#people act many different roles that have nothing to do with who they are in real life
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I have to explain what is going on in the UK, because it is absurd.
So, this is Gary Lineker:
He's known for a fair few things over here.
He was a very good (association) footballer, playing for England in the 1986 and 1990 World Cups, winning the Golden Boot in 1986, and managing to never get a single yellow card in his playing career. He played for Leicester City, Everton, Barcelona, and Tottenham, before finishing his career in Japan.
But if you aren't in your mid 30s, you probably know actually know him him for a couple of other things.
The first is the role of spokesman for another Leicester icon, Walkers Crisps (which are sort of equivalent to Lays, but hit different), as pictured above. Despite being a notably clean player, he used to play a cheeky serial crisp thief. I don't think he's done that for well over a decade, but his ads were on the telly a lot when I was a kid and it's a bit like learning that the hamburglar was an incredibly clean (American) football player or something.
The second thing Gary is widely known for is having presented Match of the Day, the big football program on the BBC, the sort-of state broadcaster, since 1999. He is, incidentally, very well paid for this (though with a consensus that he could get even more if he went to one of the non-free-to-view broadcasters because he is very good at the job).
He also has a twitter account. And political opinions.
So, the UK government has got itself dead set upon doing heinous stuff that will totally somehow work to prevent people who want to come to the UK making the perilous crossing of the Channel (between England and France).
By heinous, I mean "openly advertise that they won't attempt to protect victims of modern slavery" stuff.
It's very obviously using a legal hammer to victimise a marginalised group of people in order to win votes.
And, uh, I should clarify that by "legal" I mean "using the passage of laws" - the policy is, in addition to all the other ways it's awful, probably incompatible with the Human Rights Act and the UK's international law obligations.
Gary, top lad that he is, objected to this.
On Tuesday 7th March, he made a quote Tweet of a video of the Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, bigging up the policy, he wrote "Good heavens, this is beyond awful.".
This got a bunch of backlash from extremely right-wingers, and then he made the tweet that really got him in trouble (with right-wingers): "There is no huge influx. We take far fewer refugees than other major European countries. This is just an immeasurably cruel policy directed at the most vulnerable people in language that is not dissimilar to that used by Germany in the 30s, and I’m out of order?".
Now, I am not actually subjecting myself to watching a video of Suella Braverman bigging up a cruel policy to say whether the specific comparison of the language to 1930s Germany is accurate.
But needless to say, Ms Braverman was amongst the many figures on the right of UK politics objecting to Gary's rhetoric.
And here's the part where a fact about the BBC comes in: it is nominally neutral and impartial (and so, of course, is routinely accused of bias from all sides but particularly the right-wing), and has something of a code for its contributors to this effect.
Now, that code has previously been applied to Gary Lineker, over a comment about whether governing Conservative Party would hand back donations from figures linked to the Russian regime.
But it generally hasn't been applied too strongly to people like Gary, whose roles have nothing to do with politics (such as presenting a "here's what happened on the footie today" show), on the basis that, well, their roles have nothing to do with politics.
However, when directly asked about whether the BBC should punish Gary Lineker for his tweets, government figures basically went "well, that's a them problem".
But a couple of days passed, and it seemed like Gary's approach of "standing his ground because he did nothing wrong" was working and everything would die down. He was set to get 'a talking to' but not much more than that. The Conservative right, after all their fire and fury earlier, had gotten bored and moved onto something else.
And then, on Friday 10th March, the BBC announced that he would be suspended from hosting Match of the Day this weekend.
But it could still go ahead, because there are, like, other hosts!
Except, well, funnily enough, when you take a beloved figure off air, for making a fairly anodyne tweet, no one wants to be the scab who actually takes up the role of replacing him.
Gary's two co-hosts, Alan Shearer and Ian Wright, said that they would not appear without him.
People who (co-)host Match of the Day on other days followed suit.
The net result is that Match of the Day is currently set to air without hosts, BBC commentary, or global feed commentary.
And the solidarity shown to Gary Lineker, over what is very flagrantly actual cancel culture and an attack on freedom of speech (the logic implied is that institutional impartiality requires that no one say anything too critical of the government ever), has continued to grow.
The BBC has pretty much been unable to run pretty much any live sports content today, and has resorted to raiding the BBC Sounds archive to fill the sports radio channel.
And, as of 17:30 on Saturday 11th March, the situation shows no signs of improvement, though some are calling for the Chairman Richard Sharp, who is separately facing corruption allegations, to resign (yes I linked to the BBC itself there, there is nothing, nothing, the BBC loves more than going into great detail about how much the BBC sucks).
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Seasons
Copyright Ⓒ 2023 by Moonjxsung
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner. Doing so will result in a legal takedown per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and is subject to legal action.
Pairing: Lee Felix x fem reader
W/c: 24.1k
Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of a hospital, alcohol, smoking, erotic photography, use of pet names, clitoral stimulation, breast/nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, dry humping, sex in a semi-public place (no one is around), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, cum eating
Synopsis: Seasons come and go like your love for Felix once did- but when he reappears in your life several years later, things are much different.
[this work was based off a request from @crookedt44th - thank you for requesting!]
18+. Mdni!
•
Small town at the edge of the world. 11:30am. A Tuesday in Autumn.
If you told the average person to shut their eyes and think of their favorite city, they’d probably conjure up a lengthy description about the booming skyscrapers, the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the fancy restaurants and the well-kept people. Point it out on a map, you’d tell them, and their finger would land in the heart of the amorphous blob of whatever state they’ve chosen.
Now move your finger to the right- keep going, and going, and don’t stop until you’re almost off the map entirely. There will be no major indicators, no colorful dots on this area of the map. You might miss it, in fact, if you shoot too far.
That’s the town of Ember.
A town so insignificant, the only name they could think to give it was based on the fire that plagued it almost 50 years ago, which begged the question to those in neighboring cities- who even lives there?
Famous for absolutely nothing of importance, population who-knows-these-days, nothing to do and nowhere to go.
And the place you call home.
*
“Pieces of a Dream. 1970’s.”
“Yellow,” your manager responds, and you unravel a bulky roll of discount stickers, thumbing one off the adhesive and placing it gently in the corner of the plastic-wrapped vinyl.
“The rest of those should be discounted,” he says, quickly shuffling through the stack and giving them a little slap with the palm of his hand.
He slides the stack over to you, taking his spot on the wooden stool by the register again and flipping through a stack of pages on his clipboard.
Chris, your manager, has been the owner of Ember Records for the better part of a decade now. He succeeds his father’s role as store owner, who succeeded his father’s role, back when the record shop wasn’t mostly lost to the fire. Since its relocation, it’s much smaller, so you’ve heard, only about half the shelf space available to house the generous collection of records his great grandfather used to collect and sell.
This is one of just a handful of shops around here, located in the heart of the tourist attraction that is the town’s square. Thus, you’re well-acquainted with the baristas from the coffee shop across the street, the waiters at the diner, the librarians and even the car mechanics. You’re all familiar with the businesses you run to keep this town on its feet, many of you having chosen to stay here for a simpler life.
“I dig the grays,” you tell Chris, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter and slide him the finished stack of tagged vinyl.
He sighs, cocking his head and uncapping his pen between his teeth. “They creep up on you when you least expect it. You know this shit costs like, hundreds to get dyed?”
“Leave it,” you say to him, giving a small nod as you speak. “It makes you look more mature. I mean, what does Yena think of it?”
“She loves it,” he says, catching a glimpse of his reflection in one of the glass cases and running his hands through his hair. “But she’d also love if I shaved my eyebrows off. She’ll compliment anything.”
“Then shave your eyebrows,” you say, chuckling, as you stuff your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. “You’re lucky to have a wife who’s so supportive of your decisions. I’m taking my lunch!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chris says, laughing as he shakes his head. “Oh, and Yena left you some pie in the back room.”
“Tell her thank you!” You call over your shoulder as you make your way to the back.
The back room is just a glorified storage closet, one dingy table pushed up against the wall, one wooden chair and shelves of records that need to be pushed out to the sales floor, or should’ve just been burned in the fire. You have to duck your head to not hit it on the hanging pendant lamp, its bulb buzzing concerningly loud as you take your seat and pry open the Tupperware container Yena left for you in the fridge- cherry pie, your favorite, from the diner down the street where she works.
As you take generous bites of your first meal of the day, you shuffle through a stack of records neglected on the table from last week’s donation. There are a myriad of genres- old jazz bands, electronic records, synth pop and even a few ambient pieces. As you flip over one of the covers, Chris calls to you from the front, his voice echoing around the dingy little storage closet.
“Y/n! I need you to come help out!”
And you sigh, promptly shutting the Tupperware closed again and making your way out to the front.
That’s the thing about this job- it’s small, but it’s busy, the hundreds of records demanding your very precise attention at any given moment of the day. You live to serve the people here, suggesting records to those seeking new sounds or curiously peering at genres unknown to them. And tourists are drawn to the place, often leaving with armfuls of old vinyl to add to their collections. It’s not a town they’ll likely ever visit again, you’re well aware, but the shop allows people to take a little piece of Ember with them wherever they go. And though the lack of grandiosity might not bring them back, your attentiveness to detail and passion for music sometimes do.
*
“Coffee?” Yena asks you, as you slide into the familiar spot of your favorite booth, next to the window in her diner. She saunters over with the pot anyway, setting a little white mug down in front of you and filling the cup halfway.
“Thanks,” you reply, already tearing open packs of creamer.
At half past 8, the record shop closes in only an hour, Chris taking on the role of closing procedures in your absence. It’s a routine life you lead, tending to the record shop by day and basking in the town’s simple pleasures by nighttime. And with all the people you love in it, you have no reason to leave, no rush to migrate elsewhere.
“How’s work?” Yena asks, sliding into the booth across from you and pulling a notepad out from her apron. She flips through the pages, stopping on a blank one and adding up her tips for the evening.
“Fine,” you say to her, taking a generous sip of coffee. “Just mostly repeat customers for today. But we did have a pretty hefty donation, so that’s a plus.”
“Anything good?” She questions, without looking up from her notepad.
“Negative. A lot of older stuff I used to listen to in high school.”
Yena finishes tallying up her tips, shutting her notepad and finally meeting your gaze.
“Hey, if that’s old, then I’m ancient.”
You both laugh, and she keeps her gaze on you for a moment before speaking again.
“Gosh, I still remember when you moved here. You were so… wide-eyed. And quiet.”
“I was so lost,” you say with a small chuckle. “I don’t even think I knew how to work a record player.”
“And now look at you,” she emphasizes, gesturing to your face. “You just seem… happy these days.”
She smiles for a moment, before gathering the empty cups of creamer off the table and sliding out of the booth.
“I hope you’ll stay here, if it means you’re always going to be this happy.”
You smile to yourself as she begins back toward the kitchen, humming to herself.
“Wasn’t planning on leaving!” You call out, and without turning around, she gives you a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen again.
*
Some days, your shifts feel like 5 minutes. Other days, they feel like 5 days. Today is the latter, the clock on the wall above the register ticking away by the second, and yet seemingly no closer to the end of your day. You’re on closing procedures this evening, Chris and Yena having taken the day off to have a much overdue date night. And it’s empty, like it usually is on Wednesday evenings, not a soul in sight as the town tends to their own duties, the tourists all working busy jobs in the city.
You slouch your shoulders over the wooden stool, dusting off a pile of folk records and shuffling through them, admiring the intricate paintings on the covers. It’s one of your favorite things about working here- locating the beautiful paintings and photographs that graze the covers of records, all of them vastly different from one another, but equally as evocative. You trace your fingertips over what appears to be a Polish record, a couple dressed in fancy colorful fabrics as he dips her into a bow. You can’t help but wonder what the atmosphere would be like if they were here in front of you, the whole room teeming with the choral ensemble as they’d tap their fancy shoes along the tile flooring and invite you to dance, too. The thought circles your mind with a smile, and you barely hear the next customer enter when they do.
The little gold bell hanging on the door chimes just once when they enter, indicating the arrival of a man, who promptly rushes to the back shelf without so much as a hello. Welcome, I guess, you want to say, dismissing their curtness with a shake of your head as you go back to organizing records.
You shuffle to the next record, admiring the black and white photo of a man with his guitar, a panama hat atop his curly head of hair as he sings into a microphone. It reminds you of the ones your dad used to collect before he passed.
“Excuse me?” A voice interrupts, and you practically jump, startled at the way he navigates the shop without a sound. He’s right in front of the register now, holding a CD in his hands and setting it down in front of you.
“I’d like to pay,” he continues, his baritone voice sounding painfully uninviting.
Without looking up at him, you take the CD from the counter, flipping it over to scan the barcode on the front. Four Decades of Jazz, the cover simply displaying the title in funky purple block text.
“This one’s actually on clearance,” you say, sliding the CD into a small paper bag. “Just 5.”
He pulls out a brown leather wallet, flipping through crisp bills as he searches for exact change. As he does, you take notice of the collection of silver rings that decorate his shorter fingers, a few of them painted with chipping black nail polish. Your gaze fixates on a thicker silver band, carved with black fleur de lis patterns that circle the band all the way around. You cock your head slightly, mapping out the pattern in your head as his hands move, the ring glistening under a beam of light that shines through the window and sets it aglow.
“It was a gift,” the man says when he notices you staring, and he holds out his index finger, rotating his finger to give you the full view.
You say nothing, your lips parting slightly as he does, transfixed by the way the silver hugs his finger and frames his veiny hands. The man stays silent, his gaze on the ring, too, as he pulls it off with a gentle tug and holds it up for you to see.
“Do you want to see it?” He asks, pinching the band between the pads of his fingers as he rotates it under the same beam of sunlight.
“No, thank you,” you reply, your mind still in a trance. “It just… reminds me of…” and your voice trails off, finally allowing your gaze to look up and meet the stranger’s.
His big brown eyes seem to widen when you finally lock eyes, his plump lips parting open as he scrambles to pull the ring back on.
“Something,” is all you can utter, folding the brown paper bag once in your hands and sliding it across the counter. “It reminds me of somebody I used to know.”
His breath hitches his throat as he finds the words to say, unable to string together a cohesive sentence as memories run rampant in his mind, everything coming back to him like a painful wound being reopened.
“Sorry,” is all he can say, clutching the brown bag in one hand as he gives you a small nod. “And thanks. For the CD. Or for ringing me up, rather. Thank you-”
“You’re welcome,” you reply briskly, pivoting on your heel to organize a stack of already-sorted records on the shelf behind you.
And you can still feel him there for a moment, his gaze boring into the back of your head like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t, instead observing the way your hair, a little shorter than he’d previously remembered it, sways gently in its ponytail as you go about your job.
You listen to the way the brown paper bag crumples in his grasp, before he finally retreats and exits, the little bell above the door indicating his departure.
And when you turn around again, there on the counter, his silver ring sits, glistening in the waning glint of the evening sun.
*
“The lattes are so expensive out there,” Yena says, as she takes a sip from her iced coffee. “I’d drink this gas station coffee any day over that stuff.”
You chuckle lightly, shaking your head as you wipe down the counter with a rag. Chris counts change in the register beside you, muttering counts to himself as he scribbles onto his clipboard and listens to your conversations.
“But hey, we still had a good time,” Yena continues, smiling over at Chris. “Sometimes leaving this town keeps you on your toes.”
“Yeah, well, I’m on my toes enough here as it is,” you respond, the three of you chuckling lightly amongst each other.
The bell atop the door chimes once, signifying the arrival of a new customer, and Chris gestures to the door as you look up.
“All you,” he says, going back to his work.
You fold the rag neatly, setting it on the counter and making your way over to the clearance aisle where the stranger stands. His back is turned toward you, his lanky frame towering over stacks of CDs as he thumbs through them casually.
“Can I help you find anything?” You chime in, your hands behind your back as you watch him. As you speak, he turns to face you, and you breathe a deep sigh of annoyance.
“Seriously?” You say, already retreating back to the counter again and turning away from him.
“Wait,” he calls, rushing after you and standing in front of the counter awkwardly. Chris looks up from his clipboard, furrowing his brows together as Yena shoots him an equally questioning look.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you respond, unfolding the rag again and wiping down the register.
“Hey, hey,” Chris says, giving you a confused look.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say to Chris through gritted teeth, brushing off the interaction.
“I just wanted to-” the man begins, as he looms behind the counter, fiddling with his fingers nervously.
“Why would you come back?” You question, not looking at him still. “Wasn’t one time awkward enough?”
“I left my ring,” he finally says, dropping his hands at his sides.
Both your gazes fall to your hands, where the silver band rests comfortably on your index finger, almost like it’s always been yours.
“Yeah, whatever,” you reply, pulling it off and sliding it across the counter to him. “Here.”
He doesn’t say anything, not yet reaching for the ring, nor telling you to put it back on. A part of him is fascinated at the prospect you chose to wear it around at all.
The silence that falls over the shop is painfully awkward, Chris and Yena keeping their gazes locked between the two of you as you angrily scrub at a stain on the counter.
“Hey,” Chris says, finally pulling the rag from your grasp. “You’re scratching the wood, kiddo.”
“If no one wants that ring, give it here,” Yena says with a smile.
The ring is slowly lifted from the counter again, slid back onto the finger of its respective owner.
“We’ll give you guys a minute,” Chris says, motioning to the back room with the tilt of his head. And Yena follows him to the back, the till of the register balanced in his arms.
“What do you want?” You ask, finally meeting his gaze again. “I’m working right now.”
His face drops a little, giving you a small shrug before he speaks.
“I was just wondering how you were doing. And I thought-”
“Felix,” you say brazenly, your heartbeat quickening a little at the feeling of his name leaving your lips again after so long. “Cut the small talk. Just tell me why you’re here.”
He sighs as he fiddles with the band around his finger, the metal still warm from the contact against your skin.
“That’s it,” he explains. “I didn’t expect to see you here. And I wondered how you were doing.”
“So leaving your ring here wasn’t an elaborate plan to come back for it?”
“It… was,” he says sheepishly. “I needed an excuse to come see you again.”
“We sell records,” you emphasize. “That’s the only reason you should be here. And if it’s not, then leave.”
“Y/n,” Felix says frustratedly. His eyebrows arch up in an almost pleading manner, his lips quivering as he struggles to find the words to say.
It’s the first time you take notice of his changed appearance, completely opposite to the Felix you last spoke to. His once blonde locks are grown out, grazing over his bony shoulders, a robust shade of ebony that contrasts against his pale skin, tied up into a half ponytail. His plump lips glisten under a glossy coat of peach tint, and his freckles are almost unnoticeable from this distance. You furrow your brows to get a better look, trying to make out the beige constellations you remember so well. But you can’t locate them- not on his nose, or his cheeks or even around his eyes.
He dresses differently, too, a baggy white tank top under a black leather vest, almost too big for him as it swallows his lean figure. And he flaunts a hefty collection of silver jewelry- rings, rows of ear piercings, a chain link bracelet and layered necklaces. If you didn’t know his eyes like the back of your own hand, you might’ve not even recognized him to be Felix.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” You finally ask, your voice softening a little as he toys with the rings on his fingers.
“This is my favorite place for CDs,” he responds, his shoulders relaxing a little as he speaks. “I used to come here every weekend back in high school. I didn’t know you worked here now, I promise I’m not trying to make things weird.”
You sigh a little, shifting your eyes to the shelves and then back at him.
“Well what are you doing here now? Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”
Felix shrugs a little, his expression unchanging. “It’s complicated, I guess.” And then he furrows his brows at you, gesturing to the shop. “I could ask you the same question.”
“It’s complicated,” you reply, echoing his statement back at him. “And I’m not in the mood to indulge you with the story of my life.”
“I have time,” Felix says with a chuckle, and he’s met with your deafening silence.
“Sorry,” he follows, fiddling again with the rings on his fingers.
As you begin to ask him to leave, Chris and Yena enter from the back room again, carefully making their way toward you with hands shoved in their pockets.
“Hey,” Yena says, nudging you gently. “Everything okay, you guys?”
“Yes,” Felix is quick to chime in. “My apologies- I’m Felix,” he says with a beaming smile, holding out his hand to shake Yena and Chris’. They comply, exchanging warm smiles with him, still confused at why you seem so irate.
“I’m sorry to disrupt the peace,” Felix continues, giving them a little bow. “We’re just-”
“Old friends,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes at this act he puts on. “And he was just leaving.”
“Right,” Felix says, his lips pulling into a disheartened expression.
“Y/n doesn’t bring too many friends around here,” Chris chimes in. “What’s the rush to leave?” He chuckles as he finishes, and Yena hits him lightly as if signaling for him to stop.
“Actually,” Felix begins, and you sigh when you realize he’s not done talking yet. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner, or a coffee or something.”
“Felix, I really don’t think-”
“It’s on me if you wanna come to the diner tomorrow,” Yena chimes in. “We still have leftover pie.”
And you pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing deeply as Felix stares at you with a hopeful expression. His eyes are big, gauging your response curiously as you shift your gaze amongst the three of them. Chris watches Yena, who holds her breath as you think. And Felix’s lip seems to quiver when you open your mouth to speak.
“No dinner. Just coffee. And Chris covers my closing shift.”
*
Felix is at the diner much earlier than you are, comfortably reserving a spot for you on a table in the middle of the room and allowing Yena to fill your mugs with hot coffee. He adds three packs of sugar, two cups of creamer and a dollop of whipped cream he requests from Yena. And he waits for you patiently, stacking the spare cups of creamer into an organized pyramid, in between nervous glances out the window.
Yena wants to ask who he is exactly- why you’d seemed so off yesterday, and whether he’s here for a reason, or just to catch up as the old friends you claim to be. But she refrains, knowing to stay out of your business the way you so graciously stay out of hers.
“More coffee?” Yena asks as she approaches Felix, taking note of the near empty mug in front of him now.
“Sure,” Felix replies, shooting her a nervous smile. His hands tremble a little as he shoves the pyramid of creamers away from him, pretending to look occupied with his phone instead.
Yena fills his mug to the brim again, sliding him the mug across the table and giving him an empathetic look.
“I’m sure she’ll be here,” Yena says, nodding affirmatively. “She’s usually a little late getting off work.”
And Felix just nods, keeping his gaze on the giant glass windows. Outside, the sun has already set for the evening, darkened skies casting over the little square of Ember. The streets are sparse at this hour, just a few pedestrians who also flock here after their shifts, and the diner is fairly empty with the exception of a few young couples. Felix scans the atmosphere as he waits, observing the way everybody seems so acquainted with the place. Red vinyl booths line the large glass windows, dimly lit by hanging pendant lamps that give a yellow hue to the wooden tables below them. Each table is neatly paired with a silver napkin holder, salt and pepper shakers, hot sauce and a myriad of syrup flavors. And a bright neon red sign advertising fresh pies flickers over the kitchen, which is hidden behind silver swinging doors. It looks like something straight out of a movie, he thinks to himself, as a table nearby is served steaming plates of omelets and fries. And as Felix turns his attention back toward the glass windows, he finally sees you approaching, earbuds in and a nonchalant expression on your face. Your hair is tucked loosely behind your ears, a simple ensemble of loose fitting jeans and a sweater complementing your worn down sneakers. The bell on the door chimes as you make your way inside, a smile on your face as you talk briefly with Yena upon entering. And she gestures back to Felix, who gives a little wave from where he’s sitting, in time for his third coffee refill of the evening.
“This isn’t my table,” you say to Felix when you approach, gathering your mug of coffee and gesturing to your favorite booth against the window. Felix’s eyes flicker to the booth, a confused expression on his face as you wait for him to relocate.
“Well? Are you coming, or what?”
“Yeah, um, sorry,” Felix responds, clutching his mug in one hand and carefully bringing it across the room to the booth.
You furrow your eyes when you look back at the table, a tall pyramid of creamer cups placed where Felix was sitting.
Felix slides in the booth across from you, gesturing to your mug and meeting your gaze.
“Do you take cream? Or sugar?”
“Just two,” you say, picking your cups from the little bowl at the end of the table and tearing them open.
He nods, stirring his coffee around with a spoon as you prepare yours.
“Let me guess,” you say with a knowing smile. “8 packs sugar, 4 things of creamer and an entire can of whipped cream.”
He chuckles lightly, angling you the contents of his cup, which now contains a mixture of frothy melted cream and coffee the color of chocolate milk.
“You always did have a sweet tooth,” you respond, laughing and shaking your head. “Might as well just have a sundae while you’re at it.”
When you’re finished, you hold your mug in both hands, taking a generous sip of the steamy beverage and setting it back down with a gentle thud. Felix watches you intently, like he’s waiting for you to initiate the conversation, but you don’t, raising your eyebrows at him as you wait for him to speak.
“I’m just visiting for a bit,” Felix finally says, twiddling his thumbs on the table in front of him. “I’m doing my classes remotely this semester.”
You nod, saying nothing, as he searches for more words to say.
“Are your classes remote, too?” He continues.
“There are no classes,” you interrupt quickly, before he can press you for more information about school. “I dropped out of college.”
“You did?” Felix retorts, his eyes widening a little at how easily you admit to it. Not an ounce of shame, like it was planned from the start.
“Why?” He follows, tracing mindless patterns into the wood of the table below him.
“Because I hated it. Anything else you want to know?”
“Why are you all the way out here?”
“Because I love it here.”
“And how are your parents?”
“My dad died. Last spring. Are we done now?”
Felix swallows nervously, averting your gaze as he taps his knee nervously under the table.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
You just nod at him, pursing your lips a little and toying with the handle on your mug.
“Are you going to tell me about yourself, or do I need to play 20 questions, too?” You ask him, rolling your eyes as a smile grows on his face.
Felix chuckles lightly, relieved that you’ve already forgiven his clear overstepping here.
“I’m still in college. I’m just… undecided. I took a semester off a little while ago because I don’t know what I want to do. I haven’t actually been to class physically in… a good while.”
You nod empathetically at his words, the reality of them contradictory to the Felix you once knew. He was a straight A student when you knew him last, quick to join campus clubs and gain popularity wherever he went. People often commented on how different both of you were from each other- Felix, a bright young student who could light up a room with his smile, always so eager to ask questions and familiarize himself with the world around him. And you, a bit more reserved, your world often tainted by the reality of the hardships you’d faced, and the knowledge that life, when not lived for yourself, is often arduous.
“So you’re doing a bit of soul-searching,” you say to Felix, no stranger to the concept of tourists stopping through here to ‘start life anew’ at the sight of run-down coffee shops and bookstores. And when they find what they’re looking for, they’re gone again, like a soul could never thrive here in the town of Ember, even if it’s where it materialized.
“You could say that,” he responds, swirling the remainder of whipped cream around his cup with a spoon. “Things just haven’t been… great.”
You nod in response, averting his gaze as you study the wooden table below him.
“Well good luck,” you finally say, taking a generous gulp of your coffee and scanning the room for Yena before the conversation can go any further than the base-level declarations of your new separate lives.
“Do you remember that night we snuck out of your house?” Felix asks suddenly, just as you begin to get up.
“What?”
“It was raining. I think it was like 3 in the morning.”
You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes as he speaks.
“I didn’t have a car at the time,” Felix continues. “So you rode on the handles of my bike in the pouring rain. We went to watch the sunrise, only we didn’t realize that of course because we were in the middle of a storm, there was-”
“No visible sunrise,” you interrupt quietly. “We just watched the clouds turn a lighter shade of gray.”
Felix grins a little as you finish, nodding his head.
“Exactly. And when we got home at 5am, your dad was already awake. And he’d never met me before- we swore he’d have it out for me. But he didn’t- he brought us blankets, and he made us tea and laughed his ass off at our stupidity.”
“There’s no sunrise in a fucking storm!” You exclaim, echoing your dad’s lighthearted lecture from so long ago.
Felix laughs with you, the warm memory circling your minds, both of you equally as endeared by the tale you so vividly remember. As your laughter dies down, Felix keeps his gaze on yours, shooting you a half smile as he speaks again.
“Your dad really loved you. And… it’s one of my favorite memories, even today.”
You hold his gaze too, clutching the handle of your mug again and giving him a small nod, your lip quivering a little at the mention of your father.
“Thanks, Felix,” you say in a melancholy tone, taking a deep breath in an attempt to hold back your tears.
When the feeling’s passed, Felix spoons another dollop of whipped cream into his cup and brings it up to his lips.
“Your hair’s shorter,” he says with a chuckle.
“Yours is longer,” you retort. “And black.”
“I’m trying something new.”
“I can tell,” you say, laughing lightly. “And what’s with all the screws and washers in your ears?”
“My piercings?” He replies. “They’re a fashion statement!”
“They look painful.”
“This one was,” Felix says, toying with the silver helix piercing in his lobe.
“And this one,” his fingers trail down to another silver stud, just below the first. “And maybe this one.”
“At what point is this just inflicting pain on yourself for fun?”
“I’m not finished!” Felix says, as you both share amused laughter. He thumbs over another row of silver studs, thinking intently as he speaks. “This one hurt, this one definitely hurt…”
*
“How was your dinner thing last night?” Chris asks in the morning, shooting you a knowing smile as he breaks a new roll of quarters in the till.
“Coffee,” you emphasize.
“Coffee,” he echoes. “How was coffee, with your old friend?”
“It was okay,” you respond, organizing a stack of records on the shelf across the counter. “Just catching up, mostly.”
“Yena said you guys were there for hours.”
“Maybe we were.”
“Hours?” Chris repeats, shaking his head. “What could you have possibly talked about that lasted hours?”
“Friend stuff,” you reply to him. “Maybe if you had some, you’d know.”
“Ouch, kiddo,” he says, clutching his chest in a joking manner as you both laugh.
As you turn to grab another stack of records, the bell over the door chimes, and your heads snap in the direction of the noise. And like you’d accidentally spoken him into existence again, Felix saunters in, a shy smile on his face. He looks a little more casual this time, in just jeans and a black t-shirt, but still different than you remembered him nonetheless.
“Speak of the angel,” Chris mutters, nudging you with his elbow as he waves at Felix.
“Hi,” Felix says cheerfully. “It’s nice and warm in here. Outside’s really cold.”
“Felix, what are you doing here?” You sigh, averting Chris’ shit-eating grin.
“What? I’m buying some CDs.”
“We have a good amount on clearance,” Chris says from where he’s standing. “Back shelf.”
“Thanks!” Felix replies, and you pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance.
“Chris, would you give us a minute?”
And he nods, shooting Felix a thumbs up, before disappearing to the back room with a stack of papers.
“Look,” you begin, turning to Felix. “Last night was fun and all, but I’m still working a job. This doesn’t just make amends or something. It was great catching up, but respectfully, I really don’t want to see you again.”
Felix nods a little, and then he hoists something over his arm. It’s the first time you take notice of it- a black crossbody satchel, draped over one arm, his hand resting casually on the zipper.
“Then I suppose getting help for my project is a no?”
You narrow your eyes at him, gesturing to the bag with a tilt of your head. “What’s in the bag?”
“You don’t get to know if you don’t help me.”
“Just tell me.”
“Promise you’ll help me.”
“Felix-”
He holds the bag a little further away from his body, effectively shielding it from your view and shaking his head. “And it was such a good surprise, too.”
“Just tell me what’s in the stupid bag!”
Felix finally holds the bag out in front of him, unzipping it and carefully pulling out its contents. He reveals a digital camera to you, slinging the strap over his neck and holding it up to squint into the lens. “Smile!”
“What- that’s it?” You question, shielding your face from his view. “How does this pertain to me?”
“I’m photographing the town,” he replies, fidgeting with the lens in his hands. “I need some help.”
“Why would you need my help with that? I’m not a photographer.”
“Yeah but you know this town, and all of its little quirks.”
“There’s a maps app on your phone for a reason, Felix.”
Felix gets quiet again as he fidgets with the lens on his camera, doing nothing particularly useful as he prays you’ll change your answer. And he’s not lying- he does need to photograph this town, and all of its hidden gems for his creative project this semester. But he would be lying if he said having you keep him company wasn’t all he thought about when he went to bed last night, and woke up this morning and inevitably found himself back at your record shop.
“You used to be the best model,” Felix says just above a whisper, letting his camera hang loosely at his waist now. “I still have all my film photos of you.”
The room gets a little quiet as you meet his gaze, not missing the way his eyes seem to soften into a somber expression. He’s always had this way of begging- pleading for what he wants, and you’ve very seldom been able to say no to him. Seeing him stand in front of you now, heavy camera in his small hands and a dream circling his mind, you know the fact still stands true.
“If I do this for you, this is the last favor I run you.”
His lips pull into a toothy smile, his eyes forming little crescents as he nods eagerly.
“I promise. I won’t ask you for anything else.”
When Chris reenters the room, he shoots you a questioning look, which you wave off with a casual roll of your eyes.
“What time are you off today?” Felix asks, and Chris purposely nudges you as he passes by.
“Later. Just come by at closing or something.”
“Yeah, I can do that. Do you want me to bring a coffee or anything-”
“See you at closing, Felix,” you respond with a smile, and you gesture back to the door.
He nods, seeing himself out, camera firmly grasped in his two hands as he waves again through the window.
*
Felix drives the same shitty car he did when you last knew him. Its chipped navy blue exterior clashes horribly with the beige leather seats, the inside tainted by the permanent odor of cigarettes from its previous owner, Felix making futile efforts to mask the smell with pine tree air fresheners. The seatbelts are frayed, the legroom is nearly nonexistent and the live radio is completely busted, with the exception of the CD player.
“All jazz?” You question, shuffling through a neat book of Felix’s CD collection.
“Yeah,” Felix replies, two hands gripping the steering wheel as he adjusts in his seat. “They’re mostly just whatever’s cheapest.”
“I can tell,” you say with a chuckle, reaching the last page, where Four Decades of Jazz now occupies a sleeve of its own. You pop the CD into the player, turning the volume up a few notches and sitting back comfortably as the melodic tune of a saxophone fills the space around you.
“What’s this next place again?” Felix asks, as you shut your eyes and listen to the jazzy beat.
You’ve stopped at three locations already, all spots in Ember you’re particularly fond of. The old bridge that runs over train tracks, a narrow pathway into another world in late evenings. It’s always surrounded by starlings, which flock when the trains pass through and chirp songs that mirror the train’s cacophonous whistle.
The cathedral just north of your record shop, which you don’t attend regularly like the other town-goers do, but always greets you graciously with its towering stained glass windows and crested walls.
And a now abandoned grocery store just a few blocks away, the walls on the back now housing impressive graffiti murals and doodles.
“This last one is a more scenic spot,” you finally respond, opening your eyes as his car passes over a speed bump. “It’s my favorite one.”
Felix just nods as he continues driving, the road narrowing into a one-way route, the area surrounded by wet grassland and barely visible amidst the thick fog.
“What’s the whole premise of this project?” You ask him, realizing you haven’t quite figured out what part you play in this, anyway.
Felix is silent for a moment, his hands rotating over the wheel as he turns into another narrow road.
“It’s just a photography project. About observing your surroundings.”
“Why does it have to be here?”
And he smiles, chuckling lightly to himself, as he reaches a hand out and sprawls his palm over your mouth.
“You ask so many questions! You haven’t changed at all.”
You respond in muffled laughter, prying his hand off your mouth with two hands and shoving it back toward the steering wheel.
“I’m just curious!”
Your shared giddy laughter fills the car for several minutes, exchanging amused glances as he pulls into an open parking lot and circles around to look for a spot. And you let your fingertips graze along your cheek, briefly, remembering the sensation of his hand on you very well.
*
The fourth spot is a spacious grassland just past the hills, not necessarily a hidden gem by the town’s standards, but a place you discovered shortly after you moved out here. It requires hopping a fence to access, jogging down a steep dirt path and then marching back up a grassy hill to make it to your “sweet spot”- or a little dip in the top of the hill, perfect for setting up a picnic blanket and sitting upon for hours.
And of course the best part about it- the view. The whole town is visible from up here, the little buildings and shops you know so intimately an entirely different perspective from this height. Sometimes you imagine what you look like from this view- just a tiny speck of a human in a town not much bigger, crossing back and forth between your apartment, the diner and the record shop.
“You got it?” You ask Felix as he hoists himself up the last stretch of grass, balancing his camera in his hands and dusting off his jeans.
“Yeah,” he replies, coming around to occupy the spot next to you on the grass. You sit back on your hands, your legs crossed at the ankles as you take in the view you know so well. Felix sits cross-legged, toying with the lens of his camera as he prepares to snap a few photos.
“It’s nice up here,” he comments, filling the silence with the clicking noises of his camera.
“Yeah,” you respond shortly, your gaze fixed on the record shop. “It’s a pretty special place.”
He turns the lens, bringing his camera up and snapping a series of photos as you watch him out of your peripheral vision.
“How’d you find it?” Felix asks, scanning the photos and going to take another set.
“I get around,” you reply with a smile, keeping your answer short.
He takes one last set of photos, angling his camera at different sides, and when he’s done, he carefully places the camera in his carrier bag and leans back on his hands, too.
“You really have things figured out here,” Felix says a little quietly, turning to look at you while you keep your gaze straight ahead.
“I didn’t have a choice. It was up to me to keep things going.”
“And… how’s your mom?” He replies quietly.
You shake your head, adjusting your position so that you’re sitting cross-legged, too.
“I don’t know. Last I heard she was out west. New boyfriend or something.”
Felix nods reluctantly, not wanting to press the issue further.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he chimes in suddenly. “I hope you didn’t leave thinking that.”
“It’s fine,” you reply, brushing him off.
“No, listen to me,” Felix continues, turning to face you. “I know you hate talking about it. And I won’t bring it up again. But none of this was your fault. And that summer I wanted so badly to fix everything and take away your pain, and I just… I couldn’t. And I’m sorry.”
You don’t say anything to him, fidgeting with a blade of grass on the ground below you and reminding yourself to keep it together. Don’t cry. Don’t feel.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Felix says bluntly, like he can read your thoughts.
“What thing-”
“That thing. Where you don’t let yourself feel.”
“I feel a lot of things, Felix.”
“Then why haven’t we talked about it yet?”
“Talked about about what?”
“Why you left,” he finally finishes, huffing frustratedly. “Why are we not addressing it? Am I supposed to just act like it didn’t happen?”
“Felix, I really think-”
“You said you would stay and fight for what was ahead of us. And then you disappeared on me. You know how hard it was to go on with my life like you weren’t a missing person for all I knew? You didn’t even call.”
“I changed my number,” you say quietly.
“Yeah, I figured that much after three years.”
Felix gets quiet again, shaking his head as he turns his gaze back to the view. You don’t say anything for a moment, his words swirling in your mind as your heart beats erratically. There’s so much to say- so much you want to explain to him. But the words are caught in the back of your throat, dissipating with every passing second you fail to vocalize them. He glances at you again, hoping you’ll come around- but you don’t, your gaze now transfixed on the blade of grass that rolls between the pads of your fingers.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” Felix finally says. “And… I’m sorry.”
A copper sunset falls over the buildings below you, casting shadows around you that dance along the blades of grass and disappear over the rolling hills. They shift from massive charcoal forms into smaller shapes that sway with the setting sun, quick to get away from you and disappear when they graze over your seated figures.
“You know there was a fire here, like, 50 years ago,” you say to Felix, still averting eye contact.
“There was?”
“Mhm. See there?” You question, pointing out a vast, empty field and gesturing to the buildings across from it.
“It started east, and it traveled west. And everything there burned, and a few people even died.”
“Wow,” Felix responds. “I didn’t know that. That’s terrible.”
“A lot of the neighboring cities didn’t know this place existed. But when they heard about the fire, many of them came out here, just to donate and help build things back up. Even the record shop burned. The one we have now is a lot smaller.”
He nods as he listens to your story, glancing back at the town as he pictures the blazing flames that ate away most of its structure back then.
“I always think about it,” you continue. “Everyday I imagine how hard it must’ve been to pick up and build things from the ground up again. Chris’ grandfather did it, with the record shop. And the diner did it. And they’re still doing it, keeping things running the way they are.”
Felix nods again, turning to look at you as you watch the town.
“No one could’ve prevented the fire. They could pick up and move on, but things still burned before they did, and people still died.”
Felix begins to say something, his lips parting, but his breath hitches in the back of his throat, and he settles in silence as you finish.
“I’m somewhere there,” you say to him after a silent pause. “I’m somewhere between the fire and the mending.”
And he doesn’t have to say anything else, understanding that this is your way of explaining things.
As darkness begins to fall over you both, you think back to the last time you sat with him like this, on the old hill in your hometown, waiting for a sunrise that never came around. You had passed the time kissing and touching each other so desperately, speaking visions of a new life into existence and making hushed promises to embrace the end together. An end that came to fruition without him, one you ran from before could look it in its face and brave it with Felix by your side.
But here on the familiarity of your hill, looking over a town that burned like the flames inside of you do now, you know there’s good, there are people who will make the journey to help you rebuild no matter what their reservations previously were. But it also takes time, and patience, and the strength to admit things have turned to ash in the first place.
And sometimes, like this town, things and people turn to Ember, a dim glowing reminder of what happened always present still.
*
Soul-searching capital of the world. 6:00pm. On the cusp of winter.
“Think you’re ready?” You query at Felix, pulling the straw out from your vanilla milkshake to lick the other end.
“I think so,” he responds, sorting through a stack of photos on the table.
“Felix, your whipped cream,” Yena says as she turns the corner and sets a small bowl down in front of him.
“Thank you,” Felix replies with a small smile, already spooning a generous amount into his coffee.
The last two weeks have been cordial between the two of you, a sense of normalcy finally present during your time together as Felix wrapped up his photography shots and developed them at the convenience store in town. The pictures are beautiful, little precious neutral-toned glimpses into your everyday life and the town you love so much. It feels like Felix finally understands you, neither pressing you for answers anymore, nor trying to initiate anything more between the two of you like you’d feared. And although the photography sessions have spanned a little more time than you’d originally anticipated they would, you’re well aware this will all be over soon, and then you can get back to the normal, simple life you lead, without having to look introspectively at the state of things. You’re fine, and Felix doesn’t force you to think about it anymore.
“I just have to submit these, and then I’ll be done for the semester,” Felix explains.
“Are you staying in town for the holidays?” You ask suddenly, realizing you’ve never even inquired what his plans are for after this photography project is finished.
“I don’t know,” Felix responds, glancing at the stack of photos. “I don’t really have any solid plans.”
You don’t miss the way he fidgets with the ring on his finger, averting your gaze and swallowing nervously. It’s another habit Felix possesses, getting you to drag him along practically anywhere, but it’s hard to say no when he makes every effort to be so polite and forgiving.
You sigh deeply, praying you won’t regret the words before they leave your mouth.
“Look, a couple friends I have throw a party every year around the holidays. We just get together to smoke and talk. You can come, if you want.”
Felix’s expression brightens almost instantly, meeting your gaze again with big hopeful eyes and a beaming smile.
“Really?”
“Don’t make it weird,” you say, chuckling softly. “It’s just a small thing to unwind.”
“I’ll be there,” Felix responds with a nod. “And I won’t make it weird, I promise.”
“So…” Yena teases, sliding into the booth across from you and raising her eyebrows. “What’s… going on between you two?”
“Who?” You question, cocking your head slightly.
“Oh come on,” she emphasizes. “You guys are attached at the hip. We barely get girl time together anymore. He can’t just be an old friend.”
“He is,” you voice back. “We just go way back, that’s all.”
“He’s cute,” she says, glancing out the window at Felix’s lanky figure making his way back to his car. You both watch as he struggles to get his car open, yanking on the door handle a little hard and stumbling back.
“Well he’s single,” you retort with a soft chuckle. “So if you ever get tired of Chris, he’s your guy.”
“I see the way he looks at you,” Yena explains, as she pulls out her notepad and adds her tips for the evening. “Like he has stars in his eyes or something. I remember when Chris and I met, he was a lot like that.”
“Yena, we’re really not-”
“I know,” she says, shaking her head with a smile. “Feelings, feelings. Yuck. I’m just saying.”
You turn your gaze toward the window again, watching as Felix starts his car and backs out of the parking lot, strands of his ebony hair falling into his eyes as he checks behind him.
And Yena smiles, taking notice out of her peripheral vision at the stars in your eyes, too.
*
Seungmin’s annual holiday party is a tradition you joined in on the first year you moved out here. Working at the record shop your first year, you had no friends, no family and you were completely isolated from the town when you weren’t picking up shifts. He was a regular customer with a knack for old rock records, and he pitied the shifts you worked while the rest of the town mingled at their annual holiday events you’d hear so much about. An invitation to his holiday party was a big feat for you, not only because it was one of the first events you attended here, but because it allowed you to spend the holidays alongside people again, something you hadn’t done since your father’s passing. And thus, Seungmin invites you back every year, never missing a chance to talk records with you and challenge you to eggnog shots.
“I just want to pop these in the trunk really quick,” you say as you open the car door on the passenger side and gesture for the key from Felix. “I usually lend Seungmin a few spare records we have-”
Felix hasn’t registered a word you’ve said, completely entranced by the way your short skirt hugs your hips, a black leather coat thrown over your shoulders and a different pair of sneakers than he’s used to seeing. It’s much different than how he’s normally seen you, dressed down in sweaters and baggy jeans.
And Felix looks particularly dashing, too, his ebony hair tied up again to display his impressive collection of ear piercings, a fitted leather jacket hugging his slim figure and black jeans that elongate his legs. You give him a once-over as he cranes his neck from the driver’s seat and tosses you the keys, unable to verbalize his regard for your outfit. But as you make your way around the car to the trunk, popping it open and placing Seungmin’s stack of records inside, he can’t help but stare in the interior view mirror at the way your skirt rides up when you bend over, exposing a little more of your thighs and leaving little to the imagination.
The drive to Seungmin’s is only a few blocks down from Ember Records, one which Felix completes while stealing very obvious glances at you and making every attempt to calm his erratically beating heart. You pretend the glances go unnoticed, keeping your gaze on the darkened road ahead and making small talk about the party. But you don’t miss the way Felix’s voice hitches in the back of his throat when he speaks, his trembling hands turning the wheel as he pulls into the cul-de-sac and puts the car in park.
And he wants nothing more than to stay here, with you, to sit in his dingy little car and talk with you about everything that happened, to assure you that you’re not alone in your process of mending- he’ll love you through it, regardless. But as Seungmin makes his way out the front door with a red solo cup in hand, calling loudly for you, Felix knows that’s not a possibility.
“Y/n!” Seungmin exclaims, a big toothy grin plastered on his face at the sight of you. He’s a bit taller than Felix is, long legs that frame his slim torso, and a chiseled jawline that makes Felix a little jealous. His voluminous chocolate tresses fall into his eyes as he speaks, and he uses a slender hand to push them away again, shooting you another flashy smile as he chuckles lightly.
“What’d you bring me this time?” He asks, balancing the presumed cup of alcohol in one hand as he watches you retreat to the trunk of the car.
“Couple rock, some alternative and that one artist you liked last time?”
“Hell yeah,” Seungmin replies, as he takes the records from your grasp and shuffles through them eagerly.
Felix clears his throat as he stands beside you, his hands shoved awkwardly in the pockets of his leather jacket as he waits for an introduction.
“Sorry,” you voice, stepping aside and gesturing to Felix.
“This is Felix. He’s an old friend of mine.”
Seungmin hardly looks up from his stack of records, just briefly glancing at Felix and giving him a small nod.
“Hey man. Cool to meet you.”
And Felix’s lips pull into a thin-lipped smile, averting his gaze, too, as he nods.
“Yeah. Same.”
Your eyes dart between Seungmin and Felix, both of them painfully awkward as they stand beside you, avoiding eye contact like some unspoken challenge and looming over you like you’re meant to be the host.
“Should we get inside?” You finally ask, wrapping your arms around yourself and gesturing to the house with a tilt of your head.
“Yeah, sorry,” Seungmin says with a soft chuckle, still averting Felix’s gaze and pivoting on his heel to begin toward the house. Felix gestures for you to follow, trailing behind you and doing his best to steady his nerves as the three of you finally make your way inside.
The house is already crowded for the evening, people standing just about everywhere, red cups in hand and joints pinched between their fingers. They exhale white clouds of smoke as they converse amongst themselves, their eyes all tainted red, as they let all the weed and alcohol consume their consciousness and instill a calm demeanor in themselves. Felix finds himself standing a little closer to you as you approach the sofa everyone’s sitting around, their bodies lazily slung over one another as they chat and drink.
“Y/n’s here,” Seungmin says, as he passes the sofa and heads into what Felix presumes to be his bedroom, with the stack of records in hand.
“Hey!” They call in misarticulated voices. You make your rounds, greeting each of them and exchanging brief anecdotes with them, while Felix remains standing with his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the way you smile cheerfully and acquaint yourself with everyone in the room.
You look so relaxed, so well-adjusted to your new life in this little town. As stories are thrown back and forth between yourself and the guests, Felix wonders how long you’ve known them to be able to converse with them to such an intimate extent. They share stories of your shifts at work, stories of previous parties, tales of past lovers they’ve had and late nights all of you spent up in this exact household. Felix can’t help but wonder what he was doing during those moments- probably studying for a test at university, or hooking up with someone he didn’t exactly care for. And by nighttime, he was likely up thinking of you- pondering where you’d gone, what you were up to. If you thought about him just as much as he thought about you.
Part of him wants to be angry, listening in on your stories like this- you’re laughing about parties, exchanging tales of difficult customers- moments that occurred while he was up waiting for you, hoping one day you’d change your mind about everything and return. Felix swore every sunset began to look the same without you there to watch them alongside him, every sunrise much bleaker than the last- even the stars he’d gaze at through his window seemed to lose their meaning.
But watching you like this, a smile that hasn’t left your face once since entering the house and the familiar sound of your harmonious laughter, he knows maybe you did the right thing, after all. Maybe Felix wasn’t a part of this plan life had for you- and perhaps, it’s time to come to terms with the fact that he never will be.
“Felix?” You question, effectively snapping him out of the trance he’s fallen into just by watching you.
“Huh?” He responds, aware that the row of guests on the couch appear to be waiting for him to say something.
“How long are you here for?” One of them repeats, his stare a little cold as he raises his eyebrows and prompts an answer out of Felix.
“Oh, uh… I’m not sure yet. Just for the holidays, I guess.”
They nod in collective unison, no one saying a word as they gauge how nervous he seems to be. And you shoot them an apologetic smile, also clocking Felix’s awkward demeanor as he remains silent and avoids carrying on with the conversation.
“Anyone got a light?” You finally break the silence, and everyone chimes in to answer, offering you joints from between their fingers and fishing colorful lighters out from their pockets. You take a seat on the rug, patting the space next to you, and Felix follows your lead, crossing his legs in the spot beside you and taking a hit from the joint you offer him.
Felix feels himself calm a little as the mellow sensation begins to wash over him, his worries dissipating as he listens to you begin to share another story with the group of people. And his mind wanders back to the past, contemplating your actions and mirroring them with the current state of things.
Three hours into the party, you’re both a little buzzed, feeling much more mellow than you had upon entering, despite taking only one hit from a joint. The room is heavy with thick clouds of smoke, the pungent smell of weed and alcohol present at every corner of the room. Just sitting here and talking gets you high, and you find yourself enjoying the company alongside Felix.
It reminds you of back then, when you and Felix used to attend parties together and run off to random bedrooms for a quick fuck. You’d often find yourself leaving early to spend time just between the two of you, hitting all your signature spots to catch sunrises or binge greasy food. And Felix feels much more relaxed around you now, making small talk with the guests and observing the way you try your hardest to include him in the conversations. As Seungmin takes another hit from his joint, he slouches back in the concave leather of the couch, his gaze darting over the two of you as Felix eyes you curiously.
“So what’s the deal between you two?” He asks, narrowing his eyes as he awaits a response.
“We’re just old friends-” Felix begins to say, but you interrupt him before Seungmin can catch the answer.
“He’s my best friend.”
Felix’s head snaps in your direction, unsure if maybe he heard you incorrectly, or if you’re genuinely claiming that Felix, whose guts you’ve hated for the better part of three years now, is your best friend.
“Best friends?” Seungmin repeats in slurred speech, and you give him a nod.
“Yeah,” you say again confidently. “He’s my best friend.”
And Felix’s lips pull into an involuntary smile, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red as he reaffirms your words.
When you turn to smile at him, he pats the space in front of him, extending his legs so that he’s created a spot for you to settle in. And in your buzzed, mellowed out state, you comply, scooting back and slotting yourself between his long legs, letting yourself lean back against his chest and shutting your eyes briefly. Felix reluctantly brings two hands around you, holding you a little closer to him, but you don’t protest the action, the familiar sensation of his arms around you feeling comfortable and safe like it always used to.
“I’d think you guys were fucking if I didn’t know any better,” Seungmin voices, joining a chorus of laughter as he brings the joint up to his lips again.
“So what if we were?” You retort casually, feeling the way Felix’s embrace gets a little tighter around you.
“Nothing wrong with it. It’s just easy to see through you guys. Especially the way this Danny from Grease wannabe looks at you.”
And Felix’s eyes furrow at the statement, well aware of the fact that Seungmin’s begun to get a little aggressive, but not wanting to incite anything that might jeopardize your friendships.
“I should probably go,” Felix says just above a whisper, his mouth hovering just over your shoulder so that you can hear him over all the noise.
“What? No,” you reply, turning your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wide, his lip trembling a little as he speaks. Felix isn’t confrontational- a fact you’re very aware of.
“I don’t want to start anything-” he begins to say, and you place a hand on his forearm comfortingly.
“Then let’s both get out of here. I’m kinda bored, anyway.”
He’s surprised at the offer- and undoubtedly moved by the prospect that you’ve chosen to stick with him instead of stay here at the party with all your friends. And because he wants to spend the time with you, he doesn’t protest when you turn to voice your decisions to the crowd.
“Well Danny from Grease and I are getting out of here. So you can let your imaginations run wild since you’re so obsessed with us.”
Seungmin chuckles lightly, too stoned to ask you to stay, and candidly, to care about any of it.
“My old records are on the kitchen table,” Seungmin says, as he shuts his eyes and exhales a generous cloud of smoke. “Catch you guys later.”
*
“Where are we going?” Felix asks, as he puts the car into park and watches you unbuckle your seatbelt.
“I have to put the records I lent to Seungmin back in the shop. It’ll only take like two minutes.”
He nods in response, his gaze fixed on the darkened record shop, not used to seeing it at this hour.
“You coming?” You ask him, gesturing to the door, and Felix snaps out of his tranced state, unbuckling his seatbelt, too.
As you twist your keys and push the door open, Felix feels a bit unsettled seeing the shop at this hour. The shelves are pitch dark at the hour, the usually colorful vinyl all looking indistinguishable as they sit in stacks against each other and gather dust. The neon sign above the CD wall is shut off, not even the gentle hum of the bulb present amongst the silence. And the doorway to the back room looks like something out of a horror movie, seeming as though someone- or something, could pop out at any given moment. It feels wrong being here- and he knows he probably shouldn’t be, but he’s not in the place to leave your side just yet.
“Don’t turn on the lights,” you say to Felix when you enter, him following closely behind you. “I don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”
You begin toward the back room, glancing over your shoulder to ensure Felix is following. And he is, albeit reluctantly.
The back room is much smaller than Felix had originally anticipated it to be. It smells of paint, looking far more run-down than the rest of the store, and he’s not sure how anyone can take a lunch break back here considering the lack of table space and seating options.
“This is the break room?” Felix asks, squinting his eyes when you pull the chain beside the medallion lamp and illuminate the room with a dim, orange glow.
“Yeah,” you reply, now shuffling through Seungmin’s old records and putting them in their respective genres. “This is where I eat my sandwiches.”
He chuckles softly, running his hands over the series of music posters pinned to the cork walls, taking in the view you see everyday at noon.
“There’s a record player in here!” Felix exclaims, bending down to examine the 6200 marantz wood turntable on a little cart, just to the left of the dining table.
“Well this is a record shop, you reply with a chuckle, slotting the last few of Seungmin’s vinyl into the shelf. “It wouldn’t make sense if we didn’t have one.”
“Does it work?” Felix asks, tracing the silicone grooves of the platter with his fingers.
“Of course,” you respond, finally turning around to meet his gaze. “Pick something.”
Felix scans the shelves at the neat rows of vinyl, all packed together and indistinguishable from their thin colorful spines alone. He pulls one out, examining illustrations of flowers on the cover, and then slots it back into its respective home. Another flaunts an abstract pattern of cool-toned hues, which Felix observes briefly, and places it back where it belongs, too.
“I can’t decide,” he voices plainly, his eyes scanning over the rows that span the entire length of the room, some of them visibly much older than the rest.
Your fingers graze the spines, too; letting the cracked ridges serve as indication of their age, and then you pinch one between the pads of your fingers, pulling it out to examine the cover. It’s painted sky blue, with images of autumnal trees that stand tall and contrast the gentle hues nicely. In bold red cursive text, the title is scrawled at the top, followed by a brief list of credits and arrangements.
“The Seasons, by Tchaikovsky,” you read aloud.
You recall putting this one on the shelf after a donation a few weeks prior, never having listened to it yourself.
“Will you play it?” Felix asks, and you nod your head in response, already pulling out the black disc and placing it neatly on the record platter. You flip it on, and then bring the tonearm to a random spot, letting the cue lever lower it into place and begin playing. After a few seconds of fidgeting with the volume, the soft sounds of piano begin to fill the room, a somber arrangement that slows into gentler, discoordinate notes.
“This one’s probably winter,” you say to Felix, hoisting yourself up on the table and sitting on your hands. “It sounds sad.”
“Yeah,” he responds, his eyes fixated on the slow turn of the disc, a soft crackling noise emitting as the tonearm runs over the grooves.
Felix suddenly reaches for the bag slung over his shoulder, unzipping the pouch and pulling out his camera.
“What are you doing?” You ask with a soft chuckle, amused at the way he so quickly rushes to adjust the settings.
“I want to take a picture. It’s a nice record player.”
And with the rhythmic click of the lens, he snaps a series of photos, angling himself a bit higher to capture every moving part of the old thing. When he’s finished, he examines the photos himself, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looks over the moment in time captured so perfectly on the little screen of his device. Without warning you, Felix then holds the camera up once more, snapping a quick photo of you and chuckling softly to himself.
“Stop!” You say through laughter, holding a hand up to shield your face as he snaps a few more. “Felix, I’m serious!”
“It’s just for me!” Felix exclaims, bringing his camera down again and scrolling through the candid photos.
As he examines them, you notice how close he is to you now, standing in between your legs that hang lazily off the edge of the table, his frame towering over yours.
He meets your gaze again after a moment, taking notice of the proximity, too, and swallowing nervously.
“You used to let me take pictures of you,” Felix says after a moment of silence.
“That was so long ago,” you reply with a smile. “Things are different now.”
His eyes dart over your bare face, your eyes a little hooded from exhaustion and the mellowed state that overtake your body. It’s a sight familiar to him, still, the way you keep your words short when you’re not asking him questions, nothing except a small knowing smile on your face. But it’s one he’s thought about for so long, painting pictures of you in his head and scanning old photos, like your physical state would somehow come to fruition the more he studied it.
“Please let me take a few more,” Felix says, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes flicker between your lips and your gaze. He knows you’re going to say no, go away, or some other version of it.
But this time, you don’t, taking careful note of the way he so politely asks for what he wants. Memories of him have plagued your mind all night, the feeling of his hands around you still lingering on your body, recalling the way he used to ask so politely to fuck you in the bathroom of house parties like you wouldn’t say yes every single time.
And in the absence of your words, you slide your coat off, discarding it on the table behind you and keeping your gaze locked on his, in just a tight-fitting t-shirt and skirt.
Felix brings his camera up immediately, lest you change your mind like he knows you probably will, and adjusts his lens again, before snapping a single photo of you, sitting so innocently on the table in the back room of the record shop. Your expression remains unchallenged, your eyes softening a little as he pulls away to look at you again. And this time, you let two hands cross over your torso, pulling up the corners of your shirt and letting it ride up until it’s nearly off of you. Felix doesn’t waste any time, bringing his camera to eye-level again and snapping a photo eagerly, his eyes wide as he observes the sight of your hardened nipples through the lens.
The discoordinate piano music still plays from behind him, its tempo increasing gradually as you let one hand position itself over the mound of your breast, kneading gently as Felix positions his camera to zoom in. He snaps another set of photos, bringing his camera even closer to capture you at every erotic angle, and then he pauses briefly, as your hands move to your skirt.
You tug gently, not yet pulling it off, and his photos capture the moment you finally undo the small zipper on the side, revealing the hem of your lace panties to him and looping a finger through them. He feels his breath hitch in his throat, wanting to clarify that he’s not forcing you to do any of this, but too mesmerized to ask you to stop.
And then before he can verbalize his thoughts, you’re tugging the skirt down, too, pulling it off over your sneakers to discard it on the floor below you. Felix can’t look away from the sight, your body hugged so delicately in lace lingerie, your legs parted a little for his photos and practically begging him to come touch you. And yet you say nothing, amused at the sight of Felix gasping over your sitting figure, letting him take the reins and do whatever it is he pleases, even if the implications are clouded by your past.
Felix’s slender hands snap a few more photos, focusing meticulously on your clothed core and your hardened nipples for his own personal use. And then he sets his camera down at his waist again, pulling the camera strap off his body and shoving it back into his satchel. When he turns to say something, he can’t, still entranced by the familiar feeling in his stomach at the body he’s bore witness to so many times.
“Felix,” you say softly, coaxing him to come a little closer.
He obliges, lips parted nervously, as he takes another step forward and allows your legs to rest casually on his.
“I meant to ask you,” you say, cocking your head slightly, bringing one hand up to caress his cheek with your thumb.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Anything.”
“Where have all your freckles gone?” You finally ask, observing the way his skin still runs completely clear around his cheeks and eyes, not a hint of a galaxy visible to you, even at this proximity to him.
“Makeup,” Felix responds with a soft chuckle. “They didn’t match my new look.”
And you bring your other hand to his other cheek, grazing your thumbs over his soft skin, before pressing down a little harder and wiping the foundation off of him. He’s right- the beige stars you’d remembered so well begin to appear once again, scattered generously across his button nose and his big eyes. He lets you rub it off of him, not taking his eyes off of yours as you rid him clean of the stuff and then graze your thumbs over him again, in much gentler motions.
“That’s better,” you reply, your eyes darting between his now visible freckles and his plump, parted lips. “They’re my favorite part about you.”
And Felix doesn’t respond, his mind running rampant with thoughts and intentions, as he brings his lips a little closer to yours and finally kisses you, like he’s been dreaming of doing all winter.
You reciprocate instantly, your hands cupping the back of his neck as his lips work against yours, desperately leaning into you and letting his hands snake down the sides of your waist. His kisses are familiar, so reminiscent of years past when he’d kiss you exactly like this, in the proximity of whatever house party bathroom you could run off to and let him have his way with you. And Felix remembers the sensation all too well, this mutual pining of silently yearning for each other in the presence of other strangers until he could confess his love to you through whispered love making sessions when you were finally alone. Felix whimpers softly between kisses, as your hands snake up his t-shirt and graze along the toned flesh of his abdomen. You hum in response, letting your hands tangle in his hair now as he presses further into you and works gentle kisses down your neck. Both your hands find his silky ponytail, pulling off his hair tie in one swift motion and tossing it aside so that his long tresses hang loosely in front of his face, and you tangle your fingers in his ebony roots, tugging slightly as you pull him into your embrace and feel him trail back up to your lips. He pulls away momentarily to gauge your expression, worried you might ask him to stop, but your eyes are wide with anticipation, your breaths labored as you pull him into you again and arch your back into him. You can feel Felix smile into the kiss, satisfied with the turn of events from tonight's party- he’d been so certain you would leave with Seungmin, or shut him out again. But here in the dimly lit room of the record shop, your lips on his as your hands trail lower to unbuckle his belt, there’s no denying you want this just as badly as he does.
And Felix can’t help but wonder how long have things been this way- had something changed at the party? Something that would’ve led you to call him a “best friend” rather than an old one, leave the party with him and even drag him to the record shop after hours, knowing very well you could’ve come alone? Something that instilled an equal sense of desperation in you, to want his lips on yours as badly as he does right now, your bodies yearning for each other like you once did, as you undo his belt buckle and snake it out from his belt loops to discard it on the floor?
He’s not entirely sure- but he also can’t think straight when your hands are tugging at the hem of his jeans, begging him to take them off and mirror the same level of undress you are now. What he can think about are your lips working against his, the gasps that escape you when he grazes his fingers down your sides between kisses and the forte echo of Tchaicovsky’s piano record filling the room with sultry harmonies.
As Felix unbuttons his jeans, you help him tug them down so that they’re pooled around his ankles, the two of you now equal parts undressed and grabbing desperately at the now exposed flesh. You let your hand find Felix’s, wrapping your fingers around his slender wrist, and then bringing it to your panties, where you rest his hand against your clothed core and allow him to graze over your growing wetness.
“Jesus,” Felix exhales, pressing his middle and ring finger down against your core and rubbing in slow, back and forth motions. “I forgot how horny you get when you smoke.”
And you chuckle lightly, not breaking eye contact as he continues to rub you over your lace panties, the wetness against your thin fabric increasing with every gentle movement of his fingers.
“Will you do something about it?” You ask sweetly, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.
Felix cocks his head slightly, a smug expression pulling on his lips as he works you a little faster now.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
You chuckle in response, growing impatient as he teases your aching clit over the fabric of your panties and keeps his gaze on yours. He’s calculated with his movements, rubbing in gentle motions, pressing down firmly with every other stroke to watch the way your legs squirm desperately around him and ache for more.
“Don’t make me ask,” you say shyly, your hips rutting toward him to chase the friction of his fingers.
Felix’s gaze drops to your core, his lips parted with curiosity at the sight of you now rocking gently toward him, letting your movements do the pleasing as he almost entirely stops rubbing you.
“What if I wanted you to ask for it?” Felix says briskly, a serious expression on his face as he pulls his hand away from you momentarily.
“Felix, you already know what I-”
“Ask for it,” Felix interrupts, keeping his gaze locked on yours now. His eyes are hooded with lust, his eyebrows slanted in a challenging expression as he waits for you to say something. And he knows he’s never been one to make you ask for it- in fact, he was usually the one doing all the begging, whining when you’d take too long to touch him or begging you to let him finish. But coupled with the recent development of his new look, you can’t help but wonder if it’s not the only thing that’s changed about him.
“Ask for it,” Felix states again. “Or I’ll get dressed again.”
And you can’t bring yourself to, still riddled with questions at the peculiar phenomenon of Felix making you ask for sex, desperate to ask if this is a one-time occurrence, or if he’s intent on getting you to beg for his cock from here on out. Does he make all his hookups beg for it like this? Do they oblige without question, or are they just as taken aback with it as you are?
When Felix takes note of your silence, he doesn’t waste another second, pulling up his jeans again and beginning to work the buttons once more. And you feel your heartbeat quicken at the sight, disheartened at the action and still desperate for him to touch you, to fuck you, like your body’s been craving the past hour you’ve been back here.
In a desperate attempt to stop him, your hands reach out, grasping his wrists in yours and watching the way his cock remains tented under the denim fabric of his jeans.
“Please,” you say shortly, a sheepish pout on your face.
“Please what?” He responds, cocking his head to gauge your reaction.
“Please would you fuck me?” You finally say, exhaling frustratedly and flickering your gaze away from him, almost embarrassed to be asking him like this. But Felix’s lips pull into a toothy grin, leaning back into you for a kiss and beginning to work his jeans off of him again.
“Was that so hard?” He mumbles against your lips teasingly.
“Mhm,” you murmur back against him, hearing his jeans pool around his ankles once again as his hands cup around the small of your back.
“It was?” Felix queries, one hand looping through the hem of your panties and grazing along the elastic. “If I remember correctly, we used to play this little game all the time.”
You gasp a little as he pulls the elastic between the pads of his fingers, letting it snap against your delicate skin again and rest against your reddened skin momentarily. Felix observes the way you say nothing, waiting for him to undress you, touch you- anything, without so much as a plea for him to do so. And he’s undeniably roused seeing you this desperate for him, adjusting your position on the table to calm your pulsating core, your hands searching for him and your lips trying so hard to keep purchase on his. Felix feels his cock swell at the confirmation that perhaps you have been thinking of this just as much as he has, and that maybe leaving was the hardest thing you ever did, the way he always hoped it was.
“Are you sure about this?” Felix asks before he can ponder the words.
And in painfully slow movements, you find the hem of your elastic waistband yourself, tugging it down and breaking away from the kiss to snake it off your ankles and discard it onto the floor. The sight alone is confirmation enough for him- your pussy is glistening with wetness, your folds coated generously in your own arousal and your aching clit a robust shade of pink as you wait for him to finish his little game of neglect. Felix can’t even respond at the sight of your cunt on display for him, too engrossed in the familiarity of what it looked like all those past years, exactly like this, begging for him and only him. On the counters of bathroom sinks, in empty fields, in the back of your car and even when his fingers were shoved in it under blankets in a room full of people. Always taking him so wholly and effortlessly, like your cunt was made to have him fill it, squirming around him with hushed moans and whimpers, your bodies intertwining into one tangled mess of pleasure and pure, unadulterated love for one another.
“Felix, please fuck me,” You repeat, a small smirk on your face as you watch Felix stumble over his words, his cock fully erect in the fabric of his boxers.
And Felix can’t answer you, already attaching his lips to yours again and letting his hands come around your back to unclasp your bra. His motions are much quicker now, no lingering intention to make you ask for it or confirm your stance- but every intention to fuck you, fill you, like he knows you deserve.
When your bra is unfastened, he tosses it aside, letting his hands find the mounds of your breasts and kneading them with steady motions. You moan into his mouth as he works you, your legs wrapping around his hips to press his clothed cock into your wetness and grind softly against you. Felix winces at the sensation, doing his best to stave off a premature orgasm while you rut your hips gently against him and let your head fall back in pleasure. And mirroring the pleasurable sensation of his thumbs rubbing circular motions over your nipples, he brings his mouth down to your chest, taking a breast in his mouth and sucking with little whimpers. Your head comes forward to meet his gaze again, his big, innocent eyes locked on yours as he takes the flesh between his lips and swirls his tongue around your nipple. His plump lips remain locked around your mound, alternating between gentle kisses and then back to sucking on your nipple, like he might coax fluids out of it if he tries enough. And he looks so guiltless, so incorrupt as he lets his eyelids flutter shut and your nipple graze his teeth. His actions almost don’t match this darkened, grunge appearance he now sports- and you swear you can still see the blonde locks that once framed his wide eyes and his bright appearance.
As Felix moves to your other nipple, you wrap your legs tighter around him, swaying your hips in gentle rocking motions to stimulate his clothed erection against your wetness and provide some relief to both of you. And he arches his eyebrows up in pleasure, stifled moans escaping his lips as he finally releases your breast from his mouth, a string of saliva connecting you still, as his gaze drops to his boxers.
Hard- he’s unbearably hard underneath his boxers, the tip of his cock kissing the constraining fabric of his boxers that ruts against your exposed clit and sends waves of pleasure through both your listless bodies. And Felix knows if he doesn’t fuck you now, he might finish at the sight of you alone, your cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink and your cunt arching desperately into him as you wait for him to undress. So he does- one hand finds the elastic waistband of his black boxers, pulling them over his cock and wincing as it grazes against the precum dribbling down his tip. You run your hands over his toned abs, letting your eyes meet his cock as it protrudes so eagerly for you, and it looks almost painful how hard he is for you, reddening at the tip and dripping with beads of his preemptive arousal.
Felix leans in to kiss you again, and as he does, the bare flesh of his cock finally grazes your clit, running smoothly over your arousal and making you clench around nothing. You gasp at the sensation, scooting closer to him as your clit finally gets some attention from him, and Felix smiles as he trails his kisses down to your neck. While he sucks little bruises along the flesh there, he brings a slender hand around the base of his cock, guiding his tip back to your clit and rubbing his length along your flesh with more pressure now, a fervent moan escaping your lips as he does. He glides so effortlessly along you, your arousal allowing him to move so freely against you, still eager for him to fill you up. And when his lips move back up to yours, his hand guides his tip back and forth again, now rubbing against your clit in steady motions. He mimics the way his fingers stimulate you, only it’s better like this, your cunt contracting as you prepare to take his length.
“Felix,” you whine, as his cock rubs back and forth over your wettened entrance.
“What is it?” He coos gently, smiling into you as saliva dribbles between your hungry mouths.
“Put it in,” you order plainly, parting your legs a little further to signify what it is you want so badly. And Felix already knows, pressing his tip into you just a mere centimeter to gauge your reaction, satisfied at the way you whimper and push yourself against him even further.
“Is this what you want?” Felix muses, holding his base to keep from sliding into you involuntarily.
“Yes,” you whine again, tangling your hands in his hair. “Just fuck me like you used to.”
And Felix feels his heartbeat quicken as the filthy memories grace his mind again, images of you exactly like this.
He says nothing, opting to end his teasing streak, as he finally steadies his hands on the sides of your waist and pushes into you, your sopping pussy taking him with complete ease. You let out a fervent moan at the feeling, your cunt clenching desperately around him as he works to bottom out inside of you and find his footing. His girth takes little to adjust to, but he’s long, taking a good minute or two until the base of his cock is disappearing inside of you and being coated in your arousal. Before even moving, his tip is grazing your cervix, the familiar feeling making your stomach turn with anticipation as you remember what it feels like.
Felix’s lips part in pleasure, his eyebrows arched up as he pulls out again and then thrusts just once, relishing in the way your pussy contracts around him again and takes him so perfectly. Your hands find purchase in his hair again, tangling in his ebony roots, as he pulls out a little, and then begins to move. His cock fills every inch of you so well, grazing every corner of your dripping cunt with such fullness, as his wet kisses work against your lips and coat your mouth in his needy saliva. Felix has always been a particularly vocal lover, you remember, as the room fills with his deep grunts and moans at every thrust. His fingers dig into your flesh, holding onto you with strength as your legs wrap around him to steady yourself and push him into you fully. Your bodies one again, your limbs tangled until it's discernible who is who atop the table like this. But when he slows his movements and kisses you tenderly, you don’t care about the implications, about the past or what this will mean for your future. All you care about is Felix inside of you like he used to be for most of your relationship, making up for all this wasted time as he fucks you and breathes heavy grunts into the shell of your ear.
“God, I missed this,” Felix breathes, his voice shaky as he continues to pump into you.
“Me too,” you moan back, lining his jaw with kisses as he moves a little faster.
“You used to let me take pictures of you,” Felix repeats for the second time this evening. “You remember? Used to touch yourself while I’d snap photos of you. God, the way your fingers would disappear into your tight little pussy. Had me begging to fuck you at the end of every session, baby.”
“I remember,” you voice back in labored breaths. “You’d fuck me so well. All you had to do was adjust that stupid lens and you had me dripping for you.”
“Fuck, baby,” Felix groans, shutting his eyes as he thrusts a little harder. “Gonna make me cum for you.”
“Yeah?” You echo, wrapping your legs a little tighter around him and crossing them at the ankles. “Will you fill me up like you used to?”
Felix nods as his eyes remain squeezed shut, the room teeming with the squelching sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of your cunt.
“Come on, baby,” you plead, one hand angling his face toward you to press repeated, chaste kisses to his lips. “Fill me up. I know you want to.”
“I do want to-”
“Cum for me,” you order, grazing your free hand over his abdomen and tracing little circles over his v-line.
And Felix’s cock twitches inside of you twice, signaling his nearing finish as he quickens his pace again, now fucking you with even more force and hitting your sensitive cervix with every thrust.
“I’ll let you take whatever pictures you want,” you say to him as you pull him close and nibble the lobe of his ear. “As long as you fuck me like this every time you’re finished.”
And the promise is all it takes for Felix to reach his orgasm, his cock twitching inside you once more before he spurts ropes of his warm cum inside of you, filling your cunt with copious amounts of his arousal for you and fucking every last drop back into you. Your pussy contracts at the sensation of his warm cum grazing your insides, reaching your finish, too, as he brings a hand to rub your clit through your release. The table below you is sticky with your juices as you steady your breathing, Felix bringing a hand around the base of his cock to pull out of you and rest limply against your pulsing, sore entrance.
The room around you is quiet again, the gentle buzz of the pendant lamp replacing your moans as you let your hands wrap around him and hold him in your embrace. Felix presses a series of tender kisses to your forehead as you remain, his slender hands moving strands of sweaty hair out of your forehead to replace them with his loving kisses.
And the record has run through all its seasons now, having ended several minutes ago, as the needle runs over the last groove in repetitive clicking sounds, an indication to flip it over.
*
A precious town once set ablaze. 4:00pm. Spring on the horizon.
“To have hysteria or mania. 7 letters.”
Felix thinks for a moment, his eyes darting up to the ceiling and then back to where Yena is sat across from him.
“Madness?”
She glances over the crossword puzzle once, counting empty little boxes, and then begins to pen in his answer.
“How are you so good at this?” Yena asks, shaking her head. “You could be on a crossword puzzle reality show. If that exists.”
He chuckles lightly, observing as Yena checks her watch, and then shuts the book in front of her.
“My break is almost done,” she says as you chew on a French fry. “I’m gonna catch the bathroom really quick. You guys need anything?”
“I’m good,” you chime in, and Felix shakes his head from across you.
“Thank you,” he says politely, shooting her a little smile as she slides out of the booth and back toward the kitchen.
Felix’s gaze turns back to you now, a smile on his face as you nibble the remainder of the french fry, cocking your head at his curious gaze. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his sneaker glide gently up your ankle, grazing your bare skin with the sole of his shoe and shooting you a knowing smile.
“Felix, not here,” you say, pushing him away gently with your own shoe and letting your soles rest atop his laces.
“That’s not what you said this morning,” Felix says, swirling half-melted cubes of ice around in his glass of water.
“Harder Felix, harder!” He mimics quietly in a high-pitched voice, as he brings his glass up to his lips and takes a generous sip.
You stomp on his laces as he chuckles between sips of water, dribbling a stream from his lips when you kick him lightly in his ankles.
Don’t fuck your exes.
Advice that anyone with half a brain would give you- and advice you really should’ve taken to heart. But you can’t help it, finding yourself between the sheets with Felix nearly every night for the past two weeks, his lips all over yours and pleasuring you better than you’d ever remembered it. You tell yourself you’re just making up for lost time, both of you still young and naive, all of this over once he actually leaves for college again. He stayed for Christmas, gifting you a new pair of canvas sneakers and fucking you while reruns of Christmas rom-coms played in the background of your apartment. He was your New Year’s kiss at Seungmin’s party, where you swore again that the two of you weren’t dating, forcing you to press your lips to his only when you were sure the others weren’t paying attention at the drop of the ball. And when you’re not picking up shifts at the record shop, you’re with him every waking second of the day, keeping Yena company during her shifts as you feign your giddy attraction to him while she’s not looking.
We’re not dating, you’ve emphasized to Felix several times, and he doesn’t fight it, giving you a knowing nod as he utters a repetitive yeah, yeah. But it’s mostly because he knows you can’t say no to him, not when he’s bringing you slices of pie at work and burning CDs with all his favorite songs for you, slipping them into your bag without you even noticing until you’re home again. Of course there’s the physical factor, too- Felix is undoubtedly your best sexual partner, and he always has been. He’s quick to recognize when you’re aroused, slipping away with you in the backseat of his car to pleasure you, without any protest from you. He’s also understanding of all your intimate moments together, not fighting it when you remind him this is just temporary, all while he’s thrusting into you on the back room table of the record shop at late hours of the night. He just smiles against your bruised skin, reminding you that you have yet to push him away yet. And when he’s holding you in the gentle embrace of your afterglow, pressing kisses to your skin and reminding you how beautiful he’s always thought you are, he’s right- you don’t push him away from any of it. Maybe it’s the physical factor, maybe it’s little acts of service he performs to win you over. And perhaps it’s also because you don’t feel so lonely for once- the last time he was beside you like this, you still had a family, one that loved Felix like their own and encouraged this shared life with him. You still had dreams of being something bigger, aspirations while you were in school and visions of a life with Felix, because back then, he was always a part of your plan. And though things are different now, his beaming smile and lighthearted jokes serve as a reminder of a simpler time, and it feels right. So you don’t push him away- it’s a secret kept between the two of you, but he’s here with you, regardless.
“Will you let me take some photos of you today? ” Felix inquires, flipping through the book of crossword puzzles left on the table by Yena. You watch as he adjusts the familiar fleur de lis ring on his finger before uncapping a pen and filling in one of the words.
“I have an early shift tomorrow,” you reply, toying with the crumpled straw wrapper in front of you.
“I won’t be long,” Felix retorts.
“I know, Felix, but I have to get up really early tomorrow and I-”
“Let me take you out,” Felix says, not looking up from the crossword puzzle in front of him. “Just tell me where.”
You sigh, scanning the empty tables around the diner. There are only a handful of guests at this hour, most of them elderly folk chatting quietly amongst themselves. A slow jazz tune plays overhead, and sunlight beams through the large window beside you as Felix finishes penning in an answer, shutting the book again and folding his hands in front of him to meet your gaze.
“I have something for you,” Felix adds.
“You don’t have to buy me gifts, Felix.”
“I’m aware. But this one’s special for me, too.”
“What is it?”’you ask, a growing curiosity at his words.
“I don’t have it with me. You’ll have to let me give it to you later today.”
You sigh, crossing your arms in front of you and rolling your eyes sarcastically. He’s always known how to get exactly what he wants.
“Just this one time,” you reply, knowing you sound like a broken record at how many times you’ve sworn it to be just one more time.
“Just this one time,” Felix echoes, toying again with the ring on his finger.
And you nod reluctantly, agreeing to whatever he’s planned, for the purpose of pleasing him and because you’re unable to decline.
As he flips open the book again, he uncaps the pen once more, picking up where he left off and reading the question aloud to you.
“A discussion aimed at reaching an agreement,” he voices, nibbling the cap of his pen again.
“Negotiation,” you say, observing the way a smile grows on his face as he pens in your answer.
“That’s it,” he says, gripping the pen enthusiastically as he crosses out the question.
And the sole of his shoe grazes your ankle again, trailing up your flesh teasingly as he moves onto the next.
*
“Where’s she going?” Felix queries, reaching into the bowl of popcorn in his lap to grab another mouthful.
“I don’t know,” you respond, chuckling at the way he shoves a generous portion into his mouth and chews loudly.
“Is she leaving him?” He says, pausing his chewing as the main lead in the movie makes a dramatic exit on screen.
“Felix, I’ve never seen this movie either,” you state, chuckling as he finally resumes his chewing and brushes stray kernels off his shirt.
He reaches into the bucket again, gathering a generous handful of popcorn, and then he sprawls his hand over your mouth, pushing the popcorn into your still-laughing mouth as he moves a little closer to you.
“You argue too much!” He says between giggles, throwing his head back as he watches you try to down the handful, failing as loose kernels find purchase on your shirt, too.
You reach out to shove him playfully, and Felix intertwines his hands with yours, pulling you onto his lap as the bucket of popcorn is promptly set aside and neglected.
He doesn’t even give you time to finish chewing before his lips are on yours, kissing you with such tenderness and warmth. It’s moments like these you find yourself glad he’s here with you, grateful for his unwavering persistence to account for lost time and make amends. Of course you also know he’ll be gone soon, back to university to proceed with his education while you tend to the record shop. And you’re undoubtedly a little sad about it- but you also know it’s the way things have panned out to be. Felix has blossomed into the bright young soul you always knew he was, filling the shoes of a generation of good-natured people that came before him. He’s generous, and unselfish in his ways, and a part of you knows that leaving him was the best thing that could’ve happened to both of you.
Was sleeping with him a mistake after all this time? You would’ve answered yes in a heartbeat, at the first instance it happened, feeling you might accidentally led Felix on and ruined things between the two of you. But the more it happened, the more it affirmed the beautiful notion that he’s just a fleeting part in this process of mending- your souls intertwining to relive memories of simpler times, connecting like they had when you once belonged together. He gives himself to you as a way of saying I’m still here, if you need me. And you give yourself to him to respond I know, and I’m still healing.
“You want your gift?” Felix asks as he pulls away, his hands grazing the small of your back.
“Depends,” you say with a small smile. “If it’s anything like your gift this morning, then yes.”
He chuckles softly, caressing the dimples in your lower back as he sits up and nods in the direction of the kitchen counter.
“I’ll go get it. Be right back.”
And you slide off of him, crossing your hands between your thighs as he exits the room, the soft-spoken dialogue of the movie still playing as he shuffles about in your apartment kitchen. When he returns, his hands are behind his back, a smile plastered on his face and his eyes forming little crescents as he approaches you.
“You have to close your eyes,” he says, kneeling down and sitting cross-legged in front of you. “And put out your hands.”
You oblige with an equally endeared smile, closing your eyes and cupping your hands in front of you. Felix seems to get something situated in front of you, and then you feel him place something small in the palm of your hand. It’s cold to the touch, no bigger than an inch, and he positions it so that it’s centered perfectly in your hand.
“Now open,” Felix finally says, pulling his hands back and folding them in his lap.
You do as you’re told, your eyes fluttering open again and your gaze falling into the palm of your hand. And your heart melts instantly at the sight-
It’s a ring- his ring, the silver fleur de lis one he always catches you staring at.
“I can’t take your ring,” you say, your wide eyes meeting the crescents of his eyes that remain as he grins.
He holds his hand up, flashing you his own fleur de lis, and wiggles his fingers to show it off.
“It’s not mine,” Felix says. “I got you your own.”
And you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes, doing your very best to pull back and avoid crying in front of him. But Felix takes notice at the way your face contorts sadly, scooting closer to you and taking your hands in his.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, his face full of concern as you examine the ring.
“Nothing,” you’re quick to respond, sniffling and rotating it between the pads of your fingers. “I just…”
Felix waits for you to answer, giving your hand a little squeeze as you struggle to find your words. He knows that verbalizing your feelings isn’t exactly your forte, giving you time to think over the action and speak when it feels right to you.
“Your ring,” you say with a soft chuckle. “It was a gift from my dad.”
His expression turns serious, holding up his index finger to rotate it around in front of you. “This one?” He inquires.
“Yeah,” you respond with a smile. “The one I gave you before we broke up. I know I’m not the best with my words, but I never got to say thank you. You stayed up with me the night they told us he was nearing the end. And again when my mom left. And somehow you found me in this shitty little town, and I like to think it’s so that I can properly thank you for everything. That’s why I wanted you to have the ring.”
Felix can’t properly reciprocate with a kiss while he’s sat below you like this, but he brings his lips forward to kiss your knee tenderly, staring up at you through innocent eyes and humming against your flesh.
“You were not alone,” he says, pressing another kiss. “You’re never alone. I would do it all over again.”
And you smile down at him, as he takes the ring from the palm of your hand and slides it onto your ring finger, an unspoken promise that he’s always going to be here to help build you up again, regardless of your reservations or your conditions. That just like this town lost itself so many years ago, there’s always a way to build things back up again, you just have to hold onto the hope that it’s possible.
“I love it,” you say, examining the way it sits around your fingers just like his does. And Felix doesn’t answer, pressing more kisses on the pads of your knees and using a hand to part your knees slightly. You take note of the way he keeps his eyes shut as he trails kisses, relishing in the way you give into his actions, laying back to part your knees and observing his eager state.
“Can I take a picture of you?” Felix asks shyly, his eyes darting over your visible crotch as your skirt rides up. You shoot him a little nod in response, gesturing for him to go get his camera, which he wastes no time doing, pulling it out of his black carrier bag and slinging it over his neck. Felix sits cross-legged in front of you again, watching intently as you flip your skirt up and let your fingers graze over your soaking panties. Your new ring glints in the dim glow of the overhead lamp, glistening as you rub your clit over the thin fabric of your underwear and stare into the lens of his camera.
Felix clicks a set of photos, his breath hitching in the back of his throat at the sight of you tugging on your panties and spreading even further for him. You make a big show of staring innocently into his lens, your eyebrows arched in curiosity as you toy with your waistband and tug it down a little further, your hips swaying a little as you struggle to pull it off entirely. And Felix takes note of your struggle, snapping one more photo of your desperate state and slinging the camera back off.
“Let me help you,” he says with an amused smile, placing the camera on the bag beside him and scooting closer to you. His hands loop themselves in the hem of your panties, keeping his gaze locked on your core as he pulls them down, being met instantly with the sweet aroma of your arousal and your glistening folds.
“Fuck,” Felix breathes, swallowing in anticipation at you spread for him.
You let yourself slouch back into the dip of the couch cushion, propping a leg up to give him a better view, and your hands graze over your breasts as you watch him struggle to comprehend the sight.
“Go on,” you order simply, biting your lip as his eyes widen when you knead your breast gently.
And Felix doesn’t spare another second, his hands finding purchase on your inner thighs, as he brings his face forward and licks a long stripe up your folds. His tongue is instantly coated in your arousal when he does, moaning at the taste of you as you writhe in pleasure below him and clamp your knees around his pretty face. He holds them open again, letting his tongue graze over your pulsing clit, before licking another stripe and then latching his lips around your bundle of nerves, pressing a chaste kiss before sucking harshly.
The room fills with your high-pitched moans, gasping for air and clutching desperately onto the fabric of the couch as he works you, alternating between sucking your clit between his teeth and grazing his tongue over your entrance. He darts his tongue into your sopping entrance to gather more of your arousal, spitting harshly onto your cunt and grazing it around your folds using his tongue. And the more you writhe desperately below him, the more his movements become ravenous, working you like a starved animal as he eats you out and pries your legs open.
“Felix,” you groan, reaching a hand out to push his face further into you. “Feels so fucking good.”
He smiles against you, responding with little kisses peppered on your inner thighs, before moving back to your clit and licking in harsh back and forth motions. Your cunt clenches around nothing, desperate for him to fill you, but not wanting him to halt the motion of pleasuring you with his tongue. And as his fingers graze along your thigh to pry you open again, you gasp when he brings the same hand to your clit and rubs vigorously.
Your body is shaking now, trembling with anticipation as you approach your orgasm. But Felix doesn’t stop to gauge your reactions at all- in fact, if you were to cum right now, he’d keep going at this pace regardless. He’s too fixated on the taste of your arousal in his mouth, the melodious moans you let out for him and the way you reach for nothing tangible as he works you.
As your head throws back in pure ecstasy, you feel his fingers move lower, and lower, until he’s grazing your entrance with his knuckles in a teasing motion. And before you can ask him to fuck you with them, he’s already inserting two fingers, increasing the pace of his tongue as he begins to thrust in and out of you. Your cunt contracts eagerly around his fingers, desperate for release now as he matches the rhythm of his tongue with his fingers, the room teeming with the sounds of your squelching pussy. As he pushes deeper into you, you feel his ring- the cold, stiff metal of your now matching rings, graze your entrance, sending a wave of pleasure over your trembling body. His fingers work in and out of you, the cold metal pressing itself on your clit as he bottoms out inside of you and moves his fingertips in quick come hither motions to stimulate you. Your abdomen contracts harshly with every thrust now, your clit throbbing as he traces it with his tongue and peppers it in hot, wet kisses.
“Felix, fuck, I’m- gonna cum for you,” you warn, your voice shaky as he moves even faster, showing no mercy with his movements as he groans against your exposed flush.
“Let go for me,” he commands plainly, his deep voice vibrating against your clit as he holds his tongue there. “Always give me such a fucking show, baby. Make a mess for me.” He speaks between kisses on your glistening folds, alternating between pouting his lips to make out with your cunt and let his tongue wag over your sensitive core.
As you feel his fingers thrust into you one last time, the cold metal of his ring gliding over your folds in its coat of arousal, your abdomen contracts over him, your cunt clenching in syncopation with your fervent moans as you finally let go and dribble your juices all over his freckled face. He wastes no time cleaning you up, lapping at your core to swallow your release and pepper your dampened flesh with tender kisses.
“Stay there,” Felix orders, reaching beside him as your eyes flutter shut in overstimulation. You lie completely listless, your limbs languid and heartbeat pulsing at a now slowing rate throughout your body.
Felix brings his camera up to you again, sitting up on his knees and snapping a photo of your wearied state, his eyes wide with lust as he admires the way your legs hang loosely at your sides. His lens adjusts to capture your parted lips and flushed cheeks, your hands tugging your skirt down again and the smile on your breathless lips when you open your eyes again.
Felix stands up now, approaching you with the camera and letting his slender fingers graze your lips.
“Suck,” he orders, inserting the same two fingers down your throat as his other hand positions the lens in front of you. And you oblige eagerly, your lips wrapping around his digits to suck your own arousal off of him, your tongue swirling around the salty metal of his ring to rid him of your juices.
His photos capture exactly that- your lips wrapped around his knuckles, the kisses you trail down his fingers and the way your tongue licks the perimeter of your matching jewelry clean.
When you’re finished, you release him with a gentle pop, Felix letting his camera hang loosely at his waist again and using his now free hand to tilt your head up to meet his gaze.
“So beautiful,” he says resolutely, bringing you up for a gentle kiss. “You were always such a good model for me.”
*
When you work an early shift, you make it a point to kick Felix out of your apartment no later than 9, or sometimes 10. You’re not staying the night, you’d explained as a non-negotiable condition, wanting to avoid the awkward antics that come with sleeping alongside each other and waking up in his arms. But tonight, you can’t seem to let go of him, letting his arms wrap you in their warm embrace as he presses kisses to your forehead and tells you stories of college that you weren’t around for.
“It was the worst group I ever had for a project,” Felix says in a chuckle. “I don’t know how I passed that course.”
“You should’ve requested a different group,” you say in a sleepy voice, smiling as you play the humorous tale in your head.
“I did!” He exclaims. “I don’t think the professor liked me enough to let me switch so late in the semester.”
“Well, you got through it,” you reply, letting your hand intertwine with his as your rings rub tenderly against each other. “I can’t say the same.”
Felix chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and letting your hands rest against each other. He thinks for a moment, and then rubs his thumb along your hand lovingly as he begins to speak again.
“I want to take so many photos of you in the spring. There’s this new lens I want to try.”
You pause briefly, opening your eyes to look at him, and then you cock your head slightly before responding.
“You won’t be here for the spring, Felix. You’ll be back at school.”
He swallows nervously, pondering your words, and then he exhales deeply before continuing.
“I don’t think college is for me, either.”
The words hit you like a truck the second they escape his lips- you sit up in bed to look at him, releasing his hand from yours and furrowing your brows together.
“What?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you, I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I want to stay here, with you.”
“No, you don’t,” you’re quick to say, shaking your head.
“I do,” Felix admits sheepishly. “Everything makes sense here. Being with you, the town, the people- I think I’m meant to be here, too.”
“No, you’re not,” you say, pulling away from him even further as he sits up now, too. “Felix- this isn’t your life. You need to go back to school, and pick a major and live your life.”
“I don’t want those things,” Felix responds frustratedly. “I want you. I want this town. I don’t care if you don’t want to date, I’ll stay by your side regardless. I can’t just leave you.”
“You can, and you will.”
Felix narrows his eyes, anger quickly overtaking him as his face flushes a dark shade of red.
“So you’re allowed to and I’m just not? Who are you to dictate what I do with my life?”
“This is the life I made for myself,” you reply, exasperated. “It’s not some soul-searching pit stop like it is for you.”
“Maybe it’s not for me, either.”
You’re entirely off the bed now, your hands making angry gestures as you try to verbalize your feelings toward him, Felix’s voice growing increasingly irate as you attempt to.
“You know why I left you in the first place?” You question. “Because I was dragging you down. You had everything- a family, a future and a girlfriend who didn’t quite have things made the way you do. No one even understood why we were together, Felix. I’m not gonna drag you down a second time just because we had sex a couple times.”
“Is that all this is to you?” Felix inquires angrily. “Just sex? It doesn’t seem that way when you’re all over me at Seungmin’s parties calling me your ‘best friend’. That doesn’t sound like just sex to me-”
“You are my best friend,” you interrupt frustratedly, tears falling from your eyes now as you try to make him listen.
“You are my best friend, and I don’t want this life for you. The night I left you, my dad was moved to hospice, and my mom decided she wanted nothing to do with it. I knew you’d be wasting the best years of your life taking care of me, staying by my side like the good person you are, but that it would get in the way of college and your life. It wasn’t easy for me to do, Felix, breaking up with you and getting as far away from you as possible before I could change my mind. But you have a life outside of me, and I need you to go be that person still.”
Felix says nothing in response for several minutes, his eyes welling with tears, too, as you wipe your eyes with your inner wrists and avert his gaze. You hate when Felix sees you cry- it’s embarrassing, and it feels shameful. It feels the way it did when Felix skipped classes to be with you, neglected studying for his exams to hold you as you cried, rain checked his own family to be with yours and dragged you to every house party, so that he could fuck your sadness away in an environment that wasn’t a hospital bathroom or your childhood room.
“How dare you imply the time I spent with you was wasted,” he scoffs, his lip quivering as he wipes his own eyes. “You were my life, outside of all of this. And you still are, and you’re so stubborn in doing that thing where you don’t let yourself feel.”
You watch as Felix gathers his camera, stuffing it back into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
“You said you’re somewhere between the fire and the mending. But you don’t talk about the fire. You just shut it out like you do with everything else.”
He pivots on his heel, making his way toward the door and walking with loud, purposeful strides. You begin to say something, quickly swallowing your words again as he reaches for the doorknob and turns it slowly. Felix pauses momentarily, hoping you’ll ask him to stay, apologize, forgive- anything, any sort of indication that this is what you want, too. But as the door opens, your silence is answer enough for him.
“No one could have prevented the fire,” Felix says before leaving, echoing the words you told him so long ago. “You can pick up, and move on, but it still happened. And just because things burned, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to thrive again.”
Without another word from you, he’s disappearing out your front door, his camera bag swaying on his side as he marches out the building and back to his car.
And you feel yourself begin to cry, your heart contracting painfully in your chest, a pit forming in your stomach as you witness him walk out of your life again. The flames burn inside of you all over again, turning organ to ash as you wipe your never-ending tears and slam the door behind him. It’s akin to when your mother left, when your dad passed and when you left Felix the first time. It’s overwhelming, it consumes you whole, your entire figure trembling as you fail to extinguish the flames. The phenomenon begs the question- had the fire ever really stopped? Were you ever in the process of mending if not wailing like this, your vulnerability on display for the world to see as your walls are finally let down? Is this what it means to feel?
*
There are few people in this world who have seen you cry. Your mom, one of them, when you begged her to stay. Your dad, another, when you held his hand through his last breath. Felix, the third, several times throughout your relationship with him.
And the folks in this town- never. Not once have they witnessed you wail the way Felix has, tears brimming your eyes as you fail to keep your emotions at bay, mucus trickling down to your lips in an inelegant manner as you cry, and cry and cry.
“You want some coffee?” Chris asks awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he watches you bury your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt.
“No.”
“Yena should be here any minute,” he adds, his voice softening as he watches you lift your head to give him a nod.
“Hang in there, kiddo,” Chris finishes, rubbing your back in small circles and giving you a gentle pat.
As you rest your chin in your hands, a pounding headache overtaking your whole being, a knock at the front door catches your attention. It’s Yena, a hood thrown over her head as she balances a tupperware container in her hands and peers through the window. Chris gives her a knowing look, making his way to the door and unlocking it for her.
“Hey,” Yena says softly as she enters, setting down a slice of pie in front of you and taking a seat on the stool beside you. “You okay?”
You sniffle once, shaking your head sorrowfully as she awaits your explanation. But nothing is verbalized yet, and for a good few minutes, all you can do is cry.
Yena wraps you in her loving embrace, letting your tears stain the shoulder of her hoodie, as Chris shrugs from behind you and delivers reassuring pats to your back. They’re just as confused as each other, awaiting a reason or some story, but you can’t bring yourself to vocalize your thoughts, especially when you’re a crying mess like this. Chris finally ushers Yena to say something, and she does, albeit reluctantly.
“You know, just between us, I think he’s a little dorky, anyway. It’s his loss if he can’t see what he’s missing.”
And to their surprise, you chuckle lightly, still wiping tears with the corners of your sweatshirt.
“What?” You question, a soft hiccup escaping your lips as you speak. Yena furrows her brows, together shooting a questioning look to Chris, who shrugs in response.
“Is this… not about Felix?” She queries hesitantly.
“It is,” you emphasize, another giggle escaping your lips. “But it’s not that he’s not interested. We used to date, Yena.”
At this, Yena reaches around to swat Chris’ shoulder, pursing her lips together as she speaks again. “I knew something was up,” she voices, swatting Chris again. “Christopher over here was convinced he was too into you.”
“You guys talked about it?” You add, giggling softly into the sleeve of your sweater.
“It was hard not to,” Yena responded, giving you an empathetic look. “The way you guys light up a room when you’re together, it’s like winter turns to spring or something. I was so certain he was the one.”
At this, more tears escape the corners of your eyes, falling onto the counter below you as you nod slowly in regards to her words.
“I love him,” you finally say, and the room goes silent when you do.
“I love him, and he deserves better than me. Than this,” you finish, gesturing around you to the town. “He wants to drop out of college and stay here. Like that’s a good idea for anyone except me.”
Yena and Chris give each other staggered looks, unsure of what to reply to first. They’ve never heard you speak of your emotions like this, never seen you cry and never would’ve guessed that you would let down your guard to this degree around them. It’s a little frightening, at first, to watch you tear down your own walls so much, like watching a different person than the one they’ve known for all these years. But it’s also reassuring to see that you are capable of letting yourself open up for the right people. It takes a weight off their shoulders to bear witness to the confirmation that they’re the people you can go to when you need help, the same way they don’t hesitate to lean on you. And it especially gives solace to know that you feel so deeply at all, a trait Yena and Chris have always pushed you to familiarize yourself with.
“Well what’s stopping you?” Yena asks, threading her fingers in your hair and combing it back like your mother used to.
“Exactly that,” you respond. “I don’t want to confine him to this life of mine.”
“Let me ask you something,” Yena states, taking your hands in hers and bringing your gaze up to meet hers. “Are you happy?”
And the question throws you off guard, requiring a moment to think before you can say anything in response. It’s a fair question, too- one you should’ve asked yourself when you agreed to move here years ago. But it’s not a difficult one to crack, either, when you take in your surroundings. The diner across the street is packed with patrons, happily sipping away at milkshakes and glass bottles of soda. This old record shop, with its dingy back room and rows of genres you make an effort to learn about whenever you get a chance. The starlings that flock when the train travels through, the holiday parties you find a home in and your favorite spot on the hill, overlooking all of Ember. They’re all working parts of one larger phenomenon- that of happiness.
“Yeah,” you reply, nodding to affirm your answer. “I love it here. And I love you guys, and I’m still healing most days, but I wouldn’t want to be doing it anywhere else.”
A smile grows on Yena’s face as she glances back between you and Chris, and he shoots her a little nod.
“Then do something about it,” she finally says, giving your hands a little squeeze. “The first step is letting yourself feel. The rest is up to you to run with.”
And when you meet her gaze, and Chris’ gaze, their loving expressions looking down at you like you’re one of their own, you can’t help but pull them into a hug, letting yourself cry a little harder at the prospect of your found family, these tears ones of happiness.
“I love you guys,” you voice confidently. “And I’m sorry if I’ve never said it out loud.”
Chris’ hand pats your back, Yena’s combing through your hair tenderly, as they hug you with equal enthusiasm and allow you to cry as long as you need.
“We love you, kid,” Chris answers.
And when you pull away again, the three of you laugh, your tears staining your reddened faces as you bask in this unconditional appreciation for one another.
“Eat your pie,” Yena says, shoving a fork toward you. “And Chris, play some music, will you?”
Chris salutes her, pulling a random record off the shelf and scanning its contents.
“Polish folk?” He questions, and you glance at the familiar cover of the record, the same couple dipping into a bow as they dance in their colorful fabrics.
“This one’s really good,” you chime in, taking a bite of cherry pie as you nod toward the record player. “We should dance to this one.”
And as Chris starts the upbeat music, pulling Yena in for a comedic waltz, you can’t help but laugh through your tears, at the home this town’s given you in all your mending.
*
Felix hasn’t been at the record shop since your fight. He hasn’t been at your apartment, nor the diner, or even Seungmin’s place (and yes, you did ask). There’s only one place you know Felix would flock to after a night like the one you shared, and if you’re lucky, you should still be able to catch him on his supposed last night here.
The grassy hill is a little slippery at this hour, caked mud enwreathing your sneakers as you trudge your way up the hill and into the familiar dip of the land. And as the horizon becomes visible to you, spanning the length of the town and showcasing all the bright lights the nighttime flaunts, so does Felix, sitting with his back to you in a plain white t-shirt and jeans. He looks more casual tonight, less dressed with the intention to look a specific way, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of his slim frame taking in the view you led him to. He leans back on his hands, eyes scanning the sight of the town, before picking up his camera and snapping a series of photos.
When you occupy the spot next to him, he glances over at you briefly, before turning his attention back to the camera and waiting for you to speak.
“It’s prettier at night, isn’t it?,” you finally say, breaking the silence, and Felix fixes his gaze on the blurry lights of the record shop.
“Yeah,” he responds curtly, swallowing nervously as he ponders what to say.
And you know if you let him facilitate this conversation, it’d be over much sooner rather than later, but you also know that it’s up to you to make amends now.
“Your photography is still so beautiful,” you state, gesturing to the camera in his hands. “It’s always been so artistic.”
Felix remains quiet, toying with the strap on his camera as you speak.
“You’re artistic,” you continue. “And that’s why I want you to finish college. Don’t throw all this away for me.”
He turns his face to meet your gaze, his eyes trembling a little as you give him an empathetic look and shrug.
“I don’t want to go where you won’t follow,” Felix says, his voice coming out a little shaky.
“But I’ll always be here,” you retort, tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes again. “Don’t put your life on hold for something that already lives in your past. You are an incredible person, Felix, and I’m not gonna drag you down a second time.”
Felix thinks for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat as he thinks over your words. And he knows that there’s a possibility this isn’t what he wants, either- to stay in this little town with your friends he’s not even sure like him very much. But he does know he wants you, and that staying here would mean sacrificing his old life.
“I want you to know it wasn’t your fault,” Felix says after a brief pause of silence. “Nobody who walked out deserved you. And your dad loved you- a lot. I think about that moment watching the sunrise with you every day. He’s there too, part of that memory tucked away in my mind. I’m sorry it happened so suddenly and disrupted things. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy, Felix,” you tell him, chuckling lightly as you respond. “I have a whole family here. I don’t spend my holidays alone, I meet new people working at the shop everyday. There’s so many people I haven’t introduced you to. There are coffee shops, and parades on weekends, and I’m happy. I’m still healing, but I’ve also realized that being healed doesn’t equate my happiness. I can be one without the other, and still get by just fine.”
Felix’s gaze is fixed on yours for a moment, not saying anything as he lets your words circle his mind. And there’s so much he wants to say in response, so many questions about what the future means for you both, but he also knows very well that the rest is up to him to figure out, just the way you did when you moved out here. Maybe you’re still healing- and maybe Felix is still figuring out the rest for himself, too. And though the past may be clouded by a story much more complex than either of you can even begin to comprehend, the happiness you seek is attainable, whether or not you’re together to see it through to the end. That although sometimes things may burn and decay like this town once did, there are people who will make the journey to help in the process of rebuilding, and you can thrive again. You can always thrive again.
“You’re right,” Felix says, as he looks over the horizon again. “It is prettier at night.”
The dim glow of the streetlights contrasts the flashy signs of the diner and the record shop, painting the blackened town with vivid color and bringing life to the small town of Ember.
And with a half smile, Felix pulls you in for a tender kiss, the two of you letting your apologies flow through each other in the gentle embrace of your lips and your hands intertwining atop the grassy hill.
Felix pulls you close, letting your head rest comfortably against his chest, as he caresses your hand softly in the grasp of his. And his index finger rubs lovingly against your ring finger, your matching rings grazing against each other as if to say I’ve always loved you.
*
Small town at the edge of the world. No particular time of day. A blossoming summer.
If you told the average person to shut their eyes and think of their favorite city, they’d probably conjure up a lengthy description about the booming skyscrapers, the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the fancy restaurants and the well-kept people. Point it out on a map, you’d tell them, and their finger would land in the heart of the amorphous blob of whatever state they’ve chosen.
Now move your finger to the right- keep going, and going, and don’t stop until you’re almost off the map entirely. There will be no major indicators, no colorful dots on this area of the map. You might miss it, in fact, if you shoot too far.
That’s the small town of Ember. A town Felix holds very close to his heart. And one you call home.
The cicadas buzz with high-pitched melodies of summer as you slip your sneakers on, the piercing blue sky around you almost too bright to look directly in its face. The clouds seem to shift with the summer breeze, drifting along the canvas sky like a painting in motion as you take in the sight around you
“Let’s go!” Yena calls, honking her horn twice to signify her arrival.
“I’m coming!” You call back, making your way down the stairs of her porch, balancing trays of food in hand as you account for everything you’ve agreed to bring. Drinks, plates, pie, napkins- your signature arrangement for the town’s summer festival you attend alongside Chris and Yena every year.
“Slow down, kiddo,” Chris says with a chuckle, as you rush to place everything in the backseat. “Oh, and there’s a letter for you on the porch table,” he adds, shooting you a small wink.
“I’ll be right back!” you call to Yena, jogging back up the stairs to collect the little beige envelope that rests atop the wooden surface.
It’s addressed to you, the handwriting in neat swirly black cursive letters, the envelope feeling sturdy between your fingers. You tear it open with no real aim, a giant gash working down the envelope as you rush you pull out the contents and examine them.
It’s a stack of photos, you quickly realize, sorting through them to make out the glossy digital prints.
There’s a photo of you in the back of the record shop, your hands brought up to your face and your legs hanging lazily off the table. Another showcases you in the familiar beige interior of the passenger’s seat, laughing cheerfully and staring out the window. There are photos of the town’s horizon, photos of the record player at your work, Yena’s famous pie, Seungmin’s holiday party and even the matching rings, intertwined hands that rest on the car console. As you shuffle to the last photo, you recognize it to be much more recent than the others, even the quality looking clearer, perhaps a new camera or a different roll of film.
It’s a still photo of Felix, from the waist up, holding a peace sign up to the lens with a small smile. He’s dressed brightly in a white vest and layered jewelry, the background showcasing a blue harbor with rows of boats, the location indistinguishable to you. He’s blonde again, his now shorter golden tresses framing the myriad of freckles that scatter his face once more. And he looks happy, much like himself again.
You wonder briefly who took the photo of him, the angle being of very close proximity. And you can’t make out which hand usually houses the ring you both wear, the only hand visible to you covering his ring finger, regardless. You scan the photo for a moment, running your fingertips over his figure, before turning it over and reading the neatly scribbled text on the back:
Sydney, last fall. I think I’m the only photography major who doesn’t drink my coffee without sugar. And you were right, the freckles do suit me better.
All my love,
Felix.
#Lee Felix#lee felix smut#stray kids#skz smut#skz felix#felix yongbok#felix smut#stray kids felix#felix#skz#stray kids hard hours#skz scenarios#request#fanfic#felix fic#Lee Felix fanfic#ask#felix fluff#Spotify
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1K Prompts
Pairing: Actor!Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Talks of Making a Sex Tape, Talks of Impregnation
Summary: Every movie star needs a costar.
Word Count: 910 (Not Edited)
It was different, a good different.
Miguel doesn’t remember the last time someone had no idea who he was. Sure, maybe some people didn’t know him by name, but at least they recognized him from one of his roles. Even then, he was met with a ‘you look familiar…’ before it clicked. But not you. You don’t even have that fake calmness when fans pretend to be chill about meeting celebrities. You genuinely looked like you had no idea who he was. He thinks that's the exact reason he became so attached to you.
He didn’t have to pretend with you, didn’t need to put up that celebrity persona for you. You enjoyed him, not the man who played make believe roles. You weren’t disappointed when he didn’t act like one of his movie characters. In fact, to this day, you still get the movies and characters mixed up. You liked him and he couldn’t have been more grateful.
He did feel bad when your relationship got exposed. He was stressed, scared all the gossip and constant invasion of privacy would get to you, that it would end everything between the two of you. But you were strong, resilient. You came to him with your concerns, not the press or the tabloids. It meant a lot that you trusted him instantly, pushing aside the horrible rumors because you knew who the real Miguel was. He has no idea how he got so lucky. Doesn’t know how he was able to find someone so good and pure in the mist of glitz and glam.
And he makes sure you know how grateful he is. He offers to take care of you, having the money to make your dreams come true. God forbid you make a joke about him buying you something crazy, you’ve made that mistake before. You only ask for simple things, nothing too fancy or screaming celebrity status. You’re so modest, getting upset when he buys you something so ridiculously expensive. You are constantly scolding him that there are better things to be spending money on than an overpriced pair of shoes that don’t even look like it's worth half of its retail price. That there are so many other people he could be spending his money on, like good charities or people who are actually in desperate need of it. He makes it his monthly gift to donate a couple thousand dollars to your organization of choice.
Since he can’t show his love through gifts, he does it through actions most of the time. He makes you a nice dinner even when he’s tired from a day of shooting. He offers to help you do things around the house. Drags you out of bed early in the morning for a coffee date before he has to go on set. Brings you to his latest movie set and shows you around if it's a calm day, his acting getting a hundred times better knowing his cute little girlfriend is in his chair watching him work. His favorite thing to do is to show his love by keeping you pinned to the bed as he ruts into you.
He loves watching you wither on the bed, clutching onto him for dear life. You look better than any model or actress as you stare up at him, mewling so nicely for him. He coos into your ear, telling you how pretty you look taking his cock. He’s constantly pressing into that gummy spot inside of you, causing your back to arch and to look up at him with glassy eyes. You look like a goddess, a fucking pornstar as your eyes roll into the back of your head.
“Fuck, hermosa. Feels so good,” he mumbles into your ear, nipping at it as he groans. “Look so fucking good, too.”
You whimper under him, only capable of responding in sounds of pleasure. Reducing you to this state, where nothing but pleasure and lust consumes your body, is better than any award he could get. He can feel your walls fluttering around him, his release quickly approaching.
“Should make our own movie. Make you my good little actress,” He grunts as he puts the last of his energy into his thrusts. Your walls clench so damn tight around him at the idea, making him hiss out. “Yeah, you like that? Want me to record you being a good little bunny for me? Huh, amor?”
He props his hand in between the two of you, flicking your clit to elicit a response. You can only nod, babbling nonsense as your walls pulse wildly. With a few more pumps, your walls hold Miguel in a vice grip as you come. You let out gasping breaths, desperately reaching for Miguel. He’s quick to hold your hands, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he coos down at you. He bullies his cock into you as much as he can with your walls spasming around him, giving a few more sloppy snaps of his hips before he stills.
He lets out a desperate moan as he empties into you, panting into your ear. Both of your bodies are flushed and sweaty, but buzzing with love. Miguel holds you close, not having the energy to pull out. He mumbles sweet nothings into your ear, kissing any skin he can reach.
Hopefully, the next tabloid rumors will be whether or not he’s fucked a baby into you.
Part 2
#cherry's requests🍒#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#atsv miguel#miguel ohara x you#cherry's specials!🍒#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel spiderverse#miguel o hara#miguel ohara#miguel spiderman#spiderman 2099#miguel atsv#spider man 2099#spiderman 2099 spiderverse
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How about yandere! Alastor (human) with a reader who ran away from him... Reader and Alastor are married out of obligation (because of the decade), but what no one counted on was that Alastor really fell in love and was obsessed with his wife, but the reader didn't ...because of work and his secret (that he killed people and devoured them) Alastor hardly spent time with the reader.. Reader then began to fall in love and have a secret relationship, without Alastor knowing.. . So even though reader didn't want to hurt Alastor, since she saw him as a friend (more than her husband), reader ran away with her lover and passion... Leaving behind a very angry Alastor... (reader doesn't know what Alastor It's true)... What would happen?
NO ONE’S BETTER THAN I AM
— the feeling of a fresh love— oh, how wonderful. you only wished that man would have been alastor, just so that he wouldn’t have hunt your true love.
— hey pals 🔥🔥!! i took manipulation tactics from my social studies class and mother gothel, did i do well? HAHAHA :]
being married to alastor, the radio show host is quite the sensation in your town. you grew to be quite a local celebrity, many women even attempting to befriend you to get closer with your husband.
although, because of your marriage, many assumed you were a woman of many talents and high intelligence. but, unfortunately… it appears as if you have the perfect life; beautiful home, wonderful husband, a comfortable life— and, while most of it is true, it is still very far from the truth. the sad truth of it all was that this was a marriage of convenience
it was the only thing that made sense. you and alastor were close in age, you were both still single, you refused to marry a man as old as your father, alastor simply wished to rid himself of the many women throwing themselves at him, and you were already quite close to him since your parents were close, it was the best-case scenario.
when both of your parents had learned of the news, that alastor proposed to you, they were more than delighted. alastor’s mom immediately welcomed you into the family as one of her own, and alastor had grown to be fond of your father.
in front of cameras and watching eyes, alastor played the role of a loving husband well; keeping you safe with an arm wrapped around your waist, giving you his coat in cold weather, and speaking nothing but lovely worship in your name.
you played the ‘doting wife’ role surprisingly well too. the only thing that was different was alastor didn’t stop the act when you were behind closed doors.
‘what if someone is spying on us, hm? they may reveal our little secret to the media!’ that was his excuse. and your reason to let him kiss you, hold you against his chest, and even join you as you bathe occasionally. it always felt weird though. to you, alastor was nothing more than a friend, even something like a brother. doing all these intimate and romantic things with him, it felt wrong.
and even despite all the intimacy, you still felt lonely. here in your large house, you felt lonely; cooking a dinner for two, eating as one, and always having to leave the pot simmering over the stove, so that it’s still warm for your husband. warm for him up until midnight, when he’d usually come home— sometimes even returning home later…
and, on these late nights, you’d remain sleepless. what could he be doing? his radio broadcast only lasts up until 9 in the night. could he possibly be engaging with a mistress of sorts? doing all kinds of scandalous things before returning to your bed, bringing your back close to his chest and resting his face on the nape of your neck.
although it was unlikely… considering how you always wake up to a love letter from alastor in place of where he should be in your bed, but nonetheless, it didn’t stop those thoughts.
eventually, life began to grow boring… chores day and night before going to sleep again— it was just a boring cycle that filled your life with despair and simply just making you miserable.
that is, until you met eugene. quite the handsome man, he may even be a model! you ran into him when he was in a luxury shop, inspecting various items for purchase.
his fuzzy eyebrows, his big brown eyes, and his charming and gorgeous american smile— it’s hard not to fall for such a man.
it started off so innocent; just meeting him to shop together, then it escalated into lunch together, and then that night…
alastor brought you to the club where mimzy performs at, and just by coincidence, eugene had been there with some of his high school friends. under the influence of alcohol, alastor had climbed up the stage and danced with mimzy. laughing at your silly husband, you pointed him out to eugene as well.
and, in that moment he turned you around and kissed you. you tensed, fearing the sudden infidelity; how media would cover this kind of news for months. oh wait… everyone’s wasted, aren’t they..?
your breath heaved in fear, eyes darting to your husband, not even glancing at you— that was when you melted into his kiss.
after that night, the two of you had made an agreement to rendezvous every now and then at your house while alastor was still busy as ever at ‘work’.
and as these meetings with eugene became more and more frequent, the two of you may have… fallen in love. despite that, you still felt guilty; cheating on your husband who has done nothing but be a gentle and loving provider, how could you repay him like this?
but, then again, it is simply a marriage of convenience… alastor doesn’t love you, he couldn’t possibly… the two of you are best friends! so, if you told him, would he mind?
still, you couldn’t possibly risk it. this isn’t a relationship that will last long if the two of you keep it a secret, you have to find a solution soon.
“run away with me.”
“what?! are you insane?!?” you frowned at your lover. “you need to get away from him, and you’re too scared to tell him, aren’t you? it’s the perfect solution.” he argued back.
“alastor… won’t accept it that easily… he’ll probably try to hunt us down, then take me back…” your nose scrunched in fear at the thought. “isn’t it worth the risk, my love?” he took your hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on your fingers. “ah, f…fine…”
a week later, that was when you decided to leave. you packed a suitcase filled with your belongings. honestly, it was not much. most of the things in the house were bought by alastor before he had married you.
you were just about to leave, your lover right outside the door with a getaway car, prepared to leave your life in new orleans behind when your husbands voice stopped you.
“going somewhere, my love?”
“alastor! w-what are you doing up?” you jumped, turning around to face him. “i’d like to ask the same thing, my sweet darling. why do you have a suitcase and a car waiting for you?” he grinned wide, tilting his head.
“ah— i was gonna go out of state for a surprise for you…” you lied, breath shaky. “were you now? was this surprise that i’d never see my beautiful wife ever again?” he scoffed, walking over to you and grabbing you by your chin.
“did you think i’d really be so ignorant as to not know when my own wife is sneaking out? especially to meet other men…” he raised an eyebrow. “alastor! t-this isn’t what you think it is…” you frowned, tears building up in your eyes.
“oh, my dear, how pretty you look when you cry…” he smiled, taking a finger to wipe your tears and putting his finger against his tongue. “fine then, leave your loving and sweet husband behind… just know that— i’ve already corrupted you for any other man to enjoy. no one will love a divorcee, will they?” he moved his hand to cup your cheek, gentle despite his harsh words.
“i’ll let you have your fun, darling. soon enough, you’ll realize that there is no man who can love you better than i can.” he pulled his hand away from you, moving to your hips and leaving a lasting kiss on your lips.
unlike how he usually is, this kiss was harsh, possessive, and brutal. so devoid of any love, it was a pure, unadulterated obsession.
“i know what is best for you, darling. i’ll see you home very soon.”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#hasbin alastor#alastor hc#alastor headcanons#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor the radio demon#yandere#yandere alastor#human alastor
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A whopping, like, 2.6 people have expressed interest in my recent adventures in watching Bean films, which is all the encouragement I need to present to you:
An Incomplete Guide to Sean Bean Roles (Investigation Ongoing)
Our guy has a vast filmography, and I'm not even close to being halfway through it, but I've watched a lot of his significant ones in the past few weeks thanks to a perfect storm of illness, injury, and lapses in client work. Crucially, I have created superlatives for a variety of them and present them here for your benefit. Disclaimer: many of these films are violent! Or have butts and/or tits! Some have dick! Some have dated bits that didn't age well! So, if you have triggers or are watching with young viewers, do your research first! Also, these are just the opinions of one solitary millennial! Nothing is objective! Nothing is real! I care not!
Okay, CYA done, let's begin. I'll get the two most obvious ones out of the way up front, otherwise they'll dominate half the categories:
ACT I
Greatest Bean:
Fellowship of the Ring. I've said it before and I'll say it again, he achieved more pathos with Boromir than a lot of his other roles have allowed for, and every note he hits just sings. No debate.
Best Bean for Your Buck:
Sharpe. For the best confluence of quantity, quality, physicality, emotion, humor, and action, you can't beat Richard Sharpe.
Favorite Dramatic Bean:
Time; he earned that BAFTA fr
Softest Bean:
The first date scene in Stormy Monday, where Brendan shyly gets to know Kate, slow dances with her, lends her a shirt and strokes her back after she asks if they can just go to sleep instead of have sex.
Most Dashing Bean:
Vronsky in Anna Karenina, that uniform cuts, damn
Swooniest Bean:
I know I'm supposed to say Chatterley, and he is undeniably sexy as Mellors, but there are parts where his character is actually kind of off-putting. I'll lay a good chunk of the blame on the weirdly ominous score, the very of-the-time depiction of dubious consent, and Joely Richardson's tendency to look like she's having the worst time of her life while shagging the hot gamekeeper. No, I'm giving this category to Stormy Monday again. He's just so gentle and genuine in this one, without some of the obligatory "heartthrob" overtones of his nineties stuff. He never raises his voice at Kate or manhandles her. He really does feel like some kid who just wants to be sweet to his girlfriend.
Laddiest Bean:
When Saturday Comes, specifically the strip club and bathtub scenes.
Favorite Sad Bean:
As a collective, he has some great grief scenes in World on Fire, but! The railroad track scene in When Saturday Comes?! That was RAW.
Favorite Mad Bean:
Black Death; there are plenty of movies where he doesn't smile at all, but unlike some others, his grimness and anger felt proportionate to the story, rather than just rage because he's good at rage.
Favorite Bad Bean:
There are so many great Bean villains (Goldeneye, obvs), but I think my favorite is Patriot Games. Bonus points for all the different hairstyles he has in this film (long locks-shag-shag ponytail!-buzz-wet spiky buzz). Also HUGH FRASER AAAA
Favorite Dad Bean:
Wolfwalkers, where Bill Goodfellowe literally turns his own convictions and beliefs upside-down in order to protect and support his daughter.
INTERMISSION
A note on GoT: I haven't watched it. When season one was first coming out, it was during a time where I really couldn't handle watching any kind of sexual assault onscreen, and while I have a higher tolerance now, I just... don't want to. I like seeing gifs of Ned Stark and appreciate that it's one of his great roles, but I just can't make myself take the plunge.
ilysm you grizzled dead wolf man
ACT II
Favorite Costumed Bean:
Odysseus in Troy: curls, leather, thighs.
Favorite Un-Costumed Bean:
He strips in quite a lot of his films, so let's give it to Lady Chatterley for sheer screentime, exertion, and the bonus of being naked and wearing a flower crown. Honorable mention to When Saturday Comes for the totally not homoerotic amount of butts and also dick in the locker room bathtub scene.
Hurtin'est Bean:
Bravo Two Zero. Oof, don't watch this one if you have an aversion to seeing pain, although---you're a Sean Bean fan, and we all know one of his MOs is being GREAT at pain. This one was directed by Tom Clegg, who directed Sharpe. Also lol at the sickle-shaped wound on his shoulder, which is covering his 100% Blade tattoo (he gets a lot of sickle-shaped wounds on his left shoulder).
Best Inside References:
The Frankenstein Chronicles, where he plays a former Peninsular soldier, and every reference to his service is a reference to Sharpe, including shots of his greenjacket, pistol, sword, and flogging scars. Honorable mention to The Martian for the Council of Elrond line.
Most Unsettling Bean:
Cleanskin for moral grayness, The Frankenstein Chronicles for body horror
Most Inefficient Use of Bean:
Black Beauty. Despite getting high billing he's only onscreen for about two minutes and I'm convinced the long shots are a body double. Criminal.
Biggest Missed Opportunity:
We were robbed of a Sean Bean Odyssey. R o b b e d
Funniest Bean:
Deploying Bean for comedy is woefully underused, but he made full use of his ~15 seconds in The Vicar of Dibley ("Spring" episode). He's also hilarious in Wasted, though I haven't watched the show, only the clips he's in on YouTube, where he plays a mock version of himself serving as a spirit guide for a stoner. IMO, though, Sharpe gives him the most room for humor.
Favorite Character Quirk:
In World on Fire, when Douglas is having WWI flashbacks and really coming apart, he kept putting his hand to his mouth. My modern brain first read this as talking into a phantom radio, but of course that wasn't right, and then I realized--he was reaching for a phantom gas mask. CHILLS. AMAZING. (Honorable mentions to the Mouth Rub and the Tongue Thing [pictured above]).
Most Nostalgic Bean:
National Treasure. The concept may be utter silliness, but you have to admit, this is a fun movie to watch.
Best Dismount from a Horse:
Henry VIII, he goes pshwing out of the saddle
Best Swordplay:
You may think there's no possible answer to this, but there is---two moments, specifically: the preparatory sword-spin he does at Balin's tomb just before the goblin attack in Moria, and the four lunges he does at 1:26:22 of Sharpe's Battle. It's just facts.
Prettiest Bean Film:
Wolfwalkers, hands downnnn
Favorite Bean Death:
All right, you knew we had to eventually end here. It's Boromir, obviously--- nothing tops that. But if we're looking at other roles, I think Patriot Games is my favorite, followed by Goldeneye.
So! That concludes this installment of Bean films, though I'll be continuing the labor, and I hope you will, too. What are your favorites?
#sean bean#fellowship of the ring#lord of the rings#sharpe#stormy monday#lady chatterley#patriot games#world on fire#goldeneye#bravo two zero#troy#wolfwalkers#black death#national treasure#anna karenina#time#gifs#flashing gifs
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INTRO !! ❤︎ ׄ Different ways to say I love you .ᐟ
Sweet gestures that demonstrate their love to a gender neutral!reader. Characters chosen are Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas. Content warning: none, just fluff. Please, respond to the poll at the end!
Bi-Han !
He lets you call him by stupid nicknames, he acts annoyed when you're using them, but he won't admit to anyone or even to himself that he is fond of them. Everything you make him feel is so unusual for Bi-Han, he doesn't know why he seeks for this warm fuzzy sensation every time he has your attention and affection, when his body as well as his soul are made of ice, but he does, and your foolish nicknames provide them. So, if someone else uses them, he would not only see it as an attack on his honor, not hesitating to put them back in their place, reminding them of whom they're talking to, but also, who do they think they are to call him like that when they’re not you. He prefers if you only use them in private, for plenty of reasons which include that he thinks your love life should be kept private, it isn't a subject of chatter for everyone to be entertained with, but also a matter of respecting his clan's honor as he is its head. He'll be grumpy if you do, but let’s be real, when is he not.
"How many times do I have to apologise for you to move on, snowhan?" Your voice whispers in his ear as your body is glued to his back, an arm hugging his neck while your fingers are twirling a loose strand of his hair that escaped from his bun. The man in your arms lets out a grunt.
"Those champions lack senses for making fun of me, Liu Kang wouldn’t have stop me I would have knock them some of it in their head. And you.. my own partner disrespecting me in front of them." Despite his back facing you, you can feel his glare that is meant for you when he spits those words. But, even with the anger within him, he doesn’t move on from where he is, not even moving an inch when you take his clenching fist and start doing circles on them.
"I thought I made it clear but apparently it wasn’t enough for you to get it. How can we bring glory to the Lin Kuei, when my companion lacks perspicacity and respect for their husband, out of all people you should know better than putting on a foolish act… " His voice fades away, it seems like he was going to continue his rambling but loses himself instead in your fingers gently brushing his silky hair, his bun long gone since, causing his grunts to become quiet moans.
"I'm sorry, I won't do it again." You suddenly remove yourself from him. When he feels your fingers being taken away from his hair, it catchs him off guard as he turns around to see you smiling innocently but also playfully, which he returns with a dirty look that questions as to why did you stopped. You tell him that you’re just respecting his space like a good spouse should.
"Nonsense, there's nothing preventing us here. Continue what you were doing. Now.” He pulls you back with ease in his embrace going back to the soft moment where for once he let his guard down, and that’s a sight no else should be able to see.
Making sure you sleep well. Rest is important, he doesn't want to have a weak lover by his side, you must keep your energy in check and if you don't do it, he will. When he goes to bed at the same time as you, he'll wait for you to sleep first before he does, making sure you don't go on a sleepless night, and it gives him a moment alone to appreciate your features. If you can't sleep, he'll help by brewing warm tea or if necessary, draw a bath, anything that will help he’ll do, it’s one of his rare soft moments where he lets the cold facade fall for once, it’s in the night where it feels like you and him without the world or the worries. When he is occupied during the night because of his role as Grandmaster, he'll go check up on you, always, to see if you're sleeping safe and well.
He opens the door slowly of your shared bedroom and walks at quiet steps to your sleeping figure, when he is next to the bed he let the blanket he searched for fall on your body and make sure to cover the exposed areas. The night is colder than usual and you aren’t used to the cold like he is, he doesn’t want you to end up ill and weak.
After he finishes tucking you in, he takes a moment to trace the features of your face delicately, his finger travelling from the lips he enjoys kissing to the cheek he loves holding, but it doesn’t last long as he has to go, with one last stroke he moves away to the door that he closes after looking at you again. Each times, seeing the moonlight illuminating your soft features in the dark night reminds him that seeing you being so peaceful is one of the reason he wants to strengthen the clan even more, the universe is full of threats from every realms and now even from every timelines, it gives him unspeakable worries if one of those threats reaches you, it’s too late to go back when the Lin Kuei was being held back and weak, time is changing and he needs to go forward with it.
Kuai Liang !
Using his powers to make you feel better. Whenever he sees you shivering cold, he'll automatically wrap his hand around your waist, offering to share his body heat. But, if that's not enough he'll slightly heat himself up, making sure to not burn you but still bring enough warmth. You're free to lean on or snuggle to him whenever you want to, he isn't one to reject his lover when they are in need, and it would be a lie to say he doesn't find it adorable when you seek for him to warm yourself up, sometimes you’re throwing yourself on him so he has no choice but to hug you back, not that he complains, his arms are always open and keep their high temperature for you. He is also your personal heating pad for stomachache, it saddens him to see his loved ones in pain, so he's happy when he's able to help ease it even for a little, by rubbing where the pain is.
It is a particularly cold day and nothing that you found could bring you enough heat. You know it is the day for Kuai Liang to train the recruits so you go to the training place and seek for him. When you find him, you lightly tap on his shoulder without saying a word, and just by the look in your eyes Kuai Liang knows you need something, so he follows you into a secret hiding from the rest of the clan where you can talk.
“What is it, my lo-” He is about to ask, but you interrupt him by throwing your arms above his waist and push your face into his toned chest that you can feel through the fabric. It takes him by surprise but he quickly laughs and returns the hug, you feel his hot touch on your trembling body, causing to send shivers of excitement down your spine. A sudden wave of comfort and heat rushes through your skin as he uses his power. You don’t want to hog him just for yourself but it feels so good and you don’t want to leave him for the moment either, his strong but gentle hands slowly start doing small caresses on your back as if you were the softest and most precious thing he ever held in his hands.
“Does it feel better, love?” His lips whisper close to your face, so close you can feel his breath warming up your cheeks. You can think he is using his power in his smooth voice to make your heart melt like that.
“Yes.. yes, it does.” Your voice drifts away as you let Kuai Liang’s warmth embracing you fully, enjoying it as long as it last.
Letting you do his hair. Every morning, you have the habit of brushing his hair until every knot is untangled, then putting them in a high and tight bun so he won’t be bothered when he goes to work. He can do his hair alone, but he trusts you with it, besides from his parents when he was a boy, nobody has ever touched his hair. It feels intimate and relaxing whenever your fingers pass through his hair which feel like silk, for once it’s like he puts a pause on everything and lets you manage the moment, with nothing being able to interrupt it. It’s impressive, even for him on how can you put the pyromancer in a vulnerable state just by your touch, while his enemies had train all their life to get even an once of his vulnerability, it’s like any fire within him extinguish with your presence. He really wishes to pay you back in some way, if you have long hair he’ll do them if you let him, styling you in hairstyles that he thinks embellish your natural beauty. And of course, his hair ties and pins become yours and vice versa.
“And, here you go.” You say as you rearrange the bun making sure no hair escaped. When you are finished, Kuai Liang turns around to face you, you feel the rough skin of his hand passing over your hand and gently take it to pull it lightly to bring you closer to him.
“Thank you, beloved. I can't think of anyone better.” His gaze who holds sincerity it doesn't leave your eyes, still holding your hand he intertwines your fingers in an unbreakable link between his.
“It's a simple gesture, however I'm happy to be the one to do it.” You smile at him, you really feel lucky to be the only one who can share this moment with him even for how simple it is, passing your fingers through is hair is almost like a small addiction, his smooth hair framing perfectly his handsome face is a sight you can't get tired of.
“It may not be much but it means a lot to me.” His hand strokes your chin before pulling it and his lips capture yours in a kiss. It feels sweet and soft but you can feel the deep emotions he is putting in it, he is not letting your face go from his hand until his lips leave yours and smile tenderly at you.
Tomas !
Being your number 1 fan. This man is quite easy to amaze, but nothing amazes him more than his sweet partner that is you. Everything that you try receives a compliment from Tomas, some may say he is a fool in love, while he’ll say that he is simply proud of you. His significant other kicking ass? That’s my bae for you! Showing off a new trick you just learned? It’s impressive, could you teach him how to do that? (Definitely not an excuse to spend some time with you) While the praises are genuine, they’re also here to make sure you don’t fall into the rabbit hole of insecurities, which unfortunately he has sunk in too many times. He would hate for you to feel bad about yourself, it means for him that he failed as a boyfriend and by extents, he failed you, that’s why he needs to cheer you up and show how much you’re incredible in his eyes.
It is one of those days again, where a gloomy feeling overcomes your mind and manifests itself when you're looking at yourself in the mirror almost defeated by its reflection, the more you look in the mirror the more you are able to see each imperfection and you suddenly start to feel like a mess.
Tomas who has just arrived to check on you, notices your weird behavior, how you twirl your clothes, and look at yourself in every angle with a frown on the mirror that you have been looking at for a long time now, he knows what this means and he knows he needs to put a stop to it. Your investigation is suddenly brought to an end when you feel a pair of strong arms around your waist.
“Hey, you look particularly beautiful today, have you done something new?” Tomas asks with curiosity and a small smirk, he is looking at you in the mirror and you notice his eyes are filled with fondness which makes you smile in returns.
“I just woke up, Tomas. I didn't even brush my hair yet.”
“Oh, I suppose it's your natural charm that makes you beautiful then.” When he says that you can't help but kiss him on the cheek, no matter how many times these bad feelings come back they could never surpass the feelings that your boyfriend is making you feel.
Making you surprises. Tomas is always trying to show that he cares for his partner, he fears that he may not show it enough so he tries through little pleasant surprises that he knows you will like. For example, bringing breakfast in bed, it’s convenient that most of the time he wakes up before you, as the way of teaching from the clan does not allow to sleep in and wake up after the enemy does. He’ll cook your favorite food of course, and somehow the fact that it is made by him makes it even more appetizing but also he learned from the best cook that he knows who is Madam Bo, honestly you don’t know who is sweeter between the breakfast or your boyfriend. He also likes to leave love notes when he is on duty in places he knows that you go and sometimes those notes are attached to cute gifts like plushies, chocolate or flowers.
Good morning, Love!
I hope you slept well and did beautiful dreams (hopefully about me). I regret not being with you here but we had to leave early this morning and I didn’t want to wake you up so early. I made you a quick breakfast before leaving and this time it didn’t burn! I promise I’ll make up for my absence but for the time I wish you a nice day and can’t wait to hear about what you did tonight.
With love, Tomas :)
Your smile grows when you re-read the notes that Tomas left, you kept a small pile of them in the drawer and like to go through again when you’re in an emotional mood. Some of them are small, others are longer, they can be funny or romantic with a deep otherwise cheesy love quote, either written by Tomas or this ‘anonymous’ person who signs as ‘The King Of Smoke’ and hopes to not be caught by your boyfriend so he can keep sending you gifts that represents his love. Whatever those letters are, they always contain his sweet nature in them and never fail to touch you.
‘𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓔𝐍𝐃 Please don’t copy/translate and don’t reblog if you’re a yand3r3 blog/reblog account, or you’ll be blocked. Besides that, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated.
Imagine Tomas leaving a love note and Bi-Han finds it accidentally, you can’t even imagine the disgust that he has on his face, he is even more displeased with Tomas than he already is, why can’t he keep his personal stuff private and not expose it to all the clan.
#mortal kombat x reader#mk1 x reader#bi han x reader#sub zero x reader#kuai liang x reader#scorpion x reader#tomas vrbada x reader#tomas x reader#smoke x reader#mortal kombat 1 x reader
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BFG (2)
Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…
Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader
Warnings: size kink, flirty reader, objectification of Reacher, language, violence, flirting
A/N: Please consider, that I do not follow the exact storyline of season one. Some characters known from the show may appear.
Catch up here: BFG (1)
BFG masterlist
Reacher made himself scarce over the following days. If not for the missing pie in your fridge and the fixed sink, you’d believe Reacher didn’t come to your home at all.
You don’t know what kind of business he has to take care of in your sleepy town, and you don’t want to know. He’s the kind of person you don’t ask too many questions.
“Morning,” you chirp when you walk in on Reacher wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He emptied the rest of your orange juice, drinking right out of the carton.
“Morning,” he looks at you when you pass him by to look in the fridge. “I drank your orange juice and ate the leftovers. I’ll pay you back.”
“Nah, I’m glad you ate the lasagna,” you say while poking your head inside the fridge. “It’s great to have someone around who can eat. A big man needs a lot of food.”
“Uh-thanks,” he grins as you bend a little to look for the eggs. You stick your ass out, offering a perfect view of your ass to Reacher. “I took care of the sink in the kitchen, and I’ll have a look at the heater upstairs.”
“You earned your stay already.” You place the eggs on the counter. “Do you want to have breakfast before you go? I bet you didn’t get any food last night. No wonder you had to eat the leftovers.”
“I came back late and didn’t find the time to grab food,” he dips his head to watch you grab a pan. “I wouldn’t say no to eggs.”
“How about pancakes, eggs, and bacon,” you smirk. Reacher subconsciously licks his lips. He hums and drops his eyes to the eggs. “As long as you are around, I’ll make sure you eat well. I can’t have you starving.”
He laughs. A heartfelt laughter fills the room as you join him. It’s been a while since you felt comfortable enough around a man to be just you.
That’s why you’re single at the moment. You hate playing a role and acting like you are a different person only because a man doesn’t like your attitude or personality.
You are who you are. Nothing less and nothing more.
“You think I’m starving?” He challenges.
“A man must eat to stay as big and tall as you,” you point out while unashamedly looking him up and down. “Now, pancakes yes or no?”
“I won’t say no to some pancakes and eggs…and bacon. Can I help you? I’m not a great cook, but I know a few tricks.”
“I bet you do,” you coo, and smirk. This man is a force of nature, and you try to show him that you can hold up with him. “What do you have up your sleeve, Mr. Reacher?”
Cocking your head, you watch him wipe his hand on his shirt.
“Just Reacher, mom called me that too,” he says. “And she taught me a thing or two when it comes to cooking.” He reaches for the eggs. “I can prepare the pancakes if you want me to.”
“Your mom,” you hum. “I learned baking and cooking from granny and my mom.”
“Your door needs fixing too,” he casually says while cracking the eggs. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“Oh?” you quirk a brow. “What’s wrong with my door?”
He sighs, long and a little exasperated. “It’s not safe. Anyone could break in and steal your leftovers,” his features darken, and he squares his jaw, “or worse.”
“I got a nice baseball bat I’m burning to test on someone’s face,” you grin, but your smile fades when he shakes his head. “What? I’m not some damsel in distress.”
“I know you are not but,” he places his hand on top of yours, “there are people out there stronger than you. Maybe even stronger than me.”
You glance at Reacher. Maybe he’s not wrong. This sleepy town used to be a safe and friendly place, but things changed.
“Okay,” you agree. “This town isn’t as safe as it used to be. If you have any suggestions, tell me. I’ll buy all you’ll need.”
Reacher and you work in silence, preparing breakfast for the two of you. You glance at him from time to time, wondering about his plans for this town. He came here for a reason. You only hope he stays a little longer than a few days…
“Coffee, black,” a familiar voice barks at Sally Ann. It could’ve been a nice day, but now it’s ruined. “Chop, chop! I don’t have all day. Move your ass.”
“A good morning to you too,” you glare at the unwelcome guest. Kliner jr. - a slimy bastard you can’t stand. He believes only because his daddy has more money than his spoiled son can count that he’s better than the other people in town. “What can we bring you today?”
“Coffee, black,” his tone doesn’t change, only the way he stares at you. He cocks his head to watch you turn around to get a cup for him. “You still got that juicy ass, huh? Did anyone already fuck it? Damn, I bet—”
His voice dies, and you hear something slam onto the counter. You assume he slammed his fist down.
You twirl around to show him the way out only to watch Reacher press Kliner Jr.’s head to the counter.
He squares his jaw and lifts his hand only to slam the bastard’s head down onto the counter again.
“No one disrespects this lady in her diner or elsewhere,” Reacher whispers in Kliner Jr.’s ear. “I want you to nod if you understood what I said.”
“Do you know who my father is?” Kliner Jr. spats. He tries to act all tough, but it takes anything in him to not wet his pants. This beast of a man holds his head pinned to the counter and he’s got no clue how to free himself. “He’ll … he’ll…”
“He will do shit boy,” you snap at Kliner Jr. “Now get out of my diner or I will let you arrest for harassment.”
“Bitch!”
Reacher grabs Kliner Jr. but his neck, ready to slam him onto the counter again. “I want you to apologize to this lady. And you better mean it.”
“Fuck you!”
“Reacher. Stop.” You shake your head. “I’d like to tell you that he got the message, but he didn’t. He’s one of these guys who need a kick in the balls to leave a woman alone. I just don’t think anything will fix the mess in his head.”
Reacher looks you straight in the eyes, silently asking you if you want him to hurt Kliner Jr. even more. “You will get out of the diner and never come back. If I hear about you harassing her again, you will wish that you were never born.”
He releases Kliner Jr. and pushes him toward the door. “You are banned from the diner. Never come back.” You yell after him.
“Your coffee tastes like sweat either way,” Kliner Jr. spats while spitting blood onto the floor. “You fucked with the wrong guy.”
“You wish,” you snap and get your baseball bat out from under the counter. “You should be thankful he took care of you, not me. Betsy my bat would’ve made sure that you’ll never have a Kliner Jr.”
“You didn’t lie about that bat,” Reacher points at the baseball bat on the counter. “I knew you were trouble.”
“I could say the same about you.” You both chuckle at your flirty banter. “How about I give you a slice of pie for your help, sweetie.”
“That pet name sticks, huh?” He plops down on his seat. “Do you want me to wipe the counter?” Reacher looks at the blood on the counter. “I can clean up.”
“You handled the bastard, I can handle a little blood,” you wink at Reacher. “What do you want? Cherry, apple, or peach.”
“You know my taste.”
“I see you are already working on my door,” you duck under Reacher’s arm to enter your house. “You know, I wanted to pay for the things you’ll need to make it safer.”
“I got it handled,” he shrugs and goes back to work. It looks like he is trying to protect the crown jewels or something. “I bought orange juice too.”
“Well, if you are done for today,” you lean against the wall next to Reacher, “I’ll make you something for dinner.”
He looks at you and smirks. “I’d like that. I’m almost finished.”
“I’ll be waiting for you in the kitchen. I got a beer for you too.”
You walk toward the kitchen, swaying your hips as you feel his eyes on you.
Smiling to yourself you decide to not let this man slip through your fingers.
Part 3
BFG Tags
@xxyaoi-nationxx, @lovestoreadfiction, @glambyk, @sonicthehedgedoggo, @thewitchesofart, @emily-roberts, @littlelearningbrat, @mcira
#reacher#reacher x reader#jack reacher x reader#reacher fanfiction#plus-sized reader#jack reacher x plus-sized reader#female reader#reacher x y/n
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Be gentle, man!
Synopsis: You and the team go undercover to a dinner where high-profile guests are invited. You need to acquire vital information while acting posh at the same time. Good lord, help you all.
Relationship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader, Task Force 141 x F!Reader
Word Count: 1,519 (approx. 6-7 min reading time)
Notes:
This is the second (and final) part of the story but you can read it as a oneshot. Here’s Part 1 if you’re interested.
No warnings; casual read with platonic relationships.
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The Athenian Palace: You’ve heard of the place a few times, mainly through the news, but never had the chance to visit. And why would you? Are you the president of a country? A diplomat? A wealthy businessperson with significant influence over government decision-makers? No, you are just a soldier among the many considered expendables. Your duty is to protect your country with your life—the same country that many attending the event have a vested financial interest in.
But today, everything is different. Today, you’re supposed to act like someone who comes from money.
For the past month, you and the rest of the team have undergone extensive training in formal dining, conversation, walking, and dancing. Everyone has adapted to their undercover personas somehow, except for Price, who couldn’t accompany you since he’s been undercover in a similar instance some years ago and poses a threat to the mission if he gets recognised.
Gaz required the least training among the four of you. You haven’t yet determined if he was naturally suited for this role or if his assigned persona was more straightforward than the rest. Nevertheless, he seemed comfortable conversing about the tech industry and acting like James Sinclair, the alleged tech entrepreneur.
On the other hand, Soap was the complete opposite of Gaz. Your etiquette instructor, Lady Theodora, struggled to mould him, but he always found a way to break free. Eventually, she found the tipping point to channel Soap’s extravagance to benefit the mission.
“What would you do if you were a trust fund child?” She asked, to which Soap replied that he would be “poised and all” but at the same time act “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.” And that’s how Maxwell Vanderbilt—or “you can call me Max,” according to Soap—was born: with a mohawk, a loose-fitting suit, and an unchallenged attitude. You hated to admit it, but he was the most authentic and convincing among the four of you.
As for you and your Lieutenant, you were still adjusting to your role as a couple, particularly with the required intimacy. Yet, with Lady Theodora’s help, you managed to get closer, even if that involved a few unorthodox ways of doing things. One day, for example, she duck-taped your hands together and ordered you to spend the entire day together. She taught you how to dance, touch each other in public, and show, without telling, how you and Ghost— or Sir Ethan K. Wood—would infiltrate the facility and gather vital information as a couple.
He hated the name. “Why should I pretend to be fucking Ethan?” He asked, but Lady Theodora explained that it was a name forged by Laswell and she could do nothing about it. And when you told him you were named “Constance”, he spitted out his drink and immediately became grateful to Sir Ethan K. Wood.
Arriving in a Maserati Levante, you were greeted by a team of three people, two opening your doors and one guiding your hand as you stepped out of the car.
You wrap your arm around Ghost and approach the entrance.
As you walk through the imposing double doors, the room reveals itself in all its glory—a high ceiling decorated with murals stretch towards the heavens. The ballroom’s walls are draped in exquisite fabrics of gold and burgundy while crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow, illuminating the space and creating an inviting and elegant atmosphere.
The ballroom’s focal point is a large dance floor. It invites guests to dance while a live orchestra, hidden in a corner, fills the room with melodies. Surrounding the dance floor, elegant tables decorated with crisp linens showcase elaborate floral centrepieces, while towering candelabras provide additional illumination.
You look at the guests; men wear tailored tuxedos, and women glide in flowing gowns and sparkling jewellery. Your gaze shifts to Ghost, who looks dashing in a three-piece navy suit, a matching tie, and a white handkerchief in his chest pocket.
“Are you ready, my dear?” You ask with fake confidence.
“Ah, my love,” Ghost replies, “in for a penny...”
“... in for a fucking pound.”
“Language, Constance.” He corrects you sternly.
“Apologies, darling.”
You enter the crowd, mingling with the elite. Ghost introduces you as his wife, guiding you with a firm yet gentle touch on your back. Engaging in conversation, you discuss the land you supposedly own, the inflation—that most people in the room are the direct cause of—and collectively sorrow over the economy’s current state. All this while sipping champagne from crystal glassware that’s worth more than your annual salary.
Among the guests, you spot Soap conversing with a group of Wall Street figures. He appears relaxed, holding a glass of whiskey with an orange peel garnish.
“Ah, what can you do?” You hear his Scottish accent echoing in the room. “It’s a self-regulating market, after all.”
Lots of things baffle you in this world. Soap, talking about self-regulating markets with a bunch of Golden Boys who nod and agree with him just added another paradox to your list.
“Darling,” Ghost says, with his hand finding yours and interlacing your fingers, “dinner will be served shortly; let us find our table.”
You approach your seats, and Ghost pulls out a chair for you. As you settle in, you look around at the surrounding tables, searching for familiar faces. Gaz, sporting a suit with no tie and fake glasses, is seated at the table next to yours and talks with the people around him.
The evening unfolds with a symphony of courses served with artistic precision. Each dish arrives like a work of art—a culinary masterpiece. You apply Lady Theodora’s training and indulge in the exquisite feast while engaging polite conversations. You observe and listen closely to the guests’ discussions, hoping to obtain any valuable information that might aid your mission.
With dinner concluded, everyone moved to the ballroom for the entertainment segment. Ghost discreetly signals for you to follow him. Excusing yourselves, you navigate the corridors of the Athenian Palace, with the music and chatter fading as you reach the server room.
“This is it,” Ghost whispers as he approaches the servers. “The information we need should be here. You need to get to work.”
You nod and navigate the complex digital landscape, leveraging your technical expertise to penetrate the encrypted files. Meanwhile, Ghost maintains a vigilant watch and stands guard, ensuring no unexpected disruptions throw a wrench into your plans. Each creak or distant voice makes him reach for the gun in his inner jacket pocket.
Minutes pass like hours. Suddenly, your face lights up.
“Got it!” you shout, and Ghost brings a finger to his lips, urging you to keep quiet.
“Got it!” You repeat, this time in a whisper.
“Good girl,” he replies softly, “now let’s go find the others and get the fuck out of here.”
You begin your return to the ballroom, but things feel strange this time. The calm conversations surrounding the place have turned to screams, and the music sounds somewhat different than when you left the hall.
Ghost puts a hand in front of you and stops you.
“What’s going on, Constance?” he asks, concerned.
“Let’s find out, my love,” you reply, loading the pistol strapped to your thigh.
You run through the corridors, but there’s no one there—it sounds like everyone has gathered in the main hall.
Just before entering the ballroom, you compose yourself, adopting the poised stance Lady Theodora taught you. You enter the hall to uncover the reason behind the change in atmosphere.
Soap stands on a table in the centre of the ballroom, flipping his mohawk from left to right in sync with the rhythm of “Macarena”, played by the orchestra. Ties are now worn as headbands, and champagne glasses have become shots.
Dumbfounded by the spectacle unfolding right before your eyes, you approach Gaz.
“Ga-James, what’s the deal with all this?” You ask while looking at Soap dancing on the table.
Gaz chuckles, adjusts his fake glasses, and points towards Soap. “This fucking genius had a brilliant plan to create a diversion while you two were working your magic behind the scenes.”
Ghost raises an eyebrow. “So, this whole… thing is Soap’s way of keeping the spotlight off us?”
Gaz nods. “Exactly, mate. Soap figured throwing a wild party would divert the security’s focus from their employer’s safety.”
You look at Soap, who has now started a conga line. “If their employer is too drunk and occupied, they won’t care about outside threats,” you utter.
“Indeed,” Gaz says, “they have a whole other worry; their employer not getting any more shitfaced.”
“That audacious, brilliant motherfucker,” Ghost shakes his head in awe, “he just created the perfect cover for our mission.”
Soap notices you looking at him and raises his hands triumphantly. He looks so proud of his achievement. He brings his thumbs to his chest and mouths something.
“What is he saying?” You ask, confused.
Ghost’s lips curve up, and he leans towards you.
“He says,” he whispers in your ear, “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.”
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#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#cod x female reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod mwii#modern warfare 2#call of duty#simon riley x y/n#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#cod x reader#cod mw2#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty modern warfare#simon ghost riley x f!reader
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one aspect of queerness being an intrinsic part of deltarune that i love is the way suselle acts on some level as a metacommentary... you have this love story, and half of it is noelle, a rule follower, seemingly the golden girl but broken on the inside, essentially The Girl of deltarune. there are other girls, obviously. but as many have said before, noelle is clearly meant to embody many age-old female character archetypes. she's the lost girl with the troubled inner life. she's the golden girl, the town's sweetheart, the golden-haired, straight-as mayor's daughter. she's the damsel in distress, called out as such by multiple characters. she's the cheerful, ordinary girl next door. noelle is clearly part of the plan of deltarune's living narrative- the quintessential Girl for all the Girl roles.
and then you have susie, who's the polar opposite of that. she's loud, crude, messy, sarcastic, not afraid of a good old-fashioned fight. she manspreads in teacup rides, she swallows cakes whole and guzzles waterfalls of coffee. she calls herself a king. she is obviously and unapologetically BUTCH- and this clearly plays into her role as the one who defies the narrative. you can't tell susie where to go or what to do. you can't make decisions for her. she doesn't wait around hoping to be saved- she smashes through the prison walls herself. she's a knight in her own way! she's a girl, but she won't let ANYONE, including the narrative, tell her what that means for her. she defines it herself.
susie and noelle are opposites, not just appearance-wise or demeanor-wise, but in relation to their roles in the story. noelle is the narrative's perfect puppet, while susie breaks her strings and wrests control for herself. the story clearly wants noelle and susie to be nothing but a knight and her damsel (let's be honest, them getting together is obviously a part of whatever Big Plan is going on), a perfect fairytale king and queen.
but of course, there are no queer people in classic fairytales. the very fact that susie is not a man, but a loudly and proudly queer girl, is symbolic of the flaw in the grand plan- she can't fit into traditional narrative structures, and she sure as hell doesn't want to. instead of simply being the knight in shining armor who rescues noelle from danger and then hides her away in a different prison of riches and royalty for the rest of her days, susie is going to end up being the one who teaches noelle how to break free from the roles she's been forced into- how to twist those fairytales into her own epics.
and i just think that's neat!!
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I don't know how common this is among trans people, but for many years I spent a lot of time looking for signs that I was not, in fact, trans. And frankly, they are not hard to find. I suspect even most cis people would doubt their gender identity if they had reason to look.
It's the obvious things. The biological differences, the societal pressure to conform. The various alternatives thrown at us - you just have masculine/feminine interests, that doesn't have to mean anything. You're just interested in a surface-level presentation. You're just a pervert. You're just trying to escape responsibility/gain privilege. We really should be dismantling gender roles altogether rather than moving between them. So many excuses for why what we're feeling doesn't mean what we think it means.
But it's also subtle, well-meaning things that get twisted by self-loathing. A trans person telling anecdotes of gendered experiences in their childhood and sure you found a lot of similarities to your own life, but also things that you could not relate to. Their description of dysphoria involves panic attacks and anxiety, but what you are feeling is more akin to a constant sense of hopelessness. They talk about benevolent friends seeing them for who they are and helping them come to terms with it, and no-one has ever seen that in you. At least not exactly like that.
Surely if your experience is so different you can't be trans. It's one of the other things.
And the more trans people I talk to, the more I understand that where we are coming from, what is important to us and where we are going is wildly different. Even for people who want nothing more than to pass as cis the ways in which they realized this and the journey they are taking there has a lot of variance. There's a reason good therapy focuses on what, specifically, would make you happier rather than how many trans boxes you check.
So I think it is fair to want to shy away from responding to gender-nonconformity as a joke but rather take it as a serious expression of identity and be curious about that. I think for someone who is just doing it as an act they will be quick to point that out. But responding with insincerity to a trans person taking their first trembling steps into finding their true selves just adds to the mountain of small excuses keeping them from happiness.
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ive been a halfhearted dnd defender for a minute, bc i was really involved in indie ttrpg twitter for a while and I Am Not Anymore because frankly. it just got too hostile and crab bucket-y. a lot of people acting like critical role or dimension 20 were opposing them by playing a game that had widespread brand recognition (and also getting mad whenever critrole played something OTHER than dnd. i haven't forgotten how hostile everyone i knew in that scene was when critrole played monster hearts. like what do you want??) or like people who play dnd are popular jocks and people who play indie games are bullied nerds. when actually we're all nerds. nobody is cool here.
and i would especially get frustrated when people would recommend games to play instead of dnd that are not at all a comparable experience, or didnt have the same things people liked in dnd. sure, you could play Masks if you want to play a superhero game instead of just reskinning DnD, but Masks is about teens, and the fact that you're playing as teens is core to the mechanics, so it's not a good suggestion for someone who wants to play as adult superheroes. sure you can suggest someone play Blades in the Dark if they want to play a heist team, but BitD is incredibly punishing! every time ive played it, it felt almost impossible to get a full success at anything. that can be fun, if that's the kind of game you want, but if i want to play a game where i feel cool and like im good at things, then BitD is not a good replacement! I cant tell you how many times I've seen people say that you don't need to just reskin dnd when there are games that are more specifically tailored to the experience you want, and then in the same breath act like the games they're suggesting ARENT specific actually and can be used to craft any kind of experience you want. Is the genre baked into the mechanics, or isnt it? because it cant be both!
and thats not even getting into when people would suggest replacements that aren't even close. a lot of "dnd sucks nobody should ever play dnd. instead of dnd, why don't you play MY game, where youre a couple thats getting married in 2 months and you're still planning your wedding?" like... why would i play that instead of dnd, if i want to play dnd? those have nothing in common, beyond the fact that theyre both tabletop games. it's like saying "Instead of watching Star Wars, you should watch Get Out!" sure, they're both MOVIES, and Get Out is GOOD, but i think to suggest that someone who wants to watch Star Wars would have an equal if not better experience watching Get Out instead devalues both. They're not interchangeable because they're trying to do entirely different things
So I would get incredibly frustrated when people acted like people who were choosing to play DnD were just making a mistake, and that they couldn't possibly be getting anything out of playing that game specifically
ALL THAT BEING SAID wizards of the coast sucks ass and they can clean my balls. they should get put in the stocks and i should get to pelt them with tomatoes. i like playing in the sword and sorcery fantasy setting, and dnd was always my go-to game for that because Dungeon World is the worst game I've ever played (i can think of one or two other games in the same sort of setting, but i haven't tried them or met anyone willing to run them) but ah well. WotC can eat shit for this copyright bullshit
#anime life#anyway idk if this post was interesting or meaningful at all#i just wanted to get some of my thoughts written down and organized
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messenger [tsukishima kei]
synopsis: you and yamaguchi are best friends with tsukishima. nearly everyday girls come up to the two of you to ask about the blonde and you both have had just enough. little do you know that yamaguchi has a plan of his own to get the chatting to stop...
notes: based off the sole fact that it's canon that girls only go up to yamaguchi to ask him about tsukki, which obviously means he's popular with girls. this was originally written as a stand-alone but i decided to submit it for lexi's @suckerforsugawara first time for everything collab! i apologize for how late this is, writer’s block got the best of me.
warnings: reader is very much in their head, angst at first but eventual fluff with good ending
word count: 4kei
for as smart as tsukishima kei is, he sure is oblivious to how girls flirt with him.
everyday a good number of girls around campus whisper and talk about how they find the blonde middle blocker attractive. about how much a good boyfriend he would make. it amazes you to no end how much the tall and silent type attract people. you could probably end up rich with how much you hear about him, because there's seriously not one day where you don't hear his name.
at first, most of the comments make you laugh. over time though, you begin to roll your eyes and scoff. you don't understand why so many people like him. half the time you see how tsukishima interacts with hinata and kageyama and it isn't in the nicest or most pleasant way. it just looks like a complete circus act. you truly feel sorry for daichi and suga.
tsukishima is just...mean. if you had a boyfriend who treated you like that, you'd dump him on the spot.
but maybe you are a hypocrite because while you think of all these things, you're still friends with him.
...if you can even call it that—you're sure tsukishima just 'tolerates' you. but the fact that you and yamaguchi are the two he spends the most time with obviously means something. he also begrudgingly helps you with your homework and walks you home from class all the time.
it means something...right?
today is no different from many other days as you watch hinata and kageyama get into a heated screaming match about god knows what. tsukishima is on the side snickering to yamaguchi. everyone else is helplessly by standing.
but you, on the other hand, are in your own little world. you're one of the managers for karasuno university's volleyball team. currently, you're filling up water bottles for the team. being in the role as manager, you've become a master at zoning out hinata and kageyama's bickering.
but you did not expect that this skill would one day work against you.
"hinata, kageyama! watch out!" ennoshita shouts, but it's already too late. you feel the unruly force of a volleyball hit you, making you drop the bottles you're filling up and spill water on the ground.
"are you okay?" yamaguchi rushes to help you to your feet, shooting the offending people a small glare. kageyama and hinata shiver at tadashi's gaze and begin to profusely apologize.
"i'm okay, yams. thank you." you dust off your clothes and laugh, "it's nothing i can't help when those two get carried away."
"we are so sorry!" hinata cries, nearly tripping over himself to get to you. kageyama sheepishly let's out a 'sorry' before his face flushes a bright red.
you open your mouth to assure them you're fine, but a certain voice beats you to it.
"are you two that incompetent that you'll take out our manager in the middle of one of your childish games?" the voice hisses. "i knew the two of you were stupid, but you both surprise me every day. i have to start lowering my bar more."
you don't have to turn to know who it is.
tsukishima turns to you, a displeased look on his face. if you squint, you can see his concern. "and you really need to work on watching your surroundings. i'd rather not have to take you to the hospital." he scolds, picking up the bottles from the ground. he swats your hand away when you reach out for them and you puff out your cheeks, frustrated.
he always does this, where you can't tell if he cares for you, or if he's just being mean. maybe you’re reading into things too closely.
you watch his eyes scan your figure intently and you flinch when you feel him touch you. your breath hitches at how close he is, close enough to see the specks of gold in his eyes from behind the lenses of his sports googles.
his hand gently turns your face to either side, "are you hurt anywhere?"
at the feeling of his hand on your arm, you feel it burn at the source of his touch. you quickly recover and answer that you're fine. he studies your face for a moment longer to detect if you're lying but doesn't prod for any more answers.
not too far away does yamaguchi note the gesture between you two, but doesn't say anything.
the rest of practice runs by smoothly and you have practically forgotten that you were hit with a volleyball. before you know it, it's over and everyone calls it a day before filing out to the lock room.
tsukishima announces that he has to go somewhere after practice and for you and yamaguchi to not wait up for him. neither of you question him on his whereabouts because chances are he won't even tell you anyways.
as punishment for hitting you with the volleyball, kageyama and hinata are responsible for cleaning up the gym and locking up, which gives you the advantage of getting home early. down to two, you and yamaguchi start your trek home, the convo floating between school, volleyball, and other interests.
"yamaguchi-san?"
the two of you turn at the sound of a girl. she looks anxious and nervous and holds a pink envelope in her hands.
"hi! what can i do for you?" he smiles, green eyes bright and inviting.
the girl seems to gain confidence at yamaguchi's smile. "i have this confession for tsukishima-kun...but i don't know how to give it to him, so i was wondering if you would give it to him for me?" the girl explains shyly. her eyes shift to you and widen. "you're not dating tsukishima-san are you?"
your eyes widen at the accusation and you bust out a laugh, hard. maybe too hard.
"me? date him? i could never!"
after your embarrassing and short-lived laughing party, yamaguchi reluctantly agrees to take the letter to give to tsukishima. a strange feeling wells up in your chest at the sight, and you don't know why you felt disappointed in him doing so.
as soon as the girl leaves, you see yamaguchi's shoulders sag and his smile fades.
"what's wrong, yams?" you nudge your best friend in the side, noting the way he picks at the skin on his hand anxiously.
"nothing," he answers, "we need to get going now."
you pull him back. "it's not 'nothing'. come on, what is it?"
you watch as he takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he replies, "i appreciate and care about tsukki and all, but it really sucks that girls only talk to me about him." he pouts, puffing out his cheeks.
"it's probably because you're much more approachable than mr. blonde beanpole." you suggest, shrugging your shoulders. "frankly, I don't know why or what people see in him. he's not very people-friendly. plus he always walks around with a scowl on his face. but i too wish they would stop asking us about him. what did suckyshima do to get so many confessions all the time..."
your freckled faced friend raises his brows, amused by your passionate rambling. "are you jealous?" he asks, head tilting in inquiry.
"w-what? no! why would i be?" you scoff, feeling your heart race in your chest. "the only thing i'm jealous of is that beanpole blonde's attention." you say. "i would very much like to be confessed to as often as he gets!"
"you would hate it," yamaguchi chuckles, "you don't even like getting attention. especially from guys."
you click your tongue, not knowing how to disagree with him. "maybe, but it wouldn't hurt to have it happen once in a while, you know?" you sigh, "i can't go my entire life without experiencing a confession!"
you must've had a terrible past life to have such an unlucky dating experience. you've never had a guy ask you out. and while you don't like to be arrogant you consider yourself cute and a decent person—more so decent than glasses-kun.
"well, more guys would approach you if it wasn't for tsukki." yamaguchi says, and immediately upon speaking covers his mouth.
you raise a brow at your friend, "eh? what do you mean by that?"
before he can answer, you huff, "you're telling me blondie is messing up my love life? what does he gain from doing that?" you huff, feeling irritated that the number of cute boys you could've encountered is very little due to the fact that they were being cockblocked by the most annoying person on the planet.
yamaguchi would never tell you, and god bless your soul, but he's forever thankful for how oblivious you are at times. his skin is saved from having to explain to tsukishima why his crush on you has been outed.
but on the other hand, he desperately wants these confession shenanigans to be over with and for the two of you to confess to each other. to him, it's painfully obvious that there are shared feelings but neither one of you want to acknowledge the fact that there's something going on. he'd rather take the risk of tsukishima biting his head off if it means you two will end up together.
"let's just say that the two of you complain about each other too much for there not to be something going on between you two." yamaguchi says. "i just wish you'd both make out with each other or something."
panic swarms you, at the meer thought of locking lips with blondie. "tadashi, i would never be caught kissing him. i'd rather be dead." you say sternly, although an itch in your throat tells you otherwise.
"yeah, i totally got the vibe of that earlier when he came over to see if you were okay." he laughs, rolling his eyes.
"it didn't mean anything, he was just oddly nice..." you argue, the rapid beating of your heart mocking you.
the sudden silence could be cut through with a knife as you two walk. your knuckles grip your bag tightly as you focus on your feet in front of you.
"your crush never went away, right?" yamaguchi stops walking and looks at you intently.
when you don't respond, he knows his answer.
"that's another reason why i don't like getting these confessions. i don't want to see you get hurt by all of this." he reveals, his hand gripping the pink envelope he was given earlier.
"it doesn't matter, though. what i feel is irrelevant.” you shrug.
yamaguchi perks up, a light bulb going off. he presses the envelope to your hands. "you give this to him. you can find out what he says about the letter and how it makes him feel. he might act differently. that way, you can also decide if those feelings for him are still there, or if you've moved on. if you haven’t, then confess."
you turn away, not taking the envelope. your feet then move briskly. "what makes you think that he would accept my confession? there's no way he would."
"what's stopping you?" he presses, following you. "you don't know that unless you try."
a sharp exhale of air escapes you, your nerves taking your own words out of your mouth. "because i don't want to make a relationship awkward possibly. besides, he'll just make fun of me for having a crush on him and then reject me. so no way is tsukki going to accept it."
"he wouldn't do that. and you know he wouldn't. look, we both know tsukki better than anyone else does. i'm surprised at how blind you are to how he feels about you. or maybe you're denying it?"
before you can reply, you realize you've reached your apartment.
"just think about telling him? it'll ease your mind somehow, won't it? at least you'll have your answer and you can stop letting this eat at you the way it has for years." yamaguchi says, concern written on his face.
you sigh. "sure, tadashi. i'll think about it."
you don't get a wink of sleep that night. and despite you wanting more time to think, you are meeting up with tsukishima and yamaguchi to hangout the next day. so even if you want to put off your thoughts about the situation, you can't.
"you look like shit," tsukishima says once you sit down at the cafe the three of you always meet up at. "like a zombie with the life is sucked out of them.”
“wow, how did you guess?” you say, response dripping with sarcasm.
a guilty look appears on his face before he changes it to a softer expression. "here, i already ordered for you." he says, pushing your favorite order across the counter.
"oh, thank you. you didn't have to." you reach into your bag to pay him back, but he pushes your hand away, a grimace on his face.
"yeah, well i did anyways." he says, turning away. a faint hue of pink can be seen across his cheeks. “you should really try not to over exert yourself. we can’t afford to have our manager collapsing.”
you stare at the drink, mind rambling. “right…”
tsukishima distracts himself with the time, noticing how late yamaguchi is. it isn’t like him to be late. once the male checks his phone, everything clicks into place.
"tadashi says he won't be able to make it to the movies." tsukishima tells you, slipping his phone back in his pocket.
"really?" you go to pull your own phone out of your bag to check, but something else catches your eyes first.
the pink envelope.
you gasp, gritting your teeth. "tadashi, you bastard..." you hiss, wondering when he slipped it into your bag.
"yeah, something about feeling sick..." the tall man's eyes slide down to look at you, and as attentive as he is he asks, "what are you grumbling about?"
you eyes glance between him and the letter, panic washes over you as you try to improvise a lie.
tsukishima leans over, peering into your bag. “what is that?” he asks.
solemnly, you hand him the pink envelope. cotton has lodged itself in your throat but you manage. "this...this is for you."
“from?” he questions, but he already knows it’s not you. you don’t dot your i’s like that.
“the usual. some girl with a crush on you.” you answer, “she didn’t know how to give it you directly.”
opening the letter, his brown eyes scan the contents carefully, silence overcoming him as he drinks in each word.
meanwhile, your heart races rapidly. you can feel yourself beginning to spiral in your mind, thinking of all the possibilities of what could happen next after he finishes reading the letter. instead of hearing anything, the blonde simply puts the letter back in the envelope.
“let’s go.” he says, standing up to leave.
wait...that's it? you watch him leave the cafe and scramble after him, confusion trailing you.
when you catch up to tsukishima, your eyes glance at him, trying to gauge anything. something.
"well?" you ask, brow arching up.
"'well' what?" he replies, staring at you expressionless.
"are you...going to accept?" you prod, leg bouncing.
the man seems to contemplate your question, not answering for a moment. the anticipation is killing you. swallowing you whole. you have to say something before you’re buried alive.
"don't accept that confession." you blurt.
"huh?" the blonde slips the envelope in his pocket. "and why not?"
you shift uncomfortably in your spot. "b-because."
"'b-because', isn't an answer. i hope you're aware." he mocks before stepping closing to you, a sly smirk on his face. "why do you look like you're about to throw up? is the thought of me getting a confession that repulsive to you?"
"shut up!" you hiss, the burning in your cheeks spreading like wildfire now. "i never said that."
"you didn't have to. your face said everything that i needed to know." he replies, "why are you so eager to know anyways?"
you shrug, "i mean, we're friends right? why wouldn't i be curious?"
a soft chuckle leaves him. it's pretty, and pretty looks very good on him. how annoying for your nerves. "right, and let's say i do accept the confession. what would you do then?"
you blink, your hands clammy, body scorching at this point. "dunno, maybe throw a party with a sign that says 'congrats kei, you're lovable after all'."
"you're a horrible liar, you know. it's very annoying." tsukishima scowls, grabbing your wrist and turning you to look at him.
"who said i was going to accept the confession?" he tilts his head to the side, leaning in slightly. "hmm? i think you put that idea in that pretty head of yours all by yourself."
you huff, irritated by his teasing manner."it's not funny to joke like that."
he blinks. "when did i make a joke?"
"you always do...i don't understand you, tsukishima." at this point you can feel your face burning up. you look away from the blonde, frustrated and also internally panicking. when you go to walk away, his large hand catches your wrist, pulling you back.
"so now we're back to tsukishima?" he asks, distaste in his tone.
you bite your lip, too scared to say anything.
he clicks his tongue. "listen, i didn't have to read the letter to know my answer. i didn't even need to receive one. i've already had my mind made up."
a soft 'oh' leaves your mouth. "is that right?"
"yes, because i already have feelings for someone." he confesses, and your heart nearly stops.
you weren't expecting this at all. you bargained for more than you wanted, but it’s your fault and your fault alone. you start to yell in your head about how wrong yamaguchi is, about how you're too late to confess now, because someone else has already stolen—
"this is for you." tsukishima hands a eerily similar pink envelope to you with a small plushie. your eyes widen as you look at the plush, recognizing that it's your favorite animal. you remember talking about how you still sleep with stuffed animals and made the mistake of having tsukishima overhear you. the teasing that day never ended.
when squeezing the plush to you, you're surprised to hear it play your favorite song. reading the letter, you recognize the handwriting as his immediately. you're familiar with how he loops his y's and g's. you recognize the eloquence in his words. but you feel alien reading how he pours his emotions—about you—into words. words that are a lot kinder and sweeter than his usual moments.
"why would i joke about my feelings?" he answers, pulling at his hands, fingers fidgeting. "if you don't reciprocate them—"
"no! i-i mean, yes! yes, i do!" your face is on fire at this point. "i'm just shocked, i-i wasn't expecting—"
"for someone to be into someone like you?" he finishes.
you blink, stunned by his response. "well, yeah."
and tsukishima kei does what tsukishima kei does best.
he flicks your forehead.
he rubs the spot where he flicked your forehead and his gaze becomes soft as he stares at you, his large hands not pulling back from how it gently cradles your face.
"i've been into your annoying ass since you yelled at those bullies for picking on tadashi." he mumbles, a fond look in his eyes.
your eyes look over him rapidly. "i don't get it. how? why?"
he pinches your cheek, rolling his eyes. "you keep saying that and it's really annoying." he continues, "it's simple. you're...you're a much better person than i am. you're smart...and funny. and you understand me even when my words don't always say what i mean. you've pushed me to be a better person." he tries to make himself smaller, wanting to escape his vulnerability, but it's hard when you're a walking lamppost.
"i can't stand the sight of other guys looking at you. at thinking they have a chance with you. call me a hypocrite because i know i'm the last person who deserves a chance with you, but—" he cuts himself off, fiddling his his hands.
"but what, kei?" you push, heart pounding.
"but i want one anyways. i've never felt like this with anyone before and i don't want to stop now. i...i'm willing to take the chance to ask to go out with you...even if i know you deserve better than me." he explains, head bowing low.
this time, you reach up and flick his forehead.
"ow? what the hell, dumbass?" he scowls.
"it's annoying when you do that, too," you say, teasing, "you always undermine how brilliant you are and it has to stop. you may be an asshole, but you're also perceptive, and caring, even if you don't really know how to show it in conventional ways."
he doesn't say anything because he knows you're right.
you speak again. "for the record, i think that you're pretty amazing. and a lot of other people think so too. learn to give yourself more credit, kei."
"i can say the same about you." he says, brushing hair back from your face. his eyes shift down to your lips before looking away just as quickly. his single strand of vulnerability left snaps.
"c-can i kiss you?" he stutters, and you're shocked to see the snarky blonde asshole you know in such a shy state.
"yes," you breathe, "please."
he can’t resist when you ask so nicely and look so pretty right in front of him.
and what you learn is that kei's kisses are sweeter than any words that can come out of his smart mouth. how that is possible, you don't know. but you surely don't mind at all.
he tugs you close to his body, his scent overtaking your senses. he smells like mint and whatever cologne he put on today and it's easily your new favorite aroma.
you pull away and can't help but note how pretty kei looks after kissing. hair disheveled, swollen lips, glossy eyes, and glasses nearly falling off his face. you quietly laugh and push the frames back up his face.
"i love you, you know." you say, holding his face.
he leans into you, kissing your palm as he reciprocates the words in a quiet voice. a quirk in his lips and he adds, "i would hope you do. i don't want to be seen having to return to build-a-bear for a second time to return a bear."
you grin, holding up the bear teasingly. "this plush?"
"oni-chan said i should give you something...that you'd appreciate. it's yours as long as you don't replace me with it." he answers, red creeping up his neck. "if you do, i'll return it."
"don't worry, kei. i promise not to replace you with a stuffed animal when i need cuddles." you latch onto his arm, clinging to him easily. he tugs you impossibly closer.
sending yamaguchi a text thank you and a picture of you with your new bear—now named tadashi—with an annoyed tsukishima holding you tight in the photo. 'new family photo! you were right!'.
yamaguchi only grins at the message, laying back on his bed as he smiles. his work as cupid is over. he'd figure out the third wheeling issue later.
for now, mission accomplished.
do not copy and or repost. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated though! (c) 2022 hyeque
#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima kei#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima angst#tsukishima fic#haikyu x reader#haikyuu x reader#afirsttimeforeverythingcollab#hq#hq x reader#haikyuu fluff#tsukki fluff#haikyu fluff#hq fluff#haikyuu angst
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One of the many things that attracts me about The Sign: a pair of adults who are equal, different, but similar in the things that matter.
There have been couples like this before: Tan and Bun in Manner of Death, Charn and Tinn in Laws of Attraction, and now there are Phaya and Tharn.
Personally, I love it.
Adult people, aware of their feelings and sexuality, who are hindered by external factors, not their immaturity, on their way to having a relationship.
Who are good at what they do, at their jobs.
When both MLs are smart, brave, talented and independent. They're not like, a knight on a white horse who does everything and a damsel in distress who either does nothing or acts stupidly and needs to be saved.
They talk, they are open about their feelings, not necessarily verbally, and yet everything is clear, because no one is dumb and clueless. Not only that, Tan and Bun, Charn and Tinn, and Phaya and Tharn are aware of their mutual attraction from the moment they MEET.
And what's important for me, what I always pay attention to: there is no situation, where one person is sexually aggressive and the other is shy and skittish and acts like sex is something bad and dirty and oh my, maybe we will do it someday but not so fast! That's why I love these couples, because from the very beginning it's clear that they're all. equally. horny. 😍
And they're not weird about sex. They don't make it a big deal and attach morality to sex. Their feelings and desire are very visible and very simple: "gods, you're so hot, I want you so bad, we would have been in bed a long time ago if only it weren't for all these life-threatening situations, if only you weren't a potential criminal / a corrupt lawyer / in danger, if only I didn't have to sacrifice myself to keep you safe🥺🥵". IT'S ACTUALLY VERY SIMPLE, THEY'RE SIMPLE, I LOVE SIMPLE lol
I'm so happy that Phaya and Tharn have roles written like this. They are both smart, brave, independent, both have undergone hard training and passed the exam, both have a work ethic, are inquisitive, want to be professionals, and have ambitions. They proved that they can cooperate with each other, putting aside their own feelings. I really like that both of them are also presented as dudes, that they have their own stupid behavior, that they banter, tease each other, that they are not perfect and act silly, that they can behave like normal people. I liked how Phaya is fully aware that Tharn will allow him to do many things, but not everything, that he can kiss him, but leave it at that, not press him for more. And that Tharn, although stunned by the kiss, doesn't make a big deal of it. They are so normal, they are both freaks and clowns crazy about each other, but still very, very normal. And it drives ME crazy 🥳
All this is extremely attractive to me. Adults, self-aware people, equal, struggling with the outside world (usually it's a murder investigation 😩 ), but when it comes to romance, they're thriving and having the time of their lives (while fighting for these lives).
I like pretty much all types of BL series, but I really wish there were more series about adults, especially romances in which both lovers are equal in everything. There are so few of them and that's probably why The Sign makes such a huge impression.
(shout out to @the-wayside for inspiring me with this post to put my chaotic thoughts into probably even more chaotic words!)
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txt hyung line's ideal type
GENRE fluff <3 i miss writing fluff content
WARNINGS none
REQUESTED nope but soft hours are open :)
BELLA'S NOTE 4 U ! guess who's back !! man i missed writing sm i'll continue writing again and i'm trying to get back into a routine
SOOBIN .......
Someone authoritative and can take the lead role in the relationship
As he himself has said that he doesn’t like to take lead in relationships on national television for god’s sake lmaoo .
I have been over this a million times but since he is the leader he is expected to carry out so many responsibilities.
He’s always looking out for his members , trying is hardest in whatever he does so he’d definitely be attracted to someone who can look after him
He wants nothing but someone to hold him, play with his hair , feed him and check up on him frequently
soobin is so cute when it comes to bf responsibilites i can promise you that he'll be the best you've ever had
hes your comfort person cuddling with him is like your therapy session at this point
very proud of you too, he's gonna somehow bring up your name atleast once a day
Soobin secretly adores you when you baby talk to him . Do it in front of the members he’d act like he is embarrassed by the entire situation but the moment he’s in the comfort of his room or a private space , it’s a different story
He’d nuzzle into you when you coo at him , would smush his cheek against your palm when you talk sweetly to him , like he is a baby
Soobin deserves the entire world , he’s literally the most cutest boy ever !
He goes crazy for a confident s/o , he literally looks at you with heart eyes if you dont take shit from people
YEONJUN........
Yeonjun, according to me would only be attracted to someone who gives out the same energy as him
I feel like he would be attracted to people who have the same standpoint in certain issues as him ?
plus it's a big no for him when they're very insecure with themselves and seek validation like all the time
He'd want a s/o who knows their worth and who does not constantly look out for validation from people around them
most likely to take a liking on people who do not take a shit from others and are confident and outgoing
also sometimes he needs them to be there for him too, he believes its a two way thing
The feeling of someone caring about him always makes butterflies swarm his stomach, he is so grateful for it.
would be your biggest hype man on god he literally worships the ground u walk on
your bestie, your boyfie, a mother whos always dotting on you, your fashion influencer, your hype man
BEOMGYU.......
Beomgyu , my cute little bear he deserves the entire world and i’m ready to fight anyone who wants to disagree with me
You know the saying that goes every extroverted person needs a introverted s/o and the same goes for beomgyu
He loves if his s/o is shy , introverted and most often keeps it to themselves
He loves being the only person to know the real you
He would protect you under all costs , you are his everything and nothing shall ever harm you when beomgyu is there
Always cooks for you , and makes sure you are eating well and not skipping any meals
Makes hours long playlist and sends them to you , it is in some sort of way his love language
He doesn't mind a less shy or an insecure s/o because what else his job ? he’s your bf and this is his primary duty , to be your best hype man
#txt fluff#yeonjun fluff#yeonjun x reader#soobin fluff#beomgyu fluff#txt soft hours#txt x reader#txt reaction#txt x y/n#yeonjun imagines#yeonjun x you#soobin x reader#beomgyu soft hours#soobin soft hours#txt post#— % bella speaks#choi soobin#yeonbin
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officially yours | jjk
↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; you're his and he is yours on the paper – but what is the reality?
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, smut, arranged marriage au, friends to lovers
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, oral sex (f.), unprotected sex
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k+
a/n: commissioned
The tall modern building is not usually a place you hang around. In fact, you could count on your fingers how many times you've been here. The modern and clean interior never fails to amaze you, but that can be expected from such a prestigious company. It looks like the ones people get to see in movies – it definitely feels different to be inside and see it with your own eyes.
Now you're not a complete stranger to wealth and fortune, but you see it from a completely different side than people would've expected. You weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth. Even if it's a common assumption people have about you.
“Welcome, Mrs. Jeon.”
The young receptionist welcomes you as soon as she spots you in a crowd full of working employees. Sometimes you wonder if you stick out so much, or they just know your face so much that they've got no problem recognizing you. Which is odd because you don't hang around in this circle of people very often.
Mrs. Jeon.
Even after a year, you feel a mixture of butterflies and oddness when hearing people addressing you like this. At the beginning, it took you quite a long time to get used to this. To hold such a powerful surname. Though, you felt proudness even though you're not sure if you had the right to feel it in the first place.
Just a reminder that none of this is real.
Do you even deserve to be addressed by this surname that is technically yours only on papers? Morally, you're not so sure.
A polite greeting makes it past your lips, trying not to squirm at the prying eyes of other people passing by. You're not exactly formally dressed, like every employee is. But you're not an employee.
“Is my husband in his office?” you ask.
Again. After a year of marriage, you feel like you're letting a lie out of your mouth at addressing someone as your husband.
The woman remains unbothered and completely clueless to your inner thoughts though. You haven't been doing this for a week, a year is a long time for you to improve your acting skills.
“Yes, he just finished a meeting ten minutes ago. He's waiting for you.”
Giving her a simple nod and a soft 'thank you', you make your way to the elevators and click on the number of his floor where his office is located.
It reminds you of the first time you settled on a deal that changed your lives. You've known Jungkook, though you never actually became close friends. There weren't actually many opportunities for you to get to know him better, the only heir to his parents company was too busy getting prepared for the new role and position as a CEO of Jeon industries. Funnily enough, two people with completely different backgrounds, you had some mutual friends where you actually met him.
You clicked, even from the few and very casual conversations you had. He wasn't the overly confident and cocky heir somebody would peg him for. He was grounded (in a way), polite and extremely charming. Though his parents were never strict about who he hangs out with or what he likes to do in his free time, one of the things they would pester him about was the need for him to settle down. It was the only pressure Jungkook always found in his parents.
It's not like he didn't have a choice to decide about his future – at that time the young twenty year old man wanted nothing more than to continue his family business. It's actually something he loves to do. He wasn't forced into it.
But with years passing by, Jungkook's parents would grow impatient and rather concerned about their son's lack of commitment. Random women taking their turns in his bed wasn't his strongest part.
Naturally, they would start introducing him to their partners' daughters. And despite Jungkook's wildlife and freedom he had, they were nothing like him. Not that he's the romantic type who believes in soulmates and all that stuff, he wouldn't want to marry someone for money or any possible benefits for the company. The company was doing very well on itself and he didn't need to do any arranged marriage.
He loves his parents to the bone. He is grateful for everything they've done for him – even more how they raised him and never were controlling. Not like his peers experienced in similar situations.
Jungkook knows many people his age and in a same situation. It was bound for him to meet them, considering how many parties and social gatherings he had to attend, especially after being introduced as the new CEO. That's when he realized, after hearing his peers' struggles, how lucky and fortunate he is.
So when his parents wouldn't let go of the topic of commitment and marriage, it was like a huge slap to his face. No matter what he would do or say, it wouldn't change their minds and eventually, Jungkook found himself stuck.
And that's when you came into the picture.
The first time you heard his plan, you called him insane. You laughed into his face and told him you don't need anything he's offering you. Though Jungkook assured you he doesn't think of you as someone who needs or wants his money, he was more than willing to help you financially. He told you he would take care of you – something you found offending at first.
Why would you need a man to take care of you?
You are completely capable of taking care of yourself. You don't need any Jeon Jungkook to bathe you in wealth and luxury.
But just like Jungkook – you're a loving daughter who would do anything for her parents. Well, unlike Jungkook, you weren't lucky enough to be growing up with two loving parents.
The money Jungkook offered you by simply saying 'yes' would take care of any family member. Jungkook was no stranger, he still isn't. And after weighing the pros and cons for many sleepless nights, you found yourself nodding to his insane plan.
Nobody could know. Rule number one.
The marriage would last for one year. It's the reason why you agreed to it in the first place. You wouldn't be bound to a man based on an arranged marriage for the rest of your life. You want your own family, kids, to fall in love. And a year didn't seem like a long time.
Jungkook made sure it didn't.
Whenever he would have free time, he would take you to places you would never dream about seeing. Countless vacations, trips and activities you would never be able to experience if it wasn't for him. And for that you will be grateful for the rest of your life.
To not make anyone suspicious, you agreed not to mess around with other people. Though, this particular deal wasn't settled at the beginning. It happened naturally. You couldn't risk being seen with other people, no matter how much you would try to hide it.
You will be watched, it was one of the things Jungkook was preparing you for.
And to be honest, you didn't want to go behind Jungkook's back, no matter how fake this marriage was. It's just a year, you will be fine.
But having to share a bedroom, and two young people who find each other attractive, it didn't take long for you to succumb yourselves to your desires. There was nothing wrong about sleeping together, you were practically married.
You've found yourselves in a healthy and good relationship where two people became close friends. Even if the marriage is fake. The sex is mindblowing, so none of you actually miss the thrill of hooking up with anyone else. For the first time, Jungkook is committed, even though it's not exactly the way his parents think it is.
And there he is.
After politely knocking on the door and hearing his voice to invite you in, you open the door and find him sitting behind his desk. He looks fine as always, a few buttons unbuttoned to show how comfortable he allows himself to feel after a two hours long meeting. His suit is draped over the chair while he's slouched on the chair with a pen twirling between his long fingers.
“No lunch this time?” he asks, tilting his brow at you when he sees your empty hands.
You crack a smile, making your way to his desk while you sit on the small white leather couches. “Sorry, came straight from work.”
“It's fine,” he chuckles, “I'm only joking. How's the new employee?”
One of your dreams was to open your business. Jungkook helped you every step of the way, supported you in more ways than financially, while he helped to make your final decision. You've decided to own a clothing brand where you connected with amazing designers who helped to make your dream come true. Two years ago, you didn't even know it was something you'd like to do.
Opening your e-shop has been absolutely amazing, making sure any body type is able to find their size. It's actually very rare in Korea to do that and you love to bring something new to the table. Jungkook liked the idea. You invested everything from your previous job to this project of yours. Living with Jungkook and not having to worry about any bills allowed you to freely focus and invest in your business. Sure, Jungkook must've helped but he was more than happy to do so.
With your help, he got his parents off his back.
After a year, he would tell them you decided to break it off. He's sure they won't pressure him into any other relationship or marriage after the divorce. If they do, he will handle it in a different way.
“He's great,” you smile, “Actually does the job this time, compared to the last one.”
Jungkook laughs a little, knowing how tense you've been about this one particular employee who wasn't doing his job. Jungkook encouraged you to take care of it, and showed you you have to think about your business more than people's hearts. Especially to someone who's getting paid and not doing their job.
Jungkook has been your guide from day one. A huge help.
“Great,” he nods, twirling the pen a few times before he tosses it on his desk. “I'm getting off work earlier today, should be home at six. Is that alright?”
He sounds so gentle, the way he says home makes your heart squeeze.
“Yeah, sure.” you tell him.
You've made plans for tonight, have been preparing yourself to talk to him about your deal. It's been a year and three months after your marriage, yet it's not ending and he has never brought this topic up.
“I'm meeting Jungseok in an hour, then I'm going home to prepare dinner for us.” you inform him, completely missing the way Jungkook's face drops at the mention of your close friend.
You've met him during your marriage, though there were no boundaries crossed, the man seemed to show an awful interest in a married woman. The worst thing about it is that he can't really say anything about it because technically, you're not really his. He knows you're not having anything serious with the mentioned man, though he's aware of your deal.
And he doesn't like any of it.
“Oh, I didn't know.” he tries to say lightly, hating how tight his throat suddenly feels.
“Ah, he texted me this morning. We haven't seen each other for a while now, we usually just text.”
Oh, like that's not enough.
The amount of times the man decided to suddenly text you is hilarious. Fuck, he would even call when Jungkook was balls deep inside you and he actually feared you will pick up the call, instead of finishing what you had going on. Luckily, that never happened but it pissed Jungkook to the core.
“Mhm,” he hums, scratching his chin. “Well, I've got one last meeting but that shouldn't take long.”
You both talk for a moment, catching up with each other's day before you discuss the dinner plans. Jungkook sees you're a little on edge these days and though he thinks he knows why, there's this unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.
In the middle of your giggling, you're interrupted by a gentle knock from Jungkook's assistant, informing him of his meeting.
However, he doesn't go to the meeting board room like he usually does, he actually invites the person to his office. And when that person is someone you've grown to know, someone very well-known in the CEO community, you do everything in your power to be polite and welcoming.
She's special partner, even you can see that and you know zero fuck about Jungkook's business. He treats her differently.
He welcomes her with a warm smile and of course, you're forced to bid goodbye to your husband as you part your ways. The kiss you and Jungkook share feels great, especially with her eyes on you two.
And you know you're petty.
But it seems to be the least of your worries because tonight, you might end everything you and Jungkook settled on. But it's only fair because in the end – that was the deal.
You should've known it would end up like this.
But how could you?
Could you have really known?
The dinner was delicious. Just the two of you like every other evening. Talking, laughing, smiling…
Until you brought up your fake marriage.
“It's because of him, isn't it?” Jungkook chuckles bitterly, throwing a tantrum like a little kid while you gape at him completely stunned.
Out of all responses, you never expected him to get so… upset over something he came up with.
“What?” You find your voice, breathing out confusingly. “This has nothing to do with him.”
“Oh, please.” he scoffs, turning away from you to grip the kitchen's counter. “You always text, you even meet him during your lunch breaks.”
All of that is true. Well, you don't always text with him. And you want to point that out, but something stops you and justifying your relationship with Jungkook seems like a bigger priority.
“Jungkook, this marriage is fake.” you inform him as if he didn't know.
You're confused.
His shoulders tense, knuckles whiten from how tightly he's gripping the expensive marble counter.
“All of it has been fake then?” he asks, still not facing you which starts to worry you for some reason.
You haven't seen Jungkook acting like this. Upset, maybe a little. Not in the mood? Rarely but it happened. But this time you're actually left totally confused.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Y/N,” he chuckles, shaking his head slightly as he slowly turns around.
You're met with a pained expression, a single look at his face causing you to feel a sting in your heart.
“I know we started this as an arrangement, a convenience for both of us… but is that all it's been for you all this time?” he asks, slowly stepping closer to your distraught form.
“Jungkook.”
“No,” he says, “Answer me.”
And then he stands right in front of you, his entire figure hovering over you as if you were the littlest thing in the room. Like you're this little lost girl – not the confident woman you've grown to be.
“Do you want this divorce?”
Do you want it?
What is he even asking?
“That was the deal.” you remind him silently as he presses his lips tightly.
He doesn't look pleased with your response but you can't bring yourself to say something more.
“So, what? We get divorce and then you're going to him?”
“Why do you keep bringing him into this?” you ask, brows scrunching as Jungkook clenches his jaw. “Are you jealous?”
“If I was?”
That shuts you up for a minute, eyes widening. Jungkook never really had a reason to be jealous, not that you were together in reality. But you had each other – none of you messed around with other people.
“There's nothing going on between me and him. Never will.” you whisper, gasping when Jungkook suddenly cups one side of your face with his big palm.
He presses his forehead against yours, breathing slowly and calmly as if his heart wasn't about to explode.
“Give me a chance.”
“A chance?” you whisper.
“Yes,” he says, “To prove to you that this could work.”
“Jungkook–”
“I love you Y/N, don't you get it?” he suddenly exclaims, pushing himself off you while he rubs his forehead in frustration.
“But–”
“But what? I can't?”
Even being frustrated, he looks handsome as ever. His hair is getting too long, almost always falling to his eyes and hiding the beautiful color in them.
“I didn't say that.”
That makes him whine. He actually whines – like all the times he has done it when he was frustrated. You would always giggle, finding him adorable for acting like a little kid when he's a whole grown-ass man, a successful and well-known CEO at that. It's one of the things you appreciate about him.
Looking at him, you realize the three words he confessed to you in the midst of his frustration. It starts to kick in and your eyes widen again.
You might look fine, maybe a little shaken up but fine, but this isn't any easier for you. You've been thinking about every single word you would say, replaying different scenarios every free second you had. You don't know what the afterlife is after Jungkook. In all honesty, you aren't keen to find out. But you had to do this.
To protect yourself and your heart.
You could go on and on with this for who knows how long. You like Jungkook's company and hearing him confessing his true feelings to you, which is still a bit shocking to you, you might actually feel the same. You've been so in denial, for the longest time actually.
“Do you really love me?” You find yourself asking.
Jungkook's cheeks redden and he does the typical Jungkook thing when he is nervous. He scratches his ear and avoids your gaze.
“Isn't that what I said?” he mutters.
You turn your back to him, tracing your shaking fingers over your lips.
“Talk to me please.” he suddenly whines after a minute of silence.
Just as you're about to turn around, your back is pressed against Jungkook's chest as you gasp. Jungkook wraps you in a back hug, lips touching the top of your head.
“I don't want to lose you.” he confesses shyly. The frustrated and upset Jungkook is long gone.
Your heart melts, moving your body into action as you turn around. For a second, Jungkook looks scared you're trying to pry his hands off you to get away from him. But in reality you offer him the sweetest smile. Your hands find his ones as you grip them tight.
“I… I don't want divorce.” you confess.
“But you brought it up.”
“Simply because that was our deal. I was scared you're gonna bring it up and it's going to be too late for me. I didn't know what I felt… but hearing you–I love you too.”
Jungkook gasps, searching your face frantically as if you just pulled the biggest prank on him.
“You do?”
“Yes. I don't want anyone else, Jungkook.” you admit.
And then his face breaks into the biggest smile, your own soon cupped by his large hands as he gives you a big kiss. You kiss him back, squeezing his wrists because you need to feel him. You need to know he's not going anywhere. He's right where he is supposed to be.
And so are you.
“Yes, right there!”
The sound of crashing waves from the outside is a white noise, no longer properly acknowledged as you barely recognize your own voice and the desperation behind it.
“Jungkook, please, just fuck me.” you whine, raising your hips off the mattress to meet his hungry mouth.
He lifts his head up from between your thighs, lips completely glistening and wet as he frowns. “But I wanna eat you out first.” he whines this time and while your heart does the weird jump it always does when it comes to him, you find yourself smiling his way.
“There is enough time for that. Please. I need to feel you.” you plead with him.
He's thinking about it. You see the uncertainty on his face and while he loves to go down on you, he can't disobey his wife who's pleading so nicely for him.
Your body aches from your previous activities. You had eight hours (precisely) to recover when you fell asleep in the arms of the man you love. Your husband. It still gives you the same ticklish feeling in your chest and the pit of your stomach but this time, it's actually true. It's not official on the papers but in your heart too. Ah, god… it sounds so cheesy but all you want to do is to giggle like a teenage girl about how much in love you are with this man.
He stares at you with those doe eyes, still wearing the ponytail he made to wear while working out. But you messed up his plans. Flattered those pretty eyelashes at him and the most angelic smile, sheets sliding off your naked and marked body.
Oh, how many times Jungkook made love to you because you felt insecure. He never knew you feel that way about yourself – about the body he loves and wouldn't change for anything. Because it's you.
You love this man so much that you have to show him. Now it's your turn.
You get on top of him, just how he loves and enjoys having you. Letting him enter you for what seems like the hundredth time over these past seven days, you both moan in pleasure. He holds you close to him, letting you take the charge as he occasionally thrusts his hips into you. The pleasure increases with each minute and you grow weaker for this man.
Bodies becoming one, the sweet “I love you's” are exchanged in breathless moans.
“I love you so much,” Jungkook moans into your ear, your walls tightening around him. “My sweet love. My angel.”
This is your second anniversary. Technically your first one where you truly celebrate your marriage, making love all day long. And after so many nights of keeping thing adventurous and fun, letting Jungkook to fuck you into the mattress and everywhere in the vila he rented for this special occasion, making love just feels right.
You both come together in a record time.
Jungkook fills you up like many times before, the sensation making your legs buckle. You calm down in one another's hold, Jungkook's strong arms around you as he peppers kisses all over the side of your face.
“I was thinking.” Jungkook starts.
“Oh.”
“Hey!” he laughs, shifting on his spot as you finally lay down next to him, ear pressed against his chest where you hear his heartbeat. “How about we start a family?”
“What?” you gasp, lifting your head immediately to look at him as he gives you a shy grin.
“I know we're together for one year, officially, but I've been thinking about our future and–”
You shut him up with a kiss to his surprised lips while he melts, relaxing under your touch.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” he squeals, “Just like that? Yes? I didn't even tell you the speech I prepared.”
You giggle, “You can tell me later.” you assure him as he chuckles.
“So? Are we gonna do it? Us? Parents?”
You giggle how out of his element he seems to be. It makes you love him even more as you caress his chest before you stare deeply into his soft brown eyes. You brush a few of his hair off his face and send him another angelic smile.
“I can't wait to have your baby, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back before he looks at you all lovingly, cupping your cheek.
“I was afraid you would never say it, Mrs. Jeon.”
#networkbangtan#ksmutclub#btswritingcafe#ficswithluv#bts smut#jungkook x reader#bts fluff#jungkook fic#jungkook smut#bts au#personasintro
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Attending the Berlinale (The Berlin International Film Festival | February 15-25, 2024) will bring more opportunities for Sebastian.
He wanted to have more power over his projects aka to produce since he was in his 30s (producing = freedom and control). He always wanted to have an input when it comes to his characters, and I think he managed to do this the most with "Fresh" (before "A Different Man"), and it's a project very dear to him.
I know "I, Tonya" was the film that made directors notice him, take him seriously, and want to work with him more [internationally too], but he's always had range. He never chose "the pretty but boring boy" role. He loves grey and dark characters because they are human and there is more to explore.
He was just ignored.
Even though he's American too, not just Romanian (he moved there when he was 12), he's still seen as a foreigner by the film industry.
I think Sebastian believes he still needs to prove himself to get awards. So getting an award is even harder in this case because no matter how much PR you do, how hard working you are, how great you are at What you do, how much passion you put into your work and your roles, you're still (seen as) an outsider.
[Don't get me wrong, I think the roles he chose and chooses are challenging and send a message in general. They have layers and are human. He always gets out of his comfort zone, which is incredible.]
Also, it's "funny" how journalists and reviewers have ignored Sebastian for decades and now praise him as a new star (they did it for "Sharper" too), even though his filmography is varied (different roles, different genres) and it displays how talented and hard working he is.
This also says a lot about the prejudice they have:
[source: Deadline]
"In another type of movie" as if: "I, Tonya," "Monday", "Endings, Beginnings", "Fresh", "Sharper" etc are the same type of movie, and the fandom is limited in general...
They overlooked hin just because he became famous with Marvel, and he's seen just as the guy who plays Bucky Barnes... And they say it in an offensive way, anyway; as if Bucky has no complexity, no depth... as if he's just a flat character, so Sebastian playing him shows nothing. But they are so wrong!
He played so many versions of Bucky (40s Bucky, TWS, lost WS, Bucky trying to figure out who he is, trying to adapt etc).
The way he acts when Bucky's finally free of the brainwashing will always haunt me:
His eyes, in general, are so expressive. It's just amazing!
And Craig Gillespie worked with him three times ("I, Tonya", "Pam & Tommy", "Dumb Money"). He even chose Sebastian to give him an award [source: The Messenger].
A director like Craig wouldn't work with someone with no range.
Sebastian proved himself so many times! He always chooses challenging projects and roles and doesn't care if he's the main or the side character. He always wants to learn and be better.
I really hope more people will start to recognize how great he is.
#sebastian stan#sebastianstan#my opinion#a different man#i tonya#sharper#fresh#sundance#fysebastianstan#pam & tommy#dumb money#monday#endings beginnings#bucky barnes#marvel#mcu#berlin film festival#berlinale#stansclan#seb stan#sebstan
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