white rendering might feel a little dated in the current era of Webtoons and full-color stories, but I’m too stubborn to change now, and I really appreciate anybody giving it a shot! Also, no matter who you are, or how much you dislike him in the beginning, Yuudai will probably be your favorite character.

You can read Sakana for free at sakana-comic.com and print books are available at hivemill.com

[fluentmoviequoter]

Popstar Protection Program

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x singer!fem!reader

Summary: As a young popstar performing in LA for the first time, you don't expect to need police protection. A very reluctant and grumpy sergeant keeps you safe and gives you inspiration.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff, vague mention of heavier topics (nothing specific)

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (from such a good episode, too)

Los Angeles can be scary. The aerial shots in movies and TV shows make it look inviting, and the focus on the glamorous aspects tends to hide the dangerous underbelly of the City of Angels. Even scarier, you think, is walking through Los Angeles when a large percentage of the population knows your name.

When you started singing, you never expected to become a “star” or be on the covers of magazines, and you absolutely never thought you’d be playing a sold-out show in Staples Center. While you should be focused on practicing and ensuring the show goes well, you can’t think of anything else except the incident in the airport when you landed.

✯✯ 2 Hours Ago ✯✯

Getting off the plane in LAX, you first notice the lack of fresh air. After playing on the East Coast and opening in smaller venues in towns on the other side of the country, you expected this to be similar. Los Angeles is nothing like Charlotte, Boston, or even Nashville. Taking a deep breath, you grow excited to see Staples Center and all the other sights of Los Angeles.

But you don’t even exit the airport before your hopes and plans are shattered. A large crowd of paparazzi are blocking the area outside your gate. You try to navigate through them with your head down, but one of them knocks his camera into your arm, tilting you off balance and making pain radiate down to your wrist.

“Alright, back up! LAPD, move back!” somebody yells on the other side of the crowd.

Slowly, you notice that no one is pressing up against you now, and when you see a man in a police uniform, you release a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” you say.

He says your name, glancing over your shoulder. “Where’s your protection detail?”

“My what?”

“Oh boy. I think you should probably come with me; there’s some people that can keep this from happening again.”

“Why- why did it happen?”

“Paparazzi are practically vultures. They get paid by the picture to take advantage of people, invade their personal lives, and the closer the better. My guess would be one of the smaller papers or magazines heard you were coming and wanted to get a feature out before your show.”

“So, where are we going?”

“LAPD. Mid-Wilshire station is your best bet to get good cops and stay far enough from the center to avoid the cameras that seem to live there.”

“And then what?”

✯✯ Present ✯✯

“Absolutely not!”

Sitting outside an office with glass walls, you try not to look over as you eavesdrop. Your arm has been iced and wrapped, but the pain is now the least of your concerns. Three groups of officers entered the room after the cop who saved you explained the situation to the watch commander. At least one of them seems opposed to being your protection detail for a few days.

“We’re cops, not bodyguards! There are dozens of places in this city that cater to people like her!”

“Um, excuse me,” you interject, knocking on the open door. “I’m sorry to have caused all the upset, but I will find another way. Thanks for your time.”

Sergeant Grey says your name, gesturing for you to stay. “We’re going to take care of you. It’s your first time performing here and after your less-than-ideal welcome, you deserve someone to show you that LA isn’t all bad.”

“It’s not all good either though,” one of the officers adds.

“I don’t…” you begin.

“Why does this require three teams?” Bradford asks. You recognize his voice as the one that was wholly against the idea a moment ago.

“Bradford, this is your assignment. If you have a problem with it, take it up with IA,” Grey answers.

Bradford’s jaw clenches harshly, and his eyes flit to you before shaking his head and looking away.

“This is your protection team until after your show,” Grey explains, “Harper and Thorsen, Nolan and Juarez, Chen, and Bradford works with Metro so he knows this city inside and out.”

You nod along with the names, and a few of them offer their first names as well. After introducing yourself to the five officers who seem to care, you’re directed to an unmarked SUV.

“Aaron and I will be your mobile detail. You don’t go anywhere unless we take you there. Nolan and Juarez are more peripheral, unseen, protection. Lucy will stay with you as close to 24/7 as possible, and Bradford- well, Bradford’s here,” Nyla explains.

Chuckling, you thank her for the clear explanation and climb into the passenger seat after Aaron opens the door for you.

“I love your music, by the way,” he whispers.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that, and all that you’re doing for me,” you reply.

Aaron nods, closing the door and climbing into the backseat behind you. Your hotel reservation has been changed, booked under someone else’s name, and located farther from Staples Center. Watching the streets of Los Angeles from a police car window is, at the least, safer than the alternative, but it’s certainly nothing special.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Any idea as to why Bradford hates me without meeting me?” you ask Lucy.

“Tim is grumpy. He’s protective and loyal but he’s- he’s like a dog that wasn’t socialized enough as a puppy. Vicious until he gets to know you and then he’s the best friend you could ever ask for,” she answers, holding up one of your dresses.

“You’d look great in that color,” you muse. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Bradford wants to get to know me.”

“You think so? About the color? Because I need a new dress,” she replies.

“Take that one. Get it altered or just use the fabric, whatever you want.”

“Thank you!” As she hugs you, she lowers her voice to add, “You’re also young and beautiful and famous… Tim doesn’t always deal well with people who are different than him.”

You nod, but you don’t believe her. You’ll only be with Tim Bradford for a few days anyway. It shouldn’t bother you… but it does.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’re changing things around,” Nyla announces as she enters your room. “Lobby’s swarming with paps, but there’s also a crowd of men screaming your name.”

“So, what are you doing?” you ask.

“Bradford is taking point. He’s got some big plan that, and I quote, ‘no will catch on to.’ I won’t repeat the rest of it for your sake, though.”

“Grey is making him do it?” you guess.

Nyla hums, neither a yes nor no, but you know the answer. When he barges in a moment later, you stop talking, preferring not to give him another reason to hate you.

“Get your stuff, we’re leaving,” he demands.

You nod, walking into the suite's bedroom to gather your things. Part of you wants to know what Nyla and Bradford will say behind your back, but you’re also terrified that Nyla is just better about hiding her true feelings.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is your problem?” Aaron demands. “She’s in danger and you’re not helping any!”

“This isn’t the job I signed up for. I am a Metro Sergeant but I’m stuck on- on princess protection duty! She’s just a kid who sings,” Tim answers.

“It’s about her age then,” Nyla repeats.

“No! Well, yes, but she- what makes her special enough for a team like this? Why does she get a real protection detail?”

“Tim,” Lucy says quietly. “Have you listened to her music?”

“Why would I?”

“Her specific genre, what she sings about has made a lot of people angry,” Aaron explains. “Those paparazzi weren’t there for a ‘Taylor Swift is in LA’; they were looking for a much bigger story.”

“Spit it out, Thorsen.”

“Plenty of people have reason to try to kill her.”

Tim falls silent, looking at Nyla. She tilts her head in a ‘we can’t prove it but it’s probably true’ gesture. He looks back toward the bedroom.

“Look, I’m doing my job. I’ll be civil and that is it,” Tim concedes.

“That’s all we’re asking,” Lucy replies. “We’ll be in the neighborhood. Nothing can happen to her with our protection, right?”

“Right,” Aaron and Nyla answer, looking at Tim.

“Right. Because it is our job, nothing more.”

You come out with your single suitcase, waiting until Tim takes it from you to speak. Thanking him softly, you listen to his quick explanation that you’ll be staying with him rather than Lucy, and the rest of the team will be patrolling nearby in case of an emergency.

“You’ll be fine,” Lucy promises. “And thank you again for the dress. I can’t imagine how much that cost and I can’t thank you enough.”

Tim’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t ask any questions. Wondering why someone in your position would be willing to give away an expensive dress days before a concert confuses him. Tim reminds himself that he can’t start caring.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim’s house is incredibly comfortable. You can tell that he doesn’t want you here, and when he disappears into a back room with his phone and earbuds, you assume it’s his way of getting as much space as he can. Pulling your songwriting journal from your bag, you start writing, disappearing into the emotions and the story you want to share. Time falls away when you’re writing, and you don’t hear Tim reemerge or walk to the doorway before you.

Tim clears his throat, and you look up from your place on the floor. You look small and as young as you are, sitting on the carpet and leaning against the bed with a journal in your lap. Tim has something to say but nearly forgets what it is when you look up at him through your lashes.

“I will admit that I judged you prematurely, and I’m sorry,” he begins.

“It’s okay,” you offer.

“No, just, let me finish. Please?” You nod, and Tim continues, “I thought you were just an entitled kid who found a way to convince the cop from the airport that you needed special attention. Craved it, whatever. And you’re just, you’re young and famous and that confuses me. I don’t know what life is like for you, I can’t relate to any part of that fame.”

“I can’t relate to your life either, but I didn’t shut you out because of that,” you whisper.

Tim licks his lips before speaking again. “I’m sorry. Aaron told me that you sing about- that you- uh-“

“Write songs for people who will never relate to the love songs or the ‘thank God for my parents’… who will never relate to a song on the Billboard 100 or feel protected by a song? Yeah.”

“And I diminished that. I listened to your last album-“

“That’s what you were doing back there?”

“Don’t- don’t laugh at me,” Tim replies, finally smiling. “It was really good. And I truly am sorry.”

“Consider it forgotten.”

You raise your hand, and Tim chuckles as he shakes it. He sees the nearly full page of your notebook and leans down. You slam it closed, and he shakes his head at your sudden movement.

“They’re private until they’re available on iTunes and all major streaming platforms.”

“Got it,” he replies, mock-saluting. “And, just so you know, I needed songs like this as a kid. Still do, so thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the next 48 hours, Tim ebbs and flows. One moment, he’ll talk to you for an hour straight, but by that afternoon, he won’t even look in your direction. It’s dizzying, and you don’t realize how much you’re thinking about it, about him, until you reach the last page of your notebook.

“Ready for the show?” Lucy asks, dressed in an event security uniform.

Shrugging, you run your finger over the edge of your journal.

“Songs?”

Lucy sits beside you, offering a hand. You lay your hand over hers, taking a deep breath.

“I thought I was making progress with Tim. He apologized and he was being nice to me and then it all stopped. Like we backslid. And, for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Sounds like you don’t want to,” Lucy says softly. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“Then maybe you should sing to him.”

Laughing, you argue, “That would be even worse.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is humming while he and Aaron stand outside your dressing room door. 

“You listened to her music,” Aaron accuses, placing the song.

“Yeah. Even apologized,” Tim answers.

“You haven’t talked to her at all today. Did something- oh my- did you kiss her?”

“What? No, I didn’t kiss her, and keep your voice down! I had to pull back.”

“Why?”

Tim doesn’t answer but glances over his shoulder to your door.

“You like her.”

“No- maybe.”

“You need to tell her. We don’t know when or if she’s leaving.”

“That’s why I can’t tell her. If she’s leaving tomorrow there is no point, and if she doesn’t know, telling her could influence her decision.”

“What about the effects of not telling her?”

✯✯✯✯✯

You open the door suddenly, and Tim and Aaron turn toward you quickly.

“Whoa!” Aaron exclaims.

“You look beautiful,” Tim says, sending you a small smile.

“Thank you. All of you, for everything these last few days.”

“Break a leg,” Lucy says, waving as you walk toward the stage entrance.

“Everybody in position? This job isn’t over yet,” Tim radios.

✯✯✯✯✯

You notice Tim standing in the wings during your second song. As if your energy has been zapped from you, you fight not to collapse. Tim’s eyes narrow as he watches you.

“Instrumental,” you tell your bassist, who communicates it to the rest of the band.

Rushing toward Tim, his eyes search your face. His hands raise to your sides as he waits for you to speak.

“I-“ you stop, turning off your microphone. “I thought something was happening.”

“When?”

“No. Between us. I thought maybe there could be something there but then you stopped talking to me. What happened?”

“You’re supposed to be singing right now.”

“I have a journal full of songs about you, Tim!” you exclaim. “I can’t come out here and sing without knowing if those ideas have a chance of coming to life!”

“You wrote songs about me?”

“Tim,” you beg. “Just answer the question.”

“Nothing happened. We’re too different and I didn’t want to push too hard.”

“Who gets to decide if we’re too different? Because I disagree.”

“Don’t tell me you have a song about it, I’ve heard that one.”

You sigh, beginning to accept that Tim is skirting around a rejection.

“You can do better,” Tim says quietly. “No point in me showing you how I feel when you could have any man you wanted.”

“I don’t want any other man!” you yell over the music.

Tim’s eyes widen, and his hand leaps to your waist to your mic pack, turning it off and tugging your microphone down.

“Thorsen, your badge is mine,” he grumbles.

Tossing the microphone onto a nearby chair, Tim raises his hands to cup your face.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure since you said you didn’t want to deal with me.”

“That’s- I don’t think I put it like that.”

“No, you said you were a cop not a bodyguard. But I think you’re a pretty good bodyguard too.”

“I tried not to,” Tim admits. “Tried not to feel this way, I mean. But every time I see you, it’s like I see another part of you. You’re beautiful, and your music is beautiful, and I’m sorry for pushing you away and being-“

“Worthy of a breakup song?”

Tim sighs, leaning toward you. “You need to finish your concert.”

“Promise to be here when I’m done?”

“I promise.”

You grab your microphone, hooking it on quickly before waving at Tim and returning to the stage.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Aaron,” Tim radios, “Did you turn her mic back on?”

“Those things are tricky,” Aaron replies.

“Then maybe you should go talk to the tech department and stay out of my sight.”

“Yes, sir.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The lights dim, and as the crowd applauds, you run to Tim, crashing into him as you hug him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist, smiling as he congratulates you for your first sold-out show.

“You’ll come to the next one?” you ask.

“Only if you sing one of those songs you wrote about me.”

“I’ll sing them all. Even if you’re the only one in the audience.”

Tim cups your cheek, pressing his palm against your cheek as he pulls you in. His kiss is the opposite of earlier; a look that sucked the energy from you has become a kiss that breathes life and love into your very being. You pull back before leaning against Tim and can’t hear anything except your shared heartbeat.

“I think they’re calling for you,” Tim whispers.

The muddled yells of “Encore! Encore!” greet you, but you’re warm and happy in Tim’s arms.

“I don’t want you in my audience,” you correct. “I want you at my side.”

“Then I should be easy to find. Knock ‘em dead. Again.”

Tim kisses you again, and you credit that as the reason your encore was better than your performance (LA Times’ words, not yours).

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (05)

chapter five: say what you mean

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, kissing, we’re starting to dip our toes into angsty territory !!, less edited than i’d like but what’s new lol word count: 2.8k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you’re ready My head’s getting heavy, pressed against your arm Just to adore you, I adore you

Adore - Dean Lewis

Whenever Minho asks if you two could hang out together at your place, it usually means that you will end up in your bed.

Tonight you suppose is no different.

Even though you often cap off the night having engaged in activities that could make the Victorian lady in Hyunjin faint, it’s not all that you do. Both you and Minho never let yourselves forget that you’re friends first and foremost. Sex is the added benefit that should never take anything away from your friendship. He is still one of the people you’re most comfortable with, one of the few people whose company you enjoy.

You’re sprawled out on the couch in your small living room when Minho returns from the kitchen with a plate of freshly peeled tangerines, the same ones that he brought over earlier. You push yourself to half-sit up so he could squeeze himself between you and the armrest, before you go back to laying your head on his lap as you two resume watching a bad movie that you put on.

“I hate this so much,” you comment, your eyes glued to the TV screen.

“You picked the movie,” Minho says. “It’s not that bad. The plot is kind of decent.”

“I’m not talking about that. Jeez, if they wanted to make a movie where the main character is a graphic designer, you’d think that they would at least consult someone who knows literally anything about visual art. Look at that horrendous typography job, the text isn’t even aligned with the edges and corners. This is hurting my soul.”

Your cushions (Minho’s thighs) shake lightly as he laughs at your dramatic outburst over something as trivial as a fictional character’s poor standards of digital art. But you really aren’t kidding; the way the woman on screen is butchering the text alignment is quite literally making that very particular part of your brain want to shut down for the next five to seven business days.

“They should’ve consulted you first, is that right?” Minho asks.

“They really should have. I could’ve done wonders for them,” you say matter-of-factly. “I almost majored in graphic design, y’know.”

You have a habit of biting your tongue around others because you know that people don’t really care about the same things you do. Whenever the opportunity arises for you to share tidbits about your interests, excitement would tumble out of you only to be quashed soon after when no one wants to listen to your silly little rambles. It’s disheartening, you’re used to it.

But you never feel that way around Minho. He always lets you babble on about anything and everything, even if he might not know what the hell you’re talking about. He indulges you. He never makes you feel neglected or ignored.

“Hmm, my little genius artist.” He taps your cheek once, and when you turn your head to glance at him, he tells you to open up before he slips a slice of tangerine past your lips. “You’re right. Even I can tell that it’s horrendous.”

You hum appreciatively when the sweetness of the juicy fruit floods your tastebuds. Minho’s hand trails down your arm to rest on your stomach, just below your ribs where he fiddles with the worn fabric of your sleep shirt. If he moves his hand up, he would be grazing your bare chest underneath your shirt. You didn’t bother with a bra because, well, comfort above all else, especially within the four walls of your own home. Besides, it’s nothing that Minho hasn’t seen anyway.

He keeps on feeding you tangerines in between your complaints about bad design standards until the movie ends and the plate is cleared. The only sound in the room is the soft music on the TV as the credits start to roll.

You turn to lie on your back, staring up at Minho. “That was deeply disturbing.”

“You chose it,” he reminds you. “You went in knowing what the premise was.”

“Yeah, I have no one to blame but me. I had too much faith in humanity.”

“And you call me weird.”

“You are weird,” you say. “But I like weird.”

Minho looks down at you and for a moment, he says nothing. His fingers trace something on your stomach. A heart or an odd circle, you don’t know; you’re always bad at deciphering those. His eyelids fall a bit, softening the usual sharpness of his gaze.

Then he’s pulling you by your shoulders, guiding you to sit up and before you know it, you’re situated on his lap with one of his hands on your waist, the other on the back of your neck. Minho tugs you closer, meeting your lips in a kiss in which you waste no time returning.

He’s sweet, like the tangerines that you were sharing all evening. It tends to start like this - sort of randomly, whenever it feels right. He squeezes your side in a comforting gesture as his tongue slips into your mouth. There are times where it’s more urgent, where one of you is needy and desperately seeks the escape and release that can only be found in the other’s embrace. Other times, it’s slower, more gentle, where you can really focus on making each other feel fully satiated.

This, right now - you would pinpoint somewhere in the middle. There’s no fiery clothes-ripping urge, nor a need to lay the other person bare and knead every single knot of stress from their system. Today, there’s just languid wanting; an unhurried inclination to be close.

Him and his tangerine flavored kiss, you and your resolve built on shaky foundation.

You start rolling your hips over his, tugging on his shirt because you want to feel his skin against yours. Minho stops you though; he puts both hands on your hips and pulls his lips away from yours. You blink, dazed, confused.

“I...” he starts, trying to even out his breathing as he finds the words. “I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

Embarrassment instantly washes over you. The rejection is a little humiliating; it’s the first time you’ve ever felt like this around him. Your cheeks catch fire from the mortification, and you’re very aware that you’re still sitting in his lap, right over his crotch.

Wanting to climb off of him and just fucking bury yourself in a ditch, you start stuttering like an absolute fool, “Oh... Y-yeah, no, of course! Shit, shit, I’m sorry. Of course we don’t have t-”

Minho holds you in place, one of the hands on your hips goes to cup your cheek to make you look at him. It effectively shuts you right up.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have phrased it like that,” he says, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in an earnest apology. “I just want to keep kissing you. Is that okay?”

You’re at a loss for words. He’s holding your face, your waist, so delicately. He looks drunk on your presence alone even though neither of you have had a single drop of alcohol tonight, so sincere in his simple request that you feel your heart swell tenfold.

You want it too. You’re more than okay with just kissing him.

You don’t answer him verbally. Instead, you just nod and move to kiss him again, your hands tangled in his soft hair. The sweetness of the tangerines grows more and more distant as you chase his lips, but you can taste his smile. It’s infinitely more saccharine, and it only grows sweeter when he holds you close and knocks the breath out of you.

When you pull away for air, you slump against him, hiding your face in the crook of his face, shy all of a sudden. He keeps you there but continues with his onslaught of kisses - on your hair, your cheek, your neck, anywhere his lips can reach. Like he simply can’t get enough of you.

“You really like kissing,” you comment, giggling quietly as you do. “Even when we… y’know, bone.”

“Bone? You’re so romantic, babe.” You feel the rumbles of Minho’s chest as he lets out a hearty laugh, the sound of which fills the space of your modest home, embeds itself in every nook and crevice, in between every minuscule crack in your walls until the whole place feels warmer, brighter somehow. “Are you complaining?”

“No... just pointing it out.”

“Well, I like kissing you,” he says. “You’re not a terrible kisser, I guess.”

You sit up straighter and catch the teasing grin on his face before you roll your eyes. “Gee, thanks. You really know how to sweet talk a girl.”

“Says the girl who uses ‘bone’ to describe sex.”

“It’s a perfectly good euphemism for ‘sex’.”

“You might as well just say ‘boink’.”

“Literally shut up.”

“Sure.”

Then he’s pressing his mischievous smile against your mouth once more, and you can’t really wrap your mind around how it’s even possible that he keeps getting sweeter and sweeter. His sugary kisses send warmth tingling up your spine, make a fluttery sensation erupt in your stomach. You’re lightheaded, and not the kind that can be remedied by a sufficient fix of blood oxygen.

Even though you’re perfectly content with kissing, there’s a certain implication that comes with only kissing that you’re not sure what to do with. He’s literally inside of you on a weekly basis and yet, this feels much more intimate than anything you two have ever done.

Because friends don’t kiss each other the way he’s kissing you right now. Friends don’t kiss each other the way you’re kissing him back.

A chime from your phone breaks you two apart, the intrusion forcing a mildly frustrated grunt from Minho. You find the mobile device hidden between the cushions of your couch, and after you quickly scan the notification on the screen, you tell him, “It’s Hyunjin.”

“What did I say? It’s always him at the scene of the crime,” Minho mutters, speaking in the same tone that one would when their sibling interrupts a round of their favorite video game. “What does he want?”

“Just wants me to send him a photo of the sample portfolio from our class.”

“Ignore him. He can wait.”

“He’ll call me if I don’t reply.”

“He’s so annoying,” Minho grumbles but loosens his hold on you nonetheless. “Hurry back.”

“It’ll only take a minute, you big baby,” you chuckle, pressing a swift peck to his lips before you get up from the couch and head toward your bedroom with your phone in hand, searching for the binder that Hyunjin is asking about.

Once you’ve snapped the picture and sent it to your friend, you return to the living room. When Minho hears your footsteps, he holds out an arm, silently beckoning you into his embrace again. And you do. You slide into the space next to him, slotting perfectly against his side.

Your fingers absentmindedly trace along his forearm until they reach his wrist. “This is pretty,” you say, touching the thin link bracelet that he always wears, the one with a small charm hanging off the center in the simple outline of a dove.

“You like it? I’ve had it for ages.”

“Mhmm, it suits you.”

A moment passes where you both sit in silence as you fiddle with the gold jewelry, and you can feel Minho’s eyes on your face the entire time. After a while, he pries your fingers off his skin, only to swiftly take off the trinket.

“No, Min. What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer you. You attempt (in vain) to pull your wrist back but Minho is stronger. He holds it in place as he clasps the chain around your wrist.

“Minho, you are not giving me your bracelet.”

“Relax. It’s not like it was passed down from my great-great-grandfather. It’s just a random bracelet I bought when I was 18.”

“Why would you even give me your bracelet?”

He shrugs, as though he’s merely doing something as simple as letting you borrow you a pen. “It looks good on you.”

You look down to where his hand is still on your skin, his thumb gently sliding over your pulse point as he admires how the dainty gold reflects the dim lighting in your home.

And he’s right. It does look good, but he probably doesn’t mean it in the same way that you’re thinking of right now. You think it looks good because it’s something that belongs to him that’s now wrapped snugly around your wrist, like some sort of affirmation spoken in a language that only the two of you can understand.

Minho leans over and presses his warm lips to your forehead. It takes you by surprise, the way he does it as if it’s second nature to be this affectionate with you. It’s a tipping point, then suddenly your thoughts are running rampant.

The instruction has always been plain and simple: No strings attached.

But...

The chaste kisses with no expectation of sex, being protective when you’re in the presence of other guys, even giving you his bracelet to wear just because you said it was pretty.

Why do all of these sound an awful lot like strings?

You hesitate, then you ask, “What are we doing?”

“Hmm? You wanna watch another movie?”

“No, that’s not... What are we doing?” You don’t even know what word to put more emphasis on.

Minho looks at you and loosens his fingers. What he can’t understand through your words, you think he sees it in your eyes. “Say what you mean.”

“Are we friends?”

“Of course we are.”

“Are we still friends?”

“Do you not want to be friends anymore?” He cracks a smile, but you can tell that he’s just doing it to lighten you up. “You have terrible timing. I literally just gave you a bracelet.”

“Friends don’t do that.”

“Friends don’t give each other bracelets?”

“Friends don’t kiss like that.”

Minho seems a bit taken aback, though he regains his composure in mere seconds, his voice calm as he tells you, “Friends don’t have sex either.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. What are you saying? You brought it up.”

You open your mouth, only to subsequently close it because your thoughts were never really that coherent in the first place. You look away from him to glance down at your wrist.

“You’re being confusing,” Minho says quietly, honestly.

“I just… I don’t want anything to change.”

“Did anything change for you?” he asks.

“No,” is what you tell him after a long minute, when what you really mean to say is I don’t know. You can see it as it happens, some stars fading from his eyes, some light growing more faint in his irises. Though the despondence on his face disappears so fast that you’re not sure if it was even there at all, or if it was only a figment of your imagination.

Then you throw the question back at him. “Did anything change? For you?”

Minho’s answer is the same as yours - a clear No - and yet, it makes you feel like you’ve been punctured by something sharp. You don’t know why your heart drops upon hearing him say the exact same thing that you did, but you try not to let it show on your face. Your poker face isn’t anywhere as good as his, but you hope that it’s enough.

You give him a tight-lipped smile and nod a little.

“Then nothing’s changed.” He strokes your hair, emphasizing his point with a soft smile as he reassures you, “And nothing has to change. It’s a bracelet, don’t overthink it. We’re good.”

Sometimes, the decisions you make are bad because you can foresee the outcomes, or at least, you have an idea of the consequences will be later on and yet, you still choose to go through with it anyway.

Just like how you chose to watch a movie you knew would drive you crazy with its trivial details, you choose to accept the feeling of Minho’s bracelet around your wrist. You choose to believe him when he said nothing has changed, and that nothing has to change. You choose to sweep under the rug the thoughts that you’ve been having about him lately. You choose to overlook the reason why you’ve been having those thoughts instead of facing it head-on because you’re terrified of what you’d find if you dig deeper.

You choose to let the conversation end here though it still lingers in your mind, and you choose to let him kiss you goodnight when he leaves because tonight has already been a series of bad decision after bad decision anyway.

And when you fall asleep, it’s the soothing coolness of the golden dove against your skin that lulls you to slumber, like he’s here right beside you to hold you through the night.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom (italicized = can’t tag)

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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 18.02.2024]

[camilaxmartin]

Sorry to send another request! But this one is for Carmilla instead of Rosie. Maybe Zestial could introduce his friend or sister to Carmilla and she sticks around after meetings to chat/flirt with her? You can make as many changes as you like! I hope you're well x

beautiful?

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summary: literally the request beside the fact i made it only about one of their meetings, zestial!friend!reader

warnings: make out session, cursing but i’m not so sure abt it

notes: I WAS SO SCARWS ABOUT THIS ONE BUT EVENTUALLY I LOVE HOW IT TURNED OUT!! hope you don’t mind i made them like this already on the first meeting but it just kinda happened:)

requests: open!!

you were a good friend of zestial for… as long as you can remember honestly. you two were always understanding each other and literally wherever he went, you went as well. when hell started gaining more and more overlords you two became sort of friends with alastor and always looked forward to meeting up with that strange deer man. the only person you haven’t actually met was carmilla carmine, zestial wanted you to meet her many times already but fate wanted it that you always had something else planned while he was meeting with her. at some point he started wondering if you just didn’t want to meet her but you reassured him that when another meeting with all the overlords will be thrown, you’ll go with him and finally meet her.

and there we were.

the day of the meeting.

you were running through the darkness of the cave looking for something to wear feeling your anxiety rising up more than it has usually. you groaned finding an old and dirty dress throwing it away and running to another hall of the cave in a search for something at least acceptably good. zestial appeared from the shadows next to you scaring you to your second death as he slowly tilted his head watching you.

“i’ve told you a milion times not to do that!” you groaned punching his legs as it was the only thing of his body that you could reach. his smiled widened at you as he looked around noticing the mess you’ve made in both of yours house. you knew each other so long there wasn’t a reason for you to split into separate homes when this cave was big enough for more than you two. zestial didn’t even flinch at your punch and his eyes started glowing more.

“what’s the problem lief? wherefore art thee in such a sweaty haste?” he asked as his smile widened even more like he already knew the answer. you groaned again and shook your head.

“i don’t have anything presentable to wear. i don’t want to be overdressed but also underdressed. it’s an overlords meeting after all. it’s been a while since i’ve been to one” you explained and groaned once more as zestial gently put one of his hands onto your shoulder.

“don’t thee w'rry, whatev'r thee weareth shall beest fine. nay one actually pays attention to what we’re wearing” he said softly and squeezed your shoulder gently, smiling down at you. you grabbed his hand with yours and smiled to him as well. zestial then narrowed his four eyes slightly and his smile turned into more of a smirk. “and t won’t affect carmilla’s first impression of thee” he added and you pushed his hand away noticing his implication.

“oh stop! i don’t want to impress her i just… you’ve told me so many amazing things about her what she is and what not and i don’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of her… or anyone! for that matter” you mumbled and zestial laughed softly at your words shaking his head as he walked over to a huge wardrobe in the room you two were talking in.

“you’ll beest fine. if 't be true you’ll alloweth me i wouldst chooseth this f'r the present day.” he said taking out one of your dresses that was more on the comfortable side than the presentable one. “carmilla shall appreciateth thy professionalism” he added and smiled at the mention of his friend. you rolled your eyes at him and grabbed the dress out of his hand looking at it while tilting your head.

“you really think i should choose this one?” you asked and he just nodded his head disappearing into the shadows again to give you some privacy to change. you groaned but decided to go with his choice, picking out some accessories for it, to try and make it look less plain.

you sighed looking at your reflection on the cave’s wall as it was made from clear quartz. you smiled to yourself and chuckled actually enjoying how you finally looked. zestial appeared behind you and smiled at your sight as well looking you up and down.

“thee behold ravishing, the lady shall loveth to meeteth thee” he said and took out his hand for you to hold as you needed to leave the cave now not to be late. with a wide smile, you took his hand and let him lead you out of the cave, grabbing some jacket on your way out so you wouldn’t get cold later.

you two met up with alastor on your way to the carmine’s property. alastor greeted you both with a wide smile (as usual) and complimented your outfit stating that he’s surprised you’d even dress up for something like this. maybe it wasn’t a full compliment after all, but you decided not to worry about him, after all he’s always been like that. as you reached the top floor, you were met with other overlords gathering for the meeting as well. rosie almost immediately walked over to alastor as she gave you a soft smile.

you smiled back and walked with zestial to the room in which the meeting was about to take place. zestial sat down in a chair close to the projector and you sat down next to him, alastor being on your other side. you started fidgeting with your fingers a bit waiting for the meeting to start and zestial put one of his hands onto yours trying to keep you calm.

as the meeting finally began you saw a demoness walking into the room with two smaller ones on both of her sides. your eyes immediately noticed her huge horns which only after starring at them for a while looked more like hair than actual horns. one of the girls that walked with her tilted her head noticing you sitting where you had, but she just shrugged it off and sat down next to the other one without making a scene about it. you almost didn’t catch it as you were still starring at the beautiful demoness in front of you. she had a stoic expression on her face as her eyes scanned the room and noticed you and zestial. her head tilted slightly yet her expression changed into a more pleasant one as she walked over to zestial.

“glad you’re here” she said to him with a smile as he gave her one back. you tried to stay calm.

“always a pleasure, carmilla” he responded and her smile widened even more. her eyes then moved onto you and literally read you off of your face yet she didn’t utter a word to you. her face went back to that stoic peace as she started the meeting explaining why she gathered all of you together and what were her new plans for hell.

when the meeting was finally done all of the overlords started leaving the room, leaving only you, zestial, carmilla and her daughters in it. carmilla was gathering all her notes from the table while her daughters were turning off the projector when zestial stood up and signalled for you to do the same. you quickly stood up and fixed your dress a bit as he smiled at you and then slowly walked over to carmilla’s side. you just watched him, standing behind the chair you were previously sitting in.

“carmilla, this is the lady i did want thee to meeteth f'r so longeth” he said and she immediately left her notes alone as her head turned to you with w soft smile on her face. “y/n, carmilla. carmilla, y/n” he said and moved away a bit so she could walk to you.

carmilla almost immediately walked towards you and stood before you taking out her hand for you to shake. which you immediately did praying to whoever was listening you that your palm wasn’t sweaty. “a pleasure to finally meet you dear” she said while shaking your hand and smiling to you wider than she’s before. you smiled back trying not to look too excited as you squeezed her hand softly in the handshake.

“the pleasures all mine, after all i should’ve met you long time ago” you said with a soft chuckle and she nodded with a remaining smile. her daughters watched the interaction with curiosity while zestial started smiling at the two demons noticing their curious gaze.

“better late than never” she chuckled and finally let go of your hand as she looked over to her daughter’s signalling that they’re free to go. the pair smiled to her and left in a hurry definitely having something planned for their time already. zestial caught your gaze and smiled softly to you, in a way that was supposed to show you he was right about not needing to stress about the outfit. you rolled your eyes at him yet carmilla was the first to catch it, as she chuckled softly and then looked over to zestial.

“do you two want to stay a while? we can do some catching up” she said mostly having zestial in her mind. you shrugged at her words and nodded not having anything else planned for the evening and expected zestial to do the same, but you were so wrong.

“sadly i can’t carmilla. ive did promise alast'r id seeth that gent aft'r the meeting.” liar. you knew he didn’t have any plans for tonight. you eyed him up and down but he chose to ignore your gaze. “but y/n already did agree so thee won’t beest b'r'd” he added and nodded to carmilla as a goodbye while walking over to the door.

carmilla frowned a bit not knowing about what exactly was she supposed to be talking with you while her friend wasn’t there but she definitely wasn’t going to throw you out as you’ve already agreed to stay with her. zestial smirked to you while he was leaving and you swore, you’d kill him when you get back home later tonight.

“we can get to know each other” carmilla said with a forced smile as she sighed and gathered her notes again. you started fidgeting with your fingers again.

“it’s okay if you want me to go, i understand you meant mostly for zestial to stay with you” you said as you looked at her and started noticing more and more of the details of her face the more you were staring at her. she sighed at your words but shook her head no, taking all the notes into her huge hands.

“there’s no need” she said waving one of her hands as the other kept all the notes from falling out of her grab. “i’m sure we can think something out as i’ve already asked you too to stay” she said and walked over to one of the door turning her head back to you waiting for you to follow her.

you almost immediately followed her and she hummed opening the door to her office and keeping it open for you to come in as well. you gave her a quick ‘thank you’ as you walked in, and she nodded her head closing the door behind you. carmilla walked over to her desk and dropped all the papers onto her desk as she walked over to her chair next and sat down in it with a loud grunt from her throat, closing her eyes. after a second she opened them to notice you still standing next to the door as she moved her hand pointing to the chairs in front of her desk, telling you that you can have a sit. you smiled to her and immediately went to sit down as well.

carmilla closed her eyes again and moved one of her hands to stroke her forehead as if her head was burning. you tilted you head slightly.

“are you stressed?” you asked out of the blue and carmilla opened her eyes softly, looking at you halfy confused and intrigued with why would you ask her that.

“a bit” she responded and sighed, not keeping her profesional posture anymore as she got more comfortable in her seat. you smiled uncontrollably seeing her being comfortable around you enough to let herself loosen the straight up persona.

“what is bothering you?” you asked and carmilla scoffed waving her other hand in the air and rolling her eyes as she whispered something in spanish under her breath. you bit your lip looking at her trying to figure out if you should let her be or dig a bit deeper. “i know a few ways to relax” you said and carmilla chuckled at your words as she looked at your rather playfully. only after a moment you realised how your sentence sounded and chuckled as well, rolling your eyes in a more of a relaxed manner.

“and what would they be?” carmilla asked as she took her hand away from her forehead and continued looking at you, gently rising one of her eyebrows now as she fixed her composure and the way she was sitting. you decided to shoot your shot, it was hell after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

“you know, some people relax while having a massage, other prefer partying out their worries” you said as you moved your hands with your words, carmilla’s eyes noticing every small move of them. “and there’s people who say pleasure is also a good way to take away the stress” you added with a small smirk and carmilla started laughing as she put her hands on the desk for some support.

“you’re a bold one” she said still laughing and you just shrugged trying to keep the confidence but also wanting to see if this situation can turn into something more.

after she stopped laughing she took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh. “it seems having a good laugh helps as well” she said grinning and watching your whole figure sitting in the chair. you smiled to her uncontrollably and started playing with your fingers again. carmilla’s eyes immediately went down to your hands as she narrowed her brows and she now started to slightly lean over her desk. “don’t do that” she said looking at your hands and it took you a second to realise what she was referring to.

“oh, don’t worry about it” you said a bit nervously as you chuckled, yet carmilla’s gaze wasn’t getting any softer.

“i’m serious” she said and looked up onto your face again “don’t ruin your pretty hands with something as stupid as being nervous” she added and stopped leaning over her desk, leaning her back against her chair. you couldn’t help but catch her words and started smiling to yourself a bit.

“so i have pretty hands?” you asked and carmilla’s eyebrow went up at your question yet her expression stayed stoic. you smirked to her as you noticed her raised eyebrow and waited for her response. yet carmilla didn’t seem to be planning on saying something as she just looked down at all the papers on her desk, suddenly looking for something only with her eyes. you chuckled to yourself as you felt like you’ve stroke a jackpot.

“aren’t you going to respond?” you asked with a soft chuckle as you got up from your seat and walked over closer to her chair. her eyes were on you the whole time like they were always looking for some danger. you smiled more as you noticed her gaze and as you finally walked over to her enough to be standing right next to her chair. carmilla was looking at you a bit suspiciously but some curiosity was dancing in her gaze as well.

“what are you planning on doing now?” she asked as she turned her chair a bit so she was facing you fully now. you giggled and shrugged trying to appear nonchalant. lies, she saw better than that.

“i’m planning on waiting for you response” you chuckle as you put your hands on your hips looking down at her face. “and offering you a scalp massage” you added with a smile and carmilla’s eyes went wide.

“a scalp massage?” she asked a bit confused while narrowing her eyes at you. you chuckled and nodded your head.

“yes, it helps with headaches and stress” you explained and made another step into her direction closing the space between you more and more. “can i?” you asked looking at her pinned up hair.

carmilla bit her lip looking away from you as she closed her eyes and sighed, nodding her head. “yes, yes you can” she said softly and moved one of her hands to her ‘hair’, pulling at the ribbon that was keeping her hair up, pulling it out completely and letting her hair fall down.

you literally felt how your hands started shaking at the sight of her with her hair down and you couldn’t stop staring at her. your eyes roamed her up and down yet mostly they focused on her face and how beautifully the hair was capturing it. she cleared her throat feeling a bit uneasy under your gaze but in a nervous way, not an uncomfortable one. the sound took you down to hell as you smiled dumbly feeling your cheeks blush.

“sorry” you said as you moved your hands onto her head and started slowly slipping your fingers through her hair not even massaging her scull yet. “you just… i just wasn’t prepared to see you like this” you said and chuckled a bit at your own words. carmilla chuckled as well but decided to push her luck.

“like this? what do you mean?” she asked leaning back in her chair a bit more so that you’d need to take another step closer to her. you haven’t noticed she did it on purpose as you made that step closer now standing right between her legs. you looked down at her legs on both sides of yours and your face flushed even more, as you brought your eyes up again looking at the top of her head. carmilla hummed seeing your reaction and her eyes immediately went up to your face.

“you know…” you started as you remembered she’s asked you a question. your hands started to massage her scull finally and she grunted a bit at the feeling making your pink cheeks turn red now. “this… beautiful” you shrugged saying it as nothing else was coming into your mind. carmilla blinked at your words still looking up at your face but with a slight of surprise on her face as well.

“beautiful? you find me beautiful?” she asked sounding generous yet a hint of tease could be heard in her voice. you bit your lip and rolled your eyes making your fingers scratch her scalp a bit now.

“i do” you said nodding your head softly. “when i saw you entering that meeting i couldn’t take my eyes off of you, but when you let your hair down-“ you chuckled and heard her grunting again when your fingers pressed down harder. “i think beautiful is an understatement at this point” you added and laughed as carmilla felt her cheeks blush this time. she covered it up with a chuckle from her as well yet your eyes were able catch her rosy cheeks.

you started massaging her scull more now putting more pressure into it and trying to focus on it rather than on the fact how close you were to her and that she literally had you in her grip. carmilla closed her eyes at some point enjoying the massage and letting out many sounds showing how much she enjoyed your massage. you tried your best not to let them affect you yet your red cheeks were speaking for themselves.

you slipped your fingers through her hair more and more getting to more parts of her scull as carmilla was just sitting there enjoying it. at some point her hands moved from her armrests to your hips to keep you close and mostly, to keep her stable as she needed some grounding. you chuckled at the feeling and continued your ministrations actually enjoying the feeling of her hands on your hips.

suddenly, your fingers got stuck in her hair and you tried to get them out, gently pulling at her hair. you didn’t expect the hair to get so tangled around your finger but something you didn’t expect even more was the moan that left carmilla when you pulled at her hair. her hands gripped your hips a bit as the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard left her mouth. making both of your cheeks flush, making yours turn from red to maroon. carmilla opened her eyes immediately and looked up at you as her hands were still holding you still at your hips. you looked down at her as well, making eye contact and not controlling the smirk that creeped up onto your face.

“you liked that, huh?” you asked and carmilla looked away her cheeks blushing even more. you chuckled and pulled at her hair again, on purpose this time. she didn’t expect it again and let out a high-pitched groan, bitting down on her lip almost immediately to keep her sounds in.

you smirked wider and made it your mission to pull more of that sounds out from her. carmilla looked up at you again and noticed your smirk knowing well that you were planning something. her hands gripped your hips tighter and you bit your lip as well, fingers dipping into her hair more. carmilla smirked seeing your reaction and closed her legs a bit so that they’d keep you in place, as well as right between them.

she moved her head a bit so she was more looking up at you know, but you were still able to massage her scalp. she looked at you with a smirk and some kind of lazy eyes as the moves of your fingers were playing with her a bit. you chuckled looking down into her eyes and enjoying the feeling of her legs squeezing yours.

“i’m thinking of letting you give me an actual massage” she chuckled and you looked away from her chuckling nervously as well. carmilla licked her lips and gripped your hips tighter her huge hands covering most of your waist.

“if you want it, i’m down” you replied and went back to scratching at her scull. she chuckled but then it turned into a moan when you found another good spot on her head, yet this time she wasn’t hiding the sound anymore. she bit her lip again but continued on softly moaning when your hands kept on massaging her scalp.

after a moment of silence between you two, one of her hand started to slowly move up your body touching your stomach, then your ribs, just so softly tracing the underside of your boob and then going to rest on your shoulder. you bit your lip at the feel of her hand and tried to keep a straight face as you continued on massaging her. carmilla chuckled seeing your reaction as her other hand gripped your hip again. you let out a groan at the feeling and she chuckled, her legs squeezing you once again.

“are you alright?” she asked suddenly and your eyes immediately went to hers. “you look a bit… red” she added with a chuckle and you rolled your eyes playfully at her but when her finger started gently stroking your collarbone you let out a sigh.

“said the one who’s just as red as i am” you replied right back and she smirked enjoying the confidence you were giving her.

“you’re bold, mi cariño” she said and you felt your legs going weak at the spanish nickname. she noticed as well and licked her lips, enjoying her affect on you.

“you seem to like me being bold” you said pushing your fingers a bit harder as she groaned and nodded her head softly, her fingers still tracing your collarbone.

“you have no idea how much” she replied as her hand on your hip started to stroke your body there. you bit your lip again and started to grow more and more impatient. as was she, but you couldn’t have known that.

you softly moved your hands from her hair down to her face and cupped her cheeks looking into her eyes like searching for permission. she smirked seeing your gaze as her hand gripped your hip harder this time, as did her legs.

“what?” she asked knowing exactly what you were asking for not using your words. you rolled your eyes at her question and leaned down a bit your nose almost touching hers now.

“can i kiss you, beautiful?” you asked and carmilla felt her cheeks blush again at the end. she took a deep breath in looking deep into her eyes and stayed silent for a moment just enjoying how the question hang in the air while her hands were touching your body and yours were touching her face.

her gaze softened after a second and she nodded her head. “yes, yes you can” she said and you smiled at her, the smile being the most generous one she’s ever seen in hell.

you moved her face up a bit, touching her nose with yours and you giggled, carmilla closing her eyes at the sound and smiling wide herself. after a second you moved your head down not even by an inch and finally touched her lips with yours.

when your lips finally connected both of her hands gripped your body keeping you close to her as if she was afraid you’d run away. you smiled into the kiss and tried to make it more of a soft one yet the way she was gripping you and the way her legs were squeezing your figure have shown you that she wasn’t in a mood for a soft kiss.

before you could even react her hand on your shoulder moved to your neck and pulled you even more into her, deepening the kiss as she swiftly slipped her tongue into your mouth. you moaned into the kiss and she just smiled fighting with you for dominance which after a while you lost. carmilla moaned as well feeling you finally submissive to her and her hand left your neck going back to your shoulder again.

you moaned again and as you were about to pull away she moved her lips from yours down to your jaw and then to your neck, leaving trails and trails of wet and sloppy kisses there, literally marking you with her black lipstick. you kept on moaning softly, as your hands went back into her hair pulling at it slightly, showing how badly you were enjoying yourself.

carmilla smirked at your reaction as her hand on your hips gripped you again. her mouth suddenly sucked a hickey on your neck and you yelped slightly tugging at her hair more. she moaned at the feeling and started softly nibbling on your neck pulling more and more sounds out of you.

when you two were going at it you haven’t heard the door to her office open, at least not until you heard a thud of something falling down onto the ground. you two immediately opened your eyes and leaned away looking towards the door. you saw both of her daughters standing there and noticed the small pile of papers on the ground as the blonde one must’ve been the one to drop it.

carmilla looked at them sheepishly and chuckled uncomfortably, tying her hair back and trying to act as professional as she could. the two girls shared a look and one of them bent down to grab the papers. after that they both rolled their eyes, one of them more annoyed while the other more amused.

“we will come back later, mom” the blonde one shot as they both walked out of the office shutting the door after them with a rather loud thud.

carmilla started laughing when they left but it was more of an uncomfortable and uncontrollable laugh yet it didn’t stop you from laughing with her as well. her two daughters just caught her sucking your skin off in her office yet for some reason laughing was calming you two down.

after this, you knew that anytime zestial would be meeting with carmilla now you’d definitely come along and maybe… probably… surely you will be meeting up with her now even without your shared friend.

translations:

"what's the problem lief? wherefore art thee in such a sweaty haste?" - “what’s the problem my friend? why are you in such a hurry?”

"don't thee w'rry, whatev'r thee weareth shall beest fine. nay one actually pays attention to what we're wearing" - “don’t worry, whatever you wear will be fine. no one actually pays attention to what we’re wearing”

"and t won't affect carmilla's first impression of thee" - “and it won’t affect carmilla’s first impression of you”

"you'll beest fine. if 't be true you'll alloweth me i wouldst chooseth this f'r the present day." - “you’ll be fine. if you let me, i would choose this for today”

"carmilla shall appreciateth thy professionalism" - “carmilla will appreciate your professionalism”

"thee behold ravishing, the lady shall loveth to meeteth thee" - “you look ravishing, she will love to meet you”

"carmilla, this is the lady i did want thee to meeteth f'r so longeth" - “carmilla this is the friend i wanted you to meet for so long”

“sadly i can’t carmilla. ive did promise alast'r id seeth that gent aft'r the meeting. but y/n already did agree so thee won’t beest b'r'd” - sadly i can’t carmilla. ive promised alastor id see him after the meeting. but y/n already agreed so you won’t be bored

all translations from here!