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nnight-dances · 11 months

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REPETITION / RARE LOVE

pairings: kim mingyu x fem!reader (ft. yoon jeonghan)

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive & sexual content

tropes: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (except mingyu's the only idiot), pining, flirting

warnings: explicit language, banter, alcohol consumption, borderline jeonghan slander but it's okay because i would die for the man, has been proofread by me once but only barely. kazuha (le sserafim) is your roommate, huh yunjin is present.

WHAT TO EXPECT

it's simple enough: you and mingyu are perfect for each other. you've told him as much but after years of him avoiding the topic, you leave him alone. but when your long-time infatuation with jeonghan gets rejected, you have nothing to distract you from your desire to be with mingyu. all it takes is you making out with the wrong person and a can of beer for mingyu to come to his senses. (about 11k)

OR: maybe you don't hate repetition as much as you claim to.

SEQUEL OUT NOW!

“why are men on tinder actually vile?” you question out loud, not quite expecting an answer as your eyes continue to read the offensive opener you’d received from a recent match. mingyu, who’s crouched on the desk across from you, frowns.

“y/n, we’re meant to be studying,” he points out, “but also i thought you were over tinder?”

you look at him blankly, “i am! i just gotta finish what i started you know…”

mingyu looks deeply disappointed in you and you slide your phone across to him, “look at this message i just got! it’s disgusting! i don’t need to know if someone’s wet at the thought of—”

“god, y/n, do you have to scream?” he asks as he takes hold of your phone, busying his fingers probably with blocking the guy. you momentarily look back at your screen where the black document meant to be the outline for your final art history paper taunts you.

you sigh, looking down at your phone when mingyu returns it. “i paused your account and deleted the app.” you sigh yet again, “man! if you were gonna uninstall it without my permission you should’ve just deleted my account.”

“you’d just make another one anyway,” he shrugs, “plus, this way when you go back you’ll remember why you left in the first place.”

you grumble something under your breath but resume your attempts at writing. mingyu smiles a little as he goes back to his own work. a beat passes before, he puts his pen down again and when he sees you’re staring at your screen distantly, he asks, “did you talk to jeonghan yet?”

you gasp at the mention of your years-old crush, glancing around you as if you weren’t in a private study room (because apparently the only way either of you could get anything done was while talking to each other). “what?” mingyu continues, “one of us had to address the elephant in the room.”

“wow, you’re just the worst friend ever, aren’t you? it’s like you can’t read rooms at all. i clearly did not want to talk about jeonghan.”

“well, now you are. so you might as well be honest with me. did you think about confessing to him?”

you deflate, stomach suddenly uneasy, “no. i don’t think i will. i don’t need him to know.”

“you kinda do. y/n, look at me,” mingyu knocks on the wood to demand your attention, “it’s the only way you’ll ever have an answer.”

“i don't want an answer.”

“…”

"because i'm going to move on from him!"

"..."

“okay, well, i’m starting to! just watch me, okay? i have the agency to not be completely consumed by my very shallow attraction to a very attractive and impressive man.”

“right. you just used attractive twice in a sentence— and no, i don’t care if it wasn’t the same form of the word, you absolutely hate redundant things. and yet, you refuse to recognize the way out of this pattern of yours.”

“you are so tiring, mingyu, you know that? exhausting, even. i don’t want to do this anymore.” you shake your head at him, suddenly invigorated to finish this damn preliminary proposal of yours.

—

yunjin cackles as she plops down across from you in the dining hall, finding you scrolling ever so dedicatedly on pinterest. “what’s this?”

you look up at her with a pout, “i need a dress for hoshi’s little party. it’s in two weeks and i have zero options.”

“fuck, i knew i was forgetting something,” she grimaces in her typical huh yunjin way and shifts closer, “i need to find something for that too. can’t just wear a corset and call it day since he’s labelling it a formal and whatnot.”

“he really is the worst,” you agree, pausing to muse over a pretty white dress with red roses all over it. “hmm, what about this one?”

yunjin tilts her head and nods as she looks between you and the dress, probably imagining you in it. then, you sigh, “it’s just i don’t think red is my color like that.”

you’re about to elaborate when you hear a gasp from behind you, “that is simply not true!” you don’t have time to react when a figure slides in next to you. goddamnit, it’s jeonghan, you realize, trying hard to keep it together when his shoulder comes to sit next to yours. “you absolutely fucking rock the color red.”

“i do?” is all you can muster as yunjin chokes out a badly covered laugh. you glare at her, “what’s funny, jen?”

“hah, nothing, i agree with jeonghan, you’d look lovely in red.”

you frown, unconvinced as you scroll some more, feeling dizzy from jeonghan’s presence.

“preparing for hoshi’s party i presume?” jeonghan asks and you nod. “i’m so stressed, i have nothing and it’s approaching so fast.”

“you have time though,” he reassures but you’re quick to protest, “i’m not going to have any time next week because we’re organizing that night flea market. i’ll be running around campus so i need to take a trip this week.” the beauty of going to a college with an isolated campus: peace and you gotta plan every time you leave campus because there’s a singular bus that takes you to the city. it’d be a whole day trip for you if not for mingyu, who thankfully has a car that he can drive.

“ahh, tell me when you’re going into the city, y/n,” yunjin pats you, “i gotta go too.”

you nod and then remember, “right of course, i just remembered kazuha saying she wanted to come too.”

“nice,” yunjin approves, “we need all the opinions we can get. did you get mingyu to agree to drive you yet?”

“i texted him earlier but he hasn’t replied, which is slightly concerning because he may not know how to spell but he does write back very fast.”

jeonghan chuckles, “mind if i join you guys too?”

you stop in your tracks, turning to face him, “you wanna come shopping with us?”

he nods, that sweet smile of his plastered across his face, “yeah, i could use a new formal outfit. i’m tired of wearing the same black suit to everything.” he nudges your side, “plus, you guys could help me out. i can never decide on anything all alone.”

—

“maybe i should just not go,” you groan with your head in your hands. mingyu rolls his eyes, slapping your back, “why would not go? if your problem’s with jeonghan, he should be the one to stay back. not you.”

you sit back up, staring at the eggs in your plate. beside you, mingyu chugs his glass of orange juice, and you lean against him. “god, i hate him so much. do you wanna go see if the playground’s free?”

“right now?” mingyu looks at the time. it’s 11 am on saturday, still an hour from the time everyone agreed to meet in front of mingyu’s car, which is conveniently parked right across from the playground. as if following your line of thought, he grins, “alright. but you finish your food first.”

you sigh, “okay, mom, i will.”

five minutes later find you racing mingyu for the best swing in the playground— months of visiting the place had taught you the first swing was the only one that didn’t creak too loud and experienced the least amount of bumps during the ride. mingyu’s fast but you’re stubborn so you reach out for his arm midway, sticking your nails into the skin, knowing how dramatic he is about these things.

he gasps, “DO NOT CLAW ME.” strong as he might be, he slows down to rip your grip off. you seize the opportunity, getting a headstart and laugh when you reach the swing before him, sitting down firmly before mingyu can pull you away.

“that’s cheating, y/n, you know it!”

“hey, you’re the one that has an advantage. you go to the gym like eight times a week. i go like thrice a month.”

“sounds like someone’s lazy and whiny to me.”

you smile, “someone lazy wouldn’t win that race. and you’re the one that’s whining,” you point to his stance, his arms at his hips like an affronted toddler. he loosens his body with a pout as he walks over to the second swing. “whatever.”

time passes a little too fast for you two when you’re fighting like this because kazuha’s running over to you, breathless. “y/n! what are you guys doing?”

“zuha, hi! did you—”

“yep, i got your lip gloss.”

you chuckle, throwing your arms around her, “why are you the best roommate ever?”

mingyu scoffs, “what about you being the worst roommate ever?”

kazuha laughs, too nice to agree with him, “hey, that’s not true.” you hit him in the side, “you’re just jealous that you’re in a single. i guess money really does make people lonely.”

“i’d go for a double even if i was that rich,” jeonghan’s voice pops up from beside you. he sure has a knack for appearing out of thin air. “i couldn’t handle being alone.”

“not everyone can love themselves as much as i do,” mingyu shrugs, smugly as crosses his arms. “i’m self-sufficient like that.”

“if you guys are done, we should start moving,” comes yunjin’s voice from near mingyu’s car, “it’s already fifteen past 12.”

“i call shotgun!” yunjin shouts and you’re quick to fight back, “no way, i already called it.”

“if i didn’t hear it, then it doesn’t count,” she teases, leaning against the passenger side. you glare at mingyu, “i called it in front of mingyu! the driver is the one that counts.”

mingyu laughs at the petty fight, “y/n did call it earlier this morning.”

“that’s not fair! mingyu’s obviously going to take y/n’s side, you guys spend every breathing minute together. the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”

you smirk, “don’t be a sore loser, huh yunjin, you can call it when we’re coming back. if you remember to.”

“i hate you,” she mutters as everyone settles into the car.

“i’m open to music requests, dear friends,” you announce once you’ve started off. “but i reserve the right to reject any tasteless songs.”

“isn’t this the textbook example of a tyranny?” jeonghan breathes and you shoot him a look over your shoulder, “hey, the power comes with the seat. it’s natural selection.”

mingyu groans through laughter, “you know you don’t make any sense. just play some music.”

you roll your eyes, “he says as he laughs his fat ass off.”

“she’s just salty my ass is fatter than hers,” he mutters under his breath. the three in the backseat break into laughs at that, all at your expense as you gape at them. such betrayal.

“i don’t know why i call you friends. you’re monsters.”

kazuha pipes in, “y/n, are you calling your sweet roommate a monster right now?”

jeonghan is quick to join in, “honestly, i’d say kazuha is the nicest friend among us here.”

“fine, everyone but zuha’s out to get me right now.” the screaming continues for a little bit longer until yunjin and kazuha tire themselves out and pass out. you chuckle when you look at them, yunjin’s head bobs in the middle of the three until it hits kazuha’s shoulder, whose head then rests on top.

swiftly, you pull out your phone camera and capture the moment, sure to tease them later. as you’re clicking the photos, jeonghan’s face sticks into the corner with a sneaky grin and you shift the angle to include him. enjoying the attention, he shoots the camera a peace sign, followed by a little heart, and then a cheek heart and now he’s a bunny and then—

you pull yourself away abruptly with a shaky laugh, “god, jeonghan, this isn’t a photoshoot.”

he laughs back, “ha ha, sorry, i can’t help myself. it’s so fun to tease you like this.”

you feel the blood rush to your face at that, so you turn to face the road completely, a weak, “fuck off” on your tongue. mingyu silently observes the interaction, not without a little side-eye that you don’t know what to think of. “you should get some rest, y/n, you didn’t sleep last night.”

you frown, surprised mingyu knows that and you don’t get to ask him why he knows that because jeonghan interrupts, “you guys sure are close. i was talking to hoshi the other day, he misses y’all a lot.”

“he does? he can just come talk to us whenever though,” mingyu replies, doubt tracing his tone. “i don’t think we’re exclusive like that.”

“right?” you agree, “we used to be so close to hoshi, too, and then he moved to the other side of campus this semester and now i have like one class with him.”

“i don’t know,” jeonghan says, “you should talk to him about it, but there’s always been something stronger about the two of you together.”

you shrug, “we always end up together. it’s not that deep i think. it’s just how it is.”

the topic ends there as jeonghan agrees and dozes off himself too. you, however, feel eerily awake. awake? no, more like unsettled. something in your nerves is off and you feel on edge. you’re a little spaced out after that, as you finally reach the city circle with all the shops crowded next to each other with a little mall in the center.

as everyone gets off and gathers their things, mingyu pulls you aside with a concerned look, “are you okay, y/n?” his grip on your elbow grounds you a little. you inhale, knowing better than to pretend in front of him, “yeah, just a little uneasy. i don’t know why. probably just tired.”

mingyu looks like he knows something more about your condition, “are you sure? we can take a break at one of the restaurants before shopping if you want?”

“nah, i’m okay, don’t worry. i’m a strong girl,” you smile, reasurring him with a pat to his chest, “i feel better now. thanks, mingyu.”

he frowns, hand loosening against your skin, “you never thank me, weirdo. don’t be so formal.”

“man, there’s no winning with you, is there?”

he chuckles as he pulls you after the others, “no, i’m insatiable.”

—

an hour into shopping, you realize why you hate doing this. everything is so overwhelming when you’re in the city, so many people, so many clothes. at least you have friends with you as you scan racks after racks, ending up with three potential dresses on your arm. you mutter a prayer in your head that you can find something nice here so you don’t have to walk more. this is already your third store.

the first one is a classic: a little black dress. it’s satin so it sits smooth against your skin and feels soft when you twirl around. it’s a little short for your liking, perhaps too tight against your ass. you turn to the side to get a better look. you take a photo and send it to mingyu, who you’d been going back and forth with. he’d last sent you a photo ten minutes ago: him in a stupid minion onesie. you’d cursed him out real well in response telling him to stop fucking around. he writes back fast.

big gyu: u look good

big gyu: kinda basic tho

you: yea i thought so too

you agree with that, putting the dress aside in case you don’t find anything else at all.

candidate number two is more over the top: a long red dress with little black patterns on it, with a leg slit on one side. getting into it was a whole struggle but you get it on finally. it fits well thanks to the slit which also shows off some skin. you’re hot in it: like literally. the long sleeves don’t help at all. but you look good too, the flare doing wonders for your figure. you pause, sending a photo hoping mingyu would be of help.

however, when mingyu takes longer than a minute to reply, you groan, already sweating a little. concluding that he’s probably changing or something, you peek out your curtain, hoping yunjin was still in the stall next to yours. you call out her name, straining your neck to see if there was anyone else you could ask for help.

you spot jeonghan walking around the shelves near the fitting rooms and before you can hesitate to call him over, he notices your head poking out. he raises an eyebrow, sending your heartbeat into a spiral. “y/n? do you need help?”

you clear your throat, “um, yeah, i need a second opinion on this dress.” jeonghan approaches your corner and you panic when he reaches for the curtain to draw it back. his eyes question you, “can i look?” you let go of it to let him in, a tiny little rational part of you wondering he needed to come inside the room to see.

“ohhh,” he exclaims as he takes you in, “you look amazing. told ya red was your color.”

you turn away from him a little, “this dress is hot.”

“it sure is,” he agrees and you blush harder, “no i meant, like literally. i’m so hot right now.”

jeonghan presses his lips together, giving away the fact that he understands but being the little bitch he is, he chooses the option that makes you wanna combust. he presses two fingers to your cheek and mumbles, “yeah, you are.”

you push his arm off, “yoon jeonghan! you’re such a damn flirt! get out of here.” you force him out of your space and he’s uncontrollably laughing as he lets you. “i’ve another dress to try so wait outside for me.”

“sure you don’t need a hand changing—”

“no, thank you very much!” you scream, greeted with more pleased chuckling. your phone buzzes, catching your attention. you lean down to look at it.

big gyu: niceee thats hot

big gyu: u should get this dress

big gyu: pls

you: …girl why are u begging me

big gyu: because.

big gyu: you’re getting this dress right

you: no i’d die of overheating in it

big gyu: and it’d be worht it

you: i dont like how enthusiastic u are about this...

you: wtv this one's rejected.

you: i still have another dress to try

you put your phone down to try the final dress. this one was a purple slip dress with white flower detailing. it was skin tight against your boobs and a little transparent, giving away your black bra underneath. and to contrast, it sat a little loose on your hips which was honestly not the worst look, keeping from the dress becoming too scandalous. you enjoyed this dress the most so far. that was enough, given the track record.

“you done, y/n?” you’re startled when the voice outside is mingyu’s instead of jeonghan. you pull back the curtains in confusion, “gyu? what’re you doing here?” mingyu stops short, “fuck, i like this one.” you flush a little when you notice his eyes settle on your chest for a beat too long. “that’s stunning, for real.”

you laugh. “look at you using big words. but yeah, i think this is the one.” you look over at him, “did jeonghan leave?”

“um, yeah, he said he had to use the washroom when i ran into him on the way,” he mumbles. you nod, a little relieved because you think you’d die if he saw you right now. “anyway, i’m offended you were showing him your dresses and then all i got was a photo.”

“hey, you were taking so long to reply that i had seek someone else out. he just happened to be her.”

mingyu ignores that and tells you to hurry up, “i need your help choosing something for myself.”

“ugh, alright, give me five.”

in the end, you decided you’d get both the classic black dress and the slip dress, you needed more dresses in general. wouldn’t hurt to have more. when you’re done checking out, you find mingyu in conversation with kazuha who’s smiling with a shopping bag in her hands.

“zuha, you get anything?” you ask. she nods eagerly, “yeah! i got this pink dress that jeonghan helped me find just now. it’s really pretty, i’ll show you later in the room.”

you falter a little at that, glancing at mingyu who’d told you he went to the washroom. ignoring the growing unsettling gut feeling, you inform her you’d found something too. “nice, we should have a try-on in the room later.”

“you guys!!” yunjin joins the group, “this is insane. i hit the jackpot and found the sexiest green dress ever.” you laugh, linking arms with her, “you should come over later and try it on with us.”

“ah, the beauty of womanhood,” mingyu grumbles beside you, and you shove him. “you’re not invited, pervert.”

his jaw falls open, “excuse me? what did you just call me?”

you press an index finger into his bicep, “don’t think i didn’t notice you checking my boobs out earlier.” mingyu’s cheek redden at the light-hearted accusation, worsening when jeonghan appears right at the climax of the argument.

“okay, okay, first of all, i wasn’t checking anything out!” he complains, “and-and well, they—”

jeonghan cuts him off, patting his back with an amused smirk, “it’s alright, buddy, it happens to the best of us.” everyone laughs at that, much to mingyu’s chagrin who then becomes pouty for the rest of the walk to the next shop.

“c’mon,” you pull him into the store, “my turn to stare at your tits.”

“god, would you drop it?” he groans as he follows you in. “it won’t happen again.”

you giggle, “it’s okay with me, gyu, because that just means the girls look good.”

he groans again, “i really don’t need to be a part of this.” he wanders off into the store, embarrassed. you let him go, looking at clothes for him separately. turns out shopping for mingyu is harder than the concept of it sounds. it doesn’t help that he’s an expert at criticizing the small detail in every item you choose for him. half an hour later, you’re tired of him.

as if on cue, kazuha calls you to tell you to come over to an asian restaurant nearby to grab lunch. you thank the lords as you pull mingyu away, “there’s nothing here for me anyway,” he grumbles as you meet up with the rest.

entering the restaurant, you spot kazuha and jeonghan at a table nearby. yunjin’s still on her way it turns out as you sit across from them, heart in throat for the worst reason possible: you’re jealous. you may be down bad for jeonghan but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your ability to take a hint. trying to keep the thought from completely forming in your head, you make conversation with everyone, wanting to be better than this.

you want to avoid thinking about it so you’re quick to shut jeonghan off. he’s his usual self, joking around with everyone but he picks up when you’re not as receptive as usual. you hope he just thinks nothing of it, but you know that’s not possible when he approaches you after lunch as everyone else is washing up in the bathroom.

you’re outside alone, waiting, when he slightly pushes your shoulder to draw your attention. you gasp lightly. “jeonghan?”

“can i talk to you for a sec?”

you frown, “yeah, you’re talking to me right now.”

“come on, y/n, don’t be cold. let’s go for a walk.”

“but, the others—”

“i let mingyu know we’ll be back in a few.”

out of excuses, you silently follow jeonghan’s stride through the busy street. he makes conversation really well, easing you up in no time as he distracts you from what was on your mind. it’s illegal how smoothly he then proceeds to drop the act.

you’re laughing about what he’d said about hoshi’s drinking habits just now, when he suddenly goes serious, “i think i like kazuha.”

you freeze up at that, fighting the frown that itches closer, looking at him like you didn’t hear him. heart’s out of control right now, but at least you were already expecting this outcome. “huh?”

“sorry, i just thought you should know. i’m really into her and i was planning to ask her out sometime this week.”

you would love to pass away right now. immediately, you think you hate jeonghan for doing this to you. it’s clear from his behavior that he knows you like him and that he’s apologizing— he’s rejecting you before you have a chance to confess. he likes kazuha. he’s going to ask her out. you should know that.

you sputter awkwardly, “that’s great! good for you, jeonghan. and um, you really didn’t have to tell me. i’m sure kazuha would love to be with you.”

you never want to speak a word to anyone ever again and you're sweating ever so profusely, so you speed up a little, “and we should get going, no?”

sensing your mood, jeonghan follows along but says, “i’m sorry, y/n. i- i know you…”

you don’t let him finish because it would genuinely kill you to hear him say he knows you like him. “you don’t have to be sorry.” with that, you essentially leave your body. you move fast enough to reach the car, wordlessly getting into the passenger seat and yunjin somehow knows better than to fight you.

the car ride back is filled with music. not much chatter. you realize it’s partly your fault and silently dread being back in the room with kazuha, but to your relief, when you reach she doesn’t bring anything up. you’re too tired to do a try-on like you promised and when mingyu asks if you want to come over to his place, you tell him you’re feeling sleepy. and for once, you actually sleep after telling him that.

sleep is not as much of a comfort as you’d hope for it to be: less of an escape, more jeonghan-themed content. something about heartbreak and living the rest of your life, lovelessly.

—

the next week starts off hectic and you’re thankful for it this once. you could use the chaos of organizing an event to take your mind off things. a small part of you wonders if jeonghan was being merciful by letting you down and timing it so well. knowing him, that doesn’t seem so impossible.

you feel better than you’d imagined you would. you cried like once since the rejection. you didn’t need to worry much at this point, having realizing that it was less important that you’d made it out to be. mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t give up his worrying, especially when he doesn’t see you until three days into the week. and that, too, because he gave up and thought it would be a good idea to invade your room, at one in the night.

his knocking wakes you up fairly quickly, since you’d only put your phone down a few minutes ago. you rush to the door, afraid of waking kazuha up. “what the fuck, mingyu?” you ask at the sight of him.

“what the fuck yourself! stop ignoring my messages maybe?”

you groan, stepping outside your room, feeling the cold air hit you in your night clothes. “why’d you have to confront me so late at night? can we do this tomorrow? when i’m coherent and not half-naked?”

mingyu falter as if he just realized the time, noticing your tank top and shorts. “i don’t care. i’ll give you my jacket but we’re doing this right here and right now.”

you sigh, knowing this was coming. “forget it, keep your jacket. i’ll go change and be right back.”

mingyu grabs your arm when you try to go back inside, “how do i know you’re not just gonna leave me here to die?”

“dude, my room’s right here. you can come watch me change if you fucking want.”

he lets you go, flustered when you offer and you laugh as you rush back in. in the darkness, kazuha’s voice startles you, “y/n? is everything okay? are you being abducted?”

“oh god, zuha, you scared me. and no, it’s just stupid little mingyu who wants to have a talk. i’ll settle this. go back to sleep.”

she groans, “god, you guys are just like my parents sometimes.”

you laugh at that as you slip into a hoodie and exchange your shorts for pajamas. when you return, mingyu’s sitting at the stairs in front of your room and you hit him in the back.

“ouch! fuck you!” he stands up with a glare, “also i heard what you said about me. why am i stupid and little? can you just choose one insult?"

“let’s go down if we’re gonna argue. zuha can hear us, too. and did you hear what she said after that?” when he seems clueless, you go on, “she said we remind her of her parents sometimes.”

he coughs, “her parents?? what are we, married?”

you roll your eyes, “married and sick of each other, apparently.”

“being zuha’s parents doesn’t sound so bad honestly. she’d be the easiest child to raise.”

“i feel like zuha would raise you if you were her father,” you laugh, “me too, probably.”

“who’d be the father then?”

your smile falls when an answer occurs to you, you mumble, “jeonghan,” sitting at a bench outside your dorm. mingyu joins you, equally solemn now.

“did something happen between you two?”

“yeah. he rejected me when we went shopping that day.”

mingyu’s eyes widen, “what? you confessed?”

you shake your head, a strained smile, “he already knew. i guess i was obvious, but it’s still driving me insane that he rejected me without even giving me a chance to confess.”

“i can’t believe he did that. that’s conceited as fuck.”

“conceited or impressive, i can’t decide. but he told me likes kazuha and that he’s sorry. i genuinely wanted to die when he said that. he was cool about breaking my heart, too. lowkey fell a little harder for him.” you laugh at your own joke, but mingyu looks unhappy, jaw clenched like he’d tasted something bitter.

you hit his arm, “it’s not a big deal, dude. i was thinking about it the past few days and i realized i barely knew the guy. i just knew what he told me over the last year.”

after a pause, “and he’s one beautiful man, so there was that.” you smile a little.

“but he didn’t have to do it like that. he could just stop flirting with you, you know, or wait for you to come around and confess like a normal person,” mingyu says, “he’s such a little jerk.”

“hey, it’s okay, a little flirting didn’t hurt anyone.”

“yeah but he was leading you on, leaving you in ambiguity by doing that. he should’ve been flirting with kazuha, not you.”

“okay, now that’s starting to hurt,” you whine, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, “but i can’t really blame him, no? kazuha��s so precious.”

“don’t be like that, y/n.”

“what? be like what?” you look up, “didn’t you also used to be into kazuha?”

mingyu bites his lip when you bring his years-old crush up, “when will you forget about that? that was so long ago and it was barely serious. she’s too nice to be my type.” (what does that even mean? you wonder but don't have the time to ask.)

“sure, you didn’t want to change residence halls to be closer to her?”

“alright, how many times do i tell you that i did that because of you? why do you never believe me?”

“it just makes more sense the other way,” you mumble, suddenly feeling teary-eyed and hating that you were feeling teary-eyed, which only intensified the teariness in your eyes. “god, this is stupid.”

mingyu’s arm is around in no time when he notices you curling up, your lip tucked between your lips in anticipation, “hey, hey, c'mon, i thought you said it wasn't a big deal. so how come you're crying?"

“because! i feel lame. and because kazuha’s perfect, by the way. she’d probably cry too if she knew i was crying.”

he pulls you closer, “you’re not lame, y/n. you think i’d keep you around so long if i didn’t think you were insanely cool?”

you breathe through your tears, “you just keep me around because i’m insane?”

“insanely cool! open your ears, idiot.”

“you just called me an idiot. idiots are pretty lame.”

he sighs when he feels his tshirt get damper, your body so weak under his hold. he pats your hair softly, “sorry, that’s not what i meant. but seriously, y/n, you know i’m bad at saying this stuff but i seriously cannot stress enough how highly i think of you.” his hand moves to rub your back, “and you’re so much more than perfect, you know? like sometimes you don’t do a paper till three hours before and still get an A. and then, you come up with comebacks to my arguments in your own unique ways, and trust me, nobody can argue with me like you do.”

you pull away, “all right, now you’re embarrassing me. why do i sound like a bossy nerd or something?”

“you can be that at times. hey, but you forgot the part where you’re hot as shit. and also pretty.”

“i feel like that last part was an afterthought, mingyu,” you bite back a laugh, “you really only keep me around for my tits, don’t you?”

“dude, can you let me wholesome for once? i’m trying to console you, so would you stop playing devil’s advocate?”

“sorry, i’m just,” you hesitate with a heavy sigh and then, you blurt out, "i’m scared i’ll never fall in love. i’ll never find it at all.”

“now that’s some stupid thoughts you’re having,” mingyu shakes you by the shoulders, “you’ve just been blinded by your crush on jeonghan for so long that you haven’t explored anyone else at all.”

“are you volunteering to be my crush right now?” you ask, jokingly.

mingyu’s smirk catches you off-guard, “what if i am? it wouldn’t be the worst thing if i was your boyfriend.”

you feel yourself heating up a little for some reason, head in a daze from his earlier shower of compliments and now this. so instead of trying to make sense of it all, you press yourself into him in a hug. “yeah, it wouldn’t.”

—

“hoshi, you little shit!” you throw yourself around the guy when you spot him on the night of the flea market, the product of a long and actually insane week. he laughs when he realizes it’s you, pulling you into a hug, “bro, y/n, why is this my first time seeing in you in literal years?”

“i don’t know, i just kinda see you walking around sometimes. maybe if you actually showed up to econ class, i’d see you more.”

hoshi flinches, “you can’t be bringing econ up right now. that class is kicking my ass. i can’t keep showing up to that kind of humiliation.”

the two of you catch up at last, as people swarm around the different stalls set up along the college street. you were relieved after having finished this damn event. cheers to sleep, right?

hoshi tells you all about his new situationship with a guy in another class and how he’s regretting inviting him to the party tomorrow night. “why? believe it or not, people are more fun when drunk.”

hoshi rolls his eyes, “yeah, well, i couldn’t get any more fun. so instead i become incontrollable. an absolute animal.”

“right, i remember that. so you’re scared you’re gonna drive him off? i wouldn’t worry honestly. and if you want, i can keep you in check.”

he narrows his eyes in distrust, “you? you’re not much better than me drunk, okay? i feel bad for mingyu who’s gonna have to take care of you the whole time.”

you gasp, “wow, you’re taking mingyu’s side now? over mine? i thought we had something special.”

“you thought wrong,” comes mingyu out of nowhere, slinging his arm around hoshi’s shoulders.

“why are you here suddenly?” hoshi looks between the two of you, “i couldn’t not come to an event my lovely y/n herself planned, could i?”

hoshi laughs, “nice to see you two as jolly as ever. but also i must take your leave. i gotta go grab dinner soon.”

“hey, why don’t you come with us? we were gonna check out the new outlet the college opened.”

“oh, i would love to but i have plans with someone already.”

you nod your head in realization, “right of course, have fun. not too much, though. leave some for tomorrow.” he leaves with a full-toothed smile and you face mingyu.

he playfully pinches your cheek, “you confront him about missing us yet?”

you raise a shoulder in response, and as the flea market starts to fizzle out thanks to the darkening sky, your stomach grumbles. “let’s eat, please.”

ever since that night— you don’t want to say anything had changed between you and mingyu because your friendship had been long enough that even the slightest shift in dynamics would harmoniously just become the new status quo; the two of you had been through a lot together. but ever since that night, you’d been fooling around with him more, if that was possible.

it was along the lines of: less banter, more flirting? although one might argue that the former was just a derivative of the other. but semantics aside, this is what you know to be true: friends flirt with each other all the damn time.

that’s what you’re telling yourself when mingyu asks you to feed him some of the fried rice you’d gotten on your plate. and it was true: you’re almost a 100% certain that you’d flirted with every friend of yours, and that was just how it worked.

but intimacy came differently to everyone and mingyu’s just manifested in clinginess. he was pressed to your side for the entirety of dinner, and you couldn’t complain about the proximity. it was welcome, even, this form of friendship.

“you’re thinking too hard.” mingyu’s voice pulls you out of your little reflection session. “what’re you even thinking about? you should be all burnt out from all the work you did this past week.”

“i am,” you affirm, “but some things just don’t let up.”

he chuckles, patting your head affectionately as if to persuade your thoughts to let up for a while. it doesn’t help really, only gravitating the direction of the said thoughts toward kim mingyu even more.

“maybe repetition isn’t as bad as i always make it out to be,” you say, chin propped up against your fist on the table. mingyu had chosen a corner table of the newly opened eatery, next to a low window that glowed behind you in the remains of sunset as he shifted to completely face you. the sun had finally set. again.

“you’re right. routine is good for people.”

“but it doesn’t have to stay the same forever, you know?”

“hm?” mingyu can’t help but feel like you’re edging toward some underlying topic. you were like this since he could remember: you’d start off with some abstract and vaguely relevant concept (that had no doubt been plaguing you for a long time) and slowly circle around till he caught onto what you meant. you love playing games with him.

“repetition doesn't have to be redundant? i think there's something more subtle about it.”

he doesn’t know where you’re going with this, “but repetition is literally the same thing over and over?”

“yeah, but the ‘same thing’ itself can evolve,” your fingers knock against his, “i don’t know, i was just thinking about… us.”

“us? i guess we would be a good example of repetition.”

your gaze falls from his to find your hand instead, your fingers wrapping around his wrist until you’ve forced his palm open. his hand in your lap upside down, you pull at the fingers, “yeah, but we’ve changed a lot. for one, we fight a lot less. sometimes when i’m going to tell you a thought, you understand mid-sentence what i mean.”

“yeah, well, that’s what we get for knowing each that long. but really, what’s this about, y/n?” he captures your hand in his expertly, pulling your attention back to his face.

“do you ever think we should be more?”

mingyu breathes a laugh at that, a shiver running down his spine when he spots the solemn look on your face. and then, his smile turns grave. “y/n, we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?”

“have we? every time i’m the one who brings it up and you kinda just shrug it off. no, don’t even try to argue with me. you shrug the serious stuff off. always.”

it’s true, mingyu admits in defeat, mind racing as he considers why you’re bringing this up now. the answer is easy: you were finally available. but he doesn’t say it out loud, like he never does. you’d confronted him about the state of your friendship before, unafraid to wonder out loud what it would be like if you started dating. you’ve received all forms of shut-downs from mingyu before so you figured you were the only one in an ambiguous place about your feelings for him.

if someone was to ask if you like mingyu, you’d probably say yes, but it’s more than that. you know better than to blindly fall for him. witnessing him in his relationships before, you know he can be ruthlessly cold to his partner once he’s out of love. you practice romantic love for mingyu: carefully because too much would definitely be dangerous.

“i have my reasons, y/n.” there it is. the strict mingyu. the rigidity in setting his boundaries was something you admired and aspired for when he exhibited it in the past. right now, you want to punch him.

you’re without a filter with him so it’s unfair when he treats you like this. you let him know as much: “i want to punch you right now. i’ve hidden nothing from you, and yet, there’s this wall you keep yourself behind. is this really one-sided?”

mingyu doesn’t know what to do with you right now, “y/n, why are you—”

“no, because it's not like i can't take a hint. so one minute you're flirting with me and then, you push me away like right now,” you point to his estranged fingers, “but then you act like nothing happened and go right back to being all intimate and touchy.”

“i just…” mingyu lets out an exasperated sigh, “i just don’t see the reason for labels. why do we have force ourselves into a restriction like that? we’ve always been above conforming.”

it’s your turn to sigh heavy enough your head hits the wall behind you. wasn’t this just his way of friend-zoning you back into silence? you’ve always been too embarrassed to push him this far because you don’t mean to hurt him. but you feel as though you’ve hurt yourself long enough now.

“so why’d you say that the other night? that it would be nice if you were my boyfriend?”

this leaves him speechless for a few beats and you continue, “that was just because i was heartbroken from jeonghan? you’re playing prince charming for me so i can go back to being your trusty little best friend?”

“y/n, you know that’s not true. i’m not playing anything in your life. i’m just being myself.”

you scoff, “you really are so fucking—”

“why are we actually fighting right now?” mingyu asks through an incredulous laugh, “this is actually so petty, dude, let’s stop. you know i love you, right?”

mingyu’s last resort makes its presence: a non-committal i love you. because at the end of the day, you’re still best friends. what was a little ‘i love you’ in today’s economy? nothing. especially when you’d hear him throw the phrase around all the time.

you stand up in defeat, “fine, let’s stop. you win.” you gesture for him to move to the side and he does so reluctantly when you glare at him like you’re genuinely mad. (you are.)

he follows you out the door, catching your elbow to slow you down. “don’t be like this. i know you’re mad at me.”

“i’m not mad. i'm tired and i just want to go back to my room,” you seethe, walking faster than him. he grabs hold of your shoulder turning you around.

“if you’re gonna storm off, at least go the right way.” you huff softly and let him steer you the right way to your dorm, hands still on you. you spend the way to the front of your room silently, waiting for mingyu to say something but he just does what he does best: take care of you.

as you reach the door of your room, he pauses, apologetic smile on display. “listen, let’s talk more tomorrow? get some sleep.” he reaches for your hair, tenderly running his fingers through the locks. there it is: the soft mingyu, his eyes wide as he stares you down for signs of stress.

his warm arm pressed againsts yours, you realize you don’t want him to just leave. you know the drill: tomorrow morning, he’ll text you to meet for lunch and everything will go back to being unsaid. maybe he’ll bring along seungcheol so you don’t bring anything up again. either way, it’ll be so natural you’ll think nothing ever happened. but you want something to happen.

so your hand settles around his bicep to hold on and partly to keep him in place. you lean in, “let me do one last thing and if you want to stop, i’m never bringing this up again. i promise.”

you don’t give mingyu a moment to react to your words and instead raise yourself up to his level, other hand on his chest, and press your lips to his. you kiss mingyu after the thirteen years that you’ve known him and the ten that you’ve wanted to. you counted the years just as you count the seconds that it takes for him to come to his senses and pull himself away.

he looks less upset than you imagined: more dazed. like he can’t believe what you’ve done. he looks at you with his lips parted and you have to tear your gaze apart, lest you should tear yourself apart with longing.

“y/n, i…” he looks away and that’s enough evidence you need. you step away from him, your easy smile back in its place, not before you pat his arm as it falls from you.

“it's okay. i understand. let’s be friends, mingyu,” you declare suddenly, catching him off-guard. you'd pulled all the stops and if he genuinely was uncomfortable with pushing the line between platonic and romantic, you would respect that.

he begins to say something but you don’t want to hear him speak, at least not right now when the sound of blood rushing to your head is the loudest it's ever been, and you certainly don’t want to falter again. you’ve decided. “good night."

—

mingyu should feel relieved. he really should be happy that you’re back to normal around him, friendly and playful like you’ve always been. he should count his blessings that you’ve accepted the status of your relationship with him as it is. but as he falls asleep that night, all that comes to his mind is the smile you’d sported as you asked to be friends.

it was all wrong: your lips against his, that was something of his dreams, not a reality he has to be escaping from. it replays in his head, your scent that he’d caught a whiff of now and then, whenever you’d wrap your arms around him. the heat of your skin he’d rationalize as the comforting presence of a friend for days later.

he’ll soon come to know how insanely stupid he’s being right now but until you knock some sense into him, he simply plays along with a sting he hides pretty well. he should, he’s been doing it for years now.

it’s the night of hoshi’s party already and he’s walking over to the location of the pregame, alone because according to a text fifteen minutes ago, you’re still not ready. you’d invited yunjin and some other friends to your and kazuha’s abode to apparently make the process easier, but if mingyu knows anything about the group, you’ve probably spent more time selecting the right song to play than get ready.

the door to dino and hoshi’s shared residence is already open as he strolls in, finding a group already on the floor, taking shots. he makes eye contact with jeonghan who beckons him closer and mingyu takes a seat next to him.

space is scarce so mingyu finds his arm pressed uncomfortably close to jeonghan’s, who oohs at mingyu’s fit, “ooh, you look positively sexy.”

mingyu grimaces, “do you have to put it like that?” he does look … positively sexy, mingyu admits, in the navy blue shirt he wore but— and here’s the punchline— with the buttons undone all the way to right above his navel.

“where’s y/n, by the way?” jeonghan asks, an eye at the entrance as he slides a shot glass toward mingyu. the question irks mingyu for obvious reasons and he keeps him waiting for a minute, waiting to down the liquid in glass (vodka unfortunately for his throat) to answer him. “um, she’s still getting ready. any minute now.”

“ha, that means she’ll be another ten. that’s a shame, i was hoping to pour her first shot.” jeonghan shrugs resentfully.

maybe the alcohol’s working faster since it’s been a while for mingyu, but his mouth runs faster than his head, “why’d you care? i thought you asked kazuha out a while ago.”

jeonghan raises a brow at that, “hmm. i did. but things did not work out so well. what with kazuha feeling guilty about y/n and… well, i also…”

“feel guilty?” mingyu asks, voice strained. he’s annoyed at having to listen to jeonghan’s side of the story. he could not care less about humanizing him and whatnot. he’s watched you suffer for far too long to be empathetic right now.

“yeah. and i thought i might like y/n, too, after all.” jeonghan says it so casually as if discussing his performance in a particularly challenging college course, not his feelings for a person who he’d recently rejected.

the word might pierces mingyu’s ears. the uncertainty behind it is in such stark contrast to his own… feelings toward you that he genuinely feels his breath heat up.

or maybe that’s just jeonghan when he leans over to refill his glass. “drink up, buddy.” mingyu’s just about ready to make a scene right now, shoving jeonghan’s hand off his back but suddenly jeonghan’s standing up, making his way to—

you. you’re here.

almost as soon as he catches sight of you, he looks away, pretending to give the vodka in his hand all the attention in the world, as he puts his lips to it and empties it. head is now light. that’s probably enough for now, he decides as he puts his glass down.

when he looks back up, you’re at the kitchen counter with yunjin and kazuha.. and jeonghan, who’s grinning as he hands out the bottles of fireball to the group, no doubt marketing it so convincingly that you’d think you came up with the idea yourself.

mingyu shoots to his feet, regretting it when his vision darkens but he pushes past, eyes focused on your figure— god, he forgot how hot you look in that dress. he tries to keep his thoughts in check as he approaches you, but it doesn’t help that your makeup’s even more meticulous than usual, eyes glittering and lips delightfully glossy.

he breaks into the space between you and jeonghan, arm against yours, catching your attention.

“my guy!!” you exclaim when you see him and then your eyes trail down to his chest and then back up to his face where his hair sits parted with the help of some gel. “you look like a slut. i love it.”

mingyu laughs, subjecting you to a similar once-over, “you’re one to talk.” your hair’s back in a bun of sorts, a rare occurrence because you seem to prefer have it around your face. he can’t help but pause at your exposed collarbones, the gold shadow you applied there earlier doing wonders to his already dazed headspace.

“is it already that part of the night where mingyu starts hitting on everyone?” yunjin complains, reserving the alternate version of her question (something along the lines of how impolitely he’d been eye-fucking you in front of everyone) for some other time as she nudges you to open the fireball in your hands.

you do so, looking at jeonghan who offers one to mingyu, which he refuses as he leans against the counter, hand silently at your back just in case. “you’re not drinking?” you ask, quietly enough only for the two of you, just in case he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“nah, i just had two shots of vodka back there. trying not to mix for the sake of me tomorrow,” he mutters, patting your back encouragingly, “but let me know if you need help finishing that.”

jeonghan eyes mingyu on the side as the trio clink their bottles together and get to downing them. later, as things start picking up and more people make their way into the party, mingyu finds your arm. “do you want me to stay close by?” he frames the question in a way that you have an out, because he can tell that you’re still unhappy with him.

but you’re tipsy when your hand interlocks into his, “only if you’re going to dance like you mean it.”

the night goes better than you expect it to, especially since mingyu’s let loose for once. or perhaps… he’s always this carefree when drunk, palms kneading at your waist, keeping you close to his chest, which you try your best to not get too used to touching. he sure knows how to keep you on your toes (sometimes literally) even when wasted because you’re trying not to get too close. for you own sake.

that is until hoshi shows up beside you two, pulling you apart as he introduces you to a friend.. or a partner? you can’t hear in this state and just as you try to lean in closer to hear what he’s saying, you feel a presence at your shoulder, fingers poking you.

you turn to find jeonghan behind you, sloppy smile on his face as he screams something at you. you frown, asking him to repeat himself, hand on his bicep to steady yourself against the movement of the party.

“need to talk to you about something!” his words come at you, clearer. “right now?” you shout back, “what the fuck is it?” your body doesn’t want to stop moving so you groove against his side, and momentarily catching a glimpse mingyu’s heavy gaze on you. you almost completely stop then but jeonghan’s pulling you away, after him to a relatively emptier zone of the house.

you’re breathless, you realize, now that the spell of the music’s been broken. you rest against the damp wall behind you, uncaring as you look around for a liquid to quench your thirst. cunning as ever, jeonghan’s already handing you a plastic cup with a transparent liquid.

you narrow your eyes at him despite how wasted you are. “what’s this?”

he laughs, “i’m glad you’re vigilant as ever. this is water. cold. drink up.”

you comply, your throat throbbing ever so lesser after you’re done and you sigh in relief. “you might have broken my heart but you’re still an angel, jeonghan.”

“ahhh,” he exclaims joining your side against the wall. you frown when you take note of his fingers clasped together, almost fidgeting. yoon jeonghan, fidgety? that’s a first for you.

“actually, that’s what i wanted to talk to you about…”

when mingyu looks away from hoshi and his company to see if you were listening and when he finds out that you’re in fact in jeonghan’s embrace, he’s suddenly sober. and when your eyes find his for a moment, something in them changes and he calls out your name like a warning. but then jeonghan’s already leading you elsewhere.

mingyu wants to follow after you immediately but he realizes hoshi’s still talking to him. “hoshi, bro, can i find you in a while? i gotta make sure y/n’s okay.”

but hoshi stops him in his tracks, hand on his chest, “wait. please tell me you told her…?” he trails off uncertainly as mingyu catches on what he’s saying.

“i haven’t,” he admits, eyes still searching the crowd for you, “but i think it’s time that i do. only so much i can take.”

“that’s the spirit, man! okay, now go kiss y/n for me.” hoshi pushes mingyu with a start, not before the the latter shoots the man a glare and takes off in his search for you.

you’re still in that corner with jeonghan, who’s done narrating the past week’s revelations to you, all about his failed attempts with kazuha and his slow understanding of his real feelings about you. you’re far more unaffected that either of you was expecting, arms crossing in thought.

but then you say, “well, that’s fucking stupid. because i’ve realized i wasn’t as down bad for you as i once thought i was.” jeonghan’s smile falls a little with a disappointed sigh. “but,” you continue, “you know what i’m still curious about?”

when your hand creeps up jeonghan’s shoulder, he thinks he knows where you’re going with this. “i’ve wanted know if you’re really as good at kissing as everyone makes you out to be.” jeonghan’s already moving closer to you, enveloping your face in his hands, and his devilish grin’s spills out as his lips find your ear. “let’s find out?”

and that’s how mingyu finds you wrapped around jeonghan, making out like this was your last day living. and for a moment, he considers giving up and letting you have this. he even stops in his tracks in the crowd, his thoughts so easily drowned out by the music if he just lets go.

but his mind’s reeling when the sight of you kissing someone else just pushes him back a day ago when you were leaning up into him, soft breaths risking your lips against his and the way your body pressed into his just right. his feet move without a thought, then, shouldering through the bodies around the two in the corner.

you’re just pulling away from jeonghan to start to say something about how that wasn’t too bad when his body is lifted away from yours with an unannounced jerk. you gasp and then once again when mingyu’s face comes floating in front of yours.

“mingyu,” you breathe, unsteady from the series of events this past minute, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“what the fuck are you doing?!” he screams in your face, hands on both arms to keep you from moving. jeonghan’s walking to your side and you want to say something to apologize but you’re far too infuriated with the man in front of you to think.

“i don’t know! trying to get laid? finding happiness? love?!” you scream back with as much force. you call out jeonghan’s name, “i’m sorry. mingyu’s too drunk to—”

“jeonghan,” warns mingyu when the guy tries to break you free from his embrace, “can i have a minute with y/n.” it isn't a question.

jeonghan has the nerve to say, “maybe not. i wouldn’t leave you alone with her in this state.”

“oh, she’ll be just fine,” he replies and jeonghan simply looks at you for confirmation. but you’re still looking at mingyu, starting to tear up, head throbbing all at once. you stop fighting against his grip and mumble in defeat, “whatever.”

“if you’re going to lecture me about being bad, i don’t really want to hear it.” you’re back next to the kitchen counters with mingyu beside you. slowly, you sit yourself up on the surface, feeling exhausted. “i’ve heard it before.”

“no, that’s not what i’m doing. i just want you to stop and think clearly—”

you groan when you hear the beginnings of a typical you’ll regret this in the morning type talk, you slide off the counter and to your delight, you run into a guy holding up a can of beer for the taking. you’re quick to jump at it, grabbing it up from him and pulling the tab of the can open. just as you put the beer to your lips, ready to chug it, you feel it being pulled away, the next few moments occuring before you can comprehend anything.

suddenly you’re sitting back on the counter and your dress rides up when you feel mingyu push himself in between your legs. at first, you see his face close on yours and then the taste of beer meets your throat. no, it’s not just beer— it’s mingyu. his tongue spills onto yours, beer mixing with saliva and when you try to pull away, his hand at your neck tightens. you sit up straight and you feel his watch digging into your spine.

your head spins when you can finally breathe, inhaling only to cough out. heart in your throat, you look at mingyu in disbelief, “what the fuck!” but he’s already taking another sip of the beer and some of it slides down your throat into your dress, when his mouth finds yours again.

you’re weak in his arms, and the heat between your legs is only so rational. so you find yourself giving in and kissing him back when the liquid runs out, nails finding his scalp, earning you a deep groan that vibrates against your chest. that’s when he pulls away again, eyes finally meeting yours with an unprecedented intensity.

he leans in again, wet kiss against your cheek, followed by a grunted whisper of, “i love you so fucking much, y/n. it’s so hard to watch you run around with other men.”

you want to think you’re hearing things but mingyu doesn’t let you, another kiss right in the nape of your neck that sends shudders down your back. “i want to be yours so fucking bad. want to spoil you like you deserve.”

you swallow against the moan that rises in your throat, to pull mingyu’s face back to your eye-level, “then why aren’t you mine? why’d you push me away?” your voice breaks, betraying the pretense of indifference you try to prop up. his eyes soften, fingers brushing against your forehead.

his lips quiver and he sighs defeatedly. it’s a miracle you can hear him with all that noise around you. but you hear him clear as day against your hair when he finally says, “i’m scared. of loving you too much, of being too much. and i’m scared of losing you.”

mingyu’s imagined telling you these exact words before and how you’d react to them infinite times before but when you giggle into his collarbone, he pulls away with a blank look. your forehead is against his all over again and for the second time night you say, “that’s fucking stupid! if you were going to lose me, it would’ve happened a while ago.”

of all the things he’d imagine you saying in response, this was the simplest option, so unlike your usual overthinking self. maybe it’s the alcohol and adrenaline in your system speaking but mingyu somehow feels comforted, because maybe it really is that simple. it would’ve happened if it was going to. or maybe mingyu’s too drunk to make sense of it all right now.

so his lips are moving against yours once again, without warning, your breath all his when his arms tighten once against around you. you’re laugh grounds him enough to break away. you open your mouth to complain about the distance when mingyu’s back against your skin.

“shut the fuck up,” he groans, the command making you hotter than you’d like to admit. your legs close around his ass, pulling him closer and his hand slips across your boobs. the friction of his palm against the tight fabric of your dress makes you let out an undignified moan into mingyu.

that’s when he knows he needs to take you to somewhere more private for reasons more than one. you’re too lightheaded to move yourself so mingyu’s carrying out the house without a word anyone you two came with. it’s only when the cold air hits you that you realize you’re outside.

you struggle against mingyu until you're back on your feet and stop. “where are we going? i’m— do i know you, mister guy?” for a second, mingyu’s heart sinks when he wonders if you thought you were just making out with a stranger. then, you say, “i need to go back and find mingyu. gotta kiss him.”

ignoring the blush that colors his face, he grabs hold of your elbow, “i am mingyu, idiot. and we’re going to my room.” you shake your head to clear your vision, eyes widening when you recognize him. your hand finds his face with a light laugh, “ah! it’s my big guy.” the name doesn’t help mingyu’s condition at all, so he’s pulling you after him faster than before.

back at the party, kazuha starts panic when she realizes she’s lost hold of you, unable to locate you anywhere within the party. she tugs at yunjin’s sleeve who looks over in concern, “what happened to y/n? i can’t find her anywhere.” yunjin laughs at that, covering her mouth with her hand. “don’t worry about her. i saw her and mingyu leave together earlier. she’s probably in heaven by now, if i’m right.”

“hmm?” kazuha pauses as a thought pops up into her head, “wait… did they…?” yunjin grins knowingly, “yup. it really was high time they fucked.” the former lets out a satisfied giggle, “i know. they were so obvious without even being together. i was getting tired.”

“you were getting tired?!” you gasp at mingyu later in the night, panting against his pillow. you’re on your back and he throws you a tshirt of his to sleep in now that your dress is… demolished. you look at it sadly out of the corner of your eye. “i really liked that dress,” you whine, as he picks the remains of it up with a somewhat smug grin, “planned to wear it out again.”

“i couldn’t risk that. you looked too good in it,” he chuckles to himself as he jumps into bed with you. you sit up, feigning anger as you slip the cotton over your head, warming up when the smell of mingyu greets you. “i don’t know if i could resist seeing your tits out like that.”

you hit his chest hard with a lighthearted scoff, “i knew it! you’re such a pervert. not just a pervert, you’re also a brute.” you groan as you rub your thighs together gingerly. mingyu props himself up, pulling you down into a hug, rubbing your back. “sorry, does it hurt a lot?”

“it’ll hurt more in the morning,” you relax in his arms, pressing a loving kiss into his hair, “should’ve known you went so rough. asshole.” you giggle when he pulls away in disbelief at the last insult.

“how could you—!” you roll away from him, laughing. he shifts closer, caging you against the wall behind you, “hey, you can’t say stuff like fuck i knew you’d have a big dick and then expect me to go all vanilla! do you know what that does to a guy?”

you shriek in embarrassment, “don’t bring that up now!” your ears redden when mingyu forces you by the chin to look up at him. “besides, where do you think the nicknames like big gyu and big guy came from?”

mingyu’s jaw falls open at the revelation and you break out into a fit of laughter at his mindblown expression. “how- how long have you been thinking about my di-”

you hit him to stop him, “ever since you kept pushing me away,” you run a hand down his side, sly grin on your swollen lips, “and i had to come up with something if i wanted to get myself off alone.”

with an exasperated groan, he falls against you, suffocating you as his body goes limp above yours. you let out a gasp when you feel him hardening against your leg and he speaks into your neck, “you’re seriously telling me i’ve been missing out on taking you like this for… for how long now?”

you kiss his cheek, hand slipping down his boxers with a soft exhale, “a while. and if you hadn’t come to your senses today… well, i’d all but given up on you today. when jeonghan kissed me, i was just going to—”

suddenly your breath escapes you, mingyu’s hand around your throat and his lips on yours with a loud grunt. he stops your hand in its movements, “please tell me you’re not talking about jeonghan while— fuck!” he gasps when you bite his lower lip to protest his hand on yours. his hand gives way and you’re palming the tent in his boxers again, pushing him down against the bed, so thankful he doesn’t have a rooommate in times like this.

you place a kiss at the corner of his lips and trail down his chest, shirt long gone, before muttering, “forgive me?”

—

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i really want to write a more wholesome ending but have not the time or energy right now, so i'll be back with a shorter spin-off/ epilogue of sorts about how you and mingyu as a couple work out, how your friends react, some skinship, etc.

anyway, this is my official announcement that i've become a baby carat :] didn't know how much i was missing out on before svt so this is very fun. so far, jeonghan's my favorite little guy, although as is clear from this... mingyu makes me do things. on the roster are: minghao and joshua. hopefully there will be more svt fics in the future. no promises <3 goodbye friends and foes!!

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arminsumi · 7 months

Text

I want to kiss you — キスしたい

G. Satoru — さとる ⋅ fem reader

NOTE : there's more parts planned for this, i just wanted to get at least this continuation out ✌️ it's maybe gonna be a bit of a slowburn thing, bc personally i love anticipating the buildup of two characters kissing. and also ugh i have such cute ideas in the drafts for this! like you and him using a magnetic drawing board to write down things that you take turns deciphering. and him writing a whole diary of his thoughts that he wishes he could voice to you, that he gives to you when you're leaving at the end of your visit 🥺 anyways!! lmk if you want to be tagged for any continuations pwease i'd value ur engagement very much !!

SUMMARY — you and Satoru falling in love despite a language barrier.

WARNINGS — slight underlying romantic tension between you and Suguru sooo potential love triangle?! one bed trope (you + Satoru), ik google translate is inaccurate but 🤷‍♀️ oh well

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.6k

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

A continuation of this post

Satoru's never really been in love before.

Sure, in high school he experienced crushes and a handful of dates. But the crushes were shallow and short-lived, and the dates were lousy and forgettable.

But you? Well it's funny, see, you live on a whole different continent and can't speak his language, and yet to him you're as unforgettable as the scent of spring.

His feelings for you seep into his skin slowly, beautifully; and yet he can't express a single one to you because he too can't speak your language.

During late-night video calls, Suguru tries to bridge the gap between you and his best friend. And in your group chat, both Shoko and Suguru combine their skills to help you and Satoru understand each other. They do it because they see how badly the both of you want to know more about each other; especially Satoru.

Satoru has never been so infatuated before; never quite so curious and unashamedly intrigued with someone else. You're all he thinks about day and night.

When you speak, he desperately strains his ears. When you text, he consults the dreaded Google translate. And he's always nagging Suguru to translate everything, because he wants to know your every thought and expression.

Around a year and a half after meeting you, Satoru realizes something when he's lazing in his bed with his fluffy white cat curled up on his stomach as it rises and falls with his gentle breathing.

He likes you.

On call, when you giggle at the cat's fluffy tail blocking the webcam, Satoru thinks;

あなたの笑いが大好きです I love your laugh.

When talking about you with Suguru, he receives a little teasing smirk from him.

あなたは彼女が好きですよね？ You like her, huh?

During lonely nights, he scrolls through your socials and stares longingly at photos of you, ones where you're hanging out with your real-life friends or family.

とても羨ましいです。私も彼女に近づきたいです。 I'm so jealous. I want to be close to her, too.

Listening to you attempt to speak Japanese on a call while him and Suguru are on a walk around Tokyo, he thinks;

私の言語であなたの声を聞くのが大好きです。 I love hearing your voice in my language.

Any photo of your face that you personally sent him, he looks at with heart eyes and saves immediately.

キスしたい。 I want to kiss you.

He'd be lying if he said he never pressed his lips to his screen and closed his eyes, pretending he was kissing you.

Satoru thinks poetically about you. He pens down these elaborative thoughts into his diary that he plans to give you one day. Maybe then you can get an idea of how deeply he thinks about you.

But even if he could speak English fluently, or you could speak Japanese fluently, he's sure neither language could be descriptive enough when it comes to his feelings for you.

He tries so hard to learn some phrases in anticipation of your upcoming visit, but all he can say when he meets you for the first time at Haneda airport is;

"Hi."

And he waves cutely.

"Hi!" you giggle, waving back.

And all at once, there's a bunch of thoughts buzzing in his head. He's looking at you like he's captivated. Even if he knew any solid English, he's sure he'd be speechless anyways.

実物の彼女はもっと美しい、信じられない。 She's even more beautiful in real life, I can't believe it.

彼女が何を言っているのか全く分かりませんが、いい感じですね。耳元で聞く彼女の声だけが私が望んでいたものです。 I have no idea what she's saying, but it sounds good. Her voice in my ear is all I wanted.

なぜ彼女は私ではなくスグルを抱きしめたのでしょうか？その瞬間は混乱の渦だったのでしょうか、それとも彼女は私を抱きしめたくなかったのでしょうか？ Why did she hug Suguru instead of me? Was that moment a whirlwind of confusion, or did she just not want to hug me?

When you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, the boys wait for you in their seats at the little airport cafe. The neon sign glows yellow above, plants hang from the ceiling; it's a busy place.

They're talking about you over their beverages.

Satoru groans dramatically, throwing his head back, fluffy hair flopping cutely.

"Oh Satoru," Suguru chuckles, "What's the matter? Why the groan?"

"I want to hug her."

Suguru's heart melts. "Then hug her. She doesn't bite. I think she wants to hug you, too."

"But then why didn't she hug me like she hugged you earlier? Maybe I don't seem huggable to her..."

"It was a rushed moment, she had just arrived you know? Don't overthink. Satoru, just hug her."

Satoru lets out a long, stifled noise that's a mix between a groan and a sigh. He tilts his whole body back, balancing precariously on the plastic chair. Rubbing his eyes until he sees some phosphenes, a habit he did when he was nervous. Suguru notices.

"Are you nervous?" Suguru asks tenderly.

"Really nervous. She's prettier in real life. I don't know what to do with myself." he admits quietly.

"Yeah, she is, haha. Oh, there she's coming back now — や!"

"や!" you returned, giggling.

That was Suguru's 'thing'. It's cuter in real life, seeing how his eyes curve up into a smile when he says it. There are details on his face that you didn't notice through the screen; he has an attractive trio of moles on his lower cheek, and when he smiles the left side of his lips curls up more to reveal some of his upper gum.

Satoru's heart beats a little harder when you sit closer to him. He's thinking;

Yay, 彼女は私の隣に座っています。 She is sitting next to me.

"Suguru, ask her if we're taller than she expected." Satoru asks suddenly. You just hear his voice next to you and it gives you tingles — there was a quality to his voice that only revealed itself in real life. An endearing voice crack accompanies the middle of his sentence.

"Satoru asks if we're taller than you expected." Suguru asks you, habitually resting his chin on the palm of his hand while taking a long sip on his iced tea.

"Yeah! Actually, I was surprised, because I thought you and Satoru were the same height, but Satoru is very slightly taller... " you say.

Satoru is listening curiously, waiting expectantly for Suguru's translation. And then it comes, and Satoru smirks at you.

"Yes." he nods, "(Suguru, how do I say I'm taller?) — I'm taller."

You let out a short and sweet ha-hah that makes even Suguru's heart feel a little something.

Each time you laugh, Satoru's thinking;

私はあなたの笑いが本当に大好きです。。。 I really love your laugh.

You three leave the airport for your hotel, so you can check in. It's almost midnight, your plane landed late. Though he thought he'd be tired, considering he's not a night owl like his best friend, Satoru is energetically striding next to you, teasing you and laughing with you and throwing hand gestures to try and communicate better. Suguru's fondly eyeing the two of you out, admiring how your chemistry comes to life so beautifully — this is what his best friend wished about for so long; to be at your side. Now he's getting to truly enjoy your company. The dreamy-eyed exchanges between you and Satoru make Suguru think that the two of you ought to be in a novel one day, with how pure and wholesome your story is unfolding right now.

Though, he can pick up on Satoru's frustrated stuttering when he fails to communicate with you. Suguru doesn't mind being the translator, nor does he mind bridging the gap between the two of you; Satoru's nagging can never bother him.

They help you out when you're checking into reception at the hotel, but then suddenly...

"... oh, that's not good. He said your reservation got cancelled." Suguru tells you.

"What!" you panic, "Why?"

Suguru inquires further for you, and finds out that it's because of overbooking.

So you groan, the three of you walking out of the hotel lobby, standing in the glow of the light coming through its glass doors. Satoru silently offers to take care of your suitcase, attentively noticing how tired you'd become from pulling it around.

"Thank you..." you tell him.

"Mm." he nods.

Suguru is quick to offer that you stay at their apartment. "... if you're comfortable with it. Just for the night, until you can find another booking elsewhere. Or if you want to stay by us for the whole month, that's okay too — just mind the cat."

"Suguru... thank you. I'm sorry to be intrusive."

"You're not being intrusive, don't worry. And anyways, I think Satoru will be excited to know that you're staying with us. He was bummed out when he learned that you were gonna stay at this hotel, since it's a bit far from our apartment."

Satoru looks at the two of you curiously after he hears his name mentioned.

"She's staying with us." Suguru tells him. You quietly appreciate his voice, and how soft it becomes when he speaks to Satoru.

"Yay!" Satoru says with a very cute thumbs up. You can hardly believe that this man is older than you.

"Tell him he's cute." you request to Suguru.

"Tell him yourself." he teases.

"No! That's embarrassing! Ah, never mind."

Satoru already knows what you said, though, his ears picked up on that he's cute and your words repeat in his head like his favorite song while the three of you walk the streets at night. He feels dreamy.

There is something indescribably welcoming about Japan that you realize while heading across the street, looking at the faces passing by. It's clean. The lights glow warm and bright. The buildings stand tall, but not intimidatingly so. When you pass by chattering people, you wish you knew what was being said.

The three of you have to take the train to get to their apartment. While boarding it, a cute little exchange happens between you and Satoru that you can't quite explain, but it makes the two of you laugh shyly and look away.

Now squished into a seat at the very edge, another cute little exchange happens between you and him. Satoru is talking up at Suguru, who opted for holding onto the train handles after giving up his seat for an older woman.

Satoru uses lots of hand gestures even when speaking Japanese, his big hands fly around, dramatizing whatever he's saying — and then he accidentally flattens his palm right on top of the back of your hand.

Satoru's quick to remove his hand and giggle it off, but Suguru is even quicker to let out a teasing "ooh, cute" when it happens, so the two of you get completely flustered.

Satoru's heart thumps and throbs for the whole train ride. You swear you can feel a tension between your hands as they rest palms-flat on the seats, less than an inch away; you can feel his warmth, and he can feel yours.

But then the train ride is over, and before you know it Suguru's thumbing his key into the lock of the apartment door. It rattles, the door opens, and the automatic light comes on in the genkan.

"Just a sec — gonna see where Mint is. Make yourself at home." Suguru tells you quickly, voice shaking as he shimmies out of his shoes, and then he disappears down the hall to find the mentioned cat.

Satoru hears the name 'Mint' and gets the idea of what Suguru said based on that.

He nimbly unlaces his Converse, and leans down to neatly tuck them into the corner of the genkan, purposefully next to your shoes.

Then he straightens his body out, and you two have a small comedic exchange as you both notice the height difference between you and him.

"Uh..." he looks down at you. "Water?" he asks after thinking for a moment.

Your heart lurches at his thoughtfulness. "Yes, please."

"Mhm." he hums self-consciously.

He wonders if his accent sounds weird to you. Suguru's reassured him plenty times in the past that it sounds cute and oddly British, but he doesn't really believe that.

Satoru leads the way into the kitchen, clicking the lights on as he goes. And you follow. Such a simple moment makes him feel fluttery.

And then you drink some water with him in the tiny, cramped kitchen that's much too small to accommodate two people. You wonder how Suguru and Satoru can stand in it at the same time if even you and Satoru can't manage it without bumping elbows. He chuckles apologetically.

Ah, the kitchen scene. What a movie scene it is between the two of you.

"Uhhh..." he seems to be skimming his mind for any piece of English vocabulary, getting nervous as you blink at him, waiting for him to speak.

He holds up one finger, then pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He's a very simple, yet stylish dresser; jeans and a white shirt that's much too big for him. He is truly so opposite to his best friend's fashion that it makes you smile to yourself. Suguru's quite showy with his style, and you can tell he puts a lot of effort into his hairbun, too. But Satoru? Messy hair, in fact so messy that it looks like bed hair even though he did especially brush it and style it for you.

"Okay..." Satoru mumbles, typing things into his phone. Then he gives it to you, and you look at the screen.

飛行は乱気流でしたか？ Was the flight turbulent?

You type your response. He watches you. And oh how he watches you — he looks lovestruck. His eyes are full of wonder. His mind reads like poetry.

He reads your reply when you hand him back his phone.

It was. I realized that I hate airplanes. そうでした。私は飛行機が嫌いだということに気づきました。

He nods. "Scary."

"Yeah." you nod too.

Satoru hesitates.

He's still bitter that Suguru got a hug and he didn't; it's on his mind. He just wants to ask you, but a deep-rooted shyness holds him back.

That is, until you look up at him.

あなたは私を見上げようとしてとても頑張っています。かわいい。 You're trying so hard to look up at me. Cute.

His whole body buzzes with the desire to hug you. He's had dreams of meeting you in person, of hugging you, of kissing you.

The two of you feel your bodies naturally pull together, as if subconsciously desiring to embrace, so it just happens. It just happens.

And you hug and he thinks to himself;

これは私が今まで経験した中で最高の瞬間です。 This is the best moment I've ever experienced.

You can feel his heartbeat and he can feel yours. For a moment, the world around you becomes a dream; and you and Satoru are the only things that truly exist. Everything in the world except your love seems fake, unreal.

You hear him swallow like he's choking up. Then he sniffles a bit.

泣かないで。泣かないで。 Don't cry. Don't cry.

くそー、泣いちゃうよ。彼女はとても柔らかいです Damn, I'm gonna cry. She's so soft.

And you break away to laugh sympathetically, he feels a bit embarrassed.

He's crying so softly that it makes your heart lurch.

Your bodies aren't separate for long, because he dives right back in for another hug in an attempt to quench the thirst from deep within his desirous soul. This time he squeezes tighter; you can feel the tones of his torso and the firmness of his bicep muscles as they press against your sides.

He sniffles again, the sound makes your heart lurch again.

あなたに言いたいことがたくさんあるのですが、どうやって伝えればいいのか分かりません。 There are so many things I want to say to you, but I don't know how.

でも、このハグで私の感情を感じていただければ幸いです。 But, I hope you can feel my emotions in this hug.

And you can; that's how closely connected the two of you feel in that moment. You can feel the emotions radiating from him, permeating throughout the air and seeping into your skin.

You can feel that he likes you. And he can feel that you like him back. It's fascinating to you, because before him you've always been saying I love you and I like you and will you date me? to people, or been on the receiving end of those phrases. But those words are unnecessary for you and Satoru. In fact, they're futile.

If he would say I love you, it would just be an accessory to his already evident love.

Then a sudden embarrassment pries the two of you apart, and you both start giggling to cope with it.

"Sorry... a bit much?" he mutters, half-sure of what he's saying.

"No, not enough." you tell him. He kinda understands what you meant, and feels fluttery. His nose is reddened from crying. He quickly pats his tears off with the base of his hand.

It's like your bodies hate being apart now, you and him can tell by each other's body language. Now at least that's one language both of you became fluent in, despite only being in each other's company for a few hours.

He looks at you. And you flick your brows up and make a funny face, as if to ask him what he's looking at. And he looks away with a bashful laugh, as if to apologize.

The romantic tension is so thick in the air between you two that when Suguru comes back, he feels it hit him like a wave.

おお。さっきまで彼女と一緒にいたとき、世界の存在を忘れていた。 Oh. When I was with her just a moment ago, I forgot the existence of the world.

"That cat is a menace. A menace." Suguru complains.

"What happened?" you ask.

" 'Got scratched." he holds up his hand, showing off the Hello Kitty adhesive across his knuckles. "Anyways, It's late. Are you tired? Satoru's gonna sleep with me, and you can have his room. Unless you want my room. I dunno. You can choose."

"Ooh... I haven't seen your room now that I think about it, except for that one video of you two pillow fighting."

Satoru's already starting to feel a small bit of jealousy and frustration, because he has no idea what you two are talking about.

Suguru's quick to notice this, and translates with a quick tongue.

"Tell her my bed's comfier than yours." Satoru says smirkingly.

"Wow, rude — Satoru says my bed is comfier than his." Suguru lies, refraining from laughing at his own mischievousness.

"Ah, I don't care, I'll be grateful for any bed... ah, actually can I use the bathroom to freshen up a bit?"

"Like I said, make yourself at home."

"Thanks..." you smile.

So Suguru leads the way to the bathroom for you, and you lock yourself in there to freshen up for a while. You sniff your shirt and smile — you smell Satoru's subtle scent on it.

The boys are fussing over the bed situation.

"Don't we have an extra futon stuffed away somewhere, the one Shoko left here?" Satoru thinks out loud.

"Ohhh, you're right." Suguru nods, looking for it.

"Anyways you embarrassed me!" Satoru pouts.

"Haha, did I?" Suguru pulls out the futon from the tippy-top shelf.

"Yeah, earlier you showed off how good you can speak English." Satoru grumbles.

They're softly grunting as they ruffle blankets and pillows.

"Oh, I guess I did. Sorry." he admits, "gosh, maybe if you would have learned a little something in preparation for her visiting then — "

"I did learn stuff! I learned... how to write." Satoru interrupts defensively.

"But why didn't you learn some common phrases?"

"I don't like my accent when I speak, alright." Satoru admits, huffing as he dives into the bed, ruining the artful neatness that Suguru just put so much effort into creating

"Okay, fair enough — oh my god, why would you do that, are you twelve? Oh hey, Y/n." Suguru smiles. "Satoru ruined your bed."

"Oh — two futons? Am I sharing with you or Satoru?"

Satoru rears his head at you from the pillow, looking very cat-like right then with his fluffy white hair. You can tell he's struggling to stay awake as the hour pushes onto two in the morning. He hasn't stayed up this late since he had a video game addiction and played all night with Suguru. Keeping his eyes open was a grand feat.

"No, you get to have two futons." Suguru teases, "Princess treatment."

"Haha, shut up. Be serious."

"Well, you can share with whoever you want or Satoru and I can sleep here together. Whatever you're more comfortable with."

"Didn't you once complain that you hate sharing beds with people?" you giggle.

"Mmm, yeah, but I don't mind if it's with you. Satoru's a cuddler. He also kicks in his sleep."

"That's so cute — well, let's ask — ... hey, I think Satoru fell asleep. Satoru?"

And surely enough, Satoru is asleep; he fell asleep to the sound of your voice without meaning to.

"He's not used to staying awake this late." Suguru tells you, softening his voice so he doesn't wake the cat Satoru.

"That's so sweet. He's really so sweet." you tilt your head admiringly.

You and Suguru are just alone there together, gushing over how cute Satoru looks when he has his cheek squishing into a pillow and his lips pouty and puffy in that sleep-like manner.

A long, nice silence settles in the room. You admit to Suguru that you're feeling a bit too wired to sleep just yet.

"I can stay up with you."

"No, it's okay. You look tired, you should sleep."

"I just always look tired. The night is early, anyways. I usually brood until four in the morning, you know me."

You smile at him, and he has to look away before he swoons. There's a small tension between the two of you, but the both of you force yourselves to ignore it.

The two of you assume a comfortable position on the futons, chatting as if you're not emotional about the fact there's no screen separating the two of you.

"Satoru's never been an insomniac, but in the week leading up to your arrival, he couldn't sleep at all. We'd stand in the kitchen together at midnight, talking about all the things we planned to do when you got here. I've never seen him so excited in a long time... it's really heartwarming to see."

"Really?" you blink at Suguru. He side-eyes you for a prolonged moment, then looks at Satoru who continues to sleep indisturbedly.

"Yeah. You know, he's such an idiot, actually. Because I told him to learn some phrases and instead he learned how to write English."

"That's a start! I mean, look at me, I can barely say a damn thing..." you mutter with lighthearted shame.

"Maybe that doesn't matter at all... I mean, with the kind of chemistry you and Satoru share, there's not much need for words." Suguru says.

You feel your face warm up a bit when he says that. "What do you mean?"

He wiggles his brows. "Oh come on, you know what I mean. I could feeeeel the tension in the kitchen earlier."

"Huh!"

He smirks and begins to tease, "I've never seen two people flirt so much and yet use no words."

You chuckle shyly. "Really...?" you look fondly at Satoru, who's become more curled up by now, face half-hidden under the blanket.

There's a long silence. You're looking at Satoru. Suguru's looking at you as if spellbound. And then he snaps out of it, and reanimates himself.

"Anyways... we should probably get some good sleep if we wanna drag you around on a tour tomorrow. I want your first impression of my home to be how good the food tastes here."

"Ooh, a food tour around Tokyo? Sounds nice. Won't it be too hot tomorrow, though?"

"It'll be fine." he says surely, "Anyways, are you sure you'll sleep here with Satoru? Like I said, he's a cuddler. He will cuddle you in your sleep."

"It's okay. I don't mind." You giggle.

"M'kay, goodnight then."

"Mhm, see you tomorrow." you say, standing with Suguru.

"Wow." he suddenly exclaims when he looks at you.

"Hm?"

Suguru stops on his way out the door, he seems taken aback. "I can't believe you're actually right here. I'm so used to pressing a red button and you vanishing from my screen." he laughs in disbelief.

"Yeah, I'm still a bit in disbelief, too. I feel like I'm in a dream and not standing right in front of you."

Suguru smirks. "Mm... well."

He leans down to hug you, pressing your smaller body against his chest with a lovingness that you never envisioned he would possess.

"Have you ever tried to hug someone in a dream? It's pretty difficult." he jokes.

"N-no, haha." you chuckle nervously against his neck. He feels your laughter on his skin, and pulls away before he lets that tingly feeling spread across his chest.

"Goodnight." he murmurs.

"Goodnight." you mumble back.

You're glad when he disappears into his own room, because you felt like you were melting in his alluring presence. A boy as sultry as that requires you to take a breather.

Satoru draws your attention by letting out a sigh in his sleep. You head into the bed.

Though there's a distance between you two, somehow it closes, and Satoru rolls right over onto your futon.

Oh, he is indeed a cuddler, you think. You feel a warm arm suddenly hugging your waist as Satoru changes position, and you hear sleepy lip smacks; his face is very close. You can feel his sweet, warm breath on your face.

There's a comforting, human intimacy about sharing a bed with him. He's so gentle when he sleeps. His hair falls over his eyes, his lashes shudder as his eyes do that sleepy twitching thing.

He looks angelic.

You wonder what dreams he's having. And well, actually he's having dreams of kissing you. How coincidental that you were staring blinkingly at his pouty lips, wondering just how long it will take for the both of you to just — just kiss.

Roaming his features in the dark, you find aspects of his beauty that you never saw before through the screen. He's got a tiny scar above his eyebrow, that must be the one Suguru told you about — the one he got as a child when he fell out of a tree. You remember making a joke "but I thought cats always land on their feet?" and when Suguru translated that, Satoru laughed.

There's slight freckling under his eyes, and slight indents of eyebags stemming from the inner corner of his eye.

And yes, how could you not admire those lashes. They were more beautiful in person. You could count each one if you wanted to, that's how closely he slept to you.

Listening to his soft breaths nearly lulls you to sleep, but then he suddenly cuddles closer and whines in his dream.

Oh, that's close close, you think.

His torso is pressing completely against your side, his body melting into yours like it was made for you. Two puzzle pieces meant to fit together.

His leg comes over yours, and his muscular thigh nestles between your two thighs. It makes you aware of just how attractively long his legs are.

He completely entrapped you with his sleepy embrace.

The warmth of his gentle breathing tickles your cheek, and the tip of his nose slightly dents into your skin. Now that's when you fall asleep. When he's completely melted against you, snuggled up like a cat.

He stirs awake after a few hours of heavy sleep, and for a split second in that groggy wakeful mind fog, for some reason he thinks he's laying next to his wife. So he squeezes you tenderly and cuddles more affectionately.

Oops, he thinks, and pulls away a little out of embarrassment. But once he falls back into dream land, his body subconsciously goes right back in for those sleepy cuddles.

Now the morning dawns over, and you wake up to two bleary, blinking blue eyes right up close to your face...

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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qqueenofhades · 1 year

Note

I understand how important it is to be able to criticize the President, and am not at all of the belief he should be beyond critique, but the critiquing of Biden makes me so nervous. (That's not to say I agree with every decision he's made - I absolutely do not). But I feel like people see things he's done wrong and decide they won't vote for him because of it. I'm not sure if enough people have the ability to see that he's done things wrong but also is our only hope of staving off literal fascism.

So many people talk about how sick they are of it constantly being a lesser of two evils situation, constantly having to vote for a candidate they hate because the other side is worse (I heard it in 2020, 2022, etc), and I guess I just- I don't really get it? We're here because they didn't do that in 2016. All of this could've been avoided had the result been different then. I just feel like people don't comprehend how different of a place we'd be in if Hillary won and engage in all this cognitive dissonance to make themselves feel better about being part of the reason she didn't.

Like.... this has been a long-running topic of discussion on my blog, not least because it is so inexplicable and maddening. It also shows how terribly shallow most people's understanding of the American political process is, and how toxic the "I can only vote for a candidate if every single personal belief/position of theirs matches mine" belief is, as well as how much damage it has done to American democracy even (and indeed, especially) by people who technically don't identify as right-wing. Yell at Republicans all you like (God knows I do, because they're the worst people on earth) but they vote. Every time. Every election. Every candidate. Whereas the Democratic electorate still holds out for Mister Perfect, and it very definitely is Mister Perfect. The amount of "evil HRC!!!" Republican-poisoned Kool-Aid that so-called progressives drank in 2016, and then afterward when they insisted they could have voted for someone like Elizabeth Warren and then didn't do that in 2020, is... baffing.

Frankly, I don't care if Hillary Clinton's personal positions on XYZ issue were the most Neoliberal Corporate Centrist Shill to Ever Shill (and Online Leftists' intellectual skills being what they are, I seriously doubt that they were using any of those words correctly and/or accurately). American policy is not made by "personal dictate of the ruler," or at least it shouldn't be, because we are not an absolute monarchy. We rely on the operation of a system with input from many people. As such, if Hillary had been elected, we would have 2-3 new liberal justices on SCOTUS and have secured civil and environmental rights for the next generation. Roe would be intact, and all the other terrible rulings that SCOTUS has recently handed down wouldn't have happened. We wouldn't have had January 6th, the attempt to stage a coup, all the tawdry scandals, our national security being at risk because of Trump stealing classified documents and probably selling them to Russia and/or Saudi Arabia, etc etc. If you think that's in any way an equivalent amount of evil to what would have happened if Hillary was elected, or if she was "still evil!!!," then I honestly don't know what to tell you. She could fucking murder puppies in her spare time if she had preserved SCOTUS for us, WHICH SHE WOULD HAVE, BECAUSE SHE WARNED US EXACTLY WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

(Hoo. Sorry. Still steamed. 2016 war flashbacks, again.)

In short, Hillary would have been a solid continuity Democrat and she would have signed whatever legislation a Democratic House and Senate passed, not to mention been hugely inspiring as the first female president. But because it's so important to the Online Leftists' moral sense of themselves that BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME!!!, they can't possibly acknowledge that ever being a factor, and/or admit that they have any culpability in not voting for her in 2016. It's like when you read the British press about any of the UK's equally numerous problems, and they BEND OVER BACKWARD to avoid mentioning that Brexit might be a factor. They just can't mention it, because then that means they might have made the wrong choice in pulling for it as hard as they did, and blah blah Sovereignty.

Basically, if HRC had been elected president, everything would be so much less terrible and terrifying all the time, we would be talking about her successor in 2024 as someone else who could be the "first," we could explore handing the reins over to Kamala as a Black/Asian woman, we could promote Buttigieg as the first gay president, etc etc. But because 2016 was so catastrophically fucked up, we are in damage control mode for the immediate future and every election is just as pivotal. And yet, because people think that the only thing that matters is a presidential candidate's personal views, we're stuck having the same old arguments and desperately begging people over and over to please vote against fascism, since that somehow isn't self-evident enough on its own. Yikes on Bikes.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #hillary clinton was right about everything: the redux redux redux

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gamergirl-niffler · 1 month

Note

Hi, I'm coming from doumadono's discord. Since your requests are open, I decided to drop one - taking care of the mini dragon!Neuvilette and the mini dragon!Zhongli ! Just boys in tiny dragon forms (you can fit them in hands) - sfw

That's such a cute idea! I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE MY TAKE ON THIS AMAZING IDEA!

I love those two dragon grandpas ^^

Wish you all nice reading! @shonen-brainrot

Wonderful dividers and cover made by one and only! @doumadono

Neuvillette

💧 You came to Monsieur Neuvillette to drop off some documents, but instead of encountering your beloved Iudex himself, all you can see is a dragon, looking right at you!

💧 It's small enough to fit into your palms. He is little, blue, slightly round with a long neck, long tail, tiny legs and fins attached to his sides.

💧 Eh? Eh? Eh?! Eeeeeh?! Eh...?! You.exe stopped working.

💧 You quickly realize that it's not one else but Neuvillette himself! Oh dear Archon! What should you do!?

💧 You walk up to the desk and scoop the dragon up into your hands. "Oh dear Archon. Neuvillette! What happened?!”

💧 The dragon looks up at you, blinks and purrs happily, clapping his fins.

💧 At least he recognized you. That's a good thing. For this, he gets a kiss on the head which makes him look even more pleased.

💧 But suddenly, he looks sad, and you can see a drizzle right outside the window.

💧 "Oh! No, no, no! Don't be sad love, I'll take care of you," you assure and kiss his head gently. "How about we go for a walk, huh?”

💧 At this, the dragon looks at you and nods his head.

💧 So that's what you do. You take Neuvillette for a walk, and he looks happy.

💧 You walk out of his office and head down the streets until you reach the center with the big fountain. Suddenly, Neuvillette lets out a soft squeak, making you stop.

💧 He immediately uses his head to point at the fountain, and you understand him, so you walk to it and place him in the water.

💧 Neuvillette seems happy but a little disappointed that the fountain is quite shallow.

💧 That's when you get the idea! You grab the dragon and go back inside.

💧 Neuvillette is watching curiously as you are running around your little flat, collecting snacks and making food before putting it into a basket. You are doing all of this while he is chilling in a sink full of water.

💧 And just like that, the two of you soon leave the bustling city.

💧 You took Neuvillette to his favorite place for a walk, but instead of taking a walk, you find the right place to set a picnic.

💧 While you are enjoying warm tea, the dragon is happily swimming around in the deep waters of Fontain. Of course he isn't swimming too far away to worry you - he knows you are already worried because of the whole ordeal.

💧 When he is done with swimming, he joins you on the blanket where you feed him some soup and some snacks.

💧 Neuvillette enjoys this day. It may be weird, though. He is tiny and in a dragon form, but the amount of care you give him makes him feel loved.

💧 When the evening comes, you collect everything and then pick up Neuvillette. "Time to go home," you say and gently tap him on the head with your finger.

💧 Neuvillette seems sleepy, so before you get home, the little dragon is sleeping, curled into a ball in your palm.

💧 He is too adorable to wake up, so you leave stuff in the kitchen and go to your bedroom.

💧 You lay down with a dragon still in your palm. "I will take care of you as long as I need to. Don't worry."

💧 At this Neuvillette only mutters in his sleep, nuzzling the palm more.

Zhongli

🟡 At first, you are sure that you woke up in an empty bed, but as soon as you remove the duvet, you realize it isn’t fully true.

🟡 Zhongli is still in bed with you but... He is in his dragon form, just on a smaller scale. His body is long, but you can easily fit him in the palm of your hand.

🟡 You sit up and pick the dragon up to look at him - he even has cute horns. When you touch them, he wakes up and looks at you.

🟡 "That's a new look for you, love. Quite interesting," you joked, scratching him under his chin. He purrs at this and nuzzles your hand.

🟡 He doesn't seem scared, so he must be aware of what is happening. At least it means you don't need to freak out.

🟡 Both of you didn't have much planned for today, just some shopping for dinner. You don't want the plans to be ruined, so you get up to get ready.

🟡 You walk through Liyue with a dragon happily hanging out in your hood while you are shopping.

🟡 While you are buying stuff for dinner, your hood suddenly becomes lighter, and all you can see was Zhongli running away somewhere.

🟡 You panic a little and leave your basket with a vendor to follow him quickly.

🟡 He doesn't trot away too far, just to some antiques seller. Zhongli quickly finds a pretty stone he really wants. Dragon basically wraps itself around it.

🟡 "Guess I have no choice,” you sigh and ask about the stone. All you hear in replay is a really high price. You can afford it, but dear Archon, that's a big number!

🟡 Zhongli looks up at you with his big eyes, and you break pretty easily. So you pay and pick the dragon up so he can't find anything more expensive. "So? You like shiny stuff? Here," you said, giving him one Mora.

🟡 He is more than happy with this little gift. Thankfully, he stays good for the rest of the shopping.

🟡 Once back home, Zhongli is able to fully enjoy his gifts. He is thankful for your understanding and love you give him despite what's happening.

🟡 While you cook his favorite meal, he is sitting right next to you and even handing you some ingredients you need to add.

🟡 When the bamboo shoot soup is ready, you witness the cutest thing ever - a cute dragon eating from his bowl eagerly, enjoying the taste.

🟡 In the evening, you take him for the walk, and the two of you visit his favorite cafe. The sight of a dragon, wrapped around a teacup, drinking warm tea and enjoying stories is one of a kind.

🟡 You come back home with Zhongli curled into a ball in your hood, sleeping peacefully. To make it more comfortable for him, you put him onto his pillow and place his treasures next to him.

🟡 After that, you get yourself ready to bed, and soon join him to finally end the crazy day.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #genshin neuvillette #genshin zhongli #neuvillette #zhongli

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patdkoala · 8 months

Text

I Don't Hate You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst, enemies to lovers, smut, nicknames (Doll and Charming), unprotected p in v, masturbation (Fem), Oral (Fem receiving)

I'm not entirely convinced that Bucky doesn't hate me.

His resting face is also his angry face. And he's always looking at me in that tone.

Like right now. He was just sitting there staring at me.

"What?" I asked while looking up at him.

"Nothing, just... thinking."

"About?"

"You wouldn't want to know."

Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

"Try me," I said to try and get something, anything, out of him.

"Don't push it, kid."

Oh, I hate it when he calls me that.

I grit my teeth. "Fine, don't tell me. I don't care anymore.

"Fine by me." His tone was sharp. He spoke with such anger towards me and I didn't know what I ever did to him.

Bucky is handsome, sure. He's tall and largely built. The metal arm alone scares away almost everyone.

But there is something about him that I find incredibly charming.

But in a stuck-up asshole Prince Charming way.

"Whatever, Charming," I sneered back at him.

Bucky scoffed when I called him that. "Charming?"

"Yeah, you know because you are a jerk like Prince Charming," I said as I got up from the couch and poured myself a drink.

"Hey, at least I own up to it. Unlike some people, who think they're God's gift to womankind," He said as I nearly killed him right then and there.

"I AM! Have you seen this ass? And my tits? These are fantastic. You just wish you were one of the many men I have that get to touch me."

"You're as shallow as a kiddie pool."

"Confident. I'm confident. Not my fault you cry when you look in the mirror."

He sighed and I could have sworn I saw a hint of a smile. "I don't know why I waste my time with you. I could find a rock with more personality than you."

I had had it with him. He is such an asshole.

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you. Hating you would mean I loved you at one point and grew to hate you. I can't stand you."

"Wow. Fantastic. How about I go outside and help you find a rock with a great personality?"

"Be my guest."

I set down my drink and walked towards the door. He was standing in front of it.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. What are you doing?"

"Getting a rock. What does it look like?"

"No you're not," He said in a stern tone.

"What are you saying?" I was so confused. First, he wants the rock. Now he doesn't.

"You're not going outside to find a rock," He said it but it felt like a demand.

"I'm not?"

"No. You are not."

"Are you asking me not to? Or telling me not to?"

"I'm telling you."

My breath caught in my throat as he just stared at me. There he was. Again. Just staring at me.

"What is going on in that mind of yours?" I asked with actual curiosity.

"You really wanna know?" He asked as interest peaked in me.

I couldn't even speak I was so excited. I just nodded like a mindless bimbo.

He got closer only to whisper, "I'm trying to figure out why in the hell I haven't left you in the middle of the woods yet."

Asshole.

I pushed him back against the door but not in a flirty way. More of a shove before storming off.

He doesn't even flinch. He just glares at me as I storm off.

I go to my room to cool off. I obviously like him but he doesn't like me and I am just going to have to deal with it.

I decided to work out. I needed to get this fire out of my system. I blasted my music into my headphones as I started my routine.

The workout wasn't working. I needed to matters into my own hands. Or, hand.

I made sure my door was locked and when I did I saw Bucky in the living room doing push-ups. He was trying to cool off as well.

I am going to make his life very hard. Well, and something else.

I sat on my bed and slipped a hand into my shorts. I started off slow but then built up tension.

My fingers felt nice but they weren't him.

"Oh, Bucky~" I moaned quietly as I came.

That was when I heard the knock.

I got up and opened the door.

"I hope you didn't think I didn't hear anything."

"Oh, but I was intentionally being loud for you, Charming." I smiled as I raised an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you were."

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes, actually."

"What is it now? Gonna tell me how much you hate me? How much you wish I was dead? Or maybe-" "I was just going to ask that you keep it down when you finger yourself."

"Seriously? That's it? No snide comments?"

"Don't temp me."

"Oh, but it's my favorite thing to do!" I whined.

He just stared at me. Again. So, I stared back. He turned around and walked away. I rolled my eyes and followed him.

"Do you seriously have to follow me everywhere?"

"No. But I just want you to tell me the truth." I said as I followed after him.

"What truth? That you're a pain in my ass? That I want nothing more than to ditch you?"

I was actually hurt this time. "Is that actually true?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

"Because I need you to be very honest with me, Barnes. If that is really how you feel then I will just head out and you will never have to see me ever again."

"Fucking guilt-tripping. You're not gonna leave, and you know it."

"Watch me." I felt the fire inside me rise.

"Oh please, spare me. I know you. You wouldn't make it a week on your own."

I rolled my eyes. "And why is that? Why do you think I need you all the time?" I was practically screaming at him at this point.

"You are the most dependent person I have ever met. You would die without me."

I thought for a second. "No. No, I think it's the other way around. You'd die without me and you just don't want to admit it. I swear you are such an asshole."

"And I think you are in denial. That's why you cling to me so much because you hate being alone with yourself."

I scoff. "I think you are forgetting how okay I was with myself not too long ago in that bedroom in my own hands."

"Oh yes. I remember. You were so "okay" you were grunting and groaning for half an hour." He paused and took a breath. "You want the truth? I'll give it to you. Right now. You're a spoiled, ungrateful, whiny, little bitch," He said I was slightly taken aback but I didn't flinch.

"Oh, come on. Say it like you mean it." I roll my eyes one last time.

"You'll be back here in a day you useless piece of-"

"Save it. I'm leaving."

"Fine."

I went to my room and honest to God packed a bag.

I went back towards the front door and saw that Bucky hadn't moved. I lifted my hand to the handle. I was going so slow a snail could have stopped me.

I wanted Bucky to speak up and say something. Stop me from leaving. But he just stood there.

Then he cleared his throat.

"Oh, this should be good. What is it now?"

"Please... don't go..."

I was speechless.

"Give me one reason. One honest reason to stay," I finally spoke.

"Because..." he doesn't continue.

"Exactly. That's why I'm leaving. You only want to fight me when I'm here but you won't fight for me to stay."

"Don't go. Please," He said in a breathy sentence.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to go."

I didn't know what to say. He was just staring at me. Again. I swear to God this guy has got a problem.

Except this time he looked vulnerable.

Helpless.

Needy.

"Are you asking me to stay? Or telling me."

"I'm fucking begging you."

I dropped my bag and turned around so that I was standing closer to him. It was taking everything in me not to pounce on this man and rip his clothes off of him.

We were so close that I felt his breath hitch.

Say something God Damnit!

He didn't say a thing.

He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into a kiss.

"I- I thought you hated me," I said in a breathless sentence.

"I do." He said as he brought his mouth to my neck.

I moaned as he touched me so feverly. I had never felt something like this before.

The passion. The rage. The fire.

He pulled me closer as if it was even fucking possible, and he started to kiss down my collarbone.

"Bedroom- the bedroom-" I stuttered out.

Bucky smiled in a way I had never seen before. He had mischief in his eyes. He picked me up and carried me to my room.

He put me on the bed and crawled on top of me.

Mother fucking Bucky Barnes was crawling on top of me.

He held our gaze as he removed my shorts and soaked panties.

He held our gaze as he moved to the edge of the bed and sunk his teeth into my inner thigh.

The only time he looked away was when his head was too far buried in my cunt to even notice his surroundings.

I tugged on his hair and tried to pull him closer. I was so close to coming and we were only on that bed for maybe 6 minutes.

"I know, Doll," He said as chills went down my spine.

I wanted more.

"Mhmmm," I moaned out at the empty feeling as he got off me and then he removed his shirt.

I sat up and ran a hand down his chest.

The muscles.

The scars.

The happy trail.

The sweat.

I wanted to lick him.

As my hand was gliding down his glistening chest, he removed his belt and pants.

He was so hard that part of him was poking out of his boxers.

"That looks painful," I said as he slowly pushed me back onto the bed.

"You have no idea what I have been going through all day today," He said as he pushed his knee between my legs to spread them apart.

"All day?" I questioned.

"When you asked me what was on my mind while I was staring at you from the couch. I was thinking about how hard my dick was and what it would feel like inside you," He said as he moved his boxers down just enough to get free.

I kissed him roughly and bit his bottom lip as he lowered himself into me softly so I could adjust to his size.

He then held onto one of my legs. "What-"

"I need to get a better angle." He said as I felt like I was splitting apart.

I moaned so loud as he started thrusting into me. Hard.

His hips snapped so fast and the whole bed shook.

He was the one grunting and groaning now.

"Oh, Bucky~" I moaned out again but this time with him inside me. Happily.

"No, use the nickname," He said as I smiled. "I did. Bucky-" He stuck a finger inside just to hit my clit.

"Charming!" I yelped out as felt myself getting closer and closer.

His hips started faltering and my legs were starting to tremble.

"I- 'm close Doll," Bucky moaned out as I sat up a little more so he could really get up in there.

"Me too, Charming," I said as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I think I hit a nerve with that last one.

I moaned so loudly as I came around him. He came very soon after. I think the feeling of me pulsing around him was too much for him.

He pulled out and then cleaned us off with the henley he had thrown off.

He laid down next to me and pulled me close so my back was to his chest.

"Do you still want me to go find you a rock?" I asked as he laughed.

"You are insufferable."

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #winter soldier #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n

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javier-pena · 4 months

Text

embers

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're engaged to be married to a man you've never met. Arthur Morgan is supposed to escort you across the country to meet him. You should keep your distance, but the dangers of the road bring you closer and closer together with each passing mile.

Notes: So there's this post ... and It has been on my mind for months so I had to write this exact scenario with Arthur, naturally. Again, this is way longer than it was supposed to be, but working on this fic allowed me to daydream a lot, so I can't complain. As always, I wouldn't have been able to do it without Dani @alexturner, who pushed me in the right direction and came up with the ending (because I'm not good at writing those)!!

***

You’re not pretty. At least that’s what everyone told you from the moment you could understand those words. Your mother, the maid she hired to look after you, the boys working for your father, the marm, the people in town. Since you were little, you’ve been hearing it over and over again. “It’s such a shame she ain’t pretty, what’s she gonna do with brains?”

The thing is, you also don’t feel very smart. If you were, you’d have found a way to leave your godforsaken town for one of the big cities in the east as soon as you could read the timetable down by the train station. You would’ve found a way to get out of this marriage your father arranged for you. Ambrose Longabaugh was his name. Ambrose Longabaugh. From what you have heard, he shares your lot: anything but handsome, but at least he has money.

No one was sad to see you go, save for your little brother, who held you tight and made you promise to come back if you didn’t like your betrothed. You had promised, knowing you were lying. It didn’t matter if you liked him or not, he was the man you were going to marry. You weren’t getting out of this. Your father had made sure of that.

Mr. Morgan is riding ahead of you, sitting in the saddle with his shoulders slumped, a cigarette dangling between his lips. You can smell the smoke on the crisp fall air, even though you’re trying to keep your distance. It’s not that he scares you – not as much as other men do, not as much as your future husband does – but you don’t like him very much. Your father is paying him to take you out west where Ambrose Longabaugh will one day take over his father’s cattle business. And Mr. Morgan is doing it without complaint, hardly acknowledging your presence. He talks more to his horse than he talks to you.

You let your eyes wander across the mountains around you and sigh. The first time you had seen them, your mouth had hung open in awe. Now you feel trapped by them. You can’t go back, and there’s only one way forward. You sigh again. No, you’re neither pretty nor smart.

“Break?” Mr. Morgan asks from up front. It’s only the fifth word he has said to you today; the others were good morning and let’s go.

“Yes,” you agree, not because you need it but because it gives you something else to do.

You stop near a small river with a shallow bank where Mr. Morgan can refill your waterskins. While he’s busy, you stretch your legs and pick up a few rocks from the riverbed to toss them into the water. The rushing of the water fills your ears, drowning out both thoughts and sounds. You take a deep, calming breath and close your eyes.

When you open them again, Mr. Morgan has taken off his lambskin coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He’s washing his face and neck in the cold water of the river, a wet stain forming on his collar, drops running down his lean, muscular forearms that are still tan from working outdoors all summer. Your face heats up with an emotion you don’t quite understand, and you turn away from him, pretending to be interested in some moss-covered rocks. You’re not supposed to look.

He startles you when he touches your arm lightly, making you turn around. You hadn’t heard him coming over the sounds of the river. His coat is back on, but you can see his neck glistening in a few places still.

“You shouldn’t wander, ma’am,” he says. That’s four more words for today.

You look around. “Indians, right?” you ask with a small laugh.

His face remains serious. “No. White men. Gangs. They like to hide out here.”

You watch his Adam’s apple move as he swallows and your throat immediately mimics his. “Then why are we taking this road if it’s so dangerous?”

He shrugs. You realize he hasn’t let go of your arm yet. “It’s fast.”

“My father –”

“Your father planned this route.”

You swallow again. “I’ll be careful, sir. Thank you.” He lets go of your arm then, and you walk back to your horse, your face now heating up with an emotion you definitely recognize: embarrassment.

You make camp later that day where the trees are standing close together. While he builds a fire, you pick at a pine cone you found on the ground. Somewhere in the distance you hear a howl, but you’ve learned that if it’s not loud enough to make Mr. Morgan look up from his task, then it’s nothing to be worried about. And he stokes the fire, eyes fixed to the flames.

After dinner, he hands you a small bottle and when the sharp taste of whiskey makes you cough, he smirks. So you take another sip, holding his gaze. He looks away first, pulls a torn-up pack of cigarettes from his coat, and offers you one. You accept, surprised.

“Don’t let my father find out you’re corrupting me,” you tease.

He only makes, “Hm,” in response.

The smoke from the cigarette burns your throat, just like the whiskey, but this time you manage to suppress the cough. “Do you have family, Mr. Morgan?” you ask, watching how he uses a branch to stoke the fire.

“No,” is his simple reply.

Now it’s your turn to make, “Hm,” before you add, “No one you’re sweet on?”

You don’t really care about the answer, why would you? But when he gives you another, “No,” a careful one, it makes your heart pound faster. Until he turns the tables.

“What about you?”

“Oh,” you say, “I don’t know, I haven’t met my fiancé yet.” And you don’t want to be thinking about him right now.

Mr. Morgan looks at you, his head cocked to one side. “Come now,” he pushes, as if you’re being evasive on purpose. “That ain’t what I’m askin’.”

You sigh. “It’s not? I’m spoken for. I have no business thinking about other men.” You don’t mean to be so frank, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. And you can tell from the look on Mr. Morgan’s face that he still thinks you’re not honest with him.

“Hm,” he makes, and you dread what might be coming next.

“I’m going to bed,” you tell him, putting an end to your conversation. He opens his mouth to add something, but you don’t give him a change. You lie down and pull your thin blanket over your body, face hot with embarrassment. The last thing you see before falling asleep is Mr. Morgan staring at the flames, a quiet smile on his lips.

Later that night, you wake up to shouts. What pulls you from your sleep entirely is a gunshot that reverberates through the forest. “Mr. Morgan?” you shout, because he isn’t sitting next to the fire anymore and you can’t see him anywhere. Then you hear a sound that makes your blood run cold, a snarl, a growl, but animalistic, wild, unlike anything you’ve ever heard. You jump up from your bedroll, ready to run, but then you remember Mr. Morgan’s warning. It’s better to stay here, in the light of the dwindling fire, than to take your chances out there. “Mr. Morgan?” you try again, this time a hiss, as you frantically search the darkness beyond your camp. It gets so dark out here at night.

A shout is your answer, a deep, “Hey!” Short and fast. The horses whinny, and you’re only now realizing they’re stomping the ground, tearing up the soil with their hooves, the whites in their eyes visible, ears pressed tightly back. You try to swallow your panic, but it gets harder with every passing second.

Then something moves between the trees and Mr. Morgan stumbles back into the camp, a gun in one hand, a torch in the other. He has a wild look in his eyes too, just like the horses, but when they land on you, he relaxes, his face assuming its usual, stoic mask. “Mountain lion,” he says. “It’s gone.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“Chased it off,” he explains. “It ain’t coming back here.”

“The horses …,” you start.

But he walks toward the fire, toward you. “You did good,” he says, dropping to his knees next to you, so close, too close. You can smell the gunpower on him, and the sweat; you’ve never been so close to a man before, not even your own father. “Here.” He hands you the whiskey again. “It’s gone, I promise.”

You wish your hands wouldn’t shake so much. He grabs yours with one to steady, his warm skin like fire against yours, unscrews the stopper with the other, not with impatience but oh so gently. You manage to take a sip on your own, but he watches you intently for any signs of distress.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” he says, stowing away the bottle. “This land out here … it’s wild.”

You nod. Now that the initial burst of panic is dulled, you feel tears sting your eyes.

“But you’ll manage.” His voice is so calming. “You’re a brave girl.”

*******

The hooves of your horse pound out a slow, steady beat against the hard ground. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is sore, but you push on without complaint, following Mr. Morgan up a winding mountain and back down on the other side. The days are so similar they’re bleeding into one – the mountain lion … did it attack three nights ago? Five? You don’t remember. All you know is that your heart picks up speed when he looks at you, that every evening your conversation around the fire becomes a little bit longer, that you wish you could go on like this forever, never to arrive at your destination.

Sometimes at night, when you can’t sleep but you pretend to, you can hear him sing, sometimes to himself, sometimes to the horses. Your heart almost flies out of your chest when he does it. He hasn’t touched you anymore since the night of the mountain lion attack, but you wish he would. Even though everything else about him confuses you, you wish you could feel his skin against yours again; such longing, it almost consumes you.

Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? Did your cousin feel like this when she ran off with that cowboy? Did your mother and father feel like this; is that why they got married? Are you supposed to feel like this when you meet your fiancé? Or is this something else entirely? Is there something wrong with you?

“Break?” he asks once the ground is beginning to even out.

“You know, you keep asking for breaks so much I’m starting to think you don’t want us to reach our destination,” you tease.

He just shrugs and stops his horse. You halt too and climb off, your legs steady when they hit the ground. It wasn’t like that in the beginning; the first few days he had to help you off your horse and you could barely stand. It’s astonishing what a difference a few weeks can make.

You stretch, then begin to walk up and down the path. It’s cold, sitting so still up on that horse, and you flex your fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them. Mr. Morgan, meanwhile, sits down on a tree stump to write in a leather-bound notebook. You’ve seen him use it before but you don’t quite know what it’s for. He’s probably tracking your progress or taking notes on the weather.

Careful to keep him in sight, you veer off into the underbrush, looking at the trees and the different kinds of plants growing on the ground. You pretend you can read the language of the forest, looking for tracks of animals or some mushrooms you might be able to eat. Just like you’ve seen Mr. Morgan do countless of times. When you do find something, you’re not sure what to make of it.

“Mr. Morgan?” Your voice is raised as you try to keep it steady.

You hear his footsteps immediately but you don’t dare to turn around, your eyes fixed on the sight before you. He stops next to you, and you can hear his steady breathing. The knot in your chest immediately dissolves.

“Hm,” he makes.

“What happened here?” you ask. Now the tremor in your voice is all too audible.

He hesitates just for a second, weighing his options, but then he says, “Some people were camping here, a family by the looks of it.”

“Where are they?” you ask, finally turning toward him. The cold, calculating look on his face sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ma’am …,” he says slowly.

“You can tell me. I can handle the truth.”

You look back at the burned-out wagon, the torn clothes hanging from tree branches, all that blood on a log next to a cold fire pit. You don’t need him to tell you. You just want him not to confirm your suspicions.

“They’re dead,” he answers. “Killed. For money.”

“All of them?” you ask.

He winces. “If there were women …”

“Can’t we help them?” You know you can’t, but you wish there was something you could do.

“Stay on the path next time,” he growls. “No more wanderin’ ‘round … ma’am.”

“Mr. Morgan …,” you try, but he’s already trudging back toward the horses.

You spend the rest of the day in silence, riding next to each other but avoiding each other’s gazes. You shouldn’t have called out to him; it was obvious what had happened in that camp. They were a group, and you’re just two people … your father couldn’t have known about the dangers of this journey, or he wouldn’t have made you go. He would’ve found another way. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself. Because you don’t want to even consider the other option and what it would mean. When the sun slowly disappears behind the mountains around you, dread settles onto your heart, the heavy kind you haven’t felt since you were a little girl, afraid of the dark.

Finally, Mr. Morgan stops his horse. “We camp here tonight. No fire.”

“It’s so dark,” you whisper.

“The darkness ain’t what’ll kill you,” he growls.

You can’t sleep; of course not. So you watch him all night, sitting up straight next to you, not so close that you could touch him, but close enough so you’ll always see he’s there. He doesn’t sleep either but he sits very still, keeping his eyes on the path, making sure nothing evil comes out of the dark. And you wish all you had to worry about were mountain lions.

*******

Two days later, Mr. Morgan’s face is pale and you’re frozen through. You haven’t had a warm meal since you found that destroyed camp, and Mr. Morgan has barely slept. You haven’t talked at all, apart from the necessities. And still you haven’t left those mountains and woods behind you. At least the daylight makes you feel less afraid.

“Is it far still?” you ask when the silence becomes unbearable.

“A week,” he answers, looking up at the sky, “if it doesn’t snow.”

The weather is the least of your worries. “And how long before we’re past the mountains?” You hate them now as much as they awed you at first.

“Three days maybe.”

Three more days without warm food. You straighten your back. “Have you come this way before?”

“Yes.”

“Has anything ever happened to you?” You don’t know if you’d prefer confirmation or denial.

“You’re safe with me, so don’t you worry about that.” There’s something in the way he says it that makes your grip tighten on the reins.

“I’m not worried,” you lie. “Just curious.”

“Hm,” he makes before going back to observing the surroundings with caution. “Bad people are everywhere. Not just here.”

“That’s a grim way to look at the world.” You try for a teasing tone, but it sounds like you’re reprimanding him instead.

“You ain’t seen much of it then,” he replies.

“More than you know.”

He looks at you curiously, just for a moment. “You –” he starts, but a shout ahead on the path interrupts him.

“Hey!”

You almost jump out of your skin and stop your horse reflexively. That’s your first mistake. The second one is to shout, “Arthur!” Because it costs him valuable seconds, that distraction. He turns around to look at you, and then suddenly two men are on him, pulling him out of the saddle. Two more appear next to you, a young, handsome one with a dark mustache and darker eyes, and a man your father’s age, but scrawny, with a mouth full of yellow teeth that he exposes to you in an ugly grin. You pull on the reins and your horse dances nervously, ears pressed tightly against its head. And then you hear a shot.

A fifth man stands in the middle of the path, a smoking gun held high over his head. His thick, gray beard quivers as he shouts, “Everybody stay calm and no one is gonna get hurt!”

You look at Mr. Morgan for guidance and see him struggle against the two men who are restraining him by holding his arms tightly pressed against his back. His pants are dirty from where he hit the ground when they pulled him off his horse.

“Get her down from there,” the man with the gray beard barks, and before you can do anything, thin but strong fingers have closed around your arm and you tumble out of the saddle with a shout.

The man who is holding you stinks of rotting things and nicotine. He twists one of your arms until it is pressed flush against your back and uses his other hand to hold your chin, so you’re forced to look straight ahead at the man with the mustache.

“Pretty little thing, ain’t she?” he snarls, and the other man licks his lips.

“We just want your valuables,” Graybeard says to Mr. Morgan.

“We ain’t got any,” he growls.

“I’m sure you don’t,” is the calm answer as Graybeard starts going through the saddlebags of Mr. Morgan’s horse.

You roll your shoulders but the man with the rotting teeth only tightens his hold on you. His companion takes a few careful steps toward you. A lump is forming in your throat as you begin to realize just how dangerous this situation is. You try to kick back, like a horse, but you miss your captor. It only earns you a cruel laugh and a pinch to your cheek.

Somewhere to your right, you hear a dull thud and a pained groan coming from Mr. Morgan. You try to look at him, but you can’t move, not because you’re being restrained but because fear has taken over your body and you can’t do anything but relinquish control.

“Check her horse,” Graybeard orders, but the man with the mustache doesn’t move. He’s only a few steps away from you now, his eyes hungrily roaming over your body. “Now!” Graybeard barks.

“There isn’t -,” you start, but the man who is restraining you clamps a hand over your mouth. You could vomit when you taste his skin.

“There’s this,” the man with the mustache says, holding up a cheap necklace your mother gave you as a parting gift.

“Take it,” Graybeard orders.

“What about her?” the rotting man asks and shakes you.

“Her too,” Graybeard answers with a nod. “Shoot the man.”

“No!” you shout, even though it makes the disgusting man get more of his fingers in between your lips.

The man with the mustache stuffs your mother’s necklace into the pocket of his jacket, then walks over to you. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as he grips your skirt and begins to pull it upward so your boots and then your drawers are slowly exposed. A hot tear rolls down your cheek but it only makes him smile.

“I bet you’re lovely.” His voice is deep, almost as deep as Mr. Morgan’s, but hearing him speak only fills you with revulsion. “I bet you’re all tight …” He lightly strokes your cheek, then uses his free hand to unbutton his trousers.

“No!” you shout again, but it’s muffled, and your feeble attempts to free yourself are met with an evil snicker.

Then you hear a shot and all the life goes out of your body. It’s done. You’re alone now. And if you’re lucky, you’ll soon be dead too. Two more shots ring through the forest, each one as painful as if you’ve been hit by the bullets yourself. The man with the mustache doesn’t even flinch. His trousers hang open now, and you can see dark hairs peek out from between the fabric, before he cups one of your breasts hard and licks a broad stripe up your neck.

The other man moans, low, wetly, and it’s the most disgusting sound you’ve ever heard. He lets go of you, but it’s too late; you can’t run anymore. A wet, dull sound is followed by another moan, and you know exactly what he’s doing. You’ve heard people talk about it, even though you don’t quite know what it means when a man touches himself. All you know is that you feel bile rise at the thought of it.

The man with the mustache freezes and looks behind you, his eyes wide with shock. Maybe they have a different bargain, maybe he wants to keep you for himself and feels threatened. But then, so fast he’s only a blur, Mr. Morgan rushes past you, grabs the man by his collar, and pulls him off you, landing a punch against his jaw. You blink a few times as both men go down, not sure if what you’re seeing is real or if it’s a vision your panicked brain conjured up to calm you. The man with the mustache lands a kick between Mr. Morgan’s legs, gaining the upper hand. He pulls a knife from his boot while he straddles your companion to pin him down, but Mr. Morgan doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the man’s arm and bites down until he lets go of the knife. You catch a glimpse of Mr. Morgan’s eyes and where you expected him to be all feral rage, he’s cold and calculating. It sends a shiver down your spine and you stumble back a few paces until you step into something soft that squelches on impact. You don’t have to look down to know what it is.

Despite the loss of his knife, the man with the mustache is putting up a good fight. He lands a blow in Mr. Morgan’s face, then scrambles off him, grabs the knife, and pushes himself upward. Mr. Morgan moves faster than you’ve ever seen him move, jumping up while dodging the glinting blade of the knife.

“Stay down, big boy,” the man sneers.

Mr. Morgan shoves into him with such force the knife ends up in the dirt again, right next to the two men. But this time, Mr. Morgan has the upper hand, landing blow after blow in the face of the other, grunting with grim satisfaction when he draws blood, continuing even when the man retches up blood and spits it in Mr. Morgan’s face. He doesn’t stop until the man doesn’t move anymore and his face is nothing more than a bloody pulp, entirely unrecognizable. Only then does he grunt in pain and rolls off his opponent, lying on the forest floor, breathing labored and hard.

*******

You make camp that night as far away from that spot as you could travel before the light faded. Mr. Morgan gets a fire going while you sit on a log, trying to hide your trembling hands in your lap. You haven’t cried yet but you know it’s coming. He hasn’t said anything yet, and you’re not sure he will.

In the flickering light of the fire, you can see the cuts and bruises in his face, the sleeve of his shirt drenched in blood. And when you close your eyes, you can see the five dead men, their broken bodies left in the dirt for scavengers to feed on. He did that, all on his own.

You force yourself to stand up and walk over to him. He’s not the man who calmed you down after a mountain lion attack anymore; you’ve seen him beat a man to death today with his bare hands. No, he’s someone new now, someone you have to get to know first. And when you crouch down next to him, he looks at you with dark eyes like he’s never looked at you before and you feel all the air being pressed out of you.

“Let me take a look at your arm,” you say, pulling it toward you by his hand. The dried blood on his knuckles is rough against your skin.

He doesn’t protest, just watches as you carefully roll up his sleeve to expose a deep cut, undoubtedly left by the knife. It must have happened so fast you missed it. Even though it’s not bleeding as much as it used to, each pump of Mr. Morgan’ heart pushes some more blood out through the cut.

“You need stitches,” you tell him.

Before you can second-guess what you’re doing or change your mind, you’re next to your saddlebag, looking for the sewing kit your bother gave you. Only you’ve never used it for something like this before. You don’t even know if it’ll work, only ever having read about it in books, but it’s better than doing nothing. You also grab the bottle of whiskey from Mr. Morgan’s bag.

“Drink this,” you order, handing it to him once you’re next to him again.

He takes one big swallow, then another one, his throat working to get the liquid down. You pretend not to notice. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand while you stare at the cut with much more focus than necessary. Taking back the bottle, you pour some of its content on the cut, drawing a low groan from Mr. Morgan that heats up your cheeks.

Your hands are shaking as you try to thread the needle. “Have you ever done this before?” Mr. Morgan asks, his face stoic as if he’s ready to accept his fate no matter the answer you give him.

“Technically, no,” you answer, finally pushing the thread through the eye.

“Huh,” he grunts.

“But I’m very good at mending stockings.” You offer him a feeble smile and he nods. “This might hurt a little bit,” you warn before pushing the needle through his skin. Holding his arm in place with your other hand, you can feel his muscles flex at the intrusion, and a short burst of breath tickles the top of your head. He doesn’t complain.

“Have you ever been stitched up before?” you ask him to distract him.

“No,” he replies through gritted teeth.

“Oh, good. Then you have to believe me when I tell you I’m doing a very good job.” What’s wrong with you?

He grunts again, but maybe, possibly that sound could be hiding a laugh.

“Still, when we arrive at our destination, you should have a doctor look at this,” you instruct.

“Eager to hear from a professional how good of a job you did?”

Your cheeks ignite and you drop the needle. “Shit.” He is laughing now, a low chuckle, as you try to locate a glint in the flickering light from the campfire. Luckily, you don’t have to look far – the needle fell straight down and is lying between Mr. Morgan’s boots. You wipe strands of hair from your face, then wipe the needle clean on your dress before getting back to work.

“No,” you answer his question, forcing your voice to sound steady. “Because I have no idea how to prevent an infection. Or if I’m even doing this correctly.”

Mr. Morgan leans down, his big hand closing around the bottle you discarded earlier, and he unscrews the cap with his thumb and forefinger. “Looks to me like you’re doin’ fine.” A big swig, then another one.

You glance up at him just to see his face looking unusually pale. “Does it hurt a lot?” you ask carefully.

“I’ve had worse,” he answers, but flinches when one of your stitches comes too close to the wound.

You blink fast a couple of times, trying to shake the image of him on top of that man, punching and punching until no trace of life was left. The memory of the sheer brutality makes your hands feel clammy. No, this wasn’t his first time getting hurt, just like it wasn’t his first time killing someone. And now the same hands rest peacefully in his lap, cut and bruised, yes, but a far cry from the deadly weapons you saw today.

“Thank you for what you did today,” finishing up with two final stitches, then quickly add, “There,” and pet his arm before he can acknowledge your words of gratitude.

He lifts his hand from his leg and flexes his fingers. “Thanks for this,” he replies, examining the stitches.

Your gaze lands on his knuckles that are covered in blood, his own and that of the men he killed. “Do you want me to take a look at your hands?” you ask, your throat tight all of a sudden.

“I’m used to that.” He stretches out one of his legs so it rests next to you, close enough that you feel the ghost of a presence next to your hip.

“I’ve never met a man who was used to so much violence.” Your eyes are still on his hands, bruised darkly.

“It was either them or us.” He shrugs.

Us. “I was sure they had killed you when I heard that first gunshot,” you tell him, lowering your gaze to your own hands that have some dirt on them, some streaks of Mr. Morgan’s blood, but that look so clean compared to his.

“And break the contract with your father?”

You laugh. “A father who selected this route knowing full well about the dangers we would face?” The silence that follows your question is filled only by the crackle of the campfire and by the sounds of creatures moving through the woods. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you,” you finally say.

“This ain’t the first time I had to save someone,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“And how did those other people repay you?” you ask, eager for his answer. Being indebted to him puts you on edge.

“Money,” is his short reply.

“I don’t have any,” you say, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. But maybe that doesn’t matter; maybe when you arrive, you could talk to your fiancé. He’ll want to reward the man who defended your honor and saved you from a horrible fate. Still, you wish there was something you could be doing for him right now. “There’s also other ways,” you say, very slowly.

“Hm,” he makes, a sound that has started to fill you with a certain warmth for reasons you can’t quite explain. Then he shifts, moves his legs a little further apart. And you’re there right between them, looking up into his face that betrays nothing except for the smallest glint in his eyes.

You’ve never even kissed a man, but you’re not stupid. You know what certain gestures and movements mean. You’ve watched your father’s hands when a woman walked past them, you’ve attended dances where everyone around you was getting drunk … growing up on a farm, you’ve seen things. But you also know that those things are wrong and they should only be happening between husband and wife behind closed doors, no matter what everyone else is doing.

It's getting harder to breathe, and you feel a tug low in your stomach, almost like an ache. You’ve never felt anything like this before and you can’t quite place it, but the way he looks at you, mouth slightly opened, his eyes deep and dark, only fuels that sensation. And when you think back to this afternoon, it becomes so strong it makes you shift on your knees.

“You’re a pretty little thing.”

It’s the second time today someone has said that about you. Whereas the first time made your skin crawl, the second time makes your cheeks heat up and your breath get stuck in your throat. You notice that Mr. Morgan unbuckles his belt, eyes locked to yours, and you make sure your gaze stays on his face. It’s only when he groans and his eyelids flutter shut that you look down and see he has his hand wrapped around himself, moving it up and down his length with sure strokes. Something in you is released at that sight.

“Here, let me,” you offer, shuffling closer on your knees until you’re trapped between his legs.

Before you can think better of it, you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. It’s warmer than you expected, feels heavier than you thought when you move your hand up in the same move you saw him use. He groans again, louder this time, and removes his hand, resting it on your arm. You tremble.

Back home, you were taught that what a wife does in the bedroom is fulfilling the duty to her husband. It sounded neither pleasant nor enjoyable, and so far, you’ve managed to push the thoughts of what is awaiting you at your destination from your mind. But your mother couldn’t have meant this, because this doesn’t feel like duty at all. You stroke the tip of his cock with your thumb, he tightens the grip on your arm in return, and you feel a surge of pride well up. No, your mother couldn’t have been talking about this.

Eager to try more, you twist your wrist on the downstroke, then lower your head and kiss the tip of his cock. He growls this time, and his hand lands on the back of your head, pushing you down. You have no choice but to open your mouth further and take him in. The weight of him presses down against your tongue, the tip of him brushing the back of your throat makes you gag as tears shoot to your eyes. He grips your hair, pulls you off, then pushes you back down again, and you got it. It’s not so different from the hand.

Steadying him at the base with a tight grip, you pull off him again, but let your tongue run along the underside, the sharp taste of him filling every corner of your mouth. It will take some getting used to, but you’re determined to get this right, and from the way his hand trembles at the back of your head, you have a feeling you might be.

You close your eyes, focusing on taking him as deeply inside as possible because he seems to enjoy that. Sometimes, when you think there isn’t any room left, he pushes you onto his cock that little bit further and then groans contently, a sound that tightens parts of your body you didn’t know could tighten. You run your tongue over the tip of him, hum around him when your mouth is full of him, just to find out what kind of sounds you can draw from him. If this is what it’s like, you can’t imagine why anyone would call this a duty.

Mr. Morgan stiffens and pushes his hips upward so you take even more of him into your mouth. This time you can’t help the gagging sound pushing past him. But instead of forcing you to take more, he grips a handful of your hair and pulls you off. Your mouth feels strangely empty for a moment, even though his taste lingers, and you blink in confusion. Was that it?

You lick your lips and look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. But he’s quiet, only placing his forefinger under your chin to tilt your head back a little more. For some reason, that gesture leaves you breathless. And you know why a second later when his lips lock onto yours and your breaths mingle, and you suddenly understand why people would kill for this. Why he killed for you.

You can’t help the moan that comes out of your mouth, don’t even realize at first that the sound is coming from you. His hand glides to the back of your head to grip you and hold you in place, and you push yourself toward him, one hand on his arm, the other on his thigh. He licks into your mouth and you try to mirror him, feeling a strange sense of pride when he opens up for you.

He pulls away, holding you in place by the hair at the nape of your neck. “Did you like havin’ me in your mouth?” he asks and his voice is so low you barely recognize it.

“Yes, Mr. Morgan,” you answer, and you also almost don’t recognize your own.

“Oh, you’re somethin’,” he says with a wicked smile, then stands and pulls you with him.

Your legs are trembling and your knees threaten to give way when he kisses you again, pressing his entire body to yours. Just when you think you could spend eternity like this, he closes his arms around your backside and lifts you up, so you don’t have any chance but to sling your legs around his middle. You squeal against his lips, but he just carries you past the campfire toward your bedroll. Beneath your palms, you can feel the muscles in his shoulders and arms flex and tighten with each step. Something in your stomach flutters as you remember he's strong enough to beat a man to death.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re kissing his jaw and neck, biting down on a tendon that’s jutting out with the effort of keeping you in his arms. When he rumbles deep in his chest, you flick out your tongue to lick across the spot in apology, but he drops you to your feet. You both stand there for a second, looking at each other with heaving chests. His hands come up to grip the neckline of your dress, and he pulls, a tearing sound echoing through the trees. Your torn dress crumbles to the ground around you, exposing your undergarments, and even though your first instinct is to cover up you don’t because he pulls his shirt over his head to expose his naked chest beneath, and that sight is enough to distract you from any embarrassment you might be feeling.

His pants are next, and then he stands before you stark naked. You try to touch his stomach with a trembling hand, but he grabs your wrist and pushes you down to the ground. With precise movements, he pulls off your drawers, taking your shoes with them, then tears open your corset to expose your breasts. Your breath hitches when he cups one in his calloused hand and squeezes, making pleasure spike through your body.

You kiss him again, lean into his touch, and then you discover you can make him tighten his hold on you by licking over his bottom lip. You can make him press his hard length against you by moaning in pleasure. It feels so, so good to have this effect on him, to be able to do that to him without words. Never, in a million years, would you have expected that giving yourself to a man would feel like this, would make heat blossom at the base of your spine, would make you ache between your legs. You shove your fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss, and he sighs against your lips, a sound that makes your knees weak. How can all of this make you feel so good yet fill you with a hunger you don’t know how to satiate?

You run your nails over his scalp, testing to see what other sounds you can elicit from him, when he suddenly shifts both your bodies, pushing you to the ground while caging you in with his body. Your heart hammers in your chest so hard it’s almost painful, but even when your back is uncomfortably pressed against your thin bedroll, you still crane your neck to keep kissing him. God, why can’t you get enough of him?

With a sharp slap against your knee that sends another spike of pleasure through your body, he pushes your legs apart, then draws back to look at you. His lips are red and swollen, and both shadow and light are dancing across his face in quick succession. You reach up to touch his cheek, but he catches your wrist and pins it down next to your head with so much strength it steals the breath from your lungs.

“You’re the prettiest little lady I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles.

You feel your face heat up, but he doesn’t notice how flustered you are. With his free hand, he grabs himself, then lines himself up between your legs. You watch, eyes wide, breathing so fast your head is starting to swim. What comes next is a pressure that is not painful but not quite pleasurable either. And the more it pushes, the more it hurts.

“Stop,” you say, your voice not more than a whisper.

Either he doesn’t hear you or he’s ignoring you, but he continues to push up into you, and now it’s so painful you’ve lost all sense of pleasure entirely.

“Stop,” you try again, bracing your hands against his shoulders, trying to push him off you. He’s too strong for you. “Arthur, stop!” you bellow.

And he hears you. He immediately withdraws, and you scramble to sit up, pulling away from him as best as possible on the small bedroll.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, and the concern in his voice makes you look at him.

“Yes,” you answer, hugging your knees to your chest. You wish you weren’t so naked.

“Have you ever …?” He doesn’t need to finish the question for you to know what he means.

You shake your head.

A deep, red flush creeps up his chest and neck. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t –”

“It’s alright,” you interrupt him, his apology embarrassing rather than harming you. “You didn’t know.”

“The way you were kissin’ me …” He trails off again.

Your ears prick up at the compliment. “It all felt … good,” you stutter. “More than good. It’s just …”

“I can … we can slow down,” he offers. “If you still want …”

You look at him, kneeling before you, his skin glowing orange in the light from the fire. His dick is slowly softening between his legs, goosebumps are covering his arms, but he is showing you all of himself without shame. That bold display of his body makes your blood heat up again, but you hesitate. Touching his naked skin is one thing, giving yourself to him entirely is something you’ve been warned of your entire life. And yet … now that you’ve pushed through the initial shock, you slowly realize your body is demanding to feel him again.

You nod. “Yes. I still … I want you.”

Your cheeks are fever-hot, but the way his eyes light up is worth the embarrassment you feel. Arthur moves toward you, loosening the hold you have on yourself, and you relax, dropping your knees, letting him come even closer. He smirks, his eyes darting to your lips and then back up again before he leans in for a searing kiss, and it feels like the last few minutes didn’t happen at all. Without breaking the kiss, he reaches for your wrist, then slowly guides your hand between your own legs, while you tremble in anticipation. He doesn’t touch you, but when he presses your own fingers against all that heat and wetness, you moan deeply.

Arthur breaks the kiss first. “I want you to play with yourself,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“I don’t …,” you start, suddenly unsure.

“Yeah, I know.” He kisses your neck. “You’re gonna figure it out though.”

You take a deep breath and nod, and when he captures your lips for another kiss, you move your fingers over yourself in a motion that makes pleasure shoot through your entire body. A shaky pant escapes you and lands on his mouth, turning his lips into a smirk even while he’s kissing you.

“There you go,” he whispers.

You find a rhythm and pace that makes you feel like you’re about to explode but that doesn’t light the final fuse, and he continues to kiss you for a while before drawing back to watch the hand between your thighs. Any shame you could have felt is replaced by pure lust when you see the arousal in his eyes; you shift to open your legs further, and he raises his eyes in surprise. You shift under his searing gaze and moan when you notice his hand closing around the base of his cock.

You’ve never felt like you’re feeling right now, completely in control but also like you’re surrendering yourself to him. It’s so addictive it makes you wonder how people don’t want to feel like this all the time. “It feels so good,” you groan, struggling to get the words out because your teeth are clenched.

“You’re so pretty,” is Arthur’s answer as he moves his hand up and down his length.

You can’t help but believe him. “I love you strong you are,” you return the compliment, and before you can think better of it, you raise your free hand and cup your breast, squeezing your nipple.

His eyes lock onto your chest. “Fuck.” Pleasure shoots through you from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. “You’re such a good girl,” he adds, and it makes your heart flutter so painfully you feel like it’s about to fly out of your chest.

“Say that again,” you demand, not recognizing yourself at all.

Arthur shifts closer until he’s right between your legs, fisting himself eagerly. You can smell the sweat and arousal on him, a scent so overpowering you wish you could bury your nose in his skin and inhale it forever. “My pretty, brave girl,” he says, and when you lower your gaze, too overwhelmed by what his words make you feel, he grips your chin and lifts your head. “Oh no, you’re gonna look at me.” You blink once but don’t lower your head again. “Yeah, that’s it.” He smirks. “Look at you … so eager to please me. You should see yourself right now … goddamn prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

You do lower your gaze then because it feels like too much. Your eyes land on his cock, on the tip that’s glistening wetly, and you lick your lips, remembering the feeling of him in your mouth.

“You want me inside of you, don’t you?” Arthur asks, and you nod. His rough, calloused hand closes around your throat and you can’t help it – you move your own hand faster, a crescendo building in the pit of your stomach. “Use your words, pretty girl. I know you can.”

You swallow hard, knowing he can feel your throat move against his grip. “Yes, I want you inside of me.” Your face doesn’t heat up this time as you realize you’re not only saying that to please him. It’s exactly what you want.

He rewards you with a deep kiss, then mumbles against your lips. “Are you ready?”

You hesitate. “I’m not …”

But Arthur doesn’t let you finish. “Let’s find out together.” He leans back. “Finger yourself.” The way his eyes darken when he says it isn’t lost on you.

You shift and move your hand lower, his eyes fixed to your movements. He has stopped moving, his hand grabbing his cock, holding it between his legs. You feel yourself flutter against your fingers in anticipation at the same time as he licks his lips. And then you push the tip of your finger inside of you, past the initial resistance, deeper and deeper until you can’t go any further.

“Breathe,” he instructs and you exhale sharply. “Did that hurt?”

You shake your head before remembering he likes to hear your voice. “No.”

“How does it feel?” he wants to know.

Carefully, you pull your finger out until only the tip remains inside of you, then you push it back in. “Good,” you manage. “Really good.”

“You’re sweet when you can barely talk,” he says with a smirk and the muscles inside you clamp down on your finger. You moan and close your eyes, unable to keep them open. “You like that, don’t you?” You hear him shift closer. “You like hearing my voice. Bet you’d like me to talk you through it, too.”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you feel something building inside you. It’s like a wave that will drown everything out. You lean back further and further until your back connects to the ground, until you can raise your hips to meet your finger, trying to get it as deep inside you as possible.

Then his hand is covering yours and he pushes you to the ground, stilling you. When you open your eyes, you’re met with his, dark with lust, and you’re rewarded with the sight of his chest, flushed so deeply red it looks almost purple. His cock is leaking onto his fingers. “Not yet, sweet girl,” he says in a voice that sounds familiar to the one he uses to calm down his horse. “You’re doing so well, but wait until …”

Arthur removes his hand from yours, but then you feel the tip of his finger right where yours is disappearing inside yourself. You steel yourself for the pain you’re about to feel, but when his finger joins yours, stretching you open, all you feel is pleasure so intense it makes it hard for you to stay conscious.

“Fuck,” you groan, a short outburst, almost like a bark.

“You can say that again.” Arthur’s voice is so husky it’s almost impossible to understand. He cups your hand with his, and then moves the both of you in tandem, pulling back out and pushing back in. You tentatively meet his thrusts by rolling your hips and he growls. “Look at you, spread open just for me.”

You don’t know why his words make you feel like they do, but the muscles between your legs are working hard to keep both your fingers buried as deeply as possible. That earns you a smirk from him and you smile back in return.

“I think you’re ready.” He grips your hand tightly and pulls the both of you out, making you sob. To calm you, he cups your cheek and presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna fill you right back up again.” All you can do is nod.

He positions himself above you, stroking himself a few times, then lining himself up. It’s easier for you to relax this time because you know what to expect, but when he breaches that resisting wall of muscles, you still feel a burn and hiss.

“Shhhh,” he makes and kisses your forehead. “You’re doing so good.”

And then he’s inside of you, stretching you open as much as you can take. His eyes flutter shut and he groans, shifting to adjust himself. “You feel perfect.”

“You’re … you’re big,” you manage, drawing a chuckle from him.

He shifts again, then pulls back out before slamming back into you, making you see stars. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately.

“No,” you press out through gritted teeth. “Do that again.”

He does, and you grip his arm, burying your nails in his muscle, slinging your other arm around his back. There’s a strange taste in your mouth and you only slowly realize it’s blood from biting down on your bottom lip. He kisses you, licks over the wound, pulls a sharp moan from you. And then he slams into you so hard you scream, clawing at his skin, leaving bloody streaks down his arm and back. The pain only seems to spur him on and when you pant, “Harder,” he doesn’t hesitate.

You clench around his cock in return and he whispers, “I like you like this.” You feel yourself clench again and he groans. “You’re perfect,” he repeats. You kiss his neck, then bite it, until he pushes you back down. “I bet you’ve never had an orgasm before, have you?” You shake your head and he mimics that motion, tapping your bottom lip with his thumb. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“No,” you manage to say, your voice hoarse.

He rocks into you, not as hard and fast as before, but it makes you pant helplessly nonetheless. “Yeah, I thought so,” he mumbles more to himself than to you.

“Please,” you whisper.

He smirks down at you, then shifts his knees ever so slightly to change the angle. Suddenly, he’s brushing against something deep inside of you that makes a sob erupt from deep in your chest.

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” he teases, but there is a strain in his voice now, as if he’s struggling to hold onto something.

“Please,” you repeat louder, unable to fully grasp the meaning of his question.

Arthur’s thumb is back on your lip and then he pushes it inside your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip eagerly, then suck on it, grazing your teeth over his skin. His breathing turns ragged, and the warmth of pride erupts in your chest. With a wet sound, he pulls his thumb out from between your lips and pushes his hand between your bodies until it comes to rest on that small spot you were toying with earlier. You howl and twitch and your whole body erupts. You spill over, you lose sense of where and who you are, you’re shaken by forces beyond your control. All the while, Arthur pounds into you, strokes you inside and out, and you think you hear him say, “That’s it, just let go. You’re so fucking beautiful – just let go.”

As soon as you feel like you can breathe again, he pulls out of you, leaving you aching and empty and cold. Through hooded eyes, you watch as he moves his hand up and down his cock fast until he spills all over his hand and the edge of your bedroll, gaze not directed downwards, but staring at you with insatiable hunger in his eyes. And you return that gaze just as hungrily, wondering what it would feel like to taste his release on your tongue.

Arthur stands unsteadily and retrieves his coat from the other side of the campfire. You feel the cold of the night now and hug your knees to your chest, still trying to make sense of the world. “Now, no more of that,” he says when he gets back, draping his coat over you, the weight of it making your limbs grow soft. He lies down next to you, pressing his front to your back, one arm possessively slung over your chest, the other shoved under your head for you to use as a pillow.

*******

The morning sun is warm on your face as you ride through a slowly thinning forest. The plains and your destination cannot be far from here. Your thoughts are though; they’re still somewhere behind you, stuck at a campfire, busy chasing the feeling of the man next to you between your legs.

When you reach a fork in the path, you stop your horse and look off to your right, back into the forest and the mountains. “What’s back there?” you ask.

Arthur stops his horse next to yours and looks down the path. “Never been over that way,” he answers.

“Do you want to find out?” Your voice is firm, but you don’t look at Arthur.

He’s quiet at first. “Your father –”

“– already paid you,” you finish the sentence.

Arthur nods. “Alright,” he says, then looks back at the path you just put behind you, then off to your right again. “Let’s find out what’s over there.”

***

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #embers

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tossawary · 2 months

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I finished Volume 3 of SVSSS, which encompasses the main story, and currently have my bookmark sitting at the first chapter of the Airplane Extras in Volume 4. I took a bunch of quote pics but have yet to review them and add thoughts.

Every time I read SVSSS, I forget how... incredible... the inside of Shen Yuan's head is. He's fascinating.

Like, he's misogynistic (even while criticizing Airplane's own misogynistic writing), he's homophobic, AND he's transphobic. Not in a way where I think he thinks anyone deserves fewer rights than anyone else (I think he's generally a nice person, although, holy shit, I would not trust this man to craft policy of any kind) or would prevent anyone from living however they chose to live, a lot of his problematic bullshit stays inside his own head as he tries to understand the world around him using the stallion novel formulas he was given, but he's carrying around SO MUCH unexamined bias that supports his refusal to examine himself and his own desires.

Some of it reads (presumably intentionally) a LOT like the kind of conflicting, problematic bullshit a lot of queer people carry around inside their heads as they struggle to untangle themselves and their beliefs.

And while I do wish that Shen Yuan had been forced to confront and address his misogyny and transmisogyny even further than it does come up (in part because it is DEFINITELY affecting the way he thinks about gay men as well, including and especially Binghe), I do kind of... appreciate on some level that he thinks this way? From a character standpoint? Because I think it's probably realistic for a privileged young man spending a lot of time on the internet reading shit like PIDW to look at the world this way. And it's clear even through his own narration that his blindness in certain areas is causing him a lot of trouble. While I do have criticisms and personal wishes, I do appreciate the depiction of personal character development that is just... a cringeworthy mess of internalized bullshit the whole fucking time.

Also, it's SO funny to me that he reads as SO aro-ace-spectrum to me (probably gay, but generally detached from sexuality and possibly also partially from gender) AND he actually knows... the word asexual, I don't think he has a very broad understanding of asexuality... but he knows the word and yet doesn't personally identify that way. He mentally accuses both Luo Binghe (main story, before finding out Binghe is into him) and Liu Qingge (Succubus Extra) of being asexual for showing no interest in women, only to fail to reflect on how he ALSO demonstrably has no lasting personal interest in the women around them, which doesn't read as very genuine to me.

(EDIT: Again, I am not against a bisexual Shen Yuan interpretation either! I am willing to be persuaded by any author who wishes to tell a particular story. But Shen Yuan's attraction towards women often reads personally to me as very shallow and possibly insincere.)

"I willingly read PIDW, that proves I'm straight!" he sincerely thinks to himself, even though his favorite wife is the one without explicit sex scenes and he also admits to skipping over a lot of them.

"I'm able to tell when women are beautiful, that makes me straight!" thinks the guy who mentally censors nudity whenever demon women lose their clothes, and keeps telling us how "the average reader" of PIDW would react to these beautiful women instead of conveying his own attracted reactions. His actual reactions are generally centered on a woman's narrative significance. The only people he personally seems to find attractive are Luo Binghe and maybe Liu Qingge.

Though my interpretation was that he does probably experience sexual arousal and have a sex drive (see his username), which probably helps with his conviction of straightness, I'm not sure that there's any mention of Shen Yuan even masturbating at all in the entire main story of SVSSS? He never tried to hook up with anyone. Sex is apparently not a priority for him.

(EDIT: He does seem to enjoy sex with Binghe in the "Bing-mei vs. Bing-ge" Extra. He loves Binghe and likes the closeness and the physical pleasure. I appreciate the indication that they're working on moving on from the AWFUL intercourse pushed by Xin Mo's possession and possibly also the System's Scenario Pusher.)

And Shen Yuan seems to view women as being and behaving Fundamentally Differently from men and gay men as behaving Fundamentally Differently from straight men (as soon as he learns Binghe is into him, he thinks about how Binghe isn't behaving like the characters in his sister's gay, non-con, BDSM erotica novels), seeing everything through the lens of novel tropes, such that he seems to view sex and sexuality and gender as being deeply mixed with a person's personality. So he can't be a gay man, because he's too "Normal", in his mind at first, because he doesn't behave like his own mental image of "How Gay Men Behave" (or "How Women Behave / A PIDW Wife Behaves"), while also demonstrably not being anything like "the average reader" of PIDW and also apparently not caring too much about his own masculinity? Like, I do think he likes being the gentleman scholar of Qing Jing Peak, he does like appearing dignified and strong and cool, he doesn't like losing, he doesn't really like playing "damsel in distress" roles, and I do think he likes being gallant towards women, but he's not too concerned about seriously competing with figures like Luo Binghe or Liu Qingge? He's happy enough to back down and let someone else take the lead if necessary. He puts up with being put into the roles of female leads even if it embarrasses him and he rolls with the punches to his pride easily enough. He seems to have decided his Sexuality By Default, so it does make me have a lot of thoughts about whether or not he's potentially going with Gender By Default / Convenience as well.

Someone get this man some amateur and academic literature on gender and sexuality (and a lot of other stuff), stat, so he can ignore it, probably.

#tossawary svsss #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #tossawary rereads svsss #shen yuan versus asexuality fic

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animehideout · 3 months

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Gojo NSFW alphabet? Pretty please.

GOJO SATORU NSFW ALPHABETS

A/n: Thank you anon for this request, I hope you like it 🥹❤️‍🔥.

Warnings 🔞⚠️: SMUT NSFW MDNI

Note : If your request isn't posted yet it's because I'm still working on them, thank you for your understanding and patience 🤍.

A= Aftercare ( How is he like after sex?)

After a rough session Gojo would treat you right. He'll spoil you. He'll get you whatever you want, snacks, water, chocolate, takeouts? Literally anything you crave. He's a giant so he will cuddle you, and you can't escape his arms.

B= Body part: ( His favorite part of your body?)

He loves every part of your body, but your thighs are his favorite. He likes to burry his head between them. He likes to pinch them, squeeze them and bite your inner thighs a lot. Your thighs both calm him and excite him depending on his mood.

C= Cum: (Where he would prefer to cum?)

Definitely your face! He finds it extremely hot and attractive. It would turn him on more and gets him hard again at the spot. Just the sight of you under him while your face drips with his cum makes him go crazy, especially if there's some on your lips and you lick it, damn he would definitely go for another session, a harder and more rough one.

D= Dirty talk:

He's so into dirty talk, like he won't shut up while you're both fucking the shit out of each other. He's very playful, so exepct a lot of teasing. He's a confident man but dirty talk boosts his confidence even more, and it makes him feel very dominant. He's rough so he would give commands and makes you do as he says.

“Oh you think you can handle me? Okay then but don't say I didn't warn you”

“Oh you're enjoying that? my little slut”

“Come on turn around now, face down”

“Feel me fucking pound it”

E= Experience: ( Is he experienced? )

He's a busy man, he works often so he doesn't have time to get into shallow relationships or even one night stands so I don't think he's very experienced, but he's rather naturally good at it. Maybe because he's confident in his body and abilities and he follows his flow so everything turns out to be perfect for him. So when he gets into a serious relationship he'll give you the best sex of your life.

F= Favorite Position:

Oh Gojo got many favorite positions and he's good at each one of them. No matter what position it is, he'll reach your G-spot and make you scream from pleasure. But if I had to mention some positions, I'd say Against the wall?! He likes it when your back hits the hard wall from how rough he's pushing his length inside you while your legs are wrapped around his torso. Also I would say missionary! He likes being on top of you while he looks at how flustered expressions and the fuck faces you make.

G= Goofy: ( Is he goofy during sex? )

Goofy like playful but definitely not vanilla. He's rough, but at the same time chill. Idk if you get it, but like he's rough in a teasing way and not the very serious way. The type that makes you both smirk.

H= Hygiene:

This man is very hygienic, he cares a lot about his appearance and cleanliness and down there as well. He makes sure he's well groomed / shaved. Also his body smells really nice, like you'd be sniffing him the whole time when he's on top of you. His scent is sweetly intoxicating. In return he prefers his partner to shave/ wax as well.

I= Intimacy:

He can be sweet if you want him to be. But most of the time he's rough. He's a man with a lot of responsibilities hanging on his shoulders, so he'd like some tough relief you know, to take everything out. And he does, when he fucks you hard. Would ask for consent first of course.

J= Jerk off:

He would masturbate very often at the thought of you. Since he's always at work, both of you won't be having a regular sex life so to relieve himself when he misses you, he sneaks somewhere and pleasures himself imagining that you're the one giving him a hand job.

K= Kink:

Moaning? your moans turn him on more and more and encourages him to fasten his pace. Your whimpers / screams / panting boosts his confidence, proving that he's fucking you right. Also he's into praise words ( receiving ), oh man just tell him that you like the way his dick slide in and out of you, just tell him how good he makes you feel, tell him that you want only his dick inside of you and see how he's gonna make you see stars.

L= Location: (His fav place to have sex)

Anywhere! But his favorites are in the shower room, pounding you against the cold wall or in the backseat of the car, he loves how the windows turn foggy after literally destroying you.

M= Motivation : (What turns him on?)

When you bend in front of him to get something. Intentional or not, it would get him instantly hard. He just loves your body so much and wants to appreciate in every way including sex

N= No: ( Something he wouldn't do)

Threesome or more are a big no no for him. He would never share you with anyone. He believes that you're his and he's yours. End of discussion.

O= Oral sex:

Of course Gojo enjoys giving head and pleasuring you but not as much as when he's the one getting it. He's a bit greedy and very egoistic so yeah he'd care a lot about his own pleasure and you have to do a great job and suck the cum out of his dick. He likes the feeling of your hands and lips around his length, while he throws his head back in satisfaction while his orgasm builds up. He likes to challenge himself, so he give you the green light till he reaches his breaking point that gets him begging for you to stop.

P= Pace:

Starts slow but then turns fast real quick. He's not worried about making you cum fast, because he'd go for many rounds and makes you cum over and over again.

Q= Quickies:

As I said Gojo is a busy man so you don't have a regular sex life, so he'd grasp the chance whenever you see each other. Even if he's seeing you for a few minutes, both of you would sneak somewhere and have a quick sex. Of course he'll make it up for you with a long ass passionate night when you have time for yourselves.

R= Risks:

I feel like Gojo is open to try new things with you, anything except involving another individual in your sex life. So by risks I mean like he might try public sex, pleasuring you under the table during an important meeting.

S= Stamina:

This man doesn't sleep, he's got a lot of energy, so he can go as long as you can handle. Does he ever get tired? no. So you better prepare yourself for a long night.

T= Toy:

I can't see him using any toys on himself or on you. When he's pleasuring you he prefers using his mouth, tongue and fingers and not toys, nothing else can fuck you expect for him. He believes that a piece of plastic won't get the job done.

U= Unfair:

Satoru is the biggest tease ever. He likes to annoy you. Sometimes, he might edge you till you start begging and pleading for him to make you cum. He's so damn good at it. And he knows how to use his teasing into making you more horny and needy for him.

V= Volume: (Is he loud?)

Satoru is so damn loud. He'd moan, groan, growl, whimper... anything. He likes how your moans harmonize together, it's like music to his ears and it pushes him to his limits. He's not shy or embarrassed, nah he wants you to hear his moans, he knows very well how it turns you on. He'd moan into your ear, also breathes heavily which is so fucking attractive. Even if you're not making love he'd occasionally moan in your ear to make you all flustered.

W= Wildcard:

Despite being a confident man, not easily offended and no one can compare to him, he's still a pretty jealous type. Even though he knows no one can get near you or compete with him or steal you away, whenever someone looks at you in a not very likable way he'd get pissed off and turns on his protective mode. If you dare to tease him and make him jealous on purpose, you already know what's waiting for you. Yep, definitely jealous sex, and if he can't contain himself till you get home then he would literally make out with you in public while everyone is watching. Gojo doesn't really give a single fuck, he'll devoure you, slip tongue, steal your breath away while he's kissing you hungry kisses.

X= X-rays:

He's a big guy so you know what to expect. Your eyes would be wide open the first time you saw him. It is indeed huge and thick, got you nervous and wondering how it would fit inside of you but it did.

Y= Yearning:

He's always ready for you to take him. Always ready for sex with you when you're in the mood of course. Due to his schedule he won't be able to be with you everyday so that accumulation of a long ass week of missing you and wanting to be inside you got him all ready and horny for when he sees you.

Z= Zzz:

Nah he won't fall asleep immediately after that. He'll pamper you first, take care of you and make sure you're comfortable and not hurt after being a total freak in bed. He'll put you to sleep and watches over you then he'll fall asleep if he managed to.

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bluetimeombre · 4 months

Text

──•~❉᯽❉ Third times the charm

Tom and you met over zoom whilst auditioning for your roles in the ballad of songbirds and snakes. Instant attraction and the chemistry was off the charts, everyone could see it, even you two fools. In every interview you did, as co-stars, as best friends and finally, as a couple…

(from me: hi, sorry, I’m dying for Tom Blyth content so I made so myself. I can't bring myself to write y'/n so i'm just going with 'you.' But I wrote it so you're british, oops. This is also to make up for choosing timmy in the 'call it what you want to' series, for the tom girlies, enjoy!)

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

' How well do the stars of Ballad of songbirds and snakes know each other? - Vanity Fair. '

Tom, you and Josh sat together in the Vanity Fair studio. While Tom kept his cards close to his chest (literally), you and Josh waited anxiously. You were sure you would win though, even Josh was sure you would win. Tom and you had spent almost every day together all year. People in the studio- who had only caught a ten minute glimpse of your friendship- knew your souls were made together.

'First question,' said Tom, pulling the cards back further. 'What is my biggest fear?'

Josh slapped his knee in frustration and you slumped in your chair, laughing to yourself. You must know, surely. 'Mine is gonna be, probably, a little bit more shallow,' said Josh before you could even make a guess.

You rose your brows focusing on a specific point on the floor. 'Shallow?'

Tom rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. His lips were tilted in a fond smile at her concentration. 'You ok?' he laughed, 'you know this- you've got this.'

'No, I do know this, you've told me,' you say.

'You've told her?' gasped Josh.

'I've probably told you!' said Tom. He seemed completely absent minded over the fact he was still holding onto your shoulder, massaging it gently.

'Ok, I think it's- ironically- snakes. That's my guess.' Finally, you breath and cross your legs over.

'Interesting. Josh?' he asked, taking his hand from you. (Maybe eagle eyed fans would see the way his hand flexed at his side, just under the chair. And maybe twitter would blow up with the Mr Dracy like move.)

'I was gonna say mountain lions.'

You and Tom laughed. 'That's more shallow?'

'In what way is that more Shallow?' Tom laughed.

Josh gesture wildly to you. 'I thought you were gonna say something more conceptual.'

'Oh sorry,' you apologise.

Josh leant back on his chair. 'Yea, you should be.'

Tom finished writing on the card. 'So, it was my childhood fear, which I've obviously gotten over but it was-' he turned the card, revealing his scribble. 'Snakes.'

'Yes!' you cheered. 'I knew it!'

'I think it's because I used to watch a lot of Indiana Jones as a kid and because he was afraid of snakes, I think it transferred on to me,' he explained.

'Makes sense,' you shrugged.

'Cool people are afraid of snakes,' Tom agreed.

'And mountain lions,' added Josh, causing your cheeks to heat up with laughter. There was probably nobody who could be so nonchalant in how he makes you laugh.

'Point to you!' cheered Tom, holding up his hand. Quickly you high-fived him and held his hand for a flickering moment before moving on.

'What is my go-to karaoke song?'

You were safe to say, gob-smacked. You swivel in your seat, eyes wide. 'You have a go-to karaoke song?'

He stares at you, just as shocked at your surprise. 'We all do.'

'We do?' you asked. 'Then what the hell is Josh's?' you turn to him, curious.

'9 to 5, Dolly Parton,' he said, seriously. But even that got you cracking up.

'I expect one of you to know this,' said Tom, scribbling his song choice.

'Oh, no pressure then,' you said.

'We went to karaoke all the time.'

'Yes but I don't remember all the song,' you fold your arms over your chest, chewing down on your lips.

'Oh no,' Josh hunched over and you pat his back, mumbling to yourself. 'I feel like- I wanna say it was some punk-rock thing.'

'Do you want a clue?' Tom offered.

'Yes!' Josh.

'No!' You.

'Ok, not then,' said Tom, deciding.

'Wait, no, that's not fair,' Josh complained, 'I want a clue.'

Tom shrugged, holding out his arms. 'Boss said.'

'Yea I don't know why I said that,' you laugh, still thinking. You remember him singing to you, in your trailers or hanging out on set. He or you would strum a guitar and sing together. But karaoke?

'Mambo number 5,' Josh announced.

'Mambo number 5,' Tom checked.

Your brows scrunched up. 'That's punk rock?'

Josh looked at you, then remembered what he was saying. 'No, i'm gonna change mine to all the small things.'

'Ok, your guess?' asked Tom, nudging you.

'Oh I don't know,' you shrug, 'Sexy back, Justin Timberlake.'

'Close!'

'I was close?' you gasp, jumping up in your seat.

'It was,' he shows the card. 'Senorita, Justin Timberlake.'

You and Josh laughed together.

'I don't think I ever heard you sing that!' Josh argued.

'We definitely did, definitely.'

Josh shook his head, body shaking with laughter. 'I don't think I even know the words to the song.'

Tom shifted in his seat, changing cards. 'That's the point of Karaoke, they're up on the screen'

You turn to him, face screwed up and holding onto his knee. 'That's not the point of karaoke babe,' you said solemnly. It was a joke between the cast, how often you called people babe. As a brit. Sometimes you even said it in a Gemma Collins way.

'Anyway, half a point to you!'

You fist pump the air while Josh complains loudly. Whilst bickering, Tom moved on and had to repeat the question.

'What is my favourite mode of New York transportation?' he asked.

You chuckled to yourself, rubbing your head. 'That is the funniest question ever.'

Tom scoffed, his lips curling up. 'How is that a funny question?'

'I've just never known transportation to come up in one of our conversations. Imagine meeting someone and being like 'hey, guess what? my favourite mode of transport is...''

Josh laughed at the hurt look on Tom's face and your own sarcasm.

'Oh yea, what is it then?'

'Your motorcycle,' you said obviously.

'Well, you knew it didn't you,' he pointed out. The two of you bickering like a married couple. Even the crew behind the scene were blushing at you two and laughing.

'I didn't get to guess!' erupted Josh.

Tom and you laughed, holding onto each other and apologising to him.

Josh leant back in his chair, throwing his leg over his knee. 'Ok so motorcycle but i'm gonna go the extra mile and say- I think it's a Honda.'

Tom calmed down, wiping tears of laughter before showing the camera his answer. 'It is motorcyle but Josh is wrong, it's not a Honda so the point goes to you.'

You pat yourself on the back while Josh looks into the camera.

'This is what happens when you give 110%. Is this the example we want to set?'

Tom rests his hand on your back, un-consciously rubbing it. 'Ok so, point to you and Josh gets ... three quarters of a point.'

You nod your head. '75%. Have you got any points?'

Josh glared at you. He then noticed Tom's hand resting on your back. 'Why are you comforting her? i'm the loser.'

You clicked your tongue, pushing him. It was lucky you didn't notice how Tom blushed, turning back to his cards and made a mental note to keep his hands to himself.

The three of you continued down the questions:

'If I weren't an actor, what profession would I be?' Tom

'What are you? writing down a novel there?' You

'You'd definitely work with mountain lions.' Josh

'For some reason I want to say Fire man but that's not it.' You

'What is my coffee order?' Tom

'Oh, I know this, it's the same as mine. Josh, you know this?' You

'Of course not.' Josh

'What is my biggest pet peeve?' Tom

'So many things come to mind.' You

'Am I a grumpy old man to you?' Tom

'Tom has always been so relaxed and easy going, go ahead and put a point down for me.' Josh

For the next question, Tom looked pointedly at you. 'I really hope you get this. What is my hidden talent?'

Josh looked seriously at Tom, only suddenly playing the game. 'I think I know what mine is.'

'I think you should both get this,' he said, writing down the answer.

'Whistling,' you guessed simply.

Tom quipped his lips at you, head moving slightly.

'Well, I was also gonna say whistling,' Josh smirked.

Tom laughed. 'You're so full of shit.'

'I said it first, you're good at whistling. You can whistle like a disney bird,' you said, trying to win more points in flattery.

'Thank you.'

You looked into the camera. 'Tom's actually going to be playing a bird in the new Snow White movie with Rachel Zegler.'

The boys laughed.

Tom nodded, turning around the card. 'The answer is whistling.'

Josh and you shake hands and Tom started to show of his whistling skills, the familiar tune of the hunger games and holding up three fingers.

'I was- that made me nervous,' said Tom shakily.

'Yea, you were shaking,' you said.

Tom reached out for your arm, before remembering before and pulling back. 'I know, did you see my lip quivering.'

'I was nervous for you.'

'Yea, yea, yea,' agreed Tom.

Josh pretended to get out of his seat. 'I should go, i'll leave you guys to it.'

You pulled him back down while Tom moved on, asking the couple final questions. It ended with you earing 6 points, while Josh was at a lousy 2.75. But then, it was yours and Josh's turn to 'flip the script' on Tom. If he got them wrong, you guys got the points so you'd made sure to chose difficult questions.

You just hadn't expected Tom to know everything.

'Tom.'

'Yes,' he stared intently, ready for anything.

'What is my dogs name?' you smirked, thinking he wouldn't remember. Since you were on set and then traveling for press your dog was staying with your family and Tom had only met him once or twice.

'Easy. Padfoot.'

Your brows dropped and you turned away, pressing your lips into a tight line.

Tom nudged you. 'Did you think I wouldn't get it?' he asked and his jaw-dropped when you nodded. 'Of course i'd get it, I love your boy.'

'What the hell is a Padfoot?' asked Josh.

'It doesn't matter,' you waved of, trying to distract yourself from blushing. You really didn't think Tom would get it, would care enough to remember.

'It's a Harry Potter thing,' explained Tom. He stretched out his arm so it held onto the back of your chair. Not touching, right.

Josh asked his question. Tom got it right again and you were looking down at your card, wondering if it was hard enough for him.

Tom watched you set the cards down, tuck your chin into your chest and put your hands behind your chair. 'Oh no,' he chuckled.

'There is a piece of jewellery that I always wear. Now obviously i couldn't wear it whilst filming, but I had it kept in my trailer. And after we wrapped it went straight back on. The question is what piece of jewellery is it?'

Josh was laughing and trying to guess himself while Tom panicked. Every day for a year he had been around you. He'd had lunch with you, hung out in your trailer, you'd nap together and laugh together. He's seen you swimming in nothing but a lovely swim suit. He'd held your hands and you guys had even worn each others rings. How could he not know? He was beating himself up about it, all the while you smirked at him. Tom could almost excuse the fact of being a shitty friend to see how giddy it got you.

He tried to peek behind the chair but you shifted. 'Ok I don't think it's a ring because you change up your rings a lot.'

'Ok,' you hum.

Tom pulled at his lip. You weren't hiding your ears so it couldn't be an earing. That's when he remembered. Tom clicked his fingers. 'It's your locket! and it's gold!'

You sit up straight. 'How?!' Tom immediately looked to your neck- or maybe it was closer to your chest- where your locket dangled just under your shirt 'Well, I think we know who knows each other the best!'

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

Some months later, about eight, you and Tom were back at a quiz. The two of you were starring in different things. Tom's series which he stared in, 'Billy the kid' was having it's third and final debut while you staring in a adaptation of 'Malibu Rising' by Taylor Jenkins Reid for Apple Tv.

' The BFF test! ' - Glamour.

'How do you think we're gonna do?' asked Tom.

'That's not even a question Tom, we're gonna do great!' you threw a thumbs up at the camera and Tom copied you with a grin.

'Let's do this shit!' he yelled.

The crew behind the camera gasped and laughed while you hunched over, chuckling. He realised his mistake, how he wasn't supposed to swear and put his hand over his mouth.

'I am so sorry,' he apologised. Only when you caught your breath did you stand up and hold onto him. His arm wrapped around you back, holding you too.

Eventually, once you two had regained yourselves, you were asked how well you think you know each other.

'Pretty well,' you said.

'Very well,' Tom corrected.

'Very well it is, very well it is,' you said.

The crew behind the camera asked when you first met.

'Over zoom,' you said.

Tom nodded. 'it was a chemistry read for hunger games. Coriolanus and Lucy-Grey. You sang an acoustic version of Silver springs and I watched.'

'And the rest is history. Inseparable ever since,' you smile, swaying side to side while Tom watched with a fond smile. 'But seriously, it was a very lovely moment and since then, i've had a best friend in Tom.'

'Aw,' he said, throwing an arm around your shoulder and drawing you in. 'I love this girl,' he told the camera.

Eventually, once the two of you were finished with the introductions they had you stand opposite each other with a small notebook and pen. Your task: to write a compliment about each other.

Tom was already writing down his, page being filled up quickly. 'How much time you got?'

'Done,' you said, closing your notebook.

Tom looked up. 'What?'

'I'm kidding,' you assured him at his shocked and maybe slightly hurt face. 'How are you writing so much?'

'I have a lot to say about you.'

'Sappy.'

'Shut it, you love it.' Tom was focused on writing down, getting all his thoughts and a thousand unsaid words on page. He couldn't tell how you watched him with a smile and a shimmering glimmer in your eyes, but fans could, and they'd deem it the look of love.

After a moment longer of writing, you finished, looking at him. 'Ready?'

Tom finished his sentence and nodded. 'Ready.'

'Ok you go first,' you say.

'No, you go first,' he insists, the two bickering over each other. 'Ladies first.'

'Age before beauty,' you say.

Tom rolled his eyes playfully but held up his notebook. 'This is- this is nerve racking, woah,' he says, laughing.

'No, I know. I'll turn around if that helps,' you go to turn.

Tom grabs your arm. 'No, don't-' he cleared his throat, let you go and started to read. 'You are incredibly talented, that's the first one. Your acting, your voice, it's unbelievable and every time I watch you at your work, i'm in awe. As well as that, you are so dedicated to your craft, whether it's flying back and forth for your movies or not giving up until you've nailed a scene, you just- you give 110% every time and it's inspiring to watch. Not only do you make me want to be a better actor, but a better man-'

He read from his notebook, flicking through the pages as you watched, mouth covered and tears welling up in your eyes.

'You're insanely intelligent, you have such a unique style that is so you. You give confidence to others and always bring the best out in them. You're witty, you're hilarious, absolutely hilarious, I don't laugh with anyone the way I laugh with you. And you are just the most beautiful girl in the world.' Only when he had finished did he look up and see you wiping your eyes.

'Christ,' you mutter, turning away as the crew laughed.

Tom wrapped you in a bear hug, laughing and rocking you back and forth. 'You're not suppose to cry.'

'How can I not?!' you mumble into his chest. 'Ok.' you took a deep breath, calming yourself before standing back from him and looking down at your own notes. 'Well mine just seem so rubbish now,' you joke toward the camera.

'Tom. You're a talented actor. One of the most talented i've ever met, or ever seen. Watching you on the hunger games, I mean, I was speechless half the time. You're the kindest and sweetest man I know. It's no secret i've always said, men, they suck but you, you changed that. You, single-handily restored my faith in men,' you say, creating a laugh through the studio and him. 'Er, i've just listed compliments, funny, caring, talented, gorgeous, beautiful, so-so hot- I mean, the list goes on but it's not gonna be anything like you gave me.'

'It's perfect, thank you.'

You gesture to him, looking in the camera. 'He's a gentleman.'

Your next task was harder, looking into each other eyes for one minute.

'Is this gonna be like, a staring contest,' you wonder out loud as the two of you already keep your eyes on each other.

'I hope not, my eyes sting already,' says Tom. For a moment, the two of you are just there staring at each other. Your hands behind your back, his at his side as small smiles play at your lips.

'Your eyes are so blue, christ, i've never just stared at them like this before,' you compliment. 'Add that to my list.'

'Are you crying? You look like you're going to cry again?' asked Tom, peering closer at you.

'That's just me, i'm always in a state of verge of tears.'

He laughs, but keeps his eyes open and on you. After a minute, you two finally looked away, rubbing at your eyes. 'I think we were having a staring contest then,' he said.

'Yea, yea, yea, my eyes hurt.'

There was a couple extra challenges, trying to say the same word at the same time (you guys failed every time except last where you both said 'hunger games') and to mirror each others move. The last one, is a trust fall.

'Send it!' Tom pretended to fall back immediately as you lunged to catch. He didn't fall but laughed at your readiness. 'Send it!'

'Stop!' you yell.

'Ok, for real this time, you ready?' he asked, holding his arms over his chest and glancing back at you.

'I'm so scared!'

Tom looked at the camera. 'Why are you scared? i'm the one falling!'

'Ok, on the count of three,' you say, holding your arms out.

'Are you counting up or down?'

'Down. Ok, three... two...one!'

Tom fell back and you held him up, pushing his back. The two of you stumbled a bit causing Tom's eyes to widen, but you had him.

'You are heavier than you look,' you say. 'All that pure muscle.'

Tom struggled back up and then it was your turn. 'On the count of three?' he asked, arms out.

'No!' you whine. 'I hate this!'

'Trust me. Don't you trust me?'

You have your hands tucked to your side. You look into the camera. 'This is gonna send me right back to therapy.'

Tom laughs behind you but reaches over to hold onto your shoulders. 'C'mon, you can do this, i'll slowly ease you back.'

You squeeze your eyes shut and purse your lips, stifling a hum. 'That's cheating.'

Tom tuts, 'No it's not: now-' gently he held onto your shoulders and-bending at the knees- he gently eased you down, until he was crouching and until you were rocking on your heels. You took a deep breath as he held you back up. Your arms were still over your chest as your body wracked with a laugh.

'That was so dumb.'

Tom still had you in his hold, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

A year later and finally, the fans dreams came true. When the video was released, fans went crazy, thinking it was fake or a mashup of clips put together. Instead, it was true. A very real video of the two of you doing a 'couples quiz'.

'Hello!' Tom waved at the camera, before gesturing between the two of you. 'We are here today to do the-'

'Couples interview!' you finish. 'Years in the making it would seem,' you added, slapping your cards over your knee.

Tom looked at his cards. 'What is my first name?'

'Tom Keir Blyth,' you answer easily, 'not Thomas. Against popular contradiction.'

He laughed, knowing you'd call him Thomas to annoy him if you ever bickered. 'Not Thomas.'

'Call him Thomas and he'll break up with you.'

'That hasn't happened!' he told the camera, whacking you playfully with the cards a you sat across from him. 'Ok, moving on, where did I grow up?'

'Birmingham,' you say, in your best Birmingham accent.

'What was my fist film role?' he asked, smirking at the question.

You sigh, throwing your head back. 'Ok so... I don't know if it was your very first one, or maybe it was like, the second or something but you were in Robin Hood, and you played feral child number three.'

'That's exactly what I have on my card,' he said, showing it off to you.

'I'm the best girlfriend,' you sing.

Tom laughed, marvelling at you for a moment before moving onto the next question. 'Oh ok, where was our first kiss?'

You shrug, thinking it obvious. 'On set.'

Tom looked back down to his cards. 'Oh yea, I should've specified- our first kiss like as a couple, or just not on set.'

You laugh. 'Ok, cool, I was gonna say, that's an easy one. So of set, I guess, it was my hotel room. In New York, yea.'

'See, I had down-'

'You had something else down?' you gasp, leaning over in your chair.

'Yea. I had it down as the picnic, when you came to see me on set of Billy,' he explained. He remembered the day fondly. You and him, riding horses into the sandy terrain, taking a picnic down and one of his breaks and rolling around the blanket, laughing and digging fingertips into each other. Lips clashing in the heat of sun.

'But we- ok fine, that was our first kiss.'

'We did, kiss in the hotel room, you're right,' he insisted.

'No, but if you're counting first kiss as a couple then you're right, the picnic.'

'No you should still get the point because that kiss does count.'

Your exchange could've gone on forever if someone behind the camera hadn't spoken up, saying how adorable you two were, causing blushes from both of you before he moved on.

'What is my favourite thing to bring with me when I travel?' he asks.

'Me,' you say, without faltering.

'Correct!' he chucked the card behind him.

'Was it actually?'

Tom nodded. 'Yea. Well number one was you and then the second was my motorbike key.'

You roll your eyes. 'Of course it was. Thank you for putting me above the key at least.'

'Always, darling, always. What is my favourite jacket to wear?' he asked.

You thought about it, carefully and for a while. 'You don't have many but I'm trying to think which you wear the most.'

'I think you'll know it, you should get it.'

You raise your head to the ceiling, taking it more seriously than probably needed. He concentrated on you, wondering how hard you were thinking. 'The thing is- i'm thinking practicality. So like, that would be your motorbike jacket. But the one that I see you in most, and that I wear the most, is like your long, black jacket?'

'I had my motorbike jacket down, so half a point.'

'It crossed my mind!' you defended.

'It did, yes. So 50% of a point.'

You laugh. 'Not 75%.

'Who was my first celebrity crush?' he asked.

'Me,' you answer sarcastically.

Tom rose his card, covering his grin. 'Do you want to try again?'

'No,' you say. You knew what it was, you were taking the joke from him.

'Please?' he asked quietly.

You laugh at how wide his eyes were. 'Your first celebrity crush was Jennifer Anniston, ok.'

'Correct. But if I knew you back then, it would've been you.'

'Thanks, babe.'

'Ok, so I feel like you got pretty much every one of them,' said Tom, tucking his cards away.

'I feel like I did too, how ready do you feel Tom?' you asked.

Teasingly, he leant over, showing his forehead. 'See that? not a sweat. I've got this. Gimme some.'

'What are my dogs names?' you ask.

'Your oldest one is Padfoot, your youngest, the puppy dog is Moony.'

'Correct. Easy one. Ok, next, what is my favourite city?'

Tom's face dropped. 'That got harder so much quicker.'

'What? I thought this was easy.'

'Yea but it's between two. London or New York.'

'Well you've got them. I'd say right now it's New York though. Just because you're there,' you say jokingly.

'We're such a good couple.'

'The best. Lightning round. Favourite food?'

'Pizza.'

'Yes, favourite taylor swift album?'

'Folklore.'

'Easy. What is my favourite bag?'

Tom paused. 'It's a tote, your tote. Is it your waterstones one?'

Sadly, you shake your head. 'To be fair it's a new one i've got, it's my 'I heart new york one.'

Tom groaned. 'Of course it is, how did I not get that? I was literally with you when you brough it.'

'I have it with me today.'

'You do! oh my god, quickly move on before I get annoyed at myself.'

'Oh ok,' you grin down at the question and then pull a face, wondering yourself.

Tom watches, laughs and puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it affectionately. 'Are you alright? what's going on?'

'No, sorry, i'm just thinking about how to word this,' you pause and then, almost as if you weren't aware you were doing it, you hold onto his hand and ask the question. 'What is my favourite thing that you wear?'

Tom's expression matches your puzzled one. 'That I wear?'

'Yes. And I want you to take your time, think about it because you know it. And if you don't get this, we might be over,' you tell him.

Tom's jaw drops and he leans back in his chair, thinking. 'Don't say that!'

'Ok, it was a joke, sorry. But you do know this.'

Tom looks down at himself, but it was a new shirt and there was nothing special about these pants. The shoes were nice but you'd never cared for shoes. He checked his rings. You liked rings and you especially liked his rings but that couldn't have been it. 'Oh!' he almost kicked himself for not getting it sooner. 'Is it my- is it the necklace? he asks, pulling it from under his shirt.

'Yes!' you cheer, throwing the card over your shoulder and reaching over to high five him.

'I've never been so stressed in my life,' he laughed.

'So the necklace-' you start to explain to the camera as tom holds it out proudly, showing every crew and every camera as you laugh and smile at him. Never had you felt so in love. 'The necklace he wears all the time is the initial from the first letter of my name, just like-'

'Just like the Taylor Swift song,' finishes Tom, knowing how much you love it. Even now, you're smiling with teary eyes.

You had not brough it for him, but on your first anniversary Tom surprised you with it. You cried, wept. It was the first time you felt truly seen.

'I think you should sing it,' prompted Tom.

'I'm not singing it!'

'Go on! I love your voice!'

'No!'

'For me?' he asked.

You roll your eyes but don't really sing the song, you more say it: 'I want to wear his initials on a chain around my neck, not because he owns me, but because he really knows me, but obviously, it's you wearing mine so...'

'Thank you for watching our couples quiz!' Tom waves to the camera.

'All in all I think we're couple goals, yea?' you check.

'Oh, absolutely!'

And the show was all done, with you two waving. But the camera's didn't turn off quick enough to catch how Tom held your hand and kissed the inside of your palm.

Yea, absolutely in love.

#coriolanus snow #the hunger games #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth fanfiction #coryo #tom blyth x you #fame dr #tom blyth x yn

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