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genshinluvr · 10 months

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Prisoner of the Mind

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You couldn't join March, Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, and Caelus on their trip to Jarilo-VI after Gepard and Sampo informed them of an issue in Belobog. The Astral Express is under attack, putting you and Pom-Pom in a dangerous situation, leading to you sacrificing yourself to save the train's conductor. Needless to say, the Aeon of Destruction was not too pleased about it.

Note: I have officially written the first hurt/comfort fic for the HSR one-shot series! I hope you all like this fic because I enjoyed typing it out, and it got me tearing up a little, not gonna lie! I have officially made a taglist for my Honkai Star Rail fics and series! It will be linked down below for those who want to be tagged in future fics (and along with past fics if you choose that option) ^^ Man, now I have to start planning this upcoming week's fic. I wonder what it will be 🤔 I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Reader gets attacked, mentions of blood

Word Count: 7.4k

Mr. Yang, March, Caelus, and Dan Heng is off the Astral Express, leaving you with Himeko and Pom-Pom. You usually tag along with them when they go trailblazing or when they’re exploring other ships and planets. But unfortunately, you can’t tag along with them this time because they’re going on a dangerous mission, and having you tag along with them can put your safety at risk. You didn’t want to get in their way by getting hurt or putting a target on your back just by being there. Actually, that was a lie because you offered to tag along with them, and they didn’t want you to go with them.

“There’s nothing to worry about, [Y/N],” Himeko says, ruffling your hair.

You sigh and lean back on the chair, looking out the window of the Astral Express. The stars are shining, and Jarlio-VI looks the same as it has always been. Iced over and devoid of life. There’s something nagging at you, but you can’t put your finger on it. It doesn’t feel pleasant, and you’re constantly looking out the window to see what’s going on, even though you can’t see what’s going on down there on Jarlio-VI.

A few days ago, while traversing through space in the Astral Express, Caelus received a text from Gepard and Sampo. Something was going on in Belobog, and they needed help as soon as possible. You offered to tag along, but of course, your offer was shot down almost immediately by the three men.

“You’re not going with us,” Mr. Yang states, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your eyes widen with disbelief. “What?! Why not? This isn’t the first time I’m tagging along with you guys!” You exclaimed, frowning at the older man.

Mr. Yang looks at Caelus, Dan Heng, and March as if he’s asking them to help him. The three stare in return before looking at you. You had this big frown on your face, and your eyebrows were furrowed with confusion and maybe anger. You were more confused than angry because why would you get upset over them not wanting you to tag along?

Dan Heng sighs. “Caelus received a text from Sampo and Gepard about the situation in Belobog. It won’t be safe if you come with us,” Dan Heng says.

You opened your mouth to retort but only to let out an apprehensive sigh. Caelus walks to you, grabs you by the shoulders, and gazes into your eyes while squatting down to your eye level. You turned your head to avoid his eyes, but Caelus grabbed your chin to make you look at him.

Caelus sighs and gives you a weak smile. “I know you want to come along with us, but we can’t have you come with us for your safety. The situation in Belobog is a safety risk for you, and we don’t want you to get hurt or caught in the middle of it all,” Caelus says.

How was it a safety risk for you when it’s also a safety risk for them? The only thing that’s different between you and them is that they have weapons, and you don’t. And you’re not from their world, but you’ve been adjusting to their universe just fine! With the help of your dear friends from the Astral Express, Xianzhou Luofu, and Jarilo-VI, you’re doing great at getting used to your new environments.

Caelus continues to stare at you with his honey-gold eyes. You sigh and close your eyes, turning your head away from Caelus. Caelus frowns and releases your chin from his grasp, turning to look at March, Mr. Yang, and Dan Heng helplessly. March clears her throat, approaching you and Caelus with a faint smile.

“Oh, cheer up, [Y/N]! I know you want to tag along with us, but maybe you can stay back on the Astral Express just this once! Plus, it’s going to be somewhere freezing in Jarilo-VI, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to be somewhere freezing while the four of us are out and about!” March says, propping her hands on her hips.

Damn, March isn’t wrong about that. You’re not a huge fan of the weather on Jarilo-VI, and standing in the blizzard while March, Dan Heng, Mr. Yang, and Caelus help Gepard and Sampo with the problems in Belobog is something you don’t want to do. An idea suddenly pops up in your head, and your eyes brighten. Since it’s Sampo and Gepard that contacted Caelus about the problem, you might as well hang out with Luka at Boulder Town Super League while they’re dealing with the situation.

You clear your throat. “Since the four of you, along with Sampo and Gepard, are going to be busy, can I hang out with Luka at the Boulder Town Super League?” You ask, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Mr. Yang gives you a sympathetic smile and chuckles. “Sweetheart, Luka is going to be coming along with us as well. While we don’t have his phone number like you, Sampo mentioned bringing a friend with him for this situation,” said Mr. Yang.

March, Dan Heng, and Caelus’ heads snap toward Mr. Yang’s direction after hearing Mr. Yang’s slip up. Mr. Yang didn’t seem to notice it, and neither have you. Instead of throwing a fit or insisting that you tag along with them, you sighed in defeat and nodded. It looks like your chances of visiting Jarilo-VI are nonexistent at this point.

Caelus looks at Dan Heng, mouthing, ‘Sweetheart?’ only to earn a shrug from the black-haired man. Caelus clears his throat and nods. “Right, uh, Sampo mentioned a friend he’s bringing with him. As much as we would love to bring you along, we don’t want to give you a babysitter. Remember what happened last time?” Caelus asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

You pursed your lips and rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet. Of course, you remembered what happened the last time you were assigned a babysitter. You got a golf ball-sized bump on your face with a bruise accompanying the bump. It wasn’t pretty, but you certainly met someone pretty that day. That person happened to be the friend of Sampo Koski himself, who is tagging along with your Astral Express and Belobog friends to the site of the issue.

“That’s beside the point. As harsh as it sounds, you’re not leaving the Astral Express. You can join us when we’re heading to the Xianzhou Luofu, alright?” Dan Heng said.

You nodded glumly. You can’t help but feel like you’re being grounded for something you didn’t do. But you will do as they say and stay on the train. March ruffled your hair before draping her arms over your shoulders, pulling you in for a hug.

You hugged March tightly. “When are you guys leaving?” You ask, peeking from March’s shoulders.

Mr. Yang replied almost immediately after you asked, “The Astral Express is heading there right now.”

“And how long will you five be gone for?” You ask.

“We don’t know how long we’ll be on Jarilo-VI. It can be a few days, a few hours, or longer than that, depending on the situation,” replied Dan Heng.

You frowned and pulled away from the hug, and sighed. There’s not much for you to do now. All you could do was hope for the best and that everyone involved came out unscathed and safe.

The conversation you had with your traveling companions was a few days ago, and they have yet to return to the Astral Express. You’re on edge and constantly check your phone to make sure they’re okay and alive. Luckily, they respond to your messages fast in the Astral Express group chat. The only time they won’t respond to your message is when they’re in the middle of something they can’t disclose. Of course, they let you know that ahead of time. And now you’re here, sitting on the Astral Express, looking out the window with zero interest.

Himeko sighs. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my cabin, alright? Feel free to stop by,” says Himeko, smiling at you before walking off after you nod.

Once you’re finally alone, you tilt your head back and close your eyes. No matter how many times you zoned out, time seems to be going slower than it is. You crack your eyes open and check your phone for the umpteenth time, only to see no notifications. Not even from Blade, Luocha, or Jing Yuan. Everyone is busy but you. Maybe a nap will take your mind off what’s going on, and maybe Nanook can keep you company.

After arriving at your bedroom, you plug your phone into the charger before collapsing on your bed and closing your eyes. You blindly reach for the lamp on your nightstand and switch the light off. Exhaustion soon overcomes you, your eyelids feel heavy, and you slowly drift to sleep. You didn’t know how long you were asleep, but when you woke up, everything was pitch black.

You’re miffed that you didn’t see Nanook. You weren’t sure if Nanook was busy, but whenever you go to sleep, you always see Nanook. You didn’t think you did anything to make him upset, plus none of you have gotten off on the wrong foot. Something was wrong, and you don’t know what it is. You reach for the nightstand to turn the lights on, but it doesn’t turn on. You flip the switch repeatedly, but the room remains pitch-dark.

“Dammit. Is the lamp dead?” You sit up and blindly search for your phone in the darkness of your room. You turn your phone on to see that you got a message from Himeko.

1 Message from Himeko („• ֊ •„)

Himeko: “Hey, sleepy head! I got an urgent message from the gang, and they needed my assistance. Sorry to leave the Express without informing you about it. Remember to stay on the ship and do not leave! See you soon!”

You stare at the message that was sent forty-five minutes ago. You’re not sure if you should respond to Himeko’s message. But you didn’t want to leave her on read, so you typed out a message to the redhead.

Y/N: “Urgent message? Are they okay? I didn’t get a notification about it in the group chat…. Did they send the message to you separately?”

Message failed to send.

You furrow your eyebrows. That’s strange.

Y/N: “Himeko?”

Message failed to send.

You kick your blankets off your legs and run to the door. You swing the door open and freeze when you’re met with nothing but darkness. The only source of light was the starry skies shining from the window of the Astral Express. You clutch on your phone tightly, stepping into the pitch-black hallways, swallowing your fears. You turn your phone flashlight, shining it into the darkness that is the Astral Express. Is there a power outage? What happened to Pom-Pom? The thought of Pom-Pom hiding somewhere in the train makes you sprint out of the Passenger Cabins to the Parlor Car, mentally praying to yourself that Pom-Pom is at least safe.

The door to the Parlor Car slams open, and you run into the darkness, shining your phone flashlight while searching for the conductor. Despite there being windows in the train, it doesn’t make the train any brighter. You can’t hear anything else other than blood pounding in your ears. The silence is deafening.

You whimper out, “Pom-Pom? Are you there?”

You’re met with silence. Not even a peep from the conductor of the Astral Express. You hear something shuffling behind you, causing you to snap your head in the direction of the sound. There, hiding behind the chair, is Pom-Pom. Pom-Pom peeks from the chair, shivering with fear.

You sigh in relief. “There you are, Pom-Pom! I was so worried about you!” You said, jogging toward Pom-Pom.

Pom-Pom’s eyes widen, pointing behind you. “Watch out!” Pom-Pom shrieks.

Without thinking, you dive to the ground. You roll over to your knees and turn to look at the thing Pom-Pom pointed at. Right behind you was the Voidranger Reaver, preparing to strike again. You gulp and slowly take a step back, grabbing onto Pom-Pom and pulling the conductor into your arms. There’s no way you and Pom-Pom will be able to escape without getting a couple of cuts.

There are so many questions you want to ask Pom-Pom, but your mind is racing and is all over the place. Your main objective is to try to escape with Pom-Pom and seek help. The Astral Express is no longer safe for you and Pom-Pom. Who knows what else is going to show up on the train.

“Help is on the way! I managed to send out an SOS signal to Himeko and Welt. They should be back soon,” Pom-Pom says, tugging on your shirt.

“How soon?” You whisper, eyes scanning the darkness, searching for an exit.

You’re fucked. You and Pom-Pom are doomed. There’s no escape. There’s no way for you to escape, and you’re fucking terrified. You want to cry. You’re shaking, but you’re trying your best to put on a brave face, but you’re not sure how long it’ll last. Whatever Pom-Pom was saying, it went in one ear and out the other. You grit your teeth, hugging Pom-Pom tightly to your chest before sprinting past the Voidranger Reaver.

The only safe place is your bedroom. You’re not sure if your bedroom door will be able to hold the Voidranger Reaver back. You’re not skilled in any weapon, it’s dark, and you don’t think Himeko and Mr. Yang will make it on time before something happens. You’re fucked. You’re fucked. You run to the Passenger Cabin, hearing the Voidranger Reaver sprinting after you.

You’re so close to your room. So close. You’re so close. Your feet hit the ground, Pom-Pom whimpering in fear, and the vicious growls from the Voidranger Reaver ring in your ears.

You’re so close to your bedroom. Before you can reach your bedroom, you come to a complete stop, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. Two more Voidranger Reavers step out from the shadows, ready to attack you and Pom-Pom.

“[Y/N]....” Pom-Pom whimpers, tugging on your shirt.

You pat Pom-Pom’s back with shaky hands. “We’ll be okay, Pom-Pom. I promise,” you whisper. An idea pops up in your head. “Please forgive me, Conductor.”

“H-Hey! Why are you apologizing?!” Pom-Pom exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes.

You didn’t respond. You lift Pom-Pom and throw him over the two Voidranger Reavers and toward your bedroom. When Pom-Pom lands on the floor of your room, the three Voidranger Reavers start attacking you. Slicing your body to shreds. The sounds of your scream echo throughout the pitch-black train.

Your vision blurs, blood pours from every cut on your body, your ears ring, and your legs give out from underneath you. The last thing you see before darkness consumes your vision is the lights turning on in the Astral Express.

Nothing can prepare Welt, Himeko, Caelus, March, and Dan Heng when they arrive at the Astral Express. Sampo, Luka, and Gepard offered to come and help after the five Astral Express crew members were able to help the trio with the issue on Belobog. The Astral Express was under attack by a couple of Voidranger Reavers, but luckily it was only a small number. However, they weren’t prepared to see the damages the Voidranger Reavers caused when they stepped onto the Astral Express.

Furniture was thrown around, and objects were thrown around and askew. There were no signs of Pom-Pom on board, and there were no signs of you in the Parlor Car. Everyone was hoping you and Pom-Pom were safe somewhere on the Astral Express, but the moment they stepped into the Passenger Cabin, time seemed to have stood still from there.

You were lying lifeless on the ground while three Voidranger Reavers continuously slashed your body. Blood pooled from beneath you, painting the floors crimson red as the smell of copper filled the air. The door to your bedroom is wide open, letting the others get a glimpse of the shaking and sobbing train conductor. Dan Heng was the first to attack the Voidranger Reavers, and others soon followed after.

Once the three Voidranger Reavers were defeated and they all evaporated into thin air, Welt was immediately by your side, pressing his hand against your neck. There’s a pulse, but it’s faint. So faint that he can barely feel it with his gloves on— making him take his glove off and place his index and middle fingers on your neck to the side of your windpipe.

“Someone, contact the Xianzhou Luofu. We need all of the help we can get,” Caelus barks, covering your shredded and bleeding body with his jacket, attempting to stop the bleeding.

Caelus, Welt, and Dan Heng carefully lift you from the ground. March rushes over to a sobbing Pom-Pom, comforting the train conductor while rushing Pom-Pom out of the Passenger Cabin. Gepard, Sampo, and Luka look at one another, not saying a word.

Sampo runs his trembling hands through his hair. “They’re not going to die, are they? Please tell me they’ll be okay,” Sampo whispers, biting on his bottom lip.

“They’ll be okay. They have to be! There’s no way any of us will let them slip from our fingers,” Gepard replies, his hands shaking.

“How can you be so sure? [Y/N] lost so much blood! The floors are literally painted with their blood,” Luka mutters, his eyes never leaving the pool of blood on the once pristine floors of the Astral Express.

The only thing they can do is wait to arrive. While Dan Heng, Welt, and Caelus are trying to put pressure on your wounds to stop the bleeding, Himeko struts through the hallways of the Astral Express with Jing Yuan, Luocha, and Blade following close behind. While Himeko mainly contacted Luocha about the situation, Luocha was quick to inform Jing Yuan and Blade of the state you’re in.

“Hand them to me,” Luocha states, holding his arms out.

Welt, Dan Heng, and Caelus carefully lower your body in Luocha’s arms before watching the blond man disappear to your bedroom to tend your wounds. Jing Yuan and Blade stare at the bloodied floor. There were bloody handprints on the walls and floors of the Astral Express. You tried to put up a fight, but you were outnumbered and were brutally injured by the Voidrangers Reavers.

Jing Yuan sighs, rubbing his temples. “How did this happen?”

Blade chuckles humorlessly. “And I thought the Astral Express was safe for [Y/N] to stay at, but I was wrong,” Blade mutters.

“I understand we’re all tensed and worried about [Y/N], but now is not the time to start an argument. I don’t care who you are or what you mean to [Y/N]. They’re in their room, fighting for their life right now, and you think it’s a good time to start something?” Gepard demands, glaring at the long, dark-haired man before him.

Blade’s red eyes flicker to Gepard’s face, staring at the Captain of the Silvermane Guards wordlessly. Blade clenches his jaws, walking over to the closed door of your room. He leans against the wall, closing his eyes, trying to listen to any sound that comes from your room. He hears nothing.

“Cheer up, everyone! On the bright side, Mr. Yang was able to feel a pulse. The downside is waiting for them to recover,” Sampo says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Luka sighs, closing his eyes. “While we wait for Luocha to treat [Y/N]’s injuries, we should organize and clean up the Astral Express while we wait,” Luka comments.

Everyone was reluctant to leave the Passenger Cabin to organize the furniture of the Parlor Car. The Parlor Car took less damage and wasn’t nearly as horrendous as the Passenger Cabin. Pom-Pom had a hard time trying to resume his duties as the conductor of the Astral Express. All Pom-Pom wanted to do was to check and see if you were okay. Still, the others prevented him from entering the Passenger Cabin because the Passenger Cabin was going under a deep clean.

“[Y/N] will be okay, Pom-Pom. You have nothing to worry about. Luocha is tending [Y/N]’s wounds right now, and he should be finished soon,” Jing Yuan reassures Pom-Pom.

Pom-Pom sniffles, blinking at the General while his bottom lips tremble. The others don’t know what else to say to console the conductor. Pom-Pom witnessed you get attacked mercilessly. You willingly sacrifice yourself to make sure Pom-Pom is safe and out of harm’s way. While scared shitless and fearing for your life, you put someone else before you because you would rather take the hit than have someone take the hit for you.

“I’m going to make sure there aren’t any breaches on the train,” Blade mutters, walking away from the group.

After what feels like days, Luocha steps into the Parlor Car, looking visibly relieved. Everyone immediately stands up, walking to the blond man. Luocha rubs his temples, letting out a deep breath.

“After five hours of treating [Y/N]’s injuries, [Y/N] is now in a stable condition. If any of you are going to stop by and make sure they’re okay, please keep your voices down while they rest,” Luocha instructs.

Luocha turns around and walks to your bedroom, with everyone following. The Passenger Cabin is clean, and there aren’t any traces of your blood left behind. The smell of cleaning solution and air freshener wafts through the air, drowning the smell of your blood that barely lingers in the air. Luocha grabs the handle to your room and slides the door open. One by one, each person steps into your dimly lit bedroom. You lay on your bed, sound asleep. Bandages wrap around your body from the neck down, while small bandaids patch up the smallest cuts on your face.

“How long will it take for them to recover?” Sampo whispers, turning to look at Luocha.

Luocha shrugs, sighing. “That’s the issue. I don’t know how long it’ll take for them to recover. [Y/N] is in stable conditions, but now it’s up to them on when they will regain their consciousness,” Luocha replies.

Gepard takes a step toward your bed, grabbing your frail hands and brushing his thumb over the bandages wrapped around your hands. To any other person, you look like you’re asleep, dreaming about anything. But to the others, it seems like you’re lying on your deathbed with one foot in the grave. It’s terrifying. To see you in such a state scares everyone.

Gepard clears his throat. “And you said they’re in stable condition, correct?” Gepard asks, keeping his eyes on you.

Luka clears his throat. “I believe Luocha mentioned that a few times already, Gepard,” Luka comments, approaching the blond man and standing by his side.

Poor sweet Gepard. The once cool, calm, and collected Captain of the Silvermane Guard has a hard time trying to digest the image before him. Gepard is trying everything in his power not to break down in tears in front of everyone around him. You almost died. You were standing in front of death’s doorsteps, ready to walk through the doors, leaving him and the others for good.

But you didn’t walk through those doors. Luocha managed to heal you and patch your wounds, preventing you from taking your last breath.

Jing Yuan sits at the edge of your bed, tucking you in your bed and brushing your hair away from your face. Jing Yuan sighs, caressing your cheek. “What horrors did you face before your unfortunate fate?” Jing Yuan whispers, scanning your unconscious face.

Everyone remains silent in your room, staring at your unconscious body. Welt, Dan Heng, and Caelus can’t help but drown in guilt. You wanted to join them, and they wouldn’t let you tag along with them due to safety concerns. But look where that landed you in. You’re injured, you were so close to death, but Luocha was able to save you and prevent that from happening.

Everyone starts to slowly and reluctantly leave your bedroom. Before they leave, they would squeeze your unconscious hand and whisper apologies for not arriving on time and for failing to protect you. Everyone is ridden with guilt. Soon enough, you’re left alone in the comfort of your bedroom.

You jerk up with a gasp, only to find yourself in someone’s muscular arms. You look up to see Nanook. The Aeon stares down at you while cradling you in his arms. You blink at him and rub your eyes sleepily, looking around the void. You freeze when you realize you’re not your regular height. You’re almost the same height as Nanook. You and Nanook are covering the sun and the sky.

Nanook tucks your hair behind your ears, kissing the shell of your ears, sighing. “How are you feeling, little one?” Nanook whispers.

“I’m tired, but I’m also confused,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

You and Nanook sit in silence. Nanook runs his fingers through your hair, rubbing your back and holding you close to his chest. There’s no space between you two, but you didn’t mind it. It feels nice to be in someone’s arms. It feels nice to be held. You’ve been yearning for someone to touch and hold you. You can’t help but notice your entire body feels tingly. You shift around in Nanook’s arms, opening your eyes to look down at your body. When you did that, you let out a choked gasp and jolted in Nanook’s grasp, startling the Aeon of Destruction.

You hold out your arm, looking up at Nanook. “Nanook... What’s going on!?” You whisper.

There are stars decorating your skin from head to toe. The stars glitter on your skin like diamonds and precious gems. It’s all over your body, and you don’t know what to do, nor do you know how it got there. You try to wipe it off your skin, only for it not to budge. It’s like you have an entire galaxy scattering across your body.

Nanook grabs your chin and tilts your head up. “The stars are healing you, little one. You were gravely injured back on the train. I couldn’t bear to see you suffer,” Nanook whispers.

You swallow the lump in your throat. The Astral Express. The attack. Pom-Pom. You sacrifice yourself to save Pom-Pom. All of it happened so fast that you could barely process the thought of it. Wait a minute, you’re not dead, are you? Sure, Nanook said the stars are healing you, but what about your physical body outside of your mind? Outside of the void?

“I’m not dead, am I?” You whisper.

Nanook snorts, shaking his head. “No, sweetheart. You’re not dead, little one. Your physical body is currently recovering. That blond man was able to heal your injured body,” Nanook says, kissing your forehead.

You close your eyes, sighing in relief. You’re so glad you’re not dead.

“Besides, I wouldn’t let you die. Not on my watch,” Nanook mutters.

You smile, wrapping your arms around Nanook’s torso and sighing with contentment. It’s just you and Nanook in the void. No dangers lurking in the corner, no one to bother you. It’s just you and Nanook surrounded by the glittering stars of the abyss, enjoying each other’s presence in silence.

While you’re with Nanook, your physical body has healed back to its original form before the attack. No scars are left on your body, and there are no bruises and small cuts. You look good as new. Luocha did a fantastic job at healing your body, and he would like to pat himself on the back for that. Despite your body being fully healed and in perfect condition, you did not wake up.

You’re still unconscious, but it’s like you’re sleeping instead of being in a coma. You move around in your sleep and react to the sounds around you, but you have yet to open your eyes since the attack.

“I thought they would regain their consciousness by now,” Blade mutters, sitting at the end of your bed while staring at your unconscious body.

Luocha sighs, getting up from your bed and crossing his arms over his chest. “While [Y/N] is physically healed of their injuries, it’s up to them to decide when to wake up from their unconsciousness,” says Luocha.

“But it's been days since the attack! How much longer are they going to be unconscious? Are you sure [Y/N]’s okay?” Sampo asks, looking at Luocha pleadingly.

Yes, it’s been days since the incident, and there are no signs of you waking up any time soon. Yes, you react to the noises around you, and yes, you’re physically okay and have healed from your injuries, but you’re still not awake. March wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up and then go back to sleep to play tricks on everyone, so she would check up on you every other hour (if she wasn’t asleep).

Everyone has decided to stop by your room to visit you every day, making sure you’re still breathing. Luocha even took that chance to make sure there weren’t any internal injuries or bleeding, and thankfully, there were none. You’re physically okay, but mentally…. They’re not sure about that.

“They must’ve been so scared in their final moments,” March whispers.

Caelus gives March a look. “March, why are you putting it that way? It’s like you’re implying [Y/N]’s dead!” Caelus scolds the pink-haired girl.

March huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, it’s been days since we last saw [Y/N] open their eyes! Not being able to text them, talk to them, hang out with them feels like an eternity!” March exclaims.

While unconscious, you still managed to pick up every noise around you. You flinch and whimper in your unconscious state, eyebrows furrowing. Mr. Yang looks at March and Caelus, shaking his head with disapproval.

“March, I understand you miss them, but you need to remember that we can’t control when they can regain consciousness,” says Mr. Yang.

Dan Heng pinches the bridge of his nose before approaching your bed. He sits at the edge of your bed and stares at your unconscious face. The longer Dan Heng stares at your face, the more he realizes something is off.

“What’s that?” Dan Heng asks.

Gepard walks over to where Dan Heng is standing, watching the black-haired man gently grab your face and tilt your head to the side. The others crowd behind Dan Heng and Gepard, staring at your face while trying to see what Dan Heng is looking at. If anyone were to blink, they would’ve missed it because it was quick to appear and disappear.

Gold runs through your veins across your face. The pattern reminds them of thunder. It starts at the base of your neck, slithering up and across your face before disappearing. Gepard gently nudges Dan Heng to caress your head. Gepard pulls your eyelids up, and alas, the color of your eyes changes from your original eye color to gold.

“Could it be….?” Gepard trails off, furrowing his eyebrows with concentration.

Gepard blinks, and your eyes return to their original color. Blade turns to look at the other men, his chest puffing with anger while gritting his teeth. He clenches his hands into tight fists until they turn white underneath his gloves.

“Is it possible for Nanook, the Aeon of Destruction, to hold [Y/N] as a prisoner in their mind?” Blade asks.

Jing Yuan chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We can’t be certain that Nanook is holding [Y/N] a prisoner in their mind. It’s possible that the Aeon is doing that, but [Y/N] sustained many injuries, and it’s possible their body is keeping them in a comatose state for them to fully heal mentally and physically,” Jing Yuan explains.

Luka hums, shrugging his shoulders. While Luka may have known you for a short time compared to the other men, he doubts Nanook is going to harm you. Before meeting you, Sampo and Gepard would describe you as “Nanook’s chosen one” to Luka. It’s a ridiculous title, but it’s the best they can do to describe how important you are to Nanook. They would praise your beauty and mention the strong connection they feel to you when they’re with you and when they meet you for the first time.

“What if Nanook is keeping [Y/N] asleep because he’s worried about their safety? Like Blade said, it’s possible for Nanook to keep them as a prisoner. I don’t think prisoner isn’t the best way to describe the situation, but Nanook has never hurt [Y/N], has he?” Luka asks, turning to look at the eight men.

Mr. Yang sighs, shaking his head. “[Y/N] never mentioned anything about Nanook hurting them in any way. The only thing we know is that Nanook is very fond of [Y/N], hence why they’re in our world in the first place. Nanook would communicate with [Y/N] through their dreams every time they fall asleep,” Mr. Yang explains, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

While the men are discussing the situation and what they all have witnessed, in your unconscious mind, you’re lying against Nanook. You don’t know how long you’ve been with Nanook, but you like the peace and quiet. While you love being in the void with Nanook, basking in his presence, light touches, and affections, you can’t help but find the void a little bit dull and boring.

How does Nanook deal with this alone? Maybe Nanook is used to it because he’s been around for thousands of years compared to you, a newcomer. You move away from Nanook, grabbing the Aeon’s attention. You sigh, looking around at the sparkling stars in the night sky. Nanook peeks at you, gazing at you worriedly when you let out an apprehensive sigh. Nanook wraps his arms around your waist, pressing his bare chest against your back.

Nanook presses his lips against the shell of your ear. “What’s wrong? Why are you sighing like that?” Nanook murmurs, massaging your hip bones while resting his chin on your shoulders.

How do you tell Nanook that you know he’s keeping you in your “dreams” for a long time? You tried to wake up, but you can’t. You have tried many methods of trying to wake yourself up from this never-ending dream, only to fail in the end. You love being with Nanook, and you don’t mind being in the void with the Aeon, but you can’t possibly stay here forever, can you?

“I know you’re keeping me here, and you’re not letting me leave,” you said hesitantly.

Crap that sounds bad. You didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Think, [Y/N], think! You turn to look at the Aeon of Destruction, who gazes at you blankly. Even though Nanook is gazing at you emotionlessly, you can’t help but feel intimidated by the look he’s giving you. You gulp and grab Nanook’s hands, squeezing them.

You smile at him. “I’m not upset with you for wanting to keep me here. I want to know why you’re keeping me here and refusing to let me wake up,” you murmur.

Nanook sighs, releasing your hand before backing away from you. You let your hands fall to your side as you watch him grow in size. It took you a few seconds to realize you’re back to your original size, and Nanook is now towering over you, still covering the sun and the sky. Fuck, Nanook is not upset with you, is he?

“That is none of your concern, little one,” Nanook states, crossing his arms over his chest.

You frown. “It is very much my business, Nanook. You’re keeping me here with you when my physical body is lying on my bed, unconscious, while my friends are probably wondering why I’m still not awake!” You exclaim.

You wince when your voice echoes in the abyss. Nanook stares at you with a deep frown. You sigh, turning away from Nanook and walking away. You didn’t get far. A hand grabs your wrist, turning you around to face the hand that belongs to a certain Aeon. Nanook, now standing before you, is frowning at you. While he’s the size of a regular person, he continues to tower over you like the men you call your very friends. You assume Nanook is the same height as Jing Yuan but maybe slightly taller than the white-haired General of the Xianzhou Luofu.

“Your friends failed to keep you safe. They left you alone on that train, and what happened? The Astral Express was under attack, and it nearly cost your life!” Nanook growls. “You’re safer here with me than you are with them! Why should I trust them to be around you when they failed at something they were supposed to do in the first place?!”

Tears blur your vision, and you look away from Nanook. Nanook sighs and caresses your face, wiping the tears that slowly make their way down your cheeks. He pulls you into his arms, wrapping both arms around your shoulders while caressing the back of your head and kissing your forehead. You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice at you, my precious gem. Witnessing you getting attacked and not being able to do something about it hurts me deeply. I thought I could trust your traveling companions to protect you, but I was wrong,” Nanook murmurs.

You tighten your grip around Nanook, squeezing your eyes shut. It’s not Nanook’s fault for not being able to protect you, nor is it your friends’ fault either. They wanted you to stay on the Astral Express to protect you, and it was going smoothly until the Astral Express was under attack. It wasn’t like they could predict what was going to happen to the train while they were away.

You swallow the lump in your throat, rubbing Nanook’s back. “It’s no one’s fault, Nanook. My friends were trying to protect me from the dangers on Jarilo-VI, but they didn’t think the Astral Express was going to be under attack. Please don’t blame them or yourself. It’s no one’s fault,” you whisper, pulling away from the hug.

Nanook stares at you. A deep frown remains on Nanook’s face while his eyebrows are furrowing with frustration. You gingerly reach up to Nanook’s face, rubbing his eyebrows, causing the Aeon to stare at you with confusion. Nanook grabs your wrist, raising an eyebrow at you. You and Nanook stare at each other in silence.

“What are you doing?” Nanook mutters, tilting his head to the side.

You clear your throat, lowering your hands awkwardly. “You were furrowing your eyebrows. I thought I should smooth the scrunch away,” you reply.

Nanook smiles with amusement, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “Stars, I don’t want to share you with anyone else.” Nanook thinks, squeezing you so tight you swear your back might pop. “Why can’t I have you for myself?”

Nanook snaps out of his thoughts when you call his name softly.

“Are you alright?” You whisper, carding your fingers through his soft, luscious hair.

Nanook exhales deeply through his nostrils, nodding in response. Nanook doesn’t want you to regain your consciousness outside of the void. He can keep you here for eternity for all he’d like, but that would be selfish of him to do so. But why does it matter? Nanook is the one that brought you into this universe in the first place! Why do other people have to interfere and develop feelings for you too? It’s simply not fair. Nanook wants you for himself, and he doesn’t want to share you with anyone.

POP!

You groan and pat Nanook’s biceps to grab his attention. “You just popped my back, Nanook. Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask, lightly pushing him away to get a clear look at his face.

Nanook quickly apologizes and peppers your face with small kisses. You sigh and lean into his arms while he sways side to side with you. Your eyelids begin to get heavy as you slowly fall asleep, your vision turning black, and the last thing you feel is Nanook kissing your forehead.

The voices around you are muffled, almost like you’re underwater, and they’re above the surface. As you regain consciousness, you realize the voices around you are bickering. You groan and smack the nearest thing, earning a loud yelp.

“Ouch! Gumdrop, why did you hit me?!” Sampo whines.

You crack your eyes open to see nine faces peering down at you. Dear Aeons, you did not expect to see nine faces staring at you while you were unconscious. You rub your eyes and try to sit up. Sampo tackles you into a hug, squeezing you tightly. You groan when you feel your back pop. Gepard and Luocha grab Sampo by the shoulders and pull the indigo-haired man back.

“Be careful! [Y/N] is still recovering from their injury,” Gepard says, shaking his head with disapproval.

Luocha kneels beside you and brushes your hair from your face. “How are you feeling, Stardust? Any aches and pains?” Luocha asks, eyeing you closely.

You move your arms, move and stretch your legs. So far, you feel fine as ever! “I feel okay. Nothing is hurting, but I do feel like I need to go to a chiropractor,” you say, rubbing the knot in your back.

“[Y/N]. We’re so sorry this happened to you. You wanted to join us, and we didn’t let you accompany us to Jarilo-VI because we wanted to keep you safe from danger. Instead, the Astral Express was under attack, and you were gravely injured,” Caelus says, grabbing your hands and squeezing them.

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. None of us knew this was going to happen, Caelus. No one is at fault,” you whisper.

“We feel guilty for what happened. We’re not leaving you on the Astral Express alone next time. You’re safer with us than you are alone. Whether you’re on the Astral Express or not,” says Dan Heng.

You open your mouth to respond, but the lights in your room flicker on and off. The men standing around your bed tense up and form a barrier around you, drawing their weapons. The silence in your room was loud, so loud that everyone in the room could hear heavy footsteps approaching your room. The door swings open and enters a towering figure.

You peek between Jing Yuan and Blade’s shoulders, eyes widening when you see…

“Nanook. What are you doing here?” You whisper, getting up from your bed.

You’re about to walk toward Nanook, but Blade and Jing Yuan block your way, glaring at the Aeon of Destruction. Nanook raises his eyebrows at Blade and Jing Yuan, crossing his arms over his bare chest. Nanook clears his throat, watching the nine men stand around you while gazing at the Aeon warily.

Nanook sighs. “Since your…. Friends…. Can barely protect the one I find most precious and hold dear to my heart, I might as well join you on your journey across the universe,” says Nanook.

Blade clenches his jaws. “Oh? The Aeon of Destruction is joining us in our journey?” Blade sneers, tightening his grip around the sword.

“Should we trust him?” Luka whispers, not taking his eyes off the Aeon of Destruction.

Nanook merely rolls his eyes and walks toward the group, reaching over Blade and Jing Yuan to grab you. Nanook wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you forward. Nanook wraps his arms around your waist and kisses the side of your head, refusing to take his eyes off the group behind you.

Jing Yuan pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Keep your guard up at all times,” Jing Yuan instructs, keeping his eyes on the Aeon.

Perhaps you should’ve stayed a prisoner in your mind. The tension between your traveling companions and Nanook is so thick and awkward. You don’t know what to do other than be caught in the middle of the ten men. Nine of the men are glaring at the Aeon while the Aeon is running his fingers through your hair, gazing at the fuming nine men with mirth. Oh, this is going to be interesting.

Note: I hope you all like this fic! Nanook is officially physically in the fic! >:D I wonder what's going to happen now that Nanook is physically in the fic with everyone now! Also, I hope you Luocha wanters have Luocha now! I have Luocha after spending money because Welt ended up coming home instead of Luocha 🥹 Got me spending all of my stellar jades too 😔 anyway! For those who want to be tagged in upcoming HSR fics, I have finally made a taglist form right [HERE]! Oh, and for those who want to, my discord is officially opened! This link is temporary and will expire after seven days. If you want to join, here is the link to [Zhongli's Abode]! If you like the server, you can stay! If it's not your cup of tea, then you can leave whenever you want! Please make sure to read the server rules when you join the server ^^ To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for the HSR fics: Will be tagging people when the taglist form is filled out :)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

#Honkai Star Rail x reader #Honkai Star Rail imagine #Honkai Star rail fanfiction #Honkai Star Rail fanfic #HSR x reader #HSR imagine #HSR fanfiction #HSR fanfic #Dan Heng x reader #Gepard Landau x reader #Sampo Koski x reader #Welt Yang x reader #Blade x reader #Jing Yuan x reader #Luocha x reader #Caelus x reader #Nanook x reader #Luka x reader #genshinluvr

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gyuswhore · 1 year

Text

How to Win Hearts for Dummies (the answer is lattes and banana bread)

Idol!mingyu x makeup-artist!reader

genre: fluff, angst, one sided pining

warnings: slow burn, swearing, shitty bosses, some descriptions of anxiety and breakdowns, one sided pining, reader has issues opening up (lmk if there's anything else)

13.4k words (im sorry)

plot: This apprenticeship was taking a toll on your self control in the worst possible way. Walking in 8 months ago, a resignation from your corporate job and a dream in your pocket, you made an oath to stay focused on the goal at hand and to enjoy what you did for a living for once; makeup. Except, your still stuck as an apprentice with a mentor that has no inclination for your growth.

And you’re a little bit in love with your client.

masterlist

(A/N): repost bc Tumblr wouldn’t show it in the tags!!! Thank you for clicking on this clonking my pants as I hit post ! I started working on this at the beginning of exam season and I’m posting it the night before my last exam 🥲 what a full circle moment. Also pls excuse any inconsistencies or grammatical errors, my beta reader, unlike me, actually cares ab her grades and is in the beginning of exam season and therefore will not be able to read through this monstrosity for a while lmao. Enjoy hehe

Edit: I’ve just realised how many mistakes and grammatical errors I’ve made throughout the fic, serves me right for proofreading at 3 AM after a stats exam. I’ll try to fix them all asap!!!

The camera goes off again with a distinct click. And again. And again. And again.

The camera had gone off innumerable times since Mingyu walked out in another themed ensemble, and you were there, watching, through all of it.

You watched as he kept switching positions, rotating his body and his head. Morphing his features into more variations of dazed and serious than you thought could ever exist.

Standing there, at the portable table behind the main setup, attempting to clean a lip brush that would be needed soon when the inevitable call for-

“Makeup over here! We’re taking 5”

You note your sluggish pace as you snap out of your daze and scrubbing harder with the removal cloth. Snapping your head down, hoping nobody noticed your incessant heart eyes, you realize you were in trouble now.

‘Y/n, you’ve been cleaning that brush since I left 10 minutes ago!’ The senior makeup artist snapped.

You finish up the brush in hand and quickly hand her what she needs, not before rummaging for the tiny pot of lip product you absent-mindedly packed away.

‘Sorry, really sorry’ you choke out before she leaves in her badly concealed irritated expression. You see her make a beeline for a waiting Mingyu, who adorably squats for the woman so she has better access.

This apprenticeship was taking a toll on your self control in the worst possible way. Walking in 8 months ago, a resignation from your corporate job and a dream in your pocket, you made an oath to stay focused on the goal at hand and to enjoy what you did for a living for once; makeup. Except, your still stuck as an apprentice with a mentor that has no inclination for your growth.

And you’re a little bit in love with your client.

It's not that you were overage (your mother begs to differ), but considering you were on your second big girl job and still no sign of a potential lover, the prospect was starting to weigh on your head. The first rattling experience was when one of your closest friends announced her engagement, your thoughts still stuck in a 19 year old you considered she was too young. She was not, in fact, 19, or too young, but a perfectly acceptable age to consider marriage with someone she loved, you had soon realized. You were never one for the dating scene, but you were always one to don your Dr. Love labcoat whenever an emotionally bruised friend would come seeking help. You were good at advice, but awfully bad at applying it yourself.

Coming into this job, surrounded by a plethora of beautiful people, your heart would be of stone if it weren’t to waver.

The gong of unattainability had struck the second you laid eyes on Mingyu, laughing at something Hoshi had shown him on the phone. There he was, hair and makeup-less, looking like he had just rolled out of bed (which he had), and beautiful as ever. Beginning this new chapter with a bang, only problem was that it turned into an 8 month shoot out. Having encountered a number of gorgeous people, you’d learned to appreciate their genetic lottery pull and move on. But never had a single look left you as breathless and unbeared as that one, fateful look at Mingyu. One of the team members was busy assuring you not to worry too much about the pandemonium in the dressing room, that everyone would handle it and you were only asked to observe and help with smaller things as instructed; for now. You weren’t listening too hard though.

You were now adjusted to the chaos that comeback season and 13 men plus staff in a microscopic dressing room brought about. But you will never forget how in the midst of your first rain of hell, Mingyu had asked you to pass his phone.

‘Please?’ He had said, and you slammed your hand with a force of a woman infatuated on the table behind you and (literally) breathed out the first thing you had ever said to him.

‘Here’

He smiled and gave you a quick ‘thanks’.

There was no coming back after he flashed you those irresistible canines, and to this day, you wonder what nation you saved in a previous life to be able to have him know your name, hear it roll off his tongue in his pretty voice as he asks you to fix his smudged eyeliner.

You sigh defeatedly before your mentor slash irritated makeup artist shoves her load back in your hands and instructs you to come inside to pack up. It’s become routine for you now, as you begin to pack up the bigger palettes and tools, handing a ready-to-go-home Junhui the pack of makeup wipes he asked for, zipping up bags and closing tubs of outfits. It's an organized chaos but one everybody has grown to work around.

Mingyu is done before you, as he removes his jewelry and begins to shrug off his jacket. You scramble to find the clothes he came in and his coat, pointedly ignoring the familiar scent of wood. He thanks you and shucks off the remainder of his clothing, he might be used to stripping in front of professional staff, but you look away regardless for your own sanity.

Helping the last stylists hang the final jacket, you grab your bag and get ready to leave in your own car. Mingyu has left, not before throwing a “you did well, thank you!” over his shoulder at the remaining people in the room and leaving for the honking car outside.

***

Your mashing bananas in a bowl at 12 AM when you start thinking. Impulsive baking sessions had become a norm since you started working with Seventeen, needing to keep yourself occupied to stop spiraling. Mingyu was a recurring topic (surprise surprise), but one that quickly faded when you begin to think about what the future holds for you. You start mashing the banana harder. You consider the idea that you can’t complain, being in a position some of the most well seasoned pros had difficulty reaching. Being a single young woman and being allowed so close to some of the most unattainable men was seen as near impossible. You’d like to think it was your skill that got you here but can never seem to fully rule out a processing error.

It’s hard, being stuck in the same place. Your apprenticeship should have ended 2 months ago, but even if it had, you’d still be doing the same thing. The senior artist trusts no-one but a select few to work on the boys for photoshoots, events, music videos. People like you are left to sanitize sponges and clean the fallout.

You crack an egg on the counter and it splits open entirely, falling on the floor, yolk and all. Your inability to grow stays within the idea that you can’t really do your artistry like you want.

And how you never learn to crack your eggs on the bowl.

***

Showing up on the Going Seventeen set, you rush to the dressing room way earlier than you should. Being completely honest, you’re really only rushing because you want to maneuvere yourself to do Mingyu’s makeup before somebody else snags him. This was one of the very few engagements where you were occasionally allowed to take charge on makeup. Not that it was required for the show much at all; intensity and occasion wise. Your rare (possible) moment to (maybe) come into Mingyu’s organic notice was an opportunity never to be dropped by you.

You help setting up everything on the counters as the boys begin to (loudly) file in the rooms. You see Mingyu walk in and move to ask him to sit down once he’s done discarding his coat. He was first in line and you ‘happened’ to be the first one ready to begin working.

‘Is the eye makeup heavy? I just got a sty removed and I don’t know if I should be putting anything on at all.’ He asks as he sits down and you ready your damp sponge.

‘Not really, just smoothing things out. It should be fine.’ you say as you begin to press the compact on his cheek.

Your not really sure why, because you’ve never been able to muster anything above brief replies when in contact with him, but something in you pushes you to keep talking.

‘I’m surprised they even asked for us, they rarely ever do’ you continue, heart pounding so hard you’re afraid he might hear it.

He breathes out a laugh ‘Yeah. They even started advertising the show on youtube and subway stations and stuff, I didn’t know until I saw someone talk about it online’

You smile at his response ‘Well, all of you work so hard, it's about time they pull this to a high scale production’

‘It's never really work if your having fun, we try to be ourselves on here’ He replies, still smiling slightly.

You’re damn near close to collapsing on the floor at this point. This is the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him. You opt to smile in response as you start to concentrate on his eyebrows. The rest of his face is done far too soon as you zone out and do what you do best.

‘All done’ you announce as you pull away from his lips, trying not to have yoour gaze linger.

“Y/n! Can you start on Vernon if you're done?’, another artist calls from behind.

‘Yeah, he can come up!’ you reply as Mingyu (regretfully) walks towards hair.

Just because you sew your mouth shut with Mingyu doesn’t mean it applies for the rest of them, you’re quite friendly with all of them and Vernon does well to remind you as he sits down and quips a ‘hey bestieee’ in an elongated greeting.

You audibly laugh ‘That’s another word I’ll be hearing for the next month’

‘Regretfully so’ He feigns sympathy.

‘Be quiet and look up’ you say with a fond smile before you get started on him.

***

You sit on the floor in front of your television, trail mix on the coffee table as the movie plays as background noise for your thoughts - again.

There’s a smile on your face, but you dont notice as you think about the small talk you made with Mingyu today, wondering if it could become a regular occurrence if you learned to keep your heart and mind in check.

You were never one to stand up and take effort to do what was right for you, which is why you were talked into choosing Business Administration by your friend in highschool, who you never speak to now because she decided to ditch you for another group who were more inclined to shuttle themselves to liver failure by partying every last weekend in your entire college career. You were talked into applying to corporate jobs by your counsellors as you started looking for make-up courses, needing to abandon your dream for the second time when you landed a decent entry level desk job. It took years before you decided to choose yourself for once and made the big leap after multiple courses you had took on the side. Life was starting to look bright after getting hired here, but you’re not sure if you overrode a high or if you went back to your old zipped mouth state after you settled in. Never sure if you expected too much or if things really were as stagnant as they felt.

***

Overmanifestation can be a thing. You're not really sure how it works but you’re reaping what you’ve sowed right about now.

You’re currently standing in an offside corridor in a hotel lobby, clad in a pretty white floral dress, and a nervous, fidgety Mingyu standing in front of you.

'I know I'm asking you to do something difficult and I know it seems pointless because I'm not doing anything wrong either that you have to lie about it'

This was supposed to be a staycation with your friends for you to relax and get your mind off things. Your ticket to relaxation has become a nightmare.

'And I understand I'm being super unreasonable but I'm really trying to keep it on the down-low as we get to know each other'

You were waiting with your friends on the couches positively stuffing your faces with the complimentary chocolate bowl placed on the coffee table as a couple other friends checked you guys into your rooms. You were laughing and talking with your group, carefree and ready to have a week of well deserved rest.

That was the plan anyway. Until you see someone across the lobby, also in line at check in. He had an unmistakable toothy smile,and was hand in hand with a concealed brunette.

Your smile abruptly falls in disbelief as you feel your world halt around you.

The same hands come up to brush the hair out of the woman's face to place a kiss on her temple, smiling wide.

The nauseating feeling of ice going down your spine is becoming more and more apparent. You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat but it's like trying to swallow a brick. You lick your lips and attempt to look away but your eyes keep feeding on the picture you painted yourself in your worst nightmares. Realizing you're on the brink of possible hyperventilation, your friend drops her head and asks you if you're okay. You look up at her, not knowing what to say as you realize that nodding furiously will convince her.

Mingyu has a girlfriend.

Of course he would. What were you thinking? This man is one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, why on earth would he be single? You’re unhinged, you decide, for thinking you may have a chance, when the woman turns around and you see her in full. She’s gorgeous.

A part of you still wants to believe that you're officially past the point of sanity and that you've begun to see Mingyu in every tall man. The universe, however, is cruel. He pushes his head up and in your general direction, and locks eyes with you in unmistakable recognition.

He stops smiling.

So here you are listening to Mingyu asking you to keep this a secret from the company, to forget the woman waiting for him in the lobby.

You can only nod in slight motions as he goes on his rant to justify his oath to secrecy, managing a tight lipped smile as you miraculously find your voice, hoarse as it may be.

'Don't worry about it, I understand' - ouch - 'it's none of my business anyway. I'll keep my lips sealed, I promise'

'Thank you, thank you, thank you I appreciate it so much, you don't even know. I'll repay you soon I promise'

'No, please, it's not-'

'No, Y/n I will. You're being really good to me right now and I'm so grateful. I'm sorry for putting you through this while you're off from work and with friends. It's worth to me that your listening and understanding'

You're tired. You want nothing but for him to stop talking. So you smile again and shake your head.

'I'm sure your friends are waiting, I won't keep you. I'll see you soon though!'

And with that he leaves. Back to the lobby where you see him take the woman by hand once again. You watch again as they walk to the elevators, stepping in and disappearing when the doors close. You watch the floor number rise.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

You walk back to your laughing friends before you can see where they got off.

***

Retiring to your shared hotel room with Chaeyoung, you fall back first into the crisp sheets and mattress.

'Why're you so depressed dude, did Mingyu say something to you?' She asks, a slight line forming between her brows.

'I'm fine, I've been up since 5 today it's just fatigue hitting me right now' you reassure, like always. 'I might not go to dinner with you guys, might end up with my face in the soup at some point'

Chaeyoung hums. ‘Take the night off so you can gear up for the rest of the week. I'm letting you off for now but I expect full attendance for eveything else we do', finishing with a mocking stern look.

'Yes ma'am' you feign salute from the bed, mimicking her stern tone.

You've known Chaeyoung for quite a while now, meeting her in your last year of uni. Trusting her as you do, you were never fully able to fess up about your feelings for Mingyu. Fear of judgment wasn't the problem, but more so the strange feeling of shame that overcomes you when you think about talking about it with other people. It's quite beyond you, why you act this way. You loved your friends and you knew they would support you with everything, they'd proved it when you'd made one of the most difficult decisions of your life while leaving your job. But the idea of having the audacity to love someone who could never do the same seemed like a feat of embarrassment.

Who are you, y/n? Who are you to have foolish dreams of a girl in love? With someone clearly fit for all things greater than you?

Maybe this was a good thing, you thought, the weird feeling in your stomach returning. Maybe this was the universe telling you to give up and move on, a kind of rejection that keeps your dignity. This was nothing but a reality check, a sign from whatever wants best for you, to bring your attention back to what brought you to Mingyu in the first place.

***

You didn’t see Mingyu for the rest of the trip, which you were grateful for not knowing how you’d react if you had to see him so soon after, that.

Back massaged and head clearer than it had been for weeks, you feel more in control of your feelings and thoughts regarding your life. You hope the conversation with Mingyu was the last stressful thing you’d encounter for a while.

It’s almost comeback season, you realise as you see the new concept photos while scrolling on your couch at home. This meant insanely early mornings for weeks on end, but you had to push through for your own sake. You’d come out of multiple comebacks needing a brace for a month but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Never realising the true meaning of learning through experience, you were enlightened as you entered this new, very hands on field. The concept looked interesting, hoping the scraps of makeup you’d be allowed to do would be fun for you.

That ended up being true when you were, for the first time, asked to do Hoshi’s full makeup for their first comeback broadcast.

Your stumped silence was short lived as you hastily oblige and get the chair ready for him. You’d looked at the demo sheets and face charts too much for someone who wasn’t actually going to be asked to do much, but you see it pay off as you finish his eyes and get started on the rest of his face. It was easy for you to zone out as Soonyoung had passed out not even 5 minutes in, having someone hold his face as you worked.

You felt your chest swell with an indesipherable feeling as you watched him get up with your mastery on his face; pride, was it? You were getting emotional for no reason. Your attention, however, is moved sharply when you hear someone tell Mingyu it was his turn, finding him plopped on your chair staring straight into nothingness as he’d just been rudely awoken from his nap. He doesn’t realise it’s you for a solid minute as he tried to remember his own name.

‘Oh, hello’ he says, sort of confused. ‘Sorry, just give me minute’, he mumbles as he rubs his eyes.

He stretches back onto his seat signalling he’s ready for you to get started. You trying not to feel too much in your stomach as you begin.

You’re powdering his forehead when he says “I know I already said this but I really appreciate what you’re doing”

You know he’s talking about the conversation at the hotel, you were hoping you could avoid it.

“I told you not to worry about it, honest.” You reply, and somehow manage to choke out “It makes me happy that you’re happy”

You can see him trying to fight a smile, “Thank you for saying that”.

You wanted to stab someone. But you opt for gently brushing a base colour across his eyes.

“Do any of us know her, by any chance?” You ask cautiously.

“I dont think so. We met through mutual friends at a Christmas dinner, we didn’t start talking till she had to bring me a bunch of papers I’d left at my mom’s that day.” his face depicts someone reminiscing a fond memory.

It was cute, how it seemed like fate was trying to bring them together. It would've been cuter if you weren’t in a one sided pining with one of the two lovers.

“Well, I hope it works out for the both of you”

No you don’t.

“I hope so too”

You don’t hope that at all.

You felt guilty, feeling all of this. Hated that this was your first response to him wanting to be happy. Never would you have imagined stooping this low, hoping his happiness doesn’t work out for your sake. You’d like to owe it this being your first real infatuation, but you can’t help but wonder if this was really what you thought.

You decided to focus on the good news for today, that you’re finally allowed to do your actual job. You can only hope this wasn’t a temporary advancement, allowing time to tell.

Things remained the same the following day, much to your absolute elation. You were done doing 4 people’s makeup and was just winding down to take a break, quite satisfied with yourself. You observed as the rest of the boys got their hair done and run around, half in their outfits. You stifle a snort as you watch Jeonghan hide Minghao’s socks in his pockets as the boy tried to find them to put his shoes on, the former continuing to sip on his coffee seemingly unaware.

“Y/n, have you seen my socks? The green ones with the leaves on it?” Hao inevitable asks you.

You’re forced to feign confusion when Jeonghan pokes his head behind him signalling you to keep up the charade. He continues to look and you’re just about to have mercy on the poor boy before a to-go cup of coffee is shoved in front of your face.

You look up at the person and it’s Mingyu extending his arm at you expectantly.

“Oh, I didn’t order anything” you start, thinking you’re clearing up a confusion.

“I know you didn’t, got one for you anyway.”

There’s a record screech in your brain as you absorb his words.

“Think of it as me trying to repay the favour”

Oh. I see.

You’re a little embarrassed thinking he’d get one for you in that way, not when he had someone waiting on him. You accept the cup and mumble a thank you as he unexpectedly plants himself on the couch next to you.

“I saw you drinking lattes a lot of the times, so I just got you that. Hope that’s okay”.

Your silent for a moment before replying “Yes!” a little bit too loudly, eyes widening a little realisng your lack of volume control.

He knows your coffee order.

“Yes,” you say again in a normal tone and a slight laugh to cover up your inability to read the room, “They’re my favourite actually”

Kim Mingyu knows you like latte’s. This wasn’t good for your delusional brain.

Your conversation is cut short when the boys are called for roll call before they can prepare for the actual stage. You watch him get up and leave to file into the overstuffed elevators, not before he throws you the most adorable wave you’ve ever seen. You can’t hold back your smile as you wave back and look down at the drink he got you before taking a sip.

***

As it turns out, you did makeup for the rest of their comeback season, and Mingyu, without fail, got you an iced latte every single day before leaving to go on stage.

You tried to get him to stop, but he was rooted in his position and you didn’t have it in you to say no to his pleading eyes. It was a re-charge for you, when you’d seen him break into a happy smile, prominent canines that you’d grown to adore. He’d done more than enough to ‘repay’ you for swearing to secrecy, and you felt like you too, should should repay him the balance.

So here you were, making banana bread in your kitchen again, careful to remember to crack your eggs on the rim of your mixing bowl instead of slamming them on the counter. You’re stirring the flour in when a classified devious thought occurs to you.

These past two weeks were pivotal for both you and Mingyu, daily coffee’s meant daily conversations, which meant getting to know one another more. You’d exchanged phone numbers in the midst of all of this, to which ensued the agenda of staying up till midnight talking to each other about the meaning of life.

Setting down the whisk, you pick up your phone and sent the text before you chickened out.

[You]: I have a surprise for you.

[You]: You wanna come over? It’s better enjoyed fresh lol

[Mingyu]: Ma’am? 👁👁

[Mingyu]: That sounds a whole lot like a booty call

[You]: *attachment*

[Mingyu]: IS THAT CAKE??

[Mingyu]: omw 😮‍💨

You send the location and set your phone down, a jittery feeling going through your entire body. There’s a spring in your step as you slide the loaf into the oven and set a timer. You turn around your kitchen island and register the pigsty that is your apartment. The girls were over the night before and you had done nothing to enlighten the aftermath, pillows strewn across the entire living room and snack wrappers in places you’re not sure how they landed.

By the time you’re done and spritzed the place with some of your nicer perfumes, your taking the loaf out of the oven and on a rack to cool.

Ever the punctual man, you hear the doorbell ring just as your taking your oven mitts off.

Hoping you’ve done enough to your apartment to save yourself from embarrassment, you collect yourself and open the door for him through your ringcam. He’s barely through when your rushing towards your doorway.

“Hi!”

“Hey,” he grunts as he tries to slip off his shoes.

“‘aight, where’s my cake?” he demands once he’s done giving you a quick hug.

You roll your eyes and usher him to the kitchen, “First of all, appreciate how excited you are to see me, and second, its banana bread not cake, sorry to burst your bubble”

He responds to your grumbling with an “Oh come on, you can't put freshly baked goods on the agenda and expect me to pay particular attention to anything else”.

He has his trademarked grin and cheesy stare out on display like its nobody’s business, you want to slap it off of him in the most loving way possible, but you settle with a tiny “shut up”.

“I brought warm coffee this time, thought it’d go better” He sets the to-go carrier on the kitchen counter, following you to where you were attempting to slice the still hot banana bread on a tray.

“Oh, that was a good idea” you say.

“Where’re your plates and forks?” he asks, pulling out the drawers and cabinets you signal to.

It all felt too domestic for your weak heart to handle. Not to say it didn’t warm you to the core how comfortable he felt in your space, you did, more than you’d care to admit. But he needed to tone it down before you required an organ transplant.

You were seated on the floor, butts parked on floor cushions, backs against the couch. The coffee table held all of your goods while you both argued on which movie to watch.

“I can’t believe you haven’t watched any of the Harry Potter movies! No, we’re watching philosopher’s stone, I don’t care!” You shout in disbelief, already typing it into the search bar on the TV.

“Philly-philo- bro I can’t even pronounce it why would I watch that?!” He yells back, snatching the remote from you.

You’re both a giggling, screaming mess on the floor as you keep trying to steal the remote from each other, not stopping until one of you bumps into the table and you almost spill hot coffee all over yourselves.

You decide to call a truce and pick another movie entirely.

Just as you’re pressing play, Mingyu takes a bite of the still (surprisingly) warm banana bread and you watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“This is so good” He says, his faced furrowed as he goes in for another bite. “Did you lace this with something, why is this so good?”

You’re biting back a snarky remark but you let it rip anyway; “It’s cuz these pretty hands made it”

You splay your hands out in front of your face, like your showing him your rings, fingers wiggling and a cheeky smile on your face.

He looks unimpressed as he scoffs. He swallows before saying: “At least you didn’t call the secret ingredient love or something”

“Excuse you, I’m pretty sure I heard you say that in some Gose episode” You remark.

He turns to you, all smug: “So your saying you watch Gose? Like, regularly?”

You immediately turn away from his taunting smirk, “Sometimes, if it shows up on my home page”

You take a sip of your latte before he asks you another sweat producing question.

“Oh, but you pay attention to me the most don’t you? Don’t you?”

He’s poking fun at you, you know that. But a paranoid part of you can’t help but think he’s onto you and your feelings.

So you say something maybe a little bit below the belt.

“You sure have a knack for seeking validation from the world when you have a partner already giving that to you”

The words tumble out of your mouth before you know it. In your defence, you're doing this for a greater cause, but it's still a relief when you see him comically gasp, hand to his diaphragm.

“Just because your alone in life, doesn’t mean you need to be salty about other people receiving actual love” He spits back.

Your sputtering trying to think of a response. Deserved.

He grabs a slice of the bread and shoves into your mouth to shut you up once and for all. You’re left chewing the mouthful and staring at him in shock.

He giggles and takes a sip of coffee, satisfied with himself. When he sets it down he opens his mouth to speak. Closes it again, like he re-evaluating, and finally decides to say something. He’s serious now.

“Ji Eun and I, decided it wasn’t gonna work out between us”.

Oh.

“Oh.”

He blows a raspberry and lets out a meek laugh.

“Yeah, oh. It’s whatever, it wasn’t meant to work out. Better sooner than later.”

You’re trying to find the words to reply or comfort him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You ask him, being careful to not lace your voice with pity, but more neutral and open. “You don’t have to, obviously, but it might be better to talk about what’s bothering you”

He pauses for a moment before starting.

“She wasn’t sitting very well with the idea that she had to share me. Like at all. She wouldn’t say it but she’d get mildly infuriated when I’d blow the fans a kiss or something, or interacted with the staff too much. I was getting home quite late certain days during comeback season and I’d find her outside the dorm at like 11 PM. It was embarrassing when all of the other members would see her there, obviously upset and basically yelling at me for, for - for literally just doing my job.I guess all the smaller things just started piling and she couldn’t take it. I tried so hard to make sure she felt wanted and secure in the relationship but nothing felt like it was ever enough. She was evasive or confrontational all at the wrong times and it came to a point- its a horrible thought to have in a relationship - but I was terrified she’d do something rash and I’d wake up to my face on articles for some reason - again”

You recollected the past couple years when Mingyu was thrown around in the media for a new accusation seemingly everyday. You weren’t involved with anything regarding the industry back then, but you’d heard enough news to be aware of what was happening.

Your heart swelled with sadness as you heard him talk, he sounded like he was trying- trying hard to be good enough. All for a person who seemed to have their priorities set somewhere else.

“She was amazing; kind and happy and confident. She treated my parents with respect, she was best friends with my sister. I know we only lasted like 3 months but at some point I really considered that she could be the one. But then the problems started and I realized she was only becoming an added factor to stress and anxiety for me more than anything else.

“I liked her because she was so family oriented, and I thought that was what would fit me because I’m like that too. But, I guess I’m just a different kind of oriented? I don’t know. I have a job that’s both interpersonal and unpredictable. There’s days where I don’t wanna get up and do work but I still love it nonetheless. I guess she just expected me to have a predictable, stable 9 to 5. Home in time for dinner, not requiring interaction with too many people; basically everything I can’t be.”

He’s silent for a moment.

You start talking after a couple beats.

“I really hope you aren’t taking this like it’s your fault. She made a choice to put up with your work, knowing how it would be for the both you. You tried your best but she made you feel like your best wasn’t good enough. I dunno about you, but that sounds like a really problematic conclusion. If she truly cared for you and what you love, she would never have been this unsupportive or not understanding”.

He’s listening to you, his expression is blank but you can tell he’s absorbing your words.

“I’d like to think I had realized that. But being completely honest, I’m not really sure when my thoughts go back to me thinking I’m the problem all the time.”

He manages a smile, a wide one, as he looks up to make eye contact with you; “But I know it’ll take me some time to really start believing that it’s not entirely my fault. We just weren’t compatible, and that’s fine. We left on good terms, and I’m happy about that.”

You smile with him as he finishes, but your a little confused when he starts sliding closer and down the cushions.

He sets his head on your shoulder.

You may have shortcircuited right then and there.

“Is this okay?” he asks you quietly, attention finally diverted to the half played movie.

You realise he asked you a question and you have to answer.

“Yeah, this is fine” You breathe out, somehow, by the graces of God himself.

No, you weren’t fine at all. You felt like the universe had flipped a faulty switch, mixed up the scripts, lost the plot, something. But as you get used to the weight of Mingyu’s head on your shoulder, you pray it won’t come back to haunt you in another chapter.

***

Your routine became inverted in the sense that, what you once had to plan out so intricately, is unfolding with no effort from you at all.

You find that Mingyu waits for you to be done with somebody else so you can do his makeup, instead of sitting on another free chair. He’d come to you specifically to touch up his makeup instead of going to an artist he saw closer to him. He never forgot to get you a coffee whenever it was that he saw you.

Mingyu hadn’t slept over that night, instead leaving in his car despite the 1 AM drizzle and your insistence for him to stay until the pour recedes.

Maybe it was better for you that he hadn’t stayed that night. Something about how you grew so close ‘organically’ made you feel like this wasn’t all in your head, that he’s choosing to be your friend.

You’re handing him his clothes as he begins to change, using the excuse to whisper to him;

“I was gonna try a new brownie recipe tonight, if you’re free you can come over?”

“I think I have somewhere to be after this but I’m free after, How’s 6?”

So there you are, back in your kitchen folding chocolate chunks into your brownie batter while waiting for Mingyu to get here.

Your phone dings from the island and you check to see a message from Mingyu sending you what looked like a grocery list; pasta, oregano, garlic…

[Mingyu]: Tell me what you don’t have from this

[Mingyu]: I’m at the store rn hurry up

You send him a list of what you don’t have, realising he intended to have dinner with you too.

[Mingyu]: k thanks

[Mingyu]: be there in like an hour

There’s a warm feeling that’s swelling in your chest, that makes you wanna punch a wall because your so happy. You choose self control, mostly because this apartment is on a lease but also you’d probably break your knuckles trying to punch anything harder than a foam mat.

By the time Mingyu’s here, the brownies are in the oven and you’re almost done with the icing. He unpacks the groceries (and the warm lattes) he bought while you finish up, confirming that he was trying a new pasta recipe tonight. Setting the brownies and coffee down on your usual coffee table, you decide wait a couple hours before starting on making dinner, instead choosing to hear him ramble about an idol he met at an award show.

“So, we start talking before we’re ready to go up- you weren’t there you were working on wonwoo’s makeup- and he starts complimenting me and so obviously I start complimenting him back”

He’s waving his arms around, and setting positions with coasters on the table trying to explain the setting.

“He asks me if I have a sister and I’m like… yes? Which I should’ve realised where this was going because he then” - he pauses to take a deep breath - “this absolute asshat decides it’d be funny to ask me for her number because apparently ‘if you’re this hot, I’m sure any sibling you have is too’ BRO, WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU SAY THAT - how are laughing at this?!”

You calm yourself down for a second to clarify, “NO! It’s just hilarious how he thought that was okay to say”

You’re still still giggling in shock when Mingyu calms down, now also laughing incredulously.

“But actually though, please tell me you smacked him” you manage.

“I would have,” he grumbles “I got called to fix my hair cuz I ruined it or something”.

“Oh well, now you know who to avoid next time,” you say as you guide a bite of brownie into his mouth, “Forget about it now, eat sugar, it’ll help”

He chews a bit before swallowing, all while you’re watching him with an endeared smile on your face.

“Y’know, I really thought you didn’t like me when you first joined the team”

You pause mid sip of your coffee, brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“You never really talked me, did you? You were friendly with the rest of them but it just seemed like you never wanted to enter a room if you saw me there”

You’re looking at him in utter shock, this man was mistaking your avoidant (yet also pushy) teenage crush behaviour for dislike.

He’s looking at you expectantly, a little pout on his face.

“I never disliked you, why would you think that? I promise everything was a coincidence, it was nothing like that”

“Don’t get so defensive, kinda obvious you like me now if not before” He laughs at your panicked expression.

He meant platonic like.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that though, I’ve been told I have a pretty serious resting bitch face, it’s gotten me in trouble before” she smile sheepishly.

“It’s fine, you made up for it with that first banana bread” He says before taking another bite of brownie, “Could use more chocolate chunks”

You snort before pushing him with a sock clad foot, “Appreciate me even giving them to you”

You fall back to the adjacent sofa.

It’s quiet for a moment. But you feel like something’s shifted in the air.

You watch as he brings his hand to the same foot, holding onto your ankles. He’s caressing the exposed skin with his fingers, moving them back and forth. His eyes are glued to yours, looking like he’s in a trance. You’re not sure how to register this new change in mood, suddenly feeling like you need to turn the aircon on during the bleak Seoul winter. Just as you're hoping you don’t start sweating, you feel his vice grip on your ankle pull your leg over with a sharp tug. You scream as you lose support of the sofa and fall back.

You sit up in shock to find him leaning with his elbows on the floor, cackling like madman.

“Mingyu, what the fuck?”

“You-” He stops to laugh again, “You should’ve seen your face, PLEASE, it was hilarious”.

You huff before getting up shoving his shoulder with your foot again, “You’ve been playing guest a little too long, maybe it’s time you get started on that pasta”

“Will I be blessed enough to be receiving her highness’s help?” He asks.

He looks like a dream, clad in his T-shirt because he claims he doesn’t get cold. Hands behind him on the floor to give him support as he stares up at you, smiling wide. He’s looking at you with eyes full of stars and glitter.

You muster up the courage to give him a nasty glare, to which he huffs at and gets up, “Such a meanie”.

It’s hard to conceal your smile as his back his turned, sachaying towards the kitchen. You want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

Your washing veggies in the sink when you turn around catch sight of his back as he stood at the kitchen island, sorting the rest of the ingredients. You get the same overwhelming feeling in your chest again, assuming you’re deluding yourself into thinking this is what life could be like with him. In less than 3 seconds, you’ve conjured a timeline of domestic routines, to wind down with him like this every evening.

You’re still lost in thought, still incessantly staring when he turns around and catches you in the act. He does the rude thing and snaps his fingers in front of your face to pull you out of your thoughts, “You okay?”

“Yeah” You say trying to gloss it over while busying yourself trying to find your cutting board.

“Are you sure? Do you wanna sit down at the island and watch me instead. You don’t have to help -”

“Pick a knife, and shut up dingus, it’s fine”

Once your both done eating and cleaning up, Mingyu hugs you goodbye, not before asking if you’d be free for lunch next week before he got busy the following month. You quickly agree, setting a date and time, bidding your (reluctant) farewells.

***

Once back in your apartment you realize how you can’t clean up to distract yourself because Mingyu took it upon himself to clear the space with you before he left. You sigh loudly and retire into your bedroom where you don’t have to think about how empty your living room is.

Changing into your pajamas and putting a headband on, you don’t even feel like turning your music on to do your night routine. You double cleanse, tone, serum, acid and moisturise your face with added purposefulness, taking note of the crevices of your nose and the neglected bottom of your chin. Taking extra time to make sure all of the foam is out of your skin before drying your face with a tissue.

You look at your fed skin in the mirror, and feel a weird surge of tears well in your eyes. Before they can fall you slam your bathroom cabinet to busy yourself to find your melatonin gummies, shoving them in your mouth before switching off the bathroom light and retiring to your bedroom.

Slipping the headband off and sliding into bed, you’re still chewing your gummies to a paste in your mouth. Trying not to notice how heavy you’re breathing you try to find your white noise machine, the one you found advertised for infants, and turn it on before grabbing your book to read for a few extra minutes.

Your staring at the pages like you found them to be blank. You’re phone dings next to you, signalling a notification.

Picking it up you find your mental health app sending you a daily reminder.

You’re allowed to feel your emotions.

***

Winter had run its course as you find yourself in April. You never really liked the cold, having been more sensitive to a gust of wind than the average joe, you were better suited to sitting with an aircon instead of being unable to move in the middle of Korea’s January cold rush. But alas, the cherries are blossoming and your fingers have defrosted.

That isn’t what’s on your mind right now though, as you’re standing in a Sephora, arms crossed and shoulders tense. You loved shopping for makeup, but you mostly chose to do it online unless you really had to otherwise. Parking yourself in the perfume section with the scents mixing together a cocktail of nosehair doom, you really wish you’d worn a face mask. Not to mention the migraine inducing coloured lights and mainstream pop playing in the background (you swear they’ve been playing Side to Side by Ariana Grande on loop since you got here).

These were all, however, peripheral observations for you, as you stare in absolute pneumonic shock at the number written on the price tag of the perfume you’re looking at.

Now, Mingyu is a man of class, high maintenance if you will. You’re well aware he likes to spoil himself, because he has a bank account to back it up.

Your bank account is definitely full and secure, but not enough for you to justify dropping what seems like half of its contents to something only one of the five senses can experience.

Mingyu mentioned in passing how he wanted this perfume a while ago, and knowing that he hadn’t ordered it for himself just yet, you decide to be the amazing friend that you are and surprise him for his birthday.

You may be regretting that right now, but you tentatively pick up the blue, crystalline bottle and spritz a bit on a paper strip before taking a whiff. It smelled good, that’s for sure, and it suited him too. So when the saleslady came to offer assistance, after you excused the last three, you decide you’re going to do this for him.

“Yes, could I have this in the box please?”

Walking back to your car you feel a bount of jitter run through you,

Oh, he’s gonna freak out when he sees this.

He did, in fact, freak when he saw it, and his reaction made you want to give him all of the good things in the world if you could see him like this all the time.

He’s smiling ear to ear and speaking in that high pitched voice that he gets when he’s excited. He’s thanking you over and over again, smoothing the box over in his hands repeatedly, looking at the ‘from: y/n :p’ with hearts in his eyes.

“I’m gonna save this for the rest of my life” he says, with determination and a goofy grin.

You snort at the declaration, “Sure, bud”

“I’m serious. What, you wanna bet?” he replies, taking a sip of his, latte, which you proudly credit yourself for swerving him over from Americano’s.

He insisted on going out to eat at this fancy French place a day before his actual birthday as he’d be busy on the day of, but it was risky for him to be seen eating out alone with a young woman at such a fancy place. You settled for a nicer traditional Korean restaurant, that allowed you to book a room away from possible prying eyes and one that you were both comfortable with. You decided to wait till you were back in the car with your post dinner coffee’s to give him his present.

“I’m giving you 3 months before that bottle’s dry to the dregs” You affirmed, “You smell like you empty half a bottle of something off your dresser everyday anyways”

You said it as an insult, but jokes on you because you loved the way he smelled.

“Fine, I’m gonna use this so carefully I’m not replacing it for at least a year”

“A year? What happened to the rest of your life?” you refute.

“I have you for that, don’t I”

What the fuckity fuck.

He’d turned to you, leaning on the headrest, that signature cheesy look; like he was in love or something. Voice dropping a couple octaves as he said it, laced with something defined and strong - enough for it to feel like the weight of an elephant had dropped on your chest.

You gather yourself after looking at him for a couple seconds, jaw unhinged and forgotten on the floor of his car. You chose to grab your cardigan that was neatly folded on the dash, and astral project it to his face across the seat. He’s laughing so hard there’s tears glistening in the corner of his eyes. He falls forward and you see strands of his hair fall to his face, he’d been growing them out.

“Shut up” you grumble in your seat, annoyed at how easy it was for him to send your heart through and beyond your chest.

He’s still giggling like a school girl, and you cave and give him a hint of a smile.

“There it iiiis” He announces, grabbing your face and smushing your cheeks together.

For a moment, he stops to look at you like this, like he’s contemplating. For one, brain rattling, organ exploding, microsecond, you think he might even kiss you.

Instead, he headbutts you slightly rubbing his head swiftly before letting go.

“I might need to wash my hands, I think I got your makeup on me” He mumbles, looking at his hands like a child with mud soaked palms.

“Serves you right, you buffoon,” You remark as you pull out your trusty travel pack of makeup wipes.

Yanking one out of the tab, you pull his hand over and try to wipe the remnants of foundation off, starting from the heel up to each individual finger. It’s silent as you concentrate on getting it all off both hands, he was wearing black tonight and knowing him he’d rub his hand over his pants and get beige foundation all over. You knew because you’d seen him do it one too many times.

“All done” you quip, looking up and catching his stare. He’s smooth to slowly look away and retract his open hands from your lap about 5 seconds after it became noticeable.

You busy yourself by attempting to stash away the wipes to throw out later, closing the pack of wipes and shoving them back into your bag.

He’s watching you do all of this, his stare is burning holes into the side of your head. He’s desperate to say something, but you’re not sure if you want to hear.

“Let’s go back to my place. We’ll stick a candle into a sheet brownie and call it your birthday cake. Oh, we can pick up ice cream too!”, You say, costuming your voice to sound unaffected by his vibe.

And so you did stick a candle in the fresh batch of brownies you both made at 11PM, two hours before his actual birthday. Sitting across from each other on the counter, Mingyu has his eyes closed shut, hands clasped, wearing a ridiculously coloured ‘BIRTHDAY BOY’ headband you found somewhere deep in your drawers.

“You’re gonna get wax on the brownies and they're gonna be inedible, hurry up” You groan, after everytime it seems like he’s done, he clenches his eyes shut again as he remembers another thing he has to wish for.

You’re not actually annoyed, he looks the cutest he’s ever looked, but you would appreciate non waxed brownies.

When he’s finally done, he blows out the singular candle and you clap lightly, “yay!”

You’re pulling out the candle and grabbing forks, dumping a couple scoops of ice cream on before you two start eating straight out of the pan.

Its a collection of groans as you both collapse on your couch, regretting eating all that so soon after dinner. He changed out of his dinner outfit to a T-shirt and pajama pants, he’d started keeping a set of clothes in his car when it started to become routine for him to spend regular evenings after work at your place.

You’re in your own unicorn pajama’s, slumped over on the arm rest slightly. You feel Mingyu scooch over to put his head in your lap, claiming he was “closing his eyes for a minute”.

You knew how lightning fast he passes out, so not even 5 minutes later you start to hear his light snores. As much as you want to wake him up to move him to the bed, you know he can’t stay the night. His birthday meant he had to be with the boys, and needing to head out early tomorrow.

So you give him 10 more minutes, fingers tracing the shape of his features, in his soft hair massaging his head with your nails slightly. He had a little pout on his face as he slept. Things had been hectic for him lately, having a comeback later in the month and the plethora of music and variety shows to follow.

Mingyu had been writing lyrics on the kitchen island one day, sputtering random words as you quipped in rhymes of your own without context, stirring the pot of soup on the hob at the same time.

One particular rhyme you spew out catches him off guard and he barks out a laugh at the ridiculous combination.

“I should put you on song credits for this”

“What do you think my producer name could be?”

He thinks for a second, “Banana bread sounds stupid, um, how’s brownie?”

“Cute, and serious enough” you agree, “I’ll be expecting to see my name on that album, sir”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you turn your attention back to the sleeping man curled up in your lap. You wonder if you could fall asleep on the couch too, keep him here with you for the night. Be a little selfish. It’d be nice, making waffles for breakfast when morning comes. But he needed to be at the dorm in the morning, the boys knew where he was but managers that’d come pouring in at 7 AM sharp, did not. And it was best kept that way. The last thing Mingyu wanted, you knew, was people getting the wrong idea. The thought stung a little bit, but you knew not to mix your hopes with what reality was giving you.

So you gather the courage to slowly reign him back from dreamland.

***

Your sitting with Mingyu and Seungkwan on the couches outside the dressing rooms, a little bit before they have to go to perform. You were done with your agenda and was waiting for them to start filing out before beginning to pack up.

“No, because why does he get to eat all the good stuff right out the oven and we don’t, that’s not fair” Seungkwan complained loudy to you, a mildly offended look on his face.

“Stop being such a complain bot, you’re never happy if I have nice things” Mingyu retorts, increasingly nasty looks being exchanged for an argument about freshly baked goods.

“Oh, I’m the hater?! Let me jog your memory, who was the one sulking and shoving me around when Y/n wouldn’t let you-”

Mingyu had jumped up and pulled Seungkwan into a headlock, his poor Americano half flying across the hall as he yells out in disarray.

“YAH!” cued with more noises of struggle and muffled threats.

You chose to embrace the violence by sitting in your seat and laughing as Vernon recorded their antics from the doorway inside eventually circing them for his supposed cinematic effect, catered for the inevitable weverse post that was to come.

Cut to them apologizing and cleaning up the mess of coffee and disregard.

You decide to be nice and attempt to make peace by reassuring Seungkwan, “Come over after you’re done promoting this week, I’ll make up for all the bread and cookies you missed out on”

“If you've finished with your escort duties Y/n, could you please come in and do your day job?”

The voice came from the doorway of the dressing room, your senior makeup artist standing there with her usual mildly inconvenienced expression. It took you a minute to fully understand what she meant by that sentence, your body completely still.

“Offended? What, like I’m wrong?”

You were no stranger to insulting behaviour in work places, but they’d always been revolving around your actual job description. People who didn’t like you knew they had to be smart on how they treated you regardles.

This was different. This felt like you were projected back in time to your solemn middle school days to mean girls taunting you about your spongebob socks, except multiply that by about a thousand.

You feel your stomach begin to churn as that nauseous feeling of shame began to settle itself into your veins.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting there but when she slightly raises her voice; “Are you getting up or not?” your hands actively begin to tremble the slightest amount.

You’re making moves to get up by puting your coffee cup down, not knowing what to do except follow commands.

Your interrupted by a voice from behind; “She’s coming in, give us a minute”

Mingyu’s standing there, his expression stoic as Seungkwan and Vernon looked as stunned as you felt. You don’t register it in the moment, but the people in the hall, venue staff and those for other artists have also silenced, watching the scene unfold.

Her lips are in a tight line, her expression remaining irritated as she steps back inside the room.

You realise you need to do something to diffuse the escalated situation. Letting out a breathy laugh, you get up and tell them that you’ll be going inside, trying to keep your expression pleasant and unaffected, not waiting before turning around to spare them the burden of a response. People get yelled at everyday, and this is no different. You aren’t gonna be the one to make a scene out of a regular occurrence.

You know what's coming when you get inside, she’s waiting as she pulls you aside.

“Your behavior has been quite concerning recently, let me remind you of your place here and what you were hired to do. You've been dilly dallying with people who aren't even your friends, and its quite funny that you’d think they are. It's time to wake up from wasting your time making heart eyes at men who are way out of your league. I won't tolerate any more nonsense from you, and trust I won’t be this nice or forgiving the next time this happens”

You choose to nod your head.

“That’s another thing, use your own words. Don’t think other people are gonna be there all the time to speak for you” She spits out, her professional front slowly eroding the more she spoke.

“Yes, ma’am” You say, hoarse voice.

“Louder, next time”, she stalks out as majority of the people in the room also begin to leave for the filming downstairs.

You’re left standing awkwardly in front of the racks of clothes, trying to digest what just happened to you. Looking around the room, you try to figure out what your supposed to do.

Clothes on the couches, eyeshadow brushes on the floor. There’s a torn sponge resting underneath one of the chairs, a couple styrofoam boxes left on the tables from lunch.

There’s so much for you to do, you arent sure how you thought you had time to sit down and chat. But you’re not sure where to begin either. The room is a mess of smells and colours even without the buzzing noise of people getting ready. Tears begin to form as you try to navigate what you’re supposed to do, realising you can’t possibly find a starting point for any of this mess. Before you have time to think of anything else, a hand is holding onto your wrist, small and soft.

It’s Yoona, another one of the makeup artists.

“Y/n, I think it’s best if you go home, it’s been tiring.”

“But-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle her. Just trust me. Go home you’ll feel alot better”

She notices you hesitate for a second, and goes in to give you a hug.

It felt nice, to be hugged by a friend. For some reason, it didn’t feel like she was pitying you, her expression and aura reassuring you that you didn’t have to stand here alone.

“Whatever happened today shouldn't have happened, but you don’t need to think about that right now. Go home and do nice things for yourself, we’ll figure it out later. You have my number, give me a text once you get home. We can go out later if you want, when I get off work, to get your mind off things”

You’re not sure how you’re holding back the waterpark that has become of your tearducts as you hear those words from an unsuspecting friend, you nod with a smile. You feel a little more calm.

You can’t tell if you care enough to consider the consequences of your senior finding out how you’re doubling or nothing on your already posed humiliation. But the only thing you can think of right now is your bed and the ceiling you’d stare burn holes into.

So you, for the first time in a while, chose to choose yourself by picking up your satchel and leaving the chaos behind you as you walk to your car.

***

Just because you were brave where it mattered most doesn’t mean you weren’t allowed to cry.

You had come home, shot Yoona a brief text, and promptly began to sob the absolute Nile into your sheets.

You had never cried like this before, loud wracked sobs coming from a place in your chest you had locked away during a time you couldn’t even remember. You’re breathing after every choked cry is a sputtered intake of life, only to spit it back out as you let out another sob of what sounds like agony. There’s nothing in your head, nothing but the words that were spoken to you as echoes of your own mind. Hypocritical of you to hate them when the same words circled in your head like a mantra every cursed, unfortunate day. She had done you a favour, by spitting out the truth you’d stewed, chewed and kept in your mouth ever since you got here. This was a you problem, to believe that you were capable of things beyond your bracket. You were told by the universe, screamed at by the world, that this was never meant for you, and you chose to ignore it. You chose to be stubborn. You brought this misery upon yourself.

Once you’ve disposed your body weight of tears and snot and burden, you’re left to stare at your innocent sheets now stained with mascara and your sorrows. You crawl into your covers and rest your muscles for a few seconds, head empty. You aren’t sure when you drift off, but you're glad that you do.

You don’t dream for once.

***

You wake up feeling like you drank a gallon of water and went to sleep. Your eyes, nose and throat feel like they’ve been over watered yet dry at the same time. You don’t realise what’s really arising pangs of irritancy in your brain once you figure out the consistent sound is a door bell. You’re doorbell, of the house that you live in.

You’re slow to push yourself up, realising your slept in your day clothes. It’s dark out but you're not sure what time it is, and quite frankly, you can’t say you care enough to check. You need to silence your doorbell first, which can only be done by silencing whatever hell sent individual was playing drums on the button outside.

It’s a record screech in your brain as you peer through your peephole and realise who the aforementioned hell sent individual was.

Mingyu was outside your door.

You don’t realise you look like you crawled out of a sewer till it’s too late and you’ve already opened the door through muscle memory. Mingyu was always welcome in your space.

He was in casual clothes, his hair pushed back from the guessed hands that ran through it, but he was still in stage his stage makeup.

“Oh, were you sleeping?” He asks, eyes a little wide, expression cautious.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go then, you weren’t answering your phone for anyone and you told Yoona you were home but you weren’t opening the door, i was worried. Sorry I ringed it so much I probably should’ve assumed-”

He stops to look at you, and it’s like realizes something before he finally says; “Just wanted to make sure you were okay, I’ll see you around. I’ll leave you alone”

“Wait,” you croak out, licking your lips, conscious of your morning voice, “Can you stay? Please? If you can.”

He stops to look at you, expression changing from sheepish to defensive.

“No! I mean, yes. Yes. I’ll stay. I’ll stay for as long as you want”

You let him in as he slips off his shoes and you lead him to the living room. His presence in the familiar place seems like it last happened eras ago, when he was only here maybe a week prior.

“You know where everything is, I’ll be back gimme like 5 minutes”

You’re scared to look at yourself in your bathroom mirror, so you don’t, and choose to scrub your face looking down at your sink. You change into a sweatshirt and trouser loungewear set, deciding to save your dignity a little bit further as you brush your hair and clip it back with a claw clip.

You take a breath before entering the living room again.

He’s sitting on the floor in your usual place, two steaming mugs on the coffee table, the tabs hanging out of the cup. He made you tea.

You sit down next to him, not really prepared for what you should be saying.

“How long has she been speaking to you like that?” He asks you quietly.

“She was always kinda itchy and uptight and stuff but, it was never like this” You say.

“Regardless, whatever that was, it was, wrong, uncalled for, all of those things” He says, sputtering a little bit.

He stops and sighs. It’s silect for a minute before he turns in his seat to face you, grabbing your folded legs and pulling you to face him too.

“Yoona heard everything she said to you after you went in, she heard it all. And she knows about some other stuff too. If you think, even for a second, that I’m not your friend, I might actually think there’s something wrong with you.

“If everything we’ve been through this past, almost a year, doesn’t amount to us at least being friends then I don’t know what it means to have one at all. You’re the first person in a while I’ve been able to be this open with. You know me better than most people, you’ve seen me at my worst and at my best. I’ve let you read me all you want, because I know I can be an open book if it’s you. I trust you more than I can trust myself sometimes, and I really wish you would trust me too.”

You’re watching him as he says all of this, you look up to make eye contact a couple times, and he’s looking at you everytime you lift your head.

“I do trust you. Probably more than anyone else. It’s myself I don’t trust. It’s hard for me to open up, I’m scared I’m gonna say something that’ll scare you away. And, I just thought maybe she was right today, that I need to realise that it can’t be that way between us, I have a job to do”

“What can’t be between us?”

“I like you, Mingyu. Like, I’m basically in love with you and have been since I fucking met you. I couldn’t believe that you could possibly be friends with someone like me, a confused, all over the place airhead who can’t tell right from left sometimes, forget you ever liking me. All that happened is that we became friends and I thought that this was as far as fate was gonna push us. All today told me was that … that was an overextension too. It was a wake up call that I can’t have everything in life. Things were going too well for us and I was letting myself think it could stay that way forever. I’m sorry for being this way, I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable and out of place. This is the last thing you’d want to hear from a friend and I’m sorry I’m putting you in this situation right now and that you had to go through that today-”

You don’t finish what your saying because you're interrupted. Interrupted by arms pulling you forward and into Mingyu in front of you.

Your both sitting in your living room at 3 AM, on the floor in front of your sofa like you both have so many times. Except now, Mingyu is holding you in his arms, and kissing you so delicately it hurts.

It’s warm, like getting into bed after a long day, the scent of home and security engulfing you as you begin to forget about the qualms of life.

He’s moving his lips slowly, with care and a feeling so overflowing you can’t describe.

He lets go slowly and rests his forehead against yours, his arms are around you tight, legs wrapped around your entire body so you can't escape - physically or mentally.

“You dumbass” You hear him say.

“I love you,Y/n. More than anything. And I need you to know that you don’t have to hide. If you think your thoughts are a burden then I want to carry it for you. I want you to realise you’re not alone. I want you to stop pushing me away. Everytime I want to do something nice for you, you try to push the effort to something else, everytime I try to take care of you, you have this look that makes me think you feel guilty for taking up my time or something. Everytime I think you’re about to ask me to stay the night, you remind me I have priorities and I should go, even though I know you want me to stay with you. I want you to stop caring so much for how other people feel and realise you can demand the same from the universe too. You deserve love and to be treated with care. You need to let people do that for you, love.”

Your looking at him now, your turn to have stars in your eyes.

He loves you.

And you feel it. You feel it in his words, in his eyes, in the kisses he’s leaving on your face, in his arms that are wrapped around you, ready to shield you from the world.

You don’t say anything as you fall into his chest, head on shoulder, relaxed body in the cage he’s made for you. You close your eyes as the tears are burning down your face. Except, this time they’re because your relieved.

You both got up from the uncomfortable floor and moved to your bed, still tangled within each other as you clarified everything else.

You found out that majority of the people who heard it were very upset at the situation, but didn’t know how to approach or confront her.

Seungkwan almost bust a blood vessel after he had digested what had happened, disbelief and threats on his tongue as he refused to get touched up by her during filming, apparently making a point to walk to somebody else. Seungcheol was thinking of trying to bring up the problem to management, considering how Mingyu too was distracted all the way home.

“The rest of them have gotten quite protective of you too, I think. It’s not like I shut up about you”

Apparently the only reason you were asked to start taking charge on makeup was because some of the other senior artists pressured your mentor to stop restricting you. It made you feel a little more secure that it wasn’t just you that felt pushed down.

She didn’t like that you were doing so well, considering it meant she was wrong about you and your abilities. It hurt her ego a little bit that people stopped preferring her to do their makeup or their touchups, how they wouldn’t interact with her the same way.

“Alot coming from a middle aged, married woman, attention seeking like a child” Mingyu added, scoffing with a sour face as he nuzzled into the crown of your head.

“The boys really like you by the way, they’ve been rooting for us since forever” He says, and your heart swells unimaginably so; you felt loved, so so loved.

You scooch up to plant a kiss on the underside of his chin and then one on his lips.

“That makes me happy”

“I’m happy that you’re happy. You deserve to be happy, everyday” He smooches you on the face again. “Oh, and don’t worry about that stinky face I’ll take care of her”

You laugh at the determination in his voice, but you wanted to clarify something.

“Please, let me handle her myself. I’ll ask for help if she’s stubborn but I wanna try by myself first”

“That was hot”

You push his chest away as you bark out a laugh at the random comment, hiding you face, by turning the other way.

He battles that by pull you back into his chest and continuing his atics

“What I can’t call my girlfriend hot. You’re hot. Your the sexiest motherfucker I’ve ever seen” smooch “You’re beautiful” and again “amazing” and again “gorgeous spectacular-”

You don’t fall asleep until the sun has well made its way up the sky, taking the executive decision to sleep in till way past lunch and maybe even take a nap afterwards.

You don’t care how it goes, because your happy just being with him.

***

You met with Yoona a couple days later at a cafe.

“Seungcheol asked us if we were facing the same kind of behaviour from her too. And everyone told him she was stuck up and rude and stuff. He said he wanted to bring it up to management but it didn’t really concern him directly so they wouldn’t listen. He told us to do so ourselves and we thought about it, but we’re gonna need to tell them about that too”

You nod your head as you listen to her speak, it was making sense.

“I dont mind going up to management at all and talking about it. I get that the rest of the stuff is a little too tame to be considered, which sucks because she shouldn’t be talking to us like that at all”

“Mhm, and I was thinking we could vouch for you on how she was restraining you for almost a year. Basically not letting you do your job. That’d be a another thing for them to think about”

“Yeah. Let’s do it asap, how’s this Monday?”

“Perfect, I’ll add everyone to a group chat and let them know”

And go up to management you did, who were surprisingly understanding. Apparently having received multiple reports and even videos of the most recent incident to act as proof. It was working out for all of you, and it proved to stay that way as they responded with a promise to shift her to a different department.

You had gone home that day feeling fulfilled and relieved. Mingyu, a man with spectacular timing had also proceeded to send you a text as a distraction,

[Mingyu]: Kwan wants to come over

[Mingyu]: something about croissants

[Mingyu]: Should he text you ab it?

[You]: yeah ofc

[You]: I’ll order the butter

[You]: you tell him to text me lol

Two nights ago felt like it happened last year with all the unimaginable advances deciding to happen within the past 48 hours. Right now you were more excited for the company you were about to recieve, more concerned with making sure you made the best batch of croissants Seungkwan ever did see.

***

You were in the car with Mingyu outside the company building, waiting until the clock struck 9 to go inside.

Today was the last day you’d think about this, being called up for a face to face meeting with the staff member, so she could formally apologise. The team had planned a dinner tonight, to celebrate the end of her ‘wicked reign’ as Yoona described it.

You were finding friends everywhere, ones that were always there, pulling through for each other as you yourself navigated a new direction of thinking for yourself. You were learning to walk past your anxiety ridden desire to draw lines with everyone, as you took the first step with the dinner tonight. It would be fun for you, and a bond you’d begin to build.

You learned that you weren’t delusional anymore, and that Mingyu did love you the same. It had only been a week or so, but one of the happiest weeks of your life, despite everything. He was teaching you more lessons than he thought he was.

Mingyu squeezes your hand from the driver’s side as it was past 9, “Let’s go?”

“Lets go”

***

Mingyu’s way too enthusiastic as soon as he wakes up, indulging you in a morning (afternoon) makeout session, claiming he doesn’t care for you morning breath.

“Well I do!” you exclaim, pushing him off with a giggle “About your morning breath, stinky”

He clutches his chest in dramatic offense, “How could you? I thought you loved me”

You respond my projecting a cushion to his face.

“Do you want pancakes or eggs for breakfast?” You ask, legs hanging over the bed.

Mingyu looks up, a wicked glint in his eye, and you immediately know he’s going to say something of no help.

“I want you for breakfast” He says, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you back in bed.

“MINGYU!”

Needless to say, all was well.

#seventeen #carat #svt #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen fluff #mingyu #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu fic #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu #svt x reader #em.writes

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thebibliosphere · 2 years

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"Instagram ads are cheaper; Tumblr Blaze is a rip-off."

Yeah, but you also have to use Instagram, so idk; I feel like it balances out.

Edit//

Also, not to be an influencer on main, but as someone who has to promote my books across social media platforms, I can't tell you how pleasantly surprised I was for my 'ad' to go through even though I'd left the words "sex" and "LGBT Romance" in the descriptor and tags.

On Instagram, I'd be forced to write it as "s*x" and wouldn't even dream of tagging something as LGBT if I didn't want to get shadowbanned from the algorithm. Queer content creators and educators are constantly being shut down on other platforms, whether FB, YouTube, or Instagram. We can't even pay for our ads to get traction because just mentioning Queer or LGBT gets you flagged as inherently adult and, therefore, not ad-friendly, yet Instagram constantly shows me sponsored reels of battered women looking up fearfully at the camera to advertise het-romances that aren't subjected to the same standards of scrutiny.

I mean, fuck, one of my fellow disability advocates had her entire TickTock banned this week because someone flagged her disability awareness content as 'inappropriate,' and now she doesn't have access to the ad revenue she uses to pay for her complex medical care.

Sure, Tumblr's not letting a lot more of the shit-postier and explicit attempts through, and it can seem like pure hypocrisy when we're constantly getting ads for ball grooming and explicit Etsy content, and they won't give us the titties back, but that's an Apple/iOS issue and honestly, looking at the changes that are being made to the site, I'm cautiously optimistic that the new management actually gives a shit and is trying to fix the equivalent of the Titanic going down with a bucket and a length of shoestring.

I'm also interested to see what the analytics report they send me will say and how thorough it will be, but just glancing at my Amazon analytics and my Payhip, I made back my $10 already, so y'know, obviously, not everyone will get use out of this feature, but for those of us who create content specifically geared for Tumblr's feral energy and constantly get shut out of advertising on major social media platforms, this is potentially a very good thing, and I hope they make it work.

#tumblr #tumblr blaze

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scampthecorgi · 6 months

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Thursday night we had to say goodbye to our boy Scamp. He lived a very full and happy life for nearly 13 years, but it will never feel like enough time.

Scamp’s life with us began when my brother chose the breed for our next family dog: a corgi. This pup was Mr. Personality! So I thought I’d make a blog for him as corgis gained popularity online. What started as this fun tumblr blog in 2013 exploded into Scamp popping up all over the internet. He got reblogged by Doctor Who, retweeted by Lin-Manuel Miranda, and his pictures-turned-uncredited-meme made Buzzfeed’s list of 40 most important corgis one year! His pictures and gifs still show up on various sites.

Scamp even helped my brother become a certified dog trainer! He was by his side quickly learning the commands and creating routines to pass tests. I illustrated 7 coloring books about Scamp which helped me pay off my student loans, so he was my business partner too!

He had many health issues through his life, but he would work miracles and bounce back time after time. The poor guy had seizures when he was younger, a blockage, a ruptured disc, cancer, chemo for a year, low blood platelets, kidney failure (which he miraculously reversed??), and vasculitis. This past summer he got very sick and we really thought he would go soon. But again Scamp worked his magic, recovered, and we got four more months with him that we didn’t expect.

He brought so much happiness to our family, and I thank you all for being part of our lives too. I will still use this blog to post old pictures of him now and then, but I will miss our photo shoots. His brother Rufus will carry on some of his traditions on Instagram if anyone would like to follow him @goldenpuprufus . And if anyone has one of Scamp’s coloring books and posts a picture of their work, please tag me or send it to my inbox- I would love to see it!

I will miss seeing him relax at the fishpond, hearing him woof for a boost into the kitchen, and waddle through the back door with that smile persuading me to give him treats. He was the best pal we could have asked for.

I know you’re looking dapper over the rainbow bridge in your bow tie. Love you, buddy.

🐶🌈 12/1/2010-11/2/2023

#scamp the corgi

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marsoid · 8 months

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@wip i have a tumblr feature suggestion!!

Right now, Twitter (or whatever it’s called now) is the only social app that allows PRIVATE ACCOUNTS (instagram doesn’t count because you can’t have text posts. You expect me to post an image every time I want to vent? Facebook also doesn’t count because I hate it.)

I know we have the ability currently to make our side blogs private, but here’s the issue with that for me:

1. They can’t be FOLLOWED, you can apparently only add “members” to the blog.

2. I thought I had more points but really it keeps coming back to the fact that they can’t be followed. I don’t want to put in a password every time I want to check in on a friend. The convenience of making your own private blog and following your friends’ private blogs cannot be overstated. It’s the ONE THING that’s keeping me attached to twitter.

What’s so great about having a private blog?

Safety. Toggle your blog to “Private” in Visibility settings if you need a breather from outside attention. Only your followers will be able to see any new posts you make. Old posts will still be visible outside your blog however, similar to when a blog is deactivated I assume.

Friends-only space. Sharing thoughts and art with only a few close friends is more comfortable for a lot of people.

Actual privacy. Even if you have 0 followers, even if you don’t use tags, the tumblr search will still pull up any word used in the post itself, meaning if someone searches the right thing, your posts could still show up to anyone. Setting your blog to private would remove this concern.

Journaling. Private twitters are nice, but a private tumblr? Getting to write out a BIG LENGTHY RANT for only close friends? Hell yea

Keep explicit content away from those who don’t want to see it. Setting a blog to private is a great way to keep certain art and writings out of easily reachable spaces.

Another bridged gap between twitter and tumblr. Ok listen. I’m not necessarily advocating for every twitter user to join tumblr. But I know that’s something the tumblr staff is interested in, so I’m adding it here for that reason. I for one would ditch twitter in a heartbeat if I could have a private blog, and would probably have an easier time convincing some straggling friends to join for a feature like this. Just sayin

I also made some quick and sloppy mockups

Anyway i guess that’s the gist of it

If anyone has anything to add pls feel free. I really want a private blog LMAO

#tumblr suggestions #tumblr #private blogs

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for bitching about fics I dislike on my blog?

as a foreword, this is kind of a non-issue and no one's ever told me to stop, but I'm curious what other people think of fandom etiquette.

the fandom: a fairly small one. 2.4k fics on ao3 small. I recognize most people posting in its tumblr tag small. if I tell you the name of the source you'd almost definitely be able to find me small.

the source: pornographic, which means everyone involved is or should be an adult. it's BL with a switch MC, but the fandom overwhelmingly prefers bottom MC/top LIs (love interests), to the point where I've had people be astonishingly rude to me because my favorite character is a bottom LI and some of my friends have been outright harassed for the same. I used to not care about sex positions in the slightest, but now when I see bottom MC fanworks I can't help but remember how poorly I was treated.

the fics: wildly and inexplicably popular, even though they are, frankly, poorly written. it's eternal bottom MC turned up to 11, complete with copious amounts of OOCness in order to turn every ship into the worst ye olde yaoi gender roles dynamic you can imagine. it's things like MC, canonically a 23yo plank of a dudeguy, being written as a big titted milf in his 40s (which is made more confusing by the fact that one of the LIs is already a big titted milf). it's also things like the MC being written as disliking sex and having to be coerced into it when one of the most charming things about him is that he's a hilarious sex pest, or writing the LIs sexually harassing the MC when they really would never do that. I've likened it to replacing the characters with OCs that share the same name and my friends have agreed with me. I'm honestly convinced that the author and his readers don't actually like any of the characters if they feel the need to change everyone so thoroughly.

why I might be an asshole: it's assholish to hate on free fanworks, and I've bitched about these fics on my public tumblr blog. the fandom is small enough that there's a non-zero chance of it getting back to the author and a reasonable chance that fans of the fics have seen my bitching. I'm probably projecting the hostility I've received onto someone who's done absolutely nothing to me, and I am absolutely just straight up jealous that their fics get better stats than mine. I may also be being an asshole to myself, because being critical of other people's fics has made my hypercritical of my own.

why I don't think I'm an asshole: I think everyone has the right to be bad at things, but I also think everyone has the right to be a little hater. I don't put the fandom tag on these posts; they stay on my blog and my blog alone, and if later on I feel like I was unfairly vitriolic I'll delete the posts. I only post on tumblr because I'm certain the author in question only uses twitter, which dramatically lowers the odds of him stumbling across my posts. the fics are so popular that it's definitely possible that their fans would see my posts, but I think it's unlikely that they'd bother looking at my blog because 99% of my posts are about one of the bottom LIs. I have never and would never leave comments on the fics themselves, and I generally try to keep the bitchy posts to a minimum; it's far from a constant thing.

tl;dr - I publicly bitch about fics that (in my opinion) are poorly written and extremely OOC, under the assumption that it's unlikely the author would ever see it. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thevirgincherry · 3 months

Text

HONEYTRAP !

ft. leon s. kennedy x reader x ashley graham

tags. p in v, threesome, president leon, daddy-daughter incest (ashley/leon not reader), voyeurism, oral

note. haiii :3 sorry for mistakes it’s unedited! not the proudest of this! got messy and clunky 😭 but rbs and feedback always so appreciated :3

tumblr has started to remove fics that for example use tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“No, babe, it’s online, you can watch it, and can you tell Chris to watch it? I’m excited, I know he’s not happy about it, but, I am,” Claire’s voice is obfuscated by the chatter in the background, “This is a big deal for me, I mean—“ She cuts herself off, voice distant, “Oh, yes— No, not at all, it’s lovely to meet you—“

Beep!

You blink at your phone. She hung up on you. Granted, she’s been one busy bee so you let her off. For now. You shoot a message to Chris, tell him that as Claire said, this means a lot to her, and as tight as he is with the Kennedys, that she’s his sister, she should come first. You’re well aware that he knows that, that he wouldn’t dare put anyone above his sister, she’s at the centre of his world - it’s just for good measure.

The interview is lengthy, you suppress a groan because really you should very much be interested in the state of current affairs. And this is Claire’s line of work, and Claire is your girlfriend, and you should support her in her endeavours. Clicking on the link she’s forwarded opens up a grayscale website. The first video is President Kennedy in all his glory, which is not a lot of glory to be quite frank. He’s an eyesore to you. Like, that chin? Seriously? He should consider some sort of medical procedure, you don’t know if that’s a thing, but you know a girl who got her cleft lip fixed, so why not the chin?

Most of the video is full to the brim with political jargon that you fail to understand. Completely different language. Could understand Morse code better than this.

Skip, skip, skip.

“The issue with Penamstan? I hate to be rude, Mr. Kennedy,” No, she does not, Claire loves to be rude, “But do you know where that is on a map?” Claire, always straight to the point.

“I know all the stans,” President Kennedy smiles, charming and stupidly stupid all at once. He’s kind of cute when he smiles. It’s really just that chin. Very American though, you’ll give it to him. Named Kennedy too? America loves a Kennedy, he had it easy.

“What?” Not even an excuse me.

“Pakistan, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Penamstan… The, uh, more forgettable stans,” He trails off, taken off guard by a woman in a pantsuit leaning down to talk to him, a hand cupped over her mouth, he blinks up at her slowly, “Uz-beki-stan,” President Kennedy sounds out as if the word is foreign on his tongue, and it is, so incredibly foreign, “Turk… Turkmenistan, and Penamstan, of course.”

That’s all you needed to know he has the brain density of a wafer. Was the most interesting part though. He would’ve made a good stripper or a boy-toy, you think. Instead, he’s being marketed as this all-encompassing package of a man, which he is not.

Skip, skip, skip.

Penamstan— Foreign Policy— Penamstan— Voting— Penamstan— Radicalisation— Terrorism— Your predecessor, Graham— Sexual relations— Gaffe—

You pause, rewind a minute or so back. Sexual relations. This is what you’re into. No idea who Monica Lewinsky is, know all about the dress though.

“You’ve heard of the accusations, yes?” Claire frowns so much like Chris you have to turn away.

President Kennedy’s lack of jaw tightens, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him behave so offstandish in the fourteen minutes you’ve ever seen of him. “Yes.”

“You didn’t like that,” Claire notes, her lip twitching upwards.

“Didn’t know we had a psychologist with us today,” His lips are stretched thin into a smile that resembles a grimace more than anything. There’s scattered laughter, and the lady beside him, poised as ever, taps him on the shoulder. “My apologies,” He straightens up immediately, “Ask away.”

“Thank you,” She responds coolly when she is anything but, “You- I mean you have to admit that it’s strange to behave that way with your daughter of all people, otherwise there wouldn’t be accusations in the first place,” Claire challenges him with a tilt of her head, he mirrors it.

The lady taps his shoulder once more, leans down once more, whispers conspicuously, they nod to each other. A gesture to someone behind the camera is made, and then, much to Claire’s clear dismay: “We’re sorry to cut this short—“

The video ends, and the opening frame pops up once more. Huh. So President Kennedy is tonguing his daughter on the side. Maybe you need to pay more attention to things that are actually important, or you need to listen to Claire more often unless she’s failed to mention the most interesting part of whatever case she’s building. As far as you’re concerned, if voting doesn’t go in the red, you’re fine. Claire says being a centrist is the worst thing you can be, it’s just that you’ve got your own shit to worry about. Work, college, Claire, family. It takes up your life. You pitch in to vote for whoever’s democratic, watch the descent into chaos and forget about it in a week as most do, an attempt to forget the state of the country.

You wonder what she looks like. His daughter. If it’s worth risking the presidency over incest she must be a cutie. And she is indeed, cute like a teacup terrier, you can see why he’d be balls deep— but that is purely because you’re a bit of a horndog. Harvard Law School, a privilege you’re sure, girl looks like a total ditz. Barbie doll legs, the palest of blondes, and her smile is adorable. Not like her father’s smarmy one in the slightest, sweet and genuine for a girl whose teeth look done. Braces? Veneers? Not a single gap between them, not a single one out of place, not a single one is coffee stained.

The headlines pretty much say the thing. Kennedy fucks his daughter. Kennedy said she reminds him of Marilyn, so what does that make him if he’s a Kennedy? Truly, they harp on about it with no proof, apart from that photo of them too close for comfort— And the other one where they’re too close for comfort— And the last one where they’re too close for comfort.

Claire returns in the early hours of the morning, her jacket squeaks when she takes it off, hanging it the back of the vanity chair. She gets into bed, touches your hand to check if you're awake, her eyes sparkle even in the dark when she asks, “Did you see it?”

“Mhm,” You pinch her doughy cheek when she grins, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Claire says, head dipping to rest in the hollow of your neck, “I got cut off at the last minute.”

“I saw… He got touchy about the daughter-fucker thing.”

“He always does,” She huffs out air through her nose, “Only people who fuck their daughters get defensive when people accuse them of fucking their daughters. Oh, and his wife, she doesn’t go to a single event, it’s always Ashley, Ashley, Ashley— it’s so fucking strange.”

“True,” Your fingers slip beneath the loops of her hair tie, loosening her ponytail, sometimes you fear it’ll come off clean with how tight she makes it. It’s like Claire’s intention is to recede her hairline on purpose. “What can you do though, right?”

Her lack of response is eerie, you pass it off as her falling asleep. She’s had a long day, an exciting one at that, Claire’s likely just crashing. So you kiss her head, let her nestle into your chest, the spot where she’s most comfortable.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Giving your girlfriend the benefit of the doubt when she’s putting you up to the most outrageous scheme quite possibly ever is hard. “I have work, Claire.”

“Work can wait, babe, this is seriously important, it means a lot for America’s future,” Ugh, you don’t like when she talks like that. Sounds like a propaganda poster come to life.

“I don’t care about America’s future, I care about mine, babe, I care about ours, I don’t think Kennedy fucking his kid has anything to do with America’s future.”

“Babe, America’s future is our future,” She insists, “I won’t ask of you ever again,” Claire clasps her hands together, kneels in front of you as if you’re in fresco on the ceiling of a half-painted chapel, as if Claire Redfield, famous and outspoken atheist activist is the most pious woman to set foot in the USA.

“I have work, I have to get ready, I don’t have time for this.”

“See, this is what I mean, you’re so—“ Before her frustration reaches its boiling point, you watch Claire mouth the words one, two, three and onwards to fifteen. “Baby, darling,” She cups your cheeks, “This would mean the world to me when I say I would never bother you again with my shit, I promise. Pinky swear.”

“Don’t call me darling,” You wriggle out of her grip, “I can’t risk another day off, Claire.”

“There’s an opening in the office,” She offers, “It’s not much, but it’s better than what you’re doing now.”

“How so?” Your interest is piqued.

“Desk job,” Claire shrugs, “It’s easy, babe, you’re smart, too smart for retail.”

“I am too smart for retail,” You agree with a sigh, it keeps you on your feet all day, then you end up blowing your paycheck on pedicures.

“You are,” She coos, kissing the back of your hand as if you’re the most delicate thing since butterflies, “And you’ll do so well, that’s why I want you to do it, babe, ‘cause I just know you’re the only one who could do it,” Flattery does get Claire somewhere, it gets her in your good books, “The, uh, you don’t mind the, uh, y’know, incest part.”

“He’s not my dad, she’s not my sister.” Detaching yourself from the incestuous element would be best, you don’t know if you have a strong enough stomach to handle it in any other way.

“You can’t kiss me,” Claire frowns, her professional face on, “From now on, we can’t be seen with each other, okay?”

“Babe,” You pout, she scowls, “You look so good tonight, I don’t want to leave you.” The notched lapels of her suit make her shoulders look broader, you want to drag your nails over the cashmere, over her tender skin.

“Your name is on the guest list,” Your alias, she means, you don’t know how she did it, but Claire manages to manage, “Please…” Don’t fuck this up for me, you assume, “Good luck, okay?”

The security process is tedious, they drone on and on about a topic in which you have no knowledge, they pat you down— Should they be doing this to someone who might be an esteemed guest?

You pass through, the crowd is full of beautiful girls with made-up faces and dark ringlets and dresses like wedding cakes. There’s less than savoury men. She doesn’t stand out in a crowd like this, but you spot her anyway. Nobody in their right mind would wear that shade of orange. Ashley Kennedy, according to your girlfriend, is fucking her father, and so she is clinically and mentally and psychically and biologically and any other ally insane. So, yes, she would wear rust orange proudly, she would go out of her way to purchase a floor-length evening gown in that exact colour. Just to prove that, yes, she is indeed fucking her dad. Would calling it quits at this very moment be justifiable to Claire? Would your reasoning be enough to accuse a girl of fucking her father?

To your utter astonishment, both Mrs and Miss Kennedy approach you first, both as in Ashley. As she is both his wife and daughter if Claire’s deduction is correct.

“Hi,” Ashley’s smile is as perfect as it was in the tabloids, her skin is dewy, and her lashes light with no attempt to darken them. It would look unnatural.

“Hi,” You grin back at her, focus on the pendant that swings low, a silver eagle that sits cushdy between her perky tits.

“Daddy told me I had to—“ Her face drops for a split second, “Oops,” She covers her mouth, swallows back a nervous giggle, “Dad told me I had to socialise, make connections,” She imitates his formalities, “Oh, gosh, I am totally being so rude right now!” Ashley waves her hands at you, “My daddy- Dad is the president, sorry to come onto you like that like you were supposed to know, gosh, I’m Ashley by the way.”

“I know,” You take her hand in yours when she offers it, squeeze it warmly, “Don’t sweat it, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know you.”

“Right, right, I guess that’s true,” She hiccups, “Sorry, god, champagne, I’m so new to drinking, I really don’t think it’s for me.” This girl is making it too easy for you.

“You just haven’t tried the right one, I love your dress by the way, colour brings out your eyes.” Like how grass brings out the pumpkins on a pumpkin patch.

“Oh my goodness, thank you!” Ashley follows after you, lost and clinging to the person she has deemed friendliest.

“Have you ever had a French martini?”

“Oh, no, what’s that? It sounds exotic.” She’s bubbly, excitable, so sweet you almost feel bad setting her up like this.

“Do you like pineapple?”

Ashley ponders, “Only juice, eating pineapple eats at my tongue, I totally know that’s what it does, but still it feels so weird.”

“You’ll like this then.” You assure her, and she bobs her head up and down in agreement, her trust for you is unconditional within five minutes flat. Claire deserved that spot at Harvard.

“There’s vodka in it,” She hums, “Daddy,” Her third slip-up of the night, “Dad doesn’t even let me near vodka.”

“Really?” You raise a brow, then your glass and she does the same.

“Never, he sucks when it comes to me doing, like, adult things,” Her nose twitches at the first sip, she reminds you of a bunny, an energiser bunny.

“Like what?”

“Drinking, driving, partying,” Ashley lists off, “He’s okay, but he’s protective, I know it comes with, like, president’s daughter territory, it just totally sucks!”

Drinking, driving, partying— Dad doesn’t mind when she’s doing adult things like sucking his dick though. That’s not a problem!

“I like you,” Ashley says, two French martinis and one cosmopolitan in, “You’re so fun, I don’t really get to meet people other than, like, the one daddy introduces me to. Don’t get me wrong, I get it, I’m privileged so I talk to privileged people, but they’re so…”

“Stuck up,” You finish for her, “I didn’t expect you to be so sweet.”

“Oh, I can see why, I get it, I’m not offended or anything,” She sighs softly, gazes at the chandelier as if she longs for more than ball gowns and Havard and spending her days shifting idly through the clothing racks at Dolce & Gabbana while her daddy lounges on the chaise chairs. “I just think you’re so down to earth,” Poor thing, it’s a shame she’s fucking her dad, you hope to uncover an entirely different truth, that they’re close and it’s nothing more, “Who did you come with by the way?”

“I’m a plus one,” You knock back your drink, grip tightening on the glass, “No one important, just lucky, I guess.”

“Huh,” Ashley takes in your words, she nods, another drink slips down easily, and by the end of it, she is clinging to your arm like you mean the world to her, “You should sooo come back to my room!” Her words slur until her sentence is more of a single word, “We could have fun,” Whether she’s soliciting sex or she wants your company, you don’t mind, “Me and daddy are staying here tonight.”

“Really?” You ask, as if Claire hadn’t briefed you on the room number prior to this, “Then I guess I wouldn’t mind coming.”

“Yay!” Her security detail emerge from the crowd, and you’re dumb for not having noticed them beforehand, but what Ashley says goes. “Gosh, you don’t have to tell, daddy, he’s busy right now. No, we’ll be fine, you can leave us to it, when daddy’s done then he’ll come up.”

An elevator ride up and up and up to the top floor, through the stretch of hall to the finest suite. Ashley is high energy, for a lack of better words, she is tiring. She kicks off her heels, still stands tall, modelesque in shape. Boyish hips jutting out of her square torso. The key card is left on the side when she’s not paying attention, which luckily for you is most of the time, you slide it beneath the door frame and shoot a text to Claire who is hovering nearby. A minute later, she confirms her success.

“Ugh, I was so over it,” Ashley groans, “Do you mind helping me out of this?”

“Of course not,” You say smoothly, wondering if this is an invitation to something more. The silk of her dress is made by the wealthiest of silkworms, just as you get your hands on her, the door unlocks.

“Ashley,” President Kennedy is panting like he ran up all twenty-nine flights of stairs at the Fairmont, “Princess, you worried me.”

“Daddy, you scared me, you scared us,” She gasps, he’s swift in his steps, tips her chin upwards as if he’s checking for damage on her angel face, he thumbs her smeared lipstick.

“Did you kiss… Did you?” Kennedy’s eyes flit from your lips to Ashley’s, you wonder why he’s so wound up about a kiss, must be the incest. Her lipstick is smeared on the rim of her martini glass, not your lips.

“What? Daddy, no, don’t be silly, not yet at least,” She makes her intentions clear, “I thought you were busy, daddy.”

“Ashley, I’m not too busy for you, I have things to oversee, but…”

As your father, I have to oversee your sex life, Ashley! I demand to watch!

“But, what?” Ashley cocks her head to the side, her hands running along the shape of his shoulders, then downwards over his chest.

“You’re more important, you know that.” Kennedy strokes her head, she bats her lashes at him, they’re barely visible so it’s more a flurry of blinks.

“Oh, daddy, you’re so sweet,” She giggles, puckers her lips and the sentiment is shared between them— They kiss like lovers do, dirtier than you and Claire. Unaffected, Ashley looks over his shoulder at you, “We can still have fun,” She promises, “Daddy can just watch, won’t you?”

Jesus Christ. Now that you’re actually faced with it. Incest in the flesh. It’s nerve-wracking. How is one meant to digest incest?

“Ashley, I don’t watch you catching anything nasty,” He tries to be discreet, you hear him loud and clear.

“Daddy,” She scolds, hitting his chest. He shucks off his suit jacket, laying it out on the back of the chair adjacent to the Alaskan king bed that could fit a family of five let alone the three of you. He sits, stares at you with his glassy eyes. President Kennedy is handsome in real life, you kind of get the appeal now, the camera does add ten pounds, ages him by ten years too apparently. There is something about him that is effortlessly masculine yet soft, sweet almost.

Ashley’s dress comes off next, she cares little for the way it is left wrinkled on the ground, her hand finds its way between your thighs. She’s not inexperienced. She knows her way around your body like she would her father’s. Her fingers are long and slim, nimble when the pads come to ghost your clit, lifting back the hood to press her thumb into it.

Instinctively, your hips buck into her hand, she kisses you, smiling into your mouth. Claire is at the forefront of your mind, she’d given you the permission to do this, but it feels wrong still. The incest feels even worse. You’ve been trying to ignore it so far, pretend it’s just Ashley here. Ashley’s lips on yours, her fingers in your cunt, her tits pressed flush to your chest— His eyes are so blue.

Ashley scissors you open with two fingers, you suck on her tit, both of you tangled up within each other. Pulling off with a pop, she takes out her fingers and you’re left empty. You taste yourself on her tongue, on her fingers and grow sick of it.

“C’mere,” You take the pillow that’s propped up against the headboard and slot it underneath her hips to keep ‘em raised. Ashley’s cunt is perfect like the rest of her. You wonder if there are procedures to get it this pink, her labia pokes out past her parted pussy lips as does her swollen clit, you give a tentative lick to her cunt, unsure of how she likes it. Claire likes it messy, but Ashley’s rich, she might like it classy. You could eat pussy classy if you tried hard enough.

She lies back, her head sunken into the mass of pillows - the one you had taken barely left a dent in the pile, her tits are small but round and her nipples are pointed and as pink as her pussy. Ashley takes initiative, daddy’s been giving it to her real sloppy it seems, ‘cause she pushes your face into it. Your nose bumps her clit and she sighs sweetly when your tongue works its merry way up her slit, from her slick hole to her twitching bud that you pay extra special attention to. It deserves it, pretty like a pearl, wrap your lips around it and suck till her thighs close around your head.

“Outta the way,” Mr. President, fully clothed, cock hard straining in his slacks, takes Ashley’s leg and spreads her further, “Keep it there for daddy, princess.”

When you lift your head out of pure curiosity, he kisses you, jams his tongue into your mouth to taste you like your tongue wasn’t just jammed in his daughter’s cunt. His daughter who is spread-eagle on the bed for The United States of America. Though, from the way they’re behaving, Ashley is a renowned patriot, this isn’t her first time confessing her love for all things red, white, and blue. And rust orange.

Dumbfounded by his takeover of the pussy you were having so much fun eating, you crawl back over to Ashley while daddy blows raspberries on her clit, spits on the First Daughter’s, his first daughter’s, cunt like she’s a corner whore.

“Daddy,” Ashley moans, she’s unabashed, grabs his hair and forces him deeper, she tells you to suck on her tits, she’s bossy when it comes to sex. Mastered the art of fucking.

“I’ve got you, princess,” Her daddy says, he can talk while he’s eating it, impressive if you do say so yourself. The most you can do is go down on Claire till you get lightheaded, breathing is out of the question.

She cums sweetly because there is no other way in which Ashley can behave. The blood that runs through her is inherently sweet unlike her father’s. Mr. Kennedy slurps away even as she jolts due to aftershocks, he’s intent on drying her out.

When he does decide to join the two of you above, it’s to press kisses into Ashley’s neck, to sniff her perfume, “Good girl,” He praises, “Daddy’s good girl.” Those lines sound like something out of a cheap porno. Hard to believe that it’s real. That you seriously just sat there and got cucked by Ashley’s father.

“Thank you, daddy,” Ashley giggles, stroking through his dark hair as he suckles on her nipple, spit stringy on his lips and her breast when he pulls back. “No, not me,” She refuses when he, with his slacks mid-thigh, presses his cock to her inner thigh, “I want to watch you, daddy.”

See, you’ve taken dick, you take Claire’s silicone dick often. Taking presidential dick, it’s new to you. Presidential dick that could’ve possibly at any time today been lodged inside his little girl, meaning you’re being double dicked not only by a presidential cock, but an incestuous one. It’s fat, browner than it is pink, uncut, the tip is leaky like nobody’s business.

“Aw, oh my gosh,” Ashley coos, “Don’t be scared, you’ve got this!” Your nerves don’t stem from taking his mediocre, prized dick, but from everything else about this situation. “Daddy’s good at it, it never hurts.” She holds your hand, brings it to her lips to kiss, fluffs the pillows and peppers kisses all over your face as President Kennedy, a man of assumed integrity pushes your legs to your chest.

His cock rubs up and down your cunt, catches on your clit, the fat tip is sucked into your stretched hole and inch by inch he forces his way into your hole. With each inch, not that there’s many, it gets thicker, till the base is engulfed into your greedy pussy. Ashley wipes the sweat from your brow, “Isn’t it good?” She gushes, “Daddy’s just the best, I don’t think I could ever be with anyone else, he’s just so good at it, isn’t he?” In response to her blabbing, you can only whimper, giving a quick bob of your head to satisfy her.

Inside of you, each vein embeds itself into your walls, the head jabs at your cervix painfully, and most of all it feels stupidly good. His cock is thick and sturdy like all good dicks should be. And he’s fucking you like he hates you. Which he does. Deep, hard, slow and nasty.

“Is it good, daddy?” Ashley asks innocently enough, her hand rests on your tummy, grows bored and trails lower to flick at your clit.

“Not as good as you, princess, never,” Comes his instant answer. You take offence to this and clench around him so tight he groans and his head drops to your neck, lips on your collarbone. There’s a sticky sound each time he draws his hips back and pushes in, you’re dripping for Ashley, for him— You don’t know anymore, head so clouded you’ve let the incest slip.

“Aw, daddy!” She places a hand over her heart, then she’s back to pinching your clit between her fingers, forcing you to unravel.

His thrusts are deliberate, mean, and he fucks you like it’s all your fault. As if he doesn’t get to hump Ashley at all times of the day. The squelch of your cunt is embarrassing enough for you to be over and done with, each stroke is a hit on your ego and on your cervix, the latter being a more delicious hit, but a hit nonetheless. When he cums, he does it on your stomach in white, watery ropes, and it pools in your belly button as you writhe with the immense pleasure he and his disgusting cock have bought you. Ashley’s bony fingers helped to some degree.

“Is it my turn now?” Ashley perks up when her dad kisses her all sloppy on the mouth, spit and drool included.

“Give daddy a minute, princess, I can’t keep up with you,” He chuckles, pats her head, they’ve started their incestuously affectionate display, so you cover yourself up and shoot Claire a second message while they begin to act lovey-dovey in bed. Let their guard down, and you hate to do this to such a lovely girl, but your girlfriend is an even lovelier girl.

Soon enough, she and the gaggle of reporters burst through the doors, flashing cameras in hand. Ashley was foolish for letting off her security detail for the night, President Kennedy is the bigger fool, and Claire, well, you’ve never seen her smile so big.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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