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wroteclassicaly · 3 years

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May I Taste Your Sin

(Michael Langdon x Female Reader)

Pairings : Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Warnings : Language, smut, blood, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blood play, & period sex.

A/N : This fic has been a loooong time coming! I’m sorry it’s taken me this long, but now that I have inspo I wanted get this out for y’all! The warnings are obviously self-explanatory, so skip this if you don’t like the contents it’s gonna contain! Michael Langdon eats human hearts, and he’s a demon, before anyone starts to fuss over this, lol. I’m sure menstrual cycles with his partner would be a dessert to him!

Enjoy! This one is pretty intense, so I’m nervous about it! I also have more installments with different characters coming in the next few days! :)

Check out where I first posted the teaser for this fic, and check out these period sex headcanons I wrote for Michael!

~*~

He keeps staring at you. You try to move about, do your tasks, even attempt conversation with people you’d tried so hard to avoid these past several years. Your abilities to function like the human being that you are, seemingly vanish whenever the tall honey blond is within your exhausted proximities. You aren’t sure if you’d like to let out the loudest echoing scream and see where it ends up in this place, or let your wildest carnal urges guide your hormones into a literal sticky situation. Or, at the very least, let yourself fantasize about seducing him in your own self-created version of reality.

You’ll have to settle on the latter, unfortunately. Pocketing the cream colored dish rag, you place the last row of finely printed novels on the book shelve. Your fingertips linger, attempting to find a portal through their leather cover tops. Your tongue slicks your parched lips, neck stretching to crack out the tension. You aren’t trying to do anything but stealing some relaxation, when a largely hot hand is pressing a knot-out in a knead on your shoulder - clasping, settling a risky purchase.

You don’t have to make an educated guess to know whose hand that belongs to. He practically spews out his control and ownership of this place every chance that he gets. Biting down a venomous sigh, you coerce yourself into a turn around - gathering an eyeful of Langdon’s fancy black vest. That’s not good enough for the King, apparently, as he fits his pointer finger underneath your chin in a tuck, thumb pressing against your jaw to tilt your gaze to his own.

“Did you forget your manners, Miss Y/L/N?”

The way his shining eyes are sizing your attention, captivating your unwillingness to comply to how Langdon makes you feel - it can’t be humanly possible, can it? There’s that possessive ache that begs you to launch ownership over him and his entire body. Why is everything so widely dramatic whenever he’s around? Is he just full of himself or is it something way more than you’re aware? A crackling parch winds its pathway around your throat, sealing your breath in.

Nothing comes from between your lips. You’re frozen solid, legs a weightless press. Each touch this... man brings upon your body is like a bass thump - pumping you towards his secretive rhythm. All you can do is sway with the beat. Langdon smirks coyly, his other hand resting behind his back in an idle grace.

Neither of you dare utter a word. However, Langdon is seemingly content in making you squirm and you try to focus on everything but his perfectly crafted jawline, and how eagerly you’d suck on it if asked. You swear you can hear your heartbeat galloping off, so strong that it can tear your heart right out of your chest along with it. His colorful eyes glance over you in a brief stamping sweep, lingering at your sore breasts and your waistline.

What is he even doing...?

“Excuse me, but Ms. Venable did not authorize any private conferences with the help.” A cold and steel - grasped voice chills your bones down, dusting your cheeks with a reddening humiliation.

You haven’t even so much as spoken to Langdon, yet it feels like you two have been clawing and scratching at each other all over this fucking outpost, riding one another until you can’t fathom walking upright. You still can’t speak, but Langdon takes care of that for you.

“Interesting, and did Ms. Venable give you permission to waltz in here when you weren’t requested or required, just to give a meaningless order?” Langdon is mildly amused in his question, his hand still paused on your chin, thumb now swiping in a tickling drop with his fingertip - along your jaw.

Ms. Mead looks comical in her brief attempt at forming a snappy comeback, only to go silent in defeat. You take this tension as your escape line - quickly edging from the sacred confines Langdon has built for you two, and you all but run out the door. You’re clutching your shirt collar, punching a two pounce path up the staircase and to the help’s quarters.

Chores now, panic later.

~*~

Five minutes. Five fucking minutes in this place that you’ve served without question, complaint, for nearly two years - is all you want. But as the heavy handed rasps of Mead’s knuckle bones beat on your bathroom door, you know that is a simple pipe dream. Her low voice is harsh with you, making your headache unfold into a full blown migraine. You shift uncomfortably, knees knocking together, thighs sore against the cool porcelain seat below you.

Langdon must’ve massively pissed her off... Good.

Your palms collect purchase to your cradle your face, your eyes glistening with tears, throat burning with frustration. It hurts too much to stand upright this time. Normally women would lose this in stressful situations. Add the apocalypse and barely eating, you’d peg it normal to receive nothing. However, your predicament is much worse, fucking you over once more.

Your body welcomes Mother Nature each month. Unpredictable, yet there. Heavy, excruciating. You could list on and on reasons that don’t amount to much. You’re stuck with a part of you that won’t ever come to fruition.

Not in your former life, especially not in this one. Another reminder that carries an award winning irony. Sighing, you peer down at the red dish rag you were given. Literally on the rag, what a joyous harmony. The elites of course, are given the tampons and pads.

You have to use scraps of fabric you’re forced to wash in the bathtub if you move too fast or sneeze. And on your heavy days when you haven’t the time to stop your duties to wash and air out the towels, things are much harder. At least before the apocalypse you had chocolate, feminine products, a warm shower to take your time in, movies to curl up with, and a place of your own to cry where no one could hear you. You sniffle, hormones locking down your heart.

Most recently the outpost had welcomed the cooperative leader Langdon. He had interviewed everyone but you, uninterested, only flustering you a few times. Him being here just makes your period a more unwelcome storm. This morning as you were passing him on the landing of the staircase, delivering the bath towels to elite rooms, he stared at you. Right into you, nostrils flaring, tongue rolling out to slick his plump lips, blue eyes darkening.

Then there was this afternoon. How could I forget...?

The encounters were over quicker than they took place. Still, his acknowledgment of you didn’t bring your interview, nor did it promise your application for the sanctuary he preaches about. Forcing your tears to bank, you stand with your dress skirt and apron held up, staring at the stained rag in your panties. You turn and flush the toilet, eating back around to the shock of your fucking life. There, just feet in the from the doorway, is Langdon in all his glory.

It makes you swallow harshly, stomach drawing off the butterflies that have grown claws. You feel winded. His ring covered fingers bring an object to your sights. A thinly wrapped stick. You don’t answer, you don’t move, you don’t protest him approaching until he’s directly in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You try, a mere whisper betraying your bravery.

“Helping you,” He answers simply, a heated slide crossing his mouth. You can practically taste him, damn near swaying forward.

You start to snap back into your senses, ready to cover your remembered modesty back up. He grasps your wrist, a hungry look soft in his features. “Will you let me?”

You’re shaking, body on fire at him touching you, you try to keep your legs from clenching, that want. You know what will occur if you let yourself. He is gentle with you, admiration clear. Why? You don’t understand this.

“You’re bleeding, I know.”

Jaw unhinged, you stand upright, his fingers still ghosting your skin. An unlucky movement on your part, the warmth spills from you and you look down between your thighs in horror at the red lines running down your legs, pattering against the floor. Langdon is breathing heavily, practically panting, stunning you once more. His other hand grips your cheek, thumb swiping your lip, eyes not breaking contact from yours.

“Do you know how good your cunt smells? Every pathetic person in this outpost is starving and you have the best meal between your fucking legs.”

When your silence stretches on, Michael nudges forward, careful with you. “May I feast?”

It’s all too much to handle. Having him talk to you, you speaking to him. And now this? How? You begin to grow dizzy, hands trembling as you try to pull your clothing back up. Langdon’s hands grip your wrists.

“Please don’t do that.”

You want to stun him incredulously, backhand him. None of that is happening, not even the urge. Instead, your want for him is magnifying beyond any feigned ignorance. Your tongue slides out across your lips, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a brisk chew. Langdon hooks his middle finger between your teeth, releasing your lip and combing the blood across in a coppery gloss.

Your chest is startled, rising and falling in quivering quakes, ears hearing a static rush. Everything inside of you is alive and crying out in need to be sated. Langdon grips you around the waist, lowering his forehead to rest atop your own, his middle finger - still doused in your blood - slithers past his own lips, which close in a sticky suckle. A vibrating moan pummels his throat, causing a constricting swallow that showcases his Adam’s apple.

If I could only just lick that...

Langdon is sly and devilishly cunning to a fault - fast in his next movements. He presses a designer boot down over your skirts, successfully preventing them from being made up. “Leave them here for someone else.”

“I... I can’t. This is too much, Langdon —“ He chuckles at the formality.

“Since I can see your womanhood running from between your legs, I suppose it’s only fair that we skip some formalities, don’t you agree, Y/N?” Your eyes are probably wider than necessary - a cartoon like sight. He’s used your full name in an authoritative command, leaving no room for question. “And you may call me Michael.”

It’s all a little more frantic from this point. He gives the slightest of information, and you see your skirts and panties gliding across the floor in a winded push. Michael brings that wrapped item back into your eye-line. “We won’t be needing this for a while.”

“I didn’t say yes.” You try, swallowing a weak, whimpering stifle.

“But you didn’t say no, did you?” That shit eating grin. He has you and he is all too aware - elated to the brimming brimstone of hellfire you’re about to bestow upon yourself.

Your insides melt into the trenches of red hot, raw ravishment. Michael drops his left arm down, hand palming his hardening cock through black slacks, eyes encouraging you in a chained bind. “Let’s go and make a mess in my room.”

Now or never. No more of this, back to reality, maybe some place better. You’re spinning in a foiling encasement, precipice wide and open - hungry to pull you under. And you dive in, you let it all go. Michael looks satisfied, sharing something with himself that you don’t know... yet.

Taking Michael Langdon’s hand, you’re led into the unknown.

~*~

Langdon leads you down his own separate corridor, your free hand scolded for trying to hold yourself over your uniform.

“I want you to make a mess.” Michael says.

You hope that you’re not the one who will be paying the cost for your own said mess, or cleaning it up. If it’s up to Venable - you’ll be licking it, all the way to her high heeled boots.

Once inside the confines of Michael Langdon’s bedroom, you take the time to look around, enjoying the perks this situation is bringing. The room isn’t any different than what the purple elites get here, it is bordering on a more... lived in feel, which is ironic when you consider that Langdon hasn’t been here like everyone else has for the past three years.

Guess he’s just more comfortable? He does look like an English vampire half the time..

On that note, a particularly harsh cramp antagonizes your uterus, causing you to clench your abdomen, choking out a acidic slice. “Fucking demonic cramps.”

Michael - now clad in his all black ensemble, minus the overcoat - chortles, knotting his fingers together behind his back and strolls forward, wetting his lips as the firelight crackles a sparking soundtrack. “It’s ironic how you refer to it as “demonic”, when Satan really has nothing to do with this. I mean, it’s not on him that humanity failed their pitiful guidelines for sobering temptation. Wasn’t it your lord and savior that bestowed this curse upon you?” He finishes, giving a head tilt to your unhinged stun.

“Are you religious?” Is all you can come up with.

Michael sneers, looking slightly offended. It fades seconds later. “Depends on your definition of religious, and then there is what one believes in. But I guess you can say that I’m devoted to... a certain cause.”

“Were you this mysterious before the apocalypse, or is that why the cooperative gave you the job?” You try, a discomfort crackling at your inner thighs.

They’re probably smeared... And not just with blood.

“I bet you’re uncomfortable.” Michael teases, snapping his fingers at the fireplace. Did your eyes betray you, or did the flames flicker?

You want to give a snappy comeback, but it feels unwise. You nod like the sap that you are, nails biting your palms. Your heartbeat has begun to accelerate, a visible sight beneath your apron. Langdon guides himself to step in front of you, leather shoes drumming across the floor beneath. Every sound in this forsaken room is flowing through your eardrums - Michael’s scent on the tip of your tongue.

You need him. More than your body has to have the air that filters underneath this mausoleum. You’re so unsteady, eyes brimming with the smoking arousal, blocking common sense. Michael catches you as you collide with his chest, wrapping your fists into his vest. His blue irises are disappearing to a canyon of night sky - lavish black so sinful that it steals the breath from your lungs.

Drizzling off your tongue is a hesitation. “Won’t we get into trouble...? Venable -“ Those rough fingertips hold a softness that hushes your lips, denting.

“Can watch me with my face buried into your cunt. The humiliation will arouse her.” Michael answers in his own finish.

You aren’t sure why, but that grates your mouth into a sneaky grin, shared with Michael’s, sensing that slapping throb at his phrases. He pinches your chin, nuzzling your head to the side, his lips sloping a map across your neck. His towering physique backs you by knocking his knees into your thighs, delivering you to the edge of his bed. You drop like wild weights, looking towards the ceiling, trying to take a deep inhalation. Langdon crouches, pants rustling as they tighten around his temptingly thick thighs.

He tuts in a scold, chiding you furthermore. “You will watch what I’m getting ready to do to you! Is that clear, Y/N?”

You don’t answer fast enough, Michael’s hand wrapping around your throat, eyes burning hellfire through you - dusting your bones to ash. Your throat is wet with the clingy, unshed tears. Fuck, you have to be filled up until you’re hollowed out. Michael is languid in grace, hand toppling into your lap, joining his other.

“Take down your hair, Y/N.”

Like a puppet, you obey your new owner. Unwrapping the pointed bun, you shake your locks free, sighing in an eased tickle.

“What a good and obedient girl that you are. Those who obey, shall reap the riches.”

“Why are you doing this?” An ignorant question on your part.

“Because,” As if it’s the most simple answer in this broken world, Michael let’s his hands start to unbutton his vest, carelessly sending it, his attention not wavering off you in the slightest. “I’m hungry.”

A literal moan comes from you, making Langdon hiss through his through his milky white teeth. He resumes his former position, hovering.

“Spread.” Michael says, a quaint wonder adorning him, his palms sliding up and down your legs to feel you part them. The blood is mixing some fucked out potion with your creamy arousal for him, and he knows it, has it right into your tremble from the exposure.

Your skin is steaming in scrapes, responding so vulgarly to Michael, that he is hooking his wrists under your knees, bouncing the flesh into his awaiting hands, and claiming. He hoists your legs over his shoulders to arch you to his idea of perfection. You should be protesting, in a shambled shyness. That is gone, no place here. Michael let’s his nose rest in the crease of your thigh, crudely sniffing like some beast.

His sopping tongue finds a striking stroke along your ruby red, damp thigh.

Closer... He’s getting closer...

When you can’t feel that warm and snide air he possesses, you lock to load a question. Michael is shedding himself of his remaining clothing in a cocky crawl. His hair curtains his face as he sees you seek out his cock - thick and heavy, weighted and wet with pre-cum.

“Finish taking off your clothing.” You’ve never done something so fast in your years alive.

You have to admit, being so vulnerable like this - naked and bleeding, it has you buzzing.

Michael outstretches a veined forearm, the back of his rings swirling in desiring dances across your breasts. “Do these hurt?”

Your lashes are slicked in perspiring tears, the tired soreness harassing your chest. He has his truth. His trim form bows to you once more, placing your legs back where they belong. He knuckles a pressing push into your abdomen. “Bear down.”

It isn’t an accident this time, it’s not a discreet secrecy. Michael wants you this way. All of you. Finding a confidence, you give yourself a high and sink your fingers into his hair, toes tickling his shoulder blades in a forwarding nudge, doubling down on your muscles. That warmth spills out of you and Langdon takes you, tongue parting your swollen folds. He regulates his tongue in wet paints, licking and sucking everything you give him.

“Please—“ You’re already begging. It’s so fucking intense and intimate that you can’t formulate your own damned name.

“Are you really going to ask, or would you just like to feel good?” Michael vibrates, his mouth visible and shining crimson as he seeks you out between your slippery thighs.

It’s outright feral. His irises are coal black, blue lost in some combing canyon that’s crumbled around sin. His digits prod at your sensitive opening, being accepted moments later. His lips close over your clit, tongue slithering back and forth to assist his beckoning fingers. He gathers more from you - his purpose.

That quenched fold starts to seize you early on, your pattering breaths signaling the orgasm that is about to tear the screams from your fucking diaphragm. Michael’s hand smacks and rolls your swollen breast - permission granted. That’s all it takes and you’re falling back onto the mattress, back arching in a lined drag, pussy flattening against his mouth. He jerks you impossibly closer, your vision whiting out into dark spots. You tangle your fingers further into his luscious strands, holding, pulling.

In the midst of close recovery, Michael is plowing you with a short lived let down, his mouth leaving your pussy. You can’t complain, no time available, as his hips slot in a frazzled fit between your legs. His pelvis is tense, sheathed in sweat. His chest smashes your breasts, his hand reaching down to guide his cock inside you. You can’t speak, but cling tightly to his back. He growls a sound that you’ll never forget, the fire bursting behind him, flames licking the rocked cove that houses them.

His mouth is covered in your essence, your cunt bathing his dick with each violent thrust. It’s pouring in drenches, salty perspiration, pooling blood - both of you losing yourselves in the mess. Michael props himself up, digging into a dipping slam, meeting your mouth in an ending kiss. His hair tickles your shoulders, nose nudges your now blood caked mouth, and he gives the warning.

“Spill your fucking curse all over me!” And you come undone, glued to him in puzzled entrapment.

Your thighs are wrecked, his bedsheets useless, and then there’s Michael, who forces you to look at him and really see him. There’s only black in his eyes. You sputter a disbelief, bracing. His mouth parts, tongue flicks across to gather more, leveling off into his jagged movements. He swells inside your cunt, dousing your walls in his warm cum.

He doesn’t leave you, not even when it’s over. He simply takes you with him. You aren’t sure where you get the courage to speak - body shaking and shivering.

“What... Michael, who are you?”

He cups a hand over your cunt, rolling onto his side, keeping you held to him. He lightly blows away a pesky lock of your hair, then maneuvers another behind your ear.

“I’m the man who’s going to save your wretched existence.”

Tag list : @littledemondani @dark-mei-rose @fckinsupreme @angelicmichael @icylangdon @ritualmichael @sojournmichael @celestialrequiem @instinctsxbaby @infernwetrust @ferndolan @9layerdevilfoodcake @bloodcoatedeclipse @wormycircumstance @antichristsxbox @xavierplympton @xavierplymptons @ramona-thorns @lovelylangdonx @langdxn @codyarchives @dailylangdon @codyfernuk @langdonsjoyy @7-wonders @blakescoven @holylangdon @bitchchatter @suspiriva @taskmastter @kitty4860 @ladynuwanda @langdonsexual @sammythankyou

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jerrienelock · 3 years

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Just an Excuse- Kendall Jenner

It had been approximately three hours since you had left for your work at the local High school and just that same amount of time since you had last seen Kendall.

The atmosphere in the classroom was loud and hectic. Since the beginning of the lesson, you had struggled to settle the grade nines down due to them being excited about having to get to play an instrument or two.

The bashing of instruments and loud squeals was the only thing you could hear as your gaze locks on the group of boys towards the back of the music room. All three of them were singing- well shouting the words to a song you had never heard of at the top of their lungs.

As much as you wanted the students to have fun in your lessons, you didn't want any other staff to come in and tell you off from how noisy they're being. So as always you told the three they can carry on what they're doing as long as they aren't that noisy.

You give the trio a smile as they happily obliged even going as far as hitting the keys on the keyboard very softly. After a while, the three began to cheer capturing your attention once again.

One of the three notices your gaze and immediately beckons you over, practically bouncing in his seat. You head over to them being careful not to bump into any of the working students.

"Miss, Miss! How does this sound?"- He was practically bursting with excitement along with the other two who took a deep breath. You immediately knew what the two boys without an instrument were going to do as soon as the one at the piano pressed the first key.

You chuckled as they immediately began to sing the song from earlier, each word that left their mouths was either very dramatic or really loud. This went on for a solid minute before the wrong key was pressed and the two stopped singing and groaned at the dark brunette. The young lad shrugged off the groans from the other two and looked up at you with a broad smile. -"How was it?! Was it good?"

You let out another chuckle at the boy's enthusiasm and nod your head. The song was good even though the words made no sense but you were still truthful to the three and told them how they could improve the song. They listened intently which was unusual for them as they were usually the kind who enjoyed messing about.

Just as you were finishing up with them another student called you alerting you that someone was at the door. You shout a quick come in and turn around to see your girlfriend of a year walk in, each small step quite hesitant as everyone's gaze was stuck on her.

You look at the woman quizzically whilst she smiles at the sight of you, lifting up her hand revealing a bag in her grasp. You hadn't a clue as to what it was but the curiosity within you made you go over to her and take the bag out of her hand. -"You forgot your lunch. I'll see you at home" She plants a kiss on your cheek and then she's gone.

You could feel your face heat up as the touch of her lips seemed to linger on your cheek. You looked down at the bag in your clutch sceptically before averting your gaze to your lunch bag sat by your chair.

You laughed softly as everything seemed to click and you headed back to your desk not before telling everyone to get back to work.

The rest of the day ended up going by in a breeze and before you even knew it, you were in your and Kendalls shared home. You drop your bag down by the door and head into the living room where your girlfriend was usually situated by the end of the day.

You sat down beside her throwing an arm around her shoulder. She immediately sinks into your side and lets out a content sigh switching her phone off and dropping it softly to the ground.

"You're back early"- She smiles a toothy smile shifting slightly so that her face was moved into your side. -"Well, why wouldn't I be? The love of my life is waiting for me"- You playfully joked but spoke truthfully. Kendall didn't say anything, she just turned her further into your side trying to hide the smile forming on her face.

"And I did have to come and say thank you for such a divine second lunch you got me"- You smirked as the girl giggles lifting her head to look at you.

"I thought you forgot to pack it. You know how forgetful you are"- She didn't look you in the eye causing your smirk to grow wider.

"Are you sure it wasn't just an excuse to see me?"

Kendall's face flushed slightly as she buries her head into your side again. -"I just missed you that's all"- her voice was muffled but you could still make out the words.

"That's adorable"- you teased her and she playfully punched your leg. You throw your one hand in the air in an act of surrender -"Okay Okay. I'm sorry"- you tell her, -"Not sorry"- you add whispering under your breath but yet still Kendall manages to hear it.

She pulls away from you again pouting whilst crossing her arms like a little kid who didn't get their favourite sweet from shops. -"I'm not adorable."

***

Masterlist; Celebrities

#kendall jenner x fem reader #kendall jenner #fanfic #fem! reader

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duckprintspress · 3 years

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How can I write quickly?

I (hi, I’m @unforth) have been asked frequently over the years how I write a lot quickly. I’m a pretty fast writer - for example, I wrote the 5600 words of my May Trope Mayhem fill from yesterday in under 2.5 hours.

First, a little of my personal history for context. I’ve always written, starting from when I was able to string letters into (very poorly spelled) words and (horrible un-grammatical) sentences. When I started trying my hand at serious, professional-level fiction writing, I joined a community called novel_in_90, which was founded by the author Elizabeth Bear. The purpose of novel_in_90 was “to be NaNoWriMo but more realistic.” Instead of 50,000 words in 31 days, it was 67,500 words in 90 days, or 750 words a day. I participated in multiple rounds of novel_in_90 starting in mid-2005, and in 2007 I completed my first (godawful) novel. When I started, even writing a couple hundred words of day took me forever, but it got easier with time.

During those same years, I also got a job that required I do professional writing on a deadline: I was a grant writer, and I only got paid when the grants won. That often meant working fast under high pressure, culminating in the weekend I wrote and edited an entire 40 pages grant that was due on Monday. I think, if I hadn’t had a solid foundation of “regular daily plodding writing,” I’d not have been able to marathon when the moment came...and it came because I had to, not because I wanted to. However, I learned a valuable lesson: I could. Subsequently, I found that, when I had the time and space and was rested enough to use my brain, I could bust out a huge amount. Like, I wrote an entire 150,000 word novel in 17 days.

My personal record is about 200,000 words in one month (it was the month I wrote that novel; I wasn’t tracking when I did that so I don’t know exactly), 25,000 words in a day, and I’ve topped out around 3,000 words an hour. I do know people who can do more...but not many.

Not everyone will be able to do this. Flat out, I MUST preface the rest of this post by saying that. Some people will find that writing fast fits their brain, and for others, it just won’t, and that’s okay. Fast doesn’t equal better, and it isn’t inherently “good” to write fast. Furthermore, even for those who can write fast, not everyone will find the same strategies helpful. I can share what works for me. Try out one item, some items, or all of these - if writing faster is something you want to be able to do, which it certainly never has to be. Use what works for you, and discard the rest.

Sit in your chair, put your fingers on your keyboard or touch screen, and write. You can’t write 1,000 words in half an hour until you write one word, however long that one word takes. I know saying this is obvious, but I’ve been asked “how can I write fast” by people who struggle to write at all...fast can’t be your priority until you’ve got a foundation of just writing. (Honestly...fast should never be your priority, but it might be helpful to you regardless, which can make it worth learning.)

Start small. Set an achievable goal, and make yourself meet that goal (daily, weekly, whatever) come hell or high water, no matter how long it takes you. Keep the goal small at first; you’re not trying to torture yourself, you’re trying to build a skill. If you set the goal high enough that you consistently fail, you’re not teaching yourself anything. And, if you find the goal IS too high...lower it. There’s no shame in working within your limits. Think of it like starting a new work out regimen: you wouldn’t try to run a 10k at a record time if you can’t run a mile slow. Treat your fingers and your brain the same way you’d treat your legs and joints. Give them time to grow, learn, and improve before you try to push yourself.

Trying to write daily is worthwhile if you want to work on your writing speed, because you’ll be forced to try to fit it in as you’re able - that might be ten minutes in your morning, or an hour in your evening, and it might vary from day to day, but making it daily means you have to fit it in somewhere.

Building skills takes time and isn’t easy. For some people, it will come easier than for others, and even when you’re fast, going from “I can write words fast” to “I can write damn good words fast” takes practice and dedication and accepting constructive criticism - speed alone will never be worth more than writing well.

Having a community can help. Ya’ll will check in on each other, cheer each other on, remind each other that missing a day or a goal isn’t the end of the world, and keep each other’s spirits up. If you don’t know other writerly folks online, I recommend Weekend Writing Marathon ( @weekendwritingmarathon ) as a good place to start (I used to be a mod there). Once you’re trying to work up to larger word counts in a day, remember that even writing fast will take minutes or hours. You can’t write 2,500 words in an hour if you don’t set an hour aside. Make sure you’re giving yourself the room and time you need to succeed.

You will probably never be able to do high, rapid word counts every day, every week, every month. The best runners in the world don’t run marathons every day. Set realistic long term goals.

Work on projects where you have a clear idea of where you’re going. I’m not saying “pantsers” can’t write fast, because of course they can, but if you want to write fast, and well, and coherently, to create a first draft that’s in pretty good shape, you’ll do better if you have a good sense of what you’re trying to accomplish with your story. That doesn’t mean you need to do all your world building up front, or have a complete outline (I never have either). All you really need is what happens next. I tend to plan projects - and write them - one full scene at a time, with only a vague idea what’s going to come after. (I’m personally a “plantser,” and the strategies in this post will likely be most effective to other plantsers.)

Visualize ahead of time what you’d like to write...but don’t get too attached to what you visualize. When I go to bed, I plan the next scene I’m going to compose, often to the least detail. I then forget all of it overnight, at least all the specifics, and I’m left with a general sense and shape of what’s to come. You’ll never be able to replicate the “perfect” dialog you pre-conceive, so give up on trying to. Instead, play through the scene and think about the emotional beats you want to hit and plot points you want to forward. If you keep that in mind, you’ll be able to get the words out faster than if you’re agonizing over every word or regretting the “oh-so-great” idea that you’ve since forgotten.

Practice different work styles. If writing every day doesn’t work for you, try instead saying, “this is my writing day each week,” and aim for a lot that specific day, and write little or nothing other days. Try writing at different times of day and on different days, fitting it into your schedule. If you’re beating yourself up for not writing when you “should,” it’ll be that much harder to succeed, so instead, as I said for point 2 - set a reasonable goal that fits your life and working style, fitting it around your other responsibilities, and push yourself within that framework, instead of trying to shoehorn into a style that you “think you should” use to succeed.

Track your word counts, and take notes on how much you did and what project you were working on. If you’re also experimenting with different times of day and different days, make sure you note that too. I personally use a simple Excel sheet (well, Google Sheets, now) - column one is the date, column 2 is “starting word count,” column 3 is “ending word count,” column 4 is “=column 3 - column 2”, column 5 is notes. Pay attention to when you succeed at writing faster, and when you don’t, and consider what factors might have played into your success...and then try to replicate those factors next time you’re doing a sprint. Control as many variables as you can while you’re “training.”

If you find social media distracting, trying getting a web browser extension that prevents you from connecting to websites for a set period of time.

If you find you tend to dither before starting, I find it helpful to run through everything that I might do to procrastinate (check my social media! grab a snack! make some tea! set up my playlist! check my social media again! finish making the tea! check my social media for what I swear will be the last time!), and when I’m done, it’s like, well, I’ve done all those things, I’ve got no choice left, time to write, no excuses left.

If you find you struggle with picking up a WIP, try leaving off in the middle of a sentence at the end of a session, one where you know exactly how it ends - or, leave off mid-paragraph, or when you are positive you know what happens next (and I mean literally next, as in the very next sentence.) It’s much easier to “pick back up” when your first words are super clear. (Do not do this if you think there’s any chance you’ll forget or end up in a situation where you won’t return to your WIP for months!)

If you find you struggle to maintain continuity across multiple writing sessions, try rereading what you wrote the previous day before you proceed. Resist the urge to edit it!

Avoid stopping when you get stuck, even to do research. Don’t know a fact? Add a comment to your manuscript flagging the relevant text, “LOOK THIS UP LATER.” Can’t think of a word? Put in something you can use the “find” function on easily (I personally use “XX” since there are no words that have a double x in them) and so you can come back later, search for your chosen placeholder, and fill in the blanks. Not sure how a scene ends but know the next scene? Jump ahead.

That said, if you really don’t know what happens next, you don’t do yourself any favors by pressing on. As I’ve said previously, speed alone should never be your writing object. It’s better to slow down, consider your plot, figure out where you’re going, and then write, than to just plow ahead - or at least, that’s better if you want a manuscript you’ll actually be able to use for something at a later point. If you’re truly just practicing, you can also say “screw it, who needs coherence?” and keep going. I’d personally never have finished my first novel if I’d spent a lot of time worrying about making the pieces fit together and yeah, it’s a mess, but it’s a mess I wrote instead of a mess I got stuck on and never completed.

Don’t move the finish line. If you’ve set the goal of 500 words a day, don’t beat yourself up if you get 550 because you think you think you could have done more. If you say you’ll write five days a week, don’t get mad because you DID have time the sixth day but chose to use it on something else. If you make yourself feel like shit when you succeed, what’ll happen when you fail? And when you’re comfortable and really think you’re ready, change the goal - reassess every month, say, and up your goals. While working for speed, trying upping your word count goal without changing the amount of time you allot for working.

Your need to adhere to the above suggestions will change over time. Once, I always had an outline; now I often don’t need one. Once, I wouldn’t let myself stop even to use a thesaurus; now, I find I can look up words without breaking my flow or significantly slowing myself down. This is not an “all or nothing” prospect, nor is it a “do things the same way forever once you’ve found one (1) thing that works” prospect - you’ll experiment, and find strategies that work for you, and then at some point, your needs will change, and you’ll experiment more, and find new strategies that work for you, on and on, as your skills grow.

To reiterate: writing fast should never be your objective in and of itself! Greater writing speed will come with practice and as a general side effect of improving your craft. Simply being able to write fast is useless; being able to write fast and well will enable you to get more of your ideas out there, so if that’s something you’d like to accomplish, focus on building your general skills and training yourself to be able to use those skills rapidly and in tandem with each other to produce decent writing, in a first draft, at a decent speed.

Once you try, you may find none of this works for you! That’s okay. That’s good! You tried, which means you learned something about yourself and your own writing style, and that too will help you to improve. Keep experimenting, keep learning, and find what does work for you - and accept that no two writers will ever be the same, and one of those differences will be writing speed. Some writers will never write fast, and that’s doesn’t make them any less awesome or valid. And some writers will always write fast, and that doesn’t make them inherently awesome or valid. Only with a suite of skills that suit your individual life, personality, work style, writing capabilities, goals, etc., will you succeed as a writer (for various, personalized definitions of the word “success”); speed is only one of those potential skills, and not one that’s particularly important in my opinion...yet I still get asked about it fairly often, so here we are, these are my suggestions

Go forth, and write some words! <3

#duck prints press #writing advice #original content

271 notes · View notes

just-come-baek · 3 years

Text

body rhythm

Pairing: Taeyong x reader | mentions of Seulgi x Irene | mentions of Johnny x almost everybody

Themes: smut | fluff | dance!au

Word count: 14.8k

Summary: Taeyong and Seulgi participate in a nationwide dance competition. However, due to unfortunate scheduling, she has to drop out of it, suggesting you, out of all people, fill in. Taeyong isn't pleased with how things manage to fall out of place, but he is in no position to be whiny about it. For him, it's either learn to work with you or lose yet another time to his arch-enemy.

A/N it's my entry for song association event, I hope you like it, and also don't forget to check out other entries ^^ they must be all out by now lol

“Are you ready?” Johnny inquired as he set his fourth coffee of the day on his desk and plopped onto the swivel chair in a cubicle next to mine. It was a really long day at work, and we both had trouble sitting through the end of it. Heaving a deep sigh, I looked at the pile of documents that required my attention, groaning before I sprawled across my workspace.

“I thought it’s canceled tonight,” I spoke as I looked at my wristwatch, wincing when I realized there was still one more hour until Johnny and I could finally clock out.

A few months ago, our lovely firm, instead of giving us a well-deserved raise, had decided to provide us with a variety of extra activities. Though I’d rather get some monetary benefits, together with Johnny, we chose dance classes. Our company was paying for it, so we might’ve as well attended.

Ever since then, every Thursday, we would go to a dance class to sweat out all of the pent-up frustration. I didn’t have plenty of expectations, still bitter after the company’s decision, but the dance class turned out amazing. Seulgi was our teacher, and although she was a bit demanding, she was patient enough to teach us some sick moves. If that didn’t scream talent™, I had no idea what did.

“Well… last week, she said she might be absent today, but I got a text from school that someone will fill in,” Johnny spoke matter-of-factly. I sighed, checking my phone, reading the same text message from the studio. I really didn’t have energy for dance classes, but there was no way Johnny would let me skip.

“Do you want to grab a drink after? I think I need one, or a few,” I proposed as I sat back in my chair, trying to let my eyes rest from the computer’s screen.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Johnny asked rhetorically, smiling at me as if I just read his mind. It was almost Friday at this point, and we deserved a little treat.

Though it felt like an eternity, the clock finally struck 5 p.m., letting us leave our claustrophobic cubicles. Tomorrow we would come back for another dose of torture, but right now, we were free. Only for a few hours, though.

Quickly, I returned home to get my gym bag. Thankfully, I lived within walking distance from both – my office and the dance studio, so it wasn’t as troublesome to commute as it was for Johnny, who got stuck in traffic almost every day.

A few minutes before the dance class, I was already changed into my gym attire, waiting for Johnny. Though no one was texting me, I stared at my phone, furiously typing away. Moon Taeil, also known as my secret crush, was leaning against the wall on the other side of the corridor, and I tried every single trick my mind could come up with not to look desperate.

“At this point, he must think you hate him,” Johnny commented as he conjured in front of me out of nowhere. “You should hit on him instead of trying to bolt every time he approaches you,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at his yet another one shitty advice.

“Can you remind me why I don’t take dating advice from you?”

“Why are you attacking me? I just wanted to help. There’s no need to get so aggressive,” Johnny defended his case, not really answering my question. Johnny was a self-proclaimed love expert, but to me, he was more of a pathological playboy. Either way, he seemed to understand the secrets of flirtation to pick up girls whenever he set his mind to it.

“I am just trying not to be obvious,” I commented, stealing a glance at Taeil. It was a silly crush, and though Johnny encouraged me to go for it, I never decided to act on my feelings. Taeil probably didn’t feel this way about me, so remaining idle actually saved me embarrassment after an inevitable rejection.

“Speaking of which, I figured out why Seulgi is so resistant to my charms,” Johnny announced proudly, and I raised my eyebrow, waiting for the big reveal. Everybody in our group knew that Johnny was attracted to Seulgi, but every time he tried to approach her, she would brush him off.

“By figured out, you mean you stalked her, right?” I commented when Johnny handed me his phone, showing me Seulgi’s profile. According to what Johnny dug out in social media, Seulgi was getting married to Irene – her girlfriend of five years. “Huh,” I mused as I gave him back his phone, trying not to laugh at him. Seulgi was already madly in love with someone else, no wonder she could resist his charm.

“Call it whatever you want,” Johnny started, putting his phone away. “Just don’t hold me down when FBI finally recruits me for my impeccable detective skills,” he argued, and I laughed as I imagined him leaving our lovely company. That would be a shame; I couldn’t imagine anyone else sitting in the cubicle next to mine.

“The room should be open,” someone hollered, mentioning for us to open the doors and get inside. I had seen him a few times around the school, so I deduced he must’ve been our substitute teacher today.

Once everybody took their spot on the dance floor, the man cleared his throat. “Hello everybody, my name is Taeyong. Together with Seulgi, we run this school, and I hope we will have a lot of fun today with new choreography,” he announced politely with a practiced professionalism. Perhaps Taeyong didn’t seem as cool as Seulgi, but we had to give him a chance to prove us wrong.

Taeyong was intimidating. I wouldn’t want to be left alone with him. When he showed us a few moves, he was immensely focused on delivering one hundred percent. It was impressive and admirable, but at the same, Taeyong gave off a scary fierce aura. Though he was a great dancer and teacher, Seulgi was just better.

“I think I have a heart attack,” I panted, gasping for air. The new choreography required lots of jumping, and I didn’t expect so much cardio today. I wasn’t out of shape; however, after dancing to Taeyong’s choreography, I had some doubts.

“We should’ve skipped,” Johnny commented, bending over with his palms on his knees, supporting his huge body. Taeyong’s dance routine was too much for us, and we weren’t the only people struggling to breathe. Thankfully, next week Seulgi would be back.

***

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Johnny announced, craning his neck to look inside my cubicle. Heaving a sigh, I put my pen down, giving him my full attention.

This better be good.

“What is it? Who are you stalking this time?” I inquired, giving him the attitude. Johnny was spending too much time on his phone during working hours, but I couldn’t really frown upon it because I often caught myself doing the same thing.

“First of all, I thought we agreed to call it researching, not stalking,” Johnny clarified, and I rolled my eyes. “And second of all, it’s Seulgi. She and the other guy from the dance studio qualified for some dance competition. Check this out,” Johnny explained, handing me his phone.

Seulgi and Taeyong rocked the stage. Though I had nothing to compare their performance to, they just oozed charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent. Without any shred of doubt, they would make it to the grand finale.

“Wow,” I mused, not sure how to appropriately respond. I was happy for their success; after all, their performance was broadcasted during prime time on national television. At this point, Seulgi and Taeyong were celebrities.

“I can’t wait for today’s class,” Johnny added in excitement, hiding his phone away inside the pocket of his jacket. “I have to congratulate her.”

“Them. You have to congratulate them,” I corrected Johnny as he seemed to forget about Seulgi’s dance partner. It wasn’t a solo competition, so both Seulgi and Taeyong deserved praise. “And as if you’ve forgotten, Seulgi is not and will never be interested in you. You gotta let this one go, man,” I added, hoping Johnny would stop his relentless flirting with Seulgi. Though it was funny at the beginning, it was evident Seulgi would appreciate it if he stopped.

“I am all over her. Trust me,” Johnny reassured me, and I let out a shallow sigh, wanting to believe him. “Do you know Wendy from the HR department? I think I’m gonna ask her out. I am all over Seulgi,” he added, and it actually convinced me. Although Johnny didn’t seek anything serious at this point in his life, and when something didn’t go according to his plan, he would shake it off and forget all about it.

“Ok, I believe you,” I said, giving him a genuine smile. “Oh, and I was thinking… how about some beer and chicken after dance classes today? I’ve been craving them the whole day,” I offered, and Johnny enthusiastically nodded. It did sound like a solid plan.

Thankfully, this week Seulgi was back, and everybody appreciated it. Taeyong was a great teacher, but we were a group of beginners, and it was difficult for us to follow his routine. We just weren’t ready for such complex choreography.

Everybody had so much fun today. At first, we practiced some old routines, working on synchronization. Later on, Seulgi taught us a few new moves, which I recognized from her television performance. Admittedly, they weren’t as difficult as they looked. Maybe it was a little bold of me, but I was thinking I was doing a pretty good job today.

At the very end of the class, Johnny delivered a dramatic congratulatory speech, making people laugh out of utter cringe. It was a nice gesture, and Seulgi’s embarrassment was adorable. She would cover her blushed cheeks and turn around, hoping the ground could swallow her up. In all honesty, it seemed to be the only way to shut up Johnny.

Just when we were about to be dismissed, I heard someone calling my name. Surprisingly, it was Seulgi. She must’ve wanted to discuss something with me. Damn it, was she going to scold me for not improving? Or was it because I sat half of the song out? I just needed a short break; I had no idea it would get me in trouble.

“I am sorry,” I apologized even though I wasn’t sure what for yet. Seulgi would enlighten me in a second, so I cleared my throat to apologize to her once again. However, when she giggled instead of yelling at me, I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Johnny hollered before he strolled out of the practice room.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked, and Seulgi smiled, shaking her head.

Great, it was a relief.

“Actually, I may sound crazy to you,” she started, fidgeting a little. It was strange, Seulgi was a strong and confident woman, but right now, she seemed rather bashful. “Would you like to participate in a dance competition?”

Her question took me aback.

“What?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the topic.

“Let me explain,” she offered, and I reluctantly nodded.

By the look on her face, I could tell it wasn’t going to be a quick chit-chat. Seulgi had a lot of things to explain, so we decided to sit on the floor before she began her speech.

Patiently, I listened to everything she wanted to tell me.

Seulgi and Taeyong wanted to participate in a dance competition ever since they had decided to open up a dance school together. Last week they really thought they were going to achieve their dream. Unfortunately, as soon as they qualified and received the schedule, complications started to follow.

Maybe it was a little bit overconfident of them to think they’d make it to the finals, but it still made them anxious. Regardless of their talent, they wouldn’t be able to perform in the grand finale. Apparently, on the very same day, Seulgi was getting married.

At first, I wanted to interject that they could reschedule, but Seulgi beat me to it.

“It would be the third time we reschedule it, and I just can’t let that happen. I don’t want Irene to think I prioritize dancing over her. She means the world to me, and I’d quit a thousand times to get married to her,” Seulgi confessed, and I tried my best to contain my feels. There was something raw and pure about Seulgi’s love, and it moved me.

Seulgi’s proposition was genius in its simplicity. Together with Taeyong, she would perform, climbing up the rankings. And if by any chance, they would make it to the final round; she wanted me to fill in. Given I had been dancing at their studio for about four months I couldn’t comprehend why she chose me.

I was a rookie, for crying out loud!

Finding a substitute dancer made a lot of sense, actually. Instead of dropping out, they could find a replacement. This way, Taeyong could still make his dream come true. And next year, together with Seulgi, they could try to defend the title.

However, once again, Seulgi read my mind and answered my question before I voiced my doubts. She must’ve really thought this through before approaching me. It seemed she had rehearsed all possible inquires and came up with perfect answers.

“All of our dancer friends either compete against us or failed during qualifications,” she declared, and I hummed in response. “Unfortunately, people who already attempted joining can’t fill in for other dancers.”

“That sucks,” I commented, and Seulgi dryly chuckled.

“I think you would be a perfect fit,” she started, and I held my breath, wanting to hear what made her think I’d be able to rise to the challenge. “Everybody can memorize moves, but you have a natural passion for dancing. I can see it in class. Maybe you can’t see it yet because dancing is a hobby to you more than anything else, but I can tell you have the it™ factor.”

I was speechless. Seulgi, the dance prodigy, was praising my dancing skills. I couldn’t believe my ears. What kind of self-indulgent dream was it? Why couldn’t I dream like a normal person? I had tendency to toot my own horn sometimes, but it was just too much.

“I bet with proper training, you and Taeyong could win.”

“Let me think about it, okay?”

“Sure, of course! No pressure!” Seulgi replied enthusiastically, giving me enough space to clear my mind and think about it.

“See you next week.” I waved at her, exiting the dance room. Absentmindedly, I changed out of the gym clothes and walked out of the building, almost walking past Johnny.

“Hey, what did Seulgi want?” Johnny asked, grabbing my wrist, pulling me out of trance.

“She wants me to dance in her place if she and Taeyong ever make it to the finals.”

“What?!”

***

At first, I was hesitant about this whole thing. I wasn’t a professional dancer, and I really didn’t want to contribute to them losing the competition. However, Seulgi really made a point that they would have to drop out anyway, so in some twisted way, my participation gave them a slimmer of hope for victory.

Once I explained everything to Johnny, he really insisted I should help them out, spitting nonsense about fame and recognition and how I couldn’t doubt myself and just go with the flow. Opportunities like this rarely occurred, and I ought to welcome them with excitement.

So I did.

Every Saturday and Sunday, I dropped by the dance studio for practice. Taeyong still intimidated me, but I could deal with it. Seulgi was always around me to nag him whenever he demanded too much from me. They balanced each other very well, and it was fun working with them. Even though each practice left me with sore muscled, I was still excited. It was tangible proof I was improving.

Seulgi and Taeyong smoothly went through the contest, winning each battle with ease, slowly climbing in the ranking. There was still plenty of work until the grand finale, but everything looked they were to make it to the very top.

Unfortunately, the closer to the D-day, the less time Seulgi had to help us during practice. With her wedding coming up, she had a lot of preparations to deal with. As a result, Taeyong and I had to practice the dance routine on our own.

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Taeyong yelled in irritation when for the nth time, I turned to my right instead of my left. “Do it again; five, six, seven, eight,” he added, playing the song from the very beginning.

To say I was frustrated was an understatement of the century. I was aware that Taeyong really wanted to win the competition, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. With no Seulgi to supervise him, he was unbearable.

“I think I need a break,” I declared once I turned to the wrong side again before Taeyong managed to scold me for it. Even though he shouted something again, I ignored it. With a deep sigh, I walked over to my gym bag to get my water bottle.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taeyong asked, staring down at me with his arms folded across his chest, his demeanor dominant. His eyes were drilling holes in my head, his jaw was tightened – it was evident I was driving him up the wall. It was just a matter of seconds before Taeyong would snap, lashing out at me.

“I am taking a break,” I answered quickly, ignoring his angry stare. I was at my limit. If Taeyong didn’t back off, it would be the end of the practice for today. One more mean word and I’d storm out of the studio. I was here voluntarily. I was doing him a favor, and I didn’t deserve this type of treatment.

“Is it a joke to you?” Taeyong carried on, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, it wasn’t a joke to me. But at the same time, I was sick and tired of his shenanigans. I wanted him to win, but not when my mental health was on the line. He was pissing me off, and I wouldn’t let him walk all over me. “I thought you decided to help us out, but you’re not trying at all.”

He did not just say that.

“What?” I rhetorically asked, standing up, poking his chest with my forefinger. “I am trying my best here. You’re the one who makes it impossible to have fun dancing. You’re making it a chore, sucking all the fun out it.”

“Then tell me what I should do for you to finally make some progress? We’ve been stuck at this part for two weeks, and you still haven’t learned how to turn right!”

“Then go ahead and find someone else who can put up with your shit. I’m out,” I spoke, bending down to pick up my stuff, ready to leave the studio. Unfortunately, before I managed to exit the practice room, the doors opened, and Seulgi walked in with a confused expression on her face.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” She asked in worry, trying to put two and two together. It wouldn’t be the first time Taeyong and I argued, but it seemed to be the most intense one so far. It didn’t sit right with her. “Please don’t tell me you fought again.”

Briefly, I summarized what happened, and Seulgi looked down at Taeyong disapprovingly. I was glad Seulgi took my side; after all, she knew Taeyong could be too demanding.

“I am a dancer, but why does it feel I am a couple counselor? You two really have to learn how to work together when I’m not around,” she scolded us, making her point. If this whole arrangement was to work out, we both needed to establish some ground rules and learn how to put our differences aside. “I have an idea.”

Oh, no.

There was something mischievous in her tone, and I didn’t particularly like it.

“Let’s finish for today,” she proposed, and I smiled, thinking it was a great idea. Taeyong and I needed some time to chill, and calling it a day seemed like an appropriate way to do it. “Let’s go out clubbing instead!” Seulgi added cheerfully, clapping her hands in excitement.

“What?” Taeyong and I asked in unison, a bit surprised by Seulgi’s statement.

“That’s my prescription for the two of you,” she started, and I rolled my eyes. Taeyong and I didn’t get along as well as she wished for us to, but it wasn’t that bad. We didn’t need to bond over a few drinks in a crowded club. We would do just fine if Taeyong learned to go easy on me. “I believe we all can benefit from clubbing.”

“How come?”

“First of all, it will remind Taeyong that dancing is about fun, not overworking oneself,” Seulgi spoke, and I hummed, agreeing with her. “Second of all, it’ll give you a chance to loosen up. Your moves are still a bit stiff during intimate parts of the choreography,” she added, and Taeyong nodded in agreement. “And I really need something to drink because wedding planning is stressful as fuck.”

Not even thirty minutes later, we were inside the club.

“It’s a very sensual song. And you two really have to work hard to convey emotions through your dance,” Seulgi started as she sipped her tropical cocktail. “You must feel comfortable around each other and just ooze longing and sexual attraction,” she added, and I almost choked on my drink.

Performing with Taeyong was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. When Seulgi and Taeyong showed me the choreography, I was amazed. Absolutely blown away. The way their bodies moved in synchronization left me speechless, but at the same time, I was a little bit nervous because I didn’t see myself living up to their level.

I wouldn’t consider myself particularly sexy. It made me feel awkward when I thought how seductive the dance routine actually was. I wasn’t sure I could pull this off, but Taeyong still had a lot of time to teach me.

“Take her to the dance floor,” Seulgi elbowed Taeyong, almost spilling his drink. Unenthusiastically, Taeyong looked at me before standing up and extending his arm.

Drunken people were jumping around us to the rhythm, and I awkwardly swayed from side to side, staring at Taeyong. With godlike precision, he moved, getting lost in the music. One could tell straight away Taeyong was a professional dancer.

Upon noticing how stiff I was, Taeyong shook his head, yanking me against his lean body. “How about you take a five-minute break to get that stick out of your ass? You look like you have no joints,” he yelled into my ear, his breath tickling my sensitive skin.

“I’ve had too little alcohol,” I replied, but Taeyong wasn’t having it.

“When we perform on the stage, will you need alcohol to let loose too?” Taeyong challenged with a playful smirk, and I rolled my eyes, too prideful to admit he was right. I couldn’t participate in that competition drunk. We wouldn’t win if I wasn’t able to come out of my shell and show everybody I had a sensual bone in my body.

“No,” I yelled into Taeyong’s ear. “How do I let loose?” I asked, hoping to hear some words of wisdom from him.

“Mirror what I’m doing,” Taeyong guided, and I nodded, focused on my new task. I could do that. I had been mirroring Seulgi’s movements during our classes, and I was pretty good at doing it. I could copy Taeyong’s moves.

At first, Taeyong danced a few classic moves we usually did during our warm-up routine. It was easy, and I think I nailed it. Later, he wiggled his upper body, feeling the rhythm. With envy, I observed how his body executed every single move, owning it. I wish I was half as good as Taeyong. Next to him, I probably looked like a crippled kid.

Upon noticing my struggle, Taeyong began jumping around, throwing his hands in the air. He looked ridiculous, but I remained focused on my task, dancing as if I was his shadow. Our bizarre moves earned some attention from other people, but our eyes were trained on each other, slowly getting lost in our own bubble.

I was sober, and I was on my way to owning the dance floor. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Maybe Taeyong’s charisma overshadowed my poor attempts of showcasing mine; however, I was sure I made a big step in the right direction. Slowly, I was improving.

“How about we spice it up a little bit?” Taeyong shouted into my ear, and I cocked up my eyebrow, thinking what he meant by that. “Don’t be shy,” he added, yanking me against his body. Taeyong was so close I could feel his legs rub against mine. “Come on, sweetheart. Touch me, tease me, feel me up,” Taeyong snickered, getting on my nerves. Not only Taeyong was smug for no reason, but he also quoted the song, which I was slowly growing to hate.

Taeyong must’ve assumed I’d back out. Surely, he didn’t expect me to follow his instructions and actually run my hands across his chest, shoulders, and back while simultaneously swaying my hips, earning approving stares from impressed men on the dance floor. At first, he was surprised he talked me into it, but a second later, he smirked, resting his palms on my sides, slowly exploring the valley of my butt.

I had no idea I had it in me, but Taeyong helped me discover it. We were basically grinding against each other, and it somehow didn’t feel awkward at all. We were just two people having fun.

“I’m sorry I was so harsh on you,” Taeyong apologized, shouting in my ear. “I’m just stressful all the time, and I think I may sometimes take it out on you,” he added, and I looked at his face, which was dangerously close to mine.

“It’s understandable,” I replied as I wrapped my arms around Taeyong’s neck, finding it much more comfortable. Now with our bodies pressed together, it was easier to have a conversation. “I know how much you want to win this competition. I’ll try harder,” I promised, and Taeyong released a relieved chuckle.

Who would’ve thought an adult conversation would work better than shouting at each other?

“Thank you,” Taeyong spoke genuinely, and I pulled away, staring at his face. His eyes were trained on mine. No matter how many hours we had spent at the dance studio, his gaze still intimidated me sometimes.

“Ekhm, I need a break,” I said in a desperate need to break eye contact with him. The dance floor was crowded, and it was making me dizzy. I was getting dangerously hot, and it seemed like heaven to get back to our booth and finish our drinks.

“Of course, you need a break,” Taeyong teased, sending me a lopsided smirk. “It’s okay, though. We still have plenty of time to work on your stamina,” he added as he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the crowd. Carefully, we zigzagged around drunken people, trying to make it safely to Seulgi.

Unfortunately, by the bar counter, someone walked into Taeyong, almost knocking him down.

“I’m very sorry,” a man shouted, but I could sense the words weren’t genuine.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong spoke, gritting his teeth, staring at the other man. Taeyong’s grip tightened around my hand. I figured he didn’t particularly like Doyoung.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung sighed, checking Taeyong out from head to toe before his gaze shifted to me. There was something spiteful about his lingering eyes, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. For sure, there was some bad blood between two men, and I suddenly felt an urge to know more. Inquisitiveness got the best of me.

Taeyong and Doyoung kept glaring at each other almost as if it was a competition. The tension was so intense one could cut it with a knife. I cleared my throat in a poor attempt to break their stare contest, but they didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“I saw your last performance,” Doyoung finally spoke, scoffing. “You’re getting out of it, and here I expected to kick your ass in the finale. I wouldn’t be surprised if you and your partner got eliminated next week.”

I thought I had seen Taeyong furious, but right now, I was proven wrong. The way he looked at me whenever I was a handful during our practice was nothing compared to the way he glared at Doyoung. Taeyong was scary, and I decided to not get on his wrong side ever again.

“I’d gladly kick your ass here, but I’d rather wait for the finale. You know what people say about prolonged gratification,” Taeyong talked back, and I gasped, trying to comprehend what I just heard. Taeyong was getting cocky, and it made me nervous. I was already stressed about the possibility of performing, and he just added more pressure on my shoulders.

“We’ll see about that,” Doyoung replied, focusing his scrutinizing gaze on me. “But I have to say I kinda look forward to seeing you cry again. The way I beat you the last time was spectacular.”

“Let’s go, Taeyong. Don’t waste your breath on him. He’s not worth it,” I exclaimed, pulling Taeyong’s hand, reminding him I was there the whole time. I couldn’t listen to Doyoung talk trash about Taeyong. If Taeyong wasn’t going to walk away by himself, I had to intervene and pull him aside. Doyoung was provoking him.

“And who is that?” Doyoung asked in a mocking tone, displeased by the way I looked at him. Though I didn’t know the back story, I took Taeyong’s side. At least, Taeyong didn’t try to humiliate his rival, while Doyoung had already tried a few tricks to tick Taeyong off.

“You’re right,” Taeyong said, looking at me. It was evident he was holding himself back, trying his best not to take the bait. “Let’s go,” he added, pulling me away from Doyoung.

“Who was that?” I asked as we approached our booth. Unfortunately, I didn’t get my response. Upon arrival, we noticed that Seulgi was sprawled on the table, giggling to herself.

“Is she always like this?” I inquired, concerned about how drunk Seulgi got in such a short amount of time. We were gone for thirty minutes tops, and she was barely conscious after drinking her and our drinks.

“Aww… there you are… my dear friends,” she cooed cutely, trying to attack Taeyong with cuddles. She was adorable, but it was kind of irresponsible to drink by herself when we were on the dance floor. Thankfully, nothing happened. We returned just in time to collect her and escort her home.

“I can’t believe my plan worked,” Seulgi grinned, pointing her finger at Taeyong. “You no longer have a stick up your ass,” she exclaimed at Taeyong, too drunk to realize she should be talking to me. “And look at you! You were having fun!” Seulgi yelled, extending her arms to hug me. “I am so proud of you!”

“I should take her home,” Taeyong reasoned, considering it the safest option. He could call an Uber for Seulgi or just phone her fiancée to pick her up but bringing her home himself seemed to be the most rational solution. “Will you be alright by yourself?” He inquired, and I nodded right away. It was sweet of him to look after me too. Thankfully, I barely touched my cocktail; I could get home safely on my own.

“Don’t worry about me,” I replied casually, sending him a reassuring smile. “Just make sure Seulgi makes it home safe,” I added, warming up at the way Taeyong hauled up Seulgi, carefully leading her out of the club. It made me wonder if Johnny did the same to me. Probably. He wouldn’t be that gentle, though. If anything, he’d throw me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Or just drag me out like a corpse.

“Give me a call once you get back home,” Taeyong demanded before we parted ways.

***

“You went clubbing without me?” Johnny dramatically asked after I told him everything that happened on the weekend. Despite my detailed narration, it seemed as if that was the only thing he caught on to. “How could you?”

“Relax, dude,” I rolled my eyes, shuffling around my desk, getting ready for work. It was Monday morning – it was about time we start our gossip routine.

“And I was wondering… would you mind helping me researching this shady dude? There’s some conflict between him and Taeyong. And I need to know what happened,” I started, wondering if Johnny would cooperate with me and put his stalking abilities to good use.

I was too embarrassed to ask Taeyong about Doyoung. Besides, I had a hunch he would either brush me off or scold me.

“Do you know anything about this dude besides his name?” Johnny pulled out his phone, no questions asked. “Please, don’t tell me that’s the only thing you know.”

“I mean… he’s probably a dancer,” I added with a sheepish smile, making Johnny heave a deep sigh. “He must be a big deal, though. Apparently, Taeyong lost a competition to him.”

“I’ll try to find some dirt, but it may be difficult given how little info you gave me,” Johnny declared as he began his thorough research.

It took Johnny five minutes to find the correct Doyoung. It was remarkable. If it wasn’t enough for the FBI to hire him, I’d gladly present them a recommendation letter. Quickly, I opened Doyoung’s profile on my phone, scrolling through his feed.

At first glance, Doyoung seemed to be a regular bratty internet star with an overgrown ego. His follower count was impressive. Studying his profile, I learned a lot about him. Unfortunately, it had no value. There was nothing specific about his conflict with Taeyong.

“How was your date with Wendy?” I asked Johnny as I gave up on my research. Whatever was the root of their bad blood would have to remain a mystery.

“It was fine,” Johnny started, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely honest. His disappointed tone betrayed him. “She left before the waiter brought the dessert. Apparently, she didn’t particularly like when I kept calling her Wanda.”

“Ouch.”

“No hard feelings, though,” Johnny shrugged it off, trying to focus on the positive aspect of their terrible date. “At least, I’ve had two slices of cheesecake. Besides, I’m kind of into Sooyoung from the creative team now. I think she is the one.”

“Every girl you’re into is the one,” I interjected, rolling my eyes, done with his antics.

“Oh, by the way, I’ve forgotten,” Johnny chimed in, staring at me in excitement. “Taeil asked me about you,” he revealed, and I almost spat out my morning coffee.

“What?”

“Are you still into him, though?” Johnny inquired, rubbing his temple in deep thought. “I haven’t heard you gush about him these days,” he pinpointed, and I wondered if my crush on Taeil was still as intense as it was a few months ago.

Taeil was insanely hot. I kept drooling whenever I saw him operate the printer. It was inappropriate to check him out whenever he bent down to change the ink, but I couldn’t help myself. Or whenever we met by the vending machine.

Good old times.

Right now, though, I rarely caught myself thinking about him. At first, I thought it was due to a hectic schedule. I was either at work or at the dance studio or getting shit-faced with Johnny on another wild adventure with him and his friends.

It was difficult to comprehend how easily my crush faded into thin air. Taeil was still sexy as fuck, but while I appreciate his looks, I wasn’t daydreaming how to get into his pants. At this point, I was just admiring his attributes in the most nonsexual way imaginable.

Apparently, the lack of response on my part was everything Johnny needed to confirm his suspicion.

“So what? Are you into Taeyong now?” Johnny asked boldly, and now, I actually choked on my coffee, thinking I heard him wrong. How did he jump to that conclusion?

“What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, but it kinda looks like you’re into him,” Johnny commented, playing with a pen. “You talk about him all the time with lots of passion. I think there’s something going on between you two. Is he single?”

“I talk about him all the time because I live to complain, and recently he’s the sole reason why I gotta vent,” I defended, but Johnny didn’t seem convinced. “And I don’t know if he’s single. I don’t really care,” quickly, I rejected all accusations, but in all honesty, his words got me wondering.

Was I attracted to Taeyong?

Surely, Taeyong was ridiculously attractive. He danced well, too. Unfortunately, we didn’t click much. There was passion between us, but it wasn’t romantically stemmed. We just kept annoying each other. I wouldn’t consider it sexual. We were just getting on each other’s nerves often, unable to properly solve our differences.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey,” Johnny teased, and I fought the urge to throw the stapler at him. “I bet fifty bucks you’ve imagined him naked, fucking you dumb.”

What the fuck, John???

I did not imagine Taeyong naked!

Not until now, at least.

“I seriously hate you right now,” I complained, deciding it’s about time I focus on work.

***

After Johnny had planted naughty thoughts in my mind, each dance practice was unbearable. My mind was running wild, coming up with different scenarios involving Taeyong and me in intimate situations. It was wrong on so many levels, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

After months of practicing the dance routine, we decided it would be best to make some changes to the choreography. Though it was still sensual as hell, with our hands roaming each other’s bodies, we found it crucial to accentuate Taeyong’s talents.

It was a strategic plan. While typically male dancers helped the female dancers shine, we put a little twist to it. Though our performance was still pretty balanced, Taeyong had a few crucial parts of choreography, in which he would snatch everybody’s hearts.

Seulgi didn’t object to our strategy. Well… she was never there, to begin with. Seulgi was a ghost, never present during our practice, always busy doing some last-minute wedding prep.

“Let’s take a five,” Taeyong hollered as he turned off the music, sending us off to a short break. It sounded weird when it came out of his mouth, but I didn’t complain. We’ve been practicing nonstop for the past hour. At this point, I was panting.

Lying down onto the floor, I rested my head on my towel, reaching for my phone. Quickly, I unlocked it to see a series of notifications from Johnny. He had sent me a link to a video, telling me in all caps to watch it.

Having left the earphones in the locker room, I played the video quietly through my phone’s speaker. It was a short film with Doyoung. It must’ve been his performance from last year’s competition. Jamming to the music, I studied his moves.

Doyoung was really good. I mean… it wasn’t professional expertise, but I could tell he had talent. His body control was impeccable, his hip thrusts must’ve impregnated plenty of women in the audience, but his shoulder rolls were just otherworldly. Along with the female dancer, they showcased quite the performance. From the beginning to the very end, I couldn’t look away, failing to notice Taeyong approach me.

“What the hell are you doing?” Taeyong shouted, tearing my phone from my hand, double-checking what I was watching. “Why are you watching this?” He angrily asked, locking the device, wishing for it to stop playing music.

It was difficult to explain.

I couldn’t exactly tell Taeyong that I asked my best friend to do research on Doyoung in hopes of finding out what was the root of their conflict. Though we had never found anything substantial, Johnny would send me more footage to check out. However, regardless of how much stuff Johnny had provided me with, I was still clueless.

“Why are you shouting at me?” I spoke, biting on my bottom lip. I was in big trouble, so it was only logical to play dumb.

Taeyong stared down at me, demanding a genuine answer. His jaw was tensed, his knuckles around my phone turned white. It was just a meaningless clip, but it got him fuming at me. Regardless of what I’d tell him, he wouldn’t like the answer. I figured this much.

“Why were you watching that?” Taeyong yelled, raising his hand, almost smashing my phone against the floor. Thankfully, he held back and gently put it on my bag.

It was incredible how much the video affected Taeyong. The movie worked on Taeyong like a red rag to a bull. One moment he seemed fine, but once he figured out what I was watching, he snapped.

“You really want to know?” I challenged as I rose to my feet, staring at him. It was my turn to raise my voice. If he kept shouting at me, I was going to give him the same treatment. “Ever since that night at the club, I was curious. You were basically throwing daggers at each other, and I really wanted to know what happened between you two. You never bothered to explain it, and I didn’t want to push you.”

“Do you have your answers now?” Taeyong exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes, agitating him even more with my fed-up behavior. He was scary right now, but I refused to let him intimidate me. “Or do you want to read my diary too?!”

I resisted the temptation of saying yes to his offering. Taeyong wasn’t the type of person to write a dairy. He was exaggerating, but I didn’t want to provoke him further. At any mention of Doyoung’s name, wrath took control over Taeyong, turning him into his destructive self.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know shit about him,” I confessed, throwing my hands in the air. “I wanted to know what he did to you, but I came up with nothing. And believe it or not, the way he treated you that night made me worry. You’re my dance partner, and I care about you a lot, and it really hurt me seeing you in distress,” I spat, not thinking about consequences. I was talking without filter, probably spilling too much information.

My verbal diarrhea confused Taeyong. His huge eyes were staring at me in astonishment. He was studying my expression, wondering if everything I said was true. Oh, no! My reckless words made him uncomfortable. He must’ve grown to hate now.

In embarrassment, I looked down at my shoes. I felt terrible, and I needed to come up with something clever to say to save my dignity and ease the tension. However, before I managed to voice my sincere apology, I felt Taeyong’s hands cup my cheeks as he surged forward and kissed my breath away. It was sudden, but I reciprocated the kiss in an instant.

Stress, anxiety, anger, sexual frustration, and probably many other factors led us to this very moment. I had been daydreaming about Taeyong’s mouth on mine for a while now. And when it finally happened, I eagerly swept my tongue across his lips, deepening the kiss. Though I had tried my best to withstand the tension between us, I wasn’t oblivious to it.

Taeyong already knew almost every inch of my body, so his hands naturally began roaming across my skin. Moaning into the kiss, he held me closer, keeping me pressed against him.

“Taeyong,” I breathed out as I pulled away, only for Taeyong to smash his lips against mine again, successfully shushing me. This time around, the kiss was even more passionate, making my knees weak. In a rush, Taeyong pushed me against the wall, pushing his thigh between my legs. “We shouldn’t,” I spoke, but my tone wasn’t convincing at all. I wasn’t even sure who I was trying to convince that it was a bad idea.

“Shut up,” Taeyong demanded as he tilted his face, sucking on my bottom lip. His hands were on my butt, kneading my flesh, trying to make me moan into his mouth. In all honesty, it worked. Maybe, I whimpered incoherent sounds, but it’s was just a poor attempt to encourage him to keep kissing me.

Regardless of how much he was to gift me, I needed more. I wasn’t going to stop until I’d take everything Taeyong was willing to give.

I craned my neck to the side, and Taeyong quickly caught on, leaving a wet trail down my neck. His lips were delicate, careful not to leave a mark, while his hips were grinding against me, letting me feel how stiff he already was.

“Legs,” Taeyong ordered, gently slapping my thigh. Obediently, I spread my legs apart, letting his hand cup my sex. It was ridiculous how horny he was making me. Once his raspy voice echoed in my ears, I fulfilled his wish, waiting for another command in excitement.

“Please,” I begged, needing more of him. Whatever he planned on doing to me, I needed it now. Whether he was to tease me with his beautiful fingers or fuck me raw with his cock, he better do it now.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered against my skin, pressing feather-like kisses along my collarbone. His touch was driving me insane. His hands were everywhere but where I wanted them the most. This type of teasing should be illegal.

It was more than I could take, so I took matters into my own hands. I could play this game, too. With a mischievous smirk upon my face, I hooked my forefinger under the band of his tracksuit bottoms. Unfortunately, Taeyong quickly swept my hand away.

“You’re such a bad girl,” Taeyong commented before he captured my lips again, sliding his tongue into my mouth, knowing I’d talk back to him. “You have to do everything your way. Would it kill you if you listened to me at least once?” Taeyong muttered, staring into my eyes.

Yes, I was a brat. Taeyong wanted me to submit to him, and I would do it eventually, but not before I’d tease him first. What was fun in that?

“Don’t answer that,” he added, and I rolled my eyes. Though we barely hung out outside the dance studio, Taeyong learned a lot about me. Having an answer to everything was one of those things he had the pleasure of discovering.

“Just fuck me, please,” I said nicely, staring into his eyes, hoping it would be enough to make him cave. “I can’t take it any longer,” I added, rubbing my loins against his restrained cock, making him let out a guttural moan.

My plan was working. Slowly, Taeyong was giving in, probably taking his time to think about the consequences of letting me experience instant gratification. Orgasm would’ve been sweeter if he made me wait a bit more, but it was difficult for him to control his urges.

Without any doubt, Taeyong wanted to bury his cock inside of me as much as I wanted him to fuck me dumb. We withstood so many practices without jumping at each other – I should consider it foreplay.

“Fine, but I’m gonna eat you out first,” Taeyong spoke, and I almost lost it by just imagining his jaw going between my thighs. Swiftly, he knelt in front of me, pulling my leggings down to my ankles in one fluid motion. Having kicked off my gym shoes, I wiggled the fabric off my feet, sending it flying across the dance studio.

Taeyong ran his fingers across my panties, inspecting how soaked they already were. With a smirk upon Taeyong’s face, he pressed a chaste kiss against my skin above the waistband before he yanked the undergarment down.

“Beautiful,” he said under his breath before he surged his face, taking my clit between his gorgeous lips, making me tilt my head in pleasure. Frustration got me sensitive. Even the slightest touch got me purring in delight.

Taeyong licked and nipped at my entrance, and I run my hands through his hair, encouraging him to keep going. He flicked his tongue, and I buckled my hips, wanting more.

“I need your fingers,” I pleaded, looking down at him. Taeyong looked breathtaking, with my juices were dripping down his sharp jaw, with his lips turned into a satisfied smirk. He was proud of how he was making me feel. His glistening skin was the very evidence of his skillful moves. “Taeyong, please, I am so close.”

Though I didn’t expect him to, Taeyong listened to my humble request. His middle finger slid right it, making me purr in satisfaction. I could finally feel him inside of me, and it was heavenly. His palm moved quickly, working me up.

The first orgasm was building up. Taeyong was fucking me now with two fingers while his mouth was fiddling with my clit. If it wasn’t for Taeyong’s palm, holding me still, I’d buckle right into his face for more friction.

“I’m about to come,” I declared, shutting my eyes close. As tempting as it was to peek at the mirror on the other wall and check out the view of Taeyong eating me out, it was more than I could take. My instinct to squeeze my eyes shut and welcome the orgasm was too much.

Unfortunately, it didn’t happen.

Before tiny tingles of electricity could unite and explode, shooting through me like a lightning strike, Taeyong pulled away, denying me of my orgasm. It physically hurt when instead of a blissful peak, I felt nothing.

“What the fuck?” I barked angrily, ready to pull him by his hair against my sex and press him against me, so he could finish the job.

“We’re coming together, or we’re not coming at all,” Taeyong sternly replied, standing up. His lips were swollen from all the work he was doing, and they looked even more kissable.

“I’ve never pegged you for such a teaser,” I stated matter-of-factly, still a little bit butt-hurt over the way how smug he was about not letting me come first. Maybe I was a handful most of the time, but I didn’t do anything wrong to deserve such treatment.

“I’m not,” Taeyong chimed in, biting down on his lip. “There’s just something about you that makes me want to punish for your misbehavior,” he explained, and I got it where it came from. I wasn’t the best student he could work with. “Isn’t it the sweetest torture?” Taeyong challenged before he surged forward, smashing his lips against mine again, raising my thigh and giving it a gentle rub.

“Please, Taeyong, I need you inside of me,” I begged as I ground my sex against his rock-hard cock. I couldn’t comprehend how self-disciplined and patient he was; his budge was throbbing underneath his pants. It must’ve been painful for him, and he did all of that to teach me a lesson. “Fuck me, already.”

“Relax, sweetheart. I got you,” he softly spoke as he hoisted me up, pressing me tightly against the wall. “To be honest, I expected you to lose it sooner,” Taeyong added, and I hoped he was talking about my sanity. I endured more than enough; his teasing was too much.

“How should I fuck you?” Taeyong asked, looking around the practice room, seeking a perfect spot to stuff his cock inside of me. We didn’t have a lot of options, but I didn’t care. He could fuck me in the middle of the room, and I’d eagerly spread my legs for him. “Screw it,” he cursed, gently lowering me down onto the floor. “Do you mind?” Taeyong inquired, and I shook my head as I wrapped my legs around his hips, pressing him against me.

“Strip,” I ordered, and Taeyong smirked before he pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing his lean physique. My eyes marveled at his beautiful shoulders and toned muscles. I had touched him more than I could count, but I never saw him bare, and when I finally did, I gawked.

“What about you, sweetheart? Come on, I am waiting,” Taeyong teased, and I took off my T-shirt. I was only in my sports bra, and Taeyong bit his lip, staring down at me, admiring my simple beauty. With no further comment, Taeyong leaned in, attacking my collarbone. It was hot how attentive he was, but right now, all I needed was his cock buried deep down my cunt.

Desperately, I reached to his sweatpants, palming his erection through the fabric. As soon as I touched him, Taeyong released a needy growl, rolling his hips into my hand, finally giving in to the pleasure. He lost his self-restraint, and now, he seriously needed to fill me up with his throbbing length.

“Take them off,” I breathed out, pulling by the hem of his pants. With a lowered head, Taeyong tsked before he yanked them down to his knees, wriggling out of them. Just as I expected, his cock urgently entailed my attention.

Though the thought of blowing him crossed my mind, I eventually decided not to entertain this idea too much. It was apparent Taeyong wanted to him inside of my pussy. I’d suck him dry on a different occasion. Hopefully, it would happen soon.

“Fuck me, Taeyong,” I moaned as I trembled when the tip of his cock brushed against my folds. I was embarrassingly sensitive after his ministrations, and he dared to tease me again. “Please,” I begged as I gave his length a few gentle strokes, aligning it with my entrance.

“Aaahh…” Taeyong growled, slowly pushing his dick inside of me. Inch by inch, he filled me up, stretching my walls. A lot of different sinful noises came out of his mouth as he began steadily thrusting his hips.

Taeyong’s stamina was no joke. It was hard to believe how long he could snap his hips without messing up his rhythm. His low voice mixed with my desperate moans echoed inside the room, creating a wicked symphony along with the sound of our sweaty bodies smashing against each other.

He was fucking me hard, and I was in seventh heaven. Taeyong was filling me up so good; I could come undone on his cock anytime.

“Taeyong,” I moaned his name as I watched him fuck me. Though it was hot to look at his cock disappear in my pussy, it was even sweeter to stare in the mirror. With my head turned to the side, I studied the whole picture how Taeyong was fucking me.

“I am coming,” I screamed as I felt the bliss approach. Taeyong was panting, struggling to maintain his tempo with the way my walls tightened around his sensitive cock. Once he hit my sweet spot, I was a goner. After a few thrusts, I came, digging my nails in his back.

“Fuck,” Taeyong cursed, shouting my name as he shot his load inside of me, collapsing on top of me. We were a breathless mess, our bodies sticking together, but neither of us minded. At this point, we were too spent to care. “You were incredible,” Taeyong whispered as he pulled out, rolling to the side.

“You weren’t that bad yourself,” I panted, giggling, still recovering from the mind-blowing orgasm. Thankfully, Taeyong didn’t pay much attention to my playful jab. “I meant it what I said,” I added, turning around to look at him.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Taeyong started, staring into my eyes, showing me his sincerity. “I just can’t help myself but get angry when I see him or hear about him,” he continued, and I nodded my head, letting him know I was willing to listen.

I didn’t expect that Taeyong would agree to vent to me, but when he did, I patiently heard him out. After all, I was pretty sure we were at least friends now.

“It all happened about a year ago. We were competing in the same contest, and he made my dance partner quit. Doyoung seduced her, toyed with her, and once the trophy was his, he dumped her. Because of him, I was disqualified, and she quit dance altogether.”

Listen to his story made me both sad and angry. Doyoung had been a dick to interfere like that – he must’ve known he hadn’t stood a chance against them in a fair fight. My blood was boiling in my veins as I put all the pieces together.

Sadness took over next. The way Doyoung had manipulated Taeyong’s dance partner was upsetting. The wound had been cut so deep, she couldn’t have forced herself to keep going. Doyoung had wrecked two lives, and it made my blood boil, too.

“We’re gonna beat him. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we do,” I spoke, reassuring him. It was impossible to tend the wounds, but the least I could do is help Taeyong win. For what he had done, Doyoung deserved punishment. If I were Taeyong, I’d not hesitate to beat him up.

“I hope so,” Taeyong muttered, reaching for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s still fine if we don’t. I’m pretty sure karma will get to him eventually,” he added with a sigh.

“I’ll work harder,” I declared, feeling an extra wave of determination wash through me. “I’ll try my best,” I said, and Taeyong smiled fondly, content to hear me say it.

“Thanks. It means a lot to me.”

For a while, we were staring at each other. It felt nice and somehow more intimate than all the fucking we had done. If we were in bed, I could do it all night. Unfortunately, we were still lying on the uncomfortable floor.

“Let’s get washed up before we get too sappy,” I added, trying to ease the tension. I really enjoyed it, but it was getting a little too much.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing the shower with me. You know… water bills are a bitch,” Taeyong spoke, and I giggled at his bullshit excuse, finding it incredibly cute, considering what we had been doing a few minutes ago.

“Of course they are,” I deadpanned, chuckling. Though his excuse was lame, I liked Taeyong enough to go with it. “Come on. Let’s go. I don’t want anyone to catch me naked.”

***

After that one time at the dance studio, Taeyong and I made it a regular thing. However, we kept it civilized. We wouldn’t jump each other’s bones in the open like animals like we had done the first time. Usually, we would go on small kind-of-dates, which consisted of picking up food, going to my or his place, and then rolling in the sheets.

We were having lots of fun. It was a perfect way to de-stress. After all, the finale was this Saturday, and we were nervous as hell. In all honesty, I was still scared, but these orgasms were numbing my anxiety.

“I think that’s it,” Taeyong spoke, and I smiled brightly, unable to contain my joy. It was the first time Taeyong ever approved of our performance. Most of the time, he was nitpicking, complaining about the slightest mistake, but finally, he was satisfied with it.

I was ecstatic; I never expected to live up to Taeyong’s approval. Through hard work and persistence, I managed to earn his eulogy.

“What should we do now? How about we order some food?” I asked, feeling in a celebratory mood. Maybe it was a little bit too early to drink to this small success, but it’s still worth a shot.

“We should do it again. We should dance it flawlessly at least a couple of hundred consecutive times before celebrating,” Taeyong seriously replied, and I rolled my eyes. Despite his painstaking nature, a couple of hundred times, it was a bit too much. Even for him. “Don’t give me that look. Let’s start again; five, six, seven, eight.”

Though usually, I’d complain and try to force him into a five-minute break, right now, I was oddly energized. We were dancing for the past two hours, and I was panting out of exhaustion. Nevertheless, the thoughts of finally mastering the choreography kept me going.

“I’m pretty good at this,” I confidently commented while roaming my hands across Taeyong’s shoulders before he twirled me around to the rhythm. I could tell that Taeyong was just waiting for an excuse to pause the music and scold me for making a mistake. However, much to his dismay, I executed every move impeccably. “I had a pretty good teacher,” I added, stroking his ego. The D-day was approaching, and Taeyong obviously needed an extra boost of confidence.

“I must admit you were a piece of work. I have no idea what kind of sorcery is this,” Taeyong teased, staring into my eyes. We had practiced the routine plenty of times; we could probably perform it in blindfolds and not make a single mistake. “I must be a magician or something.”

“Don’t push it,” I warned him in a very non-threatening tone, making him smirk. “But it’s only partially your success. Seulgi told me I have the it™ factor,” I proudly said, cracking Taeyong up, messing the choreography. “Is it a student-has-become-the-master kind of moment?” I asked, laughing at Taeyong. For the dance prodigy, he was getting distracted way too easily. It was suspicious.

With a broad smile upon his face, Taeyong grabbed my wrists, making me look at him.

“How about we finish up for today? I have a surprise for you,” Taeyong said, and I cocked my eyebrows, biting my bottom lip. “Not that kind of surprise,” he added, rolling his eyes at me. “We might get it on later, though.”

“What kind of surprise then?”

“Wait a second,” Taeyong spoke, quickly jogging out of the practice room. In a minute, he was back with a garment bag in his hands. “Here, that’s for you. Seulgi came in the morning to drop it off for you,” he explained, and I pulled down the zipper. It was going to be my costume for the contest, and I was curious how it looked.

I was speechless. At first, I thought it was a joke. I wouldn’t be able to perform in that. However, the more I looked at it, the more sense it made. It was a simple white suit shirt, but when mixed with a leather body harness, high-waisted shorts, and boots, it fitted the concept beautifully.

“Do you like it? I thought it was too revealing, but Seulgi insisted you would look amazing in it. I mean… it fits the mood, but if you’re not comfortable with it, we still have some time to find something else,” Taeyong blabbered, and my heart swelled. It was very sweet of him to consider my comfort above anything else.

“It’s skimpy, but it’s fine. I like it,” I replied, having no idea where my confidence was coming from. A few months ago, I’d be anxious to even try it on in the confines of my bedroom. However, now I was planning on showing a lot of skin on national television during prime hours on the weekend. I must’ve gone insane.

“Do you want to try it on?” Taeyong challenged, pulling the hangers out of the bag.

“You mean… here?!”

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the first time you took off your clothes in the middle of the practice room,” Taeyong concluded, smiling at me mischievously.

“Pass,” I firmly rejected his dare, even though it felt tempting. “It’s not fun when I’m doing it alone,” I added, and Taeyong grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, more than ready to discard his clothes in a blink of an eye. “Don’t fool around,” I warned him, placing my hand over his before he managed to take his T-shirt off.

“You’re right. Let’s go to my place first,” Taeyong agreed, zipping the bag before he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the practice room.

***

On the day of the performance, I woke up with a terrible stomach ache. No matter how much fantastic sex Taeyong and I had, I was not mentally prepared to perform in front of the whole nation. I felt sick, almost as if my body was telling me to quit before I’d embarrass myself on national television. Stress was eating me from the inside.

“What are you doing up so early? Let’s go back to bed,” Taeyong purred in his raspy morning voice as he sneaked his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “You need to be rested before the performance. Trust me, you don’t want a camera to catch you yawning,” he added, nuzzling his nose in the crook of my neck, breathing hot air against my skin.

“Thanks for giving me one more thing to stress about,” I deadpanned, heaving a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling. It was a mistake. I should have never agreed to Seulgi’s proposition in the first place. What the hell was I thinking? “I think it’s a bad idea. We should quit.”

Taeyong wasn’t in the mood for my nagging so early in the morning; he was having none of it. “You’re being ridiculous. We’ve practiced so much. We’re gonna win it with ease,” he declared, pressing a featherlike kiss against my jaw. “But for real,” he added, climbing on top of me, trapping me between his thighs, “we’re going to win. And even if we don’t, it’s fine. Really, if somehow we lose to Doyoung and his partner, I’ll just punch him backstage.”

“How can you say that?” I said with a sigh, running my hands across his thighs, finding it rather calming. “I know you said we should rest, but how about…” I trailed, and Taeyong smiled before eagerly capturing my lips, reading me like an open book.

“Say no more,” Taeyong whispered before his hands traveled under my shirt.

Unfortunately, Taeyong’s phone started buzzing on the nightstand before he managed to pull my panties down. With a groan, he extended his arm, staring at the screen.

“It’s Seulgi.”

“What are you waiting for? It’s her wedding day. Pick it up,” I yelled at him as I fell on the pillow, admiring his handsome face when he was talking to Seulgi.

“Please, not you, too,” he barked, rubbing his face in annoyance. Though I barely could make out what she was saying, I figured this much Seulgi and I were suffering from the same stress-fuelled illness. It was her wedding day, after all. Even if it was obvious she loved Irene with a burning passion, she wasn’t immune to pre-wedding anxiety.

Seulgi was talking her stress away, and Taeyong just hummed and nodded his head, registering her words. For some reason, the pressure didn’t seem to bother Taeyong at all. It was weird, but at least he was the voice of reason, which could help me and Seulgi cope.

“Breath in, breath out,” Taeyong spoke when Seulgi made a pause long enough for him to interject. “I know it’s a big deal, but there’s nothing to worry about. You’re getting married to Irene. You love her so much,” Taeyong reminded her, winking at me, expecting Seulgi to end the call soon. “Everybody’s a little nervous; it’s completely normal.”

It was beautiful how close Taeyong and Seulgi were. They had each other’s backs in all types of situations.

About ten minutes later, Seulgi finally calmed down. Taeyong’s reassuring words swept the anxiety away, and she was more than ready to get married to the love of her life.

Once Seulgi hung up, Taeyong threw his phone on the bed and secured my legs around his hips before he leaned forward, giving me a quick kiss. “Seulgi says hi, by the way,” he added, sneaking his hand under the hem of my panties.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Taeyong looked down at me, creasing his eyebrows in confusion.

“She knows?” I yelled, unable to comprehend how, on Earth, Seulgi figured out I was in Taeyong’s bed. She couldn’t know. She wasn’t even there when our romance bloomed. “How?”

“Yeah, is it a bad thing, though? You didn’t want to fuck me in secret, did you?” Taeyong challenged, not really answering my inquiry. Did Seulgi figure it out on her own? Or did Taeyong told her about us? And, the biggest question mark was: what were we to begin with? “Seulgi must have some sort of sixth sense. She was bothering me about the sexual tension between us since day one of your training.”

“I wouldn’t call it sexual tension per se, but there was something going on,” I replied, reminiscing how rocky our beginning was. “But I think we were interrupted…” I reminded him, and Taeyong with a playful smirk on his face dived right between my thighs.

***

The streaming should begin at 8 p.m., but we had to arrive before 5 p.m., so the make-up artists and stylists could prepare us for the performance. Sitting in that chair and waiting for all pampering to be over with was stressful as fuck. I tried to preoccupy myself with an idea of Taeyong, but whenever someone threw a question in my direction, I was being pulled out of my train of happy thoughts.

I wanted to get on the stage and be done with it. Unfortunately, whoever funded that contest didn’t think of the mental health of its participants when making today’s schedule.

Punctually, the show began its transmission at 8 o’clock. However, at the very beginning, the MC had to introduce all sponsors. Going through them took him about twenty minutes. Then, they interviewed some of the eliminated dancers, asking them questions either about their experience in the competition or simply who they thought would win.

Later, they decided to rewind the contestants’ moments in the show. At first, they showed Doyoung and his partner, and a few experts analyzed their performance, wondering what the odds of them winning were.

When the host announced the rewind of Taeyong’s and Seulgi’s stages, the jury only talked about the sudden switch up, confirming it was the first time it ever happened in the grand finale. It startled a lot of people why would Seulgi drop out, but Taeyong explained it in a brief interview.

“It was a crazy coincidence, but Seulgi couldn’t participate today because she is getting married today,” Taeyong revealed, and the audience cooed loudly, obviously supporting her choice. “I was stressed at first, but Seulgi found an amazing dancer to take her spot. She really chose well,” he added, and I looked at him, trying not to cry in front of everyone.

It was almost impossible to fish out a compliment from Taeyong during practice, but right now, he did it on his own accord, melting my heart with his words.

“Everybody is dying to know more about your partner,” the MC started, shifting his attention to me. I didn’t particularly like to be put in the spotlight, but before I managed to spit some nonsense, Taeyong butt in, rescuing the day.

“Although she doesn’t have much experience in dance competitions, I think she’s a great dancer. To think of it, she is my secret weapon,” Taeyong added, and I almost ran into his arms, feeling too overwhelmed by his speech.

“Alright then, let’s see what you got after a short commercial break,” the MC cheerfully announced before I bolted out of the stage as I felt the stress crept into my head.

“Calm down,” Taeyong softly spoke as he approached me, holding my hand, drawing circles with his thumb. “You’ve got this. Just focus on me,” he added, flashing me a reassuring smile before kissing my knuckles.

“Awww… isn’t it adorable?” Someone snickered, and I didn’t need to turn my head around to know it was Doyoung. He was like a venomous snake, trying to sneak into our subconscious and make us even more anxious. It couldn’t be fair play.

“Buzz off,” I barked as I didn’t want to let him tick Taeyong off. Taeyong was my safety pin, and I didn’t want him to go full rage on Doyoung. Their backstage battle would make it to the news, but I’d rather prevent it from happening.

“With Seulgi on your arm, I was giving you a five percent chance of winning,” Doyoung started, ignoring my warning. “Now, when she’s gone, I won’t even have fun beating you on the stage,” he added, and I almost surged forward to punch him. If it wasn’t for Taeyong, who held me in my place, I’d definitely rearranged Doyoung’s face.

“Don’t let him get into your head,” Taeyong whispered into my ear, and I nodded my head, sighing. Then, it struck me. Doyoung’s motive wasn’t to mess with Taeyong but with me. He knew I was the weakest link, and he wanted to guarantee his victory by making me doubt myself. His words rung in my head, but one look at Taeyong helped me relax. We had practiced it a thousand times; there was not a chance I would make a mistake.

“Come on. Let’s go. They’re calling us out,” Taeyong mused, pulling me towards the stage.

The silence filled the auditorium when we got on the stage, taking our respective places. I stole a glance at Taeyong – he was mouthing words of encouragement seconds before the MC announced our performance.

I can hear it callin'

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

Callin', something in the way you wanna talk

On two sides of the stage, we moved to the rhythm, telling the story of two strangers lusting over each other from afar. With hunger in our eyes, we tried to seduce each other with sharp movements, showcasing our attributes.

You got me sayin', you got me sayin'

How you doing? Tell me what's your name (Ey, tell me what's your name?)

What's your sign? Feeling like you are into me

Taeyong ran up to me like a man enchanted by the siren’s voice, rolling his body against mine. It was his moment to shine; everybody’s eyes were on him as he owned the stage with his overflowing charisma.

Baby, we're two distant strangers

I know you don't speak my language

But I love the way she's talking to me (Talking to me)

I can hear it callin' from where you are

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was a classic game of cat and mouse. Though our bodies were so close to each other, we moved in perfect synchronization, careful not to brush against each other. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and the feeling of yearning was visible from the very last row.

Max, max, max, we can have it all (To the max)

If you back, back, back, back, back it up (Back it, back it)I'll take you where you wanna, got the gas in the tank (Wow)

If you really wanna make it last (Git, git, git)

Finally, as the song slowly progressed to the end, we were showing intense frustration. We were portraying two individuals, yearning for intimate contact, who were hastily losing their minds over uncontrollable passion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

The song was to end soon. The last chorus rolled in – it was our cue. After all teasing, we finally made the connection, ready to combust out of raw craze. After three minutes of painful longing, we were to reach completion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was all or nothing. We were finally together, touching each other with fervor. The audience was eating our performance up – particularly when Taeyong showcased his flexibility and body control.

Tell me how you like it babe (How you)

I don't even know your name (How you, ey)

I love the way you're talking to me

It was finally time to finish our performance with a bang; we needed to show something spectacular, something Doyoung wouldn’t ever think about. As the singer began the last verse, it was my cue to run into Taeyong’s embrace. The second the last syllable rolled of the singer’s tongue, Taeyong caught me in his arms, and the lights went out to add a dramatic twist to our performance.

For a while, the audience was silent. However, a few seconds later, they roared in excitement, clapping loudly, showing how much they enjoyed our stage.

The MC was congratulating us, but I was too thrilled to register his words. I still couldn’t believe I performed on national television and didn’t trip and smash my face.

I had no idea how I found myself backstage, but there was a high chance Taeyong led me off the stage. I was too overwhelmed to do it on my own.

I even forgot that Johnny, together with Yeri – the love of his week, had backstage passes. I only remembered that when he wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug, congratulating me.

“You gotta quit that office job and start dancing professionally,” Johnny ordered, and I smiled, glad that he enjoyed my performance. “We both gotta quit. You’ll be dancing, and I’ll be a badass FBI agent.”

“You two were great,” Yeri politely said when Johnny let me go. “Thank you so much for letting me backstage.”

“No problem,” Taeyong replied as he grabbed my shaking hands. “Are you okay?” He asked, cupping my face, making me look at him. “You rocked the stage,” he added before he leaned forward to peck my lips.

Ignoring Johnny’s perplexed expression, I wrapped my arms around Taeyong in a comfortable hug. I hadn’t suitably introduced Johnny to the concept of me dating Taeyong, but hopefully, our interaction got the message across.

Emotions were slowly fading away, but I still needed Taeyong’s support. I was a rookie, and I had no experience with this type of stress. Something was calming about Taeyong’s aura; I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, but I wasn’t going to question it.

“Anticipation is killing me,” I muttered against his skin. “Can he already go on that fucking stage?” I yelled, wondering why Doyoung’s performance didn’t start yet. I knew the MC was building up tension, but it was too much for me to handle.

“We could always skip,” Taeyong casually spoke, and I pulled away to look at him. What the hell was he talking about? I hadn’t agreed to help him out, so we didn’t wait until the end. “If we lose, we lose. If we win, your friend can accept the prize, can’t he?”

“Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he answered with a bright smile, brushing stray hair off my forehead. “I just want to know the result already so we can go to Seulgi’s wedding and congratulate them,” he added, and I nodded my head. Though we couldn’t participate during the ceremony, the least we could do was to show up ridiculously late to the reception.

“Can they hurry the fuck up now?” I craned my neck, trying to find Doyoung and his partner. They were arguing about something right behind the curtain. Everything seemed they weren’t in the right headspace.

“I don’t think I want to see their performance,” Taeyong whispered, tightening his grasp on my waist. “How about a quickie in the dressing room? What do you say?” He proposed, and I smacked him, telling him to behave. It was tempting, but we really shouldn’t. I wouldn’t walk up that stage with messed-up post-sex hair.

“Get a grip,” I added, gently elbowing him. “Let’s just hit the snack table. I am hungry,” I spoke, pulling him away when the MC invited Doyoung and his dance partner onto the stage.

While munching on snacks, we stared at each other fondly. In some weird way, we were helping each other cope with anticipation and stress. Though it was tempting to check out their performance, we decided it was for the better if we didn’t.

They performed to “Hips Don’t Lie,” and it was almost impossible to turn my head around to check out Doyoung’s sick moves. Having considered all the videos I had seen of him, I was sure he looked gorgeous.

“What about a little peek?” Taeyong questioned, unable to control his urge to see his rival’s performance. “I thought I could endure it, but I can’t,” he added, and I nodded, giving in. Instantly, we ran to the nearest screen to watch their stage.

It was everything I imagined. Their moves were executed with precision and grace, but entertainment-wise, I was bored. They had the skills, but something about the general concept didn’t fulfill my expectations.

No matter how great of a dancer Doyoung was, he just could not pull this song off as the original artist did. Regardless of how hard he swayed his hips, it just didn’t live up to its potential. Though I wasn’t educated enough to give an honest review, it felt meh.

The audience in the studio whistled and shouted once they finished their performance, giving them a round of applause. With genuine smiles, Doyoung and his partner bowed before they ran off the stage.

Now, only thirty minutes of aggressive advertising, and we would know the winner.

“Is it too late to agree to that quickie?”

“You should’ve said so earlier,” Taeyong answered with an innocent smile as he reached to hold my hand. “The best I can do is cuddles,” he added, leading me to the couch, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. “It feels nice.”

“It does, but it doesn’t take my mind off things like a quickie would.”

“Don’t even try. I am not going on that stage with a boner in my pants,” Taeyong warned, peeling my hand off his thigh, pressing a delicate kiss against my knuckles.

Though it wasn’t as preoccupying as sex, it was still nice. And most importantly, it took our minds off the unbearable anticipation. A staff member actually needed to gently shake Taeyong’s shoulder to remind us that the MC was calling us to the stage.

Taeyong’s hand didn’t leave mine once we were waiting for the big reveal. It was fine if we lost. Next year, Seulgi and Taeyong would definitely make it to the top.

When the MC announced the winner, a few confetti bombs exploded. The audience roared in excitement, but I had no clue what was going on. Uncertainty was over – one of us won.

Stress, anticipation, and anxiety slowed down my reactions. However, I figured it would be weird if Taeyong picked me up and spun me around in his arms if we lost. It could only mean one thing – we did it.

We won.

Taeyong’s acceptance speech was short and simple. He thanked everyone who succored him discover his passion for dancing, who supported him throughout his dream, who directly helped him get this far, and me.

When I was handed the microphone for the first time that evening, I basically rephrased Taeyong words. Maybe it wasn’t my dream, but it felt damn good to assist Taeyong in achieving his. It was a bumpy road, but overall, it was all worth it.

The MC handed me a statue after shaking my hand, congratulating me once more. Taeyong, on the other hand, was gifted a huge check for 20 thousand dollars.

“Let’s go,” Taeyong whispered to me, running off the stage with me.

***

It was shortly before midnight when the Uber parked in front of the hotel where Seulgi’s and Irene’s reception took place. It was beautifully decorated with lights and flowers, making it look like a magical castle.

Though the security didn’t want to grant entrance, one of Seulgi’s aunts recognized Taeyong and told the man to let us in. She was nice enough to help us out, but she still found some time to glance disapprovingly at my stage costume. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gossiped to her entire family I was a prostitute.

As soon as we walked into the ballroom, Seulgi noticed us. She was sitting by the table, eating the wedding cake with Irene. In an instant, she rose from her chair and ran up to us, throwing herself on Taeyong’s neck.

“You won! I knew it!” She shouted as she gave Taeyong a bone-crushing hug. “Irene and I sneaked out for a while to watch your performance. You smashed them,” Seulgi added before she turned to me, congratulating me too.

“You were amazing,” Irene approached us, sending a polite smile. Unlike Seulgi, Irene was much calmer and collected.

“You are finally married,” Taeyong spoke, beaming. “You better have everything recorded. I gotta know every embarrassing thing that I missed,” he added in a teasing manner, earning a playful jab from Seulgi. “I bet you cried during your vows.”

“Congratulations,” I chimed in, breaking their friendly banter before it properly started. It was Seulgi’s wedding day, after all.

After we caught up, Seulgi and Irene walked off to the dance floor, leaving us by the table alone. For a while, we admired them. They looked absolutely stunning in their white suits, dancing, basking in happiness.

“Do you know where the gifts are held?” I inquired suddenly, looking around.

“Why? Did you have time to get them anything?” Taeyong asked before he stuffed his mouth with a chocolate glazed strawberry. “Or are you thinking of stealing some?”

“I just want to give them my part of the prize,” I started, making Taeyong choke on the fruit. “Seulgi’s the rightful winner, and I think it’s only right.”

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah, I know, but I really want to do that,” I replied, fiddling with my fingers. “I don’t need this money, so I want to give it to her.”

“You’re so hot right now,” Taeyong said, making me turn my head in embarrassment. “If that’s what you really want to do, do it. But remember, you earned it.”

“I am sure.”

“Then let me spoil you with my prize,” Taeyong offered, staring into my eyes. At first, I thought he was joking, but when his gaze didn’t even falter, I understood how serious he was. “Well… look at that. What are the odds?” Taeyong spoke as a familiar melody echoed within the walls of the grand ballroom. “It’s our song. Shall we dance?”

Having glanced at Seulgi, who whispered something to the DJ, I smiled at Taeyong. Though I was sick and tired of Love Talk already, it was kind of our song. We had been listening to this song too much, and regardless of how good it was, the prospect of it being our anthem terrified me.

“One last time,” I gave in, accepting Taeyong’s invitation, letting him lead me to the dance floor. Despite having mastered the choreography to it, I just wrapped my arms around his neck, slowly waltzing to it.

“That’s nothing like we practiced,” Taeyong pinpointed, and I chuckled, shaking my head. “I don’t mind, though. It’s comfy,” he added as his hands found purchase on my hips.

“Seulgi doesn’t look pleased. She didn’t expect us to perform, did she?” I whispered into Taeyong’s ear, hugging him closer. “Also, it can’t be our song. We have to change it; the sooner, the better,” I complained, but Taeyong just chuckled into my ear, humming softly.

Instead of giving me an actual answer, Taeyong decided to sing it.

“I love the way you're talking to me.”

#taeyong smut #neosmutsongs #neosmutcollective #nct smut #taeyong #lee taeyong #nct u smut #nct 127 smut #nct fluff #taeyong fluff #dance au

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lovestruckay · 3 years

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Request: "Please make a fic where the reader (female or gn) is new to the Fire Force as an unpowered person and they become attached to Viktor"

Pairing: Viktor x Unpowered Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you sm for the request, @thesolarflame! I really flip-flopped on what position to give the reader considering she is unpowered. I thought about making her a member of the science team, a fighter like Obi, and even making her a sister. I think everyone will enjoy what I landed on though!

When Vulcan first joined Company 8, he had done an inspection of their matchbox and all of their fire fighting equipment. Once he had finished going through their arsenal, he had explained to Obi that there was just far too much for him to maintain on his own while simultaneously developing new technology to assist them in battle.

Just maintaining the matchbox was a task in and of itself, let alone the fleet of weapons and armor that Obi donned every time they were called to the scene of a fire. He was a talented engineer, surely, but there was only so much one man could do.

Vulcan’s solution: he knew a girl.

He had wasted no time in gathering up Lisa and Yu and going on a little “family outing” before returning with the mysterious mechanic in tow, the woman receiving a warm - if chaotic, as per Company 8’s usual demeanor - welcome.

She was an engineer just like Vulcan, a talented technician who was nearly as famous as he was in their close knit junk-rat community. While Vulcan was renowned for his skill at creating unique and nearly indestructible machines, she was famous for her ability to keep machines going far passed the point they should have fallen to pieces.

Vulcan frequently tried to pick her brain on her uncanny ability but her answers were something that befuddled him more than anything else.

“It’s love. You can spend years building the most flawless, indestructible machine the world has ever seen but, without love, she’ll break down as surely as the sun rises. Love keeps things going when they should fall apart.”

Vulcan scoffed at her sentimentality and she laughed at his stubbornness, the two always returning to their friendly rivalry despite their differences in opinions. They would rag on each other and goad each other on but, through it all, he respected her skill and she respected his ingenuity.

As for the rest of the company, she got along well with the crew of fire soldiers. Despite her easy comradery with the others, however, she always felt out of place. After all, she wasn’t a fire soldier or even a pyrokinetic so suddenly getting wrapped up in all this business with infernals and the White Clad was disarming.

She had gone from her humble machine shop to a Fire Force cathedral, surrounded by people who could control bullets, who could make swords out of plasma, and who could even fly. She was just an engineer - and unpowered at that - and, despite how fulfilling her work was, she felt like she had lost her anchor joining Company 8.

Initially, she had latched onto Vulcan and Lisa for some sense of normality but the feeling of being a third wheel quickly overcame any comfort that came from their companionship. After all, the two mostly stuck to themselves, the two very much in love. More than that, with Lisa still dealing with her trauma from her experiences with the White Clad, Vulcan was even more unavailable than ever.

Feeling lost and out of place, she was surprised to find an easy companionship with Company 8’s one and only science officer.

Viktor had been the one to initiate their first real conversation, the man as curious as he was out of the ordinary. He had approached her while she had been having a conversation with the matchbox, praising her girl for doing such a great job during their last mission.

“Do you think the matchbox understands you?” Viktor asked, peeking down into the inspection pit beneath the vehicle where she spent a fair amount of her time. Despite how bluntly he phrased his question, there was no judgement in his tone. Just simple curiosity.

“I’m not sure if she understands my words but I think she understands what I’m saying, if that makes sense,” she answered with a friendly smile, already used to conversations like this with Vulcan.

“So, it’s more of you trying to get across your message and your intentions rather than believing you are having an actual conversation with a machine?”

“You could say that, although it still is a conversation. I listen and she tells me what’s wrong, so I fix her. Then she listens to me when I praise her and ask her to keep going. We talk, just not like you and I talk,” she explained, pleasantly surprised when he simply nodded in understanding.

Their conversation continued well into the afternoon, to the point where - after she had finished her tune up - the two had perched themselves on the bumper of the matchbox to continue their chat. It wasn’t until Vulcan had come out to collect them for dinner that they realized how long they had been talking and laughing, a situation that they would find themselves repeating every day for weeks.

Sometimes their conversations took place with her down in the inspection pit under the matchbox or her in the equipment room maintaining all of Company 8’s gear.

Sometimes they talked for hours in Viktor’s admittedly messy room (he tried to clean up just for her) or even on the roof of the cathedral.

Sometimes they chatted for hours at the dining room table, the entire company coming and going for lunch and then dinner and leaving them to their conversation with knowing smiles and teasing giggles.

She found herself relieved to have someone who understood her, both as an engineer and as an unpowered person, and Viktor found himself curious about the kind-hearted mechanic who defied the laws of physics with love. The two talked not just about engineering and science but about music, anime, their hobbies, and even their dreams.

As their conversations continued, they found themselves growing even closer than friends - casual flirts slipped into their conversations as readily as they talked about anything else. Teasing and blushing became as commonplace in their time together as mentions of physics and mechanics.

Despite how their relationship was slowly changing, she was always comfortable in Viktor’s company. He made her feel understood, safe, and anchored. He had become her port in the storm. She felt like she was at home when she was with him and, with the way he finally seemed to take a full breath when she was around, he felt the same.

One day, after being called to the scene of an infernalization, she had a close call with a first-generation pyrokinetic, the woman mad with pain and lashing out at anything that moved. It had been Viktor who had tackled her to the ground, covering her smaller body with his own and protecting her as the fireball rocketed through the space she had once occupied.

The rest of the crew had made short work of putting the woman to rest but Iris’ prayers had fallen on ringing ears as their engineer realized how close she had come to an agonizing death. It had put into perspective how truly dangerous these situations were for unpowered people like her and Viktor. They didn’t have the same fire resistance or combat training that the other members of Company 8 did and the very real peril left her shaken, even after they had returned to the cathedral.

It had been Viktor who had pulled her away from the rest of their company, guiding her into his quiet room so he could wrap his arms around her and pull her into his warm embrace. Her arms looped around his waist, the engineer settling against his solid chest and pressing her ear against his heartbeat.

It was a few minutes before they spoke but she felt no pressure from him to do so. Instead of pushing her, he quietly held her and stroked her back, her anxiety slowly settling as she was calmed by the warm embrace of the man she had fallen in love with.

“How do you do it? Go running into that every day? You’re unpowered too, doesn’t it scare you?” she finally asked, breaking the silence between them.

“Of course it does,” Viktor chuckled, his laughter vibrating in his chest as he rested his cheek against her hair, “I never know if today is going to be the last day I spend on this earth. But it’s worth it knowing that I’m actually learning something real about the world; that I’m where I should be.”

His next words were a bit quieter but no less passionate as he hummed them against her hair. “It’s worth it knowing you’re at my side.”

Pulling back, she looked up at him in surprise, and he gazed down at her with that same crooked smile. She was struck by the tenderness in his eyes and by the warmth in his expression - an affection that he only ever showed her. In that moment, she knew that she was also where she should be. That it was all worth it to her too, knowing that he was by her side.

Meeting Viktor's smile with one of her own, she stood on the tips of her toes, pressing a brief but sweet kiss to his cheek.

When she returned to her heels, gazing up at him with a gentle smile spread across her face, he stared back down at her in stunned wonder. A blush dusted his cheeks, his lips parted and his eyes rounded in surprise.

“Thank you for always being there with me, Viktor,” she thanked, feeling more at ease in his arms than she had ever felt anywhere else.

At her words, his smile returned, the corners of his lips quirking up although his blush remained. Reaching up, he cupped her cheeks in his broad hands before leaning down to press his lips to hers. Gently moving his lips against hers, they shared a tender, lingering kiss.

Just when she thought she might forget how to breathe, her heart swelling in her chest and stealing the air from her lungs, he pulled away.

“Always,” Viktor promised as he pressed his forehead to hers, gazing into her eyes with a loving expression.

#viktor licht #viktor licht x reader #fire force #fire force x reader #enn enn no shouboutai #fanfiction

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starfire-s · 3 years

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here’s a list of the best, mediocre and worst kdramas i watched in 2020

no one asked for this but it’s happening because i have thoughts (also all opinions are my own if you disagree then get well soon i guess... no i’m kidding make your own posts about it don’t hate me please) ahsjsj anyways click to read a lengthy post and if you actually read the whole thing then thank you i hope you enjoy this wild ride!

THE BEST KDRAMAS -

mystic pop up bar - this show had everything i ask from a kdrama literally i can name it all found family (to real family), well thought out characters, a mystery plot, special effects, soft romances that were well written, a happy ending! no show in 2020 even comes close to how good this one was! the writers literally guided you throughout the whole thing so you could come up with theories and didn’t do a ‘aha! gotcha’ thing where they want to prove the audience wrong but they wanted us to be right and satisfied! the worst part about the drama is that it’s still so underrated and people just brush it off as some random fantasy show but it’s so much more than that! 1000/10

flower of evil - who doesn’t want to see lee joon gi being the son of a serial killer, living with the name of a man who is in a coma, and hiding his real identity from his wife who is a detective? this show constantly had me at the edge of my seat on a weekly basis so the emotions i went through while watching this are unparalleled! the writers also did such a good job on writing a coherent story that made sense and tied up all the plot points in the end. just a really satisfying show to watch! 10/10

where your eyes linger - i literally bought a $8 viki pass to watch this show so it should tell you everything you need to know about how i feel ahsjsj the episodes were 10 minutes long but we got a good story with well written characters who got character development in a total of 80 minutes it’s insane! honestly it’s still hard to believe this show had rookie actors because they were just so emotive that you could feel all the happiness, sadness, yearning and pining! probably one of my fave kdramas this year because of the acting that i always constantly rewatch! would recommend 10/10

crash landing on you - okay so this drama was actually released on my birthday last year and it was a time in my life when i was going through a lot so maybe it’s the comfort this show provided me through that time this is why i have such a soft spot for it? like the romance was good, it was funny, there was found family, the nk soldiers were all softies, there were strong female leads, soft male leads!!! ahh!! no other show on this list made me think about the unification of south korea and north korea irl because i wanted se ri and jeong hyeok to be together 4ever! but the only issue i had with this show was the ending they gave seung jun if they didn’t do that i’d give this show a 10/10 but just for that they get a 9/10

psycho but it’s okay - this was one of those shows where you’re literally like ‘wow everyone here needs therapy’ but this show was amazing i loved the story telling and how each episode related to children’s book/fairytales! the writers also did a good job with how carefully they talked about mental health in depth without villainising their characters but actually tried to make the audience understand why they were this way which included all the side characters too who had a well thought out story in each episode! also the dynamic between moon young, kang tae and sang tae was everything to me the actors all did an amazing job portraying their characters, it truly was a healing drama. the only thing i didn’t like about this show was the whole plastic surgery plot with the mother like that was very far fetched but it provided drama so i’ll let it slide because the rest was amazing. this show is a solid 8.5/10

18 again - another underrated gem! who would’ve thought a remake of that zac efron movie could be this good!! lee do hyun stole this show for sure the way he portrayed his character and gave heart eyes to his kids (when he’s only 25 irl was the best thing i saw this year ahsjs) i loved the family dynamics in this show, i loved how it talked about what it’s like to be young parents and how society still think it’s taboo to be divorced! it’s a show that makes you laugh and cry at the same time and that’s why everyone should watch it! however, the biggest clown thing this show did to me though was that i got sls for the first time while watching a kdrama... hwang in yeop if u’re reading this i love u and u deserved better 🤡 that aside this show was a 8/10

itaewon class - i actually didn’t watch this drama as it was airing because i thought i wouldn’t enjoy the plot but when i watched it i binged the whole thing in 2 days and my biggest regret is i didn’t watch it sooner! everyone knows i have a soft spot for park seo joon since he’s my favourite actor i’ve literally watched all his dramas like he could star in the trashiest drama out there and i’d still watch it and be like wow (looking at she was pretty 👀) this show aside from the acting had one of the best revenge plots in a kdrama! just watching a character realistically hustle his way to reach the top while fighting the corrupt man whose son killed his father was so so satisfying to watch! however, the love triangle in this show was questionable idk what they were trying to do with that but it personally annoyed me! but still i’ll give this show a 7.5/10 because i enjoyed it a lot!

do you like brahms? - kim min jae and park eun bin.. that’s all you need to know about why this is a good kdrama! i’m usually not a big fan of melodramas and everyone knows i prefer rom coms but this show was just so perfectly melo that i loved all the angst and pain we got!! also just watching two introverted people awkwardly fall in love was amazing! the characters story arcs were also handled pretty well with song ah finally learning to speak up for herself and joon young learning to express how he truly feels! but... the love square? was probably the most annoying thing the rest in my opinion was nicely done! i know people had mixed feelings about the ending but i loved that after all the pain joon young and song ah went through they got a happy ending together! 7/10

find me in your memory - okay this show started off very slow and it was confusing at the start but as it progressed everything in the plot started to fall into place! i mean this show really took opposites attract to a new level where the male lead could remember every single detail from his life but the female lead had to forget some of her traumatic memories to help her cope with her life! they were also tied together through a mutual character who was a big part of their lives in a different way! just an interesting melodrama with interesting characters i liked it! and moon ga young... i love you queen!!! 7/10

THE MEDIOCRE KDRAMAS -

more than friends - was the storytelling in this show groundbreaking? no. was the acting decent? yes. also probably the main reason i stuck with this show until the end! i think we can all agree lee soo had the best character development on this show he started off as a bad boy who wore one ear stud to actually becoming a well liked character... who else did it like him? no one. also the chemistry between the mains was 🔥 but the second male lead was so annoying is there a opposite word for second lead syndrome because i had that for sure! i think the best part about this show was the people i watched it with on here... shoutout to the five of us ahsjsj also this show introduced me to a talented actor/singer like ong seong wu (y’all know my kpop knowledge is nonexistent so no i didn’t know he was in a band called wanna one) all in all a predictable show but i had fun watching it so 6.5/10

tale of the nine tailed - i didn’t actually watch this show i watched it through gifs and instagram posts ahsjsjs so am i qualified to talk about my opinion definitely no... will I talk about it anyways yes lmao. lee rang deserved better that’s all goodbye and take care. 5.5/10

start up - probably one of the most awaited opinions. y’all thought this would be in the worst kdramas section but i decided to give this show some rights. the show started off strong, lost it’s way after episode 6 and then the last episode gave me what i wanted so i have mixed feelings. the writing was not the best i think we can all agree, love triangle as a plot device? wow so groundbreaking 🤡 the characters on the other hand... i loved every single one of them i mean ship wars? i don’t know her. the show had a lot of potential that was wasted but we also got some cute moments between the characters so there was really no winning or losing with this show? but in all honesty you can’t put a talented cast together like this and then just decide to give the audience a mediocre plot but the writers did exactly that! i think i can redirect y’all to my ‘crimes this show committed’ post for a in-depth analysis. lastly nam do san was a GOOD and REFRESHING male lead and ji pyeong was also a GOOD and FUN second male lead!!! this show gave me the ugliest ship war ever that i was transported back to my high school tvd days so thank you for that!! but the cast was loveable and all had a lot of chemistry together so here’s a 5/10 maybe that's too generous but... i think the reason why i didn't enjoy watching this show as much was definitely because of the tag on here lmao

THE WORST KDRAMAS -

the king eternal monarch - i miss clowning this show so much. the amount of braincells i lost while trying to understand this plot... i should be compensated by the writers. however, woo do hwan was a treat to look at on a weekly basis... however the writers kept decreasing his screen time even though he had a dual role... make it make sense? and i cannot comment on the plot of this show because i still don’t understand anything? also in my opinion tae eul and lee gon were the most bland couple of 2020, there was no chemistry between them and there was just a random kiss in episode 5 and they randomly said i love you... where was the development? also lee gon was soooo boring and such a one dimensional male lead! literally all the side characters were so much more interesting and the cast was good... but this plot. 2/10

do do sol sol la la sol - i wanna fight the writer who decided that the plot twist on the show would be that jun is a minor? i had no expectations from this show but it looked cute and nonsensical but that plot twist made me run the other way so fast that i never looked back! just because jun is a boy they really thought this would be excused like lmao we all have critical thinking skills???? the clown behaviour. a solid 1/10

record of youth - i hate this show so much. imagine not utilising park so dam who just starred in the biggest oscar winning movie to her full potential. imagine just making her a love interest to park bo gum’s character in the year 2020. i watched it up until episode 6 and i kept waiting for her character to get development... but it never happened so i dropped this show. also this show featured the MOST useless love triangle i have ever seen in my life like what was the point? also park bo gum’s characters family was straight up annoying (minus the grandpa) but they got so much screen time like that should’ve been given to park so dam... also villainising a gay side character for no reason at all in the year 2020? this show was a waste of my time i want the 6 hours i spent watching this back. -100/10

backstreet rookie - i watched one episode of this and literally wanted to rip my eyeballs out of my head. idk what ji chang wook was thinking when he signed this drama i think he lost his ability to read because that's the only reasonable explanation for why he chose to star in such a dumpster fire show! this show had a racist character... had a high schooler kiss an adult... sexist jokes... just the worst things you can think of in a drama... this show had it. i still can’t believe so many people watched this show to the point where it had better ratings than pbio... really made me question everyone’s taste? but sorry can’t relate my taste is excellent so here’s the rating this show actually deserves -1000/10

if you made it this far... thank you for reading. let’s continue to love some kdramas together and get clowned by others in 2021! looking forward to it 😅

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

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IOTA Reviews: Optigami

For the first time this season, we're actually acknowledging what happened at the end of the last season. Of course, it's the thirteenth episode chronologically, so you can tell the writers really wanted to strike while the iron was hot.

Let's get into the ninth (chronologically the thirteenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Optigami.

We start off with Nathalie recounting the events of “Miracle Queen” to Gabriel, where Chloe exposed the identities of the temp heroes, which is kind of odd considering they were both there. Then again, it's entirely possible Gabriel forgot what happened given we're literally halfway through the season chronologically. According to Nathalie, she created a Sentimonster the very next day to spy on the heroes. After a lot of surveillance by the Sentimonster, named Optigami, all Nathalie and Gabriel really found out was that the heroes were just regular teenagers who occasionally got a Miraculous from Ladybug without even learning her identity, all while we learn she continued to give Miraculous out to the heroes despite the risk to their safety.

Okay, a few questions here. First, why the hell didn't Hawkmoth/Shadowmoth or Mayura try something like this from the beginning? It took you two lucking out in finding out the identities of seven heroes to think about spying on your enemies? Second, Mayura created Optigami the next day? Wasn't she in a lot of pain as a result of using the Peacock for a whole season? At least when she created a Sentimonster in the New York special, it was set a vague amount of time after “Miracle Queen”. Third, Ladybug is seriously recruiting the same heroes again after the rules that she imposed onto Chloe? You know, the person who couldn't use the Bee Miraculous again because of the risk to her safety, and ultimately betrayed Ladybug because she hated the rule? Seriously, the video footage shows Ladybug recruiting Ryuko, someone whose identity Shadowmoth already knew before “Miracle Queen”, so this makes even less sense. If Chloe doesn't get her Miraculous after exposing her identity to the whole world, the same should apply to the other heroes too. If they wanted to make Chloe an exception, all they had to do was have Ladybug bench Queen Bee because she didn't trust Chloe in her civilian life. This just makes Ladybug come off as a hypocrite who serves to justify Astruc's warped mentality that Chloe doesn't deserve a Miraculous even though she lost hers for the same reason as the others.

Nathalie calls Optigami a failure, but Gabriel actually uses his brain for once and comes up with a plan to take out all of the temp heroes at once by putting them in a situation where Ladybug is forced to recruit one of them in order to stop an Akuma. He calls Audrey Bourgeois, a major fashion magazine writer and praises her idea to give a monthly award to a fashion icon, and Gabriel says “there's no better introduction than giving it to his son”, so I'm not sure if he told Audrey to give the award to Adrien, or if he already got the award and Gabriel was just capitalizing on the chance.

So we cut to Marinette and Alya hanging out in the former's room, and surprise, surprise, Marinette is gushing over Adrien. It isn't a love story if there's a single scene not talking about the love interest according to Astruc.

Yeah, despite not being on the list of targets, Marinette got a ticket to the award show because the writers weren't sure how else they could work her into the plot. The Kwamis ask if they can come along, forgetting about the fact that they need to be a secret or be with an owner (guessing Marinette learned her lesson after “Furious Fu”). I'm starting to think I was a little too harsh on Master Fu considering he managed to put up with these godlike idiots for 176 years.

Alya and Trixx, the Fox Kwami, bring up a decent point that now that Alya knows she's Ladybug, she can take a more active role in helping her as Rena Rouge if she had the Fox Miraculous full-time, while Marinette points out the fact that it's too risky for anyone but her to hand out Miraculous. This is brief, but I like this little disagreement here. While I think Marinette could have brought up the fact that Shadowmoth knows Alya's identity in her argument, both sides still make a good point, and this will come into play later on, for better or for worse.

So Marinette and Alya head out to the award party where they meet up with Adrien, Kagami, Luka, Kim, Max, and Nino, with Alya doing a secret handshake with him that I'm sure won't be important later on. We also get a hilarious scene of Alya once again trying to force Marinette into an elevator with Adrien with the explicit intent to have her get closet to Adrien, while she unsurprisingly freaks out, leading to some brief Unfunny Marinette Slapstick.

So much for Marinette growing after the second umbrella scene.

Optigami is set up, and Shadowmoth creates a Sentimonster of the man hosting the award ceremony, and takes the opportunity to do what we've all wanted to do since Audrey's first appearance in late 2018.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but thank you, Gabriel Agreste. You're the real MVP of this episode.

So Shadowmoth sends out an Akuma to akumatize Audrey into his “magnum opus”, Style Queen, once again (Audrey is also implied to be willingly akumatized like Chloe in “Queen Banana”). And since the titular Sentimonster plays a big role in Shadowmoth's plan this episode, I think now's a good time to talk about Optigami.

Optigami has a simple design, a butterfly colored like Mayura, but I like the role it plays. It has the power to hide in any solid object and observe the environment like a camera Nathalie watches, all while Style Queen chases after the temp heroes and turns them into piles of gold dust. Whether that's because she's been powered up by Shadowmoth or because the animators can't afford to create new models of the characters as gold statues isn't clear. It still really shows the writers are taking advantage of the concept of Sentimonsters as support for Akumas outside of more muscle.

So Kagami tries to distract Style Queen while Adrien runs, and she is the first to be taken out. Chloe then tells Style Queen where Ladybug went, but she gets targeted because she laughed at her mother earlier, and then tries to use Zoe as a human shield before getting blasted. Oh, thank God. I thought Chloe was going to appear in an episode where the writers didn't remind the audience how much of a terrible person she is and anyone who supports her is just as bad.

Marinette and Adrien both run off to transform, but get into the same elevator together, which then gets broken thanks to Style Queen's interference. This leads to an interesting setup where neither of them can transform and hope their partner will save them, leading to some real tension. There's also thankfully little to no stammering from Marinette in these scenes. It's almost like the writers only have her struggle to talk with Adrien so they don't actually have to write scenes like this. Alya briefly teases Marinette for saying she's stuck in an elevator with Adrien before realizing she's trapped in an elevator with a civilian and can't transform.

After Max and Luka get taken out, Marinette calls a phone she set up near the Miracle Ball to call the Kwamis, pretending to talk to the fire department and secretly tells them to send Kaalki to help her, but Adrien sees Optigami spying on them in the elevator, so Marinette is forced to hang up. Marinette and Adrien are about to transform and reveal themselves to each other, but because neither of them are on the list and because Shadowmoth felt like actually being a decent father today, Optigami retreats with Style Queen, who then takes out Kim, leaving only Alya and Nino left.

Marinette tells Alya to call the Kwamis, but while she does so, she gets a call from Nino, who is soon taken out by Style Queen and... is replaced... by an... evil... doppelganger... The eighth one in four seasons...

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The only question I have is how did Shadowmoth create two Sentimonsters in the same day? Did he recharge offscreen? Either way, he sends “Sentinino” after Alya to lure her out, but Kaalki arrives and portals her to Marinette's room, leading to the funniest joke of the episode.

Alya takes the Fox Miraculous and transforms into Rena Rouge and creates an illusion of Ladybug to distract Style Queen while she meets up with Marinette with the Bee Miraculous, but she decides to take the Turtle Miraculous even though Marinette didn't tell her to just to be safe.

Rena Rouge meets up with Sentinino and gives him the Turtle, alerting Shadowmoth to the fact that Alya may have a bigger role than he anticipated. Sentinino transforms into Carapace (or would a more accurate term be Sentipace?) while Optigami hides in the Turtle Miraculous, leading to another interesting conflict. If Style Queen gets Ladybug's Miraculous, Shadowmoth wins, but even if Ladybug wins, Sentipace can swoop in and steal Ladybug's Miraculous when her guard is down. This is David Xanatos levels of planning here.

Rena Rouge escorts Adrien out of the elevator via one of Kaalki's portals, and Marinette transforms into Ladybug before unifying with the Bee Miraculous into Ladybee.

Ignoring the creepy look on her face, I think Ladybee has a pretty good design. I think the black and gold go well with her suit, and the ponytail with the gold streaks is a nice touch. I'm not sure if it's referencing Queen Bee's design, but I like it, as well as the slight antennae on her head. I still prefer Dragonbug's design, but I can see why so many fans love this one too.

Ladybee is surprised Sentipace is there, but accepts his help anyway. Ladybee summons her Lucky Charm, a compact mirror, but when looking around, she doesn't see how to use the Lucky Charm with Sentipace as he isn't highlighted in her vision like certain objects/heroes that play a part in stopping an Akuma. Ladybee uses Venom, and with Sentipace's Shelter, manages to tank Style Queen's blasts and stun her before de-evilizing her.

Cat Noir tries to cataclysm the golden shield Style Queen placed around the building, but shows up too late, being surprised at the presence of Rena Rouge and Sentipace. He jokes about it, but this will somewhat come into play in future episodes.

Ladybug prepares to throw the compact mirror to use Miraculous Ladybug and fix the damage, but through the mirror, sees Nino fail to do the secret handshake with Alya. Ladybug pulls a John McClane and swings off the top of the building and tells Cat Noir to use his Cataclysm to destroy the Turtle Miraculous, releasing Optigami, and giving Nathalie a major headache. Shadowmoth undoes the creations of Optigami and Sentinino and retreats.

Alya is naturally upset that she screwed up and almost let Shadowmoth find out Ladybug's identity, but then, well...

Like with “Gang of Secrets”, I'm very mixed on this ending. Both Alya and Marinette make good points here. Alya knows she almost let Shadowmoth win, but Marinette points out how invaluable Alya was today and realizes how helpless she was doing a lot of things on her own. Even if Alya didn't give the Turtle Miraculous to Sentinino, Marinette still had to face the possibility of revealing herself to Adrien. Like it or not, she needs someone to help her more, and Alya is the only one able to fill that position.

The problem I have is that because of how Marinette phrases that sentence, it comes off like Alya is being rewarded for what happened this episode. I get she helped, but I just find it weird that Marinette doesn't feel a little uncomfortable trusting Alya more after going behind her back and almost screwing up the entire mission in the process. I think the scene could have worked if Marinette was a little more stern towards Alya and realized she had no choice but to give her the Fox, creating a little tension between the two as a result.

So the episode ends with a post-credits scene where Gabriel and Nathalie realize they need to focus more attention onto Alya due to her connection to Ladybug.

But yeah, this was honestly a really good episode. It's become my favorite this season.

The plot has a fair amount of suspense and tension, most of it derived from the very clever plan Shadowmoth has this time, taking full advantage of the repaired Peacock in order to make what was already a very powerful Akuma even more of a threat. There were jokes, but unlike in other episodes that focus on humiliating Marinette or interrupting the tension, they're well-placed. The same goes for the elevator scene. The writers easily could have made Marinette stammer all of her words around Adrien, but for once, they realized that they needed to have her actually interact with him in order to maintain the tension of the episode.

Granted, there are still some flaws, like Marinette really had no reason to be invited to the award ceremony. All they really had to do was have Adrien invite her himself, which would justify her eager reaction at the beginning. It's also strange that nobody brings up the fact that all of Adrien's friends who were invited were temp heroes. I've already gone over the problem with timeline at the beginning as well as the ending and I plan to talk about Rena Rouge's partnership with Ladybug next time.

Overall, this was still a really good episode. Even the evil doppelganger plotline had an interesting twist to it. What's the next episode about again? What? Another evil doppelganger of Nino?

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liddolwhynot2000 · 3 years

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Falling

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Summary: Cause Levi can't help falling in love with you.

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Pairing: Levi Ackerman X Reader

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Levi sat on a log, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together, staring at nothing in particular. The sun was setting, but he hardly cared to watch it, too lost in thought.

When Kenny had taken him under his wing all those years ago, he had taught Levi plenty of things. How to use a knife, how to make ‘friends’. Some lessons he preferred to forget, while others he latched on to as a way of life. There was one lesson in particular that he would spend the rest of his life following, almost religiously.

Violence is always the answer.

Hungry? Threaten someone into giving you food. Being held at gun point? Kick the crap out of them. Not getting the answers you want? Torture. Rip out their nails. Break their back.

That was the guideline for surviving in the underground. Dominate everyone using brute force. Make a reputation so fierce that only senseless morons would challenge you. Admittedly, it had worked well for him. He had become the top dog in that dreary, dark hell. Able to eat three times a day, wear decent clothes. He, Farlan and Isabel had survived well for a good amount of time. That is, until they had their first taste of sunlight.

In hindsight, taking that mission had been a foolish mistake. He had lost his cherished friends, and while he now got along with his cormades, it just wasn’t the same. Other parts of his life, however, continued to remain as before.

The surface may have lacked the unhinged lawlessness of the underground, but Levi still utilized his usual methods of living, albeit more legally.

In his years in the military, he had used his superior physical strength to instill fear and discipline. Cadets, high ranking members of the military, even the Queen often cowered before him in fear. Any other man would enjoy the thrill of it, reducing the most powerful people in his country into meek versions of themselves, unable to properly look him in the eye.

And he did. A part of him would always be smug about it, solely because underground filth like him, who had been expected to waste away his life, had managed to climb to a position at the top that no else held.

But it was tiring now. He had become so.. lonely. Everyone he had let into his heart left him. His sweet mother, crazy Kenny, his siblings in all but blood, Farlan and Isabel. Here he was, surprisingly wealthy and popular, but missing his precious people.

Alas, he would never let someone in like that again. The rest of his life was destined to be spent alone, threatening everyone in hearing range and dying on the battlefield. And, with a sigh, he accepted this miserable fate.

What he didn’t know was that meeting you would lead to him burning down his self established fate to ashes and dust, with his very own hands.

____________________________________

Why you had even thought about approaching him was incredulous, Levi mused to himself. An exhausted soldier sitting in the dark of a room, staring mindlessly at the table. He had showed no expression on his face but still, normal people would have been scared off just at the sight of him. You weren’t, and that’s how the two of you met.

You had made him some nice herbal tea and brought it to him. Giving him some plain biscuits along with the beverage. He had eyed you suspiciously, not willing to entertain you with even a thank you. Your intentions had been unclear to him at the time.

What was a beautiful woman like you, even Levi privately admitted to double taking at the sight of you, doing offering tea to him of all people. Kindness didn’t exist in people, he had never seen it in anyone besides his mother and Isabel. So you probably had a hidden motive. Maybe you needed a favour? Or were trying to integrate yourself in with the higher ups for better pay? Or maybe one of those dumb admirers that thought they could change him?

Once you left, after giving him another smile and telling him you hoped he would enjoy the tea, he decided to dismiss all thoughts of you. He wouldn’t help you with shit.

He did enjoy the tea though.

____________________________________

For the next two months, he began seeing you everyday. Not by choice, he told himself. He had accidentally made it a habit to sit in that room, all by himself, everyday, at the exact same time.

And everyday, without fail, you would bring him tea and biscuits. Sometimes there was a cake slice, or cookies, or even a nice meal, like rice with boiled vegetables.

He learned about you in that time. Your name, for one, which sounded oddly pleasing on his tongue. You were a garrison cook, tasked with making meals for the garrison engineers, whose office had been established right next to the Survey Corps headquarters. It explained why he kept seeing you everyday. A part of him had been strangley thrilled to hear that, as if the idea of seeing you everyday was something he actually wanted.

You never flinched around him or stuck around to talk to him for too long. Bringing him his tea with that sweet smile, asking about his day, wishing him well. You never made a face or took his obvious reluctance to talk to heart. His short answers and grunts, his crass language, they all had no effect on you. It was clear you really wanted nothing from him. No favours, no urge to get close. You were just being… kind.

And as someone who had hardly experienced genuine kindness in his life, he would let you continue. Besides, it was the first time someone was behaving around him without Levi having to force them. It was too refreshing for him to stop.

____________________________________

Levi eyed the tray in front of him warily. There was a cup of steaming tea, some sugar cubes he could add, a few biscuits and two sandwiches. He hadn’t touched it yet, even though he knew it would taste amazing, much like everything else you made. But he was rather preoccupied, unable to make sense of what he was feeling.

You hadn’t showed up today. He had waited, expecting that knock on the door, your light footsteps as you entered the room, your cheery voice to greet him. Instead, it had been another cook. Levi had scowled as the girl had blushed and stuttered around him, putting the tray on the table, not quite able to talk to him, or look him in the eye.

‘C-captain I was told to give this to you-’

His irritation had shot up through the roof and with his usual impatience, he snarled at the girl, asking for your whereabouts. Initially, he got no solid response out of her, because she didn’t know. But in the end, as she made to leave, terrified beyond belief of him, she said something that had his heart inexplicably stopping.

‘Sh-she might be o-on a date. That’s why- why she didn’t bring it today. I think’

Now here he was, eyeing the delicious spread infront of him. Except he didn’t have much of an appetite. His mind was jumbled up, unable to comprehend why he felt so.. Hurt?

Were you actually out on a date right now? Allowing some shitty lowlife to woe you? He felt resentful, unsure of himself. It shouldn’t matter to him. It wouldn’t matter to him. He refused to allow it to.

With a grimace, he put his feelings aside and began eating. He knew better then to waste good food.

____________________________________

The next day, when you came with the tray, you told him you had gone to visit your cousin who had given birth to a baby girl. The relief he had felt, knowing that you hadn’t been making goofing off with some hormonal piece of shit, had stunned him. He continued to suprise himself, by behaving like he had been possessed. As evidenced by how before you could leave, his hand shot out to grab your wrist and the words escaped his mouth before he could stop them.

‘Oi, stay. Let’s…eat together. ’

Your eyes had widened, no doubt shocked that he actually wanted you around. With a tentative smile, you nodded in agreement, taking the seat next to him. You carried the conversation, with him silently listening and interjecting his own opinion. Somehow, he had even managed to make you giggle, causing a warmth to spread in his chest. Before the two of you knew it, the tray had been emptied of its contents, yet neither of you made to leave for at least an hour more.

Later, while sitting in his chair, preparing to sleep, Levi thought back to when he had held your wrist. He marvelled at how soft and delicate you had felt in his grasp, wondering what it would feel like to have those arms hold him. Would you feel just as soft, pressed up against him? He could tell you would be gentle, he knew you possessed no mean or rough bone in your body.

Fantasising about you, and yearning to feel more of you, he drifted off to sleep.

____________________________________

He hated being on sick leave. Abhorred it. He felt useless, couldn’t do shit. Yet here he was, on a one month leave and it was all becuase of his dumbass titan brat.

Eren had been practicing hardening in his titan form, but had positioned himself wrong. He had gotten out of the crystal carcass too soon, and the damn thing had toppled over the entire crowd of soldiers standing near by. Which included him. Most had made a get away with their gear, but Erwin, having only one arm, hadn’t been fast enough. Leading to Levi having to save him in the nick of time. And fracturing his left arm and spraining his right leg.

The doctor had banned him from strenuous activity and had made it clear that he would have to spend at least a month taking it extremely easy. His Ackerman bloodline meant that, unlike other normal people, he would be completely okay within a month.

That hadn’t been enough to stop Levi from grumbing or threatening Erwin or calling the doctor an old hag. Once his fury had partially subsdided, he grudgingly accepted that he needed the rest.

He had thought of going to live at the modest house he owned, which was near headquarters. It had been a gift from the Queen, for his part in taking down Zeke Yeager. The new beast titan shifter had gained all his memories and had been instrumental in them winning the war against Marley. Last he checked, Connie had been appointed to the Northern branch, his power better utilised there in case of attacks from behind.

Erwin hadn’t allowed him to leave, insisting he had no one to take care of him and that he would probably start doing push ups after resting for a day. Which was true. Damn that bastard for knowing him so well.

So here he was, stuck in his room, waiting on the annoying brats to give him food three times a day. There was a knock on the door, probably a soldier with his breakfast, having no idea they were about to be on the recieving end of his ire. And God help Eren if he was dumb enough to be standing out that door. He called them in, only to freeze at the sight.

There you stood, that precious smile on your face, holding a tray of food in one hand and a basket. He couldn’t care less about anything else, all he could focus on was the fact that you were standing infront of him. He felt enchanted, he hadn’t seen you the entire week he had been forced to spend at the hospital.

I missed her, Levi realized.

‘Good Morning Levi!…’

You began chattering, asking for his well being, handing him the tray of food. You had brought him a care package full of goodies, which included lemon cookies, his favorite flavour.

‘Why are you here?’

The question had been asked with his usual bland tone, but there was an emotion behind it only he could identify. There was an excitement welling up in him, as though he knew the answer already.

When you told him you had heard about his injury and had wanted to visit him, he had felt pleased and touched. When you continued on and told him that you had offered Erwin to personally take care of him with your usual duties, so that all the other soldiers wouldn’t have to divide the work between them, Levi was stunned.

’.. Since we’re friends, I figured this way I could help you out and.. ’

Levi took a sip of his broth, which tasted far better then the stale soup the kitchen usually served, watching you move around his room. Anyone else would have been physically hauled and thrown out the window by now, doctors orders be damned. Yet he felt okay with you neatly folding his blanket, straightening out things that he hadn’t been able to because of his injury, comfortably taking charge of his room.

For a brief moment, he saw a vision of you taking care of him like this in his house, as his wife.

As you sat before him, drawing him into conversation, Levi decided that having the month off wasn’t going to be as miserable as thought it would be.

And he was right.

Seeing you three times a day, enjoying meals with you, you fussing over him because you caught him doing pull ups, your bell like laughter that rang in his ears long after you went back to work, it all made him feel more then he could ever define.

Remembering you bandaging his arms everyday, your hands gentle, expression sympathetic as you shyly avoided staring at his bare, muscular chest, Levi decided he would have to acknowledge what he was feeling after all.

____________________________________

Love.

He was in love with you.

Levi leaned into his chair, setting down the pen had had been writing with. The realization had struck him suddenly and he needed to process it. He had never felt so alive, so amazed.

It had been a year of knowing you, and without even trying, you had made him fall in love with your very existence.

He cherished any moment of time he could spend with you, and you often haunted his thoughts when he couldn’t see you. You were the one he wanted to see first after getting back from a mission, becuase he knew if anyone gave a fuck about him being alive, it was you.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to smile, remembering how you had hugged him that one time. He had seen you straight after a deadly battle, covered in blood and small wounds. You had been so concerned, grabbing him by the hand, dragging him to his room.

He recalled how you had been applying alcohol on the injury at the corner of his mouth, causing him to hiss in pain. Frowning, you had applied it more carefully, then brought your mouth closer and lightly blowed air on the wound to reduce the sting. You had either been too caught up in worrying about him or had pretended not to notice, but his eyes had defintiely darkened at having you in such close proximity. Your lips only inches away from his, a hand resting on his shoulder, it had been an effort to not tug on your wrist and seat you in his lap and starting something he had been craving to. Once you had finished helping him and had decided he was in better condition, you had hugged him, a moment he could never forget.

You were shorter then him, so your head rested on his chest as your arms wrapped wrapped around his back. His arms had a mind of their own, immediately taking the oppurtunity to rest on the small of your waist.

Breathing in your scent, burying his nose in your hair, he had savoured the moment. When you pulled away from him, he had frowned, not liking the tears welling up in your eyes.

‘N-never be so reckless again! I got so worried and..’

You had buried yourself in his arms again, silently crying, berating him for being so careless. Your soft form had been pressed against his rough stature, he had never had someone be so gentle with him, care about him this much.

Back in the underground, doctors often had to be threatened into treating him. He had always used force, but there was no need to use any on you. There never had been. And hopefully, there never would be.

Knock knock

Startled, he snapped out of his day dreaming, chuckling to himself. To think he had gotten so lost in his memories with you..you really had become his everything

Expression neutral, he regained himself and called the soldier in.

Now, if only he could somehow tell you.

____________________________________

A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed this! Maybe I should do a part 2? For the confession? Does anyone want that? Constructive criticism is always welcome. My asks are open so pls send requests. Till next time!

#Snk #Levi ackerman #Levi aot #Reader #Levi x reader #Levi/reader #Fluff #Levi ackerman x reader #Aot

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usermoreid · 3 years

Text

Everything Means Nothing (If I Ain't Got You)

Fic Week Day One: Favourite Character/Pairing

His ears rang as bullet after bullet flew past him, embedding themselves into the walls and floor, barely missing him as one grazed his ear and another landed only a few inches away from his knee. Without thinking, his arm instinctively shot out, wrapping around the body next to him and holding them in a tight grip as he rushed towards the door, using his own body as a shield against the rain of bullets still pouring down on them. It was mostly due to his years of training and experience that he made it as close to the door as he had but even with luck on his side, it was only a foot away from the exit that a bullet finally found its target.

With a pained cry, he shoved the girl forward, paying no mind to gentleness as ripples of agony tore through him. Her knees connected with the hard floor before a hand grasped her arm and pulled her out of the line of fire, tugging her up and dragging her away as quickly as possible. A different arm stretched out in front of him, catching him hardly a moment before he collapsed, the pain of the bullet landing in his back pulling him down faster than gravity ever could.

A warm body pressing against his own was the last thing he was aware of before everything became a blur of colours and vague shapes that he didn't care to distinguish. He was pushed every which way, less than willingly giving up control of his body, until he was suddenly horizontal despite having no memory of lying down. He tried to force his focus to turn to the voices around him but he quickly gave up, each word amalgamating into a cacophony of grotesque sounds that he eventually began fighting against, attempting to cover his ears but finding that his arms were too heavy to lift. It was a blessing when everything finally faded to darkness.

The repetitive beeping of what he assumed was his alarm was playing incessantly in his ear, shrill and loud and feeling as though it was slicing directly into his brain. He tried to force himself to roll over, needing to shut off the sound before it carved a permanent place into his skull, but he discovered that he couldn’t so much as twitch a finger, no matter how much he tried. A slight panic rushed through him, lighting his veins with fear as case after case flooded his head, reminders of where he could be and what could’ve happened to make him this way. Knowing that he needed to remain as calm and collected as possible in order to figure out his situation, he pushed them down, focusing instead on what to do next.

It took a few seconds longer than normal to shuffle through his thoughts - God, he wanted to smash that alarm to pieces - but before long, he realised that the next logical step would be to open his eyes and assess the situation before jumping to the worst conclusions possible. The panic from before fought to overthrow him when his eyelids seemed to be almost glued shut but he repressed it further, shoving it to the very back of his mind until there was no way he could reach it.

Suddenly the darkness seemed much less like a blessing and more of a curse that he couldn't break free from as he tried again and again to peel open his eyes to no avail, his breathing picking up pace the longer he was stuck. He needed to calm down. He needed to focus. He needed to assess the situation. Okay, he thought to himself, if I can’t see and I can’t move, what else do I do? I feel.

He centred every bit of his attention on his fingers, trying with as much effort as he could muster to figure out what he was lying on. It was soft, he noticed. Slightly scratchy but not altogether uncomfortable. Vaguely familiar, as was the smell - he’d definitely been here before. His own bed, possibly? No, not quite that familiar. A friend’s house? If it was, he didn’t know whose.

He clenched his jaw, almost resigned to being trapped in never-ending nothingness until he realised what he had just done. He’d clenched his jaw. He’d moved. Only the slightest amount, but he’d moved nonetheless. A spark of hope flickered inside of him and he didn’t put it out - if he was able to move his jaw, perhaps it wouldn’t be long until he could move his hand or open his eyes and finally find out where he is. The hope was a good thing. The hope would wake him up.

With a new found sense of determination, he attempted to move his hand. Just a little, he thought, just a twitch would be enough. He tried again and again, practically shouting at himself inside his head as the hope fought to stay alight and not dwindle. One more try. Just one more. His heart was beating so hard he was sure it could be heard outside of his chest and if the rest of his body could be felt, he was sure there’d be sweat building on it. It was as the disappointment was beginning to set in that he finally felt it - the smallest of movements. His index finger raised ever so minutely before immediately dropping back down.

The joy building inside him almost threatened to burst, he didn’t know what to do with it all. Filled with adrenaline, he pushed further. Each and every fibre of his being was concentrated on his hand until eventually he felt it again; both his index and middle finger twitched, enough that they stayed elevated for at least an entire second. Muffled voices attempted to force their way through the thick blanket of darkness covering him but he wasn’t able to make out the words. Initially that worried him, a sudden intense ball of anxiety forming at the bottom of his stomach. Random voices surrounding him when he couldn’t move; when he couldn’t see? There was no way that was anything but trouble. But he pushed on. He was so close to gaining the control of his body back, he could feel it. He had to keep going.

Disregarding the voices that had since quietened, another attempt was made, this time even more successful than the last. His whole hand slightly flexed, and he was able to wiggle his fingers a small amount. The voices returned even louder than before they had faded, one speaking over the rest. Without warning, an unexpected pressure seized his hand.

Fight or flight suddenly activated, he fought to free himself. Whoever had him had clearly noticed his movement and was trying to restrain him, or possibly even drug him into unconsciousness. His hand curled up into a fist, preparing to throw a punch before he even knew who he’d be facing. He didn’t care who it was or how many of them were around him; all he knew was that he wouldn’t be going down as easily as they hoped.

With as much strength as he could gather in his sluggish state, he swung. His eyes still hadn’t opened but he felt the connection; heard the thud of skin hitting skin. That first contact was all the fuel he needed, both hands coming up and viciously flying through the air, striking anything close enough. Something cold pressed against his skin - a hand, he realised - and he didn’t give it a second thought before aiming in that direction.

He didn’t stop thrashing until everything went dark once again, but only after his eyes briefly opened and he caught a glimpse of the white ceiling directly above him.

--------------

The next time he regained consciousness, there was significantly less of a struggle. His eyes slowly fluttered open, seeing only a blur of white until he registered that he was facing a tiled ceiling. He blinked slowly at it, unable to wade through the fog that was his thoughts enough to make sense of where he was. His eyes drifted shut as he took a deep breath and cast his mind back to the last thing he could remember.

They’d been called out for a case, he knew. Women were being abducted and found three days later, their bodies beaten horrendously. The team had worked the case for several days before a solid lead was finally found, but only after another victim had been taken. They were racing against the clock to find her, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she suffered the same fate as those before her. He was the first to reach the warehouse. He was aware that protocol dictated he stay outside and wait for backup but when a scream erupted into the otherwise silent air, he rushed in, gun ready to fire and his bullet-proof vest wrapped securely around him.

Everything that happened after was too vague to work out - everything but the throbbing pain that had spread throughout him like a wildfire. He’d been injured in some way. So where was he now?

That was the moment he remembered. The darkness. The paralysis. The hands touching him.

A sharp breath was taken in as his eyes flung open, forgetting his injury as he tried to sit up but quickly being reminded of it as the pain erupted once again and he fell back to the bed. A weak moan fell from his lips as his eyes slammed shut, the world around him swaying and spinning even after he was shielded from the bright lights by the darkness of his eyelids. A soft hand came to gently rest against his forearm and for reasons unbeknownst to him, he didn’t move it away. The blood rushing to his ears had drowned out the sound around him but now as his heart beat was beginning to slow down to a less concerning pace, the faint hush of a voice whispering soothing words to him was heard.

“It’s alright,” the voice said. “You’re alright. You’re in the hospital. You’re safe. You’re okay. I’m here with you.”

Ever so slowly, he began to calm down. The pain was no longer unbearable; the panic was no longer overwhelming. He was safe, the voice had said, and he trusted the voice. Eventually his breathing evened out and the dizzying world slowed to a stop, and so he opened his eyes to take in the room around him, though the bright lights he was immediately greeted with made that difficult. His squinting must have made his discomfort obvious as only a moment later, the hand on his arm disappeared, only to reappear once the light had been turned off.

The room was bathed only in the evening sunlight from the windows and it helped tremendously. No longer struggling against the light, his eyes opened wider and he looked at the man in front of him. Though everything was still blurry, he could still tell who it was.

“Spencer,” he breathed out.

A gentle smile was sent his way. “Hi, Derek.”

“What- what happened?”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, whether it was in concern or annoyance Derek couldn’t tell. “The unsub shot you. Don’t you remember?”

He sighed, and Spencer began lightly rubbing his hand back and forth on Derek’s arm. “I remember leaving for the warehouse but nothing much after. Did we find Abigail?”

“We did. You saved her.”

This time his sigh was in relief. “Good, I’m glad to hear that.”

“And how are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling?” Derek’s eyes filled with mirth. “I feel like I just got shot.”

Spencer rolled his eyes jokingly. “You’ve been shot before, you can deal with it.”

“Ouch, pretty boy. You’re a doctor, you should be nursing me back to health.”

“For once, I’m glad I’m not actually a medical doctor. I’m not sure I could take having someone like you as a patient.”

“Someone like me?” Derek repeated, smirking. “Someone with dashing good looks and the sense of humour to match?”

“Someone who gets himself into so much unnecessary danger as if he has some sort of death wish.”

The sudden seriousness in Spencer’s voice made him pause, smirk falling off his face as he tried to catch up with the unexpected topic change. He couldn’t tell if Spencer was still playing along with the joke or if he was genuinely upset. “I’ll be honest with you here - I have no idea how to respond to that.”

It was Spencer’s turn to sigh, the corner of his mouth turning downward as his hand stopped stroking Derek’s arm and remained still. “You could’ve died today, Derek.”

“Spencer,” Derek started, tone conveying his confusion, “we have dangerous jobs. Any of us could die anytime we go on a case. Any of us could die even just walking out of our houses. You know this.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened noticeably, his voice quietening down into a low sound that Derek strained to hear. “I know that we have an above average chance of death compared to most regular jobs, but that doesn’t mean you have to make that chance any more likely than it already is.”

“Is this about me not waiting for backup? Spencer, I heard her scream. I wasn’t just going to leave her there. And we got her, didn’t we? Abigail is safe and sound. I don’t regret my decision to go in.”

“I’m not-” Spencer made a small distressed noise before restarting. “I’m not asking you to regret your choice. I’m asking you to be more careful the next time another choice like this comes up.”

“Be more careful?” He repeated. “That’s pretty rich coming from you. We both know you would’ve done the exact same thing. At least I had the common sense to not take my vest off.”

Spencer turned away, drawing his hand back and running it through his hair before placing it in his lap. “It doesn’t matter what I would’ve done. We’re not talking about me.”

“And why not? You’re always rushing in and trying to save the day. You’ve gotten hurt on the job more often than anybody I know.”

Their eyes met, a fire behind Spencer’s that Derek had never seen. "I'm not important in this situation. You need to be careful."

"I'm an FBI agent, I'm as careful as I can possibly be."

"That’s not good enough! You got hurt today, Derek, but you survived. You might not be so lucky next time."

"That's a risk we signed up for when we joined the FBI." They stared at each other for a few seconds, time passing slower than humanly possible until Derek lightly shook his head. "Why are you lecturing me on being safe? This could've happened to any of us."

Spencer was silent for long enough that Derek thought he was going to just ignore the question, but eventually he answered. "Because people need you. Your family needs you." He opened his mouth but instantly closed it again. "The team needs you."

Once again, silence filled the room.

"I don't know what you expect me to say here, Spencer. I'm just doing my job. It's a dangerous job, but it's mine."

"I know it's a dangerous job, but- but-" His words seemed to be caught in his throat.

"But what?"

"But you don't understand how terrifying it is!" Spencer suddenly burst out, much louder than he had been. The volume didn't help Derek's steadily building headache but he didn't say anything, half shocked into silence by Spencer's outburst and half convinced that if he spoke, Spencer would never say what he needed to say. "You don't understand what it's like to watch you go out in the field, knowing that this case could be your last. I know that you can do your job but it doesn't stop this fear from grabbing hold of me every time you leave for an unsub and refusing to let me go until I see you again. You're more than capable of doing your job, Derek, but I don't know how capable I am of watching you walk out that door one more time."

Derek blinked at him, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. All he'd ever wanted was to hear that his feelings - the desire, the affection, the terror, the love - were mutual, but he’d given up. He'd accepted that he'd have to move on; that Spencer would never feel the same way about him. He tried to push down the hope rising in him, knowing that this might not be the confession it sounded like, but it refused to be quenched.

"Why is it different with me? Why don't you act like this with Emily? Or JJ?" He asked. His heart was racing, the words he so desperately wanted to admit were at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't speak them aloud. Not yet. Not until he knew it was reciprocated.

"Because I'm in love with you, God damnit!"

His eyes stretched impossibly wide, clearly shocked at himself for the outburst he presumably hadn't planned on saying. Derek froze, every atom in his body igniting with so much joy but so much panic that he couldn't utter a single word. The lack of an answer must have made Spencer uneasy, Derek realised, as words tumbled out of his mouth faster than he could process.

"I'm sorry, that was probably- I shouldn't have- I don't- you don't have to reply to that. I should just go."

It wasn't until Spencer was halfway out of his seat that Derek reacted, a hand rushing forward to grab that of the man in front of him. Spencer stopped when he felt the fingers wrapping around his own, freezing momentarily before slowly turning back around without removing his hand.

"I do understand," Derek confessed, watching the way Spencer's eyes widened ever so slightly. "You think I don't feel that same exact way about you? Every time you go to a takedown and talk to the unsub, it takes every part of me to hold myself back from running after you. The only thing that stops me is the fact that I know you can do your job."

The bobbing of Spencer's Adam's apple was visible as he gulped, looking into Derek's eyes as if he would find the words he wanted to say within them. The seconds stretched on until one of them finally found the courage to speak.

"Derek, I'm not- you know I'm not good at this. I think there's something in between the lines of that and I'm really sincerely hoping that there is and I'm not just making it up but I can't tell if it's me imagining it or if you're genuinely saying what I think you're saying and if you're not saying that then this is going to be really embarrassing and I don't-"

"Spencer," he interrupted, shaking his head fondly before taking a breath, "you're right. I'm…" Derek paused, a sudden fear taking over him. He looked into Spencer's eyes, seeing the anticipation and excitement that was in them. Spencer must have sensed his trepidation as he placed his hand back where it was before, resting gently on Derek's forearm. The instance their skin touched, the anxiety calmed. He breathed in deeply once more and smiled softly at him. "I'm in love with you."

The look in Spencer's eyes was something that Derek knew he would never forget even if he never saw it again, though he would do his absolute best to recreate it any chance he was given. The glint of happiness made his eyes shine brighter and the slight disbelief made them open wider, showing Derek even more of that colour that had long ago become his favourite.

"You mean that?" Spencer asked softly.

"Of course I do," he replied at the same volume. "How could I ever meet somebody like you and not instantly fall in love?"

Spencer's face split into a grin, unshed tears making an appearance at his waterline as he sat back down in his seat. "You're so cheesy."

"Cheesy is a good thing, pretty boy. Everybody loves cheesy."

His smile dropped into a mocking seriousness. "I'm lactose intolerant."

"Oh, you are?" He laughed, receiving a mirthful 'mhm' in confirmation. "Well, I guess you're really gonna have to figure something out because you're about to get a whole lot more cheesiness in your life."

The hand on Derek's forearm drifted down towards his wrist, the light touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. Their fingers interlaced before Spencer delicately squeezed. He looked up at Derek with such a tender look on his face that Derek envied Spencer's superior memory, if only to commit just this one scene to a permanent place in his brain.

"I think I can definitely figure something out." He said. "Just for you."

"I quite like the sound of that." For a moment they simply smiled at each other, Derek's thumb stroking the back of the hand that was in his before he noticed something now that his vision had cleared. His other hand raised, cupping the face looking down at him. "What's this?" He asked, referring to the red mark staining Spencer's skin at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, that's, um…" Spencer's own hand lifted, resting on top of Derek's. "You probably don't remember the first time you kind of woke up, do you? You freaked out a little."

"I remember," Derek said quietly. "I did that?"

"You did, but it really does look worse than it is. You know I bruise easily. It doesn't hurt at all, it was pretty much just a light slap."

Derek sighed, knowing that Spencer was telling the truth but not liking it anyway. "Still, I'm really sorry."

"Well, there is one way you could make it up to me." Derek felt the small smirk stretching the skin beneath his hand.

"Oh? And how's that?"

Spencer's eyebrows raised slightly as the smirk grew wider. "Kiss it better?"

A grin found its way to Derek's face. "Is that the doctor's orders?"

Spencer nodded, pretending to be serious. "Absolutely, it is. It's the only cure actually."

Derek hummed. "Well, if the doctor says so."

He leaned forwards and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Spencer's mouth, looking into Spencer's eyes as he pulled back slightly, barely an inch between them. He watched as they flickered shut, immediately missing the brown and gold. Pressing forward again, he finally did what he had wanted to for years.

When their lips touched, there were no fireworks, no sparks, but there was definitely something. Something that filled his entire body, made his nerves light up and his skin feel as though it was on fire in the most pleasant way possible.

He wanted to kiss Spencer forever, and he intended to do just that.

#nobody be mean to me for this i havent posted writing in forever and i am fragile #i was going to include the pairing at the top of the post but then i was like. make them guess. see how long it takes them. see how obvious #but yeah hope u enjoy<3 #posting this on archive once i get an actual phone bc im not trying to work that site on my tablet #and there is no way im opening it on my sisters school laptop #cmficweek #moreid

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aitarose · 3 years

Text

AKAIBARA (T.KUROO) pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

synopsis: he was everything, her entire world. y/n didn’t know love without kuroo, but she also didn’t know if he knew any love for her—any love at all.

word count: 5.6k

genre: hanahaki au, unrequited love, mutual pining, fluff, angst

warnings: blood, mentions of death, terminal illness?

notes: this is for my muse, lina-chan, since she’s my love—and i catered y/n to her exact personality traits..so you’re welcome loser-chan!

↳ DIRECTORY

Nine petals and counting.

Y/N rested her hands on the sides of the vinyl bathroom sink, head tilted downwards, towards the view of red. Solids and liquids approached the drain, a mix of flowers and blood escaping from her body.

Ten, eleven, twelve. It was unstoppable, the amount of love she was losing, the amount of strength she had to go on. Her legs felt weak, frail in comparison to her usual tenacity and vigor on the side of the court.

She hadn’t been able to manage the volleyball team in weeks, nearing months. Her physical health had wavered, forcing her to resign from her post. Forcing her responsibilities on their coach, her boys having to fend for themselves for the first time since she was fifteen.

Loneliness was all Y/N knew, though she was still an avid student and classmate. It was all she’d felt in the past days, isolated from her friends, her classmates, even him.

Even Kuroo.

It wasn’t that she wanted to be apart from him, from his humor, his laugh, the overwhelming feeling of warmth that he brought to her life. He was her sun amongst Toyko’s sea of stars—but he couldn’t see her like this.

He couldn’t see the blood stains, the coughing fits, the garden of flowers that grew from her throat. She was a mess and he was him, the very person that caused her this horrid disease. The very person that she loved more than anyone in the entire world.

Hanahaki wasn’t uncommon in their town, nearly a quarter of Nekoma High suffered from it in some type of way. It was truly an enigma, a confusion turned infection that made no sense to the human mind.

Y/N had tried to re-work her diagnosis for years, since the first few weeks she’d had it—and despite her knowledge of anatomy and biology, there was no solution to her dilemma, there was no true scientific cure.

And over time, she and Kuroo had come to realize that. While they worked and worked for a way to rid her of the thorns, there was nothing they could do as he didn’t know who her love was.

He didn’t know that no matter how many nights he stayed up beside her, chin rested over her shoulder, arms wrapped around her torso—no matter how much he tried to relieve her of her pain, he only made it worse.

He wanted to help, she knew that he wanted to help in any way that he could—but it was no use. All he’d ever be able to do is watch in sympathy as she’d run out of their classroom and back into the hole that was the public girl’s restroom.

Kuroo was the best person Y/N knew, which was all the more reason that he had to stay out, that he needed to give her space during this time. The disaster that was hanahaki couldn’t infiltrate his life, Y/N wouldn’t let it, he didn’t deserve the pressure—the pressure of loving her.

Thirteen, fourteen, to nothing.

Relief began to overcome her lungs, oxygen filling her veins, the thorn-covered vines retreated back to the place in which they came. It was as if the sun had finally showered through the clouds, giving Y/N the light that she so desperately needed.

Her flowers were strange in comparison to the stories she and Kuroo had read online. Rather than continuous, straight lines of blood and blossoms—her roses were sporadic and unpredictable.

There’d be times where she’d be stuck in the restroom for the entirety of the day, throwing up due to her rib cage cramping and rolling over itself—or she’d be perfectly fine, with all the energy in the world.

Those days were her favorite. The day’s where she and Kuroo would scream at the top of their lungs. Where he’d spin her around and wrap her up in the tightest hug he could muster. Where he’d smile at her as if she wasn’t only his best friend—as if he loved her.

But he didn’t. He didn’t love her, not in the way she wanted at least.

A light sigh escaped Y/N’s lips, her quivering body stilling as she finally took a look towards her reflection. She’d been staring at the pile of scarlet for nearly a half-an-hour, trying her best not to lose count of her trauma.

Fifteen petals was all it took to uproot her day, dwindle her time with Kuroo down to nothing. It was embarrassing, truly.—that her soul was controlled by a mere rose.

Color slowly returned to her cheeks, flushed shades of pink mocking her with their rosy hue, red lighting up the tip of her nose. Her eyes were weary, blurry from the amount of tears she’d shed, the same tears that had meshed with the running tap water.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N let go of the sink. She let go of the safety of her reflection, the safety of knowing that she was the only person who’d ever see herself this way, completely derailed by love.

Stepping into the real world, the world of judgement from classmates and concerned advisors, she hastily left the bathroom—only for a large, calloused hand to wrap itself around her forearm.

As she rolled her eyes, turning to face her captor, Y/N raised her palm and flicked her best friend right between his eyebrows. “You waited?” She suppressed a grin, stifling a laugh at the sight of his mocking pout.

“Seems like fan behavior to me, Kuroo.”

He frowned at her words, picking her up with ease as he made his way down the now empty hallways. Y/N squealed, despite being used to his relentless strength, there would never be a time in which she’d expect him to throw her over his shoulder.

Holding her legs whilst supporting her waist, he nodded with a troublesome smile at any of their classmates who’d so happened to remain after the school bell had rung—to which they’d respond with a simple shake of the head, amused at the sight of Nekoma High’s infamous best friends.

“Fan behavior, huh?” Kuroo spun dramatically as they reached the parking lot, nearly throwing Y/N into the passenger seat of his car, her designated spot. The place where no person, not even Kenma, was allowed to sit.

He instinctively buckled her seatbelt, knowing that she must’ve felt weak and nauseous due to the stress her body had been under only ten minutes prior, before settling himself behind the wheel.

A bright beam overcame his features, practically spreading across his entire face as her eyes met his. “Where to next?” Y/N asked, fingers fiddling with the different radio channels, deciding on a soft indie-station.

“Home.” He replied, taking a hold of the hand she’d placed over the volume nozzle, allowing them to turn up the song together. Though it was brief, him releasing her touch after seconds, it was moments like this where she considered the theory that perhaps she did hold a place in his heart.

She shook her head, forcing the absurd thought away and rolling her eyes once again at the utter ridiculousness that was Kuroo Tetsurou. She leaned back into the soft leather of her seat, deadpanning at his words. “Your home. You act as if I live there.”

“You practically do,” he quipped back with ease, hair pressed against the chair’s headrest, smothering the thick black peaks, “What’s mine is yours, Y/N. There’s nothing I’d ever keep from you.”

“You deserve the world, and I’m going to give you every little bit of this world that I can.”

Her lips pursed into a tight smile, internally punching herself at the sweetness in his voice, the purity that he managed to sop into every word. Looking away from his gorgeous face, gaze retreating to the bustling city around them, Y/N contemplated his promise.

It was impossible, the idea that he’d proposed. The thing that he vowed to her in the mornings, afternoons, and nights. The concept that she always loved to hear roll off of his tongue, but also wanted to throw out her open window.

After all, how would Kuroo ever be able to give her the world—when her world was entirely him?

While his house was practically her second home, Y/N always seemed to notice the residence beside it before anything else.

As they pulled up in the driveway, Kuroo carefully parking his car between the stone gate and his grandfather’s buggy, both of their ears perked to the familiar sound of none other than Kozume Kenma.

“You’re spending the night again?” He questioned peering over the fence, recognizing the extra duffel packed along with Y/N’s school bag. “You were just over last week. You’d think you guys would be sick of each other by now.”

Kuroo shook his head, making his way around the hood and opening the passenger door. “No way, pudding head.” He shouted, resting his elbow on the roof whilst slinging the small pack over his shoulder. “Only thing I’d ever get sick of is your cute little attitude.”

Y/N giggled, squinting her eyes to see the nonchalant expression that was undoubtedly gracing Kenma’s features. She wasn’t exactly close with him, having little to nothing in common other than their giant of a friend, but still held great respect for his dedication.

Dedication as in the value to which he held his friendship with Kuroo.

Though she’d known their captain longer, there were times in which she wasn’t able to be by his side during matches or breakdowns. This usually having to do with her hanahaki forcing her to be immobile.

But it always turned out alright, since Kenma was there. He was always there to help, even when she’d forget to send him a warning text message or quick heads up. He was reliable as he was pessimistic, a truly unconventional friend that Y/N would be grateful for until the very end.

As Kuroo took her bags inside the house, insisting that he had to help even though she claimed that her muscles were feeling perfectly fine, Y/N waved to the younger boy, casually approaching his small figure.

Her steps were small, fallen leaves crunching beneath the soles of her sneakers. Autumn was beautiful this year, the oranges and yellows mixing together like the perfect sunset.

It was complementary, the colors—they reflected the sky in a dream-like synchronization. The last time fall had landed upon Japan, she and Kuroo had spent the entire day nestled together, jumping in the multiple piles of leaves and sipping spiced drinks by the fireplace.

While the memories were happy and nostalgic, they were a distraction. Nothing but recollections of false hope and ideologies that she’d ingrained into her brain as convincing factors that he did indeed love her—that he had just an inch of his heart that was completely reserved for her.

Kenma immediately opened his mouth, interrupting Y/N before she could ask him all about how his school day had gone. Her jaw dropped, the statement being said was unexpected, out of box in the current moment of relaxation.

“You still have hanahaki.” He looked straight into her eyes as if he were challenging her. If Y/N could see into his brain, there was no doubt that the gears would be turning rapidly in synchrony. “You’ve had it for years, Y/N. A normal person would’ve given up by now.”

She frowned, her lips curving into a downward arc, slightly appalled by the bluntness of his words, before furrowing her brows while she came up with an understandable response.

Her relationship with Kenma was civil, never straying from one of acquaintances, but there were sparse moments like this in which he’d blatantly say something personal—something that made her think that he knew more than he was letting on.

“I don’t think my case falls under the normal category.” Y/N whispered, choosing to reply with honesty over falsehood, while both of their gazes fled to Kuroo, who’d cheered as he successfully managed to unlock the front door with his hands full of bags.

“You don’t have to worry about him,” she continued with a love-struck radiance. As if on natural instinct, her legs began to move towards the person that was her heart, abandoning Kenma to his side of the fence.

With one final glance, she saw him nod at her last words. The words that she repeated to herself every time her flowers became too much, every time she needed to remember why she was here in the first place.

“As long as I’m still breathing, he’s got me.” She called out, chest warming at the sight of her little friend’s approval. The approval that meant more to her than any test grade or big win. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Heads up!”

Before she could blink an eye, Y/N’s vision was covered by the thin grey fabric of Kuroo’s massive t-shirt. It draped over her head like a sheet in the night, the smell being clean and comforting, completely and utterly him.

Reaching up to take hold of the borrowed garment, she shoved his chest, feeling the vibrations of laughter rolling off of him in contagious waves. Despite how much he annoyed her, he could be quite amusing at times.

Their dynamic had always been an interesting one. Her being more logical and serious, whilst he was carefree and witty. They weren’t an obvious pair of best friends, but they did have the important things in common.

That being the value of hard work and dedication, whether that came to school assignments or volleyball—they both knew the true meaning of ambition and success, and would do anything to help the other achieve their dreams.

Opening the door to the guest bathroom, Y/N slipped Kuroo’s shirt over the tank top she’d been wearing, stripping herself of her undergarments beneath the endless fabric. She tossed her clothes into her duffel, zipping it tightly and placing it on the floor.

The Kuroo household was a place she was comfortable in, having been friends with the boy for nearly all of her life. It wasn’t uncommon for her to stop by and stay for dinner or overnight, considering his family adored her and considered her one of their own.

In their first year of high school, she’d spent a total of one-hundred and twenty nights wrapped up in his arms before his grandparents had decided to permanently mark the guest bedroom as her’s.

Though she’d grown accustomed to the warmth of her best friend’s comforter, Y/N did have to admit that it was nice to have her own space. Her own space that also gave her the luxury of having the person she loved only one wall away.

As she dug through the right-hand drawer for the toothbrush and toothpaste that she always stored in the case that she’d be staying overnight, a rhythm of knocks ricocheted off of the hard wood.

“You ready?” She called out, walking past the sliding shower doors and turning the small door-knob. “I was just about to brush my teeth,” her words continued, stopping as she came face-to-face with her favorite giant.

His smile was cheeky, mischief seemingly on his mind as he held up his own set of tools. “You waited for me, Y/N?” A sly smirk crept on his face, her words from earlier coming back to bite her in the butt. “Seems a little like fan behavior to me.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stepped aside, making room for his ginormous body in the quaint bathroom. The countertop wasn’t exactly large, having just enough space for the two of them to stand beside one another with their arms touching as they looked into their reflections.

Her eyes seemed distant, even to herself. The usual livelihood that inhabited her irises was absent, replaced with fragments of the person she once was, the person that had been overshadowed by dirt and disease.

Resentment was the only emotion she displayed, hatred for the pathetic reasoning behind her pain, the putrid dreams she wished would come true—but as Y/N looked away from the stress and worry, she saw him. She saw Kuroo.

Unlike her, his gaze wasn’t resting on himself. His eyes weren’t immediately attracted to his own appearance, choosing to lay on Y/N instead. His neck was angled down, a soft expression gracing his face while he simply admired her.

While he admired her like a boy in love.

They held eye contact for a brief moment, neither one wanting to end the intimate interaction, before he broke away. He snapped out of his trance, hands subconsciously reaching for the tube of toothpaste that had been forgotten by both minds.

As they began to brush their teeth, Kuroo played troublemaker. Whether that meant making faces or mimicking Y/N’s actions, he found endless ways to humor her, wanting to see the smile on her face as she flipped him off.

The laughter wheezing from her lips was infectious, her body doubling over, forcing heavy chuckles from her love as well. It was a sight to see, two high schoolers in a minimal-sized bathroom, overcome with a fit of giggles—but that was simply them. It was simply Y/N and Kuroo.

With a mouth full of foam, she leaned past him and over the sink, expecting to see a mix of bubbles and white—only to be gifted with the mood-killing sight of blood and blossoms.

She choked, gasping for air as the small roses fell from her throat. “Please,” she cried, gripping the ledge of the counter with a killer grasp, gesturing for Kuroo to leave the room. “I can’t breathe.”

But he didn’t listen, he didn’t leave. He didn’t cover his eyes and walk away like he normally did, respecting her wishes that he would never see her like this—like a complete and utter mess.

As her airway began to clear, her smiles turned to frowns, embarrassed of what he’d seen, the proof of her never-ending infatuation. However, Kuroo didn’t seem phased. He glanced at the flowers as if they were nothing, as if they weren’t a foul sight in itself.

He turned the faucet on, washing them away from her view, forcing the spray roses to dissolve and wither above the drain—and for some odd reason, Y/N’s heart hurt at his actions.

It was the first time in months that he’d been present during one of her uproars. The first time in months that he had to see what she went through on a nearly daily basis, and he didn’t even blink an eye.

He looked at the physical representation of her love like it didn’t matter, like it was a pest that he had to kill. Like an unintentional rejection that his instincts dictated, a rejection that she feared for every moment of every day.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N muttered, refusing to meet the concern in his gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the inevitable judgement that she expected to come from his way—only to feel his rough hand take a hold of her chin, tilting it upwards towards his face.

Nothing was said, no remarks came from his end. Instead, he wordlessly stole the hand towel that’d been hanging on the shower door and dabbed away the blood that had soaked into the skin beneath her lips.

He was unreadable.

No matter how hard she tried to analyze his thoughts, his actions, his posture; a blank canvas was all she’d painted. She wanted to keep apologizing for the things that were out of her control, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted with a question that she’d never expected to hear.

“If it weren’t for your hanahaki,” he began, brows furrowed in concentration, not allowing Y/N to pin-point what he was so focused on, if it was the disease or herself. “Do you think you’d know that you love them?”

“You know, your person?”

Her response was momentary, the gears in her brain working on overtime as she tried to find the meaning behind his words. Why the sudden curiosity? Did he have hanahaki? Was there someone he loved?

Clearing her throat, making sure that there was no evidence of her accident, Y/N began to speak slowly. “Being in love is more than just a disease, Kuroo. It can’t be dimmed down to a single flower or infection.”

“I love him enough to put myself through pressure every day. I love him so much that it physically hurts me to think about him. He brings a light to this darkness that no other person can outshine—”

“—and I’d never give up on him.” Glass covered her eyes, tears struggling to roll down her cheeks as her peripheral vision grew blurry. In the midst of her tangent, Kuroo had pressed Y/N against his chest, rubbing her back in soft circles.

“He’s the other half of me, my true equal.” Bitterness was being laced in her tone, the irony of it all settling in. It was unfair. Her describing her everlasting love for the boy she’d do anything for. He was right beside her, and yet he seemed miles away.

“I’d know love for him even if I was healthy. Even if we were strangers, worlds apart.” Choking back the last of her cries, Y/N bit her lip, pushing away the warmth of his chest. “Trust me, Kuroo. You’d know if you were in love.”

For once in his life, he had no words. No comments or remarks that he was dying to say. His only response was a nod of the head, a curt acknowledgement of her feelings, before he turned and said a brief goodnight.

Before he turned and left Y/N with nothing but confusion, thoughts that would keep her restless and awake throughout the night. Itching concerns to creep up her veins and into her dreams.

If only he loved her, then all of this could’ve been avoided. If only he had asked her who her hanahaki was for, then maybe she would’ve confessed. Perhaps she’d be free and untethered from her illness.

But he didn’t ask, and she didn’t confess. All she was left with was broken fragments of care, leftovers of love that she received through twisted questions and wonder.

All she was left with was half of a heart, that would never find its whole.

2AM.

It was nearly two in the morning and Y/N was restless, chasing sleep like it was an everlasting punishment. Slumber being within her grasp, but stolen, kidnapped by the stress and worries that were Kuroo Tetsurou.

Her mind was moving at a million miles per hour, overthinking and overworking the question that he’d asked her in the midst of their nightly routine. The curiosity that had somehow overcome his usual vigor and happiness.

Panic settled in her throat, the feeling of thorns and stems inching their way up her neck and touching her tongue. She needed water, anything that could suppress the punishment for feeling love.

Swinging her legs over the side of the queen-sized mattress, Y/N shivered as her feet touched the cold floor. Her steps were light, trying her best to be completely silent, not wanting to disturb the actual members of the household.

The trip to the kitchen was short. An easy route for her after having taken many midnights trips before, since her hanahaki always seemed to act up whenever she stayed overnight.

Finding a small glass and filling it to the brim with tap water, Y/N gulped it down, savoring every last bit as if there was no other substance on Earth. The liquid ran down her throat, pushing past the vines and forcing them into their home that was her heart.

“You’re up late.”

Y/N jumped, nearly smashing the cup on the counter as the familiar voice of Kuroo’s obaachan crept up from behind her. She sighed, taking a deep breath before facing the old woman.

Her relationship with his family had grown extremely close in the years that they’d known each other. She was practically considered a member of the family, them always wanting her around no matter what the circumstances were.

But she and obaachan were different compared to how she bonded with the Kuroo men. Unlike the others, his grandmother was observant, knowing of the love that Y/N had for her favorite boy. Knowing of the cause of her hanahaki.

“Obaachan.” She greeted her weakly, holding up the glass as an excuse for the timing of their interaction. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I didn’t mean to cause any havoc.”

The old woman simply smiled, approaching Y/N with a loving hand and placing it on her shoulder in comfort. “It’s alright dear,” she squeezed her palm, feeling the younger girl’s struggling heartbeat. “It’s not your fault.”

Y/N grimaced, shaking her head in defeat. “But it is,” she admitted. She’d always take blame for her hanahaki. It was a virus in not only her life, but everyone around her. “It’s my fault that I’m unwell.”

“No, dear.” Obaachan cupped her hands around her cheeks, challenging her eyes, not taking her answer or excuses. A sad smile graced her lips, sorrow in her irises. “You’re not unwell..you’re in love.”

Tears grew from the corners of Y/N’s sockets, waterworks beginning to roll down her cheeks at the familiar feeling of the comforting touch of a Kuroo. She broke down, her walls shattering in front of the only person who understood. The only person who would truly listen.

“Why won’t he love me?” She cried out, pain overtaking her whole body. The pent up emotions were collapsing like tidal waves, storming throughout her heart. “Why won’t I ever deserve him?”

Concern furrowed in the older woman’s brows at the sight of Y/N breaking down. Her grandson’s best friend was one of the strongest people she knew, and knowing that her struggles were this great was indescribably disheartening.

“My Tetsurou has been a caretaker all of his life,” she started, gently speaking in languid sentences, doing her best to keep Y/N’s attention on her and not her pain. “Whether it was for me, my husband, or Kenma—he takes on more responsibility than he can handle.”

“His heart is so big, so full of love for everyone other than himself.” She continued, her words beginning to settle in Y/N’s mind. “And in the midst of that, I don’t think he realizes that he’s capable of experiencing love as well.”

“He doesn’t realize that everything he could ever want is standing right in front of him.”

Obaachan was whispering now, her voice being soft but commanding. It was frightening, the passion that she held for her grandson. The passion that she held for her dreams of his happiness. Her dreams of him finding his true love.

“While love is a chemical feeling, it has no chemical solution.” Y/N swallowed hard, taking in every single thing she was saying. Letting her statements ingrain themselves into her memory. “This disease doesn’t define your future, my dear.”

“Whomever you choose to love will be lucky, Y/N—but I have to say, I truly hope that my Tetsurou has luck on his side.”

It’d been almost a month since the fateful overnight encounter, Obbachan’s words playing on repeat, over and over again until they grew tiresome. The idea that Kuroo could perhaps love her was haunting, terrorizing her very soul.

Despite the shift in their energy, the elephant in the room being his unexpected question and her never ending response, their friendship continued on like normal.

They’d go to school, spend time together afterwards, perhaps even have a sleepover, and repeat. It was all the same, not a thing out of place except for a major detail that couldn’t be explained.

The presence of Y/N’s hanahaki was little to none.

Her flowers decreased, the numbers becoming smaller and smaller every single time she took the time to count. The disease that had become a constant in her life had suddenly disappeared, confusing her to a maximum.

She didn’t feel like she’d fallen out of love for Kuroo, there was still a large part of her heart that was reserved for him and only him—yet her roses were invisible, the trips to the bathroom were down to none.

And while those statistics had fallen, the number of quick glances, stolen touches, and late night conversations had increased. She and Kuroo did everything together before, but now it was as if they were inseparable at all times.

It was as if his heart had finally opened up, accepted her presence and locked it into place, never wanting to let it go. Y/N couldn’t determine what had gotten into him, what made the sudden change in behavior.

But her flowers were gone and her love still remained. All that needed to be said was a confession, a confession of the love that she hoped was mutual. The one-sided love that she’d secretly harbored for years on years.

Mindlessly walking down the school hallway, passing by classmates and advisors, Y/N contemplated the future of her and Kuroo’s relationship. The future of her heart and if it would ever find its other half. The other half that so happened to take a hold of her hand at that very moment.

Kuroo seemed on edge, his heartbeat was quick, throbbing against Y/N’s palm as he dragged her towards the closest empty classroom. Without warning he closed the door, drowning out the scattered noises of everyone on the other side of the wall.

“Hey.” He said, breathing heavily. His shoulders were rising and falling, his breaths deep as if he’d just ran a marathon on his path to retrieve her. “I really needed to talk to you.”

Y/N almost toppled over, the strength of his grasp tripping and unbalancing her body. As her vision began to stabilize, wobbly from the sprint, she took notice of the classroom he’d brought her to.

Flowers lined the walls and ceilings, potted plants hanging from the wooden beams and arches. Soil was sprinkled over the floorboards, various footprints etched into the dirt.

He’d taken her to the floriculture classroom—the classroom for the study of flowers.

Silence overcame them for a moment, neither one speaking a single word as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Her confession was at the tip of her tongue, ready to be said, ready to be spoken into existence—but Kuroo spoke first.

“I’ve never had it.” He simply said, his mouth pursed and head towering over her. Before she could respond, asking him what in the world he was talking about, he continued. “Hanahaki. I’ve never had it.”

Biting his lips, Kuroo took her hands in his once more. Rubbing her palms with his calloused fingertips, easing away her confusion and speaking his feelings with his entire heart weighed into them.

“All this time, for all these years, I thought that I’d never known love.” His brows furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, Y/N could tell what he was so focused on. It was her.

“I asked you how you knew that you were in love, flowers or not, and the way you described that feeling..it was familiar. It was something that I’d felt before, something that I felt all of the time.”

“Something that I felt all of the time for you.”

Y/N was at a loss for words, the confession that she’d always wanted to say being said to her. The very moment that she’d dreamed of was actually coming true, it was actually happening right in front of her eyes. It wasn’t her imagination—it was real. Kuroo loved her.

The smile spread across her face was more than enough to ease his nerves, her teeth were so bright they could’ve been compared to the sun. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she looked, how she was his sun.

“I’m so sorry my love hasn’t been constant, Y/N. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize the patterns, how your hanahaki came and went. It was my fault you’ve gone through so much pain.”

“But even here,” he whispered, pulling her close. His arms wrapped themselves around her body, his nose being mere inches away from hers. “With all of the flowers anyone could ever ask for, the only one that matters is you.”

She could feel his breath now, the soft breeze against her cheeks. Her body wanted to surge forward, connect their lips in a final confirmation of their feelings. She wanted the kiss with Kuroo that she’d been waiting for for her entire life.

“I love you.” He admitted, not waiting for her response before pressing his mouth to hers.

His smile could be felt between their lips, moving continuously as if they didn’t need any air to breathe. After all, they really only needed each other—Kuroo was the missing piece to Y/N’s puzzle, her heart was finally whole.

As they broke apart, love radiating off of them in contagious waves, overwhelming the room, igniting the aura—a cheeky grin grew on her new lover’s face.

He plucked a flower from the pot behind her head, presenting it with a laugh at the sight of her rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. Although she found him to be ridiculous, she accepted it gratefully—loving the new chapter that they were about to embark on.

“I heard you like roses?”

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