#do people still post photos of their follower counts

[lovelyhan]

— favorite poison ⟢

pairing: wonwoo x reader

summary: no strings attached sex is easy. catching feelings for a person you supposedly hate is hard. it's in times like this when wonwoo wishes he can set the dial to his life on easy mode forever, but everyone knows he's nothing if not stubbornly competitive.

word count: 15.5k words

tags: fuck buddies, not quite enemies to lovers, streamer!wonwoo, streamer!reader, attempt at humor, in denial!wonwoo, angst, smut

warnings: mentions of twitter porn, brief discussions of past trauma, slut shaming, mild violence (wonwoo punches someone in the face), graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: this is the sequel to underlying pretense! thank you so much for waiting so so patiently for this second part! big thank you to @playmetheclassics for proofreading this monster sequel for me >< i wouldn't have done this without you, indi UEUEUE

this is part of the game over series!

smut tags: implied semi-public sex, game chair sex? jealousy, clothed sex, use of handcuffs, brief spanking, car sex, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, degradation, dirty talk, daddy kink, hard and soft dom wonwoo, creampie, cum eating, aftercare

svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @tommolex

wonwoo taglist: @renjunphile - @acgyu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @pluviophile-xxx - @pretty-trustme

fic taglist: @appachicken - @bekah931215

part one - part two - part three - part four

“So when are you introducing me?” 

The buzz of visitors inside the convention hall is already grating enough as it is, but when Mingyu walks over to Wonwoo’s designated booth, all it does is irritate him further.

He doesn’t exactly have to do anything aside from receive gifts from the viewers coming to pay him a visit and take a few photos with them, but Wonwoo is yet to accustom himself to being the center of attraction in front of so many people. So listening to his roommate-slash-best friend asking him stupid questions isn’t helping his case.

“To who? My family?” Wonwoo scoffs. 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “No. Your girlfriend, genius.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

His best friend pouts, and Wonwoo is having a really tough time taking him seriously because Mingyu is wearing one of those hats with bunny ears that flop around if you press the buttons dangling from the front. “You’re always scampering off with some girl from time to time. The others haven’t noticed, but I’m your roommate, hyung.”

Roughly three months have passed since Wonwoo bit the bullet and agreed to be your…fuck buddy? Not-so-friend with benefits? Whatever this arrangement is called, he’s satisfied with getting to let off steam every once in a while, and you don’t seem to have any complaints as long as he fucked you stupid and helped you make filthy content for all the world to see. 

Honest to god, it’s a miracle how shit hasn’t hit the fan yet. But then again, you and Wonwoo were both careful and extremely selective about what gets posted on your secret Twitter porn account and what stays tucked away in the hidden galleries in your phones. That sort of cautiousness is rewarded with having to get away with everything you’re both daring enough to pull off behind the scenes.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that, outside his sexual relations with you, Twitch streamers everyone_woo and Koyahngi pretty much hate each other’s guts. Even if yours is the best fucking pussy he’s ever had (something you’ll never catch him dead admitting aloud), he’s not about to do a complete one-eighty and treat you any differently in front of his friends and followers. You don’t seem to have any plans on doing that either.

Wonwoo hasn’t once brought you to their shared apartment, so he’s certain that Mingyu is basing all his hunches on pure intuition alone. And just because that intuition turns out to be somewhat right (PSA: you’re not his girlfriend) doesn’t mean Wonwoo has to come clean about his goings-on.

Besides, they’re at a fucking convention. Why is Mingyu trying to hotseat him now? 

“What gave you the impression that I’m ‘scampering off’ with just one girl?” Wonwoo smirks, shaking his head. 

“Whatever you say, elusive gamer who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman that isn’t his mom.”

“Fuck you. You know that’s not true.”

“Well, obviously, you’re smitten with someone, and once I find out who it is, I’m throwing the biggest party in Seoul,” Mingyu says with a huff of indignance coloring his words. He says it like it’s a threat, and Wonwoo makes a face at him. 

“Why?” he asks with a scowl.

“Because I love you, that’s why.” Mingyu then takes off the stupid hat and places it on top of Wonwoo’s head—even putting the work into making sure it fits and everything. “Anyway, I’m heading to Koyahngi’s booth to say hi. You wanna come with, or do you still have a stick up your ass when it comes to hanging out with her?”

Wonwoo has to keep himself from blurting out how he’s not the one with anything up his ass when it comes to you but realizes that if he wants to get Mingyu off his back, he probably shouldn’t make traumatizing allusions to his sex life. 

“I can’t exactly leave my spot until the main program starts. The same goes for you, idiot,” Wonwoo points out. “Who knows how many of your subscribers are looking for you at your booth? Go away and tend to them first.”

Mingyu pouts again, but since his best friend is a guy that’s literally a six-foot wall of muscle, Wonwoo doesn’t feel even an ounce of sympathy for him. “I haven’t even been gone for ten minutes! I just wanted to see how my friends are doing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have set up a booth at all, Gyu.” 

“Hmph. You’re always so stingy, hyung.” Mingyu crosses his arms before turning on his heel. “Anyway, I’m heading over to Koyahngi’s. I heard she’s cosplaying Sage today. Not that you care, though.”

He sounds so genuinely sulky that Wonwoo would’ve laughed a little as Mingyu stomps away to head to your booth. But the mention of you dressing up as a Valorant agent that Wonwoo has started to despise since meeting you makes a couple of memories from earlier this week resurface in his mind. 

Aside from the catgirl gimmick, your cosplays are but another selling point for your streams. You dubbed it the catgirlification of every playable character I like right after Wonwoo railed you two days ago in that same Sage cosplay that Mingyu just mentioned. 

What a fucking weirdo, Wonwoo mused for a second before blowing your back out again, not five minutes later.

About an hour later, the program on the main stage was in full swing, and Wonwoo had just finished doing a little segment with Soonyoung that one of the fans who won a raffle requested for them to do. It was a Pocky Game that got a little too intense because Soonyoung wouldn’t stop fucking squirming, and they nearly kissed in front of the entire audience. Wonwoo doesn’t entirely mind because PR is PR, after all.

The thing he does end up minding, though, comes a little later—after the convention hall settles into a more relaxed atmosphere and everyone is back to booth-hopping. 

Despite what he told Mingyu earlier, Wonwoo took it upon himself to do some wandering around. It’s kind of nice to see other streamers and content creators he’s only ever got to interact with on Discord or their respective streams.

But while he’s munching on a cherry-shaped cookie that Seungcheol is handing out to his visitors, the bane of his existence swoops down on him just when he thought he could finish this entire event in peace.

“Hey, daddy,” you giggle into his ear before swiping the cookie out of his hands, tossing it into your mouth without a second thought. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you today.”

Wonwoo clicks his tongue before shrugging off the arm you draped around his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Nothing in particular,” you hum before swallowing the food you just stole from him. “But now that I got a taste of Cheol’s cherry cookies, I kinda want some more. Do you know where he is?” 

“I think I saw him flirting with a bunch of cosplayers near the stage.”

Wonwoo startles at the sound of a third party’s voice intruding in your conversation, and from the looks of it, you’re just as startled as he is. Turning around, though, his apprehension ebbs away when he recognizes who it is.

“Johnny,” he says with a small surprised smile before offering his hand for a casual shake. “It’s been a while.”

The famous streamer returns Wonwoo’s gesture gingerly, but he realizes that Johnny’s gaze isn’t trained on him at all. 

“It has been,” he chuckles before turning to you. “I didn’t know you were friends with Wonwoo, doll. How you got someone as cold as he is to warm up to you is beyond me, but at least you’re expanding your network.”

Wonwoo would’ve rolled his eyes. Johnny is just as frank as he remembers. But before Wonwoo can point out that: 1.) you and him are not friends, and 2.) he is not a cold person and therefore has absolutely no need to warm up to anyone, he quickly picks up on the sudden shift in the air. And it’s not his or Johnny’s discomfort he’s sensing right now. 

“Nah, you’ve got the wrong idea,” you respond to Johnny casually, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss how your fists are clenched at your sides. “Wonwoo would rather get banned from Twitch than call me his friend. I just like pissing him off every now and again, is all~ That, and his friends are pretty cool, so I need to tolerate him.”

Johnny laughs before reaching down to ruffle your carefully styled wig. To others, it would’ve looked like a display of casual affection between friends, but Wonwoo is keen enough to notice how you momentarily flinched from the older streamer’s touch. His brows knit together as he attempts to figure out what was going on.

Actually, how do you even know Johnny in the first place?

“Anyway, I’ll be going now,” he laughs before letting one eye drop into a wink. “It’s good to see both of you. Enjoy the rest of the convention, yeah?”

As Johnny exits, you’re a little too quick to fill in the silence he left.

“You’ve gotta take me to Cheol before he runs out of cookies,” you whine, tugging on his arm with a persistent look on his face—not even breathing a word about Johnny, as if it hasn’t been two minutes since he left. “I’m pretty sure I saw him wearing a Pikachu onesie, so he should be easy to—”

Wonwoo immediately cuts you off with a quick yank of your wrist. As he leads you to one of the unoccupied restrooms near the convention hall, your voice drones in annoyingly repetitive succession in his ears while you struggle to free yourself from his grip, but Wonwoo just won’t budge.

Not when he can’t get the sight of you with genuine fear in your gaze when you first laid your eyes on Johnny out of his head.

“Shit,” you whisper hoarsely the moment Wonwoo slams you against the door—a shit-eating grin resting haughtily on your lips as he nudges your thighs apart. “I knew you were possessive, but not this much. Johnny just gave me a few head pats, daddy. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

Yeah. Wonwoo is totally doing this out of some pathetic, alpha male need to stake his claim after another man got his grubby hands on you. Not because he was bothered by that look on your face and can’t think of any other way to help get your mind off it aside from fucking you senseless in a public bathroom.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before forcing your cheek against the cold door. “Now, take off your leggings before I tear a hole in them myself. Can’t mess up your perfect fucking Sage cosplay now, can we?”

You let out a noise caught between a sigh and a whimper as you do as you're told. From three months ago to now, your general opinion on Jeon Wonwoo as a dom has yet to change. Even if he was about to rail you with a fluffy bunny beanie still resting on top of his head.

He’s fucking perfect.

Right after that unplanned quickie, Wonwoo is at least keen enough to observe his surroundings as both of you discreetly part ways and sneak back into the convention. Since the main events were taking place on the other side of the venue, not a lot of people were milling around, and he thankfully manages to blend into the crowd without rousing everyone’s suspicion. 

Well, almost everyone.

“You’re a pretty shitty actor; you know that?”

Wonwoo doesn’t have to turn around to recognize the smugness in Seungcheol’s tone. The moment he lays his eyes on one of his closest friends—still wearing that silly Pikachu onesie and giving out his cherry cookies—he knows he can’t weasel himself out of this conversation so easily. 

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo says, deciding to play along to gauge what Seungcheol does and doesn’t know.

The older man scoffs. “Come on, Wonwoo-yah. You weren’t being very discreet when you pulled our very good cat girl friend into the restroom. Doesn’t help that you both came out looking dishevelled as fuck. So much for hating each other, huh?” 

Okay. He has nothing left to hide then. Great.

“Were we that obvious?” Wonwoo lowers his voice into a whisper, and the only reason he’s genuinely asking is because Seungcheol isn’t the type to joke around about these kinds of things.

“Only to the eyes of someone who personally knows the both of you,” he snickers. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Wonwoo’s brows knit together, perplexed, but offers no more smart retorts. His heart is still pounding in his chest at the thought of having been seen with you. Fuck. He isn’t usually this careless. Then and there, he makes a mental note to not let his emotions pull the reins on his decisions next time.

“Thanks, hyung,” is all he tells Seungcheol in return. “I’m heading back. Uh, she was looking for you, by the way. Something about wanting more of your cookies.”

Seungcheol visibly perks up at the news, and Wonwoo has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. What is it with his friends and having some weird soft spot for you? 

As Wonwoo quietly slips back into his booth—greeting a bunch of his fans but not in a sociable mood—he recalls the prickle of heat in his chest when he saw how uncomfortable you were during that short conversation with Johnny. The memory makes his curiosity spike again, and he considers asking you about it the next time you invite him over.

But then he reminds himself that he does not have a soft spot for you unlike his friends. None at all. He’s just being a decent human being for having a modicum of concern because of how you reacted towards someone Wonwoo knows to be completely harmless. 

Aside  from the occasional NSFW spam on Twitter, Johnny’s pretty harmless, right?

“Hyung! Group pic, c’mon!” 

Wonwoo hears Mingyu call out to him several booths over and sighs. He probably shouldn’t put too much thought into something he won’t be able to figure out in the next five minutes anyway.

The next time Wonwoo comes over to your apartment is to try out some new heart-shaped handcuffs you bought online. You wouldn’t stop gushing about it to him over text, and he has half the mind to just cuff you to the bed and leave because of how annoying you’re being.

But for some reason, the handcuffs lay forgotten on your unmade bed as Wonwoo sits right in front of your set-up—begrudgingly listening to your instructions as he attempts to solve an overworld puzzle in that stupid game you and Soonyoung kept pestering him to play. Genshin Impact, yeah, that’s the one. 

“You have to hit the purple towers with Electro attacks, idiot,” you sigh. “Dendro is for green towers. Hydro is for blue towers. Did you happen to skip kindergarten or something?”

“I thought elemental reactions applied to these, too,” he grumbles. “You’re the one who said that Dendro and Hydro are good with Electro.” 

“Yeah, yeah, keep making excuses, color dunce.”

Normally, Wonwoo wouldn’t have taken the insult lying down, but he stubbornly chooses to solve the puzzle until he’s finally unlocked the hidden desert area you claimed to be ‘too lazy to figure out right away’. A hint of smugness crosses his features as he flashes you a triumphant grin. Wonwoo half-expects you to just roll your eyes and blame his progress on dumb luck or something, but to his surprise, you clap your hands gleefully before placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Who’s my smart little gamer, huh?”

“Fuck off.”

It’s perfectly normal for him to hear you challenge his authority outside the bedroom. After all, you’ve made it your life’s mission to push all of Wonwoo’s buttons until he cracks and manhandles you in a way that leaves no room for your brattiness to slip out. Sometimes he likes to think that you rile him up on purpose because the so-called consequences end up rewarding you sexually tenfold instead. Which, Wonwoo thinks, is fucking sick, but from how much he lets you get away with it anyway, he figures that he’s got a few screws loose himself.

“Anyway, how about we check if you’ve got shit luck on gacha games or not,” you announce before nudging your customized gaming chair with your foot—the same one Wonwoo’s currently sitting on—so you can have better access to your mouse and keyboard. “Soonyoung’s luck is abysmal as hell. The only reason he’s got such a spiffy account is because of all those sponsors.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Are you saying yours is any better?”

“Hey, I’ve got decent luck, mind you,” you huff before clicking a few times, and a new window pulls up on-screen, which Wonwoo recognizes as the wishing page. Soonyoung has shown it to him and the other guys enough times to remember what it looks like.

“Go on, just click the times ten button,” you urge him before tugging your gaming chair back to its original position. “It’s gonna let you wish for a character ten times, basically.”

“I know how gacha games work,” Wonwoo bites back.

“Of course you do,” you coo as he finally does a full summons.

He swears he’s going to edge you until you’re begging and crying later. It’s the least you could do for being such a pain in—

His vengeful thoughts are interrupted when you gasp out loud—eyes glued to the monitor as the shooting star glows like iridescent gold. Wonwoo doesn’t know shit about Genshin, but he’s pretty sure he just pulled a really rare character.

“I just pulled a five-star yesterday.” You scowl, staring at him disbelievingly. “How on earth—”

To your dismay, Wonwoo accidentally clicks on your mouse—ending the entire animation sequence a bit too early. But just when you’re about to berate him for being impatient, your jaw practically falls to the floor when you see all ten of your (technically Wonwoo’s) wish results.

He managed to bring home the featured five-star character five times. Five fucking times. Holy shit?

As you visibly freak out in your seat, bemoaning the fact that this legendary pull happened off-stream, Wonwoo stares at you bizarrely like he always does. You immediately take a screenshot, explaining that the probability of what just happened was several times less likely than you letting him fuck you while you’re livestreaming, but Wonwoo’s mind wanders a little right after that.

So…you would let him fuck you on stream, then? 

Not that it’s something he’s thought about before. Wonwoo likes the privacy your set-up affords him with, and he’s not about to jeopardize that with by committing such an inexplicable act of exhibitionism. But the mere picture it paints in his head is enough to make him swallow thickly. 

One of your stupidly short skirts bunched up to your waist. His hands kneading your breasts as he snaps his hips from behind you. All those pretty noises you make only for him now being heard by your incel-ridden fanbase. He bets they’d even like seeing their beloved Koyahngi get railed on-cam, but the thought of anyone else seeing you in ways only Wonwoo has had the privilege to makes his blood boil.

“Hm? You’ve gone quiet. What’s up?”

His eyes flicker over to your form—knees pressed against your chest underneath the oversized tee you’re wearing. You like to dress comfortably when you’re off-stream, which is understandable because even if you’re just sitting in front of a computer screen, doing so in full cosplay can be a huge hassle. He’s always wondered how you have it in you to put in all that effort for your viewers.

Curiosity lingers in your gaze when he prolongs the silence, but Wonwoo can’t bring himself to answer—mind too preoccupied with a whirlwind of thoughts to articulate any sort of reply. 

He can excuse those horny assholes on Twitter—your main target audience for the filthier content you make on the side. They have no idea who it is they’re really jacking off to anyway. But if some lesser man deigns to even think he deserves to look at you—the real you—while you’re writhing in the throes of pleasure…

You let out an undignified yelp when Wonwoo abruptly pulls you onto his lap, awkwardly straddling him as he stares at you intensely through the lens of his glasses. He can vaguely hear you muttering something about impatient men under your breath, but Wonwoo knows your irritation with him holds little to no weight with how you fold your legs on either side of his hips so his large hands can have better access to your ass.

“This is what you invited me for, isn’t it?” he murmurs, giving your backside a squeeze that has you mewling in response. 

Wonwoo smirks. What a needy little thing.

You gulp. “Y-Yeah, but—”

“Strip.”

“Wonwoo, I’ve gotta post about the wish results!”

He stares at you, unimpressed, and lets his hands fall onto the arm rests of your gaming chair, making you whimper at the loss of his touch. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The effect of his authoritative tone manifests all too quickly. You bite your lower lip as you tug on the hem of your shirt, lifting it up just to tease a sliver of skin underneath. Wonwoo narrows his eyes, fully cognizant of what you’re trying to do, but it seems that you know better than to piss him off even further. 

Your shirt falls to the floor and Wonwoo has to keep himself from groaning at the sight before him. It’s one thing for you to forego a bra, but panties, too?

“Do you like it, daddy?” 

Knowing you, the question is meant to taunt than anything else, but Wonwoo lets it pass anyway.

It always drives him mad, how subtle you are whenever you want to get a rise out of him. The way you roll your hips into Wonwoo’s has a tantalizing feel to it and he has to grit his teeth to keep himself from snapping. He’ll play your games and drag this on for as long as he has to. Because he’s been with you long enough to know how much you love it when Wonwoo lets you have an illusion of authority for a sliver of a second, only to bully you into submission right after. 

“Fuck,” you whisper the moment the outline of his erection grazes your bare pussy. “Missed your cock so much… It’s been a while since I’ve had you inside me.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “And whose fault is that?”

“How was I supposed to know these conventions were scheduled one after the other?” You pout before grinding deliciously against his cock once again. He can practically feel how wet you are through his sweats and it doesn’t help that each forward motion brings your perky breasts closer to his face.

Wonwoo lets out another sigh as he wraps an arm around your waist before leaning down to latch his lips onto one of your nipples. You quickly jolt in response—not expecting him to indulge you with pleasure so quickly—but his actions spur you on. As his tongue expertly flicks across your sensitive bud, you quickly haul his aching cock out of the confines of his sweats, grinding your slit across his thick girth. 

You’re convinced that this is enough to get you off. Though you’ve memorized how the bulging veins on Wonwoo’s cock feels like inside you, having each ridge graze across your clit prickles the back of your head with newfound pleasure. A growl reverberates in his chest as you expertly slide your pussy along his dick, and you brace your hands on his broad shoulders to anchor yourself.

“Daddy,” you whine. “Can I? Please? Want it so bad.”

The words are punctuated with a pained moan when Wonwoo’s mouth trails higher before biting down on the junction between your neck and shoulders. He doesn’t miss the way your cunt momentarily pulses from his aggression, and he gladly guides your hips as you rub yourself all over his cock.

“My good little whore, always asking permission first,” he chuckles. “Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Wonwoo lifts you off his lap for a moment, earning himself a whine in protest, but when you realize he’s going to take off his sweats, you practically salivate once his strong thighs ease back onto your gaming chair. You don’t bother catching his gaze for an implicit confirmation. You simply sink down on his cock like you’ve been craving for days. 

A choked out moan gets caught in the back of your throat when he fills you to the brim—making your brain go blank for a moment before you remember to start doing as he asked. Wonwoo watches you through an intense, hooded gaze. The only indication that he’s even feeling remotely good is the way his fingers grip the arm rests tighter whenever your walls clench around him every now and again.

Despite the pure, unadulterated bliss that surges through you every time you’re mounted on Wonwoo’s length, it pisses you off how put-together he typically looks like when you’re on top.

You want to see him just as depraved as you are—panting and thrusting into you like he’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you deep enough. But you can never get Wonwoo to handle you the way you want to be handled when you’re riding him like this. As much as you like seeing those sharp eyes watching your every move, the only way he’ll truly fuck you like you deserve is…

Wonwoo’s brows are quick to furrow once you promptly lift yourself off his lap—length slipping out of your pussy as you make your way towards the bed. However, when you spread yourself out on the mattress face down, ass up, it definitely sparks his interest.

And like a cherry on top, you place those heart-shaped handcuffs of yours on the swell of your ass, almost like you’re inviting him to play with you.

The next thing he knows, the worn out threads of his self-control have snapped. He’s behind you not a moment later—hissing through his teeth as he throws his shirt somewhere on the floor. 

You moan when Wonwoo continues grinding his cock against your ass while he yanks both of your wrists behind you. The cold bite of the handcuffs alerts you to what you’ve allowed him to do, and when the lock clicks in place, you stifle a shuddering sigh into the sheets.

Suddenly, his breath is right next to your ear. “Where’s the key for this thing?” 

You feel Wonwoo tug against the fake metal to test for sturdiness, and you feel your chest warm at his discretion. Though he’s, by no means, soft with you, he always takes the time to check if you’re comfortable with what you’re about to do together—no matter how subtle.

“On the nightstand,” you tell him all while pushing your ass back to meet his shallow thrusts. “You can go wild with the cuffs, daddy. They’re high quality for a reason.”

A low, devilish laugh escapes him. 

“Be careful what you wish for, slut.”

He’s merciless with the way he slides his length back into your sopping hole, one hand pushing the back of your head further into the mattress as the other yanks at the chain link of the handcuffs. Each powerful stroke sends you forward on the bed, and his name tumbles in broken syllables from your mouth as he fucks the shape of his cock into you.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me,” he growls before snapping his hips with a particularly punishing thrust. “We’ve barely even started and I’ve already fucked you stupid? Are you so hungry for cock that you’ve already forgotten who I am?” 

“I-I’m sorry, daddy!” you whimper as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Just feels s-so fucking good. Love your cock so much!” 

“Yeah?” Wonwoo lets out a patronizing laugh before tugging on the handcuffs again—putting a delicious strain on your arms that amplifies your pleasure in some twisted way. “When you were out there dolling yourself up for conventions, did you think about my cock? Did you want me to fill you with my cum in the restroom again? You really fucking liked it when I did that to your Sage cosplay, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble as tears start to cascade down your cheeks. “Want to get split open on your cock forever, daddy! Want your cum dripping down my thighs when there’s tons of people around—ah!” 

The sharp sound of one of Wonwoo’s palms colliding with the meat of your ass rings in your ears, and it leaves a pleasurable sting sizzling across your flesh. You can’t help the surge of pride that fills you as Wonwoo moans out loud the moment your pussy clenched around him in surprise.

“Dirty fucking cockslut,” he rasps. “You just love it when you’re being filthy for everyone to see.”

For a moment, you’re liberated from the steady burn your arms have been sustaining in such a complex position. Wonwoo surrenders his grip on the handcuffs—letting your bound wrists fall uselessly atop the small of your back. His cock doesn’t quite slip out of you, but you feel him move around from behind. You crane your neck to see what he’s up to, but when you see him angling his phone in a shot that would definitely make for good content to post later, you feel your arousal spark tenfold.

“Now be a good fucking girl for daddy, and let him show everyone how filthy you are.”

The moment the telltale sound of the record button being pressed hits your ears, Wonwoo reclaims his grip on your dainty handcuffs before resuming his ministrations. You let out a long-winded moan as you meet his powerful thrusts, hands instinctively straining against your restraints out of the need to rub your throbbing clit for faster release, but you know it’s a futile effort.

Behind you, Wonwoo is practically losing his mind over the sight of your creamy essence coating his cock with each slide of his hips. You’re extra responsive with the handcuffs as expected. You’ve always had a thing for switching things up in the bedroom, but you’re clenching around him even tighter than usual. 

He tells himself to just film a few seconds of you getting railed with your heart-shaped handcuffs adding more spice into the mix. Then he can truly have his way with you. 

When he’s satisfied, Wonwoo quickly discards his phone on your bed—eyes darting towards your nightstand before he spots what he’s looking for. Another needy whine reverberates in the air when his cock slips out of you so he can walk over to retrieve it. 

Like the good whore you are, you don’t even move an inch. You patiently wait for Wonwoo to return and fill you up again even if the fact that he’s making you wait in the first place makes you want to be a brat. But when you feel the handcuffs fall away from your wrists after he unlocks them, you whip your head around to flash him a startled look. 

Wonwoo tosses your newest toy away with little concern for their well-being before grabbing your face—crushing your lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

“Mine,” he growls before manhandling you so that you’re laying on your back. “This slutty fucking pussy belongs to me, got that?”

You nod, moaning as he presses his tongue deep into your mouth. You would say yours in return, but you’re blindsided by the way Wonwoo throws your legs over his shoulders—plunging his fat dick back into the velvet heat of your cunt.

As he whispers the filthiest things into your ear, you figure that Wonwoo must have been just as pent up as you are. The consistency of his thrusts is starting to falter—sharp, calculated thrusts turning erratic and sloppy as his orgasm starts to catch up to him. 

With your hands free, you’re able to reach between your thighs in a feeble attempt at finding your clit. However, when Wonwoo catches wind of what you’re trying to do, he slaps your hand away—eyes boring into you with so much angry disappointment, you would’ve cried and begged for his forgiveness right then and there.

“Come on my cock or don’t come at all, whore,” he warns. “I’m already generous enough to have you writhing on my dick, and you can’t even be grateful about that?”

“I am, daddy!” You insist, tears threatening to spill again as you lace your arms around his neck. “You’re hitting me so deep. I’m g-gonna come soon, please—”

“Does my pretty cockslut want me to come inside her?” Wonwoo whispers before pressing your knees against your breasts. “Does she want me to fill her slutty pussy with my cum?”

“I want it, daddy. Want you to fill me up,” you beg as you desperately tug him down for a kiss. 

Normally, Wonwoo would’ve denied you simply because he can, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. But for some reason, he lets himself fall into you—lips latching onto yours like he’s done hundreds of times before. 

It seems like the kiss is what catalyzes your release, and Wonwoo groans into your mouth when he feels your walls clamp down on his cock—desperately milking him for his cum. He isn’t too far behind. All it takes is a few more pistons of his hips before he stills inside you. 

The sensation of being filled with his hot cum makes you pull away from his lips as another long-winded moan sings in his ears. Wonwoo’s shudders from the aftermath of his release, all while slowly fucking his emission deeper into your cunt. From the satisfied purr that escapes you, he thinks you like it just as much as he does.

Wonwoo really didn’t plan on staying over. Really, he didn’t. But the way you tug him back down on the mattress right after he’s finished cleaning you up makes him a bit too hyper-aware of his own aching muscles—both from this morning’s weight training and the several rounds he just shared with you. So he lets you snuggle closer to his clothed chest, the warmth from both of your bodies permeating into each other. He’s never felt more toasty beneath a comforter than he does now.

“This is nice,” you tell him quietly. “I wonder if people will like it if I posted videos of us just cuddling.”

Wonwoo laughs, thumbs absentmindedly caressing the red marks left by your handcuffs. “Doubt it.”

Your silly lo-fi music still plays from your computer's speakers , but neither of you could be assed to get up and turn it off. Wonwoo wouldn’t call himself a professional cuddler—you two have only cuddled a total of three times since you started fucking around, and you often complained about how stiff he always is—but from how comfortably your limbs slot into his, he supposes that he’s doing an okay job.

There’s a hint of intimacy charging the air, one that’s leagues different from the carnal lust that clouds his brain every time he fucks you. His chest twists with each passing moment, and Wonwoo makes the mistake of flickering his eyes on your half-asleep form pressed against him. 

It’s been months since you and him started fooling around, but he knows perfectly well that he isn’t the first to have seen you so vulnerable . While he usually doesn’t give a shit about that, and Wonwoo knows the topic is quite sensitive from the little tells he could pick up on for the past few months…

“Can I ask about your old dom?”

Wonwoo can practically feel you stiffen against his touch, which is one of the main reasons why he hasn’t once tried to broach the topic in the past. Even if you could be a nuisance ninety percent of the time, he isn’t a fan of making people uncomfortable on purpose. He’s about to follow his inquiry up with the reassurance that it isn’t a big deal, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but—

You squirm away from his embrace, and Wonwoo lets you, albeit hesitantly. His shoulders relax when he realizes you’re just repositioning yourself so that you can face him directly, chewing the inside of your cheek like you don’t have the words just yet. 

“He was…mean,” you whisper, forcing Wonwoo to wrap his arms around you once again. “Even meaner than you are. You’re at least a semi-decent person outside the domspace, but that guy? Piece of shit for real.”

Wonwoo nods. “But you don’t really care about that, do you?”

“Yeah. I can look past him being the meanest dom on the face of the earth. As long as he could satisfy me sexually, then we’re all good.”

“So…what made you part ways?”

Your gaze drifts to Wonwoo for a moment. He looks a lot different when his face isn’t bathed in the deep red of your mood lights. His hair is tousled, eyes squinting a little even if you aren’t that far away from him. And the earnest tone in his voice as he posits the question is something you could get used to hearing every now and again.

“Well, I don’t really do relationships, you know that right?” you say and Wonwoo nods. “My old dom didn’t get that though. He was really possessive of me even outside of our sessions together. It got to a point where he would get really…physical with me just to get the point across.”

Silence dips between the both of you—white noise ringing so loud in Wonwoo’s head, he can barely hear your shitty lo-fi playlist anymore. He’s always had a thing for making you cry during sex, but that’s all it is—some dacryphilia play to scratch both of your kinks. No matter how infuriating you are, he can’t imagine himself ever hurting you outside a pleasurable, sexual context.

Then he remembers the first time you invited him over to film some clips. How you stared at him as he cleaned you up like you aren’t used to the aftercare. Like you aren’t used to being treated delicately.

Is that because of your old shitty dom?

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Wonwoo grumbles before pressing your body closer to his. 

You chuckle. “He is. I’m glad I got out of that before things got even uglier.”

“How’d you even get rid of him?”

“Eh, it’s nothing a little blackmail won’t fix.”

Wonwoo’s brow arches at your response. You’re such an evil little minx, it’s actually admirable.

A little later, the conversation about your previous sexual partners fades away, and you’re back to tracing weird shapes on Wonwoo’s chest for him to guess. He spends half the time convincing you to just shut up and go to sleep, but he finds himself indulging you in your silly whims regardless. 

“Wonwoo, you’re a pretty great fuck buddy, you know that?”

He hums. “Why is that?”

“‘Cause you never go overboard with the stuff you do to me,” you say, eyes drifting away from his as you list off the reasons off your fingers. “You always let me annoy the shit out of you without getting pissed for real. You’re good at keeping secrets, too. Oh, and I never have to worry about you looking for anything more than this since you’re a pretty laid back guy. Def not the commitment type, which is exactly my type.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “If I become someone that isn’t your type, would that get you off my back?”

“I doubt that would ever happen,” you giggle.

For some reason, part of him wishes for the same thing.

But you don’t have to know about that.

On the morning of Soonyoung’s birthday, Wonwoo wakes up irritated.

He had a dream about you—one where you stopped being fuck buddies with him because you wanted to try things out again with your old dom. Someone that Wonwoo doesn’t even know, not even by name. Yet the rage that dream-Wonwoo felt upon seeing you hand-in-hand with some faceless punk as you both left him in the dust is almost too lifelike to ignore. 

So, he does something stupid.

He pulls up his phone—ignoring every message asking if he’s going to show up for Soonyoung’s party later—and pulls up his Twitter app. He doesn’t spend much time there, even if he is co-managing your super secret porn account. In fact, he eventually muted the notifs for that too, when the appeal of having your illicit acts shared to the unknowing public finally fizzled out. 

But he doesn’t log in to check the notifications you’ve amassed, as well as the pathetic DMs asking where your location was so they could fly in to fuck you themselves. No, Wonwoo scrolls past all the content you’ve made with him to unearth things best left in the past.

Like the videos he films with his own camera, the ones you made with your old dom are more than discreet—despite the hyper-possessive tendencies you’ve mentioned. There’s absolutely nothing to be gleaned about his identity, and Wonwoo is left wondering how stupid he’s being for wanting to know who it was that made you feel good before he came into the picture.

Why does it matter anyway, right? 

Even if you did hypothetically leave him to fuck around with your old shitty dom—or anyone else for the matter—why would it matter to Wonwoo? The two of you aren’t even friends. And if you had some other person to bother, that would mean less shit for him to deal with.

But why does the thought of letting someone else have you fill him with so much vitriol that Wonwoo nearly melts his cereal bowl with his glare alone when he comes out for breakfast?

“Hyung,” Mingyu calls out from the seat adjacent to his, rightfully concerned. “You okay? I can always grab a new brand if you hate this one so much.”

The taut muscles on his face soften at the sulking tone to Mingyu’s voice. “Oh, uh. Sorry. It’s not that. I was just thinking.”

“Of your girlfriend?”

“...Of how I’m going to break your PS5 if you don’t cut it out with that girlfriend shit.”

Mingyu whines. “Wonwoo-hyung, I paid good money for that! But fine, I won’t pester you anymore if you’re so intent on keeping her a secret from the world.”

A secret… That’s right. 

What you and Wonwoo have is something that not even his best friend is completely aware of. Sure, Mingyu’s roommate-senses have been tingling for weeks, but Wonwoo knows that he will never really know the full story unless either you or Wonwoo let him in on the secret. 

Which will probably never happen if the two of you want to keep your careers, of course.

“Anyway, the rest of the guys are asking if you’re coming to Soonyoung’s party,” Mingyu says in an attempt to divert the conversation, thank god. “Everyone else has already replied except for you.”

“Who else is invited again?”

“Uh, our usual group, Koyahngi, and I dunno, a bunch of other streamers we know. I think some of Soonyoung’s high school friends are gonna show up as a surprise, though, but that’s just what Jihoon told me.”

Wonwoo considers the information at hand for a moment. 

He doesn’t mind mingling with fellow streamers and probably some of Soonyoung’s other friends, but the last time he’s seen you specifically is the day he bit the bullet and asked about your old dom. A conversation which ended on a pretty agreeable note despite the obvious unease on your face when Wonwoo opened the topic.

The fact that you haven’t texted him since is a little worrisome, too. It’s been about two weeks since that happened, and Wonwoo is beginning to wonder if he unknowingly hit a nerve and this is your way of sending him a message. 

He would’ve taken the initiative and checked up on you during your first week of radio silence, but when he catches you doing pretty fine on your latest streams and when he gets roped into some partnership talks with an entertainment agency that wants to recruit him, Wonwoo decides to put it off for later. 

Besides, the two of you are grown adults—so are the rest of your thirsty audience on Twitter. They can survive two weeks without content.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” he tells Mingyu about five minutes later when he’s already putting away the dishes. “What time are we leaving?”

“Uh, the party starts at seven. Do we go early or fashionably late?”

“Early.”

“Of course. Gotta put the senior citizen to bed early.”

“Mingyu?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

🐈‍⬛: Are you coming to Soonyoung’s party tonight?

🐈‍: yea, i just need to sort some stuff out

🐈‍⬛: Wow

🐈‍: ?

🐈‍⬛: I just didn’t think you’d reply

🐈‍: is daddy gonna punish me for ignoring him for so long &lt;3

🐈‍⬛: I’m being serious

🐈‍: well, so am i

🐈‍: anyway, tell soonie i’ll be there soon

🐈‍: i’m just talking to someone

🐈‍⬛: Okay

Wonwoo has been hanging out with his friends long enough to know that only a select few can really handle their liquor. It doesn’t help that today’s celebrant is the worst lightweight of them all. It’s barely thirty minutes past eight, and Soonyoung is already screaming profanities on one of the tables—using an unopened bottle of absinthe that Seungcheol gifted him with as a makeshift microphone as he belts out trashy lyrics from songs Wonwoo vaguely recognizes.

Mingyu films the entire thing on his phone, stifling his laughter while sipping on his own drink. Wonwoo can only roll his eyes at his best friend’s tolerant behavior.

At around nine, Jeonghan and Joshua arrive at the scene with a tiger-themed cake in tow, and half the friend group has to physically restrain Soonyoung just so the birthday boy could blow out his fucking candles properly. After criticizing the baker’s work (“The eyes are uneven! Tiger eyes are perfectly symmetrical!), Jeonghan rounds up the other guests to sing a loud Happy Birthday just to get Soonyoung to finally shut up. When the song comes to a close, though, Seokmin giggles a little too conspiratorially before dunking Soonyoung’s face into the cake.

It’s gatherings like this—no matter how rowdy and unacceptably loud—that make Wonwoo stick around. He might not look the part, but he loves it when he sees his friends be themselves outside of their streamer personas. It’s like high school and college all over again. 

But when the clock on his phone reads ten-thirty, and he realizes you’re still not at the venue, Wonwoo considers shooting you another text asking where you were. It’s an idea he quickly shoots down the next second because first of all, you’re not even friends. It’d be weird if he just asked out of nowhere. 

He supposes he could use wanting a quick fuck as an excuse to get some intel on your whereabouts. But the thought of lying to you doesn’t sit right with Wonwoo for some goddamn reason. 

When Mingyu offers him a drink, he half-considers taking it just to get his mind off you. He’s pretty sure his roommate has picked up on his distracted behavior, and is only attempting to soothe him somewhat with some beer. But Wonwoo reminds him that he’s one of tonight’s designated drivers and decides to pass.

Everyone in attendance is in the middle of a game of truth or dare when Wonwoo’s phone buzzes in his jacket pocket. He’s quick to excuse himself when he sees who it’s from and what message was left for him to read.

🐈‍: help me. please.

Thankfully, you had the foresight to send him your location after shooting him that cryptic text, and Wonwoo is glad to find that you’re just a few blocks away. Still, he decides to take his car since the weather decided to be a bitch, sending in an unexpected downpour in the middle of summer.

He pulls over in front of a closed bookshop once he’s sure you’re in the area—looking around for any signs of you. The streets are deserted, and Wonwoo is trying to figure out what could have possibly brought you to this place at this hour. Why didn’t you just head straight to Soonyoung’s party? 

And why did you call him for help?

Through the rain and the poor lighting, he finally spots you—standing underneath the canopy of a waiting shed next to a man whose back is turned to Wonwoo.

He doesn’t think twice. He just gets out of his car and runs in the rain—chest warming at the sight of your downcast face perking up at the sight of him. Wonwoo would’ve let himself be glad that you're safe and sound, if only your current company didn’t turn around and reveal his identity.

From the looks of it, you seemed to be having a pretty heated conversation before his arrival. Johnny was obviously annoyed when he turned to look at him, but the expression fell away when he realized the newcomer was Wonwoo. 

However, a sinister smile takes its place not a few seconds later.

“Huh, no wonder you were so quick to replace me, doll,” Johnny laughs insincerely, sharp eyes trained on Wonwoo as he stares the younger streamer up and down. “It’s him, huh?”

“This has nothing to fucking do with you, Johnny,” you grit out, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss the way your voice nearly cracks. “Can you just leave me alone? You don’t need me when you’ve got a bunch of other girls who want to suck your dick, right?”

Wonwoo observes the exchange with a stoic face that doesn’t betray his surprise. It doesn’t take a lot to realize at that moment that Johnny is most definitely the asshole dom whose face he wanted to pummel into the ground when he found out what he did to you. But the things he does know about Johnny and the things he’s just now finding out makes a storm brew inside of his head—unable to separate what’s fact from fiction.

Johnny’s a nice guy. Wonwoo knows this very well. But then again, he’s also the same person who blatantly likes Twitter porn on his official account, so where does that leave him?

“I guess you’re right, but your pussy’s a perfect fit,” Johnny chuckles. “Can’t help but want to hit that again and again, right Wonwoo?”

He stares down at him hard. “Don’t talk about her like she’s just some thing you can play with.”

“Oh? No wonder those new vids of yours have been extra livelier. Your new boytoy is a big old softie, huh?” Another mirthless laugh echoes in the empty streets, and Wonwoo feels his own body heat up with rage amidst the cold rain. “I never would’ve imagined it was Wonwoo, of all people, though. That really is a magic pussy you’ve got there, doll. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out you’re fucking his twelve other friends, too. Fucking whore—”

Before Johnny could get another word out, Wonwoo’s fist had already collided with the side of his face—knocking the older man to the ground with a disgruntled sound. He can vaguely hear you calling his name in shock, pulling him back with your little hands as Wonwoo stares down at a person he used to look up to.

“Call her that one more fucking time,” he rasps—eyes alight with anger, “and I’ll make sure it’s not just a busted eye you’re leaving with tonight.”

“Wonwoo,” you plead, tugging on his arm. “Please. He’s not worth it. Let’s just go.” 

Johnny still has it in him to bark out another laugh, spitting out some blood from his mouth and onto the pavement. “Running away again, princess? That’s what you’ve always been good at anyway.”

When Wonwoo moves to lunge at him again, you lace your fingers with his. For some reason, it makes him falter. Wonwoo stares at where your hands are adjoined, then looks into your eyes—glistening with tears as you beg him to stop.

Sending Johnny one last threatening glare, Wonwoo tightens his grip on your delicate fingers before leading you back to his car.

Wonwoo doesn’t return to the party.

Instead, he shoots Mingyu a quick ‘something came up’ text, and that he won’t be able to play designated driver for the night. His best friend responds in kind, saying he should have fun with his girlfriend and just take a cab home. On normal days, he would’ve given Mingyu another unsolicited threat, but tonight, he’s focused on something else.

You’ve been quiet the entire time Wonwoo has been driving, hands placed on top of your lap as you gazed at the lights flashing by in a blur of colors and raindrops pouring down the window. He doesn’t have a particular destination in mind, but he figures that it’ll do you some good to have some time to mull over everything that happened. 

But when the silence gets too overbearing even for him, Wonwoo asks:

“What do you usually do when you’re upset?”

You turn your head slowly, red eyes shining even in the dark. Wiping the tears away, you say, “Buy a tub of ice cream and stargaze at the rooftop of my apartment building. That’s kinda impossible right now, though, since…”

Yeah. It was still raining. Fuck.

“Well,” Wonwoo starts, “we can still get some ice cream if you’re up for it. I know a supermarket that’s open twenty four-seven.” 

You don’t reply, simply letting your gaze drift back to the window, and Wonwoo takes that as an affirmative. 

The two of you sit in the silence so deafening, it unsettles even Wonwoo the silence connoisseur himself. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do in this kind of situation. Should he offer you some verbal comfort? Should he promise to deal with Johnny if he comes after you again?

In the end, Wonwoo chooses to preserve the quiet—thinking it’s what you need most right now.

He pulls into the supermarket’s parking lot in ten minutes. He’s about to tell you that he won’t take long—glancing around at the backseat to check if Mingyu left his umbrella there. But before he can even get a word out, you’ve already leaned across the center console, grabbing Wonwoo’s face with both hands before smashing your lips together. 

Wonwoo grunts, grabbing your shoulders as he gently pries you off him. “Hey—”

You don’t listen. Instead, you climb on top of his lap despite the limited space. He knows that the steering wheel digging into your back can’t be comfortable at all, so despite himself, Wonwoo pushes the driver’s seat all the way back. But then you choose to do something he doesn’t expect at all.

With the newfound legroom, you sink to the floor—puffy eyes looking up at him as you work on the buckle of his belt. Wonwoo gives you a stare that’s two parts disapproving and one part curious. In the end, he does nothing about it when you undo his jeans and take his cock in the warmth of your hand.

When it comes to you, it doesn’t take a lot to get him hard. The need to please shines in your eyes as you give him possibly one of the best handjobs in his life. You’re not even uttering a single sound, but your titillating gaze sends all the blood in his system straight to his dick.

Your mouth is on him the next thing he knows—giving his fat head some experimental kitten licks that make him want to shove your head down to the base of his cock. But he won’t. Wonwoo isn’t Johnny. He wouldn’t dare to be rough with you after what just happened, despite your apparent eagerness to give him head right here, of all places. 

The mere reminder of that asshole has him buzzing with rage again, but whatever frustration is left over gets quickly replaced with toe-curling pleasure when you take his heavy length in the heat of your mouth. Your tongue lathers the underside of his shaft as every inch bypasses your plump lips. What your mouth can’t reach, you compensate with your fingers—fondling both his balls and the base of his cock with tender yet salacious touches.

He has to tell you to knock it off. This probably isn’t how you’re supposed to deal with…whatever shit you have going on with Johnny. But your mouth feels like fucking heaven, and Wonwoo isn’t a good enough person to deny himself the pleasure.

The rain continues to pour outside, but the sound of it is eclipsed by the wet noise of you bobbing up and down his engorged cock. As Wonwoo’s orgasm slowly builds itself from the ground up, his large hand gathers your hair in a single clump—tugging hard enough to have you moaning around his length.

“Good, good girl,” he rasps before thrusting his hips into your mouth. 

 When he finally comes, you swallow every drop he pours down your throat. Even when your eyes start to sting with tears, you take it all while Wonwoo holds your head in place. 

As his high starts to ebb away, Wonwoo realizes this is probably the most breathless he’s been rendered since he started fucking around with you. He could probably blame that on the shitty car ventilation, but there’s just something so fucking enticing about seeing you wedged beneath him on the floor—face streaked with tears with remnants of his release still sticking on your lips.

Wordlessly, you peel yourself away as you scramble back to the passenger seat, making a nonchalant comment about how much you’ve imagined sucking him off in his car, but Wonwoo doesn’t quite process it all.

When he notices that the glass of his car windows have all but fogged up, he leans forward—one hand raised as he starts drawing shapes into the moisture. You stare at him with a bewildered look, wondering what on earth he was up to. But the moment you realize what he’s drawing, your expression twists from confusion to disbelief.

Stars. Wonwoo was drawing stars on his fucking windshield with his entire dick still out and everything. He doesn’t even look fazed while he’s doing it.

“You can’t be serious,” you say.

He shrugs and grabs some tissues from the glove compartment to clean up before putting himself away—handing it to you right after. 

He’s so fucking thoughtful; it still gives you whiplash.

“You said you wanted to see the stars, right?” Wonwoo shrugs. “This is the best I can give you right now, so.”

You stare at him for a couple of seconds longer—like you can’t believe a man like Jeon Wonwoo really exists on this earth. Then, you laugh. It’s one of those obnoxious ones that typically have Wonwoo rolling his eyes at you, but it sounds like music to his ears after seeing you cry your eyes out .

Wonwoo does manage to get enough ice cream for the two of you to feast on back in your apartment as you both watch this food show that Mingyu keeps recommending to him. The tricky part is trying to get your hands off him the entire time. 

For someone who went through something pretty traumatic earlier in the evening, you’re fucking insatiable. But Wonwoo’s resolve can no longer be shaken, and the dirtiest thing that you end up doing in your bedroom is giving him a kiss on the cheek before bidding him good night.

It’s only when you’re dozing softly against his chest—having trusted him enough to fall asleep in his company—that Wonwoo realizes something that might change the trajectory of your set-up for good.

He’s in love. 

The next morning, Mingyu greets Wonwoo at the apartment like a mother would her troublemaking son who got caught sneaking home in the middle of the night.

“It’s Koyahngi, isn’t it?” he says point-blank. 

Wonwoo doesn’t exactly have the energy to play some mental gymnastics with Mingyu right now. The moment it dawned on him how he actually felt about you, he couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Thoughts about what he should do have kept him up all night. Should he come clean about it? Should he just leave it be?

But when he remembers what you said about him during that one visit of his…

I never have to worry about you looking for anything more than this since you’re a pretty laid back guy. Def not the commitment type.

That pretty much leaves him with one option, which is the one he’s been meaning to take all along. The idea of having to confess his love for you like some sort of prepubescent high schooler honestly makes him want to vomit. But at the same time, resorting to…concealing his feelings from plain sight doesn’t sit well with him either.

But no matter what he feels about either option, Wonwoo knows that keeping his mouth shut about it is the best option. Especially when you’re still emotionally high-strung from that encounter with Johnny. 

“So what if it is?” Wonwoo grumbles, plopping himself onto the couch right next to Mingyu.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve always thought the two of you were a good match,” his roommate offers, and Wonwoo appreciates his pep-talk. Really, he does. But he’s pep-talking him for the wrong fucking outcome. “You should totally go for it if you haven’t already.”

You don’t do relationships, and neither does Wonwoo. He knows if he uses this line of reasoning as a rebuttal to Mingyu’s words, his best friend will stubbornly insist that he get the girl anyways. He’s always been the one-track-mind type that gives it his all once he’s finally set on something. 

But Wonwoo is nothing like his enthusiastic roommate. He’s cold, and sharp-tongued, and everything you probably wouldn’t want in a boyfriend. All he’s good for is a quick fuck every now and again, and he’s not about to start deluding himself that he can be anything more to you.

(Yet part of him still hopes anyway.) 

🐈‍: are u free today

🐈‍⬛: Be there in thirty

🐈‍: whoa i haven’t even told you what i had planned

🐈‍: what if i actually wanted to take you on a date to the park huh

🐈‍⬛: Did you?

🐈‍: no, my new raiden shogun cosplay set just arrived

🐈‍: and we kinda have this unspoken tradition 

🐈‍: if you know what i mean

🐈‍⬛: You want me to fuck you in it?

🐈‍: always <3

There’s something off when Wonwoo shows up at your doorstep.

He knows you easily pick up on it from the way your eyes narrow slightly when you scrutinize him. From what he can tell, he’s acting as aloof as he always does, yet you still ask him, “You okay?” as if he’s doing something different.

“Yeah,” he mumbles before quietly closing the door behind him.

As you lead him to your room, you tell him that you haven’t put on your cosplay yet because the stockings that came with your order were itchy as fuck, and how you’re thinking of having them replaced one of these days. Wonwoo hums in reply, eyes trained on the takeout packaging that litters your kitchen counter. He has half the mind to tell you to start eating healthily, but reminds himself that’s the sort of thing boyfriends do—not fuck buddies.

Your dainty lo-fi playlist is streaming in your room like always, and when you see the assorted fabrics of your cosplay crumpled on your desk, you heave a tired sigh.

“I’m too lazy to put it on now,” you whine. “Can you just fuck me normally?”

He doesn’t give you a verbal response. Instead, Wonwoo pulls you by the hip, pressing you impossibly close to him as he rests his forehead on top of yours. You startle a little at his abruptness, but your body language betrays no sign of resistance. If anything, you lean more into his touch as the seconds tick past.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you whisper like you’re afraid of shattering something delicate. “You seem out of it.”

“I’m fine,” he insists, and before you can say anything else in response, he slots your mouths together in a slow, sensual kiss. 

Wonwoo likes to get things done hard and fast. He’s a man who sticks to his schedules for the day if he can help it, so he typically treats these sessions with you as timed encounters. More often than not, he’ll be out of your door in two hours or less so he can dedicate his time to working out or planning for new content.

Now, it’s a little different. He takes his sweet time with you—mouths moving in voluptuous unison as if he’s finally dedicating each second to truly memorize the curve of your lips against his. You moan into the kiss, fingers threading through his dark hair before he pulls away from you with a breathless sigh. 

Wonwoo stares at you like you’re the center of the universe. He can only hope you see the same thing when you stare back.

You know when Wonwoo takes his glasses off, he means business. One moment he’s placing them on top of your nightstand, and the next, you’re suddenly pinned beneath him on your bed—getting your lips devoured by the insatiable man on top of you. 

There’s something so innately alluring to his kisses that you haven’t felt during the last time you fucked Wonwoo in this same room. Those were less kisses and more of a clash of teeth and tongue. Now, he stokes a kind of desire that almost scares you to have. You’re afraid if you indulge yourself too much in this version of him, you’ll get addicted. 

The two of you are supposed to be filming today. Yet you seem to have forgotten all about your plans as you lose yourselves in the heat of each other’s bodies. But despite the mellow pace that Wonwoo has established, the desperation still lingers in his touch. 

He flips the both of you over so that you’re sitting right on top of him, gasping out loud as you steady yourself across his hips. Wonwoo smiles lazily, drawing circles along the curve of your thigh before teasing the waistband of your shorts with a single finger. You whimper as you grind down against his hardening length, still confused about how soft he’s being with you today, but no complaints are going to be filed.

“You want my cock that badly?” he asks, and you nod a bit too enthusiastically. “Then work for it.”

You bite your lip, not bothering to remove either of your clothes when you haul out Wonwoo’s length from the fabric of his sweats. Just a few pumps from your small fingers has him hot and heavy in your hand—making your mouth water with anticipation. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of taking him inside your tight little pussy.

Nudging the hem of both your shorts and panties to the side, you quietly sink down on his engorged cock with a strained whimper. The lack of prep definitely isn’t doing you any favors, but the raw stretch of him so deep inside your walls sends a rush of pleasure straight to your skull. In no time, you’re bouncing on top of his lap like a bitch in heat—mind hazy with the feeling of Wonwoo hitting you even deeper than usual. 

You sort of expected him to amp up the dirty talk. You don’t always get to ride him like this, yet Wonwoo stays perfectly quiet as he watches you thrash and moan above him. His hands rest comfortably at the curve of your waist, guiding your movements, all while offering up a few thrusts of his own.

It feels so fucking good whenever he hits that perfect spot inside you, but the pleasure pulls the wool over your eyes because you’re completely oblivious to the way Wonwoo is looking at you right now.

He was a fool to think that if he just had his way with you like he usually does, those delusions of his would go away naturally. That it would serve as an anchor to the reality of your relationship with him. But when Wonwoo has you chasing your high right before him—so devastatingly beautiful in the lowlights of your bedroom—he realizes he’s fucked.

All this does is make him fall even deeper in love with you. 

“S-So close,” you whimper, grinding down on his cock with each downward thrust. “Wonwoo, please, please. Fuck—!” 

He quickly shoots up from his initial position, lying down, fingers tangled in your hair as he forces your head close to meld your lips together once again. Wonwoo fucks up into you relentlessly, his breathing erratic against your mouth, all while he tries his best to keep all of his secrets from coming out of his own lips. 

You’re the most infuriating person he knows, but he can’t help but look after you anyways. He claims to hate you, but the way he’s rolling his hips into yours would tell a different story. You drive him insane each waking day, yet you have no clue of the extent of it.

He would never admit it—not in a million, billion years—but you’re Wonwoo’s favorite poison, and he’d rather watch himself burn from the inside out than find an antidote. 

He hates having to hide you away from the world like this. Hates treating you like some sort of dirty little secret. He’s allowed to share you with the world through anonymous pornography, but not as a bonafide lover, and it drives him up a fucking wall every time he thinks about it. 

But the thing about Wonwoo and sex is that once he finally gets to fuck the frustration out of his system, his clarity of mind is a bit too quick to settle. As he helps clean you up in the bathroom, he tells himself that it’s simply impossible for someone like you to want anything more with someone like him. After all, you said it yourself.

You don’t do relationships. 

Who the hell is Wonwoo to change your mind about that anyway?

“Wonwoo?”

He looks up at you just when he just finished wiping a cool, wet towel across your leg. “What?”

Your eyes shy away from his. “Um, you might call me a sap or something, but I…kinda liked it.”

“Liked what?”

“That,” you say while making some vague hand gestures at him. “When you were all gentle with me and stuff. I wouldn’t mind having soft Wonwoo again next time.”

Next time.

The words echo in Wonwoo’s mind far more than what he expected, and he finds himself frowning at the notion. Can he still keep up this charade, now that he’s aware of his feelings for you? How long can he continue the act until he inevitably slips up, and you find out?

How long does he have left before you drop him because he’s starting to want more from you?

“Wonwoo, where are you…?”

He doesn’t hear the rest of what you have to say because he’s already padding out of the bathroom—heart beating a little too loudly in his chest. Wonwoo fishes his glasses from the nightstand and the keys to his car. He’s more than intent on getting out of here as soon as possible, but it seems you have other plans.

“Hey,” you call out before tugging at his arm. Wonwoo forces himself not to meet your eyes, but he feels the intensity of your stare regardless. “You’re acting really fucking weird today. Is there something wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

“No,” he mumbles, wanting to add, I’m the one who’s done something you won’t like, but opting to keep his silence instead. 

“Then…why are you acting like this?” 

The pleading look in your eyes almost makes him cave in and pour out everything that’s been flooding his heart for the past few days. It’s so easy to just rip the band-aid off and be honest. To risk everything for the abysmal chance of you reciprocating his feelings.

But Wonwoo knows that life isn’t a fucking gacha game, and he’s not about to throw away what he has with you now, especially when he knows what he wants doesn’t coincide with what you want. 

“Just having a shitty day,” he reasons, and the lie tastes like acid on his tongue. “I’ll text you later. Bye.”

Before Wonwoo steps out of your door, he makes another mistake of looking back. Now, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever get the image of you on the verge of tears as you stood all alone in your bedroom for reasons he’ll never know

Wonwoo runs into Saerom in the supermarket one fateful afternoon.

Mingyu is usually the one who does the grocery runs for both of them—being the person who knows which brands are best for both food and apartment maintenance and all. But his best friend happened to land himself a modeling gig recently, and they rescheduled the shoot today on short notice. Wonwoo insisted that they could live another day without eating rice, but Mingyu was having none of it, and gave his roommate a full list of groceries he expects him to buy no later than today.

So here he is in the canned goods aisle, expression mirroring Saerom’s when she recognizes him as well. It’s not often that Wonwoo bumps into a familiar face in this part of town, so he’s rightfully surprised.

When she asks him if he’s free to have lunch with her at a nearby bistro, he sees no reason to decline. Saerom has always been his good friend, and it’s only natural for him to want to catch up. That, and he’s curious about what she’s doing here in the first place.

“I just moved into the neighborhood actually,” she explains once the waiter is done taking their orders. “Anyway, how are you? I haven’t spoken to you since that time I hijacked your stream.”

Wonwoo clearly remembers the day she asked him to look out for you all those months ago. Saerom is quite literally an angel, extending her concern even to the people who probably don’t need nor deserve it. He gulps down his water thickly, wondering if he should tell her the truth. 

But with how his brain seems to be all over the place these days, he ends up coming clean about it anyway.

When the food arrives, Wonwoo tells Saerom about the truth behind the porn videos implicating you in the past—how you’re actually the one being filmed in all of them. He also tells her about how Wonwoo takes part in the creation process of said videos (deciding to leave Johnny out of the story because that’s going to be another can of worms to deal with). Then, he ends the tall tale with the begrudging fact that he may or may not have caught feelings for someone he isn’t supposed to.

Saerom listens intently to each word—chewing on her salad with a contemplative look. She never betrays any sort of expression that would suggest her true opinions on the matter, which makes Wonwoo all too thankful that she’s the one he entrusted this with.

“I see,” she sighs once she’s finished the rest of her food. “I knew something was a bit off about her situation, but I’m glad that she’s safe, at least. Although about that budding romance of yours… Don’t you think it’ll be easier if you just discussed it with her directly? An outsider like me can only offer you so much advice, Wonwoo.”

He sighs, stabbing his food with his fork. “I know, but…what if she doesn’t want anything to do with me when she finds out how I really feel?”

Saerom lets out a wistful sigh—staring directly at Wonwoo like she intends for him to remember her next words for a long time.

“Then that’s your sign to find someone else who can accept the love you’re more than willing to give. If she turns you down, that’s more of her loss than yours, you know.”

Wonwoo wants to tell her she’s giving him too much credit. It almost sounds like Saerom is insisting that he’d actually make a good boyfriend. He half-wonders if he should ask her if she accidentally mistook him for Mingyu, but then Saerom’s phone rings in the middle of their conversation. 

It’s a short call, and Wonwoo doesn’t bother listening in to give her some privacy. When it ends, though, she bows her head in apology, letting him know that her boyfriend’s waiting for her at the parking lot.

“It’s nice meeting you again, Wonwoo.” She smiles before pulling him into a hug. “I hope your girl problems are already sorted out the next time I see you.”

Wonwoo lets out an uneasy laugh as he returns her embrace. 

He really hopes so, too. 

One month.

It takes Wonwoo one entire month to reach out again, right after he left you without a word in your apartment last time. Part of him feels like he should be guilty for ghosting you so suddenly like that, but he swears he didn’t ghost you. 

He’s just…giving both of you some time and space away from each other. God knows his judgment gets clouded whenever he’s near you. 

Still, he doesn’t really expect you to forgive him for it right away. Much like Mingyu, you’re the sulky type. But while he usually deals with Mingyu’s sulking by leaving him alone for a few hours, that solution is counterproductive when it comes to you because…he’s already left you alone for a month. Wonwoo has a feeling that if he prolongs it any further, you might not talk to him ever again.

You were already wrapping up this evening’s stream when he left his own apartment, and he figures you’re getting ready for bed when he gets to yours.

His knuckles rap against the door once, twice, and he waits. 

Not that Wonwoo is counting, but it takes you five minutes to answer the door—already in your comfortable pajamas and your kitten skincare headband resting on top of your head. It seems that you weren’t expecting any late-night visitors when your eyes nearly bug out at the sight of him. 

“Won—” You shake your head as if you can’t even bear to say his name. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitates.

Wonwoo doesn’t have an answer for you. He gave you space for one month, and he still doesn’t know what to say when he finally deigned to show you his face. 

Your posture is rightfully apprehensive. Wonwoo can almost imagine how you’ve branded him as a raging ghoster in your head for the past few weeks. For a moment, he fears that you’ll throw him out of your apartment before he can even set foot in it, but you simply wait for him to respond—affording him some patience he definitely doesn’t deserve.

“I…” Wonwoo starts but his voice falters, forcing him to clear his throat awkwardly. “You’re getting better at using Chamber.”

You scowl at him, and if Mingyu was here, Wonwoo thinks he would’ve face-palmed because of how pathetic he’s being right now. 

Seriously? Bringing up the latest Valorant agent she’s playing when you’re supposed to say you’re in love with her? Wonwoo can practically hear his roommate in his head, along with an added, You’re so fucking mid, hyung. 

“Okay,” you say, still visibly wary of his presence. “Anything else? I’d rather get everything out of the way so you can continue ghosting me in peace.” 

Fuck. He knew it.

“I’m—” 

Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was too scared of how I felt about you to deal with it like a normal person.

“—starting to think that you’re fine without me after all.”

At this point, Mingyu would’ve pummeled him to the ground.

Jeon Wonwoo, you have the emotional intelligence of a rock, imagination-Mingyu points out, and he couldn’t agree more.

“Well, thanks for pointing out the obvious. I am fine without you, asshole,” you bite back snarkily, making the motions to shut the door in his face, but Wonwoo wedges his foot in between. 

“Wait—fuck. I’m sorry,” he insists, swallowing thickly. “Can I come in? Please?”

The desperation in his tone makes you arch an eyebrow. Wonwoo never says please. It’s almost always the other way around, whether in a sexual context or not. So even if you know you should just leave him there like how he left you a month ago, you breathe out a sigh in defeat before opening the door wider for him.

“Fine.”

You’ve never sat at your dining table with Wonwoo. You never had to. Whenever he comes over, it’s either to have sex or let you teach him about a game he can’t be assed to play on his own. He doesn’t stay long enough to warrant asking him if he wants some takeout or leftovers from the fridge, so seeing him nursing a glass of water across from you still feels surreal. 

“So are you going to explain why you suddenly just ditched me, or are we going to stew in the silence all night?” you ask. 

Wonwoo’s gaze flickers over to you irritably, and you hate to admit that the sight of that expression makes a pang of…something ripple in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, much less spoken to him, so even if you should be fucking mad, you can’t help but miss him. 

God fucking damn it.

He doesn’t answer right away. Like he’s carefully choosing which words he’ll allow you to hear and which would be better off unsaid. But if there’s something you’ve come to know about Wonwoo after all these months, it’s that he doesn’t have good intuition when it comes to other people’s emotions. 

Even if it seems like he’s being particularly careful about his words, that doesn’t guarantee that what’s going to come out of his mouth won’t be stupid.  

“I just had to clear my head for a while,” he says, providing no context whatsoever, and that makes you frown even more. 

“Clear your head?” you echo as you cross your legs. “From what?”

Wonwoo’s usually aloof look shifts for a moment. An unreadable expression flits across his face, but it’s gone before you can even make sense of it.

“It’s nothing you should worry about.”

“Nothing I should… Wonwoo, you were already acting strange the last time you were here. Then you went ahead and ignored me for an entire month!” You slam your hands on the table, the Wonwoo’s glass rattling in the process.

“How am I not supposed to worry when all this time, you made me think I was the reason you suddenly just flaked on me like that?”

He narrows his eyes at you, as if he doesn’t quite get why you’re pissed. “Why does it even matter? I’m just your fuck buddy, right? Why should you care if I just come and go whenever I feel like it?”

The apathetic tone that accompanies his words lances straight through your chest. Were you an idiot for believing that the look he wore earlier in front of your apartment was genuine? That he was actually apologetic for leaving you alone with your thoughts as you wondered what you could’ve possibly done to drive him away without a word?

Your fists shake from where you’re pressing them into the polished wood of your dining table. Wonwoo’s indifferent stare doesn’t let up, and as the white noise rings in your ears, it makes you wonder…

“Why’d I have to fall in love with someone like you?”

The words come out so softly, so quietly that you doubt Wonwoo would’ve heard you. But as your vision gets blurry with tears, you don’t see how  surprise begins to eclipse his aloofness.

Wonwoo felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when his ears caught what you just said. He couldn’t have heard wrong. It was too quiet in your apartment to mistake what you said for anything else.

You’re…in love with him?

“You know what?” You breathe in deeply, eyes darting up to the ceiling as you wipe off the evidence of your vulnerability. “Just…leave, Wonwoo. I can’t talk to you right now. Please.”

“Say it again.”

When your gaze drifts back to him, it’s accompanied with an expression twisted into disbelief.

“What?”

Before you can even think about what he could even mean by that, Wonwoo gets up from his seat, striding over to your side of the table. You flash him another apprehensive stare, but all of a sudden, he cups your face in both of his hands—delicately, like he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

“Tell me you’re in love with me.”

You immediately bristle at his request. “Are you fucking insane? I know you’re a sadist but—”

Wonwoo presses forward without warning—capturing your lips in an unsolicited kiss that catches you off guard but angers you at the same time. No matter how badly you missed having him pressed up against you in more ways than one, you’re not going to let him trample on your feelings again. 

“I hate you,” you rasp, salty tears breaking their tension across your lashes as they slide down your cheeks in glistening streaks. “I fucking hate you, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your words carry little weight to them, and Wonwoo is completely aware of this. Almost like he’s trying to placate you, he wipes your tears away with the pads of his thumbs—that hard-eyed gaze weathering into something softer, more sincere with each passing second. 

You abhor how handsome he looks like this.

“Is that your way of telling someone you love them?” he chuckles breathlessly, lips rising to the crown of your head as he presses a soft kiss on top. “If that’s the case, then…”

“I fucking hate you, too.”

Wonwoo isn’t sure how long the two of you have been going at it, but by your fourth orgasm, your newfound lover is yet to be sated.

“Again,” he growls, tugging your limp body closer to his. “Say it again.”

One of the things Wonwoo particularly likes about exploring all sorts of sexual escapades with you is that you teach him things about himself that he never even knew about. 

First was that stupid daddy kink, and now…

“I love you,” you whimper, mindlessly grinding against his still hard cock despite being worn and spent. “I love you, Wonwoo.”

Despite the fact that your honesty drives him to near-insanity, Wonwoo can’t help the relieved sigh that fills his veins every time you utter the words. At first, you stubbornly kept up the act of hating him as he railed you into the mattress, but with every mind-numbing orgasm, your hate slowly bled into love, and Wonwoo finds it fucking cathartic. 

You beat him to what he came over to tell you himself. It was a little embarrassing on his part, he has to admit, but there’s some sort of relief that comes with knowing the same person he’s been vying for also feels the same way.

He’ll tell you the words properly someday.

Maybe not today or tomorrow, but Wonwoo promises that he’ll let you hear how much he adores you soon enough.

For now, he’ll give you one last release.

He’s certain that he can still go one more round, but he can’t really say the same for you. If Wonwoo makes you cream on his cock one more time, he’s afraid you’ll actually pass out from exhaustion. 

So instead, he lays you down on your plush pillows—crawling lower down your body until he finds himself between your legs. He chuckles when you crane your neck weakly to see what he’s trying to do, but Wonwoo is already hooking your thighs over his shoulders before you can say a word.

Your body twitches from oversensitivity as his tongue laves at your ruined cunt—not caring that his own spend has mixed with yours from where the creamy liquid seeps from your hole. Wonwoo groans into your cunt when your thighs squeeze around his head as if meaning to suffocate him with your pussy.

Honestly? If that’s the way he’s gonna go, he’ll accept it with open arms.

“Daddy,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his tousled hair. “I c-can’t anymore…”

Wonwoo suckles at your clit in response, earning himself a high-pitched whine as you roll your hips into his face. For someone who claims she can’t come anymore, you’re awfully eager for him to pinpoint your orgasm again.

“You can, baby,” he insists, peppering your inner thighs with kisses. “You can ‘cause you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” 

He feels your inner muscles clenching at his words, and Wonwoo makes a mental note to praise you more often. You might just like that more than his run-of-the-mill dirty talk after all.

“‘m your good girl,” you babble. “Always daddy’s good girl.”

Fuck. You’re going to be the death of him.

When you’ve recovered from the crest of your final orgasm, Wonwoo carries you to the bathroom and carries you into a bath he’d drawn himself. You complain about how he didn’t set the temperature in the tub right, and Wonwoo promises to do better next time. 

As the two of you soak in the semi-warm water, Wonwoo rests his head against the tiled wall—the fatigue starting to seep into his bones. He doesn’t let himself complain, though, because if he’s feeling spent, he can only imagine how sore you must be feeling. He wonders if he should order some food for the both of you or just let you sleep right away.

“Wonwoo?”

He raises an eyebrow at your meek voice calling out to him. “Yeah?”

You shift a little on his lap, turning around as droopy eyes bore into his. Wonwoo is about to call you out for being weird, but the words evaporate on his tongue when you lean forward to peck his lips. 

“Can I borrow your phone?”

He tilts his head to the side, wondering why you’re asking for his phone. You couldn’t possibly be asking him to film some content here in the tub…right?

Wonwoo watches in complete silence as you open his Twitter app—further feeding into his curiosity. But he doesn’t comment on whatever it is you’re about to do, patiently watching as you maneuver around the accounts logged onto his phone. 

However, when you pull up on the Settings tab of that porn account the two of you have been running for months, scrolling all the way down—

“What are you doing?” he asks as your finger hovers over the ‘Deactivate account’ button.

You glance at him, confused. “I’m getting rid of this account. What else does it look like?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? I can’t share my sex tapes with the rest of the world now that I have a boyfriend.”

The bathroom falls silent for about three heartbeats before Wonwoo wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. You yelp in surprise, struggling against his iron-tight grip in a way that has water splashing all around you. Wonwoo couldn’t care less, though.

“I love you,” he murmurs into the naked skin of your shoulder. 

You don’t respond for a while, like you’re surprised by his easy admission. But the tension in Wonwoo’s spine unravels when you rest your head across his shoulder, chuckling as you caress his face tenderly.

“Don’t you dare think I’ll let you off the hook though,” you chide. “You’ve got several months of dates to make up for. Just because you took the express lane into being my boyfriend, doesn’t mean you get to skip out on the effort that normally comes with it.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, turning your face so his eyes can meet yours. 

He can’t believe he was stupid enough to run away from his own feelings for an entire month. If only he’d been more honest with both you and himself the last time he was here, he could’ve spent all the weeks after with you cradled in his embrace.

But then again, it’s the choices you both made so far that led you to where you are now.

And for now, he’s perfectly content with that.

“Challenge accepted.”

part one - part two - part three - part four

q: is there going to be a third part? a: yes! however, part 3 is literally just in its early stages of creation. i don't even have a serious doc for it, just a few vague plot bunnies gathering dust in my head SJDFHDFG BUT since i'm feeling generous, attached below is a little sneak peek of what you can expect!

This is, by far, the worst day of Mingyu’s life. Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating, but he likes to think that he’s a man of routine. If he doesn’t get to do his morning rituals right before his streams, it feels like the world has been tilted a few degrees off its proper axis. And that’s exactly what’s happening now, when Mingyu realizes that his favorite Twitter porn account is nowhere to be found.  How the hell is he supposed to get his daily dose of relief now?

aaaaaand that's all i have for now! thank you so much for waiting patiently for this installment! it took me an entire month since i posted the teaser, but here it is hehe :3c i hope you all liked it! do stay tuned for that third part, whenever the hell i can get around to writing it T T

this is part of the game over series!

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo smut #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt smut #svt fanfic #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

[f1daydreamers]

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 [𝐋𝐍𝟒] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

gif credits: @eightyones

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Summary: To say you weren't the biggest fan of Lando Norris was an understatement, but you also happened to underestimate just how willing the man was to prove to you that he'd changed.

Warnings: just very strong feelings (not good ones lol), Reader’s a little angry in this one so yeah, remember that this is all fiction and not telling of the actual person!

A/N: I hope I can stay consistent with posting but writer’s block is the truest thing ever so pray for me everybody (for your own sakes tbf lmao, ik whoever read the Lance series was defo not happy with my oh so consistent updates)

Here’s Part 1 if you missed it :)

Word Count: 1.9k words (7 mins reading time avg)

…

"What're you wearing?" Allegra popped her head into your bedroom, to see if you'd gotten changed but you hadn't, still blankly staring at your dresser.

"Uh, don't know." You breathed out, you'd spent a good half an hour trying to rid these damning thoughts about having to go to Woking tonight. Though that wasn't necessarily the problem; he was.

It didn't go unnoticed how your heart would beat a little faster when you remembered he still existed, your hands would instinctively clench into fists, your body simmering with unresolved rage.

A simple and menial task had a shadow cast over it. You hated that.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Allegra commented, strolling past you and spreading a variety of outfits on your bed.

"Nope, just buzzing with excitement." You murmured out a feeble response, grabbing whatever seemed the cleanest from your drawer and tossing it onto the desk chair in the corner.

Turning, you found Allegra holding up two mini-dresses and arched an eyebrow at her.

"Ally, it's January." She paused for a moment before casually throwing them behind her onto the bed and picking up a pair of light blue washed-out jeans with a white crop top.

"That's better." You smiled.

"Can't believe we have to wear the ugly-ass Google jacket." She grumbled as she shoved the rest of her clothes back into her bag, and you chuckled.

"Yes, believe it or not, we are going there to work." You reminded yourself more than her; it wasn't a social event, just networking and taking photos for the social media team. Not exactly difficult.

You made a mental note to ask James when he was leaving so you knew when to be ready by.

"I know! Still, I want to look good while I'm working." Allegra countered and you hummed in response, it wasn't the most appealing article of clothing but there was no way around it either.

"I hope we get to meet the drivers. Ugh, I'm totally living out a dream right now!" Allegra chirped.

The prospect crossed your mind, and you froze, envisioning how the encounter might unfold if he recognised you. Would he be surprised? Or would he avert his eyes in shame?

Maybe you'd throw a drink in his face before he could react. You exhaled; no, you couldn't do that. Nick would probably chop my head off, you thought. Throughout the past week, he had incessantly emphasised the importance of making a lasting impression. Smile, be helpful, talk to everybody. The mantra seemed to have etched itself permanently into your brain.

"Doesn't matter," you muttered. You'll have Allegra, James, there'll probably be hundreds of people tonight; you won't see him.

There's no way.

...

"Who are these lovely ladies?" You grinned as you and Allegra neared James, casually leaning against his BMW – our ride there.

"Ladies who kicked your ass at stats last week." His smile faltered into a thin line as he turned to you for help, but you raised your hands in mock surrender.

"30K each, baby!" You chuckled, Allegra facing you, raising her hand for a high-five that you gladly met.

"Alright, alright, don't forget this ride is free." James opened the passenger door as you climbed in first, your friend following suit.

He jogged over to the driver's side, slipping into his seat.

"And we love you for it." You teased, and he only rolled his eyes, tugging on his seatbelt and clicking it into place.

The hour and a half ride to Woking was filled with mindless chatter and jokes, while it served as a sufficient distraction for some time, your mind began shifting elsewhere.

The night ahead brought a mix of anxiety and an underlying sense of dread.

You were replaying your conversations from long ago, you remembered every evening you'd come home and complain to your mother how him and his friends were the most intolerable assholes on the face of this planet.

Growing up, you'd met a lot more of those but learned to handle them better.

Being a teenager meant your parents only waved it off, giving advice that you knew would never work - telling the teacher, standing up to them, ignoring them completely.

No matter how much you defended your friends, their teasing was endless.

Perhaps you inherited your 'forgive but never forget' attitude from a grandparent considering your parents aren't the type to hold a grudge until the end of time.

You shifted in your seat, attempting to shake off the apprehension that settled in your chest. Each passing mile brought you closer to Woking and the event that would unfold there. A lump formed in your throat, and your palms felt a bit clammy.

As you rubbed them on your jeans, James calling your name pulled you out of your trance-like state. "What's with the sour face?"

"Wishing I was in bed right now." That wasn't technically a lie, you'd always in any situation rather be in your bed.

He laughed, taking his eyes off of the rearview mirror to turn right before speaking again, "hopefully this shit doesn't last too long." You were sure it was for different reasons but you agreed wordlessly, Allegra scoffed.

"You guys are boring, this is a Formula 1 team! Come on, where is the energy in here?"

If you looked past the reasons why you thought tonight was a complete recipe for disaster, you understood her excitement, hell, maybe you were even a little excited yourself.

"It's going to be amazing," you smiled, squeezing Allegra's hand.

James nodded, "just as fun as losing to you two loonies at stats."

...

Together, you all passed through the entrance of the MTC after the security personnel checked your passes.

The sleek backdrop was instantly punctuated by the papaya-coloured uniforms that caught your eye. Inside, a crowd of employees, journalists, and photographers were engrossed in their respective responsibilities. The main area buzzed with chatter and laughter. The illuminated Google and McLaren logos adorned the wall side by side. The sheer vastness of the centre initially overwhelmed not only you but also James and Allegra on either side, their silence telling. "Woah," Allegra eventually breathed out, and you subtly nodded in agreement, acknowledging her reaction. Rope barriers enclosed the Formula 1 cars in the central area, creating a grand yet slightly intimidating exhibit. "I'm so ready to work," you chuckled, recognising Allegra's sarcasm as her eyes sparkled with a playful glint. Both of you knew that 'work' was code for mingling. She slipped away swiftly, leaving you briefly alone.

You turned to face James who, ever the social butterfly, beamed with enthusiasm.

You consciously wrapped your hand around his upper arm, a silent cue he readily understood. It's not that you didn't do well in social situations, you just didn't do well alone in social situations.

He knew that.

You allowed him to navigate you both through the crowds of people, engaging in light conversation and making necessary introductions along the way.

However, your nerves bubbled beneath the surface. Constantly glancing around, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, your eyes scanning the room constantly.

As the hour passed, both you and James, occasionally bumping into Allegra who was way too excited to stay in one spot for too long, continued navigating the sea of people while keeping a watchful eye for a familiar face you hoped not to encounter.

But eventually, you did. Right there, in the midst of the crowd. You couldn't be entirely sure it was him though the resemblance was nothing short of uncanny.

He looked different, changed somehow. He adorned facial hair now, quite a bit of it too, he was clad in white trainers, black sweatpants, and a McLaren hoodie.

A clear departure from the person you remembered.

As your gaze lingered on him, you became sure when a wide smile grew on his face. It was a smile that you knew all too well, one that sent a jolt of recognition through you.

His figure had grown, perhaps he was an inch or two taller but you couldn't be sure.

You didn't spend any minute with him judging his height, you spent those minutes despising him, hating him, cursing his name and his rich, arrogant ass.

A moment of panic washed over you, and instinctively, you moved away as swiftly as you could, hoping to avoid catching his attention.

A tumultuous wave of emotions crashed through you, each feeling more intense than the last as you swerved through bodies to get to the farthest point away from him.

Torment churned within, a relentless reminder of past wounds that seemed to have resurfaced. Anger flared up, fuelled by memories of his past actions that had left scars on your heart.

A weight of sadness settled in your chest, the realisation that the wounds he caused still had enough power to reopen.

A conflicting turmoil seized your thoughts. On one hand, an impulsive urge to confront and release pent-up frustration surged. Simultaneously, another part of you longed to escape, wishing to erase this night from memory as quickly as possible.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you hastily poured a cup of water, downing it in a single gulp before effortlessly tossing it into the bin.

The thought of texting James or finding Allegra crossed your mind, but the lack of energy left you rooted in place, unable to summon the will to move.

You attempted to swallow, hoping to dispel the lump in your throat, and were startled when you felt a vibration from your phone. Glancing at the screen, you noticed it was a message from Nick.

Check in with me soon. Want to see how you’re getting on

Your thumbs hesitated over the keyboard, your mind devoid of any thoughts except those consumed by the current predicament. The panic in your chest felt like it could explode at any moment.

You locked your phone, shoving it into your pocket, taking several deep breaths but not before you were interrupted.

"You alright, darlin’?” Your breath hitched in its throat. Now there was zero denying if it was or wasn't him. Nobody else has ever called you that.

Anger quickly consumed you.

"Still a prick, I take it?" Your jaw ticked as you responded through gritted teeth. You hated that nickname.

Ignoring your remark, he nonchalantly picks up a cup, pouring its contents without a care. "What brings an old friend here?"

"Is that what we are? Is that what we ever were?" You ask, reminiscent of the unpleasant past. You finally look up to meet him, his eyes narrow as if he’s scrutinising you, but he’s not.

He’s merely staring.

"You didn't come all this way to start on me now, did ya?" The flatness in his voice evident.

"You certainly make it easy." You retort.

He smirked, "you’re certainly just as charming."

You roll your eyes, deciding he wasn't worth the time you were losing when you could instead be working or being around people you actually tolerated.

But before you can, he unexpectedly grabs your hand, his grip a lot stronger than what you remember. You tightened your lips, holding back any remark that might draw unwanted attention.

"Why are you acting like that, darlin’?" His question came in a near-whisper, laced with a hint of.. disappointment?

"Like what?" You murmured, meeting his gaze.

His eyes wander, trying to pinpoint the look in yours, "like you hate me."

Observing his face for a moment, you chuckle bitterly. Your phone was buzzing continuously, it must be Nick, you thought.

"Because I do, asshole." With that, you yanked your hand away, turning to leave as you grabbed your phone out of your jacket pocket to pick up Nick’s call.

...

Part 3

Masterlist

Taglist: @landosgirlxoxo @sltwins @dutifullyannoyingfox @moonayu @mrsmaybank13 @queenofmanydreams @chonkybonky @urmotheris @ananyasr1bughead @alliwantisadonut @daisysnhl @writingworlds @leclercsluv @tylerstacobell @booksandflowrs @kissesandmartinis @starssfall

#formula one #f1 #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Golden Ratio - Part One

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Derogatory language, angst, mentions of parental death, mentions of infidelity. Word count: ~4.5k

Chapter summary: Her relationship strains under the pressure of long distance, though she has her classmate, Michael, to help distract from the worst of it. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @assortedseaglass. No tag list. Please follow @ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She is sweaty and exasperated as she drags her suitcase over the cobbles of Holywell Street. One of the already precariously wonky wheels had finally given up the ghost and broken off as she’d dragged it up the stairs of Oxford train station, making the fifteen minute walk to her accommodation more tiring than it needed to be.

But she was here, finally. Oxford University.

Her dad had sold the car to make sure she had money to live on until her student loan and maintenance grant had been paid to her. He didn’t want her taking a part time job to make ends meet, she’d worked hard to earn her place here, her focus should be on her studies. Coming from a low income family meant she had qualified for the maximum amount for both maintenance loan and grant, but her first set of application forms had been misplaced by Student Finance, so she’d had to send in a second set, meaning there would be a delay with her first payment.

An unfortunate consequence of her dad not having a car is that she’d had to get the train to London Victoria, a tube to Paddington, then another train to Oxford. But it is not the fact that she is seemingly the only student whose parents aren’t obstructing the pavements with their cars in order to drop them off that makes her feel like an outcast, there is something deeper, more sinister feeling.

She sees it as she struggles to get her bag across the lawn of the Halls, people grouped in little clusters, as though they’ve been friends forever. They dress in Juicy Couture velour tracksuit bottoms and brand name Ugg Boots, while she wears her mum’s old Dr. Martens and a tartan skirt she’d bought in a charity shop for one pound fifty. She doesn’t fit in. She feels she may as well wear the word “poor” across her forehead like a scarlet letter.

Having checked in at the Porters’ Lodge and been given directions to the accommodation, it’s lonely as she unpacks her things, her room feeling empty and quiet. The only sounds are muffled talking and laughter coming through the closed window from outside. She feels lonelier still when she pulls out the framed photo of her and Rich. They’re both smiling, his arms wrapped around her waist as she leans her head against his. It had felt like their relationship would last forever when that picture was taken. That seemed like much less of a possibility over the last couple of weeks.

She had met Rich at the beginning of sixth form. Having attended Chatham Grammar School for Girls, she had decided to stay on there to do her A levels. The mathematics department was decent, and she had heard Russell Group universities were more likely to consider applications that came from grammar schools. Rich had transferred over from Robert Napier School. Where she was shy, quiet and reserved, he was lively, outgoing and sociable. His zest for life had shone a bright light on an existence that was, for her, otherwise dull and grey.

They were an unlikely pairing. She was logical, analytical and studied maths and physics. Rich was creative, free spirited and guided by emotion. He studied art and music. They had been together for two years and she had thought he was the one. But then it came time for UCAS applications, and where she had applied to Oxford, Cambridge and York, Rich had applied to Leeds, Brighton and Glasgow. It seemed that no matter where they were accepted, they were destined to be apart.

When she had received an unconditional offer from Oxford she had been elated, however, the crushing devastation upon hearing Rich had been accepted into The Glasgow School of Art with a conditional offer had quickly dulled her excitement.

She had never felt like an outsider or a loner when she was with Rich. Basking in his sunny disposition had felt effortless, she never felt alone. He was going to take all of that away, and she was unsure of how to cope with it.

“We’ll make it work long distance, don’t worry,” he’d told her, and she’d believed him.

But then he had actually gone to Glasgow. Fresher’s week in Glasgow started a week earlier than it did in Oxford, so Rich had moved away first. It didn’t take long for the texts and phone calls to dry up into nothing. She had heard from him once in the last few days.

She sighs as she slides up the screen of her beaten up Nokia. Still nothing. She had text to let him know she was leaving for Oxford today and he couldn’t even be bothered to reply. She knows it’s his first week at university and he’s likely busy and having fun, but how was long distance going to work if they never actually spoke to each other?

Despite the loftiness of the dining hall, it feels stuffy as she moves through it later that evening, taking a seat at a long table crowded with other students. She had hoped that the Fresher’s welcome dinner would be an opportunity to make friends, but everyone seems to be deep in conversation already. The chatter hums loudly like white noise, until it comes to a sudden stop.

“FUCKIN’ ASK ME A SUM THEN!”

She turns, mouth agape, to look at the pair of boys sitting a few places up from her. One is darked haired and seems nervous and uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly in his seat. The other is blonde, an angry, intense expression on his face, shadows cast across it from the lamplight on the table, as he stares in wide eyed anticipation. It was him who had shouted, clearly.

“Four hundred and twenty three times seventy eight,” the dark haired boy asks quietly.

Instantly his friend replies, without missing a beat, “thirty two thousand, nine hundred and ninety four.”

Involuntarily her eyes widen in surprise. She sits there and does the calculation in her head, though much more slowly than he had. 

Carry the two, eight times two is sixteen, plus two is eighteen, carry the one…he’s right. How is it possible that he came to that answer so quickly?

When her gaze lifts he is looking at her, observing her doing the working out in her head. He holds her stare, a smirk curving the corners of his mouth. He knows she knows he is right, and it’s clear he feels smug about it.

Quickly looking away, she reaches for her water glass, wanting something, anything, to distract her. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel uneasy.

God, I hope I don’t have any classes with him.

She holds her timetable for the week in her hands as she moves her way through the corridors towards the lecture hall the following morning. The first week looks to be fairly light touch, with an introductory lecture for each of the courses; algebra, analysis, probability and statistics, geometry, dynamics and multivariable calculus. Today is the introduction to analysis, and she is excited to study under the tutelage of Professor Helen Byrne. Her research focuses on the development and analysis of mathematical and computational models that describe biomedical systems, with particular application to the growth and treatment of solid tumours, wound healing and tissue engineering. Professor Byrne is someone she has admired within the field for as long as she can remember, and she is very much looking forward to her tutorials with her.

Her excitement fades when she enters the lecture hall and immediately sees the angry guy from the previous evening.

Just my luck.

The only available seat is next to him, so she sits down, dropping her bag to the floor by her feet.

A hand extends out towards her in her peripheral vision, taking her by surprise and she turns in her seat towards it, shrinking back slightly. 

He seems utterly unperturbed by her reaction, keeping his arm extended. “I’m Michael Gavey.”

She blinks, regaining her composure as she leans forward, shaking his hand and introducing herself in return. His palm is clammy against her own, and she can still feel it there even after having let go and wiped her hand on her jeans.

“I saw you last night,” he says matter of factly, pulling his arm back and resting his elbow on the desk in front of him.

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a tight smile, nodding, “so you and your mate…is that like a party trick or something?”

“No, no party trick,” he says with a demure smile. “I’m a genius.”

She forces herself to laugh politely, assuming he’s making a joke, but she stops, her brow furrowing slightly when she sees he doesn’t share in the humour. He’s being serious.

Opening her mouth to ask a follow up question, she’s interrupted as Professor Byrne sweeps into the room. Her and Michael both face forward in their seats as she introduces herself to the class.

Over the next hour they are given an introduction to the course and what to expect in their first year, including an overview of the papers they will need to write and examinations that will be sat. She pays rapt attention, scribbling furious notes, until the lecture begins to wrap up.

“As it’s the first week, I will go easy on assignment setting,” Professor Byrne tells them all, “but there will be an assignment nonetheless.”

A loud, collective groan echoes around the lecture hall. Her and Michael are the only two not to join in.

“Now, now, settle down,” she chastises, “it’ll be fun. I’m sure you’re all aware of the Fibonacci Sequence, a series of numbers where each number is the sum of the two preceding numbers. Mathematically we can describe this as–”

She turns and scrawls xn= xn-1 + xn-2 on the chalkboard, before facing the students again.

“--I’d like you all to find an example of the Fibonacci Sequence in real life and present it back to the class during next week’s lecture. You’re to work in pairs, so buddy up, and see you all next week.”

Professor Byrne places the chalk back on the desk before striding back out of the lecture hall. The room is instantly a buzz with chatter, as people move between seats to find a partner.

She stays rooted in place, suddenly wishing Rich was here. It’s in moments like these that he flourishes, allowing her to take a backseat as he effortlessly navigates them through social interactions. Instead, she is alone and the space around her feels bigger and scarier with every moment that passes.

It’s only when she turns her head that she notices Michael has yet to move too. Gathering all the courage she can muster, she clears her throat and speaks to him.

“So…er…did you wanna partner up for this thing then?”

“I don’t like to work with others,” he says matter of factly, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” she says with a sigh, “but for this assignment we have to.”

“You’ve picked me because I’m a genius. You’ll expect me to do all the work while you get pissed with your mates.”

He fixes her with an accusatory stare, and she feels the heat of anger prickle her skin.

“Haven’t got any mates,” she mutters darkly.

He observes her for a few moments, elbow propped on the desk, jaw resting against his fist, and she fidgets self consciously in her seat. No wonder the other boy from last night had looked so uncomfortable. It feels like he’s studying her.

“Let’s go to the library,” he says simply, standing and picking up his bag.

“So, you’re a genius?” She asks, opening her notebook once they’re seated opposite each other at a table in the library, nervously tapping her pencil against the page.

“Hmm,” Michael nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, “I don’t even like maths, really. I can just…do it. Anything. In my head.”

She’s struck by how blunt he is, sucking in a breath as she considers what to say next. There is something so disarming about him, she gets the sense he’s analysing her every word and action.

“Right,” she begins, “so, er, for this assignment I was thinking about how Leonardo Fibonacci used rabbits to prove his theory. One hundred and forty four pairs of rabbits can be produced from a single pair of rabbits in a year, based on the sequence.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Michael replies with a sigh.

“What?” She asks irritably, annoyed by his dismissal.

“What are you expecting us to do, go to a pet shop and buy rabbits? We’ve only got a week to do the assignment, we need to be more practical.”

She rolls her eyes. “I was using that as an example, not saying we do that exactly! Come on then, genius, what’s your suggestion?”

“Spirals,” he says with a slight shrug. He leans across, placing the tips of his fingers on her notebook and sliding it towards himself, before picking up her pencil. “There is a special relationship between the Fibonacci numbers and the Golden Ratio, a ration that describes when a line is divided into two parts and the longer part - A - divided by the smaller part - B - is equal to the sum of A + B divided by A, which both equal one point six one eight. This is represented by the Greek letter,” he stops to scribble a φ on the pad. “The ratio of any two successive Fibonacci Numbers approximates the Golden Ratio value.” He stops again, scrawling 1.6180339887 on the page. The bigger the pair of Fibonacci numbers, the closer the approximation. From there, we can calculate what's called the golden spiral, or a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor equals the golden ratio.”

She is stunned into a silence for a moment, a combination of his audacity to simply take her belongings, and awe at the rapidity with which his mind works. Collecting herself, she blinks a few times, looking up into his eyes.

They’re so blue.

“So…er…how do you propose we present this data back to the class?”

“A simple table is sufficient, look–”

His hand moves rapidly over the page, a complete table there on the paper when he drops the pencil into the gutter of the notebook and sits back in his chair.

“We present that,” he tells her, his eyes fixed on the page. “Using the values of the sequence as the edge length of squares arranged in the table, a spiral is generated.”

She leans over, sliding the notebook back to her side of the table, marvelling silently at his work. He is fascinating to watch. He’s right, he can just do maths.

“It’s good,” she says, eye flitting up to meet his, “solid. But it’s fucking boring.”

This time it’s his turn to be annoyed. “What?” He asks, eyes narrowing.

“Everyone is going to present something like this, because it’s easy,” she explains, “Don’t you want to stand out to Professor Byrne? We should do something outside of the box.”

“Hmm. Go on then, what are you thinking?” He rests his cheek against his fist, leaning against the table as he stares at her.

She feels herself grow warm under his scrutiny.

Does he always have to be so bloody intense?

“There are loads of examples of Fibonacci numbers appearing in nature. We could look for some? Flowers, perhaps.”

“I’ve got hayfever,” Michael states simply.

She sighs.

Of course you do.

“Then we’ll get you some Piriton! Come on, there are studies that show seed heads, pinecones, fruits and vegetables all displaying spiral patterns that when counted express Fibonacci numbers. This fits perfectly with the brief of the assignment and will leave a lasting impression.”

He moves his hand away from his face, resting his arm flat on the table and quietly drumming his fingers against it for a few moments. “Alright then,” he finally concedes.

“Great,” she grins excitedly, tearing out a page from her notebook and writing on it hurriedly. “Here’s my number, so we can meet up to work on it, and also my Hotmail address, in case MSN works better for you.”

He huffs through his nose as he takes the paper from her, a soft laugh escaping him. “The countess at hotmail dot co dot uk,” he reads with amusement, “very droll.”

“Shut up,” she grins back, “I made that in secondary school. Thought it was funny.”

Back in her room that evening, she’s excited to see she has a text from Rich, finally.

Hope ur enjoying it. Having so much fun here!

She sighs, throwing her phone down on the bed side table. No kisses, not even an “I love you”. 

Watching out of the window, she sees the giggling groups of students making their way out into town, readying themselves to spend the night drinking, making friends and having fun. Just like Rich is doing, not giving her a second thought, while she stays cooped up in her room without a friend in the world.

Suspicion nags at her, so she turns on her laptop, loading up MySpace. Rich takes number one place on her top eight friends, and she clicks on his profile. It looks much the same as it always does, but she decides to snoop further, clicking into his friends list. She can see he has recently friended a girl named Sophie.

Sophie is pretty, bright pink streaks in her hair, and a nose ring. Exactly Rich’s type. Her most recently uploaded photos are of groups of people, clearly all taken during Fresher’s week. A pit forms in her stomach as she sees that in almost all of them Sophie and Rich have their arms around each other. Worse still, Rich occupies space eight in Sophie’s top friends.

She closes the browser, blinking back tears. Surely, she is just being paranoid. They’re just friends. Friends have photos together, and it was normal that he would make new ones when he went away to uni.

Opening MSN Messenger, she hovers over Rich’s username. Unsurprisingly, he’s offline, he always is these days. She smiles when an add request from [email protected] pops up. Of course he’d have Tau, the mathematical constant, in his Hotmail address. She clicks accept and he immediately appears in her online contacts. Looks like he isn’t out tonight either.

Double clicking his username, she chuckles to herself upon seeing his display picture is of Pythagoras. Such a dweeb.

“Want to work on our assignment tomorrow?” She types to him.

Barely a few seconds pass before she sees him typing back. “Yes. When?”

“We could meet at the Water Meadow at lunch time?”

“See you then.”

Straight to the point, no idle chit chat. She shakes her head and closes the messenger window, though finds herself strangely excited by the thought of seeing him tomorrow. She reasons that it’s because Michael is the closest thing she has had to a friend since arriving at Oxford.

She visits the nearby Tesco Express the following day, buying a meal deal for each of them and a packet of hayfever tablets for Michael. She has no idea of what Michael even likes, so plays it safe by buying a bottle of Oasis, a Crunchie bar and a ham and cheese sandwich for them both.

At precisely noon, Michael stands at the entrance to the Water Meadow waiting for her. She smiles as she looks at his t-shirt; maroon with a diagram of a circle on a gradient with a downwards acceleration of 9.81 meters per second, with the slogan “that’s how I roll”. A mechanics pun.

“Like your shirt,” she says as she approaches him.

He grins. “Thought you might, considering your email address.”

She averts her gaze. There is something about the fact that he’d thought of her when he’d chosen what to wear today that makes her tummy flutter.

Stop it. You’ve got Rich. Michael’s weird!

“I got you some hayfever tablets,” she tells him as they start to walk along the pathway that’s flanked by green space on either side. “Do you wanna have lunch first and then start looking for flowers?”

They settle, cross legged on the grass, Michael already having taken one of the tablets, chased with half a bottle of Oasis, and she spreads out the food between them.

She watches in fascination as his eyes widen at the sight of the Crunchie bars, snatching one up and tearing off the wrapper. Her mouth falls open slightly as she sees him hold it sideways, biting into it from the side, before devouring each of the pieces it inevitably breaks into.

“You like Crunchie bars then?” She asks, a little grossed out, but curious nonetheless.

He swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mother didn’t allow me to have sweets growing up, bad for your teeth, she said.”

She nods, a feeling over pity replacing the disgust that had roiled her stomach just seconds ago.

“So, is it your mum that pushed you into studying maths?” She asks, fiddling with the lid of her drink bottle.

“Sort of,” he says. “Mother never married, but she wanted a child. She used a sperm donor - a physicist, apparently - and was artificially inseminated to have me. She was thrilled when I showed a natural aptitude for maths, and has always encouraged me. It’s why I do it, why I accepted the scholarship, to make her proud. She’s been through so much to have me, it’s the least I owe her.”

Her face falls, a feeling of sadness overwhelming her, making her heart ache for Michael. There is something so tragic about the fact that he has lived his entire life adhering to the expectations of the person who had created him for their own selfish want of a child.

“What about you then?” He asks. “The bank of mummy and daddy paying for you to be here?”

She shakes her head. “I earned my place, just like you did, with straight As, though I don’t have a scholarship. Have had to take out loans to cover the cost. It’s just me and dad since mum passed away.”

“Oh,” Michael says, blinking rapidly, obviously surprised. “Apologies, I’d assumed a pretty girl like you would be the same as the rest of the vapid cunts studying here, if you can call it studying.”

She hums in acknowledgement, considering his words, turning her own Crunchie bar around in her fingers, focusing on the way the foil wrapper slides against her skin. His compliment makes her heart beat more rapidly, even if it is backhanded. “Like I said yesterday, I’ve got no mates. It was always Rich that was better at that sort of thing.”

“Rich?” Michael asks curiously, cocking his head.

“My boyfriend. He’s at uni in Glasgow.”

“Three hundred and sixty two point nine miles,” Michael states simply.

“Pardon?”

“That’s the distance between Oxford and Glasgow,” he explains, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “How are you planning to make a relationship work with that sort of distance?”

“We’re doing long distance,” she argues, feeling herself growing defensive, scowling at him.

“Yeah, I bet that’s gonna work out great,” he scoffs, eyes widening, clearly mocking her.

“The Glasgow School of Art was the best choice for Rich to study what he wants to,” she retorts.

A grin spreads across his face. “Art?! I suppose you should be grateful he’s hundreds of miles away then, he sounds like a moron.”

She huffs, hurriedly shoving her things back into her bag. “Let’s just look for these fucking flowers and get this over with.”

The pair work for the rest of the afternoon in silence, the atmosphere is tense and angry, but they are productive nevertheless, settling on a patch of sunflowers to use for the assignment.

They look at the spirals of seeds in the center of the sunflowers and observe patterns curving left and right. Counting these spirals, their total is a Fibonacci number. They then divide the spirals into those pointed left and right to get two consecutive Fibonacci numbers.

Cutting down a couple of sunflower heads to use as examples, Michael also makes a diagram in his notes for them to present with their findings.

She feels satisfied by the time they part ways, but an uneasy feeling has settled over her that has dread gnawing into her gut as she thinks about Michael’s criticism of her and Rich’s long distance relationship.

Unsurprised to see she has no missed calls or texts from him when she goes back to her room, she opens up her laptop and logs back onto MySpace. This time when she looks at Rich’s profile her blood runs cold as she sees that Sophie now occupies space number three in his top friends. He’d had time to log on and change the position of a girl he’d met a couple of weeks ago, but couldn’t be bothered to send her a single message?

Before she can stop herself, she’s pulling out her phone and calling his number. She doesn’t care if this wastes all of her credit, she needs answers.

It rings for ages, and she anticipates being sent to voicemail, until he eventually answers, sounding breathless and distracted.

“H-hello?”

“Rich, it’s me,” she says quietly.

There’s a pause before he answers. “Oh…how’s my little nerd? Everything okay?”

She ignores the familiarity, keeping her tone neutral. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

Not giving him an opportunity to respond, she pushes on. “Has something happened between you and this Sophie girl I’ve seen you on Myspace with?”

Another pause, except this time she hears him inhale a deep breath. “I was going to tell you when we came home for Christmas break. It felt wrong to break up with you over the phone.”

It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away, her heart twisting painfully as her vision blurs with tears. She swallows thickly, anger bubbling alongside her devastation, so that her tone is venomous when she replies “So, you were just gonna keep stringing me along for two months, so you could look like a good guy?!”

“Babe, no, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just–”

“You’re a piece of shit,” she cuts him off, “fuck you!”

She hangs up, chucking her phone down onto the bed, and immediately bursts into tears, holding her head in her hands as hot tears stream down her face, her shoulders shaking as her nose grows snotty.

Two years. Two fucking years and he’d chucked it all away for someone he’d known for two weeks.

She walks towards the sink in her room, looking into the mirror and sighing at her reflection. Her eyes are red and puffy, she looks a mess. Splashing cold water onto her face to rid herself of the worst of it, she then flops down onto her bed, opening her laptop.

Immediately she is met with her MSN chat window with Michael from the previous evening. He’s online.

Without thinking, she types out a message to him.

“Do you have any alcohol?”

Within seconds he’s typing a response.

“Would you like me to have alcohol?”

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey smut #michael gavey angst #michael gavey #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #ewan mitchell #saltburn #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fan fic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fan fic #saltburn fanfic

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

IM UNSHADOWBANNWD AH. I’ve been so excited to post this story it’s been in the works and it’s the THREE HUNDRED follower special first of all i do not deserve you guys at all thank you for all the support you show me i hope you enjoy this as much as i did hehe MUAH

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

afab reader x Pornstar! ID Leon

Warnings: Smut- just pure porn with a plot. PORNSTAR LUIS TOO HEHE.Slight (very) slight mentions of being obsessed/ watching reader, leon eats pussy (ofc he does) and fucks reader stupid.

Word count: 3,169

———-

knock knock

“What?”

Why did he sound so annoyed? Your fist stalled against the door as you paused your knocking.

“Um- Greg told me to introduce myself. Sorry if you’re busy.”

Just try and sound sweet, don’t be a pushover. You had barely just stepped onto the set, still in the clothes you wore to your psychology class. The room ran silent, your eyes reading over his name on his door continuously before it swung up, your hair moving from the gust of wind.

His arms were so toned, his hand gripping the handle of the door knob as he leaned against the door frame. Incredibly toned, his shirt off and his hair laying against his face so perfectly. His steely eyes scanned you up and down, a chuckle rumbling through his chest as he saw you holding your Psych 200 book.

“Leon.”

He mumbled as he watched you scan over his arms. He was cocky; you could tell. Before you could even introduce yourself, the door slammed in your face, your hands gripping your bag as you sighed to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief.

———

“She shot with Sera like a month ago. The video is still up on the front page too.”

Leon’s makeup artist spoke as she rubbed the beauty blender against his forehead. Leon stared at himself in the mirror; he felt terrible for slamming the door in your face. He really did. He has been in the industry for too long, and he has never had anyone come and formally introduce themselves before filming, so seeing you stand there not being able to say a complete sentence to his face just irritated him. He was also just surprised you didn’t know him; he owned this whole set, his manager is the one who makes his booking, or he definitely wouldn’t have picked you of all people.

———

After shooting with Luis, the two of you became very close friends; when you got to your small studio room, you threw your bag and book down, dialing his number on your phone as you pulled your laptop out, sitting on the desk.

“Hello?”

Luis' voice rang through your ear as you sighed in frustration, instantly communicating that something was wrong.

“He slammed a door in my face when I tried to say hi to him, Luis.. why does he have such a big ego? Sure is heavy for a man I've never even seen before.”

Your fingers typed his name into the search bar, clicking on the first link to come up as you listened to Luis ramble about how this is just how it’s going to be and how lucky you were to get him as your first shoot, your mouth ran dry seeing the cover photo of one of Leon’s hundreds of videos, his cock barely pushing into some girl, his hair covering his face so perfectly and his lips parted so slightly.

“Mama, what did I tell you? Do not google.”

Luis scolded as he listened to you close the laptop.

“I don’t know, Luis, maybe I should just leave- I have to go; makeup’s here.”

Hanging up on him because of the slight knock on the door. It must have been noticeable that you were in your head, the pretty makeup artist wiping at your cheeks with a light bronzer to grab your attention.

“You don’t need much makeup, and you’re naturally very beautiful.”

She smiles softly as she reaches for the mascara. You smile back at her as she tilts your head around.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you.”

You laugh as she turns your chair around, smiling as she pushes your hair from your face.

“Gorgeous, they want you in this. Whatever you wear under is completely up to you.”

The beautiful woman rambled as she pulled the light blue sundress from the bag, handing it to you. No matter what they said to you, you couldn’t get out of your own head.

————

The wall had a weird pattern. It wasn’t like standard white paint but was super grainy, you sat further back, watching as the director checked all of his cameras, fixing the lights, and reading over signed paperwork. They never handed you a script, though, which left you lost. Luis’ crew had a script. It was easy to remember, but maybe only Leon had one. Right when you think about him, he comes walking in from the main door, a smug smile on his face as he grabs hands to shake. If he weren’t in the industry he would make a wonderful bodyguard with broad shoulders, strong arms, and confidence. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt accompanied by a pair of dark denim jeans. It sucked; he was such an asshole, he was handsome. It suddenly made you feel so self-conscious, remembering the cover photo you had seen on your laptop. You specifically specialized in actual content, genuine emotions, and honest reactions, and the people love it. You started on your own, only fans, to be specific, and it makes you laugh out of embarrassment when it’s brought up. Your eyes follow Leon as he grabs a cup of water, leaning on the table as he talks to the makeup artist, who, for some reason, points over to you. Your eyes drop to your lap, your legs crossed as you play with the soft material of the dress. Your heart began to race as you saw his shoes directly in front of you. His presence was so heavy. Your gaze shifted up to him, his hand touching the arm of your chair.

“Sorry for slamming the door on you, I’ve had a long week, and I forgot I was shooting today.”

Hearing him talk in a complete sentence now was weird, his voice rough yet deep. You nodded your head as you shrugged.

“I can’t blame you; I would slam the door on me too.”

You smile, but it quickly drops once you notice what he said; how could he forget he has a shot? He just called you easily forgettable. Leon’s eyes trailed down to your thighs, smiling to himself as your leg bounced up and down. The two of you stood in your silence before Greg walked over towards you two, grabbing your shoulders.

“Leon, Y/N, Y/N, Leon. I know this piece of work doesn’t introduce himself for shit.”

He laughed, pointing towards the bed in the middle of the room; Leon’s eyes squinted at the minor insult before both of your eyes shifted to the bed. He had explained some shitty plan that had the two of you bored. He sighed before he looked at Leon, touching his arm.

“Just do whatever you want. Why do you pay me?”

His foot turned to walk away from you two as Leon still stared at the bed in the middle of the room. He turned back to you, putting his hand out, your eyebrow-raising in confusion up at him.

“Leon Kennedy.”

Your hand pulled from your lap, shaking at his, both of your grip on each other strong as you nodded your head.

“Just call me Y/N.”

You spoke sheepishly before he helped you up from the chair. Was he going to listen to what the director said? This was an extensive movie set, the bedroom, and then the small room apart from the bedroom that seemed to resemble a hallway.

“I know we stepped off on the wrong foot, but can you trust me? Just for the next hour?”

Leon leaned down to your ear as the two of you walked towards the hallway set. You nodded your head as the lighting changed to a darker yellow.

Leon’s head turned towards the camera as he put his hand up

“No cuts.”

He yelled out as he turned back to you.

—————-

Felt awful slamming the door on her pretty face.

Leon’s grip on the door handle grew tighter by the second as you rambled on about trying to introduce yourself. The room shook as he slammed the door, a strained groan leaving his lips as he looked down at his sweatpants. You had knocked at a horrible time, Leon’s laptop on display with your video with Luis flashing on his screen. He was obsessed with you. Obsessed with how your lips parted before you moaned or how easily sensitive you were. You didn’t need to introduce yourself. He already knew. So when he called his agent asking him to call your agent to see if you were booking, he was more than excited when they said you were open. He pumped himself for almost an hour, soft moans leaving his lips as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to think about how it would feel to have you squeezing around his cock.

———

“Action!”

Greg screamed, your eyelids heavy as you looked up at Leon. It was crazy how fast you could switch moods like that. Leon's hands were immediately all over you, pressing you into the wall by your waist as he hungrily peppered kisses against your jaw. And suddenly everything felt so much hotter? His hands dragged down your skin, and his lips burned into the soft skin of your neck, a whine leaving your lips as one of Leon’s hungry hands brought your leg to his waist.

“There you go, honey, relax for me..”

He mumbled into your skin as his hands lifted you into his arms. You were surprised at his strength as he held you with one hand, his other pushing the door open. He made you feel so small, throwing you down onto the plush mattress, your chest rising and falling as he softly nipped at your collarbones. You weren’t this nervous with Luis, your hands shaking as you pushed some hair from Leon’s face as he kissed the small space between your chest, his hands carefully rubbing up your thighs, his fingers resting against your stomach as he pushed himself down the bed. He needed more. The way you shook under him only encouraged him, his head nuzzling so perfectly between your thighs, smirking up at you as your eyes fluttered away from you, avoiding his stare. The pressure in his pants grew more intense, listening to the hiss pull through your teeth as he held onto the fabric of the sundress, licking over your pretty black panties.

“Damn..”

He grumbled as he lifted your hips, pulling the panties off you, bundling them up in his hand, and pushing them into his pocket as he moved the dress's material again. Scooting in closer to you, laying your knees over his shoulders as he looked up at you through heavy eyelids, his tongue laying a long strip over your folds. You couldn’t help but squirm in his grasp, his hands flying to your waist as you let out that shaky whine again that drove him fucking crazy. You tasted so unbelievably good on his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he hungrily lapped at your folds, pulling you closer like somebody was trying to take you from him. You were so dazed, your back arching as the cameraman squatted beside you and Leon, trying to get the perfect angle. You didn’t even care about his presence, caught up in crying out Leon's name as he repeatedly lapped at your clit, a loud whimper leaving your lips as you sat up, tugging at his hair. Leon could stay between your legs all day, but he needed more. He pulled away from your still dripping core, his face glistening with your slick as he took advantage of you sitting up, pulling the dress over your head. He couldn’t help but groan, finally seeing you bare beneath him, his hands pushing down against your chest, your back laying flat against the mattress yet again as you stared up at him, watching with sparkling eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was sculpted so beautifully.. and it hit you, this is why he’s so popular, he’s a walking god.

“Been waiting on this part all fucking day..”

Leon’s lips parted as he yanked his jeans down, along with his boxers. He let out a sigh of relief as his cock pressed against his upper stomach, his hand reaching down to pump himself as he kicked his jeans off. And suddenly you felt like that girl on the cover of the video you saw, Leon’s hair sprawling perfectly against his face as he leans his body down, tearing your thighs open as his thumb lazily rubs small circles against your clit, smirking as you jolt forward. He continued to pump himself as he reached over, grabbing at the baby pink silk pillow at the edge of the bed before he shoved it under your hips. What a gentleman… you thought to yourself before your thighs were pressing together at the feeling of his cock pressing into you. He was so thick, your walls having a hard time adjusting to even just the tip of him. Leon’s lips pressed together as he let out a quiet “fuck..” His hands holding your legs open as he put more pressure on your clit, your core growing soaked again assisting him in sliding so perfectly into you. If he weren’t getting paid for this, he would’ve just came then and there, watching your pretty face scrunch up in painful pleasure, your legs kicking in his grasp slightly, and your painfully tight walls squeezing him.

“Fuck.. relax, baby, let me in.”

Leon whispered to you as you nodded your head, allowing your hips to rest against the pillow as he cooed down at you, leaning down against your much smaller form and forcing your legs over his broad shoulder. His thumb is still rubbing at your clit to ease the pain of him stretching you out. Leon’s jaw tightens as he pulls his hips back, letting out a shaky breath as he slams back into you, smiling as the small “Mmph!-“ Left your throat involuntarily. So fucking precious. Your soft thighs brushed against his chest as he fucked into you, his body weight lifting off you as he grabbed your ankles, staring down at where he pushed into you. Even the director looked surprised as Leon let out a long moan. It rumbled through his chest as he continued to fuck into you, your hands grabbing at the bed sheets. Leon mumbled a few words to himself before he grabbed at your body, flipping you on to your side as he threw the pillow to to other side of the room. He crawled behind you, lifting your leg before he pushed into you again, causing you to let out a loud whine, your head leaning back into his shoulder as his thrusts somehow became deeper- more meaningful. Leon reached over, pushing some hair from your face as he looked down at you.

“Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.”

His lips touch the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. You were in bliss; he rubbed against your walls so perfectly it felt like your skin was on fire. Your eyes fluttered open, looking at the camera hazily. Leon shook his head, grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him.

“Don’t look at them.. look at me… it’s just you and me right now, baby, just you and me.”

He groaned down to you as a loud cry of pleasure left your lips in response, your orgasm crashing through you. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to him as his hips snapped into you faster.

“That's a good fucking girl- mm.. fuck keep squeezing around me like that, honey..”

Leon felt his hips stuttering as he looked down at you, fucked out in his arms. A shaky moan left his lips as his hips stopped, his cum spurting into you, causing loud cries to leave your lips. Leon laid out of breath before he pulled out of you, smirking as he tilted his head at the cameraman to bring him in closer as he spread your lips, his fingers spreading your folds as his cum dripped out of you, the biggest smirk on his face.

“Cut!”

Was all you heard as the bed dipped beside you, your body still trying to recover as you sat up, your hair messy and your mascara running down the side of your face as Leon laughed, looking over at you.

“You okay, sugar?”

He asked sweetly as he grabbed a water, opening it before handing it to you, pushing some hair from your face as you took a small sip.

“Yeah.. just was a lot.”

You nod as he watches you; he clears his throat, handing you the sundress from the ground as he stands, pulling his pants up.

“Listen. I know you don’t know me, but, are you busy tonight? Let me take you out for dinner.”

He wasn’t asking; it was more of him letting you know he was. Your arms go through the holes before you look at him, nodding your head.

———-

You were the current talk of the industry.

Everyone was so curious how you broke Leon, making him utterly different from any video he’s ever shot.

Your face scrunches as you look at yours and Leon’s page on the front cover of the site, that smirk on his face as he spreads apart your folds. Your knee is pressed to your chest as you scroll through the comments, flinching slightly as you feel pressure at the top of your head.

“Morning.”

Leon grumbles as he sips his coffee after kissing the top of your head. His eyes follow yours, seeing the “uploaded two months ago” in the corner as he whistled

“Gonna win awards for that one.”

He winks at you, your arm swinging at him before you shut the laptop on the table.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #luis sera smut #yourgentlegf #leon infinite darkness

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-It Friday Coda

Here is my 7x01 coda that I'm also counting for Fuck-It Friday! So thank you for the tags @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @jesuisici33 and @diazsdimples! Posted to ao3 here.

“How the talk with Chris go? He still seeing being a two timer?” Marisol asks with a sly smile.

Eddie blows out a harsh breath, “There wasn’t much of a talk on my end.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “Oh? You just letting him work it on his own?”

He shakes his head, “Oh god no. That would have just made an even bigger mess.” Eddie has to look away from his girlfriend as he admits, “Actually I asked Buck to talk to him. He has some um... experience with the whole ‘player’ thing.”

Marisol’s wine glass smacks loudly on the coffee table in the silence that follows, and Eddie barely holds back a wince. Still, he doesn’t look at her. He never does when speaking about Buck.

“You had your newly single best male friend, with a history of getting around, talk to your son about not doing the exact same thing?” Marisol sound appalled and it has Eddie whipping around to see her actual reaction. His girlfriend looked upset and disgusted? What is that about?

“Um, yea. Buck has the insight into all of that and he’s reformed and all that.” Eddie tries defending.

She scoffs, “Reformed? Didn’t he just break up with his last girlfriend because he got bored.”

Well, that was a very poor recount of events that had already been poorly told by Buck and Eddie felt the low simmer of burgeoning anger, “Buck did not get bored. He was trying to live, move on from his death, and all that woman was doing, was being a constant reminder of it.”

The anger rises at Marisol rolling her eyes, “Like I said, bored. But that’s not really the point here.”

He grinds his back molars, “What is the point then, in your opinion?”

She narrows her eyes at his tone, “The point is Christopher isn’t going to learn to respect women, be a courteous young man by talking to a man whose disastrous dating history is printed in a best-selling book by someone from said history. He’s Christopher’s fun friend, the guy he goes to when he doesn’t want to get in trouble and you’re feeding into it.”

Eddie slams his beer to the coffee table, making Marisol’s almost empty wine glass wobble from the force, and rises his feet, “After me, Buck is one of the most important people in Christopher’s life. You have not a single understanding of what they are to each other, what they have been through. What Buck has personally been through. He is not some womanizing asshole corrupting my son. He is Christopher’s best friend; my best friend, and the person I know I can turn to when I need help with Christopher. With anything.”

Marisol rises to her feet, “And you’re allowing him to continue take up the space I am trying to get into. I thought we we’re getting somewhere when you invited me to chaperon Chris’s date with you, when you opened up about your worries about him. But instead of letting me try to help you ran to a person you can’t bring up without looking away.”

He immediately proves her point and puts his gaze on the fireplace mantle, eyes roaming over every photo. There several of just him and his son, pre-LA to just last year before Christopher’s school dance. There are pictures of their family back in Texas and the entirety of the 118. Then there are photos with Buck. Christopher and Buck at the zoo. The trio of them at the mall fountain. Eddie’s graduation. Christopher’s 10th birthday. And second to last, Eddie and Buck, arms around each other’s shoulders at Hen and Karen’s vow renewal. At the end of all those photos sits the last family picture of Eddie, Christopher, and Shannon took at the beach.

Eddie thinks back on the picture Christopher turned down on his desk and the letter he almost didn’t read. He thinks about how his first instinct was to turn to Buck and not the girlfriend who witnessed Christopher’s player antics, someone who could give insight on how those girls felt. And then he realizes, Christopher wouldn’t have opened up about his mother to anyone, but Buck.

That space Marisol is trying to fit herself into, is too large, too broad, and perfectly Buck shaped.  She would never fit.

With a sense of déjà vu, Eddie drops his gaze to floor and softly states, “I think you should go.”

💜🩷💜🩷

Wine glass rinsed out, beer bottle in the recycling, and a reusable tote bag just barely filled with Marisol’s few items left at his house sat near the door, Eddie relaxes back into his couch.

Marisol put up a lack-luster fight to leaving, but eventually she drowned the last of her wine and called an uber. “He’s not going stick around forever. He’s going to break both yours and Christopher’s hearts.” She warned, “And you’ll be just as alone as you were in the hardware store.”

Eddie held back a harsh retort and simply told her, “I haven’t been alone since I met him and I never will be if either one of us has a say about it.”

He opened the door, Marisol got into a little gray sedan, and she went back to the home Eddie helped destroy.

Picking up his phone from the coffee table, Eddie pulls up his contact favorites, smirking humorously at Marisol’s missing name, and presses the person at the very top. It rings twice, before, “Hey man, thought it was date night?”

“Asked her to go home.” Eddie replies.

Silence on the other end for a just a moment then, “Man, you really need to find a better way to break up with women.” Buck teases.

Eddie chuckles, “Well at least there was no mess to clean up this time.”

Buck hums in agreement before softly asking, “You doing okay?”

Not a single lie passed his lips when he answered, “More than. But you know what would help?”

“What?”

“Go-karts in the dessert.”

A laugh that makes Eddie feel warm all over, “It’s a date.”

Hope you all enjoyed! Tagging (no pressure): @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @fortheloveofbuddie @rogerzsteven @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @buck-coded @devirnis @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @cal-daisies-and-briars @aroeddiediaz @hippolotamus @sunshinediaz @watchyourbuck @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @bekkachaos @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @eddiiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @perfectlysunny02 @dangerpronebuddie @missmagooglie

#fuck it friday #tag game #coda fic #7x01 #my fic #911 abc #911 spoilers #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #shannon diaz #marisol #anti marisol #break up #buck is christopher’s other dad

[snorlaxlovesme]

alright everybody, it's time we talked about Hostage. (buckle up because this is going to be long, but it'll be worth it)

season 2 episode 8 of Link Click was one of the most confounding episodes in the entire season while airing. starting with Lu Guang's insane boat crash/martial arts smackdown rescue of Cheng Xiaoshi and ending with Cheng Xiaoshi diving into a photo to possess Lu Guang to get answers for his actions, from start to finish it was a wild ass ride where we, the fandom, AND the characters spent the whole time questioning Lu Guang and his motives

and...puzzlingly... didn't really get an answers by the end of the season

Lu Guang wasn't granted any post-climax time to explain what happened that day from his perspective, and while Cheng Xiaoshi was possessing him he didn't get any answers because he literally WAS Lu Guang, just doing whatever the hell he thought he needed to do.

the thing about Hostage that has always felt extremely off to me, is that we DO get explanations for Lu Guang's actions during the episode, but they're from people wholly unqualified to be giving them.

Captain Xiao finds Lu Guang's phone, hidden in a folded towel, and concludes that Lu Guang had left them clues. Qiao Ling, after seeing that Lu Guang had taken a photo that night, came to the conclusion that Cheng Xiaoshi must have been the one possessing Lu Guang during his deranged rescue plan at the pier, seeing as Lu Guang wasn't an adept fighter at the dojo and he was acting extremely impulsive. She even goes so far to say, later in the episode, that Cheng Xiaoshi HAS to dive into the photo, because it's already happened, and needs to follow Lu Guang's words to not change the timeline.

all of these assumptions, to me, are horseshit

I refuse to listen to ANYTHING Captain Xiao says. one, because he simply does not know these kids and should not be making assumptions about them, and two he is in fact the worst cop in the world. and Qiao Ling, bless her heart, has only found out how their powers work mere DAYS ago and doesn't understand the nuances of them at all

so I'm gonna debunk all that nonsense and explain to you what Lu Guang's REAL actions were that night, and what was up with that cryptic photo he took

now you might be thinking, Kelly, you're not even starting in the right place, because those weren't Lu Guang's actions, they were always Cheng Xiaoshi's, just in Lu Guang's body!

FALSE. on two counts! we have evidence of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi performing the act of escaping the hospital differently. Lu Guang does not use the kettle to break the window to distract the cops. we're not sure what he uses, but that kettle is still there.

Lu Guang also places his phone face down in the towel

while Cheng Xiaoshi places it faceup

so by the end of the episode we have literal, physical evidence that these two performed this timeline differently, and therefore it was not "Cheng Xiaoshi the whole time" like Qiao Ling tried to misinform us to believe. i also have another Big Brain post [x] that explains why Lu Guang being an impulsive, supposedly "good" fighter during that pier rescue scene are both in-character for him.

(and if we wanna get really nitpicky about how an injured Lu Guang could have raced across town in his condition, i simply believe that Lu Guang was smarter about it that Cheng Xiaoshi, and probably took a bus or cab. Cheng Xiaoshi, pure of heart and dumb of ass, ran because HE physically could while inhabiting Lu Guang's body. our injured catboy did not sprint across town while holding his organs in place)

so if we already have all this cold, hard evidence stating that Lu Guang really is THAT bitch and did all that shit on his own, what the hell is my problem? why can I not let this episode go?

BECAUSE I WANNA KNOW WHY LU GUANG TOOK THAT PHOTO

Captain Useless seems to think that Lu Guang took that photo as some sort of helpful clue left behind for the gang

but what, pray tell, was this photo supposed to tell us without someone with Lu Guang's powers there to interpret it? without Lu Guang to tell him what to do, Cheng Xiaoshi left to his own devices knows just as much as himself as he does possessing Lu Guang

and, the bigger question, is if this was supposed to be some sort of almighty clue for the gang, why did he not text this photo to either Qiao Ling or Cheng Xiaoshi before escaping the hospital? he took the time to text Qiao Ling the location of the boat, did he not? why not the photo too? seems like a crappy way to clue someone in, to take a photo and save it on your password protected phone that you just went out of your way to hide from plain sight

because that's the thing! after the season finale we discover that Lu Guang's password is literally a reminder of his dive, or even more specifically, a reminder of his trauma. we KNOW that he didn't share his password with Cheng Xiaoshi, he just just happened to figure it out on his own

so tell me how Lu Guang expected this trauma-password protected phone, with it's one singular picture, to get in the hands of Cheng Xiaoshi, hmm? riddle me THAT

so we've established by now that 1. Lu Guang's actions in the beginning of episode 8 were indeed his own and 2. that photo was never meant to be seen by Cheng Xiaoshi, who shouldn't have known Lu Guang's passcode

given the trauma-passcode, we have to believe that the only person ever meant to see this photo was Lu Guang. i've made ANOTHER post previously [x] stating that Lu Guang might have used his powers in a way we haven't known possible, by taking a photo and using his Blue Eyes White Dragon powers to see 12 hours into the immediate future

plausible, but not what i'm about to propose now.

because I think Lu Guang took that photo as a contingency plan

listen, the only person who had ANY credentials to theorize what Lu Guang was up to that night was his trusted partner. while Qiao Ling and Captain Xiao spouted their nonsense theories, Cheng Xiaoshi said the only smart thing that entire brainstorming session

and I think Cheng Xiaoshi was right. he wasn't wrong in assuming this photo was a Save Point of sorts, the only thing he was wrong about was who would be using it

the only other person in this show capable of diving into a photo, we find out during the finale, is Lu Guang

we also find out in the finale that powers are transferrable, and it looks like they transfer when the owner of that power dies in someone else's arms

Lu Guang took that photo that night NOT for Cheng Xiaoshi to find and use, but for LU GUANG himself to use. i believe Lu Guang firmly believed that Cheng Xiaoshi was to die that night, and he would do everything in his power to make sure he had a chance to change it again if he needed to.

that meant:

1.taking a photo on his phone as a Save Point.

2. hiding his phone in the hospital bathroom so it could not be taken from him or busted later in the night. and

3. racing to where he knew Cheng Xiaoshi would be, so he could either

4. a.) rescue him, or b.) ensure that during CXS's death, the diving power was transferred back to him so he could do the night over again.

Lu Guang took that photo as contingency plan to save Cheng Xiaoshi's life should he get killed that night.

but that plan was botched when Cheng Xiaoshi used it instead to possess Lu Guang, because each photo can only be used once.

which might also explain why Lu Guang was SO DISTRAUGHT when Cheng Xiaoshi was shot

they had deleted all their photos earlier that week to prevent the twins from possessing them remotely

that was the last photo Lu Guang had taken. the ONLY photo on his phone. if Cheng Xiaoshi died that night, there would have been no Save Point to return to

#link click #cheng xiaoshi #lu guang #shi guang dai li ren #this is such a long post but i truly do believe i'm onto something here #no i do not know how Lu Guang OR Cheng Xiaoshi hotwired a boat tho #i'll have to believe that's somehow a sidehobby they both share

[jokeroutsubs]

ENG translation: If we believed that we were "kings", that wouldn't be us

An interview with Bojan Cvjetićanin for Slovenian newspaper Delo, originally published on 24.12.2023. Audio version by IG GBoleyn123

Original article is available here for Delo subscribers. Original article written by Lucijan Zalokar for Delo; photos by Jože Suhadolnik; English translation by a member of Joker Out Subs, native proof reading by IG GBoleyn123.

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post! And if you repost the photos, do not crop out the photographer credit.

With Bojan Cvjetićanin about the international breakthrough of Joker Out, the movie Kaj pa Ester?, about life on the road, football, sociology…

I met up with Bojan Cvjetićanin in Ljubljana's Stegne industrial zone, where the members of the popular pop rock (in their jargon: shagadelic rock'n'roll) group Joker Out created a rehearsal space for themselves two years ago. "Lately we've been on the road a lot, but this is still a great second home. If only you knew about the parties that happened here. There were fifty people dancing downstairs," he proudly looked from a small gallery towards the space that measures approximately thirty square metres. Even though the clock had just struck three in the afternoon, the 24-year-old Ljubljana resident had a long day behind him, which had been entirely dedicated to media obligations.

In journalistic circles, we often hear indignation about how modern day influencers - especially those who had gained their influence on social media - have no books on their shelves. Joker Out are first and foremost musicians, of course, but with 150,000 followers (Bojan's personal profile has 190,000) on Instagram, we can count them among the big Slovenian influencers. And there are plenty of books on their shelves.

I don't want to falsely portray the popular fivesome as enlightened donors to the Slovenian literary market: most of the books resemble those you can buy for little money in second-hand bookshops, or even get for free at library write-offs, but they still deserve praise for both the aesthetic sense and the content.

I also don't want to falsely portray the books as the only notable objects in the rehearsal space. There are also the golden plate for the Eurovision single Carpe Diem, which got over two million streams in Finland, a transfusion bag (Rh-) that Tomi Meglič¹, Cvjetićanin's biggest teenage idol, personally brought to them, and a small shop's worth of props given to them by fans: pillows with hand-embroidered patterns, plushies, bras with Instagram accounts written on them, various sweets, you could even find a vinyl from a Soviet cover band of The Beatles. If things continue like that, they soon won't have any space left for instruments, but those are just sweet worries. Joker Out, who were formed in 2016, are currently conquering Europe in a way that the Slovenian music scene has never seen before.

¹frontman of Siddharta, whose third album was called Rh-

I've heard that you approach your job with the utmost professionalism and that you wake up at five in the morning for media obligations.

That's true, today we started early in the morning in Maribor. The first few hours were the most tiring because we were constantly changing locations and driving around the city. After the third or fourth activity, we relaxed a little because we got to the studio. After that, everyone started coming to us instead of the other way around.

Slovenian cinemas have started playing the movie Kaj pa Ester? in which you play a boy who enrolled in high school just to get close to his ex girlfriend again. Did you have any problems with trying to get into the high school mentality?

We filmed the movie two years ago, when my memories of high school were much more fresh than they are today. But on the other hand, I played a boy who had just finished the ninth grade of primary school, so I had to put myself into the shoes of a primary school kid, which is much harder. We're also pretty different personality-wise. But almost the entire cast was around the same age, so too old. We joked about that a lot during filming.

Still, that's nothing unusual in the movie world.

Of course, there are 35-year-olds starring in High School Musical and no one is complaining.

Could you draw any parallels between a musical stage performance and filming a movie? You have to play a kind of role during a concert too...

I have to admit that it's completely different. On stage, I never feel like I'm performing. Of course I am actually performing, but I'm still in the role of myself, Bojan, whereas in the movie, I'm someone completely different. It might be easier to compare filming a movie with recording music in the studio, but there are big differences there as well. The biggest one is that for a movie, the director has the main and the final say. You have to trust him. When you film a scene, you don't even see what you've filmed for a long time. The movie in which I play one of the main roles will be played in cinemas, and I don't even know what I will look like on the big screen. It's different with music, because us authors listen to the songs a hundred times, a thousand times; we're the ones who make all the final decisions. That's quite a mental leap, but I didn't have too many problems with it, because I knew the previous projects of that team. V dvoje ('In a tandem') is my favourite Slovenian TV series. On the other hand, I needed time to get used to this new method of working. If I asked to see the scene we'd filmed one more time, but the director said it was good, we kept filming without hesitation.

You said that on stage, you are always in the role of yourself. Does the nature of that role change from concert to concert? And what influences it? The audience, the outfit…

The outfit has an influence for sure. More than I initially thought. Lately we've been playing with our stage look a lot and looking for the right combination. I currently find that the outfit suits me very well, it's just the shoes that bother me because they're too rigid. I have to change them. They're huge and massive, which makes me feel like I'm clumsily marching around the stage, whereas during rehearsals I wear sneakers and I'm therefore a lot more in the mood for dancing.

What about the language you sing in? Many people say that they feel as if by switching between different languages, they are also switching between their personalities.

I agree. When you change the language, your voice has a different colour and register, you come up with different jokes than in your mother tongue. If I lead a concert in Slovenian, Serbian, or English, I'm a different dude every time. This is also influenced by my notion that each time, I'm performing for a different group of people who are connected by a certain mentality. In Slovenia, I'm performing as a local for locals, and I feel like there are different "game rules" than for example in Croatia or Serbia. Elsewhere, I feel like I don't even think about this.

How did you get the idea to start creating and singing in English? You already broke through internationally with Slovenian.

Us creating in foreign languages isn't so much a result of wanting to break through internationally and the mentality that only English ensures global success. If we thought that way, we wouldn't have gone to Eurovision with a Slovenian song. We're primarily driven by a desire to learn new things, to push the boundaries... In the studio, it's similar to being on the stage. If you change the language, you're not only a different person on stage, but also inside your head. Your creativity is different. Playing with languages is actually also playing with your own creativity, because you enter a different space, a different mentality. The song Sunny Side of London could not have been made if we hadn't mentally transported ourselves to an English-speaking space. We want many more projects like that, not necessarily in English.

Can you be more specific? What kind of mentality do you associate Sunny Side of London with?

That song is a sort of homage to all the people who have suddenly become part of our story. Sunny Side of London has nothing to do with London as such. I was looking for a name of a well-known place with which to name all our concerts, and I decided on London.

The first time I said the words Are you guys real? – Is this really happening, are you really here and singing our songs? – on the stage, certain English phrases snuck into my mind. What the hell is going on? and so on. We also experienced, for the first time, foreigners coming up to us and talking about their own experiences connected to our music. That was something completely new for us. We listened to all those stories in English, as our fans of course can't speak Slovenian, even though they can sing our Slovenian lyrics. Sunny Side of London therefore emerged as a collection of all the experiences and stories that fans told us after gigs.

You've already touched on fans who sing your lyrics by heart from Finland to Spain. Could you highlight the nation with the best ear for the Slovenian language?

On the latest tour, when we visited Lithuania, Poland, Czechia and Croatia, there were moments when I felt like I was singing in Slovenia. In Prague, I filmed the audience singing Umazane misli without me. As if I were in Križanke, for example. But it's even more fascinating that people sing well in England and Nordic countries too. It's understandable that our Slavic brothers have the best ear for Slovenian, but northerners aren't far off either.

How much of your international success do you attribute to the Eurovision performance?

A huge amount.

If you had to express it in a percentage?

99.9.

Really?

Definitely. It was an incredible catapult. Whenever I ask the audience at our international concerts if anyone was already with us before Eurovision, a few hands shoot up every time, but those are rare exceptions.

How do you explain the fact that you finished in the relatively humble 21st place in Liverpool, but your visibility still grew in leaps and bounds?

We were very, very, very dedicated to the Eurovision project. We put a lot of time and energy into demonstrating to the people who were open to it that we weren't just a three-minute performance, but very much an existing band that has made many songs and that lives on stage. With time, and of course in connection with the Eurovision performance, more and more listeners got to know that. We clearly showed them: we are here, we are real, try it, connect with us.

Because they had so much different content available, this actually happened. I think it was also because they saw that Joker Out really was made out of five completely regular dudes from Slovenia who live a totally normal life, and at the same time we make music and have a great time doing it. That is already a slight deviation from what's been happening recently, when we're being bombarded from all sides by messages that we need to distance ourselves from each other, that we have to hate each other...

That was the sociologist in you talking.

That's true. The atmosphere in society nowadays is such that it emphasises individuality more than building a team. Young people, however, need and want to be part of a community. And we offered them that chance.

Where does your interest in social sciences come from? Your father is a gynecologist, your mother a pediatrician, and you have a degree in sociology.

I had a very good professor in high school. If you wanted to listen to him, he offered a lot of knowledge. Even though sociologists often think about society in an abstract way, the subject always felt tangible to me. I recognised it in very concrete life situations that I was trying to understand. At my final exams, I did a great job with sociology with very little effort – and then made a mistake and enrolled in economics. I wavered between those two options from the start, and in the end, what tipped the scales were the warnings of many people I knew that sociology doesn't have good employment prospects. I gave in to the pressure and very quickly realised I had made the wrong decision. I gave up on economics after the first semester. That was when I seriously threw myself into the band, we made Gola, and then I transferred to sociology and there was happiness all around.

You clearly won't work as a sociologist for a while yet, if ever...

But I am a sociologist.

In your soul?

No, as my profession. Us musicians are sociologists. A lot of sociological terms could easily be transferred into our environment. Locale, for example. In third year, the professor asked me several times: Well, Cvjetićanin, if you have a concert, is that locale or something else? And then I said it was locale and started rambling on. (laughter)

So you are a singing sociologist?

Exactly.

How do you explain the success of Joker Out from a sociological point of view? How do your songs address the zeitgeist?

I write the lyrics exclusively based on stories that really happened. Not necessarily to me, but to people I love. Therefore, I have a strong emotional relationship with the subject matter. My opinion is that there will always be people who will connect with the story if it's real. Because it's easiest for us to connect with real emotions. Our songs are love songs, they talk about finding yourself and personal growth, some are socially critical... I think that I have managed to find the right balance between being direct and being poetic.

I'll word it differently. The Beatles already sang about love and personal growth. And they weren't the first ones by far. Later on, those same themes were covered by hundreds of successful bands and an infinite number of slightly less successful ones.

I think that nowadays, we most often associate societal changes with technological development. Technological advances largely dictate the rhythm of our life. But those advances are mostly just a substitute for something that already existed in the past. The basic emotions have therefore certainly stayed the same. Love, fear, hatred... I think that the use of language is very important here. Even though the emotions don't change, the way we put them into words does. In music, too. I don't sing about a topic the same way my peers would have in the 1970s. Consequentially, our relationship with emotions is changing and evolving as well. As if our entire society is gravitating towards the point of holding the belief that it's better for an individual to feel less and less, and in a more and more censored way.

On the one hand, excessive use of social media and other media causes us to feel like distinct individuals. On the other hand, it connects us to the world and places us into a very wide picture. In every moment, we are only a click away from becoming cosmopolitan and being able to access all the information, events, and people, but at the same time, that's exactly what reminds us that we are a small and actually not very important dot on this planet. The magnitude of everything that's constantly available to us makes us feel small. I think that we mostly listen to, watch, and use those who manage to poke the spot that unnerves people the most in this context. If performers manage to break through the firewall of someone's VPN, then those people will also show their interest in an analogue way. Otherwise, they will only be a swipe away.

And now a question that's more psychological than sociological: do you ever try to get into the heads of the people who time and again show their interest in very analogue ways?

I have an infinite appreciation for their dedication, because for myself, I don't see the chance of a phenomenon exciting me so much that I would be ready to dedicate so much time and love to it.

So you've never been a very hardcore fan?

If, at twelve years old, I had to highlight one musicians that I would've wanted to meet more than anyone in the world, that would definitely have been Tomi Meglič. That hasn't changed to this day. The only difference is that we meet up with Tomi and we're friends. I still feel the highest possible level of respect for him. Every time he calls me, I am extremely proud of myself. But I still cannot imagine going to, say, Berlin tomorrow if Siddharta were playing there and I had a free day. I'd go to Maribor or Zagreb, but absolutely not across all of Europe the way the biggest fans do. Not even at twelve. I could sooner imagine that at that age, a football match rather than a concert would be the thing that excited me beyond all reason.

We're probably talking about two groups of celebrities that get worshipped as deities by the masses in Western society: footballers and pop and rock musicians. And this is probably linked to emotions again.

True. The thing that wakes up a person's sense of smell, sight, and all other emotions that overcame them as a child, is what has the best possibility of succeeding.

Now please explain how this is connected to football.

If I go to a concert by Siddharta, Big Foot Mama, Magnifico, I turn into a ten-year-old kid who will explode from happiness. There's no Bojan anymore. He gets lost. It's the same with football. When I watch it, I dream about how I played for Slovan² as a kid and what I wanted more than anything was to score a goal and for everyone in the stands to yell: Yeeeees!

²ND Slovan is a football club from Ljubljana

You don't score goals, but you are in a similar position that Tomi Meglič used to be in.

All the band members come from very loving families that have always provided us with a very good support system and instilled basic values in us that we internalised deeply. That is why everything that's currently happening around us hasn't gone to our heads in a way that would make us think that we're bigger or more important than anyone else. If we started believing that we were "kings" because everyone was clapping for us and singing our songs, that would probably be a very strong feeling, but that simply wouldn't be us. We mostly love to see all the people, because we know how much we mean to them and how much they mean to us. Without them, we wouldn't be able to focus on what's most important to us – our music. On the other hand, I can say with a thousand percent certainty that I would easily and happily do my job if I was performing at venues like Cankarjev dom. So, in front of a calmer audience, without unreal hype.

But what I would like most in the world is to turn into a footballer for ten seconds and score a goal at an important match. You know why? Because that is the biggest adrenaline hit that exists. When we perform on various stages, there's mayhem around us for two hours straight. But in football, when a goal is scored, that happens in a millisecond. You go from nothing into total chaos. Everyone loses their minds. I'd love to experience that. Well, I did – much like everyone who played football in primary school. When I scored a goal for Slovan and a hundred people in the stands clapped for me, I felt like I was on Maracanã. Imagine what it would be like to experience that on the real Maracanã.

It's interesting that you highlighted a loving and stable family background. Many of the biggest pop and rock stars in the world grew up in a diametrally opposite environment. From John Lennon and Janis Joplin to Prince and Rihanna. There are actually so many of them that we can talk about a pattern.

I know, because I love to read their (auto)biographies, and I agree with your assessment that their family circumstances are fundamentally different than ours. That is always my answer to the question when someone wants to know how debauched our tours are. When I tell them that we mostly drink water and tea on the road, they just can't believe it. But it's the truth, because we've realised three things. First, we enjoy what we do immensely, and from the experiences of many musicians, we know that you can almost definitely forget about a long career if you start doing everything that we perceive as the proverbial rock'n'roll lifestyle. A band like that breaks up sooner or later, either because of frayed nerves, or exploding egos, or because of money. Second, we've all had to go to work hungover and we know very well that it's unbearable. I especially can't imagine how we could stay healthy and keep our strength and our voice if we were constantly hungover on the road. In that case, the only short-term solution is drugs, which we fortunately [knocks on wood] don't do. And third: I'm sure that you have a much better time on stage if you're aware that you are on it.

Your international breakthrough doesn't have a precedent among Slovenian musicians. Would you dare to point out where the difference is, why you made it and not for example Siddharta, who had filled Bežigrad stadium and later did not hide their international ambitions?

We have to understand that Siddharta didn't have the chance to perform at a festival like Eurovision. It's hard to understand what it means for 160 million people to watch you. That is a bizzarely huge number. All this happened in the time of social media, and we had set up a pretty good mechanism in that area even before Eurovision, and then also used it, whereas Siddharta established itself as a band in the time of analogue media. I can't even imagine how it would've been possible to break through abroad from Slovenia at that time. Because even we are already – even though some things have opened up for us very nicely and we've been joined by the right people – finding out how much of an investment going international demands. Dreams of megalomanical earnings and a luxurious life brought on by a European tour shatter quickly. Even when you start filling up venues, you stay in a kind of hustle mode. You fight. Unfortunately, the costs in the music business are so high that performing abroad is more or less just for promotion for a long time.

You're probably thinking of logistical costs?

Yes. Some of my colleagues have total misconceptions about our earnings. They think that we're literally swimming in money, while we actually earn what amounts to a normal salary.

In March next year you will have eighteen concerts. You will start in Helsinki and end in Milan. How will you travel?

With a tour bus. We've rented it twice so far: for the UK tour and for the tour around Lithuania, Poland, and Czechia. There are beds on it, so we can sleep while driving from one concert to the next. The tourbus is prohibitively expensive, you pay almost half of your royalties for it, but it's the only way for a musician with such a packed schedule to survive in the long run. Sometimes people ask me why we don't travel with a van instead, but you have to understand that we sometimes have concerts two days in a row and the venues are 800 kilometres apart. If we spent all night in an uncomfortable van, then looked for a hotel in the morning and so on, we might be able to endure it for a week, but definitely not all month.

Do you ever sleep in a hotel?

Only on free days.

Will the March tour be your most exhausting one so far?

It will definitely be one of the more exhausting ones, but I am definitely happy that we will be able to sleep on a tour bus. We haven't been on a month-long tour yet, so it's hard to predict anything, but on the Nordic tour this year we played six concerts in five days, because we had two concerts in one day in Helsinki. We didn't have a tour bus there, we flew instead. That meant that after the concert, we got to the hotel at midnight, then we had to be at the airport at three in the morning, a few hours later we were already at the new location, we napped for two hours on a couch, had a soundcheck – rinse and repeat for five days in a row.

Let's not talk only about the negative sides of tours…

Of course. I love sleeping on the bus! I fall asleep like a baby who's being taken for a walk in a stroller. I can't sleep more than nine or ten hours in my bed at home, on a tour bus I easily get twelve hours. Maybe it's because it's constantly shaking a little. The other guys also sleep very well on the road.

But the most magical thing on tours is when I visit a city for the first time just because we have a gig there. That seems unimaginable to me. To meet new people, wonderful fans, to bond as a band, experience new, funny situations, to bring home a bunch of new inside jokes and incredible gifts that fans have made themselves. [Points towards a hand-embroidered pillow in the part of the studio where they keep the gifts.]

Elite athletes often lament that it's true that they compete all over the world, but they often only see the airport, the hotel, and the sports venue.

It's similar for us. When we travel with a bus, we only see the venue. If we happen to have a free day, we walk around the city, but we definitely don't visit all kinds of tourist attractions as some people might wrongly imagine. When we go to Paris, we definitely won't go to the Louvre, and we will see the Eiffel tower through the bus window if everything goes well.

But you meet a lot of interesting people.

That's true. I find it the most fascinating if we meet fans when we don't expect them at all. In a restaurant, on a plane… When we were flying to Poland, it turned out that one of the flight attendants was a big fan of ours. She told us that she was going to three of our concerts and brought us champagne and a model of a Lot Polish Airlines plane.

I was even more surprised in Helsinki. I went to some kind of dark club that had a techno music party. Suddenly I was approached by three people, two guys and one girl, and they told me that they were our fans and that they couldn't believe that they met me in that club. I also couldn't believe that people recognised me in the middle of Helsinki. What's going on?!

In the summer, you took a step back from Instagram for a while. What brought you to that decision?

Many things. I felt creatively empty. I also, for the first time in my life, experienced the internet – not just Slovenian, but global – being completely oversaturated with me. That started negatively pressuring me and eating me up. I thought about it a lot, and the first time I asked myself whether I'd be less Bojan Cvjetićanin if I didn't have an Instagram profile, I turned it off. Immediately after that, I wrote three songs; I felt as if I had cleaned up some of the mess that had built up recently. I returned to social media some time ago; with much healthier habits than before, I think.

How do you see social media? As a space for playfulness, for promotion, part of the job, part of private life?

I think that at the time when they started killing me, I perceived them too professionally. I had a feeling that Instagram was a platform through which I had to achieve all sorts of things. Lately, I prefer to joke around more.

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post! And if you repost the photos, do not crop out the photographer credit.

#bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjeticanin #joker out #Spotify

[querenciasturniolo]

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii❤️❤️ i love your chris fics, could you write one about how y/n has been best friends with the triplets for a while now & has been on their podcasts and also in their car videos but her and chris has had a secret relationship but fans start speculating when a photo surfaces of her & chris having matching nails painted?? like maybe hers is green with a black heart on one finger and his is black with a green heart? thank you!!

slip ⮕ c.s.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: secret relationship, angst, comfort, she/her pronouns

summary: you’re feeling a little overwhelmed with hiding your relationship, but chris knows exactly what to do

a/n: this was very cute to write, and i LOVED it 💓 i couldn’t find a good reference picture for your exact idea, so i changed it just a smidge xx

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

“Nick, what did you post?”

Nick looked up from his phone and frowned.

“What do you mean?”

You opened your phone, hundreds of notifications flying in at once on your most recent post. “I’m getting like, a million comments about me and Chris. Did you say anything?” You asked. You knew he didn’t but you were confused as to why everyone was asking about your relationship.

“Of course not, it’s just a photo of all of our hands making a star.” He said, standing up and walking towards you. You clicked on Nick’s story, seeing the photo of all of your nails and sighing.

“I didn’t realize how obvious it was.” You grumbled, locking your phone and rubbing your hand over your eyes.

“Do you want me to delete it?” He asked. You shook your head.

“No, no. It’s fine, really.” You said. “It just caught me off guard, you know?”

You’d never really been in the limelight, ever. Their social media presence always baffled you, especially when you and Chris had gotten together. You’d known them forever, but it still confused you.

It wasn’t until your followers started growing out of nowhere that you realized how much impact that they truly had. Seeing the enormous amount of people who were crazy about them who also wanted to see more of you in videos was…shocking, to say the least. You also didn’t understand how perceptive fans could be.

Every other comment was about the way Chris looked at you, and how when you started speaking, even if he was in the middle of talking, he’d stop and listen intently. You’d seen countless edits on Tiktok of you and Chris, the way both of your eyes lit up when talking to each other, whether you were in the background of a video or front and center.

It was crazy, seeing the way these people were completely right about something that you and Chris hadn’t even hinted at.

Nick sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t even thinking about your matching nails.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting the uproar.” You said, laughing quietly to yourself. “It’s really no big deal, honest. Don’t beat yourself up about it, it’ll be fine. It’s more suspicious if you delete it, anyway.” You said, resting your hand on Nick’s shoulder.

You pulled away and gestured towards the stairs. “I’m gonna go talk to Chris, I’ll see you later.” You said, Nick nodding his head. The last thing you wanted was to upset him, but you knew he’d be okay. You walked up the stairs to Chris’ room, dropping down on his bed next to him and looking over at him. He looked over at you, his eyebrows raised.

“Well, hello. What’s up?” He asked, locking his phone and dropping it on his chest.

You sighed through your nose and shrugged, looking up at the ceiling. It was hard, keeping this secret. You knew it was for the best right now, but you wished you could show off your boyfriend like other people.

“That was convincing. What’s going on, love?” He asked, turning onto his side and propping his head up on his hand and looking down at you.

You met his eyes again, nothing but concern shimmering in the icy blue of his iris’. You sighed again and shook your head.

“How long are we gonna keep hiding this?” You asked, your voice small. “Are you…ashamed of me?” You felt pathetic asking him something like that. He’d never made you feel that way, but you couldn’t help but wonder.

He frowned down at you, his jaw slack before he spoke. “Of course not, where did that come from?” He asked, resting his free hand over you and pulling you closer to him. He rested next to you, pulling you until your arm was wrapped around him and your head was resting on his chest.

“It’s stupid, forget I said anything.” You said, relaxing completely when his fingers began carding through your hair. His free hand entwined in yours, his thumb lightly running over your knuckles at a steady pace.

“Well, I’m not going to forget about anything. My girl thinks I’m ashamed of her, and I want to know what made her feel that way.” He said, your heart skipping a beat at the title. You looked down at both of your hands, smiling at the little frogs on his last three fingers. He had playfully whined about how the frogs would look goofy, but eventually admitted that it reminded him of Frog and Toad, and he was glad he did it.

“I just…I want to be able to show you off, you know? I know you want to keep it a secret, and that’s fine and I understand. It’s just…I want to be able to post pictures for our friends and families to see, if that makes any sense.” You rambled.

Chris was quiet for a while, but you could tell he was thinking. It wasn’t often that he was quiet, but you knew that when he was, he was genuinely trying to think of the best way to answer a question or the best solution to an issue. He sat up then, pulling himself from you quickly and adjusting a pillow to rest against his bed frame. You watched as he leaned back and met your eyes, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He patted the mattress between his knees.

“Come here.” He said. You chuckled and shook your head but complied. Your back was resting against his chest. He rested his hand over yours, entwining your fingers and lifting your hand up. “Straighten your hand.” He said, his voice soft. You smiled, and turned your head to look at him, but did as he said. He straightened his as well, both of your nails on display. He picked his phone up off of the mattress and opened his camera. The camera flashed, your brows furrowed as he let go of your hand and opened Instagram.

“What are you doing?” You asked. He shushed you as he created a new post and clicked on the picture. Your heart rate spiked as he typed a caption, tagged you in the photo and hit post. You pulled away from him as he locked his phone, your eyes wide as you met his. “Why did you do that?” You whispered.

Chris’ smile was contagious, your own making its way across your face as he shrugged his shoulders.

“My finger slipped.”

You shook your head at him, your heart feeling like it was going to burst as you leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“I love you, you dork.” You whispered, Chris practically beaming up at you.

“I love you, too.” He said, his voice almost lower than yours.

You could feel the vibration of his phone against the mattress, your own phone going crazy in your pocket, but you didn’t care. It hit you just then why people were so crazy about him—because how could they not be?

#chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

[gurugirl]

A Balancing Act | Ch. 4*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

Chapter Summary: Harry brings Y/n with him on his European tour but when Y/n decides she needs a break to figure things out Harry is beside himself. He's sure she's going to break up with him but she's sure he doesn't want the same things she does. When they finally talk will they both be on the same page?

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, dom/sub dynamic, angst, DDlg kink,

Word Count: 12.5k

Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)

A Balancing Act Masterlist

A balancing act requires soft poise and harmonious alignment. The joining of differing needs and wants to acquiesce for a perfect, or nearly perfect outcome. One can’t have more than the other. All sides must be used to make a point. The leveling of opinion and decision coupled with the desire to satisfy the ideal effect.

“Put that down. It doesn’t do any good.”

Y/n looked up at Harry who’d placed his palm over her phone to cover her screen. She was trying not to obsess about the pictures of herself. There were so many. And now that she’d been seeing Harry for a few months and was on tour with him in Europe, the gossip abounded. It was wild how quickly everyone learned her name, her age, the fact that she had been married, where her art pieces were showing, and even what kind of car she drove. It was… a lot.

“I know but they’ve caught me in the worst outfit and angle and these comments-“

“Please don’t do that,” Harry spoke as he sat down next to her and slid the phone from her hands, “You’re a knockout. I’ve never once looked at you and thought otherwise. None of that matters. Okay? It’s us. You and me.”

She nodded as he pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head, “I know. But still. I’m just not used to any attention. Not like this.”

“The best thing you can do is to ignore it and don’t look at the articles.”

But of course, that was easier said than done. Going to Europe with him had been a whirlwind. So many fans and friends and his family, day trips, flights, drivers, shopping, studio sessions, meetings, rushing, concerts, flowers, kissing, late-night talking, falling deeper for the man, and sex. There was a lot of sex.

It was stressful. It was fun, though, too. And she enjoyed spending time with Harry in his world but there was very little time for herself in her own world. She didn’t put paint, or ink on canvas the entire time she was with Harry in Europe. She never found the time, even though she had downtime, her inspiration waned. When Harry was in the studio writing, jamming, and making music she didn’t normally go. In fact, after going with him only twice she realized how awkward it was for her to be there. He was working with his band and his team. She was of no use there with him. She felt like she was just in the way. And she didn’t want to be the kind of girlfriend that followed him around like a puppy everywhere.

So she stayed in the hotel or in the villa or wherever they were staying depending on the leg of the trip. She’d venture out to go to cafes by herself, do some shopping, or just to walk around but it became a game of dodging people on the street who started to recognize her. Pictures and videos were taken without her consent. Later she’d see some of the photos in gossip articles and comments saying how she called the paps on herself because why on earth would anyone want a photo of her?

The hate came quickly. The vitriol for a woman that no one knew. Her social media accounts were stalked, screenshots taken and posted on other social media accounts about her and her art and what kind of person she might be based on old posts she’d long forgotten.

One old post on Instagram was of her out on her bachelorette party before she was married. It was a series of six photos. She was wearing something a little bit skimpy, but nothing too crazy. Most of the pictures showed her with a drink in hand, one of her dancing with some man she didn’t know, and the last one was of her the next morning with mangled hair and smeared makeup, a mimosa raised upward, and the words printed over the photo ‘hair of the dog’.

That one got a lot of attention. She was an alcoholic party girl, too fat to be wearing something so revealing, ugly, a slut (for dancing with a man), and the worst insult was “no wonder her ex divorced her”.

Yes, Harry’s fans learned that she had been married. Some knew that her husband had died (she wasn’t sure how they knew). But most assumed she was divorced because she didn’t post publicly about the tragic loss she endured. It was no one’s business, but for people who didn’t know her to make wild assumptions about what had occurred in her marriage was the most hurtful.

But on the other side of that were the fans that simply refused to believe he could be dating Y/n. Many were convinced Harry was either already in a relationship with an ex-band member from his boyband days or it was all for public relations. That her “team” and his “team” were in on something together for publicity. Because that would be the only explanation. Harry would never stoop so low as to date someone like Y/n. Someone who looked like Y/n. Couldn’t be. The Harry “they knew” would never.

Then of course there were those that thought she was simply using Harry’s fame to boost her own popularity in the art world. She was a leech, a sneak, conniving… It all hurt. She wasn’t sure she could stomach much more. And yes, it was true that interest in her art was boosted. Which she really didn’t like because it was more to the fact that “this is a piece of art painted by Harry Style’s girlfriend” rather than a painting that was pleasing to the eye and worth the price tag.

And Harry’s late nights at the studio and after a concert were tiresome. She had been catapulted into this strange reality with a famous man that she felt herself falling for. But how did she fit in with it all? She couldn’t see herself finding her place with him. It all felt very temporary. And the fact that she’d lost the inspiration to create herself was troublesome. The plan was that she could still paint and travel with him and they’d get to be together. She didn’t have to stay home to paint. It was supposed to be easy. But it wasn’t.

But as awful as all that was, she and Harry got closer. He’d arrive late to their bed, crawling over her and wrapping her up in his arms. Normally she’d wake up and nuzzle into him and sigh as they both fell asleep. Sometimes Harry wasn’t ready to go to sleep and he was very persuasive. If he wanted her, well, he had her. She looked forward to, with impatience, having sex with Harry.

Harry had changed her entire view on sex. It was nothing like she’d ever experienced before. Prior to Harry, sex was just sex. It was usually good. Sometimes she’d orgasm. But with Harry, it wasn’t just sex. It was the joining of two separate beings in an act that was vulnerable, exciting, novel, and made Y/n’s heart thrash about in her chest from nerves and thrill. She hadn’t realized how addicted she’d become to what he did. How he handled her body and her mind.

Usually, though, she and Harry had sex during the day. With the sun in the sky, curtains open, and people milling about. She had always been used to nighttime, lights out, on her marital bed sex. Harry liked to have sex anywhere. And he liked to see it all. All of her bits. He’d kiss and praise and then spank her if she tried to hide herself. They had fun together. Sex hadn’t ever been so fun. And she slowly started to see her body in a different light.

After his last show in Paris, she went to his dressing room, like she always did after a show, and he scooped her into his arms and kissed her broadly on the lips in front of everyone. He was hard.

A small gasp fell from her lips as she craned her neck back to look up at him in surprise. He only winked down at her, swiftly turned her around, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He was literally using her body to block his erection from view of his bandmates and the event staff.

When Mitch and Sarah finally made their way to their shared dressing room Harry told his assistant he didn’t need help and dragged her to his big couch after locking the door.

“Need you to take your panties off right now,” Harry spoke as he unbuttoned his pants and kept his eyes on her.

Y/n was wearing a cute maxi dress that was comfy and easy to dance in. She learned that she needed to wear clothes that were comfortable at Harry’s concerts because there was lots of dancing. But she also wanted to look cute because there was never a shortage of photos of her, no matter how much she hated that part. And if she wasn’t dancing she was a fake, a bad girlfriend, a fat blob. Oh, but of course, even if she did dance then that meant she was trying too hard, making herself look ridiculous, and then there was the odd comment about how she was too large to be attempting to dance at all.

She pushed those thoughts down as she lifted the bottom of her dress upward and slid her panties down her legs as Harry pulled a small belt with a ball at the center out of his bag. His pants were undone but his underwear was bulging at the crotch, his cock pressing outward with strain. He stood over her where she was sat on the couch and took her panties from her hands and then motioned for her to turn around, “Face the wall, get on your knees.”

“Harry what are you-“ her words turned into a yelp as he smacked her bottom.

“Do you fucking never learn?” He leaned in and spoke quietly, his voice deep and dark, “You’ll be getting paddled tonight for that mistake. Address me properly.”

Cursing under her breath she squeezed her eyes closed. She didn’t know what it was that didn’t allow her to so easily fall into just calling him Daddy like he wanted. She needed lots of reminders and her bruised bottom was proof of all of her forgetful little moments.

Part of her secretly loved it. Enjoyed the thrill of needing to be corrected and not simply giving in to him all the time.

“Sorry. Daddy. What are you doing?” Her tone clearly sardonic. 

Harry raised his brows and shook his head, ignoring her mouthiness, “I’m going to fuck you against the couch and gag you so no one hears you. Now, turn around pretty girl.”

She pulled herself to her knees and turned so her palms were clutching the leather at the top of the couch and immediately felt Harry’s hands pulling her dress up so her bum was fully exposed and issued another sharp swat to her left side. She jolted in shock before turning to watch Harry behind her.

Harry brought his hands up, her panties in hand, and swiftly pulled the material over her eyes, tying the sides to the back of her head to keep it in place.

“Uh, those are expensive! You’ll stretch them!” She countered as the material hung over her sight.

Harry chuckled darkly and she felt his lips at her ear, “Who bought them for you, baby? I’ll buy you more. Don’t worry about it. Now, keep that mouth open.”

She opened her mouth quickly and felt the silicon ball take its place in her mouth, as he adjusted the buckle to the back of her head. She was unable to see or speak as she was pushed forward, her chest being pressed into the couch. Her bottom was still uncovered and she felt the cool air of the dressing room on her skin as Harry gently caressed her flesh down to where her legs were bent at her knees and over the backs of her calves and ankles before spreading her legs further apart.

“Keep your hands on the wall behind the couch, like this,” Harry moved his palms over her arms until he reached her wrists and pulled her arms out so she kept her hands flat on the wall, causing her back to arch the slightest.

“Good girl. So hot. Unbelievable baby. Daddy’s gonna have a taste now.”

She couldn’t see much or speak at all but she could certainly hear and feel. And the moment Harry’s tongue licked up through her crease her mind shifted into another gear. Harry had eaten her out in this position before. Behind her, his nose at her bum. At first, it gave her a lot of hesitancy, worried she smelled or tasted odd. But he always insisted she was delicious and he could eat her for dinner every night for the rest of his life. His reassurances had her at ease, but it still always gave her pause.

Harry moaned into her pussy as he licked and kissed. His hands were on her ass, spreading her apart as he softly licked, licked, licked… wet and hot from clit to ass, from clit to ass, clit to ass… He spat over her and stuffed two fingers into her cunt and she squealed into the gag, the sound hardly heard in the room. Harry chuffed a laugh at her muffled noises.

Soon she was soppy and achy. Harry noticed how she was pushing herself back into him. That’s where he liked to get her. To the point she was seeking her own pleasure. Where she was so worked up she wanted more.

Harry sat back and stood from the couch and pulled his cock out from his underwear. He pressed his hips into her bottom and brushed his hands over her waist, pushing her dress higher, “Daddy needs his cock milked now. So fucking horny for you, sweet girl.”

She grunted in relief when he pushed into her. It was always a welcome moment. To have his dick inside of her, parting her insides and nudging into her cervix. He was curved in such a way that his wide cock pushed into her front wall on each stroke anytime she was in this position while he was fucking into her.

She kept her hands on the wall as he pounded into her and she steadied herself the best she could but Harry was strong and he always went in with such force that it caused her a good jolt forward on each snap of his hips. Delicious.

When his long fingers wrapped around the front of her neck he squeezed the sides and slowed his plunges, “Wish everyone could hear us. Could hear how filthy your pussy gets when I fuck it. How creamy you are. Wish they could hear how it sounds to have my cock slipping deep into your wet hole.”

Y/n felt her cheeks burn and her head get foggy under the pressure of his fingers on her throat. His thrusts increased again and the couch rocked under them into the paper-thin wall Y/n used to keep herself held up.

A knock at the door and a muffled voice from behind had Harry slowing down but never stopping, “M’busy! Be out in a bit!”

She couldn’t hear whatever was said from behind the door because her ears were ringing. Harry’s cock inside of her gave her tunnel vision. She almost didn’t care if anyone heard at that point. Her body felt so good, her pussy being worked open and split down the middle, her guts rearranged, her ass smacked, throat choked.

“Fans want me out there, but I needed you first didn’t I baby?” Harry’s thrusts were sloppy and harsh as he panted his words, “Daddy wants to fuck his come into you so you’ll be out there with everyone while my sperm drips out of your pussy and down your legs. My dirty little come hole. But that’s what Daddy’s little girl likes, isn’t it? Fuck…” Harry looked down at where he was being gripped by Y/n. Her tight little pussy working its magic on him.

Y/n’s telltale signs were beginning to show. Her thighs were shaking and her back was arching and she was grinding herself onto him each time he’d pull back. She was going to come.

Harry choked out a loud groan into the room, “Fuck! I’m gonna come!”

He reached down to rub her clit just as he began to pour into her pussy. He clenched his teeth and moaned into her ear. With the angle he needed to reach her clit his chest was pressed into her back, his stiff and sharp movements were forceful into her and she felt her own orgasm follow moments later. Thanks to his long fingers that knew just what to do and where to press to get her off.

Drool slid down her chin and to her clavicle as she came. The noise of the couch still creaking under her knees as Harry continued pushing into her increased in sound.

Harry hissed and moaned and kissed the back of her neck as he kept himself stuffed inside of her as she spasmed around him, squeezing his cock of all he had and letting it drain into her. A beautiful symphony of sex in the dressing room.

Harry laughed as he removed the gag and the panties from her face. She had small marks that dug into her skin from the fabric of the panties and the leather of the belt.

“God you’re gorgeous. Gonna go out there with me to meet the fans with my come slipping out of your cunt all night? Hmm?” Harry teased as she straightened her dress out and caught her breath.

And of course, that’s exactly what happened. She walked around and met some fans. Most didn’t know who she was. Some knew her as the girl that had been spending time with Harry. Others joked that she was following him around and that he didn’t want her there.

One pretty young thing, probably still in college, went from having her picture taken with Harry to making a snide remark to Y/n, “I love how you don’t care how you look when you dance.”

To which Y/n replied, “I’m just having fun out there like everyone else,” as she shook her hand (which she hadn’t yet washed after being fucked into oblivion) and felt Harry’s orgasm dripping down her thigh.

There was something so poetic about that moment. The secret that she and Harry shared. The reason why he was 20 minutes late to greeting his fans backstage. And Y/n was the bearer of said secret. Literally, since his come was still inside of her.

And that was just one of many times Harry fucked her in his dressing room. It became a regular thing. He’d gag her to keep her quiet but anyone who stood close enough to the door could hear him moaning and the sounds of skin smacking together and couches rocking. But no one ever said anything. It was Harry’s show after all.

There was one time when they went to an event. The lovely space was packed with people and the table they sat at was mostly Harry’s crew. Jeff and Tom were there and some others. All were people Y/n had gotten to know on some level.

And as per usual, Harry was horny. Y/n had gotten used to his extremely high libido and surprised herself even when she matched him in it. She hadn’t realized she was this way until Harry came along.

She was wearing a custom dress. Nothing like she’d ever had the chance to wear before. She’d worn lovely dresses and her wedding dress, she thought, would have been the nicest article of clothing she’d ever wear. But this dress… this dress was absolutely superior to anything she’d ever laid on her body. She loved it. It fit her so well and flattered her curves and made her feel pretty.

“Want to bend you over this table and spank you so hard right now. Tear this dress off you and make you ride my cock right here at the table,” Harry spoke into her ear as their plates of food were being placed in front of them.

Y/n just smiled and nodded as she listened to him tell her what he wanted to do. That was something she also had started to get used to. He’d do things like this in public and it startled her at first, but after some time she started to enjoy it.

When everyone began eating Harry lowered his hand to her thigh and pulled her dress up. No one could see what he was doing from under the table but Y/n felt it. The material of the dress was slowly lifted until he’d pushed the fabric up enough that he could smooth his palm up between her plush thighs and tickle her pussy with the tips of his fingers.

Y/n let out a gasped laugh and leaned forward before turning to look at Harry in surprise. He only smirked back at her and lifted his brows, “You okay, my dear?”

And Harry usually got his way. If he wanted something he could pretty much always get it. Just like how he wanted her to spread her legs wider so he could have access, she gave it to him. Just like how he wanted to slide two fingers into her cunt, she let him.

To everyone at the table, Harry was holding her thigh. Nothing more. He continued to chat and make jokes as he softly fucked his fingers into Y/n’s pussy.

And the thing about this was that he couldn’t apply much pressure, if any, to her clit, so he fingered her for nearly the entire duration of their dinner. His hand was wet between her legs as he continued slow, meaningful thrusts of his fingers into her.

She was on edge. So absolutely wrecked and worked up that Sarah interrupted the conversation at the table, “Y/n. Are you okay?”

Her chest was rising and falling fast. Harry paused his movements and looked over at his lover and realized, she was indeed a mess. Had barely touched her food when everyone else had just about finished and was panting and sweating. He smiled.

“Oh! Yeah. I… probably should,” she paused to hold back her gasp as Harry pushed his thumb over her clit, “go to the bathroom. Real quick! I’ll be right back!”

Harry was forced to remove his hand from between her thighs and she pushed her skirt down and quickly walked to the hallway where she knew the restrooms were.

Harry excused himself from the table with the excuse to check on her.

Y/n was already rubbing at her clit to make herself come in the stall when Harry barged into the bathroom, “Y/n. Come out, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Her eyes widened and she was quick to walk out of the stall. She needed him badly, “Please, your cock, Daddy,” she said as she lifted her dress and Harry pushed her to lean over the sink and pulled his cock out on her request. He was already hard. Fingering her and feeling her clench around him as she grew wetter and wetter each minute had done him in.

Her panties were ruined. He pushed the drenched material to the side and plunged into her softly as they both moaned, “Rub that pretty little clit for Daddy, baby. Get yourself off.”

It was probably the quickest fuck they’d ever had. Four minutes tops. Y/n was already on fire as her orgasm burst from her core and Harry held her cheeks apart so he could watch his cock, covered in her arousal, slip in and out, in and out until she was coming and shaking and gasping.

White gobs of her come stuck at his base as he continued fucking into her deep and he finally came, filling her to the brim with his come. He pulled out to watch himself drip from her pussy and then pushed himself back in to keep his sperm inside of her where it belonged, “Holy fuck, baby. Your pussy is incredible. Just taking my come like it’s nourishment. Fucking Jesus Christ.”

It felt so good to have Harry inside of her after nearly a half hour of slow, sensual torture with his fingers.

And as they both enjoyed, Y/n dripped of him when they went back to the table to join their friends. No one knew but Harry and Y/n and that was half the fun.

So, yeah, sex with Harry was incredible. Exciting. He never let her feel like she was lacking. He loved using tools on her. Tying her up, clamping her tits and her skin, toys, spanking, spreader bars, cuffs… She’d gotten a taste of what he liked and she loved it all.

And she was pretty sure she loved Harry too. He was the sweetest man. Very attentive and gentle, thoughtful, funny, and honest. But of course, when they were in bed he was dominant and loved to put her in her place but that only added to how much she really liked him. The duality of his nature was exciting to her. And she began to feel more comfortable with her body around him. He never once made her feel bad about her size. He clearly loved every bit of her chub.

So after their whirlwind European trip she was back in Illinois at home and trying to paint while Harry was in LA in the studio working on music and other business endeavors he’d started. They talked every night. She thought the distance would be good for her to focus on her work again but it was like she was blank. Her thoughts were only filled with Harry and what he was doing and the articles with her pictures and comments…

One evening, though, she did have a spark of inspiration. She began sketching out her canvas and mixing colors and finally, after nearly a two-month dry spell, put her brush against the canvas and began to paint. It felt good. She was suddenly struck with the need to create. Hours of building a piece with color and space and lines felt like things had felt before she met Harry.

Her fingers were green and her overalls were splattered and soiled from linseed oil and various hues she’d used on her work when her phone rang. Looking up at the clock she realized it was already 9 pm. Which was the time Harry normally called her every night before he went to the studio (it was 7 pm in LA).

She wiped her hands down her clothes and cursed as she rushed to grab the phone before the call went to voicemail.

It was a Facetime call because of course it was.

“Hello?” She rang out and adjusted the screen so she could see Harry and he could see her. She tried smoothing out her hair and wiping the smudges from her face but there was little she could do to repair her current appearance.

“Hi, baby. I miss you! How are you today?” Harry spoke, his face very close to the phone, and then as he stilled himself and the screen became clear she realized he wasn’t at home. A club perhaps. Maybe someone’s house. Definitely not the studio.

“I’m good. Was just painting a bit. Finally got a spark of creativity tonight. How are you? What are you up to right now?”

Harry sighed and grinned widely, she could tell he seemed a tiny bit tipsy, “I’m at a party and I’ve been telling everyone about you. Wish you were here so you could meet everyone. We’re just chilling, had a couple drinks, then I’m going into the studio in about an hour. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

Y/n nodded and smiled. She wasn’t surprised by any of this. He normally got into the studio late and stayed until 3 or 4 am. He was most creative at that time he told her once.

“Sounds fun. Wish I was there too.”

Just then a young woman nudged into Harry’s shoulder and came in to view on the screen, “Y/n!! It’s you! I’ve heard so much about you!”

She was clearly also tipsy. And just as she was about to respond to the mystery woman she watched as the girl threw her arm over Harry’s shoulder and licked her pink tongue up his neck before kissing it. And it wasn’t just a peck of a kiss. It was quite sensual in fact. As if she were trying to give him a hickey.

Harry laughed and pushed at the girl, prying her arm from him and the girl waved her hand at the video just before moving elsewhere.

“Sorry, Jess is clingy tonight,” Harry smiled and licked his lips.

“Oh is she? Has she been trying to give you a hickey all night then?” Y/n couldn’t help the bit of jealousy that coursed through her. She figured at that point she could trust him. He was a big flirt and she knew this about him. He gave off the wrong impression to people all the time. She’d seen women trying to shoot their shot and he would eventually have them back off but many of them never assumed he was in a relationship. She’d even overhead some women (when she was backstage after concerts) bragging about how they kissed Harry or how they thought they had a shot because he'd been staring at them, which turned out to not be true of course. But it didn’t make the sting feel better.

“No. No, of course not, baby. I wouldn’t let her do that. Only you’re allowed to mark me up.”

“But she’s allowed to lick you and kiss you?”

Harry paused and suddenly the screen was blurry as he appeared to moving through the space to somewhere different.

“Wait, hold on, Y/n.” The screen went dark but she could hear shuffling and some voices until the video showed his handsome face again but now he was outside.

“Please, baby. That was not… she’s been flirting with me a little but it’s all in fun. She’s just a friend. I would never do anything to ruin what you and I have. You know that. God, I wish you were closer so I could tell you in person and see you after the studio. Wake up to you, make love to you…” he trailed off as he spoke but kept his eyes on the screen, his face set in defeat.

“I know how you are, Harry. So I get it. But doing that right in front of me? Kind of tacky. Was she trying to make me jealous? If so, I’d say she’s not a friend.”

Harry groaned and leaned his back to a bench and nodded, “I’ll stay away from Jess. She’s just been finding me all night. I mean, I’ve known her for years so… but you’re right. Sorry.”

Y/n nodded and flattened her lips together. She really hated this. Hated feeling jealous when she figured it wasn’t necessary, hated not being with him, hated how famous he was and how everyone wanted him…

After his call with Y/n, he was careful to dodge Jess. And he hadn’t really been paying much mind to her to be quite honest. Yes, she’d been kind of all over him but he was used to that. Except now he needed to think about his girlfriend and what she might think and how it could be perceived in public. Not that any of the photos from this particular party would come out to the public – it was exclusive and contracts were signed promising privacy and respect of others.

Jess was a friend of Tommy’s and she was often invited to the parties like this and so Harry had gotten to know her over the years. She was always flirty but the question that Y/n brought up was valid. Was Jess trying to make Y/n jealous? It was inappropriate for her to kiss his neck like that when he thought about it with a clear head. Even if he wasn’t on the phone with his girlfriend, that was too intimate of a gesture to be innocent. He couldn’t allow things like that anymore. Not if he wanted to keep Y/n happy. And he didn’t want those kinds of intimate touches from anyone else these days. He missed his girlfriend.

His studio session was productive. He got a lot of writing done and set some vocals down for recording too. But he was still thinking about Y/n. Thinking about how they got off the phone and he’d apologized and she said she was fine but he knew she might not really be. They were too far apart and the distance was a problem. Harry was used to some distance in relationships. It was part of the package that he came with. But he hated it with Y/n more than ever.

He was in love with her. Deeply and madly. In fact many of the songs he started to write after meeting her had something to do with her in one way or another. He couldn’t get her off his mind. He’d dated around and had a couple of serious relationships in the past, but no one left a mark on his heart like Y/n had.

.           .           .

“I’m feeling like I need her with me all the time. But when I offered to fly her out and have her stay here with me in LA she said she thought the distance would be good. I’m going crazy, Pat. I don’t know if she is starting to think about breaking up with me or what. I don’t want her to leave me. But she’s been so aloof lately.”

Pat shifted her leg to cross over her opposite and listened. The man wouldn’t stop talking about Y/n. Every one of their sessions had been dominated by discussions about his new relationship. Harry was sensitive deep down. He had his shit together and he was many times nonchalant about dating and matters of the heart in public, but Pat knew the truth. He was sweet and his heart was delicate.

“Just let her sus everything, Harry. You can’t push her and you know that. She’s probably going through some growing pains with you. You’re uber-famous and everyone loves you and to her, it probably feels like she’s just your girlfriend who gets a lot of mean things printed about her. It’s very likely overwhelming. Maybe she’s trying to get her head on straight and figure out what’s best for her.”

“But what if she learns that she’s better off without me?”

Pat chuckled, “What if she does? Would you still want to force her to be with you?”

Harry sighed deeply and frowned, “I guess I wouldn’t want to make her do anything she didn’t like. But that’s the thing. I know she and I have something special. When we’re together it’s like everything just makes sense. I don’t want her to let all the awful things people make up about her be how she makes her decision. Because what she and I have is incredible.”

“But you’re seeing this from your point of view. Not hers. Give her space if she needs it. Keep open communication but let her decide what she can handle.”

He didn’t like the idea that Y/n would decide he wasn’t worth it. He’d finally found the one he thought was his soulmate. The one he loved and wanted to be with for the rest of time, but now she was stepping back. Putting more space between them than he liked.

And when he offered to come to her she declined that suggestion as well. Stating it would be better to be apart for a bit. Which indicated to Harry she was done or at least considering that idea. But he couldn’t understand it! How could she be done with him? He was so far from done with her. He’d never want to be “done” with her. He wanted to marry her, have babies with her, take her with him everywhere, curl into her body, and let his skin sink into hers for all eternity.

He partly blamed the night he talked to her when Jess made her unfortunate appearance and partly the fans. Harry loved his fans. He enjoyed interacting with them most of the time. He loved the attention and the enthusiasm they gave him. He loved creating for them. But they were the ultimate cock block if there ever was one. Every relationship he’d tried to maintain while being famous had, in the end, been affected deeply by his fans. Social media was brutal as it was, but when fans got ahold of the articles and posted pictures and got “involved” it only led to awful things. Many times social media stirred the pot but the fans kept the lies and the assumptions (conspiracy theories even) flying and going on for longer than it was necessary. But it’s not like he could just drop his fans. They were what his empire was built on. He wouldn’t be doing what he was doing without them. It was all a balancing act.

“I think I’m gonna go see her. Just to talk face-to-face. I can’t go on not knowing what’s really happening and doing it over the phone is not giving me the whole picture.”

“Harry… I think it would be wise to keep her wishes in mind. You are a convincing and charismatic man and so for you to go to her in person could interrupt her rational critique. You could just be doing more harm to the relationship this way. It would be a hindrance more than anything. You might just be prolonging the inevitable and don’t you think it’s better to let things take their course naturally? You don’t always have to make all the moves and sway the outcome. This isn’t a business. This is love and relationship stuff. It doesn’t follow the same rules.”

.           .           .

Y/n had been feeling pretty good. Her mind was clear and her inspiration was at an all-time high. It had been a month since she’d seen Harry in person but they still spoke almost every night. She still loved him. She missed him, but the time apart felt necessary. Felt like she could grasp reality again.

But one thing was certain with the distance. It was that she couldn’t take not seeing him and touching him. She was thriving, but she was beginning to miss him more than she thought she would. Instead of getting easier, it got harder. Her nights would be spent thinking of him, what it would be like living with him, kissing him, marriage, babies… But she wasn’t sure if he was feeling like they were headed in that direction. Because if he didn’t feel like any of that was in their future then the relationship should be stopped. It couldn’t continue to jog along on the same path that it had been. They needed to progress and she needed to know he was committed to her and that he felt the same way. But as it was, their relationship was very good, it just wasn’t the kind of relationship that felt like it could move beyond what it was. She needed to tell him and be honest about what she wanted. Marriage, babies, 100% commitment… But what would happen once she told him all of this? Would he run for the hills? It could very well be the end of them.

.           .           .

She had insisted that he not come to the gallery where her work was displayed. It was in New York City and he begged to come. He told her he would take some time off before the next leg of his tour began. Told her that he had a beautiful spot he always stayed at and she could be with him and he’d take her out to his favorite restaurant in the city… but she said no. And Pat told him to listen to her.

Which was hard for him. Harry didn’t like being told no, and normally, no didn’t matter much (of course depending on the situation). Normally, he’d just go anyway and surprise her and dote on her, and in his mind, she’d be so happy and they’d have amazing sex and things would go back to how they were before she pushed for distance. But that’s not how it went.

Instead, she had a weekend in New York City without him. They spoke every night and she told him everything and he pleaded with her some more to let him come to her but she still said no.

On Sunday when they got off the phone Harry was beside himself. She had been too busy to really talk. She was getting on a flight to go back home so he understood why but that didn’t mean he was okay. He cried. He felt his heart drop and felt her slip away. She didn’t want to see him, she didn’t want his support, and she wouldn’t go to see him either… so what was left?

He’d been good and paying attention to, heeding Pat’s advice. He knew she was right. He knew he couldn’t force her hand in this. But God did it hurt. If only she’d let him visit her she’d see how good they were together. Nothing else mattered.

But he needed to know what she wanted. Because it didn’t feel like she wanted the same thing. They needed to talk, face-to-face, and he needed her to be direct. To rip off the band-aid once and for all. Then he could begin to heal and try to get over her.

When she called him the following day it was unexpected because it was much earlier than they usually had their calls and it was just a call, not a Facetime chat.

“Hi. How are you?”

Harry had had a lump in his throat for the last few days with his thoughts about her. About how she was going to end it. About how she didn’t really want to put in the effort to be with him. That he wasn’t worth it. That his fame and his fans were too much.

“I’m good. You’re calling a bit early. What’s going on?”

“I just had some really good news! A curator bought ten of my paintings and will be hosting an exhibit at David Kordansky and I’ve been invited to go as a guest of honor of sorts, amongst the other artists! It’s going to be all these big names. Oh my god, I’m so excited!”

Harry smiled widely, “Baby, I’m so proud of you. When is the exhibit?”

“It’s next weekend! And you know David Kordansky, right?”

“Uh… no. Sorry. Should I?”

Y/n giggled into the phone, “Oh… it’s just one of the biggest and most popular galleries in Los Angeles.”

Harry’s eyes went wide, “Here? You’re coming here?”

“Yes! God, I’m so excited! You’re the first person I’ve told and I just got the news right before calling you. So, I’m still processing it all. But yeah! And a bonus is that maybe you can come! If you want. If you can!”

“Absolutely. I’ll tell everyone I’m booked next weekend. Spending it with my girl.”

She sighed into the receiver with a big grin on her face, “I can’t wait to see you, Harry.”

.           .           .

Y/n was properly nervous. She had been trying to keep her distance from Harry but it had sort of backfired. She wanted to feel out the situation without his influencing nature and his hot body, and those pink lips pecking at her, his deep voice luring her to see it his way. The longer she was away the more she realized that she could barely breathe without him. She was so far gone for the guy that the distance only made her ache. Yes, she got a bit of her creative spark back, but she felt like that was more of an internal issue than it was to do with Harry.

But her nerves weren’t because she was going to see him after over a month. The nerves were because she needed to confront him with her real feelings and find out if he was on the same page. She had to know once and for all what he wanted. And if any of her ideas of where the relationship should head weren’t on Harry’s radar, well, it had to be over. They couldn’t continue like they were. It was perpetual limbo. Purgatory. She loved him and if she were younger with more time to spare she’d enjoy traveling with Harry and just having fun without expectation of where their final destination would land them. But as it was, she wanted to start having babies in the next few years. And if Harry didn’t then she’d need to start over and begin dating around. And that takes time. So she needed to get a move on. Find someone that wanted the same things she did. If that wasn’t Harry.

She had planned for the worst. All the scenarios in her mind led to them breaking up. She couldn’t imagine that Harry would be willing to settle down with her. He had the whole world at his fingertips. And she was just a girl from the Midwest. She really didn’t imagine that they had much more left to pick at. The pages stopped turning. The well had run dry. It was fun while it lasted.

Harry had his driver take him to the airport to pick her up. She told Harry she could just take a taxi but he didn’t want to miss a single moment with her. Wanted to see her the second she arrived in LA. And he was there. Waiting for her just as he said he would.

He scooped her into his arms and felt tears prick at his eyes, “Oh my god. Y/n… I missed you so much.”

She felt her heart swell and lurch with his arms around her and his lips on her forehead. Right in front of everyone in the airport. Photos were snapped and Harry didn’t care. He looked down at her and she noticed his eyes were glossy, “Harry…” she thumbed at his cheek, “Are you okay?”

Harry sniffed and the tip of his nose was red as he nodded, “I am now.”

She’d been to his house before they went away to Europe. They spent two days having sex and just staying in enjoying one another. Those two days were her favorite memories with Harry. Not that she hadn’t absolutely enjoyed everything else they’d done together and where they spent their time but there was something really special about being in his lovely home doing nothing with him and eating some of the best food she’d ever had (a combination of Harry’s cooking, delivery from some of the best restaurants in LA, and leftovers from a fancy catered party that Harry skipped but had requested two large bags full of yummies dropped off for them).

And the moment Harry had her in his house this time around, they were tearing clothes off and making love on his big bed. Harry didn’t bother with the clamps or ties or the belt this time. He just wanted her. Wanted to show her himself and how much he loved her. In fact, he planned on telling her he loved her soon. He needed her to know how he felt.

And the irony of it all was that Y/n was thinking the same thing. She wanted to tell him how she felt. He needed to know the truth and she needed to know where he stood. But they were both hesitating and it didn’t come out quite the way they intended.

“I think we should talk a little, Harry. I’ve had something on my mind for a bit. It’s… kind of important.”

They were both still naked lying on his bed when she blurted it out. Harry felt his stomach drop. He’d been constantly on edge that she was going to break up with him and he didn’t know if his heart could handle it.

So instead of talking he sat up quickly and got off the bed, “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s talk. Um, I need to take a shower first… and then uh… we can talk. Yeah.”

Harry cried in the shower. Preparing himself for the worst. Trying to get his emotions out and let his body soak in the warm water and calming scent of his shampoo. He was a mess. And he assumed it was over.

And to Y/n, him hopping out of bed like that and running off when she said they should talk, that move was his answer. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to hear her truth. He had no intention of being committed or serious with her. He only wanted sex and fun. And that was great, but she was closing in on 30 and it was time to settle down and find love. And it was clear to her now, that Harry didn’t want that. Or at least not in the way she did.

She paced in his bedroom for a bit after dressing herself but when he was still showering, twenty minutes later she went downstairs and paced in his living room. She saw a bouquet of flowers near the front door at the table with a card in it and she automatically plucked the card out to read. It hadn’t occurred to her that she would be reading anything that could upset her. But she was caught off guard by the message.

“Let’s get dinner tonight, H. I miss you endlessly. Love – O”

She flipped the card over and there was nothing on the back except the name of the florist. No date anywhere. She didn’t know when these were delivered or if he’d had dinner with his ex. Her heart sank and her stomach felt heavy.

She slowly made her way back up the stairs and realized the shower was off. Harry was done. She found him standing on his balcony looking out over his garden. He hadn’t even bothered to find her. To see what she wanted to talk about that she said was important. He clearly didn’t care.

He took a 35-minute shower and then went out to chill on his balcony.

She considered just leaving without a word. Just calling an Uber and leaving for good. Getting a hotel room and forgetting about it all.

But now she was pissed.

She opened the balcony door and Harry was startled when he heard her approaching.

She laughed as she shook her head, “Forget I was even here huh?”

Harry scrunched his brows and shook his head but before he could respond she continued, “That’s okay. I get it. You and I aren’t on the same page. You’re having fun and you’re free and getting invited out to dinner with your ex, and-“

“Wait! What? I don’t-“

Y/n put her hand up, “You heard me. It’s okay. We never made any sort of promises or real commitments. Never said we’d wind up married or together in the end. You’re at your best and you deserve fame and fun and freedom. I’m only holding you back.”

Harry put his hands on her shoulders and shook his head, “No. Y/n… this was what I was worried about that you were-”

“That I want a real relationship? I’m almost 30. I can’t be playing around and traveling the world when I don’t know what you even want. And you just made it clear how disinterested in my concerns you really are-“

“Y/n. Please. What are you-“

“Stop. All you do is tell me what I should think and what I should do. You’re too… you pressure me to see things your way and you never listen. So now you listen to me.” She swallowed to gain her composure and looked up at him squarely so he understood how serious she was, “I can see now clearly, you have no interest in making a family with me. In being with me. You’re just having some fun. And that’s okay. But our fun has come to an end. I can’t go on like this anymore. I need to find someone who wants what I want. Someone who isn’t stuck on their ex and someone who will tell the whole world about me and not pretend that I’m just someone you hang out with.”

Harry shifted on his feet. He hadn’t expected this. In all the scenarios he ran in his mind she was breaking up with him and she didn’t want to be with him and he wasn’t worth it. But she was saying she wanted commitment. He smiled and opened his mouth but Y/n scoffed.

“See? You’re not even taking this seriously! Here I am telling you I’m breaking up with you and you’re smiling! You couldn’t give a shit!”

Harry’s smile fell from his face, “No I was… You’re breaking up with me? Y/n please-“

She pushed him off of her and backed away, “Go and enjoy dinner with Olivia or whoever. I’m out of here.”

Harry ran after her, “No! You can’t leave me! Please that’s not what happened. I didn’t even see her. And if you’d just listen-“

Y/n stomped her foot and turned to face the tall man. She pointed her finger at this chest, “I’m done listening. We’re done. You broke my heart.”

Harry shook his head and followed behind Y/n the whole way to the front door, pleading with her to stop so they could talk but she continued to cut him off.

“Stop! You don’t get to push me into making a decision anymore. It’s over.”

She gathered up her bags and shakily pulled her phone out to bring up her Uber app to call for a car. She was thankful all of her bags were still near the front door.

She rushed out of the house and Harry felt like he was going mad. She wouldn’t let him talk and explain and tell her that he wanted what she wanted. Every time his mouth opened she yelled for him to stop. Screamed even. Had he been so insufferable that this was how she reacted to him?

So he watched with tears in his eyes and his heart in his hands as she loaded her things into the Uber and left him standing at his gate.

He didn’t know what he would do. What could he do? He needed to let her cool off and then he’d go to her and have a conversation. He’d make her see that they’d been on the same page all along.

He called Mitch to get advice.

Mitch asked him why he hadn’t called Pat instead but Harry insisted his best friend would give him the best and most brutal advice, while also supporting him and wishing him luck. Which is actually what happened.

“Go and surprise her at the gallery. Do something ridiculously dramatic and then declare your love for her to everyone in the room. Something like that. I don’t know man. I think you two will work it out. You’re so good together. I think she just needed some time, ya know.”

Harry sighed, “Pat’s going to hate that. But I’ve got to do it, though, right? Do something absolutely nuts to get her to listen to me.”

.           .           .

Y/n had the worst, absolutely the most horrible, awful evening. She bawled her eyes out and barely slept. Harry hadn’t even tried reaching out to her. Not that she really wanted that. She half expected it. But it only solidified everything to her. She imagined he probably slept like a baby.

The following day was the exhibit. She was not prepared. Not mentally anyway. Her tears had barely dried by the time she was entering the gallery. She put on a happy face and forced herself to talk and smile. But she only felt the dread of what had happened the day before.

The curator greeted her, bringing a glass of champagne for her to sip, “I’m amazed by your work. I think your collection fits in so nicely here. But you know I’m holding on to all your pieces until one day someone offers me a million each for them,” he laughed and Y/n smiled. She doubted that would ever happen.

The evening should have been amazing. She was meant to have Harry with her and it was supposed to be a big night for her. Something that could potentially change the trajectory of her career. But Y/n wasn’t happy. Her exciting moment was clouded by thoughts of Harry and how she loved him but now it was over.

Through the doorway opposite the entrance was a small bar area. Guests could go get their drinks and then head back into the gallery. But there were a few bar tables and some stools. Y/n had been eyeing it all night. A moment to get away and sit by herself for a while.

The room was darker and quieter, even though it was open to the main gallery. The small high-top tables had four tall, cushioned stools around each. The only person in the bar was the bartender.

“Hi. Can I have a glass of chardonnay?” Y/n leaned into the bar and her eyes settled over the array of colorful bottles lined up behind the young lady who stood at the bar.

The young woman smiled, “Sure. Anything in particular? Would you like to see what I’ve got?”

“Not really. This is going to sound so bad, but just the cheapest one.”

Y/n dug into her small clutch to pull out her phone card and then waited as the young lady poured a glass of Y/n’s cheap glass of wine.

“Your art is excellent. I’m a big fan.” The woman looked over her shoulder as she plumbed the top of the bottle with the cork and placed it back into the small fridge below the counter.

“You know my work?” It was not expected. She didn’t think the bartender would know the artists by their faces alone.

“Yes! Of course. I usually get to know who the artists are that have their pieces here. Yours is outstanding.”

She felt her face get warm from the odd feeling she always got when someone loved her work and recognized her. She still hadn’t gotten used to that feeling yet but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

When she took the glass she thanked the lady for the wine, “And, thank you for the kind words too. That means a lot to me.”

She took a deep breath and sipped her wine in the empty space as she attempted to let her bad mood dissolve. She knew it was impossible to let it go completely. Her wound was so fresh. She’d just gotten her heart broken and that would take some time to grapple with. But she knew she could be okay because she’d dealt with and come through the worst kind of tragic loss anyone can imagine. Losing Robert devastated her. For a very long time. She’d only gotten to a place where she felt she was ready to find love again. And her short time with Harry was nothing in comparison to what she’d suffered. So yeah, she’d been through far worse. She’d be okay.

The music that played in the small space was slow and the tune sounded a lot like an old Foo Fighters song. But it was all instrumental and she couldn’t be sure. She pulled out her cell phone and decided to text her sister. Catch up a bit. Feel something sweet and nostalgic to get her mind off of her sorrows.

She smiled when her sister texted back with a picture of the kids.

She looked up and paused to listen closely to the music playing again. Yeah. It was an instrumental version - definitely Foo Fighters. Everlong. That was the song! She snapped her fingers and smiled again as he looked back at the picture of her nieces.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Y/n. This is for you.” The bartender laid an envelope down on the table. It had her name written on it.

This felt very reminiscent of-

She looked around the room and out into the gallery, where people fitted in lovely outfits and amazing hairstyles milled about, in search of the one person that might have had something to do with this.

She looked back down at the envelope and toward the young lady who had already gone back behind the bar, “Who gave this to you?” She was hesitant to open it.

“Ms. Adams. The gallery’s director. She said it was from a very special guest.”

A very special guest.

She wasted no more time in ripping the top of the envelope open knowing already who it was from.

She braced herself for what she might read on the folded paper inside. Her heart walloped in her chest and she felt her throat go dry as she carefully pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

I’m sorry for the way things happened yesterday. I wanted to tell you so much more. I need you in my life, Y/n. Take a drink in the director’s office with me? Please? - H

She swallowed thickly and placed the paper down on the lacquered wood. The words stared up at her. Very reminiscent of that night. Their first night together.

She decided to take a moment. Finish her glass of wine and find her resolve. She’d see him. Because of course, she would. She’d fallen for the guy and perhaps closure would be good. For both of them. She tried not to get her hopes up.

But even with the idea that she wouldn’t get her hopes up, from the very base of her spine, small bursts of hope began spreading over her back, warming her up and causing the edge of her lip to flick upward the tiniest bit.

She had to stop. She couldn’t allow the butterflies and the warmth to cover her chest. This wasn’t an olive branch. This wasn’t hope. But that was what her body was feeling, the way it reacted after reading his words.

Stop.

She read the note again and the right side of her mouth quirked but she stifled the smile that tried breaking out over her features.

“Uh, hi!” She scooted off her stool and waved at the bartender, “Do you know where the director’s office is by chance?” The young woman smiled, “Follow me, Ms. Y/n.”

Y/n followed behind the young woman to a doorway at the far end of the room and into a hallway. Framed prints were hung along the wall and the floor was dark wood while the walls were a light cream. A few doors were passed, the bathrooms, a numbered room, until finally, they reached the director’s office.

The woman knocked before turning the knob to open the door and stood back, “Here you are.” She gestured at the open door.

“Thank you.” Y/n wavered in her movements wondering if this was the right thing. Should she entertain this idea? Of course, she was going to entertain this idea, but part of her wanted to keep her tough exterior and remain firm in her decision.

Slowly pushing the door further open, she stepped into the threshold and was met with a quaint office-sized room. The same dark wood floors sprawled below her feet, but the very first thing her eyes landed on was that of Harry holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a soft smile.  

She closed the door behind her and stepped in a couple of feet. He was in a well-fitted navy suit and he looked tired. But he was handsome.

The thought quickly hit her. How did he get in here? Who let him use the director’s office? But then, as he ran his ringed fingers through his hair and she saw remnants of chipped nail polish she was reminded of who he was. Not just her lover or her ex. But he was Harry. Everyone knew him or knew of him. Of course, he was allowed in the director’s office.

“Hi, Y/n,” Harry spoke reticently as he held out the bouquet to her.

He wasn’t sure she’d come to him or that she’d want to even talk to him. And he thought about making a grand gesture. Take over the audio system and declare his love publicly before everyone as he walked out into the crowd toward her. Make a scene. Make her listen. Have everyone rooting for them. Rooting for him.

But that wasn’t right. That would have been too pushy. Not fair. This night was about her. If he’d gone about it the way he wanted it would have had all eyes on him.

He knew, though, that he needed to be here with her. To tell her how he really felt and what he wanted and then if she still wanted that with him, still wanted to be with him, they could end the night the way it was meant to be ended. Together.

“Hi, Harry,” Y/n spoke softly, keeping her eyes on his eyes as she took the lovely bouquet full of pink peonies and soft cream roses.

Harry gestured toward the brown Midcentury style couch, “Will you sit with me? I won’t take up much of your time if you don’t want. I just wanted to say some things.”

The couch was large enough for just two people. Harry was glad she had to sit so close to him. He wanted to eat her up she looked so pretty and so sweet. And just the fact that she’d come to him to entertain a conversation had him soaring.

Placing the bouquet down on the glass coffee table, Y/n noticed the bottle of wine and two glasses as he pointed, “Would you like a glass?”

Nodding her head, Harry pulled the cork out and poured her a bit of the red wine. She felt like she should say no just for the fact that she’d only just finished a glass of white wine and surely it would make the red wine taste odd. But ultimately she figured she could use another glass of wine.

“Yesterday I was working up the courage to tell you how I want to be with you for good,” Harry said as he leaned his back into the cushion behind him with his own glass of wine, “Wanted to tell you how serious I am about you. But I thought you were planning on breaking up with me so I needed a minute to figure out how I was going to convince you to stay.”

Y/n’s eyes bounced over his features as she cinched her brows inward. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had he wanted the same thing she did the whole time?

“And I’m so sorry that it seemed to you like I was putting off a serious conversation with you. That’s my fault. I should have stayed there with you in bed and listened to you right off. Even if it meant potentially having you break up with me,” he licked his lips and sighed, “Instead, I did what I normally do and tried and figure out a way to make something work in my favor. So I paused that moment hoping you’d change your mind, or that I could come up with something. Prolonging it for the sake of just holding on to you a little longer.

“It’s because I’m selfish and I like to control the narrative. But that’s never been fair to you. So, I understand if my apology is no good anymore. I just felt like maybe I can tell you what was really happening in my head yesterday. Because that part, you did have wrong.”

Y/n blinked her eyes and nodded, “Well, then… I guess I’m sorry too. Because it sounds like I might have jumped to conclusions. I just didn’t think you’d want something serious. Long term. But there’s more to it than just that you know?”

Harry frowned and shook his head, “What do you mean?��

Y/n could see how timid Harry had been since the moment she walked into the room with him. She felt the need to help assuage him so she turned her body toward his and pulled his hands into hers before speaking, “I mean that I’m getting older and I think it’s time for me to really settle down. For good. I mean…” she breathed out a nervous laugh, “like, babies, marriage… death. All that. That’s what I mean.”

Harry nodded and raised his brows, “Yeah?”

Y/n grinned as Harry’s thumbs ran along the sides of her hands. The corner of his mouth pulled upward. She could see his swagger return in almost an instant. His eye contact was solid and his dimples carved into his cheeks.

“Well, yeah,” she started to feel flustered by his proximity, the way she could see his pupils roaming over her face and watching her mouth, “I’m not saying we need to get married but like,” she swallowed, “I’d like for us to be serious enough to know that we’d be headed that direction if things are good. And I know you’re super famous and that’s why yesterday I just…”

“I want to be with you. I want it all with you.” Harry bowed his head, finally breaking eye contact and his hands tightened around hers, “I thought you were done with me. I thought you were going to break up with me and that I wasn’t going to be worth all the trouble for you. Because I know this is a lot.”

“No. I just thought you wouldn’t want what I wanted and the way you reacted to me telling you I wanted to talk and how you didn’t come to find me after you were done showering… I felt like you were trying to figure out the best way to break it to me- either that or you were trying to avoid me. I just… Thought the worst.”

She couldn’t have described the way her insides were pulsing and expanding and churning. She’d spent the better half of the day reeling over losing him. Over knowing she might not get to look into his eyes in this way again. Might not see the small freckles on his face again and the way he blushed despite being so sure of himself. But here she was sitting with Harry and in under three minutes everything had changed. If she had just listened yesterday. If he had just listened.

“But so did I. That’s why we’re in this mess. I thought you were breaking up with me and so my behavior made you think the worst.”

Y/n smiled and allowed herself to indulge in his eyes and in the grin he was holding back and the way his fingers felt on hers… Was she just dreaming? Was she just about to wake up and realize it had all been a dream?

“Is it okay if I… ?” He pulled at her gently and slowly wrapped his arms around her and she smelled his familiar cologne. She loved how this felt. Hugging him. Feeling his solid body against hers. She eased into his hold and wrapped her own arms around him.

Harry whispered into her ear, “I should have told you everything yesterday. Let you talk and then we wouldn’t have gotten in this mess. It’s me and you, Y/n. Okay? Me and you. That’s what I want.”

Tears of relief and elated joy broke from her waterline and Harry pulled her in tighter, kissing her temple, “I thought you were done with me. I thought you wanted to break up with me,” the anguish in his voice was not missed. He’d been hurting too.

Harry brushed his palm up and down on her back slowly and pressed his lips to the top of her head, “God I was so worried this was it for us. Fuck. I’m not letting you leave me again like you did. I can’t be away from you like that, Y/n.”

Pulling her head back to look up at him she did see the glisten in his eyes from the start of tears. She knew hers matched. It all felt like a dream. But just in case it was real she needed to speak the words. Sliding her hands upward and cupping his face she was nearly trembling from relief and excitement, “I love you, Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into hers, clutching her lovely dress tightly, “God, I love you, Y/n.”

.           .           .

Stepping into the gallery with all the other people in the room and having Harry by her side felt surreal. Everyone was watching them. She was okay to share this night with him. There was no way around it that people wouldn’t be interested in her because of her boyfriend. She figured that would be something she’d just have to get used to.

Harry squeezed her hand tight and she looked up at him. He looked proud. So important with a big, pleased smile on his lips as he looked down at her.

“You realize you’re coming back home with me after this. Right? And I’m never letting you leave me again.”

Harry had grown a lot as an individual. He still had moments where he could be pushy and use his charm to get the things he wanted, but he figured some things just couldn’t be totally trained out of him. He allowed Y/n to make her own choices. He gave her space when she needed but she came back to him in the end. He wanted her to be his and everything they’d done that had gotten them to where they were currently had worked out. So Harry had no regrets about coming to her on this night.

“Of course, I’m coming home with you. I’d be offended if you assumed otherwise,” she smirked happily. “And I wouldn’t dream of leaving you again.”

Harry couldn’t wait to get her home and make love to her. Seal it all together in finality. He knew that tonight was just the beginning for them.

And as if they could both read one another’s minds they smiled and paused together in time. Everything had finally come together for them. At last.

A/N: This is the last part of this series! Would love your feedback!

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[boydepartment]

@ iluvmygf- nishimura riki x fem! reader: ch 6

description: nishimura riki is a headache to his managers. as much as he loves being an idol and as much as he loves that he gets the freedom to travel. he hates that he can’t show you off. publicly… as himself… so he makes a twitter account called @ iluvmygf at first not a lot of people follow it. it goes unnoticed, for a few weeks. until it doesn’t. his account about you goes viral… and people are nosy as to who loves their gf so much to constantly post about her.

genre: romcom, crack, humor, something fun and lighthearted like a hallmark movie. it’s also set from november-february bc i said so and i want a christmas ark 😋🫶 this is an smau

warnings: cursing, most likely crude humor, probably kms jokes

no specific warnings for this chapter

WRITTEN CHAPTER- word count 250-500

you found yourself giggling as you snuck out of your dorms once again for your loser of a boyfriend.

when you hit the cool air you started shivering instantly, only in your pajamas, a hoodie, and your outdoor slippers.

you spotted your boyfriend behind a bush, “loser i can’t let you in, you chose the entrance with the cctv right there.”

“FUCK!” riki yelled and stood up. you started laughing and grabbed his hand, “walk with me then.”

riki nodded and let you guide him around your dorm. he quickly took off his hat and put it on you, “i brought it for you.”

your eyes scowled at him, “this is your favorite one. what boo boo did you commit?”

riki put his hand over his heart, “ouch! baby! already accusing your handsome, fun, hot, lovi-“

“riki!”

“okay okay!” he put his hands up and looked down at you, “the account i made about you-“

“the one where you say how much you loooooove me!” you teased him and he grabbed your face lightly, making your lips pucker.

“yes the account i made where i say how much i looooove you.” he copied your tone of voice.

you started giggling after he gave you a quick peck, “the account is starting to gain traction.” he spoke simply.

you looked at him in fear, “are you in trouble? i don’t want you to get into trouble! do they know it’s you?”

riki looked at you, his heart warming a bit that you cared more about him than silly photos of you gaining traction.

“nono they don’t it’s okay!” he shoved you lightly then caught you when you almost slipped, “jungwon just told me i should tell you.”

“are the staff going to make you delete the account?” you asked, leaning into him.

riki shook his head no, “they don’t know about it.” he giggled, a little evilly.

“riki-“

“what! i’m keeping it up! and i’m still going to post! anyways….” he leaned down to be eye level with you, “so, i am viral… do you still love me?”

you rolled your eyes, “obviously.”

he started laughing and hugged you tightly, “yeah i’m just so cool you have to love me.”

you started laughing again as he swung you around lightly, it didn’t seem as cold with riki even with the snow and ice around you.

___

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a/n: sorry this chapter took so long! if you’re not on my account often i had surgery :3 i am okay tho! i’ve been watching a lot of rotten mango. i’m also going out to a party tonight lolz

#enhypen #kpop #enha #enhypen imagines #enha imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smau #nishimura riki smau #niki smau #enha smau #nishimura riki scenarios #nishimura riki imagines #enhypen nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #riki nishimura #nishimura riki #enha x reader #enha scenarios #nishimura riki fluff #enhypen fluff #yang jungwon smau #lee heeseung smau #jake sim smau #jay park smau #kim sunoo smau #park sunghoon smau #yang jungwon imagines #lee heeseung imagines #jake sim imagines

[neptuneiris]

brooklyn baby (02/?)

we can go back to New York

pairing: rockstar!aemond × fem!reader

summary: you finally see the sexy guitarist again and after going through a disappointing time, things get interesting at a party where the whole band has been invited by Baela.

word count: 8.2k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

hi besties! here's the second chapter i'm so excited for you to read:) can't wait to read your comments, thanks for the amazing reception to the story, i love you guys! enjoy!

warnings: alcohol, smoking, kissing.

If there's anyone who hates the period a lot, it's you.

In desperate times many girls are relieved when it finally happens to them, fortunately you've never had a scare. But you feel completely sick and can't do anything when those days come every month.

Being irregular, you don't know exactly when it will happen, you've tried calculating, assuming and so on, you've even installed period apps, but nothing works. However, you should have known it was coming since you felt slight cramps this morning and since you started getting pimples two days ago.

But with so much to do from college, you didn't have time to prepare. And also a certain guitarist from a certain band wouldn't leave your thoughts alone sometimes.

Since that kiss almost happened, the next morning you were stalking him on Instagram, which is the only social media he has, compared to the remaining members who have Instagram, Twitter and TikTok.

But he's not even active.

The photos he has are only of the band promoting the tour, albums and songs, or also photos of some cities he has visited. He only has two posts with his brothers and cousins, where they are more like random photos before concerts. He has very few pictures of him and you can't even see his face since he doesn't see the camera, in all of them he plays the guitar and nothing else.

There is nothing about his day to day life really, just music. Also you notice that he posts photos every few months, although lately he has been posting more consistently due to the concerts, but it's all about the band.

You go into Aegon's account, trying to find Aemond in his pictures where he's not doing anything related to his guitar, but there's nothing of him if it's not that way. You see how Aegon takes funny pictures and uploads videos with his brother and cousins where they laugh and make jokes, but none of it shows him.

The same on Jace, Luke and Daeron's account, there's nothing from Aemond if it's not band related.

Instantly this catches your attention more, guessing that he most likely doesn't really like social media and keeps himself as private as possible, seeming so different to you, so mysterious and appealing in a ridiculous way simply because of that.

And yet he has many followers, which is understandable, it is obvious why in addition to his music, when he follows at most three hundred accounts, all of them music accounts, he also follows his siblings, his cousins and other people who must belong to his team.

You let out a groan and finally leave Aemond's account in peace, sinking your face into your pillow, feeling the cramps stronger than before, so you try to calm down and seek to feel more comfortable so you can let the pills take effect.

And even when the cramps are less, you still don't feel energetic or up for anything, entertaining yourself on your phone or watching TV, not wanting to leave the warmth of your bed because you really feel terrible.

So when you least expect it, you fall asleep. When suddenly, someone's scream wakes you up.

"Y/N!"

You raise your gaze instantly, startled, as you see frightened and confused Rhaena at the door of your room, entering, watching you in horror.

"W-what... what are you doing here?" you stare at her between irritated and confused now, still sleepy.

"What are you doing like that?" she asks you incredulously and on the verge of collapse to then watch as she looks down the hallway, "Baela, hurry up! She looks awful!"

You watch her seriously.

"Wow, thanks."

"What? What happe-oh shit," Baela also appears, watching you instantly in horror and shock, "W-what... what are you doing?" she looks at you blankly.

"What are you guys doing?" you ask back, irritated, "How did you get in?"

"It can't be, have you forgotten?" Rhaena looks at you incredulously, "Tonight is the concert of your sexy guitarist."

"Yes," says Baela, "Tonight," she repeats terribly serious, "Now can you explain why you're not ready? We have to go now."

"I'm not going," you say grumpily, laying your head back down on your pillow lazily.

"What do you mean you won't going? Are you crazy?"

"You better be kidding me."

"You guys... I'm having a horrible headache right now and I feel like if I get up now I'm going to throw up, not to mention that every breath I take I feel more blood coming out, so could you please leave my room quietly and let me continue sleeping in peace?"

The room falls silent for a moment.

"Oh no, don't tell me that," you hear Rhaena say disappointedly.

And then you listen as Baela complains, also disappointed.

"And you feel very bad?"

"Very," you answer her without hesitation.

"It's your first day?"

"Yes and I feel like shit."

"But Y/N... you can't miss it," Rhaena says worriedly.

"The sexy guitarist gave you the free tickets to see you again," Baela insists too, "I understand you're sick but wouldn't it be rude if you didn't go?"

You let out a huge groan against your pillow and then look at them with a pained expression.

"You think I haven't thought about it too? Of course I have," you let them know sadly, "I'm just as upset as you are, but what am I supposed to do? Everything hurts, I feel awful and besides you want me to let him see me like this with all my greasy, zitty face?"

Baela and Rhaena exchange a look.

"She's right," Rhaena tells her with a look of pity.

And again they both focus on you.

"Okay, we get it," Baela says resignedly, "So is there anything you want to send the sexy guitarist to say?"

"No," you tell her instantly, confused, "I already feel bad enough about not going. I don't want to be so cynical as to tell him I couldn't go but still thank him for the tickets."

And without saying anything else, your cousins don't insist but they are still disappointed since they will have to go to the concert without you.

You really wanted to go, you wanted to see him again and you wanted to spend time with him again like last time, to get to know him a little more and maybe... just maybe, to find out what else could happen between the two of you.

But now, once your cousins leave, you can only go back to trying to sleep, wanting to forget about the world for a while and not think about him or the concert that will happen in another hour that you couldn't attend.

So the hours pass, the sun in New York begins to set and the nightlife in the city begins, which is what characterizes it so much. And yet by the time severe hours have passed, you are still asleep, very tired and your period is not helping you to have any energy, submerged in a deep sleep.

When around two o'clock in the morning, you are again awakened and your peace of mind is interrupted by feeling absolutely nothing. And those responsible? Your cousins again, of course.

"What?" you say completely sleepy, closing your eyes tightly as the light hits you directly when are turned on.

"Wake up, you have to hear this!" squeals Rhaena excitedly, followed by Baela, both invading your bed, each lying on your sides, while you grunt and groan, sinking your face back into your pillow.

"Leave me alone," you plead weakly.

"Stop sleeping already," Rhaena shakes you, "I bet you've slept all day!"

"As I should."

"Y/N, seriously, you must know this," Baela insists as well.

"What? What thing? Talk now so you can leave me alone," you say irritably, still with your eyes closed.

"How mean you are," Rhaena says with a pout

"Let her, she's on her period, it's understandable."

"Then tell her!"

"The sexy guitarist asked us about you."

And that's more than enough for sleep to leave your system and you open your eyes, so you instantly turn to watch your cousins carefully, brushing your hair out of your face and looking completely surprised and now very interested.

"What?" you inquire, watching them intently.

"Yes!" squeals Rhaena excitedly, nodding, "And Baela made out with Jace," she adds innocently.

You open your eyes wide.

"What!?"

"It just happened," Baela shrugs, with a look of superiority, amused, "It was amazing, by the way. We exchanged numbers, too."

"And Aemond?" you ask more than attentively.

"Well, we were talking to Jace and Luke already by the time the after party was over. We were at the bar when Aegon joined us and he was coming with Aemond, so..." Rhaena laughs excitedly, "Jace and Luke were called I think by their manager, so we stayed with the two of them."

"He didn't talk at all, he was just ordering drinks," Baela clarifies.

"Yes and... when Aegon also ordered a drink, he did talk to us, but to ask us about you."

"He asked us where you were and we told him you couldn't come because you were sick."

"And he just nodded and continued drinking," Rhaena finished.

You avert your gaze from both of them for a moment, focusing on your TV, and then dropping your head back onto your pillow, your gaze resigned, so you let out a long sigh and go back to blaming your period for not being able to go tonight.

"But he looked disappointed, we know," Baela assures you with a small smile, "I even felt bad for him."

"Are you sure?" you ask her not really convinced about that.

"Yes, very. If he wanted to hide it, it didn't come out."

You let out a long breath again, bringing your hands to your face, wanting to let go of the frustration somehow, but you can't.

"Oh Y/N, come on, cheer up," Rhaena tells you without wiping off her smile.

"Yes, this is not the end," Baela adds.

"It's not the end?" you repeat confused, "This was literally my last chance to see him again and I couldn't go."

"Stop it, drama queen," Baela says to you again amused, "You've already forgotten Jace?"

"What about him?"

"That he and I are in contact now, silly."

"So?"

"God, I can't handle her," you hear her say to Rhaena.

"Just tell her. That way we'll make her feel better."

"Yeah, just tell me so i can keep sleeping," you tell her too.

You listen as she lets out a long breath.

"The band will be taking a short break. Their last concert will be next Saturday here in Manhattan and Jace has invited us."

She finally tells you and even though you don't show it, you feel interested to hear such news.

"So now you get to see your sexy guitarist," Rhaena tells you with a mischievous tone.

After an exhaustive search through your closet, making combinations with a lot of shirts, skirts, pants and shoes, you finally put together your perfect outfit.

Thank God your period is over and another horrible week of stress, frustration, worry and this time pain is over, until it's finally time to have a good time. And since you're going to the concert, you decide to choose your all black outfit.

You choose a black skirt, a black sleeveless shirt that exposes part of your stomach, black high boots and a black blazer on top. The only colored thing you bring with you is your small white hanging bag. (click)

Your make-up is not too much, but it is elaborate, because you really want to look good. So at the end you apply a matte red lipstick and style your hair in light waves, leaving it completely loose.

You choose silver jewelry and in the end you love the result, seeing yourself with a little smile in your full-length mirror, happy and excited. Then you head to Baela's apartment, which is actually in the same building and in the same hallway as yours.

You both go to NYU, only she studies fashion and you study business management. You always wanted to live alone, you love your privacy and having a place to yourself, so you got your apartment with the help of your parents and Baela joined you shortly after, although it's really like you both live together.

Rhaena just started college months ago and lives with her roomie, Sara, in the dorms provided by the university.

"Wow."

That's the first thing Baela says to you when she opens the door to her apartment and looks as ready as you do.

"Yeah, wow to you too," you tell her laughing.

"Oh my god-you look so hot," Rhaena says to you, appearing behind Baela.

"Thanks, you too, both," you assure them, "So are we leaving or what?"

"In a moment, I'm waiting for Jason to answer my messages," Baela tells you with her phone in her hand.

"Jason?"

"Lannister."

"Jason Lannister?" you repeat confused, "Your friend the rich guy who lives in that huge, fancy apartment in Upper East Side?"

"That same one. He's having an party tonight and I asked him if I could bring the band after the concert is over. The after party will only last an hour and Jace had said that after that they wanted to go out and celebrate."

"Oh," you nod, "Well, that sounds great," you say, as inevitably a wave of excitement washes over you.

"Oh-he has replied!" she says excitedly, her gaze fixed on her screen, "And he said yes!"

"Great! Now let's go, I want to see Luke," Rhaena says desperately, ushering you both out of the apartment.

Driving doesn't take as long as last time, as you literally crossed half of Manhattan in order to get to Brooklyn and also half of Brooklyn in order to get to the club where the concert was.

And once you get to the club, finding parking is a bit difficult but you make it and finally Baela hands the three tickets to the security man to let you in. Once inside, you get the feeling that there are more people than there were in Brooklyn, seeing all the girls very excited and rushing into the club to get to the front of the stage.

You see Baela texting with Jace and the three of them make it to the front, in a seemingly exclusive section with a great view of the entire stage where they are allowed in after she shows security her phone screen.

"What did you show them?" you ask confused and curious.

"Some messages from Jace," she says with a certain superiority, making you laugh and shake your head at the same time.

Rhaena insists that the three of you take selfies and so you do, killing time as the concert begins. The minutes go by, the place slowly starts to fill up, security brings order, everything is ready on stage and after the lights are turned off for a moment, calling everyone's attention, the concert finally starts.

The first to come out is Aegon, clearly, greeting the whole audience and the other guys follow him, causing the excited and euphoric screams of all the girls.

Instantly your gaze focuses on him, on Aemond, making you smile a little as you watch him focus totally on the music, not even looking much towards the audience, taking a seat at one of the speakers, completely focused on his guitar. And again you become totally absorbed in him.

He looks so handsome, like it's not an everyday thing, with his black pants and a plain white t-shirt, making his black electric guitar stand out, while his hair looks as good as ever.

And the way he plays his notes, the way his face concentrates and the way he lights up the occasional cigarette during the concert, he looks completely sexy.

And you are not the only one who notices these details, you see how some girls around you focus the camera of their phones on him, you also hear how some of them scream his name or go crazy in his solos, all wanting to get his attention.

But then again… Aemond doesn't react much with his audience and only gives head gestures, that being enough for him and stay focused on the music. This especially catches your attention a lot, as his behavior is totally different from Aegon or Daeron.

In fact you were hoping that he will manage to see you in the whole audience, as Jace and Baela although they are not far away but not too close either, both still exchange glances and he especially focuses a lot on your cousin most of the time.

Then comes another solo from Aemond, looking extremely sexy in the way he focuses on hitting his notes perfectly, filling the place with more screams. And you watch in admiration, because even if you wanted to, you couldn't play guitar like that.

You see how there is a man with a camera taking pictures of everyone and him especially at that moment on stage, probably being the band's photographer. There are lots of lighting effects, the whole club looks great and they all put on an amazing show, since it's the last one.

You sing and dance along with your cousins, really enjoying the moment, since even though you were suffering all the week before because of your period, you still started listening to their songs and learned them.

You take more videos together, you also take several videos of everything and you may have focused on recording him a little bit more sometimes, unable to help it.

When it's time to finish.

Aegon again takes charge of dismissing the whole band, causing screams and applause from the whole audience towards them, all the girls screaming and throwing bracelets and necklaces on stage. The five of them say goodbye at the same time, Aemond again without showing much emotion and it's all over.

The after party takes place right there, as the club has its own separate pub-like bar section, so the girls with tickets to meet the band are guided, among them you too with your cousins, by security guards to a huge door that will take them there directly.

Upon entering the pub, everything is empty except for the bartender and more security people. The bar is also free and all the girls start getting ready with their t-shirts, caps and posters more than ready.

"I'll meet Jace before he comes out. I'll be right back," Baela says to Rhaena and you, visibly excited.

It's not as if she can be stopped, as she quickly heads down a hallway where you assume must be those break rooms where everyone in the band keeps their stuff while they tend to the fans and where they must all be now.

"Do you think Baela will take him to his apartment when Jason's party is over?" asks you Rhaena with a knowing look.

"Don't even doubt it," you assure her.

Then finally the band starts to come out, causing the screams of all the excited girls, quickly wanting to head towards them, but security instantly starts to bring order, controlling everything and asking all the girls to line up and wait their turn without scandal.

You don't move from where you are, but watch everything carefully, wanting to find Aemond. But it's just like last time… everyone shows up but him.

"Done," Baela suddenly appears with a small smile, "Jace sends his greetings."

"Wow sis, you didn't even sweat," Rhaena tells her amused and you let out a loud laugh which makes Baela look at her serious.

"Very funny."

"And what else did he tell you? Everyone is going to Jason's party?" you ask her interested.

"Everyone or Aemond?"

"Aemond," you answer reluctantly.

"Yes, everyone is going."

"And where is he?" asks Rhaena confused, watching the guys with all the fans, "They are all except him."

"I don't know, he was in that room with everyone, he looked… serious and bored."

"He's hiding, like last time," you say, "Eventually he'll have to come out."

"And you're going to talk to him?" says Rhaena excitedly to you.

"I think so," you nod to her.

"She's going to talk to him," Baela says in affirmative mode, serious and threatening.

Then Rhaena is the one who wants to approach Luke, so she asks you to go with her, while Baela takes the opportunity to order something from the bar, so when you start to wait in line, the wait is long.

Rhaena suddenly starts talking to some girls who are behind you both, also waiting, so you entertain yourself on your phone, killing a little more time, although from time to time you participate in Rhaena's conversation with those girls about the band, their favorite songs and so on.

When you briefly inspect the pub, you notice a platinum-haired person starting to join in, catching your attention. You step aside, as Rhaena obstructs your view a bit, and then finally there he is.

As soon as he leaves the hallway, a bunch of girls rush towards him, all smiling and excited, clearly happy to finally see him, to which the security guys instantly bring order and he starts signing and taking pictures with them.

You watch everything with a small smile, inevitably starting to feel nervous and you don't understand why, since he hasn't even seen you and doesn't even know you are here, but his presence in the same place as you already makes you feel that way.

At that moment your mind starts to plan what exactly you will do to get closer to him, telling yourself that you can choose a poster this time and have him sign it for you, but just thinking about it and such a simple action already makes you terribly nervous.

You think that Rhaena or Baela might come with you, but you don't even have the slightest idea how to start the conversation or what exactly to talk to him about, fearing that your nerves will betray you and you'll act like a fool.

So you also think you might as well do nothing and wait for a miracle to happen and he will notice you.

You let out a long breath, since of course you can't decide to do nothing if the man gave you free tickets and you didn't go to the concert, so this is the least you can do, however, you feel very nervous and you also start to get frustrated.

"There's finally your sexy guitarist," Rhaena says to you suddenly, excited, looking in the same direction as you, "Are you going to go to him?"

"Later, I'm just feeling nervous," you confess to her.

"Relax. When he sees you, he'll probably feel as nervous as you do, too, so you won't be the only one."

You frown.

Aemond nervous? You don't think he's nervous at all.

You can't focus on him anymore because the line starts to move faster, so now you focus on helping Rhaena with the pictures and also to want to see her shyly flirting with Luke, who is also shyly flirting with her.

Rhaena and Luke's moment unfortunately passes quickly, but he still tells her that he will see her at the party, in a whisper obviously, and then the following girls come by to meet him and talk to him.

Then again you focus on Aemond, but you are surprised to see that he is no longer with all the fans around him, he has simply disappeared.

Confused, you start looking around, not understanding where he has gone, bewildered, as it was only a brief moment when he was attending to fans and he should stay longer or not? When you are directing your gaze in all directions, you finally focus on that hallway where he had come out before, finding him.

However, what you see is definitely not what you expected.

You see how he heads to the men's restroom, which is normal, but what catches your attention is how a girl or rather a fan goes after him, not hesitating to follow him. And then they enter the restroom together, as he closes the door behind him.

And it's clear what they both went to do, you're not stupid.

You continue to stand there for a few more moments, staring at the closed door, feeling slightly surprised as you really didn't expect to see him like this and you also begin to feel disappointed.

Unable to help it, sadness and anger come over you, as you also feel discouraged now.

With a sad and disappointed look, also a bit serious, you avert your gaze to head towards the bar, all the while biting the inside of your cheek and trying not to let your emotions show too much on your face, but you cannot.

As you take a seat on the stool, you watch as your cousins are with Aegon, so when you inevitably start to think more about it, disappointment washes over you as well along with everything else you're feeling.

You had expectations of him, but you never expected him to be that kind of guy, that's why you feel so disappointed and you can't help it, not even having the energy to be here anymore.

That's why he offered to give me his merch inside that room in Brooklyn.

You think, since that's why you feel angry, not because you saw him with another girl, but because he wanted the two of them to be alone that one nigh and it happened, the two of them kissed, but what would have happened if Aegon hadn't interrupted you? Probably you two would have fucked, as was his purpose.

You start to feel really bad about that and get frustrated with yourself, because even this you should have expected, yet you didn't even though it was too obvious.

He is absolutely handsome and plays in a band, so he meets a lot of girls almost every day and every single one of them he has at his feet, so… who would be fool enough to say no to him? No one.

You were just going to be another one of the crowd.

You say to yourself, really sad, disappointed and upset.

You want to get out of here but you continue to wait for your cousins at the bar, order a drink just to kill time and try not to think about him, knowing perfectly well that you must have a very cold face.

You let out a long breath, continuing to wait, wait and wait, until Baela and Rhaena appear.

"Hey, did you talk to the sexy guitarist?" asks Baela, excited and interested.

"Yes," you lie, trying to put on your best possible face.

"And what happened?" asks you now Rhaena, also excited.

"I'll tell you later."

Luckily they don't insist and Baela again turns to Jace, so Rhaena stays with you, showing you the photos and videos she took of the concert, also the ones from a few moments ago with Luke, asking her which one is the best to post on her Instagram stories.

You're with her for a while, when you raise your gaze to observe the whole pub for a second, although you unconsciously look towards that hallway as well, when then your breath is cut short and you see how Aemond comes out of there to join the inside of the pub again, with Aegon by his side.

You must have averted your gaze the second you saw him come out, for suddenly Aemond casually glances over to where you are, both of your gazes crossing at that moment.

You don't manage to read his gaze, as again nerves and disappointment wash over you, so you instantly avert your eyes from him and focus back on Rhaena, trying to not let his gaze on you affect you.

However, you can feel how he continues to watch you, his burning gaze completely on you, but you don't respond to him anymore, in fact you feel more the need to get out of here now that he has already noticed your presence.

Out of the corner of your eye you watch as he attends to more fans, while at the same time talking to Aegon, who also attends to fans, but every now and then… you feel his gaze on you again, one that was screaming for you to watch him as well, but you didn't.

"The girls are already leaving."

Rhaena tells you, pointing to the doors and watching as the guards ask the fans who have already had their moment with each member of the band to leave.

"I'll go talk to Luke, I'll be right back," she tells you, starting to get up from her stool.

"Actually," you get up too, stopping her, "I'll go ahead to the party. You and Baela are going with Jace and Luke right?"

She frowns.

"Yes, but…

"Great. I'll see you guys over there then, you tell Baela please."

You start to walk past her, heading towards the doors.

"Wait, Y/N," Rhaena stops you, grabbing your arm, "Are you okay? What happened?" she asks you softly, confused, "I thought you wanted to be near Aemond, did something happen with him?"

You bite your lips, hesitant, as you really don't want to lie to your cousin, but you also don't want to tell her and look so dramatic about it, as it has nothing to do with you but you still feel disappointed and like a fool.

"Yes," you finally tell her, in a whisper "But I'll tell you later."

"You promise?" she looks at you, not entirely convinced.

"I promise," you assure her, "I'll see you there."

She has no choice but to let you go, telling you to call her in case of anything, so you nod and are finally able to walk away, starting to walk out of there with your car keys in hand, not letting go of that burning stare on you until you leave the pub.

At first you thought about deciding not to go to the party, sounding like a good plan for you, however, you were well aware that Baela would kill you and probably never forgive you if you decided such a thing, so now you are here, in Jason Lannister's luxurious apartment and with a bunch of other college students enjoying the party.

As you walk in, you greet a few people you know and also Jason, who asks you about Baela, Rhaena and those guys in that band she told him she was bringing.

You catch up with him, telling him they shouldn't be long and then you notice how all the people here are Baela's friends and also studying fashion, except Jason is studying law, so there are more people from that faculty as well.

You decide to help set up the beer pong tables, just to entertain yourself and start enjoying the party, while you talk to Jason and his friends, when not too long after, a half hour maybe, your cousins with them finally arrive.

You watch them almost from the other side of the huge apartment, watching as Baela greets her friends and introduces the band, where Aegon, Daeron and Jace look more than ready to start enjoying themselves, while Luke stays more calm and relaxed with Rhaena.

And even though you didn't want to, you still inevitably focus on him.

He closes the door behind him with a completely relaxed and unconcerned expression and posture, to your bad luck already having a cigarette on his lips, as he watches the whole party around him, now wearing a different black t-shirt.

And of course, his arrival starts to draw the attention of all the girls at the party and not only on him, on all of them, seeing them with a few small smiles and more than interested.

You avert your gaze, deciding not to make a big deal out of it, continuing to place the plastic cups on the table, though really, it's only a matter of time before Baela finds you, bringing them all with her.

With Jason at your side, she introduces them to him and he starts talking to them, while you continue to set everything up, deliberately ignoring his burning gaze when he sees you, not letting it get to you.

And after that it's only a matter of time before the real party starts.

People start dancing and your cousins along with all of them take a seat on some couches, starting to drink, so it's only a matter of time before Aegon gets up and now he's in a corner making out with a girl mercilessly, just like Jace and Baela, this surprising you but you're very excited for her.

Rhaena and Luke are also in a corner close together, but they're both talking, both with shy but willing little smiles, so you're sure that by the end of the night, something will have happened between them.

And at the end, Daeron and Aemond are still sitting on the couches, both drinking, with one girl already talking to Daeron, both very flirtatious, but you don't approach him.

Wherever you move in the apartment, you feel his gaze on you, always. However, you drink and enjoy yourself, although you don't go over one beer either, since you have to drive. But you admit that his gaze on you makes you very nervous and as much as you don't want to give it any importance, you can't.

Until one moment when you are talking to Jason, just for once you decide to return his gaze, and that's what happens, you look at him and he is already watching you so intensely and with a look between serious and curious.

But the moment doesn't last long, because just when you both exchange glances for two seconds, suddenly a girl appears and takes a seat next to him, starting to talk to him, her intentions clear, so he looks away from you to her.

You look away, finishing what's left of your bottle of beer with just one gulp, then you leave the empty bottle on the kitchen island and decide to go out to the balcony for some fresh air, as the place is getting more and more crowded and it's starting to feel suffocating.

Once outside, you enjoy a bit of the quiet, even though you can still hear some music although this doesn't bother you, as you observe the view offered by some New York skyscrapers around you, looking beautiful and eye-catching.

You don't know how long you last there, but you enjoy it, wanting to take another moment before going back to the party. When suddenly… you must have expected that the moment of the night would come for you and Aemond.

The doors open letting in more music and you turn around, this getting your attention, when again nerves and shame come over you, seeing that it's Aemond. But he is not alone… he enters the balcony along with Aegon, who laughs along with…. Cregan?

"Man, all this stuff I missed if I had gone to college," Aegon says, smiling.

Cregan laughs, giving him a friendly tap on his shoulder.

"Oh dude, you don't know what you're talking about."

When then both of their gazes focus on you, to which you wave your hand and smile a bit apologetically, but not for them, but for him, who continues to stare at you like that.

"Y/N?" inquires Cregan, approaching you, watching you incredulously.

"Hi," you smile at him.

"My godness, I haven't seen you in ages!" he exclaims happily, then locks you in a tight hug.

"Please, it's only been months," you tell him amused, reciprocating his hug.

"It's been years for me," he tells you melancholy, pulling away.

And you both laugh.

"So you know Baela's cousin," Aegon says without wiping away his smile, stepping closer, watching you and Cregan continuously.

"Yes," Cregan says, "You know them?" he asks you, pointing at him and Aemond, who stands apart.

"Baela and Rhaena are hanging out with their cousins," you tell him, nodding.

"Oh yes, the drummer and the bass player."

And you nod.

"And how do you two know each other?" asks Aegon, interested.

"We were classmates in business management," Cregan explains to him, "But I decided to change careers to law."

"At NYU?"

You both nod, as does he, now understanding, while Aemond still continues to stand apart, but at no point do you fail to feel his gaze on you, making you still very nervous but distracting with Cregan at your side.

"I didn't know the three of you knew each other," you decide to say, confused and slightly interested.

"Oh, we didn't know each other," Aegon says.

"We only just met a few moments ago when we played beer pong together," Cregan tells you with a small smile.

And you don't say anything else, that being so random, since the two of them barely met and apparently are now best friends, Cregan and Aegon more than anything, since Aemond continues to be just as serious.

"Anyway, have you seen Alysanne?" asks you Cregan, interested and hopeful.

"Yes, a while ago," you nod to him.

"Great. I'm going to go look for her, I haven't seen her in years either."

"Good luck," you smile at him.

"I'm coming with you," Aegon says instantly following suit, "Maybe your girl has a hot friend she can introduce me to."

Cregan laughs and just as they arrived together laughing and as best friends, they leave, only now you're left alone... with Aemond.

So there it is again… that tense air, but not a bad one somehow, as the both of you are left alone and there is an appropriate distance between the two, but again, you can't help but feel terribly nervous.

And even though you don't want to, still that moment of him going into the restroom with that girl keeps replaying in your mind, unable to help it. And that's why you look everywhere but at him, trying to distract yourself with the view.

Then he starts smoking, both of you without saying a word, just listening to the music and the sound of the city around you, which makes you feel a little uneasy, since you can't just leave like that, it would be too rude.

And again… that almost kiss invades your mind and doesn't leave you in peace, while you bite your lips and try to control your nerves, not having the slightest idea of what to do or what to say.

The slight smell of cigarette reaches your nostrils and you try to act as nothing, just like him, whom you see out of the corner of your eye and apparently, compared to you, he is comfortable and unconcerned.

Until he speaks.

"Are you always this quiet?"

He asks you and you bite your lips again, this making you feel more nervous, as you feel him watching you, but you don't look back at him.

"No," you reply, trying to act just as unconcerned as he does, "I'm just… relaxing."

"Hm," he says and you watch just for a second as he takes a drag on his cigarette, " You don't like parties?"

"Yes, I do," you reply softly.

And there you finally dare to look him in the eye, but you regret it the second you do, as he is already watching you and in that way, again as if he wants to see right through you, so burning and intense. So you steel yourself and continue firm, not letting him weaken you.

"I actually thought you didn't like parties," you decide to say, just to create a topic of conversation.

"I don't like them," he says and exhales smoke through his lips, looking away from you for a moment, "But I wanted to come," he says to return to watching you with such intensity.

And God, all you can think about is how ridiculously handsome he looks tonight, from his clothes, his face, his posture, the way he's looking at you, even the way he's smoking, basically everything about him.

There is a brief silence between the two of you, not uncomfortable fortunately, when suddenly he says to you:

"You didn't go to the concert."

Shit.

And there it is again, the nerves, which makes you look away from him for a moment and bite your lips.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry," you tell him softly, "I got sick."

"Yeah," he nods, "Your cousins said something like that. But don't apologize, it's fine."

"But I wanted to go," you clarify.

He places a small grin on his face, watching you intently.

"Did you?"

And you nod.

"At this concert you didn't even stay until the end."

Fuck.

You curse, thinking fast, again with that moment of him and that girl going into the restroom replaying in your mind, which was the reason you decided to leave early and why you decided to ignore him.

But ignoring him didn't work for you anymore since now you're here with him… alone.

"Of course I did, I saw the whole concert," you play dumb.

"I mean the after party."

He tells you softly and you again avert your gaze, terribly nervous, having no idea what to say to him now, since you can't tell him you left because you saw him that way with one of his fans. So instead, you lie, making an excuse about the party.

"I had to come here earlier to help set everything up," you explain, looking at him again, trying to sound convincing.

At this, he lets out a long breath, averting his gaze, bringing his cigarette to his lips.

"What a shame," he says in a sigh, then takes a drag.

This catches your attention, but you say nothing more, only until after you think clearly about what you are going to say before you speak.

"Baela said you're not giving any concerts until about a month," you say and he looks at you again.

"Yes, that's true," he says and you watch as he casually slides further towards you, beginning to close the distance between you, "But you could still come."

You frown.

"To where?"

"To rehearsals and then to the concerts."

At this you say nothing, you just continue to watch him, beginning to have a dilemma in mind about it and also beginning to be affected by how he is gradually moving closer to you, doing it so casually and so calculatingly, without stopping smoking, that you hate that he is already starting to make you feel that way.

You don't want to be another one of the crowd, remember?

Your serious mind tells you, since that's why you were crying before and why you decided to avoid him and get to this party earlier.

But God, you think, since he, everything about him, affects you and so much, so much so that you can't even avoid him anymore, starting little by little to let yourself be carried away by him.

And well says Baela that the flesh is weak.

You think grumpily.

"Or what? You really don't want to see me anymore?"

He asks you with that grin, weakening you more completely and making you more nervous, averting your gaze from him for a moment, really not being able to because of the way he's looking at you and making you react.

"N-no, I mean, yeah," you reply foolishly, "Yeah, okay," you look at him, "I'll go."

Then a small satisfied smile appears on his lips.

"Very well, but if you don't go…"

He begins to say, leaving his sentence in suspense and completely stealing your breath when he finally shortens the remaining distance between the two of you, at the same time as he tosses his now non-existent cigarette away, watching you attentively and determinedly.

You tense up completely and watch him completely attentive and nervous, unable to move, your legs and mind not reacting at all at that moment, starting to feel your heart beating too fast.

"If I don't go what?"

You can formulate in the midst of your nervousness in a mumble, as a distraction, as you inevitably look between his face and his lips with your lips parted.

"If you don't go like last time I'm going to be very angry and very disappointed."

You watch him in complete surprise, just at that instant also realizing how incredibly close the two of you are, the two of you completely invading each other's personal space, his entire presence and essence enveloping you completely.

And then this whole scene, it's just like when you both were about to kiss like last time, close to each other and with that tense air. When Aemond says something to you that steals your breath away.

"It was very rude to leave me waiting, you know that?" he says to you in a hoarse voice, his whole gaze determined and his eye dilated, full of desire.

"Did you really want to see me?" you ask him in a whisper.

"What do you think?"

Again your breath catches, as you focus entirely on him, watching or rather admiring the closeness of his face to yours, not being able to help it anymore, not wanting to pull away and wanting more of him.

Then you know there is no turning back when he raises his hand and places it on your cheek gently, caressing your skin with his thumb, continuing to watch you with that attention and with that desire at the same time that he sticks your chest with his, pulling you to him.

Again you watch his lips, completely absorbed in him, feeling your heart still beating too fast and completely enjoying this moment.

"If I don't see you again Y/N…"

He says again, not letting you go, with that direct, firm and challenging tone from before, but leaves his sentence in suspense again.

"What?" you ask him, wanting to know what's going to happen if he doesn't see you again.

But he doesn't say anything more to you, on the contrary, he starts leaning towards you, making you feel like your heart will jump out of your chest at any moment, when his other hand places it on your waist and the atmosphere changes completely.

And then you close your eyes, letting yourself be completely carried away and finally… you feel his lips touch yours.

And as soon as you feel the contact, you are enveloped by a sensation you haven't felt for a long time and you lift your face a little more towards him, pressing your lips more firmly with his.

A slow but completely purposeful and deep kiss begins, as he moves closer towards you, clinging and you let him, beginning to move your lips more constantly, as does he, as you bring your hands up and place them on his chest.

The kiss is perfect and with exact timing, as you feel him cling to you completely, not wanting to let you go, feeling him pull away an inch to take another angle and kiss you again, as you grab his shirt in a fist and pull him closer to you if possible.

You feel perfectly as he gently bites your upper lip in a way you haven't experienced before but firmly enough to make you gasp into his mouth and he takes the opportunity to enter your mouth, making you gasp in the middle of the kiss and bring one of your hands up to his hair, caressing it.

Now it's a fight, as you feel and hear the sound of saliva every time you move your mouths, being a wet kiss in which neither he nor you want it to end.

Everything about him is completely addictive, he is definitely an excellent kisser and you don't want him to stop, ever, enjoying the faint taste of cigarette and mint in his mouth.

"You're so beautiful, did you know that?"

He pulls away to tell you in a husky murmur, instantly attacking your lips again, never stopping caressing your cheek, at the same time he starts to pull you back until your back hits a table out here, now being trapped between it and his body.

You smile in the middle of the kiss, continuing to caress his neck and cheeks.

"You are so beautiful too, Aemond."

You manage to say between his lips, to again both resume the kiss, while you feel how he holds your waist tightly, which will probably leave marks on your skin since it's too firm, but you don't care.

Then his caresses start to be taken further, bringing his hand dangerously close to your ass, but you don't mind this either. When he suddenly lifts you up and sits you on the table behind you, making his way between your legs and caressing your thigh with one of his hands.

The mood changes completely, the whole air feeling too hot and with a need starting to appear in your lower abdomen.

Aemond caresses your thigh firmly and gently, which begins to bring waves of arousal to your core, especially as he grinds very gently against you, but pressing his hips right there as you hold him between your legs.

You gasp into his mouth, feeling too good and starting to drive you crazy, not only by his movements but also by the way he continues to kiss you, having you perfectly where he wants you.

You begin to feel his clear arousal against your center, as he grunts and continues to kiss you, bringing both hands to both of your thighs, caressing you and grinding himself more firmly and steadily against you, seeking relief, as you do, beginning to feel everything about you pulsing in an achingly delicious way.

However, the good things can't last forever.

Suddenly the doors to the balcony open again unexpectedly and this catches the attention of both of you, breaking the kiss and the moment instantly, seeing that it is a group of apparently already drunk friends, starting to make room for themselves on the balcony as well.

They notice you both but say nothing, going back to their own thing, to which you turn your focus back to Aemond, looking just as disappointed as he does at the interruption of the moment.

His lips are red and swollen, just as you must also look, so you try to get off the table, but he instantly won't let you, pressing his hips right back down there firmly, causing you to watch him in surprise and in alert.

"This is what I'll do the next time I see you if you don't go to the rehearsals and concerts," he tells you again with that determination and that honesty, his voice completely low and hoarse, not letting you go.

And at first you don't understand what he's talking about, still very overwhelmed and shocked by what happened, but mostly because he keeps pressing his hips right against your center.

But you remember what you were talking about earlier.

"W-what?"

Then that grin reappears, her gaze still full of desire and completely stealing your breath.

"I'll kiss you again without permission."

taglist:

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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Why did it seem like every time one thing in your life began to sort itself out, something else went wrong? Maybe the tea page was right, yours and Hyunjins relationship was like a reality show. The only problem was that it wasn’t Hyunjins fault that things were like that, it seemed to be your fault. Your entire life was a mess, and you couldn’t even begin to understand how things got that way. It’s not like you had done anything wrong. You had your 3 best friends, and you had your other 3 close friends… Well… It isn’t 3 anymore. 

What Minho had done shocked you, but not as much as it hurt. It was like the ultimate betrayal, to see him of all people hanging out with Hyunjin. After everything that the two of you did together, after everything you told him… He even agreed with you that Hyunjin was an asshole, yet he still chose to hangout with him. He didn’t even offer an explanation. One second everything was fine, and the next he was going out and having Boys Night with the one boy that had broken your heart on numerous occasions. 

It wasn’t just that though. You wished it was, but like people always say… When it rains, it pours, and right now it’s like hurricane season. You truly thought that you and Felix were hitting it off… And maybe that had been wishful thinking on your part. It was no lie that you had a crush on him, and you were really getting close. Both of you had been through some shit, and you felt like there was a mutual understanding there that went deeper than what even your bestest friends could understand. 

Of course though, you should have known better. He clearly wasn’t over Ijun yet, and you should have known that it wouldn’t be so easy for him to move on. Hell, you had been hung up on Hyunjin until you actually saw him kissing Felixs girlfriend, but you had been foolish and took him back so many times… It’s not like you could get upset with Felix for doing the same thing with Ijun. The heart wants what it wants, and it was clear that you weren’t what Felix wanted. 

The talk with Seungmin a couple days ago was good enough to keep your mind off of everything that day, but once he left, you were alone with your thoughts once more. You hated it, you hated yourself. The only thing you were good at was pushing people away it seemed.

Being inside your apartment wasn’t as comforting as it usually would be, not when polaroid photos of you and the friends that you used to have were taped to every and any flat surface you could find. Everything just felt wrong, it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Your relationship with Jeongin, even though the both of you were trying, there was an awkwardness and things were strained, especially with him, Seungmin, and Jisung. 

A storm had just rolled through, the lightning brilliantly flashing and illuminating the sky before the building rumbled with the thunder that followed after. It had been beautiful, but you didn’t find it relaxing, not the way you usually would. 

Now the storm was finished, leaving behind a thick fog and a heavy humidity, the ground darkened from being saturated by the pouring rain. Puddles had filled the cracks and the divets in the sidewalk, and dark gray clouds filled the sky and hid the bright moon that hung there. Most people would find the current setting dismal and disgusting, but you found it beautiful. 

The campus grounds were bare, and you quickly slipped on your shoes and a light jacket, patting down your pockets to make sure you had everything before walking out the front door. 

With your airpods in, you made your way through campus. There was no particular place that you wanted to go, you were simply following the lamp posts that reflected off the pathway that you were following, your steps perfectly matched to the beat of the music played in your ears. 

Leaves were just beginning to sprout on the trees, the greens and pinks of spring that you’d usually point out to your best friends looked darker in the current conditions, their beauty shadowed by the haze and hung low in the air. Everything was simply darker now, even the bulbs in the lamp posts seemed to flicker and grow dim when you walked by. It was like your presence alone sucked the brightness out of everything and everyone. 

Felix had seen you walking, his dorm was on campus grounds, and his computer was set up right next to the window. The currents had been drawn open to give him a better view of the rain that trickled down the window, bright bolts of lightning reflecting on each drop. Storms weren’t his favorite thing in the world, but his headphones managed to block out the sound of the thunder so he could admire the beauty of it. 

The thing is, at first he wasn’t sure if it was you, he had stared for a while, and then looked at his friends list online. When he saw that Seungmin, Jeongin, and Jisung were all online and you weren’t, it had him glancing back at the figure that slowly walked the grounds. It wasn’t until he saw the backpack, your backpack with the little pins on it and the patches that had been carelessly glued on, that he realized it was you. 

He could have messaged the guys, he could have asked them if they knew you were out… But that would mean they’d come running to get you, and he didn’t want that. It had been a week since you last texted him, and it’s not that he wasn’t actively trying to talk to you, it’s just that you were ignoring him now thanks to whatever Hyunjin and Ijun did. 

Without another thought, he moved away from his computer, pulling on his own hoodie and shoving his feet into a pair of slippers to rush out of the dorms. It didn’t take long for him to get close enough to call out to you, but you didn’t respond. 

“Yah! Y/N! Hey!” He called out again, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw you speed up, your arms wrapping around yourself and your head kept low. You were practically sprinting at this point, and he tried to match your steps, wondering what exactly had been said to you to make you not only ignore him, but run away from him. 

He knew that the crack was close, it was close enough to his building that he’d occasionally watch people trip on it with his roommate for a little amusement while he was studying. Right now it wasn’t amusing though, there was nothing entertaining about the potential of you falling, and with how dark it was, not even he could figure out where exactly the crack was at. 

It didn’t help that every time he seemed to get closer to you, you’d pick up the pace just to distance yourself from him a little more, and he stopped trying to call out to you, not wanting to make a scene. He was hoping that at some point you’d just turn around and realize that it was him and let him talk to you. 

Even with his eyes trained on you, his reaction time wasn’t the best, not in these conditions, and before he could even think to run to you, you were falling forward. “Oh, shit!” He shouted, finally running over to you, his arms reaching out to grab you. You were absolutely soaked, having fallen into one of the deeper puddles that would form during the rainy season, but he wasn’t focused on that, he was too busy watching the tears that slowly began to stream down your face. “Hey… It’s okay…” He murmured, crouching down to get in your line of sight, and that’s when he finally saw the airpods that were firmly stuck in your ears, the music loud enough for him to hear now that he was close enough. 

“It was you…” You whispered, rubbing your scratched and muddied palms on a dry part of your pants before pulling out the earbuds. “You were following me… What the fuck, Felix?!” You practically shouted, finally looking over yourself and letting out a groan of annoyance. 

“I didn’t tell you to wear the airpods and have the volume turned all the way up!” He quickly retorted in defense of himself, his mouth agape in shock that you were somehow finding a way to turn the blame on him. “Plus, that’s really bad for you, ya know? You could go deaf!” 

Your eyes rolled as you moved to push yourself up, and even though he had offered to help you, it seemed like you were trying your best to not even look at him. “Yeah well… Now I’m soaked, and I have to walk all the way back home covered in mud.” You mumbled, your nose scrunching up in disgust at the way your pants now clung to your legs and the griminess of the saturated soil that wouldn’t come off your hands. 

“I could lend you a pair of clothes, let you wash up at my place? It’s right there.” He pointed to the building, his finger specifically directed at a window that was illuminated by a bright light that you could only assume was his PC. “My roommate wouldn’t mind, he’s out tonight anyway so… You can even stay and wash those clothes if you’d like. I can call you an Uber or something when you’re ready to go home.” 

Your head quickly shook, and you took a step back, his arms instinctively moving out to catch you just in case you stumbled into the crack again. “I can’t… It just wouldn’t be right… With you and… Ijun trying to fix things and… I just wouldn’t… I’m not that kind of person, Felix. It would look bad and I don’t want to cause any more drama.” 

He couldn’t help the confused look on his face because he had tried to tell you that there was nothing going on, that he hadn’t even started talking to Ijun again, but then you told him Jeongin was back, and to be honest, after hearing what had happened between him and you, he was jealous, but that didn’t negate the feelings that he had for you, it only made him want to try harder. “If you would have answered your phone when I called or texted you, you’d know that me and Ijun aren’t trying to fix things. You’d know that I’m completely done with her. We’re not going to Australia, well, she’s not going with me… But it’s over. I don’t want her anymore…” 

“But… She told me that…” His lips pursed together as he stared at you, and it was like a lightbulb finally clicked above your head, and you honestly felt foolish for taking so long to realize what she was doing. “Oh my god! That bitch!” You practically screeched, your hands quickly moving to cover your mouth as you looked around, making sure that you didn’t wake anyone up, but Felix thought it was precious. You were precious, and you were adorable, and you were so innocent and naive that all he wanted to do was protect you from everyone and everything that could possibly hurt you. 

“Exactly!” He playfully poked your nose, adoring the way your lips turned up at the corners and the way your nose scrunched up and the corners of your eyes creased. “Now, do you want to borrow a pair of my sweats and get washed up, or are you planning on walking home in those?” He motioned towards your stained pants, and it’s not that you didn’t have another choice, but you also didn’t really feel like walking in soaked clothes, so you reluctantly pointed to his building, already starting to walk over to it. 

“So…” You began, trying to make small talk during the short walk. “When are you going on your trip?” You asked, looking over at him, the both of you quickly turning away when you locked eyes. “Are… You gonna be gone long?” 

His head shook, and you spared a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eyes, noticing the way his cheeks seemed a little more red when passing under the lamps. “I’m leaving for spring break… I’ll be back two days before it ends though. I gotta find someone else to give Ijuns ticket to since it’s non-refundable.” 

“Oh…” You shrugged your shoulders lightly, smiling up at him sweetly. “I hope you find someone to give the ticket to soon. Spring break isn’t too far away.” You responded brightly, although he couldn’t help but be slightly dumbfounded at how the hint had gone completely over your head. “Make sure you take a lot of pictures too, I’ve always wanted to see Australia.” 

It would be too soon to ask, he had to keep reminding himself of that. Of course, he wanted the ticket to go to you, especially now that he knew that you wanted to see Australia as well. “I’ll take a bunch of pictures… Don’t worry.” He murmured sheepishly, for some reason feeling awkward, but thankful once the two of you finally got to the front doors of the building. 

All of the lights were out when you walked into his apartment, and you were so used to just kicking your shoes off and walking in, that’s exactly what you did, immediately walking into his couch and falling over it, letting out a squeal of shock and then a nervous giggle when the lights came on and he immediately ran over to you. “You okay?” He rushed out the question, helping to pull you up as he looked you over. 

“Yeah… Just not used to… Your setup…” You stammered out, letting out an awkward sigh as you finally took a moment to look around. “It’s… It’s good though… nice uh… Layout… Yeah…” Why were you so nervous? It’s not like the two of you were doing anything… You just came over to get a pair of sweatpants and go back home to your own apartment. But he was so close to you, his fingers cuffing your wrists, a slight sway in both your arms as his deep brown eyes looked into your own. 

He hummed softly, his thumb brushing along the outside of your wrist. “You’ll get used to it…” He murmured, and you felt your body heating up at the insinuation of his words, or maybe you were just reading into things, trying to find some kind of hidden meaning in what he said. “So uhm… I’ll uh… Do you want to shower or?” 

Your head nodded swiftly, butterflies in your stomach as you thought far too hard about being here, being around him, using his shower. “I’ll uh… I’ll be quick…” You whispered, chewing nervously on your bottom lip as you followed him to the bathroom. 

“S’alright…” His voice slightly shook with his nerves, and it was, in a way, comforting to know that you weren’t the only one on edge right now. “I’ll get my clothes and uhm… sit them on the counter… uhm… I-I’ll knock first though…” 

Your heart was racing, your words stuck in your throat, all you could manage was a hum of agreement as you backed into the bathroom, thankful once the door was shut, and you slid down the cold wood until you landed against the tiled floor. It was crazy how, even with your nerves going rampant, just being around him was comforting in a way. 

The pipes squealed as the hot water rushed through it, the sound of water hitting the floor of the tub. He couldn’t think straight, sitting on the edge of his bed, his fingers drumming against his lap as he stared at the bathroom door. 

He could see the shadow of you moving underneath the door, as if you were pacing. He wondered what you were thinking, what was going through your mind right now. 

The sudden sound of metal buttons against the tile floor had his eyes zeroing in on the black mass shadow that was in front of the door, and he tried not to think too hard about the fact that you were naked, your clothes in a pile on his bathroom floor. 

Only Hyunjin and Jeongin got to see you like that, and for some reason that little fact had his stomach flipping, a certain type of jealousy building up in him. There was no need to feel that way, you weren’t his now, you had never been his, but he didn’t like the thought of other people being able to admire you in that kind of way, even though they came before him. 

The curtain was slid open, he heard it clearly, metal rings sliding across the metal rod that held it, and then the quick pull of it being shut. It took him a moment to actually get up, rummaging through his dresser drawers to find something for you to wear, and while it shouldn’t have meant so much to him, he found himself thinking way too hard about what he was going to give you. He didn’t want it to be just any pair of sweatpants and any t-shirt, even though you probably wouldn’t even notice the importance of it, he would. 

He folded the clothes over his arm and then grabbed a towel for you before going over to the bathroom, knocking lightly on the door. There was no response, and he slowly cracked the door open, peeking in to make sure it was clear before opening the door more. “It’s… Just me I… Brought the clothes… And a towel…” He stammered out, neatly placing the pile on the edge of the sink counter. “I knocked first… I just… Didn’t know if… Because you didn’t say anything and-” 

Your muffled sniffles had him pausing, immediately worried that maybe you had slipped and fallen in the shower or that maybe you had hurt yourself when you fell and you were just really good at masking the pain up until now. The problem was, he didn’t know what to do right now. Usually he’d offer a hug or something but, clearly you were not… ready for that, and neither was he, so he awkwardly stood there, twiddling his thumbs as he stared at the shower curtain that you were behind. 

“A-Are you okay?” He asked awkwardly, and it seemed like his question had you crying even louder, and it was like an internal struggle with himself to not be the sunshine person that he usually was and just jump in the shower fully dressed just to console you. “I can leave… and… We don’t have to talk about it right now… If it’s weird for you…” 

Your head peered around the shower curtain, your eyes puffy and slightly red, and if he didn’t know that you were crying he would have thought you just got soap in your eyes or something. Your nose twitched as you sniffled again and his heart tightened at the sight of it. “You’re just… really nice to me… and I know I’m gonna mess this up too… Just like I did with Minho and Jeongin… I’m wasting your time.” 

It definitely wasn’t what he had expected to hear, and he blinked a few times as he tried to make sense of what you were saying. You were very clearly unaware of the feelings that he had for you, or maybe you just didn’t want to recognize them since you thought he was going to leave anyway. “Sweetums…” He whispered the little pet name, unaware if you actually liked it or not, but it was the only thing he could think to utter right now. “You’re not wasting my time… I… If I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t have followed you in the first place. I care about you. I like spending time with you. I’m nice with you because I like you.” 

Had he been too honest? He watched as your eyes widened and your mouth fell open, but you quickly shook your head, letting the curtain fall shut around you again. “I’ll just finish up my shower and leave… Thank you for letting me come over… Letting me clean up… But I don’t want people to get the wrong idea or anything if they see me leaving.” 

Let them get the wrong idea, is what he wanted to say. Of course, he didn’t want anyone on campus thinking negatively about you, but he wouldn’t mind the Tea Page putting out a post that the two of you were together. He genuinely enjoyed being with you, and for the little bit of time that the two of you were together, you seemed to enjoy it too. “At least let me wash your clothes… Get them cleaned up too, and then I’ll walk you home… Okay?” 

He didn’t really give you a choice, bending down to get your clothes off the floor and quickly going to the washer before you could even try to stop him. He wondered if you actually would have if given the option to. He just wanted to make sure you were okay, he didn’t want you leaving when you had just been crying. He cared too much about you to let you walk out his door in that state of mind. 

“Felix…” You called out his name from the bathroom, your head poking out through a small crack in the door. He had been sitting on the couch waiting for you, listening to the hum of the washing machine and the pattering of the water against the floor of the tub. It was almost enough to have him drifting off to sleep, and he would have if it hadn’t been for your voice jolting him awake. His head quickly whipped around to look at you, your hair wrapped in the towel as you sheepishly looked at him. “You uhm… Accidentally gave me your uhm… Your boxers and… I don’t know if you actually meant to… And my actual… You know… Are in the washer right now… And uhm…” 

He chuckled softly, feeling the heat beginning to burn hotter in his cheeks. “I… I meant to… I wanted you to be comfortable…” He chuckled awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as his eyes creased with his smile. “You don’t… Have to… If you don’t want to… I just didn’t know if you would want to…” 

“Oh…” Your own shy giggle filled the space between where he was sitting and where your head peaked. God, you were so cute… He couldn’t stop thinking about it. “I mean… I’ll… Yeah… Okay, I’ll be right out…” You rambled, shutting the door a little too hard behind you in your nervousness, mumbling out a quick sorry right after. 

His eyes were trained on the door, waiting for your reappearance, but he couldn’t have prepared himself any better for what the sight of you in his clothes did for him. “How are you feeling?” He asked, trying not to let on to the fact that he was extremely flustered, highly attracted to, and slightly turned on by you in his clothing. 

Your arms stretched above your head, your mouth forming into a small ‘o’ as you yawned quietly, and when your arms fell back to your sides, the shoulder of his shirt slid down your arm, exposing your still slightly damp skin. “Little bit sleepy…” You murmured, stopping in the middle of the living room, your eyes seeming to close on their own and your body slightly rocking as you slowly lost your balance. 

It was almost 2 in the morning, he was shocked that he hadn’t fallen asleep yet, but he quickly walked over to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to the couch. “The clothes should be done in the washer soon, and the drier is pretty quick. I’ll be able to walk you back home as soon as they’re done.” He pulled you down onto the cushions beside him, and it was like you instinctively sunk down into the sofa, immediately getting comfortable. “You can nap… I’ll wake you up when it’s ready.” Although he wouldn’t mind if you just slept at his place, he’d even let you sleep in his own bed while he slept on the couch. He liked having you around, he truly did, and now that he had you in his own apartment, he was dreading having to let you go back to your own, wondering how long it would be before something like this happened again. 

“Mmh… Okie dokie…” You hummed, and you were out like a light, your neck going limp and your head falling against his shoulder. If the world could just stop right now, if the two of you could just stay this way forever, he would be perfectly content like that. Your arms wrapped around his torso as your lips lightly smacked before turning up into a small smile, the scent of his shampoo in your hair and his body wash clinging to your skin. In this moment, you were entirely his, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to let that go.  　

↻ ◁ ▌▌ ▷ ↺

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[ynscrazylife]

Feel free to ignore, this is a long one boss.

Marvel gang seeing yn gain powers almost instantly, and watching yn struggle with how to control the new powers. Watching yn, the first couple minutes, days and weeks trying not to kill any team members when they can barely control thier new found abilities.

Im imagining yn super weak at first, they fainted when they first acquired the powers. They cant walk, they can almost stand and they haven't eaten anything since it happened. Yn is scared they are going to die or kill off someone they love and all of the team members are trying to keep yn calm, safe and in control of thier body. Im imagining techies trying to find a way to dampen the powers so that yn can walk around again and everyone fighting to cuddle with the youngest member of the team.

When Sparks Fly

Summary: When you wind up with powers in the aftermath of a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission, the Avengers are determined to help you through it.

Pairings: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Romantic), Avengers x Stark!Reader (Platonic)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

“I swear, this is almost as bad as the day I started at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” you whined, folding your arms in slight annoyance as your step-mother Pepper Potts held up her camera again. Your father, Tony Stark, was standing beside her, grinning as he proudly looked over the photos Pepper took.

“This is the first time you’re going on a mission! This warrants a couple pictures, Y/N,” Pepper retorted, before taking another picture.

“A couple? This has been, like, 100,” you sass, unable to help it. You got it from Tony, after-all.

“I’m glad you’re keeping count,” Tony sassed right back, smirking at your eye-roll that followed.

“Wait!” Peter burst in, having just finished patrol. In his haste, he still wore his Spider-Man suit, but had torn off his mask. He skidded to a halt beside you, putting a sweaty arm around your shoulders.

You softened at your boyfriend’s excitement, your frown lifting into a smile as Pepper snapped a photo of you and Peter. When it was taken, he turned to you. “You’re gonna rock this mission, babe,” he said, kissing you on the forehead.

“I appreciate your confidence, Pete,” you said, grinning lovingly.

“Oh!” Pepper exclaimed, gasping at she glanced at the clock. “Go, go, go! You’re going to be late.”

Following her gaze, you muttered a “shit!” as you scrambled to grab your bag.

“Language,” Steve scolded, wearing a smirk as he walked in with the rest of the Avengers. They had just returned from a mission and there was no way that they weren’t going to see you off today.

“Hi, thanks, bye!” You said rather quickly, throwing your bag over your shoulder before giving Pete a peck on the lips and running off.

“Good luck!” Pepper called to your retreating form.

“Kick ass!” Tony added, pumping his fist into the air.

“Don’t die!” Peter said, right before the door slammed shut. Everyone turned to the young adult, who shrugged. “What? It would really suck.”

Honestly — he wasn’t wrong.

————————————————————————

Since it was your first mission at the academy, it wasn’t meant to be difficult. Key word: meant.

Little did you know, while chasing an ex-A.I.M. agent who had set up his own research and experimentation lab, you followed him into one of his so-called testing rooms — which was a trap. You only realized this when he stopped running and grabbed a gas mask, pulling it on swiftly.

Spotting a gas quickly fill in from the vents, you whispered another “shit!” and turned around, quickly going to the door.

The intel S.H.I.E.L.D. had gotten said that the lab was devoid of any experimental substances. Wrong.

Unfortunately for you — Steve wasn’t here to scold you and the door had locked. You banged on it, frustrated, and turned back around only to see the ex-agent smirking at you.

“I didn’t expect to gain a new testing subject today, but you’ll do quite nicely,” he said.

A quick glance around told you that there were no gas masks left. Nothing to protect yourself. You couldn’t even cover your mouth with anything because your suit wasn’t made to stretch.

Knowing you didn’t have much time, you pressed down on your comms and said: “A gas is quickly filling up the room. I don’t know what it is. The guy’s going to try to escape, so be prepared to—” Your words died on your lips as you started to inhale the gas, overcome with wooziness.

You struggled to continue speaking, only making frustrated noises, and your vision blurred as the guy walked towards you. You didn’t know that he was holding a needle until it pricked your neck. Not long after, you felt your limbs grow heavy and you fell, smacking hard against the ground.

————————————————————————

When the members of the team heard your distress call over the comms, they quickly tracked your location and ran to meet you. Thankfully, they managed to stop him from escaping and taking you with him. But when they got back to the Quinjet, they knew that they had to alert the Avengers, which no-one wanted to do.

When Tony saw Coulson on his caller I.D, he assumed the man was calling him to boast about how well Y/N had done on the mission. Putting the phone to his ear, he was startled when he heard the disappointed words: “I’m so sorry.”

The billionaire stilled, his face instantly paling and altering Pepper and the Avengers that something was wrong. “What happened? Is Y/N okay?” He practically cried, gripping the phone tightly.

“Agent Stark inhaled an unknown gas during the mission. From what we know about it, the gas — and the needle Stark was pricked with — was a part of some experiment that the guy we were tracking down was conducting illegally. We don’t know too much about the experiment yet, but we know that it’s intention is to enhance its subjects somehow. We’re interrogating the guy right now,” Coulson explained, as calmly as he could.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut as he let the news pass over him, doing his best to prevent his voice from shaking. “Can I talk to Y/N?” He asked.

Coulson paused. “I’m afraid not . . . Y/N is unconscious. Has been ever since the incident. The team is en route to S.H.I.E.L.D’s medical wing now, though,” he said.

“I want Y/N transferred to the compound. We’ll have Dr. Cho — she’s the best,” Tony declared firmly.

Another slight pause, and then: “Of course, Tony.” With that, Coulson hung up, leaving Tony to reveal the news to his worried family.

It was safe to say that no one took it well, but Pepper and Peter especially were a wreck. Bruce took the initiative of informing Dr. Cho while the rest anxiously awaited your arrival. They tried to comfort each other the best they could, but with so little information on your condition, there was nothing much that they could say or believe.

When the elevator dinged and two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rolled you out on a gurney, everyone cling to your side. Peter was especially shaken when he saw you unconscious. The agents didn’t let anyone come with, saying it was imperative that they get you to Dr. Cho now.

Although difficult, your family allowed you to be rolled away alone. For the next half-hour, everyone waited for any news. The majority of the group was seated on the couch, but it seemed that everyone paced around at least once. Tony demanded updates from F.R.I.D.A.Y., only to hear that you were “stable” which wasn’t enough to calm anyone’s nerves or satisfy anyone.

When Bruce finally emerged, the group nearly pounded on him. They were barely able to keep quiet enough for him to actually say anything.

“They don’t think it’s life-threatening, but it’s not good, either,” was what Bruce first said, pausing as he gauged their reactions before continuing. Once he deemed that no-one was going to have some sort of outburst, he continued. “The gas Y/N inhaled is . . . Changing them. From what Dr. Cho can tell and the information they got out of the A.I.M. guy, the gas and the needle modifies one’s DNA to give them enhancements . . . Superpowers, of some sort. The A.I.M. guy let it slip that this will be a slow and painful process for Y/N, though. It was meant to beat down the guy’s test subjects so that by the time their powers were developed and controlled, it would be easier for him to manipulate them into doing what he wanted. It seemed he hadn’t planned on doing this to Y/N, but took the opportunity when he realized he might be able them use it against us.”

This was a lot for everyone to take in. They all held some combination of immense concern and anger. The very thought you suffering was an enraging image, and they wanted nothing more than to be able to take away the pain.

“Is-is there anyway to stop the process before the powers develop?” Pepper asked, trembling slightly. Tony wrapped an arm around her.

Bruce frowned. “Dr. Cho is looking into it. Coulson said when they asked the guy that, he claimed it would just make things worse,” he said.

No-one liked the sound of that.

“Can we see Y/N?” Tony asked next.

Bruce nodded and led the group to the medical bay, where you were lying in a bed. A ton of wires were hooked up to you and a bandage was on your head from where you hit it when falling.

Tony, Pepper, and Peter immediately went to your side and the rest of the Avengers followed. No-one said much, just using the time and the silence to digest this change. Peter and Tony both held each of your hands and Pepper pet your hair. Not long passed before Rhodey and Happy, having received the news, quickly joined.

No-one moved, or wanted to move, until Dr. Cho came in. “Unfortunately, we don’t see a way to reverse the process. We’ll just have to let it play out and help and comfort Y/N the best we can,” she explained, knowing everyone wanted to hear it. “Y/N should wake up on their own. They’re not under any sedation or anything.”

Everyone nodded and turned their attention back to you. A couple hours passed and the only movement that occurred was when someone went to go on coffee and food runs, or they got any update from S.H.I.E.L.D. However, Peter broke the silence when he suddenly jerked back. “Ow!” He said, waving his hand. Meeting the other’s confused looks, he said: “Y/N shocked me.”

“That bad?” Sam asked, a little doubtful.

Peter nodded and glanced back to you, his eyes widening. “Woah, look,” he said. Everyone inched closer, only to see electricity sparking at your fingertips. Although reluctant, Tony and Pepper had to move away at risk of getting shocked.

Seeing the commotion, Dr. Cho shuffled over and began checking your vitals and monitors. “What’s going on? Does Y/N have electricity powers or something?” Bucky asked.

Although his second question hadn’t been serious, Dr. Cho turned around and said: “It seems like it.”

This shocked everyone, but when your eyes began to open, they seemed to snap back to normal. Already in a state of daze and confusion, you got nervous seeing the crowd. “What-what’s going on?” You mumbled, pulling at the wires, only for electrical sparks to fly and interfere with the wires, making you curl up in pain.

“Unhook the monitors!” Natasha cried, while Tony did his best to soothe you.

“You’re home, honey. The gas you inhaled is changing you and giving you, what looks like, electricity powers. But it’s all going to be okay, I promise,” he tried to explain.

This, combined with seeing the worried, confused, and nervous looks on your family’s faces, only freaked you out more. Electrical sparks flew out now, and the Avengers had to dodge being hit. You let out a small scream, trembling, and trying yet failing to control it.

“Get away from me! I’ll hurt you!” You yelled, panicked, hugging yourself and attempting to get as far back on the bed as you could manage.

“No, you won’t. You just need to take some deep breaths, Y/N,” Peter tried to comfort.

But that didn’t seem like it was possible. Any attempt to slow your breaths only made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. You were desperate to regain your regular breathing, and it came out in short gasps. Not only was electrical sparks going everywhere, but it was hurting you, and you were feeling dizzy. “I can’t. It hurts!” You said, trembling, and the next thing you knew — your eyes rolled back into your head and you fainted.

Everyone was relieved as the electrical sparks disappeared, but not happy that you were unconscious again. Tony reached forward and moved some hair out of your face, sighing.

“We need Y/N to calm down. I think we should bring them to their room and reduce who sees them at first — maybe only Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, me, and Ms. Maximoff. She can help with Y/N’s powers,” Peter said, looking at the Avengers.

While the group all wanted to be with you, they understood that it was overwhelming. With a look at Dr. Cho, who said it would be okay as long as she could check on you, Tony said: “Good idea, kid.” He took it upon himself to gently lift you from your bed and carry you to your room, everyone following behind.

When they got to your room, Tony laid you down on your bed and Pepper tucked you in. Everyone sat around, trying to make the room as comfortable and calming as possible, until you started to stir. They all filed out, leaving behind your parents, Peter, and Wanda.

When you began to wake, the sparks began to fly, but Wanda quickly jumped in. “Hey, Y/N,” she said, smiling at you. You and Wanda were really close. She was like an older sister. “You’re in your room, with just me, your mom and dad, and Peter. We noticed that the electricity only seems to get uncomfortable when you’re upset, so we’re gonna try and help you. I know that this is all really sudden and scary and not what you expected or wanted. But, if anyone can tackle it, it’s you. Think you can take some deep breaths for me?”

You did your best to listen to Wanda’s words, although her powers - which was intent on relaxing you - certainly helped. Realizing you were in your bed and had the people you loved most around you, unwilling to leave and wanting to help, allowed you to feel less scared and take those deep breaths. It took a couple minutes, and Peter holding your hand, but the sparks began to lessen and lessen.

“I’m scared,” you whispered after a moment, tears in your eyes. You found yourself able to express some sadness without the sparks causing chaos, but it was draining your energy and causing pain.

“I know,” Wanda said, cupping your cheek comfortingly. “But you’ve got a whole team right behind you. We love you so, so much.”

“Yeah, we do,” Peter agreed, and your mom and dad nodded, causing you to smile. You squeezed your boyfriend’s hand. He squeezed back.

For the rest of the day, the Avengers visited you in pairs or trios, not wanting to overwhelm you with everyone again. You were disappointed about how your S.H.I.E.L.D. mission had gone, but having your dedicated family at your side helped. The sparks were no longer soaring, but when Coulson had said it would be a painful process, he was by no means exaggerating.

You hadn’t said anything, not wanting to worry anyone anymore, but it became apparent the next day. Everyone was now in the room and, after some slight stress (which Wanda and Peter helped with), the sparks calmed down. You were sick of lying in bed all day and wanted to stand up and walk around, but that proved to not go well.

The second you had risen to your feet — you were tumbling back down. Your knees hit the floor, and Peter barely managed to wrap his arms around you and prevent your head from hitting it, too. He gently pulled you against him as your head lolled against his chest, a wave of dizziness appearing.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked, him and Pepper kneeling down in front of you and Peter. The rest were close by, in case you needed anything.

The sparks came back, but this time just seemed to appear all over your body. You were concentrating hard to prevent them from escaping, and this in turn only exhausted and hurt you more. “Y-yeah,” you answered through grit teeth, but your whimper of pain betrayed you.

“I’ll get Dr. Cho,” Bruce offered, making a move for the door handle.

“No,” you forced out, although your voice was hardly strong. Enough to make Bruce pause, though. “It’s not — it’s my powers. It’s taking everything in me not to let this electricity out, and on top of that I think this whole process is taking a toll on me, like Coulson said it would.”

No-one liked hearing this. The group exchanged looks over your head, worried, and then Tony nodded at Peter, gesturing to your bed. Since your eyes were closed, Peter said, “I’m going to pick you up and put you back in bed, okay?”

When you nodded, Peter gently picked you up and laid down in bed. Your grip never left him, though, so he slid in beside you, in a cuddle. Peter and Pepper both fixed the blankets while you leaned your head against his shoulder.

Pepper and Tony sat beside you and the rest of the Avengers crowded around. Blinking your eyes open tiredly, you managed a small smile, your heart warming with your family surrounding you. Trying to get as comfortable as possible with the pain, you squirmed around and huffed lightly.

“Still hurts?” Natasha murmured, with the others watching over you in concern.

Your answer was an affirming hum, face tightly scrunched up in concentration. “I’m really trying to contain it,” you whispered, which broke everyone’s hearts. You looked exhausted and worn-out, but were still trying so hard.

Steve glanced over at everyone, frowning. “We can leave if you need to let it out,” he offered gently.

You shook your head. “No. I need to learn how to control it,” you insisted.

This had everyone more worried. “You don’t have to learn right now, hun,” Wanda said.

“I do. I can’t hurt anyone again,” you said, and then leaned forward, gasping, as a wave of pain from the electricity racked your body.

You were Tony Stark’s kid — stubbornness was in your DNA.

Peter bit his lip and rubbed your back, wanting to do anything he could to provide you with comfort. Pepper pet your hair until you leaned back, practically collapsing against your boyfriend. “Maybe a story will help distract—” Sam began, but you quickly cut him off.

“No! I can’t be distracted! I need to concentrate unless you want me to fry you!” You snapped, glaring at Sam. Everyone was surprised by your sudden outburst, but your frustration quickly dissolved into guilt and tears escaped your eyes. “I’m-I’m sorry Sam. I just can’t relax. All I can do is think about keeping the electricity in.”

You pulled your knees to your chest and Peter’s arms wrapped around you from behind. Eyes widening, Sam was quick to say: “Hey, hey, it’s alright, kid. No hard feelings.” He smiled.

“I can put you to sleep for a bit, if you’d like,” Wanda offered, also smiling.

You thought about this for a moment and then nodded. Wanda put her index fingers on her temples and, after a moment, your body relaxed and went limp. Peter gently pulled you so you were laying back against the pillow and everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. They all just watched you for a moment, glad that you were finally no longer in pain — even if only temporary.

After a couple minutes, Bruce piped up. “There has to be something we can do, Tony.”

Tony glanced over at the scientist and nodded, the wheels already turning in his head. “Can we build something that can absorb the electricity? A bracelet with an insulator like rubber or plastic that could be strong enough for Y/N to be able to let loose some of that electricity?” He pondered.

Bruce nodded, liking where the billionaire was going with this idea. “Let’s see,” he said, and then headed out the door, to their lab.

Tony was more hesitant leave Y/N, but Pepper and the others assured him that they’d be there. Smiling at his wife and then at sleeping Y/N, Tony allowed himself to trust that and followed Bruce.

You slept for most of the day with your family by your side. They only left if it was absolutely necessary. When you woke up still in pain, the Avengers took shifts. If it were up to them, they’d all be with you all the time. Unfortunately, duty called to the team and to Pepper. At any moment, though, at least one of them was always with you. Rubbing your back, keeping you updated with what was going on in the tower and with S.H.I.E.L.D, anything they could do or say that would provide even the littlest bit of comfort.

Two days later, when Fury wanted the Avengers to go out on a mission, they all ended up arguing with him and insisting that they needed to stay with you. Their love for you seemed to out-power the Director’s might. It took a lot of convincing, but Fury eventually backed down after talking to his best spies Clint and Natasha and when he saw you himself.

Later that afternoon, Bruce and Tony finally perfected the bracelets. They delivered it to you proudly, all the Avengers by their side. You gladly wore them and it helped lessen the pain some — although it did not go away entirely. Tony was adamant on going back to the lab and working on it himself, but you were able to put your father at ease. You know the pain would continue as long as your powers were still developing. Soon, your body would get used to it and you’d be in control.

Tony (and everyone else) still worried, of course, but they knew you were right. Sure enough, by the end of the week, you were up and walking around again. Your body had stopped fighting the new development and, after practicing and working with Wanda, you were able to control it with little difficulty. You surprised the group when they were in the living room, coming down the staircase with a large grin on your face.

“So . . . Does this mean I can become an Avenger now, too?” You asked.

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[lovelyhan]

— favorite poison (a teaser) ⟢

pairing: wonwoo x reader

summary: no strings attached sex is easy. catching feelings for a person you supposedly hate is hard. it's in times like this when wonwoo wishes he can set the dial on his life on easy mode forever, but everyone knows he's nothing if not stubbornly competitive.

word count 1.8k words

tags: fuck buddies, not quite enemies to lovers, streamer!wonwoo, streamer!reader, attempt at humor, in denial!wonwoo, fluff, smut (in later scenes, although this teaser is a bit suggestive)

warnings: mentions of twitter porn, daddy kink, suggestive situations (minors dni!!), reader becomes visibly uncomfortable around one of the characters

notes: this is the sequel to underlying pretense! as with all my teasers so far, it's always the first scene that comes up in these posts HEH the title is based off fuller's song, favorite poison bc it just screams in denial wonwoo :')

“So when are you introducing me?” 

The buzz of visitors inside the convention hall is already grating enough as it is, but when Mingyu walks over to Wonwoo’s designated booth, all it does is irritate him further.

He doesn’t exactly have to do anything aside from receive gifts from the viewers coming to pay him a visit, and take a few photos with them, but Wonwoo is yet to accustom himself to being the center of attraction in front of so many people. So having to listen to his roommate-slash-best friend asking him stupid questions isn’t exactly helping his case.

“To who? My family?” Wonwoo scoffs. 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “No. Your girlfriend, genius.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

His best friend pouts and Wonwoo is having a really tough time taking him seriously because Mingyu is wearing one of those hats with bunny ears that flop around if you press the buttons dangling from the front. “You’re always scampering off with some girl from time to time. The others haven’t noticed, but I’m your roommate, hyung.”

“What gave you the impression that I’m ‘scampering off’ with just one girl, though?” Wonwoo smirks, shaking his head. 

Roughly three months have passed since Wonwoo bit the bullet and agreed to be your…fuck buddy? Not-so-friend with benefits? Whatever this arrangement is called, he’s satisfied with getting to let off steam every once in a while, and you don’t seem to have any complaints as long as he fucked you stupid and helped you make filthy content for all the world to see. 

Honest to god, it’s a miracle how shit hasn’t hit the fan yet. But then again, you and Wonwoo were both careful and extremely selective about what gets posted on your secret Twitter porn account, and what stays tucked away in the hidden galleries in your phones. That sort of cautiousness is rewarded with having to get away with everything you’re both daring enough to pull off behind the scenes.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that, outside his sexual relations with you, Twitch streamers everyone_woo and Koyahngi pretty much hate each other’s guts. Even if yours is the best fucking pussy he’s ever had (something you’ll never catch him dead admitting aloud), he’s not about to do a complete one-eighty degrees and treat you any differently in front of his friends and followers. You don’t seem to have any plans on doing that either.

Wonwoo hasn’t once brought you to their shared apartment, so he’s certain that Mingyu is basing all his hunches off pure intuition alone. And just because that intuition turns out to be somewhat right (PSA: you’re not his girlfriend), doesn’t mean Wonwoo has to come clean about his goings-on.

Besides, they’re at a fucking convention. Why is Mingyu trying to hotseat him now? 

“Whatever you say, elusive gamer who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman that isn’t his mom.”

“Fuck you, you know that’s not true.”

“Well, obviously, you’re smitten with someone, and once I find out who it is, I’m throwing the biggest party in Seoul,” Mingyu says with a huff of indignance coloring his words. He says it like it’s a threat, and Wonwoo makes a face at him. 

“Why?” he asks with a scowl.

“Because I love you, that’s why.” Mingyu then takes off the stupid hat and places it on top of Wonwoo’s head—even putting the work into making sure it fits and everything. “Anyway, I’m heading off to Koyahngi’s booth to say hi. You wanna come with or do you still have a stick up your ass when it comes to hanging out with her?”

Wonwoo has to keep himself from blurting out how he’s not the one with anything up his ass when it comes to you, but realizes that if he wants to get Mingyu off his back, he probably shouldn’t make traumatizing allusions to his sex life. 

“I can’t exactly leave my spot until the main program starts. The same goes for you, idiot,” Wonwoo points out. “Who knows how many of your subscribers are looking for you at your booth? Go away and tend to them first.”

Mingyu pouts again, but since his best friend is a guy that’s literally a six-foot wall of muscle, Wonwoo doesn’t feel even an ounce of sympathy for him. “I haven’t even been gone for ten minutes! I just wanted to see how my friends are doing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have set up a booth at all, Gyu.” 

“Hmph. You’re always so stingy, hyung.” Mingyu crosses his arms before turning on his heel. “Anyway, I’m heading over to Koyahngi’s. I heard she’s cosplaying Sage today. Not that you care though.”

He sounds so genuinely sulky that Wonwoo would’ve laughed a little as Mingyu stomps away to head to your booth. But the mention of you dressing up as a Valorant agent that Wonwoo has started to despise since meeting you makes a couple of memories from earlier this week resurface in his mind. 

Aside from the catgirl gimmick, your cosplays are but another selling point for your streams. You dubbed it the catgirlification of every playable character I like right after Wonwoo railed you two days ago in that same Sage cosplay that Mingyu just mentioned. 

What a fucking weirdo, Wonwoo mused for a second before blowing your back out again not five minutes later.

About an hour later, the program on the main stage was in full swing, and Wonwoo just finished doing a little segment with Soonyoung that one of the fans who won a raffle requested for them to do. It was a Pocky Game that got a little too intense because Soonyoung wouldn’t stop fucking squirming, and they nearly kissed in front of the entire audience. Wonwoo doesn’t entirely mind because PR is PR, after all.

The thing he does end up minding, though, comes a little later—after the convention hall settles into a more relaxed atmosphere and everyone is back to booth-hopping. 

Despite what he told Mingyu earlier, Wonwoo took it upon himself to do some wandering around. It’s kind of nice to see other streamers and content creators he’s only ever got to interact with on Discord or their respective streams.

But while he’s munching on a cherry-shaped cookie that Seungcheol is handing out to his visitors, the bane of his existence swoops down on him just when he thought he could finish this entire event in peace.

“Hey, daddy,” you giggle into his ear before swiping the cookie out of his hands, tossing it into your mouth without a second thought. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you today.”

Wonwoo clicks his tongue before shrugging off the arm you draped around his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Nothing in particular,” you hum before swallowing the food you just stole from him. “But now that I got a taste of Cheol’s cherry cookies, I kinda want some more. Do you know where he is?” 

“I think I saw him flirting with a bunch of cosplayers near the stage.”

Wonwoo startles at the sound of a third party’s voice intruding in your conversation, and from the looks of it, you’re just as startled as he is. Turning around, though, his apprehension ebbs away when he recognizes who it is.

“Johnny,” he says with a small surprised smile before offering his hand for a casual shake. “It’s been a while.”

The famous streamer returns Wonwoo’s gesture gingerly, but he realizes that Johnny’s gaze isn’t trained on him at all. 

“It has been,” he chuckles before turning to you. “I didn’t know you were friends with Wonwoo, doll. How you got someone as cold as he is to warm up to you is beyond me, but at least you’re expanding your network.”

Wonwoo would’ve rolled his eyes. Johnny is just as frank as he remembers. But before Wonwoo can point out that: 1.) you and him are not friends; and 2.) he is not a cold person, and therefore has absolutely no need to warm up to anyone, he quickly picks up on the sudden shift in the air. And it’s not his or Johnny’s discomfort he’s sensing right now. 

“Nah, you’ve got the wrong idea,” you respond to Johnny casually, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss how your fists are clenched at your sides. “Wonwoo would rather get banned from Twitch than call me his friend. I just like pissing him off every now and again is all~ That, and his friends are pretty cool, so I need to tolerate him.”

Johnny laughs before reaching down to ruffle your carefully styled wig. To others, it would’ve looked like a display of casual affection between friends, but Wonwoo is keen enough to notice how you momentarily flinched from the older streamer’s touch. His brows knit together as he attempts to figure out what was going on.

Actually, how do you even know Johnny in the first place?

“Anyway, I’ll be going now,” he laughs before letting one eye drop into a wink. “It’s good to see both of you. Enjoy the rest of the convention, yeah?”

As Johnny makes his exit, you’re a little too quick to fill in the silence that he left.

“You’ve gotta take me to Cheol before he runs out of cookies,” you whine, tugging on his arm with a persistent look on his face—not even breathing a word about Johnny, as if it hasn’t been two minutes since he left. “I’m pretty sure I saw him wearing a Pikachu onesie, so he should be easy to—”

Wonwoo immediately cuts you off with a quick yank of your wrist. As he leads you to one of the unoccupied restrooms near the convention hall, your voice drones in annoyingly repetitive succession in his ears while you struggle to free yourself from his grip, but Wonwoo just won’t budge.

Not when he can’t get the sight of you with genuine fear in your gaze when you first laid your eyes on Johnny out of his head.

“Shit,” you whisper hoarsely the moment Wonwoo slams you against the door—a shit-eating grin resting haughtily on your lips as he nudges your thighs apart. “I knew you were possessive, but not this much. Johnny just gave me a few headpats, daddy. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

Yeah. Wonwoo is totally doing this out of some pathetic, alpha male need to stake his claim after another man got his grubby hands on you. Not because he was bothered by that look on your face, and can’t think of any other way to help get your mind off it aside from fucking you senseless in a public bathroom.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before forcing your cheek against the cold door. “Now take off your leggings before I tear a hole in it myself. Can’t mess up your perfect fucking Sage cosplay now, can we?”

You let out a noise caught between a sigh and a whimper as you do as you're told. From three months ago to now, your general opinion on Jeon Wonwoo as a dom has yet to change. Even if he was about to rail you with a fluffy bunny beanie still resting on top of his head.

He’s fucking perfect.

the full fic can now be found here!

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt fanfic #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #lovelyhan

[pensat-i-fet]

Not a crush (Pedri x Reader)

**I got this request and thought it could be cute and fun. It’s true that the Spanish press has been talking about this arms situation a lot, so it’s a good blend of fiction and reality. But then it turned into one of those writing projects that changed 7 times before its final form. For a second I even thought about turning this into a series. My brain! Anyways, enjoy reading! ❤️**

ETA: I ended up writing a series based on this imagine that you can read here!

Word count: 2685

Masterlist

Wattpad

“All those years in uni to end up doing this”, you muttered. “I’m never going to be taken seriously”.

“What are you talking about?”

“This article I have to do”.

Your colleague Jordi moved his chair closer to yours to peek at your computer screen.

“You know that we can’t use the computers for personal stuff, right?”

You put your head on the table. Really, no one was going to take you seriously.

“Huh?”

“Why are you looking at photos of shirtless Pedri? Got a crush?”

“Shut up! I have to do an article about the evolution of his body in the last couple of years”.

“That’s cool”.

“It’s stupid!”

“I’ve done worse when I was an intern. Don’t be so negative”.

You guessed he was right. It could be a lot worse. And you didn’t have a crush but…there were worse ways to spend a Tuesday afternoon than looking at photos of a cute player. And being given an excuse to stare at his body, which had definitely changed in the last couple of years. You didn’t visit the gym much but liked it when others did. Especially if that was the result of their gym sessions.

Writing the article actually took a good chunk of your day. Between getting the right photos and videos for it and asking for permission to use them, the actual writing and your colleagues' stupid comments about it, it wasn't as easy as you thought it would be at first. But it was a good article. And once the editor saw it and was happy with it, it was posted on the newspaper's website.

The following day you posted a link to it on your social media accounts and a little later you started to go through the comments. So many of them talked about how you were only picked to do that article because it was about a man's body and you were a woman. Right…nothing new on Twitter.

“Stop replying to hate comments”.

“It’s therapeutical”.

"It's pointless".

Just one more…

                                      **

It wasn't just the press or people on social media talking about Pedri's muscles. His teammates loved to tease him joking about that too.

"Here comes the Spanish Lewandowski", laughed Eric.

"So funny".

"Please don't be mad at me. I'm afraid you'll use those big strong muscles to punish me".

Pedri did use his muscles to push his friend and get him out of the way. He knew it was just banter but it all got boring after a few days.

"There needs to be a big signing or something so your arms stop being the topic of the week", told him Ferrán, who was looking at his phone.

“Yeah, I saw Barça posting about it on social media too. People are so overdramatic”.

“Totally, but I didn't mean that. I meant the new article”.

"What new article?"

Ferrán showed him your article and Pedri sat down to read it properly. It was a great article. You took the time to analyze the way his game could be influenced by this body change and picked different photos than the ones used by everyone else. He guessed there were still proper journalists out there. What a plot twist.

"It's a good article", he said, giving the phone back to his friend.

"The internet seems to disagree".

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know if they disagree but the girl who wrote it was getting a lot of shit on social media".

"Why?", Pedri couldn't hide his frown.

"I didn't look much into it but I saw people saying nasty things to her and then they found some old tweets and …seems like she used to have a crush on you and now she writes about your muscles or whatever and people on Twitter are the way they always are".

"Right", he murmured. He had listened to everything his friend said but also got stuck on how you used to have a crush on him. And he didn't even know who you were but footballers…they just loved being loved.

                                     **

"No point in deleting them now", said Jordi.

"I wasn't going to…".

People had too much time on their hands. That was the conclusion of the day. Somehow, just because of your article, someone decided to check your entire Twitter history to see if there was anything they could accuse you of. They probably were mad to find no offensive tweets but they found two where you retweeted a Barça fan page and wrote about liking Pedri.

The funniest thing was you barely remembered those tweets. You saw him, thought he was cute and posted that. Then you moved on. There were many players you found cute but had no time for crushes. Pedri got a mention purely for the fact that he signed for your team.

But now this was being used against you. So childish.

"Are you busy next week?"

You looked up to see your boss talking to you. He never talked to you.

"I guess. I mean, I'll be here working. So…".

"Do you have a passport?"

"Yes".

"Your English was good, right?"

"Pretty good, yeah".

He only had to look at your CV to see all the qualifications you had, including all the diplomas that proved your English was more than good but…no one cared that much about an intern.

"You're going on the US tour", he said and left. How could he drop that bomb and leave?

Your jaw was on the floor and Jordi was staring at you with a similar expression.

"Wait!", you said, finally able to get up and follow your boss. "What do you mean I'm going on the US tour? There is a group of people chosen for that already. It was decided months ago".

"I know", he said casually. "But one of them can't go and you'll take his spot".

"But I'm just an intern".

"Do you not want to go?"

"I do! Of course I do!", you said quickly. "But it doesn't make sense".

"Look. You're doing really well here. And you've gotten people to visit our website more than ever with just one article so…you earned it".

You had heard about all the visits to the website after the Pedri article was posted. But the way your boss was avoiding holding eye contact told you everything you needed to know.

"Am I just going because people think I have a crush on one of the players that'll be there?"

"If you weren't a good journalist, that wouldn't be enough for me to send you with that team. But it doesn't hurt".

"Ok, I'll start packing".

This was a great opportunity and you weren't going to reject it just because of some of the reasons surrounding it. But the excitement you felt when you first heard about the trip completely vanished.

And when you checked your Instagram and saw a certain player was looking at your stories…it was even worse.

No one took you seriously but you'd prove them wrong.

                                     **

The pre-season was both loved and hated by players. Pedri didn't really have strong feelings about it. It was just part of the job and they got to visit some different places so there were positives to take from these couple of weeks.

Another positive was having you around. After finding out about your article and your past crush on him, he checked your social media accounts. There wasn't much on any of them, since they were professional accounts. But there were a couple of photos of you and your dog.

Stories were something you also used to mostly promote your work and it was while checking those he found out you were going to the US too. He was hoping you'd meet at some point but didn't expect you'd be the one to interview him.

"Hi, nice to meet you", you said, extending your hand for him to shake. So professional.

"Nice meeting you too. I really liked your article about me".

Something changed in your expression and he couldn't understand what it was but you quickly got back to professional mode.

"Thank you. Let's get this done quickly. I was told we only have 15 minutes".

The interview was pretty uneventful. You asked good questions and Pedri gave you good answers in return. But you were so serious. He didn't know you personally, so maybe that was how you always were. But Pedri had a feeling there was more to it.

"Was that good?"

"The interview? Yes, thank you for your answers. They were really good".

"Easy when the questions are good too".

You nodded, quickly looking away.

"Are you ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it seems like you would want to be anywhere but here".

You closed your eyes and sighed.

"Is it because of what people said about you?"

His words made you open your eyes and you finally looked at him. Instead of answering, you simply nodded.

"Don't pay attention to them".

"Easier said than done. Especially when they are the reason I'm here".

"The reason…".

"I'm not here because I'm good at my job. But because people thinking I have a crush on you got us a lot of attention. And now this interview will get more attention. So I'm basically just a pawn and I guess so are you".

"I'm sorry".

"It's not your fault".

Picking up your things, you got ready to leave but Pedri stopped you.

"I don't read what people write about me but my parents do. They like to keep the articles and print the photos and all that. Things parents do, I guess", he shrugged. "I read your article because Ferrán showed it to me and thought it was great. And then my parents told me about it, praising your writing multiple times. Your newspaper might be using you but you're good. You showed it to me in this interview too so don't feel sad".

"I don't have a crush on you".

"What?", but then he realised what you meant. "I didn't praise you because of that. God, you really need to get out of that mindset".

When Pedri started to laugh, you were more confused than ever.

"It's not you against the world. And people will praise you just because they genuinely want to…but now I'll be the one who's sad".

"Why?"

"I liked thinking you had a crush on me".

Now you were laughing too. Finally, he got to see the smile he had seen in those photos.

"Thank you for your words. I needed them. And you must go to train. I'll see you around".

"Yes".

The interview was posted just a couple of hours later. And even if Pedri's words helped, the comments you got still hurt.

Got what she wanted. To meet him.

"Yes, that's all I wanted in life. I can retire now".

"Why are you looking at your phone like it offended you?", asked one of your colleagues.

"It's the people inside it that offend me".

"Are there people living inside your phone?"

You half laughed at his bad joke.

"I know what you need to cheer up".

"Really?"

"Yes. Thoughts on karaoke?"

That made you laugh. You were such a terrible singer. "I like it. People don't like hearing me sing, though".

"I want to hear you sing so you're coming with us tonight".

                                   **

One of the easiest ways to get in trouble during pre-season was to go out and wake up to paparazzi photos of the party. But when it was the coach that took you out…then it was fine?

Pedri wasn't really into parties anyways but he thought karaoke night could be fun. He wasn't planning on signing but knew which teammates would. His phone was going to record all of it to tease them in the future.

"It started already", said Xavi, who was the first one to get inside the bar.

And he was right. There was someone leaving the stage while they found their tables. And someone else took the previous person's place immediately. Pedri wasn't interested in the random people who were going to sign but still looked up to see who was talking to the guy that controlled the machine.

And it was you who was on the stage.

"Well, that's a surprise", he said, almost to himself.

"What is?", Ferrán was now looking at the stage too. "Who is she? She's hot".

"The journalist who wrote about my muscles".

"The one that doesn't have a crush on you?", he laughed. "That's funnier now that I know she's pretty".

Pedri rolled his eyes and continued staring at you. He could see you were giggling and it was such a change from the super serious woman he met for the interview.

You picked a Franz Ferdinand song. They were one of your favourite bands when you were a teen and after seeing them live at the FIB, you were back to listening to all their songs on repeat.

Oh, when I woke up tonight, I said I’m

Going to make somebody love me

I’m going to make somebody love me

And now I know, now I know, now I know

I know that it’s you

You’re lucky, lucky, you’re so lucky

Your voice wasn’t great but who cared about that on karaoke night? Pedri didn’t. He just stared at you. You looked so relaxed. Just having fun instead of the worried version of you he got for his interview.

“Whoever she chooses would be lucky. She isn’t lying”.

Ferrán’s words took Pedri out of his daydreams. “What do you mean?”

“The song”.

“I’m not really paying attention to the lyrics. What do they mean?”

His teammate explained the meaning of the lyrics quickly and Pedri had to agree. Whoever you chose would be very lucky.

“I wouldn’t mind being the chosen one but you saw her first. Shame she doesn’t have a crush on you anymore, Pedrito”.

Yeah, it was a shame.

When you finished your song, you felt so much better. This had been the right plan to improve your mood. None of your colleagues wanted a drink, so you went to the bar to get one. It was needed after all that singing.

“I didn’t know you were a singer too?”

You turned to face Pedri and snorted. “Yes, it was my plan b if journalism didn’t work out”.

“There is always autotune to help”.

Pedri was pleased to see you laughing at his words. It was the second time in just one day he had achieved that.

“Do you want a drink too?”, you asked him when the bartender was taking your order.

“Just water, please”.

Once you got your drinks, none of you moved from the bar to go back to your friends. You just kept chatting.

“I mean, who knew writing about someone’s arms could lead to so much drama”.

Pedri followed your eyes which were now staring at his biceps. “Want to touch them?”

Yes. “No”.

“After reading the article I wondered if you knew more about my body than I do, you know? So it’s ok, you can touch”.

You bit your lip, trying not to blush. "I know you hear every day about how good you are at everything and that makes you overly confident but you aren’t as great at flirting as you might think".

"I heard about how great I am from you too. So you're at fault".

"I've barely written about you apart from that article".

"Yeah, but the old tweets…".

"I told you I don’t have a crush on you”.

“And the way you’re blushing says something different”.

When he leaned closer, you noticed how your knees were touching beneath the bar. They had been touching for a couple of minutes and you hadn’t even noticed. Nor did you feel the need to move.

“Not here”, you said.

“What?”

“Not where people can see us”.

“I thought you didn’t…”.

“I just want to test a theory”.

“What theory?”, he asked, smirking at you.

“If the crush I had on you two years ago is still there”.

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri imagine #pedri one shot #pedri x y/n #pedri x reader #pedri fluff #fotballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer x y/n #footballer fluff

[munsonsreputation]

Lavender Haze

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: [4.6K]

warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, cursing, protective reader, lovesick Eddie (he adores her so much), a tiny bit of violence and blood, fluff, suggestiveness towards end but no smut actually written.

summary: Eddie finds it surreal to think that someone could love him as much as you do, plus strangely attractive in the ways you protect him for the scrutiny of Hawkins. While he does the best to ignore the hate he gets, he never allows it to pass when it comes to you.

_

Eddie Munson. He had a big reputation that started long before you two had ever crossed paths. The weird freshman who started an innocent DnD club which somehow got twisted into a satanic worship conspiracy, followed by the fact that he was repeating senior year for the third (hopefully last) time, and recently cleared from murder after Jim Hopper had revealed the truth of the Upside Down and all those scary creatures. 

You. A somewhat normal bystander that got caught up in it all. Taking defense of Eddie long before Hopper had even come out with the truth. You just had a feeling inside that Eddie would never do the things that the horrible town of Hawkins was alleging. That pulled you into a slight fascination of wanting to learn more about Eddie, the true Eddie Munson that no one really knew about. 

Somehow, it just happened. The two of you were finally in the same room at the same time, hiding out as the surrounding town crumbled with the four gates, opening a portal into the unknown. You were petrified as the ash fell through the sky, yet even though he was just as afraid, he knew that with the information he learned, everything was going to be ok. That the girl with those superhuman powers would kill off this evil and the town would be ok once more. 

So as you looked out that window frightened, he reached over, resting a hand on yours that gripped the sill tightly and whispered, “It’ll all be ok…do you trust me?” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, when your eyes met his, you believed him with everything in your soul, “I trust you.” 

The minute he had laid eyes on you, there was an overwhelming feeling of security and loyalty. Knowing that you, someone he had rarely known, let alone had a conversation with, was doing her part in defending him, even when you didn’t know the whole severity of the situation. It was as if he was sucked into this trance…a beautiful, surreal, immense daze. 

He wanted to stay there with you. Throughout this great war and what he would hope would be the normal world after this. He needed to stay in this lavender haze. 

“I’ve been under scrutiny, 

You handle it beautifully,

All this shit is new to me…”

It had merely been two months since the gates finally closed, and Eddie was a freeman. He was on the brink of graduating, only needing to keep his grades up for a few more months before he would be able to walk the stage, along with his girl, who would also be graduating this year. But it wasn’t all easy. 

There were days where he would still be bombarded with the townspeople who believed that Eddie was at fault, it didn’t help that Hawkins Post remained publishing front-page articles that scrutinized the young boy and pursued to feed into the lies that weren’t true at all. 

You and he were walking through town, hoping to visit Mrs. Byers at the general store to pick up some things for the trailer, when the two had stumbled upon the print that was stacked in the vending box. 

“The Truth Behind Hawkins’ Cult Leader” it read with a photo of your beloved boy. 

Though Eddie had gotten accustomed to the headlines that would probably follow him everywhere for the rest of his life, it still stung. It was the fact that people were still trying to spread this negative narrative about him when he was already proven guilty that hurt. Knowing that not only he had to put up with it, but his girlfriend as well.

But you, you had ways of dealing with it, getting rid of the problem. 

You could feel the aura change when you two walked past the newspaper stand…anguish took over Eddie and he got quieter for the rest of the walk. Staying hushed as you two entered the general store and only saying a quick hello to Joyce before you guys picked up some things. But you had been plotting ever since you two stumbled across those stupid articles. 

“Babe, do you have any more cigs on you?” You asked sweetly, stopping a few blocks before Hawkins Post. 

Eddie rummaged with his one free hand in his pockets, the other balancing a bag of the items you two had just bought. He pulled the box out, letting you pluck one out for yourself as you grinned, “Lighter?” 

“You don’t usually smoke.” Eddie commented, watching as you began walking ahead of him, leaving him behind. 

You tucked the cig between your lips, muttering out a reply as he finally caught up, “I know…I just needed an excuse.” 

He furrowed his brows, watching as you flicked the lighter poorly, not igniting any flames on purpose, “Excuse? For what?” 

“This.” You smirked, tossing it to your left hand, successfully sparking the light as you walked past the newspaper stand, letting your hand linger there a tad bit longer in order to set the first few bits of paper aflame. 

The smell of the burning paper lingered in the air as you and Eddie continued walking on your way, him looking back every so often as the fire got bigger, little by little, all the stupid articles turning into ash in seconds. 

“You do realize that you just committed arson, right?” Eddie huffed out with a stunned chuckle, watching as you casually shrugged your shoulders, lighting the cigarette in your mouth and taking a drag. 

“So? They’re committing defamation, so what’s the difference? It’s their karma.” You justified, holding the burning bud for him to take between his lips, which he did. 

It was hot how you’d do anything for him without hesitation. Almost scary, too, but he knew that you did it all because you loved him. 

“I have a feeling I’m going to be bailing you out of jail if you keep this up.” He joked lightly, opening the passenger door to let you in. 

You took a seat, pulling the cigarette back out from his mouth, allowing him to blow out the smoke. Your thumb grazed over his bottom lip, kissing him tenderly, tasting the nicotine and heat that you enjoyed only from him before pulling away, “They haven’t replaced their security cameras since the gates opened, they won’t know.” 

“You’re killer, you know that?” He smirked, kissing you again with the more ferocity, making you giggle against him. 

You pushed him away somewhat, holding the cig back to him, “C’mon rockstar, we’ve got a trailer that needs cleaning.” 

_

A few more weeks of school left and you and Eddie were on top of the world, pushing through the last bits of high school before the two of you would be leaving this town. It was a miracle, to Eddie at least, that he had gotten accepted into a community college down in Indianapolis and you’d received a partial scholarship to a university. For the first time, Eddie had felt like he had some direction in life…a purpose that was out there for him. 

But yet despite how everything was working out for you and him. There was always another huddle waiting after the other. 

Eddie stood stiffly under the lights of the gym, somehow being baited into coming into this godforsaken territory and now his living nightmare times a hundred was happening all over again. More than half of the school’s population were standing on the bleachers, loudly chanting Eddie’s name like some sort of cult, which he found quite ironic, but they were cursing him. 

“Murderer!” 

“Freak!” 

“Trailer Trash Killer!” 

They were the exact same words that were written across newspapers and heckled towards him in the hallways during passing, but to be here taking it all in at once with nowhere for him to run…it was terrifying. 

“C’mon man,” Eddie sighed, attempting to turn around and get out of here without the situation escalating. 

“No, you’re staying right here.” 

He was pushed by the shoulders by some jock, forcing himself deeper into the gym almost dead center. Eddie could’ve easily punched the dude, giving him a simple way out, but with weeks before graduation, he couldn’t risk getting suspended and not being allowed to walk the stage just because of some stupid bullies. 

“I find it dizzying,

They’re bringing up my history,

But you aren’t even listening.” 

You were walking to next period when you heard your name being called from behind you, Max and Lucas. 

“Wait! Wait up!” He heaved, crouching down to take a breath as you stopped and they got closer. 

You raised your brows, checking the time on Eddie’s watch you had thrown on this morning. Usually the two would ask for rides home so you assumed they just had the time wrong or expected you to skip class in order to drive them to the mall or the arcade, “It’s only twelve…don’t you two have class?” 

“Yeah, but that’s not important right now.” Max answered swiftly, capturing your wrist in an attempt to drag you to where madness was ensuing. 

However, you pulled back, “My class is the other way.” 

“No, you don’t get it. Come. On.” She replied through clenched teeth, drawing you along as you tried to stay back, but ultimately getting pulled in their direction with the help of Lucas. 

“What is going on?!” you whispered, shouted, not wanting to cause a scene in the empty hallways and have a teacher scold you for this bizarre behavior. 

Max shot Lucas a look, and he groaned, darting back as they continued to guide you towards the gym, “Eddie is in a lot of trouble. Some jocks were talking during lunch and they planned a full on mob in the gym in order to embarrass Eddie and—“ 

The second your boyfriend’s name exited the teen’s mouth, you yanked your arms from their grips, propelling yourself forward as you ran through the halls with desperation, “Get Principal Higgins!” You managed through deep breaths as Max and Lucas shouted an “Ok” going back in the opposite direction. 

As you approached the gym, the shouts got heavier, and you couldn’t even imagine the chaos that was happening inside. You threw caution to the wind, overlooking all the things that could possibly go wrong as you shoved the door open. 

“Eddie!” you yelled. All eyes turned to you as their shouts stopped. 

“Oh, look, who decided to join us? The satanists’ little slut.” 

You paid no mind to the insignificant comments, brushing past a couple of morons before making your way to your boyfriend who stood with his shoulders slack and head hung low until he heard your voice.  

“You ok?” You murmured, taking his hand as he nodded, giving you a small smile, despite the glares that were shooting toward the two of you. He stood up straighter, having found the safety within you, “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” 

He squeezed your hand as you and him were about to leave, finding peace in the fact that you didn't care about what was being shouted out at you and him. But the screams only came back to life and to make matters worse, you had been closed in with a few people blocking the exit doors. 

“Let us pass, Christopher.” You declared firmly, recognizing the boy from your American Literature class. 

He shook his head, with a sinister smirk placed on his face, “Can’t do that…you and your little boy toy are in here to pay for your sins.” 

“The only sin in this room is all of you low lives that your parents have to deal with. Now, move.” You seethed harshly, watching his face fall with irritation. 

Eddie let out a small chuckle at your jab. He had always known you for your feisty attitude, one of the main traits that made him fall for you, but recently due to the series of events that concurred, your smart remarks had been flowing freely off your tongue, especially when it came to defending him. 

“Keep your bitch in line.” Christopher fired at Eddie, who scowled, drawing you behind him for protection. 

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Eddie’s finger was practically centimeters from the boy’s face, your hand wrapped around his opposite arm in order to draw him back if needed. 

Christopher just snorted, as did the rest of the students. “Or what? Gonna kill me like you did Chrissy and Jason?” 

Your boyfriend’s body tensed up under your touch, as his heart thud loudly in his chest. He hated the fact that even if he was cleared of all accusations, there were still people who would constantly bring it up. It was a hell he could never escape. 

“You better watch out, sweet thing,” 

Christopher’s hand bravely reached out, trying to touch your cheek as you turned away, completely hiding behind Eddie as he slapped his arm away. Maybe Eddie would brush off the fact that people were harassing him, but he’d be damned if anyone spoke ill about you or even tried to lay a threatening hand on you. 

Your boyfriend gave the dumbass jock a warning look followed by a hostile, “Watch yourself.” 

“Or what?” Christoper repeated, but this time regrettably as Eddie had lost his self-control, sending his fist towards the boy’s cheek as you and the rest of the students gasped aloud. 

Eddie seemed to have finally fathomed what he did, feeling the burn off his knuckles while Christopher grumbled, clutching the swelling part of his face with anger bubbling. 

“Come on let’s—“ 

As you unveiled yourself from Eddie’s back, putting yourself between your boyfriend and Christoper, you didn’t anticipate the whack in the center of your face as you fell back into Eddie’s chest with your hands immediately fastening over your throbbing nose. 

“Holy shit!” 

Max and Lucas had stumbled in on the right time, with Principal Higgins by their side, when it all happened. The only thing he saw was the punch Christopher had landed on your face. 

“Shit! Baby, are you ok?” Eddie turned you around trying to see the damage that had been done but just by pinpointing the blood against your fingers, his rage was stewing over. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

Eddie planted you into Max’s arms as she approached, giving him ample time to launch Christopher with all his might until he landed at the feet of Principal Higgins who put his arm out, attempting to stop Eddie from further damage as if he was the one in the wrong.  

“Mr. Munson, act wisely.” the authority figure said sternly as Eddie scoffed, gesturing back to you as Max and Lucas did their best to help stop the bleeding coming from your nose as you wailed faintly. 

“He just hit my girlfriend—“ 

“You hit me first!” 

Christopher roared, rising up from the ground, followed by the clamors that came from the other students backing his argument up. Eddie was defeated, he did hit him first and because of that, his girlfriend was hurt and now he probably wouldn’t be graduating because of some stupid—

“They’re all lying.” You cried out tears loud enough for Higgins to hear as he walked over to you. 

Your eyes clouded with salt, conveyed to Eddie to go on with your story calmly as you glanced shortly at him when he raised his brows and offered questioning hands, “They all tricked me into coming here just to ambush me with their cruel words—“ 

“She’s lying!” Christoper interjected madly as everybody else did the same, but you simply poked your chin out to the bleachers, as Principal Higgins did the same, seeing the signs that read cruel words towards Eddie, then you continued your version of the story. 

You winced, a bit over dramatically as you pulled your bloodied hand away from your nose, exposing it to everyone as Higgins frowned and Eddie rushed back over to you. “Principal Higgins, why would I lie about this? Eddie, thankfully, found me and when we tried to leave, Christopher blocked us in and then he hit me! You saw it happen!” 

“What kind of man puts his hand on a woman?” Lucas hissed sharply, shaking his head with his arms across his chest as Christopher clenched his teeth angrily. 

“A coward.” Max scoffed, holding the same look as her boyfriend as they stared down at Higgins and Christopher. 

“Principal Higgins, they’re all lying! It just…I didn’t mean to….I wasn’t aiming for her!” 

Principal Higgins whirled around, rocking his head as Christopher finally caught onto his revelation, “That’s sufficient evidence if you ask me.” You sniffled, leaning into Eddie who wrapped his arms around you, keeping a firm hand over the top of the ones resting on your face. 

“Christopher Pierce, I’ll be seeing you in my office—matter a fact all of you! No one leaves this gym except these four.” 

Eddie mumbled out a quiet “thanks” through the protests of shouts and whines as he guided you to the exit with Max and Lucas following closely. Finally, when you were out in the clear, the two younger teens squealed as Eddie tended to you brushing your tears away and inspecting the damage.

“Holy shit, you just flipped the table on them, big time!” 

“Yeah, well, they deserve it for being such assholes—ouch!” You yelped, flinching away from Eddie’s touch as he poked at your nose lightly, trying to see if it was broken or not. 

He gave you an apologetic smile, reaching to the back of his jeans to untie the black bandana then instructing you to hold it to your nose, “s’not crooked, but still could be broken.” 

You whimpered, feeling your head begin to throb from the overwhelming amount of pain that was radiation off the center of your face. Eddie wrapped one of his arms across your back and the other lightly over your shoulder before placing back at the other two, “Mind catching a ride from Steve or Nance today? Gonna take this one to the ER to make sure everything is ok.” 

“No! No hospital!” You argued, attempting to escape Eddie’s cages, but his grip still remained as Max and Lucas nodded, giving you a hopeful smile as they wished you both good luck and they walked the other way. 

“Eds…babe, please, I swear that I’m fine.” You pleaded, watching as Eddie maneuvered the both of you sideways as he used his shoulder to push the doors open, leading you to the parking lot where his van was conveniently parked just a few stalls down. 

He shook his head with a faint, “no” as he removed his hand from your shoulders, just so he could get ahold of his car keys, quickly unlocking the passenger door and gently hoisting you up in his arms so he could carefully place you in the seat. 

“Don’t give me those eyes, sweet girl, it’s not gonna work, right now.” Eddie chuckled, lightly glancing up as you pouted and pushed your brows together with soft angelic eyes. 

Usually, this type of treatment would get Eddie to say yes to anything you wanted, but right now it was serious and your health depended on him not falling for your little tricks and games that he loved to play. 

You groaned when you realized it wouldn’t work, sulking deep into the seat while Eddie reached around to click the seatbelt into place. He leaned up, kissing your cheek softly as he blindlessly reached for the glove-box, finding the pack of baby wipes that were usually used for clean ups when the two of you decided to have some van fun…but thankfully today its purpose would be much more useful. You watched through your wet lashes. He plucked a few out, motioning for you to move the bandana away so he could wipe the blood from your face, then your fingers. 

“Did the bleeding stop?” You sought, lifting your chin when he nudged it to get a better look inside your nostrils and he shrugged his shoulders with uncertainty.

“There’s still a bit dripping down. Hopefully the doctors can get it to stop.” He patted your thigh, gathering the bloodied wipes and stuffing them into the passenger door storage to throw away later. 

You placed the bandana back over your nose, this time just underneath to catch any remaining blood. Eddie had finally shut your door, jogging over to the driver’s side and quickly starting it up, turning to face you so that he could brush his fingers over your cheek, leaning forward, “Thanks for that…and I’m sorry you got hurt.” 

“Don’t, it’s not your fault, I should be saying “thank you” considering the fact that you punched him for me.” you encouraged him, caressing his wrist with your free hand while you put on a brave smile seeing him crack a small grin, “No one talks badly about my man and gets away with it.”

There was a slight scratch to your voice that tickled a part of Eddie’s brain in the best way because it always seemed to creep in when you got protective of him. It was like your body sending a signal that you had to do everything in your power to avenge all the things that happened to Eddie. Though he never asked you to do it, and would never ask of such a favor, it melted his heart and kept him up at night just thinking about how lucky he was. Someone that always saw the best in him and refused to let anyone take that away. 

He beamed, leaning in to connect your lips, not caring that at any moment a big fat glob of blood could pool between the both of you, “Even when your man is gonna take you to the hospital?” 

You giggled through the coursing pain, pushing his chest jokingly so that he could back away, “Yeah, because apparently he loves me so much he doesn’t want me to die of a broken nose.” 

“I don’t think you can die from a broken nose, babe.” He raised his brows at you, stifling a laugh from your apparent annoyance. 

You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as he snickered, finally putting on his seat belt and changing gears, “Shut up and drive, Munson!” 

_

“Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk”

“Mass Suspension at Hawkins High! New Record!” 

Eddie slapped down the school paper onto your desk where you were mindlessly flipping through a month old magazine before you finally picked up what was now the talk of the town. You shrieked hard when you saw a picture of all the students lined up against the office wall as they waited for Higgins to see them individually. 

“Did Nancy really get away with this?” You spun around in your chair to face Eddie, who chucked, nodding his head and resting his hands on his hips. 

It had been a few days since the incident and you’d been at home resting from thankfully just a small fracture that didn’t require any surgery. Just wearing a splint, icing the area, and taking your prescription medicine twice a day to alleviate the pain. 

“Feeling better?” He asked, running a delicate finger over the brace on your nose, making you laugh, slapping his hand away. 

“I am…just a few more days and I can take this stupid thing off.” You sighed, getting up and walking over to your mirror to gauge how you looked today. 

There was still a bit of bruising around the center of your face and around your cheeks from the impact of the blow. However, the icing seemed to dull the color down from bright purple to a greenish yellow hue in a matter of days. Eddie plunked himself on your rolling chair, scooting towards you until his knees met the back of yours, prompting you to settle into his lap. 

“You look beautiful.” He declared, pecking at your lips pleasantly while you shook your head against his. 

“I look absolutely ridiculous.” You claimed, only making Eddie kiss you harder as he shook his head now. 

When he finally pulled away, he turned your shoulder back to the mirror, steering you to watch the two of you in the reflection. “My girls’ a total badass and now she has the splint to prove it.” 

He poked your side, causing you to jolt forward with a surprised laugh. “You know I’m not a fighter, I’m more of a lover.” 

“You’ve got to be joking, right?” Eddie ordered with an unamused face as you nodded seriously, “Baby! You literally set fire to a newspaper stand and made up a whole story to save my ass!” 

“Love makes you do crazy things! What can I say?” 

You shrugged your shoulders as if committing such extreme acts of love was totally normal, but it was one of the reasons why Eddie adored you so much. Sure, he probably would never need to commit arson for you, like ever, but if the opportunity arose and your reputation and life depended on it, he would. There wasn’t anything in this world that Eddie Munson wouldn’t do for you, and he was waiting on the day that he could do the same…possibly for better matters, of course. 

“If you stare too hard, the mirror might crack, Mr. Conceited.” You joked snapping him out of his thoughts, while nuzzling your face into the crock of his neck as you wrapped your arms securely around it. 

He pressed into you harder, turning his head to meet your lips once. twice. three more times before resting his forehead on yours, peering deeply into your eyes, “I love you, you know that?” 

The question was pointless. He knew that you knew that he loved you very much. With his whole entire being and every bone in his body. 

“I love you so much that sometimes I feel like I can’t even describe it.” He added, brushing his nose against yours softly as you giggles fluttered from your mouth like butterflies kissing his skin when he felt your breath on him. 

Eddie moved his hands to your hips, gripping them with intensity as he planted his feet securely against the ground and stood the two of you back up. Your arms around his neck never moved, as this time you tiptoed to catch his lips once more before he spun you, shuffling backwards until the small of your back came to a hard stop. 

“Get it off your chest,” You whispered, finally pulling away to catch a breath while your fingers kept busy, trailing their way down his neck, to the hem of his shirt, until your warm hands slid underneath the material, feeling his heartbeat against your fingertips, “…and get it off my desk.” 

Your boyfriend wasted no time, roughly dragging his hand over your desk where the paper flew and pens landed against the floorboards, until there was nothing on it but you and the both of your bare skin stuck to one another like glue that bound the sweetest souls together in matrimony. 

This haze was permanent. Something that the two of you could never escape, because no matter the disruptors and smooth talking hucksters that would try to come between you and Eddie, your love was ever glowing and all-encompassing in ways that no one could replicate. It didn’t matter the circumstances under which you and Eddie had met and fallen in love during what could and should have been the end of the world. You two were both damned if you did and damned if you didn’t. There was no other choice but to fall. 

Fall into this bliss while you protected your peace. Keep your love and the genuine stuff private, but never hide it. And against all odds, live a life without a care in the world for the people who try to blow it out.

This love was burning brightly through the lavender haze you two danced in for eternity.  

A/N: I've been working on this for a while, trying to get the story to flow with the lyrics so I hope I was able to do this justice. Again, all credits to the lovely, Taylor Swift for writing this song that perfectly describes what I think Eddie and his partners' relationship would be like in terms of facing scrutiny from the town after all the madness. Let me know what you think! Reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated!

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