Tumgik
#i like myself now -- most days -- and i have confidence to say what i think and be who i want to be
Hi✨ I would like to ask your opinion on something. My dom and I have been together for year and a half, most of our relationship has been online cuz we are from different cities and he has been dealing with a family situation. The thing is sex and sex play is on and off depending on everything going on in his life and I'm pretty okay with that but I have picked a pattern of his and I don't think I like it.
I have seen that we have seasons, seasons we play hard and seasons we play less. When we play hard sometimes we do it for weeks or even months but then he suggest something that for me is a hard no, at least while we're apart (is always the same thing) and I always suggest that we can try it in the future and that I'm not completely close to that, just that while we're apart I don't feel completely confortable. When he says that normally he suggests it 2 o 3 times more in very subtle way during the course of the week until I stop to explote. Then he says he's never going to suggest it again and then the sex decreases until even if I ask for permission to touch myself he doesn't really care so I stop asking for permission at all. And the the cycle starts again.
Yesterday was the day that I exploited cuz the particular punishment he suggested and even more for the lack of attention he was giving. Today I tried to have a very mature conversation about everything, we even completed an excel about kink compatibility. I said my part, he said his and for me I only said that I needed him to know me better to break me to the point were it was still safe for both of us, that I needed trust, confidence and devotion from his side so I could be fully submissive. He said he understood, that he will not suggest that again NEVER (so the cycle is complete) and that he didn't like that I was telling him what and what not to do, and that he also didn't like that we had to plan everything.
I don't know, I don't want to get through the cycle again, I'm just confused and really don't know what to do.
FYI in the compatability test he has way more "hard no" than me, even in things I would really love to try but even with that, I would never push him.
So this time I don't know that to do, I don't know if I should encourage more difficult conversations and try to solve this and wait for him to return home for good. He's going to return in one month (his family situation is finally solved). Or just give up all together. I know I'm no perfect and he's not perfect either but he always tries his best, he does research for me to feel more confortable, he always cares for me and he's always super respectful and in full control of himself. He always is, apart from this particular kink. So I really don't know what to do.
Any suggestions? I know this is way too much to ask
If you haven’t given him an opportunity to see and consider the pattern you’ve uncovered, then I feel like you should go the “difficult conversations” route. I mean, there are many signs of incompatibility here, so I’m not confident that talking is going to fix anything… but you’ll feel better about the decision to give up if you’ve ticked all the communicative boxes.
With that said:
I don’t want to project my personality and approach on to your guy, which just isn’t fair to either of you. But I’ve gotta say, this whole “I wanna do X… oh. No? How about now…? Really? I’ll bet you couldn’t do it correctly anyway, but… wow, thought that would work. What if I wear a funny hat while we— still no, huh? Okay then, behold as I selflessly and permanently abandon this thoroughly rejected idea until the next time I’m horny” thing is some real Little League nonsense, and both of you should expect more of him.
Let’s put aside the badgering and coercive vibes that everyone else on Tumblr will point out. Instead, I want to know where his goddamned pride has gone, and why both of you are okay with it disappearing.
Why the fuck is he repeatedly trying to pressure you into anything? He is —in theory— the leader of this two-person expedition, and leaders don’t nag or pout. Instead of wasting time trying to pester you into compliance, he could be showing you why he deserves to hear you beg for it.
It’s not your job to be the kind of girl who always agrees; it’s his job to be the kind of man you’d never refuse.
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darlindeer · 5 hours
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A Good Place III
tags:fem!reader, takes place post-canon, reader is/was chronically online, reader is actually a bad person, cursing, Lucifer lowkey is having a mid-life crisis (again), Lucifer has very strong feelings about sinners, I am afraid that reader is a girlblogger, reader has daddy issues, Vaping (don't do it, is not worth it). words: 2.7k a/n: HI :D sooooo I really like this chapter, and I hope that you do too :D its a short one buuuut yeah :D ALSO I am starting a taglist soooo if you wanna be tagged do let me know ^^
part i, part ii, part iii
Do all therapists go to heaven? 
Well surely not if they are like creeps or like… malpractice? Yeah… that sounds right? 
Either way, you were sure that listening to Lucifer talk about himself and his life is definitely winning you some good person points or whatever it is they measure “goodness” by. Sure, you were doing it out of the kindness of your heart as Charlie likes to put it as but… its gotta be helping with redemption right?
“And.. uh.. Oh” He trailed off, his eyes falling on you, seeing how your half lidded eyes and sleepy look in your face “you should probably get to bed, sorry, I didn’t mean to bored you” 
“No, no… is just… your voice is soothing I guess” You half lied sitting up straight 
“Oh…” He blushed and looked away “so… uh… how are you doing?” He asked awkwardly 
“Huh?” 
“Well, after I ran out of thing to ask you I just sorta started talking about myself and you just sit there and listen” He was looking away still. He never really looked at you for longer than a couple of seconds, at least when he had your attention, sometimes during the day you’d feel his eyes burning into the side or back of your head until you turned around and he would quickly look away. But like with most things you would simply ignore it, at least you knew that he wasn’t staring because he wanted you to drop dead, like he did with Alastor. 
“Oh, uh… well… I guess I’m fine?” You shrugged “I don’t know, I… I like being around here, but it just feels like I’m stuck… I guess?” You confessed quietly as you brought your knees up to your chest, as if you were protecting yourself from the little vulnerability you let out “like I don’t fit” You mumbled even quieter than before. 
You weren’t lying to him, not like when Charlie asks and you tell her you are great because you don’t want her to worry. You felt alone still, almost two months in the hotel and you still felt out of place. 
Lucifer sucked in air through his teeth, letting out an awkward hissing sound. He really wasn’t expecting that to be your answer, you always seemed so confident and smiley throughout the day, he figured your quiet demeanor during your talks was just because you were tired not because you were sad. He was wrecking his brain to find something to say but he looked over at you when he heard you let out a giggle 
“Y’know I’m terrible at comforting people too” You said with a small smile “I think most of the time I make that exact sound, one time I just said “bummer” when a friend told me her mom died” You giggled again, before burying your head into your knees. 
“That’s horrible” He gasped looking at you, seeing how your hands gripped the sides of your legs slightly tighter and your tail, wrapped around and laid over your feet. “Sorry…” 
“I just don’t know how to… feelings properly” You groan, your voice slightly muffled 
“Hey, I’ll drink to that” He said with a small chuckle, slumping back on the couch, now staring at the wall, you didn’t say anything back. The silences between you didn’t feel awkward anymore, nor empty to Lucifer, they just were. Part of whatever this is that you are doing.
“Don’t tell Charlie…” You mumbled looking up and turning your head to him 
“Huh? Tell her what?” 
“That I said that I feel like I don’t fit…” you sighed and closed your eyes “please… I know that I'm asking you to lie to your daughter but-” 
“I won’t” He interrupted you, you opened your eyes, and for once he didn’t look away as soon as you did, but it felt weird, he was looking at you with understanding and something else… it felt weird, so this time you looked away 
“Thanks” You sighed, staring at the wall, the room was illuminated by the tv, it was on but on mute, set on some random channel, it casted a blue-ish light that would ever so often change depending on the scene of the show that was on, you found it a little odd how the entire room changed because of the light, it made the overwhelming amounts of red seem bearable, but who cares, you certainly don’t you are just looking for something to distract you from the weight that lucifer’s look was starting to weigh on you. To think that a few minutes ago you were wondering why he never looked at you for longer than 5 seconds, now you just want him to look away.
And for the first time, the silence seemed unbearable to you, you never minded before, hell! You could even say that you liked it, a break, a moment to breathe, to settle before moving onto whatever next topic Lucifer wanted to talk about. Now it just felt like you were drowning, soon you’ll be gasping for air and reaching for whatever you could get a hold of to escape the crushing weight of it. 
You let go of your legs, stretching them out and took a deep breath. 
“I think I am going to go to bed” You said standing up from the sofa, “goodnight” You flashed him a small smile before walking away, giving him a small wave 
“Night…” he mumbled waving back 
・༓☾  ☽༓・ 
Lucifer knew he hadn’t really made a “personal” connection with you, you were… friends… of sorts. You’d talk and listen to him, and he did the same, but there was something different about it, like a weird shame… that was part of the reason he had asked you to keep your conversations a secret, but he wasn’t quite sure why he felt this weird encapsulation shame whenever he was around you. Even though you two would only speak during nighttime, whenever he had the time to “spare you” a glance during the day, he couldn’t help but stare until you turned to look at him, granted you always looked slightly annoyed when you turned which only made him turn his gaze away. That only led him to believe that you felt this same weird feeling he had about this “relationship”. 
Sure, during your talks you were nice, you smiled and looked at him when he spoke, you gave him undivided attention, and he knew that you did too because there had been a few times you recalled things he had said, little throw away things that he would not have remembered, but you did, you’d tilt your head to the side, your ears turning outwards a little, your eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion before you asked about the small inconsistency on the story he was telling you, it wasn’t like he was lying, he wouldn’t lie, he would just misspeak, but you noticed. 
And that attention to detail wasn’t something exclusive to him, he noticed how you would randomly recall in the same way about the other residents, same expression, same tilt of your head as you asked them about the smallest of details or inconsistencies in their stories, Alastor specifically seemed to detest this about you. 
Maybe it was the hypocrisy he was performing, so adamantly disliking sinners and actively avoiding them publicly, even slightly resisting his darling daughter’s request for him to try, only for him to seek you out and practically beg you to talk to him. There was definitely… ways… for him to learn about the things you told him about, but maybe it was because you were a sinner that he wanted to hear it from you, someone that had actually experienced it, not just read it off a book or recall old old memories. 
Any way, you were a plague, there was no other way he could describe it. You had infested his mind, everything made him think of you. And it didn’t help that he literally would see you everywhere since he had been staying at the hotel to help Charlie contact heaven again. He could hide away in his studio/room for most of the day, but if he wanted to eat, or have some down time, chances were that he would see you, even if it was only a glimpse of you, your image would be plastered all over his mind. He could make a chart of every outfit you had worn this week. 
“Dad…Dad?” Charlie waved her hand in front of Lucifer’s face until he reacted and looked her way again since it seemed he was staring at the floor before “did you listen to anything I said?...” 
“Uh no, yeah totally” He said confidently looking up at his daughter with an awkward smile “but you could repeat it… just to confirm I got all of it”
“Right… so both Angel and Y/N are out today and I know we should focus on getting sinners into heaven but I think we should brainstorm some advertising! To get more sinners in here!...” Charlie continued to ramble on about one of her ideas, going full on the theatrics. 
“So where oh… where did Y/N go?” He asked after Charlie finished, looking at his nails as if to seem uninterested in the question he asked. 
“Uh, she said she had something to do, didn’t give much information, kinda just said be back later” Charlie said hand on her face as she thought back to this morning “and Angel had to work so, it’s a day off for them today at the hotel at least” 
“Right right, Andy is at work and Y/N is just out?” He hummed, still trying to look uninterested 
“Yes… ANGEL is at work and Y/N is somewhere, I think she said something about a sale, uh a five finger discount, so like 50% off probably!” Charlie said in a hopeful tone and then Lucifer tried to explain that you were probably shoplifting without crushing all her hopes. 
・༓☾  ☽༓・ 
You waltzed into the hotel near 3am, several bags hanging in your arms, holding your phone in one hand as the other held up a pink vape up to your lips, the little light at the bottom and the unbelievably bright screen of your phone, lighting up the mostly dark room. 
The only thing that could be heard was the clacking of your boots as you walk. You exhaled the smoke as you started walking up the stairs, using the light of your phone as a guide.
When you finally got to your room you found no other than lucifer, kinda just pacing in front of your door 
“Oh… hey” you said walking to the door and opening, he was wearing pajamas, like an actual two set pajamas, light blue with little duckies all over “you… uh been waiting long?” 
“You were out all day, uh andy got here before you” he said looking as you walked in, standing at your doorway 
“And you were worried?” you asked looking at him “are you just gonna stand there?... who's andy?”
“Y’know tall, spider fella” He raised his hand as far up as he could
“Oh, Angel” you said and nodded, taking out the several boxes from the bags “so, you were worried?” You asked in a teasing tone, your tail wagging slowly and low 
“Well you haven’t been in hell for long and those sinners out there… they are…” he followed with a long strained groan “t-they are violent and… and depraved-” 
“I just went shopping” You interrupted and shrugged “so like, I’ve been posting like a bunch of stuff on sinstagram and tiktok and like I’ve gotten a BUNCH of followers and like a couple stores were like, “come take a bunch of our stuff for free and just post a video or post a picture at the store” and well I love free stuff so I went and then after they were like “hey! Lets go to the club!” and my mom always told me to never deny a free drink or free anything so I went!” You explained taking out a pair of long boots “can you like, come in, its bugging me that you are at the door, I have… a poof you can sink into” 
“Oh yea yea, suuuuure, just come into your room, okay” He said quietly actually stepping in 
“Close the door behind you please” You pointed at it and he closed it, before just standing there awkwardly making you giggle a little “you can relax sire, is not like I have my panties on the floor” you giggled before looking around just to make sure “yeah no panties on the floor” 
“Haha sire, ha!” He chuckled to “himself”, he can’t really recall a moment where you had addressed him properly… or like at all… now that he is thinking about it you haven’t even said his name, not that he can remember. And it made his chest tight, he never has been fond of the tittle’s, tho he always wants to be addressed with respect. 
“I heard that” You said in a sing-songy tone “you can sit on the poof or my bed or… the floor, my rug is pretty soft” You pointed around “if you want to stay… you seem… kinda wiged out” 
“No is just… y'know your room, is a personal thing… and we… are like…. Not like that” He mumbled 
“Right… uh… right” You mumbled looking at the clothes in your bed. All of the sudden you felt as awkward as he did now, and when you feel awkward you feel vulnerable and that puts your defenses down, the delicately constructed walls you had built up on uneven ground, cracking at the first disturbance “y’know I… uh, I know it's you who normally asks the questions but…”
“Yeah?” 
You cleared your throat still not looking his way gripping the garment on your hands “I just… I don’t get it… why me?” 
“Why you what?” he questioned, head tilting to the side slightly 
“Why ask me? I just… everyone else in this hotel had far more interesting lives than I did and I just… why?” 
“Its because… well they have been dead for so long and you are the freshest” He shrugged, not really getting why you are asking it seemed like an obvious reason why he choose you 
“No. because… no, like.. I think I am also the youngest, I lived 24 years only, I, I… I barely experienced anything, and I’m also like… Like I barely did anything to get into hell, I mean, lie, steal, scam, I’m pretty sure that a visit to any catholic church would have saved me from all of this-” You continued your ramble, now moving around your room, 
You were sort of right, yes, a visit to any church would have definitely saved you, but you shouldn’t have gone to heaven, no, he would have never met you otherwise, and although he can’t fully admit it, he enjoys you, heaven doesn’t deserve you, they couldn’t appreciate you, with their stupid strict rules. You were right, you were barely a sinner, maybe that was why he didn’t mind you as much as the others 
“I mean all I was… was a hedonistic party girl that stole wallets and and!-” 
“Well, maybe that’s why” Lucifer shrugged “you are not like the rest of them, you aren’t violent or sick or depraved-”
 “maybe a little depraved” you whispered 
“And that’s why I like talking to you, you don’t have some sort of sick twisted version of earth in your mind, you didn’t see a pond with duck and think “that’s a perfect place to dump a body”, you saw calming place, you saw earth for what it was, I like that”
You stayed quiet, glancing at him, he was still standing by the door, and you were in the middle of the room, he was looking at you, with almost a sad look, like pity but different, he wasn't looking away or just past you. 
“You should go to bed” He gave you a closed eye smile before turning around and opening the door “Charlie has a big day planned for tomorrow so you should definitely get some rest, good night” 
“Good night” You said softly watching as he left, closing the door behind him
‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
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@boogiemansbitch
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"i mess up things and then i don't have the energy to fix them up" yes brain true sentence but no brain the appropriate response is NOT "therefore i should kill myself (and here's how)"
#tw suicide#i wish i was joking#i am just so so tired of keeping myself alive! can't someone else do it for a change? or better yet kill me??#said something to the emergency room psych#she queried it and i confirmed i had said precisely what i intended#she blinked and said 'i usually hear that from jaded forty year olds not twenty year olds'#i won't share what because it was a highly specific explanation of precisely how i might see myself suiciding or how/whether i thought i#could. she asked me and i answered. apparently she wasn't expecting that level of detail and confidence#is it funny to anyone else that i always struggle with confidence but i can confidently tell her specifics about suicide thoughts?#this is reminding me of the fifteen year old yesterday i was conversing with and he randomly started listing all the suicide methods he#could think of and i was internally like you missed a dozen i can think of. didn't say that obvs#i don't know i am. tired. of everything. and i had a long and good conversation with an older woman from church last night (mother of the#boy. i have confided in her before she's great)#she's hte only person irl who now knows about the second suicide attempt (tho she doesn't know it was the second) and she was encouraging m#to see the psych and escalate care#but all day ive been regretting telling the psych or bro or anyone honestly#it would be so much EASIER to have said nothing and gone through with my plan#i wouldn't trust myself not to rn if i had access#i mean. i know multiple ways in this room i could kill myself. but i won't#there's a couple of specific methods that are most of the thoughts usually so they're the specific ones i gotta watch out for more if that#makes sense#ooh gosh im rambling i should shut up xD#personal#puddleglum hours
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missshame · 5 months
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I hate studying I just wanna create stuff and see the world I hate how little control I have over my life
#Let's make it clear I know I'm lucky to get higher education and I'm grateful for it + knowledge can be the greatest tool#It's just that medschool is killing me and there's just too much stuff to learn and I'm struggling so badly with it that at the end of the#day it feels like I'm not learning anything and I'm completely dumb and uneducated#I'm not even a good student but it takes all my energy and even when I'm not studying I rarely have the energy to do anything#The only thing I sorta do consistently is working out because it makes my brain shut up for a while and it helps the muscle pain I got from#All the stress and sitting at my desk/working long days at the hospital#Anyway I love complaining sorry#I just feel like I had /have a very creative artsy nature and I'm really suffering from the lack of it like not in a I don't have enough#time for my hobbies and to relax#Which is already bad enough btw I don't think it should be considered normal for anyone to be too exhausted to do anything outside of work#But I really feel it in a I'm not myself anymore it's hard to move forward and build confidence and a sense of self while having a life so#far away from what you love and feel like you need + denying yourself what you desire the most can't be good to your brain let's face it#Anyway long story short first thing I'm gonna do when I finally get my degree is by me some drums learn the guitar and paint on the walls#And in the meanwhile Idk do I keep living this way? If I do will I go completely insane?#Or do gift myself the right to give up on the idea of being a slightly less bad student and do I say fuck it and start living my life now ?#Idk! Idddkkk !!!#Oh my god
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yuribalisms · 7 months
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Essentially what it is all boiling down to is I have fully realized I am bad at being a person, that will always be true, and I don’t know how to handle that
#I’m going to be depressing and self depreciating in the tags so. fair warning to anyone who reads them#I’ve known for a while now that I don’t know what to do with my life. I’ve thought of a few ideas but none of them seem to be working. and I#think a good chunk of what it’s boiling down to is that I am quite literally just stupid when it comes to an actual useful real life skills.#and it’s frustrating because I can’t even talk to ppl I know and confide in them that I feel dumb and stupid without them being like ‘nooooo#don’t say that! you’re not stupid! you were top of your class in hs!’ (that is their favorite thing to fall back on) but like. the thing is#I wasn’t even smart in hs. sure I did good but that’s because I cheated my way through and got lucky a lot. I never actually learned anythin#I never understood what I was being taught or how to apply it. I was good at English and art classes and that was it those were the only one#I truly felt I knew what I was doing in and grasped the subject matter well. I know I’m good at those two things and smart when it comes to#those subjects. but the thing is. in real life. both of those are useless skills. I can’t make money with them and it is highly unlikely#that will ever change. and yes I know not being able to make money with it doesn’t mean it’s useless but like it kinda does. capitalism#sucks. I know that. we all do. but that doesn’t change that we live in a capitalist society and it’s unlikely to actual change in my lifetim#so I’m stuck to try and figure out how to live in it. but I have no skills I can make money with so I will live my entire life poor and#miserable and working dead end jobs that make me want to kill myself. I’m not good at socialization I’m so fucking bad at it so I can’t work#any kind of job that hinges on networking or sales or human interaction which is MOST JOBS but I’m also too stupid for anything related to#STEM. I tried two different stem degrees and flunked out of both of them because I am a FUCKING IDIOT and I know there’s no point in trying#to go back to school for another one. but no degree in anything I naturally have a knack for will help me find a decent well paying job. ill#just be wasting my money to go to school for something like that. and then like. I don’t even think I’ll ever get married and I def won’t#ever have kids. so I can’t even put any hopeful stock in just being happy with a family one day. I know a lot of ppl who don’t like their#careers but they’re fine with that because they’re happy with their family but like I don’t even have that and I won’t ever have that. I#have NOTHING to strive for and NOTHING I am good at that’s meaningful I’m going to fail at having a career and a family and I know that#doesn’t mean I won’t be happy in theory but by societal standards I am and always will be a fucking failure of a person and since I do live#in this society yeah. it’s kinda fucking true. and I don’t know what to do about that. I’m just tired. I’m tired of being afraid and#struggling and going through patches of wanting to kill myself because of this because like what’s the point. I’ll never have anything#better so what in the actual hell is the point of me existing. and I know I’m being ridiculous and my brain is eating itself and none of#this is probably even true but that doesn’t change that it FEELS like it is a lot of times and esp right now and I don’t know what to do#to anyone who reads this I’ll be fine tbh prob as soon as tomorrow like dw about it I just need to get it out so I stop stewing in it.#I’m just. yeah. not having a great time rn but I left work so I’m gonna cry and then maybe sleep for a bit and hope that helps#kaz rambles
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mntcoronet · 2 years
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me thinking about how I've always felt like one of the "odd"/more weird n solitary kids at school, most of my longest-lasting friends who I find easiest to get along with are neurodivergent in some way, and a lot of the characters I end up really vibing with in a "self recognition through the blorbo" way are also commonly interpreted as being neurodivergent for a lot of the same reasons that I relate to them about: "hmm this definitely doesn't mean anything. not at all. I am just bad at life and i just need to try harder"
#maggles ramblings#and yes i know none of this inherently means anything but i have been wondering about this kind of thing for... several years now#and i must say!! some of the coincidences seem a bit too consistent!!#luckily i am going to see A health professional in about a month's time. so hopefully they will be able to give me some thoughts#i just am not confident enough to say im even LIKELY to have anything bc if I'm wrong then I'll feel the absolute worst about it#> ignores the fact that my mum is literally staying in the mental health ward rn so if she has struggles I'm more likely to have some too#but yea it's like. well i have passable social skills... (bc i spend a lot of time quietly observing ppl instead of talking to them myself)#i did well at school ..... (but excelled the most in primary school when the worksheets were simple and quick to do -#and only got things done on time in high school bc of my fear that the teachers would be disappointed in me if i didn't)#some ppl are just easier to talk to.... (when i know they're more likely to say what they mean and not have any hidden expectations of me)#i don't have focus problems.... (i just find it tough to do things unless my brain decides i really want to spend several hours on it NOW)#surely my teachers would've noticed... (but i was good at the work and planned what to say to them so they didn't worry abt me)#im not as intensely interested in stuff though.. (i literally spend half my days rotating them in my mind i just don't want to bother ppl)#etc etc you get what I'm trying to say. brain has a million excuses as to why i just suck at life#also i literally only figured out the other year or so ago. that when asked how you're doing. you're generally meant to ask it back#I THOUGHT I WAS GREAT WITH MANNERS but whenever teachers would ask me i treated it like a. quiz or something#and sometimes i think i did that with other people too. so. apologies to anyone who has ever dealt with me answering that way#and not returning the question. i genuinely didn't know you were supposed to do that and idk how that slipped past me
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enkvyu · 8 months
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12:45am — gojo satoru ;
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“cute earrings, where’d you get them?” shoko asks.
“hm?” still clinging to sleep, you absentmindedly reach up to caress the metal dangling from your ear. the sharp indents of its gem pricks you back into a memory. “oh, these. i got them from a friend last week.”
“friend? or do you mean boyfriend?”
shoko’s words are throwaway, her wandering eyes and yawn a clear indication yet your face warms despite yourself. shaking your head furiously, you exclaim, “a friend! just a friend."
shoko hums, shifting her cigarette to the other end of her mouth. her gaze flickers somewhere behind you and you almost look too, when her words pull you back. “come to think of it, i don’t think you’ve ever told me what your type was.”
“my type?” your mind blanks. “i’ve probably never told you because i’ve never thought about it myself. i mean, being a jujutsu sorcerer and all, romance is kind of off the table.”
shoko keeps looking at you, pressing you without words. you grimace and sigh.
"i mean, i guess, maybe someone good looking? someone who’s not boring? and now that we're talking about it, someone who is fit and athletic too. they'd have to be smart, but not book-smart, like, street-smart." the more you think of it, the more words seem to spill from your mouth. "and someone who has a good sense of humour, someone who will make me laugh.”
“someone good looking, interesting, sporty, smart and funny? that’s too greedy.”
you giggle. “you’re right, there’s no way there’s anyone that perfect. i guess i’ll have to be single forever.”
“you'll always have me.” shoko says, grinning.
you push her shoulder but don’t deny it.
yaga walks into the classroom, cutting your conversation short. you spin around in your seat to face the front, eyes accidentally meeting gojo’s. he turns around too, and you reason that he was probably looking out the window behind you. you see getou snicker and whisper something in his ear, but gojo seemed to be having none of it, blatantly ignoring him.
seeing his face makes you think. didn’t gojo kind of match your type? someone attractive, interesting, athletic and maybe not academic smart, but he definitely carried an air of confidence when it came to fighting. and it wasn't a secret that he lightened the air wherever he went, intentionally or not.
with a start, you look back at shoko. “and someone calm. someone with manners.”
“well-mannered and calm. what insane preferences.” shoko chuckles. “are there any more?"
yaga slams his hand on the table a few times, reluctantly drawing your attention back to the front.
your previous conversation dies and twiddles away into the background, overtaken by droning lectures and predictable missions. by the end of the day, you can't even remember what you had told shoko early that morning.
when you enter the classroom the next day, you’re surprised to find gojo already there, seated at his table. his sunglasses hangs lower on his nose than usual and most curiously of all, a book is held in his hands. you’re not sure if he’s actually reading or not considering that pages were being turned far too quickly for someone reading “ordinary objects” by amie thomasson.
his eyes flicker to yours as you head in. “good morning.”
“morning. what’s with you?”
gojo clears his throat. “what ever do you mean?”
your frown transitions to a grimace. “why are you talking like that? did you break something of mine? was it my potted plant, gojo i told you to take good care of it!”
“i am taking care of it! it’s not dead yet!” he exclaims before pausing uncharacteristically. he sits back in his chair and turns back to his book. “i mean, it’s fine.”
“you sure?”
“i am.”
you narrow your eyes before looking away, dropping into your seat. “it better be. shoko got me that one.”
“speaking of shoko, is she not coming today?”
“i think she stayed overnight at the morgue.”
“is that so? perhaps i should write notes for her. i wouldn’t want her to miss out on class.”
you turn to him horrified. “so you did kill my plant!”
“i said it’s not dead!” gojo bursts. another pause. he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. “i simply worry for her.”
you stare at him and watch as he fidgets under your gaze. “are you feeling sick? did you eat something wrong?”
“i’m not sick. what part of me looks sick?"
“well you’re usually not this…” you watch him as you wrack your brain, trying to find a word to describe this situation. “c…”
gojo leans forward. “yes?”
“crazy.”
he falls back in his chair, groaning, book forgotten and placed harshly down on the table.
you tilt your head. “where's getou, you guys didn’t come to class together? don’t tell me you fought.”
gojo peers up and frowns. “no, can i not show up to class early just because i feel like it?”
“it would be extremely out of character, yeah.” you rest your chin on your hand as you watch gojo mutter to himself, his jaw jutted out and his nose scrunched.
he was clearly unhappy, it didn’t take a scholar to know. it might take a genius to figure out why though.
you had time to kill, might as well take up the challenge. maybe he hadn’t had his morning dose of sugar yet, or maybe his favourite anime had delayed it’s upcoming episode. maybe he didn't save properly on the new game he was playing, or maybe he simply didn't sleep well last night. or maybe he had lied to you and he had fought with getou, leading to this strange attitude.
the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. the way he was acting now was like a mockery to getou's usual behaviour.
“are you trying to be like getou?” you try.
gojo whirs around to face you. “what?”
“well, you’re trying to be composed.” he keeps staring at you and you clear your throat. “like more well-mannered. more calm.”
gojo remains silent but you watch as his jaw drops. you think that he might say something but then his mouth closes, only to open again.
gojo speechless, what a sight. but as good of a sight as it was, you were beginning to feel concerned.
“are you sure you’re alright? what did you eat yesterday?”
he doesn’t register your question. “you think getou is well-mannered?”
“yeah?”
“and calm?”
you nod. “more than you, at least.”
“do you think he’s interesting too? sporty? smart? funny?” he pauses. “good-looking?”
the questions throw you off guard and you sit up. “what? where is this coming from?”
“oh my god, you do.”
“no? i mean, i think getou’s great and everything—”
“you think getou’s great?”
“don’t you?”
“you think getou’s hot.” he concludes. “and you think getou’s great.”
"what are you even saying?"
"i don't know. why don't you tell me?"
baffled, you flail for words. “are you jealous of him? that's strange, i didn’t think either of you would ever feel jealous of each other.”
gojo grits his teeth and looks away. with a pout, he says, “me neither.”
the door to the classroom is thrown open and getou steps through, rubbing the back of his neck. he yawns on his way to his chair and it wakes him up, looking between you and gojo as you both watch him enter.
“what did you guys do?” he asks with a sigh.
“nothing!”
“nothing.” gojo says and glares at him.
getou blinks.
“okay.” he says slowly, sliding out his chair and sitting. “what did i do then? why are you both looking at me like that?”
“gojo’s being weird.” you snitch. “are you guys fighting?”
“how should i know? i thought we were doing okay. gojo, if i did something, use your words and tell me.”
"i'll use my words to tell you to suck my dick instead."
"so i did do something. you're so predictable, gojo."
you snicker as gojo huffs and glances away, looking away out the window behind your head. his train of sight cuts right past you but you can’t help but feel slightly flustered as he looks on, almost like he was looking at you, so determined to ignore getou’s pestering.
subconsciously, you drown getou out too, your traitorous mind observing the blue in gojo’s eyes. you had always thought it was just one colour, but looking at it now, it seemed more like a kaleidoscope of blues, the many shades sparkling and dimming as he watched birds flutter outside the window, and you watched their shadows through his eyes.
something shifts, in the air or in the skies you don't know, and gojo meets your eye. startled, you hold the gaze and he holds it too, just long enough for your lungs to run out of air.
you look away hastily and inhale.
gojo glances to the front, oddly fidgety.
getou looks between the two of you. “what the fuck was that?”
“nothing.” gojo says.
getou clearly doesn't buy it but though he tries to get an answer out of you, you don't give him one either. cupping your cheeks, your thoughts mirror his question. what was that? it was embarrassing, that's what it was and your realisation is only heightened as a silence fills all four corners of the classroom.
gojo clears his throat. “for me, i like someone who i'm already comfortable with. someone i already know.”
at his words, you look over at him and find him already staring. he frowns as you don't give him any other reaction.
yaga saves you from addressing his statement, walking into the room as the bell for class rang. "oh? you're all early, even you gojo. where's shoko?"
“she’s staying at the morgue because of the recent mission.”
“i see.” yaga nods. “then let’s start.”
your mind fails to work as you turn over gojo’s words, thinking them through. what did they mean? what was he talking about? did this weird confession have something to do with why he was acting so strange?
slowly, you draw connections between your conversation with gojo and the talk you had with shoko yesterday morning. an epiphany shoots through you and you cover your mouth to hide a gasp.
did that mean…?
someone he knew? acting strange? getting mad when you said you liked getou?
you watch gojo’s side profile, hoping he’d turn around. if what you thought was right, he’d turn.
seconds tick past. yaga’s voice drawls on and yet gojo doesn't even spare you a glance.
no, maybe you were wrong after all.
just as you were about to face yaga again, gojo’s head shifts and his eye flicks over to yours. they widen when he finds you, and you’re sure you’re in a similar shocked state.
oh my god, you think, eyes darting between him and the other boy in the room.
gojo has a crush on getou.
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filler imagine based off of that One scene from the manga: "megane tokidoki yankee kun"
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aptericia · 2 months
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Not proud to be here.
--
Ok, here goes draft like 5 of this fucking post. I spent 4 hours tossing and turning in bed last night thinking about this, and then this morning I found a tumblr post that really helped me understand what I was trying to say.
The post talks about how aromantic "advocates" claim that "aros don't take up resources, so there's no reason not to include them!" And if that's actually what people believe, I think I can finally articulate why it is that I feel so alienated in queer spaces.
It's because aspecs in general aren't "welcomed" by much of the queer community. We're tolerated. We perhaps get the luxury of not being contradicted on our own identities, or not being specifically kicked out of LGBTQ-only spaces, but that's the whole point: what we get out of the queer "community" is people NOT doing things, not actually doing things FOR us. And that, frankly, is not enough. We deserve conversations about us. We deserve to have others consider our feelings, even when making lighthearted jokes. We deserve varied, respectful representation in media. We deserve the active deconstruction of amatonormativity in society. We deserve to have space made for us, rather than at most being told we should "go take up more space!" ourselves.
Of course, the reality is that my being aspec is a personal matter that does not inherently affect anyone else. But the same can be said for literally any queer identity. Your being gay doesn't say anything about me, so of course I shouldn't hurt you for it, but why should I help you either? Because your happiness and comfort are important. The same goes for aspecs.
And most of the time, I don't even need anyone to make space for or expend resources on me; I can live fine in everyday, non-queer-specific places without mentioning my identity at all. But it's the queer community that claims it will make that space for me, doesn't, and then acts defensive and morally pure if I call out the hypocrisy because "we're queer too, you can't erase our identities to advocate for yours!!!!"
Again, this post isn't about specifics. I have queer friends who are incredibly thoughtful and supportive about my identity, just as I have non-queer friends who are. I find more solidarity in aspec-only communities, as well as trans/genderqueer ones, although there are still many exceptions. This post is also not about amatonormative ideology, which is extremely common from queer and non-queer people alike. This post is about the reason I've felt so betrayed by the queer community.
--
On a personal note, I remember being so excited when I started identifying as aromantic (and later asexual). Fitting myself into labels has been a lifelong struggle for me; to this day I still can't confidently say if I'm White or PoC, neurotypical or neurodivergent, abled or disabled, cisgender or not cisgender. I continue to struggle making friends because I don't fall into social cliques. To discover that I officially, certainly, was LGBTQ+ lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. And now I'm just so sad to find that despite that, I'm still stuck in the middle. I didn't get rewarded with a community. I still feel alienated from both queer and non-queer people. I know it was silly to get my hopes up when there's such vast diversity in both groups, but it really was a disappointment. Going to my first Pride parade last year was really the moment where I realized this.
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arachine · 1 year
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— ❝on this fateful night...two hearts danced.❞ ˚₊✩‧₊
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ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x human! reader
ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in omaticayan culture, a young na’vi male does not yet become a full fledged adult until he passes one of two rites of passage: 1) choosing an ikran, and 2) carving a bow from the wood of Hometree (and/or choosing a woman). reader is now 20, and the only man she’s ever loved is expected to choose a wife soon. one day when she overhears a rumor concerning neteyam and the first woman in line to betroth him, reader is struck with grief, ultimately venturing off deep into the forest where she knows nobody will follow her—somewhere forbidden. however, unbeknownst to her, a certain someone follows her trail…
ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature
ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), angst, fluff
ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, use of alcohol, inebriation, size kink (kinda), vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), male masturbation, overstimulation, riding (no penetration), m/f ejaculation, squirting…i took some things out but i think that’s it?
ᥫ᭡ notes :: what a long week this has been…but we made it! i cannot believe the first thing i post after being on hiatus for months is blue alien sex. anyway, i hope you all enjoy. also, be mindful that the dialogue switches between formal and casual. it’s something that i noticed neteyam and kiri do a lot in the movie. for what reason? idk…but the big font after the read more is intentional bc ik some ppl complain that the small font hurts their eyes :3
ᥫ᭡ word count :: 7.2k
— playlist :: spotify link
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“You have been wandering off by yourself a lot lately…” 
There goes that attentiveness, you could never put anything past her—Kiri, that is. She was just too good (to a fault), and though her keen eye and emotional intelligence were extremely useful, they were also the most aggravating traits about her. 
Now, you could just tell her the truth about the place you’re always wandering off to, and you also could confide in her about the thing that’s been plaguing your mind recently—but you don’t, because you know better.  
For a split second, though, you hesitate telling her. The lean girl tilts her head, eyes flitting between your face and the satchel in your hands. Smoothly, you pull the satchel across your body and shift it to rest behind you—out of sight. 
Kiri seems to notice your apprehension, and so, she peels her eyes from the bag, offering you her full attention by resuming eye contact once again. If she has even the slightest hunch that you’re hiding something, she doesn’t voice her suspicions.
“Well, I won’t pry, sister. You know that I am always here to listen,” she reassured, reaching out a gentle hand towards your face. You let the tips of her fingers graze your cheek, the warmth of her hand providing transitory comfort. 
The two of you exchange sweet smiles before you pull away. It was getting dark, and the longer you stayed here, the harder it’d be to avoid the very thing you were trying to get away from—the very person you were trying to get away from. 
“I know, Kiri,” you grabbed her hand, encasing it between your own, “I know…but—I have to go. I promise I’m alright. I’ve just…been doing some thinking, and I think I gotta sort some things out with myself before I can be around the rest of you, you know?” 
There’s a silence between the two of you, and you’re not exactly sure if she’s taken offense to what you’ve just said, or if she’s carefully choosing her words. You decide on the latter though, because the last thing you want to do is make her feel as if she’s done something wrong, or if anyone has done something wrong. This was entirely on you; you and your stupid, selfish human heart. 
“Yes, I know what you mean,” she replies, squinting her eyes. Again, there’s a silence, but you can tell she still has something to say, like she’s mulling it over. “Will you at least be here tonight? You know, for the big feast? Everyone will be here, even Neteyam,” the girl tsks playfully, shaking her head as she walks circles around you. 
Immediately your body stiffens, and she responds to this by teasing you, “Or, I could just save you something…or maybe i’ll ask Neteyam to save you something since he’ll be the most important man tonight.”
“And why would you do that?” the words leave your tongue before you have the chance to process them. It reads rather defensively, but you ignore it. “I mean, why—why ask Neteyam?” 
“Because he’s your friend…” kiri pokes you, “because you love him,” she whispers, only this time her voice is a lot more serious, a lot quieter—a whisper. This is when you get that feeling again. 
That weird, achy feeling that leaves your stomach in knots and your throat all puffy. The sensation is debilitating—suffocating, and the only way you know how to ease it is by doing what you had set out to do in the first place (though, you were swiftly interrupted).
“Don’t be silly, Kiri,” your smile drops solemnly, “we’re…friends, just friends. Besides, he’s going to be spoken for soon. There are a lot of Na’vi women who would make fine mates…” Your voice decrescendos into the forest night air, the conversation lasting a lot longer than you’d anticipated. To stop your solemn mood from being expressed outwardly, you quickly turn around, looking back once to speak.
“Anyway, I have to go now. I’ll see you later.” Kiri nods and waves bye, her eyes watching as your small frame disappears out of her family’s tent. 
A cacophony of voices and music fall on deaf ears as you make your way through the village. The preparation is beginning, but all you can think about is him. Him, him, him. 
And ever since you overheard a rumor that Neytiri and Mo’at had chosen the next in line to become tsahik after Neytiri, your heart stopped beating…because you knew. You knew exactly what this meant—the end.
Neteyam was to be a future olo’eyktan, after all. And in Na’vi culture, the future head of the clan and the future spiritual representative were to be betrothed. You knew that, and yet, you couldn’t fathom it. Because then it’d be the end. 
The end of your late night rendezvous, the end of your special talks, the end of your banter, and your clandestine glances—your whispers. The ones that were quiet, and innocent…the ones that tingled the shell of your ears. Meant for him and you only. 
It was selfish, really. Stupid. You knew the day would come when he’d have to grow up and fulfill his duties as a Na’vi male. Just not this soon though, you wanted to hold onto him a little longer. And if drinking your pain away to preserve those precious memories could do that, then you’d do it. 
Lost in your train of thought, you don’t register that you’ve walked yourself right into the heart of a crowd until you bump into a young na’vi child. Apologizing, you then attempt to squeeze through the sea of bodies, tapping lightly on people’s legs until you reach the front. The people were cheering, celebrating the hunters’ return and the game that the Great Mother had graciously given them. 
Slowly, hunters had begun pooling in from the forest on direhorseback. Then, they started coming in clusters, all ululating, and pumping their fists in the air while holding their dead game in the other. Your head turned in awe as each hunter rode past you, the energy of the people so contagious that your sour mood was starting to dissipate, even if just a little. 
Thinking that was the last of the riders, you begin walking again, but the sound of heavy hooves striking the ground halt your movements. Turning your head back to the trees, you see something moving behind the shrubbery, and then enters none other than the man of the hour: Neteyam. If the people weren’t cheering before, they were definitely cheering now—especially since he’d managed to catch an adult sturmbeest (which was a difficult feat). 
The direhorse strides slowly through the crowd, and stops in the centre on Neteyam’s command. Nobody can take their eyes off of him, and neither can you. He just looks so strong, and masculine—like his father, even though he’s the spitting image of his mother. Neteyam puts his hand into the air before he dismounts his horse and ushers the people to settle down, and eventually, they do. 
He points to the sturmbeest that his direhorse is carrying back to be prepared. “Tonight, my brothers and sisters…” a pause, “we dance! we sing! we feast!” His words excite the villagers again, uluations so loud that your ears begin to ring. Just as you’re about to turn away, his eyes meet yours—he smiles. And there it is. That achy feeling in your chest. 
He wants to say something, reaches his arm out to you as if he were silently telling you to wait up, but then a girl strikes up a conversation with him. At first, you’re not entirely sure who it is—and you shouldn’t even care—but then you do a double take and your heart sinks a little more. It was Tsimandi, the girl rumored to be his betrothed. 
From this distance, you can’t hear what they’re talking about, so you watch intently. He’s got his head thrown back in hearty laughter, and she’s touching him—actually touching him, her hands wrapped around his forearm in an attempt to pull him further away. 
You think if you stay a second longer you’ll actually become a pile of liquid where you stand, so you take this opportunity to slip away while he’s preoccupied. 
When Neteyam looks back, he notices your absence. Squinting, he looks around in search of you, and then he sees what looks like a person disappearing into the thick of the forest. Just what is she doing?
“I apologize, Tsimandi, but I must do something,” he begins backing away, a genuine expression etched onto his face, “I will see you tonight, at the feast!” 
“Oh, o-okay,” she mutters but he’s already run off. Neteyam calls for his direhorse and waits at the edge of the forest until it comes running towards him. Before he can mount it and follow you, someone calls out to him. 
“And where are you going?” the voice queries, tone laced with suspicion. He recognizes who it belongs to and sighs. 
“Nowhere, sir,” he dismounts, meeting his father’s eyes, his mother also accompanying him. 
“Yeah, I’d hope so. The people are throwing this feast for you, or have you forgotten?” Jake gives him a once over, eyes still boring into his son. 
“No, sir. I have not forgotten,” the boy lowers his gaze in embarrassment. 
“Good. Go get ready, knucklehead.”
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With each trudge through the forest, you were losing more and more sunlight. You’d walked about halfway to your destination when you remembered the bottle sloshing around in your satchel. 
Usually, you waited to drink the liquid there, but you decided given today’s strenuous events, you’d have some now. A reward, you tell yourself. Taking the bottle out of the bag, you lift your mask from your face briefly, twisting open the top and taking a big swig. 
No matter how many times you did it, the taste always made you gag. Bourbon—is what they called it. It was equal parts bitter and pungent but it did the trick. Helped you to relax, to forget. The first time you came across it, it was by pure accident. 
You’d been somewhere you shouldn’t have been, doing things you shouldn’t have been doing. But one thing led to another, and soon enough, you were inebriated for the first time. 
By the time you drink half of your weight in liquor, you reach your destination. The old shack. After what happened with the Sky People, Jake’s first rule as olo’eyktan was to prohibit anyone from entering. 
Even being somewhere remotely around the area was forbidden. But you were no stranger to disobedience, you’d come here once with Lo’ak (which was your first time actually). 
Though, you didn’t get to explore much because Tuk had spoiled your fun by telling Jake. That day was one of your favorite memories, you think. Jake couldn’t stop yelling at the two of you, but all you could do was laugh. Nothing was really even funny, but you couldn’t help it. Seeing Jake’s eye twitch at your outburst only exacerbated it. 
Lo’ak was getting the worst of it, and Neteyam fell victim to Jake’s nagging too for not ‘being there’. After a while, he’d dismissed the bunch of you from his tent and as soon as you were out of earshot, the three of you went into a frenzy of laughter. You think back fondly on those memories, all the ones that include Neteyam, that is. 
“God, there isn’t a second when I’m not thinking of you…” you sigh in exhaustion, extending an arm out to open the shack’s door. Reaching in your satchel, you pull out two jars full of glow worms (you’ve found that two jars are enough to light up the shack). Ambling over to your favorite spot, you open a cabinet and reach for another bottle of that bitter liquid you willingly put into your body. 
It’s still a wonder to you how well preserved these bottles remained over the years, and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard Norm or someone mention that the older the liquor, the better it tastes (which was a lie, but alas, you down another shot). 
“Wooo,” a cough erupts from your throat, “yep, still nasty.” 
At this point, the liquor is starting to take effect. Warmth radiates throughout your entire body, and you can feel your limbs gradually getting heavier. Being drunk had to be one of your top three favorite feelings. 
It either made you: sad, tired, or giggly (maybe even all at once). But now? Now you were feeling sleepy, so you groggily trudge over to one of the beds in the shack. 
As soon as your body hits the plush, a cloud of dust filters through the air. It was incredibly disgusting, but you’d slept in worse places. For now, you would lay here…succumbing to a sweet slumber. 
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Neteyam had gone home without fuss as promised. Go and get ready. Well, he was doing exactly that now, exchanging his previous attire for that of something more formal. He rolled his eyes and huffed. Sometimes his father could just be a…
“Son of a bitch,” the boy snapped, his frustration reaching its peak. He’d been standing in the tent for about 10 minutes trying to figure out this headpiece his mother had laid out for him, but could not for the life of him figure it out. 
Giving up, he throws it to the ground and takes a seat with his head in his hands. Kiri slips in shortly after his outburst, bending to the ground to retrieve the item. Hesitantly, she walks over to her brother. 
“If you needed some help, you could have called, brother.” Neteyam lifts his head up from his hands to see Kiri towering over him, his eyes breaking contact with hers as she sits down next to him. There’s a pregnant pause, but it doesn’t last for long because Kiri is already opening her mouth to speak.
“What is troubling you?” She asks, forcing Neteyam to turn his back to her so that she can place the headpiece onto him properly. He inhales deeply, then exhales.
“I do not know…I saw (your name) earlier and…” Kiri hums, encouraging him to continue, “and—she had this strange look on her face.” 
“Look? What do you mean? Was she angry? Sad?” 
“I have never seen it before, sister. She usually looks happy when she sees me…but this look was different,” his voice is almost inaudible when he finishes. Kiri ponders for a bit, tilting her head as if she were mentally putting the puzzle pieces together. 
“How come you did not speak to her?” Kiri makes her final adjustments to the headpiece, ushering Neteyam to meet her eyes. 
“I was going to…I tried to, but Tsimandi found me before I could,” he fiddles with his fingers. Kiri takes note of his disposition, and she frowns empathetically. Clearly, whatever was going on with you two was something you had to work out together. This wasn’t like either of you! 
“But it was not just today either,” he continues, “she has been distancing herself for awhile, have you noticed?” She laughs at this, nodding her head.
“Yes, she has been acting a little strange lately. I think I might know what is troubling her, brother,” the girl takes his hand into her own. “But I cannot tell you. This is something that concerns only she and you…”
Neteyam squints his eyes in confusion, muttering a ‘what’. His mouth opens to speak but he is swiftly interrupted upon Jake and Neytiri’s arrival. He looks to Kiri for some clarification but all she says is: ‘go, go, you have a feast to attend’, followed with a, ‘find her later’.
“Well? Come on, the people won’t wait for your blue ass all day will they?” Jake teases. Neytiri slaps his arm, scolding him playfully. 
“Ah, my son, my beautiful son,” she pads to where he stands, taking his face into her hands. “It is time to go, we must celebrate you.”
Jake nods, flashing a quick wink of approval. Together, they all walk out of the tent and through the village where they’re instantly greeted with colorful luminescence, loud music, and food. All things that have been so generously prepared for him. By the time they make it down to the Tree of Souls, everyone halts their cheering to hear what Jake has to say.
“Tonight we eat,” a pause, “in honor of Neteyam’s mighty victory!” Jake grabs his eldest son’s hand, raising it in the air. “He led his first attack against the Sky People and made it back without any casualties!” A sudden roar of praise erupts from the crowd. 
Everyone is chanting his name, and clapping, but even amidst all this praise, he can’t help but to think about you. What does all of this matter if you’re not here to celebrate with him? 
You’ve been by his side since the two of you could walk, so where are you now? The thought saddens him, but he can’t wear his heart on his sleeve tonight. Not when there’s so many people here just for him. 
“For the past 20 years, my son has always been just a boy to me. But now I realize…he is a man—and he has proven himself in front of the eyes of Eywa,” The former marine glances down at his son, eyeing him in admiration. “Enough talking, let us feast!”
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Laughter and songs fill the warm, breezy nighttime air. It’s been about two hours since the celebration commenced, and Neteyam has just about made his rounds to every important family. 
He smiles warmly as he looks at the scene in front of him: children playing and dancing by the fireside, putting on elaborate performances for the adults still filling their bellies full of food. Everyone is lively—happy, a testament to tonight’s success. 
Mo’at is pleased by this especially, she tells him that ‘this is what the people needed’—you know, to boost morale. At some point, when nobody is watching, he slips away from the party to walk around. Unbeknownst to him, someone has seen him. 
“Getting tired?” a voice questions from the shadows. Out comes Kiri, revealing herself from behind a leaf. 
“Yes, exhausted actually,” he jokes, disconnecting his braid from his direhorse. “No, but I need to find (your name). She has not come back and it is dark.”
“I figured you would leave early, that’s why I covered your ass and told Dad you were not feeling well,” the feline-like girl smirks. 
“Do you have an idea where she might be?” 
Kiri takes a moment before answering, “I’m not sure…but for some reason, I have a hunch that she’s at the old shack,” Neteyam furrows his brows in confusion. 
“Why do you think she’s there?” he queries, “I mean, it is forbidden.” Kiri offers him a shrug.
“I don’t know but if you’re going to find her, do it now while dad still thinks you’re not feeling well.”
With that, he thanks her for the intel and mounts his horse, disappearing into the thick of the forest. On the way there, his mind conjures up just about every possible scenario that might explain your absence. 
Were you upset with him? Did he do something or say something that you didn’t like? He wishes he could just read your thoughts because right now, his heart is pounding so rapidly within the confines of his chest, that he thinks it’ll explode. 
This wasn’t like you two, everything was always so easygoing. Being with you was easy, like breathing. But this? His heart couldn’t handle this. Yeah, there’s been some distance between the two of you recently but not due to his own volition—it was duty. If he could spend every second of his life by your side, just being kids, laughing with you, playing with you, he would. 
He’s trying to recount these last few days, weeks—months. Trying to pinpoint when exactly things got like this between you…pinpoint when you stopped smiling at him with that smile that made his head all fuzzy, and his heart race like a kid running for the first time. 
“Ah, everything’s going to shit, buddy,” he sighs, rubbing the side of his horse, “I don’t know what is wrong.” His mammalian companion grunts empathetically, stopping in its tracks at the edge of the forest when it sees the abandoned link shack. Neteyam doesn’t bother scolding her, because even the animals know that this place is forbidden. 
“Alright, I will see you later, okay? Stay here,” he pats her, disconnecting the bond. From this distance, he can see that there seems to be some sort of light illuminating from inside the shack. 
That alone already confirms Kiri’s hunch. The closer he gets, the more his stomach feels uneasy. He doesn’t even know why he’s nervous, but he attempts to ease his mind (and body) by telling himself that it’s only you. He’s talked to you one on one hundreds of times, so what’s the difference now?
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Noises in the distance rouse you from your ephemeral repose. When you stand up, your head spins with the room, causing you to instinctively reach out for the nearest surface available. Whatever was outside had better be non-threatening, because you were not in the condition to be fighting—let alone standing. When you were drunk like this, you couldn’t even hurt a fly. 
“Fuck, I’m gonna have the worst headache soon,” you huff quietly, still aware that there might be someone or something outside. The noise is getting closer, and you’re running out of time to find a hiding spot. 
Quickly, you grab the closest thing you can to defend yourself (which is literally a jar of glow worms), and crouch down below the window. When you lift your head just enough to see outside, the makings of a silhouette cloud your vision. 
“Shit, shit, shit,” you whisper-yell, tightening your hold on the jar. Lifting your head up again, you notice that the figure is not in the spot it was previously. Then, the knob to the shack twists, and now it’s opening, and—
“(Your name)?” 
You pause your attack, slowly dropping your hand (that’s holding the jar) to your side. A flood of relief washes over you once you register who the voice belongs to. Rising from the ground, you open the door fully to see Neteyam standing in the doorway. 
“I almost killed you, you know!” you raise the jar, pulling him inside of the shack. 
“I think it would take more than a jar of worms to kill me,” he teases. Rolling your eyes, you continue ushering him further inside, leading him to an area where you can sit and talk. 
“What…what are you doing here?” you finally ask, folding your arms across your chest. Neteyam towers over you from this height, so he accommodates you by dropping to his haunches. 
“I was worried about you,” the boy confesses, “what are you doing here? Why were you not at the feast?” Suddenly, you don’t really feel like talking anymore. Even though the adrenaline from before was still pumping through your veins, so was the alcohol in your system. You’re not so sure you’d be able to keep your composure long enough to answer without exposing your truest feelings. So, you decide on deflecting. 
“Aren’t you the man of the hour? I think you should go back to the party before daddy throws a fit. We both know how he gets when his perfect little son isn’t at his every beck and call…” As soon as the words spill from your tongue, you wince. It came out meaner than you meant, and the last thing you wanted was to give him shit for being a caring friend. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean that,” you apologize, sitting down on the bed. All he does is sigh, but he takes this opportunity to enter your space, gets all close until his body is nestled between your legs. 
“I know…I know, but I want you to tell me what’s wrong, hm?” his fingers lift your chin, “so I can fix it.” 
“Can’t fix this, ‘Teyam,” a saltine droplet ribbons down your face. Your head is tilted up with his fingers, but you can’t even force yourself to meet his gaze. God, how pathetic did you look right now? 
Here you were, inside an abandoned shack, drinking your body weight in liquor…all while a celebration was being thrown in your best friend’s honor. And for what? Because you were jealous? Because you liked him—loved him? 
You knew that eventually your relationship would shift. That he’d take on his duties as the future olo’eyktan, and you’d just be his human friend he hangs with from time to time. How stupid could you be to think things would stay like this forever?
“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, both hands now cupping your cheeks, “don’t do that. Do not shut me out. We’re not like this, (your name), you used to always talk to me about things.”
Things. You’d talk about things. But those things were not like these things. And if he knew what things you were thinking about, the things that involved him…then you two would never talk about things again. 
You’re curious, though. What if you just told him? Just told him about all the days you’ve loved him, all the nights you’ve stayed up thinking of him—all the stars you counted wishing for him? At least then, the burden of keeping such a secret would stop weighing so heavy on your heart. 
“I..” a breath, “I heard a rumor.” The boy hums, encouraging you to continue. “I heard your mother has chosen her successor.”
“Is that what this is about? Why does this bother you?”
“Because you know what this means! We both know what this means, don’t be dense, ’Teyam,” you droop your head in sorrow, coaxing him to just lift it back up. Only this time, his hold on your face is a lot firmer. His eyes are fiercer.
“No. I don’t, so just tell me.”
“You’re gonna be the future olo’eyktan, and we both know that the future clan leader and the chosen tsahik are to be betrothed,” you start, “there will be no time for me! No more late night talks, no more exploring, no more secret whispers…I mean, I get it, you have duties to fulfill but…I wanna be selfish a little longer. Can’t I be selfish a little longer?”
You say the last line while meeting his gaze. You’re teary eyed and shaking, but you try your best to keep any semblance of composure you have left intact (though, it’s failing). His expression is indiscernible. 
It makes you nervous. Sick. And now you’re forcing yourself not to throw up because…the realization that you just told someone your deepest, truest, most vulnerable feelings makes you physically ill. 
“Oh, god, I’m sorry. Forget what I jus—“
“Are you serious? You don’t get it do you?” Neteyam’s head falls forward, a little chuckle slipping past his lips. His hands leave your head and slither down to your hands. He takes them into his own, eyeing you while kissing the knuckles of each. 
The act is incredibly intimate, sends white-hot electricity down the column of your spine. Renders you speechless. All you can do is sit there, too scared that if you move or speak, you’ll shatter into a million little pieces. 
“I have duties, yes…but my heart is already spoken for. Always has been.” 
“What are you saying, ’Teyam,” your head snuggles into the warmth of his hand. You know exactly what he’s saying, but you want to hear him say—
“I see you,” he whispers in your ear, “you are my most beloved.” The warmth of his breath tingles the shell of your ear, it takes the strength of a thousand men to not scream. 
But in this moment? In this moment you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him silly, actually, but you quickly remember the thing on your face preventing your lips from connecting with his. There are truly evil forces conspiring against you.
“I want to kiss you,” you admit solemnly. 
“Oh, you don’t know how many nights I’ve spent dreaming about kissing you. Too many,” he jokes, “but I’m afraid if we remove this, you’ll die.” 
“Then you don’t have to kiss my lips,” a silence, “you can kiss me anywhere you’d like. Anywhere.” 
His green eyes flitter between your face and your body, and then his hands are on you, forcing you to lay back against the bed. You lift your head up and lean back onto your elbows, watching through lust-filled eyes as he begins his ministrations. 
He starts from the bottom, works his way up real slowly—too slowly. He’s showing restraint, and while you appreciate the fact that he’s worshiping your body like a devoted follower worships their deity, you want him to ravage you. To eat you up until there’s nothing left but bones. 
“’Teyam, please…” you breathe out impatiently. Like the cocky-brat he is, he ignores your pleas, only laughing into your skin. 
“Shh, be calm.” The plush of his lips trail up the plains and pastures of your body, up your calves, your thighs (he spends the most time there), and then comes to a stop at the crest of your breasts. His fingers fiddle with the cloth covering your chest, lightly tracing the edges that rest just beneath your mounds. 
A tease is what he is. And you didn’t have the time for a tease, so you figured you’d help speed up the process by removing it. Sitting up, you untie the makeshift top and let it fall to your lap, smirking deviously as if you’ve done something so naughty. 
“Thought I’d help you,” you grin, wrapping your hands around his neck, “Please, no more going slow…I think we’ve been going slow for twenty years, don’t you think?” 
And he gets the hint, once again resuming his assault on your body, but this time with more fervor. More urgency. He’s kissing you everywhere, licking wet stripes over your chest, and leaving love bites in the places where he’s kissed you. Right now he’s acting on his most basic, primal instincts—he’s claiming you as his mate—in the only way he knows how to. 
The feeling of his hands on your neck, back, thighs and waist send you into oblivion. But then his hands are creeping up to your tits, deft fingers twisting and kneading, and oh god, you’re seeing stars. The addition of his mouth doesn’t help either.
“You’re so,” a kiss, “beautiful,” a suck, “perfect.” Neteyam kneads one breast while his mouth works on another. He plops down onto a pert nipple, using his tongue to draw circles around the area, his saliva acting as a salve. 
A moan (that comes out more like a disgruntled sigh) vacates your throat, and his eyes widen in excitement. The sight of his tail swaying in the background makes you giggle. Cute, you think. 
Even though what the two of you were doing wasn’t innocent, you couldn’t help but to feel all giddy. Reaching a hand out, you place a gentle palm on the side of his face. 
You trace the contours of his nose, his cheekbones, smooth over his jaw, and then stop at his lips. Your thumb grazes them, first the top, then the bottom—learning. Committing them to memory, how they look, feel, and move under your thumb. 
Neteyam is unmoving while you continue to run your finger across his lips—save for his hand, which slowly begins traveling south to your thighs. Experimentally, you push your thumb inside of his mouth, pressing the digit down on his tongue before tracing his cat-like canines. This moment is particularly special, because now it’s you who’s doing the admiring. 
The free hand that’s not inching towards your core, skillfully removes the loin cloth around your hips. Immediately, he’s met with your bare sex. It’s smooth—wet, so incredibly wet that it has his cock twitching, and his hands eager to touch you. He wants to taste you. Feel you, all of you. 
“I—,” a slender finger rubs your slit, “mmf, see you,” you mewl, cupping his cheek. Neteyam’s eyes widen, he wants to hear you make that sound again…and again, and again, and—
The boy repeats the action. Watches your abs flex and tremble from the touch, and your thighs close in on his arm. Using the other hand, he gently pulls them apart and leaves three open-mouthed kisses: one on your inner thigh, one on another, and then a final one at the top of your mound. The heat from his nostrils make you full body shiver; suddenly, being the only one completely bare is slightly bothering you. 
“Do not cover yourself. I want to see you,” his hand finds your cunt again, a long finger pushing into you ever so slowly, “…want to hear those sweet sounds again.” 
A soft sigh leaves your lips as you watch his digit push further into you, the drag of a knuckle against your slick walls aiding in the pleasure. You can’t help but to wince at the intrusion, because shit, this was a lot more than what you were used to—using your fingers, that is. 
You also suppose penetration would be off the table considering humans and Na’vi were never meant to mate, but it doesn’t prevent you from fantasizing about it anyway. How big was it? Did he touch himself? Use his hands and picture yours? 
The thought of him hunching over, rubbing one out, all slick with sweat and pre has your head all dizzy. Your mouth is practically salivating at the mental image you’ve conjured up in your head of him fucking your face, but you know it would never fit. There really are evil forces conspiring against you…
Neteyam’s finger reaching the hilt brings you back down to reality. A forceful thrust that coaxes you to gasp sharply and grab his forearm. After patiently waiting for you to adjust to his size, he begins to move. He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly, then pushing back into you with the same velocity. 
Eventually, his movements become less hesitated, and more calculated. Instead of steady and slow, he begins increasing the pace of his thrusts, then graduates from speed to incorporating force. 
Every delve of his finger, every deliberate drag and prod has fire pooling in the depths of your belly. Squelches and whimpers ricochet off of the metal walls, and fuck, his dick won’t stop twitching. 
It’s grown considerably harder in these past few minutes, and all from just hearing you vocalize your pleasure. When the stretch stops feeling like a stretch, and starts feeling like a ‘give me more’, that’s when you encourage him to add another. And of course, he indulges you. 
The same time he pushes another finger in, is the same time he starts rubbing himself. He’s not even really aware of it at first, it’s mindless. He’s just so entranced by you, and the sounds you’re making, the things you’re saying, the way your cunt’s sucking in his fingers—
Fuck. He just finished all over himself. He doesn’t let that deter him though, keeps fingering you through his post-orgasm, taking care of you until you come undone on his fingers. 
And the sight is amazing, he can’t stop gawking at the way your hole flutters around him, and the nectar-like liquid that drips down the length of his fingers and onto the bed. He wants to taste it. 
“Can I taste you?” he asks. You’re in such a daze that the question doesn’t even register, suddenly too preoccupied with breathing like you’ve forgotten how to. 
“Huh? Wha—ohhhh.” His tongue licks a long stripe up your slit. He concentrates the tip at the bottom, lapping at the essence that leaks from there, and then circles back to your puffy bud. Experimentally, he prods it with his fingers, rubbing it in tantalizingly slow circles. 
The combination of his tongue and his fingers almost feel overwhelming, you feel like a puppet on a marionette with the way he’s maneuvering your legs around for better access. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was a starved man. 
His mouth is slick with drool, and his hands are pressing down so firmly onto your thighs, that you’re sure a handprint will be there for you to discover in the morning. His tongue feels so good on you, so nasty. 
The picture is obscene, unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed before. But the thing that’s really getting to you are the sounds he’s making. Grunts and groans, expletives and mumbles. ‘So good’, ‘perfect’, ‘beautiful’…it has your head spinning and your fists gripping for the sheets beneath you. 
There’s a knot in your abdomen pulled taut like a string of twine. You can feel it twisting and pulling, ready to come undone at the drop of a pin. The more he works on your slit, the more the temperature rises in the shack. 
Was the room always spinning? Did your body always run this hot? It feels like you’ve been thrown into a furnace, and the only source of coolness is the wetness that his tongue provides. 
“‘M gonna, mmf, ’s too much!” you jab at his hand in an attempt to push him away. He’s relentless though, still sucking harshly, and teasing, ramming his thick fingers up against your gummy walls. 
It feels different than when you touch yourself, more intense. Like something’s sitting heavy on your bladder. Then, snap. The string in your abdomen unravels, bringing forth a flood of ecstasy. 
“’Teyam!” you sob, back arching to the ceiling. When he pulls his fingers out, a stream of clear liquid seeps from your cunt. He’s awestruck, staring in admiration as your sweat kissed chest rises and falls rhythmically. 
“Look, your legs are shaking,” he points, biting down a laugh, “why are they shaking?” 
“Oh my god, shut up!” you feign offense, pushing him backwards with a chuckle. He pretends to be wounded, rubbing his back dramatically, ‘oohing’ and ‘owing’ as he does so. When you finally sit up, your eyes naturally fall to his loincloth, a wet ringlet contrasting starkly against the beige textile. 
“Hey…” your voice is hesitant, but teetering on the edge of curiosity, “Can I try something?” 
The boy silently nods his approval, shifting his position on the ground when you amble over to him. A look of confusion molds onto his face following the events that involve you plopping down onto his lap and laying him down. He goes to speak but you interrupt him. 
“Your turn, right? Can’t put it in, but…I can still make you feel good,” you say, tugging on the piece of fabric that separates your sex from his. Eagerly, he removes it for you and lets the item fall haphazardly to the ground. 
It’s big, so big—and pretty too. A beautiful blue hue that matches the rest of his body, paired along with a blushing teal tip that’s oozing pre. You want to know what he tastes like on your tongue…
“So pretty.”
Heat rises to his cheeks, and his tail takes an aquiline form, quivering in rapid movements. His usual, over-confident disposition was slowly dissipating under your intense gaze, and you reveled in it by mocking his bashfulness. 
“Awe, the little kitty’s shy,” you mock, tickling his side. 
“Stop it, I don’t look like those Earth things,” he laughs, pushing your hand away, but to no avail. You continue to dodge his attempts to stop you, tickling him here and there until he accidentally bucks and pulls you down against him. Embarrassingly, you let a whine fall from your lips…still too sensitive down there, you guess. 
There’s a shit-eating grin plastered on his face now, you hate it. “Who’s making noises like a kitty now, huh?” With this, he takes the liberty to do it again, pressing you down hard against his length. 
The feeling of your bare cunt against him is electrifying, probably (definitely) not better than him being inside you, but the next best thing. This was supposed to be your thanks to him. But now he’s taken full charge—maneuvering you back and forth, gripping and kneading—it’s cruel.  
For someone who’s never mated with anyone in his life, he’s sure moving you around like he has. His hands are all over you—thighs, hips, waist, breasts, it’s almost overwhelming. Every touch, addled with the buck of hips, brings forth a new sensation that is better than the last. You think this would be a good way to go out, right on his cock. One last hurrah before the morbid inevitable. 
“You f-feel so good, (your name),” his voice is breathy, “r-really good.” Neteyam’s grip on your arms is vice, partly because he can feel his climax approaching, but mostly because he can tell you’re growing tired. 
Swiftly, he changes your positions to where you’re laying on your back and he’s crouching over you. The tip of his head smoothes over your folds when he pushes up, and before he draws back, you can see just about where his dick would rest if he were inside of you. 
“I’d be all the way up here,” he presses down just beneath your breastbone, “you’re so tiny.” It sounds so dirty, but you know ultimately he’s just making an observation—regardless, the comment has your stomach churning in excitement. 
The both of you watch in fascination as he sheathes himself up and over your cunt, moaning in unison when the tip of his mushroomy head catches against your bud. Euphoric, he thinks. He never imagined that something could feel this good, let alone without connecting bonds. 
Still sensitive from earlier, it doesn’t take too long for you to reach your peak. Neteyam knows that your arrhythmic breathing is a tell-tale sign, and he helps you get there by cooing words of encouragement. 
He goes back and forth between ’I got you’s and ‘it’s okay’s, leaving trails of kisses down your body in his wake. The second you finish, you’re pulling him down onto you tight. Moaning and whining into his ear, whispering those same words of encouragement that he whispered to you prior.
“So good, ‘Teyam,” you claw at his back, “keep going, want you to feel good too.” And he does. Unrelenting in his attack against your sex, he comes with a few more pistons. 
You eagerly welcome him into your arms when he drops from exhaustion, and hold him there until your erratic breaths synchronize. The both of you are disgustingly sweaty and sticky, but even so, you feel at peace. 
You bask in the tranquil quietness of the night, just staring at each other. Soft caresses and soothing hums. Then, Neteyam speaks. 
“On this fateful night, two hearts danced…” he whispers, grabbing your hand to hold it over his heart. 
“What does this mean?” you smile at him. He ponders over it and then explains. 
“My songcord…I want to tell this story,” he starts, “the night when two hearts became one.” 
A crystal droplet cascades down your face, “that sounds beautiful.”
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Wreck My Plans - LN
Summary: After nearly a year of making long distance work, Lando has lost his patience and abruptly demands that y/n move in with him. Because he can't keep living most of the time without her.
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Admittedly getting frustrated with someone like Lando Norris is easy.
It’s almost as if he really genuinely thinks nothing of his demands for y/n to fly off with him for a race weekend or have him just drop in out of nowhere when he decides he’s feeling lonely at night after insisting he wouldn’t be able to come over.
It’s not as if she doesn’t want him there. 
But communication with him is a headache on the best of days.
“You can come!” Lando insists while following her out of the bedroom into her living room.
“Lando, I’m trying to make a life for myself. My boss has warned me, one more calling in sick for a weekend then being spotted on broadcast or another last minute holiday booking that interrupts other peoples schedule then I’m fired and I can’t lose my job.” Y/n frowns turning abruptly to look at him. “Flying to Monaco to spend a week with you is not on the cards.”
“Quit your job.” Lando demands and for a moment he almost wants to eat the words he just spoke because her expression of rage is not something he is enjoying being the victim of. It’s silent rage too which he knows says much more than if she was yelling at him, and yet he doesn’t shut up. Instead he continues speaking. “Quit your job. Move to Monaco and live with me. I’ll take care of you.”
“Lando…you’re being ridiculous.” Y/n laughs in disbelief of the fact they’re even having this conversation.
They’re both so young and while they’ve miraculously managed to keep a relationship going for 10 months while she lives in a guest house at her parents house. It’s still so early for her to be thinking about moving countries to live with him.
“No. You’re just being stubbornly independent. It’s annoying.” Lando states as if his words are fact, and annoyingly he’s not entirely wrong. But it doesn’t mean he gets to say it out loud with so much confidence.  “What’s stopping you? Your job isn’t even your dream job, and what’s better than living with me? I’ll take care of you, we’ll get to travel, have every morning together and you’ll be a full-time girlfriend who doesn’t have to worry about a thing because we’ll not have to worry about the one threat to this relationship.” Aka living in different countries and sometimes going weeks not seeing each other in person. 
At one point she was seeing the Quadrant team more than she was seeing Lando and he was seriously unimpressed about it.
“I-What about my family?”
“I see my family all the time and you can do exactly what you’ve been doing with me. Plus I think your dad is more than ready to pass over the responsibility of you onto someone else. We’ve had a chat and he agrees it’s time for you to accept that you have to just live with me and let me take care of you.”
“Sounds like something he’d say.” Y/n mumbles in defeat since she knows her dad constantly makes jokes about how she’s his most expensive child and it’s a good thing she managed to end up with someone who has a job with such a high income because they’d need it to meet her needs(wants). “If-and I mean if-I agree to move in. Is that really it? My plans to lead my own life are wrecked.”
“You will be leading your own life, you’ll just be doing it by my side with no concern for travel budget and you’ll get to have amazing sex more regularly.” Lando grins holding nothing back with his other intentions for as to why he wants her to life with him. It’s definitely not something that is putting her off, even if he is still annoying her with his nonchalant attitude about it. 
“Amazing sex?” She scoffs, knowing he’s right but feeling like she needs to humble him somewhat right now.
“If you need me to prove that we have amazing sex then I’m happy to deliver.” 
“Stop trying to distract me.”
“Stop trying to deny that we’re made to have a life together. When we met you told me that you wanted a man who would let you give up and live on their sofa.”
“I said that as a joke after a bad day at work and you know it.”
“So you don’t want that at all?”
“I-“
“I won’t force you, y/n.”
“Just give me some time to think about it.” Y/n mumbles before she groans. “No. I don’t need to think about it.”
“Ok.” Lando nods thinking that she’s just decided that it’s not happening.
“I’d love to move in with you…idiot. But next time you want to suggest something life changing, maybe give me more warning…and I still have to give in my two week notice.” Y/n states while he nods quickly really just excited that this is actually happening.
-
By the start of the next month, Lando had new enemies of y/n’s family as they weren’t thrilled that she’s moving out the country but she was too excited about it to care and assured him that they would get over it eventually.
Lando sighs waking up to see her sleeping soundly, her face nuzzled into the pillow while he admires her and sighs just smiling over the fact he got her. 
So far she’s been there a few days and he’s already spoiled her by buying her anything she gives a second glance. 
“I know you’re awake.” He whispers watching her mouth twitch into a smile. “You can sleep on the plane.”
“But I’m so tired now.”
Attending a race weekend so shortly after moving in isn’t ideal, but he wants her there and she wants to be there but right now she is exhausted.
Eventually she’s up and they’re out travelling to the next race. 
Now their relationship has never been hidden but it has been the most questioned due to the fact they are seen together so little. At one point she was with Max so much more accusations of cheating were being thrown into the ring but Lando put those to rest quickly.
Before y/n knows it they’re in the paddock and Lando seems to be making extra effort to show off his new roommate.
Of course when he gets up on stage as part of the media for the race week, the first question is about his relationship.
“You made it public knowledge that you and y/n moved in together. How is that going?”
“Oh she hates me so much already. Apparently I suck.” Lando nods jokingly before shrugging. “No, it’s going really well. But she moved in like 3 days ago and we’re already travelling. Everyone should expect to see her glued to my side whenever I’m not doing this stuff.”
“Yeah, she hates him.” Oscar adds with a small sarcastic smile. 
“You know she does. I bother her all the time and she hates it.” Lando admits with a proud grin. “But she is going to be around a lot more now and…everyone can expect to see me doing everything and anything to irritate her.”
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norrizzandpia · 6 months
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Happy Birthday (LN4)
Summary: It’s his favorite person’s birthday
Warnings: literally none just language
Note: my bday being a few days ago has nothing to do with this!!!!!!!! I know it’s short but I got a late start to this tn 😭😭 hopefully I can get some much needed writing time tomorrow
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landonorris happy birthday to my person! I told myself I would just say all of this to your face but on second thought I want the world to know just how much I care about you. To be honest, when we first met, I never thought we would be here; in love and prepared to spend the rest of our lives together. I just didn’t think you would like me that way. However, the day you said yes to going on a date with me will forever be one of the greatest days of my life. That was the day my life truly started because, as cliche as it is, you are my life. I’ve never cared or loved someone as hard as I do you and I’m eternally honored to be the person you come home to at the end of the day. Being your boyfriend over these past few years has taught me a few things. The first thing being that someone’s laugh actually can become your favorite sound. Always thought that was an over exaggeration but hearing you laugh and knowing I was the one to make you laugh is completely different from the happiness I feel when I win a race. The feeling’s better because you’re better. The second thing being that loving someone doesn’t have to be hard. I feel like people think love is a hard thing but with you it’s not. From the start, loving you has been easy because you understand me and you love me wholly for who I am. There has never been a time where I had to force myself to love you or work to strengthen the love I harbor for you, and there will never be a time that will happen. Loving you is like watching the sunrise. It’s peaceful and quiet, beautiful to look at and experience, and, most of all, it’s relieving because you know there’s going to be the hardships of the day, but that’s ok because you can always come back to the memory of waking up, starting your day, with such a gorgeous view. I don’t have to say that I think you’re the most stunning person to grace this Earth, you already know. But, if somehow you don’t, I’ll repeat it to you for the rest of our lives. Lastly, sorry I know this is long, the third thing you have taught me is to enjoy life. People seem to think that mentality came from my own mind, but, no, it didn’t. It came from you who said it to me one night when I had a panic attack over the stress of racing and performing well. You sat with me in our bed, held me as I freaked out, comforted me, and told me that I had forgotten to enjoy life. In the moment, you had related that statement to me enjoying the privilege of being able to do what I love as a profession especially when what I want to do is so hard to get in to. Although, after thinking on that statement, I realize that enjoying life has nothing to do with racing and everything to do with you. Enjoying life is cherishing the moments where I get to wake up to you, cherishing the times when you tell me you love me, cherishing the ability to love you, cherishing the calls I get in the middle of the night because you don’t care what time it is where I am, all you want do to is tell me the gossip you heard that day, cherishing the fact that I’m the person you want to spill those secrets to, cherishing the knowledge that I’m the person you trust enough to confide in, and cherishing you. Anyways, I should stop now because you’re actually calling my phone as I write this. Probably going to tell me something about your high school arch nemesis coming back into your life to ask for F1 tickets. Don’t worry, I’ll act surprised and tell you she’s out of her mind if she thinks she’s coming anywhere near a race circuit dressed in our colors. Happy birthday, baby.
Loved always by me,
Your biggest fan 🧡
Comments:
mclarensgirlyy SO BASICALLY ILL JUST GO THROW MYSELF OFF A CLIFF THEN
f1fan22 i will never recover.
ynnn LANDO THIS IS THE SWEETEST THING I HAVE EVER READ I AM FUCKING CRYING I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH LAN THANK YOU I LOVE YOU
- landonorris I love you more baby
- mclarenfan4 STOP THIS MADNESS 😭😭😭😭😭😭
ln4andop81 he is so gone for her like I just genuinely don’t even think winning is top priority for him anymore it’s her
- landonorris ofc I’m literally so in love with her she’s my end all, be all
- ynnn so I’ve passed away.
1K notes · View notes
tasteleeknow · 1 year
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ZIPPER
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PAIRING: minho x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. established relationship. CONTENT: 18+ only. shy reader. marking. desperation. mutual obsession. unprotected intercourse. biting. body worship. overstimulation. mention of violence. oral (m. rec). WORD COUNT: 4.3k
NOTE: yeah it’s my birthday tomorrow and i wrote this as a gift to myself. @lino-nyangi​ and @tasteracha​ encouraged this. no other comment at this time.
SUMMARY: when your boyfriend asks you what you want for your birthday, only one thing comes to mind. you want to dress him in an outfit of your choosing.
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PART ONE | DRABBLE: SWEAT | PART TWO
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You’re backed up against the wall when the door opens, mentally preparing yourself for seeing him in the outfit you’d picked out. He’d laughed as you’d explained what you wanted for your birthday, eyes on the floor at the embarrassment of it all. You wanted to go out and pick an outfit and have him wear it for you. He only ever wore baggy pants, t-shirts and hoodies. You love him in whatever he wore but he never showed off all the work he’d put in at the gym. Despite his relentless teasing at your request, he’d agreed. Of course he agreed. He always did. He might act like everything was the biggest inconvenience he’d ever faced in his life, but he hadn’t turned you down once since you’d been together. You’d learned that’s just how he was. He never wanted anyone to know how much he cared. 
He looks up at you the moment the bedroom door shuts behind him, tugging his pants up his waist a little. You press your lips together as he looks at you expectantly. 
“Well?” he prompts.
You say nothing, taking in the sight of him in the tight, black, short sleeve shirt. It clings to him just like you’d imagined. He’d whined and thrown his head back as you’d measured him a few weeks earlier, slipping the measuring tape around his bare chest and then around his biceps. You wanted to get this right. He’d made you give him a back massage in return for all his saintly patience. It was worth it now you’re taking in the results. Your eyes trail down his matching black pants to his big black boots, you can't make yourself regret the money you’d spent on them: despite it being the most you’d spent on shoes in a long time. Your cheeks warm as you fail to meet his eyes again, keeping your gaze on his boots as he makes his way over to you. 
“No comment?” he questions. You can hear the smirk in his voice. He was in his comfort zone, despite the clothes unlike anything he’d tried before. You had always been a little timid, overwhelmed easily. He approached the world very differently, self assured and confident. Only the people closest to him ever got to know his weak points, his soft centre and secret insecurities. 
He tilts your chin up when he reaches you, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Disappointed?” he asks, well aware you weren’t. You knew he enjoyed it when you got shy, it boosted his ego. 
“It’s pretty.” 
He grins, tracing his finger down your neck to your clavicle. “That’s it?”
Your eyes drop to the zipper running down his chest. “You look nice. You look… better than I imagined. Thank you,” you say, offering him a small smile. 
“This is all you wanted? For me to put some clothes on? I was hoping to spend the day without any at all.” 
That’s how he’d asked to spend his birthday; locked in your bedroom until you’d been so exhausted you’d both passed out.  “You think your dick is a gift?” you question.
His hand moves to your throat, fingers resting gently against your skin. “Only because you whine my name so sweetly when it’s inside you,” he answers, one corner of his mouth pulling up slightly as his eyes drop to your lips. He was lucky his ego only made him hotter. Still, it was fun to tease him. 
“You think it’s special? A dick is a dick.” 
His finger presses a little into your skin as he moves a little closer. “Oh, really?” he asks sweetly, a little condescension in his tone. “Is that why you get all shy on me? Even after living together for a year? Hm?” 
“That’s just how I am.” 
He shakes his head slightly, lips ghosting over yours. “I don’t think so, baby. I think it’s worse with me. I think you get all shy because you’re obsessed with me…” his lips brush yours as he speaks, breath tickling your skin. “Isn’t that right?” 
You’re struggling to focus on his words, head tilting forward a little in an attempt to capture his lips. He only pulls away, keeping you pressed to the wall easily. “Answer me,” he whispers. 
You blink as you attempt to regain your senses, reaching up to take his hand from your throat and intertwining your fingers instead. You find yourself staring at his lips again, watching as he huffs out a short breathy laugh. “Why’d you want me to wear this, hm? Can you answer that?” he asks. 
Your eyes drop to the zip running down his chest. It feels involuntary and your eyes flick back up to his face so quick you’re hardly aware of the action yourself. He notices anyway, his lips pulling into a self-satisfied smirk. He reaches up to tug the zipper a little, moving it up and down slightly as he watches your expression. He lifts the hand intertwined with yours, pressing the back of your hand into the wall above your head. You’ve completely lost control of your breathing, uneven and much heavier than normal. You were easy to read. A stranger would be able to read your thoughts, but Minho? He knew you better than anyone else alive. You may as well have been screaming your internal commentary in his face. 
“You wanna do it for me, baby? Tug it down a little?” he asks sweetly, lips hovering over yours again. When you lean forward, he doesn’t pull away this time, letting you press a little of your desperation into him. He hardly reacts, keeping your hand above your head as you moan against his lips. Your other hand moves to the back of his head, an attempt to ensure he doesn’t move away from you again until you're satisfied. It’s silly, the idea that you’d ever be satisfied, that you’ll at some point have had enough of him. You imagine pulling back, tapping him on the shoulder and announcing you’re all done. You giggle against his mouth. 
“What?��� he asks.
“I think you’re right,” you answer, a little breathless already.
“Mm?” 
You don’t answer, attempting to pull him back towards you again instead. He takes your other hand in response, pinning you against the wall completely. “Right about what?” he asks, unsatisfied with your lack of response. He knows what you meant. You know he knows. He just wanted you to say it. 
“What you said before,” you mutter, keeping your eyes off his own. 
“I think you should say it,” he grins. “Say it and I’ll let you take over. I’ll let you unzip me.” 
You can’t help looking into his eyes, big and brown as he waits for you to confess. If only he knew why you were so hesitant to say it. Sure, it was embarrassing. But it was more than that. You’d always felt a little like you loved him more. You were okay with it, or… you’d thought you were anyway. He loved you enough to stay, and that should have been enough. But confessing it to his face? Confessing that you felt like you were practically obsessed with him in a way he couldn’t possibly return? Your heart thumps hard against your chest at the thought of it. 
His lips press to your forehead as your mind races, hands still held above your head. “I know it,” he whispers. “Whether you say it or not. That’s one of the things… one of the things I love. I fucking know it all, baby. You can’t hide from me.” 
The way he’s leaning over you now causes the silver zipper to dangle directly in front of your face. You're sick of all this talk, especially when he’s dressed like this. With your hands occupied there’s only one plan of action that fills your mind. You duck a little, avoiding his head as you lean forward and catch the cold, silver zipper between your teeth. His chest moves with his laughter, then you’re tugging, pulling it down until a large portion of his chest is free. When you lean back again you don’t even look up at his face, eyes taking in the newly visible section of his smooth chest. You hadn’t been fighting him at all so far. You never did, letting him pin you to walls, to mattresses, move you around whichever way he pleased. It was your dynamic. 
That’s why he isn’t expecting it, when you tug your hands free and practically lunge at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He laughs as he stumbles back a step. Then he’s turning you around so he can use the wall as support while you climb him. Your lips are on his neck before his back has hit the wall, attempting to suck marks into his skin. He was usually the one doing it to you: marking you. He liked pulling your scarf down a little as you waited for the bus, inspecting some of the hickies he’d left on you the night before. “Okay, you like the clothes,” he laughs. “I get it.” His hands support your thighs as you cling to him. 
He’s quiet as you work, even when you begin nipping at his skin. It’s satisfying, sucking and biting at him. You should do this more often, you tell yourself. When you tug the shirt aside a little to bite gently into his shoulder he drops his head back against the wall with a small thud. It spurs you on, completing the same treatment to the other side before dropping your legs back to the floor. 
His chest has flushed a little since you climbed him, a pretty red colour starting at his neck and disappearing into his shirt. You press your hand to the centre of his chest as he lifts his head from the wall and looks down at you with a small slightly dazed smile. A single strand of hair falls across his forehead. You’d helped him style his hair before leaving him to get dressed. He rarely wore it up like this, off his forehead. 
“I meant I’m obsessed with you,” you confess before you can overthink it, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. “When I said you were right. I meant about me being obsessed.” 
His grin widens as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him. “Yeah?” 
You nod, tracing your finger down his nose and then over his lips, ending at his chin. “Don’t hurt me, please,” you whisper, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable. He knew the power he had now. 
“Why would I do that?” he asks, looking genuinely puzzled. 
You shrug. “You might stop liking me.” 
“No,” he answers simply.
“No?” 
“No,” he repeats. “You wanna go grab a knife and stab me in the leg and then ask me if I still like you?” 
You roll your eyes. “No.” 
“Good, that’d hurt.” 
You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, interlocking your fingers. “You’re stupid.” 
“Is it embarrassing? To be obsessed with someone so stupid?” 
“Yes.” 
He grins. “You better stop then.” 
Your eyes flick across his face. “I can’t.”
His smile softens a little before falling off his face completely. He suddenly looks serious, almost solemn. It catches you off guard. Before you can question him he’s tugging your mouth to his, distracting you with his soft lips. It works like a mind wiping spell, lulling you into a blissed out state that only breaks when he finally releases you. 
Your finger brushes his zipper, reminding you of the clothes he was wearing. You take a small step back so you can take in the sight of him again. His chest is still a little red and you can just make out the marks you’ve left all over his neck. You want to make more. 
He’s still as you move in again and tug the zipper down a little more. You move slowly, wanting to savour it. Your mind drifts to when you can ask him to wear it again. Anytime, you remind yourself. You could count the time’s he’d refused something you’d asked of him on one hand. You press your palms to his chest, sliding them into his shirt until you brush over his nipples. He’s warm, despite the low temperature of the apartment. You drop your head to his shoulder, hands slipping around his sides to rest on his back. 
“I’m being very patient,” he says after a moment. “Are you going to keep feeling me up for another hour?” 
“It’s my birthday.” 
He sighs dramatically. You lift your head so you can see his face. “Is it really that bad?” you ask. 
His lips press together into a straight line and two little lumps appear at the corners of his mouth. “Yes,” he answers, unconvincingly. You pull your hands from his shirt and take a small step back. 
“Alright, I’ll stop then.” 
He reaches for the zipper and tugs it all the way down, letting each side of the shirt fall open. “It’s your birthday,” he says. “So I'll let you continue.” 
“No, no. I don’t wanna do anything you’re not enjoying.” You nod towards the kitchen. “You hungry?” 
He steps towards you. “Continue,” he demands, no room in his tone for argument. 
You wait a moment, letting him fret. Then you move. You nudge him back into the wall with a palm to his chest then trail your fingers from his collar bones down to the waistband of his pants, then back up again. You could lose yourself in this, touching him. Now that you’ve said it, confessed to him how you feel, it feels less heavy. It feels natural even. How could you not feel that way? When he made you laugh like he did… when he looked like this… 
You find yourself pressing your lips to his pec, hand gripping his bicep to balance you as you trail messy kisses down his torso. You stop occasionally to leave marks, from sucking, biting, any mark you can leave against his skin feels like an accomplishment. This is mine, they say. Minho doesn’t seem to mind, one of his arms tanging in your hair at some point. 
You eventually end up on your knees, looking up at him for permission as you play with another zipper, the one on his pants. “You haven’t marked me up enough?” he asks, his tone a little condescending again. You fucking loved when he spoke like that. His tone so sickly sweet and still so full of ego. 
You shake your head and he reaches down, tugging his zipper down and dropping his pants before you can react. You can see him through his underwear, begging to be freed. He twitches a little as you brush over him when reaching for the waistband. Then you pause. His hips push off the wall when you take your hands away. You don’t look up, dropping your eyes to his thighs instead. Just a few marks, you tell yourself before attaching your lips to his skin. You start with his inner thighs, kissing and sucking your way up to the hem of his underwear where they wrap around the tops of his thighs. This wasn’t new to you. Just the other week you’d given him this treatment at the side of the salt water pool as he’d dangled his legs in the water. You’d taken in the sight of his swim shorts stuck to his skin, wet from his swim, and found yourself practically worshipping him—standing in the water between his legs as you kissed over his thighs. 
By the time you finally tug his underwear down his legs, you can tell he’s close to snapping, to taking control. He wasn’t used to letting you have your way for this long. But then you’re kissing his tip, tasting the precum that leaks from his slit, and he forgets his impatience—a small gasp escaping his lips. His thighs are where you rest your hands. You can feel every tense of his muscles like this. You’re just preparing to sink down the length of him when he’s suddenly tugging you back and falling over you, pressing you into the floorboards. His mouth is on yours before you even process where you find yourself: on your back on your living room floor. He’s clearly had enough. The zipper on his shirt tickles your skin where your tank top rides up your stomach. 
“Want me inside now? Tell me,” he says, barely pulling his lips from yours long enough to get the words out. 
You hum in response, pushing at his chest until he detaches from you. “On your back,” you gasp. His brows pull a little together in confusion. He was rarely under you. Still, he obeys, settling himself on the floor beside you. 
His pants are bunched around his calves, too difficult to remove with his boots still on. You kinda of like the idea of it, of him being inhibited a little. He’s a little vulnerable like this. Usually you loved the dynamic you had, his dominant role in bed making you feel protected and wanted. But something had burst free along with the confession of the depth of your feelings. You hadn’t realised you’d been holding anything else back. Not until now. You tug your cotton shorts down your legs and climb over him, pressing your palms to his chest as you settle yourself on his thighs. The open shirt frames his chest and biceps perfectly. You’re only running your hands over him for 30 seconds or so before he’s whining. 
“Enough. Take me inside now.” 
“It’s my birthday. Not yours.” 
“You haven’t fondled me enough?” 
You scrunch your nose, huffing out a small laugh. “Fondled?” 
He gestures to where your palms rest over his pecs. “What else would you call this?” 
“Admiring.” 
He rolls his eyes. “You haven’t admired me enough?” 
You shake your head, smiling. “No.” 
“Get on with it then,” he says, a little strain in his voice. 
You flick your eyes down to his cock. It’s twitching a little against his stomach. You brush your fingers up the length of him, fascinated. He grabs your wrist before you reach the head. “Don’t touch unless you want this to end.” 
You stick out your bottom lip a little. “But it’s my birthday.” 
He releases you. “Fine, you want me to cum on my stomach? Go ahead.” It did sound nice, seeing him lose it all over himself before you’d even fucked him. But he was right. You wanted him to fill you. You take him in your grasp and lift your hips off him so you can shuffle forward a little until your entrance rests over the tip. You take in the sight of him one last time, his flushed chest, his hair–a little messier than when you’d started—, the way the black shirt frames his biceps. Then you lower yourself, holding your breath as he stretches you out. His hips rise off the floor a little, like he can’t wait the few seconds it takes you to sink to his base. 
You both still when you’re full, taking in the feeling of being as close to each other as it was possible to be. It’s the first time he’s been inside you since your confession. It feels freeing. Like you can let loose completely, let your mind slip and your body take over; hold nothing back. His lips part as you begin lifting yourself off him and sinking down again, slow at first. 
You can’t help resuming where you’d left off, pressing your palms to his chest and admiring the way his pinkish skin looks between your fingers. 
It isn’t long before his instincts take over, grasping your hips so he can move you to meet his hips as he thrusts up into you. You take in his expression as he uses you, rutting up into you. He was desperate much quicker than usual. He really hadn’t been lying. He must’ve been close to losing it before you’d even begun. 
You watch his ears redden to match his chest and his lips. You fall forward to kiss him as he continues moving inside you. You keep your lips on his even as he loses focus, unable to match your kisses. You swallow down the noises he makes, the groans, the tiny sounds that almost sound like whimpers. It’s in moments like this that you feel maybe it’s possible he feels almost as intensely as you do. But then you remind yourself he’s just feeling good physically. That he could feel this way with anyone. 
His eyes flutter closed as he stills. He hasn’t cum yet. He takes a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again. You can’t resist sitting back and lifting off him before sinking back down slowly, watching his expression as he tries to prevent himself from filling you. “Stop,” he gasps. “Fuck, stop.” You do. 
You wait for him to catch his breath, chest rising and falling deeply. His ears are still pink and you resist the urge to lean forward and bite one of them. 
“Why…” he starts, before pausing and taking one more deep breath. “Why are you doing this to me?” 
You frown. “Doing what?” 
He sits up, cock still buried inside you as he grasps the hair at the back of your head. His eyes flick over your face as his mouth opens and closes, like he’s struggling to find the words he wants to say. You’re unused to him being lost for words. It’s a little unsettling. Something must be wrong. 
“Stop looking at me like that,” he snaps. 
You attempt to wipe any expression from your face, waiting for whatever this was to pass. One minute you’re riding him on your living room floor, ready to feel him fill you with his cum. The next you’re attempting to dissect whatever the fuck he was attempting to say right now. 
“We started living together a year ago today,” he says. 
“...yes.” 
“A year…” he repeats, almost like he’s talking to himself this time. 
“Is something wrong?” 
“I thought it’d pass,” he mutters. 
“What would?” you ask, tucking a little hair behind his ear. 
“Feeling like this. All fucking itchy and… desperate. Like if I let go of you or leave the apartment, you’ll just… disappear.” 
You frown, attempting to process what he was saying. He almost sounded angry. Like you’d done something wrong. Or he had? His eyes flick across your face and then he sighs, releasing his grasp on your hair and falling down onto his back again. 
You lay yourself down onto his chest, his cock slipping out of you in the process. “You don’t wanna live together anymore?” you ask. 
His hands move to grab at your hips, attempting to lift you up again. You let him align his cock with your entrance before sinking back down. You resume your position over his chest, cradling his face in your palms. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before looking at you again. “I wanna live here,” he breathes. “Right fucking here. Buried inside you like this.” 
“You’re confusing me.” 
He grunts as he pins you to his chest with his arms and fucks up into you hard. “Need it,” he mutters between thrusts. “Fucking need you.” 
“You have me,” you soothe. “I told you I was fucking obsessed with you. You have me.” 
He sighs, expression relaxing as he rolls his cock into you. It catches you by surprise when he suddenly lets out a drawn out moan and fills you, hips stuttering into you. Something about the way he finishes, the words it had taken to finally push him over the edge. It clicks into place, what he was trying to say. He feels the same. You sit back, watching him attempt to catch his breath as you start bouncing on him. His eyes flutter open as a high whine escapes his throat. You’d never done this before, kept using him after he’d finished. He’s clearly unprepared, throwing his arm over his eyes as his hips rise weakly off the floor. You practically shake as you cum, clenching around his sensitive cock and falling forward onto his chest. 
“Fuck,” he gasps out. 
His blushed ear catches your eye and you muster just enough energy to take it between your teeth briefly. 
“Say it,” you murmur once you release him. “Say what you mean.” 
His arms wrap around you, holding you against his chest, now sticky with sweat. “Do I need to say it?” he says, completely breathless. 
“It’s my birthday,” you whisper. 
His hands move to your head, lifting your face from his neck. “I love you,” he says, “It scares me how much.” 
You’re pretty sure you understand him. That he meant something different to the previous time’s he’d said he loved you. There was something about his voice, a tiny wobble in the final syllable that convinced you maybe you weren’t alone in this. 
“We’re keeping the shirt,” you say, offering him a small smile. 
He laughs, letting you fall back into his shoulder. “I dunno if I can survive what it does to you.” 
“You can pick an outfit for me?” you offer. 
He’s quiet and it isn’t until you’ve both fully caught your breaths that he speaks again. “Anything?” 
You lift your head and peck him on the lips. “Anything.” 
He smiles. 
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please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!
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5K notes · View notes
ukiyowi · 7 months
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Channelled Messages 💌
Channelling messages from your: Future Spouse, Closest Friends, Spirit Guides, and Future Self
Note: Please DM me if you want a reading I am going to be putting a discount on all my readings because I am in a rough spot financially and need to pay money for my room which I was not aware of earlier and could be kicked out if I don't at the earliest. Book a reading || Tip me! (Ko-fi)
♡ Future Spouse
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♡ Closest Friends
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♡ Spirit Guides
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♡ Future Self
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Future Spouse
💌 Pile 1
My Love,
I imagine us walking hand in hand through the seasons of life, supporting each other through every victory and challenge. Together, we will create a collage of memories, painting the canvas of our shared life with love, laughter, and endless adventures.
I promise to be your biggest cheerleader, your confidant in times of doubt, and your unwavering support through thick and thin. I vow to cherish and respect you for the unique individual that you are, appreciating both your strengths and your vulnerabilities.
You are scarred right now but theres no reason to be. You are so filled with love and light and everything good, just because someone else cannot see it does not mean it doesnt exist. If I could bring you the moon and the stars I would in an instant. I don't think there has ever been or will ever be someone who is as bright as you.
Please take care of your health, you cannot make excuses for bad habits and keep living life like that, no matter how stressful work or life is please make time for yourself. We still have a while to meet so take care of yourself for both you and I.
Song: It's a Shame - The Spinners
💌 Pile 2
Hey Darling,
Our connection, I believe, will be deeper than words can express. It will be built on trust, respect, and a genuine desire to see each other flourish. While I can't predict the future, I am steadfast in my commitment to cherishing every moment we have together.
We have met before, I don't think you remember me, but I do. your beauty had me stunned and so did your mannerisms. I admire the way you carry yourself, with so much dignity and poise, as if the personification of grace itself were standing in front of me, sweeping me off of my feet.
I will shower you with anything you want, praise, adoration, gifts, love, time, energy, and be there whenever you need. Life is probably fun for you right now, unfortunately for me the road is a little rocky. Enjoy this time with your friends and family, your loved ones truly care about you and want what's best for you even if they can't articulate it well.
Stay strong butterflly and look for me in your dreams, I promise to be a frequent visitor. hope you likfe sunflowers, lillies, and magnolias angel.
Song: Mango bananas - Flyana Boss
💌 Pile 3
Hi sweetheart!!
I have a feeling that when we finally meet, there's going to be a bell that rings making us instantly know like it did in Your Name, also hope you like animation because I love it, I also really like drawing and art, do you? Please say yes!
Life seems to be going too fast for you right now so you need to make sure that you don't lose yourself in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Calm down and do things you enjoy, maybe you'll like pottery!
But beyond the laughter and silliness, I want you to know that I'm dead serious about creating a remarkable life together. We'll support each other's dreams, even if they involve opening a cat cafe or becoming professional trampoline testers (hey, it's a thing, right?). We'll navigate the ups and downs of life hand in hand, and I promise to be your rock when you need it most.
Song: Glue Song - beabadoobee
xoxo
Closest Friends
💌 Pile 1
Life has been quite the rollercoaster lately, filled with its usual ups and downs. I've had my fair share of challenges, but there have also been some incredible moments that I wish I could have shared with you in person.
I often find myself reminiscing about the good old days when we used to spend hours talking and laughing about anything and everything . Those memories are some of my most cherished, and I truly miss you.
Please know that no matter where life takes us or how much time passes, you will always hold a special place in my heart. Your friendship has been a source of strength, laughter, and endless support, and I'm incredibly grateful for that.
Let's make a promise to catch up soon, whether it's over a cup of coffee or a long, heartfelt phone call. I genuinely look forward to hearing how you've been and sharing all the stories we've missed out on.
With love,
Initials may include: R, P, W, Q, L
Song: Window - Still Woozy
💌 Pile 2
Leaving behind the place we've called home for so long is both exciting and bittersweet. While new opportunities wait and adventures call, it's hard not to feel a tinge of sadness at the thought of being farther away from you.
Although physical distance may separate us, please know that you will always hold a special place in my life. Our bond is not defined by geography but by the strong connection we share.
And the internet exists so we'll be fine right? You promise to not lose touch with me even when we're both busy? I promise I will remember to call you, if not daily then weekly, please don't forget me.
I wish you could join me and we could embark on this together but life has its ways of separating the best people we've met so that we are forced to widen our horizons and social circles lol, hope it's not too much for either you or me.
Will miss you,
Initials pulled: A, J, M, S, K
Song: Missin something - Zach Templar
💌 Pile 3
I love the days we've shared and I wish to share so many more with you in the future, god I am so so so excited for everything thats to come!
Do you remember that time we decided to go on that impromptu road trip? No plans, no GPS, just a car full of snacks, good music, and an unshakable belief that we'd find our way eventually. We got lost more times than I can count, but it was so much fun and truly unforgettable.
And how about those late-night conversations that somehow turned into early-morning confessions? We've solved the world's problems over a cup of lukewarm coffee more times than I can recall. The neighbors must have wondered if we were running a 24-hour café.
As I sit here reminiscing about these and countless other memories, I can't help but smile. Our friendship has been a rollercoaster of laughter, silliness, and genuine connection. And I wouldn't trade a single moment of it for anything in the world.
Sending you a virtual high-five and a whole lot of fond memories, here's to hundreds more, and don't forget about the promise we made about the weddings okay?
Your platonic soulmate,
Initials may include: G, H, B, L, T
Song: Right Here, For Now - Bakar
xoxo
Spirit Guides
💌 Pile 1
Embrace change with an open heart and a curious mind. Life is a series of shifts and transitions, and it's in these moments of change that growth and self-discovery thrive. Trust in your ability to adapt and evolve, for you possess the resilience needed to navigate uncharted waters.
As you progress in your career, always remember that your passion and purpose are the compass that should guide you. Pursue work that aligns with your values and fulfills your soul. Don't be afraid to explore different paths and take calculated risks. Each experience contributes to your growth and wisdom.
Learning is a lifelong journey, and each lesson learned is a stepping stone to your personal and professional development. Stay committed to your goals, and never underestimate the power of continued learning.
There may be moments of doubt or uncertainty along the way, but listen to your heart's desires and the quiet whispers of your soul, for they will guide you toward your true purpose.
Above all, be patient and compassionate with yourself. Success is not defined by a straight path but by the lessons learned along the way. Embrace each setback as an opportunity to grow stronger and wiser.
Song: Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift
💌 Pile 2
In matters of the heart, we see the longing in your soul for a deep and meaningful connection. First and foremost, we urge you to be patient with yourself. Love is a delicate dance, and it often takes time to find the right partner who truly understands and appreciates you.
As you seek love, remember the importance of self-love. Nurture your own well-being, both physically and emotionally. Don't be insecure about your quirks and imperfections, for they are the qualities that make you beautifully you. When you love yourself wholeheartedly, you become a magnet for the love you desire.
When it comes to romantic relationships, let go of preconceived notions and allow yourself to be pleasantly surprised. Love can appear in unexpected places and forms. Stay open to meeting new people and exploring connections that may not fit your usual "type." Sometimes, the greatest love stories are the ones that defy expectations.
Communication is the foundation of any healthy relationship. Be brave in expressing your feelings, needs, and desires. Equally important, listen to your partner with an open heart. True intimacy is born from understanding and genuine connection.
Whoever, you're thinking of, is not the one, set the standards high and do not settle for something that does not align with what you can give as well.
Song: Scared - Jeremy Zucker
💌 Pile 3
Know that you are never alone. We are always by your side, watching over you, and guiding you in subtle ways. We see your potential and your inner light, and we are here to help you recognize and nurture these gifts.
Trust in your intuition, for it is the voice of your soul and the channel through which we communicate with you. In times of uncertainty, turn inward and listen to the whispers of your heart, for they will lead you toward your true path.
Embrace the lessons that life presents, for they are opportunities for growth and self-discovery. Challenges are not obstacles but stepping stones on your journey to becoming the best version of yourself.
Surround yourself with positive influences and kindred spirits who uplift and support your journey. Let go of relationships that drain your energy and hinder your growth. Create a circle of love and support that nurtures your soul.
Find joy in the simple pleasures of life. Take time to savor a cup of tea, watch a sunrise, or feel the grass beneath your feet. These moments of presence are where true happiness resides.
Song: July - Noah Cyrus
xoxo
Future Self
💌 Pile 1
Darling, I cannot even start to tell you how good life is right now for me, and eventually for you. I know you are currently going through a rough patch, and as cliche as this sounds, I want you to know that every storm you're weathering now is bringing you closer to the sunshine that awaits you.
In my time, I've seen how the challenges you're facing today have shaped you into the resilient, compassionate, and wise person I've become. The setbacks you're experiencing are not roadblocks; they are stepping stones leading you to the life you've always dreamed of.
You may feel lost, uncertain, and at times overwhelmed, but trust me, these moments are your greatest teachers. They are guiding you towards a deeper understanding of yourself, your purpose, and the incredible strength that lies within you.
One day, you will look back on this period of your life and realize that it was a transformative journey, a cocoon in which you underwent a profound metamorphosis. You'll emerge from it stronger, wiser, and more in tune with your inner self.
The relationships you're nurturing now, the lessons you're learning, and the self-care you're embracing will all become pillars of the beautiful life that awaits you. You'll find yourself surrounded by a supportive and loving community that cherishes you for exactly who you are.
Song: See you Again - Tyler, The Creator
💌 Pile 2
I am sorry, but things are not going the way you would have hoped they would. However, rejection is just redirection, okay? Although things are looking rough for me right now, which, for you, is in the future, I want you to know that this tough phase will lead you to a place of strength and growth.
Life can be incredibly challenging at times, and I wish I could spare you from some of the hardships I'm currently facing. But remember, every setback, every disappointment, is an opportunity for growth and learning. It's through these tough moments that we discover our resilience and develop the wisdom to make better choices in the future.
I want you to hold onto hope, even when it feels like all hope is lost. Believe in yourself and your ability to overcome adversity. Surround yourself with supportive friends and loved ones who will help you weather the storm.
Stay patient and kind to yourself. It's easy to be critical during challenging times, but self-compassion is crucial. Treat yourself with the same love and understanding that you offer to others.
I am working on something thats a dream of ours right now, and I am seeing signs that it may end up succeeding soon or at least kick off, and I still love designing and art as much as you do right now, although I barely have time for myself right now.
Song: Not in that way - Sam Smith
💌 Pile 3
Okay, so maybeee we should reel it in a little with how much you are overworking yourself because it is having a bad effect on me, aka future you. Yep, I'm here to tell you that all those late nights, skipped meals, and stress-induced hair-pulling moments are not doing us any favors down the line.
I get it, you're hustling, chasing dreams, and making things happen in the here and now, and that's commendable. But trust me, I've been there, done that, and I can assure you that I'd appreciate a little less burnout and a lot more balance in our past.
You see, life isn't just about reaching goals; it's about enjoying the journey too. So, let's make a pact to take breaks, breathe deeply, and relish the simple pleasures. Remember, it's not all about the destination; the detours and pit stops are just as important.
And don't worry, I'm not trying to cramp your style here; I just want us to have the best possible adventures together, full of energy, laughter, and great stories. So, let's find that sweet spot where hard work meets self-care, and where the future "us" can look back and be happy about the past "you" for making wise choices.
Also please stop pulling all nighters its not doing any wonders for our skin, and even an extensive 10 step skincare routine does not do as much as a good nights sleep can.
Song: While we're yound - Jhene Aiko
xoxo
929 notes · View notes
thegnomelord · 28 days
Note
If you're up to it, I would like to request FtM reader x dragon Price, reader can be dom or sub I just need more FtM things in life besides myself😞😞 -🐆
Sure, I wasn't in the mood for porn so have some fluff. fair warning I'm not all that confident writing FTM reader so ya'll tell me if this sucks lol
CW: SFW, gender dysphoria, fluff, non sexual nudity, cuddling, scar kissing
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Most day are good for you. Most days you're able to get out of bed and go about your day to day duties with confidence.
Not today.
You wake before your alarm with an unpleasant feeling in your gut, tossing and turning for an hour in hopes of falling asleep but it's useless. The morning chill only amplifies the horrid sensation — your skin doesn't feel like your own, your body doesn't feel your own. It's like roaches are crawling beneath your skin, thousands of toothpicks stabbing your nerves every time the cotton of your boxers brushes against your flawed flesh. Old words of people you once considered friends ring in your head like church bells: You're not a real man, you'll never be.
All you are, is a badly made replica in the approximation of what you want to be.
Your bones feel like they're lined with lead, every cell in your body begging you to stay under the covers in the darkness of your room for however long it takes for this feeling to go away. But the sharp ringing of the alarm forces you to rise against your wishes. You don't look at yourself when you shower, but the small glimpse of skin you catch in the mirror makes bile burn the back of your throat. Usually you're proud of your torso and the muscles you've built, but all you can think now as you put on the tight fitting army shirt is how wrong it looks on you. You try to pull on the front a couple of times in an attempt to make it baggier around your chest, before just putting on a jacket regardless that it's the middle of summer.
Recruit duty makes a bad day even worse, adding a headache alongside the discomfort and anxiety that straddle your brain. You hate how snappy and agitated you are with them, running them through grueling drills until they regret being born and have probably called you every name under the sun in their heads. The all collapse when you're finally finished with them, stepping away from them. The day's heat made you sweat like a pig, another round of bile burning the back of your throat at how your clothes stick to you.
You flinch back when a hand grabs your shoulder, quickly whirling around to look who it is with a sharp retort burning on your tongue, only to fizzle out when you're met with Price's face.
Your name sounds so right when he says it, the scent of tobacco curling in your nose as he steps closer to you, wing stretching out to subtly hang over you. "What's going on lad?" Price asks, his voice low, like taking a sip of cool water.
The question makes you hesitate, unable to meet his gaze so you fixate on counting the little chips in the concrete floor. "Just one of those days." You grunt, your voice hoarse and scratchy from belting orders all day.
Price hums in thought and then you feel his wing bump against your back, "Follow me soldier." The deep timber of his voice silences some of the dark thoughts crooning in your ears, and you're helpless to do anything but follow after him like a lost lamb. He leads you back to his room (that you haunt most nights), the place blessedly cool and dark compared to the heat outside.
The second the door closes and locks he pulls you in close, wrapping his steady arms around you and pushing your face into the pillowy bosom of his pecs. You struggle for a moment out of pure instinct, but a single call of your name makes you stop like a puppet on cut strings. He repeats your name like a caress, rolling every syllable on his tongue as his chest rumbles with a deep purr.
You melt into him, nuzzling your nose into the deep valley of his pecs and breathing in his smell. He's more intoxicating than any drug you know; beneath the scents of tobacco, dark coffee, and manly musk there's always something that your mind associates with freshly cut grass and rain on dry gravel — Comfort.
"You're so smart and clever." He croons, resting his chin on top of yours, one hand tracing the curve of your back. "But by god are you a dumb muppet." There's no edge to his words, you don't even think of fighting his admonishments. "How many times have I told you to come to me if you feel like this?"
Too many times, to be honest. You're stubborn if nothing else, you always think you can handle this on your own, you don't want to burden him whenever your mind decides to be a dick to you. "I'm sorry." You mumble into his shirt, your hands slowly wrapping around his thick waist. It always does your head in how your fingers can't quite meet in the middle of his back with how broad he is, muscle and fat shifting beneath your hands.
"Sure you are." He tuts, evidently not believing you for a second. But he doesn't pull away, tail loosely wrapping around your leg and his scent and heat enveloping you, his chest vibrating against your face. "Going to let me take care of my boy, aren't you?" The way he phrases it makes it sound like a statement, and you're unable to resist it.
Your mouth goes dry, your body stuck between wanting more and abhorring any more physical contact. But you nod your head, grumbling something probably nonsensical. And any other day you'd laugh your ass off about the fact you're practically motorboating him, but not today. Today you barely have any energy left to think.
"That's my boy." He purrs, clawed fingers gently scratching your scalp. "Shower?" He asks.
You pause, trying to string together a tangible thought. You doubt you could handle that, not with how dark and heavy your head feels. "No." You croak and nuzzle further into his chest in an attempt to hide.
"S'alright, I'm proud of you." He hums, still holding you close as he shuffles across the room with you blindly following him. "Let's get you out of those sweaty clothes, yeah?" Getting a single nod from you, he starts to slowly take off your clothes, pulling back just enough to distract you with sweet kisses. You try to help in taking his clothes off, but you feel about as useful as a small child helping his parents cook, getting a few chuckles from him.
You wind up gently pushed down on your back, spread across his bed that smells just like him and naked as the day you were born. Before the discomfort can make you shy away and try to cover yourself, he's settling down next to you, claws scraping against your jaw as he pulls you into a slow kiss. You swear you can always taste a bit of eternity every time he kisses you, so unhurried like you'll last as long as him.
"Look at you." He hums as you part, his hands sliding down your shoulders and arms to your hips. "My handsome boy." He tilts his head to kiss all over your face, trailing his lips from your brows to your eyelids, cheeks, nose, chin to wherever else he can reach. His beard is soft against your skin, evidently he'd used that beard care product you'd given him. "So strong and capable. My strong knight."
That gets the first vestige of a chuckle out of you. "Does that mean I get to lay the dragon?" You ask, your lips tugging into a small smirk. You've made that joke god knows how many times, but despite his gripes, Price loves it.
"Cheeky wanker." He huffs, his cool clawed fingers trailing along the curve of your muscles up your torso. "Later, if you're good."
A low sound escapes you when his thumbs brush the even scars beneath your pecs. "Good?" He asks, waiting for you to nod before tilting his head down, horns gently poking your skin for a second before he starts kissing along your scars. His touch is gentle like you're a precious treasure in his hoard, his lips velvet soft against the rough scar tissue. Every brush of his lips makes your skin tingle like a live wire, fire simmering in the place he kisses as he trails from one side to the other, laying equal attention on every inch of your scars.
It's pleasant. Beyond pleasant. It leaves your chest feeling so warm and full like your heart will burst through your ribcage.
You feel like a melted puddle of goo by the time he pulls away to kiss you on the lips again. You don't struggle as he lays down on his side and pulls you to him. A pleased sigh escapes you as you feel his wing drape over you like a blanket, tail curling around one of your legs and arms wrapping around your waist; like he's making sure you can't escape (not that you'd want to.)
Dragons are strange, the scales cool against your skin but his core is hot like a furnace, the duality of it calming your mind. "How are you feeling lad?" He asks, the low timber of his voice vibrating his chest.
You hum and nuzzle into his pecs, the ample chest hair tickling your face. "Better." You grunt, blindly kissing what inch of flesh you can reach. You can't keep your hands from wandering, petting the dark hair of his happy trail as your other hand traces the scales on his side. "Could feel better with a bit more attention though."
A snort leaves him, his breath ghosting over your ear. "You're insatiable." His words would be a lot more insulting if his chest didn't vibrate with a continuous purr, his tail tightening for a second before relaxing.
"You're to blame." You feel better as the words leave you, your chest light as a feather as you get to share a small laugh with him.
"Get some rest, my boy," You hum, your eyelids already starting to feel heavy as you feel him nuzzle his cheek into your hair. You don't doubt the whole base will be able to smell him on you tomorrow. "We'll see about laying dragons later."
"I love you." You murmur into his flesh, his pecs becoming the world's best pillow as you nuzzle closer. You stay awake just long enough to hear him murmur his love for you in your ear.
305 notes · View notes
chaerryeoniis · 1 year
Text
one, two, three | l.dh
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genre ❥ highschool au, best friends to lovers, rom-com
pairings ❥ nerd! donghyuck x cheerleader! reader
word count ❥19.0k (my longest fic ever can you believe it)
synopsis ❥ In which you devise three different ways to get your best friend to fall in love with you, but things never really go quite as planned.
warnings ❥ none! it’s tooth-rotting fluff. the both of them might be a bit frustrating at times but this might be my favourite haechan out of all my fics so far :)
info ❥ please let me know what you think about the individual scenes. also i let myself go a little crazy over the entire running theme of literature and little women in this one
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“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that any unattached high schooler in possession of decent grades, must be in want of a relationship.”
The way Karina says it confidently amuses and impresses you in equal measure, but Ningning only scoffs. “That is most definitely not what Austen wrote. Don’t let Mrs Kim hear that.”
Mrs Kim is the literature teacher for your entire level, a kindly woman in her fifties who’s lenient with assignments. You think she’s much too passionate about classics to be stuck teaching a few hundred teenagers who can barely comprehend the intricacies of classical writing, but life has a funny way of putting people in places they’re not meant to be.
Besides you, of course. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. The first table from the left of the canteen, nearest to the food line, and directly under the air-conditioning. It’s also exclusively reserved for the cheer team, while the opposite is for the rugby team.
You never thought you would subscribe to something as ridiculous as a canteen seating hierarchy, but you’ll gladly reap the benefits.
One thing that might be nice, however, is if the meal options were improved. You’re not sure how well pasta salad and a carton of lukewarm milk is supposed to sustain you the entire day, but it’ll have to do for now.
Maybe you’ll drag Donghyuck for a ramen run later. Speaking of which.
“Have any of you seen Donghyuck?” you ask, and there’s a chorus of shaking heads from the rest of the team, before Ningning pouts, looking at you. “Him again? You’re always asking about Donghyuck,” she teases, and you roll your eyes. “That’s because I can never find him,” you mutter, before putting down your cutlery. There’s no longer much of an appetite, especially when you have more important things to do.
When you stand up, Karina raises an eyebrow, and you grin. “I’ll be right back.”
The din from the canteen becomes softer once the glass doors close behind you. Your sneakers are squeaking against the shiny floor, noticeably conspicuous due to the silence. There’s only one place even quieter than the hallways during lunch break, and it’s like there’s a direct path guiding you to Donghyuck.
When you spot a familiar bag resting on the floor, you smile. “Bingo.”
It takes less than ten seconds for you to reach Donghyuck’s desk, and another five for him to realise you’re standing there, hands resting on your hips. He blinks, before setting the book in his hands down gently. “Oh, hey. Take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the empty space opposite.
The boy’s dressed in his usual black hoodie and ripped jeans, white reading glasses resting gently on his nose. He had picked them out a few years ago in a shop, after you had finally convinced him to do something about his color vision. The glasses suit him more than you expect, and it’s refreshing seeing them compared to his usual preference of contact lenses.
You slide into the booth opposite until you’re facing him, chin in hand. “You’re reading on lunch break?”
He sets down the book the moment you sit down, pushing away his things to make space for your elbows.
Donghyuck’s the epitome of a model student to you, considering his stellar grades and position as president of student council. It’s not in a way that’s overbearing, but rather plain and simple - the boy is just more intelligent and capable than the majority of people in his age group.
Still, reading on lunch break seems like a bit of an anomaly, considering he likes food as much as you do.
“I’ve got a council meeting after school, but I need to finish this reading for English. Which is why I’m slaving away,” he sighs out, and you look away, humming in thought. “Need me to get you food? I was going to ask you out for a ramen run, but I guess you can’t do that now.”
He shakes his head. “Nope, I’m good,” he assures, and you arch an eyebrow.
“You sure?” You’re looking at him intently now, voice distrusting. Donghyuck looks as if he’s hesitating.
“Gimbap…would be nice,” he admits, and you smile triumphantly. “Got it.” There’s a perk in your step as you rise from the table and tell him you’ll be right back.
By the time you buy it and deliver it to him, the bell rings, and you’re left saying a quick goodbye before Donghyuck rushes off. It’s harder seeing him when he gets busy, but you chalk it down to the fact that during slower months, an inordinate amount of your time is spent with Donghyuck.
And when you finally finish cheer practice in the evening, you notice a plastic bag resting next to your backpack. Opening it makes you grin slightly, immediately seeing one pack of your favourite ramen and a marinated egg, along with iced coffee.
“Who’s that from?” Karina asks, and you grin slightly.
“Donghyuck.”
You can’t hide the smile on your face when you say it.
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The first time Donghyuck got a job, he couldn’t shut up about it.
It’s funny the more he thinks about it, considering it wasn’t even really an actual one - his mother had offered two dollars an hour for him to make sure the dog didn’t trample on her precious flowers.
But for twelve-year-old him, it seemed like the most daunting, impressive task he had been given, one that he was determined to embark on with fervour.
It took less than four days before he realised how aimless it was, and spent more time sitting on the porch with his Switch when his mother wasn’t looking.
But Donghyuck supposes he doesn’t particularly regret taking on the below-minimum-wage job, not when it allowed him to meet you.
“Is this your dog?”
Donghyuck checks twice to make sure his game progress is saved before looking up, only to be greeted by the sight of a girl no older than he is, hair tied in a neat ponytail and a white sundress reaching down to your knees. “Um, yeah,” he mutters, voice not unfriendly but awkward in the way that most boys his age are.
He may be extroverted, but Donghyuck quite literally has no idea who you are, considering he’s never seen you in school. Besides, the only person he’s interacted with all this summer is Jaemin, who occasionally invites him over to play Super Smash Bros. “What’s her name?”
“Bambi.”
You wrinkle your nose at his reply. “Why would you name your dog after another animal?”
His posture straightens imperceptibly, somehow feeling the need to defend himself against your judgement.
“Why not?” He challenges, watching as you hesitate slightly, before seeming to acquiesce, giving Bambi a few affectionate pats on the head. At your silence, Donghyuck sets his gaming console down, elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward.
“What’s your name then?”
You look at him, as if almost surprised at the boy’s curiosity. “Y/N. L/N Y/N. I just moved into the house next to yours,” you reply, Bambi now sitting obediently next to your shoes.
Donghyuck’s not sure whether to be disappointed that your name isn’t weird, but instead very pretty. The syllables are unfamiliar, but they roll off his tongue nicely.
He’s not sure if you’re as fascinated by his name as he is yours - Donghyuck isn’t a particularly unique name, but he can’t stop himself from practising calling yours, until even his mother notices it at dinner.
That summer, you spent a lot of time with Donghyuck - the heatwaves kept most people inside and there weren’t many places a twelve-year-old could go on their own. You quickly got used to stuffy afternoons spent in his living room playing card games, or having Donghyuck attempt baking cookies with you in the kitchen.
And when the holiday ended, heralded by the beginning of autumn, you found yourself still sticking to Donghyuck, even as the both of you navigated a new school year and branched out into different friend groups.
Six years later, the both of you were still side-by-side, even as other classmates came and went and your sixth-grade school uniforms gave way to a lax high school dress code.
On the brighter side, Donghyuck’s area of employment has improved - he’s now making much more than minimum wage helping to transcribe songs for a local indie label, and it’s a job that he enjoys plenty, considering how he’s allowed to take home a few extra albums each month that don’t sell.
It also helps that the employee benefits are good, and the manager, Johnny, is pretty chill with whatever Donghyuck does as long as it’s not a direct violation of company policy. He suspects it’s because the man grew up in Chicago, and is long used to troublemakers. Here, Donghyuck’s job is simple - to help make good music, and he’s fulfilling it to the best of his ability.
You find Donghyuck in his usual position at the counter, headphones over his head and an unplaceable tune escaping from his pursed lips. His fingers are drumming to an invisible rhythm that you can’t hear, but you watch him with a fond smile on your face anyways.
He’s only played snippets of his own work here and there for you, but the boy’s talent is undeniable. Still, Donghyuck only casts you an indulgent look of appreciation each time you tell him he’s just as capable of starting a career as the artists he’s helping.
You don’t tell him that you secretly think he’s even better and would buy his records over anyone’s any day.
When you tap his shoulder, Donghyuck spins around in his chair, hand placed over his heart for theatrical effect. “You scared me,” he says, and you only grin. “Came to drop off the stuff you needed.”
He takes the bag from you, peering inside before looking back up and smiling gratefully. “You’re an actual lifesaver,” he gushes as he takes out the extra discs and a badly-needed charger, along with a change of clothes.
“I know,” you reply smugly, and Donghyuck rolls his eyes. He’s already used to the back-and-forth bickering between the both of you, but he’s thankful nonetheless, knowing that you must have dropped whatever task you were busy with to rush down to the store.
Until your phone buzzes, and you pick it up with a concerned glance, wincing apologetically as you gather your things. “Sorry. Karina called an emergency meeting. I’ll see you after work?”
Donghyuck nods, watching as you shove your phone into your tote bag. Right as you turn to leave, however, he places a hand on your elbow, halting your steps.
It’s only then that he notices the claw clip in your hair, a transparent one with little flowers dotted throughout. He doesn’t usually see you with your bangs pushed back, not since middle school, when your mom forced you to get that one bad haircut.
But it looks much better now, and Donghyuck finds his throat turning dry at the sight of you, before he remembers what he had planned to do.
Being the naturally affectionate person he is, Donghyuck has placed soft pecks on your cheek before, often followed up by you quickly shoving him away. But he hasn’t done it for almost a year, for the sole reason that if he allows himself to kiss you on the cheek, he might just want more.
He’s not sure what it means, the way his heart strangely twists each time he looks at you, in a way that’s both pleasurable and painful. It started when you had ditched practice to accompany him on the school rooftop, just to listen to him complain about the new student council treasurer.
The way you had thrown your head back and laughed at his never-ending rant, elbows linked with him as you swung your feet over the edge, taking a sip of the strawberry yoghurt drink shared between the both of you.
Donghyuck doesn’t even remember what he was angry at Jisung for, only that you looked extra pretty that day.
And it’s moments like this where he wants to kiss you even more, and he can’t be bothered to try and hold himself back any longer.
To his surprise, however, you don’t react with your usual expression of disgust, instead remaining silent, your wide-eyed expression searing itself into his mind. It fills him with a quiet, brimming sort of anticipation, and he swears your gaze darts to his lips, just briefly. Maybe if his kiss just shifts a few inches over-
Donghyuck’s train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the door opening, signalling a customer. You quickly pull back, and he tries not to make his irritation at the disturbance too obvious.
“I should go,” you say to no one in particular, before grabbing your tote bag and rushing through the glass doors of the store, the bell signalling your departure. He finds himself smiling at your frazzled state, and wondering if it means something. If it means that he might have a chance, no matter how minuscule.
He doesn’t even realise the corners of his lips are tilted up, until Johnny comes out from the storeroom, the new equipment balanced in his arms.
“Did something good happen? You look pleased,” the taller man comments, looking over at Donghyuck who runs his thumb over the tote bag you left for him.
The younger boy only grins in response, a sort of plaintive expression on his face as he casts a longing glance at the door where you had just been moments ago.
“Yeah. I guess you can say that.”
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The realisation hits you at nine on a Friday evening, and it’s surprisingly easy to swallow. You’re going to fail math.
You shove the textbooks in the corner of your shelf, vowing to never pick them up again. However, the exam date that sits on your calendar circled in red serves as a reminder that you’ll likely have to take your words back soon, if not immediately.
When the doorbell rings, it’s the perfect distraction for you.
Spending time with Donghyuck at the end of each week has quickly become a welcome respite from the monotony of school, and you’re buzzing with excitement as you rush down the stairs.
“I’m not sure why you still ring the doorbell, considering you just come in by yourself,” you say, as you pour the popcorn out into a bowl and hand it to him. Donghyuck shrugs. “Courtesy. Just in case you need time to hide a dead body or something. What movie are we watching today?”
A grin makes its way onto your face at the question, and Donghyuck’s eyes flood with suspicion before he lets out a groan of exasperation. “Do you not get tired of watching it?”
You shake your head, smiling. It’s the sixth time you’ve made him watch Little Women, and despite the fact that Donghyuck doesn’t take literature, you think he might be starting to grow partial to the movie.
It’s coming close to midnight by the time the end credits roll, and your bowl of popcorn lies empty on the table.
“I still think Jo and Laurie are meant to be, by the way,” he points out, and you whip your head towards him indignantly from where you’re seated on the couch, legs thrown over his lap. “You’re wrong,” you retort. Despite the late hour, both of you are surprisingly alert. You from the two coffees, and Donghyuck because- well, he pretty much survives on three hours a day.
“But he’s just settling for Amy.”
“Amy makes Laurie a better person, that’s why they’re together. Jo and Laurie would never work out. They’re meant to be best friends, not lovers,” you explain, watching as Donghyuck’s expression shifts to something unreadable.
“But there’s so much passion between the both of them. Don’t you-” he mutters, before leaning over, “-want something like that?”
His question weighs heavy on your mind as he moves closer, until the both of you are a hair’s breadth away from each other.
The sudden loss of distance between you and Donghyuck makes your breath hitch, the air charged with an unfamiliar tension, one that leaves your heart racing. You have no idea what it is, other than the fact that Donghyuck is much too close for comfort. He looks almost disappointed when you stand up abruptly, narrowly avoiding spilling the drink in your hand.
“I- I’m going to get more snacks,” you stutter out, barely gathering your composure before you rush off to the kitchen. When you’re inside, however, you quickly place your hands over your cheeks, eyes widening in alarm when you realise they’re warm.
You’re blushing. For some god-awful reason, being with Donghyuck has made your heart rate speed up and your face flush, which can only mean one thing.
You’ve fallen sick.
There’s only another possible alternative, and you really don’t want to consider the implications of that.
“Y/N.”
At the sound of your name, you turn around, the perfect image of a deer caught in headlights. It’s only then that you notice Donghyuck’s dressed in a loose band tee and sweatpants.
It’s an outfit that you’ve seen him wear a thousand times, and yet, you can feel a nervous lump form in your throat at the sight of him.
“You were taking really long in the kitchen. Is something wrong?” he asks, eyes curious as he looks at you.
Your mouth feels like it’s full of sand as you struggle to find the words to explain. “I- I think I’m sick.”
At that statement, concern becomes apparent on Donghyuck’s face as he strides over to you, placing a hand gently on your forehead to track your temperature. The sensation of his palm against your forehead floods you with regret, however, for the sole reason that you feel like you’re about to go into cardiac arrest.
“Your temperature feels fine. Do you feel unwell anywhere?” he questions insistently, but you’re too dazed as you continue to lean against the kitchen island, the marble cold against your back.
You need to get out of this situation. Immediately. You duck abruptly, Donghyuck’s palm falling from your forehead to his side.
“I just remembered I have an assignment I need to rush,” you hastily blurt, and he makes a confused face at your change of topic, before shrugging. “I can help you,” he suggests, and you shake your head aggressively at that.
“It’s okay. I’m really good at math.”
You’re lying. It’s a blatant lie, and from the way that Donghyuck stares at you, you know he knows that it’s absolute nonsense. But he seems to relent, perhaps due to your frazzled appearance.
“Okay. Take some Panadol or something if you’re not feeling well. I’ll see you on Monday?”
“Yeah. See you,” you breathe out, watching as he turns away and exits the kitchen.
The front door clicks shut reassuringly a few moments later, and you let yourself sink to the floor in relief.
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Donghyuck doesn’t message you for the rest of the night, something that you’re grateful for. Despite his physical absence, however, the boy resolutely refuses to leave your mind, even as you force yourself to clean up the coffee table and return the snacks to their designated places on the pantry shelf.
It’s only when you’re standing over the sink, red popcorn bowl between your two hands, that your cheeks darken again at the thought of him moving closer to you, eyes searching yours in the darkness of the room.
The both of you have had hundreds of movie nights at this point, the catalogue almost emptied and favourite movies repeated over and over again. Like how the both of you always force each other to watch The Conjuring on Halloween, Donghyuck still screaming at each jumpscare despite how he knows what's coming. The end of the midterms means watching The Kissing Booth, even if you poke fun at him for it.
You don’t mind repeating them over and over again, because it’s Donghyuck. Even sitting with him in complete, utter silence would be enjoyable.
The glow coming from the living room catches your attention then, and you trudge towards the couch to grab the remote before realising that you and Donghyuck never finished the movie before you freaked out and he left.
In a split-second decision, you decide to press play, the house dead silent save for the dialogue between both characters. You only realise seconds later that it’s the scene on the hill, the one where Laurie confesses to Jo.
You’re unable to tear your eyes away from the screen, the scene suddenly feeling a little too real, meaning something more than the previous times that you’ve watched it. Destined to be friends, never lovers. That was exactly what you told Donghyuck.
But you’re starting to think that you might be dead wrong.
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You’re quickly learning that while Karina and Ningning may be encouraging during practice, they’re not as supportive when it comes to your personal life. The latter is staring at you with an expression of disbelief on her face, while Karina simply lets out a tired sigh.
”So…the answer’s no?” you ask, a tinge of hope still sneaking in.
“No, Y/N, you can’t be allergic to a person. That’s not how it works,” Ningning states, looking at you as if you’ve gone mad. “Who even is this about?” Karina asks, and you wince slightly at the question.
“Donghyuck,” you finally admit after long enough, nervously taking a sip of your juice.
“Sounds to me like you just have feelings for him,” Ningning interjects, and you set down your bottle, looking at her. “Not possible.”
“More possible than you being allergic to him.”
Karina’s words successfully shut you up, and you sink back into the chair. “Okay. Maybe I like him. A little bit. But it’s never going to work out,” you whine.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re friends, and he- how can I like a boy who spends more time looking at his gaming computer than me?”
“Most boys like gaming. Jeno’s the exact same, if you haven’t realised,” Karina retorts, and you reflexively turn your head to the other table, where the middle linebacker sits. Contrary to his intimidating exterior, the boy is surprisingly nice, and a good boyfriend to Karina. You’ve never seen her happier, except for the day when they became an official couple. But no matter.
“He likes physics, Karina. Physics. The boy tried to give me a lecture on thermodynamics. What part of that is attractive to you?”
She winces at that, and you bask in the momentary feeling of victory, before Ningning interjects. “Opposites attract. You’re an arts student, and he’s in science. A match made in heaven. You’re just scared you’ll get rejected, won’t you?”
And as always, Ningning hits the nail on the head directly. The fear of rejection feels all too real, especially when you know that Donghyuck has barely even shown an ounce of interest in anything romantic with anyone, let alone you, the girl who’s been his best friend for close to a decade.
You’re sure that he cares for you, but all and any affection he feels is strictly delineated within the insurmountable boundaries of platonic friendship.
You’re silent, staring off blankly into space until someone settles next to you. Giselle, youngest member of the cheer team but scarily good at tumbling, enough for you to take one look at her and sign her acceptance slip. She warmed up to you quickly after the both of you had been paired up for a group project, and the girl’s quick to notice the sombre atmosphere in the air.
“Boy problems?” She asks, looking at Karina, who nods, angling her chin towards you. “Let me guess - you like Donghyuck but you don’t think he reciprocates your feelings,” she states, and your dejection is briefly replaced by incredulity. “How did you know?”
“You’re terribly obvious, Y/N. There’s only one boy in your life - consider the fact that you’ve completely ignored the advances of half of the guys on the rugby team?”
“They don’t make any advances,” you mutter. Sure, Minhyung may have lent you that one umbrella, and Yangyang’s always asking for your notes in History, but that doesn’t mean anything.
“That’s because everyone quickly gave up after seeing you and Donghyuck,” Giselle explains, and you run a hand through your hair, before regretting it slightly when you realise it’s likely messed up the styling that you had done.
“I just- I swear I didn’t feel anything for him like three months ago. But there was that one time he sneaked into my class to take notes because I had a headache, and also he’s just so-”
“So?” Ningning leans over, waiting for you to finish the sentence, and you close your eyes in embarrassment out of what you’re about to say.
“-attractive. He’s so attractive,” you confess, watching as Karina bites back a laugh. You’re not entirely sure when exactly Donghyuck started taking a specific interest in fashion, figuring out more ways to style his hair than simply letting it fall over his glasses.
“I guess, for a physics nerd, he is cute,” she acquiesces, and you sit up indignantly. “He’s not a nerd! Do you know he can play the drums? And he’s really good at singing.”
Karina leans back reflexively at your outburst, mischief glinting in her eyes as you sink back down. “This is so embarrassing,” you whine, letting out a groan of anguish as Ningning looks on sympathetically.
At your forlorn expression, the youngest cheerleader turns to you and grabs your hands in hers, like some sort of messiah.
“Do you trust me?” Giselle asks, and you nod hesitantly, even though you can’t help but feel like you’re being led into some sort of trap.
“I’ve seen this work hundreds of times. If you do this, I promise Lee Donghyuck will be in love with you by the time winter break rolls around,” she promises, and you suck in a breath at the prospect of it, of getting Donghyuck to see you in a light that isn’t friendship.
Winter break. That’s six months away, which is a little under two hundred days. Barely a fraction of the time you’ve known Donghyuck, but it’ll have to count. “What do I have to do?” You ask, and Giselle grins, her smile reminding you a bit of a comic villain.
“Just three things. Simple, really.”
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#1 LEARN ABOUT HIS INTERESTS (PREFERABLY FROM HIM)
The first one is easy. You know Donghyuck’s likes and dislikes from memory, from his personal preferences to the things that make him uncomfortable. He’s easy to please in terms of music, though he gravitates more towards smooth, sultry vocals compared to your playlists of upbeat pop. With regards to food, he’s especially nice to you when you buy him chocolate biscuit snacks, and the only thing he can’t tolerate is celery.
His favourite subjects? Physics and math, though if he had to pick an arts, it would be music. His hobbies include singing, gaming and playing the drums, which he somehow manages to fit in despite the already jam-packed schedule that makes up his life.
When you had duly recited that to Giselle, she hadn’t been sure whether to be concerned or impressed. But she wanted you to take it a step up, which was why you were now in Donghyuck’s room on a Sunday afternoon, arms crossed as he stares back at you.
“What the fuck?”
“Why not?”
Donghyuck shakes his bangs away from the sides of his face, before frowning. “You’re literally the last person I would expect to have a remote interest in Overwatch.”
He’s right, but you ignore that. “I’m…trying new things,” you excuse, watching as he wrinkles his nose slightly before shrugging. “Sure. Sit over there,” he instructs, pointing to the gaming chair. It’s comfortable against your back, and you’re starting to understand why he’s able to spend hours cooped up in his room during holidays.
Donghyuck’s desk is surprisingly organised, besides the empty coffee can abandoned beside the keyboard. Lying in a corner are his files and schoolwork, while the stationery sits on a shelf above. If you force your eyes upwards, you’ll land on a familiar photo frame - one that quickly elicits a smile.
There’s a large Ferris wheel in the background, and right in front, two small children. You’re holding a stick of cotton candy that’s larger than your face, while Donghyuck has one arm around your shoulder and the other grasping onto a teddy bear.
He had won that for you with his pocket money in second grade, and the same bear still sits in your wardrobe, albeit a little dustier. It’s not like you don’t have plenty of other photos as well. There are the ones from Donghyuck’s performances when he was in the school band, and those of you and him during your first cheer competition.
Donghyuck’s there, on every page of your life, like a watermark. Feelings aside, you’re not quite sure what you would do without him.
Your thoughts are disrupted, however, by him leaning over to set up the computer. Donghyuck’s eyes are focused on the screen, and it’s likely why he hasn’t realised how close you are to him. From where you’re sitting, it’s the perfect vantage point to observe Donghyuck’s side profile, lit aglow by the brightness of the screen.
You hate the way your heartbeat speeds up involuntarily, gaze lingering on his jawline and the freckles that dot his cheeks. They always return during summer, only to fade away once the weather turns colder.
The realisation that you find your best friend ridiculously attractive is hitting you straight in the face, and it’s terrifying.
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An hour later, you’re sitting on Donghyuck’s bed, gaming console in hand. You’ve established Overwatch as a fruitless venture, and the boy in question looks down at you, amused. “That was only two games. Do you want to try League?”
You shake your head vehemently in resistance, slotting in the game disc to prove your point. He looks as if he’s not quite sure what to do with you, only moving towards his desk to bring a few snacks over.
“I’ve only ever seen you play Overcooked,” he points out, and you roll your eyes. “That’s because it’s the only one I’m good at.”
However, when you take into account the amount of time that you’ve been playing Overcooked, the achievement diminishes. When you first started, Donghyuck would be the only one helping to clear the first few levels, while your goal was simply to not get in the way.
Now, you’re able to keep up with him decently, though he still gets a much higher score in individual matches.
Donghyuck lets out an exasperated huff, but there’s a smile on his face. “I appreciate it, you know,” he says softly, and you turn your head. “What?”
“Overwatch. I know you wanted to try for me,” he says, and you let out a groan, before sinking into the pillow behind you. Of course he’s figured you out. You suppose you should have planned it better, considering the number of times you’ve complained about having to wait for him to finish his games. “At least I know I’m never going to play it ever again.”
Your voice comes out muffled from beneath the blanket, and you miss the way Donghyuck’s eyes cloud over with fondness as he looks at you. “It’s okay. You’re still my best friend, even if you can’t get three star-rankings on your own- ouch.”
He lets out a grunt of pain as you land a well-aimed elbow in his ribs, placing a hand over his stomach and collapsing onto the bed. “You’re so dramatic,” you complain, pushing him off from where he’s half-sprawled over you.
“You’re so mean to me. I still love you though,” he mutters, pinching your left cheek gently with his free hand. You try your best to not make your expression too plain on your face. “Love you too, I guess,” you say, though it comes out more as an incoherent mumble, eyes looking anywhere but at him.
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#2 MORE TIME SPENT TOGETHER IS BETTER THAN NONE
You’re not sure how much more you can fulfil task #2, considering the only times you aren’t with Donghyuck are when you’re in class, at practice, or sleeping. But Ningning is quick to denounce your claims during the break, when all of you are sprawled on the gymnasium floor.
“Best-friend activities don’t count, Y/N. You need to go on dates. Things that can be seen in the context of romance,” she clarifies, and you lie back down, exhausted.
It seems having to manage your feelings for Donghyuck while attempting to woo him is quickly becoming a full-time commitment.
You let out a sigh, getting back up once the coach calls to start.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
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You did, in fact, do an extraordinary amount of planning.
The autumn festival holiday was around the corner, which meant a few different things. The most important one being that student council went on a break, leaving Donghyuck with precious spare time to rest.
Unfortunately, he was not going to have those three days completely undisturbed, thanks to you.
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Donghyuck comments as he follows behind you, hands tucked into his coat. You grin slightly, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We’re almost there. Just be patient.”
However, when the both of you round the corner, you immediately see Donghyuck skid to a halt. “Oh no. Definitely not.”
He’s staring at the ice skating rink with a mixture of fear and apprehension, and you let out a laugh.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to try this?” you ask, and he whips his head towards you. “I meant it as a joke. You know I can’t ice skate,” he mumbles nervously, rubbing at the back of his head, and you grab onto the sleeve of Donghyuck’s jacket, pulling him along despite his complaints.
Despite his reluctance, the both of you are quickly on the ice, skates securely strapped to your feet.
It’s a petty sort of consolation to know that Donghyuck isn’t perfect. It’s even worse, however, to know that despite his inclinations to annoy you to death and steal your food, you still have the biggest, most embarrassing crush on him.
You skate up behind him, pausing to observe the boy step carefully over the ice. His posture reminds you a bit of a duckling, and you have to hold back a laugh. Despite how clumsy his movements are, you can’t help but find them endearing.
“Need help?” You ask once you’re next to him, and Donghyuck grumbles slightly before nodding and extending his hands. “It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it. Try not to walk on the ice. It’ll just make you more unsteady.”
There’s a warm feeling of pride that floods you when you see your best friend attempt to take the advice dutifully, gradually getting closer to gliding on the ice. You try not to focus too much on how his fingers are interlaced tightly with yours, palm fitting perfectly in your grasp.
“I think I’ve got it,” he says after a while. There’s a cocky grin plastered on his face as he looks at you, and you scoff slightly. “Why are you still holding on to my hand then?”
His gaze darts down abruptly as if suddenly realizing that his fingers are still interlocked with yours.
“For security,” he replies teasingly, the corners of his lips tilted up.
You try not to make your bewilderment too obvious at his response. Donghyuck teases you plenty, but you’re not sure whether this crosses into the realm of flirting, except for the fact that it leaves your heartbeat unsteady.
“You’re really flushed. Are you okay?” He pauses when he realises you’re not following behind him, eyes warm with concern.
You paste a shaky smile on your face. “I’m fine. Just a little cold.”
It’s a flimsy excuse, but you’re hoping he’ll let it pass. The boy in front of you seems to pause in thought for a moment, before looping his arm through yours and pulling you out of the rink. “Wait, but our slot isn’t done yet-”
Donghyuck doesn’t reply you, too busy shrugging off his denim jacket as you stare at him in confusion. “There’s only ten minutes left anyways. We can go get hot chocolate,” he suggests.
“Also, wear this,” he mutters, and you feel something warm draped over your shoulders. Donghyuck’s jacket is a little too big on you, but it’s comfortable, with the faint cottony smell that you’ve grown to identify with him. “Thanks,” you mumble softly, your own voice tuned out by the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears.
You’re so fucked.
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When Donghyuck first met Zhong Chenle, he thought he was going to go deaf. It was like the boy was constantly speaking out of a megaphone from his sheer volume.
He once told Chenle that he heard him more than he saw him. The boy had only responded with another ear-splitting laugh. But Donghyuck still enjoys having him around, for the main reason that Chenle’s the only one capable of co-opting with him and not being complete dead weight - Jisung’s pretty hopeless, and Jaemin’s often too tired from training to log on.
“Donghyuck. Do you want food?”
He had given up on getting Chenle to use honorifics a long time ago, the boy either excusing it with the fact that he was foreign, or that Donghyuck acted like he was younger anyways.
“Let’s get Chinese takeout. Loser pays,” he replies, and Chenle immediately nods in assent, switching his mode over to single-player.
It doesn’t take long for the ‘game over’ screen to flash up at Donghyuck, and he flings his controller to the side, Chenle turning around with a smug grin on his face.
“Don’t sulk,” he scolds, pinching Donghyuck in the side, who currently has his face buried in the pillow. “I’m not sulking. I just can’t believe I lost to a seventeen-year-old,” he grumbles, before fishing out his wallet and passing it to Chenle.
It’s not the first time he’s lost - the score is pretty even between them, and no one’s keeping tally, but Donghyuck just likes to be dramatic. He thinks it’s one of his talents, the innate quality of over-emphasising every small thing to draw a reaction out of anyone.
And of course, his favourite person to pester is you. Chenle’s in second place, but that’s because the boy sometimes annoys him even more in retaliation. You’re not capable of annoying Donghyuck even if you tried, because he’s used to every tendency of yours. You only whine when you’re tired or embarrassed, and even that’s more cute than exhausting.
“Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you something.”
Donghyuck remains silent, but a nod of his head indicates for Chenle to continue.
“Is it true that everyone gets together in senior year?” he asks, and Donghyuck furrows his eyebrows, considering the question. He supposes there’s Jeno and Karina, Giselle and Yangyang, and in the previous year there was Hyunsuk and Haeun-
“Oh. I guess so? Plenty of people at least.”
“What about you, then?”
What about him? Donghyuck wondered for a brief moment, but the answer wasn’t hard to figure out. He liked you, but he was too much of a coward to ever say anything, because all the words seemed to get stuck in his throat whenever he tried to open his mouth.
“Oh. Not everyone, I guess,” he realizes, and Chenle scoffs. “Is it because no one likes you?”
Donghyuck’s eyebrows raise in annoyance. “I’ll have you know people like me plenty,” he retorts, narrowing his eyes at the younger boy, who only grins even wider.
“Like Y/N?”
“You- how do you know?” Donghyuck thinks this might be the first time Chenle’s ever caught him off guard, the boy’s eyes betraying a certain sense of mischief.
But Chenle avoids his question, instead leaning his head down until it’s hanging off the bed, his eyes staring intently at Donghyuck. “Have you confessed?”
At the boy’s silence, he hums in conclusion. “I guess not. You know, if you even want to stand a chance, you should do it now.”
Donghyuck stiffens at his words. “What do you mean?”
“There are so many more guys at university. And if anything, Y/N’s going to be one of the most popular people there.”
He knows that. For God’s sake, Donghyuck is the best example of the magnetic effect you have on others.
But he was the first. That has to count for something. “It’s fine,” he mutters doubtfully. “It’s not like she hasn’t received confessions before.”
Ha Sungwoon in freshman year, who wrote you a love letter and placed it in your locker. Kim Youngjae from the tuition academy, who was your deskmate for three terms during the summer holidays. And just last year, Kang Taebin, a guy two years older who was a fellow part-timer. Donghyuck had called him a creep three minutes after you had called to tell him about the confession you received, and you had simply laughed before assuring him that it was a rejection on your end.
He remembers each of them clearly, like little pegs on a post arranged chronologically right on top of one another.
And right at the bottom, Lee Donghyuck, who started feeling butterflies in his stomach at the sight of you when he was fifteen but was too scared to admit it until two years later.
“Maybe she’s waiting to date in university. What are you going to do if she actually gets a boyfriend?”
“Be happy for her?” The way Donghyuck’s voice lifts at the end makes it sound like a question, reflective of the confusion he feels swirling in his heart.
It only takes a few seconds for him to realise the idea of having you date someone else causes his mood to dampen considerably, and from the way Chenle purses his mouth, he doesn’t believe Donghyuck either.
But Donghyuck’s only known how to be your best friend, not anything more or anything less.
Yet, if you have to make time for a boyfriend - he feels himself seize with panic at the idea of possibly drifting away from you, of having to make way for another stranger, for another man to love and know you more than he does.
In an ideal world, Donghyuck would move with you to a little island where there was no one else, the kind that both of you promised each other when you were kids. But that’s not how real life works, and he’s starting to realise that the chances he has are running out as quickly as the time left in the year.
Chenle seems to fall silent, watching the minute shift in expressions on Donghyuck’s face, and the latter suddenly feels too vulnerable, too seen. He shoves Chenle’s shoulder - gently, but enough to regain some control over his free-running emotions and inject some confidence into his voice.
“What do you know, anyways? You’re just a kid,” Donghyuck says, looking towards his phone gratefully when it lights up with a notification.
“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” he sighs out. “I’m going to get the food.”
But as he walks down the long hallway towards Chenle’s door, the marble floor cold against his bare feet, Donghyuck finally admits to himself that the younger boy is dead right.
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At this point, you feel like Karina and Ningning might be more invested in your love life than you are. With the newest addition of Giselle, it’s like they’ve renewed their passion in finding ways to help you.
“So? How was the date?”
Giselle looks over at you expectantly from where she’s seated in the booth. The four of you are in a mall, and you’re starting to regret having agreed to go out. It was an invitation to be interrogated on your progress (or lack thereof) with Donghyuck. “He fell,” you mutter.
“For you?”
“No. On the ice.”
You hear Ningning’s exasperated sigh before you see her face. She looks like she’s about to commit murder, and you smile, albeit apologetically. “He gave me his jacket. And bought me hot chocolate.”
Karina lets out an encouraging hum. ‘That’s good…isn’t it?” You shrug, more nonchalant than disappointed. “I’m not sure. He’s definitely being nicer, but it’s still no indication. It’s probably just because I paid for the tickets,” you reply.
There’s a collective silence that descends over the table when your food comes, only broken when the heaping bowls of pasta are cleared halfway.
“Then I think we should go for the third tactic. It’ll be harder, though,” Giselle says, a sharp sort of conviction in her voice as she gazes at you. “What is it?” Ningning asks, and the brown-haired girl smiles proudly.
“Na Jaemin.”
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Ah, Na Jaemin.
Where should you start?
If perfection exists in a person, Na Jaemin just might be the closest thing to it. The star quarterback is the school’s pride and joy, and you’re quite sure he already has multiple full-ride scholarships secured.
And unfortunately, unlike the cliches, he’s one of the sweetest people in the level, with a smile bright enough to light up any room. Sure, Jaemin might occasionally borrow your homework to copy, but he always makes it up by sending over lecture notes and iced coffee. The both of you are almost like colleagues, considering you’re there to cheer at each of his games and have seen every single touchdown he’s made.
Now, the athlete is sitting in front of you, a Starbucks cup in hand. His drink is a concerning shade of dark brown, almost black, and you’re too scared to ask him what it is.
“How did Giselle convince you to do this?”
“She didn’t have to. I thought it would be fun. Besides, Donghyuck’s a cool guy,” he replies, and you narrow your eyes.
Giselle nods encouragingly. “See? It’ll be a great idea.”
The way she and Jaemin are looking at you makes you feel like you’re the crazy one for doubting the plausibility of the idea.
“It’s the oldest trick in the book, Y/N,” she comforts, and you exhale hesitantly, before nodding.
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#3 THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER AND CUPID ARE NOT SO DIFFERENT
It’s a yearly occurrence at this point, but that doesn’t mean you don’t partake in it either. People flooding to the atrium of the school, towards the large corkboard with its neat rows of printed black text. There are some who are jumping excitedly, others…not so excited.
At least the waterworks haven’t begun, which is always a good sign. You’re scanning the board until you find your name, the number next to it eliciting a soft sigh of relief.
The top thirty of the level. Decent enough to keep your parents happy, even if they’ll definitely ask you how Donghyuck did.
His name is printed in glossy letters right near the top. Second place is every student’s dream, but he’ll probably complain about it to you later. Both he and Renjun have been fighting tooth-and-nail this year for first place, even if they’re technically good friends.
It’s only when you’re at your locker that he appears, backpack slung over his shoulder. “I saw your rankings. You did well.” There’s a glimmer of pride on his face, so genuine that it causes your heart to flutter imperceptibly.
Despite his perfect grades and records, Donghyuck’s never made you feel less than him. Instead, he’s the one who’s waiting for you after every performance, and spending countless afternoons tutoring you in the library. “Thank you,” you say softly.
“By the way, the autumn fair is this weekend. We should celebrate,” he suggests, and your heart stops for a moment. This is it.
You inhale nervously, before looking at Donghyuck. “Actually…”
“If you can’t make it because of practice, that’s okay-”
“I’m going with Jaemin.”
Donghyuck falls quiet at your admission, and you almost wish you had bitten your tongue. His jovial expression looks slightly dimmer now, as he throws a glance at you.
“Na Jaemin? Suddenly?” The tone feels almost accusatory, and you bristle slightly. “Yeah. He asked me. Sorry,” you breathe out, watching Donghyuck carefully as a thousand emotions pass over his face before it returns to careful neutrality.
“Okay. Cool. I’ll see you next week then,” he replies, voice clipped, before turning on his heel.
“Wait! Donghyuck!”
You immediately rush after him, and the boy pauses for a few precious seconds, glancing at you hopefully.
”Aren’t we going for lunch?” You ask, and his shoulders sink back down, as if disappointed. The expression in his eyes is unreadable for once as he gazes at you. “I forgot I had a council meeting. You can go ahead,” he excuses, not waiting for your response before rushing out of your sight.
There’s a pang in your heart at Donghyuck’s cold tone, and you’re starting to wonder if Giselle’s plan is backfiring terribly as he walks further and further down the hallway, without sparing you a glance.
Maybe you’re overreacting. He’s likely stressed by the upcoming end-year projects that the council is planning, along with today’s results. This barely means anything compared to the arguments the both of you have had, the ones where you angrily refuse to read his texts until the boy pesters you into relenting.
Yet, why does it feel like the end?
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Once in a while, Donghyuck has a terrible day. And it’s not just a little bad - like forgetting his umbrella during a downpour, or having all his pen nibs snap on the day of an important exam.
Though those things have happened before, and are particularly vexing, they don’t cause him to lose his nerve, mainly because you always share your umbrella with him and keep spare pens in a box in your locker.
He supposes he shouldn’t complain - one terrible day out of a hundred good ones is pretty decent, and Donghyuck supposes he has his naturally positive outlook to thank for that.
But this might just go down in the books as being the worst day of his life.
His argument with you has dampened his mood considerably, so much that even Renjun noticed in between lessons, nudging Donghyuck when he had failed to hear the teacher call his name.
He supposes he shouldn’t be too upset about it - in the big scheme of things, you going with Jaemin to the autumn fair isn’t something of vital importance. It’s not like you told Donghyuck you’ve decided to date the guy, or that you have a crush on him.
And as someone who takes a science elective, he supposes he should know that nothing should be concluded without proper, repeated results, and that there are too many variables in any experiment that can be changed, much less when it comes to you and Jaemin.
But Jaemin’s not rude like Sungwoon, arrogant like Youngjae, or weird like Taebin - he’s cheerful, volunteers at the animal shelter on weekends, and is the pride and joy of your school’s rugby team. He’s also ridiculously good at Overwatch, which is bizarre considering he only plays whenever Donghyuck convinces him to go online.
He’s Donghyuck’s friend, and a good person. If anything, he should be giving the stamp of approval, perhaps even encouraging because there’s no one else who deserves you.
There’s only one problem - himself. Lee Donghyuck, the independent variable.
Fuck research protocol. He’ll employ whatever methodology he needs if it means you choose him over Jaemin.
“Fuck research protocol,” he mutters, earning a concerned look from his deskmate. “I sure hope that’s a joke. Our lab practical is next week,” Renjun replies, peeling a label and pasting it carefully on the test tube.
Donghyuck shakes his head. “That was a simile,” he explains.
“You mean a metaphor?”
Fuck. Perhaps he didn’t retain the lecture you gave him on literary devices as well as he thought he did.
Donghyuck’s suddenly reminded by the fact that Jaemin’s also a Literature student, which means he definitely knows the difference between a simile and a metaphor, and won’t bore you with explanations of conservation laws.
It also means that Jaemin can definitely understand Little Women on the first try, and doesn’t need to Sparknote it beforehand to discuss with you - and Donghyuck can’t deny that he’s just mildly horrified at the idea of you letting someone else watch the movie with you, one of the cornerstones of your movie nights.
To be fair, Donghyuck’s made his friends watch The Conjuring - but that’s not even the same thing. There’s absolutely nothing romantic about him getting scared half out of his wits after Renjun and Jeno pour fake blood all over the bathroom mirror, but what if you see Laurie dancing with Jo and deciding you want some of that for yourself?
Donghyuck should be there when that happens. Not anyone else, and most definitely not Na Jaemin.
But with the way he shook you off this morning - a pang of crushing guilt floods him, and Donghyuck has the urge to kick himself, just for how stupid he’s been. If anything, he's only pushed you further away.
He realises he never did reply Renjun’s question when the boy waves his hand in front of his face. “Oh. Yeah. A metaphor. Whatever,” he says cursorily, watching as Renjun stares at him as if he’s grown another head.
He’s starting to think it might be better if he did, just to figure out the puzzle of his own heart.
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It’s only when you miss the step for the third time that Karina walks towards you, placing a careful hand on your shoulder.
“Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all afternoon,” she comments, a concerned look in her eyes.
You nod after a moment, signalling for the rest of the cheerleaders to take a break. Your position as captain means that you’re responsible for directing most of the practices, but how are you going to monitor a routine if you keep messing up the steps yourself?
Unfortunately, you can’t seem to take your mind off Donghyuck, and how he hasn’t replied to your texts since the afternoon. You’ve offered to get him snacks after council, and yet, radio silence.
It’s not abnormal for him to forget to check his phone, but with every second that passes, the uneasiness in your stomach just becomes heavier. You wonder if he’s that angry over your change of plans for Jaemin, and whether it might be better to just ditch the entire plan.
Fuck your feelings. You want your best friend back, and you’d rather have Donghyuck’s friendship than a cold shoulder.
However, Karina’s still staring at you, so you tear yourself away from thoughts of him, refocusing on the scene in front of you.
“Let’s do stunts!” You instruct, cupping your hands over your mouth to emphasise your volume. You’re grateful it doesn’t come out shaky and betray the emotional turmoil you’re going through, watching as everyone lines up in their typical groups, clearing the mat space for tumbling.
It’s one of your favourite things in the world, the feeling of soaring briefly in the air before your feet land on solid ground, and it’ll be a welcome distraction from the boy who takes up too much space in your heart and mind.
Karina always leads the first round, and this time is no different. You suck in a deep breath, before taking a running leap and relishing the thrill of momentarily being a full 180 degrees in the air, as if you’re floating. But there’s still a dull ache in your heart that refuses to leave, even as you prep for the second part of the stunt.
You realise you’ve messed up a moment too early, before it happens. You’re not even sure when distraction had gripped at you, suddenly realising the angle at which you’re landing is strangely off. There’s fear that shoots through you, cold and unrelenting, but it only allows you a few seconds of panic.
A grunt of pain leaves you the moment your foot lands wrongly, the concerned shouts of the other girls echoing in the background. Your body collapses to the ground, hands narrowly stopping you from falling flat on your face.
You can only be grateful that you haven’t heard a crack, but the sharp ache that shoots up tells you that something is definitely injured.
You hear the rush of footsteps before Karina immediately crouches next to you, an arm under your shoulder. “Can you walk?” she asks, and you grit your teeth before nodding. Her voice is calm, but you can still detect the undercurrent of panic poking through. It’s likely a sprain, which hopefully means you’ll just have to rest.
Not your first injury, but it still hurts like a bitch.
You try your best to smile at the rest of the team as she helps you hobble towards the gymnasium entrance, but it’s a poor attempt at comfort. But being in charge means that it’s your job to worry, not theirs.
It feels like an eternity as you make the slow hobble towards the nurse’s office, Karina on one side and Ningning at the other. Even as the throbbing pain of your ankle causes to let out an occasional wince, you can’t help but feel a surge of gratefulness for the two girls beside you.
You allow yourself to lean back once you’re carefully placed on the bed, the nurse carefully looking at your foot. “It’s an ankle sprain. You’ll be up in two weeks, but you should be careful for the next month.”
Her words cause you to let out a sigh of relief. There’s two more months to the performance. A tight fit, but you’ll make it.
“The both of you should go back to practice,” you tell Karina and Ningning while the nurse wraps your foot in bandages. Karina clucks in disapproval. “How can we? You’re injured.”
Her evident concern causes you to chuckle slightly. “I’ll be fine. The others are probably wondering what happened. Don’t worry,” you assure, and her face softens slightly.
“Okay. We’ll make sure everything goes well, so just focus on recovering, okay?”
You nod obediently at Karina’s request, and she ruffles your hair affectionately before following Ningning out.
The moment the both of them leave, you let yourself sink back into the pillow and close your eyes in hopes of rest. On record, this might be one of the worst days you’ve had this year. You hear footsteps thud into the room, and assume it’s the nurse moving around.
You sure hope it isn’t another injured student, considering you’d rather not have anyone see you wallow in self-pity.
Until a familiar figure steps behind the curtain, and your heart sinks even further.
“Hey.”
Donghyuck’s standing in front of you, hands tucked into the pockets of his school blazer. His shirt is slightly rumpled, tie pulled out, and he looks like he’s been running. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as he crosses the distance towards the bed you’re lying on, settling in the wobbly plastic chair next to the bed.
“Why are you here?” He flinches at your question, and you wonder if he can hear the tremor in your words.
“Does your foot hurt?” He shoots back with another question, and you whip your head to face him sharply.
“I sprained it. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Honestly, Y/N, you should be more careful-”
“Well, how was I supposed to feel when you didn’t reply to my messages-”
“Are you blaming me for your sprained foot?” Donghyuck asks incredulously, eyes wide as he stares at you, willing you to fall silent. He runs a hand haphazardly through his hair, and you’ve never seen him this agitated.
“Fuck, this wasn’t how I wanted it to go. Renjun said- never mind.” His voice is resigned, and the dejected tone causes your shoulders to sink and the fight to leave you. “You know I’m not blaming you,” you mutter softly, and he sinks down in the chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he nods.
There’s more that Donghyuck wants to say. You can tell by the way he swallows nervously, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he thrums his fingers nervously on his lap. “I just- it’s been a weird day, and I took it out on you because I was looking forward to the fair,” he admits.
It’s as close to an apology that someone like him can give, and you can tell the boy’s truly remorseful. Donghyuck’s someone who lives easily without regrets, who says and does the things that he wants. The confidence he possesses is something to be admired, but it also means that sometimes you get hurt.
But no matter what, he’s still your best friend, and the one that you’ll trust with anything.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” you mumble softly, watching as his eyes become less dejected and fill with an unfamiliar sort of fondness, one that tugs painfully at your heartstrings. You bring your hand down from where it’s resting on your lap, breath hitching when Donghyuck doesn’t wait to intertwine his fingers with yours. When he lifts his head to look up at you again, his gaze is heavy with the weight of a thousand unsaid words.
“You don’t have to tell me everything, Y/N. We both have our own friends too, and I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything you want to do,” he replies honestly, and you look at him, a stricken expression on your face.
How do you tell Donghyuck that you wish he would care? About who you go out with, or that you wish he would tell you that he doesn’t want you to go with Jaemin, but with him instead?
You would gladly let him hold you back, to cross the line dividing friendship and the heady rush of attraction that you felt every single time you looked at him.
“We can go together instead. I didn’t even confirm plans with Jaemin,” you quickly clarify, looking at him hopefully. You know that the boy wouldn’t mind if you cancelled, considering the very reason behind it. But there’s a mournful smile that makes its way onto Donghyuck’s face, strangely pensive as he shakes his head.
“It’s okay. Jaemin’s nice. You should have fun. I can just go with Renjun or Jeno,” he says, and you’re left helpless in the face of his kind rejection. “What did the doctor say? Is the pain better?”
His abrupt change of topic dispels the awkward atmosphere, and you understand that the rather sensitive topic of Jaemin will be shelved for now.
“It’ll recover in time, but it still hurts,” you complain, and Donghyuck tilts his head sympathetically, but flicks your forehead nevertheless. His previous concern is gone, replaced more with anger. But you don’t mind, because you know it comes from a place of care, even if he’s scolding you. “Be more careful next time. I don’t want you to get injured.”
The firm tone of his voice makes you sink back into the pillow, nodding obediently. Until Donghyuck grabs your hand, causing you to jerk slightly in shock.
“I’m serious, Y/N. You’re precious to many people.”
What about you? Am I precious to you? Is the question on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it quickly. “Okay. I promise,” you reply, and he smiles contentedly, the kind that makes his left dimple peek through.
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“Na Jaemin, if you kick me one more time, I’ll tell Chenle you were the one who spilled water on his computer,” Karina threatens, narrowing her eyes at the black-haired boy. “It was an accident!” he defends, looking towards you for support.
“Y/N? You good?” You jerk up at the mention of your name, realising that Jeno, Karina and Jaemin are all looking at you. “Oh, sorry,” you mumble, taking a big bite of the pumpkin pie that sits in front of you.
It’s supposed to be your favourite, but the puree tastes like sand in your mouth. Karina takes one look at your glum expression, and stands up, not so gently pulling Jeno along with her. “Come on. Let’s go try some games,” she suggests in an effort to perk you up, and you nod in agreement, trying to put on a wobbly grin on your face to appreciate her efforts.
Even then, Karina’s quick to run off with Jeno, and a genuine smile makes its way onto your face when you watch him tease her for failing to get the ball into the hoop. They’re adorable, the kind of couple that lasts even after graduation.
“Have you ever fallen in love?”
Jaemin looks over at your question, his fleece jacket tucked snugly around his shoulders. “No. But looking at you, it doesn’t seem to be that great.”
“Thanks,” you mutter dryly, watching as he grins, pearly-whites poking through. “Just kidding. You and Donghyuck are perfect for each other.”
Despite everything that has happened, it feels nice to have Jaemin’s vote of confidence, even as you teeter unsurely in your relationship with Donghyuck.
“You know, as much as I agree with Giselle’s ideas, I think you should try something different,” Jaemin says, out of the blue, and you cast a doubtful glance. There are people walking past the both of you, an even mix of students and adults. Yet, each time you search for Donghyuck in the crowd, he’s nowhere to be found.
Even after your injury, the both of you had fallen into your natural rhythm effortlessly, Donghyuck still cracking jokes and you responding with laughter. You still ran down to the record store when he needed help, listening to some tracks and providing what feedback you could, and he still left you convenience store bags after practice, sometimes accompanied by extra snacks for Karina and Ningning as well.
Except that nowadays, your heart felt like it was constantly about to burst out of your chest, and you always felt your cheeks warm whenever Donghyuck got a little too close. It didn’t help that he was naturally affectionate, something that you enjoyed and hated in equal measure.
Enjoyed because it meant that he didn’t hesitate to wrap you up in a hug each time he saw you, or hold your hand and pull you to walk on the inside of the pavement. Hated because you were now hypersensitive to each time the both of you had any contact, freezing up whenever he leaned his head onto your shoulder or looped an arm around your waist.
A simple action of his was enough to make your heart flutter, and as much as nothing between you and Donghyuck had changed, your feelings were getting harder and harder to hide each day.
You only realise a few moments later that Jaemin’s still waiting for your reply.
“Honestly? I’m kind of tired of trying. If it happens, it’ll happen,” you sigh out.
At this point, the lines between what you can do as a friend and what’s romantic have blurred so much, especially with someone like Donghyuck. He’s held you when you cried over injuries, and looped his arm between yours when the both of you went on trips to the city. He’s seen you at your ugliest and your best, and you would like to think that if he had an inkling of attraction towards you, there would have been an indication.
Jaemin takes one look at the dejected expression on your face, and half-hugs you in an attempt at comfort. “It’ll be fine. If it helps, you can look forward to the game. Boys are overrated.”
“You’re saying that yourself?”
He nods, keeping his face as serious as he can before the corners of his lips tilt up, betraying a smile.
“Don’t tell Karina, but you’re my favourite cheerleader,” he whispers conspiratorially, and you laugh despite the heaviness in your chest.
You wonder if Donghyuck has a favourite cheerleader too.
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Considering how you’ve been part of the team since freshman year, you should feel less nervous. However, there’s still a teeming anxiety that pervades you as you pace around your bedroom. The uniform is already on the bed, your makeup bag shoved into the corner - but you’re still wondering if you’ve forgotten something.
Until your phone buzzes, and you hold it on speaker as you rifle through your closet for an extra pair of socks.
“I’ve seen you walking around your room since afternoon. Need any help?” Donghyuck’s voice filters through the speaker with its characteristic warmth, and you shake your head reflexively, knowing that he can see it from where he’s leaning out over his balcony.
A benefit of being neighbours - he’s never really further than a phone call away.
“I think I’m just nervous because it’s the last game of the season. And I haven’t gotten to practice as much because of the injury.” Your eyes drift to the brace sitting abandoned in the corner of your room, a reminder of the mistake that you’d prefer not to make again.
Donghyuck hums sympathetically, and you know that he understands, considering this happens before most of your performances, unless you’re feeling exceptionally confident.
“Want to go out for boba? My treat,” he promises, and you smile at his attempt to help.
You can already hear him moving around his room, packing up his things, and it causes warmth to surge in you, an affectionate feeling that is slowly becoming directly associated with him.
How are you supposed to get over Donghyuck if he consistently knows what you need? It’s like the boy specifically caters to everything that makes your heart skip a beat.
You’re quick to grab a jacket, pausing briefly to decide before your eyes land on a familiar denim one that’s much too big on you. It’s been your accessory of choice more often than not, until even Karina had noticed it during rehearsal.
Donghyuck raises his eyebrows slightly when you step down the driveway. He’s leaning against his car, ripped jeans tucked into his favourite pair of boots. It’s fascinating how starkly his personal clothing choice differs from what he wears to school, and you suppose the strict dress code has stifled his creativity in terms of outfits.
“That jacket looks familiar,” he points out, and you make a halfhearted attempt to shrug innocently. “It’s mine now.”
He lets out an amused huff at that, before motioning for you to get into the car. “You know, if you wanted more of my hoodies, you could have just asked,” he says, a knowing look in his eyes as he watches your cheeks redden.
“No one wants more of your hoodies. I’m doing this out of necessity,” you mutter, but Donghyuck knows you’re lying. He hasn’t seen you willingly wear a jacket since middle school, which is the main reason why you’ve worn so many of his, but the sight of his clothing draped over your shoulders fills him with a certain satisfaction, one that he can’t pinpoint.
“Keep it. It looks better on you anyways.”
Your head turns sharply at Donghyuck’s words, but his gaze remains fixed on the road, oblivious of the way your heartbeat speeds up in your chest. You wonder if he knows what effect he has on you, saying the things he does - and it seems to happen more often now, compliments slipping out here and there that make your eyes widen and a nervous laugh bubble out of your throat.
“Do you know that differentiation and integration aren’t even antonyms of each other?” You ask, balancing your chin on your hand as you look over at the boy sitting opposite you.
Donghyuck clicks his tongue disapprovingly, tapping your forehead gently with his pen. “Focus.”
“It doesn’t make any sense that they’re the opposites of each other in math-”
He looks up at you, a look of amused exasperation on his face as he stares you down. “I know you’re better than me in languages. But you’re the one who asked for help for your test, so solve these sums, and I’ll mark them,” he tells you, and your lips settle into a pout when you realise he means it.
“Fine,” you mutter, and a low chuckle escapes him at your defeated expression when you dip your head back down to look at the textbook in front of you.
There isn’t any further response from the boy, which is why you fill with alarm when he suddenly scoots over closer to you, head jerking upwards so quickly that your bangs fall into your face, temporarily obscuring your view.
“How are you going to see your worksheet if your hair’s always in your face?”
“You’re one to speak,” you retort, knowing full well that Donghyuck’s always protesting against cutting his hair, preferring when it’s longer. He pokes his tongue in his cheek out of annoyance, and your eyes immediately drift to the action.
“Stay still,” he mumbles, and your eyes widen inquisitively in confusion, right as he leans over, hand moving towards your face to tuck your hair behind your ear. You barely process the movement, only registering the soft brush of his fingers against your cheek before your stomach does a thousand backflips.
The action is sweet, even for him, and the gentleness of it makes your breath catch in your throat.
Donghyuck doesn’t pull his hand away, palm hovering beside your face even as he’s finished.
“Your hair’s soft,” he points out, and you can’t even deign to provide a response, too caught up in the rapid thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. He eventually sits back, eyes never leaving your face even as you stare at him, shell-shocked.
“Y/N. Y/N.” An insistent voice jerks you out of your thoughts, and you turn your head towards its source, only to be met with Donghyuck’s gaze. He must have been calling your name for a while, you realise, and you let out a cough that comes out more awkward than smooth.
There’s a cup of brown sugar milk tea in his hand - your favourite, and the sugar level at half, just the way you like it. It’s not anything special, but the fact that he remembers, and the way you know his is probably a taro milk tea with less ice, brings a smile to your face. “I thought I lost you there,” he says, and your smile turns sheepish. “Sorry. Drifted away for a second.”
He pokes the straw into the plastic, taking a quick sip. “About?”
“Hm?”
“What were you thinking about?”
“You.” The confession escapes your mouth before you can even halt it, brain short-circuiting as you realise what you’ve just said. Your throat seizes up, and you barely stop yourself from choking on your drink, the pearls making their way down uncomfortably.
“I mean- I just- I was thinking about how you were paying for the bubble tea- and how I should pay for your gas or something-” you sputter out a poor excuse, watching as Donghyuck begins to laugh, so hard that he holds on to his stomach.
You’re quite sure your cheeks are now pink with mortification, knowing full well that he can tell that you’re lying and you’ve completely, utterly embarrassed yourself in front of your best friend and the poor barista working the night shift behind the counter.
“It’s not like you haven’t treated me before,” he points out, picking up a napkin and placing it on your side, before his eyes narrow slightly with mischief. “But your first reply-” he moves closer, until you can see your own reflection in his eyes. “-what were you thinking? About me?”
His voice is smug as he says it, and you realise Donghyuck’s simply teasing you. It’s not the first time he’s jokingly flirted with you, but with the weight of your newfound feelings, you’re no longer sure how to respond.
Your mind is running at a mile a minute, before you finally settle on something. “Annoying.”
Donghyuck blinks, caught off-guard. “Huh?”
“I was thinking about how you’re annoying,” you bite out, letting out a relieved sigh when he sinks back into the chair, huffing petulantly.
“Is this because I stole your fries the other day?” He asks, feigning hurt, and you remain stone-faced as you look at him, nodding. “You also doodled little suns everywhere on my worksheet until Mr Kim made me redo it.”
“They were cute suns!”
“Sure, whatever you say.”
They were, but that’s beside the point. Crisis averted, you find it easier to joke around with Donghyuck, lips curving up as he looks at you, an indignant expression on his face.
You love the way he reacts to your dry, barely-there humor, a stark contrast from the way he smoothly interjects with quips and teasing. “Admit it. They were cute,” he demands, hands placed on the table for dramatic effect.
Your arms are crossed as you meet his gaze. “No.”
He huffs out in frustration, and you have to hold yourself back from cooing at how adorable he looks like this.
“I’m never buying you bubble tea again,” he mutters, and you grin slightly. “Sure.”
“You- never mind.” Your heart softens slightly at his forlorn expression, and you wonder if this is what it feels like to have the upper hand temporarily.
“I kept the worksheet, by the way,” you add, and he looks at you reluctantly, as if not yet deciding whether to listen or to ignore you.
“…What worksheet?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of him.
“The one you drew on. It’s still in my file.”
Your hint causes Donghyuck to sit back up hopefully. “You didn’t throw it away?” When you shake your head, he breaks out into a smile so bright that it reminds you a little of the doodled suns themselves.
“Does that mean you think they’re cute?” He follows up with another question eagerly, and you hum, as if deep in thought.
“Maybe.”
It’s just one word, but with the way Donghyuck is looking at you, it seems as if you’ve just told him he’s won the lottery.
You’d do anything to see him have that expression, you realise, unable to hide your grin now as he looks at you. If your friends were privy to your thoughts, they would have teased you for how in over your head you were.
Even if you could get over your crush on Donghyuck, you weren’t quite sure if you wanted to.
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You’ve never told anyone, but the first person who you practised your makeup skills on wasn’t yourself.
It was Lee Donghyuck.
There’s definitely still a picture of him saved somewhere on your old phone, blusher carefully dusted on his cheeks and soft pink eyeshadow blended into a darker brown, complete with mascara and winged eyeliner. You had convinced him by promising to sponsor some of his in-game credits, and after a week of begging, the boy had finally sat himself down and allowed you free reign.
You hated how he had still looked good at the end of it, despite your novice skills. After that, you always used him for test makeup runs, until you finally grew confident enough to do it on your own.
Now, however, you’re standing in your bathroom anxiously, eyes darting to the time on your phone. Three hours before you have to leave for the stadium, and you’ve decided to test out your plan for makeup.
“I’m sure you look good,” Donghyuck assures through the phone, his voice muffled. However, you’re too nervous to focus on the compliment, nibbling at your lip.
“But I’ve never worn silver eyeshadow before! What if I just look washed out in the photos?”
“How about you take a picture now, and send it to me?”
“But my bathroom lighting is bad. Can’t you just come over now and take a look?” you plead, and Donghyuck lets out a soft groan of fatigue, causing you to wince apologetically. In all truth, you didn’t mean to wake him up at four in the morning. It just happens that Donghyuck is the only person you trust with things like these, and you find yourself needing his presence now more than ever.
There’s a beat of silence, and you’re thinking he might just hang up.
“Fine,” he agrees, and you almost let out a squeal of excitement, before realising your parents are likely still sleeping. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you whisper into the phone, hearing him chuckle slightly.
“No problem. Now let me in. It’s cold.”
You don’t waste any time rushing towards the door, swinging it open for Donghyuck to come in. He looks at you, blinking tiredly at your bare face. “Where’s your makeup?”
“Oh. I haven’t done it yet. I just wanted to call you first.”
“Wake me up when you’re done, then,” he mumbles, following you into your room and promptly falling asleep on your bed, blanket tucked around him.
You stare at him for a while, mildly amazed at how fast the boy can sleep, before forcing yourself to get back to the task at hand.
It’s over an hour later when you finally trudge over to Donghyuck, hair styled as well.
“Donghyuck,” you call, poking at the boy to get him to wake up. Thankfully, he’s a lot faster this time, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes blearily.
“You’re done?” He asks, and you nod excitedly, before realising something and running back into the bathroom.
When you step back out, you’ve changed from your long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants into your cheer uniform, feeling slightly more confident about the way you look.
“Okay. I’m done. How is it?” You ask expectantly, waiting with bated breath as you step out, to face him directly.
For a long time, Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, and you look up from where your hands are brushing down your skirt, only to meet his heavy stare, that hasn’t left you even once. His eyes dart up to meet yours, catching on the silver eyeshadow that rests on your eyelids, to the gems carefully placed along the edges.
There’s a starstruck expression on his face, one that causes you to shift on your feet, warmth creeping up the back of your neck. Donghyuck’s sitting on the edge of the bed and facing you directly, knees brushing yours, and you laugh out of your nerves. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
He’s still looking up at you, until his gaze darts briefly to the side - you see Donghyuck swallow heavily, as if attempting to find the words to say.
Until he stands up abruptly, rising to his full height. The sudden movement causes you to stumble backwards, and despite his silence, Donghyuck instinctively wraps a hand around your waist to steady you. “Careful,” he mutters lowly, and your mind goes blank for a few seconds, nervousness clearing temporarily to make way for the fact that his face is inches away from yours.
You’re frantic for an entirely different reason now, quickly getting yourself upright to place some distance between the both of you. Donghyuck seems to regain his senses as well, clearing his throat.
“I told you I was right. It looks good,” he finally says, and you take a while to calm down the pace of your heartbeat. “Really?”
“You look beautiful, Y/N. You’ll do great. I mean it,” he assures, voice sincere as he cranes his neck down a little to better match your height, a soft smile on his face. The fluttering of your pulse returns with a vengeance, and you realise that Donghyuck’s hand hasn’t left your right hip, his warmth bleeding through the thin fabric.
At least the nerves about the performance have dissipated, entirely replaced by the dizzying rush that comes with being near Donghyuck.
As if on cue, your phone vibrates several times, lighting up with messages from what must be Karina and Ningning. Donghyuck’s eyes dart to it as well, and he grins slightly. “We should probably go,” he suggests, and you eventually find it in yourself to nod.
When he lets go of you, you try not to feel too disappointed.
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Despite your more-than-distracting encounter with Donghyuck early in the morning, you’re quick to focus the moment you step into the waiting room.
“Two more minutes until we’re on the field!” At your alert, there’s another flurry of activity, everyone rushing to touch up their makeup or check their shoelaces.
Karina makes her way over to you immediately, stepping gingerly over pom poms and duffel bags left on the floor.
“Game day. You ready?” She asks, an excited glint in her eyes as she links both arms with you, a little tradition that the both of you started in your first year.
“As I’ll ever be,” you exhale out, smiling at her and hoping it comes out confident.
“You’re our captain. You’ll do great,” Ningning interjects, passing you your poms, which are thankfully, not damp from sweaty palms. Exhilaration is slowly bubbling up in you, pushing away the anxiety, and you find yourself bouncing on the balls of your feet.
And then there’s the loud blare of a horn, signifying the end of the opening ceremony.
“Hey, you guys ready?” The voice you hear this time is much lower, and you turn your head to see Jaemin, two red stripes painted horizontally across his face. He’s grinning widely when you turn to face him, and you feel strangely comforted by the sight of the bubbly jock.
“There’s my favourite cheerleader,” he says, and you let out a laugh despite your nerves, striding towards him. “Good luck with the game, Jaemin. You’ll crush it,” you tell him, and he shrugs nonchalantly, dripping with confidence.
“We’ll do even better if you guys put on the best performance of your lives.”
There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes, one that grounds you and makes you feel a little more ready to go onto the pitch. It’s as much for you as it is for the rest of your team, and Jaemin’s as well.
“We will,” you promise, angling your chin to the side. Jaemin gets the hint, opening the door wide for you to follow him out, the rest of them behind you.
The cheers in the stadium are deafening, but you tune them out, instead choosing to focus on how white your sneakers are against the red track, or the pace of your breathing as you get into position.
In the few seconds before the music starts, you dart your head up quickly to the spectator stands, searching, before your eyes finally halt on a figure, dressed in a white shirt and jeans, bomber jacket over his shoulders.
You’d spot him in any crowd. From here, you can’t see all that clearly, but you can tell Donghyuck is smiling, cheering as loudly as he possibly can.
This time, when you start your first stunt, your feet land true.
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It probably isn’t the best idea to confess that you barely understand the rules of rugby, considering that you are on the frontline of every single game.
Sure, Jaemin may be the quarterback, but you’re not particularly sure what that means besides the fact that he’s set the highest record for goals scored in a single season.
However, you’ve simplified the rules sufficiently: When the ball enters the in-goal area, you cheer. Which is exactly what you’re doing, jumping up and down excitedly when Jaemin gains another point right as the buzzer goes off, signifying the end of the match.
Ningning is hugging your shoulders tightly, as the both of you watch the team do a victory run, Jaemin and Jeno making their ways back to the spectator stand first.
“I know I’ve seen you on the field a hundred times, but that was amazing,” you gush, watching as Jaemin tilts his head, pleased.
“You know, now that the season is over-” he says, and you arch an eyebrow curiously. “Yes?”
“- you don’t have any more excuses to avoid confessing to Donghyuck,” he finishes, smiling mischievously when your cheeks redden. Jeno nods in encouragement, and you realise that you’ve been set up by the two jocks in front of you.
In an attempt for support, you turn towards Ningning, but she shrugs. “They’re right. Giselle’s ideas were good, but I don’t think they’ll work for someone like him. You just need to say it directly.”
Her words cause your shoulders to sink slightly, and Karina, who’s finally noticed the little gathering, leans in.
“Just do it, Y/N. You never know. Besides, Donghyuck cares for you. Even if he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, he would never just end the friendship that way.”
“But what if he does? What if he only wants us to be friends but has to distance himself because of my feelings and we become strangers?”
Jaemin frowns slightly. “That sounds awfully specific.”
His comment causes Ningning to roll her eyes, and she places her other hand on your shoulder, turning you towards her.
“Look at me. I know you’re a literature student, but stop projecting yourself onto characters.”
Your mouth gapes open at her words, ready with a retort, but she continues.
“The both of you are not Laurie and Jo. You are Y/N and Donghyuck, and everything will be fine.”
“Y/N and Donghyuck,” you repeat, almost dazed as you look at Ningning, fear slowly solidifying into something a little more like confidence. Y/N and Donghyuck. It’s the simplest way to explain the both of you, but the mention of it also causes a twinge of your heart.
Being with Donghyuck is easy, something that you’ve been doing for most of your life. But it doesn’t feel like enough, not yet.
You want to belong to him, and you want Donghyuck to be yours.
“Y/N.” The familiar voice causes your heart to seize, and you turn to face the man himself, eyes bright as he looks at you. Karina lets out a soft laugh at your captivated expression, but you don’t bother to turn towards her.
The only thing that you catch is Jaemin leaning closer towards you. “Go get him, Y/N,” he whispers conspiratorially, and you swallow nervously before finally crossing the distance between you and Donghyuck. He looks even more stunning up close, honey-toned skin illuminated under the bright stadium lights.
“Hey.” Your mouth feels dry when you say it, stopping a few feet away from him.
His mouth curves into a barely-there smirk, and your hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt nervously. “Ready to go?”
You nod, looping your arm through his and praying the motion comes off natural. Jaemin’s words are still ringing in your head, and you know the four of them are still staring unabashedly, but you shove them down in favour of basking in the moment. However, you can’t deny that you’re shifting closer and closer to saying fuck it and blurting out your feelings as each second ticks by.
It seems that rational thinking is harder to come by these days, especially when you’re with Donghyuck.
“Are you hungry? I ordered pizza already,” he tells you, and it makes you fall just a little bit more, the way he remembers the little things.
“Is it pepperoni?”
“Of course. With extra cheese. I know the way to your heart.”
He does. Donghyuck knows the way to your heart like he has a map, though you’re quite sure he could walk the metaphorical path blindfolded.
Or maybe the path is whichever way he steps. You’re not quite sure.
Donghyuck leads you towards the carpark, until he suddenly halts near the entrance of the stadium, expression changing from lighthearted to stone-faced. “Is something wrong?” You ask, brows furrowing in concern. But he remains silent, hesitating slightly before shrugging off his jacket.
“Wear this,” he instructs, but instead of placing it on your shoulders, Donghyuck ties it around your waist, fingers nimble. When he’s done, he looks up, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours, instead drifting further back and sharpening into a glare. You’ve never seen the boy angry before, and it isn’t directed at you.
“Donghyuck, what is it?” You look behind, only to be met with nothing but a view of the pitch. At your insistence, he scratches the back of his head, as if embarrassed at his sudden outburst. “It’s nothing,” he mumbles.
You make a pointed glance at the jacket around your waist, before glancing up at him, expectant. Donghyuck seems to realize he’s been backed into a corner, and hangs his head down slightly.
“It’s just-”
“Just what?”
“Some guys were looking at you,” he finally admits, and you suck in a breath out of surprise at his unexpected words. It’s not an unusual occurrence, considering you’re a cheerleader and there are always douchebags, even in your own school. You’ve been catcalled, wolf-whistled at - a few guys staring at your legs is barely anything, but you realise this is the first time Donghyuck is witnessing it firsthand, often not being on the pitch with you.
The protective gesture makes your heart skip a beat, however, and you decide it’s as good a time of any to get a gauge of Donghyuck’s feelings towards you.
“Were you jealous?” You quickly lean in as you pop the question, attempting to make your voice teasing to hide your true intentions. If anything, you’ll just brush it off as flirting between friends.
However, he remains silent, and the hope in your heart fizzles unstably as you wait for his response. When Donghyuck finally lifts his head, his eyes are hooded, filled with a dark intensity that makes your heart palpitate.
“And if I said I was?”
Your eyes widen imperceptibly at that, shifting backwards as Donghyuck takes a step closer, and another, until you feel your back press against his car, the cold metal forcing you to bite back a shiver. But Donghyuck only moves impossibly closer, until the tips of his scuffed boots are brushing your sneakers. A nervous laugh escapes you, eyes darting anywhere but him.
“You still haven’t responded to my question,” he points out, the corner of his mouth curled up as he looks at you, waiting.
You’re not sure if you’re even breathing, attempting to focus on anything except the boy right in front of you.
“Then- then I would ask you why,” you finally stutter out, and Donghyuck lets out an amused hum.
“Take a guess.”
You wonder if Donghyuck’s just teasing, or if he’s serious. If there’s even the slim possibility - any chance that he might feel the same way you do.
Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you feel brave. It makes you think that maybe, just maybe- you’ve found the path to his heart as well.
But you’re still scared, so you shake your head. “No. Tell me.”
You need to hear it from him, hear Donghyuck tell you that this isn’t just some pipe dream of yours.
He lets out a huff of amusement at your stubbornness. “Fine. I like you, L/N Y/N.”
The confession goes straight to your head, and you pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming. “Really?”
Donghyuck stares at you in disbelief. “Yes, really. Why do you think I got jealous? I don’t want you to be with Jaemin, or any other guy. I want you to be with me.”
You didn’t think it was possible for him to fluster you even more, but it seems you’re dead wrong, as your cheeks redden further and you tear your gaze away from him. “Oh,” you breathe out, and Donghyuck looks at you with equal parts exasperation and adoration.
“If you’re going to reject me, do it now,” he adds, voice light, but there’s a vulnerability on his face, evident even in the poor lighting. You realise that he’s likely been full of doubt, right up until this very moment - not too much unlike yourself.
You’d be a fool to give this chance up, and there’s nothing to lose, not anymore, when Donghyuck’s already confirmed your dreams and turned them into reality.
“I like you too. So, so much,” you finally exhale out, and his expression softens into something like relief.
“Good. I was starting to think you’d never look my way,” he mutters, and you look at him incredulously.
“Are you kidding? I even asked Giselle for-” your mouth falls shut just in time, but he catches on quickly, mischief glinting.
“Asked her for what, Y/N?”
At this point, you figure it’s better to tell Donghyuck yourself, than let him find out through the grapevine.
“How to get you to fall in love with me,” you force out, and he lifts an eyebrow in response. “Is that what you attempting to play Overwatch was?”
You glare at him, feeling caught. “No!”
“Okay, well, then how about the skating- wait. Was Jaemin in on this?” He narrows his eyes, and you shrink under his gaze, only proving him right.
You’re not even surprised anymore and how Donghyuck managed to decipher each of Giselle’s tactics exactly, and you’re starting to wonder why you even trusted the girl in the first place.
Still, if it got you here, you suppose you owe the girl a thank you.
“I was right. He was in on it. I can’t believe you of all people would agree to something like this-”
That’s it. You’re not sure if you can take the embarrassment of Donghyuck slowly dismantling your plan any more, so you make another irrational decision.
Tiptoeing, you press a soft kiss to the boy’s lips.
It seems to work for a few seconds, Donghyuck freezing up and looking at you in disbelief. “Can we not talk about that anymore?” you ask sweetly, and he nods instinctively, a dazed expression on his face.
“You just kissed me,” he points out, and you nod, head tilting to the side in confusion. “Yeah.”
“You just kissed me.”
“Lee Donghyuck, if you don’t stop repeating the same sentence-”
“Let’s do that again.” He doesn’t hesitate to cut you off, hands gripping onto your hips firmly and pulling you towards him.
If your kiss was a peck, Donghyuck is completely different, eagerly stealing the air from your lungs as his mouth slots gently over yours, tugging gently on your bottom lip.
For someone who’s never dated, he’s an insanely good kisser, and it thrills and terrifies you in equal measure.
Your hands make their way to his chest unconsciously, fisting in the cotton material of his shirt. But he doesn’t stop, and you gasp when his tongue brushes against yours briefly. It’s so very different from the best friend you know and love, the one who’s always bright and focused - the way he kisses you is unrestrained and messy, almost as if he can’t quite get enough of you.
Your brain is short-circuiting, only tuned in to the feeling of Donghyuck’s lips moving against your own. You’re well aware that anyone could interrupt and resign you to months of endless teasing, but you can’t seem to get yourself to care, or stop.
It seems like too short a time when Donghyuck finally allows you some air, his thumb caressing your cheek gently. Even then, he doesn’t make any move to distance himself, breath fanning over your face with every exhale.
“Does this…does this mean we’re a thing now?” you ask, only realizing how dumb your question is once it escapes. However, Donghyuck doesn’t seem to care, looking at you with an expression so fond that it makes you blush.
“Yes. I mean, if you want to. I know I do,” he replies quickly, and your heart feels so full that it might burst as you look at your best friend-turned-boyfriend.
“I’ve never wanted anything more.”
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The months of October and November have affectionately been coined ‘break-up season’ by your entire school, owing to the sheer number of couples that fail to last under the pressure of academic expectations and the stress of final exams.
But if anything, the pursuit of the most important grades of your entire high school life has only brought you and Donghyuck closer, brief kisses shared in the library over textbooks and fingers intertwined whenever he’s sitting with you.
Call it trauma bonding, but it’s not as if you and Donghyuck haven’t been through dozens of other breakup seasons. It’s just a little more applicable now that the both of you are dating.
“Look, if I fail, I just won’t go to university. I’ll hone my other skills.”
You’re currently standing opposite Donghyuck in your bedroom, hands flung out to emphasise your point, and a bemused expression appears on his face at your words.
“You won’t fail, Y/N.”
“Yeah, but in the hypothetical situation that I do, I need to be ready to practise to be a trophy wife.”
“There’s practice for that?”
“Of course,” you reply earnestly. Donghyuck crosses his legs on your duvet, looking at you disbelievingly.
“Didn’t you see that one video? Of the computer engineer and his trophy wife. She’s retired at twenty-six, Donghyuck. It’s the dream.”
“Am I supposed to be the computer engineer?” he asks, and you nod eagerly.
“Does that mean you’re marrying me? You should have told me this was a proposal, Y/N. I would have prepared something,” he replies smoothly, tugging you closer to him by wrapping his fingers around your wrist.
Dating Donghyuck has only caused his flirtatious teasing to increase in intensity, and you’re not sure if your heart might just jump out of your chest one day from his actions. “You wish,” you retort weakly, giving in when he tugs you down to sit next to him.
“I do,” he replies, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your palm, and your eyes widen at his candidness. You drag your hands, and subsequently one of his, up to cover your face, embarrassed.
“You can’t just say things like that!”
“You’re the one who brought up being my trophy wife! What was I supposed to do, say no?”
You don’t reply, but Donghyuck’s stronger than you, eventually pulling your hands away by the wrists.
“In all seriousness, though, I mean it,” he says, looking at you insistently.
“But we’re still so young,” you mumble back. “We’ve barely graduated high school, and you’re saying this?”
“I’m not saying we should get married right now, obviously. I’m just saying that I’ve already spent most of my life with you-” he shifts slightly closer to you. “-what’s a few more decades?”
He asks the question earnestly, enunciating each and every syllable and allowing you to realise that he’s being perfectly honest - Donghyuck means every word. You’re suddenly gripped by longing as you look at him, taking in each and every one of the features that you have memorized by heart.
He’s so heartbreakingly beautiful, and he’s yours.
Student council president, physics nerd, gamer, budding musician - they’re all elements of Donghyuck that make him him, and every part is precious to you. There’s a sort of desperation that tugs at you, an unfamiliar feeling that doesn’t seem to make sense - you’re already dating him. What else could you possibly want?
Until the words appear in your mind, the realization dawning clear as day.
Like isn’t big enough of a word to encapsulate what you feel for Donghyuck, to represent the time you’ve spent with him. You’ve loved him since the first time he stood in your kitchen and attempted to bake a cake for your birthday, since he passed you your first Christmas present and gave you a kiss on your cheek when the both of you were seven, the moment immortalized in a photo frame above your bookshelf.
You’ve been head over heels for Donghyuck since he sat down on your bed and let you put face glitter along his cheekbones, or when he let you make an extra dish in Overcooked, even if it meant the both of you got fewer points. And you fall a little bit more each time he helps to massage your shoulders after practice, or when he kisses you with dizzying passion.
And you’re quite sure he knows you love him, from the way you remember the way he likes his ramen to having his favourite songs saved into your playlists. Or from how you’ve willingly watched Chicken Little with him, or made twenty pages of Languages notes for him to study before the exam. But you want to tell him, just because something about verbalizing it feels necessary.
Ningning might tease you for being a typical literature student, but you need to put your love for Donghyuck into words.
Which is why your voice doesn’t waver as you meet Donghyuck’s eyes, the warmth and adoration in his gaze reflected in yours.
“I love you, Donghyuck. You don’t have to say it back, of course, but I wanted you to know-”
He doesn’t say it back, but you get your answer when he kisses you again. It’s less hungry and more sweet, Donghyuck holding you as if you’re something fragile, something to be treasured.
You take the time to savour the moment, basking in the little bubble that he has created around the both of you. Even though your eyes are closed, you can feel Donghyuck smiling into the kiss, unable to hide his joy.
You never needed three ways to get Donghyuck to fall in love with you - he already had. All the both of you needed was a little bravery, that small push that would convince you to take the jump from friendship to romance.
“You look pretty like this,” he whispers, soft enough for only you to hear.
You’re not sure how to respond to that. Like anyone else, you have days where you feel like you look good, or times when Karina and Ningning are there to doll you up. But having Donghyuck call you pretty feels different, perhaps just because of how much he means to you.
“Thanks. You’re…pretty too,” you say absentmindedly, causing Donghyuck to huff a laugh.
“Really?” He asks, batting his eyelashes.
That earns Donghyuck a swat on his back, but you’re laughing as he falls back dramatically, pulling you down with him.
Just like that, the tender moment is broken, but you don’t mind it, not when he’s the one making you laugh.
“Today’s supposed to be movie night. What are we watching?” You ask, feeling the bed shift as Donghyuck turns to face you, resting his head on his hand.
“I was thinking The Notebook,” he suggests, and you try not to make your wince too obvious.
“But it’s so unrealistic.” Donghyuck lets out an affronted gasp at your words, pinching your side. “I will have you know The Notebook is one of the greatest romantic movies of all time-”
You shake your head resolutely, watching as his face falls. “Nope. Most definitely not,” you declare, and Donghyuck pouts slightly, head falling back onto the mattress. It takes a few moments of him staring at the ceiling before you hear a noise of amusement, and you can almost hear the wheels in his head turning.
“Did you think of something?” You ask, and when he faces you this time, his eyes are alight with mischief, mouth curled into a lazy smirk.
“We can do…other things.”
Your thoughts immediately drift haywire, and you look up at him, eyes wide. “Like what?”
“Like-” Donghyuck leans in tantalizingly close, the scent of his shampoo filling your nose, and his fingers brush over your lips just briefly.
“Kissing?” You respond reflexively, and his grin turns wider. “You suggested that, not me,” he retorts, but his eyes dart down towards your mouth anyways.
There isn’t any time for you to bite back a reply, before he finally closes the gap and connects your mouth with his. Donghyuck circles slow, lazy circles over your hipbone as he leans into you, and you place your hand on the nape of his neck to pull him closer.
When you push him away briefly for air, your cheeks are flushed, but Donghyuck looks just as affected as you are, hair messy from lying on the bed.
“I think we should scrap movie night. We can just do this instead,” he puts forth, and you nod eagerly, causing his grip on your waist to tighten.
“Sounds good to me.”
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reiderwriter · 4 months
Note
Hi I’m new to this so I’ve no clue if this is how you request, but I was thinking Spencer fluff, in earlier seasons where he’s a little bit more awkward but has a little bit of confidence, based on that one episode where hotch says Reid was propositioned by all the prostitutes & you’re dating him but you’re not the jealous type, they know what they have with Spencer is good and knows he worships the ground they walk on, so isn’t worried or threatened by anyone so while he’s getting hit on being a blabbering mess they just giggle to themselves making little suggestive comments. Hope this makes sense🥰
A/N: That's one of my favourite scenes because it's so hilarious to see Hotch cracking jokes for some reason. That and "did you join a boy band?" Iconic, truly. ❤️ Thank you for requesting, I'll shut up now.
Warnings: none
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You were aware that Spencer Reid was a catch. Perfectly aware. More than aware. Desperately aware.
He was, quite possibly, the most attractive bean pole of a man that had ever walked the earth. He was beautiful and he was loving and his smile lit up the room and you were quite honoured to be able to call him your boyfriend.
It was not lost on you that many other people - not just women - also desired him. Which led to some downright hilarious instances.
“It's not funny, Y/N.” He pouted, that adorable furrow in his brow coming back and finding it's perfect place on his face as you stared up at him. You knew the expression you were showing him was a little bit dreamy, head in both hands as you gazed admiringly up at him, but you simply didn't care what kind of company you were in.
“Spencer, you were propositioned by 11 prostitutes.”
“I'm sure they were just teasing, Y/N. I'm awkward, I stand out like a sore thumb, I'm not buff or hot, I'm-”
“A complete and total liar!” You stood, gasping and grasping non existent pearls, playing up your disbelief. He cracked a smile and you paused briefly to send up a prayer to God, thanking them for putting a real angel on Earth.
“Spencer, you may be a little bit nerdy, and you absolutely do not know when to shut up. Your hair may always looks like your mom did it for school picture day, and your fashion sense is questionable to out it kindly-”
“Is there a but? I need there to be a but or I'll cry myself to sleep.”
“But those things are incredibly endearing. And did I mention you're really hot? It's like you're all members of the Scooby Doo cast rolled into one body and somehow that really works for me.” To punctuate your words, you took a step closer, letting your hand play with his tie as you slowly encouraged him to take a small step towards you as well, until you weren't sure where the heat that warmed you was coming from.
It could've been rolling off of him, or you, or it could've been a fire burning between you, as you fixed his tie and ran a hand through his hair.
“I'm not joking with you, Spencer. I love watching everyone appreciate your beauty and your intellect. Frankly, it turns me on.”
“Okay. I'll remember that, thank you.”
“Turns on the prostitutes, too.”
“Y/N! They're just trying to make a living, if you'd have been out there canvassing they'd have tried it with you too.” You had to giggle a bit at his loom of exasperation, flas to see that it was tainted with an uncontrollable smile, a small lifting at the corners of his mouth that he couldn't combat.
“Spencer Reid, Hotch told me that one of the girls offered you $100 for a ride.”
“That's not exactly cheap or a discount, Y/N, the going rate for a working girl in the area is-”
“Spencer. She was offering you money.” His brows knitted again and then his eyes widened in realisation.
“Oh. Oh, she did look very disappointed now that I think about it.” You pressed your hand to your mouth to suppress the small pleasurable giggles from slipping out and composed yourself, before slipping your arms around his waist.
“So, Spence. How is it that you know the going rate of a working girl?” You lifted your eyebrow and watched him panic, ready to memorise every expression that ever passed across his angelic features.
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