#I WANT TO KNOW WHEN HE’S GOING SO I CAN EMOTIONALLY PREPARE MYSELF | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

earthtooz · 1 year

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BABE I HAD AN IDEA- Reo Mikage ANGST where he calls reader a gold digging whore in the middle of an argument, ultimately affirming all of her insecurities so he has to figure out a way to show that he didn't mean it and that he's sorry without using his disgustingly abundant wealth 💔 anyways ilysm hope you take care of yourself

NO YOU ARE LITERALLY DISGUSTING FOR THIS (affectionate) YOUR MIND >>> YOU ARE SOOOOO RIGHT. SHUT UP THIS WILL LITERALLY BE THE MOST SCRUMPTIOUS FIC EVER BECAUSE I AM LITERALLY ABOUT TO PUT MY WHOLE EARTHUSSY INTO INCORPORATING THIS IDEA SOMEWHERE !!! BUT FOR NOW, TAKE THIS SNIPPET I WHIPPED UP IN ONE SITTING.

girl feel free to come back into my inbox WHENEVER and giving me your juicy ideas bc holy shit i loved this.

CW: HURT/COMFORT - A LOT OF BOTH, SWEARING, UNEDITED - I WAS GOING THRU IT WHILST WRITING THIS DON'T LOOK AT ME!

IMAGINE THIS: it's been a rough night for both you and reo, he's been through a lot in the past weeks because his dad just had to during the middle of soccer season to lecture reo about how to run a big business. the transition process is beginning to happen since father mikage is about to retire and although your purple-haired boyfriend has been preparing for this his whole life, having gone to business school part-time and graduating with honours, there's still a little part of him that feels weary from all the responsibilities.

all this accumulated stress needs to have an outlet eventually, right? welp, you just happened to be there at the right (wrong) time. you were simply delivering a platter of apples to your boyfriend who had his head in his hands, hunched over an endless pile of paperwork that was beginning to irk him with each passing second. countless images of him shredding up the paper flowed into his mind, a fury that manifested into his reality, except the paper was you D,:

one thing evolved into another, reo's endless stream of venomous words didn't stop flowing out of him as he spat poison after poison, burning you with the intensity of it all.

"you're so overbearing, can't you see that i'm fine? unlike you i can handle myself when things get hard," he spits, eyeing you with fury in his eyes, one that makes you gulp thickly.

"reo-"

-but you wouldn't know the first thing about fighting for what you want right, you fucking gold-digger."

that stops you in your tracks, silences you effortlessly, causing you to let your hands drop limply back to your sides as you stare at your boyfriend blankly. you're sinking into an abyss of hurt and insecurity, it's getting harder to breathe because of the way your chest swells with anger.

reo only continues, not noticing the way you physically and emotionally drop. "even if you don't give me attention for one second of the day, i won't forget you exist, so stop being so clingy and unnecessary! my money isn't going anywhere either, you don't need to occupy majority of my day so leave me alone. go shop online or something."

that was it. was that all reo perceived you to be? a dent in his money, the expenses of his bank account?

"fine. goodbye," you simply mutter before slipping through his office door, out in the hallway.

"don't bother me whilst i'm in here," he says with finality, one last declaration before you shut the door behind you.

the luxurious walls of reo's penthouse look down at you mockingly, the spacious area caging you in, chanting 'gold-digger' over and over again until it's all you hear.

staying here feels wrong.

so, you grab your purse and leave, as quietly as possible. slipping down to the garage where your (second hand) car was parked, you start the engine up and begin reversing out of the parking lot.

you begin to reflect on your relationship with reo. you love him, you really do, you love him because he's reo, the man who was always capable of making you smile, laugh, and make you feel like you were on top of the world. his money and fame was an added bonus that you truly didn't care much about.

but ever since dating him, you've had your own insecurities that have been forced on you by other people. there were crowds calling you a 'gold digger' who was only with reo 'for the money', and although you were sure of yourself and your intentions, your armour breaks down sometimes.

what reo said tonight was the final jab that allowed it to fully disintegrate.

you had a stable job of your own and finances to your own name, money wasn't something you avidly chased, sure having a few zeroes in your bank account was nice but that was all you really needed. as long as you could buy necessities and spoil yourself, it was satisfactory, and you could provide that for yourself!

reo loved to spoil you, showering you in luxurious gifts that you never knew how to accept. it would take a great deal of convincing for you to take what he bought you, and when you promised him to stop buying them for you, he agreed before buying you more material stuff.

as you pull up to the parking lot of the apartment complex that you resided in, you get into the elevator with a heavy heart, pressing the button to your floor with a lot of emotions.

the ride is silent. everything is so silent.

your apartment is even more silent. it's unused, slightly barren. your furniture was still there, except some dust had gathered on the tables and cabinets from how long you've neglected it.

the only reason you were able to keep your apartment was because you had no expenses outflowing since reo took care of almost everything. anything you needed, he bought it, groceries, bills, whatever, were charged on his card. for a period of time, your bank account merely grew and never decreased.

and since you hadn't been here for a while, electricity and water bills never bothered you too much.

you flop onto your made bed with a sigh. it wasn't as soft as reo's but you didn't find it in you to care, you just needed some well-deserved shut eye.

well, 'shut eye' occurred for merely an hour before your phone started vibrating violently.

with a groan, you shove your face back into your pillows before blindly reaching for your phone.

you already knew who it would be without looking at the caller id. of course reo would be looking for you, noting your obvious absence in his penthouse.

"hello?" you mutter.

"y/n? where the hell are you?" comes reo's frantic voice from the other line. he sounds genuinely concerned.

"doesn't matter."

"i'm sorry for everything i said. please, come back."

"reo, i'm tired, i can't do this with you right now."

"i'm sorry, i'm really really sorry."

"i don't want to hear this right now."

"i love you."

you sigh and you're sure reo can hear it on his end. unsure of how to respond, you just hang up on him before throwing your phone away. normally, you would feel bad about the way you left him, but that wasn't the case this time. you just needed to sleep on this.

but, it was reo you were talking about, and the last thing he was going to let you do was sleep without him.

at 1:24am, there's a series of ferocious knocks on your door, followed by screams of your name.

oh my god it was so embarrassing, you literally shoot out of bed as soon as you register what was happening and dash for your door. you don't want to disturb your neighbours' sleep and let them hear that the pathetic grovelling of your boyfriend. the entire hallway could hear reo and his shouting.

you open the door, pull him in, and slam it shut behind you again, leaving the purple-haired to stare at you with a bewildered expression.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss.

he looks at you the same way a puppy does when its owner kicked it out of the house.

you should've known that merely telling reo 'i don't want to hear this right now' would not be enough to pacify his determination and the fact that you hung up on him only intensified his pettiness. the purple-haired always sought you out, pulling himself into your orbit like a magnet. where you went, reo followed, even if it was to the ends of the world.

he had the money to do whatever he wanted, you suppose.

"i wanted to make sure you were safe," he pouts. "i didn't know whether you'd be here or not."

"well, i'm safe, and i'm here. so."

"i can see that," he leans against the back of your couch. reo looks so out of place in your small apartment, awkwardly playing with his hands. "so... should we go to bed?"

the audacity. "what do you mean 'we'? go back home, reo, i'll see you some other time."

as you turn around to go back to your bedroom, reo's quick enough to round around you, blocking you from the hallway with his larger figure.

"but you are my home. please, i'm really sorry about what i said, i didn't mean it," he pleads, grabbing your face so you could look him square in the eye.

you step out of his grasp easily, shaking him off. if you were in your right mind, you would've seen the look of heartbreak on reo's face.

"sure, if you didn't mean it then you wouldn't have said it in the first place, mikage."

you swerve around him to reach your bedroom and he follows you the entire time, trailing behind you, desperate for an ounce of your attention.

"i know i fucked up, but i didn't mean to hurt you and project my frustrations like that onto you when you were just trying to care for me." you sit down on your bed with a sigh and reo takes a seat beside you. "you know i love you right? like, a lot."

that's right. if there's one thing about reo it's that he loves you to an endless degree.

"thank you for always caring for me. i know you don't do it because you're after my money or fame, but because you want to ensure that i'm healthy and not rotting in all that i have to do," his voice cracks. is he beginning to cry. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

you let a beat of silence pass by before dropping your walls. he was always going to smash through them no matter what.

"i've always felt insecure in our relationship," you confess, no louder than an exhale and if reo wasn't holding on to every action of yours, he wouldn't have heard you. "being called a gold digger became normal when i started dating you and i didn't really care. well- i tried not to care."

you continue. "i don't want to let these comments get to me, but then you said it and... i don't know, it just felt horrible."

you feel an arm sneak under your leg, and another hand come to your elbow, both of which simultaneously pull you to straddle reo's lap. you don't look him in the eye- something he frowns at.

"i love you for you. you're the best i'll ever have, reo, but sometimes i-"

"-please don't finish that sentence," he murmurs, breath fanning against your face.

you meet his gaze. he's crying freely. tears are running down his cheeks like streams and you instinctively bring use your thumbs to catch the drops. you hate it when he cries.

"i don't want it to be anyone else but you," confesses the purple-haired. "i hate it when we're separated, i can't stay away from you too long or i think i will go insane."

his statement causes you to giggle a little.

"you laugh but i'm telling the truth."

"i laugh because you make me happy."

his arms wound around your waist, keeping you pressed against him, leaving you with no room to escape or part from him. just what reo likes.

"i'm sorry for what i said," he says against your collarbone. "when i didn't see you in our home, i didn't know what to think. i got so scared for a second because i had no idea where you could've gone so i started spamming your number-"

"-yeah wait, was calling me 24 times necessary?"

"i was going to keep calling you until you picked up so it could've taken 24 or 1000 times or more. now let me speak." you nod wordlessly, smiling a little at how silly reo can be. "and when i realised that you went back to your apartment, i felt horrible that i drove you out."

he looks up at you with glossy eyes.

"you came here because you wanted to prove me wrong, right? because you bought all this by yourself and don't need me, right?"

"well, kind of, but i also didn't want to be around you so i came back here."

reo frowns before leaning in to press delicate kisses to your neck. "please don't leave me. i need you by my side," he inhales before whispering his next statement. "even if you don't need me."

a hand of yours go up to thread through his hair. "don't say that," you use your other hand to direct his face away from your neck, pressing a kiss against his puckered lips. "i absolutely adore you, my love. you're my favourite person ever."

he smiles before leaning in again, kissing you with more fervour and passion. you can feel another tear slide down his cheek.

"lets go to bed, reo," you say when you part and he simply nods, laying you on the side of the bed before laying beside you, arms naturally finding themselves around your waist as reo tugs you as humanely close as possible. "sorry if this mattress isn't as comfortable as your twelve grand one back home."

"i couldn't care less," he whispers whilst tracing patterns on your bare skin.

so long as it's you he's next to, reo doesn't have a lot to complain about.

#bro when i say i literally wrote this in one go #I WROTE THIS IN ONE GO #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #blue lock x reader

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brighttears · 11 months

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I have a request!!

I cannot stop thinking about Joel noticing that the reader leans into his touch but is scared to initiate anything herself. So when he finds out that her ex made her feel insecure for being clingy, he immediately talks with her and tries to tell her how she deserves all the touches she needs ❤️❤️

It's just so sweet!

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: pet names (darling, sweetheart, good girl, baby), a little hot and heavy but no smut, mentions of previous mental/emotionally abusive relationship and reader is not fully recovered, reader’s former relationship is with a man

A/n: Sorry this took so long hope it doesn’t disappoint eeee ! also referring to Joel as ‘boyfriend’ does something to me boy oh boy

—

You try replacing touching Joel with looking at him, listening to him, just trying to soak up everything you can, hoping for something to be enough to relieve the yearning ache you’ve always felt for him. When you first got to the point in your relationship where you could touch freely, it was difficult to hold back—you’d wanted it so much and fantasized about it too often beforehand. When Joel does want physical affection, you give him as much as he’ll take, and you always have the solace of how he holds you every night. Still, you have to reel yourself back in constantly. You’d rather have that than a repeat of your ex, though. Joel is different from him in many ways—he is a better man, a good man, and you know he’s not him, but you can’t shake what your ex had told you, and you don’t want Joel to start hating you for being clingy like he had. So, you keep the dog that drools for him at bay; but as it turns out, the leash isn’t as tight as you thought.

You were at the Tipsy Bison that night, chatting with Tommy and Maria on your way out. Joel leaned against a post with you at his side, already standing close, but then he casually slung his arm around your waist, pulling you to him, brushing his thumb up and down your hip. You were barely able to follow the conversation after that, and when you had to ask Tommy to repeat his question, your boyfriend decided it was time to say goodnight.

He held your hand the whole walk back, and you once again had to ask him to repeat something he’d said, distracted both by the warmth of his large hand in yours and digs of anxiety about your behavior. When the touch breaks as you enter the house, so over you does a wave of anxiety and shame. You bow your head deeply, trying to hide your burning face, and go straight up to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, you take your time untying your shoes, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the talk you’re sure Joel is about to give you. You’ve been trying so hard, but you’re still too clingy—freakishly clingy. No one likes someone like that. That last relationship was for two years, and you thought you’d loved him—that is, until Joel came into your life—and he was the one that left. Don’t mess this one up. you scold yourself.

When Joel walks in, causally unbuttoning his flannel, you keep your eyes on your laces, but as he moves, you can tell he’s looking at you. Left in his white tee, Joel folds his flannel up in his hands, then tosses it onto the bed as he sits down next to you.

“I’m sorry,” you begin for him, “it won’t happen again. I can control myself. I’ll be better about it. I promise.” your mind is fogged with anxiety, your chest knotted tight.

“What?”

You look up at him and his brow is furrowed, but a smile plays at the end of his lip like he thinks you’re joking. You blink. “I mean, like about being clingy, I know I have a problem with it, I’m sorry.” you turn your head back down, closing your eyes and shaking your head, hating yourself.

“Clingy? When did I ever say I have a problem with you bein’ clingy?”

“Well, I just,” you try to hide frustration in your voice, targeted only inwards, “I know I am, and that I’m just too much with that stuff, and I know that's just like unattractive and I didn’t mean to humiliate you in front of Tommy and Maria like that, I’m sorry I made such a fool of myself and you,”

He interrupts, “Woah, woah, where is this comin’ from, darlin’? Who put all that shit in your head? Cause I know I never said anythin’ like that.”

Afraid of a scowl, you keep your head down as you explain yourself, feeling another pang of guilt in your chest. “Well, my ex, I was really clingy, I mean, I am really clingy, but he, you know, taught me about it.”

“Taught you what?”

“Just that, you know, it’s—bad, and embarrassing when I do it in public, and annoying.”

“Your ex told you all this?” Finally, you look at him timidly. He’s leaning forward with his hands on the bed, looking at you with his brow knit with confusion and concern.

“Well, yeah,” you reply sheepishly.

“Okay, well first of all, that’s all bullshit,” he chuckles lightly, “you’re not clingy. Clingy’s different. An’ if this is about, you know, touch, I like you touchin’ me.” He nudges you with his shoulder, making you chuckle despite your mood. “An’ this ex a yours, well he’s just one man—actually, sounds more like a boy than a man, talkin’ t’you like that—but just cause he did’n like it doe’n mean no one else does, or that it’s bad. It’s not bad, sweetheart,” Joel shakes his head lightly, “nothin’s wrong with… liking to be touched.” his eyes travel up and down you and he shifts his torso towards you, supporting one hand on the bed, and with the other, he takes your chin with his thumb and index to angle your rosy face to look at him. “You deserve all the touchin’ you want, baby. If this is what you like,” he moves his hand slowly over your cheek, and you lean into it, “this is what I’ll give you.” Instantly you’re liquid in the cup of his hand, warmth making your eyelids lazy. You let out a sigh, near overwhelmed with, just, Joel. Those big beautiful brown eyes wander over your face and he gently presses his hand into the weight of your head and you automatically lean further into the pressure and warmth. He smirks, “I like you like this.” You giggle, easily with all of you feeling lighter.

Your anxiety has washed away completely. You can be an easy forgetter, but ground easily with Joel. He’s your man, he loves you, he’s always held your body like he needs it. You can’t even fit in a thought of your ex with Joel so close to you, holding the weight of your head, and god, those dreamy eyes on your lips.

You slide your hand up his forearm and wrap it around his wrist, then turn your cheek just enough to start kissing his palm, keeping his gaze.

Joels’ eyes flash and then he takes his hand away to take your waist and sits further back on the bed to pull you on to straddle his lap. You yelp and giggle but you’re barely actually thinking, just feeling him. He kisses you tenderly and you smooth your hands up his chest and to his face, lips slow, impassioned, and heavy. You’re on autopilot, letting your body move how it wants over Joel. Joel’s hands slide around to splay on your back and he pulls you into him; it pushes a breathy moan out of you, electricity humming over every inch of your front pressed against his body, warm and sound. Your head is angled over his shoulder and he trades your lips for your neck. The pressure of his hold, feeling all of him right up against you, relieves your ache for him, you feel it dissipate and it escapes out of you in a drawl of his name. At that, he clutches you tighter, and you feel a buzz as he hums into your neck. Then he takes his lips away, making you let out a deep breath, his nose and top lip still ghosting over your skin as he says in a husky purr, “Y’know, you’re not the only one who likes this.” Eyes closed, you let out a breathy chuckle, feeling it move against his body. Joel loosens his hold so you fall back just enough to be able to look at him, his head tilted up slightly to meet your eyes, “So don’t be afraid of touchin’ me, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” You respond, almost automatically—if he ever wants to convince you of something, this would be the way to do it.

“Good girl.” He kisses you once and then enfolds you again in a tight embrace, you hum a sigh, resting your chin lazily on his shoulder, arms around his broad back, and you want to stay here forever. You skim your hands up and down his back and he sighs deeply. Then, quiet and muffled against you, he says, “God, I want you all over me, baby.”

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blessedwithabadomen · 15 days

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in love with the mess - day eleven

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : smut (p in v, fingering dirty talk), angst, fluff

length : 6k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @blacksoul-27 @somebodyels3 @kageyasma @spikeisdaddy @broken0mens

a/n : Enjoy!! Leave a comment if you do hehe 💕

•••

day eleven

What on earth was one supposed to do when everything they’d ever craved, ever needed without quite knowing that they’d needed it at all, suddenly seemed to appear right at their fingertips while knowing that every move toward it would only make it recede further?

Waking up in an empty bed had flooded my brain with loneliness, feelings of rejection, a cold seeping into my bones, just for a moment, completely automatically, but then the rest of my senses loaded in and as soon as my hearing permitted me to realise I was far from alone in the apartment, my whole body relaxed again. A chaotic mixture of shouting and uninhibited laughter filtered through the open door, interrupted by the tell-tale noises of pots and pans and everything else Oli’s kitchen had to offer. Then, slowly but surely, the scent of coffee reached my nostrils. I inhaled it deeply, turning onto my back and snuggling into the blankets for another minute.

How cruel was the world to gift me this moment? I wanted to sink into the bliss this morning provided. The domesticity. The soft wake-up, the realisation that Oli and Noah were preparing breakfast, the gentle lull of the bed that promised a future that could look exactly like this.

Could it? The pull at my heart stung more painfully than ever. The clarity that all I wanted seemed so close and yet unattainable hit me harder than before. I didn’t want to assume that either Oli or Noah were doing it with any ill intent, but the way they kept dangling this possibility in front of my face hurt all the same. What would it take to get this for real? Every morning of my life? My whole body seemed to ache with the love I had for them.

I was on the verge of giving up. Not giving up either of them or this thing we had going on. Giving up on being quiet. Giving up on hiding my feelings, lying about what my heart was screaming for, making myself and my needs smaller than they were. Maybe then, we would stand a chance. Maybe if I was being honest with them, they could be honest with me too. If only there was any sort of knowledge that their truth would bear the same content as mine.

Five more days of this tour. Five more days until we would, in some capacity, have to part ways. Oli was going back home to finish the album. Noah was heading on another tour. I was… well, packing up my things and trying to find a place to stay. How much longer would I manage to keep my mouth shut? I didn’t just want to blurt out a confession of love, hit them out of nowhere, possibly scare them away with my intensity. But I would have to speak up, sooner or later. Before the tour was over. I couldn’t leave without letting them know, even if it meant the end of things. Even if it changed my relationship with Oli irredeemably. Even if it meant never having Noah again. I’d simply have to find the right moment.

Or rather, moments. I wasn’t sure if telling both of them at the same time would be wise. They were two individual people that each deserved my undivided attention. As much as my heart was beating for both of them, it would be wrong to pretend it had the same quality with both. I’d known Oli for years, a crush that had been steadily growing, going dormant and growing again. Noah had only appeared on the scene recently, even if he’d caught my heart with no difficulties at all. But it was different. Every love was. Their own, the one between them, was too.

A loud clatter pulled me out of my thoughts. It was followed by a beat of silence and then rambunctious laughter. The smile on my face appeared involuntarily at the sound. Rolling myself out of the sheets, I quickly looked for something to put on, remembering I only had my dress from last night. Pulling a few drawers open, I located an oversized sweatshirt in Oli’s closet that I allowed myself to put on along with a pair of clean boxershorts. My underwear from last night was too sticky to even consider it.

The kitchen was a mess when I entered. It seemed like the two of them had made it their mission to open every single cupboard and then proceeded to place every single item in there somewhere completely different. In between, some cooking that wanted to be an English breakfast had happened. Still, as soon as I was spotted, shuffling toward them on bare feet, Oli made quick work of fixing a plate for me with whatever hadn’t gotten burned or landed on the ground in their mayhem.

“I promise, I actually know how to cook,” Noah whispered in my ear as he hugged me good morning, his hands moving upwards on my thighs until they disappeared under Oli’s shirt. “Not so sure about him though.”

We both turned to watch Oli plate some more stuff for Noah and himself, some of it looking suspiciously black, but he was obviously trying so hard to make it a good breakfast meal that my heart couldn’t help but flutter at the sight.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

•••

The morning was filled with half-edible food, giggles over the breakfast table and slow, lazy kisses on the couch as we took turns showering. Oli ended up lending Noah and me some clothes that definitely looked more ridiculous on me than it ever did on those two men, but it was still better than trying to make do with last night’s outfits again. It still very much felt like a walk of shame when the cab driver all but dropped us back off at the hotel. I almost asked if Oli would mind us grabbing our suitcases and going right back to his place to stay there for another night until we had to get going to London. But I didn’t.

Noah and I had planned to make a quick dash to our respective rooms to change into clothes that actually belonged in our closets while Oli would make his way to the venue, but the plan was foiled when we realised that the rest of Bad Omens were gathered in the hotel lobby, chatting and… well, probably waiting for Noah before heading to the arena together. Unfortunately, that also meant that the three of us were the topic of conversation as soon as we got spotted.

Folio saw us first, his eyes moving back and forth between us, then up and down our bodies as he seemed to realise what we were wearing. He gave a low wolf whistle that briefly caught the attention of every uninvolved person in the lobby, but he didn’t mind at all as he approached us with a big smile on his face.

“Noah! We’d been wondering where you were. You could have told us you were spending the night with your boyfriend and your girlfriend!”

In an instant, Noah’s face had taken on a blush like no other. He dropped my hand as if caught in some sort of compromising situation, his eyes darting everywhere but me or Oli.

“Very funny, Folio,” he mumbled, but there was no humour in his voice.

“Come one, you all look like you’ve had a very good night,” the drummer continued, harshly slapping Noah’s shoulder in what I assumed was supposed to be a friendly, if teasing, gesture. “No need to be shy about it.”

But Noah wasn’t shy about it. Not exactly. Noah was… somewhere between embarrassed and terrified. At least that was what he looked like. The shuffling of his feet, the way he played with the hem of the shirt and then suddenly let go as if stung by the realisation it was Oli’s, the restless energy. Even Folio backed off suddenly.

“I need to change,” Noah announced and before anyone had the chance to stop him or even say a single word, he had set off towards the lifts. He needed to change. He didn’t say he was going to. He needed to. It set off all the alarm bells in my head. I couldn’t let this whole situation run off its course again, whatever the course was. But I also knew better than to push Noah into what would only result in him withdrawing and refusing to talk altogether.

“We should talk to him,” Oli piped up next to me.

“We should. But not now. Bryan needs you for pictures and then you’ve got soundcheck. I’ll meet you at the arena, yeah?”

Oli nodded, not quite convinced, but knowing that his schedule called for him. We’d already taken the whole morning off, it was time to get back to work. I moved to quickly press my lips to his cheek before heading to my room as well, but he stopped me, hand on my neck, leading me exactly where he wanted me.

And then, in public, and in front of everyone still watching us, Oli Sykes kissed me.

•••

“Aubrey! Just the person I was hoping to see!”

I stopped dead in my tracks at Becky’s voice. I’d successfully maneouvered Oli from soundcheck back to his dressing room where he’d have a bite to eat in preparation for the show when I decided to see what sort of mood Noah would be in. If it was time to talk to him yet. As much as he preferred to battle his demons alone some times, there was a point where he would simply end up overthinking and, at worst, grabbing some bottles again, and I wanted to stop that process by all means necessary.

However, I’d only just made it into the general standing area of the venue when Becky called me over. I shot one more look at Noah on stage, in the middle of his own soundcheck and seemingly miles away in his mind, before walking over to the sound booth.

“So, slight trouble ahead,” she said, kneading her hands awkwardly. “Someone on the team is having a family emergency and he needs to leave after the show. Which means we’re good for tonight, but we’re a pair of hands short in London. I have some contacts for the Dublin show so that won’t be a problem, but no one is available for the next two days on such short notice. I’ve already talked to Oli and Noah and they agreed so I thought I’d ask if you could help out for those gigs?”

My brain was whirling with the amount of information she’d just dropped on me. But it was one particular piece it got stuck on - why had she asked Noah? Oli was a given, considering I was technically his employee and he’d have to do without me if I was gone during soundcheck and the actual show, but Noah didn’t make any sense.

“Noah?” I questioned, more to myself than anything else and Becky interrupted me immediately.

“Will you? Please say yes. It’s important. Really.”

“Sure,” I smiled, even though I felt anything but sure at that moment in time. Still, she needed help and if I could be of any use, it would be ridiculous to decline.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, reaching over the barrier to pull me into a hug. “You won’t regret it!”

I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean either.

•••

Noah vanished right after soundcheck, which seemed to be a special talent of his. All of his usual hiding spots came up empty and if he’d left the venue in some capacity, there was no way I’d be able to track him. Trying the dressing room one more time, I opened the door, just a small gap, to peek inside, but the only person present at all was Nicholas.

To my surprise, he waved me in. I followed the invitation gratefully - not only was I out of ideas on where to find Noah before the show, I also didn't have anything else on my schedule for the day. Plus, I'd not really had the time to hang out with anyone apart from Oli and Noah lately.

A beer was thrust in my general direction as soon as I sat down on the other end of the couch. It wasn't my favourite, but I took it anyway.

“So, Aubrey, how are you doing today?”

I stared at Nicholas with the most suspicious look I could muster. “Nick, in the ten days we've been in this tour together, we've not once made silly small talk.”

He chuckled, a little nervously, a little caught out, but he looked so sweet that I couldn't even pretend to be mad. “Yeah, I don’t know why I said that.”

The silence settled between us for a moment, but I didn’t mind. I figured he’d called me in here for a reason, and I’d give him as much time as he wanted to needed to figure our what to say.

“Would you mind if we stole Noah away for the night?”

“What? I mean, of course. He’s your friend, you don’t need my permission to hang out with him.”

I had been hoping to spend the night with both him and Oli again. Go pack to his place. Maybe have a quiet night in before the four-hour drive to London tomorrow. Get some takeaway. Stare out of Oli’s windows to watch the city as it fell asleep and woke back up. But with Noah making an abrupt exit this morning at the hotel and being basically untraceable ever since, my hopes had been dwindling anyway.

“‘Course, ‘course,” Nicky mumbled, briefly looking up at me with a smile. “I’m not complaining about you spending time with him, by the way. But we…” He looked contemplative, as if trying to decide how much to tell me. “We sat down together, Folio, Jolly and I, for lunch today and we decided we need to talk to him. Because, well, he seems very happy to hang out with you and Oli but then it takes one comment from Folio and he just closes off completely.”

I’d seen it first-hand, more than once. They were right to be concerned, too. With all the fun we were having among the three of us, reality kept punching Noah in the gut relentlessly. I still wasn’t entirely sure what sort of demons he was battling, but they were weighing heavily on his mind and impacting his moods. The other three were probably both worried about his ability to perform as their frontman and how he was coping as their friend. And as much as Oli and I needed to talk to him, sooner or later, maybe what he needed right now was the people he’d known for years.

“I know,” I sighed in response. “He switches from extremely carefree to withdrawn and pissed off in a split second sometimes. An evening with the guys will probably do him good. If… I don’t know if it’s appropriate, but if he says anything, you know… I don’t know, that would be helpful to know… I know you don’t know me very well but I genuinely just want what’s best for him and I’m at a complete loss sometimes.”

Nicky’s hand on my shoulder was so reassuring, I suddenly felt like I had to bite back tears. “I’ll let you know. Unless we somehow get him to grow some balls and talk to you himself.”

I giggled, pushing away the emotions, leaning slightly into his touch, simply glad to know Noah was surrounded by people who really cared about him and his wellbeing. Even if that included bullying him on the low when he was being a diva about communicating properly. He deserved it, to be honest.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight then? Hope it’s not an intervention because that’ll probably make him run for the hills immediately.”

“No,” Nicky laughed slightly. “We’re just going to call it a guys’ night. Take him out after the show. Have a beer.”

I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrow at him a little bit. Somehow, he caught it immediately. The questioning look on his face compelled me to talk.

“He’s been… drinking. I don’t know if that’s a general pattern with him, but, sometimes, it’s to the point where he doesn’t remember things the next morning.”

Nicholas seemed more somber than he had been the entire conversation. The way something flashed in his eyes, just for a moment, told me enough. Enough to know that this wasn’t exactly the first time he might have gone down that road. And that they were well aware of it, too.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. Promise.”

I nodded, finally getting up from the couch with a heavy sigh, my almost untouched beer still in my hand. “Well. I’m going to need the rundown tomorrow. And if I don’t see you again before you leave, good luck.”

“I might need it.”

•••

Some days, things just tended to go wrong. And while, a lot of the time, I could accept that, be gentle with myself and move on, today was not like that. At all. What had started as a lovely morning with Noah and Oli had quickly spiralled into worries about the former, then feelings of confusion and being slightly overwhelmed at suddenly working with Becky for the next two days. I couldn’t find Noah anywhere, but I’d all but given up on that since the conversation with Nicky. I’d check up on the situation tomorrow, when, hopefully, some things were cleared up. At least in Noah’s head.

But then my AAA pass went missing. It wasn’t a massive problem, excluding the embarrassment of having to let people know that the person who was responsible for keeping Oli in check and organised had managed to misplace what was probably the single most important item on any given tour date. What bothered me much more was the fact that I’d attached my Powerfuff Girls keychain to it, as I’d been doing every day since I’d bought it.

Lee was the one to find me, near tears, picking apart Oli’s dressing room to no success.

“Alright, let’s walk through your day then. You’ve obviously had it when you arrived here or you wouldn’t have gotten in. Where did you go from there?”

I knew he technically didn’t have the time to run this through, but I was simply too distraught to send him away, silently grateful for his help as we re-traced my steps from Oli’s dressing room to the sound desk and catering to all the hallways I could have possibly walked. Additionally, both of us had shot messages into any group chats we were part of, but so far no one had replied with positive news.

“Wait, is that-”

Lee was pointing slightly further ahead in the hallway. I was there in an instant. There, on top of one of the boxes, was, indeed, a backstage pass. Adorned with my name. Only - there was no charm on it.

“But- that doesn’t make sense!” I exclaimed, turning the item over in my hands, then bending down to study the floor around the box. “If I’d lost it, it would surely be on the ground and not up here, right? And if someone picked it up, they could have given it back to me, because my name is on it. And why is the keychain missing? There’s no reason for it to detach!”

Lee shrugged his shoulders, not quite as bewildered as I was, but I figured he also didn’t have as much personal attachment to a keychain. I had the pass back, which should be all that mattered, probably.

“Aubrey! Aubrey, help!”

Oli’s voice echoed through the hallway. He didn’t sound like he was in any imminent danger, but I still set off as soon as I’d reattached the pass, finding him in the middle of his dressing room. He stood in the most awkward, uncomfortable way, his head strangely bent down toward his shoulder. I was about to question it when he turned around, showing me exactly what the dilemma was.

“My hair!”

I didn’t know how he’d done it, but some of his strands were caught up in the rings of his black jacket. I bit back a smile, very unsuccessfully.

“How the fuck did you do that,” I giggled, unable to hold the noise back as soon as I opened my mouth.

“Does it matter? Help me out!”

With laughter still wrecking my chest, I started fumbling with his hair and the accessories on his jacket, trying to be as delicate as possible as he kept making noises of pain even when nothing was actually tugging on his scalp. Drama queen. I finally pulled him free, giving him a soft kiss, before toying with his outfit until it was perfectly in place.

“Thank you, love,” he said, suddenly mellow. His hands were toying with my hair now, mindlessly playing with the strands as he stared at me. I felt as naked and vulnerable under his stare as I felt protected. “Can I invite you over to mine again tonight?”

“You don’t even have to ask. Can we grab my suitcase this time though? I’d rather not do another walk of shame tomorrow morning.”

“Anything you want.”

I almost melted at how soft he was. I wasn’t sure if it was me or the fact that he was in his hometown, playing to more people than ever, knowing that friends and family were watching, but I wallowed in it all the same.

“I don’t think Noah’s coming, though,” I added after a beat of silence and only after I’d managed to tear myself away from the way his eyes were seeing right into my soul. “The guys are taking him out. But we’ll talk to him tomorrow, right?”

“Tomorrow,” Oli agreed, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

•••

The show in Sheffield was nothing short of magical and when Oli came off stage, he was an electrified bundle of energy. He was all over me, pulling me into his arms, completely ignorant of the way his sweaty skin stuck to mine where my top didn’t cover me, swaying me side to side.

“Fuck, I just love playing here,” he mumbled into my hair before pulling away just so much that he could look at me without having to fully let go. “What do you say to going straight home? I really need a shower but I’m so tired of venue bathrooms.”

I ignored the way my heart fluttered at the idea of home being not just his but all of our place to retreat to. I had no idea if he’d meant it like that or not, but suddenly I wished for nothing more than a shared comfort place. With him, and with Noah. Instead of dwelling on it, I sniffed at the fabric of shirt, loudly, just to annoy him.

“Yeah, that’ll just about do, I don’t think the uber driver is gonna kick you out for that smell just yet.”

“You’re fucking rude,” he laughed, carefree and not the slightest bit impressed. Then he continued to envelop me in his arms, awkwardly rubbing his body against mine. “There. If I smell, you do too.”

I couldn’t hold back the giggle, pulling him away from where several people working at the venue pretended not to stare at us and his antics, and started making my way outside with his hand firmly in mine. “Guess we’ll both need a shower.”

•••

Neither of us mentioned the way the backseat of the cab seemed a little empty as we made our way to the hotel to pick up my suitcase and then Oli’s place. Even though Oli’s energy was filling the space tenfold and we kept talking, giggling, touching as innocently as possible while still being within the driver’s view, I was sure that he felt the absence of a third person in our midst. Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow we’d talk to him. For now, I decided to focus solely on having Oli all to myself tonight.

The place was as homely as the night before, immediately drawing me in. I almost wanted to collapse on the couch, place myself just in the right way to stare out the windows once more, stay like that until the sunrise appeared, but all of that went straight out my brain as soon as Oli started undressing. He was still in the living room, lights on, with the curtains still drawn open, removing piece by piece and letting it fall on the floor. It didn’t really matter that he was fully on display - no other building in the vicinity was close or high enough to grant anyone the view that I was getting.

More and more tattooed flesh was being put on show and I drank all of it in, studying Oli’s body in a way I never had the chance to before, his broad chest, strong arms, muscular thighs, his half-erect cock. By the smirk on his face, he enjoyed the way I attempted to commit every single details about him to memory.

“Come on, love, you can’t be getting into the shower in all of that,” he grinned, motioning toward my outfit, but made no move to step closer. I didn’t mind. I could undress all on my own.

It wasn’t that I was actively trying to impress or give a show, my entire being was much too clumsy and lacking self-awareness for that, but the way I removed my top, my bra then let my skirt and tights follow before dropping my panties down my legs still seemed to have him hypnotised. It didn’t make me feel insecure. It made me feel like the most desirable person on the planet.

With his hand softly taking mine, Oli pulled me down the hallway and into his bathroom, making quick work of turning the shower on, checking until he was satisfied with the temperature and then pulled me under the large waterfall shower head. It was pure luxury. Both the way the hot water was raining down on me and how Oli wrapped himself around me once more, nothing between our naked bodies, just touches all over that had me sigh in utter relaxation.

I could feel him growing a little harder against me as my nipples perked up, but neither of us was in any hurry to do anything about it. Instead, Oli grabbed one of the bottles on the shelf next to him, stepping back to first lather himself and then me in shower gel. His hands were all over, starting at my shoulders, moving over my breasts with the utmost care, one arm, then the other, moving down my body, my back, my thighs, until he was basically kneeling in front of me. I took it all, the goosebumps following in the wake of his fingers, shivers running up and down my body under his delicate touch. When he stood back up to direct us back under the water, I almost cried out at the loss of his hands on me, before they were back, scrubbing me clean, reaching every single inch of my body. I did the same for him.

I couldn’t tell how long we stayed there as the mirror and the windows fogged up, I still could have remained there for longer, feeling safe and protected and warm, the world outside nothing but a far away thought that had no room between us. But my skin was getting wrinkly from the water and my brain was starting to get mushy from the heat, so we reluctantly detached from each other and stepped into the humid bathroom. Oli wrapped a towel around me, impossibly fluffy, then put another around his waist. We dried each other’s hair as much as possible before giving up, deciding we’d deal with the mess of it tomorrow.

Oli’s bed was unmade, none of us having had the time to strip and remake it this morning and it gave me a brief ache in my chest when I realised just how much Noah was missing, but Oli gently pushed me onto the bed, both of us losing our towels as we slid under the blanket, lights out, still staring at each other as much as our eyes allowed as they got used to the darkness.

“You’re amazing,” he said out of nowhere, his voice a little rough as we hadn’t spoken much since arriving, but it was his words which took me by surprise. “I’m sorry we drifted apart so much in the past. I think I pushed away just how much I need you.”

He moved a strand of hair away, tucking it gently behind my ear, and I had to take care not to let a trail of tears follow. Something in his voice was so honest, so vulnerable and true that I couldn’t help being emotional. It was more than I’d ever gotten from Oli, more than I’d ever thought I’d get, and even with everything that had been transpiring on this tour, I hadn’t seen it coming.

“I need you too, Oli. I don’t…” I swallowed, hard and audibly, my hand finding his, intertwining our fingers. “I don’t ever want to be without you again.”

It still felt like a risk, saying it out loud, not yet daring to say what I was really burning to utter, but hoping and praying that he knew, that he would get it, that my voice and my eyes and my hand in his would tell all. And when he kissed me, it felt like he did. When his hand wound up in my hair, it felt like he did. When he sighed against my lips, so softly, it felt like he did.

I wanted to stay in this moment forever. Anything that meant keeping his hands on me and his mouth on mine. It was so impossibly soft and sweet, it almost made me believe I was dreaming. But then Oli rolled himself on top of me, hot skin warming up my own, every single inch of him on me, his lap slotted against mine, my nipples hardening as they rubbed against his chest, and the kissing suddenly wasn’t even close to being enough. I wanted him, needed him, all of him.

The blanket was easily kicked off as the temperature rose, our naked bodies emitting more than enough heat as my thighs wrapped around Oli’s waist, pressing him harder against me. His mouth moved from my lips to my jawline, down my neck, over my breasts. All I could do was sigh in pleasure, letting his long hair tickle my skin on the way. I could feel he wanted to move further, until his head would rest between my legs, but I held onto his shoulders, then pulled ever so slightly at the back of his scalp to make him look up at me. Those gorgeous, deep, ever-changing eyes that lured me in, even when the dark room, illuminated by nothing but street lights below and the moon up above, barely let me see them.

“I want you, Oli,” I mumbled as soon as we were face to face again. “I just… want you.”

Oli, miraculously, understood. He kissed me again, so deeply that it made my head swim, before reaching down. I gladly let my legs fall open a little more, inviting his fingers in.

“At least let me prepare you a little, my love,” he whispered against my neck, one finger entering me with a sound that was impossible to ignore, a second immediately following. “So wet, so lovely and wet, just for me.”

I tried to get him closer, get more of him, pulling him in, everything that he would give me. I was losing control quickly, of the way my body moved, of the noises that he ripped from me.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me touch you like this.”

At the way his words sounded, voice low and raspy.

“Been dreaming about this so long, you don’t even know. Never thought you’d allow me to be with you like this. That you’d let me have all of you.”

He pumped his fingers a few times, experimentally adding a third finger which barely took any effort to slide in at all. Every single one of his words seemed to send another wave of lust over me, leaving me dripping and relaxed and more than ready to take him. When he pulled away, I whined pathetically, almost grabbing at his arm to keep him there.

“Come here, sweet thing.” He held his fingers out to me, tapping my lips to get me to open up. I licked them clean eagerly. “Taste yourself. Taste what you’re giving me. All for me.”

My brain wouldn’t have worked even if I’d actively tried to use it. I dumbly sucked on his fingers, a delirium waiting to happen, barely registering when he removed them from my mouth again to reach for the bedside drawer. He blindly grabbed a condom, ripping it open and putting him on, all the while keeping his eyes on my as much as possible. I loved how they looked. All hooded and pupils blown, full of arousal. I could only imagine he would be staring back at the same sight.

I immediately wrapped my legs around him again when he settled back on me. His forehead rested on mine, both of us breathing heavily, unable to keep still or quiet enough for another kiss when he pushed in.

“So perfect,” he moaned, completely in tune with mine when he buried himself in me. “So perfect, sweetheart.”

Then he started to move, slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid I could break or fall apart underneath him, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I wouldn’t. I felt like I was barely able to breathe. His cock in me, perfectly filling me up, his hands, whenever they weren’t holding his body up, everywhere on me. His eyes fully focused on mine.

The closeness hadn’t been there before. Not to this extent. And it almost made me want to break out in tears. It was simply so much, bordering on too much, while being just perfect, and all I could do was claw at his back, pull him that impossible inch closer, feel him all over, his breathing mixing with mine. He still took the time to look into my eyes, all throughout. One of my hands moved from his back to his cheek, unable to keep myself from touching his face, cradling it lovingly, a soft moment in between the heavy moans and loud noises.

Still, I didn’t see it coming.

Both of us were on the edge, steadily leaning over it and ready to fall. His thrusts were becoming quicker now, a little more shallow, and then his fingers were on my clit and I came so fast, it took me by surprise. I clenched around him, riding out my high with fingers digging into his back, letting myself fall into the feeling completely, knowing he’d be there to catch me and then he came undone too, low groans accompanying his release as he rutted into me again and-

“I love you.”

#Noah Sebastian fic #Noah Sebastian #Oli Sykes fic #Oli Sykes #Noah Sebastian x reader #Oli Sykes x reader #in love with the mess

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elisysd · 1 month

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5. We'll talk, then we'll cry, then we'll laugh 'til we're done

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Chapter soundtrack: TRUSTFALL - P!nk

Behind a Haas. Never in his career would he have ever thought he would end up behind a Haas. Not that he thought it was a bad team, he truly thought that both Kevin and Nico were fighting the best they could with the car they had. But struggling this much, in a car that was supposed to fight for wins, against one that was the worst of the grid hurt. It wounded his ego and the questions he had already answered hadn’t helped to ease the blow. So, seeing you, adjusting something on your microphone as you were talking quickly with a Spanish journalist, made him sigh. He was dreading your questions as usual but, a part of him was hoping that the chat you had a few days ago and your confessions had improved your relationship. He hoped that it changed something. He hoped he hadn’t been the only one to feel it. As he walked to you, he first noticed your apologetic and empathetic smile.

“What a weekend for you Charles. Could you tell us more about what happened?”

“I don’t know, really. I feel like I’m repeating myself each weekend but… we have to truly sit and talk about the car and what we can do to improve because we can’t keep going like that. I had no feeling with the car, I was struggling in each corner. Truly one of the most painful races in my career.”

“Do you have any hopes for the situation to improve?”

“Thankfully, Fred already managed to build up a strong team spirit. We can all talk freely, that’s something that was seriously lacking before, so I trust Fred. We will bounce back and come back stronger.”

“Thank you, Charles.”

Getting out of the media pen, he was in a better mood than when he got in. It had felt nice to talk with you, even briefly and if Silvia had not pushed him to leave, he would have stayed. Your gentle smile had calmed him down. He shook his head, suddenly feeling very stupid. Now was not the time to start to develop a crush on you. He would only make a fool of himself, knowing perfectly that you would never reciprocate whatever feelings he could have. He breathed in and breathed out the hot hair of Florida before Silvia told him that he had to hurry to not be late for the meeting. He couldn’t wait to get inside, at least there would be AC. But he wasn’t excited for the meeting ahead. He knew it would be a long one. Fighting with a Haas was not supposed to happen in any way, shape or form.

You were coming out of your post race debrief as the air felt cooler on your skin. You were tired. It had been a very stressful weekend between the race preparation and your nerve wracking interview with Charles. It had left you emotionally empty. Luc was a tough subject. One you hated talking about. You hadn’t much if you were honest. You had kept it bottled out inside of you, hoping that by not mentioning it, it would be easier to let yourself heal. It was stupid. And you were only seeing it now. You hadn’t been fair to Charles. He didn’t deserve it. And still, he had not judged you when you had explained what had happened to Luc. It felt good. But quickly, you felt scared. By talking about your grief, you felt a little lighter as if it was freeing you. But you didn’t want to be free. You didn’t deserve it. You wanted to keep Luc’s memory alive within yourself. You didn’t want to let go. You didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want to forget him. And talking to Charles felt like it. You shook your head, trying to get a grip and decided to wander the paddock, fishing for information. That was what you loved to do. It was quite easy, you were just walking from one end of the paddock to the other, trying to see if people were available for a little chat. You were doing that a few times. That was kind of like your working out routine on race weekend. It was how you would get little insides from the teams, new and useful information.

Though, you were a bit hungry. You hadn’t had the occasion to eat lately, busy with everything that was happening around you. A few biscuits here and there had made their way to your stomach but that was all. You could feel a migraine coming and with the sun still high in the sky and the air still hot overall, your visions start to blur. You barely had time to lean against a motorhome wall when you felt two strong hands grabbing your shoulders and a voice that was feeling so far away from your ears. You felt yourself being forced to sit down on the ground as the voice screamed for water. You felt the tip of the bottle against your lips as the fresh liquid was being poured into your throat. It didn’t take long before you started to feel better and that’s when you saw a red cap and two blue green eyes worryingly looking at you.

“Nothing good ever comes out of Miami.” you mumbled sheepishly, feeling your cheeks redden.

“That’s something I can agree with you.” the monegasque replied.

You tried to get up and stumbled. If it weren't for Charles' quick instincts, your face would have met the ground. His hands around your waist, your face close to his chest and his eyes intently looking at you made you feel suddenly very conscious of your surroundings. Trying to avoid his intense gaze on you, you tried to search for a diversion, anything that could break the intimacy of the moment.

“Nice pants.” you ended up saying.

“Yeah? One of my friends is a designer. He gifted them to me. They stand out, I wasn’t sure at first but…”

“It was sarcastic.” you cut him.

“Oh.”

“You make questionable choices in every aspect of your life as it seems.”

“Come on, they are not that bad.” he defended himself.

“You’re right. They are worse.” you chuckled, making Charles do it as well.

“I will blame the heat. You don’t know what you are saying.” he softly smiled.

As you were about to leave him to go back to your hotel you felt him next to you.

“Let me give you a ride. I would feel better knowing you made it home safely.”

“You don’t need to act like a knight in his shiny Ferrari, you know.”

“I would feel responsible if something was happening to you.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“A big girl who faints when there is a little sun outside.” he teased you.

“I don’t want people to see us together. I don’t want anyone to imagine that something is going on between us.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“No.”

“Well, you will have to because I’m not letting you walk away alone.”

You were about to reply when he took your hand in his and forced you to follow him.

“I promised I would show you that some people are decent human beings. This is me proving it to you. Accept it.”

Reaching the hotel, you still look awfully pale and you didn’t even try to argue when Charles told you he wouldn’t leave your side until he was sure you would be okay on your own. You found it stupid but you were so tired you didn’t send him away. It would have been useless anyway.

“You know,” you began arriving in front of your door, “ I can manage from there. I’m going to order room service, take a shower and work a little…”

“Not even in your wildest dreams. You won’t work after almost fainting. You are going to rest.”

You glared at him. Who was he to try patronizing you?

“I’m going to do whatever the hell I want after crossing this door. I don’t even know why you even think you can allow me to do stuff or not. You won’t be there to watch over me.” you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you want to test me?” he replied in the same tone as you.

“What if I do?”

Quickly he snatched the card from your room, hanging loosely between your fingers and threw you over his shoulder as he unlocked the room and walked in. You didn’t even have the time to protest as you were already sitting on your bed as he poured a glass of water from your carafe. He didn’t even ask you before ordering two burgers with double portions of fries for you from the phone.

“You are truly something else, Leclerc.”

“I know.”

“Very humble with that.”

He laughed, making you roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. Understanding he wouldn’t go anywhere, you decided to still work on what you had planned. You took your laptop out of your bag and opened it on a blank document on which you typed Imola 2023. You prepared a few documents like the race recaps, the track history and started to write some notes and highlight the parts you deemed useful. You could hear Charles muffles and his breath down your neck as you turned around, your left hand closing your laptop. You both stared at each other, waiting for the other one to flinch and give up.

“I said no work for you.”

“You’re not my boss.” you replied.

“I might not be him, but I’m sure Jean would be exhilarated to know that a member of his team fainted in the paddock because she doesn’t know how to take care of herself.”

“I didn’t faint.” you corrected him, gritting your teeth together.

“Thanks to me. Listen, there is a little break before Imola, you can rest. You don’t have to work right now.”

“I feel fine! And I want to prepare some stuff now. I have the weekend in mind, I’m in the mood to work and I surely didn’t ask for your opinion on that. You can leave, I’ve never asked you to stay.”

“Maybe you didn’t but I want to.” he argued.

“You’re so annoying!”

“Great, so now you know what it feels like whenever I look at you!”

You hissed and turned your back at him. Maybe if you ignored him, he would leave you alone. As you opened your laptop again, it was closed almost immediately by his hand and you barely had time to process the situation that he took it away from you.

“That’s it! I’m calling the security!”

You didn’t have time to do so as someone knocked at your door and as if he owned the room, Charles went to open it, said a few words that you could barely make out and came back, the trail of food in front of him.

“I don’t want to fight…” he sighed. “Let’s make peace around two very greasy burgers.”

“Is that allowed in your diet?” you arched an eyebrow.

“Will you release an article about me not following it properly?”

You shook your head in his direction.

“Then we are good. And after this disastrous weekend, I think I deserve a treat.” he told you before taking a huge mouthful. A little bit more shyly than him, you did the same.

Surprisingly, he was easy to talk to. You talk about many things, the sport's history and he tells you how much he loved Senna and how much he meant to him. He talked about his brothers, his friends and how one of his best friends was the dad to an adorable daughter whom he loved very much. He even was keen on showing you pictures of her. He talked about his life with such ease that it threw you off. He didn’t really know you but yet he trusted you with so many private parts of his life. He felt like an old friend, someone you had met in another life. You were not one to believe in soulmates but yet, he could make you change your mind. Maybe in a past life you were friends. Maybe in a past life you wouldn’t have made all the mistakes you made in this one. Maybe in another life, you had a family.

You started to feel emotional and he noticed it.

“Anyway… what about you?”

“What about me?” you repeated.

“Tell me something about you.”

You sighed. You were much more at ease with making people talk about themselves than you were with talking about your life.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Why is your job that important to you? To the point that you don’t even want to be my friend…”

You gulped, fidgeting with your napkin.

“That's all I have left. My parents don’t talk to me, my best friend has her own life, I travel most of the time, you know how it is. My job is the only constant in my life, the one thing that truly makes me happy. I’m alone. And it’s fine. I’m not saying that for you to pity me. I made peace with it. I’m alone, it’s a fact.”

“Having a good support system is so important for me, it helps me, it grounds me. I’m sorry you don’t have that.”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine, you know.” you smiled.

He scooted closer to you, snatching fries on your plate making you whine in protest.

“So, you studied journalism.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

“How was it?”

“Fun. Tiring. I spent a year in New York to study there. I used to cover the Yankees’ games and the Knicks’. It’s fun how it had nothing to do with F1. I was supposed to meet an old friend there in the next few days.”

“No way!” Charles laughed. “That’s a funny coincidence, I’m going to New York for a few days as well and I’m invited to the Yankees’ game!”

It made you laugh as well involuntarily. That’s too big of a coincidence for you to keep your poker face. It seemed life had decided to play you by throwing Charles in every aspect of your life.

“I didn’t take you for a baseball fan.”

“I’m not. But I like to discover new things. It will be fun, I’m taking my brothers with me.”

“I could teach you a thing or two about the sport if you’d like.”

You didn’t know why you said that and from the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting it either. There was silence. Uncomfortable. You checked the time and stood up, almost running to your suitcase, pretending to look for something as you’re unable to look him in the eyes.

“It’s… it’s late and I have an early flight tomorrow. Not that I’m forcing you to leave but…” you stuttered.

“You need to sleep. It’s okay, I understand and you’re right it’s late.”

You could see in his eyes that you hurt him. You didn’t mean to, of course, deep down you truly appreciated what he had done for you today. He cared and it had been such a long time since someone cared for you that you didn’t know how to take it. You closed your eyes and breathed in before getting up and looking at him.

“Thank you. For today. I haven’t told you and I’m feeling so ungrateful when you went out of your way to make sure I was okay. I haven’t been the nicest and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a good guy. Maybe you were right, there are still decent men out there.”

He smiled at you and took a step towards you, putting a hand on your shoulder. That was the first time he had ever been that close to you, willingly. No accident, no fainting, just a calm and steady comforting hand on your skin. You shivered and felt your cheeks getting hot. If he noticed it, he didn’t comment on it.

“Maybe you don’t want to be my friend but I want you to be mine. And I’m always there for my friends. Whether they like it or not.” he chuckled.

“Why?” you whispered.

“Because you look like you need one. And I like lost causes. I’m a Ferrari driver after all.”

That time you laughed. A real, big and loud laugh. It made him smile wide. You shook your head, punching him lightly on his chest. You went with him to your door and as you opened it, you both jumped noticing Marion in front of you. She was as surprised as you were. Her eyes darted between Charles and you, making you both uncomfortable. You could already guess what was going inside her mind. Charles sent you an apologetic look and avoided Marion as he left you alone.

“Marion, I swear it’s not what you might think it is.” you rushed to explain.

“Y/N. I don’t care. I really don’t. I won’t judge. I know how tempting it can be, just be careful. If you want to play with fire, you will get burned. These guys are pure gasoline on dry wood under a heatwave. One small ray of sun on it and it’s wildfire spreading for weeks.”

“You don’t have to worry. Nothing happened, nothing is happening and nothing will ever happen between Charles and I.” you stated.

But for an unknown reason, you had a hard time believing in your words.

Author's note: It's progressing. Slowly. But don't worry, they will get there. For now, I really do enjoy writing their banters.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

🦐 to recognize my post

Am I the asshole for asking my grandmother if I can move in with her?

This’ll be one of your classic reddit-style family dramas, I think. Back in late 2019 just before COVID, I (freshly 18 at the time) had run away from home with my mom and moved in with my best friend (R, 17 in 2019) and her (60s, deeply depressed) dad. Her dad and I were on good terms for a long time, but respectfully, he has a tendency to repress any issues he has with someone until they build into a bigger issue. Near toward November of 2020, he kicked me out on account of ‘not keeping a job and not doing anything around the house’ (I washed stagnant dishes often, took care of their several animals, and took out trash whenever I could, R and I think he was projecting his shitty roommates from when he was 20 onto me), so I needed a new place to move.

My own beloved father lives ten hours away, and offered for me to live with him. For months, I was preparing to pick up my entire life from the hometown I had lived in since I was 2 years old to move to a new state, and in the last month, I got cold feet and said I couldn’t make such a large change like that. My dad completely understood, and I went to look for a new place to stay, still living with R and her dad at this time.

During this period, I was getting closer with my grandmother on my mom’s side again. She was one of the few family members I felt comfortable with, and we often went to Panera for lunch dates to catch up on things. I won’t go super deep into why I’m so anxious about the rest of the family, because that would require an entire several page google document to explain (especially now that we’re actively banned from holidays).

It was around this time I asked my grandmother if I could move into one of her five or six spare rooms upstairs. My grandfather had died in the last couple of months, and I was confident that if she needed any help (she’s in her mid eighties) moving things upstairs or cleaning the house, I would be beyond glad to do it for her. She then hesitated and said it may be a better idea for me to move in with my dad after all (which was odd, because she hates my dad’s guts, as does the rest of my family), and I let it go after that. I didn’t push, I would just need to find a new place.

Well, word got around, and she told my aunts and older cousins in passing. I don’t remember if I got sent anything in specific, but one of my aunts (mother’s older sister who I'm genuinely terrified of) absolutely fucking exploded on my (54 at the time) mom, giving her a several paragraph long shitstorm of a message saying she was a terrible mother for letting me take advantage of my grandmother, calling her horrible things, slurs, and insulting her wife, and it got back to me somehow. I was fucking shredded apart emotionally.

Since then, I have moved back in with my mother out of necessity and we have totally reconciled our relationship in the three or so years I’ve been home, and my entire mother’s side of the family- aside from my grandmother- has completely cut contact and don’t invite us to holidays anymore, for significantly more ridiculous reasons than me asking my grandmother what I did.

My mother’s side of the family ostracized her, myself, and my sister since my mother first married my dad 25ish years ago, and has just never treated her the same since, which explains some of the hostility (I want to specify, I’m confident that my mother did nothing outright wrong for this, my family is extremely far-right and EXTREMELY judgemental, and my mom bore unnecessary vitrol for everything she went through), but I need to know if I was actually the asshole for asking to move in with my grandmother, who even now still cares about me as family and lives alone. I could give less of a shit what my aunt thinks now (she lives an entire day’s drive away, in a different state as well), but I can’t help but shake the fear that I was actually taking advantage of her kindness or something of the sort. Was this a wrong thing to ask? Was this actually too much, and should I not have bothered?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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setsugekka · 1 year

Text

❥west side (m)

↳ a very special valentines with your two boyfriends.

lee minho x fem!reader x bang chan — kitchen table poly threesome, established relationship, explicit adult content. [6.5k wc] cws: penetrative sex; no barrier method used, creampie, oral sex (m+f), name calling, humiliation, light degradation, a little good ‘cop’ Chan bad ‘cop’ Minho type of vibe, Chan has a Big Dick, double penetration (m+v), little bit of facefucking, facial, little bit of hair pulling, cum eating, three-color safeword system (only green is used).

“When is he getting home, I’m starving!”

Across the apartment, nestled between black marble countertops and dark blue cupboards, Minho huffs out a laugh at your lack of patience for the third party accompanying the two of you this evening. Playfully petulant as you sprawl yourself across the large, black, faux leather couch like a child throwing a fit, you puff out your lower lip even in spite of the fact that you’re well aware that the man in the kitchen be much too busy with the chopping of green onion to give you the attention that you’re looking for.

“Couldn’t be much longer than ten minutes, you know he always works late.”

You kick your feet lightly again, just before giving up on the childish display and reaching for the remote atop the glass coffee table in the living room. Switching on the television, you instead decide on settling in comfortably — because ten minutes to Bang Chan can quite possibly mean an hour, in reality.

But then, you hear the jingling of a ring of keys just outside of the front door of the shared apartment.

Minho turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder and behind you with a knowing grin. “Told you.”

The door cracks ajar, a booted foot prying between the wall and the wood to push it further — you hear the rustling of paper and plastic bags as they meet one another in Chan’s hands — full of all of the things that you and Minho had requested of him during his shopping trip on the way home.

Minho quickly rinsing and drying his hands rushes over to the man as he enters the apartment with a bit of a struggle, carefully pulling bags from the man just entering to help him with the load — you watch with love in your heart, because what a magical way to spend Valentines Day, really.

Not that this is all that much different from every other day, of course.

One of the things that had you falling for Minho in the early stages of your dating phase — aside from his affluence in the kitchen and his love for cats, was his willingness to be down for just about anything. All of the places you wanted to travel to, he was interested. Trying any bizarre foods, sign him up. And sexually? Suppose he knew little to no bounds as far as that one was concerned.

And after seven years together when you painstakingly brought up the fact that you thought a poly lifestyle might suit you more — emotionally and mentally prepared for it being the end of your relationship — you figure looking back that maybe you should have seen it coming: that is, Minho’s willingness to give it a go.

Six months after that initial conversation and through numerous others about what your relationship would look like from here on out: you met Bang Chan.

It was easy. So much easier than you had anticipated. When it came time to introduce the two of them and as nerve wrecking as it was, you instead found yourself in a somewhat humorous situation of nearly third-wheeling with how well the men got on with one another, and later that evening during the individual check-in’s, you found that both absolutely adored the other one.

And so, you find yourself with two boyfriends. Six more months later, Minho asks you if you think Chan would be interested in joining the household.

“I totally forgot to go myself after work,” Minho says as he sets the bags down onto the tile flooring of the kitchen next to his cutting station. “Sorry I had to employ your services.”

“Nah, it’s good.” Chan answers back with a wide, dimpled smile as he unlaces and begins the removal of his shoes at the door. “Gave me extra reason to get the hell out of the studio.”

“I’m starving to death and no one cares.” You finally whine out, feigning dead along the length of the couch. The display pulls Chan’s attention to you, smiling wide again, and with shoes removed the man makes his way to the living room area to kneel down and plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Poor thing, she almost didn’t make it.”

“I know, then we might have to eat her.” Minho casually responds from the kitchen, as if cannibalism an everyday practice in the household.

“Well, I have a feeling that’s on the agenda for tonight, anyway.”

You reach out to playfully slap at Chan’s arm as he goes to stand again, not before kissing you on the mouth, of course, and offering a gentle “missed you.”

Heading into the kitchen alongside the other man, Chan grabs an apron off of the hook next to the stove, tying it around his waist and attempting to make himself useful there. Of course, Minho more or less only shoos him out of the way the majority of the time — instead, handing the man a bottle of wine and telling him to pour the glasses, along with making the table for the bountiful dinner display soon to come from Chef Lee, much to the both of your delight.

When five minutes until dinner remains, Minho calls out for the two of you to get dressed for it. It’s a small, fun sort of thing that’s become a bit of a tradition in the house now: staying in for special days and events, dressing up as if the three of you were to be going out for the evening, and only to get undressed shortly after dinner.

For you, it’s a small, strappy, champagne colored dress with a plunging neckline that leaves little to the imagination, not that it matters all that much, given the company present.

For Chan, black, pressed slacks and an expensive, purple silk button down with more than a couple of the buttons left undone.

As for Minho, under the protection of the apron in the kitchen, he also wears a perfectly pressed pair of black slacks, as well as a navy blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to grant him the ability to do his magic as far as food goes.

Seating yourself at the fully set table, the delicious smell of a perfectly made dinner radiating through the room, you watch as Chan saunters into the kitchen once more with the inherent need to make himself useful in any way that he can — of course, Minho waves him away once more, urging him to sit down and that he has the serving of dinner under control. Chan knows better than to argue with the man, instead, grabbing the nearly forgotten bottle of wine from the kitchen island top and carrying it over with him to the table — topping off your glass just a tad before setting it and himself down next to you. Shortly thereafter, your primary partner joints, serving all three plates and setting the dish off to the side before seating himself for the meal that the three of you are to enjoy together this evening.

“It looks amazing,” Chan is the first to say, and much to Minho’s delight as a smile pulls at his lips. “As expected from the chef of the house.”

“Thank you, thank you.” He responds proudly. “Don’t fill up too much, there’s also dessert.”

A coy commentary on what’s to come later in the evening. He can’t help himself, after all.

With the three of you clearing your plates and emptying your wine glasses, Chan takes it upon himself to stand first and begin clearing the table — Minho once again insists that it not be necessary and especially not need to be tended to right now — but Chan waves him off just for a second as he quickly ushers dirty plates and glasses to the kitchen sink to be rinsed and placed into the dishwasher before any remanence of food be left to stick to the dinnerware. You watch as Minho smirks at the mans earnest, reaching your hand over to take his with a gentle squeeze.

You can’t imagine a happier life than this one, with the two men you love in absolute.

“So then—”

The words ring out from behind you, Chan, as he waltzes back over and stands just between where the two of you sit, placing a hand on each of your shoulders, you look up to find that charming, sweet grin that you’ve grown to adore so deeply as it takes the corners of the mans lips.

“—How about that dessert, yeah?”

Tonight, the three of you decide on the largest bedroom: your primary bedroom with Minho as in it resides the largest, king size bed of the apartment. Naturally, Chan is no stranger to this space, having spent many a night sleeping with the two of you as well as engaging in other such activities. He has his own room as well, enjoying his space to himself should he want it and far more utilized in the earliest stages of his having moved in, but as the months passed and the love and comfort grew, it was more often than not that he would be cozily nestled within the sheets along side of you and Minho, whether it be a result of sexual endeavors or not.

Immaculately made bedding displayed before you, it’s almost a shame to have it torn apart shortly — of course, this is a thought that comes and goes from your mind quickly as the first hand of Minho’s splays across your lower back — urging you forward and towards the piece of furniture.

“So,” he says, the two men stopping near the doorway as you spin to face them and sit at the edge of the bed to take in the sight of the real feast of the evening. “What’s on the agenda? Do you feel good tonight?”

Nodding, you lean back against your palms. “Yeah, I feel really good. Maybe even want to get a little bit crazy, ya know, since it’s a special occasion.”

A single eyebrow propping up on Minho’s face at the words, he turns to look at Chan who meets his eyes simultaneously — both with grins pulling at their cheeks. “Alright, give us the rundown, darling.”

With legs crossed, you slowly pull them apart with intention of granting both of the mean a sneak peak of what resides under your dress — which is thin and little as far as additional clothing goes. As both of their eyes hone in on the sight before them, you hum to yourself innocently as if to have no clue what it is that you’ve done.

“Been a while since we got nasty, messy,” you begin. It’s true, too. The comfort of domestic life having fully taken hold of your relationship in all ways — the majority of the sex you find yourself having being with one or the other, and rarely the three — and in the event that it is, it be relatively vanilla in nature.

But not tonight, if you’re to have your way.

“A good night to revisit some of the earlier fun: a little name calling, a little humiliation, even.”

Reaching his hands up to begin unbuttoning the few left fastened on his shirt and pulling the bottom hemming out from its tucked place, Minho’s eyes darken at the words and all that it entails for him. “Right, after all, you weren’t satisfied with having just one man, now were you?”

Happy with his quick uptake on precisely what it is that you’re looking for, and something that certainly comes with years of experience together, you grin sinisterly at your loving, adoring partner for life. “Sure wasn’t.”

With Chan sidelining briefly in the beginning as the two of you lay out the scene for him to fit into, Minho moves his hands down to his belt as he slowly begins the unfastening of that — the jingling of the metal ringing through the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom.

“Good thing you have him here to be sweet to you, can’t promise that I’ll do the same.”

And slightly out of character, out of scene, you stare him directly in the eyes as the whisper leaves through your lips. “Good.”

Taking his cue, Chan begins to come around to the other side of the bed; shirt and belts discarded similarly to the man still present in front of you, you feel the soft, indentation in the mattress of him crawling up behind you long before soft hands find their way to your shoulders — fingers looping into the straps of your dress and delicately dropping them down your arms as his head dips down enough for his lips to find the flesh of your ear. Closing your eyes, your head lolls to the opposite side of where he is as you savor the feeling of having your other boyfriends hands on you — hands now pressing forward and to the front of your chest to palm you through the thin fabric of the garment, and only for a moment before allowing his hands to slip in through the dip of the top and feeling the warm comfort of his bare hands cupping your breasts.

It’s easy to lose yourself in moments like this — the sort of soft, caring, graceful lover that Chan be — a man that always carries with him a tendency to touch you as though you’re glass capable of breaking, a far cry from the tough and rough role that Minho fall into so naturally. Of course, your primary more than willing and capable to offer the same realm of love-making as Chan, but suppose everyone has their niches.

And thus the relationship balance together so beautifully well with the both of them by your side.

Attention honed in on the way that your partner touches you from behind, you fail to notice that Minho slithers into place just in front of you, already fallen to his knees between your own and hands coming to the inside of your thighs as the first alert of his being there. It doesn’t alarm you, feeling his presence — instead welcoming him with the careful slide of your legs open wider to accommodate his placement as he grins up at you.

“Wore your smallest panties, huh?” He says with a tone lustful and dark as his hands slowly make their way up your legs. “Been waiting for this? Wanted it that bad?”

Kneading hands into the flesh of your chest, Chan rubs a feathered, pointed circle over one of your nipples at the absence of response to the man between your legs. “Answer him, darling.”

You whisper out a simple “yeah” in response as a single finger of his reaches your slit and glides up the length of it — through the shiver the contact sends across your body, Minho glances up at you again just as you look down upon him.

“Who’d you do it for?” Minho asks now as he applies the slightest bit of pressure against your clit. “Me, or him?”

“M-Minho…”

A humiliating question, and if the man in question be inside of you right now he’d surely be able to feel precisely what it is that such a thing does for your arousal.

Of course, he knows without it, too.

Catching onto your reluctance to answer the question, your primary partner scoots himself forward, hooking his arms under your knees to pull you closer to the edge of the bed as well and with little hesitancy past that point, licks a firm strip up your pussy and punctuating the motion with a loud smack of suction against your clit that has you quaking within the arms of both men.

Pulling up ever so slightly to look at you again, Minho grins like a man with all of the upper hand in the situation. “Answer, or no one is coming tonight.”

The worst threat the man could conjure up, because at the very least you need to watch one of them carry on to completion this evening.

Swallowing down your humiliation, you close your eyes and lean your head back against your boyfriends shoulder before allowing the name to fall from your lips. “Chan.”

“Good,” he quickly replies as he settles back into his working position. “I better get you ready for him then, huh?”

The words send an additional shiver down your spine, interrupted by the feeling of his hot mouth against your pussy and two fingers burying deep inside of you.

On the other side, you feel Chan’s lips feather across the skin of your face from behind you still before whispering into your ear so lightly that you consider it might truly be intended for your ears only. “Going to take me so well, won’t you? He’ll get you ready for me, know you can’t have it that easily.”

This time you know that Minho can feel the way your walls close in around his fingers — Chan is right, though. Two men offering two very different experiences and their dicks no different as far as that goes: Minho only slightly above average in length and girth and something you’ve been taking for many, many years already. Chan, on the other hand — well, suppose there had been a question of physical capability when it came to girth the first time you had seen it.

You’re more weathered for the storm nowadays, but quickies with him be a bit of a pipe dream, certainly.

Third finger prying you open from the man between your legs, you bring a hand down to bury into his hair as he relentlessly circles your clit with his tongue — simulating the penetration of taking cock with the smooth, careful glide of his hand between your legs, you melt into the both of them as Chan talks you through it all so lovingly. “You’re already doing so well baby, can you come for him?”

Nodding furiously at the question and only a whimper verbally, you feel the pointed shift of Minho’s ministrations against you — knowing exactly what it takes to get you to your peak — looking down at him through half-lidded eyes as he never breaks eye contact with you for even a second as you clench around his fingers and every muscle in your abdomen and legs tightens with your impending release. You get approximately five seconds of the orgasmic build up before your partner pushes you over the edge entirely and has you coming around his hand, fucking and sucking you through your first high of the evening as you desperately whine his name out for the both of them to hear.

Slightly pulling back, Minho kisses along the inside of your thigh a handful of times before standing again and presenting himself for your viewing — pants already discarded you suppose well before him having made his way between your legs, he reaches out for your shaky hand and taking it, you allow him to pull you up into a standing position for the man behind you to assume the position you had only just been in — slipping his own slacks and underwear down his legs and kicked to the side before once again placing hands on your sides again.

It’s the perfect opportunity to fully disrobe you now, as well. Chan’s thumbs slipping into the sides of the useless fabric and pulling it to drop and pool at your feet, you kick it to the side as Minho pulls you into a full, passionate kiss — all teeth and tongue, want and desire laced throughout — he moans into your mouth at the feeling of you wrapping a hand around his length, nearly fully erect already at the promise of the activities soon to come.

Behind you, Chan palms over himself at the sight of the two of you — his free hand ghosting over the flesh of your body in front of him.

When shopping for a new bed a few months ago, scenarios such as this were held strongly in the forefront of yours and Minho’s minds. The closer to the floor, the better.

Breaking the kiss, Minho whispers into your mouth quietly. “Why don’t you go ahead and sit on it, baby? Face me, want your mouth around my cock while you take him.”

Dizzying words and a request that you’re more than happy to oblige, you step backwards as Chan’s hands grip your hips to help you down and into position atop him. Reaching between the both of you to grip his length, as the wide tip of him meets your entrance you waste no more time bearing your weight down to sink onto it slowly as your legs shake from the struggle of holding yourself up enough to not try to take him in one, swift go.

Minho keeps your free hand in his as you embark upon your mission, your other hand flat against Chan’s thigh in an attempt to distribute the weight — eyes screwed shut at the delightful stretch of the man under you pulling you open to accommodate the width of him inside of you.

Thankfully, Minho does thorough work, and within a few seconds you find yourself fully seated in the lap of your third addition to the relationship. Comfortably full of him.

Giving yourself time to adjust to it, you instead swing your attention back to Minho in front of you, lazily stroking himself at the view displayed before him as you take the cock of another man — his gaze upon you heavy and lustful — stepping closer to you, you bring a hand up and around his length to replace his own. Licking one, long stripe up his cock, Minho groans at the touch and the visual of you before hastily pulling the head of him between your lips and sucking off with a loud ’pop.’

Chan has other plans as you cock warm him, one hand reaching around to the front of you to first feel the place where he stretches you open before the pads of his fingers nestle against your clit to rub slow, firm circles into you.

Bringing one hand up, Minho runs his fingers through your hair before fastening his fist in place at the top to pull your mouth forward and onto him once again — moaning around him, his eyes roll at the sensation of the warm, wet glide of your mouth along his cock.

“Mouth feels so good, baby,” Minho whispers out with his eyes fully locked onto the way that he disappears inside of you. “Want me to come in your face?”

His voice sounds so loving and delicate despite the dirty things he’s saying to you, and groaning around the girth of him, one corner of his mouth pulls upwards at the response.

“Or on your face?”

You groan around him again, Chan’s circles into your clit increasing in pace as well as the quickness in which you fuck your mouth along Minho. The intensity of the situation and the way that it’s so arousing bringing you to a point of near desperation in releasing at least one of the men you’re lucky enough to be engaging with tonight.

It appears that Minho feels it, as well, his head falling back momentarily before bringing it back to cast his eyes upon you again. “You’re gonna make me come fast if you keep going like that, love.”

“Think she wants your cum,” Chan says from behind you as his lips once again find their way to your ear. “Look how hard she’s working for it, she wants it so bad.”

“Didn’t she just say she wanted to be stuffed full of your cock?” Minho replies back to the man behind you, the two of them carrying on a conversation over you almost as if you’re not even there. “Guess she’s just hopelessly needy for cock and cum, huh?”

“Guess so.”

“I’ll give you what you want then, my perfect little cumslut.”

You realize it’s been such a long time that Minho call you a name like that with the way that it has far more impact on your arousal than you might have anticipated. Walls gripping down on Chan upon hearing it, you feel the way his lips pull up into a smile without saying anything about it — allowing you and Minho the moment to yourselves as you continue running your mouth along the mans length with needy quickness. As he finds himself closer and closer to peaking, Minho’s fist in your hair tightens to hold you still as he instead takes control of the momentum, fucking quick and shallowly into your face before burying himself inside and beginning the release of his cum down your throat with a throaty grunt.

The first pulse of his release comes full and you swallow it down as he pulls himself from your mouth and rubs the wet tip of his cock along your swollen, red lips — the remaining two, three pulses of his cum far less powerful and only dribbling along the skin of your mouth, cheeks and chin as he comes to full completion on your face with a heavy sigh of contentment.

“You look so pretty like this, covered in cum and stuffed full of cock. It’s like you were meant for this, my love.”

Hand releasing from your hair, he brings it down to the art done along your skin, shoveling the most prominent streaks of his release into your mouth and allowing you to suck his fingers clean of him, only to lean down and fully press his own mouth to yours for another deep kiss.

“Now,” Minho says, pulling away from you and taking a full step back. “You should give her what she really came for tonight.”

“Is that what you want now?” Chan asks into the shell of your ear — he doesn’t bother to wait for much of a verbal response, however, before leaning backwards and lying you flat against his chest. “Want me to fuck you open for Minho’s viewing pleasure?”

Feet flat against the mattress and knees bent, it gives the man the ability to fuck into you properly now — one arm wrapped around your chest to hold you firmly in place as he begins his slow, steady drive into your drenched, welcoming pussy.

Even just the first, full plunge of him into you feels electric with how stimulated and aroused you are by now.

Whimpering out as his pace hastens, you can already feel the threat of your second orgasm bubbling in your gut — one of the perks of a man with such a massive cock — the constant, unrelenting press against every inch of your insides as he fucks into you expertly and with full intent of having you come undone around him.

To the side, Minho climbs up and onto the bed next to you to watch you take your other boyfriend as he watches on with a very gentle glide of his hand along his own length. Not an impossibility by any means that he be able to bring himself to full erection a second time in the evening, deep down, you find yourself hopeful for the possibility, as well.

“Gonna come around his dick, baby?” Minho asks with a hedonistic desire lacing his tone.

Nodding quickly again, Chan pulls his hand away from between your legs. “Think you can come around me untouched? Just my cock?”

You think it’s a very likely possibility, and the dialogue surrounding it certainly making it much more reasonable.

“What do you need to come? Tell me.” Minho says, cock standing at nearly full attention once again as the grip along himself becomes slightly more firm at the sight of the both of you in front of him.

Asking for you to tell him what you need to come around another man, untouched.

“Faster, harder—”

You can only manage out those two words, which are plenty enough and Chan is happy to oblige as he fucks into you harder and faster just as you had requested. Arm wrapped over your chest holding you harder against him to keep you in place to take his unrelenting pace into you, the feeling of release this time so overwhelming that you feel the beginnings of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you bite into the bottom of your lip in an attempt to hold yourself together. The intensity of this orgasm unmatched, far and away better and stronger than the first, you begin the chants of begging for him to keep going, not to stop, that you’re so close — and through the crack of one eye opening, Minho looms over you from the side with such a sinful grin splayed across his features as he watches on.

“You’re fucking her so good I think she might cry, Channie.”

Leaning down to lie lengthwise with you, Minho presses his lips against the shell of your unoccupied ear, reaching a hand up to feather fingers over your forehead and brush stray hairs away from your sweat-covered forehead. “Can you take his load like a good girl for me? So I can fuck it into your messy little pussy when he’s finished with you?”

The juxtaposition of the nastiness of the words with the softness of his tone sends you spiraling, walls gripping tight against Chan’s length as you nearly shriek in release through an otherwise clenched tight jaw. Growling into your ear at the feeling of you clamped down around him, his thrusts into you becoming sloppy and uncoordinated in an instant as his own orgasm rushes to him.

“Oh love, you feel so good on me,” Chan whispers from beneath you through a shaky, orgasmic voice just as he fully buries himself inside of you in anticipation of his finish. “I’ll pump you so full of my cum, just how you like it, yeah?”

You nod, knowing you not need to respond to it — feeling the initial expand and pulse of the mans cock as he does precisely what he says he will and empties himself deep into your cunt.

Kissing along the side of your face and allowing the both of you some time to come down and back to earth, Minho still so cautiously and lovingly making himself present next to you — you rise and fall in tandem with the inhales and exhales of Chan beneath you as the both of you work to catch your breath.

Of course, your primary partner has other, messier plans for you, however.

“Think you’re ready for me, darling?” He whispers against the side of your face, teeth presented through the grin on his face — a devilish man with devilish plans that you’re more than happy to participate in.

You nod in response, and Minho takes the opportunity to pull your limp, tired, and used body from the other man to lie you face first into the mattress, circling around behind you and pulling your hips up into position before him.

“Color?”

Still trying to catch your breath, Minho places a gentle hand at the small of your back, slowly and lightly rubbing up along the length of your spine and towards your shoulders before coming back down to the place in which he began. “Don’t rush, if you’re not ready we can slow down—”

“No,” you huff, turning back to look towards him with a look that nearly asks if he’s fully out of his mind. “Just needed a second to catch my breath, I’m good, green.”

“Yes, my love.”

With how disheveled you look you think that perhaps another man be less willing to take your word for it, trust your judgment — Minho, however, in all of your years together more than happy to trust and accept you.

The glide inside of you is easy this time — having already been fucked fully open and cummed in by Chan who still lie next to you and watching on with glee in his eyes — Minho only bothers to give you a passing moment before digging fingers hard into the dip of your waist and pulling you firm against his cock in full with a throaty, heavy groan.

Crying out at the feeling of him, your own fingers digging into the sheets below you as he fucks you open all over again on his own dick, you stabilize yourself onto one side and against your shoulder so that you’re able to reach down and rub circles into your clit as he relentlessly fucks into your messy, used hole.

“Feel good, baby?” Minho groans, settling into a quick pace against you from behind. “Tasting my cock wasn’t enough for you, huh? Needed to be filled up by me, too.”

“She wants both of her boyfriends to come inside of her,” Chan adds from where you left him, head turned now to enjoy the display as it carries on next to him. “Fuck my load deep inside of her and fill her up again.”

Whining loudly at the implications of the words, you grip harder into the mattress beneath you, only for Chan to reach one hand up and lace fingers between your own as you do.

“Is that true?” Minho asks despite knowing the answer fully well. “So much of his cum has spilled out while I fuck you — so filthy and wet for us, but don’t worry, I’ll make a mess of your cunt all over again, love.”

Circling harder and faster against yourself, the familiar coiling of orgasm creeping up a third time with the aggressive, rough pace that Minho fucks into you — he pauses briefly and much to your dismay — leaning forward and gripping into your hair with a fist again, yanking your head back and to the side to keep your eyes on him as he continues to chase his second high of the evening.

“Look at me while I fuck you,” he finally demands through gritted teeth — a tough, domineering side of him that you don’t often see but quite enjoy as a treat from time to time. Tone dropping to sound so much deeper than before, your walls pressing down around his cock as his hips meet your own with constant succession. “Whose is it? Tell me whose it is.”

“F-fuck, Minho—”

“Tell me. Say it.”

“Yours, it’s yours!”

“That’s right, that’s such a good girl. Pussy made especially for my cock, so I’ll fuck it when and how I want, right?”

The dirty talk doing all of the work of bringing you to the edge of an orgasm that you otherwise weren’t sure of your ability to find, you pull your eyes briefly to Chan as he gazes upon you with nothing but love and respect gracing his features.

You couldn’t be luckier with the two men you ended up with.

“You better answer him, darling. You know he won’t let you come if you don’t.”

Squeezing your eyes shut as your release looms — thighs shaking at the relentless pace in which Minho slams into you to chase his own high — nodding quick against the mattress, you devolve into babbling and begging all over again with the threat of orgasm teetering on the edge.

“Yes, yes! Minho, please—”

Grinning, the mans grip into your hair tightens only briefly with the oncoming full, hard snaps of his hips against you to pull the release from you. “That’s right baby, come on my cock too and I’ll give you what you want.”

Coil snapping in your gut, it’s a near silent shriek that the man elicits from you after all of the events of the evening — mouth hung open and feeling the loving comfort of your boyfriend already spent and to the side as he softly squeezes your hand — shortly after you begin yours, Minho follows right after. Two, three more drives into you and burying deep into your guts as he paints your insides with his cum now, the man pulls from you only seconds later with only the tip of himself still nestled inside of you as he strokes the wet, exposed, length of his cock — milking himself of the majority of his load before fucking it back into you hard with a few more rough, full drives into your soiled, messy hole.

With a sudden, floppy drop, Minho finds himself laid out on the other side of you now, chest heaving just as Chan’s had been not too long before and plenty spent from the full itinerary of the evenings activities. Glancing over at him through a barely cracked open eye, you’re happy to find a wide, fucked-stupid smile sprawled across his lips.

A job well done, and evening gone off without a hitch.

“Should I run the shower?” Chan asks, having had the time to recuperate while the two of you tired yourselves out entirely in the meantime. With Minho entirely unable to respond, you turn to cast your eyes upon your thoughtful, caring, partner.

“Put the kettle on first? I want to have an evening coffee.”

“Of course.”

Turning to face you, Minho finally attempts to speak through a dry throat. “Coffee this late? What are you, some kind of heathen?”

Playfully slapping his thigh, you lean in to press a kiss onto his mouth, but with his hand reaching up and to the back of your head — the intimacy of it deepens unexpectedly, but pleasantly all of the same as you melt into it and the love that he offers you.

“I love you so much,” he finally whispers against your dry, bitten lips. The sparkle in his eye all the more telling of his adoration for you than any words could ever hope to match. “You’re amazing. Perfect.”

“I love you, too.” You respond back to him, just as Chan reenters the room — the sound of the shower running only just down the hall.

The both of you looking up and towards the still naked man in the doorway opening, he begins to tell you that the kettle is on and the water running, only to be cut off abruptly by a simultaneous offering from the partnership still sprawled out on the bed in front of him.

“We love you.”

It takes him a moment to process the words despite it not being the first time he’s heard them, and as a big smile takes his face with signature dimples present, he presses hands into his hips and cocks his head to the side playfully, as if completely taken by the thoughtful offering.

“Well damn, I love y'all too.”

Stepping towards the bed and offering each of you a hand, Chan helps hoist the both of you to your feet, keeping said hands held firmly inside of his own for just a tad bit longer than really necessary.

“Let’s get washed up, and get you that coffee, eh?”

“Yeah, lets.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hope you enjoyed! please check out my navigation for more (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

#lee know smut #lee minho smut #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #lee minho x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

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danikamariewrites · 5 months

Text

Trapped

Lucien x reader

A/n: part 2 to Fox Hunter! I was so happy so many people liked this fic and I hope you like part 2. I love Elain so breaking her heart killed me but it had to happen sadly.

Warnings: dark!reader, manipulation, angst

Three months. It took three months for my brother to mess things up. It’s my own fault, really. I did not take into account the amount of time he had spent with Gwyn. When the bond snapped for them Azriel left Elain. It’s been weeks now. Azriel and Gwyn have been in the cabin in the mountains since. Elain wont even come out of her room.

Today Feyre had had enough. A loud knock sounded on the front door, I open it to find a disheveled Feyre. She has bags under her eyes, her hair pulled up in a ponytail to hide the knots forming in her sandy locks. Her shoulders are slumped in defeat as she shuffles inside. I felt bad for her. She shouldn’t have to be dealing with Elain’s mess of a life, she had already done so much for her sisters.

I hold my arms out to pull her into a comforting hug. Feyre slumps against me as a sob shakes her body. “I can’t take it y/n. I know she’s hurting but this is irrational.” I rub her back slowly, my eyes fluttering shut as I prepare myself for what Feyre is about to ask me. “Elain won’t speak to me or Nesta anymore. Nesta tried today but she asked for you. Will you please talk to her?”

Resting my hands on her shoulders I pull away from Feyre. “Yes, anything to help Elain. She’s my friend and I hate seeing her in pain like this.”

When I arrive at the River House later that day I spot Lucien and Cassian speaking in hushed tones by the staircase. As I pass them I send Lucien a wink and a small smile that he returns. Making my way up the stairs I can smell the salt of Elain’s tears. Taking a deep breath I mentally prepare myself to step into the role of friend.

I knock on the door and enter without her permission. “Elain,” my voice comes out sweet and caring. I just want the girl to stop crying. She sniffled and stood from her bed. Elain pulled herself up to her full height, holding her chin up high. A scowl graces her lips as she stares daggers at me. “Elain?” I ask tentatively.

“I asked for Lucien. I wanted to take it all back but then Nesta told me he was with you. Your scents were mixed.” Elain was trembling at this point. “You did this. You wanted Lucien and you made me break the bond with him!” She was screaming at this point. I knew my look of shock was genuine by Elain’s dark laugh. “Oh. My. Gods. I knew it! You did this to me on purpose!”

“I told you to follow your heart! Never once did I tell you to break the bond.” Elain started screaming bloody murder. She started pacing like a mad woman, gripping at the roots of her hair. Thundering footsteps rush up the stairs. Before I could say anything to claim my innocence Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta burst through the door. “What’s going on?” Rhys yells.

Elain stops her pacing pointing a threatening finger at me. “Y/n did this to me! She took Lucien from me! Made me break the bond!” I turn to my family with a worried gaze. “I didn’t…I told her to do what was right I never meant for this.” Nesta rushed past me into Elain’s bathroom. Elain continues rambling until Nesta comes back with a small vile. Uncorking it, she forces the liquid down Elain’s throat.

The girl went limp in her sister’s arms. Slurring her words until her eyes flutter shut and she’s completely unconscious. Cassian takes Elain from Nesta to lay her on the bed. Rhys takes my hands, giving me a sympathetic smile. “I didn’t know this would happen,” I whisper out. Again, forcing tears to line my eyes. “Elain is my friend I’d never do this.”

“I know sister. Mating bonds are fragile things. The breaking of it with Lucien and Azriel leaving with Gwyn must be taking its toll on her emotionally.” Rhys said somberly. “I think it’s best we stay away for a while.” Rhys agreed and granted Lucien and I a leave of absence.

I rush back downstairs, a new spring in my step at the thought of spending time alone with Lucien away from the Night Court. As I stepped into the sitting room Lucien stood from the couch. “How is she?” Concern etched on his beautiful face. I hold his face in my hands slowly rubbing circles with my thumbs on his cheeks. I give my love a sympathetic frown. “Not well. I think everything is finally taking its toll on her, poor thing. It hurts to see her like this.” Lucien pulls me into a warm embrace. I rest my head against his strong chest, his steady heartbeat soothing my anxiety about this whole situation.

At least none of them believe Elain. Why would my brothers question me after five hundred years of love and loyalty. And they truly believe the poor girl is psychotic. Helping me evade doubt.

“Rhysand is letting us take a leave of absence. We could use a break for a while.” I lean away from Luc to gage his reaction. He flashes me that dazzling smile that makes my knees go weak. “I’d love that.” I pull him down to meet my lips in a sweet kiss. Breaking apart he rests his forehead against mine. “How about we go to Day for a while? My father asked me to visit, now is the perfect time.”

I smile at the thought of us in Day Court fashion. Walking around the palace, visiting the many libraries, and relaxing by the beaches. Peace. We’d have peace in Day, a chance to get lost in each other. “That sounds perfect.”

Lucien gives me one last kiss before heading to his office to write to Helion. I returned to the Town House to pack our bags as I daydream about a life for us in Day.

tagging: @thelov3lybookworm

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #lucien vandaddy #lucien x you #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x you #Lucien vanserra acotar #lucien fic #Lucien fanfic

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realbeijinger · 4 months

Text

Another semi-coherent rant on climate change, the value of idealism, and TGCF (I finally finished!)

Well, I finished Tian Guan Ci Fu. And, oh man, if you read my last post, you’ll know that I was terrified that the entire novel would be a criticism of blind idealism. But I am SO glad I was wrong!!! Looking back on what I wrote before… it’s kind of hilarious how worried I was. I was so sure that I knew where it was going, was so busy preparing myself to be offended/emotionally crushed, that I wouldn’t even entertain the idea that maybe MXTX had a similar worldview to me all along.

In my defense, aside from the line, “Something like saving the common people… although foolish, it is brave,” everything seemed to point toward the idea that trying to do good is pointless. I mean, up until the moment when Xie Lian was lying with a sword in his chest on the streets of Yong’an, all of his efforts to do good had essentially been in vain. He hadn’t been able to help anyone.

And then, when the one guy stopped and gave Xie Lian his hat, I dunno, I just cried. It was so perfect! Like, ugh, damn you, MXTX! So sneaky… destroying us, just to bring us back later!! It was such a small, insignificant win, but it was exactly what Xie Lian (and I) needed. I love the line, “Just one person was enough!” Just one person doing something selfless. It’s enough to give us hope.

It really resonates with me because I think a lot about how to maintain hope. In terms of the climate crisis, I feel like Xie Lian—completely powerless. I want to stop eating meat, use less plastic, spend more time on environmental activism, but honestly, what do any of these things matter? The meat industry is not going to change because I choose to stop consuming. Even my activism has a completely negligible effect—whether or not I join a protest or write a letter to my congressman will almost certainly not be the deciding factor for any climate legislation, no matter how much effort I put in.

And yet, I still want to. I love the moment when Xie Lian chooses to get stabbed over and over rather than create a second plague of Human Face Disease, and White No-Face asks him in shock, “Why??”—as in, why would you ever do that? And Xie Lian responds: “I don’t have a reason—just because I want to! Even if I explained it to you… Useless trash like you wouldn’t understand.” This line is so great. Xie Lian can’t explain it to White No-Face, because, in truth, it isn’t entirely logical. It can’t be explained by reason. I want to do my measly, unimportant part to help the world… because I want to. Because it feels right. Because it’s my way of keeping my heart, of maintaining faith that there is some good in this world worth upholding. (As an aside, I love how the English title of the live action drama—which we may never get to see, God damn censorship!!!!—is called “Eternal Faith.” Of course it refers to Hua Cheng and Xie Lian’s faith in each other, but I think it also means having eternal faith in the value of doing good, despite centuries of experience that seem to show its pointlessness.)

As I talked about in my last post, if you zoom out far enough, nothing really seems to matter. Everything we love and care about will one day be gone. And yet, I believe we still have to act like it matters. This is the basic tenant of existentialism, and I think MXTX portrays this philosophical paradox really beautifully.

It’s funny, because I think MXTX has a lot of profound things to say, but in an interview I read, she warned against viewing her work too deeply, saying, “I am not a guru.” I get that she may not want the responsibility of giving people spiritual advice, but I do think she presents some really fascinating, really novel, philosophical ideas. So, sorry MXTX, but I’m about to analyze TGCF like it’s a piece of freakin scripture. Soo here we go…

The main theme she comes back to again and again is that fortune is limited, so the only way you can do good for others is by taking fortune from somebody else. Which leads the characters to a bunch of ethically impossible choices: the people of Yong’an and the people of Xianle can’t all be saved (Xie Lian must choose who to help), neither can the people of Wuyong and the surrounding kingdoms (Prince of Wuyong must choose), and Shi Wudu can’t save his brother from a tragic fate without taking fortune from an innocent person. When the characters try to avoid choosing, and try to “play God” by creating a “third path,” it just invites disaster.

But is this really true? Is fortune actually limited? It’s an idea that reminds me of Buddhism and Daoism, but also seems kind of revolutionary… (I like to think I know something about Chinese philosophy but it could certainly be a thing and I don’t know). I don’t believe in fate, but I do believe in limited resources, and the idea that nature tends toward balance. I think conceiving of it this way, as a pool of fortune, is really interesting.

It reminds me of this Meme:

In other words, who is the protagonist and who is the villain is entirely based on perspective. And, according to the laws of nature, we all must survive by eating others, or causing others to starve (i.e. avoiding being eaten).

I tried to think if this is really true in all areas of life. I’m a teacher, and one of the ways I convince myself that I am doing good in the world is by helping my students—preparing them well for college so that they can get into good schools and follow their dreams. But then, is this just taking fortune from others? If I do prepare my students well, and as a result they all get into top universities, does that mean they are taking spots away from other students? Am I simply just helping “my own,” at the expense of others?

One place where I see this concept play out very clearly is with our modern, industrialized society. As I mentioned in my last post, we live in a world of abundance. Most of us have enough food to eat, live in houses with electricity and running water, and don’t worry about a whole host of diseases endured by our ancestors. It seems we have done what Xie Lian couldn’t—we have expanded the well of fortune for most of humanity.

But this fortune wasn’t spontaneously created. It was taken from other species. It was borrowed against our own future, when climate change will likely destroy this world of abundance we have created, causing untold suffering. In truth, when it comes to prosperity, there is no such thing as a free lunch.

Even now, when we ought to be enjoying our fortune, most of us are not happy. We want other things. We take food, clothing, and shelter for granted, creating even bigger, more lofty demands—a bigger car, a better house, a machine that’s sole purpose is to make bread. In fact, it seems like whenever we make things “better,” the goalposts just move. I recently read a book called Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals, which mentioned that with the advent of washing machines and vacuum cleaners, everyone assumed there would be more free time. Yet, the real outcome was that standards of cleanliness just changed. Suddenly, people expected you to wear fresh clothes every day and have a perfectly dust-free home, which meant spending just as much time cleaning as in the past.

And according to psychologists, getting what we want doesn’t really make us happier. Instead, something like getting a promotion causes our happiness to spike, before it quickly returns to baseline. The psychologist Dan Gilbert writes that the purpose of our emotions is to act like a compass—to tell us which direction to go in. If you feel good, you can continue the way you are going. If you feel bad, you should probably turn—make a change. But if you get what you want and become permanently happy, your compass is now broken. It’s stuck in one direction and becomes useless.

All of this is very Buddhist, of course. Suffering is not caused by our external circumstances, but our desire to change them.

Like I said, I don’t necessarily believe in “fate” or “fortune.” But I believe this all points to something deeper that MXTX is getting at: which is that we cannot fundamentally make a better world, for the common people, or for anyone. This idea of “better” doesn’t really exist. The world is as it is. Trying to alter that is like playing God. And like Xie Lian says, “In this world, there are no true gods…”

So, what do we do? How can we survive this absurdist tragedy of life? I don’t think we can just throw up our hands and not give a shit—that way lies depression and Jun Wu-style cruelty. We cannot lose our heart. But we also can’t try to fix everything.

One thing I find a bit difficult about MXTX is she is very clear about the impossible situations our characters find themselves in, but not really clear about the solution. She seems critical of the characters’ actions (I’m thinking also of Wei Wuxian here), but what exactly does she think they should have done? In other words, what is the point?

I spent a long time thinking about this. And I realized that Xie Lian was able to get back on his feet, find happiness and make peace with himself. How did he do this? Ultimately, I see Xie Lian’s solution as having three parts: self-sacrifice, gratitude, and purpose. Which all sounds very academic and maybe not that profound on an emotional level. But hear me out. Because, in the end, I think these choices are incredibly beautiful. They are the kind of thing that make me feel like reading TGCF was actually a spiritual experience, no matter what MXTX says. That makes me admire Xie Lian and want to follow him (like the God he is).

Okay so first: self-sacrifice. If fortune is limited, and the only way to make others’ lives better is to take fortune from someplace else, then there is really only one place you can take it from without hurting others—yourself.

So, part of Xie Lian’s solution is to take fortune from himself and give it to others. It’s why he asks for a cursed shackle that disperses his fortune, so that his fortune will naturally flow to those around him. It’s, of course, a very small thing. He is no longer playing God, or trying to “fix” the world on a grand scale. He is simply, in his own, quiet way, serving the common people.

My desire to give up meat and to spend more time on activism—these things feel like big sacrifices for me. And yet, they will have a very small impact on the greater situation in the world. They’re a drop in the ocean. I still want to do it, but it’s hard. It’s hard to care, or think that these things matter. Yet, this is the trade-off Xie Lian was willing to make. I really admire him for it.

I believe self-sacrifice is actually a really important, beautiful thing, that our society has forgotten the value of. We are individualistic—obsessed with our own wants. As I mentioned previously, our expectations have risen, so we buy and buy and buy. We are unwilling to rein in our consumption. I know a lot of people baulk at lifestyle changes as a solution to the climate crisis, and I agree that putting pressure on individuals instead of governments or corporations is misguided. But, first of all, there simply aren’t enough resources on earth to sustain our current levels of consumption. And, second… I don’t think we can completely let individuals off the hook. What is society anyway, but a collection of individuals? If we are going to address this thing, it’s going to take a massive movement—bigger than the civil rights movement or the works’ rights movement or the women’s movement. It’s going to take millions of people worldwide getting out of their own heads, their own lives, and concerning themselves with the greater good. That requires immense sacrifice.

Which takes me to gratitude. In order to be willing to sacrifice, you have to appreciate what you already have.

People often talk about gratitude these days as a path to mental health. Instinctively, it sounds like an uplifting, positive thing. And it is… but it also entails having a relatively negative worldview. It means remembering all the horrible things that exist in this world which we are lucky enough to avoid on a daily basis. You stepped in some dog shit? Well, that sucks, but you could have stepped into an open manhole and broken your neck! So! That’s something to be grateful for.

We are all so lucky. I’m sure everyone reading this has pains and traumas and challenges. This isn’t to diminish those, but, I hope, at least we all have at least one person to love. That’s all Hua Cheng had, and it’s what kept him going. Just one person was enough. And most of us, I hope, get to eat food every day, get to sleep in a bed, get to play video games or read novels or write poetry when we are sad. Not everyone gets those things.

Xie Lian, of course, was the king of low expectations, because he knew his future was going to be bad. He had intentionally accepted bad luck for a lifetime. So, there was no point in hoping for things to get better.

I think this attitude is best shown by his interaction with the Venerable of Empty words. The Venerable of Empty Words feeds off people’s fears. But Xie Lian didn’t really have any. When the Venerable of Empty Words warned him that his hut will collapse in two months, his response is, “Two months? If it’s still standing in seven days, then it’ll be a real miracle.” Because his expectations are so low, he’s essentially immune to fear. I can’t help but think that if you could really think this way, it would be a kind of superpower. It reminds me of the famous quote by spiritual teacher Krishnamurti, “Do you know what my secret is? You see, I don’t mind what happens.”

And so Xie Lian is okay with everything. He can sleep anywhere, crash boulders on his chest for money, not eat for three days, regularly suffer corpse poisoning, and still be okay.

Which leads to my third point: purpose. Xie Lian is able to endure such hardship because his expectations are low, but also he knows all his suffering has a purpose. “If I am to become a God of misfortune, then so be it,” he says. “As long as I know deep down that I am not.” He is okay with being laughed at or avoided for his bad luck, because deep down he knows he is doing the right thing. People can withstand a great deal if they feel their suffering has meaning. In Man’s Search for Meaning, the psychiatrist Victor Frankl’s writes about the horrors of living through a concentration camp, and how over and over, it was creating purpose that allowed him, and others, to find motivation to survive. Which I think has an important lesson for self-sacrifice. People are willing to sacrifice a lot, if they feel their sacrifice has purpose.

I get it when MXTX says that she is not a guru, and maybe it’s a lot to ask of a danmei novel to take spiritual advice from it. The book wasn’t necessarily perfect, and I do have some critiques (which I was gonna add here, but this thing is already wayyy too long). But… I do think I found something really meaningful in this story—some inspiration. I want to follow Xie Lian’s example, and live with gratitude and acceptance, while keeping my faith in doing the right thing. In other words, WWXLD! (What Would Xie Lian Do?)

#tgcf #mxtx #heaven official's blessing #tgcf meta #tian guan ci fu #climate change #xie lian #hualian #danmei #chinese bl

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