#Also.... . uh I have been having a think about some things I might post about em lator idk. This week is just this week xd

[sparring-spirals]

I got to say I really liked the episode (despite only having watched exu calamity of the exu series) and I think maybe Matt needed a breather after so many fast paced, lore filled episodes.

however, I am kinda bummed that the fcg processing has been put on hold for (at least) two weeks now and that means that, despite them being great actors that truly merge with their characters at the table, their reactions will be much less raw and there’s a chance some of them will forget tidbits of information, emotions they felt when it happened because they (as role players) will have had time to process it out of the game and it might create a dissonance in the game. tbf I kind of felt the difference even between the end of ep 91 and the beginning of 92 but it made sense because technically they were still running and couldn’t afford to process. idk. I have hope that we’ll still see that raw emotion, but I fear it won’t be as impactful as it could’ve been, especially if they’ll have to put the “reporting for duty” hat on immediately when they get to the camp

I think being a little bummed about the sort of unexpected hiatus on the Bell's Hells/Post F.C.G processing is super understandable! As someone who also really did enjoy the Crownskeepers return (hello im still yelling about Opal internally), I'm kind of in the same camp of being kind of thrown/disappointed about not getting to really dig into/sit with the Bell's Hells post-F.C.G loss. Like, LOVED the Crownkeepers, fascinating second half, kind of meh on the specific timing.

I'm holding my reservations about whether they're going to have to keep running/moving once we return to their portion of the story, since hey, until it happens (or doesn't!), we don't know, so I don't feel like getting too in my head about it until then.

That said! I do think that in general the cast puts characterization and staying true to the emotions of the character/story as a very high priority within the campaign. I think you're right that it won't be the exact same as if they had done a big emotional blowup/goodbye/processing scene in the same ep where they lost F.C.G, or immediately after. I don't think that means it has to be less impactful, just that- yeah, they'll have had more time to actually think/process it.

But they're also all professional voice actors who have, IMO, thus far shown how much they think about the inner lives of their characters and enjoy really digging deep into the emotional/interpersonal aspects of roleplay.

My assumption (my hope?) is that with additional time to think about + process a devastating/deeply emotional loss for their character(s), they'd choose to lean into that more, and not less. It wont be the same as the immediate raw reactions, thats true! But i dont think that means it has to be less impactful, even if they (as people) have had more time to process, and will be choosing how their characters, fresh off the loss, react. I dont think thats a guarantee it will be less impactful/emotional (maybe the additional thinking would actually enhance the reactions being true/insightful to the characters vs gut reactions from cast), but it will be different.

But if the cast chooses to lean into the heartbreak/emotions, and the circumstances of the BH in the upcoming ep enable it, I'm sure they can still kick my ass (emotionally), timeskip or not.

In general, I'm cautiously optimistic about what could happen next! Even if I don't love the timing thus far. I think there's still plenty of ways for me to get what I'm hoping for wrt F.C.G/BH. :] There are plenty of ways for me to get let down too, probably, but until it happens, or doesn't, I'm opting to not get too doomery about it. We'll see.

I uh. Hope that helps? A bit? Being bummed about specific things you were hoping for being off the table is totally reasonable. just hoping to lend an alternate way of viewing it, if desired.

(i wrote the sentence: "don't be lamenting your chickens before they hatch" and then went "what the fuck" out loud. i spent 4 hours at work today just doing systems diagramming and my brain is fried. clearly. keeping this here for my own entertainment.)

#im kind of tired im sorry if this makes no sense lmao. i appreciate the ask! sorry if my answer comes off as flippant. i do get where you're #coming from and wanted to share how im personally choosing to approsch it haha #critical role #cr spoilers #c3e92 #bell's hells #spar speaks #ask away! #speculation #fcg #imo its like how we probably wont be getting situations like marisha shellshocked live tweeting after jester saved beau with a cupcake #but we get the cast doing sneaky little tweets before the episode airs but after theyve already experienced it #different for sure. doesnt have to be worse. thats more up to personal opinion i think #i fully wrote that chicken thing and went. thats the idiom right. and then stared at it and went. ... no. its not. #should i have waited to answer this ask? maybe. but oh well. #i should probably get some sleep though

[goodluckclove]

An Open Letter to a Professional Author

I came across a writer here who I imagine will probably never see this, but their presence was enough to make me pretty mad for two days now. I've decided to pen a little statement to this Long-Term, Professional, Full-Time, Published Author who makes a habit out of being deeply unpleasant in a way that apparently has only attracted an audience of other deeply unpleasant people.

People here seem to like it when I get mad. So, uh, enjoy?

Dear Professional Author,

I came across a post of yours on some feed here the other day and enjoyed your commentary. It was one of those writing memes that sort of called attention to actually writing as opposed to just thinking about your project - the kind that people usually respond to with some sort of joke expressing their repulsion at the concept.

You responded with distaste and I generally agreed. The tone was a little aggressive for me, but that kind of humor also leaves me generally confused. I personally ended up concluding that the self-deprecating humor was a coping mechanism for a larger issue that keeps these people from writing - intimidation, lack of confidence, physical or mental pain, things like that. You seemed to think it was a matter of will, which I found to be an approach that at the very least was well-intentioned.

Turns out it wasn't.

First off, I should say that this isn't about your political beliefs. Your political beliefs that are really more like general human beliefs. I don't want to get into that. Instead, I just want to talk about your writing. You are a full-time, published author, as you say in nearly post where you talk about writing. A major point of pride to you seems to be the fact that you are traditionally published. Any other method doesn't seem to be as legitimate to you. That's interesting to me.

You also don't seem to have much of an audience outside of people who mainly come to agree with your politics. I didn't really see a single positive interaction between you and another writer on here for as much as I was willing to scroll through your blog. That's also interesting to me.

I didn't spent too much time on your blog once I realized that you were definitely not the kind of person I would ever want any interaction with. What I did want to do is use your presence indirectly to prove a point that I've been wanting to get into for some time now.

To put it simply, I'll say this: a career in professional writing is not actually as cool or important as you might think it is.

Now I'll be direct and say that I've never been traditionally published for anything longer than a short story or long-term, unpaid column. You don't give any details on any of your writing, as far as I've seen (Once again - interesting!), so there's a chance you've made more in contracts and royalties than I have. But I'm a working writer. I've had a career in ghostwriting and technical writing. I've written and produced plays that have been featured in festivals in multiple states. I'm not speaking from a place of no experience, is what I mean to say.

What I also mean to say is that - while I view writing in many ways as a spiritual and healing act that I couldn't live without - it's also a job. It's not always exciting, and even when it is exciting it's only exciting to me. I consider the best date night to be when my wife works on video game development while I write my draft. I leave the house on a regular basis, but it's mainly to go to different places to write.

In short - I love to write, but I don't think it makes me cool. Or interesting. Or valuable. Or intelligent. Or just generally fun to be around and talk to. These are things I strive to cultivate in other aspects of the way I live and grow as a human being on this planet.

Being a Professional Author in one particular genre doesn't give you authority over the craft as a whole. You can't just throw yourself into conversations and start with I'm a published writer and assume that means you have the final say on any discussion. Believe it or not, in many cases it does not matter.

Lots of people are published traditionally, and it does prove some level of validity in their line of work. But there are a huge variety of people in the world of trad pub. There are people who write books in genres that don't apply to writers here. There are people who write books that aren't very good. There are even people who write trad pub books that are very good, but their careers are sullied by the fact that the authors themselves are not good people.

Being a successful writer does not mean you're a good person. Being a writer at all does not mean you are a good person. I believe in Death of the Author to an extent, but when that author insists on making a presence on a public website and doling out advice and opinions to other writers the lines start to blur considerably.

Writing is a job. You work it over a period of time and learn skills and strategies that work for you. The same applies to virtually every other job, including ones that society views as less romantic as something in the arts. Can you imagine me breaking into your home while you're making lunch and telling you how to arrange your cheese slices based on what I know as a full-time, professional sandwich artist at Subway? You might be interested based on leaning something you didn't know about a place you might've eaten at before. But that does not entitle me to your respect on its own.

I am not entitled to your respect based on how well I learned how to make a sandwich based on my hypothetical career at Subway. Just as I don't deserve it solely because I know two card tricks, can get out a variety of stains, read most of the works of the major beatniks, can make a really good carbonara, or any other specific about my life that ultimately does not play a huge part in who I am as a person.

When I am on my death bed, I hope to god the core of my character was not the fact that I typed stories from my brain until I got carpal tunnel. If my obituary begins and ends at "writer", no matter how positive the qualifier is before that, it will be the greatest failure of my life.

Because I am a writer. But that does not matter. It does not matter if you're a writer. It can be fun and enjoyable if you are, even better if you make a living at it, but it doesn't mean you'll be happy. It doesn't mean people will like you or perceive you to be the leader and teacher you might think you are. It certainly doesn't give you a free pass to throw cruelty at strangers for truly no real reason.

Professional Author, you had a chance to raise up the next generation of an industry I assume you must value. You're choosing not to, and that's fine. You don't have the obligation to. You do have the choice to not get involved and pretend to give advice that ranges from vague to untrue. You seem to be taking that responsibility very seriously.

It's like some twist on crab mentality, where instead of dragging crabs trying to escape the bucket you're swiping at anyone who tries to crawl in with you. Then, as they struggle, you're looking down at them and making comments on how easy it is to get in the bucket, if you only just do it and maybe read some books.

To all of us, I say this: question authority, even in the arts. Especially in the arts. Nobody knows as much as they say. That includes me, but I do know this - any branch of publishing feels really good. It's scary but it's fun. If you're traditional published or indie published or self published, it says nothing about how good your book is or how good you are as a writer or how valuable you are as a human being.

Don't be this lonely bucket crab. They seem mean and I'm tired of talking about them.

Best Regards,

Clove

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #on writing #writing #authors of tumblr #writer community #writing inspiration #writing inspo #writing rants #personal #clove is angry

[stellas-starry-stove13]

♥︎ • “In the dark or light, I'm right here.”• ♥︎ Akito and Rui x fem! reader (separate)

Dishes: Pancake and Soda candy

Drink: Strawberry sundae (dating)

Cuisine: Oneshot

Ingredients: Milk chocolate(?) (hurt/comfort) (not really)

Customer: @kanasakiis

Notifing: @akitosheart, a pancake has been made!

C/N: Um... Yes char just let her go into the dark by herself but it doesn't last very long... I feel I did something wrong but I tried my best and of course had to give a 'happy' ending so.. Here you go. Thanks for ordering once more though <3 oh, also they might be a bit short sorry, Im trying not to pressure myself like how i used to write, like how i nerfed from posting everyday to every other day

“Well, I think it's about time for you to go. My dad doesn't like when we have friends over after 9:00. I need to get some things done anyway.”

“Oh, okay.”

I watch her gaze out the window and into the starry night sky, before standing up from my desk chair.

“I'll walk you out.”

I state before walking beside the girl and sliping my hand into hers despite knowing it'll stay there for a minute only.

“See ya tomorrow.”

I say with a small smile as my lips drift to her own for a goodbye kiss.

“Bye...”

After a short amount of time, I head back into my bedroom, unbeknownst to me that my girlfriend is currently trembling in the dark without me by her side. I shift my hand to the doorknob before deciding against it after the sound of light knocking rings through my ears.

Did she forget something?

“Huh?”

“U-Um... Actually c-can you walk me home?”

I immediately notice the slight fear in her voice and body language and am unable to decline her request as concern for the girl forms on my face.

“Uh, sure.”

Stepping outside, I'm immediately met with the cool night air hugging my face.

“Are you okay?”

I ask, concerned for her, though trying not to show it.

“I'm sorry.... I just didn't want to walk home by myself in the dark.”

It takes me a moment to process those words, but after I do, a frown envelopes my face.

“Oh... Are you scared of the dark?”

“.....”

Silence finds its way into the atmosphere before I see slight nod from Y/N.

I sigh and grip her hand warmly, looking at her with a scolding expression as I lead her into the direction of her house.

“Just tell me that next time.”

“Sorry....”

Another sigh escapes my mouth as I shake my head once.

“You know.... In the dark or light, I'm right here.”

“Enjoyed the show?”

I ask, a cat grin slipping onto my lips as I stand in front of the girl, awaiting an answer.

She nods in satisfaction, causing me to let out a low hum before speaking once more.

“Well, I'm going to go help clean up. Feel free to help us, but I understand if you have to go home.”

“Yeah, I should probably go home now..”

“Alright. Goodnight, sweet pea.”

I pat her head lightly as my lips make contact with her forehead, a small and friendly smile crossed on them.

“Bye.”

I hum to myself again after watching Y/N walk away, my focus fixated on the task at hand. My face becomes more serious and focused though as I open up RoboNene's back, planning on making a small upgrade to the robot.

Only three minutes later, I glance by the lamp posts and see the familiar girl leaning against the post, as if waiting patiently for someone.

“Hm?”

With curiosity bouncing inside of me, I approach Y/N to ask of her actions.

“Y/N? I thought you were going home.”

“Oh, uh... I'll just wait instead, actually.”

“May I ask why?”

My eyes catch the slight parting of her lips before they watch it stick back together again.

“Um... Well I didn't really want to go alone... In the night.. In the dark...”

I remain silent, not expecting such an answer from her before nodding my head.

“I see. In that case, would you want me to walk you back right now? I'm sure the others don't mind cleaning up by themselves.”

“Oh, uh.. are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Without remedy, I take hold of her hand and lead her towards the exit of the bustling theme park.

I hum in silence as the cool night breeze envelops my face, leaving me with a warm smile.

“You know, you don't strike me as one who would be afraid of the dark.”

“? How did you..”

I chuckle at her cute look of surprise and pat her head with a smug grin.

“Never underestimate a director's observation.”

“....”

I watch her avert her gaze from my own, seemingly embarrassed.

“Don't be embarrassed, sweet pea. Everyone has their fears. Besides..”

I tilt her chin towards me.

“Wether in the dark or light, I'm right here.”

#project sekai x reader #project sekai #akito shinonome #shinonome akito #akito x reader #shininome akito x reader #akito shinonome x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #kamishiro rui x reader #rui kamishiro #rui x reader #kamishiro rui #♦︎ ~your dish has been served~ ♦︎

[commsroom]

the "big picture" - whether that refers to some detached, calculated greater good; ruthless ambition and progress for the sake of progress; or even the dear listeners' cosmic indifference - as an antagonistic force in wolf 359 is so fascinating to me because of the way eiffel as a protagonist is set up to oppose it, just by nature of who he is. eiffel retains his humanity even under the most inhumane circumstances. his strength is in connection, and with that he's able to reach others who share his core values, but he's operating under a fundamentally different framework from the show's antagonists. he can never understand where they're coming from or be swayed by their points of view because, for better or worse, he can only see the world through a close personal lens.

it's an ideological conflict he has with all of them, but notably with hilbert: "you talk about helping people, but what about the real, live people around you? [...] that's your problem. you're so zoomed out." eiffel will never, ever see that "big picture" because he is so zoomed in. at his best, he puts things into perspective and grounds the people around him. at his worst, his perspective narrows so drastically inwards that he becomes blind to everyone and everything else. his failings are deeply, tragically human - they're personal, they're impulsive, they're self-destructive. they're selfish. no matter how much he might try to narrativize or escape from himself, he's still left with doug eiffel: "it's taken me this long to realize that running from everyone else means that you're alone with yourself." eiffel could never be convinced to harm others on purpose, but he has hurt people, and it's never been because he didn't care. the very fact that he cares so much, that he's incapable of reconciling the hurt he's caused with the things he values, is what keeps him from real growth for so long. where many of the other characters in wolf 359 will justify their cruelty in service of something they consider more important, eiffel is so caught up in vilifying himself and the fear that he's always going to harm the people he cares for without meaning to that he shuts himself off from the people who care about him and perpetuates his own self-fulfilling prophecy.

#wolf 359 #w359 #doug eiffel #someday i'll finish my essay about the big picture as an antagonistic force. it's only been on my list of things to do for uh. ever #eiffel really cannot be convinced by Big Picture ideology in any form because he's so. unambitious and inwardly focused #he's not self-reflective at ALL but he is self-centered #and in some ways that's genuinely a good thing #but it's interesting. that he vilifies himself and tries so hard to. externalize his redemption and see some humanity in others #as proof he might be able to be better. when if those people consider themselves villains at all then they consider it necessary #i'm not sure if i'm phrasing this the way i want to but his worldview is just. fundamentally incompatible. #when i think about eiffel i think a lot about. how self-loathing is also a kind of exceptionalism. considering yourself uniquely bad #is its own way of avoiding accountability. #idk. it's complicated. it's a lot. it's interesting that lovelace talks about the 'big picture' when she's briefly a sort-of antagonist #but her 'big picture' is personal and emotionally driven in a way no other use of the phrase is #and then of course you have hera in am i alone now. such a big big universe etc. #when she betrays that perspective immediately and directly by talking about it through such a narrow personal framework #one of the most direct examples of 'big picture' thinking vs. personal connection in that contradiction. but that's another post maybe.

[orcelito]

magic prince au is smth ive alluded to a few times. it’s an akeshu fic i was planning for like a Month before randomly getting the urge to write a soulmate fic & starting discacc instead. & ultimately it was a good thing i did, bc magic prince au is a bit too ambitious for what my writing level was like at the start of discacc, but i still do wanna write it at some point

general concept being kinda like a combination dragon age magic setup / perception formed to fit a persona series elements style. oh also some fire emblem influence lol. just mash it all together

mages naturally born, very powerful & very feared, forced to work for the government or else hunted down. late bloomer akira finds himself thrust into a world of politics he barely understands & sent to learn about his magic at this government sanctioned academy. and oh lookie there, it’s the crown prince, who is Also a magic user (for reasons) and is Public Servant Number One because of it & his specific type of magic (spoiler, he has more than one type of magic, but only one is public). 

they meet, bullshit ensues

honestly the concept is just rly interesting to me. just the excuse for me to play around with magic and some Real fucked up themes (like some points of discacc but All The Time). it would be Lots of fun 

#speculation nation #magic prince au #also some inspiration from my uh. dragon age rp thing i had back in like 2016 #in terms of the specific flavor of how magic works #ive thought a LOT about the interaction of bless vs curse and What those magics even are #and they both fuck goro up in very different ways. and i want SO badly to write this au #but it's the kind of thing that i would want to be my main focus. and i cannot switch focuses like that until i finish discacc #so it remains in the nebulous state of 'someday i will write this' after i finish discacc #the good news is my writing gets better and better with every chapter i post. so like. when i DO write it #im hoping it'll be fucking Amazing #if u have read this far pls tell me what u think. if u message me i might just give u more details #i have like basically the entire plot thought out lmao. it's kinda ambitious but not as long as discacc will be. #a more succinct story. is the goal. #pls ask me questions about it actually ive been silent about it for too long. it's my BABY i want to talk about it. ps #pls *

[steddiehyperfixation]

accidental eavesdropping (steddie ficlet)

based on this post by @imjust-that-shy. i hope i did this vision justice <3

The doors to the bathroom burst open, and - on some pure, inexplicable instinct and with nearly inhuman speed - Eddie darts back into the stall he'd just been about to come out of and leaps to perch on top of the toilet seat, crouched there like some sort of creature. 

He hears the sound of retching and the stench of vomit fills the air. He holds his breath, wrinkling his nose and trying to imagine what possible context could be behind Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley bursting in here together to puke their guts out. Eddie knows the two of them work together, he’s seen them sharing shifts at Scoops Ahoy when he's walked by. (Not that he often intentionally passes by the ice cream parlor and slows down just to catch a glimpse of Steve or anything… Although who could really blame him if he did? Like, come on, Steve in that uniform? Hello, sailor.) His mind is busy spinning stories of possible explanations, ranging from spoiled ice cream to sneaking alcohol and getting too drunk during their break. 

Eddie's leaning towards the 'drinking on the job' explanation, especially when the retching finally ceases and Robin says something about the room no longer spinning. Those little rebels, Eddie thinks approvingly.

“When’s the last time you, uh…peed your pants,” Steve is asking Robin now, in response to her telling him in a Russian accent to interrogate her. 

Eddie curls over his knees, tilting his head to try to peer through the gap between the stalls and the floor to put an image to his eavesdropping. Might as well, he’s kind of stuck here and there’s really not much else he can do right now. He can see Steve’s legs, one bent and the other stretched out in front of him, and Robin in the stall past him laying on the floor with her legs up against the stall wall as she answers, “Today…” 

“What?” Steve questions.

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw!” Robin says. 

Okay…what? Russian doctors and bone saws? Eddie’s now thoroughly intrigued, if a little (okay, a lot) confused. Maybe they’re talking about a movie they watched or something.

Steve’s legs shake with his laughter. “Oh my god.” 

“It was just a little bit, though.” Robin pinches her fingers together as she twists her body in Steve’s direction while he laughs again and mutters that whatever it is they took is still in her system. She pushes her feet off the stall and slides to sit against the opposite wall. Eddie can only see her legs now. “Okay, my turn. Have you…ever been in love?” 

Steve answers that he has, with Nancy, and makes a sound mimicking an explosion. Eddie remembers that, remembers seeing Steve and Nancy being all touchy and cute in the hallways at school while he was trying his damndest to convince himself that he absolutely definitely did not wish he was in Nancy’s place. It didn’t work very well. And it’s not working very well now either as Steve starts to go on about some new girl he likes now instead - some girl who’s funny and smart and can crack secret Russian codes (okay, seriously, what is it with these two and Russians?) and oh shit, he’s talking about Robin. 

Eddie very suddenly feels like he should not be here listening to this, eavesdropping on Steve confessing his feelings for someone. Not only is that, like, a private and personal thing, but also what if Robin likes him back and they start kissing or something right here in this bathroom where Eddie has to sit here and listen to it and that would just be horrible for him for so many reasons and- Eddie’s getting ahead of himself. Robin hasn’t even said anything yet, and her knees are pulled up to her chest and her voice shakes when she confirms she’s still alive after Steve asks if she’s OD’d there in the silence and she uncurls with a deep sigh. All signs that she doesn’t actually like Steve back. 

Eddie watches as Steve shifts and slides under the stall into Robin’s, and catches sight of the nasty bruise marring nearly half of Steve’s otherwise beautiful face as he does so. Now concern has been added to the list of emotions this eavesdropping experience has rollercoastered him through so far. The bruise looks fairly fresh and Eddie can’t help but wonder what the hell gave Steve a black eye like that and if he’s okay. 

After a brief spiral of concern for Steve’s face, Eddie tunes back into reality to find himself staring at Steve’s ass as Steve now sits with his back against the stall wall opposite Robin. Eddie blinks, expands his tunnel vision to include Steve’s lower back and Robin’s legs which are also visible beneath the gap in the stalls. 

“It’s not because I had a crush on you,” Robin is saying. “It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

“Mrs. Click?” Steve sounds confused.

“Tammy Thompson,” Robin clarifies. “I wanted her to look at me.”

Oh. Eddie should really not be listening to this. Robin is trying to come out to Steve, trying to share something deeply personal and vulnerable with him and only him, not knowing that she’s outing herself to an eavesdropping near-stranger as well. Eddie feels violating and intruding. He can’t imagine how he would feel if he found out someone he barely knew had been secretly listening in on him coming out - probably not great, probably terrified. This is something he shouldn’t know, not like this. 

“But Tammy Thompson’s a girl,” Steve says, his tone unreadable, and Eddie’s heart nearly stops, sure his own anticipatory anxiety is likely only just a fraction of what Robin must be feeling right now. 

“Steve…” 

“Yeah?” A pause. “Oh,” Steve’s voice goes soft. “Oh… Holy shit.” 

“Yeah,” Robin sighs. Eddie can see her hands nervously rubbing at her shins. “Holy shit.” 

Steve is silent for a few painfully long moments. Eddie’s hands curl nervously around his own shins. Is Steve going to be homophobic? Should Eddie be worried for Robin now? 

“Steve, did you OD over there?” Robin asks, trying to be light but Eddie can hear the anxiety in her voice. 

“No, I just, uh- just thinking,” Steve responds. 

“Okay…” Robin’s voice is barely audible. Eddie is holding his breath.

“I mean, yeah,” Steve says finally, “Tammy Thompson’s cute and all, but the only reason I never gave her the time of day was because I was too busy staring at Eddie Munson.” 

The aforementioned Eddie Munson releases the breath he’d been holding with an involuntary squeak and claps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, neither of them heard him over the sound of Robin shouting. “What?! Eddie Munson?! You liked Eddie Munson?” she squawks, voicing Eddie’s own stunned thoughts perfectly.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms casually, completely unaware that he's throwing an eavesdropping Eddie into an absolute crisis right now. There's a soft thudding sound like Steve's hitting the back of his head against the stall wall. His voice gets kind of wistful, almost dreamy, as he says, “His rings, man. Rings and tattoos…and that long hair and those chains he'd wear… Honestly just his whole punk aesthetic thing had me mesmerized.” 

“Pretty sure he's metal, not punk,” Robin corrects him. 

Thanks, Robin. Also, what the fuck is happening right now? 

“Whatever. Still hot as hell,” Steve says. 

Eddie squeaks again and practically shoves his whole fist in his mouth to keep himself from making any more noise, his teeth knocking against his rings. The rings Steve likes, apparently. He feels like he's going to pass out, his heart beating so erratically it's making him lightheaded. King Steve - the popular, preppy, stupid, gorgeous, dumb jock Eddie's been crushing on since forever - just called him hot????  

“Did you hear that?” Robin asks suddenly, voice low and cautious. 

Shit. 

“Is anyone else in here?” Steve calls out. 

Fuck. 

Eddie bites down hard on his knuckles and holds his breath, going impossibly still. If they get up and search the bathroom, then he’s about to be caught red handed, crouched on top of a toilet seat with his fist in his mouth and his face flushed scarlet, eavesdropping on their private conversation about secret Russians and gay crushes. Eddie contemplates falling into the toilet and attempting to flush himself down it. Every god imaginable is receiving a silent prayer from him right now as he watches apprehensively through the gaps in the stall. One of those gods must've heard and taken pity on this poor gay disaster of a man crouched like a goblin in a bathroom stall, because after a few horrible seconds of silence, all Steve does is lean down to peer beneath the stalls for a moment before sitting back up and saying, “Looks empty. I think the drugs are making us hear things.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Robin says. Then she giggles, knocking her leg against Steve’s. “I still can’t believe you were into Eddie.” 

Steve flicks Robin’s knee. “I can’t believe you were into Tammy.”

“What’s wrong with Tammy?!” Robin protests.

“What’s wrong with Eddie?” Steve counters. “At least he’s actually got talent. Tammy’s a total dud - she wants to be a singer and shit but she can’t even hold a tune.” 

Eddie is going to die. He is actually going to die right here, right now, because Steve Harrington thinks he’s hot and talented. And then Steve starts mimicking Tammy, singing Total Eclipse of the Heart in a ridiculously goofy voice, and now Eddie is going to die because he finds that so stupidly endearing and adorable. Maybe he should just flush himself down the toilet, save himself from this hopelessly pathetic crush of his. Instead, he’s saved by the bathroom doors bursting open again and a new voice shouting at them, “Okay. What the hell?!” 

Steve and Robin collapse into a fit of giggles before being dragged to their feet by the newcomers and led out of the bathroom, leaving Eddie alone and reeling and struggling to process literally everything he’s just overheard. He finally hops down from his toilet perch and exits the stall like he’s in a daze. He’s not sure how long he had been camped out in there - probably only about ten minutes - but it felt like hours, so long that the world outside of that single bathroom stall almost feels foreign and unfamiliar now. 

Eddie grips the bathroom sink and stares at his flustered reflection in the mirror and whispers to himself, “What the actual fuck?” 

---

Later, years later, only after he and Steve are already dating, Eddie tells him all about this experience, and Steve laughs so hard he nearly cries.

#saw that post and immediately wrote this within the next four hours lmao. i hope this is what you were imagining #i literally watched the s3 bathroom scene like five times to make this as accurate as possible lol #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #season 3 steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #ficlet #mine #(now also on ao3 under the user brokenfandoms) #5k #!!!!???!??!!! #holy shit y'all thanks for all the love on this <3

[lovelyhan]

— again and again ⟢

pairing: mingyu x reader

summary: your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.

word count: 15.7k words

tags: exes, fake dating, mutual pining, idol!gyu, vet!reader, mild angst, fluff, smut

warnings: medical jargon, mentions of shots (for pets), mentions of snake bites, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: i wrote this with bss' 7pm on loop for two straight days. nothing like the sweet taste of yearning <3 this also wasn't extensively proofread, so if you spot a few mistakes, i implore you to ignore them EJWHJHSDF

this is part of the doting on you! series.

smut tags: vanilla, mingyu is super whipped, praise kink, service top gyu, dirty talk, nicknames (babygirl, sweetheart, sweet thing), overstimulation, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, creampie, heads up that the filth is at the very end tho

taglist: @cherrycheolie1995 - @ashkuuuu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @christinewithluv - @fancypoisonapple - @odetoyeonjun - @minnie-mouser22 - @etherealyoungk - @davoraciousreader - @mariondior - @hella-sirius - @coveyland - @marlow234 - @dobomiyeon - @belysusonrisa - @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @seoksoop - @dreamhannies - @renjunphile - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @acgyu - @gae-uls - @pluviophile-xxx - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @yutadae - @smileyjimvn

additional notes: you might want to check your visibility settings if you can't be tagged!

When you hear the telltale ring as the call connects to its intended recipient, you wonder why you even considered this idea in the first place. Not to mention, you’re getting a nasty case of phone call anxiety—one that you haven’t felt in god knows how long. Maybe it’s because of the identity of the person you’re calling that your nerves are all over the place. 

In fact, you’re not sure if he’s even going to answer. There are a million and a half reasons why famous superstar Kim Mingyu won’t be able to pick up your call. He could be shooting for a music video or some fashion magazine. He could be in the middle of an interview. Or he could be out spending time with his members like tends to these days if his recent Instagram posts are anything to go by. 

But you try anyway because your mother sounded so hopeful in the phone call you just hung up on five minutes ago (The rice wine he got for us last Christmas was splendid! He’ll bring some again for Chuseok, won’t he?), that you just didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

So, because you can’t take back the pretty white lies you uttered (Uh, of course he will. Gyu told me he missed everyone back at home, too. Especially Namja), you’re attempting to rope Mingyu into the charade even if the odds are against you.

The first call doesn’t go through. Neither does the second. 

By your third try, you’re about to accept the fact that you’re going to have to make some due corrections to what you told your mother until you hear a groggy, “Hello?” on the other line. 

You nearly fall off your seat at the throaty sound of Mingyu’s voice, but you’d rather not get weird looks from your receptionist, so you breathe in as deeply (and quietly) as you can before mustering a smile that he won’t even be able to see.

“Hey, Mingyu, it’s me,” you begin, a bit proud of how your voice didn’t even falter. “It’s been a while. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

He doesn’t respond for a while, and the prolonged silence makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Did the call fall through? Did he not hear what you said? But just when you’re about to repeat the words—

“Kind of,” Mingyu grumbles, and you try not to think about how sexy his morning voice sounds despite it being two in the afternoon. “We finished taping a variety show today and I figured I’d get some sleep. It’s midnight right now.”

Well that’s news to you.

“Oh. You’re not in Korea?”

“Nah. We’re in New York for some brand collaborations,” he says, and you hear some rustling in the background, followed by a yawn. “Though I doubt you’ve been keeping tabs on us.” 

Okay, he doesn’t have to call you out like that.

Sure, you still catch posts from Mingyu, as well as the other twelve members of SEVENTEEN from time to time, but…after breaking up with him (on good terms, promise!), you thought it’s best if you didn’t see too much of them anymore. The block and mute buttons are your best friends, and while you didn’t use them on the members directly, gossip outlets were your regular targets.

So to speak, it’s been a peaceful six months since your break up with Mingyu. 

Until now.

“Do you need something?” he asks, and you realize you didn’t respond to what he said last. “Whatever it is, I might not be able to help you out right away. We’re holed up here until next month.”

Well…that’s all the confirmation you needed.

“I see,” you sigh, trying not to sound too disappointed. “It’s— It’s okay.”

“So you do need something,” Mingyu points out, voice much clearer now than it was two minutes ago. Like he was more awake. “What is it?”

“Nothing you should worry about, Gyu,” you reassure before making a face, not realizing how easily the old nickname just slipped out. “I’m sorry for waking you up. You should go back to—”

The sound of him whining at the other end sends another rush of vertigo through your entire being. “Come on, I’m awake anyways right? You know how hard it is for me to fall asleep again.”

“If I’d known we weren’t in the same continent, I wouldn’t have called altogether,” you say before quaintly adding, “Shit. This counts as an international call, doesn’t it?”

There’s someone else in the room with him, you think—a quiet drawl of Mingyu-hyung, what time is it? You immediately recognize it as Seungkwan. 

“Five minutes past midnight,” Mingyu says, and Seungkwan asks another question that you aren’t able to catch. “Who am I talking to? Bookkeu and Bobpul’s worst enemy.”

“Hey!” You scowl at him. “They never even whined when you and Seungkwan brought them to me for their shots!”

“Noona? Why are you calling this guy?” Seungkwan says a bit more loudly for you to hear. “Didn’t you dump him already? Good choice, by the way.” 

This time it’s Mingyu’s turn to utter out a semi-offended, “Hey! Mind your own business, Seungkwan-ah.”

A few minutes of bickering with his dongsaeng later, you figure that Mingyu must’ve gone outside of their hotel room for some privacy. You can vaguely hear the sound of the wind blowing on his end before he heaves a deep sigh.

“Sorry about that.” He coughs awkwardly. “Anyway, if you’re not going to tell me about what you needed help with, how are you? Is the clinic doing well? Did your receptionist finally ditch her shitty boyfriend? Does that one guy with a husky still hit on you?”

You’re a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of questions. Last you checked, you haven’t spoken to Mingyu since you greeted him on his birthday over a quick text message. But then again, your ex does have a talent for completely ignoring the time that exists in between interactions. Mingyu’s always been amicable for conversation, idol or not, boyfriend or not. 

The mere thought that he hasn’t changed at all makes your heart ache in more ways than one.

You manage a quiet laugh. “I’m fine. The clinic’s fine. Chae has a new boyfriend now. He even helps us sort out new products on the shelves sometimes.”

At the mention of her name, your receptionist whips her head in your direction, one brow raised. You shake your head with a smile, gesturing that this is nothing she should even be remotely concerned about. 

It’s just Mingyu after all.

“Okay, how about the guy who—”

“I turned him down when he asked me out for lunch last week.”

He whistles. “Ouch. And he’s been trying to get with you all this time.”

“I don’t usually date my clients, you know.”

“Yeah? I must be special then.”

Then comes the silence—so thick, you can cut through it with a knife. 

“Uh, so I have a patient coming in an hour for a castration procedure,” you tell him a bit awkwardly. “Gotta prepare everything before the owner arrives.”

Mingyu sighs, and you can almost imagine him pouting. “You’re really not gonna tell me? I can still help you with whatever you need even when I’m out here. Unless it requires me to, you know, physically be there.”

You chuckle. “That’s the thing, Gyu. You can’t help me because I need you to actually be here.”

“Oh. Why? What for?”

You inhale sharp breath through your nose, closing your eyes as your face warms with embarrassment. Chae is definitely looking at you funnily from her station now, but you tell yourself not to give it too much thought.

“Mom asked if I was bringing you with me for Chuseok,” you admit. “I haven’t been home since Christmas, so… They kind of have no idea that we aren’t together anymore.”

Mingyu falls silent for a while yet again, and you realize that your anxiousness spikes whenever he isn’t talking like there’s no tomorrow. You wonder if he’s figured out what you’re trying to insinuate and is silently berating you for the lapse in judgment. But when Mingyu bursts out laughing on the other end, you suddenly don't mind being on the receiving end of his silence after all.

“No way,” he gasps between chuckles. “You were going to ask me to pretend to be your boyfriend over the holidays, weren’t you?! One of the fans wrote a story about the exact same thing once, except it’s between me and Wonwoo-hyung. It was in English though, but Vernon translated it pretty well.”

…Kim Mingyu admitting to reading fanfiction about himself and Wonwoo aside, you groan. “What am I supposed to do? My family loves you. I’d rather not dampen the Chuseok spirit by saying their favorite son has unfortunately made his unannounced exit half a year ago.”

“So you’re willing to pretend we’re still together just to keep them happy?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like you’re an ex I should be ashamed of, Gyu.”

“Because I’m an idol that millions are vying for?” 

You roll your eyes. “No. It’s because out of all my exes, you’re the only one that Namja actually likes. That’s pretty much the highest honor you can receive in your entire life.”

Your heart does a little flip when Mingyu barks out another light-hearted laugh. You tell yourself that you’re only reacting that way because…it has been a while since you talked to him. That, and Mingyu was always so smiley whenever you brought up your ten year-old retriever.

“Point taken,” he says. “I’d totally be down to help you out, but…yeah.”

“I knew you would be,” you reply, a sad smile ghosting your features. “That’s why I called.”

Silence settles over the line once again, but it’s, by no means, awkward. It’s more…sentimental. Like two old friends reminiscing about the good memories you shared. 

Huh. You’re friends with Mingyu…

“Anyway, thanks for catching up with me, Mingyu,” you tell him before you end up saying something you’re not supposed to. “I’ll get going now. Good night.”

“Hey—”

You end the call before he can have the chance to make you falter.

Right behind her desk, Chae looks up at you with a knowing look. You flash her a smile that silently pleads for her not to say a word, but your receptionist has always been on the frank side.

“Something’s telling me you’re still hung up on him, boss.”

Sighing, you push yourself back to your feet, tugging on the lapels of your crisp white coat. That might be true to some degree, but it’s not like you can do anything about it.

You and Mingyu live in two completely different worlds. It’s something that you both came to terms with when you broke up. You just had to accept the fact that there’s simply no efficient way to work around his busy schedules and the appointments you need to attend to at the clinic. 

It was the most unproblematic breakup you’ve ever had, and it’s with a famous idol. Who would’ve thought. 

“Anyway,” you tell Chae before nudging the door to the operating room open. “Care to help me look for the anesthetics? I can’t remember where I put them away last time…”

Your receptionist is most definitely judging you inside your head, but despite how straightforward she can be, Chae still knows when to drop it. After a few clicks on the clinic’s desktop computer, she joins you on the hunt for that pesky bottle of anesthesia without asking any intrusive questions.

You make a mental note to treat her to some coffee tomorrow.

…

One of the reasons you seldomly paid your hometown a visit is the hassle that comes with the entire commute.

First you have to endure the long queue to get tickets before sitting through an eight-hour train ride to the seaside town of Haenam. Then comes navigating the local bus routes and schedules that always seem to change every time you go home. 

When you made it out of the train station for this year’s Chuseok celebration, you didn’t even bother stressing yourself out with taking the bus back to your parents’ house—flagging down a taxi that definitely charged you a ridiculous rate in exchange for your utmost comfort instead. 

You try not to think about how easier it was last Christmas, when you and Mingyu took turns driving one of his company’s cars on the way here—laughing and singing along to their songs on the road like nothing else mattered.

The scent of salt hangs heavy in the breeze when you unload your baggage from the trunk of the taxi. You had the foresight to make the trip before midnight, so you’re rewarded with the sight of the sunrise breaking through the nearby ocean—light glittering across the horizon like it means to say welcome home. 

That’s what you should feel; like you’re at home. But the fact that you’re about to bring some disappointing news to the table regarding your breakup with Mingyu isn’t doing your peace of mind any favors. 

You contemplated coming clean about it to your parents over a phone call, but it seemed too…impersonal with how attached they’ve gotten to your ex-boyfriend. Having a significant other that your family absolutely adores seems like a double-edged sword now that you think about it.

Once the cab hits the road again, you stand in front of your family home with a wistful sigh. It’s barely past seven in the morning, but your father must already be at the pier—sorting out today’s catch with the other fishermen in town.

Your mother loves taking walks in the market even if she doesn’t have anything in particular to purchase for the day. They’re early risers by default. 

You can’t really say the same for your younger brother, Haneul, though. That one likes to sleep until noon. 

When you ring the doorbell outside, you expect to hear the sound of excited barking from the other side of the gate. Namja was always the first to welcome you back whenever you’re in town, and just thinking about reuniting with him quells your anxiousness a little. But surprisingly, you don’t hear the telltale noise of your family dog’s excitement. 

What you do hear is the sound of the screen door opening and slamming back shut—slippers being hastily slid on before the gate creaks open, revealing Haneul still sporting a bedhead as he rubs his eyes.

“You’re back,” he says a-matter-of-factly, like he isn’t even thrilled to see you, but you’re too surprised to see him up so early to quip about it. “Mom said you wouldn’t arrive until noon.”

“I wanted to make the most of my vacation leave,” you explain before looking around the garden inside. “Where’s Namja? Did Mom take him for a walk, too?”

Haneul hums before taking your luggage. “Hm. You can say that.”

“What does that even mean?”

As if on cue, your ears perk up at the sound of a familiar bark resounding from the end of the road. You quickly whip your head around to see your beloved golden retriever, Namja, wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of you before letting out another woof when you call out his name in glee.

However, the moment you realize who’s holding his leash, you suddenly feel like you got struck by lightning.

It’s Kim fucking Mingyu.

The sight of your ex-boyfriend just...standing there when he told you he was on the other side of the world sends a million thoughts surging through your head all at once.

You try not to think about how gorgeous he looks in the early morning light. Loose, long sleeved shirt that still emphasizes his muscular build despite. Hair having grown past his chin, curling slightly at the tips. And those stupid fucking canines that peek from his lips every time he grins. 

The bastard is just standing there with zero disguises, as if his existence in this place, at this point in time, doesn't throw a wrench in all of your plans.

What the hell is he even doing here?!

“Oh, sweetie, you’re back!”

The sound of your mother’s voice is, thankfully, enough to snap you out of your impending mental breakdown. You were so taken aback by Mingyu’s presence that you didn’t notice her standing next to him, carrying the bag she usually brings for her early market visits as she flashes you a warm smile. 

You can only stand there in shocked silence as your mother makes her way back to the house with your dog and ex-boyfriend in tow. Haneul was already inside, so you can’t exactly glare at him for not giving you a head’s up. But given that you still have no idea what on earth is going on, you’ll play along. For now.

“Are you surprised?” your mother giggles before patting Mingyu’s shoulder. “Mingyu here said he got off work for a while so he could celebrate with us!”

“Gee, I didn’t know about that,” you say dryly, unsure of what expression you should even wear. “I thought he was going to be in New York until next month.”

She laughs again. “Oh, he told me and your father to keep it a secret that he’s going back to Korea anyways. Seems like the surprise worked, didn’t it, Mingyu-ah?”

The culprit himself agrees with a minute nod before loosening his grip on Namja’s leash. 

Your goldie immediately bounds towards you at the first sign of freedom, bracing his paws on your stomach as he attempts to lick your neck. It’s enough to distract you from the current predicament at hand, making you sigh in defeat as you sink to your knees and receive Namja’s slobbery affection in its entirety. 

As you snuggle up to the family dog, Mingyu says, “What can I say? I missed Haenam a lot. The scenery, the family, Namja, but of course…”

You can only sit there in growing disbelief as Mingyu mirrors your movements. He crouches low enough so that your gazes are leveled before caressing your face with a tenderness that’s both familiar and foreign at the same time. 

“I missed her the most.”

This is all a charade—that’s what you can confirm from the limited clues he’s dropping for you to pick up on. You can try to figure out why he’s suddenly here in your hometown—having arrived earlier than you, from the looks of it—a little later.

What’s important is that Mingyu, ever-so helpful, is actually playing along with the act you not-so-jokingly told him about on the phone.

You should be glad. 

…But why do those words make your heart ache anyways?

“Of course you do,” you sigh before peeling yourself away from his touch, carrying Namja in your arms as if he doesn’t easily weigh thirty kilograms. “Come on. Let’s get back inside and help Mom prepare whatever she’s planning on cooking for lunch.”

Mingyu’s smile doesn’t falter despite your obvious dismissal of his affection. You remind yourself that he’s racked up a lot of acting gigs throughout his career, so it’s normal for him to be a natural at this. 

But even if you know that this is all an act, you can’t help the way your heart lurches when Mingyu scoops Namja out of your grasp—the mere brush of his skin on yours more electrifying than it should be.

Namja whines in your ex’s arms, pawing at his chest before licking a long stripe across his cheek. Mingyu bursts out laughing as he coos at him, and your chest burns with an indescribable feeling.

A few moments later, your mother starts gushing about how excited she is to have both of you in the kitchen with her again as she leads you back inside the house. But all that rings in your head is a broken mantra of Mingyu saying I missed her the most.

As if repeating the words enough times will make them come true.

...

It’s one thing to know that Mingyu is in Haenam when he’s supposed to be overseas.

It’s another thing to see his usual overnight bag at the foot of your unmade bed, making you realize that he definitely came here much earlier than you anticipated.

Mingyu is currently in the kitchen, helping your mother out with lunch prep while she insists that you get some sleep first. Though the trains that led to the southern provinces were designed to be more comfortable than the ones contained in Seoul, nothing defeats the comfort of your old childhood bed. 

Except when you’re made aware of the fact that your ex-boyfriend probably slept in it after making the trip all the way here. 

The sheets even smell like him. A hint of that expensive fragrance he never seems to get tired of laces your pillows, and warmth rushes to your face when you realize you’re breathing it in a bit too much. 

So what if Mingyu slept here, right? Your parents’ house doesn’t have a guest room, and this was probably the only room available.

Oh, and in your family’s eyes, Mingyu is still your boyfriend. There shouldn’t be anything weird about your boyfriend, who went out of his way to quote-unquote surprise you, sleeping in your room, on your bed, without your knowledge.

And there definitely isn’t an issue with having to sleep next to him on said bed come nightfall.

You totally got this.

An attempt to dissuade all these intrusive thoughts is made as you unload the contents of your luggage into your old cabinet. It works for a while because all the old clothes you still kept tickled some memories from way back in high school, when becoming a vet was nothing but a pipe dream you came up with after Namja became sick on the day of his first birthday. 

In fact, as you look around further, you’re reminded of just how much time has passed since you moved out. The paint on the walls is starting to chip, and the floorboards creakier than you remember. Even the bed that was too spacious for your liking seems to shrink when you imagine Mingyu sprawled all over it with a blanket thrown over his large form. 

But when you recall how you two somehow made the sleeping arrangement work last Christmas, you figure that there isn’t much to worry about.

Aside from the fact that you’re not together anymore. Fuck.

“Hey. Are you awake?”

You jolt at the sound of a soft voice coming from the door. Mingyu’s handsome face peeks from the crack before he opens it all the way, lips pressed together in a hesitant smile.

“Your mom asked if I could fetch your father at the pier in a few,” he says. “Do you want to come with me or do you want to get some sleep first?”

“Do I want to—” you cut yourself off, throwing your hands up in disbelief. “Mingyu, what I want is for you to explain what you’re doing here.”

He cranes his head. “You said you needed help.”

“Yeah, but I was going to be honest about the breakup anyway!” you whisper, not wanting to attract unwanted attention from outside. God knows this house has paper-thin walls. “But then you’re suddenly here, cozying up to my family like we haven’t been ignoring each other for months already.”

“Hey, I’d never ignore you.” Mingyu pouts. “I even picked up when you called me at ass o’clock in the morning, remember? If someone’s ignoring anyone here, it’s you, sweetheart.”

You hate how you bristle at that little pet name. Mingyu doesn’t seem to notice how you react to it, so you steel yourself instead—refusing to give into his unintentional charms. “That’s not the point and you know it, Mingyu. You can’t blame me for reacting this way when you told me that you wouldn’t be able to help me out.”

“But I’m here, right? I thought you’d be a little happier to see me, but I might have been overestimating myself.”

You are. You are happy to see him. 

But having to live with the knowledge that Mingyu is right here, close enough for you to touch, yet can’t because your relationship has long expired? 

You weren’t ready for that. You don’t think you’ll ever be.

“Look,” he starts with a tone that’s meant to placate you, “you were right about not wanting to ruin the holidays with the breakup. I’m just here to help you out since you’re obviously not ready to break the news to your family. It’s not a big deal.”

You scowl at him. “Mingyu, it is a big deal. You are literally an idol with a packed fucking schedule. You can’t just play house with me here when you’re expected to be somewhere else.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Listen to me first, okay? We were all given the weekend off because of Chuseok on short notice. You don’t have to worry about you unknowingly stealing me away from work because there is no work. Besides, I told you I’d still be here when you need me, right?”

How can he say all that with a straight face? Like he still thinks of you as anything but an old flame that’s long been snuffed out?

The problem with Mingyu is that he’s too earnest for his own good. Always wearing a spectrum of emotions on his sleeve. Always so honest about what he feels about certain things. It’s so fucking difficult to stand your ground against someone who’s nothing but forthcoming about every aspect of his life. 

But it’s not like you could ever resist him to begin with, right?

“Fine,” you grumble. “Give me a few minutes to prep. I don’t want to go out in the docks wearing this many layers anyways.”

You hate how your chest warms when Mingyu’s eyes light up at that. Fight back, maybe?!

He looks like he’s about to say something when an abrupt knock disturbs the quiet atmosphere of your room. From how annoyingly long it lasts, you single out your younger brother as the perpetrator.

“You better not be making your firstborn in there,” Haneul drawls from the other side. 

Mingyu flashes you a mischievous smile before cupping the sides of his hands over his mouth. “We might be making our second born for all you know.”

You won’t survive this weekend. You really won’t.

…

“Remember when we used to eat ice cream by the Han River?” 

You flash Mingyu a perplexed look as you climb out of the car he used to drive all the way to your hometown. It’s a mystery how his manager allows him to go places with their company car with no supervision, but it’s not like Mingyu has done anything in the past to warrant that kind of surveillance anyway.

Besides, if he’s spending the entirety of Chuseok with a bunch of bodyguards lingering around your house, you might actually force him to go back to Seoul altogether.

“Why’d you bring it up?” you ask. “I thought you didn’t like those kinds of dates ‘cause you had to amp up the disguises and everything.”

Mingyu pockets the keys to the car before leaning against the metal railings installed along the pier. Your father is yet to show up at your rendezvous point, so you figure it wouldn’t do anyone harm to entertain Mingyu’s attempt at small talk. 

“Hmm. While I did prefer just cuddling in the dorms and at your place, it always felt a little different whenever we went out together,” he muses, the wind tossing his hair around slightly before turning to look at you. “How about you? Do you have any favorite date of ours in particular?”

You sigh, unsure why he’s even asking you all of this. Yet you indulge him anyway with, “I don’t think it classifies as a ‘date’, but I kinda liked it whenever you hung out with me in the clinic while I tended to some patients. Even if your presence there is an occupational hazard in itself.”

He snickers to himself, and you know damn well he still remembers the flock of fangirls that ran into him in the waiting room when Mingyu paid you a visit out of boredom. Thankfully, they were the respectful kind, and promised not to divulge information about Mingyu’s whereabouts whenever they catch him at your clinic.

“The dogs are always happy to see me,” he chuckles. “The cats, not so much. Oh, but remember when someone brought in their pet snake? I think that one had a crush on me.”

You do, in fact, remember the day Mingyu got bitten by a boa constrictor named Yujin. Her owner is one of your regulars, since other vets in the city don’t have reptiles under their area of expertise. Yujin hasn’t bitten anyone since she first came for a checkup, so you figure that Mingyu must have done something pretty stupid to provoke the aggression. 

“You better be glad constrictor bites aren’t venomous,” you point out with an airy laugh. “Not even a true love’s kiss can cure a venomous snake bite.” 

“It can cure a handful of other things though.”

You turn to glance at Mingyu with a miffed look at his attempt at smooth-talk. He’s always been this way, so it doesn’t particularly faze you. But it still feels surreal to be talking with him right next to the open sea in your hometown as you both wait for your father to arrive.

“I never really got to ask,” you murmur, eyes still trained on a flock of seagulls huddling together near the docks. “How are you? You’re not burning yourself out again, are you?”

You don’t see it, but Mingyu smiles to himself. “It’s in our job description to push ourselves past the limit, you know. But…honestly? It’s been pretty lonely.”

You make a face at that. “Lonely? You’re literally with twelve other guys, like, eighty percent of the time. How does it ever get lonely?”

Mingyu hums before leaning further over the railing. He looks up at the clear blue sky, breathing deeply with his eyes closed, and for a moment, you’re a bit taken aback by how breathtaking he looks under the spill of morning sunlight. 

“You can still get lonely in the middle of all the noise,” he murmurs. “That’s why I was kind of glad I got to go back here for a while. I know I said I meant to help you out, but there might’ve been some selfish reasoning behind the choice, too.”

Your gaze softens at his words. Mingyu is one of the most intensely passionate members of their group, so it’s not hard to believe that he’s also one of those that ends up feeling this way. You remember having a similar conversation with him during a quiet night in your apartment, limbs tangled together under the sheets as he wonders if your lives would be different if he wasn’t an idol.

But of course, it’s your job to remind him that, even if it could become exhausting at times, he once dreamed of being where he is now. 

“They probably miss you already,” you say. “Don’t you guys usually film content for Chuseok?”

“Yeah, but all of that’s prerecorded. They’re all with their families right now, too.” 

“Really? What are you doing here then?” you tease.

Mingyu tilts his head to the side, lips curved into a lopsided smile that reminds you how it felt to catch feelings for him the first time.

“Who ever said you aren’t family?”

Unfair. He’s being so fucking unfair right now.

But you can’t even think about pushing him into the sea because your father has already made his entrance, waving at the two of you despite his hands being full of fishing paraphernalia. 

He sulks about how it took you so long to go back home, and you had to explain that things have been extra hectic at your clinic, especially when you inevitably earned the reputation of being ‘SEVENTEEN Mingyu and Seungkwan’s trusted veterinarian’ despite neither of them having dropped by since the breakup.

You don’t tell them that last part though. The last thing you need is for Mingyu to have something to gloat about.

“It’s a miracle how those nasty paparazzi folks from Dispatch haven’t caught on yet,” your dad says before climbing into the backseat of Mingyu’s company car. “Unless you’re already in cahoots with them? Remember, Kim Mingyu, leave my daughter out of any celebrity gossip! She’s already built a good name for herself.” 

A throaty laugh rumbles in Mingyu’s chest as he pulls out into the street. “You don’t have to worry about that, sir. Protecting her has always been my top priority.”

Your father nods, seemingly pleased with his response. “Damn straight.” 

You don’t express any outward reaction to what Mingyu just told your dad, but you don’t resist when he reaches for your hand over the center console. 

The moment you he squeezes your fingers, you squeeze back. 

…

The rest of the day is packed with preparing lunch and dinner options for your other relatives in town. Having Mingyu on board is an undeniable asset, since the man knows his way around the kitchen even better than you do. It’s a little endearing to think that, even if it’s the first time he’s meeting your aunts and uncles and cousins, his personality makes him fit right in. 

Turns out, one of your cousins’ daughters is a huge fan, and she couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Kim Mingyu smoking fish in the backyard of your parents’ house. She made him promise to sign one of her photocards before they leave—a request that your ex is all too happy to oblige. 

By dinnertime, most of the guests have already left, and it’s just you, Mingyu, and Haneul sharing the rice wine Mingyu brought for the occasion, with your parents having already retired for the night. You didn’t even tell him that your Mom wanted another taste of it, yet he delivered anyway. 

“How are you guys doing it?” Haneul whines, a bit red in the face since he’s already had a few beers before your cousins all left. “When my ex-girlfriend moved to another city, it only took two weeks for us to break up. Long distance is the bane of everyone’s existence.”

“Everyone but ours,” Mingyu says before clinking his glass with yours. “You just have to communicate with each other constantly. If you’re honest about everything both of you are feeling, then it’ll be easier to work things out together.”

It’s so easy for him to say these kinds of things. As if your relationship didn’t go to ruin because of the long distance that always kept the two of you apart. You feel a bit bad for having Mingyu lie to your brother right in his face, but you tell yourself that you’re already here anyway. 

You’ll just have to fake it until you make it.

“But what if the other party doesn’t want to talk about it?” Haneul sighs, tracing the rim of his own glass with his finger. “I wanted to make it work. I really did. But she… She didn’t even want to try anymore. Lost faith in us so quickly, I could hardly believe she even loved me.”

You know Haneul is just drunkenly rambling about his grievances with his ex. He called you about it a few years ago, long before you even met Mingyu, and you consoled him by saying that his ex-girlfriend never deserved his love in the first place.

But even if you know the circumstances that led to your split with Mingyu are completely different, you can’t help but find similarities between the stories. 

You broke up with Mingyu on the first day of spring. When the snow was just beginning to thaw, and the wind started to bring in a warmer climate. They’d just gone back from tour, and you know you’re not the only one feeling the tightly-wound strings of your relationship beginning to fray at the seams. 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but I don’t think we’re going to work, Gyu,” you murmured, not having the guts to meet his eyes. “I think it’s best if we just focused on our careers.”

You thought he’d throw a fit. Or at least ask you a bunch of questions. Did he do something wrong? Is he not enough? Yet Mingyu simply flashed you a sad smile before nodding right back at you.

“Okay,” he said with a kind of resignation that breaks your heart to hear. “Thank you for being with me all this time.”

In the present, Mingyu shifts beside you on the table—abruptly startling you out of that impromptu trip down memory lane. 

“Then, you’ll just have to take it in stride, Haneul-ah,” he murmurs before throwing back the rest of his drink. Mingyu manages a tight-lipped smile that pains you to look at. “If you really love her, you’ll respect whatever choice she’s come to make in the end. Even if that choice doesn’t involve you anymore. Even if it hurts to see her walk away after everything you’ve built together.”

When Mingyu turns to look at you, you feel like there’s cotton sticking to the roof of your mouth.

“It’s a good thing I never have to experience that with your sister, though. She loves me too much to let me go.”

Haneul huffs from across the table before rising to his feet. “You two are so in love it’s actually disgusting. You know what, let’s just go to sleep.”

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing in the middle of your bedroom as Mingyu gets ready to sleep. He seems to be talking to someone on the phone inside your bathroom, but you purposely decide not to listen in. It was probably his manager or one of the other boys checking in on him.

You don’t wait for him to finish when you climb under the sheets, leaving enough space for him to occupy on the mattress, should he decide to share it with you tonight. There’s also an extra blanket folded on his side of the bed, since Mingyu’s a notorious blanket hogger, and you’d rather not wrestle that six-foot hunk of muscle for warmth. 

Mingyu takes so long on that phone call of his that by the time he finishes, you’re already fast asleep, curled up while facing the wall so you wouldn’t have to face him. He chuckles, lingering just a few seconds longer by the doorframe of the bathroom. How long has it been since he’s last seen your face under the peaceful guise of slumber? 

It’s been too long, and he isn’t about to pass up on the opportunity to commit the sight into memory.

…

Sometime in the middle of the night, you’re rudely roused by the sudden drop in temperature.

It’s only the beginning of autumn, but you noticed that it’s a lot colder than usual. Even if you already have a cozy blanket draped right on top of you. You sigh, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable before realizing that you’re not exactly alone. 

Much like yourself, Mingyu is blinking out the drowsiness in his eyes as he turns to look at you with a question in his sleepy gaze. You shake your head in a wordless attempt to tell him not to worry. 

“You’ve been tossing and turning for thirty minutes now,” he says, and hearing his throaty voice in person doesn’t even compare to that phone call you shared a week ago. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “It’s cold, and it isn’t even winter yet.”

He looks at you for a while, as if thinking of what to say before he reaches out for you and tugs you into his arms. Even if you’re practically half-asleep, the sudden action kickstarts your brain into motion, and you struggle against his grip all while whispering, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“You told me back then I’m as good as a furnace on cold days,” he mumbles as he tucks you into his chest—making you hyper aware of every ridge of his toned chest through his shirt. “If it bothers you so much, just think of it as a favor from one friend to another. How’s that sound?”

Friend. You know that’s all that Mingyu is to you these days, and all you are to him, but even in this drowsy haze you’re in, the word still feels like an insult. A word meant to scorn the time you’ve spent as lovers. 

Just thinking about Mingyu as a friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, so instead of answering him, you cave and burrow yourself into his warmth—something that he seems pleased with, if the satisfied sound that rumbles in his chest is anything to go by. 

He holds you in his arms the same way he did last Christmas, but there’s an unfamiliar sense of possessiveness sinking uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. You know you shouldn’t think of what he’s doing as anything but a favor between friends. You’re perfectly aware that, as the person who officially ended things between the both of you, you have no right to yearn for something you already gave up on.

But when Mingyu tilts your head up so you can meet his sleepy eyes, you don’t even put up a fight when he presses his lips to yours.

It doesn’t seem like he planned on doing anything beyond that. In fact, you don’t think he meant to do it at all. Just a heat-of-the-moment decision that the two of you could just forget about come morning. 

However, the moment he starts to pull away, you force a hand across the back of his head, crushing your lips back together as you hook one of your thighs across his hips. Mingyu groans into the kiss, large hands migrating to your waist as he reciprocates your newfound hunger like you knew he would. His touch leaves trails of fire tingling across your skin, and every time his canines graze your bottom lip, you quietly moan into his mouth.

This is stupid. You’re both being incredibly stupid. The walls are anything but soundproof, and your parents are sleeping just across the hall.

Yet you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when Mingyu is making your body remember what it feels like to have him all over you like this.

You missed him. His heat. His touch. His kiss. Everything. You missed him so much that it hurts. You missed him so much that when Mingyu’s fingers start to glide along the exposed flesh of your thighs, you detach your lips from his before pushing him away.

You missed Kim Mingyu with the intensity of a dying star collapsing in on itself, of black holes tearing through reality, but this isn’t how you should go about it.

“Let’s…” you whisper, not quite trusting your voice to carry out your message. “Let’s just sleep.”

Mingyu doesn’t argue. He rarely does. But neither do you when he tugs you back in the caging embrace of his warmth. 

For the first time in weeks, you find yourself drifting off into undisturbed slumber.

…

The next morning, you’re set to go back to Seoul, and by some stroke of luck, so is Mingyu. Still, the two of you decide to stick around until lunch time—neither of you breathing a word about what just happened last night.

But while Mingyu starts to load both of your things into the trunk of his car, your mother asks you for a favor at the last minute.

“Can you bring Namja along with you back to the city?” she asks. “He’s been really listless before you and Mingyu arrived. Your father and I were starting to get worried, and figured you might have to do a check up first.”

You raise an eyebrow at her claim, not really noticing anything amiss about your retriever’s health, aside from the usual signs of age. He’s ten years old, turning eleven this year, so it isn’t such a mystery to see that Namja isn’t as hyperactive as he was as a puppy. But then again, your mother has spot-on intuition about all the strangest things, so you indulge her request in the end. 

Besides, having a pet of your own to keep you company doesn’t sound so bad.

Fortunately, Mingyu is more than hospitable when you ask if you could bring Namja along for the ride—promising that he’s car-trained, and won’t make a mess as long as you pull over from time to time. In fact, your ex seems more elated with the idea of your goldie joining the road trip than you are.

“I can come visit Namja in Seoul whenever I want now, right?” he asks with a soft laugh, and you wanted to reply with, Yeah, if you aren’t always so far away, that is, but choose not to. 

The two of you take shifts in driving as usual. Whoever isn’t behind the wheel is in charge of entertaining Namja in the backseat so he wouldn’t end up whining for attention the whole drive back. It’s a setup that you’re pretty okay with, since it minimizes any sort of window for you and Mingyu to have a conversation. God knows you’re not exactly ready to talk about…whatever happened last night. 

So instead, you ask him about a bunch of trivial things so he doesn’t get any ideas.

“You sure your manager is okay with you returning the car while it reeks of Namja?” you laugh before switching lanes on the freeway. “He might not take the news that he sheds very lightly.” 

Mingyu chuckles before scratching behind Namja’s ears. “I promised I’d have it cleaned before I returned it to the office building. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hm. Whatever you say.”

By your third stop-over, you decide to give Namja some food and water while Mingyu gets takeout for the both of you at a nearby fast food chain. You stretch out your limbs while your retriever happily laps from his water bowl, wondering how much longer it’s going to take before you reach Seoul. 

Before you have to part ways with Mingyu again.

You’re startled out of your train of thought when you see Mingyu practically sprinting back to the car, his sunglasses nearly falling off the bridge of his nose. Namja glances up at him quizzically, and you have to stifle a laugh.

“Yeah, a bunch of fans spotted me in line, so we might have to get food back in the city instead,” he explains hurriedly as he helps tidy up Namja’s food and water bowls. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

After his meal, Namja is sated and sleepy—content with resting his head on your thigh as you watch the streetlights blur past the windows. Mingyu is a much faster driver than you are, so he’s able to cut the travel time shorter than it would have been had it been you behind the wheel. But the lack of anything to do has you quietly staring at Mingyu from the backseat while his eyes are glued to the road.

You can’t help but let your gaze linger on his strong arms, and the fact that you were tucked safely between them the night prior. But that’s your first mistake because now, you’re thinking about those desperate kisses you shared in the privacy of your room. Touching each other like you both feared the other would disappear if you didn’t pull them close enough.

You shake your head. No. This isn’t how friends should think about each other. 

Whatever happened back in Haenam, you’re just going to have to leave it there.

It’s already past eight in the evening when Mingyu eases the car into your neighborhood, and you try not to think much of the fact that he still knows where you live. 

“Guess that concludes our weekend getaway,” Mingyu says the moment he finishes helping you carry your stuff back inside your apartment. “Though it seems that someone’s getting pretty cozy really quickly.”

Namja is already familiarizing himself with his new home, wandering around the living room all while sniffing everything in his path. You stifle a soft laugh.

“Yeah. I guess it is,” you murmur before managing a kind smile. “Thanks for having my back, Mingyu. It…means a lot. Really, it does.”

He laughs softly, eyes trailing around the living room with a curiosity that isn’t so different from Namja’s. “You have your first boyfriend with you now. I can rest easy knowing you’re in good company.”

Your face flushes at the thought that Mingyu still remembers the reasoning behind Namja’s namesake. Namjachingu. When he was still a puppy, you said Namja was your first boyfriend, and that you didn’t need anyone else. 

He lived up to his title for years, too—always acting hostile around past boyfriends that you did end up bringing to your parents’ house despite coming from a friendly breed. The only boyfriend that your first boyfriend seemed to approve of is the man standing right in front of you, just when you thought you would never see him again within the four corners of your house.

“You know,” Mingyu begins, hesitation crossing his face for a split second before he meets your eyes. “My family’s in Seoul for Chuseok, too. I told Minseo to bring Bobpul and Baptori, and you might want to schedule a little playdate between my kids and yours.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Where’s Aji?”

“Too old to travel around,” he chuckles. “But I’m sure the other two can keep Namja company just fine. Join us tomorrow for dinner. What do you say?” 

You hesitate. This should’ve been where you drew the line. Mingyu has already helped you out of your initial predicament. You really shouldn’t create any more problems for yourself by joining his family for a late Chuseok dinner. In fact…

“What, you haven’t told your family that we split either?” you ask, half-jokingly, half-seriously.

“No, they know.” Mingyu shakes his head. “But they’ve always liked you too, so I see no harm in getting everyone to hang out in one place.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “You know this is just going to make things more complicated, right?”

When he flashes you that toothy grin, you already know that this is a losing battle. 

“It does, but it’s still going to be fun,” he says. “So, are you coming?” 

Sometimes, you wish you never met Mingyu at all. Maybe your life wouldn’t be so fucking difficult.

“Fine.”

…

The next day, you bring Namja to the clinic, and Chae is more than happy to see the brand new addition to the workforce. But while she’s giving your goldie more pets than he probably deserves, you ask if you have any clients coming this morning that called in advance.

“Oh, there’s this one guy who’s bringing in a maltese today,” she says, laughing a little when Namja whines at the fact that her attention is divided. “I think his name was… Seungkwan? Something like that. He has some records from last year, but he hasn’t been back since.”

Seungkwan’s coming today? Huh. Talk about coincidence.

You tell Chae about how Seungkwan and Mingyu belong to the same group, and your receptionist is adept enough to catch on to what you’re trying to say. She’s all too quick to suggest plans on how to mitigate the fans from flocking the entrance to the clinic, like that one time when Mingyu was too lax in disguising himself from anyone who could recognize him. 

But when Seungkwan arrives at your door, you remember that he’s one of the members that doesn’t particularly like being crowded by people, even if they are his fans.

He’s dressed discreetly—dark shades, a beanie, and a black face mask—while carrying an adorable pet carrier that’s probably worth half your monthly salary. Seungkwan is so straight-to-the-point with carrying out his business with you, that it’s hard to believe you and him used to joke around like old friends a year ago. 

But for some reason, when Chae excuses herself to answer a phone call, the façade he puts up falls apart in seconds.

“Noona, you have no idea how much I missed you!” he wails before throwing his arms around you. “Other vets just don’t cut it for Bookkeu! They’re always either too mean or too lax with her. You handled her just right today. Can’t believe Mingyu-hyung always calls you her worst enemy.”

You chuckle before patting his back, and Seungkwan pulls away with a pout on his face. “Hey, you guys are the ones who ghosted me after Mingyu and I broke up. You’re always welcome to come back to have your pets checked—non-showbiz girlfriend or not.” 

“That hyung of mine is stupid,” Seungkwan scoffs as he scoops Bookkeu into his arms. “Well, you’re kind of the same way, but I can’t exactly call you stupid or you might take it out on Bookkeu—”

“I would do no such thing, Seungkwan-ah,” you complain. 

“Okay, it’s just my personal opinion that maybe you two didn’t have to split up at all,” he huffs. “Mingyu-hyung has become more and more listless since you broke up with him. He might look like his usual self on camera, but when we’re not recording anything? He’s always so lost in thought! It gets on Coups-hyung’s nerves sometimes.”

Listless, huh… 

Your mother said the exact same thing about Namja. Speaking of, your gaze drifts over to your goldie who’s staring outside the door to your clinic, like he’s waiting for Chae to come back and shower him with attention again. 

Is Seungkwan insinuating that he and Mingyu aren’t so different?

“Maybe he’s just going through a blue period,” you suggest before writing up a prescription for the vitamins that Bookkeu will have to take for the next two weeks. “It’s been so long since we broke up. I doubt he’s acting that way because of me.”

Seungkwan breathes in deeply, like he’s just barely able to contain the urge to slap some sense into you. “Noona, listen to me. Kim Mingyu is catastrophically in love with you. When you called that night when we were sharing a hotel room in New York, it was the first time I saw him look so genuinely happy for reasons that aren’t related to our music. But that hyung of mine is too selfless for his own good.”

You startle a bit when he suddenly lifts Bookkeu closer to you and points her adorable face in your line of sight. 

“He wants you back, but he’ll never admit it, especially when you made your choice clear all those months ago,” Seungkwan says before pushing his maltese even closer to you. “But now, something tells me that you’re still hung up on him, just as much as he’s hung up on you—if all the things he told me about your trip to Haenam are true, that is.”

Huh. That time he took so long in the bathroom… He must’ve been talking to Seungkwan.

“Okay, but why does it feel like you’re using Bookkeu to threaten me into doing something?” You laugh softly. “Seungkwan, our time is up. And it’s not something we can just take back whenever we feel like it.”

“Wh—! Don’t you think things are only that way because both of you are making it more complicated than it should be?” He sighs, exasperated. “Also, yes I am using Bookkeu to threaten you. Promise that you’ll at least talk to Mingyu-hyung about this? We can’t stand seeing him so out of it anymore. Come on, you can’t resist those cute puppy eyes, right?”

You sigh, half-considering pointing out that Bookkeu is, by no means, a puppy anymore, but then again, you still call Namja that despite being more than a decade old.

“Alright, alright,” you relent. “I’m meeting his family tonight for dinner anyways. Might as well clear the air.”

Seungkwan gasps, a comical expression rooting itself on his face. “See! You’re having dinner with his family, too?! If you’re not back together by the time we fly back to the U.S., I'm never talking to either of you ever again.”

Now, it’s your turn to pout. “Who are you going to go to for Bookkeu’s check-ups then?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again before letting out a petulant huff. You can’t help the snicker that bubbles in your chest as Seungkwan tilts his chin up with indignance. 

“Point taken,” he says before narrowing his eyes and pointing his index finger at you. “But I’m expecting Kim Mingyu to come back to the dorms later, happy and not heartbroken. Okay?” 

You raise your hands before handing him your written prescription. “No promises.”

When Chae returns inside the clinic, you physically have to hold Namja down just so she can give Seungkwan a receipt for today’s visit. Your mother was right, he definitely was growing lonely back in Haenam. You haven’t seen him this excited in years. 

Seungkwan bids you another, more formal goodbye, now that you're not alone anymore. He doesn’t need to reiterate what he asked of you out loud—the look in his eyes is already telling enough. 

Given that today is a bit of a slow day, you decide to run a few diagnostic tests on Namja just to confirm whether or not he’s silently carrying some sort of disease. But all his results came out normal, except for a clinically insignificant but still noticeable increase in his body sodium levels. Might have to cut down the treats for a few days. 

Otherwise, he’s happy and healthy ten—going eleven—years into his lifespan. The reason for his lethargy back home must have something to do with innate loneliness after all.

Then you remember what Seungkwan told you about Mingyu. How he hasn’t really been himself since the breakup. You never really felt that during your time together in your hometown. He’s still the effortless charmer that you once fell in love with. The big softie that can get along with anyone and everyone, given the right circumstances.

Mingyu has always been a people pleaser. The last thing he wants to do is inconvenience others. So it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s been so out of it that even Seungcheol is starting to get pissed with his behavior. 

The sound of Namja barking jolts you out of your thoughts before your goldie pads over to where you’re seated behind your desk, whining as he nuzzles your hands as if he knows you’re thinking a bit too hard about something distressful. You let out a quiet laugh, scratching behind his ears just like you know he likes.

“I wonder what I’m supposed to do,” you chuckle. “Maybe I should’ve been born as a dog instead. Thinking about all of this is giving me a headache.”

Namja growls before barking again. Like he doesn’t approve of the idea of not having you as his fur parent. You let out another laugh that’s a lot less quiet before you decide to pull out your phone and shoot Mingyu a text.

Are you picking me up later or not?

…

Dinner with Mingyu’s family is splendid

The outdoor restaurant his mother booked in advance probably serves the best songpyeon you’ve ever tasted in your life. Add that to the fact that they accommodate pets in their alfresco area, this could easily be one of the next places you’ll take your own parents for a meal when you bring them to Seoul for a quick getaway. 

Namja is a bit shy around other animals—a result of being around no one but your family for so long. But when Minseo introduces him to both Bobpul and Baptori at the same time, the two little rascals easily coaxed your senior citizen goldie out of his shell. Next thing you know, they’re running around the outdoor dining area like a bunch of energetic pups.

“Unnie, are you back together with this guy?” Minseo asks in the middle of dessert, pointing her spoon accusingly at Mingyu. “You can do so much better than him, though.”

Their father laughs at their youngest’s comment, and their mother rubs Mingyu’s back as if she agrees, yet still wishes to console her son regardless. Mingyu is simply scowling at his family for how quick they are to throw him under the bus.

“Shut up, you sound just like Seungkwan,” he whines. 

“Well, we’re both right.”

You let out a laugh of your own before scooping some ice cream into your mouth. Then, tentatively, you say, “Don’t say that. Gyu wasn’t that terrible of a boyfriend, you know?” 

“He’s always so busy though. Doesn’t even have time to come visit Bobpul and our other dogs anymore,” Minseo sulks. “He even missed my graduation! Can you believe it?”

Mingyu pouts. “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” 

She huffs. “Not sorry enough!”

“Well, for starters, even if he is ridiculously busy, he still makes sure to call me before he goes to bed after a particularly tough schedule,” you say. “He also answers my calls even if our time zones are different, and it’s an ungodly hour where he currently is. Then when he finally comes back to Korea, he’ll give a bunch of gifts that reminded him of me on his trip overseas.”

You don’t know what compelled you to do so, but the words just gush out naturally. It was a little difficult the first time Mingyu had to hop on a plane to some other country to film some content with the boys, but you eventually got used to it, and managed to make a couple work-arounds.

Now that you think about it, if you were so used to it, why’d you decide it was best for you to part ways when he got back from tour? It’s been so long that you don’t even know the logic behind the reasoning anymore. You just remember feeling like it was the best decision at the time. And you were right—your careers have definitely thrived even after the breakup.

As you continue telling Minseo and their parents about how much of a catch the eldest son of the Kim family really is, you fail to notice the way Mingyu’s eyes never leave you the entire time. Soft, with just a hint of yearning that you’ll only be able to notice if you knew what you were looking for. 

“Ugh, fine,” Minseo huffs, and you don’t think she and Seungkwan are all that different from each other. “This is the first time I’ve seen a couple that’s broken up months ago talk about each other so fondly, still. You sure you two aren’t secretly dating again?”

“Minseo,” their mother scolds before flashing you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about her. Minseo’s just been really snappy lately. Must be because she missed Mingyu here very much.”

She rolls her eyes. “As if I’ll miss that credit-grabbing punk. He didn’t even acknowledge me in his latest Instagram post!”

“Speaking of dating again,” their father interjects before taking a sip of his wine. “Minseo’s right about one thing at least. You and Mingyu still have chemistry after so long. What’s stopping you from getting back together again?”

At your side, Mingyu flashes his father a cautionary look. “Dad, that’s a really inappropriate question, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes, of course. My apologies. This old man is really just…curious, so to speak.” 

He bows his head slightly, and you make a little gesture that insists you took no offense. But the inquiry definitely made you think for a moment.

It’s like everyone you know completely supports the idea of you and Mingyu just burying the hatchet and rekindling your relationship. But didn’t they consider the logistics of it? You’re a full-time vet and Mingyu’s a full-time idol that travels out of Korea at least once a month. Though you’re a bit unsure of it now, that still played a part in why you called it quits in the first place.

Even when Mingyu took it upon himself to drive you and Namja back to your apartment, his father’s question still lingers in the back of your mind. 

What’s stopping you from getting back together again? 

The answer is pretty simple, but it’s not something you’re ready to face just yet.

It’s you. You’re the only one keeping yourselves from reigniting what you once thought was already lost. Your guilt. Your regrets. Your fears. You didn’t need a verbal confirmation to know that Mingyu would drop everything in a heartbeat if it meant you’ll take him back again. But as much as your friends joke about how you deserve better than Mingyu, you’re convinced it’s the other way around.

Mingyu deserves someone who can reciprocate the love he’s so willing to give tenfold. Someone who doesn’t flake out when he needs them most. 

Someone who isn’t you.

When he pulls over a red light, he lets out a sigh as he checks the text messages that popped up on his phone. After a few scrolls he says, “Oh. Jeonghan-hyung texted about some party in Gangnam. Do you want to—”

“Gyu,” you whisper, eyes riveted on the busy street. “What are we doing?”

He blinks. “Celebrating Chuseok together?”

“But we’re friends right?” You laugh somewhat bitterly. “Friends don’t normally celebrate the entirety of their Chuseok weekend bonding with each other’s families. Friends don’t make out with each other in the middle of the night. And…”

You let out a shuddering sigh before adding, “Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at me.”

You can clearly hear the sound of his breath hitching even if you don’t turn to look at him. It seems like he was about to say something in return, but the stoplight turns green, and he’s back to pulling his focus on the road instead of you.

In the backseat, you can hear Namja whining—ever the empath, that one. You immediately feel him pawing against your seat, as if silently asking what’s wrong. Turning around, you give him a few reassuring pats, not wanting to get claw marks all over Mingyu’s borrowed car.

The two of you are completely silent as he walks you back to the front door of your apartment. You know he didn’t have to, yet he did anyway. How Mingyu of him.

When you finally muster the courage to look up at him and bid him good night, Mingyu grabs your wrist—forcing you to meet his desperate gaze. 

“If I told you I wanted you back, would anything change? No, right?” he whispers, voice tinged with so much emotion, you can feel your own heart ache at the sound of it. “So I’m sorry if I’m being selfish for inviting you to every place I could think of. If I want to spend as much time with you as I can because I know I won’t ever get the chance to do so if I let this pass.”

When he presses your foreheads together, the look in his eyes is so smoldering, you can’t bear to look away. This is what a man that’s been yearning for you for months looks like, it seems. 

And you don’t think you can keep resisting him for long.

“Before I get thrown back into that haywire of a schedule again,” he whispers, and you feel every breath fan across your skin, “can’t you at least let me have this? Let me have you?” 

You don’t even know who it is that lunges in for the kiss. The next thing you know, Mingyu has you pressed up against your front door, devouring your lips where all your neighbors can see. But you don’t care. Not when he’s desperately holding your body flush against his as you reclaim what’s always been yours.

He whispers a bunch of things along the column of your neck as he loosens the strings holding your dress together from behind. Some sweet, some endearing, and others a touch too filthy for others to hear aloud. You stifle your little gasps when he wraps a strong arm around your waist, nudging your thighs apart with his knees so you can feel the hardness straining against his middle.

“It’s you,” he murmurs against your feverish skin, teeth grazing across your flesh ever-so lightly. “It’s always been you. And it will always be you.” 

You know Mingyu is a good actor. But it’s so earth-shatteringly different to hear the raw desperation in his voice. How earnest he is in telling you just how much he still loves you without saying the words outright. You can only dream of being as honest with your true feelings as he is. 

But tonight, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with letting yourself fall.

In the midst of your mounting desire for each other, though, a lone whine in the night snaps both you and Mingyu out of your newfound vigor. You nearly forgot about Namja, who’s impatiently waiting for either of you to open the front door so he can finally take a nap. You glance at Mingyu, and he glances right back, before the two of you burst out laughing like a couple of teenagers without a care in the world.

Once you’ve gotten your needy retriever settled outside, Mingyu practically tosses you on the bed the moment the door to your room clicks shut—all too eager to cage you between his arms as he continues where you left off. 

The suit he wore tonight looked a bit too good on his frame, but now you want nothing more than to claw it off him. He chuckles, sensing your desperation as he shrugs off his coat and unbuttons his dress shirt along the way.

“I don’t remember you being this desperate for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning down to grasp your face as he strokes your heated skin with his thumb. “I can’t say I hate the development though.”

“Mingyu,” you whimper as you guide his thumb to your lips, suckling on it in a way that you know makes him lose his mind every time. “Please. I want you.” 

It’s so easy to be honest with yourself. You wonder why you’ve struggled with doing that for so long, but then you remember that your brain is fogged with desire for the man that’s currently staring you down like he’s doing everything in his power not to fuck you into the mattress right away. 

But at that moment, you throw all logic and caution in the wind in exchange for taking even more of Mingyu’s thick fingers into your mouth.

“So good for me,” he whispers when he sees you inch your knees apart to welcome him in between. The hand that’s not being fellated by your tongue finds its way to the apex of your thighs—cupping your clothed heat in a way that makes you moan around his fingers. “How badly do you want me, sweet thing?”

“So, so badly,” you manage to wrench out despite your mouth being full, rutting your hips to introduce some friction between your aching pussy and his hand. “Please, Gyu…”

When he’s satisfied, his free hand migrates to your thighs, spreading you further apart as he brings his lubricated fingers to your sopping core. There’s something so fucking hot in the way he just nudges your panties to the side—groaning when he finds you already soaked for him. 

“You need something to stretch out this pretty little pussy, don’t you?” he murmurs into your ear, nipping at the lobe just the way you like it. “You want my fingers or my cock, babygirl? Better choose wisely.”

You want to say that you’re too fucking horny for foreplay, but also remember that each time you had sex with Mingyu in the past, the stretch of his massive cock can be quite uncomfortable if he doesn’t prep you. With how long it’s been since you’ve laid in bed together, you don’t want to rush into it without thinking of the consequences after.

So, you mewl, “Fingers first. Then your cock.”

Mingyu laughs—a deep, sexy sound—before planting a kiss on your nose. “That’s my girl.”

He carefully eases one digit into your hole, eyes never leaving your face as he gauges your reactions. Part of you wishes to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry so much. That you still trust him with your own body even after all this time. You don’t say anything aloud, but Mingyu seems to get the gist from the look in your eyes either way, surging forward so he can press his lips back onto yours as he loosens you up.

“You’re always so quick to get wet for me, baby,” he sighs, stifling the noise that escapes you when he slides in a second finger to test the resistance of your walls. “You’ve no idea how much I missed this. Missed you .”

“Gyu, I—” Your breath hitches once he curls his fingers just so, making your legs rise involuntarily off the mattress, but Mingyu pins one of your thighs down with his free hand. 

“What was that?”

He’s teasing. He rarely ever does that. You shoot him a petulant look before taking his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging hard enough to coax a groan out of him. 

“I missed you, too,” you whisper. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this good.”

A dozen emotions flit through Mingyu’s face in the span of a millisecond, but the one that remains is something not so different from longing. You hear him sigh a couple of words that you don’t quite catch before he’s taking his fingers out of your sopping cunt and pulling away from you. Just when you’re about to voice out a complaint, he starts undoing his trousers, kicking them away to some uncharted part of your bedroom before working on the rest of his dress shirt.

Not-so-newsflash: your ex-boyfriend is still fucking hot. 

But he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re reacting to the sultry way in which he peels his clothes off—dark eyes still trained on your pliant form on the bed. As Mingyu palms himself through his boxers, you can’t help but press your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. 

There was a time when he railed you so good, you legitimately couldn’t walk straight the next day. You wonder if he plans on reenacting the whole thing tonight.

“Let’s get you out of that dress, sweetheart,” he breathes before gently guiding you back into a seated position, tugging at the hem of your dress before tossing it to the side. 

You feel your cheeks warm when he stares at the underwear set you have on tonight. Plain cotton panties and plain cotton bra. In your defense, you really didn’t expect to get laid tonight. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Mingyu chuckles. It’s either he can read minds or he still knows you well enough to figure out what you’re thinking. “I’m taking everything off anyways.”

As he makes quick work of what’s left of your clothing, you distantly remember the last conversation you had with Seungkwan. How you told him you’d ‘clear the air’ with Mingyu right after having dinner with his family.

You’re pretty sure what you’re doing right now is only blurring the lines even more, but you don’t really fucking care right now.

You let out a hushed moan when Mingyu latches his mouth onto your nipple, massaging your other breast as he swirls the appendage across your sensitive skin. His free arm snakes itself behind the curve of your waist, pressing you against his firm body while rutting his hips against the bed. 

He’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, and it fills you with a heady sort of hunger that only Mingyu can alleviate.

“Can I?” he whispers.

You feel his teeth graze across the skin of your chest, making your toes curl with anticipation. It’s been a while, but you can’t easily forget how much of a biter Mingyu is in bed. He loves leaving his marks on your body, and even if you always complain about how hard it is to cover them up, you let him do as he pleases every single time.

“Yes,” you whimper, rubbing your bare pussy against the ridge of his abs. “Do whatever you want with me, Gyu.”

The sound you let out once he finally bites down is caught between a yelp and a moan, your fingers threading across his hair as he suckles on your skin. He’s such a talker in bed, too—whispering all sorts of endearments that are too soft for you to hear, but add fuel to your growing desire regardless.

“So fucking pretty,” he says once he detaches himself from your breasts and marvels at his own work. The fruit of his effort is yet to become visible, but he’s left enough angry red marks on your skin to guarantee the lovebites they’ll turn into come morning. “And it’s all for me.”

Lacing your fingers around his nape, you mold your lips together in another kiss, tongues dancing to the rhythm of your erratic heartbeat as you grind yourself against his toned stomach. 

“Mingyu,” you whimper against his mouth—hot and heavy. “I need you inside me. Need to get stretched on your cock.”

He groans again, fisting your hair so that he can kiss you even deeper. As he busies you with his mind-numbing kisses, Mingyu gets rid of his boxers in a flash—positioning himself between your thighs. You nearly cry out when you feel the fat head of his cock sliding against your soaking slit. When he grazes your sensitive clit, you could’ve sworn tears started together in the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck, babygirl, so fucking wet for me,” he sighs as he lays you back down on the bed and eases your knees further apart. 

You bite your lip at the sight of his cock, still as long and girthy as you remember. Mingyu pumps his length all while sliding the head across your cunt, but you let out another desperate mewl to just fuck you already. 

“Shhh,” he says, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Let me take my time with you, sweetheart. I want you to commit all of this to memory. Gonna have you feeling me inside you for days.”

And you don’t doubt that. Kim Mingyu has a knack for making it hard for people to forget about him, and if he plans to fuck the shape of his cock into your pussy, who are you to complain?

When you feel his cock catch across your entrance, you genuinely wonder if it’s going to hurt. Mingyu’s attempt at foreplay was cut halfway through because he got distracted by his sudden desire to leave a trail of love bites all over your breasts. But the thing about having sex with Mingyu is that your comfort is his top priority. 

He would never do anything that he knows can hurt you.

“I’ll go slow, alright?” he whispers, and all you can manage is a nod. “Words, baby. You have to talk to me so I’ll know if you really want it.”

“Gyu,” you whine, arching your hips in a feeble attempt to get him to fuck into you. “I’m alright. Anything you do is alright with me, just— Please. Please fuck me full.”

He sighs, staring down like he doesn’t know what to do with you before finally, finally, you feel his dick breach your entrance—pushing inch by delicious inch inside you with restrained hunger. You fist the sheets at the familiar stretch, but it’s not so uncomfortable that the sensation burns. You’ve taken Mingyu’s cock dozens of times before, and it seems that your body still knows how to accommodate his ridiculous size.

“Pretty pussy’s happy to see me again,” he chuckles, his grip on your thighs tightening ever-so slightly. “Still made to fit me so snuggly. Did you miss my cock, sweet thing? I can feel you pulsing around me.”

“Yes,” you drawl. “Missed your cock so fucking much, Gyu. Fuck—”

You feel so hot, so full. It’s like Mingyu’s the only thing you’ve ever known—surrounding you in every direction until all that floats in your lust-addled mind are the letters of his name. Once he buries himself to the hilt, Mingyu doesn’t move right away, still so attentive to your reactions that even if you want nothing more than for him to rail you into the mattress, he won’t press forward until he’s sure you’re ready.

“Is it too much?” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Do you need more time to get used to me?”

Something similar to a growl reverberates in your chest as you stare at Mingyu hard. “What I need is…for you to fuck me until I black out.”

Mingyu’s lips turn up into a grin as he shakes his head. “Baby, the last thing I want to be is some sex-deprived savage after we’ve been apart for so long. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Then, he leans forward on the bed again, bringing his lips right next to your ear.

“But I can still make you feel good.”

He prefaces the words with a powerful thrust that you don’t expect, splaying your thighs further until they’re flat against the mattress. The slide of his cock still feels so unbelievably good that even if the sudden stretch should’ve been uncomfortable, you’re too blindsided by the pleasure to notice. 

Your eyes trail across the beautiful man above you as he fucks you in his favorite position. Mingyu has always had a thing for missionary—something about wanting to see your face as he wrecks you. You think you’re starting to share the same sentiment because not only do you get to see his fat cock slide in and out of your sopping cunt, but you can admire all of him at once, as well.

The exertion in those toned arms with every forward thrust. The conspicuous outline of his pecs. That toned fucking stomach. That gorgeous fucking face, so lost in the velvet heat of your pussy—

Why did you ever think letting someone like this go was a good idea?

“You’re going to laugh at me for this but,” Mingyu breathes, chuckling to himself. “I think I’m kinda close.” 

You do laugh, but it’s quickly silenced when one of his fingers finds your clit, rubbing it in quick, precise circles like he hasn’t forgotten how to get you off after all this time.

“I am, too,” you tell him. “Cock so fucking good, you can make me come in minutes.”

Mingyu lets out another guttural noise as he presses your knees to your chest, throwing your legs over his shoulder with a look in his eyes that promises nothing but pleasure. Though his fingers have departed your puffy clit, the angle he has you bent in has his cock easily grazing your g-spot with every thrust—reducing you into a pathetic, mewling mess underneath him.

“Your pussy’s a fucking drug, babygirl,” he sighs. “Haven’t wanted anyone else after you.”

Even in your cock-drunk haze, those words bring forth some semblance of clarity within you. But it’s immediately snuffed out when Mingyu amps up the cadence of his thrusts, fucking into you with the intention of bringing you to completion at the same time he achieves it. Your eyes are screwed shut, fingers finding purchase across the ripping muscles of his back as you babble an incoherent mantra of yes, yes, so close, so fucking close, love how you fuck me, love how you make me feel full—

And then, it’s over—a white hot flash like stars bursting behind your eyelids. You curl into Mingyu’s embrace as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, and he’s all too glad to help you ride it out, pistoning inside your spasming walls with a rhythm that’s starting to stagger. 

“So goddamn tight,” he growls. “Where do you want my cum, sweetheart?”

You’re still too blissed out to give him a proper response, but from the way your legs tighten themselves around his waist, Mingyu figures that that’s the green light he needs to make a mess out of you. Mingyu sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck before biting down—his cock twitching in the heat of your cunt as his release gushes into you in thick globs.

He comes so much that when Mingyu does pull out of your abused pussy, his essence trickles out of your hole as you do your best to catch your breath. The world is just starting to return to its normal axis in your vision, and the first thing that your eyes focus on is the sight of Mingyu smiling at you so fondly, it makes your heart hurt.

The look scares you. Like he’s about to say something that you don’t know how to respond to. 

So instead of giving him any leeway for conversation, you tug him back down into a tongue-filled kiss, rubbing your ruined pussy across his still hard length as you mewl against his lips.

“More,” you whimper. “I need more, Gyu.”

And he’s all too happy to oblige.

Mingyu slides himself back inside you with an ease that wasn’t present earlier—your mixed arousal acting as a good enough lubricant to accommodate him. His erratic breathing as he fucks his cum deeper inside you only serves to turn you on even more, making another orgasm creep ever-so slightly beneath your skin. 

“Babygirl can’t get enough of this cock, can you?” he sighs. “Seems to me like your pussy never wants me to leave.”

“Yes!” you hiss, moving your hips in time with his as you desperately claw at his back. “Love your cock so much, please—”

“Come for me again, sweet thing, I know you can do it.”

It’s unbelievable how a few choice words can get your body to submit to his whims without much thought. Unlike your first orgasm, the second one that Mingyu coaxes out of you singes through every functional nerve-ending in your body—sending you into a flurry of overstimulation that has you twitching under his touch. 

Just when you thought Mingyu’s finally done with you, however, he suddenly flips you onto your stomach—pressing your chest against the mattress while your ass is high in the air. The sudden change in positions makes your head spin, but you’re too dazed to protest.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s showing you that same smile you fell in love with a lifetime ago.

“You can give me a few more orgasms, right, baby?” 

When he slides his still hard cock along your swollen cunt, you groan into the sheets—having momentarily forgotten that Mingyu’s stamina can go until morning. If you don’t stop him now, he might actually fuck you until you black out, despite his earlier refutal.

But honestly? You’re not against the idea. Not one bit.

…

When you wake up the following day, it’s to cold sheets and the startling clarity of Mingyu’s absence.

You never minded living alone. You’ve been doing it since your first year of college here in Seoul. You’re used to waking up with nothing but the silence of your room to keep you company.

Even when you eventually got together with Mingyu, lonely mornings have always been a staple, especially on days where he has early schedules. It fills you with a sinking feeling to see that he isn’t with you, but you’ve learned to take it in stride. 

Besides…it’s not like you’re together anymore now.

This is what you wanted, right? For him to not treat…whatever this is as if it’s a relationship thing. The two of you were just heavily pent up, and caved into your mutual desires last night. There’s nothing more to it.

However, when you pad outside the bedroom after shrugging on a flimsy oversized shirt, the scent of pancakes and frying eggs fills your nose. When you see Namja sitting right next to a tall figure hunched over your stove, you can hardly believe your eyes.

He doesn’t notice you right away—too preoccupied with making the perfect breakfast to pick up on your presence. Namja, however, is more perceptive, glancing behind and perking up at the sight of you. He lets out an excited bark before skidding over to where you’re standing, and you crouch down to the floor so you can give him a tight hug.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Mingyu faces you with a smile that’s nearly blinding in the morning light, a spatula in one hand and a kitchen mitt in the other. It’s the exact same scene that you’re greeted with during lazy weekends where he doesn’t have any work to do, and your chest twists yet again at the memory.

“Yeah, I am.” You smile, rubbing Namja’s belly when he sprawls himself on the floor. “What are you still doing here? Don’t you have to go back to New York tonight?”

“Yes, but it’s still morning,” he points out, and you roll your eyes.

A few minutes later, Mingyu starts to set the table while you wash your hands. He tells you about how Seungkwan doesn’t want to room with him anymore over breakfast because Mingyu takes so long to close the lights when he’s binging a new drama. You tell him to be more considerate of his roommates or they might just dropkick him off the hotel room balcony in his sleep.

When you help him put away the dishes, the sight is so…domestic, it gives you whiplash. Bumping shoulders, splashing water, stifling mutual laughter... Being with him like this, tucked in your own little pocket of happiness makes your heart soar in ways that not even mind-blowing sex can help you attain.

You pray that Mingyu doesn’t breathe a word about it, but of course things don’t always go your way.

Just when you’re about to turn around to give Namja her morning fix of dog food, you find yourself trapped between the sink and Mingyu’s arms—unable to escape the fondness in his eyes even if you tried.

“I think,” he whispers, “we can still make this work. You and me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Gyu…”

You think so, too. With someone as understanding and compassionate as Mingyu, you know nothing’s impossible if you just quit being so stubborn. You were so afraid of him attempting to bring your relationship back to life last night, but…

Seeing him bathing under the sunlight in your kitchen after months of getting used to being alone again… 

Maybe it isn’t so bad to let him back inside your heart.

“O-Of course, you don’t have to answer right away,” he says, turning red in the face. Cute. “You can tell me when I get back from New York. How’s that sound?”

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, but the moment is quickly shattered by the sound of Mingyu’s phone going off. He sighs, releasing you from the figurative cage of his arms as he leans against the sink right next to you—fishing his phone from his pocket before answering it in loudspeaker.

“Kim Mingyu, where the hell are you?!”

“Good morning to you, too, Seungkwan-ah,” he chuckles. “Why? What’s wrong? I told Jeonghan-hyung I won’t be coming back to the dorms until noon.”

“Well, Jeonghan-hyung must’ve forgotten to tell everyone else because the entire dorm panicked when we realized you didn’t make it home!” the younger man squawks. “We thought something bad happened! You weren’t answering your phone last night either!” 

You and Mingyu exchanged knowing looks, and you have to stifle your laughter if you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Seungkwan’s rage, too.

“Sorry about that, I was a little…busy,” Mingyu supplies. 

“Well, whatever you’ve been ‘busy’ with, you better get your ass back here! Manager-hyung is looking for the car you borrowed, and if you don’t bring it back soon, he’s going to give all of us an earful.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be back in thirty. Bye, Seungkwan.”

“Hey—!” 

Mingyu ends the call with little remorse before letting out a long sigh. When his eyes dart back to yours, they flicker momentarily to your lips before he leans forward. You meet him halfway this time, pressing your mouths together in a firm kiss.

“I’ll be back,” he murmurs. “I hope you’ll still be willing to accommodate me when I do.”

Though it pains you, he peels himself away from your touch, leaning down to kiss Namja’s head as he gathers his coat in his arms. It just occurred to you that he’s been eating breakfast with you donned with the outfit he wore last night while you’re dressed in nothing but a loose, oversized shirt. The knowledge makes you blush a little.

When you hear Mingyu’s car drive away, you sigh, running your hands through your messy hair. Namja pads over to you, tail wagging as he anticipates another round of petting. Of course you indulge him.

“Kim Mingyu is such an idiot, isn’t he?” you tell your goldie, and you like to think the small huff he lets out means he’s agreeing with you. “Why wait until he comes back when I already have an answer for him?”

This time, Namja actually barks out loud, making you shake your head with a laugh.

You don’t mind waiting for Mingyu, really. He obviously doesn’t mind waiting for you. At this point, you’re at peace with the fact that you might still love him. Maybe, you never stopped loving him at all. Once he lands back in Korea and comes home to you, you promise yourself that you’ll definitely show him.

Again and again.

this is part of the doting on you! series.

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt fanfic #kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #fake dating #mingyu smut #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 6)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer wants you to be the Mother of his child. Rated E bc Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

((This one fought me so hard, I just wanna get it out there and I’ll proof-read it later I’m sorry.))

The first time didn’t take, as you’d come to learn 3 days post-coitus with the Devil. It had left you bereft, not exactly disappointed but also not certain if you should go out and buy 150% proof alcohol to mark the occasion. 

You settled for enough wine to dull your senses before sending a text with your Hellphone. The fact that inter-dimensional phone lines were possible was simply added to the list of not-even-gonna-think-about-it of things that came with your new reality. 

A blood-curdling shriek from your pocket made you curse as you dove for it. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey-yy!” Lucifer responded cheerfully before clearing his throat. “So it um… it didn’t work?” 

“Unless being pregnant with hellspawn looks and feels exactly like my time of the month, no. It didn’t.” You said. 

He sighed on the other end, air blowing through the receiver and fucking up already poor reception. “Okay. Shit. Well, maybe we can work something else out—”

“I’ll just text you when it’s over and we can try again.” You replied as you leaned back against your headboard. 

“You-you wanna try again?” Lucifer’s surprise made your eyes roll.

“Yeah, just give me a couple days.” You’d felt a wave of fatigue crashing over you.

Suddenly you were boneless, barely able to even hold the phone up to your ear. Lucifer’s hesitant delight barely registered yet you could imagine him behind closed eyelids, smiling crookedly with those ivory fangs. 

“Y-I-uh, ok great! That works for me if it works for you!” He practically shouted. “Do you need anything in the meantime?”

“‘Mmmmffh, a nap.” Lucidity snapped back for a moment as you eyed the phone in your peripheral. “Also please don’t call or text me. I’m gonna throw this thing out the window if I have to hear someone screaming bloody murder one more time.” 

—

Lucifer being startled by the ringing of his Hellphone wasn’t at all peculiar. 

However — 

The sound of a love song, though tinny and compartmentalized to the King of Hell’s coat pocket, made Asmodeus perk up. 

He glanced down to see his diminutive brother rush for the device like his life depended on it. It was easy to feign polite indifference as Lucifer excused himself from the cafe table for a moment, but by the time the King had returned, Asmodeus was leaning forward expectantly. 

“That’s new.” He said. 

Lucifer looked up wildly, as if he’d been caught snatching aphrodisiacs from Ozzie’s own stores.

       “Huh, wha? What’s new?” He laughed off the embarrassment, re-taking his seat.

Asmodeous sipped from his teacup, clocking the many idiosyncrasies Lucifer displayed.

       He was flustered, still gripping the phone between his claws, and had perched on the edge of his seat so that he could bounce a leg against the ground. 

“Love songs aren’t your usual style, babe.” The Prince spoke casually, but his eyes were bright.

It was delightful to see Lucifer stiffen as soon as he realized what his companion referred to. One of the best about the short King was how easy he was to tease, if you asked the Embodiment of Lust himself. 

        “Didn’t know you were finally getting out there, Louie.” Ozzie teased. “Were you gonna keep it a secret? Even from me?”

“Oh n— out there? Me?! Ha! No!” Lucifer shook his hand fiercely. “I’m not — it’s not like that! We’re not dating! I mean, some might see it like that but a lot of others wouldn’t! She wouldn’t… probably!  It’s, ya see, actually — I — ahem, ah…” 

His embarrassment grew into something stranger, more conflicted and melancholy. The teasing smirk on Asmodeus’s face flattened. 

“It’s complicated.” He finished, looking down at his phone as if it were the sole reason for his sudden misery. 

Ozzie wasn't soft on many (in fact he’d argue that being hard was his speciality) but his brother was one of the few. 

The much larger Sin rested a hand against Lucifer’s back. “You wanna talk about it?”

—

The days that followed blurred together, monotony of aches and pains broken only by an insatiable libido. It was as if the promise of sex after this, however unfulfilling it might be, was the only thing keeping you alive. 

Lucifer’s bizarre consideration held up over that time, surprising you enough that when it was time to give him a ring, you weren’t as dread-filled as you could’ve been. 

        He did, however, arrive in your home via furnace suspiciously quickly upon making contact with you again. His normally pristine suit and and impeccably coiffed hair were ruffled and singed, like he’d made a mad dash to get to you. 

“Hell-Oh!” Lucifer had practically squeaked as you dragged him out by the lapels. 

You’re so pent up that it’s hardly a surprise when you find yourself sitting on his lap, having manhandled the short King onto your couch. 

His cold, smooth skin was still alien, but you powered through the initial aversion to chase after that zing that came with kissing him. It was addictive, even with the fear of being cut by his sharp teeth in the back of your mind. 

Despite yourself, you took a second to break away and breathe. 

Beneath you, Lucifer was positively flushed. His shiny, wet lips were parted in wordless awe, and eyes glazed over in his daze. 

“Fuck.” He croaked. 

You smirked, gripping onto the blond hair that had already been mussed and abused by overeager hands. Pointedly, you slid back and forth on his trembling lap. There was no way to ignore the hardness at his inner thigh. 

—

The first drag of his cock against your walls made you shudder, arching as your head fell back. 

Lucifer whined in his seat, claws digging into the plush of your thighs. The pain heightened the feeling of being stabbed twice, making your lower belly tremble. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fffffff —” His cries were so good, you couldn’t stop from grinding down onto him. “You feel so good. So. Good. You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart. I can't.”

“That’s ok.” You slurred, hands coming up to wrap loosely around his neck. “We can work on that.” 

Lucifer opened his mouth, but you were already planting kisses against the corner of lips mouth, his cherry-spotted cheeks, the line of his jaw and the pulse beneath his ear.

—

Your hands were focused on exploring the planes of Lucifer’s chest and shoulders. He wasn’t muscular — or tall, obviously, but the lithe body intertwined with yours was more than easy on the eyes. 

“You can touch.” It was hardly fair that yours were the only hands busy. The ruler of Hell was flat beneath you, artificial light from your bedroom lamp casting shadows on his marble chest. 

Lucifer’s mulberry-dappled lids remained low, highlighting the yellow glow of his eyes. His claws slid up your hips, reverently tracing your frame as you bounced lightly. 

“If you insist, princess.” 

He was more coy after the first few rounds, an easier grin sliding across his face. The trembling touches against your breasts spoke of the still-nervous creature you’d first been introduced to.

—

Daylight was waning again when you found knelt, back pressed against Lucifer’s chest. He fucked into you wildly, teeth pressed into your bare shoulder. 

The thought of him biting into you didn’t sound so frightful anymore. In fact the image set butterflies off in your stomach. 

That and the way he held you close, wrapped vice-like around you like a boa constrictor. 

“No baby, don’t go yet!” When you squirmed, Lucifer nuzzled into the side of your neck, breathing heavy. “Just like this. Please, baby.”

He pleaded into your neck, grip tightening to where you couldn’t breathe. 

— 

“Here.” You guided his hand, settling it between your legs. 

Lucifer’s thrusts had grown shallow and uneven, but hadn’t quite stopped. He seemed entranced, watching as you positioned his thumb over the bundle of nerves just above where you two were joined. 

“Gently. Watch your claws.” You murmured along with your hands-on teaching. 

When you felt he’d gotten the message, you sighed and concentrated on the circular motion against your clit. Lucifer remained attentive, moving clockwise as the pace he’d started before picked up again. 

In moments you tensed, pleasure sparking along your pubic bone. It built up as your eyes closed, head tipped back as you let yourself enjoy the pressure both inside and out. Your hips jerked upward of their own accord, core trembling and cunt spasming. 

Your partner whimpered at the new intensity, which only egged you on. Before you knew it, you two were rocking into a chaotic rhythm. 

With slit eyes, you saw Lucifer looking down at you, flustered yet rapt over your every little response.

“Yeah?” He asked breathlessly. 

You nodded. “Mm-hm.”

It was difficult. You could feel the tension in your belly contracting, the heat and pressure building against your clit. The feeling was mounting to where you couldn’t help your keens, your moans, your whimpers. 

It ended with a choked sigh. You arched from the bed, head falling back as you let your legs tremble and shake around him. The convulsions pulled the Devil in deeper, and the feel of him was enough to make your eyes roll back in your skull beneath fluttering eyelids. Another gush came at the thought of being so full you could feel it in your stomach. 

          Lucifer watched. His face was nearly as red as the apple that adorned his hat, knocked off of your bedside table. He had the expression of someone seeing a falling star for the first time. Stunned, eyes gleaming, unable to comprehend something despite how beautiful it was.  

The former Angel lowered himself to capture your mouth with his own. He pressed luxuriant kisses to your lips, all while his hips stuttered between your thighs until he was humping into you, refusing to separate skin from skin. 

His release was coupled with a heated groan, muffled by the slide of your tongue against his. You were glowing inside out, warmth blooming in your core as you held onto Lucifer tightly. 

— 

The woman had invited you up into her tree. It was a different tree from the last, not bearing any fruit but lush with green needles and strong boughs that wouldn’t break. 

She looks over her shoulder at you cheekily. “Aren’t you glad you decided to join me?”

You playfully scoff and roll your eyes. “You don’t need to be so smug about it.” 

“Oh I think I do.” The blonde tilted in your direction, arms coming to wrap around you. “I won.”

You stay that way, watching the nettles shake in the passing breeze. 

“Everyone loves a winner.” She says at your side.

You frown. “I love you no matter what.” 

The woman sighs. 

“You might not always.” 

—

Light humming woke you from your doze, along with the repeated motion of something against your cheek. 

It wasn’t until you’d opened your eyes that you realized it was Lucifer humming and caressing your cheek tenderly. He was nose(less) to nose with you, seemingly admiring your face slackened with sleep. 

“What’s that from?” You rasped. 

“Hmm?” The King stroked an errant hair behind your ear. 

“It’s a movie.” You continued, repeating the notes in your head. “Right? It’s from a musical…”

“You like musicals?” Lucifer asked, seemingly surprised. Fangs poked out of his close-lipped smile, and he looked goofier than ever before. 

You copied him, helpless to how silly he made everything. “What’s not to like?”

The lightbulb went off. “Oh! Cabaret. That’s where it’s from.” 

“Yeah!” Lucifer moved even closer, the flat of his face pressing against your nose as he nuzzled you for guessing the right answer. “It’s kinda old, isn’t it? How’d you guess?”

“Psh, you think my threshold for pop culture is only as long as the last ten years?” You teased, arm skating down his side so that you could pinch his behind. 

“Hey!”

***

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan,

Please let me know I missed tagging you!

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

[thebuttsmcgee]

Also wow it's been awhile since ive really been on here. again. OOPS

#the butts chronicles #soooo......uh. h. heya pals #gosh its been way too long #Ive just been so busy and so lazy #even my side account isnt getting that much attention lol #well sorta. lol its strange #anyways. yea. ex caused me some stress but Ill be okay hopefully methinks. #Ive been feeling. Tired? of videos game and that kinda worries me. maybe I just need to play some kinda comfort game like an N64 one #which I also havent played ina while unfortunately. h #Ive bbeen thinking about getting md dx on switch tho but I still have my original blue rescue team. so ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #oh yea!!!!!!! I also actually bought some stuff for myself! which I havent done in a while! #apparently since march or feb lol #besides the Luz plush I already posted about lol I bought some monogram keychain dudes and a certain plush I might aalso post about! #I hope I can get the gee modern Sonic plush tho like I said lol. Id like to get a Shadow as well but I probly shouldnt push my luck lol #but yea. things have been tiring. I felt like I was dying yesterday! I got like. stabbed good by a dead tree I ripped and I didnt feel it #that much until 9pm then I started panicking cuz the pain didnt really fade. seems okay now tho! Iiii think? #ah well. Probs gunna shoot a message to my mutuals cuZ I MISS THEM :^[[[[[ #Hope yall have been alright tho!!! Seriously. And have a swell rest of the week as well!

[joonie-beanie]

Side-Gig | [Peter B. Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter gets worried about your apparent “side-gig” and goes snooping, only to discover your side-gig is writing Spiderman smut on commission.

Contents: Fluff, Smut, Consensual Sex, Pussy Eating, Banter, Friends to Lovers???

Author’s Note: I swore off posting fics on tumblr, but since this is just a one-shot, I figured why not. I think Peter B is charming, had to write a lil smth smth for him. And by that, I mean a 7.1k wordcount fic.

You and Peter Parker are friends. Not best friends, but pretty good friends. 

You like to say you’ve looked out for each other over the years. You don’t talk all the time, but it’s kind of an unspoken promise that when one of you needs someone to lean on, the other person will be there.

Which is why, when Peter and MJ separate, you make a point of inviting Peter over for meals. 

At first, he turns you down every time you ask, and you know it’s because he’s wallowing—depressed about his situation. And that’s understandable. You can’t exactly say you know what he’s feeling, but if you put yourself in his shoes, you’re sure you’d be a little bit fucked up about everything too.

Therefore, you give him a little space—wait for things to settle and for Peter to come around. 

Except, Peter takes it all way worse than you expect—going radio silent after your third invite in two months. Then, you really start to get worried (and also a little mad that he’s ghosting you).

So, you manage to scrounge up his new address using some internet-sleuthing skills, and show up at his door. When he opens it, he’s dressed in a greasy wife-beater, worn-out gray sweats, and white socks with a hole in the toe.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

You spend that evening scolding Peter and letting him cry it all out—handing him tissue after tissue as he blubbers about everything on his mind. When he’s finally done, he apologizes for ignoring your last call, and thanks you for looking out for him.

With a smile, you assure him you’ll always have his back, and that now he really has to come over for dinner, because he owes you.

Laughing, Peter agrees. And luckily, he sticks to his word.

Since then, you and Peter make a point of doing dinner twice a month—typically at your place, sometimes out at a restaurant, but never at Peter’s. Not until he deep cleans his messy apartment, and you know that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Tonight, you’re at a restaurant of your choice—a local Italian joint. Peter arrives late, per normal, and you wave him over when you see him walk in the front door. He immediately spots you and hurries over, his eyes darting to the plate of bruschetta you’d ordered for the table, that now only has two pieces left.

“Aw, that’s not fair,” he says, sliding into the booth across from you. He immediately reaches for one, shoving it into his mouth. You shrug, not sorry.

“That’s what you get for always being late. And if I waited for you, I’d be hangry by now. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, picking up the menu to see what it is he wants. 

“So, how have you been? I know we just saw each other two weeks ago, but—how’s work?”

You sigh at Peter’s question, resting your chin against your palm.

“Fine, I guess. Work is cutting hours since things are slow right now, so I’m gonna be pretty strapped for cash the next month or two.”

Peter blinks at your response, staring at you over the edge of the menu.

“Should we be here then? We could just get the check now and go down the street to the bodega—”

“No—no, it’s fine,” you reassure him, taking a sip from your glass. From the look of it, Peter can tell the glass is filled with rum and coke—your simple, yet timeless go-to. 

“This is kind of my last hurrah, y’know? Gotta get one last plate of carbonara in before I’m eating ramen and eggs for the next few months.”

“I dunno about that,” Peter responds. “Eggs are pretty expensive now—you might have to settle for canned tuna.”

You roll your eyes at him, yet can’t help the little giggle that escapes you.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

The waitress wanders back over, and you and Peter put in your orders. Peter also opts to get a drink (after all, if you’re drinking, why shouldn’t he), and a few minutes later, a cosmopolitan is placed onto the table in front of him.

You watch him with a wide smile as he picks up the girly drink and takes a long sip—his pinky sticking out and everything.

“You and your love of sweet drinks,” you say, swirling around the ice in your half-empty glass. Peter hums happily.

“Listen, this is way better than beer.”

Honestly, you can’t disagree.

“So,” he continues, picking up the previous topic. “Are you gonna be okay? Money-wise?”

It’s not like he has much help to offer. Being a masked vigilante doesn’t pay very well, after all, but still.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I have a side-gig that brings in a little cash-flow, so that’ll help cushion the blow. But I think I should still be able to afford rent and some groceries. I’ll just have to budget better, y’know?”

Peter nods. “Oh, okay. Good—,” but then his brain repeats the phrase “side-gig”, and his words cut off.

“Wait, what kind of side-gig are we talking about here?”

Despite how long the two of you have known each other, Peter has never heard anything about any kind of “side-gig”. It’s a little concerning, honestly, since the two of you don’t really keep secrets from each other.

Although it’s not like you know he’s Spiderman.

“Yeah. It’s nothing illegal, I promise,” you tell him, your attitude remaining pleasant. Peter stares at you, waiting for you to say more, but your smile only grows wider.

“Not telling,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself when Peter huffs in annoyance and grabs his drink. “You��ll just have to trust me. I’d never do anything illegal—you know me.”

“I dunno,” he responds, a playful lilt in his tone. “In college I seem to remember you stealing soft drinks from the mess hall without paying—”

“Oh c’mon,” you shoot back, and Peter grins, knowing you hate when he brings that up. “We were already paying to go to classes! Why should I pay 3 dollars for a cup of watered down coke?!”

Peter laughs as you go on a mini tangent about how college is a ripoff—ordering both you and him two more drinks when your waitress stops in to check on your table.

After a short while, your food comes out, and the two of you catch up over the hot meal. Conversation flows like normal—touching on any other life updates, and also local news topics, and things of the like. 

At your insistence, Peter splits a tiramisu with you to close out the evening, and by the time the dessert is gone, Peter thinks he may explode.

“Ugh, why did I let you talk me into that?” Peter groans, curling over and holding his stomach as you fetch enough cash from his wallet to cover half the bill.

“Well, if you were smart like me, you would have kept half of your entree to take home with you for later, and then you would have had enough room left for dessert. Which, by the way, is too good to waste—so don’t puke it up.”

Your waitress swings by to grab the bill, and you assure her it’s all set—passing her the small stack of money taken from both your and Peter’s wallets. She thanks you with a smile, and then scurries away, leaving the two of you alone.

You reach over the table, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Your stomachs gotten bigger, after all.”

“Hey—,” Peter frowns, lifting his head. You’re already grabbing your purse and takeout box—sliding out of the booth. He quickly follows after you.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” you respond, holding the door open for him as the two of you step out into the cool New York air. “You’re actually still surprisingly in-shape for someone whose diet consists of pizza and frozen meals. But, that being said, you can’t deny you’ve put on a few pounds.”

Peter places a hand on his stomach.

“Remind me again why you’re so mean to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound getting lost in the crowd around you.

“You just make it too easy,” you admit, grinning up at him. Despite himself, Peter smiles back.

Being the gentleman that he is, Peter fully intends to escort you back to the doorstep of your apartment building, but—

His spidey senses tingle, and he can tell something is off. 

“Hey, um,” Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before your brain can even catch up, he’s yanking you into a quick hug, and then backpedaling towards the alleyway the two of you had just passed.

“Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. It was nice seeing you! Let’s touch base soon!”

He’s gone before you can even get a word out, disappearing around the corner. You stare after him for a moment, befuddled, and then continue on your way with a sigh. 

Same ‘ol Peter.

Exactly one hour later, Peter collapses in a pile of trash—his lungs heaving, and body aching. The fight itself hadn’t been that hard—just a few wannabe criminals with deadlier than normal weapons. 

No, the real challenge had been not barfing up his dinner while doing acrobatics across the city.

And maybe laying in a pile of trash to take a breather isn’t exactly helping his current predicament, but fuck—he doesn’t have the energy to move right now

Spreading out his limbs, Peter stares up at the smog-coated night sky, his mind wandering. He thinks about a lot of things—all the villains he’s fought in his time as Spiderman, the people who have come in and out of his life during it all, including you. You…who apparently has a “side-gig”.

…but like, what kind of side-gig?

Peter groans, knowing he won’t be able to let this go. 

You can’t just drop the knowledge that you have a secret side-gig on him and then not tell him what it is! 

And if you’re insistent on keeping it a secret, it must be something bad, right? RIGHT??

“Goddammit,” he grumbles, picking himself up. He swings off into the night, his mind reeling.

Peter lasts all of 3-days before he decides he can’t be left alone with his thoughts anymore—that he just needs to confirm what exactly your side-gig is, before his theories can get any wilder.

Because so far, his top guesses are that you’re either 1. Unknowingly acting as a middle man for some illegal trafficking operation, or 2. Providing “services” to New York sleazebags to get in their wallets.

And Peter knows it’s likely neither option—you’re too smart to get roped into something stupid. Plus, you had assured him it was nothing illegal.

But if he doesn’t figure it out, he thinks he may explode. 

So…he goes snooping. 

It’s not his brightest moment—using the spare key you had given him “in case of emergency” to sneak into your apartment one evening. (But to be fair, to him…this might just be an emergency).

He’d used his spidey senses to scope out your apartment before coming in, so he knows you're not home. Which is good, but…he doesn’t know when you’re gonna be back either, so he has to move fast.

Softly closing the front door behind him, Peter tip-toes across your apartment, deciding to start in your bedroom. He stands in the doorway for a moment, guilt bubbling up inside of him, but he decides to push forward anyway.

He’s just making sure you’re okay, he tells himself. You’re one of his closest friends, and you won’t tell him your secret—so it’s understandable he’d be worried.

Like the true Sherlock that he is, Peter starts with you dressers. He quickly checks each drawer—gently lifting up the stacks of clothes to make sure nothing is hidden beneath them. (The only time doesn’t is when he encounters the drawer with your bras and panties. He simply stares at them with flushed cheeks, rocking awkwardly on his heels, before he quietly closes the drawer. Surely nothing would be in there anyway, right?)

The small stack of papers on your nightstand ends up being recent receipts, and a manual on how to use the white noise machine you've apparently just purchased, considering it's sitting on the floor beside your nightstand, still in the box.

Getting on his hands and knees, Peter does a quick check under your bed, and freezes when he spots a covered box. He pulls it out without thinking, tugging off the fabric lined lid—

—and immediately slams it back down.

…veiny, pink, silicon—

Peter haphazardly pushes the box back under the bed, hurrying to his feet. He bustles into the kitchen with cherry-colored ears.

All-in-all, it takes Peter about half an hour to search your apartment, and unfortunately…he comes up empty handed. It seems like you have nothing to hide (except a box of sex toys under your bed, but Peter thinks that’s pretty understandable. You don't want dumb assholes like him accidentally finding it, even though Peter had—)

Sighing, Peter takes one last glance around your apartment.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have done this,” he sighs to himself, taking a step towards the door. But—not watching where he’s going, he stubs his toe into the leg of your coffee table.

A curse leaves his lips, and your opened laptop—which had previously been dark—jolts to life. Kicking the table must have moved your wireless mouse, Peter realizes.

Having already decided to leave, Peter fully intends to continue on his way. That is…before he takes a glance at your computer screen and sees that you have it open to a Google doc titled: “Spiderman x Reader Commission #6”.

…then, he’s scrambling onto your couch and yanking your laptop towards him.

“Number six??” he hisses dramatically, his eyes scanning over the document so fast that he doesn’t actually end up reading anything. 

He has to pause and go back to try again, but the second Peter reads the sentence “Spiderman’s cock strains painfully against the tight confines of his suit, his fingers twitching against your waist as he drags you in closer”, his brain effectively blue screens.

In a panic, he clicks into a different tab that’s open—landing on your email inbox, where a thread sits open. A transaction between you and an apparent “customer”. Someone who had contacted you in regards to your open “commissions”. 

Hi there! 

I saw you’re accepting commissions, and I really enjoyed reading the other Spiderman fics you wrote! Would you be open to writing one for me? Preferably a Reader x Spiderman, and a smut/fluff genre. Based on the rate sheet, I think I can afford it, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk more and discuss the final price based on the idea I have.

Thanks!

Holy shit, Peter realizes. Your side-gig is writing Spiderman porn on commission.

He sinks back into the couch, his mind whirling. 

How long has this been going on?? Do you…are you attracted to Spiderman?? As long as Peter has known you, you’ve never really fangirled over Spiderman. If Spiderman had popped up in the news, the two of you would talk about him, but…that was it.

And now you’re writing Spiderman smut for cash? Holy hell.

Peter supposes he should be relieved that what you’re doing truly isn’t illegal. That you’re just making money in a mostly innocent way, from the safety of your home. Meaning, Peter can call it quits, and leave.

…but instead, he leans forward, clicks back onto the Google doc tab, and starts reading more.

The document is still a work-in-progress, but Peter scrolls back up to the top, wanting to see how you’ve managed to set up this scenario.

As it turns out, a villain had injected Spiderman with some sort of aphrodisiac, and the reader is a bystander, bravely offering Spiderman her services to get him out of this pickle.

While embarrassing to admit, Peter gets sucked into the story—impressed by your ability to write, and your portrayal of him—err, Spiderman. In fact, he gets so distracted by the story and the multitude of thoughts running through his head that his spidey senses don’t kick in until danger is right on his doorstep.

Or, in reality, you are on your doorstep—your key shoving into the lock on the door. 

Peter’s heart nearly rockets out of his chest, his eyes darting to the window across the room. It’s closed, and even if he used his web shooter to rocket over to it, he wouldn’t be able to safely open the window and escape outside in the two seconds it’s going to take you to finish unlocking your do—

Before he can even finish the thought, your front door shoves open, and you flick on the lights—your gaze immediately finding Peter, who is still firmly planted on your couch, looking like a deer in headlights. 

You stare at him in shock.

“Peter? What…? Why are you here?”

“I was…worried about you,” Peter responds, forcing himself to smile. And it’s not like it’s a lie.

“You said you were strapped for cash, and I…I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You kick the door shut behind you, your purse and keys discarded on the small table beside your entryway. 

“I thought I told you to just trust me?”

You face him with a hand posed sternly on your hip. You appreciate his concern for you, but it’s a little upsetting that he hadn’t just been able to trust your word. 

“I know,” Peter responds with a sigh. He runs a hand through his graying hair, and your gaze flits to his ears, noticing how red they are. Why is he so flushed?

“And I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I should have. Trusted you, I mean. I’ll just—,” he pushes himself up, planning to excuse himself and run, but freezes half way to his feet. 

He’s half hard. Fuck.

If he gets up now, it’ll be a lot harder to hide that—especially since he’s wearing sweatpants.

Making a lil noise, Peter eases himself back down onto your couch. You cock an eyebrow.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…back spasm.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush out. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You flash him a smile and turn towards the kitchen. Peter watches you as you open your fridge and bend down—fetching two bottles of water from the bottom shelf. His eyes glue to your ass the second you lean over, and Peter punches himself in the knee—forcing his gaze up towards the ceiling.

He’s going fucking insane. He’s not used to being this…feral feeling. Arousal is usually one of the emotions that evades him nowadays, but here he is—done in by fucking Spiderman fanfiction. 

Who knew he’d get turned on reading about himself fucking some nameless woman? And who knew that arousal would make him thirst after you?

(Honestly, if he thinks about it, it’s not that surprising. The two of you have been friends for years, and he feels comfortable around you. Not to mention, you’ve always been attractive, even if you do like to push his buttons—)

“Here,” you say, snapping him out of his internal panic. You plop down onto the couch next to him, handing him one of the two bottles of water. 

Peter reaches out to take it, and you notice the sweat beading on his brow. Why the hell is he—?

At that moment, you spot your laptop on the coffee table—open, and still showing the commission document you’d left open earlier on. Your first instinct is to reach over and slam your laptop shut before Peter can see—

…wait.

Peter reaches forward to take the water bottle from your grasp, but when he grips it, you don’t budge.

Confused, he looks up—only to find you intensely staring at him.

“Did you read it…?”

Peter’s face heats up, his eyes darting to the side to avoid looking at you.

Busted…

You pulse races, embarrassment blooming in your chest.

HE DID, you realize. HE READ IT. Your fucking Spiderman smut!

“Ah, shit…,” you mumble, letting go of his water bottle and crumpling in on yourself. You curl onto your side, hiding your face in the couch cushion. 

Feeling horrible that he has embarrassed you—having discovered something you’d tried to keep private—Peter hurries to try and smooth over the situation.

“Okay, yes, I did read it,” he starts by saying. “But…it was…really good! You’re a good writer, and I can see why people are commissioning you! You’ll surely make some cash with the skill you have.”

If he was smart, he’d have stopped there, but no—Peter keeps going.

“A-And hey! I’d be willing to help too. Y’know, help give you some inspiration for your stories—”

His voice dies in his throat, realizing what it is he has just offered. And obviously, you realize it too—your head immediately lifting, staring at him with curious surprise.

“Did you just…offer…to fuck? To help me with my stories?”

The insinuation is so insane that you can’t help laughing. Peter coughs, straightening his shoulders out.

“I think I’d be very good inspiration for Spiderman.”

“Really?”

There’s disbelief in your voice. Peter narrows his eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

You hum, uncapping your water bottle and taking a swig. Peter mirrors you, his throat feeling dry.

“Spiderman is…suave and heroic, and you’re…dorky. Smart, but dorky.”

Peter frowns. “I can be…suave.”

You cock an eyebrow, a playful grin breaking out on your face. Your heart is racing a million miles an hour, because never did you think you’d be sitting here with Peter, the possibility of sex between the two of you suddenly laid out on the table. You’d never deny he’s an attractive male, and maybe because it’s him, and because you’ve missed the feel of another human being, you end up saying—

“Yeah? Show me then.”

You lean back, waiting to see if Peter will make a move. 

Unfortunately, the realization that you’re open to whatever is happening right now causes Peter’s brain to stall, and he takes a second too long to act—just long enough to allow doubt to worm its way into your head.

You’re putting him on the spot. And he’s still probably dealing with some complicated feelings from the split—you shouldn’t have poked him.

Without saying anything, you decide to try and create some space. You push off of the couch, padding towards your bedroom. You’ll make an excuse about needing to fold your clothes, or something stupid—and hopefully Peter will take what you’ve said as a joke, and will move on. Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan—

Pausing in the doorway of your room, you force yourself to smile, and turn to face Peter—only to find that he’d snuck up on you—your gaze meeting his chest the second you turn around.

“Pe—,” you’re only able to get the first syllable of his name out, your chin tilting back as you look up at him. The feeling of his palm cupping your cheek is what makes your voice die out, his chestnut eyes boring into you. 

You can see the hesitation on his face. A certain lack of confidence that you’re sure stems from his past relationship issues. But beneath that, you can see desire. A craving for intimacy he hasn’t shared in a long time.

You decide to be the one to close the gap—pressing onto your toes, your palm resting flat on his pec as you lean upward—connecting your lips with his. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, and you silently convince yourself that if Peter backs out, you’ll be fine with it. 

Luckily, he doesn’t. His brain finally kicks into gear, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he kisses you back. 

You make a pleasantly surprised little sound, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck—effectively deepening the kiss. A wrinkle appears between Peter’s eyebrows, his grip on your waist tightening. Your chest presses flat against his torso, and he rubs his thumb against your cheek, obsessed with the plushness of your lips and the feel of you against him.

It’s been way too long since he’s been intimate like this…that’s apparent by the blood absolutely rockets into his dick.

Although, to be fair, he’d already been half-hard before this.

“You think our local hero gets hard this quick?” you mumble against his lips with a grin, giggling when Peter makes a noise of annoyance and nips at you.

“You’d be surprised,” he responds. He slots his thigh between your knees, backing you into the doorframe. His clothed cock grinds against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, and his muscles tense.

“Adrenaline can go straight to the dick sometimes…”

(Peter has lost track of how many times, after an intense fight—especially earlier in his career—he’d swung home and immediately jerked off).

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

Your fingertips coast up the nape of his neck, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his skull. You yank him downward ever so slightly, your lips connecting with the skin of his neck. He immediately shivers, the first of many embarrassing sounds ripping from his chest as you lick and suck at his flesh.

“Think Spiderman whimpers?”

You’re teasing him. As to be expected, given the dynamic of your relationship. But Peter doesn’t intend on taking it quietly.

“Maybe,” he admits, “If you make him feel good enough. But if you wanna know what I think—”

Peter surprises you by ducking down—his arms looping around your thighs as he lifts you off the floor. Your squeal, arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him since you don’t want to fall, but Peter carries you easily enough—striding into your room and depositing you onto your bed.

He doesn’t waste any time—quickly caging you down. His knee reclaims its spot between your thighs, rubbing incessantly at the dampening fabric covering your privates, and his lips find your neck—a shiver raking up your spine as his stubble scratches against your skin.  

“Peter,” you gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips ghost over your heated skin, brushing past your waist, and finding the clasp of your bra. You have to arch to give him room to work, and Peter sucks a hickey of approval into your neck. He debates telling you “good girl”, but the thought leaves him the second your bra pops open.

He needs your tits in his mouth.

“—I think Spiderman has a thing for boobs,” Peter says, finally finishing his earlier statement. This exclamation is followed with the immediate removal of your shirt and bra—Peter forcibly tugging them over your head and discarding them on the floor beside your bed. 

The sight of Peter groping you and lowering his mouth to your chest is enough to have your heart skipping a beat, and you can’t help the mewl that leaves you when Peter sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Peter groans when your fingers fist in his hair, practically keeping his mouth trapped where it is, which he hardly minds considering he intends to lick and suck at your tits until you’re panting. 

And, that’s exactly what he does.

He lavishes your chest with his mouth—relishing in the way your hips jump at each little nip of his teeth or roll of your nipple between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how wet it gets you—your panties feeling quite wet as you continue grinding your pussy against Peter’s thigh.

You try and think of some smart response in regard to Peter’s opinion that Spiderman is a tit man, not an ass man, but words seem to be avoiding you. You can’t think of anything coherently when Peter is touching you like this. Especially when his face finally leaves your chest, his lips peppering kisses down the length of your torso.

You lift your head to look at him, propping up on one of your arms. Peter reaches your navel, but doesn’t stop, heading towards—

“Peter,” you pant, your face flushing hotly as you realize the path he’s carving. 

Peter hums, his eyes flitting up and meeting your gaze just as he hooks his thumbs beneath the band of your pants. 

“Another thing about Spiderman…,” he begins, kissing the skin of your tummy as he inches your waistband down your hips. You watch him with blown-wide eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly—excitement and nervousness mingling inside of you.

You lift your ass off the mattress to help him shuck you of your bottoms, and Peter smiles, tossing your pants on the floor beside your other clothes.

Never in your life did you imagine the sight of Peter sinking to his knees, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer to him—his gaze falling between your legs. Your panties are soaked, and the sight causes more blood to rush into his dick. He’s so hard that it honestly hurts—just a little bit—but Peter still doesn’t touch himself, because—

“...Spiderman loves eating pussy.”

“He’s a people-pleaser,” you quip breathlessly, your thighs quivering in Peter’s hold when he presses a kiss to your skin, right beside your panty line. He quietly chuckles.

“Maybe.”

Peter thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat. You hips buck in his hold, craving more, and when Peter sees the desperate look on your face, he decides to not tease you.

Peeling your panties to the side, Peter finally connects his mouth with your pussy—his tongue licking a wet, broad strip between your folds.

Oh, shit, you think to yourself, the muscles in your abdomen convulsing as you watch one of your closest friends eat you out. The whole situation is making you feel light headed, so you can’t help it when you collapse back onto the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as Peter groans into your cunt.

He eats you like a man starved, his face quickly becoming covered with your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue sinks between your walls, and you full out whimper—your hips needily grinding against his mouth.

Peter’s palm presses down on your pelvis, forcing your hips to the mattress. He doesn’t want you squirming—just wants you desperate and pliant. To see you cumming on his tongue.

His name falls from your lips again, more debauched than he’s ever heard, and Peter curses.

“Shit.”

His tone is guttural, and sexy, and—

He presses a finger inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Pete—,” his name deterorates into a moan, your brain function declining as Peter begins fucking his finger inside of you. At the same time, he focuses his mouth on your clit, his tongue urgently flicking against the bundle of nerves. 

You unconsciously wriggle at the assault of stimulation, but Peter’s hand on your stomach keeps you in place.

Why is he so strong? You think to yourself, moan ripping from your chest as Peter slips in a second finger. It doesn’t take him long to locate that spongy little sweet spot inside of you. The one that causes your thighs to shake as he practically abuses it—rubbing the pads of his fingers against it repeatedly until you’re nearly sobbing.

The coil in your belly winds tight, heat searing your veins. You can feel your clit throbbing against Peter’s tongue, and the walls of your pussy tightening up around him.

“Peter,” you cry, your entire body trembling. You’re so fucking close.

“Cum,” he rasps. He needs to see you orgasm—needs to feel you unraveling on his mouth and fingers. 

Hearing the gravel of his voice is the final nail in your coffin—the tension in your muscles releasing as your orgasm washes over you. Just as he wanted, you cum all over him, your cunt gushing arousal around his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at your clit, dragging out the waves of your pleasure until you’re panting and pawing at his head, trying to push him away.

After a moment, he relents—sitting back to look at you.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, and an arm draped over your eyes. Your tits are peppered with an array of hickies, and Peter feels his chest (and cock) swell with pride. He’s clearly done a number on you. And yet…

You feel the mattress dip, and then the room is spinning around you. When things finally settle, you find yourself laying on top of Peter.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on your ass. The other brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you lean back to look at him.

“Spiderman also loves being ridden,” he says with a grin. You place your hands on his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as he watches you struggle to sit up.

“You think I have the energy to ride you after you just did that? And why do you keep saying Spiderman enjoys these things like they’re facts—you don’t know.”

“Just a feeling,” he responds, licking his lips. His hands find your hips, and he grinds you downwards. Your sensitive pussy rubs against his aching length, still trapped behind his sweatpants, and it’s hard to miss the way Peter harshly swallows at the feeling.

You sigh, scooting backwards.

“Fine.”

You shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs, careful to not snag them on his dick. And damn, he really must be aching—a sticky string of precum dripping from the head of his cock, and pooling on his abdomen. 

He opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Your fingers wrap around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever Peter had been planning to say crumbles into a needy garble of non-words.

You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Surprised you didn’t cream your pants already,” you tell him, but your tone is hardly teasing. No, seeing him beneath you like this—the muscles in his torso clenching with every stroke of your hand—it’s actually quite endearing.

“I’ll cum in your hand if you keep doing that,” he pants, glancing into your eyes. You spot nothing but lust there, any previous reservations gone.

“Is that so bad?” you ask, thumbing at the head of his cock. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens, and you hear him take a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

He wants to be inside you, that much is clear. And while it’d be so easy to draw it out and make him beg…you don’t feel like being mean to him. Not tonight, after he’d just given you the best oral of your life.

“Fine,” you relinquish. You scoot forward, planting one hand on his chest, and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Peter’s breath catches when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a heady groan following a beat later as you begin sinking down onto him.

By the time his cock is fully inside of you, your thighs are shaking. Whether from the lack of energy due to your previous orgasm, the remarkable size of Peter inside of you, or both—you’re not totally sure.

“There’s no rush,” Peter reassures you, but the needy warble of his voice betrays his words.

“My legs might give out at some point,” you respond with a breathless laugh, and Peter echos you, giving your waist a squeeze.

“That’s fine. I’ll help.”

With your palms planted firmly on his chest, you begin to ride him. 

And god, you feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Peter bites out, watching the space between your bodies, where his cock disappears inside of you with every roll of your hips. It’s been ages since a cunt has squeezed his dick like this, and honestly, he can see himself very easily getting addicted to the feel of you.

The bounce of your tits as you ride him, the cute little sounds you make when his cock rubs against the sensitive spots inside you—he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Peter,” you whine, your pace flattering. Having his cock inside of you is incomparable to the feeling of his fingers, and very quickly, you can feel another orgasm building, but…the closer you get, the more your strength falters.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he responds, praises falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

His words cause your walls to clench around him, and he groans—his hands sliding down to your hips as he helps rock you down onto his cock. The sloppy sound of sex fills your bedroom, and you watch Peter with half-lidded eyes, soaking up the desperation showing on his face. 

His hair is slicked back with sweat, brows pinched together in concentration as he forces you to continue riding him. At least, until he starts craving more.

With his orgasm quickly approaching—despite the immense pleasure he gains seeing you bouncing on top of him—Peter’s hunger gets the best of him.

He grabs your wrists, moves your arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders, and then secures his arms around your back. Before you can even digest the slight change in position, Peter is fucking you.

An incoherent string of noise slips past your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his cock pistons inside of you. With his arms trapping you against his chest, you’re helpless but to take it—your orgasm rushing to the surface at the desperate yet brutal pace that Peter sets.

“Peter,” you sob into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he responds without missing a beat, his voice breathless. “I’m right there. Cum for me again, sweetheart.”

As if you could stop.

Holding onto him for dear life, you cum for the second time that night—your walls clamping down on his cock so tightly that Peter’s rhythm falters. A curse rips from his throat, and his hands find the plush of your ass—stuffing your body down onto his dick as he cums along with you—pumping you full of his seed.

The needy tension of the room melts away, and you and Peter can only lay there—a pile of sweaty yet sated flesh. It takes you both a minute to catch your breaths, and you make a quiet noise of disappointment when Peter’s cock slips out of you. 

You can feel his cum running out of your pussy.

“Your balls aren’t dried up yet?”

Peter’s chest rumbles beneath you.

“I’m in my 30’s, not my 60’s.”

You glance up at him when you feel Peter’s fingers clearing the hair away from your face, and he smiles at you. Your heart jumps.

He must know how handsome he is, right? Even with that crooked nose of his.

“Don’t you ever get tired of taking cracks at me?” he wonders, using his grip on your ass to slide you farther up his chest. You giggle, cupping his cheeks as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him. 

“Mmmm, no?”

He rolls his eyes, yet his smile widens. You lean down to kiss him, and he reciprocates easily enough.

“Feeling good?” you ask him, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods.

“Very. I…really missed that.”

“Same,” you agree, sitting back. You need to get to the bathroom before any cum gets on your nice sheets. You crawl off of Peter, swinging your legs over the side of your mattress. He rolls onto his side, watching you with furrowed brows as he tucks his dick back into his pants.

“Same? You haven’t—?”

“Not in a while,” you admit, pulling a fresh shirt and a pair of panties from your dresser drawers. You’re about to make a joke that the only action you’ve gotten recently is from the toys stashed under your bed, but when you turn to look at the spot where they’re hidden, you find that…the box has moved. It’s not where you had left it.

“Did you…find my sex toys? Before I came home?”

Peter’s face goes carefully blank, but the red flush of his ears betrays him. 

You shoot him a glare, leaving your room with a huff.

“Dude doesn’t trust me…how fucking rude…”

“Hey now—!” 

Peter’s feet pound against the floor as he chases after you, and he catches you around the waist just before you make it into your bathroom. His lips press against the crown of your head.

“Again, I’m sorry for snooping. I’m dumb.”

You sigh, wriggling around to face him.

“You are,” you agree, lightly patting his chest. “Dumb, and insistent that Spider man loves tits, eating pussy, and getting ridden. Still holding those beliefs?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter grins. “And I have other beliefs about his preferences as well.”

“Of course you do,” you laugh. You kiss his cheek, and then step out of his hold—heading into the bathroom. 

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

Peter nods, and the last thing you see is him heading for your fridge when you close the bathroom door.

30 minutes later, you exit your steaming bathroom in your fresh oversized t-shirt and panties, fully expecting to find Peter lounging around your apartment, eating all your food. But…to your utter disappointment, you don’t spot him anywhere.

You sigh, shoulders sagging. Had it been too much to assume he would have wanted to stay the night?

Shuffling into your kitchen, you spot an empty plate on your table. One that you know had previously been piled high with leftover chicken and potatoes.

“He eats my food and runs off…of course,” you mumble, picking up the plate to put it in the sink. However, before your annoyance can truly get the better of you, a piece of paper that had been stuck to the bottom of the plate floats to the ground.

You bend over to pick it up.

Hey!

Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to stay so long, so I left my apartment earlier without locking the door. I’m running back home to lock it, but I should be back at your place by 9!

Don’t get mad at me. I’d never run off without a word :p

-PB

PS. I have a working theory that Spiderman also has more stamina than you’d expect, even for a guy who’s been doing hero work for 20+ years, so…round two when I get back?

You can’t help but laugh.

What an idiot. 

But…you like him.

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker smut #peter b parker #i can't believe I'm posting this on tumblr #immediately going back to only posting on AO3 bc it's so much easier to format LMAO #fic #reader insert #reader x peter b parker #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n

[ilovepedro]

mistletoe kisses | joel miller x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: M - 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.6k

Summary: You decorate the Christmas tree with some help from Joel and Ellie.

Warnings: established relationship, post-outbreak, Jackson era, canon divergent bc nothing bad ever happens to them ever 😁, sickening fluff, pet names (honey, darlin’, baby, babydoll, etc), allusions to smut, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: surprise!!! i know i said this would be up on the 22nd, but i’ve got something else that will be up on saturday 🤭 and i just couldn’t stop thinking about giving this man a happy ending, including healing and starting new traditions with his family 😔 i wish joel was real 💔 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @/saradika

Grumbling, he treks behind you, snow crunching beneath his work boots as he cautiously lugs the saw in his hands.

You’re rambling about finding the perfect tree in front of him, Ellie asking a million questions about the tradition.

He hadn’t expected, intended, to find a partner in Jackson. That is until he saw you, lugging a heavy crate of harvested crops across the town, your wagon having been broken. Tommy had told him about you, how you were single.

“She’s sweet as pie, brother. She might be good for you. Real pretty too.” Joel recalls the conversation he had with Tommy before he stormed off to the barn.

His Southern hospitality lay dormant until he saw you struggling. The urge to help creeped up on him. His typical quite observant demeanor tossed out the window as he approached you.

“Need some help?” He asks.

You wipe your brow, huffing before laying your eyes on the broad, handsomely rugged man in front of you - it’s Tommy’s brother. His name escaping you briefly.

You beam. “Oh. Sure. Thank you…” you trail off, slightly off guard by his kind gesture. His large gloved hand extends out towards you.

“Joel,” he finishes your sentence. “Thank you, Joel,” your hand shaking his, giving him your name. It rolls off his tongue with a certain sweetness, sending a flurry of butterflies to swirl in your belly. You knew of him, but knew he was also not a man of many words. You had yet to make acquaintances with him and who you assume is his daughter.

“You’re Tommy’s brother right?” You curiously ask, attempting to make small talk as Joel grunts while picking up the crate.

“Yes ma’am.”

Smiling at his Southern drawl, you run to help him carry one side of the heavy crate, feeling bad letting him do all the work.

“Uh uh, what do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, brow raised as you both stop in your tracks. “Helping you,” you state. He chuckles, shaking his head as he begins to walk.

“I asked if you needed help, darlin’. ‘Sides, what kinda man would I be letting a pretty girl like you carry all this shit by herself? My momma would have me by the head, ‘s for damn sure.”

You open your mouth to detest the notion that women need any assistance from men, but he stops you before you can.

“‘N I know ya don’t need any help from any man. You women are tough as shit, met a lota you over the years. Jus’ wanna help, ‘s all.” He kindly explains. You don’t understand why he wants to help, why he’s approached you specifically.

You’re aware that he’s typically very reserved, not leaving his house if he doesn’t have to. You’ve heard things about his past, and Tommy having confided in you at times, but the world has gone to shit. Who are you to judge? Everyone’s done some horrible stuff to stay alive.

He’s also painfully handsome. Opting to not object to his help and company, you sigh.

“Well, at least let me take some of the vegetables,” you protest, grabbing bunches of carrots. He chuckles quietly.

“Sure thing, darlin’,” he mutters. The nickname catching you both by surprise as a sort of tension falls over you two.

Flashing him a grateful toothy grin, you gather the vegetables in your arms. He gives you a small smirk in return.

“So how are you liking Jackson? I don’t see you ‘round much,” you ask as you begin the trek to the dining hall.

“‘S good. Big change, learnin’ the ropes of patrol. Makin’ sure Ellie’s settlin’ in,” he states. “And Ellie’s…”

“My family,” he says firmly. You nod, internally assuming she’s not his biological daughter.

“Well, I hope you both settle in nicely.” He feels his heart soften at your kindness.

He thought you’d have shied away from him, that you’d have listened to what people are saying about him around town.

But you didn’t. You took to him kindly, warmly.

He’ll be damned if he told Tommy he was right about you, He’d never hear the end of it… but shit, was he right. You were so kind and open-minded, and so beautiful.

The both of you making small talk as you trek to the dining hall, Joel lugging the crate into the kitchen for prep as you follow behind. He places the crate on the floor with a grunt. You drop the carrots in the box afterwards.

Rising to his feet, he sighs as he wipes his hands on his jeans, you copying his actions.

“Thank you again, Joel. I really appreciate it,” you tell him again. “Ain’t no problem, darlin’.”

Silence fills the air, save for the clanging and clattering of utensils in the kitchen.

“Would you… would you like to have a drink sometime? As a, uh, form of repayment for helping me today,” you timidly ask. A small smile breaks out onto Joel’s face.

“You ain’t gotta repay me, darlin’. But I’d love to grab a drink with ya,” he says.

Smiling from ear to ear, you nod happily. “It’s a date,” you say, before slapping a hand over your mouth as your eyes go wide. “I-I’m sorry. It’s not a date, it doesn't have to be. I mean, u-unless you want-,” you nervously ramble before Joel cuts you off.

“‘S a date,” he rasps. A soft smile on both your faces. The rest is history.

He wouldn’t trade that moment for the world, as he’s got you by his side now. He just didn’t expect that drink to lead him to trudging through the woods in the freezing early morning to cut down a tree.

He’d much rather be sleeping right now on his day off, but he can never say no to his girls.

Making your way through the woods, you and Ellie wind through the path while Joel stands and watches. There aren’t many trees, but just enough to scour from.

Not seeing any you like, you continue to walk down the path. “What about this one?” Ellie asks, standing next to a fir no taller than Joel.

Your eyes light up, a sparkly smile illuminating your face.

“It’s perfect. Great find, Ellie!” You yelp, high fiving the girl who’s equally excited.

“Hey, Joel!” Ellie shouts through her hands, her cheeks rosy and nose frosted. He clambers through the trees, saw in hand with his signature scowl. “Find one?”

“Mhmm,” Ellie says while beaming, you nodding in agreement. Joel sighs as he begins to saw down the tree. The trunk’s not very thick, the branches skinny, but still full enough to mimick the times before.

It falls to the snow covered ground, you and Ellie taking a few steps back. Joel stomps over to it, hoisting it up over his shoulder.

“Thank you, honey,” you whisper against his ear before placing a kiss on his patchy beard. His body flushing hot red from heat despite the cold air.

“Sure thing, baby,” he says bashfully, smiling a smile only reserved for you. Lacing his fingers with yours, you walk hand-in-hand back to the house with Ellie rambling ahead of you, vibrating with excitement.

“Joel, could you move it a little to the left?” You ask, hands clasped together over your lips. Joel grunts, red in the face as he shoves the fir to the left.

“A little more, please?”

Another grunt.

“A liiiitttllleee more.”

With a sigh, he shoves it once more.

“Perfect!” You clap. Joel rises to his full height, groaning as his bones crack and ache. You stride to him, leaning in for a kiss.

He could never stay annoyed at you.

“Thank you, honey,” you mutter with a dopey grin. Joel mirrors your expression, wrapping his hands around your waist and pressing his lips against yours. A saccharine kiss, your fingers curling in his grays.

His heart flutters as you sigh into him, your contentment radiating through your chest and into his soul.

When the fuck did his heart ever flutter?

“You guys gonna do that all fucking day or what?!” Ellie shouts, cutting ribbon and twine for the decorations.

You both startle at the sound of her voice, jumping in Joel’s arms. Joel glares at Ellie as laughter bubbles over your lips.

“Sorry, Ellie,” you call out. “Seriously, thank you, honey,” you tell Joel with a pat on his broad chest.

“No problem, darlin’,” he says softly with a swift kiss to your forehead before releasing you from his grasp. Joel strides into the kitchen to heat up some milk, with you rushing over to Ellie who sits at the dining table with an array of supplies.

You’re so good with Ellie, so patient with her while gently explaining how to string the dried oranges on the twine. She gets the hang of it pretty easily, holding it up and beaming with pride. Your giddiness mirroring hers, praising her as you waltz into the kitchen with Joel.

Placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, you flit around him as you pop some kernels in a hot pan. Transforming them into popcorn to make more garlands, and working in comfortable silence alongside each other.

You dump the popcorn into a bowl, you place a tender kiss on his shoulder before returning to Ellie.

Joel feels warm, and it’s not from the heat of the stove.

He preps mugs of hot chocolate for all of you, the chocolate powder stale but still good - the novelty of the gesture still there and just as sweet.

Padding into the living room, the sight of you two making decorations at the table and placing them on the tree tugs at Joel’s heart strings. Remembering how he’d help Sarah decorate their tree every year. Swallowing his grief, he allows himself to enjoy this moment while remembering his daughter.

That’s something you’re teaching him - not to take moments, things, people for granted.

Despite the pain, he knows he’ll confide in you later tonight about it when you’re alone. He sets the mugs on the table, making you pop your head up to flash him a dazzling smile.

“Thank you, honey.”

“‘Course, baby,” he says with a wink. Your smile grows wider, Ellie looking up and rolling her eyes. She playfully gags, Joel smacking his lips as his smile morphs into a scowl.

“Knock it off, kid,” he scolds.

“You knock it off, old man. We’re working here, and you keep distracting my partner,” she retorts. He scoffs, rolling his eyes. You can’t help, but laugh at their banter.

“Sorry, Ellie. I promise I’m listening,” your laughter dissolving into giggles. Joel rolls his eyes before getting a fire going in the fireplace.

Standing back and taking in the scene playing out in front of him. Hot chocolate, a tree, decorations being strung upon it - how is this possible? What did he do to deserve this?

He shakes the thought from his head, not questioning the good thing – the very good thing – in front of him. Instead, he enjoys watching his girls flit around the tree.

Ellie excitedly attempts to place the makeshift star on the tree that she crafted out of some stray branches and extra paper she had in her sketch pad.

She can’t reach, being significantly shorter than the tree. Huffing in defeat, she shoots you a look - both of you thinking the same thing. She whips around, paper star in hand.

“Joel, wanna do the honors?” She asks, holding out the star. Joel swallows thickly, never having thought he’d be doing this again.

“Sure,” he softly says, taking the star from Ellie and setting it atop the tree. The three of you stand back, admiring your hard work in silence, as you tightly wrap your arms around Joel’s middle. He holds you tighter.

“Looks good,” he mumbles. You nod, soft smile on your face.

“Hell yeah, it does!” Ellie giddily yells before cutting off her next thought. “No way, is that hot chocolate?!” She shouts, rushing to the table to grab a mug.

“Yeah, careful kid, it’s still hot,” Joel warns, still wound up in your arms. Ellie blows caution to the wind as she gulps it down.

“Ellie, slow down! You’re gonna get a stomachache,” you scold lightly. “It’s hot chocolate! When the hell am I ever gonna come across this again?!”

“I’ll find some more, jus’ slow down! Gonna be all fuckin’ hopped up on sugar,” Joel begrudgingly says. Rolling her eyes, she glances at the clock. Her eyes bug out of her head.

“Shit! I told Cat I’d meet her at 6!” She shouts before gulping down the rest of her hot chocolate, slamming the mug on the table.

“Be back later!” She says, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Be back by 9!” Joel shouts. “Mhmm,” her tone dismissive. “I mean it, Ellie,” he warns.

“Sure thing, old man!” She says before reaching for the doorknob. “Ellie, 9 o’clock, okay?” You chime in, asking.

She turns around, taking in the both of you. “Okay,” she says with another roll of her eyes and an exasperated sigh before heading out the door. It slams shut, making you and Joel wince.

Joel rolls his eyes. “Girl don’t listen,” rubbing his face as he grumbles.

“She’s just excited, can you blame her? Besides, she’s safe here, Joel,” you say, comfortingly rubbing your hands up and down his broad flannel-covered chest.

“I know. Just still getting used to all this,” he rasps. The two of you still stand in the doorway, wrapped up in one another before a grin breaks out on your face.

“Oh, could you help me with one more thing?” You beam at him. His brow quirks up in confusion. “‘Course, baby. What do ya need?”

You unravel yourself from his embrace, padding into the kitchen. He hears you clambering, his curiosity peaking. You return with something behind your back, smiling wider now.

Whipping the sprig of mistletoe from behind your back, you hold it above your head. His features softening.

Joel immediately recognizes what you’re holding, beaming at your antics.

“Could you help me hang this up please?” You ask, drawing out the last syllable, batting your lashes at him with a sly smirk.

“Y’know, if ya wanted a kiss, all ya gotta do is ask, babydoll,” he rasps as he takes it from you, not missing the chance to place a teasing kiss on your cheek. Waves of heat run through you from head to toe.

Joel hangs the mistletoe with ease on a nail that’s been conveniently placed above the kitchen entryway, right where you’re both standing.

You must’ve put it up there when he was on patrol a few days ago.

The red ribbon you tied around the plant stands out against the dark framing, the fire crackles in the background and illuminates the house.

“Well would ya look at that,” his voice low and husky as he locks his gaze with yours. A goofy grin on your face. “Huh. Guess you gotta kiss me now.”

“Don’t need mistletoe for that, babydoll,” he whispers. The two of you connect your lips with each other’s. Sighing into him, you finally have a moment alone with him today. You card your fingers through his hair, a satisfied groan escapes him.

You pull away breathlessly, both yours and Joel’s eyes heavy and glazed over.

“Ya know… Ellie won’t be back til 9. We’ve got some time left,” you teasingly whisper in his ear while he places a kiss to your neck.

“Lead the way, darlin,” he rasps, the two of you rushing upstairs.

just felt like writing some tooth rotting fluff for my Joely, i love him sm 😔

i hope y’all enjoyed! 🫶🏼 thank you for reading 🩷

tag list: @gracieheartspedro @sapphic-gardn @undrthelights @javierpena-inatacvest @nostalxgic @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @persephone-girl @harriedandharassed @its-nebuleuse

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou

[thankskenpenders]

Happy new year, everyone! Welcome to 2024, the year that will mark the 10th anniversary of Thanks Ken Penders. I'd like to go over my plans for the blog for this year.

First of all: in the very near future, I'll have a post with my thoughts on Sonic Dream Team, and I'm sure I'll write one last Sonic Prime review once the final episodes drop on the 11th. I've also been sitting on an unfinished piece about the Sonic LEGO sets. I wanted this to be longer and more detailed piece that not only reviewed the sets but also went into the weird disconnect between homogenized image of Sonic the Brand and the actual fiction it's based off of, but it'll probably end up getting cut down a lot just so I can put something out. Let's just say I did a fun little thing with one of the sets.

Second: yes, I would like to return to regular TKP updates this year. As I've said many times, I wanted to do this in 2023, but I've been suffering from creative burnout after finishing SLARPG and have generally been unable to focus on any of my creative goals this past year. I'm hoping that this year will be better and I'll be able to get back into the swing of covering Archie Sonic issues. Even doing one issue every week or so would be vastly preferable to continuing the hiatus. I'm still only halfway done!! But aside from burnout, my other main hurdle is that I need to reread my own archive to refresh myself on all these things after nearly three years away. This will take some time.

The thing is, though, this year I'll have an extra incentive to go back through my previous writing and brush up on all things Archie Sonic. Because you see...

I've decided that I want to make a video essay about Penders. The comics, the copyright battle, The Lara-Su Chronicles, everything.

The why

I've thought about doing this before, but I never committed to the idea. I was too busy with gamedev, or I thought it'd end up being too long, or I figured that there were already enough videos on the subject, or I just lacked confidence in my ability to put together a video essay. So I told myself it wasn't meant to be, and let the multiple YouTubers who have cited me as a source on their own Penders videos fill that void.

Recently, though, a few things have happened that have convinced me it might be time. For one, YouTube video essays/media retrospectives/etc. are just getting longer and longer. When Quinton Reviews is out here doing 21 hours of videos on Sam & Cat, a subpar Nick sitcom that only lasted one season, I don't feel so crazy for wanting to make a video about several hundred comic books and two lawsuits that'd be at least an hour or two long lmao. Admittedly, I've also been self-conscious about doing a long video essay like this as a trans woman who has yet to do any vocal training. But these days I feel like I see a lot more transfem YouTubers who have done little to no vocal training, and that's given me more confidence on that front.

But the big one was Hbomberguy's recent plagiarism video. As I sat there watching it, I kept thinking about the time I found a CBR article that was just a crude 800 word summary of my two previous articles on Penders, published by a CBR writer who's put out over 4000 articles since 2019. If I've already been plagiarized before, and my writing is so frequently passed around as a go-to source on Archie Sonic drama, then I wouldn't be shocked if there were YouTubers out there straight up just plagiarizing me. I don't watch other peoples' videos on Archie Sonic, so I'd never know! So if people are just gonna paraphrase me when covering these topics anyway, why not take matters into my own hands and make what I would consider to be the definitive video on the subject? If hacks like James Somerton and iilluminaughtii can churn out these shitty video essays and people will still watch them, surely it can't be that impossible to make my own, right? (And also, uh, Hbomb literally told me I should make the video lol. If you're reading this, thanks for the encouragement.)

The what, how, and when

So here's the plan.

Part of this video essay will be an adaptation of my Medium article on the recurring themes of Ken's Archie Sonic run, with its content touched up and expanded upon. There were a few things I skimmed over in the article because I didn't want it to get too long, but again, people are out here watching ten hour videos about bad Nickelodeon sitcoms now. I can get away with elaborating a little more. I can add a few paragraphs talking about the Chaos Knuckles arc, or throw in a little more historical context I've discovered in the years since.

After covering the comics, the back half(-ish?) of the video will be dedicated to the copyright battles and their ensuing controversies, trying to give an accurate picture of what actually went down, the sheer scale of how bad Archie fucked up, and what our takeaways should be. This will have some similarities to my New York Magazine article on the subject, but I'll be rewriting it from scratch. I REALLY had to keep things short for that article because I was already way over the expected word count, and my tone was a little more straight-laced than normal because I was trying to keep things Professional. I can riff more and insert more of my own opinions this time, like I normally would.

I'll inevitably have to touch on some of Ken's Bad Tweets when discussing things that have happened after the lawsuits, but I don't want the video to just devolve into a list of times people got mad at him on Twitter, so I'm gonna try to keep that to a minimum in favor of focusing on his actual work. Things like the Scourge the Speed Demon incident and his continued statements on certain characters' copyright statuses probably warrant mentioning, though. And finally, assuming that the book really does come out this summer, I would like the grand finale of the video to be about those first couple chapters of The Lara-Su Chronicles.

I don't currently know when this video will get done, but it'll probably be in the back half of the year, especially with me waiting for the book to either drop or get delayed yet again. But I've actually already started writing a bit of the script, and will keep chipping away at it for a while.

So, uh, yeah, look forward to that? Wish me luck?

#tkp post

[galesdevoteewife]

Gale may not be so typical squishy wizard/scholar?

-My Galeology study note-

Looking at his character sheet in the Deluxe pack gets me thinking, maybe our wizard is not exactly designed to be the typical squishy one...?

[Act2 spoiler warning]

2 things caught my eyes:

1) Great physical fitness, and good reflexes. (For your reference, Gale & Wyll are the two companions who have the highest Con: 15. I put everyone's sheets at the bottom of the post.)

His Con and Dex are... very high?? I mean, higher than Karlach and Lae'zel...????

Note 1: I suspect it could have something to do with his background as Mystra's chosen, as they are somewhat "transformed" when they agree to become the goddess's chosen. A topic for another day since I haven't quite figured it out yet, for anyone who is interested there's a chapter about it in The Seven Sisters. Also, I have little clues on how much chosen lore credit Larian was taking into account while designing him, or how Mystra's "taking back the given ability" works. Note 2: Again, Mystra's chosen are often sent on missions that involve a lot of traveling according to Elminster's series. Mystra also mentioned that Gale and she used to have adventures together, which leads to an assumption: despite his preference he might be traveling quite a lot until he was cast aside and quarantined himself in his tower. Might be the type of scholar who is very keen on field studies?

Note 3: Can someone undress Elminster to exam my theory please??xD Neh won't work I think all human might share same body model in game

Come to think of it, there was a party banter between Karlach & Gale that went like :

Karlach: Whoa! Almost slipped there. Gale: You wouldn't be the first, I'd wager. It's been some time since these walkways felt the carpenter's hammer. Karlach: You gonna catch me if I eat a brick? Gale: With my reflexes? I'd catch you before you so much as stubbed a toe.

At first I thought that was a sarcastic joke but, seems like it wasn't? Also this:

Karlach: Ready to enter the belly of the beast? Gale: It's the stairs I'm dreading. I shall close my eyes, and pretend I'm climbing my own, far superior tower in Waterdeep. Karlach: In that case, welcome home.

...So it seems when I pictured him as a homebody, I should reimagine the concept of home... His has...lots of stairs? Just walking around in the tower could be counted as a workout, sort of thing? Note: I don't think the place he shows in the Act 2 cutscene is his tower. Otherwise, aren't these neighbors pretty much doomed?

2) Not THAT smart. Well, I love him, so I will speak in his defence: [1] He has a warm(s) digging holes in his brain. [2] Poisonous magical bile running in his blood. Maybe he's just not at his best, makes sense, eh? Wyll mentioned he is nerfed after tadpole too. After all, this man obviously memorized a DICTIONARY:

Gale: You promised to stay in Waterdeep. 'Promise,' verb, meaning to swear something will or will not be done. Tara the Tressym: And I decided 'will not'. And a good thing, too. You look like you haven't had a good meal in days

Player: When I said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps'. What does that really mean? Gale: If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerûn defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. Gale: Sorry, sometimes I just can't help being quite insufferable. In seriousness, I'm glad you asked that question.

Along with a bunch of you-may-never-need information:

Everything about ceremorphosis? Myconid? Why in the world have him read about Cazador??? And how can he not know the distance between Waterdeep & Baldur's Gate, even Karlach ―who spent a decade, which is likely half of her life in hell― knows better geography than him. Gale either totally ignored the subject or portaled everywhere; distance meant nothing to him?? Uh, but you can't take party banters too seriously; it's buggy. How could a bug bit Karlach in the swamp? It should've been burned into ashes before it even reached her, no?

Anyway, just rambling some thoughts <3 I would have gone to Harvard if there was a major in Gale...

-DISCLAIMER- Brought to you by a brainrot wife, Galerian missionary. Be warned the article might has (strong) bias because the writer is braindead and she thinks Gale is the most awesome character in the world.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 gale #ramblings #Galeology #bg3 datamine

[matrixbearer2024]

not a request but i just wanna get an idea that i absolutely MUST get out of my brain before it consumes my entire being. So, your “get off my screen series”. You know that trend where ppl put that one vox vid of his face on their tv and put like hus hat and/or body attached to the tv. Imagine vox somehow finds a way to do that and y/n just does this.

THATS IT LMAO ABSOLUTELY LOVE AND ADORE YOUR SERIES. ANYTIME I SEE IT’S UPDATED IT MAKES MY DAY<3

TikTok Trending, Posts and Memes

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: With how many ideas you guys have at this point I might just continue to write short scenarios for this AU with all the ideas you guys are giving me- it's absolutely amazing seeing what y'all come up with and I'm just living for it hahahaha! Thank you guys so much!

The week you had was... interesting to say the least.

Vox had challenged you to at least take up basic programming, claiming you were too impatient to learn.

So you, being the persistent and stubborn you-

Decided to prove him wrong.

Besides, it can't be that bad if he knows how to do it.

You wouldn't tell him because it'd probably make him butthurt-

But you were sure Vox was 1000% more impatient than you.

You took up computer science for extra credit, quickly learning the ins and outs of basic coding.

It was just a world of syntax and numbers but you definitely found it fun.

And useful too-

Especially when you wanted to explicitly screw with others.

Vox may or may not have slightly taught you how to hack.

But you weren't using it for anything bad!

Just to change the final grade of some asshole students so they'd have to repeat the class.

That's what they get for just randomly tripping you in the hall the other day.

Vox was slightly proud but also kind of concerned-

You'd definitely end up where he was at this rate.

Thankfully though, you decided not to do anything too crazy since.

Instead you've been messing around on your devices alongside the tech overlord.

From practicing how to send him encrypted messages-

To straight up just shitposting all over his monitors.

It's not so fun now is it Voxxy?

You would sometimes try to transfer him around to other devices that weren't your own to see if he could actually do anything.

Well, he could- but it only worked if he was directly connected to it.

Meaning he had to be plugged in.

How he was able to connect to all your devices wirelessly without limitation?

Neither of you had a clue.

You both first tested it on your best friend's phone, only for Vox to immediately go back to your computer and blow up your notifications.

"Nope nope nope nope, that's the last time I let you plug me into some random fucking phone-"

"What?? What happened??? And it's not random, it's (Friend Name)'s Phone."

"Dollface, you know Valentino right? The one I told you about?"

"The pornstar? What about?"

You didn't exactly like where this conversation was going.

You had an inkling where it would end and you were already cringing.

"Yeeaaaah, I've known him for quite some time so I would think I've seen nearly everything."

"Get to the point Vox-"

"And yet I am somehow utterly disgusted by your friend's search history."

"Yeah, uh... I'd rather you don't tell me."

"I figured. Though it makes me curious about what yours looks like."

That gave you pause, given how Vox had practically invaded your entire computer-

Hell, he even gave your files a new sorting system-

You were surprised he hadn't gone through your search history.

Of all the things you'd think that was what he'd ransack first.

"You haven't checked my search history yet?"

"Why would I? It's not like I'm trying to find your secret porn stash or something."

"Bruh, why would I even have that."

"Your friend had one, I just guessed."

"Touché."

You were a little touched that Vox cared about you enough not to really dig into your secrets.

Or well, the things you wanted to keep secret.

For a big bad overlord, he was kind of a sweetheart.

"Okay now I definitely wanna see what you've got hidden in there-"

"FUCK OFF YOU STUPID OLD PICTUREBOX-"

"YOU CAN'T STOP ME BITCH-"

You know what, you retracted your previous statement.

He's a fucking jerk.

Vox quickly dug through your search history while the tiny desktop companion in his likeness refused to give you control over the cursor.

You couldn't stop him even if you tried.

His phone blew up from notifications with you cursing at him or just calling him names.

He just laughed at your dismay and continued to dig through.

Okay- wow.

While he didn't initially expect it from you, Vox reckoned he probably should've.

Much like how people had celebrity crushes, he figured you would have your own.

It just so happened that it wasn't a celebrity and it was a fictional character instead.

He kind of felt like someone slapped him in the face actually, even if he didn't know why.

"Soooooo- (Favorite Character Name) huh?"

"Shaddup-"

"This? This is your type???"

"IT'S A FICTIONAL CRUSH GET OVER IT-"

While you were practically steaming from the ears in embarrassment, Vox was just laughing and dealing with his mixed feelings.

On one hand, he found your reactions absolutely entertaining and hilarious.

On the other hand, he didn't even know who or what this character was and he already disliked them.

Just a gut feeling.

He continued to tease you for it though, bringing up more cringe parts of your search history much to your chagrin.

It wasn't really anything bad that you couldn't take, it was just so embarrassing that you'd rather he didn't dig any of it up.

So in the heat of the moment, wanting to get Vox off your computer- you plugged it into the only other active device he wasn't connected.

Your TV.

It was nearly instant, he went from teasing and texting to you to a befuddled face on the larger screen.

But what was more surprising, was he could actually see you this time.

It wasn't filtered over with static like when he'd first met you.

The live feed even had audio, which was just entirely unexpected too.

Who knew, plug a TV demon into his specific medium and he could actually operate properly?

But that's how you guys ended up figuring out how to connect his digital presence to your TV.

By entire surprise and from just fucking around.

"Oh my god that worked-"

"(Y/N)? Holy hell! I can actually see you!"

"I did not think that would work-"

"Wow, are you really that short or is your TV just perched up that high?"

You just flipped him the bird and Vox laughed at you again.

Though, you couldn't help but smile because of it.

Well, at least now he could converse with you "properly" like he'd wanted to for a while.

Even if it did mean he'd need to take up your entire TV.

"Oh- OH WAIT- I've got an idea!"

Vox couldn't even question what you were doing before you ran out of the room and out of his sight.

So while waiting, he took a gander at the room you left him in.

It became abundantly clear that this was your living space too.

From the colors to the patterns, Vox smiled fondly as he recalled your old conversations where you would just tell him things about the things you liked.

Yeah, he could definitely see your touch in how the room was designed.

He raised an eyebrow when you giddily came back into the room with some colored paper, scissors and tape.

What-?

"Okay Doll, just what are you planning?"

"You'll see~!"

Your excitement kept him curious.

What were you drawing over there?

Weird timing for an arts and crafts project if you asked him.

It was only until you approached him and taped something to the screen did he actually grow confused.

He couldn't see what you did despite you doubling over in laughter.

What could've possibly been so funny that had you keeling from it?

By the time you could finally look at Vox without laughing your ass off, you used your phone to take a picture of how he looked.

Approaching the TV to show him just so he could see the photo as well.

Ah.

So that's what you found so funny.

You'd fashioned his outfit-

Poorly made but still recognizable-

Out of paper and taped it to the screen.

His hat on top and his suit dangling off the bottom.

Admittedly, it looked downright silly.

Especially with the proportions being so off thanks to the size of the TV screen.

"Haha, very funny (Y/N). Very funny."

"I'm making this shit my wallpaper, you look so goofy."

Vox just playfully rolled his eyes at you with a smile.

If that was seriously all it took to make you laugh?

He'd do it again no questions asked.

Taking a peek at his internal clock though, he held back his disappointment that he had to leave when you were on such an elated high.

"Sorry to cut this short doll, but I need to disconnect. I've got a meeting in a few minutes."

"Hm? Then go and do what you need to do, I can always just plug you back in later. Good luck!"

The overlord chuckled when you raised a hand to pat the screen, he couldn't feel it but he wished he did.

"I don't need luck, but... thanks. See you."

"See you."

And just like that the screen fizzled out and returned to the smart TV homepage.

You'd sent the picture to Vox through your chats and he replied with a TV emoticon.

You giggled, course he would do that.

At least he didn't take offense to what you did-

Despite your poor art skills-

Maybe he found it as entertaining as you did?

Whatever, you switched the wallpaper on your phone to the new photo you had of Vox and laughed.

His confused expression really sealed the deal with how silly the picture was.

But imagine your surprise come morning when you realized he didn't switch the wallpaper back to his trademark grin.

You sort of expected him to, especially given that he'd done so with all your past attempts to change your wallpaper.

The fact he left it alone made you smile.

And as the day began and Vox left you a morning greeting-

You just shot him one back and got up to prepare for the day.

You figured the day would be just fine.

Yeah, you guys would be just fine.

A/N: Ooough this was a long one but I had a lot of fun writing it! I'll post the masterlist afterwards when I grab all the links to the posts and I'll just be continuing the other interludes before I post the chapter with Reader's death. Either way, I hope you guys enjoyed this one!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #Get Off My Screen Series

[catboybiologist]

Hi! I’m CatboyBiologist.

Formerly a femboy, now a trans woman just starting HRT, and a PhD student in molecular biology. I started using this online persona as a fun, shitposty way to explore gender a few years ago. I post selfies (generally sfw, but somewhat sexy, so minors and ppl who don’t like that have been warned), rambles about science, tutorials and advice from the stuff I’ve learned by being a femboy in the past, nature pictures, stuff about the ocean, my adorable grumpy little tortoise, and unsolicited opinions on random nerdy topics. Any pronouns are fine. I don’t plan to socially transition for a while, and still present as a man most of the time, so I’m used to whatever you wanna use for me (for now, I’ll update this if that changes). Please send me pictures of your pets or other cute animals in your life!

As a scientist, I’m also documenting my transition! This google sheet will be updated at least monthly. I also have additional metrics I’m keeping to myself, and pictures that go with this, but I’m not sharing them publicly yet. Keep in mind that this is just one person’s experience with HRT, and may not represent universal trends!

Adding a little something here, bc I think it was an interesting bit a writing: if you want to see me respond to a transphobe about what "biologically female" means, here's a thing I wrote about it. CW for transphobia and discussion, obviously.

Also, if any of my measurements look weird, its entirely possible I fucked up. Let me know if anything looks off!

Here’s some of my favorite pre-HRT pictures:

If you want to see more of my pre-HRT selfies, browse the “femboy” tag on my blog!

And as of this writing, I’m only 2 days after the start of HRT, so here’s a picture with my tortoise that’s technically post-HRT (but with 0 time for actual changes):

If you want to see my future post-HRT selfies, browse the “trans selfie” tag on my blog!

Also here's another really cute picture and fanart of my tortoise by @whalesharkcat:

I have affectionately given my tortoise the title of The Grumpus.

I also wrote a couple of tutorials and general vibes about being a femboy before I started HRT:

Sometimes I make shitposts of myself, I don’t take myself too seriously:

This includes the way I came out on tumblr:

And here’s an overly serious, long ramble about trans thoughts and things that I wrote shortly afterwards:

Later addition: Someone asked how I take selfies, so I wrote a quick and dirty guide with some tips on how I do so in response to their ask:

Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tags, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL

As for terminology, I personally do think of myself as a “man who is becoming a woman” as opposed to having always been a woman. If that doesn’t resonate with your experience, I totally get that! But that’s why I freely call pre-HRT me a femboy, while still calling post-HRT me a trans woman. I’m also keeping the blog name as CatboyBiologist for the forseeable future, because at this point, Catboy just seems like a gender neutral term to me.

I’m also trying to put together a script for a podcast regarding how studying biology influenced my perspective on sex and gender- lmk if there’s any interest in that! It’s probably gonna be way too long and indulgent but oh well.

So uh. Yeah. I don’t end these types of things well. Byeeeeee

#196 #r196 #r/196 #rule #/r/196 #trans #transitioning #trans woman #trans femme #tortoise #tort #russian tortoise #trans tutorial #trans tummy tuesday #transgender #trans tumblr #trans selfie #trans journal

[anenbylittlepotato]

Tears of Love

Includes: Zhongli, Furina, Neuvillette, Kaveh, Itto, Ei

Warnings: Furina's is post-Fontaine archon quest bc I doubt she would be in any relationship pre-archon quest. Both Neuvillette and Furina contain vague spoilers

How Genshin character would react to you hugging them while crying and then saying "I just love you so muuuucch..."

Also, uhhh hey guys, I know I haven't written anything in 5 million years haha, sorry... I have been died dw about it. To make up for it I'm going crazy go stupid with this one. Gonna try and make a part 2 and maybe part 3 but idk when or if it’ll even happen

Zhongli

When he sees you crying, he is instantly concerned.

And then, when you run up and hug him, he's even more concerned as he hugs back, gently placing his hand on your head and rubbing your back comfortingly.

"My love? What is the matter, dear?

He gently moves his hand from the back of your head to cup your cheek when you look at him with them big ol wet eyes.

"I just love you so muuuuccch!"

He looks taken aback for a moment, surprised by that response.

Then he chuckles warmly and looks at you with all the love and adoration in the world

"My beloved, you and your love mean the world to me. Your brilliant radiance is more than enough to light up even the darkest corners of my mind. I cannot dream of spending my days without you, but if such a day were to ever occur, I would carry your memory with me at all times with all the warmth and love in my soul."

This makes you cry even more

"Aaaaaa I love you so much...."

He gently presses his forehead to yours.

"I love you too, my dearest."

And then he kisses you softly.

Afterward, he sits down with you, holding you gently.

Furina

When you come up to her crying, she's instantly panicking.

Oh no did she do something wrong? Did she say something that upset you??? Has she been neglecting you??? Did she forget something important? Oh no oh no oh no-

And then you hug her and she's like. Okay. Did someone else do something to upset you? She's not sure what she can do now that she's no long on the archon throne, but she'll try whatever she has to! Or maybe something else happened, maybe something that has nothing to do with other people, maybe some horrible thing happened to you like what happened to her.

"S-S/O? Are you okay?? What happened, what's wrong?"

Then you look at her with those big ol wet eyes and she turns to mush inside.

"I just love you muuuuuccccchhh..."

For several moments she just stares at you, not knowing how to respond.

And then she also starts getting emotional

"Oh."

She hugs you back really tightly, burying her face against you.

"I... I love you tooooo...."

And now you're both crying and telling each other how much you love each other.

Neuvillette

The moment he sees you crying, the beginning of rain can be heard outside.

He absolutely hates seeing you upset in any way and he immediately wants to just hold you in his arms and take all your stress and pain.

He immediately walks over and sits next to you.

"S/O? Are you alright? What's happened?"

He is a little surprised when you hug him, but not entirely, and he hugs back, gently rubbing your back.

"It's alright, dear, take your time."

"I just- I just- I love you so muuuuuuuucccchhhh..."

Well he certainly was not expecting that.

It starts raining outside even heavier.

"Ah... Is that... Not a good thing...? I am uncertain as to why this would make you sad..."

You uh... You'll have to explain to him that crying doesn't necessarily only happen when you're sad, but just when you're overwhelmed by An Emotion. Any emotion. Even positive ones.

He won't really understand all that well but he's trying 🥺 He'll definitely be thinking about it for the rest of the week and might even do some research about it if he manages to find the time.

In the moment, though, he just holds you and tells you how much he loves you as well. He is a little confused when this makes you cry more, but he doesn't say anything.

Kaveh

Like Furina, he also panics instantly the moment he sees you crying.

He's much more frantic and open about it though.

"Oh no, darling, sweetheart, are you okay?! What's wrong?! Did I do something wrong, what happened?!"

Then you hug him and he's surprised.

"S/O...?"

"I just- I love you so muuuuccchh!"

Kaveh.exe has stopped working

"Wha- You- I-"

My poor boy instantly melts into a puddle, becoming a complete emotional wreck.

This man is so fragile he just shatters like glass and the dam breaks and out come the tears, and now he's crying harder than you.

He somewhat incoherently babbles about how much he loves you and hugs you so tightly, just completely falling apart.

... He may have also been drinking a bit before this.

Okay, not a bit. A lot.

And now, even though you were the one who was crying initially, you're gonna have to sit down with him and try to calm him down

This poor pathetic little man... he's such a mess... I love him...

Itto

Also one of the panickers. Except he's stupid about it.

He actually has absolutely no idea how to deal with someone who's sad. He doesn't get sad often himself and his gang aren't the type to get sad often either.

So the MOMENT you hug him crying, he is freaking the fuck out

"Oh, nononono, baby, don't cry, don't cry! Hey it's okay, it's alright, don't cry!"

When he can't get you to calm down right away, he's immediately thinking of other solutions.

"Hey, ya wanna go see Granny Oni? She always knows exactly what to do to cheer me up when I'm sad!"

You have to stop him from picking you up and running off with you to take you to Granny Oni.

"No- Itto. I'm not sad, it's just.... I love you so muuuuch..."

He blinks a couple times.

"What"

For once, the man is speechless.

But only for a couple moments.

"Wait, but if you're not sad, then why are you crying???"

You'll have to explain it like with Neuvillette, except Itto's dumb so it'll take a lot longer for him to pick it up.

You end up spending so long trying to explain it that you end up not crying anymore and just laughing at him

And that just makes him more confused

"You were just crying a minute ago why are you laughing???"

Himbo <3

Ei

When she sees you crying she is surprisingly sweet about it.

She walks over and gently cups your cheeks, tilting your head to look up at her.

"What's the matter, dear? Are you alright?"

Her voice is so soft and gentle.

She isn't too surprised when you hug her and she hugs back, gently rubbing your back.

“I just- I love you so muuuucccchhh….”

She’s a little surprised by that response for a moment.

But once she processes it, she is just so endeared by it.

She looks at you with such a lovesick smile.

Like she feels like her heart is about to burst with love omg

She chuckles gently and pats your head.

“I love you too, dear.”

Afterward, she kisses you on the forehead, and then on the lips.

All she wants to do after that is hold you gentle in her arms

And she’s going to do exactly that

She takes you to your bed and gently holds you so that your head is on her chest

Doesn’t matter if you’re bigger than her. Your face? On the booba

I had to tag Neuvillette so many times bc apparently no one knows how to spell it 😭 Two Ls and two Ts people

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