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babyboibucky · 3 years

Text

The Match - Part 9

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky brings you and Mackenzie with him to an important meeting.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Uhhhh hmm work tension, sexual tension, idk Bucky and Mackenzie being annoying as usual lmao

A/N: ALSO I know I haven’t mentioned what the fuck Bucky’s company is all about because c’mon, I didn’t expect I’d get this far lmao so IDK there might be continuity issues or inaccuracies or whatevah, just ignore it lmao it’s fiction. ANYWAAAY, I just want to say how GRATEFUL AND OVERWHELMED I am with the amount of attention that this series is getting. I appreciate every feedback, every ask and every freaking debate about this shit lmfao. I love you guys. I can’t put into words how much I appreciate you all askcnasjkcnak bye

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Don't let Bucky or Mackenzie get to you.

Mark's advice rang in your ears like a chant as you watched Bucky and Mackenzie's exchange about the project. Joining them in the conference room for a major brainstorming session was you and a couple of people from your team with Beverly taking down the minutes of the meeting.

The upcoming project was a huge one, given that Barnes Group of Companies was a huge name in the automobile industry. Meanwhile, Wilson Enterprises is one of the biggest autonomous vehicle technology companies out there. This partnership was one for the books, possibly an industry changer too.

You wanted to be a part of it, wanted to spearhead the entire thing and watching Mackenzie take the reigns on this one was truly making your blood boil.

"That sounds like a nice idea, Kenzie." Bucky praised, nodding his head.

Mackenzie shrugged, "It's what I do, Buck." she said.

"Yeah, it's a great idea. I do have some comments though, if you don't mind?" you asked.

Bucky and Mackenzie exchanged glances before turning to you. You glanced at Bucky for a quick second before ignoring the way he was eyeing you with genuine interest.

"I know that bringing in a celebrity to endorse this brand new model would definitely create noise around the partnership. Although I think that would take the spotlight away from the actual product we're creating here. We want customers to focus on the brand new car model and the technology that Wilson Enterprises will be providing it with, not on the celebrity endorser." you explained.

Mackenzie hummed, "I get where you are coming from. That's a good point, actually. But a celebrity endorser will pretty much do everything for the brand. Have him up on billboards and different advertisements and you're all set." she further explained.

You chuckled, "But then how will people understand what the entire partnership is all about? Aren't we supposed to be communicating a certain message to our consumers? Wouldn't it be better to hold an event to launch the product instead? Invite the press and key opinion leaders to spread the word. Have Bucky and Mister Wilson talk about this partnership. They're famous and powerful enough to get the message across. Why waste the budget on a celebrity when we literally have everything we need to make noise?" you shrugged.

The entire room was silent after your feedback, even Mackenzie wasn't able to respond to your suggestion. Glancing over at Bucky, you saw that he was giving you the look-- the one with half-lidded eyes matched with a head tilt, the one that often resulted to him giving you a very nice reward once office hours are over.

Feeling your breath hitch in your throat, you quickly looked away and shrugged your shoulders, "I mean, that's just my two cents. Having worked here for years, I just based it on my experience. You're the expert here, Mackenzie." you offered a proud smile.

Mackenzie tried to brush it off and turned to Bucky, "What do you think, Buck? I'm still into the idea of hiring a celebrity. That's good publicity. And let's not get worried about the budget now," she said, placing a hand on top of Bucky's that was resting on the table, "I have a lot of connections so I can definitely get an endorser for a much lower rate." she reassured.

"We may have a huge budget for this, but that doesn't automatically mean that we have to use it all up. We can allocate it somewhere else, maybe start a CSR campaign as well? We are, after all, coming out with an environmental-friendly model." you suggested.

You heard Bucky when he took a sharp inhale, bringing his hands up to rub his lips as if in deep thought. He then turned to Beverly, however, his eyes remained on you.

"Take note of everything she says." he reminded her before standing up.

He asked everyone else in the room of their opinions, whether it was your or Mackenzie's idea that the company will go for. The team was divided in half, some of them preferring Mackenzie's celebrity pitch probably because they didn't want to do a lot of work.

Bucky nodded, "Well, I guess we'll have to discuss both ideas with my partner Sam and let's see where we will go from there. I have a meeting with him this afternoon, I need you and Kenzie with me there." he said, looking at your before turning to Kenzie with a charming smile.

Don't let them get to you.

You've never wanted for the ground to swallow you up until this moment as you stood behind Bucky and Mackenzie in the elevator. This felt so much more uncomfortable than when you shared it with Bucky after swiping right with him on Tinder. There was still tension and it felt so much worse now because you didn't know whether it was between you and Bucky or him and Mackenzie.

Fucking Mackenzie and her nicely manicured nails which always seemed find its way around Bucky's arm. You eyed her hands as they squeezed his arm, the both of them talking in hushed voices as if you weren't standing behind them.

"I've been dying to try this restaurant, I heard they serve good food. Do you want to go have dinner there sometime this week?" she asked Bucky.

"I'll check my schedule, which restaurant is this?" he asked.

When Mackenzie uttered the name of that restaurant where you celebrated your promotion, you and Bucky choked on your own spits at the same time. Warmth crept up to your cheeks at the same time Bucky's ears reddened.

"Oh, what's going on?" Mackenzie asked with a nervous chuckle as she looked at you and Bucky, struggling with your coughs.

You recovered first and shook your head, "Sorry, I get allergies. Anyway, I've been to that restaurant. They do serve good food, the staff was very hospitable as well. I'm sure Bucky would enjoy it there." you said with a smile, pushing your way past them when the elevators door slid open.

Mackenzie asking Bucky whether he was up for dinner was the last thing you heard. Good luck explaining to her why he's banned from there, you thought to yourself.

Bucky led the way to his car and it instantly brought certain memories back. You weren't going to lie, you missed the fucking and how Bucky always made sure to take care of your needs. Seeing his car was enough to make your thighs clench at the memory of him fingering you as he drove.

His gaze was on you when he opened the door to the passenger's seat, his eyes inviting as you approached him. And just as when you were about to slip in, he turned over to Mackenzie and gestured for her to get in.

What a fucking asshole, you thought to yourself as you took a step back to ride in the back instead. You tried to keep your expression stoic when you saw that Bucky checked for a reaction. He seemed perplexed when he saw that you didn't react that much to what he did.

One hundred points to Gryffindor.

The location for the meeting was at a nearby restaurant so you didn't suffer that much during the entire ride. Mackenzie was busy with her phone anyway, typing out messages with those manicured fingers you were beginning to hate.

By the time all three of you arrived, Sam was already there. He donned a navy blue suit and he was rocking it. You'd seen his photos on the internet and knew that he was good-looking, but seeing him in the flesh, you were stunned at how gorgeous he was. Sam stood up when he saw Bucky, offering a kind smile to you and Mackenzie.

You weren't sure whether you were just being assuming or what, but you noticed how his eyes lingered on you longer that it did with Mackenzie.

"Sam." Bucky greeted, shaking his hand before introducing you and Mackenzie.

Sam shook Mackenzie's hand first before he turned to you. You took his hand and introduced yourself, "Mister Wilson." you said.

"Please, just Sam." he told you as he gently squeezed your hand before letting go.

"Have a seat." Sam said to Bucky and Mackenzie before pulling out the chair next to him, motioning for you to sit down.

You thanked him and sat down; straightening up, you were met with Bucky's watchful gaze as he sat down across you. Your attention was taken away when Sam asked what you wanted to order, he even suggested a certain dish and immediately went to discuss that it was his favorite thing to order.

This was going to be an interesting meeting.

And interesting it truly was, because you didn't expect for Sam to be so laid-back and easy to communicate with. He wasn't one of those uptight CEOs who were very intimidating to work with. Simply put, he was the complete opposite of Bucky. While Bucky was ice cold, Sam was sunshine and warmth with his attitude.

When it came down to pitching your and Mackenzie's ideas to him, you suddenly got nervous. Sam wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth; from what you've read, he started off working regular jobs before he climbed his way to the top. He was a self-made man and he had extensive knowledge in the marketing industry, having a doctorate degree in the said area.

Mackenzie was the first to discuss her strategy about hiring a celebrity endorser. She said it was fast and straight to the point. When it was your turn, you started off a bit shaky but eventually found your pacing.

"We wanted to ask you how this should go on about. I know that the offer for a partnership came from our end and that we're supposed to pitch the details for it. But we wanted you to be involved in this as much as we are." Bucky further explained.

Sam nodded and let out an amused chuckle, "I really appreciate this, Buck. I was going to ask you if I can contribute with the planning as well. I'm very particular when it comes to marketing our products." he said.

"That being said, I loved both ideas. I think hiring a celebrity endorser is good." he said, making Mackenzie smile proudly.

"But I would rather hold an event to launch the product. You understand the product and what we want to do with it. It's not just a brand new car, it's an innovation and the messaging is very important. I'm very impressed." Sam said, his attention geared towards you.

"Wow, I'm honored." you laughed. "Coming from you, I mean I've read about the marketing studies you did. Pretty big deal to receive a compliment from you." you admitted.

It was meant to be a genuine reaction, really. You had no ill intentions for it, you didn't do it to make Bucky jealous or get the upper hand. However, your passion for your career and area of expertise seemed to favor you. It had Bucky on edge, seeing you and Sam get along so well.

You didn't even need to check for Bucky's reaction because he simply cleared his throat and excused himself to go to the restroom. Mackenzie seemed unbothered though, when Sam favored your pitch over hers. You couldn't read her, sometimes she'd come off competitive but right now, she was unaffected.

When Bucky got back, he was quick to finalize the meeting, "I guess it's a done deal then. We'll work on the details of the launch and maybe we can set another meeting for the major presentation for your approval?" he asked Sam.

"That sounds like a plan. I'm looking forward to working with you." Sam told everyone, although he did seem to be directly addressing you.

"Alright, I'm leaving too." Mackenzie announced after Sam left the restaurant.

"Oh, you're not heading back to the office with us?" Bucky asked.

Mackenzie shook her head, throwing her bag over her shoulder, "I have another meeting. You know how it is with freelance work." she said as all three of you stood up to head outside of the restaurant.

"My Uber's here, I guess I'll see you both sometime this week." she said and waved at you before turning to Bucky and pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm counting on that dinner, okay?" she reminded before slipping into her Uber, leaving you and Bucky to head back to the office together.

Alone with Bucky. In his car. The exact same car where plenty of fucking happened. Again, you chanted Mark’s advice in your head over and over again.

Don’t let Bucky get to you. And most of all, don’t cave in.

You quickly slipped inside the front seat of Bucky’s car before he could even open it up for you. The air was thick between you and Bucky and it almost felt like it was suffocating you. Reaching for the seatbelt, you tugged at it but it wouldn’t budge. Cursing to yourself, you tried again but to no avail.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing. Seatbelt’s just stuck.” you grunted, using both your hands to pull down at it.

“Here, let me.”

Suddenly, Bucky reached over to your seatbelt and tried to fix it. His face was inches away from yours and you literally felt your insides jump at how you were immediately drowned in his perfume. If you moved forward so much as half an inch, your lips would already be pressing against the corner of Bucky’s mouth. And that thought was sending your senses into overdrive.

Do not. Cave. In.

The loud click of the seatbelt made you relax and thank goodness that Bucky was quick to move away from you, fixing his suit before starting the engine. The office may just be nearby but the fact that you and Bucky were together was making it feel like it was going to be an hour-long drive.

“So what do you think about Sam?” Bucky asked out of the blue.

He was gauging you, trying to get a reaction from you. Maybe he was expecting you to be flirty with your response, or be defensive even? You weren’t going to give him that.

“I think he’s great. Like I said, I’ve read his marketing studies and they were very insightful. I learned a lot.”

Plain, simple and safe. There was no hidden meanings and no malice; you were doing great at this whole not letting Bucky get to you thing. You made a mental note to thank Mark for his advice.

“He seems interested in you.” Bucky said again, shrugging his shoulders a bit and trying to be as nonchalant as he could.

“Well we are in the same field of expertise and I was very straightforward about admiring his skills. I’d be disappointed if he brushed off my ideas.” you slightly chuckled.

“I liked Mackenzie’s idea better, honestly.” Bucky blurted out.

By this time, you had Bucky’s plans figured out. He was coming for your job, using it as a bait to get a reaction out from you. He knew how much your career meant for you, how competitive you were in your field. Whenever his other tactics wouldn’t work, he’d always go for the career aspect.

“It was good.” you agreed, turning to Bucky with a small smile. “I think we can do that for other campaigns. Just not with this partnership. I like her.” you said.

“You do?” Bucky asked in surprise before he cleared his throat upon realizing that he sort of broke his facade.

You shrugged, “She’s a headstrong woman. She reminds me of myself actually.”

If you were alone, you would have given yourself a high-five because that statement truly made Bucky think. His forehead creased as he drove, his hand rubbing his chin and his jaw clenching as if he was in deep thought.

It was silent inside the car for a brief moment, before it was interrupted by the trilling of Bucky’s phone. He fished it out of his pocket but before he could even answer it, it slipped out of his hand and disappeared beneath his seat.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed, both his hands on the steering wheel as he continued to drive, his attention divided between driving and searching for his ringing phone.

“Shit.” he hissed again, not knowing how to get his phone while driving. He quickly glanced at you before focusing on the road again. “Baby, can you get it for me?”

You almost missed the term of endearment. Almost. It was obviously a slip of the tongue because he genuinely didn’t seem to realize that he called you that. Bucky was more focused on the road rather than processing what he just said. You chose to ignore it the same way you did to the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Yeah, okay.” you said and reached over to him, bending down to look for his phone.

In a split second, your face was right in front of Bucky’s crotch as you tried to reach beneath his car seat. You tried to ignore the bulge that was staring right at you and let your hand do the searching.

“Can you reach it?” Bucky asked.

You straightened up, “No. Can you pull aside?” you asked.

Bucky checked the surroundings and then the rearview mirror, “We can’t. We’re at a no loading and unloading zone.” he explained.

The phone continues to trill and it doesn’t seem like it would stop any time now. You sighed and removed your seatbelt before stretching your body over Bucky, slipping underneath his arms on the steering wheel so you can fully reach under his seat.

From another car’s view, you looked like you were giving him a blowjob. Not that you haven’t done that before, in this same car.

Finally, you felt his phone at the tip of your fingers and stretched further, your free hand coming to grip Bucky’s thigh unintentionally. It was only when you felt his muscles flex beneath his trousers that you realized how near your hand was to his crotch.

“Did you,” Bucky cleared his throat. “Did you get it?” he stammered.

You still have a certain effect on him, how very nice. Biting back a smirk, you hummed in response before pulling back and then handing him his phone casually. Mackenzie’s name was flashing on the screen as the phone continued to ring.

“Sorry, can you answer it and put it on speakerphone?” Bucky asked again.

You shrugged and did as you were told, holding the phone near Bucky as he continued to drive.

“Hey, Kenzie. Sorry, I dropped my phone. What’s up?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, so my meeting got cancelled at the last minute. I was thinking maybe we can grab that dinner tonight instead?”

Bucky stole a quick glance from you but your face remained stoic, your hand steady as you held out his phone.

“Sure, how does around 7pm sound? I can pick you up.” Bucky offered.

“Sounds great. So are we checking that restaurant I was talking about?”

Bucky’s ears turned red again but he quickly recovered, “I was thinking of trying out a different one. I honestly didn’t like their dessert.”

Huh, that was weird. You and Bucky didn’t even make it to--

Fuck, he was talking about you, you realized. Clenching your jaw, you tried to keep calm. He was trying to get a rise out of you, don’t give in. Don’t react. Bucky’s conversation with Mackenzie didn’t last long and ended when they settled the location for their dinner.

The ride back to the office was quiet again, until your phone lit up from a notification. Bucky was already parking in the basement when you checked your phone, an audible gasp slipping past your lips upon reading the notification from LinkedIn.

Samuel Wilson wants to connect with you.

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

#bbb writes #the match #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #fem!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #sebastian stan

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meetmymouth · 4 years

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AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey and @burberryharold for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels!

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y’sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer, “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?” He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

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star-lemonade · 3 years

Text

The Altar

Ateez San x Reader

Genre: smut, candy shop au

Cw: smut, San likes it when you say his name

Rating: R

Word count: 5 k

Thanks to @yutasgalaxy for giving feedback. I changed a lot since you read it xD

“You should really go there.”

Your friend’s voice still rang in your ears. These words had been said to you so often lately. Your friend had heard good things about it, although you suspected it was first-hand experience. You felt frustrated about the lack of men in your life. It was hard to meet someone new and the few times you had actually met a nice guy, they had not been interested in you. Afterwards you felt the drought in your bed even more than usual. Maybe it was time. Time to go there. The Candy Shop.

You went to the address your friend provided. That was the first unusual thing. When you had looked for it online, you had not been able to find an address. How could there be a place that can not be found on the internet? The building was as mundane as a grey house between other grey houses could be. The entrance did not look like a shop either. The window next to the door was small and drapes obscured the view inside. Only the “open” sign at the door indicated that this was the right place.

You opened the door, and a bell announced your entrance to the empty room. It was a small space for a store, and it was filled to the brim with boxes. Boxes on shelves, boxes on the floor, in giant box towers, boxes hanging in nets from the ceiling. The oddest thing was their color; all of the boxes were the same warm grey. No writing. No pictures. How did anyone know what was inside the boxes? Maybe I’m wrong here? You turned to leave.

“Oh, there you are.”

The voice came from behind you and it sounded familiar. The woman looked exactly how you remembered her, Ms Lee, who had been your homeroom teacher in middle school. She wore a tie-dye tank top that showed off her wrinkly arms.

“Ms Lee?”

She smiled like a proud mother, not something you wanted to see in a sex toy shop. Her smile had always been an attractive feature of her. You could see why she had been the most popular widow at the school.

“No, dear. I’m the Owner.”

Even her voice sounded the same. At least you thought she sounded like Ms Lee. On the other hand it had been years since you had see her.

“Oh, excuse me.”

You could have sworn that she was your old teacher, but she was not. Good. Imagine running into your old teacher in a shop like this. Awkward.

“Ehm, I’m looking for something.”

There was no point in feeling embarrassed now. You had already entered the sex shop, but you still felt your face burn. If you act awkward, it will just be more embarrassing. Get it together! You were about to elaborate further when she said:

“Of course. I think I have just the thing. Follow me.”

How could the owner sound so confident, when you had not given her any information? She turned around and walked to the counter in the back of the shop, and you followed. Surprisingly the counter was not made out of boxes stacked on top of each other but from wood.

“Wait here, please.”

The Owner went behind the counter and left through a door. The side room too seemed to be filled with boxes, as much as you could see of it. You still wondered how she knew what was in each box. Did they all have the same things inside? Maybe there had been a shipment of something, and now it clogged up the place? She returned with a smile on her face.

“Here.”

She held the thing out for you, and without thinking, you took it from her. Why did you do that?

“A walking stick?”

The long wooden stick was knobbly and looked like it had been a small tree that someone debarked. It was not carved but it had grown relatively straight. The surface was polished and waxed, shining in the dim light of the shop.

“Yes. You should go and have a picnic.”

You stared at the stick and back to her incredulously. This must be a joke.

“But-”

“No problem,” The Owner waved you off. “That’s on the house. Have fun.”

She smiled before leaving through the door behind the counter. The lock clicked into place you were alone with your stick.

“...should I stick this in my butt or what?”

You shouted after her but the Owner did not return. Reluctantly, you left and went home.

That night you had a dream about your childhood house where your parents used to live. It was small and cozy in a tiny town near the mountains.

The mountains.

Yes, you missed going up the hidden paths to the tops of the small mountains. The forest that covered them had been your place to play when you had lived there. You had spent the years of your childhood running around in the undergrowth. In your dream the sun was shining from a bright blue sky that only came in autumn. You walked up the mountain as you had done many times. It was not clear to you if this was a memory or not but you almost felt the sun burn on your face. You reached the top of the mountain in what felt like a record time. Here stood a bench that overlooked the valley and your hometown. It was beautiful.

When you woke up, the dream had left a hole in you. You yarned for the home, that was not your home any more. You decided that you would go there.

Today. Now.

You got dressed, packed an overnight bag and ate a big breakfast. The ride to the town would take two hours, but you did not know if you would be able to return to your apartment in time. Hiking was exhausting and maybe you would be too tired to drive back to the city.

You grabbed the walking stick and went to your car. The drive was familiar. You had done it lots of times. Today the time flew and you found yourself pulling into the parking lot of the only supermarket of your hometown.

Maybe I should get some food? I will be hungry when I’m up there. You looked at the mountain that barely classified as one. Today the air was humid and mist hung over the forest beyond the town limits. Thegrey sky looked about ready to release more on the land. You did not really pay attention to what you bought. The old man at the counter looked up and smiled. You paid and left the store.

The parking lot where the hiking paths started was empty. It had just rained and most people had stayed at home. You packed the food and drinks into your backpack.

The path was slippery and your shoes sank a few centimeters with every step. This made the hike much harder and slower than you had expected. You knew the path well, even after all this time, your body moved on its own now. Pulling one foot out of the mud and planting it further up the path. Repeat with the other foot. In the forest you saw some trees that had fallen over. This was always the case of course but they were different from last time you had been here.

Some time later you found yourself at a bench, and stopped there to drink something. The next part would be a bit steeper so you pulled out the walking stick.

The ground was wet and the path was getting muddier the higher up you went. Maybe I should take a short cut to the top? If you went straight through the trees here, you would be there faster than following the path. You were impatient today and turned left into the forest.

The ground here was less muddy but you had to step more carefully. Holes in the ground could be hidden by dead leaves and small plants. Breaking your ankle in the middle of the forest did not sound like a good idea. The forest smelled of the herbs that grew all over the place. You considered picking some of them, but you were not sure which ones were really eatable. Ahead the trees grew less dense.

In the glade you saw something and walked closer to check it out. It was a slab of stone that was overgrown by moss and vines. You examined the stone closer and you noticed the top was smooth and the sides were covered in patterns. It was not an ordinary stone; It was an altar.

The altar of a forgotten deity. Lost in the forest and being consumed by nature without the care of the believers.

I don’t believe in gods, but it feels like I should pay my respects. You never know.

You set your backpack down next to the altar and picked up a stick that was lying on the ground. The moss grew mostly on the sides which would not be easy to clean but the top should be easier. You used the stick to scrape off the vines and grime that had accumulated there. It did not come off well but at least the altar looked a bit better than before. You drank some water from your bottle and looked into your backpack.

Maybe I should leave some offerings too?

You picked up a leaf and used it as a makeshift plate for the rice. The red apple and one of the little desserts would have to do.

“Have a good day.”

You returned to the car without having been to the top. It was still light outside so you decided to drive back to your apartment. You felt exhausted but you really wanted to sleep in your own bed.

When you arrived the sun had set and you were about to fall asleep. You fell into your bed and passed out, sleeping like the proverbial stone.

The next day was Sunday which was good. No work. No need to get out of bed either.

You showered, made yourself a quick breakfast and got back under your warm blanket. Sunday morning was the perfect time to do nothing. You turned on the tv and continued to watch the drama you had started the prior week.

The couple got together in this episode and it made you feel so single. Seeing them kiss on screen made you miss kissing. Yeah, just kissing. What a lie. You paused the video. Maybe I should watch some porn instead? It still bugged you that your trip to the Candy Shop had been so fruitless. Why did you get a walking stick? The stick. You had not taken it with you. It was probably still next to the altar in the forest. Ah, well, my dildo will have to do. Getting off with it was nice, but it was not the same as having sex with a guy. For a moment you thought about the pretty male lead in the drama. How nice it would be to run your hands over his face and body. Sadly, this was not very realistic. I will go on tinder on Monday.

“Is it too much to ask for a cute, caring boyfriend to have hot sex with?”

You groaned and looked at the ceiling as if that was where your fate would be decided. It did not answer.

“That’s your wish‽”

You almost jumped out of bed. The voice came from your right, the side of the bed that had just been empty. It was not anymore. The man blended into the white sheets with his white clothing. Your heart hammered in your chest.

“What the fuck?!” You shouted. “How did you get in here? Who are you? Get out!”

You backed away. There was no bed left behind you. You fell over backwards but did not hit the ground. Your hand was caught in an iron grip.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

The man pulled you back into the bed. It brought you close to him. He had long hair that was tied at the top of his head. Something you expected to see in a historical drama not in your bedroom. He had a stunningly beautiful face. Intense eyes, full lips and a sharp jawline.

Why are all hot guys psychos?

“Let go!”

“You will fall again.”

His voice was so gentle it made your heart skip a beat. It was familiar, like a deja vu. This was not someone you had met before, but it still seemed like you knew him. Get it together, the guy broke into your house, don’t be lulled in by his looks.

“How did you get in here?”

You did not know what to do. He held your wrists in his hands, but you backed away as far as possible. Was he going to do something to you?

“I followed you. Yesterday.”

He said it as if it was the normal thing in the world. You stared at him, open mouthed. He had been here since yesterday? Your blood turned to ice. His grip was still holding your wrists. If he had not you would have fallen out of bed now.

“You cleaned the altar so nicely it woke me up from my sleep. It’s been ages since anyone left an offering there.”

The altar. How did he know about that? There had been no one there aside from you.

“Let me go and leave.”

He stared into your eyes. Nothing was hidden from that stare. You wanted to look away but could not. As if hypnotized you stared into his eyes. They were not brown as you had assumed, but a very dark green, like the pine trees at night.

“That’s not what you wished for.”

He kissed one of your hands. His lips were soft but the gesture sent a shiver down your spine. Some part of you was responding to his touch while your higher reasoning was screaming to get away.

“Who are you?”

Your voice was only a whisper, but in the quiet room it was as loud as a scream. He looked at you, reading your face like a book. You did not know if it would be better to show your fear or hide it. What would make him leave?

“I am the mountain.”

He puffed out his chest a bit as he said that. The mountain. What kind of name was that? You had known everyone who had lived in your hometown and no one was called San. Maybe he was a tourist who happened to be in the forest? Then it struck you. The altar. The mountain, San. This man was not a man at all. He was the god of the mountain and you had brought him to your home. That’s what you get from being nice, an uninvited guest. Great.

“And I decided to grant your wish.”

You were not ready to process any new information, but here he was, talking. Was it even possible that this man was the god of the mountain? No one had seen you in the forest. You had been alone yesterday evening and just now when you had made breakfast, the door had still been locked. So unless he broke into your apartment just now… no, you had not heard or seen anything out of the ordinary.

“You doubt me.”

San was clearly disappointed in your lack of faith. He stared at you, waiting for you to explain yourself. You had every right to be suspicious of some random dude who claimed to be a god.

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly and looked around your bedroom. The little pout on his face made him look cuter and less scary, but he was still plenty scary. He let go of your hands and left the room. Maybe I should run for it. You sprang from the bed and in a few steps you were at the bedroom door. Where you almost ran into San. He was both taller and shorter than you had expected. Just like the mountain. His legs were longer than usual for someone his height.

“Here.”

In his hand was the basil plant you had bought a few days ago. It did not look too hot. The leaves had started to hang down and some were already crumpeling.

“Yeah, I should throw it out...”

San was appalled.

“But it’s still alive!! Look!”

He stared at the plant and it became healthy again. With your mouth open you stared at the plant. Its leaves were full and beautifully green again. The smell of basil filled the room.

“So you believe me now?”

The smug smile on his face was almost too much. You nodded reluctantly. San brought the plant back to the kitchen, while you sank down on the bed. There is a deity in my apartment. San sat down on the bed next to you.

“So, what was my wish?”

What dumb shit have I wished for? A smile so mischievous it made the hairs in your neck stand appeared on his face. He leaned closer and whispered in your ear:

“Hot sex.”

Oh fuck. The reason why you had gone to the Candy Shop had been to get something nice for you. It had been so long since you had been with someone. Sex with a good looking guy sounded so good. San was here and he was offering to give you what you wanted. But wait.

“Didn’t I say “a cute boyfriend”?”

San pursed his lips. “Technically, you did. ‘Cute and caring’”

“So, then where is my boyfriend?”

You pushed your jaw forward in a defiant manner. If you were going to get your wish, it had to be the right one. There was no way he could just make a guy appear out of thin air, could he?

“Am I not cute?”

The fake outrage in his voice was indeed cute, but hell would freeze over before you would admit that.

“What? Are you saying you will be my boyfriend?”

He stared at you and you stared back. It was totally absurd. San could not seriously mean he would be your boyfriend, right?

“Yes.”

You honestly did not have a comeback to that. San had said it like he meant it. I guess he didn’t have to make someone appear out of thin air after all. He is already here.

“Can I change my wish?”

You did not look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you. It had been a mistake, actually several mistakes. You should not have gone to the mountain, or cleaned the altar.

“Do you dislike me this much?”

San sounded almost hurt. What had he expected? That you would just lay down and spread your legs?

“You just showed up here, unannounced. What am I supposed to-“

You stopped yourself. Maybe it was not a good idea to yell a god. It was unclear what he could do besides making plants grow and looking good. San shifted beside you and when you looked at him, he lay on your bed.

“What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

He looked up at you. In that position, one arm probed up holding his head, he reminded you of the old timey rich people lounging on chairs.

“Why do you want to grant me a wish anyways?”

He hesitated. You had asked a sensitive question.

“I am in your debt.”

“Then make me rich and rest peacefully that you have settled your debt.”

You turned more towards him. He pressed his lips together into a thin line. You had to be careful now with your tone. One wrong word now could have bad consequences, so you just looked at him.

“I can’t do that.”

He pressed the words out and avoided your eyes. The fabric of the sheets was suddenly much more interesting. You wondered if he was telling the truth. Why was he insisting on this stupid wish you had made.

“What is in it for you? If you tell me honestly, I will consider it.”

His eyes flickered to your face before studying the sheets again.

“I can leave the mountain.”

He told the bed. “No one believes in me anymore...”

You wondered what the consequences of that were, but now was not the time to ask. So if he played house with you he could stay out here, instead of being alone in the forest. You were sick of being alone too. All the times you had felt lonely, may come to an end now, if you just said yes to San.

“If I said yes, what would happen?”

He tried to hide his relief, his hope, but failed. A smile appeared on his face. San sat up and his eyes sparkeled with delight and mischief.

“I would grant the more pressing part of your wish first.”

You wrinkled your brows. The more pressing part? He leaned closer and whispered in a velvety voice.

“You want to be licked, to ride on a big cock and be pounded until you come. That's the pressing part.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Yes, that was exactly what you wanted. In that order. He looked into your eyes. The more you looked at him the more beautiful he became. Just this once you did not want to overthink everything.

“So, what do you say?”

“What will happen after that?” You could feel his breath on your neck. His lips brushed over your skin. You swallowed audibly.

“I will do anything you want me to do.”

To make his point he kissed your neck. Gently sucking on the sensitive skin there. You move your head to grant him better access. His lips on you made your head spin already. Who would it be if they were somewhere else?

“Okay.”

You sighed and bit your lips. It was time to embrace this weird situation and be bold.

“Eat me out, San.”

He groaned against your skin, when you said his name. His lips landed on yours and he wasted no time. His tongue begged for entrance, sliding over your lips. You were not sure what you had expected, but you were surprised by how normal his mouth felt. San was warm and smelled of the forest after rain.

Your hands buried themselves in his long hair. You thought about untying it but it would be better to wait a bit longer. His Hands slipped under the hem of your pajama pants and between your legs. You gasped as his fingers touched your clit and slipped into you briefly.

“Apparently I will have to do a bit more to get you riled up, my love.”

San smirked at you and positioned himself between your legs. He made sure that he had your attention before he untied the fastings of his jacket. He did not wear anything under it so you had an unobscured view of his body; and what a nice body it was. The way his upper body tempered towards his waist was breathtaking. You wanted to touch him, ran your hands over his body. Right now was not the time though.

He pulled down your pants and kissed your thighs. San did not waste time and went straight to the point. He sucked and licked your clit, slowly circling it before flicking it with his tongue. You grabbed his hair and he smirked against your skin. His tongue moved down, ran around your entrance and dipped in briefly before moving up again. When he sucked your clit into his mouth, your moan quietly. You wanted to close your eyes and concentrate on the feeling of tongue flicking against you, but you also wanted to see him. He slowed the pace down and licked your clit. You felt his fingers circling your entrance before pushing in. The two fingers barely met any resistance and after a few more slow movements he pulled out.

He kissed the inside of your thighs and you groaned. That was not where you wanted his mouth to be.

“How about you ride me now?”

He looked up at you expectantly. If you did not know better, you would have thought he was giving you puppy eyes.

“You’re pretty eager.”

It was only half a joke. You raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I am.”

Damn. I guess the immortal god of the mountain is not so selfless after all.

“Lie down.”

He was about to take off the jacket but you stopped him.

“Keep it.”

The way it revealed his chest and abs without being completely shirtless looked very sexy. San lay down on his back and you straddled his hips. The tent in his pants made it very evident how much he wanted this. You ran your hands over his chest and loved how his skin felt. It still seemed surreal that he was there, in your bed. Like a dream. But it was not a dream. He felt as solid and real as one could get. You leaned down to kiss his neck. It was so graceful. This close to him you could see the faint freckles on neck, that made him even prettier. You lightly sucked on the spot midway down his neck. He sighed and goosebumps appeared on his soft skin. You looked at his face to see him looking back at you.

“You’re very pretty.”

There was a part you wanted to make a joke out of it a la “you need to get your eyes checked” but you didn’t. It did not sound like a joke.

“You too, Mr Mountain.”

He smiled at the nickname. His hair was not as neat as earlier. You had tucked on it, while he had eaten you out and now some parts of the hair stood out more. Not many hairs had come loose completely though.

“Can I untie your hair?”

He reached for the tie and released it. How could he look any more stunning? With his long hair spilling over the pillow. He smirked up at you. It was very annoying that San knew how much he affected you.

“Are you motivated enough to ride me now?”

Yes, you were very motivated now. You pulled down his pants. It was going to be very fast, judging by his girth. You aligned yourself above him and let yourself sink down on him. The stretch made you gasp. His hands came to rest on your hips. You could still move freely, so it felt like he needed something to hold on to. You gingerly rocked your hips and heard San sigh beneath you. His fingers pressed into your hips. Moving your hips was the only thing you wanted to do now. You felt so full and so close already. Maybe him between your legs earlier was the cause of that. You leaned back and the changed angle made him press against your g spot. Every move sent waves of pleasure through your body.

San sat up and looked into your eyes. A light blush had appeared on his face. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he closed the distance. The kiss made your heart flutter and clench around him. He kissed down your neck to your chest. Your hand flew to his hair when he took one nipple in his mouth. He sucked and circled it with his tongue.

“Say my name.”

It sounded like a plea. His mouth was on the other nipple now while his hand came up to continue. You moved your hips as much as possible with him sitting up. The light biting and twisting of the nipples send electric shocks to your core.

“Oh, San.”

It felt a bit odd to say that but San hummed against your chest, doubling his efforts. Your hand grabbed his hair tighter and you rock your hips fast. So close. He bit down a bit harder at just the right moment to make the wave of pleasure came crashing down. Without realizing it you muttered his name over and over.

A few more movements and your hips came to a hold. San wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. You sank against him and he held you. Your breathing calmed down as you enjoyed being held. He was still inside you and it felt so intimate that you wanted to lighten the mood with humor.

“So, am I going to birth a tree now?”

San chuckled and kissed your shoulder.

“That’s not how that works.”

You smiled against his shoulder as his hands rubbed your back.

After a quick shower, you and San returned to your bedroom. You put on a t-shirt and sweatpants. San lay on the bed waiting for you. When you looked he spread his arms, waiting for you to fall into his arms. You could not help yourself but smile. He really was cute. You sank into his arms and he kissed the top of your head.

“What you wanna do now?”

You asked his chest. It was nice and warm in his arms. Would it be rude to fall asleep now? Your eyelids felt so heavy, it was hard to keep them open. You were not sure if he ever answered because you drifted off to sleep so fast.

And that is how you got yourself a boyfriend that had been a minor god for some time. The plants in your house never withered and from time to time you would visit your town. The altar was still there, in the middle of the forest, slowly being assimilated by nature, but San always went back to the city with you.

For that one person who forgot, 'San' literally means mountain in Korean XD

I'm willing to write some more episodes in this universe, so if you have a request (idk San meeting your friends for the first time or something like this), send me an ask :))

#candyshop #ksmutclub #8makes1teamnet #Wkcnet #noonasinnetwork #Ateez Fanfic #San Fanfic #Ateez smut #San smut #Kpop Fanfic #Kpop X Reader #Ateez X Reader #san X Reader #Star Writing

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skeppsbrott · 2 years

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Venting some frustrations about autism, social contacts in general and dating in particular below the cut, if you want to chat with me about it that'd be welcome X

I loathe to call it trauma because that seems like an incorrect usage of a quite serious term, but there are a few major experiences I carry with me from being a young autist in combination with a target of bullying from ages uuh 7-14, that I keep thinking I've moved past but which time and time again prove their grip on me.

The experience of "I thought everything was fine but it was not and I have no way of knowing whether the fault was mine and if so what I did wrong" I think is fundamentally human. Second guessing yourself and your impact on others is healthy. That said there is a difference where many of my allistic friends can tell themselves (or have others tell them) they are overthinking and most of the time be right whereas in my case, more often than not over the course of my life, that fear was very much founded and for many years I learned the hard way that I should second guess myself more than I thought. The result is that while I have become a much more socially competent person, it is at the expense of never resting in my ability to assess a situation, always being prepared for things (from my perspective) turning on a dime and really struggling with assigning the cause to anything but myself. This itself is not great for portraying yourself as a wonder of charm and charisma.

This time it was someone I matched with on Tinder who I, today, found out had unmatched me. It happens every so often and usually I just bite the disappointment of "this was an attractive and interesting person who for whatever reason decided the effort wasn't worth it" because it's so superficial anyway. I've unmatched people before. Whatever.

And yet.

Me and this person got directly into some shared passions, she complimented me multiple times, we agreed to meet and it was only after I suggested a different date from one she originally had to turn down that she unmatched me. I was a bit antsy because she was very, very slow to reply so I shared some screenshots with a friend to assure me that I wasn't actually crazy and that aside from the slow replies she seemed genuinely interested, looking back at them I feel none the wiser. I don't know. I explain slow replies with social anxiety or work hours or downplaying interest, I know I am not owed an explanation but I so, so wish for the politeness of a "thank you but for personal reasons I will have to decline". Just anything. Whatever. Maybe she got back together with an ex or maybe she never liked me and was just playing along or maybe her aunt died and she just removed herself off of the internet altogether or maybe she found out she knows someone I once hurt or maybe she has personal issues and couldn't handle following through.

I don't need to know. I genuinely don't expect strangers to reveal those kinds of things to me. But there is something about being ignored or left talking to the void that upsets me deeply. It makes me feel like that middle schooler that people were talking about but not to. It makes me feel like an alien, a wild beast in people's clothing, like everyone has noticed something I have not. Like adults switching to a different language when they talk about scary or important things they don't want their children to hear. Like my faults are inherent and not worth addressing because what is there to do about them? Nothing. It is the kind of thing you understand or you don't.

There is no purpose in self love. There is nothing about me inherently unlovable, repulsive, distasteful. I know this. I know my strengths and I acknowledge those and I prove in my friendships and familial and professional relationships their importance and usefulness and power. I am better than no man, and no man is better than I. All of this is true. I observe myself and in spite of bullies and exclusionary norms I see my own self worth, appreciate what and who I am, feel no shame in stating that. I am attractive in ways which are perhaps unremarkable but nonetheless fine and attractive. I have proven time and time again that I am capable of loving as well as of recieving love.

And yet.

#Bluh bluh #Not feeling too hot

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melatovnik · 3 years

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hi, can u rec other sbwy fics?

yes i most certainly can!

below under the cut is a selection of very good sbwy (and sgwy) fics, i.e., wangxian fics where wwx experiences compulsory heterosexuality. by no means is it a comprehensive list of all the excellent fics of this genre, because i'm a super slow reader and simply haven't gotten to them all yet, but these are just the ones i've read and enjoyed so far. of course, mind all tags/content warnings etc you know what's up

~ the Straight Boy Wei Ying universe series by raitala | rated E | 36K words total | i know this ask was prompted by my earlier rec of this series but i'll include it here anyway. a very charming wonderful story, with extremely massively hot sex scenes

Sit down next to me | 7K words

Lan Zhan has been in love with his tragically straight best friend Wei Ying forever. So what if some girl says Wei Ying is a bad kisser? Lan Zhan has to prove to Wei Ying that this is incorrect. Because Lan Zhan is a good friend. He out does himself.

If I hadn't seen such riches | 29K words

Sequel to "Sit down next to me" - if you haven't read this all you need to know is that Wei Ying thinks he is straight. He just really likes his best friend Lan Zhan. Who is incidentally a really great kisser. Who also made him come in his pants one time. Who also has a *really* big dick, which Wei Ying sucked one time, but, like, in an experimental way, not in a gay way. They are just really good friends, right? Lan Zhan is the best. Lan Zhan is crying inside.

~ Keep Up by mimilamp | rated E | 27K words | i actually just read this one today and wwhfoohgkhdghihHHHHHHhghhhhhhgh 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 INSTANT FAVE. MUST READ.

“She was going to kiss me,” Wei Ying says, muffled, into his hands.

Lan Zhan makes sure he keeps his breaths even. “Hm,” he says. Wei Ying looks up at him, wild: a little tipsy, perhaps. Confused, in a panic. His mouth is red like he’s been kissed—he hasn’t. He’s a lip biter, has a habit of picking at his dry lips, the winter sores at the corner of his mouth. It drives Lan Zhan to madness. He dreams of Wei Ying’s puffy mouth, often, sometimes with the real Wei Ying in a sleeping bag on the floor next to his bed. On mornings like those he wakes up in a cloud of embarrassment—hobbling to the bathroom at dawn, running a loud shower to hide the sounds. Wei Ying sleeps on.

“How do I—” Wei Ying starts, stops. He then lets out a single laugh, another. He says: “Oh my god. How do I kiss? Lan Zhan, how do I kiss?”

Or: Wei Ying has a girlfriend now. Wei Ying doesn't want his best friend to lag behind.

~ A Brilliant Idea by FrameofMind | rated E | 25K words | good for you wei ying

The one where Wei Ying (straight) and Lan Zhan (gay) make a shared tinder account to save money, because Wei Ying has brilliant ideas.

(Wei Ying has terrible ideas.)

~ worth it for the feeling by occultings | rated E | 8K words | they're both girls in this one! "straight" girl wei ying 🥰

“I’ve never gotten off with another person,” Wei Ying says that night, apropos of nothing.

~ ready to run by detectorist | rated E | 21K words | really really enjoyed the plot and atmosphere and everything in this story

“You should make a Tinder account for campaigning,” Nie Huaisang says.

Wei Ying chokes out, “What?”

“Sounds like an absolutely terrible idea,” Jiang Cheng says flatly.

“No, it’s a great idea!” Nie Huaisang insists. “You just swipe right on everyone and then send them a message about how they should vote for you. You’re hot, Wei Ying! People will definitely match with you and then you can swoop in and hit them with the politics!”

“I don’t even have Tinder,” Wei Ying protests. He’d downloaded the app in first year but had quickly deleted it after a girl responded to his message of wanna get a drink with yeah sure, what time?

“That can be easily fixed,” Nie Huaisang says.

—

Wei Ying downloads Tinder to help him campaign for his student union election. He gets a little more than he bargained for.

~ drop the game by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 28K words | cheerleader wwx + jock lwj + fake dating + practice kissing + insane sexual tension = me, flattened like a cartoon character after getting run over by a truck

Wei Ying grabs a pen from Lan Zhan’s desk, curling his legs into a lotus pose under the arms of the chair so he can easily spread the journal out across his lap. Even upside down, Lan Zhan can read his large, messy characters scrawled across the top: Lan Zhan + Wei Ying’s Rules for Dating.

Perhaps this was a bad idea.

~ big hands (i know you're the one) by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 8K words | WHOOF 🥵

“Not a big talker, hm?” Wei Ying tilts his head to one side. “That’s okay, I’ve been told I’m a good enough conversationalist for three. My tongue is multi-talented and—”

He has just enough time to feel her palm on the back of his neck and think, oh, her hands are so big, before his words are being stolen into her mouth.

~ Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers | rated E | 60K words | LAN ZHAN???? BETHROTHED???? NOT TO WEI YING??????? it's less likely than you think! canonverse casefic, featuring tons of pining and wwx taking outrageous liberties with lwj's person, as is his right

Lan Zhan stands there in his immaculate, cloud-patterned Lan robes, watching him calmly, one fist tucked up against his back. “I am betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Are you…” He tries to laugh. Again, it sounds inhuman. “Is this about last night? Are you mad at me? I only remember some of it, Lan Zhan. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m sure whatever I did I was just—” He gestures uselessly. He remembers being warm in Lan Zhan’s lap. He remembers fitting snugly in Lan Zhan’s lap. Wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. Nosing at his jaw. “…playing around.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Wei Wuxian.”

~ cherry ass wei ying (Chapter 3 of threadfic) by saltyfeathers | rated E

wei ying is so straight he sucks lan zhan's fingers about it.

~ all(e)y (Chapter 11 of threadfic) by saltyfeathers | rated E

prompt fill on twitter for straight boy wei ying + fake dating that ended up being too long for twitter so now it lives here in stupid silly shame. sorry the fake dating is a complete flyover state in this. to make up for it, i wrote out an entire blowjob for some reason.

~ lan zhan has fallen in fuck-love with the straight toad boy (Chapter 14 of threadfic) by saltyfeathers | rated M | there is no chapter summary provided by the author. the title says it all, really

~ wei wuxian loves mysteries! (Chapter 15 of threadfic) by saltyfeathers | rated G | a canonverse character exploration of wwx, set pre-CR (before wangxian first meet). soooo good

~ the mall that has it all by saltyfeathers | rated E | 8K words | 😳 wrow

She introduced herself in the food court, breathless after sprinting across it in Lan Zhan’s direction and vaulting over a table only to crash into the seat across from her, ask, “Can I have a sip?”, spring forward with both elbows on the table to wrap her burgundy lips around Lan Zhan’s smoothie straw, wrinkle her nose, and say, “What is that, kale? Not really my thing, as like, a mall goth. Oh!” A pleased, chaotic exhale. “My name’s Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan said, after taking a moment to fully process the last forty-five seconds, “What?”

or;

mall goth au

~ I Wish You Would by brooklinegirl | rated E | 52K words | lan zhan fucks guys, wei ying pines, and lan zhan also pines

Lan Zhan takes a breath. His hands are in fists on his thighs. He stares down at them hopelessly, then carefully unclenches them, one finger at a time, before taking another breath and reaching for his lukewarm tea. He'll go out, tomorrow. Maybe in the late afternoon. Something quick. Something easy. He'll text his brother first, the short note of when he should be home, so he'll know to track him. He'll be fine, just like he said.

~ all that and more by Euphorion | rated E | 20K words | hot hot hot! and a classic

Wei Wuxian locks his phone and puts it down, blinks at his ceiling, and picks it up again. The pictures are still there.

His first thought is that Lan Zhan meant them for someone else. That he just woke up at—he checks the timestamp—6:30 am on a Sunday and decided to go absolute full nuclear seduction option on some poor boy he met on Grindr, who would now be missing out on the best thing to ever happen to him because Wei Wuxian had a bad habit of distracting—of—oh.

Pieces of last night start to resurface and paste themselves together in his head. He winces.

~ dreaming and getting a glimmer by verseau | rated E | 27K words | THE comphet gloryhole fic

Wei Ying discovers himself.

~ wanna feel a different kinda tension by verseau | rated E | 10K words | THE comphet watching-porn-together-and-also-wwx-jerks-lwj-off-with-his-own-freshly-used-fleshlight fic

Four times Lan Zhan walks in on his roommate masturbating.

that's all for now! happy october!

#mdzs #fic rec

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sapphos-darlings · 3 years

Note

Hello! I apologize upfront if this is not the right space to ask about it or inappropriate in some ways, but I was wondering if you or your followers know good blogs/sources about wlw dating? I just never had any dating experience whatsoever due to severe social anxiety, but I greatly improved over the years and recently started pondering the thought that maybe I should finally give it a try. But I just don't know where to start and it feels like everybody has already figured it all out, while I'm the only one who missed the memo, haha.

Either way, no matter if you can help me or not, I want to add that this blog is amazing and the content is beautiful and I greatly appreciate all the work you put into it. Wish you all everything best. 🌺💞

Hello!

Don't worry, this is very appropriate, exactly the kind of thing we do here. And thank you very much for your support!

What comes to mind first is that you should find some lesbian publications. There have been a lot of magazines and they are still available, and the internet of course has communities of our own. AfterEllen and Lesbiansovereverything come to mind as great sites.

They have articles on lifestyle including dating, so you might find something there.

As for where to find a date, all my dating has happened through simply hanging out with other lesbians and bi women. Friends have introduced friends, and so forth.

Online dating seems to be all the rage. HER is an app for women, but Tinder and OkCupid have viable options too. You could also check if your local LGBT organization throws mixers, partiers or gaming nights and go there!

I think your experience is very common among LGB people though, in a way that we often feel like we've missed some important milestone being in the closet or rejecting our same-sex attraction.

But worry not, women dating women is not that different from just generally dating. It's people meeting people, and you don't have to worry about any secret handshakes or mating dances to fit in. Plenty of people struggle with being shy or anxious, and those are things you can work on (as you have! Congrats on your progress!).

Some tips:

- Think about what you're interested in and what you want and put that forward: Go after what you like, and also give other women something to talk about when they meet you. Like mention your hobbies, share your interest, use pictures where you're out doing something you like. Let your personality shine.

- Start conversations, ask questions, be interested: Where does she work, what does she study, what does she do for a hobby, does she have pets, would she like pets, where does she go when she's out to eat, etc. You could also just complement something like her hair or outfit and go from there.

- Don't assume but communicate. A couple of casual dates breeze by. Are you on the same page? Do you want to meet again? Are you looking for a long-term relationship or casual fun? Do you want to take things slow but still be exclusive? These are conversations that need to be had.

- Don't underestimate friendly hang-outs. You never know who you'll meet, where a spark might be ignited, or what might happen with someone once you get to know her better. Also, lesbian and bi friends are just as valuable as romantic partners, and a circle of LGBT friends will make your life better in ways you never knew.

A couple of tips from my friends, from their experience:

- On Tinder, women tend to be more serious than guys, but making the first move is often up to you.

- Also for Tinder, don't get stuck in the messaging phase but ask her out on like a quick coffee date to see if you can actually have a conversation in real life and do you have chemistry. (This might not work for everyone, but my friend recommended this so that the interest doesn't fizzle out just because neither one asks, and also because messaging online tells you very little.)

There we go! As always, if our followers want to rec some sites or blogs or just drop their own dating advice, go ahead! I wish you good luck in finding love!

- Lavender

#reply #dating #wlw dating #wlw #lesbian safe

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dropsofletters · 3 years

Text

how to lose someone in seven steps? | ten

— summary: when she gets the opportunity to record her first music video, she doesn’t expect the director to be this enigmatic and vain. ten throws his head back, squinting his eyes at her mere presence, inspecting her every move, and she feels like threatening him. it shouldn’t be that hard to fulfill her promise of breaking his heart.

— title: how to lose someone in seven steps? — pairing: ten x reader — genre: music video producer!au ; bet!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; love experiment!au — type: fluff ; romance ; humor ; drama ; angst — word count: 10,850 — playlist: no blueberries – dpr ian (ft. cl and dpr live) ; diamonds – rihanna ; love me less – max ; my my my – troye sivan ; fever – dua lipa ; ex – sik-k (ft. chacha malone) — note: you have to read the prologue before reading this route.

One would say that she has never gone through heartbreak. One meaning…she says it all the damn time. It’s what she manages to let out with a cramped smile on her face, hands expanding for further emphasizing. Heartbreak is not my thing.

It’s the thing she told herself with one of the last men she dated (Or is it ‘saw’, ‘went out with’? This generation has changed the terms exponentially), when she pulled the straps of her dress up her shoulders, knowing that inside his heart there was someone else. The blood of a singer told her to go for passion—to fight the competition like a champion would, but love is not a matter of winning. It never is. It’s about how much you can lose in one go, and if you’re smart enough, you’ll rationalize the pieces to share with several people. Give out one? Forget it’s ever coming back.

The hairstylist—and it’s so weird to say this without a giddy feeling inside her chest—pulls at her hair harshly enough for her eyebrows to raise the slightest. A face lift wasn’t necessary, but she might as well start thinking about one in the future with the amount of stress that has piled up inside her at the mention of a music video recording. The short woman manages to smile, cheeks puffed out in ways that makes the speckles of pink on her cheeks glisten under the harsh lights of the preparation room. Staff goes around and comes around, like flies on a summer day, while Hao, her manager, keeps looking down at his phone like a maniac.

She reaches forward, trying her hardest not to confuse her migraine with the headache induced by the pull of her hair. This ponytail is so high up her head that she may as well start using it as an antenna, old school style, to get some signal. Instead, her fingertips wrap around Hao’s hand, pulling it down to have him looking at her. “Hey, care to be my friend and my manager at the same time and help me feel less like…?” Looking around, she lowers her voice. “Like shit?”

For the first time in a while, Hao doesn’t look like a father. His khaki shorts have been exchanged for something far more presentable—a suit that fits him like a glove, his hair pushed away from his face in elegance. His hand comes forward to rub her cheek softly, only to hear a hiss from the stylist.

“Don’t touch her makeup.” For someone as small as the stylist, she surely has some bite to her. Hao’s hand pulls away as if she was made of electricity, rubbing his fingers together in hopes of not having any leftover makeup on his fingertips. The makeup, however, makes her feel different. It’s the vision of the director, she knows this much, of the new record label that had taken up on her with the promise of a contract only if this song does well. The thick eyeliner on her eyelids looks much better than anything she had tried—eyes elongated, almost cat-like, as if she’s ready to eat the world just by glaring around.

“You’re going to do fine.” Hao instructs, a wave of his hand coming soon after. “Besides, I called one of your friends to come here and support you through all this,” One of her many friends, whose tears have become one with her skin, whose smiles are glimpses of her soul—whose tastes have come merged with her in some way or another. Friendship is such a beautiful thing. “Since I’m shit at it. Don’t ask me who it is, though, because I literally can’t tell the difference between any of them.”

“Genius.” She replies, feeling once again a tug at her hair before an elastic band wrapped around the strands. Harshly. “Ah, Siyeon…could you try to go softer on me?”

“No.” Siyeon says, a tiny smile to her face. “This ponytail has to stay in place so the director sees if it’s a good look. I need to do my best so I don’t have to think about any other styling.”

“…Good.” Though, she can’t say anything else. At this point, the director sounds awfully like a dictator. “If you don’t know who is coming to support me, how did you contact them?”

“I just press one of the many numbers I have.” Hao turns his screen to showcase it to her, and she can’t muffle the laughter that escapes her lips.

“Who the fuck is ‘Friend Number Three’?”

“She was parking, so I imagine we’ll figure it out in a second.”

“Hao,” Her voice is tiny as she starts, eyes drifting to the person in the mirror. It’s not her—it’s a version of herself she hasn’t seen often. Thick leather jacket draped on her shoulders in a way that tugs them down, accompanied by a floral button down that were pushed inside her—surprise, leather—pants. Well-hidden, stylish, with no flaws flourishing just yet; she looks different, all thanks to Siyeon’s work. “How is it that you manage a bunch of artists but can’t remember the name of my seven friends? I’m your favorite represented artist.”

Not that he had openly said it without being in a drunken blur, but he doesn’t deny it. She is, indeed, his favorite. Perhaps, reminding her of his daughter that lives with her mother, far away from the country, never once sparing him a glance for not having a future. It’s been years since Hao has tried to demonstrate his broken family that he is a good manager. “They’re just too chatty. I can’t remember any of their personalities exactly.”

“Look at those thighs! Damn, girl, we’re going to have to get you on Tinder before all that beauty is wasted.”

When the opportunity rises to run away, she always opts not to. The world is harsh at it is, but it seems a hell of a lot less like a burden when people like Angela made their ways through her life. With her bangs perfectly placed over her forehead, a blue sweater cladding her body, she holds a cake on her hands. Pearly white but with sprinkles in blue, the same shade as the icing on top that reads ‘congratulations!’ along with her name.

Because, relationships end in heartbreak—they are unnecessary findings that we thirst for because they are, apparently, much different from friendship, but friendship is exponentially better. Angela came to her life in the form of a baker in one of the first spots she performed in for some money—her guitar case was opened as she played miraculously, and just when Angela went out to ask her to cut it out, she stopped herself. Instead, they relished in a deep conversation about music that sooner than later translated into meetings as friends.

“You’re friend number three!” She utters with a smile on her face, though not quite being able to move her face with the tightness of her hairstyle. Instead, Angela holds the cake on one hand, the other wrapping around her shoulder to press a kiss to her highlighter-coated cheek.

“The makeup!” Siyeon screeches, both hands reaching her face comically, and the blinding lights by the vanity make her look even funnier. Angela pulls away with uncertainty on her face, widening her eyes comically before humming.

“I understand…sorry.” She whispers, soon after recomposing herself to let Hao hug her from the side. Her eyes look up at the older male, her straight teeth perched in a shy smile. “You didn’t know my name, right?”

“…Angela?” Hao hesitates, and the woman in question groans comically.

“Hey, at least he remembered!” She defends her manager, feeling one last tug at her hair until Siyeon pats both hands on her shoulders.

“You’re ready.”

When standing up from her seat, she watches as Angela and Hao talk comically. The woman must be at least thirteen years older than Angela, if not more, and yet she argues with him as if he’s one of the workers at her bakery. “Name all our friend group, come on!”

“Too many people.” His lips wrap around the words comically, lowering himself slightly to come face to face with this cake. “And what is this cake for?”

“Our star is finally getting her first music video. I’m just getting on the bandwagon before she rockets into stardom.” Angela’s trust goes over the roof. She’s stubborn—even for the good things. No one can get through her mind when an idea has settled inside her brain.

“Oh, stop it.” She says, silently licking her lips as she watches the dulcet treat in front of her. Would it be a good idea to eat cake when her lips are tainted in the deepest shade of red? She can already hear Siyeon screaming inside her head. “You’re talking as if I’m the next Lady Gaga.”

“You’re not the next anyone,” Angela says. “You’re the new you.”

“Poetic.” Though, she can’t quite imagine herself to be more than she already is. For one, she has been practically living off having her guitar case opened anywhere she goes, singing to her heart’s content, never once meeting the deadlines of her life. Planning done a mess, she roams this world like an archive, searching for the will of continuing with this dream. Hao is one of the few people that reminded her she has a future in this, and maybe, that has to deal with the fact that he actually gets paid from what she does. “I don’t think I can have a slice right now, though. Got my makeup done and all.”

“It’s okay.” Angela chirps, putting the cake down on a vanity before sighing. “I’ll keep it here until you’re over with the recording.”

Hao shakes his head then, letting go of Angela. “Oh no, the recording’s not today.”

“You said recording.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Look it up,” Hao indicates, pointing at her phone. “I didn’t say recording.”

But Angela, as always, never once wanting to be wrong, shakes her head. “I don’t need to. I’m sure you said recording—”

“Either way…” She interrupts, knowing damn well that Angela is an excellent friend, and even better at baking, but extremely bad at having anyone try to change her mind. “I’m just going to meet the director and see if my styling is right for his vision. He’ll explain the schedule today and whatnot.”

Angela’s brown eyes become anchors to her body, pulling away to squint at her. “You look cute.” She says, though, she hears that from every single one of her friends. Sometimes, when she’s feeling her worst, she starts to believe everyone in a liar—you’re a nice singer, you have a great future ahead, you’re beautiful. All fucking lies when the time is wrong. “I feel like you’re one of those…one of those grunge kids.”

“Oh no, this is not grunge.” She answers, pointing at her outfit. “This is something very movie-esque. Not grunge, definitely.”

“Maybe, you have a future as a movie star.”

She rolls her eyes at Angela’s antics. Her positivism meets that of a mother’s sometimes. “Where? A porno?”

“Oh my God, no!” Angela swats her hand over her shoulder, only lifting her gaze when they hear her name being called. Not by Siyeon, but by one of the staff members—if she recalls correctly, the director’s assistant, Hong. With a twirl of his fingers, calling her over, she starts moving, Angela following right after her. “You’re learning a little too much from Yifei.”

She chuckles, knowing damn well that Yifei is the jokester of the group. “Maybe, I have more of a future as a comedian.”

“Hold your horses, Joker.”

“…Are you trying to tell me I’m going to go batshit crazy if people don’t laugh at my jokes? Because, that’s what the Joker did.”

“I’m telling you…” Angela trails her voice, her sneakers a nice companion to the click of the heels in her boots. “That you’re going to do fine in whatever you put your mind into.” The warmth of her words reaches her in a way that has a smile appearing on her face. Praise isn’t that bad after all.

“Thank you, Ang—”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—”

“What?”

Angela’s hand tightens around her own when Hong opens the door to the director’s office, her nails digging into her skin as she watches the man in front of them. A black button down leaves the first few buttons open to welcome his taut chest, a leather jacket half thrown over one shoulder, falling off the other for the zippers on the sleeves to meet his ripped jeans. His long black hair curls a bit onto itself at the edges, damp from humidity, though his face is the most impressive. A nicely structured nose that makes the edges of his face even better to look at, twinkling eyes and thin lips. Rosy, at that.

“That’s my ex.” Angela whispers, only to have looking over her shoulder. Hong, whose bleached blonde hair barely reaches his ears and stands at least a foot taller than the director, may be her ex in this situation.

“Hong?”

“What? No.” Angela frowns deeply, lifting one hand in the air to greet her past lover. “Ten, how’s it been?”

The covers are blown at that moment—actually, shot away and straight through her heart when she watches the director stare at Angela in recognition, battling to put a smile on his face that doesn’t look panicked or angry. He moves forward the slightest, crossing both arms over his chest before replying. “Angela, long time no see. May I ask what are you doing here?”

Ten.

Wait.

That name sounds like something she has heard before…

Four months ago, drunken night, Ten was in a picture Angela had showed her on her phone and she had promised to break his heart at the time. Not that she was thinking straight, really, this man probably shatters the souls of millions of people on the daily—someone that good looking is, at least, a Greek god of sorts.

“I’m supporting my friend, considering she was about to meet the director of her new music video.” Angela replies, watching as Ten’s eyebrows lift on his forehead, albeit a bit stuck in his own thoughts.

“Mhm, alright.” Ten says, opening the door of his office with delicate motions of his body, as if balance exists within him, only to continue his train of thoughts. “But Angela can’t come inside. I have a recording in an hour and I have to make this quick.”

“That’s okay.” Angela replies quickly, pulling her hand away from her before mumbling softly. “Get ready to deal with the most stubborn asshole you’ve ever met.”

And that, coming from Angela, baker bridezilla that is not actually getting married to start with, just is the first big, twinkling, red light that comes with Ten.

###

Magic died the day sentimentalism did. When break-ups started to happen though texts, or when kids stopped living the best ages of their lives to be on social media, or try to be adults. Magic relished on its death when people stopped caring for others, when seeing someone falling on the floor was more of a call out for laughter than a reason to help them stand up. Magic died within her, somehow, someway, in a road to utter lack of empathy. She knows that, in order to come out of life as a champion, she had to protect herself over all.

So, why is it, that when seated on that elongated table at Ten’s office, she feels like there is some mystic power that is held over her? Beauty in the form of him, in the white and black decorations but how he spices them up. There is good and there is bad. There is sadness that meets his happiness, in the somberness of the black and the speckles of colors that he has in family pictures and in some drawings that he holds up on the walls. Something about him…something about him calls out for interest, even when the last time she saw him, just one week ago, he was quickened with his words, never once looking at her, never once stopping to breathe.

This time around, her face is not pulled by a ponytail and she remains as makeup-less as possible, tapping her fingers against the table and watching Hao and Hong speak within themselves about some music videos that they enjoy. On the other hand, she has kept herself quiet, letting herself relish on the feeling of just not feeling at all. It’s the limbo of life, when she doesn’t know if she should be happy or sad, and she decides to be numb. Comfortable, sure, but not exactly good for a musician.

The doors open at that moment, a little bit over the time they were supposed to meet—twenty-four minutes, if she’s getting technical here—, but she can’t help but think that Ten is, truly, a favorite of destiny and the world. The speckles of rain that patter against his coat, gray to be exact, almost look like snowflakes, glistening under the harsh lights of his office. His hair is pulled away from his face by a ponytail, some of the strands falling on the back of his neck or his forehead, though his eyes are left a mystery as he keeps a pair of red and retro sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry for being late,” Ten says, a rumble to his voice as he moves further inside the office. “I was looking for my sketchbook and my drawing board for the music video. We need to go over the visuals, the cameras, and everything of that sort before we start the recording in three days.”

Not even a ‘hello’ from him, as unreachable as possible. The icy walls of Ten’s heart somewhat make her feel more intrigued, like the tattoos that scatter on his slim arms when he pulls his coat down and is left on his tank top. He turns on the heater without asking, and she decides to be the polite one in the situation. “Good afternoon, Ten. How are you?”

“Mhm, I don’t know. I asked for an iced coffee after waiting in line for twenty minutes, and the ice has melted off so now it’s dirty coffee water in my cup.” He instructs, putting down his sketchbook and putting up his drawing board on a stencil to be able to showcase it. He pulls his sunglasses down, then, settling them on the table before sighing. “There was no parking spot…because someone decided to park on my designated parking lot—” He cuts himself short then, lifting an eyebrow when he looks at her. “What about you, superstar?”

There is some edge to his tone, and she doesn’t know if it’s a challenge or an annoyance. “I’m good.”

“Good, because I had a whole epiphany when we talked last week—” Ten moves the stencil closer to the table, showing the drawing board with expertise. The style is one to envy, intelligent and complicated in its drawing form, showing different shots, words written to further indicate the details of the music video. “Your song is very pop-y. I liked it, don’t worry. But I think that to make you stand out more in the pop stance, we have to hit the scene with something strong. Maybe, the absurdity of life for someone whose head is locked onto itself. Very science-fiction, mind-based…”

Something about Ten when he has his mind roaming is that, at times, he stops to smile at himself. Pride fills the imagery of what he has imagined, and she’s captured by the way he has twisted the vision of her song into a whole daydream. The kind of nightmare that people love to watch in the form of a music video, but would be a heart-taker if only they went through it. Ten’s idea speaks about losing one self in the middle of our own thoughts, when it’s hard to divide regret from deciding, love from hate—and it’s her. So much that she finds herself enraptured in his thoughts, and for a moment, she thinks she can give her little penny.

“I think we shouldn’t make the music video that dark, though. Like, the idea of a filter on the entire music video would only further emphasize what we’re already showing. It’s a bad idea.” Her tone is serious, leaning over the table to speak properly to Ten, and the man stops pointing at the drawing board to chuckle.

“If we leave everything in a light tone, it’s going to look like a trip dream. We don’t want people to think it’s a video about the aftermath of cocaine, but something serious instead.” Ten replies, eager to open his mouth and explain the end of the video, but she still holds onto her thought.

“It’s a pop song, if we make it too dark, it’ll be too risqué for a debut—”

“But if we make it too light, the idea of the song will be lost and you will be one step closer to being a LMFAO wannabe.”

The stare-off continues for a few seconds, and she has to laugh as she shakes her head. “Listen, I know you’re the expert here, but I don’t think it would look cute.”

“You’re awfully like Angela when you want to, you know that?” Ten spits out, annoyance creeping up on him when he breathes through his nose and speaks again. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve done videos like this before and people love a good storytelling music video.”

Though, her mind is not in that argument anymore. “Why would you say that? You dated Angela, that’s not my fault. You don’t get to diminish people just because they don’t think exactly like you do.”

“A—Alright! Let’s all calm down.” Hao is already up on his feet, ready to launch herself forward if she keeps running her mouth to put one hand over her mouth to stop her. She doesn’t.

Ten gives her one of those smiles that will forever be engraved inside her brain, perhaps for being annoying or for being breathtaking. “That’s exactly what she does. Mrs. Perfect just loved saying everything I did was not good enough, and you’re doing the exact same thing even though you’re just a newbie.”

Ouch. “W—Well, I haven’t seen your name around a lot either.”

“Really? All the music videos I’ve directed in United States and Asia beg to say otherwise.” Ten breathes out, patting his ponytail before clearing his throat. “Listen, I don’t want to fight with you, but the filter is staying. Otherwise, it will look poorly done—”

Four months ago, Angela spoke about how much of a vain asshole he was—and there is nothing she wants more than to show him how much power she could have over him if only she put her mind into it. Make his life difficult, insufferable, just as he’s doing right now for her. “You’re insufferable, aren’t you?” She whispers, well aware that Hao has finally gone to her side of the table and already placed a hand over her mouth.

“I—I’m sorry, she didn’t mean it!” Hao’s apologies are already background music to the tension between Ten and her. She looks at him. He stares right back. Brightness and darkness becoming one, the twinkle on his eye danger beyond all.

“Don’t apologize for her. It’s okay.” Ten indicates, swatting his hand in the air to lay it on the table, leaning his weight forward. Instead, he talks directly to her. “I’m insufferable?”

Pulling Hao’s hand away from her mouth, she replies: “Why? Want me to say it again?”

“No.” Ten adds. “I just want to remind you I’m insufferable now, but I can be even worse.”

Going on with his explanations, she finds herself speechless—but mentally, she’s chatting herself up about how much she hates Ten. How the fuck did Angela date someone like him?

###

“You know,” Hao’s hair is already gray—with some hair-dye, sometimes, he tries to return it to its dark color, but the gray strands appear every once in a while—but it may turn bone white with how much stress is read on his expression. Their usual café does not serve him as a relaxation method, much more when he continues with his dilemma. “I’ve done all I fucking can to get you here, and now that we’re two days away from getting you to record your music video, you decide it’s a good idea to drink lemonade like a maniac and fight Ten in the process.”

The straw in between her lips slips from her hold when she looks up, and it’s true—this is her second glass of lemonade, relishing on the sweetness and sourness of it all, and it may damage her throat, but it’s what she craves right now. “Hao, it will be fine. I’m just not letting that asshole talk to me as if I’m stupid.”

The white and cream walls of the café contrast with the harsh sigh that rips from his throat, running his hands over his face, playing around with his cheeks a bit. “Listen, stop drinking lemonade and listen to yourself for a second,” He says. “He’s one of the most famous music directors at this moment…and he does a damn good job at it. You’re set to succeed and, still, you want to fuck it up.”

“That man is crazy!” She completes her sentence with some hand motions, looking down at her lemonade and pondering if she should drink another one. Does she want to go to the bathroom for the entirety of the night, or, would she rather just control her nervousness? After all, she’ll have a big shoot in two days. “I’m all about self-confidence and positivity, about self-love, too, but I’m sure if Ten could be cloned, he’d choose to date himself.”

Hao tilts his head to the side at that moment. “I mean, if I looked like him, I would definitely date myself, too.” He replies, laughter following his statement before he places one hand over hers, stopping her from taking her glass of lemonade once again. “Hey, hear me out. I’m serious. I don’t want you to fail on your dream only to end up giving a hand-job for five bucks in some bar downtown because no one wants to listen to your voice anymore.”

Harsh, the hostility in his voice comes from a place of deep worry—but there is nothing to worry about. If Ten is as sensible as a flower when it comes to honesty, then that’s his fault. “Why am I the one that ends up giving a hand-job in some bar downtown when he’s the one that treated me like shit?”

“Because you weren’t so polite, either!” Hao replies. “You could’ve easily lifted your hand,” And he does. “And said—” Then, he changes his tone to one that matches hers. Maybe, a bit lower. “Excuse me, Ten, I think we could arrange a lighter tone in the filter because it would look better, in my opinion. May we add some colors? I’m not too experienced in this, but I would like for my opinion to be taken into consideration for this.”

She blinks. Once. Twice. Three times and a few more before she says. “And that is what I would never say. What do I do after? Kiss his feet? Call him my master?”

“That’s being polite. You’re at a workplace.”

“I’m the artist.”

“And you’re a newbie.”

“And?” She drags her voice, eyes widening. “Madonna was once a newbie. Beyoncé was once a newbie. Do you think Beyoncé has no say in what goes in her music videos?”

Patience is Hao’s best virtue, maybe, or he really is mostly like a father figure to her. “Well then, produce something as good as Lemonade or as Single Ladies, and we won’t even need Ten to start with.”

She throws her head back, looking up at the white ceiling with anger flushing from inside of her. Ten, a masterpiece from the outside, a piece of garbage on the inside. A trashcan has less odor than his personality. Whatever. “Why are you so in love with Ten all of the sudden?”

“I’m not in love with Ten. I’m in love with the opportunity that means having him as your director. You’re set to a good start, that’s all I want for you.”

Her heart melts, dripping onto the center of her body, leaving her with a smile on her face. Why ask for richness when she already has the best, she could ever ask for right here, in her life? “Thanks, Hao.” She replies, wrapping her fingers around his hand and tightening her hold. “We’re going to skyrocket in this business, just—just let me sit Ten down in his place when he really needs to. Just some ass-flatting so he knows how to treat me.”

“Watch out—”

She rolls her eyes then. “I’ll be fine. I won’t attack him if he doesn’t attack me. I’m a revengeful person, not a stupid one.”

“Questionable.”

“Hao.”

“So, now that we’ve settled that.” The man stands up then, downing the rest of her lemonade in one go before snapping his fingers together. “I’m getting you some tea for those vocal cords. I need a high note.”

###

Wild hair, dampened almost romantically, makes her skin glimmer with goosebumps as the coldness of the night hits her in the abandoned building that Ten has set his mind recording the first scene into. Everyone knew that it was going to be this cold, sporting coats over coats, sweaters, holding cups of hot chocolate or coffee. Instead, she’s the artist that has to stand looking at Ten from up-close as he explains to Hong and herself what they’re going to do for the first scene.

The sleeves of Ten’s sweater trail down his hands, keeping him covered even past the jacket on his shoulders. With his gelled back hair, he’s an ode to trouble. The kind of people most lovers run away from in fear of being caught up in his trap. With his tongue in between his lips, Ten concentrates on what one of the staffs talks about—the lights and how they’re going to fall on certain angles to make the shadows more appealing and more fitted for her face. She doesn’t understand much, but what she does understand is the beauty of Ten’s features when he brings his cup of coffee up to his lips.

Ten is a poem made person—those that twist in between the good and the bad, and sometimes, when she looks at him, she can’t tell if he’s deeply saddened or in love with the world. Not that she should care, if anything, Ten is bitter about people not painting the world how he wants it. Or, that’s what she wants to believe when he catches her staring at him.

“I want you to act as if your song is stuck in your head and it…you want it to get it out of there. Dance to your will, but I want you to touch your head a lot, maybe play with your hair?”

“I wasn’t given a choreography, Ten.” She replies, silently cursing the cold as she blows raspberries onto her hands. With an eye-roll of his own, Ten’s cup is given to her with one brief movement, the man moving his shoulders a bit as he speaks.

“We’re recording the first verse here, I’ll tell you when to stop, but I had thought something like this. Not a choreography, just common sense. Feeling the music, as one would say.” The wind blows on his hair when Ten lets his voice romantically wrap around the lyrics of her song, motions matching that of a dance as he makes it visually perceivable that he can’t stand whatever is going on inside his head—this insecurity, this limbo that she talks about in her song. With his legs strutting as if he’s on a runway, she hums.

“I’ll see what I can do,” She answers, taking a sip of Ten’s coffee before being delighted by the taste. He makes good choices when it’s not iced coffee. “You can sing, though.”

“…A normal amount. Anyone can sing.” Ten says, ready to go over to the staff in charge of the fans that will blow at her hair and make her seem the slightest bit more stylish. She doesn’t know, she has never been in front of the cameras, and maybe that’s why she goes after Ten.

“No. You actually sing and dance. How—?”

“I used to watch MTV a hell of a lot when I was younger.” Ten breathes out, the wind curling onto his words and leaving an imprint of white onto it. A kiss from him that is visible for the world. “…And I would sing along to all these songs, learn some dance steps. I was in dancing classes for a while, but I got more interested about the behind-the-scenes stuff. Art meets art, you know.”

But he never does look at her, not even when she lowers her face to look right at his eyes. He only inspects her for a second before returning his gaze to the fans, checking them one by one. “It’s even more surprising that you learned the lyrics to my song.”

“You’re not a shitty artist. At least, not as shitty as you get when something doesn’t go your way.”

Fuck this dude.

Honestly.

Or, rather, don’t think about fucking this dude, because she feels her knees buckling up a bit when a smile appears on the corner of his lips.

“Speak for yourself!”

“I am.”

“You are so conceited.”

“That’s the Angela in you speaking. If you go meet someone with the predisposition of feeling like you know them and their flaws, you’ll find them.” Ten shrugs his shoulders then, turning around to look at her without noticing how their chests flush together, pressed to one another and yet, powerful enough to make her give a step back. “I’m confident about what I’m talking about. Never conceited. If I know what I’m doing, I just say it out loud.”

“First and foremost, my opinions about you are not levelled by what Angela has said about you to me.” But they do play around to certain extent. After all, she initially thought Ten was vain without even getting to know him. Fuck him and his nice logic. She puffs her chest out to defend herself, one hand on her waist. “And secondly, I am also confident about what I think about, thank you very much.”

“Good for you.” Ten answers, and the curtness of his reply has her pressing her lips together. This man will make her end up in anger management. “Anyways. Are you a fan of Christina Aguilera?”

“Her voice…” She has to breathe in for a second. “To die for. Why?”

“I need you to have the confidence she had for the ‘Dirty’ music video.”

The gasp that leaves her in unexpectedly loud, making some of the staff look at her as if she’s a fish out of the water. “She is fucking Christina Aguilera, how am I going to challenge Chris—?”

“You’re you. Challenge your inner diva.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Ten, do I look like a diva to you?”

“No, your inner self is a denied track for ‘Nevermind’ by Nirvana—but hey, I need some troubled diva to come through. Your outer self is badass right now, keep that.”

“What do you mean a denied track?” She asks, though, she can’t help but show a smile on her features, and Ten simply has to laugh at her antics.

“As troublesome as Kurt and Courtney together, but somehow, it’s appealing.” Throwing her head back, she lets the sarcasm in his voice get to her.

“I am not troublesome.”

“All musicians are.”

“What about music video directors, huh?” She asks, moving over to the center of the cameras as she throws a look at him. The redness of her lips captures his attention for a second, or maybe, he’s just concentrating on what she is saying. “I’m sure that there’s some emotional, Panic! At The Disco scene era, loving asshole under all that bite you have.”

He hums, sitting down on his director chair before speaking loudly. “I don’t know, figure it out, Christina.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so difficult to talk to, Brendon.”

“I’d rather be Ryan.” Ten corrects, and a smile appears on her face. Huh, so he really did watch MTV back in the day. “He wrote all the songs in the first album. That’s more of a mastermind for the era you’re talking about.”

“So much for telling me I’m the Nirvana denied track made person.”

“…Well, I got the bite and the diva out of you, didn’t I?”

That’s the day she realizes that Ten has more than just a vain side to him, that when he’s seated on his throne in the shape of a director’s chair, he’s much easier to talk to. That his knowledge in music, for the first time in a person she has met, matches hers and she doesn’t quite hate talking to him when it’s about that. It’s annoying, sure, but it’s better than what they started with.

###

“How much do you think I would make if I sold pictures of my feet?”

Shishi’s questions are always something to look forward to, much more when her face is stained in red and a glass of wine is on one hand, checking her phone while talking to Angela and her. Her YouTube video is uninteresting in this girl’s night-out turned sleepover, mostly because all three of them are too tipsy to go anywhere else, and Angela’s place is always the tidiest of the bunch.

“Depends.” She says, lifting her own glass of wine and taking a sip of it. “I don’t think I’ve openly talked to someone about foot fetishes, but…like, is it sexier if the toes are stubbier or like, is it hotter if they are slim toes? Do they have to be hairy toes?”

Angela puts her glass of wine down with a continued, harsh slap against her thighs. “You say toe one more time and I’m going to put my actual toe down your throat for being so disgusting.”

Shishi raises her hand slowly, as if she’s in the middle of class and wants to ask a question, so Angela can look her way. “If you do put your toe down her throat, can I record it and sell it on the internet so I can buy a Levi Ackerman body pillow?”

The answer comes from both Angela and herself at the same time: “No, Shishi!”

With mostly silence overtaking the room as Shishi roams the deepest of information about foot fetishes and the cost of feet pictures online, and Angela says she’s going to prepare some food to take some of the tipsiness away, she opts to enter Instagram. Not that she does that much often—and she can already hear Hao scolding her for it inside her head, for she should have a social media following, but the standards of normality that exist in such social media site really do get to her. There’s only so much she can stand before it actually starts playing with her head.

She brings her thumb up to her mouth to nibble on it softly, rushing through her scrolling to get to the latest picture and clicking her tongue when only seeing one picture of her interest. Though, to be unexpectedly convenient, Instagram suggests some people to follow for her, and much to her lack of knowledge, the appearance of Ten’s name and a small, circular picture of him is enough of an invitation for her to tap on his profile.

The last time she saw Ten was three weeks ago, and in less than a week, her music video would be released for the world to see. With some promotion, of course, not that she has quite paid attention to that without feeling like bawling. But, something about his profile makes her feel more connected to him. Only because he’s as immaculate on his social media as he is with his music videos, and he does look damn fine in every picture that she taps onto.

Now, one of the finest things that could be created in this life is the combination of fries and ketchup…and Ten challenges that. Head on. Face first. He puts all foods to shame, even the wine on her hand, with how fine he seems to be on every picture, and maybe it’s the liquid courage trailing after her actions that has her clicking the follow button and looking through his stories.

Because, let’s be honest—he’s annoying. He was annoying as all hell. But there is a double standard to that…he’s awfully uncapable of making himself be liked personality-wise when he’s working, but if he shuts his lips for one single second, he’s a dream come true.

He is asking for questions on his story, and her fingers move fast simply to jot down an innocent inquiry: “Favorite MV to direct?”

The answer comes less than fifteen minutes later, when Shishi’s head is laying on her lap and the smell of pasta has her stomach growling and asking for garlic bread as soon as possible. Her mouth watering, imagining the perfect bread siding past her lips for her to take a bite—

The image is black, but the answer is enough of a hit on the face for her to sit up straighter. “Yours.” He replied, with a tongue-out emoji after.

This man is the sole reason she doesn’t know the difference between sexual tension and absolute hatred.

To: @tenlee_1001

You’re joking.

And the three dots that appear soon after have her biting down on her lip.

From: @tenlee_1001

Maybe, stalker.

To: @tenlee_1001

I’m not stalking you.

From: @tenlee_1001

Said, the liar.

To: @tenlee_1001

You’re lucky I’m too drunk to reply to that.

How’s it been?

From: @tenlee_1001

Good.

How have you been?

To: @tenlee_1001

Hungry.

Angela’s making pasta right now and I can’t wait.

From: @tenlee_1001

Are you and Angela always tied to the hip?

To: @tenlee_1001

Not really.

Does that bother you?

From: @tenlee_1001

She’s nice.

Sometimes, two nice people just can’t be together.

To: @tenlee_1001

Are you meant to be the other half of that statement?

From: @tenlee_1001

Yeah, haha.

I’m nicer than you think.

To: @tenlee_1001

Prove it.

From: @tenlee_1001

I don’t have to prove anything to anyone.

To: @tenlee_1001

Said, the nicest guy on earth.

From: @tenlee_1001

Ah, fuck you.

All the people I’ve dated said I’m the nicest guy they’ve met.

Maybe, it’s the garlic in the air, the wine on her hand, or Shishi’s heavy head on her lap that dizzies her when she says:

To: @tenlee_1001

Then, take me out on a date.

Or, are you chicken?

It’s been a while since she has talked to a man like this, and, for fuck’s sake, she’s supposed to be hating this man. Throwing her phone on the cushion beside her, she tries to stifle her screech. Okay, sure, it will be okay, things could be worse—

And then, her phone vibrates and it takes her a second for her to check it.

From: @tenlee_1001

Okay. Let me just plan something.

I’ll take you out next Friday.

It’s a date, Aguilera.

To: @tenlee_1001

…Okay, Ryan.

And not exactly Gosling.

From: @tenlee_1001

Is that supposed to hurt me?

To: @tenlee_1001

No.

Because not all guys can be Ryan Gosling.

Maybe, she’s too tipsy to be having this conversation, but when she sees Ten has just followed her on Instagram, she knows it’s game over for her.

###

Eloquently dangerous is the worst kind of trouble a lover looks for. In the shape of Ten seated on the driver’s seat, legs parted and both of his hands resting on the lower part of the steering wheel. When he picked her up, the stiff conversation tightened around their necks, leaving them speechless—but music unites them again. After all, it’s the reason why they met and why they’re going out on this date to start with.

According to Ten, whose long hair is enough of a call-out for her to lean herself to the side to be able to talk to him from a closer position and still, wish she could rake her fingers through it, there is a restaurant forty minutes away from her place that is to die for. Thai, he said, and she’s not about to contradict him on that. On the way there, Ten’s conversation lingers within her with interest, enough for her to nod her head along to the beat of ‘Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)’ by Nancy Sinatra.

“This song makes me feel like I’m in a post-apocalyptic world and I’m looking for revenge.” She says, eyes staring at his profile. What a blessing it would be to call the smile on his face hers, but it isn’t. His short-sleeved button down moves a bit over his collarbone, just when he throws a glance over his shoulder.

“That’s the mentality of a director.” Ten indicates, though he licks his lips and waits for the last few seconds of the song to pass by. “I don’t listen to it that much, even when it’s in my playlist, but it mostly reminds me of this scenery…an ex going to a wedding and killing the bride just because of jealousy. The secret to not letting go and how twisted it can be.” He shrugs soon after. “That’s the meaning of the song, in my opinion.”

“Damn.” She replies, a hiss following her statement as she sits down straighter. “Are you that type of ex?”

“Of course not.” His voice is rapid to defend himself, before clearing his throat. “But you should know more about me as an ex, considering you’re good friends with Angela.”

She remembers Angela being full of Ten’s shit, the way she deleted all their pictures in the blink of an eye before locking herself in her job. She doesn’t exactly recall anything else other than knowing Ten is— “She told me you were vain.”

“…Fuck.” He chuckles then, though a bit dark in the process. “I am not vain, we were just two stubborn people who got into a relationship without really knowing each other.”

The last part hits home, and she has to bite her bottom lip when she starts to hear the tune to Alicia Keys’ ‘Show Me Love’, perhaps featured by Miguel, but her mind can’t come up with the truest answer at this moment. “I understand that. Relationships are really fucking difficult. You ignore all the red flags just to get with someone.”

“That sounds awfully like someone remembering their ex.” Ten says, a hum to his tone in the form of a song.

“I don’t remember him much. Too overconfident for how bad of a lover he was.” She tells him, and a smile spreads across his face when he passes a green light.

“Is that a connotation for what I’m thinking about?”

“You know, I’m just saying, at least you had something serious with Angela.” For a second, her mind lingers in the nights in hotel rooms, always being picked up by a man simply to end anywhere but a place to have a date in. Tangled in between his sheets, getting lost in his physique, in the way his lips wrapped around her and how much he seemed to desire her. Desire is not the same as love. “You didn’t have to deal with a guy who seemed to like everyone and you. I was a little toy for a guy and that’s the thing I regret the most.”

“Shit.” Ten curses, raising both eyebrows before shaking his head. “What made you fall for an asshole like that?”

“He was a web designer. I thought that a nerdy guy mixed with a gym-rat body is what I wanted.” She answers, bringing laughter up Ten’s chest, his eyes wrapping up in their magic, enigmatic stance. “He was afraid of commitment, I think he had daddy issues, too. I met him because he went to one of my shows in a bar downtown.”

“And you became friends with benefits?”

“Are we really friends if I know nothing about him other than his body?”

“Damn.”

The lyrics embrace her ears and enter her brain when, indeed, Miguel’s voice fills the air and much to her surprise, she does know this song—

Without realizing, she tries to remember the lyrics, mumbling some of the words and jumbling the others, and Ten hates this enough to shake his head, lifting one hand in the air to instruct the tempo to her. “It’s ‘you gon’ show me love like, like you tried it—’, two likes, honey.”

At the mention of such a nickname, she has to push his shoulder sightly. “Honey?”

“Why? Did your little asshole ex call you that?”

“He was not my ex.”

“He’s an ex if he got to be with you.”

“Why? Jealous?” Quirking an eyebrow, she is surprised when she sees Ten shrugging.

“I shouldn’t be jealous when I know that, if I really put my mind into it, I can do a much better job than him at winning you over.”

She has to hiss at this moment. “I don’t buy it; I feel like you still hate me.”

The car starts going slower by the time Ten gives her a reply. “If I really hated you, would I have taken you out on a date?”

“Maybe, you’re just planning to take me out to this horrid place and—”

“Oh, no, no, no, no.”

The car comes to an abrupt halt at that moment, and Ten’s head lulls against the steering wheel at the same time that a groan creeps up his vocal cords. “What happened?” The car is still on, however, so it must not be the engine fucking their date up.

“Didn’t you feel that?” She shakes her head then. “You’re dead inside. I think one of the wheels has, I don’t know, like a nail piercing through it.”

When Ten gets out of the car, right after turning off the car, she’s left in complete darkness—and she hates it. Why is it that when everything is going well for them, a wheel decides to just fucking deflate and almost kill them? At least, they’re in a somewhat safe street. “Ten, hold up—” She says, taking her phone out of her pocket to shine a light onto the wheel he is inspecting, trying not to let her eyes trail down to his toned legs. “We can call someone and they’ll get here in no time, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a Friday night. It’s even more difficult to get someone to help us at this time.” Ten instructs, and she decides to lighten things up in the worst way possible.

“It seems like you’re not that good of a driver, considering you know what to do in this situation—”

Ten sends a glare over his shoulder, some strands of his hair passing over his face, and she has to give him a cramped smile. “I am a good driver.”

“It was a joke!”

He manages to give her a short laugh before bringing his own phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling a friend that can come help us out.” And he does, his back becoming the main image he sees, his slim body but nicely squared shoulders making her scrunch up her nose and close her eyes tightly. There’s always something going on between them, ain’t it?

Sitting down on the sidewalk, she lets the coldness seep through her jeans, staring at the city lights that are even more beautiful than the harsh one from her phone. She turns it off, but uses her phone to distract herself in a different way. Music must be the only way she can relax herself, a breath in and a breath out as she looks through her playlist.

But nothing sits right with her, only listening to a few seconds before she switches the song to something else. However, a presence makes itself known by her side, no longer talking to his friend but, instead, sending an eye over to her phone and letting his finger roam over the screen.

“I like this one.” And she has to cackle at the choice of songs. Definitely something of the like that is expected from him, ‘34+35’ by Ariana Grande fills the air in between them, and much to her surprise, Ten knows how to sing along to some of the lyrics.

“Are you trying to hint at something?” She jokes around, dipping her feet in the water just because she can, and the warmth of him by her side isn’t quite as unpleasant in this winter blues.

If she could see his cheeks, she would be able to tell that they are tinted deep red, and that the small, almost inaudible laugh that leaves him is one of the most beautiful sounds she has ever been welcomed to. “I’m not saying anything. You’re the one being dirty-minded.”

“Oh, come on, the song is definitely about—”

“She says: ‘love me ‘til the daylight’.”

“What the fuck? No!” She corrects, giggling a bit when Ten drapes his coat on top of both their bodies, mingling closer until his perfume becomes a drug she can’t get enough of. “She says: ‘fuck me ‘til the daylight’.”

“Too much to say on a first date, you know?” Ten conquers, and she has to laugh directly at his face.

“We’re not getting it on tonight, Ten.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t say we were going to! You brought it up.”

“Whatever.” She replies, resting her head on his shoulder before sighing deeply. “When is your friend coming?”

“In an hour, if he’s lucky.” Ten instructs, and she doesn’t want to look disappointed, but Ten had painted the restaurant they were going to go to as the best thing in this world—

“I’m hungry.” Her lips puff out in a bit of a pout as he speaks, and Ten takes this as a cue to take the car keys, lock the device before standing up, leaving his coat over her shoulders.

His hand extends, an anchor for her to take, messing up with her temper when he waves his fingers and invites her in a way that makes her heart beat like a fool’s. It’s been too damn long since she’s felt like this. “There’s a convenience store nearby…and, I don’t know, maybe we could buy some burgers and fries in the way there? Eat somewhere less cold, too.”

When their fingers interlock, she thinks she gets a grasp of exactly why Angela had rushed into a relationship with him. He’s magic in its truest form. “Fries sound amazing right now.”

They start walking, though the conversation never dies down. “Do you like do dip them in ice cream, ketchup or mayonnaise?”

“People dip it in mayonnaise?”

“That’s less chaotic than the ones that dip it in mustard.”

“…The end of the world is near.”

His laughter is nicely welcomed, a blanket for her to keep herself warm in this cold night. Though, his hands and his coat do as much, as well.

###

With Angela’s Yorkshire Terrier held up on her arms, the dog licking up her face for the umpteenth time and probably doing his best to take off the rest of her makeup, not managing to steal a kiss from her when she moves her face around in the way to the vet, she continues talking to her friend with intention. Five days after her last date with Ten, and the first one at that, and she can’t seem to stop running her mouth about it.

“Really, Ange. I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to break his heart when he was an absolute sweetheart—” She says, the harsh sunshine falling on top of her face, and this dog is adorable, much more now that he doesn’t know that he’s going to get his mandatory shots, but if he continues licking her face, she may lose the skin of her cheek. “Did you know that he loves Alicia Keys? And that he loves drawing? He’s so stylish, too, and he’s so open about talking about himself.”

“Because he loves himself.” Angela interrupts, placing the keys of her car inside her purse before sending a smile her way. Before she could say anything, Angela speaks up. “But I’m happy for you, babe. We both know that you deserve someone who treats you right. Even if it’s my ex.”

At the mention of such a title, she has to stop her rambling. “You’re okay with it, right?”

“Of course.” And the truthfulness of her tone has her releasing a sigh from the depths of her worry. “I’m not insecure, honey. Not even jealous. Ten is nothing for me now. I don’t like him, but I don’t like him for me. As long as he treats you right, we’re okay.”

Though, she does feel a bit of curiousness about the relationship that ensued in between the two, but maybe that’s too early to talk about when she has only been talking to him through the phone, planning dates, meeting up in the briefest of moments when they both have time. After all, her song is doing good and now, she’s recording an album—

Her phone rings at that moment, eyes opening widely when she hears the specific ringtone she has for Hao. “Angela, take your dog. That’s Hao calling.” Though, the woman doesn’t relent when she passes the sweet dog over to her. Her phone fits her hand perfectly when she picks up the call, ear welcoming the sound of Hao’s familiar voice. “Hao, Hao, what’s up?”

“Nothing much…” His voice trails, but it’s unusual for him to call just because. Just when she continues walking in the parking lot, Hao decides to say something. “But you’re going to be opening show for the tour of one of the biggest artists in this country, that’s all that’s happening right now. Not much.”

If she could scream right now, she would.

Her hand spreads on top of her face, jelly on toast, made to be there. Shivers going up her neck, body paralyzed in her spot, her free arm going up to raise into the air—feel the wind, the sun, let it ravish her as her dreams give a glimpse of becoming true. The fever of stardom and success rips a squeal out of her, twirling on her own spot as words of thankfulness become one with the air around her. For once, she feels like an artist—like her voice can be heard, heart healed by the heel of the world and how it twists around to her favor.

“I’m going on tour!” She finally screams, happiness meeting her lungs, breathing in a way that doesn’t feel cramped. The world is good for once, and Angela’s smile matches her own.

###

The worst part of it all is saying goodbye to something that didn’t happen.

Her friends know about fashion more than she does, a red jacket draped over an almost all-black outfit, while they all wear clothing that seems to be fitted for the party in her honor. Well, not in her honor at all—but for the main artist of the world tour that will start in no less than a week from now, such short notice, and she was invited in the process. The elongated hallways of the hotel the party will take place in, extra expensive at that, barely do much to conceal the laughter that bubbles from her friend-group or the sound of their singing to their latest single, well over a million views in YouTube as of now, and directed by then.

She hasn’t told him. It’s that one thing that she doesn’t know if she should talk about or not. Whenever they eat together, she feels like telling him…but she stops herself for some reason. It’s the brink of not knowing if he cares or if it would hurt him, but the world knows what it is doing. With her boots hitting the tiles with expertise, she doesn’t expect to hear her name being called, with such a soft and nice tone that she already knows whose it is.

When she looks over her shoulder, her friends stopping their singing and laughing to stare at the scene displayed in front of them, Ten rests his back against one of the bathroom doors near the entrance to the main salon for the party. With a bun laying on top of his head, the strands of his black hair falling behind his neck, she’s surprised to see him so put together—white button down, trousers, and a poised look on his face when he says:

“Congratulations. Not that you told me but…I’m so happy you’re going on tour.” Her heart races at that moment, not caring that Angela is there, that her friends are glancing at Ten and speaking between themselves as she moves with certainty, taking her place in front of him and grasping his hands in both of hers, eyes shifting to every portion of his face. The face of a man she wants to have, but can’t.

“T—Ten, uh, I didn’t tell you because I thought you wouldn’t care. It’s nothing against you, really, but since we don’t have anything serious yet—”

“I’m not mad.” He says, a small smile on his face. “Why would I be mad when this is all you have ever asked for?”

A halo exists over him, and she doesn’t know why she hated him on the first place at this moment. Perfection in the form of a man that she can’t get to know so well right now, simply because her career is launching and so is his. “Well, you’re more used to travelling than I am. After all, you’re always all around for shootings and director stuff that I don’t know about—”

“It’s damn fun. Seeing the world that way…you’ll love it.” Ten whispers, sending one look over to her group of friends before lowering his voice. “Can you just tell them to leave?”

“Yeah.” She says, looking at her friends before speaking up. “Get it going, there’s a party waiting for you!”

In between whispers of their own and some looks at them, she doesn’t realize that Ten’s hands have taken place on her waist, bringing her closer to inspect her features. Looking at her as if she’s the only woman in the world, when she had thought he had only seen himself all along— “I wish you would’ve told me, though. I was invited by Hao and got the news thanks to him.”

Hao is either really blessed or the unluckiest man alive. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. After all, I—” She mumbles, swallowing thickly after. “I wanted to try things out for you. With you. Ah, you know—”

“There’s always ‘later’. Maybe not now, but maybe, we’re just meant to connect in some other time of our lives.” His words make her cling closer to him, fists tangling onto his shirt, taking more of him— “And until then, live your dream and I’ll live mine. The gratitude of being the best version of ourselves is more important right now.”

When she leans her head forward, his lips come in contact with the bridge of her nose, breathing softly, a silent confession, a plea to let go of the world for one night and be there with each other. One of their latest nights together, of the impossibility of minutes as they glare at them from the clock and ask them to pull away.

“I wish we could’ve gotten a real chance.” She whispers, laying her head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist as his thumbs draw on her back.

“We’ll get to try later.”

Later sounds like forever when he is right there, within her reach, and yet so far away. The promise of a goodbye is shadowed by the trials of continuing with their connection. That, maybe, losing time with him was her worst mistake, the reason why it shatters her heart—

But later is also a moment, a moment that will welcome her after tour.

#ten scenarios #ten #wayv scenarios #wayv #nct scenarios #nct #writing #wayv angst #wayv fluff #wayv au #ten angst #ten fluff #ten au #how to lose someone in seven steps?

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discyours · 3 years

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Sorry maybe this ask is TMI so if you don't want that you can delete it .

Do you think that people who are attracted to transgender people (gynandromorphilia) have fetishes? I used to think it was transphobic because it implies that male or female individuals who appear androgynous are unnatural. But maybe it is more transphobic to deny the existence of this. Most of the harm of the sex industry is directed at females, the sex industry is anti woman. But as for the minority of MtF transgender individuals who exist and face abuse, the men who buy sex from them are not normal people. They are very deranged. Maybe it is not specifically the secondary sexual characteristics but something else. This is all without mentioning the men who get off to the idea of abusing FtM transgenders to "correct them". Surely this can't be ignored but maybe you can enlighten me you are more experienced with the transgender community. danke

I'll answer this but I do think a trans woman/detrans man could answer better than I can.

Personally I do think many (absolutely not all) of them have a kink/fetish. Not one specifically about trans people, but one that's directed at trans people because they're a good fit for it. Keep in mind I am not and have never been a trans woman. I don't know who approaches them in bars or matches with them on tinder. All I've seen is the barrage of men who join online trans groups with no introduction other than the ever-charming "I like trans".

If you've ever had the displeasure of being involved in the kink community, you'll know that a "forced bi" kink is relatively common among submissive men. A lot of them are bisexual men with internalised homophobia who want to be able to engage in that side of their sexuality without feeling "responsible" for it. They want an attractive woman to charm or even coerce them into engaging in sex acts with a man. That way the attraction to men that they don't want to acknowledge isn't actually a factor, and if they do end up enjoying it they can just tell themselves they're being great subs for their female dommes, which makes the whole thing super heterosexual if anything (/s). I don't think all of the men who have this kink are actually bi, some of them are straight but have terminal porn addictions that have left them completely detached from their real sexuality. If they actually ended up in a situation where they're about to fuck a guy, they'd snap out of it. Knowing they got so close to going through with it would come with a whole lot of shame, and anger at anyone else involved. And we all know that angry men who feel that they have been humiliated can be incredibly dangerous.

Both of these groups will end up gravitating towards trans women because it's a 2 for 1 deal on the element that allows them to tell themselves it's straight, and the element that isn't. Transphobia adds an extra element of taboo that's enticing to these types of people. One reason why the statement that trans people shouldn't trick or pressure people into having sex with them is met with so much backlash is because trans women literally feel like they're being gaslit. Imagine constantly meeting men who very clearly know that you're trans, who fetishise you for it, whose fetish includes an incredibly transparent narrative that you're "tricking" or "forcing" them into this, only to then be told by people from what's meant to be your own community that that's genuinely what you do to people. I don't need anyone to respond to this with a collection of screenshots of trans people saying rapey shit, I'm aware that it happens and I'm not defending it. But this is why even trans people who aren't like that at all tend to dismiss those types of accusations as bullshit. It's because they've already gotten them thrown at them by horny men who very much were lying to suit themselves.

As for men who fetishise trans men, I think it's some of the same (bi men wanting to explore their sexuality while still having a "ok but it's straight tho" excuse) but it's mostly pedophelia. I have a major bias here because I identified as trans from 16-18/19ish, so the grown men who were attracted to me would've been on thin ice even if I'd been cis. But I do think the fact that trans men tend to be smaller and younger looking than cis men regardless of their age often attracts pedophiles. That seems to be way more common than forced feminisation type kinks. My experience when I was trans was that to straight men it really didn't matter as long as they saw my body before they saw my face (I did get rejected a few times because they saw my face first and thought I was male), whereas bi/"gay" men who expressed attraction to me did care, and specifically found it very appealing that I was able to look like a young boy. I'm sure that other trans men have different experiences with this though, especially ones who medically transitioned and weren't teenagers the entire time they identified as trans.

Nothing I've mentioned here involves "real life" experiences because I live in a rural area with essentially no LGBT community and I find men too gross to engage with them IRL, so that undoubtedly affects my view too. If any trans/detrans people have something to add I welcome you to do so, because again my perspective is limited.

#anon #kind of a nitpick but please never say ''transgenders'' to refer to people #I realise it's the norm in some languages but it comes off as dehumanising

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stanzoeywade · 4 years

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Hi! I loved your tinder!AU for Veronica, really hope you decide to write the dating headcanons because there's so little content for her going around!

I gotchu anon, I gotchu.

Taglist: @somewillwin @belvoiresqueenbee @origmansello @clownery-is-a-new-personality @kamilahtrash @poppysminion @poppysimp @minsinclair-lee @poppysmc @iiizdumb @uselesslesbianfr @scattered-to-the-winds @idiot-justidiot @toyhenoctus @begoniathotia @otakufangirl-12 @malvinghlein

Dating Veronica Lombardi

SFW

• The two of you formally meet after you and Poppy have that supposed truce, and whilst you have seen Veronica before, seeing her close up was a different experience entirely. She's drop dead gorgeous, you can't help but admit and you understand why she's top three alongside Poppy and Chloe because they're all pretty.

• Veronica is much more social than Poppy and Chloe, she's more friendly and actually attempts to befriend you. This is because she doesn't really care if Poppy gets angry, she's got her own platform so she's not scared to make new friends and she knows Poppy's not going to do anything to her.

• The two of you become fast friends and it's really fun because the two of you start to hang out where it's just the two of you. Your favourite spot to hang out is the cute little café by campus, and you learn that Veronica has a major sweet tooth.

• Veronica is also the type of person who's very affectionate, both in the way she speaks and acts. She's very touchy-feely and always likes hugging you whenever she sees you.

• If either of you is having a bad day, expect a lot of memes to be sent, some so obscure that it actually makes you feel better. There's also the fact that if you have spare time or if you're not doing anything the other gets food and drinks from the cafe and the two of you just talk to release stress.

• Veronica's instagram is quickly taken over by you, where it's almost always accompanied by #squadgoals and you just laugh because you didn't really think that you would be friends with her. Not because she wasn't nice or anything, just that she looked so intimidating when you first met. When you tell her about your first impressions she just laughs it off and tells you that she thought you were cute.

• You're confused because is she flirting??? The two of you actually become really close and the whole school notices, a few people start to assume that you're dating but they don't say anything.

• The two of you really like each other, but both of you are oblivious until Poppy and Chloe point it out by pulling you away to give you the talk. Both look intimidating as fuck, and you're highkey scared. "What the fuck is happening between you and Veronica? I swear if you try to hurt her you can kiss Belvoire goodbye." Poppy says whilst Chloe nods her head in agreement.

• You're confused because you and Veronica are just friends, until it clicks. 'Holy shit, am I into Veronica?' you think. (Da doy idiot, everyone thought it was obvious)

• When you finally admit it Poppy and Chloe, you don't notice it but Poppy sort of has a disappointed look. (I know this is for Veronica but I wanted Poppy to be sad because she could've have tried harder to befriend MC)

• "Holy shit, I like Veronica! Can you guys help me? I don't know if she likes me or not." you say and Poppy and Chloe just roll their eyes as they begrudgingly agree.

• Cue Poppy and Chloe being the worst wing women, Veronica gets more confused because what is going on?? Like why are the three of you acting so weird.

• You're about to give up because it looks like Veronica doesn't like you that way. That is until you and the top three girls of Belvoire go clubbing. Veronica notices that you were dancing with another person too close for her comfort, and she's immediately annoyed. She quickly pulls you towards her and glares at the other person who gets the message and leaves you alone.

• You're confused until you see the silent fury in Veronica's eyes. "Jealous V?" you tease and her eyes narrow as she kisses you. "I don't like seeing you with other people. Be mine?" she says and you're left flustered because you genuinely didn't think that she liked you.

• That's how you start dating, and because of this you actually get closer to Poppy and Chloe. The four of you become a force to be reckoned with, and this is because all of you actually become really close and you learn that Poppy and Chloe can actually be sweet when they want to be. All three of them have a soft spot for animals, so the four of you are always seen at the animal shelter volunteering.

• Veronica adores taking pictures of you and posting it on her socials because she wants to show you off. Everyone is confused because are the two of you dating or not? It's kept a secret until someone snaps a photo of you and Veronica kissing.

• You become well known on campus as the laid back couple, who genuinely just have fun no matter what they're doing.

• Be prepared to be in front of the camera, Veronica drags you to do tiktoks with her and you just roll your eyes because you're whipped and you're not complaining if it means that you see Veronica dance.

• She absolutely adores giving you her clothes to wear, especially if her clothes are a bit bigger on you than they are for her. She melts when she sees you and her story is filled by her fawning over how cute you look.

• Lots of PDA, especially when the whole school knows about your relationship. Poppy and Chloe are disgusted, because can you like not. They always make gagging noises whenever you're being affectionate in public, and both of you just give them the finger.

• Always has to be touching you, whether it be your hands, her hand on your thigh or whatever she just has to be touching you in some way.

• Does not get jealous often because she's very confident in your relationship but in the times she does get jealous expect her to kiss you senseless in front of everyone, and you're not gonna complain because she's a very good kisser.

• Arguments don't really happen unless it's about something stupid and in the rare times that you do argue, it becomes a game of who can avoid each other for longer and Veronica always loses because she hates arguing.

• Cuddles every weekend, and you're almost always at Veronica's room, so much so the Zetas think that you live there.

• Expect soft mornings where the two of you just stay in bed, cuddling for warmth and soft kisses being exchanged after waking up.

• Absolutely adores kissing you and leaving marks. Poppy and Chloe tease you by saying "Are you dating a vampire? Wtf your neck is all marked up." and you just smile and give them the finger. "Fuck off, you're just jelly I'm getting some." you quip back and the other two laugh.

• Actually a really good support system with Poppy and Chloe, all of you don't take shit from anyone or each other. You're quick to call each other out if one of you is being a bit bitchy or whatever.

NSFW

• Veronica is a hard top, who absolutely adores teasing you and having you at her mercy.

• Absolutely adores having you on her lap as she fucks you with the strap, mainly because she can see the expression on your face as she fucks you. Also adores seeing you ride her thigh, it's one of her major kinks.

• Not afraid to be handsy in public, especially at the most inappropriate times and you're left a blushing and flustered mess. When you get up and go to the toilet, expect her to follow after you, and things get frisky.

• Major biting kink, every inch of skin she can reach expect there to be bite marks or hickeys. She's really good at mixing pain and pleasure and it's very very hot.

• Enjoys having you eat her out whilst she's sitting on a chair, and her hands will guide you where she want you.

• Doesn't like choking but isn't above using a collar on you, so that she can tug on it to force your head to tilt back as she kisses and bites your neck.

#poppy min sinclair #playchoices #queen b #choices #choices stories you play #queen b poppy #veronica lombardi #veronica x mc #queen b veronica #chloe st. james #queen b chloe #my fic #choices fic #hcs

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honestlyfragile · 4 years

Text

Directions - Bang Chan x Reader Oneshot

Genre: fluff, Bang Chan x Female Reader

Were dating apps really effective or do you just end up with the same person again?

It had been a while since y/n dated anyone, she was starting to question why. But leaves out the only reason out of many that she had in mind.

She hasn’t tried to meet new people.

She didn’t know how, she didn’t want to either. God, y/n surely doesn’t know how to pick a struggle. Gladly, her friends have had enough of seeing her complain about being single for the longest time. So they recommend her to go try out something that she hasn’t before. A dating app.

“Eh, I’m not sure.. What if there’s too many creeps?” Y/n hesitates.

“How bad can it be? You can use a fake name or something. A stranger wouldn’t be able to track you down. Just try to see if it works for you. If they ask you out to meet, then we’ll come with you to back up.” Jiwoo, her best friend assures her.

“Hmm, okay. I’ll set up an account later and I’ll let you guys know.”

“It’s about time, y/n. You can’t be miserably complaining to us that you’re still single if you’re not willing to try. Leave him behind already.”

Y/n nods and sighs. She couldn’t let the thought of him hold her back anymore. Besides, he probably has someone new by now.

------

As soon as Y/n gets some time for herself at home she installs Tinder. The app that her friends had recommended her to try. She fills out the necessary information, making her display name different from her real one. She selects pictures that she thinks are good enough, but not too daring. And after a few instructions, she begins to look over the information of the guys that were being recommended to her. Unfortunately she had gone over through about 10 of them already and none had suited her taste. But maybe it was just her being impatient.

“No way.” She says to herself as she stops in one person’s profile, eyeing it over and over.

It turns out it was the profile of her ex boyfriend, Chan. Which catches her by surprise because she wondered why he was in that app. Could it be for the same reason as to why she’s in it as well?

Y/n giggles to herself, and decides to pull a harmless prank by swiping right on his profile. Which basically means that she has intentions to match with him. That is, if he does the same.

She shakes her head and snaps out of it. It had been a while since she had seen anything related to him, they were busy growing up. She had deleted him off her other socials too. She scrolls through a couple more profiles and swiped right on some just for the heck of it.

She thinks that was enough for the day and sets her phone down to work on chores at home. She also whips up herself a good dinner as a cheers to the weekend.

-----

“What is she doing here?” Chan thinks to himself. Well, if he thinks hard enough it’s just probably for the same reason as his. Looking for a date, or something casual.

“Yo, y/n is on Tinder, but with a different name. Look” He shows Han her profile and he takes a quick look at it.

“It’s probably a catfish.” He shrugs.

“But she hasn’t posted these pictures anywhere though..”

“How’d you know? You still stalk her huh?” His friend laughs.

Embarrassed, Chan quickly tries to deny it. But fails.

He does, he checks her instagram every now and then, thankful that she had not set her account to private otherwise he wouldn’t be able to get a glimpse of y/n anywhere else. Why did he have the app on his phone? Simply to try and move on, but he never does. He would match with a handful, but end up ghosting them anyway.

Tip number one: never ever be with your mischievous friend and on Tinder at the same time. It doesn’t go well.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” Chan yells at Han in panic, who has just cheekily swiped right on y/n’s profile.

“Had to decide for you man. You were taking too long!”

“What the hell.”

“What?” “We just fucking matched!”

------

Y/n receives a notification that she had just matched with someone on Tinder, she smiles in delight until it fades because it was the person who she expected the least.

Chan.

She didn’t know if she felt embarrassed or not. Also the fact that her ex probably saw that it wasn’t her real name was cringe worthy enough.

Should she unmatch and delete her whole account or should she say hi since they were already on it? Y/n thankfully goes for the latter.

“Hey” she sends.

And as if it wasn’t any more obvious, Chan was keeping an eye on his phone and the notification made him jump a little.

“Are you really y/n?” He replies almost instantly.

“Yes. Haha I know it’s silly but i just used a fake name for safety reasons.”

“Oh, alright so why are you here?”

“I should be asking you the same.”

“I asked first.”

“Probably for the same reasons as yours.”

“Yeah right. Anyways, since we’re at it.. Um you wanna get some coffee sometime?”

“You don’t drink coffee though?”

“You still remember. I’ll have something else as always. So, Holly’s? Is Sunday afternoon alright”

“Sure, I’ll see you I guess.”

“Great.”

His heart races, he didn’t know if he was excited or terrified. But it would be an asshole for him to flake. He initiated to meet with her, so he shouldn’t be a wuss about it. He wasn’t exactly sure of what feelings he still had for her, but he knew there were still some left. He’ll probably find them out when he finally sees her in person again.

---------

Y/n laughs at their conversation, it’s crazy how both of them decided to really pull a prank on each other like this. They literally set themselves up.

But there she was, getting ready to see him anyways.

She arrives at the cafe a little past three in the afternoon and scans the area for two vacant seats. It seems like Chan has not arrived yet.

Y/n takes a deep breath, looking at the transparent window. They used to go here so often. It was the closest cafe to their university. The time spent studying and reviewing until closing hours suddenly became very vivid to her. But y/n realizes how long it had been since those days because they were employed now.

She sees a guy with ash blonde hair, with a black hoodie and some sweatshorts. Anyone could easily tell it was him. Only with a different hair color.

Chan pushes the glass door open and spots her. His heart skips a beat. She was still as beautiful as he remembers her to be. Now a little more mature, her features were stronger and more defined, but her eyes still held the same innocent look.

He slowly walks over to her, and her head perks up from the book she had brought and shifted to the guy standing in front of her, the feeling of his presence all too familiar.

“Hey” Chan breathes out. “Have you been waiting long?” and takes a seat.

“No, It’s okay.” Y/n smiles and closes her book. “I’ll go get us the drinks. I ordered the usual, if it's okay with you.”

“Oh yeah no problem.”

As y/n gets up and approaches the counter the manager smiles at her. They used to be the cashier and had been a witness of the relationship that the two had. “I see that you’re back together?” they say.

Y/n smiles. “No, just catching up for old time’s sake.” and gets the drinks.

Y/n places Chan’s drink in front of him. A chilled dark chocolate. “Wow.” he says with a smile he couldn’t help. “You remember.”

“Yup. With heavy cream.” She clicks her tongue and gives him a heads up with her “precise” memory.

Taking a seat, y/n wraps her hands around her cappuccino to keep them warm.

“So…” Chan breaks the silence. “It’s been what? About two years?” he awkwardly says, his ears red as a tomato and he scratches the back of his neck.

“Two and a half,” she corrects. “But close enough.” and sips her coffee.

“How have you been?” He asks, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

“Not too bad, finally got a job that I actually like. You?”

“I’m a freelance swimming coach. But it’s doing well for me. It’s flexible with my time.”

“Ah, that’s good to hear.”

And there goes the moments of silence that no one asked for yet couldn’t be avoided. Y/n fidgets with the cup sleeve of her coffee while Chan fidgets with the ties of his hoodie.

After a while, Y/n looks at him and giggles. Taking him by surprise.

“What’s funny?” He asks, confused.

“This.” her index finger shifts from herself to him. “Why did we agree to this? Over TINDER?” she emphasizes and laughs some more.

Which leads him to doing the same. Come to think about it, it is pretty silly and unusual for an ex couple to meet up again over a dating app which was supposed to be the sole reason on why they would never cross paths again. And yet, it was the reason as to why they were now seated in front of each other two and a half years later.

For some reason Chan is stuck in a daze as he takes in the image of her, the subtle sunlight lit her perfectly. Her hair a lighter shade when shone by light, her eyes a brighter color. Perhaps, his feelings for her came back, or never left in the first place.

And for y/n, who was as a matter of fact burning under his gaze, was relieved that she didn’t feel like she used to for him anymore. She looked at him as her past that she wishes she could bring back, but knows that she could only move forward. She knew that after this, she wouldn’t be stuck on him anymore. She could now set herself free.

The two are now headed onto different directions in their lives, but somehow still met in the middle of a long road. They are heading towards bigger things with their own experiences to keep and left behind feelings for a clearer path to take.

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griaustinis · 3 years

Text

can someone help me figure out put where i stand on the aro and ace to allosexual/romantic spectrum. as someone who's had limited experiences with people in general. I've never been on a date, never kissed, never had sex.

Context. I'm bi 20 y/o cis female and I haven't had a true friend for like 5 years. Also I'm weird about touch, sometimes I don't like even when my parents touch me.

i experience primary attraction BUT i don't think I'd actually sleep with someone on the first encounter. and I feel weird about the idea of kissing on the first date (i don't think they would've earned that level of intimacy that fast)

My truest crush I've ever had... I thought she looked interesting for maybe a year before but i only formed a crush on her after we had a couple of conversations and i got to know her.

However one classmate I had,,, when she was new I thought she was super pretty and could maybe imagine a relationship w her but after time, i couldn't imagine that anymore. I became close to her therefore i couldn't see her in a sexual way.

The closest I've been to a kiss is my friend since childhood when we were at a party and tipsy she said "i'd say let's kiss but that wouls be a little weird right?" and i said it would bc i don't see her that way.

Sometimes I feel like I could sleep with someone on the first meeting (very rarely tho) and sometimes I can't even imagine a simple kiss on the first date (often).

I can feel attracted to just pictures of attractive people online BUT ONLY if there isn't a chance of me actually meeting them yk? I have a tinder but very rarely do I find them actually attractive and not just interesting. I feel like in general the more i get to know a person and they have a nice personality, the more pretty/handsome they are in my eyes, also if i thought they were ok but turns out they're an asshole, i will find them less pretty/handsome.

I used to pick my crushes based on how cool they seemed to me or others. Still now I sometimes look at a person and think "hmm i could fall i love with that" if they had/have a nice personality.

For long I knew that I have get to know a person in order for me to feel like i can go on a date with them (so far been to 0 dates so it's not working)

idk if any if this makes sense or if anyone will read it but I'm just very confused. i don't feel like i fit anywhere, definitely not fully ace, not really demi, maybe greysexual or aceflux but that doesn't explain why i don't want to be kissed on first date.

#sexuality #identity crisis #sexuality crisis #demisexual #asexual #graysexual #grayasexual #aceflux #aroace #allosexual #lgbt+#lgbtq+#griaustinis.post

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sketchguk · 5 years

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in your atmosphere; knj

➳ pairing: businessman!namjoon x traveler!reader

➳ genre: online dating AU, smut, fluff

➳ wc: 12.6k

➳ synopsis: the prospect of settling down has never crossed your mind because there’s no such place you can consider home. sure, traveling solo gets lonely sometimes, and that’s how tinder has become your best friend. a date at 7pm, and a flight at 7am: that’s your weekend routine. but how did namjoon manage to keep your heart on lockdown in the state of oregon?

➳ warnings: explicit language, mention of a bad date experience (it was traumatizing, trust me), dry humping, titty sucking, hand jobs, fingering, cock warming, fluffy unprotected vanilla sex

➳ a/n: inspired by a true story. besides the fact that I didn’t end up with the guy lol

Whoever says “online dating is fun” is a liar. Tinder horror stories from Buzzfeed and Reddit are more than just works of fiction. They’re hilarious to read through, entertained by the fact that these situations have not yet happened to you. Emphasis on yet. But once these anecdotes become a reality, they’re no longer amusing.

And maybe that’s the problem with modern dating.

People no longer know how to socialize. They spend an entire meal with their eyes on their phone. And when they do talk, they’re handing over self incriminating evidence, oversharing about the fact that they used to be delinquents, stealing the family car without a license to drive across state borders. Or perhaps they think it’s appropriate to tell you about the time the police knocked on their door to question them about drug possession. It’s still unclear as to whether or not they’re trying to convince you or themselves that crack cocaine is too hardcore for them to do. To top it all off, they want to impress you with the abundance of wealth they seem to have, but still insist that they go dutch on the meal. Sure, it’s all about having good company with you, and it isn’t about securing a free dinner. But this was the furthest thing from good company. And the least they could have done was pay for your food, right?

That probably should have been your cue to deactivate your Tinder account, but you somehow still have hope for the male population to redeem themselves. It’s New York City after all. With a population of over eight million people, there’s bound to be a decent man out there. But alas, you’re grateful that Tinder doesn’t have a limit of left swipes because you seem to hand them out like candy. Your expectations aren’t even that high when it comes to swiping right.

Men seem to think that having an empty bio will guarantee a match. Or one that tells you absolutely nothing substantial about them other than the fact that they think with their dicks. It’s really just another sign that society strays further away from God one dating profile at a time. Not only are their personalities lacking, but so are their photos. Men don’t seem to have any idea as to how to work a camera. Is a decent picture too much to ask for? One in which you can actually see their face? And not just a grainy image of a shadow?

Growing frustrated with the never ending profiles, you’re this close to giving up. Your thumb has been working in overdrive, mindlessly swiping left without even taking a careful look at each image. A deep sigh escapes from your lips as you shake your head from side to side. Your eyelids are falling shut, overcome with tiredness. All you need is one decent contender, and then you’re off to bed.

There’s no way you’re going to let one bad date ruin your outlook on love. Good things are on its way, and you just have to believe. So maybe Tinder isn’t necessarily the best place to find it, per se, but it’s definitely a start. With the amount of planes you catch on a weekly to monthly basis, it just happens to be the most accessible place to meet someone. More often than not, guys are looking for a quick fuck. Their intentions aren’t always clear from their bio, but a quick exchange of messages can help to diagnose their personality and discern their ulterior motives. It’s not like you’re opposed to sex, but a one night stand isn’t exactly what you need right now.

You need something more than that. Something meaningful.

Seeing people fall in love all around the world is probably the most beautiful sight you could ever witness. It’s more thought provoking and heartwarming than any wonder of the world. It’s a spectacle that exceeds every masterpiece from any museum across time and space.

Couples walk hand in hand, strolling down the concrete streets of every metropolitan city. Lovers place a gentle kiss upon their significant others’ cheek, forehead, nose, anywhere you name it. A busker at the fountain of Washington Square Park was just singing a song to serenade his girlfriend at the foot of the crowd. There’s guaranteed to be at least four marriage proposals happening in front of the Eiffel Tower at this very moment.

Public displays of affection. It’s sickeningly sweet.

And you can’t help but crave love, especially because you can’t escape from it.

But it isn’t about having just anybody to hold you through the night. A relationship isn’t formed on the basis of chocolates and flowers. None of that superficial bullshit. There’s no need to show off your significant other on social media, not when there are parts of your relationship you wish to keep private from the populace. There’s no need for everyone to stick their nose in business that doesn’t belong to them. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. This yearning for a lover goes beyond the loneliness in your heart.

Love in the city is cheap. Easy to come across, but hard to hold on to. Actually, it could be lust more so than love. Maybe this idea of love was just conjured up in your head, and you have no idea what it actually is, basing it off of rom-coms and romance novels. It’s a warped perspective.

Nevertheless, it’s something nice to think about.

Love sounds great in theory, as long as it’s with the right person. Of course it would be nice to share the world with your partner, explore every crook and cranny of the universe. To be able to revisit all the cities you’ve been to and share your little secrets would be a blessing. To share parts of yourself that nobody else will ever have the pleasure of knowing. Whispering about your deepest fears and your brightest dreams beneath the stars is all you could ever hope for. To grow side by side with the love of your life and to support one another with ever breadth of your being sounds like an absolute dream. A hopeless romantic is what you are, but you’re hardly to blame.

Downloading the app started out of pure boredom, but after some thinking, it developed into something more than that. Wishful thinking. It just isn’t easy when the sun, the moon, and all the stars are leading you to a dead end thus far. Destiny just isn’t on your side tonight, or so you think.

Kim Namjoon, 25

3 miles away

Wow. This guy might just be too attractive. Not to mention, his pictures are beautiful, and they perfectly display his deep set of dimples. A valley on either side of his cheeks. Your absolute weakness. Tapping to and fro between the photos, you’re captivated by his smile. With the curve of his lips, his eyes crease into crescent moon shapes. It’s endearing. Intoxicating. And totally infectious. You don’t even notice the smile that has been plastered on your face since coming across his profile until there’s an ache at the apples of your cheeks.

Kim Namjoon? Unreal. A part of you believes that he’s a catfish, too beautiful for this world. But another part wants to believe that it isn’t true. Pray that he has a semblance of a personality, otherwise all hope will be shattered.

🌱 Nature lover

💌 Wordsmith

⚠️ Grade A klutz

I have late night conversations with the moon. He tells me about the sun, and I tell him about you. - s.l. gray

Charming.

There’s a lot to learn about this Namjoon character. His profile isn’t the most telling of his personality, but it’s enough to keep you interested. It leaves you wanting more.

(6) TINDER 8 hours ago:

Somebody likes you. 😍 Open Tinder and Swipe Right to see who!

You got a new match! 😍😍😍

You have 3 new messages waiting 💌

Of all people in need of your attention, of course they’re strangers from the internet. No missed calls from mom or dad. Not a single voicemail. Not even a text message from your childhood best friend.

They got your message, didn’t they? They should all know that you’re back in town for the next week, but this isn’t exactly a surprise to you.

It’s no wonder you get a little lonely when you’re traveling. It’s not like there’s someone at your side whom you can share your adventures with. There’s no one to talk to about the little details of your day and vice versa.

Call it pathetic, if you must - having to search for companionship when the people in your life don’t seem to offer any. But you really wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s no reason to invest your time and emotions into people who can’t do the same for you.

Kim Namjoon (12:34 am): I love your photos! You’re a great photographer :)

Your cheeks heat up, blushing at the compliment. For whatever reason, he’s mutually attracted to you, and he swiped right on you. He must have really looked through your profile if he saw your Instagram account linked at the bottom.

That’s definitely not the opening line you were expecting. Typically, guys open up with the dreaded “hey,” making it impossible to carry on a conversation that goes beyond the surface level. At least you can work with this. You’re determined to make it work.

You (8:33 am): Oh trust me, I have no idea what I’m doing when I take pictures haha

You (8:33 am): It’s impossible for my pictures to not turn out god-awful when the world around us is so beautiful :)

After hitting send and reading your message over, your automatic response is to cringe. Did you really just say that? Did you actually double text him? Hopefully he doesn’t see that as a sign of desperation. It’s just a habit to get your thoughts across. Getting to know someone over text is always so awkward. It’s like your freshman year of college all over again, doing ice breakers for the entirety of syllabus week. Maybe you’re stressing over nothing, and he won’t analyze your text as much as you have.

A deep sigh is released from your lips before locking up your phone and placing it back on the night stand for you to get ready for the day. It’s nice being able to work from home, hence why traveling is so feasible to you for most of the year. Perhaps you can answer a couple of emails today. Come up with a couple of new ideas for articles. Edit some of the old pieces you started months ago, but were too unmotivated to complete.

With the local cafe in mind, you pack up your laptop and cellphone into your tote bag and head out the door. Indulging yourself in an iced coffee and a freshly baked muffin might be a bright idea to get yourself started on your work. It’s quaint and quiet here, exactly how you like. There’s nobody to distract you from your work, not even the lady at the cash register who won’t give anyone the time of day beyond the minimal interaction she has to do for the purpose of customer satisfaction. The freshly baked goods are warm to the touch. Admittedly, it’s overpriced for what it is, but you can’t complain given the convenience.

Most people rush into the cafe to grab a fix of caffeine and then race out before they have to run some errands. Midtown is usually jam packed with men in suits and briefcases in tow. It’s quite typical. Nothing ever unexpected. But it’s a weekend, so most people are probably sleeping in, trying to catch up on the sleep they never get throughout the week. Perhaps you should have done the same, but nothing would have been done if you were to stay home.

Your phone vibrates on the wooden table and a notification pops up on the illuminated screen. Your eyes wander to the device out of curiosity. The smart thing to do would be to put your phone on do not disturb mode, but you obviously don’t have any self control.

Kim Namjoon (9:10 am): Don’t be so doubtful, you have a creative eye

You’ve heard so much about the different types of love languages, and perhaps words of affirmation is yours because your heart flutters at the text. A smile graces your lips. Instinctively, you reach for your phone and begin typing away.

You (9:10 am): I thought this was my co-star app telling me my daily horoscope

Another message comes in from Namjoon before you can even hit send.

Kim Namjoon (9:10 am): Do you travel a lot?

Debating on whether or not you should delete your words, you decide against it and send it anyways.

You (9:11 am): I love traveling!! So I try to do it as much as I can 😊 I work from home too, so that makes my life a lot easier. Wbu?

Kim Namjoon is typing…

Surprisingly, he’s a quick responder. You were expecting him to take hours to get back to you at the very least. Clearly, the date from the other night has left you high and dry, keening for affection, but still apprehensive of other men and their interactions.

Kim Namjoon (9:11 am): Haha it’s too early for co-star notifications. And I haven’t had much of a chance to travel, but I would really like to!

Kim Namjoon (9:11 am): I’m actually going to Portland next week for a work opportunity

You (9:11 am): Portland? Oregon or Maine? lol

Not that either state really makes sense to you. A move from the big apple to a relatively much smaller town is quite unheard of. Often times, people strive to move to New York City, not away from it. There are just way more opportunities here, despite the risk and cost of them. But growing up here, it just makes sense to stick around.

Kim Namjoon (9:12 am): Oregon, haha it’s random I know. But it’s just a few weeks. I’ll be back in a month :)

The idea of him being away for a third of the season disappoints you a little. You won’t be able to meet him for quite a while in that case. Your shoulders slump, but it’s not like you have any reason to be let down. Long distance just isn’t something you ever considered. It takes a lot of dedication to maintain a relationship, especially when your partner is thousands of miles away and three time zones over. And perhaps it’s a bit hypocritical of you considering you’ll be on a plane next week to Seattle, leaving behind the city you once called home.

You (9:12 am): Aw that’s exciting! What kind of work is it?

Kim Namjoon (9:12 am): I work in advertising

Kim Namjoon (9:12 am): The company’s headquarters is in Portland, so I’m just gonna attend a few conferences and conventions over there. Professional development things

Business isn’t a field you’re very well versed in, but from the sounds of it, Namjoon seems well accomplished.

You (9:13 am): Let me know how you like Portland!! I’ll be sure to visit one day then 😌

Namjoon (9:13 am): Yeah for sure, and I can be your tour guide 😃

A big, dumb grin forms on your face. You’ve never really considered yourself a flirtatious person, but these exchanges feel a bit more than just friendly. Scanning over the text once again, you’re excited by the idea of meeting Namjoon in person.

The entire day is filled with back and forth exchanges with Namjoon. Your work completely forgotten. Although you’ve only scratched the surface with getting to know one another, there’s so much more you’re dying to know about him. Insatiable. And you can’t help it.

Namjoon is a gentle giant but also a complete and utter mess. The fact that his friends refer to him as the God of destruction is telling enough. You once thought that you were clumsy, stumbling over your own two feet when climbing up and down the stairs. But it makes you proud to know that you’ve never tripped on stage during a school production, nor have you ever broken your belongings to the point of no repair. He claims that he doesn’t know his own strength, but you’re convinced that it’s an excuse for all of his mishaps. Yet it’s adorably captivating in your eyes.

Somewhere along the way, you let it slip that you’re an editor. An avid writer, actually. Originally, you were a bit nervous to admit it, knowing from Namjoon’s bio that he considers himself a wordsmith. But it’s nice to know that he’s not pretentious about it, but rather very modest. In an impractical world, Namjoon thinks that he could have made it as a lyricist. He’s sure that he’s already doing that in some other dimension. In this cosmos, however, he writes poetry when he’s not busy making campaign ads for Nike. He’s inspired by all the books that he’s read. His favorite being The Catcher in the Rye. It’s a basic choice, but he made you promise that you wouldn’t judge him for it.

There’s something that’s just so special about Namjoon. He’s one of a kind. Even just from his outer appearance, one can tell that he’s not like most people. His fashion sense is unlike any other, and it turns out, fashion is one of his many hobbies. Although his closest friends call him old fashioned, and sometimes a “dad on vacation,” he’s confident in the way he styles himself. He loves an oversized outerwear piece, and even though he doesn’t realize it, his black baseball cap is a signature article. That is, of course, when he isn’t decked out in a suit in tie for work in which you’re dying to see.

His Instagram feed is brimming with aesthetic photos of himself exploring the city. He looks so damn good in all of them, and it’s truly a curse. He’s been to practically every art museum on the island of Manhattan, yet he still wants to take another trip inside the Metropolitan. He loves to sit down in cafes, much like yourself, to read novels and write some poetry. Sometimes he takes nature walks along the Riverside Park on the upper west side with his dog, Monie. Truthfully, if he doesn’t bring Monie on your first date, it’s over for the two of you.

Exchanging phone numbers and social media handles has made communication much easier. You’re more likely to be on iMessage than on Tinder. But if it was for Namjoon, you’d use any platform he’s on.

Throughout the week, his responses are much more sporadic. His busy work schedule has been keeping him occupied this entire week, but he still manages to send you a message here and there. Not to mention, he’s been doing some last minute shopping, totally unprepared for the upcoming trip. Although you have a flight leaving for Seattle the same day, you’re much more experienced when it comes to packing.

It’s cute how clueless Namjoon seems to be, wondering whether or not he’s overpacking. He’s not ready to go through the embarrassment of exceeding the luggage weight limit at check in. The impending panic is settling in, and it’s evident through his texts.

Joon 🐨: Can I FaceTime call you? I’m dying here

If Namjoon thinks he’s in panic, then he should see your face the moment you receive his message. It shouldn’t be as big of a deal as you make it seem, but a video call is a rather big step. You’re hardly even presentable, having spent all day at home in your pajamas. Turning on your front camera, you eye yourself through the screen. Examining the state of your skin and running your fingers through your tangled hair, you’re certain that Namjoon cannot see you looking at your worst like this.

You’re this close to texting him back that you can’t, for vanity reasons of course, but your device turns black for a second. The next thing you know, your phone is vibrating in the palm of your hands, and Namjoon’s name flashes on top of the screen.

Joon 🐨 would like to FaceTime…

Your body stiffens and your heart stops momentarily. A breath is stifled from your mouth, and you nearly choke on air after muttering a string of curses. With clenched fists, you’re stuck in a dilemma, debating whether you should answer the call. Your heart says yes, but your brain is shouting no. All sense is lost, and you hit accept, but you leave your phone facing up on the bed, camera pointed to the ceiling.

“Hello?” He questions through the speakers. He calls out your name, as if he called the wrong number by mistake and wants to make sure. Oh man, his honeyed voice is deep and his timbre is so full. It’s not quite how you imagined, but it’s not unexpected either. At least you can finally put a voice to his face.

“Uhm, hello?” You respond back with a wavering tone, and you’re this close to slapping yourself in the face because of the crack in your voice. But Namjoon probably would have heard that and questioned your sanity.

From your point of view, you’re able to see his perfectly sculpted face. His medium brown hair is just as messy as yours, but he was most likely pulling on the strands out of stress, and his eyes are soft through the lens of his black tortoise shell glasses. You really do wish that he would forego the contacts in some of his pictures because the dark frame is quite sexy resting atop of his rounded nose. His hand comes into view to run through his mop of hair before pushing his glasses back into place, higher up on his bridge.

At least you can confirm that he isn’t a catfish.

“Hey, I wanna see your pretty face.” He pouts, his lower lip jutting out and his cheeks expanding like a chain reaction. As simple as the compliment is, you can’t help but to feel flattered by such kind words.

“I don’t look my best right now,” you’re whining out, still adamant as to not show your face on camera. You let out a dry chuckle, poking fun at your own appearance.

“I’m starting to think that you’re a catfish,” he jokes. A laugh erupts from the pit of his stomach. His chest heaves up and his shoulders rise from the action. A toothy grin is present on his lips. His smile is the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen, and it’s not just because of the dimples. But his eyes crease at the corners, and you know for a fact that he’s being authentic. His smile makes you believe that everything will be okay. It’s comforting in that way.

“I’m really not a catfish!” You quibble, “You promise you won’t make fun of me if I show my face?” Your voice is small, and you really wish that you hadn’t picked up the call moments ago.

A crease forms over Namjoon’s forehead, confused as to why you would have such thoughts. “I wouldn’t ever do that. Come on, now.” That’s easy for him to say. His palm is resting below his chiseled jawline, and he looks like an absolute angel with a cast of light illuminating behind his head.

You utter out a sigh, and mumble underneath your breath, cursing yourself for agreeing. Picking up your phone, you angle it so that your face is visible to the camera. You offer a shy, tight lipped smile and a slight wave. You whisper out a greeting, but it’s barely audible to even yourself. Namjoon can just make out the words from the shape of your lips. He’s enamored by your mannerisms, but he hopes and prays that you’ll come out of your shell for him.

“Ah, there she is,” he smiles to himself, “beautiful as ever.”

Your head turns to the side and your hands come up to hide your features. “You don’t have to lie to me,” you say, shaking your head. But your elbow lowers to reveal your face once again, this time with a genuine smile, your shoulders in a more relaxed state now. He really is too kind for his own good.

“I promise you, I’m an honest man.”

Your giddiness is evident from your expression. A fond smile present on your lips. This feels like a schoolgirl crush all over again, staring in awe at him like you’re completely infatuated.

“What do you need help with?” You ask, shaking yourself out of your daydream.

“What don’t I need help with?” He says exasperatedly. His concern is palpable. If only you could physically relieve some of the stress that he’s feeling, but your words will have to be comforting enough for now.

“I’m afraid that I’m forgetting something, I know I am, but I can’t figure it out,” he continues. His eyebrows furrow, hard at thought. His pupils flicker back and forth, mentally searching for said item.

“Toothbrush? Phone charger? Your passport?” All great suggestions coming from you, a veteran adventurer. All necessary items. Common things that people often leave behind when they’re traveling.

His eyes widen as if he’s just had an epiphany. He gasps, and his mouth drops slightly, his jaw loosening up. “Oh my god, I forgot about my passport.”

Suddenly, there’s a lot of rustling over the line. Namjoon is no longer present on the screen, too busy running around and searching for his passport. There’s a dopey grin furling at the corners of your mouth, amused by his quirky absentmindedness. A good minute passes by when you hear a crash over the line and a mutter of curses.

“Are you okay?” You raise your voice, hoping that he can hear you loud enough over speaker phone.

“Yeah!” He shouts back in affirmation. “I slipped, but I’m fine!”

You chuckle at his expense, but you’re glad that he’s fine. It’s typical of him to have fallen, but this is the first time you get to experience it first hand. Namjoon comes back into sight, picking up his phone and flashing a gold embossed symbol on the front of a blue booklet at the camera as if he’s just won a prize at the fair.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me, I could have been hurt!” He feigns offense, but you know that he’s only teasing you.

“Please, your only kryptonite is Monie.” The back and forth sarcasm is endless. As you soon discovered, it’s the only way you can openly flirt with one another. Taking innocent, light jabs to consolidate this relationship.

“True, but actually, you’re my kryptonite,” he confesses. Namjoon beams, his smile meeting his eyes with a crinkle at the corners. He’s flustered by his own words, his face hiding in his hands out of embarrassment.

“That’s so cheesy!” And it definitely is. He knows it too, but it was worth it to see you smile back at him.

“I think that’s your cue to leave,” you laugh at him. Although you don’t really want to say goodbye, it’s certainly getting late for his early flight tomorrow.

“I wanna keep talking to you though,” Namjoon practically begs with puppy dog eyes, a pout forming on his lips.

You’re this close to letting up, unable to deny yourself the pleasure of having late night conversations with him, picking at his brain to hear about his philosophies and intellectually inspiring ideologies. He’s so well-spoken over text, and your curiosity rises, wondering how he would craft such beautiful sentences in real time. They say that conversations after midnight are significantly more profound than the ones that occur in broad daylight, so you’re ready to put that to the test. But maybe you should save that for another day. A day in which you can finally see one another face to face. To finally see the stars in his eyes, a reflection of yourself through his warm, umber irises.

You’ve never been a fan of alcohol, but it’s so easy to get drunk off Namjoon’s words. His charisma leaves you feeling tipsy, high off of the serotonin induced state of your brain.

This time, you let your senses rule over your desires. “Me too, but you have a plane to catch,” you mope, putting your head down to avert your eyes from him, instead picking at the hem of your t-shirt, a seam coming loose from the stitchings. If you were to look at him any longer, you’d surely never hang up.

Namjoon agrees with a groan, “Ugh you’re right. But promise me we’ll video chat again soon? You’ll text me right?”

The prospect of calling him again makes you feel warm on the inside. Of course you’d want to speak to him again. You’d be a fool not to. So you nod your head, “Yeah, of course,” and flash him the purest smile. He exchanges the same sentiment to you through the digital screen. Your heart is now bursting at the seams, overfilled with infatuation.

“Goodnight, have a safe flight to Seattle tomorrow,” he says with a yawn.

You wave back into the screen, saying your goodbye. “Night, enjoy Portland!” With that, Namjoon blows a kiss into the camera, and he grows shy by the display of affection. A huge grin is left on your face for the rest of the night.

The universe must have been trying to tell you something by sending Namjoon over your way. Although you’re not one to believe in destiny, it just seemed a little too easy to cross paths with him. After one awful dating experience, it’s like God gifted him to you personally. It’s all coincidental, you tell yourself to prevent getting your hopes up. A small world, actually. Being in the same city. During the same week. Traveling cross country on the same exact day.

It’s as if timing and location are in your favor. Except it isn’t whatsoever. They’re precisely the problems. One whole week spent in New York, a place in which you have a love-hate relationship with. Somewhere you swear you’d never return to, yet it continues to call your name like a siren. You’re here, in the heart of Midtown, and Namjoon simply isn’t. So close, yet so far. Three miles and counting. A busy work schedule preventing either one of you from meeting.

While he waits to depart from Laguardia Airport at 7 in the morning, you brew yourself a fresh cup of coffee. The terminal gates are closed and secure, standing by for the arrival of the plane. Looking to kill some time, Namjoon presses the call button beside your contact name, a dial tone rings through Namjoon’s headphones. This time, you’re actually prepared to pick up. A quick good morning and a wish of safe travels are exchanged as well as a story of how Namjoon nearly left his passport behind in the yellow taxi cab.

A woman’s voice is projected over the loudspeaker, announcing the boarding of flight 613 to Portland, Oregon. Neither of you express your goodbyes until the last minute. Until he’s settled down into his seat and the flight attendant requests that everyone turn their cell phone on airplane mode. By the time the plane takes off, Namjoon’s travel anxiety is no longer apparent, his thoughts are too occupied by the girl who puts the sun in the sky.

By 7pm, you’re at the doors of the airport, headed towards Seattle on the same exact airline Namjoon was once on hours ago. Your thumb hovers over his contact information, dancing around, wondering if it’s a good time to call him. Two calls in one day might be a bit excessive, but the desire is impossible to combat when he’s the only thing on your mind.

This feeling is brand new to you. There’s never been someone whose caught your attention quite like this. Every wandering thought to Namjoon breaks out a little smile. His effect on you is beyond your own imagination despite never having met the guy. It’s puppy love. This burning crush has evolved from an ember into an all consuming conflagration, engulfing the entirety of your heart.

You: Hey, are you busy?

Immediately, a set of ellipses appear at the bottom of the screen in the form of a gray chat bubble. It makes your heart soar - the idea that he’s just as eager to talk to you as you are, him. It’s not that Namjoon was waiting for your text or anything, but he’s sitting down in a cafe on the outskirts of downtown Portland with a notebook splayed out in front of him and a pen in hand. He’s lost in the thought of you, writing down lines of poetry inspired by the girl in the city that never sleeps.

Joon 🐨: I’m free. Why, what’s up?

You: Can we FT?

Joon 🐨: Yeah :)

Without any hesitation, Namjoon accepts the video chat. At once, you’re greeted by the craters he calls dimples.

“Hey.” He’s soft spoken, looking at you with stars in his eyes. A reflection of light casts over his iris, a glint present over the thin film. You swear you can see the entire universe in them, even from the shitty pixels of your low resolution iPhone.

“Hey,” you answer back with equal amounts of admiration. Your hand comes up to rest beneath your jaw, feeling relaxed by his presence. That smile of his is like a warm hug, engulfing you into a welcoming abode that makes you feel safe and finally at home.

“What’re you doing now?” There’s some hustle and bustle on his side of the line, but the foot traffic isn’t nearly as bad as the floor of the airport.

“Drinking coffee, doing some writing,” he responds, wagging his pen up in the air for you to see. His smile is proud and gleaming, given the fact that he hasn’t had a chance to write leisurely in a while. But the inspiration just seemed to have hit him lately, jotting down cluttered thoughts in intermittent sparks. And now he has the time to piece it all together into something greater.

“Oh, you should have told me,” you start apologizing, “I don’t want to bother you.” A wave of guilt washes over you.

“No, you’re not a bother,” he protests against you, his voice urgent, unwilling to let you go. “Tell me about your day,” he asks, moving on from the conversation so you’re unable to object.

You lick over your lips, collecting your thoughts. “My day? Uhh… Kind of boring. I finished up that article I told you about, and now I’m waiting to board the plane,” you explain. “What about you? How was your flight?” You inquire, eyebrows raised, more interested in hearing Namjoon talk.

“I slept the whole time, but it was kind of uncomfortable because my legs didn’t fit, even in the business class seats,” he chuckles. He leaves out the part where he dreamt of you throughout the five hour flight.

“Ah, but at least you got there okay, that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t get to experience the beautiful city of Portland,” he jokes, his arms spread wide to gesture at the space. No offense to Portland. It has its own kind of charm to itself. It’s definitely nothing like New York though. Maybe New Yorkers do have some sort of superiority complex, but Namjoon’s just poking fun. He’s fortunate for the work opportunity, allowing him to see a new city and experience a whole new subculture of the Pacific Northwest.

“Yeah, you have to experience it all first before you can show me around,” you wit, cocking your head to the side, a grin flashing on your face.

“I’ll be sure to scout out all the good date spots.” His dimples are prominent now, so deep you could get lost in them. Much like his eyes, if he wasn’t squeezing them shut out of bashfulness.

Blood rushes to your face with heat dusting itself over the high points of your cheeks. The chemistry between the two of you is brewing, the infatuation at its peak.

“Oh yeah, I’m just putting this idea out there, but…” you trail off, looking down and playing with the scrunchies that sit on your wrist. “I want to visit Los Angeles after I spend like two weeks in Seattle” you mention to him.

“L.A.? That’s so cool, you’ve been wanting to go for a while. You should totally do it,” Namjoon suggests. He’s so attentive, somehow keeping track of where you’ve been and where you want to go better than you can yourself.

You grow shy, wondering if you should finish up your thought or disregard it completely, considering he doesn’t know about your plans. But you think it’s worth a shot anyways.

“Yeah, I was looking it up earlier, and there were a few options,” you nod to yourself, looking down and continuing to play with the thin, black elastic bands. You swallow, clearing your throat, “and the cheapest ones had a layover in Portland,” you finally let out, in a casual tone, or so you hope.

The sound of Namjoon’s voice has you looking back up at the camera, “Wait are you for real?” He questions incredulously. “You definitely have to come now,” he lets out like it’s the brightest idea.

“Really? D-do you think you want to meet up then?” You ask, eyes hopeful.

He nods his head enthusiastically, “I really have to start exploring now if I’m gonna take you around the city.”

“Okay, okay, yeah, I’ll look more into it tonight.” You try not to sound too excited by the idea, wanting to maintain a calm composure. Yet the cheshire grin on your face gives it away.

“Oh by the way, did you know that Portland is known for strip clubs? That’s what Google says at least. Maybe we can put that on our itinerary,” you suggest, a chuckle tumbling out of your lips as Namjoon’s laughter fills up your headphones.

The rest of the conversation carries out easily like always. Speaking to Namjoon is just so effortless. He has this warming personality that makes it so easy to open up to him. The topics that you discuss flows from one to the other, never sticking to one subject matter for too long. And for the next two weeks, nightly FaceTime calls with him have fallen into your routine.

There’s a lot to love about Seattle. First of all, the transit system is much more efficient than the MTA of New York. Secondly, the locally brewed coffee is the coffee of your dreams. Thirdly, the people of the Pacific Northwest are generally a lot nicer than you’re used to. However, you wouldn’t necessarily consider settling down in Seattle in the future. It’s nice and all, but there’s something missing to it.

With every city comes a new adventure, exploring the world with no bounds. But this time around, there’s something that gravitates you to lie down in the bed of your hotel room. Or to spend an extra hour in a diner near closing time instead of venturing out to experience the Seattle nightlife. The common thread between all these occurrences is the chance to talk to the man who puts the moon in the starry night sky. A feat you don’t have the pleasure of seeing in the black, polluted atmosphere of New York.

Every day of this week, you’ve ended up eating dinner with your phone propped up against a cup of iced water, your FaceTime application draining your battery until it’s nearly dead. Typically, you’re used to having meals in silence. Enjoying the comfort of your own company. But whenever Namjoon was back home, relieved from his 8 hour shift, you’d jump at the chance to hear his silky voice, lulling you into a tranquil state. It’s calming to hear about his eventful day, albeit muddling, not understanding the business jargon he uses. Yet hearing him ramble puts a smile on your face.

Although your departure from Seattle doesn’t necessarily sadden you, you’re delighted to move on to your next stop. So maybe an all nighter isn’t the ideal way to start off a day of travel, but it was definitely worth it to catch the sunrise with Namjoon over video call. The only thing that would make it better is to watch it by his side. And an hour nap on the plane is better than nothing, right? The city that never sleeps has trained you and Namjoon well enough to traverse through any barriers. Time, distance, and most of all, sleep deprivation.

Joon 🐨:

This eternal night with no end in sight

It's you who gifted me the morning

Can I now hold that hand?

I can make it right

Joon 🐨: Have a safe flight btw! Sorry I can’t pick you up from the airport :(

Joon 🐨: No driver’s license, lol

Joon 🐨: Can’t wait to see you 💞

A flood of text notifications appear on the screen as soon as you turn off airplane mode, your phone vibrating nonstop. After opening your messages, you can’t help but to radiate with joy, a broad smile plastered onto your features.

You: Omg did you write that? Who’s it about? 🥺

You: And it’s okay! How am I gonna be a true Portlandian if I don’t figure out the public transit system?

Joon 🐨: It’s for this girl I’m dying to meet. She’s a caffeine dependent insomniac who lives out of her suitcase. She’s pretty cool. I should introduce you 😁 Great photographer. Good taste in music. Really talented writer. Absolutely stunning, especially when she’s lying around in her PJs

Joon 🐨: She’s also a wannabe Portlandian

There’s probably a smug look on his face right now, too proud of his witty self. But his charm has definitely worked on you, your heartbeat accelerating at his words.

36 hours in Portland is not enough time to see all the sights you want to see. And 36 hours with Namjoon is definitely not enough time for your liking. After settling into your AirBnB, you crawl into your plush full size bed so that you could catch some shut eye before noon. Before your long awaited meeting with Namjoon.

Even though you begged him for his supposedly well crafted itinerary, he would much rather surprise you. Apparently he has a busy day planned considering you hardly have two full days in Portland. So here you are, at the first stop of the day, waiting for him in front of the cafe he texted the location of. An empty bench at the front entrance awaits you, so you decide to take a seat given that you’re a bit early. The nerves start to catch up to you as you play with your fingers, not knowing what to do with your hands. You pull out your phone, hoping for some kind of distraction when a text from Namjoon comes in.

Joon 🐨: I’m a block away!

Now your heart is truly racing straight out of your chest. You put your phone away into your back pocket, turning around to face the glass window to peer at your reflection. Your hands fly to your hair, trying to fix up the strands that have fallen out of place. Smacking your lips together, and giving yourself a pep talk, you swivel back around waiting for his arrival. You rub your palms across your thighs out of nervousness, turning your head left and right, you’re unsure which direction he’s coming from. And suddenly, in your peripherals, he turns at the corner of the block.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, stunned by his appearance in all the best ways. He’s tall, towering over you at nearly six feet. As he approaches closer and closer, he visibly gets taller as if that’s even possible. He’s so well built with wide shoulders and a well sculpted chest. Not to mention, his khaki pants are pretty loose, but when he walks, his taut thigh muscles fill up the material rather well, stretching out the fabric in all the right places. You certainly don’t mean to gawk at him, but it’s difficult not to.

“Hey! It’s so nice to see you,” he greets you with the most welcoming smile you’ve ever seen. God, his dimples are even more beautiful in person.

“Hey, how are you?” You ask as you both go in for a hug. His scent engulfs you as you make contact. A woody scent. Sort of like a campfire in a pine filled forest. The hug is a bit awkward at first, with you being unfamiliar to one another’s touch. But after a good second, you melt into his embrace, his arms wrapped snugly around your upper back as yours circle his slender waist.

“I have to admit, I’ve never flown across the country for a date,” you joke with a dry chuckle, pulling away, but still holding onto him with outstretched arms.

“I could say the same,” he says with the shyest smile, “let’s go inside, yeah?”

His arm wraps around your shoulder tentatively with a soft graze, turning you around as he leads you in, opening the door for the both of you.

The cafe is quite cute, the decor being the highlight of it all. There’s an abundance of vines hanging across the ceilings, knick knacks strategically scattered across all the shelves, a tiny library sitting in the corner of the room, and pastel blue chairs to tie it all together. The space is a bit eclectic, but if you were to describe it, it would be Namjoon’s personality all in one room.

As you settle in to the window seat, he grabs two paper menus from the counter and hands one back to you. Your eyes scan across the paper, overwhelmed by the amount of choices you have. Meanwhile, Namjoon’s eyes are aimed at you, his lips curved into a soft smile.

“I’m not sure what to get, what about you?” You ask, casting your sight back up at him. As for you, your smile never seems to leave your face, finally content to be around Namjoon for the first time.

He shakes himself from his reverie, careful not to get caught staring. “Uhm, I- uh, I think I”m gonna get the California omelette platter,” he stutters out, “I haven’t had that here yet. I usually get the waffles.”

“Oh! I was looking at the waffles,” you exclaim passionately, as if you and him were thinking on the same wavelength “Do you come here a lot then?” You ask curiously.

“Yeah, basically every morning,” he chuckles, “I can’t cook to save my life.”

You gasp lightly, and clap your hands together, “We’re gonna change that together,” you declare.

“You’re gonna teach me to cook?” He inquires, an eyebrow raised.

Your index finger comes up to prove a point disconcertingly, “No,” you let out sharply. “Are you crazy? That’s why we’re gonna change that together,” you snicker.

And in Namjoon’s mind, not only does the idea of Sunday morning, home-cooked breakfasts with you become a hopeful wish, but so does the idea of having every single meal with you, whether or not he’d be the one burning the pan.

According to Namjoon, you’re running behind on your itinerary, but it isn’t a big deal because the extra hour spent chatting with you, long after your plates are cleared, means so much more to him. He’s mesmerized by the shape of your lips. The way it moves when you’re rambling on about your passions. Your hopes and your dreams. He’s enamored by the way your speech speeds up when you rant, raving about the things that get your riled up, and the softness of your tone when you grow shy at his compliments, stuttering out your excuses and rationalizations.

You would think that you’d run out of things to talk about, considering you’ve been texting and calling one another non stop since you matched on Tinder. It would seem that you’d cover all the basics, but this man truly amazes you with how great of a conversationalist he is.

Even after walking out of the cafe, your passionate, but fitting discussion over your love of literature carries on to the next date spot. Namjoon scoured the city to find a vintage book store because he knew that you would probably lose your mind in there. And he was absolutely right. Walking up and down the aisles, your hands simply cannot stop running across the spine of each book. You’re magnetized to your favorite section. Romantic fiction.

You’re sure that you could spend hours upon hours in this section alone. And if only you could purchase every book on the shelf, but you only limit yourself to one book. Two, max. You’re already so close to reaching the luggage weight limit, so you’re here struggling to pick just one.

“Namjoon, I really can’t decide. Can you pick one out for me?” You plead.

“Do you really think I could make a decision?” He counters. His love for books extends as far as yours, so of course you’d be stuck in a predicament.

“How about this,” he proposes, “pick a letter.”

Your mind goes blank for a second, but then you sputter out the first letter that comes to mind, “F… because I don’t freaking know,” you shrug.

He takes a few steps, locating the shelf he has in mind. “Okay, now say stop whenever,” he says as he starts running his index finger across the hardbacks.

“Sssss- stop,” you announce with your eyes squeezed shut, finally opening them when Namjoon places the book in your hands.

It’s a hefty book. Navy blue. There’s a set of eyes on the cover. An iconic image. An American classic.

The Great Gatsby.

“Oh my god, wait! I love this book,” you exclaim, not disappointed whatsoever.

“I thought you said that my taste was basic,” he says with a light push on your shoulder. You’re still not wrong about that. But your mutual love for F. Scott Fitzgerald allows you to make an exception. And maybe it isn’t just about the author, but the book itself is a reminder of New York. The Valley of Ashes. East Egg and West Egg. All too familiar to you. It hits “home” just a little too close.

The capital of the world. The center of the universe. The “greatest city in the world.” It’s the city of dreams, but it’s also the city of broken dreams. The place that has broken you down countless times with the never ending expectations. It’s where you’ve had shattered your own heart and learned to build it back up. It’s where you’ve been pushed to your limits. A community that has made you feel small and insignificant. Living there alone is like going through hell and back, all in a proximity of 302 square miles. Despite your tough exterior, New York has definitely put you to the test. The Empire State of mind stomping all over you, its skyscrapers towering above your head.

But for whatever reason, you owe your entire life back to this city. You can trace your whole upbringing back there. From all these hellish experiences, you’ve built yourself up from the ashes to become the person you are today. A strong minded woman. A hard worker. An empathetic individual. It’s built your character in spite of the circumstances. A never ending tug of war. Push and pull. The epitome of the American Dream as false as it may be.

“It is basic,” you playfully argue back, a chuckle escaping you. “Are you gonna get anything?”

“Nah, not today, I don’t think.”

“Okay, I’ll go check out. I’ll come find you after.” With that, you scurry off with one mission in mind. A little surprise for Namjoon just because. You’re quick to find exactly what you’re looking for, so you pull it off the shelves and head to the cashier. While making your purchase, you ask if they could gift wrap one of the items which they so kindly do - simple brown kraft paper with white twine wrapped around it in a perfect bow. Carefully placing your items into your bag, you skip your way back into the fiction aisle on a search for the gorgeous man with a big brain and an even bigger heart.

He’s too busy enraptured by some random book he picked off the shelves, reading word by word the blurb at the back of the sleeve. You attempt to sneak up on him, snaking your arms around his waist, the side of your head resting on his shoulder blade. Namjoon is startled, but he softens at the sight of you when he cranes his neck to look at you.

“Got everything you needed?” He questions.

You just nod your against his back. Your eyes are bright and big, looking like a child who just received a bag of gummy worms at the candy store. “Thank you for taking me here,” you smile, elated by the new piece you can add to your book collection.

Pulling away, you take a hold of his hand and you both make your way out to the exit. “Where to next?” you ask, bouncing up and down.

“How do you feel about your bike riding abilities?” Namjoon queries with a cock of his head.

“I can ride a bike, but I’m gonna be honest, I have trouble getting started on it.” You’re playing with his hand, swaying it back and forth as you walk.

The bike share racks aren’t far from the bookstore. The bright neon orange vehicles are impossible to miss. You adjust your seat to the proper height before rolling it off the rack. Namjoon is quick to attend to you as you straddle your bike on either side, your feet planted on the ground. His hands wrap around the handle bars, with you trapped between his embrace so you can get yourself up on the seat while still holding the bike up on its tires. The heat radiating off of him is intense, his warm breath cascading goosebumps over your exposed neck. A shy smile braces itself on your lips as you turn to look at him, his proximity closer than ever before. Quickly, you angle your head back down to your feet, making sure that it’s resting over the bike pedals.

Once you’re on properly, he counts down, 3… 2… 1, and he propels your bike forward. His right hand shifting over to your lower back so he can walk you more easily. Once you’re off, you start riding around in circles, waiting for him to get on his own bike.

“Where are we going?” You ask, trailing slightly behind Namjoon to let him lead the way. You pass by Washington Park, a trail of red rose bushes appear on your right side. A pleasant scent filling up your nostrils. Although Portland isn’t the city that comes to mind when you think of romance, the city of roses definitely adds a nice ring to it.

“What’s with you wanting to ruin all these surprises?”

You shake your head, realizing that he’s right. You should just go with the flow and let him be spontaneous.

Arriving at your destination, you’re definitely pleased by his choice in date spots. It’s Portland’s famous Japanese garden. You’ve been looking it up prior to planning your trip, and you've been meaning to take a visit here on your stopover.

The miles of stone paths lead you across all twelve acres of greenery. It’s like you entered a completely different world upon first arrival. There are Japanese styled pagodas at the cultural village, nothing like the concrete jungle you’re used to. The little bridges floating over the koi ponds are special treats to you. The fresh air is definitely what you need to feel more at peace. With performances and tea tasting, you and Namjoon are kept occupied for a majority of the day. Namjoon’s favorite part has to be the exhibition at the main entrance. His love for art and design definitely shines through there, his attention captivated by all the stunning artifacts.

Taking a break after what seems like hours of walking, you’re sat at a bench beneath a pink cherry blossom tree. Considering the time of year, you would have thought that the blossoms would have all fallen off, yet they’re still holding on strong.

Namjoon’s arm slings across your shoulders, resting coyly over your skin. You scoot a little closer to him, letting him know that the physical contact and proximity are more than okay with you.

“Hey, I have a gift for you by the way,” you look up at him with a grin.

Opening up your bag, you pull out the wrapped present you picked up from the bookstore and place it on top of Namjoon’s lap.

“What? You really didn’t have to get me anything,” he says with modesty.

“Just open it!” You beg of him excitedly, your hands clasped over one another over your chest.

Namjoon carefully undoes the ribbon and opens up the packaging, his eyes lighting up at the sight. “No way, I can’t believe you did this. I didn’t even see you pick this up?”

It’s a first edition copy of The Catcher in the Rye in its original dust jacket. A rusty orange color surrounding the entirety of the book. It resembles the foliage of his favorite season and he’s reminded of all the things he loves.

“I grabbed it when you weren’t looking.” You smile up at him, and there are tears in his eyes. There’s a reflection of you over the sheen, much like how the moon glows bright white because of the sun’s illumination across space.

“Oh my god, please don’t cry,” you nearly panic, your hands cupping his cheeks in an attempt to console him.

Namjoon gives you a giant bear hug, whispering a thank you into your ear. Your hand rubs up and down over his back instinctually. He pulls away momentarily and gives you a light peck over your cheek before returning back to the crook of your neck. Your cheeks heat up along with the rest of your body, a blush forming over your skin.

“I promise I’m not crying. It’s all this pollen in the air,” he says, his voice muffled as his lips hover over the skin of your neck.

There’s definitely something in the air today. It’s not pollen, but love.

Namjoon and you walk around the city, hand in hand, looking for a place to have dinner. He didn’t expect the date to last as long as it did, but time seemed to have escaped the both of you. Arriving back at the city center, you come across a street fair. There are crowds of people walking around, intrigued by the attractions. A giant carousel sits at the center of the space, it’s lights brightening up as sunset is upon you and the daylight dwindles.

You decide to walk through the food carts they have to offer. The rows of pods are endless, the options ceaseless. One cart in particular, however, is rather appealing to Namjoon. It’s a Korean-American fusion cart, merging Korean street food classics with southern BBQ. The lack of Asian food in Portland makes him miss home, where the buffet of ethnic cuisine is infinite. You decide to try it out, sharing bibimbap topped with spare ribs and oyster mushrooms as well as pork and cucumbered steamed buns on the side. It’s definitely an American take on the dishes, but they’re satisfying enough, considering how starved you both are from a day of walking.

You can’t quite put your finger on it, but Namjoon’s love for New York, hearing him talk about his homesickness, makes you yearn for it a little more day by day.

The sun rests over the horizon, indicating that the night is coming to a close. A sea of pink and purple cascades through the sky, a sight nearly as beautiful as the man beside you. The waning light is mocking you, as the countdown gets closer and closer to you having to leave for L.A.

Namjoon walks you back home like a gentleman, slowing down your footsteps so you can spend as much time as possible with each other, dragging out the moments. Standing at the footsteps of your entryway, both your hands are interlocked with his, his thumb rubbing over the top of your hands, where your thumb meets your knuckle.

“So uh, this is it, huh?” He asks, his eyes staring into yours.

“Yeah, this is me,” you say in a whisper, only loud enough for him to hear you. You swallow deeply, not wanting this moment to end. Your eyesight shifts downwards to his lips, as does his. You’re both too shy to make the first move, licking over the flesh of your bottom lip.

“Uh... d-do you wanna come upstairs?” You decide to take a leap of faith, your inhibitions getting the best of you.

Namjoon’s thoughts go blank momentarily, for the first time in forever. He’s awestruck by you. An enigma he wishes to uncrack.

“Uhp- uhp- upstairs?” He hesitates, blinking at the thought of it, his skin paling, his expression shocked.

You nod your head, your hands squeezing a little tighter over Namjoon’s grip, “Only if you want to.”

“Yea-yeah, I can come inside for a bit,” he stutters out. It’s uncharacteristic of Namjoon to turn into a stuttering mess. The well spoken, charismatic guy who seems to know the answers to everything, reduced to a smitten buffoon.

The AirBnB isn’t very large, given how last minute you booked the place. It’s a studio apartment, just right for one person. Or maybe two. The loveseat couch sits at the center of the room. While Namjoon faces forward, you turn to your side to better initiate a conversation with him. He turns to you, his mouth curling up into a euphoric smile. There are no words exchanged between the two of you, the tension too high. It’s just two love sick idiots staring at one another. Only the sounds of cars passing through the open window fills the atmosphere.

Breaking the silence, you decide to ask, “So uhm, what do you want to do now?” A deep breath escaping your lungs.

Namjoon continues to gawk at you, a lazy smile present on his lips. “This is good.” He caresses your forearm, dragging his fingertips up and down your skin.

“You just want to keep staring at each other?” You tease.

“We could do other things too,” he lets out softly, eyes meeting yours and then constantly switching back to the plumpness of your lips.

“Like what?” You ask innocently.

Namjoon’s body is more oriented towards yours now, allowing for easy access. His soft hand pushes your hair back. He places a delicate hold at the juncture of your jaw and your neck while the other one rests at your waist. He leans in a little closer to you, his plush lips brushing over yours. You swallow at the skinship he’s showing, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

“Like this,” he murmurs, finally meeting your lips in a gentle kiss.

It’s not long before he pulls away, unsure if you’re willing to take this any further. He’s testing the waters, gauging your reaction. But of course you want to take it further. You invited him inside in the first place. Your boldness jumps out as you lean back in, placing more pressure into the kiss as if it’s urgent. Your hands rest over his broad shoulders, allowing you to lean your weight onto him as you place a leg on either side of his thick, muscular thighs, mounting on top of his hard member. You gasp at the feeling of his bulge digging into your skin.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pulling apart from his mouth momentarily, resting your forehead on his so you can cast your sight to his lap. Your hips are on autopilot, grinding over his groin. Namjoon’s jaw is tense, his chin jutting out as he looks down at all the action. His grips at your waist, propelling you back and forth over his crotch so that the friction is more intense. Your breath is stifled as you feel your wetness seeping out of you. It’s evident through the khaki color of his pants, a damp spot forming over the fabric.

Your clit runs over the rough material, stimulating you just barely enough. You’re grinding on one another like two horny teenagers discovering sex for the first time, but you need more. You need the clothes to be completely off. You need Namjoon’s hands on you, making you fall apart by his own ministrations. You need to come on his fat cock.

“J-Joon, I need you,” you sputter into his collarbone, sucking dark purple marks into his outstretched neck. There’s a thin layer of sweat forming over his forehead, dripping down onto his jugulars. You lick a stripe over his skin, the taste of salt exploding across your tastebuds.

Eager to take off his clothes, your hands rush to remove his outerwear. It falls off his shoulders effortlessly, given that the jacket is rather loose. Following his jacket, you remove his plain white shirt from his torso. Your run your palms over the expanse of his chest. His pecks are firm to the touch. Strong and sturdy. But what surprises you the most is the robust strength of his enormous biceps that were once hidden underneath his jacket.

You hurry to undo the button of his pants and to pull down the zipper. Hovering over him so that you can release his shaft from its confinement, you tug down at the material over his thighs. There’s a struggle to smoothly pull off his pants in one go, as his legs stretch out the cloth so well. But once his dick is released, you’re greedy to take a hold of it. His dick is huge, with you unable to fully wrap around his length. Your mouth drops open at the sight of it, standing tall and proud, sticking up as far as his navel.

Namjoon leans his head back against the couch, his hands lazily groping over your breasts. He cranes his head to see why your motions have stopped, only to see you staring down intimidatingly at him. Namjoon cups your cheek endearingly, making sure that you’re comfortable.

“Are you okay?” He questions, and you nod your head dubiously.

“Yeah, sorry, you’re just... really big,” you admit with a blush forming over your cheeks.

“We can go slow, okay? We don’t even have to do anything,” he reaffirms you.

“No, no no, trust me I want to do this,” you implore, eyes glossy. Your walls suddenly clench around absolutely nothing. “Don’t leave me hanging now,” you banter.

You grip the hem of your shirt, pulling the material off of your torso. You hear Namjoon clear his throat, enchanted by the swell of your breasts. You take his hand in yours, urging him to unclasp the hooks at the back to free yourself from the material. And so he does.

There’s nothing obstructing his view now, your breasts bare and exposed to his sight. His lips find his way back to yours in a rough kiss before assaulting your neck, sucking, biting, and licking down to your breasts. He litters dark purple marks over your skin, matching the hickeys you left on him. His plump lips wrap around your nipple, suckling on the soft flesh while the other one is rolled around and pinched between his thumb and index finger.

Your left hand has an ironclad grip over his shoulder, fingernails digging into his shoulder blade. The other hand is pumping up his thick length, your thumb rubbing over the slit at the head of his cock. Meanwhile, your pants are strewn across the floor, mindlessly tossed in a fit of excitement. Namjoon’s digits find their way beneath the waistband of your panties, rubbing your clit and stuffing you full with two fingers. Your walls dilate around him as he pushes in and out of you. A string of moans are released from your lips, your body aching for your release.

“Fuck me already, please, please,” you’re crying out. A choked sob ripping from your throat.

You rut yourself against Namjoon’s cock, slicking his length with your arousal. His head rubs up between your folds, and you push yourself down on him. Your velvety walls feels so warm around him, making room to accommodate his girth. You wriggle above him, hoping that the discomfort subsides, turning itself into pleasure.

Namjoon is pressing sweet kisses onto your lips, silently reassuring you that everything will be okay. A hot tear streams from your face, an intense sensation overcoming your body. He’s quick to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb.

“Relax for me, baby,” he murmurs against your cheek.

You swallow a glob of spit that’s been forming in your throat, nodding your head up and down with a fucked out expression on your face.

His hand travels down your body, his thumb moving in tight circles over your sensitive bud. You sit on his cock, waiting to adjust yourself. You clench around him absentmindedly, falling victim to his touch as your head rests on his shoulder. Your teeth marks are etched into his skin as you gnaw on his muscle in an attempt to anchor yourself.

Namjoon’s thumb works quicker on your clit, switching from circular motions to criss crossed shapes. The torment is almost too much for you to handle, so your hand settles over his wrist, signalling him to slow down. A whimper falls from your lips as you glide yourself over his shaft. Your boobs are bouncing up and down from the force of your rhythmic hips. The slapping of skin soon fills the air, breaking up the hushed breaths.

His grasp is tight around your waist, putting you to a halt, before lifting himself off the couch. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him closer than before, chest against chest. He supports your weight, his hands grabbing a hold of your ass. You’re still stuffed to the brim as he switches location, plopping you on top of the plush, white mattress.

Namjoon swears that he’s never seen anyone so beautiful. Seeing you in broad daylight was definitely the highlight of his day, but there’s something different about the way you look spread out beneath him, begging for him to ram his fat cock into you.

You’re blubbering, crying out for him to fuck you. Namjoon slides out of you momentarily so that he can lift your frame up higher on the bed. So that your head rests comfortably over one of the two pillows. He takes the other one and situates it below your ass, elevating your hips so that it meets his.

Your eyes are glued shut, your back arching and keening for his contact. Namjoon slides himself back into you slowly, and you can feel every ridge and vein of his member. All of your senses are heightened, a rush of blood moving to your head. You can quite literally hear the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ear drums. If only you could take a peek at the God above you, but your eyes are half-lidded, and they cannot be opened no matter how much you will them to.

Namjoon leans down so that his body veils yours. Intuitively, your legs wrap around the small of his waist, crossed at the ankles. His movements start out slow, but slowly picks up speed until he’s at a consistent but moderate pace. Your sopping wet cunt sucks him in as soon as he pulls out, thrusting into your hole incessantly. He’s drowning in your pussy, your juices spilling out from your entrance. The lewd sounds of his slick cock fucking into you raw ring across the air. The vulgarity of it is pornographic.

His lips are pressed against your ear, his hot breath ventilating into the cusp. He nibbles on the supple flesh at your earlobe, and you quiver at the action. Namjoon’s breathy moans feed your addiction to him. You’re nearing your high, your filthy cunt pulses around his length. High pitched cries tumble out of your mouth as you’re unable to express your emotions. He knows your close based on the way your walls swallow him deeper and deeper. Namjoon is near the edge as well, his balls tightening with every thrust.

You’re spasming below him as your fingernails form crescent indentations into his back, holding on for dear life. A ripple of ecstasy washes over you, shuddering each time he rams into you. Your toes curl, convulsing from the earth shattering orgasm. Namjoon doesn’t stop there, as he’s still chasing his own high. Your cum creams over his thick length, and he fucks it back into you. A milky ring takes shape at the base of his dick, at the point where your hole can no longer take him in. Coming down from your own high, the final contraction of your walls brings him to the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses, regretfully pulling out from your warm heat. His fist wraps around his pulsating member, jerking himself until completion. Hot, sticky spurts of cum spurt out of his slit, landing over your stomach. It shoots out so quickly, projecting as far as the top of your breasts. His eyes are squeezed shut, enraptured with a rippling of pleasure. His vision nearly fades to black, but he’s quick to reopen his eyes to catch the most angelic sight. Your fingertips drag over the surface of your skin, collecting the cum that he shot out, and bringing it up to your lips to have a taste of his viscous semen.

Namjoon rests his body beside yours, unable to hold his weight up any longer, growing weak from exerting all that energy. His chest heaves, his diaphragm inflating and deflating in order for him to catch his breath. He promises to clean you up later, but for now, all he wants and needs is a kiss from you. He turns over to his side, his arm slinging over the top of your chest. His hands come up to gently touch your jaw, turning your head to face him. He meets you in the middle with a soft and passionate kiss.

Your eyes are fluttered shut, too tired to open them. At least your mouth still works, but just barely.

“What’re we gonna do tomorrow?” You ask, muttering into Namjoon’s chest.

He responds, half groggily, “Wanted to go hiking,” he sighs out, trailing off the end of his sentence as if he has a different plan in mind now.

“Let’s just stay in bed,” you manage to grumble, your hand clasping the pillow tighter.

“Yeah, we can definitely do that,” he agrees with a kiss over your temple.

As Namjoon’s loving arms wrap around you, you come to the realization that home isn’t found in the safety of four walls and a roof, but rather in the warm embrace of someone whom you love. Whether in Portland or in New York City, home is wherever Namjoon is.

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