#when i finish ballerina au THEN you will all see.........

[hotgirlstiles]

the way stiles’ character, at its core, is a very obsessive character where it’s both his weakness and strength .. his obsession with lydia, obsession with case files, the implication of obsession w/ anything dementia after his mother’s diagnosis, obsession w/ solving the motw to the point where he loses sleep over it..

even the implications of how much he’d obsessed over the hale fire case files to INSTANTLY recognize derek hale upon first meeting after TEN years of derek being gone like........ i don’t even know where i’m going with this but the way stiles is such an obsessive person that it absolutely consumes him...... 

#txt #when i finish ballerina au THEN you will all see......... #just read earlier 'the discipline required in ballet is obsessive' AND LORDDDDDDDDD #i was mostly thinking of ballerina au as silly but god. the way i NEED to write ballerina au #as also a char study for stiles #my godddddddd i will never ever fucking shut up about stiles character

[angllicjk]

𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒂 ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ #𝟏

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Choreographer Major!Jungkook X Rich Ballerina!(fem)Reader

Mini Series!!

Strangers to lovers! Au

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: In which Jungkook is so enamored with the pretty Ballerina he gets glimpses of dancing in the studio across from him when he’s practicing.

A/N: back with something finally!. I hope you all enjoy this lil bit of the Drabble series I’m starting. I’m really excited for it. Originally I wanted to make this a full length one shot but I decided to turn it into a Drabble series in stead cuz why not lol. Also the more I write for this new couple the more I’m getting attached & will want to continue writing more for them.

The best thing about transferring over to this royal academy of fine arts was not only because Jungkook can finally take his dancing more seriously, but also because he gets to look at pretty things everyday and by that, what he really means is the pretty little thing currently stretching before practice in the cutest pink bodysuit. A ruched sweetheart neckline and a small satin bow in the middle, mesh skirt to match that flows nicely with every move made.

So adorable.

It hadn’t even been a full week in yet since he started here but you’ve already quite captured his heart.

In the middle of his five minute break, he’s currently downing a bottle of cold water, but watching you twirl about and move effortlessly in the studio across from him. Jungkook realizes that his thirst is not entirely quenched and water isn’t merely enough to satiate it.

As much as he’s heard about you. The spoiled nepo princess who comes from a family born with old money that’ll last future generations a lifetime. Out of touch. Off limits. Stuck up prude. Too good for anyone. He’s only interested in getting to know you. Not the one people have told him about all around. Although, he hasn’t so much as said a word to you nor properly introduced himself yet, but Jungkook knows that you’ve caught on to him and the way he watches you, has an inkling that you secretly like it.

The little timid smiles you try to hide when you notice him staring a little too long in class or when you catch him watching you stretch before practice starts with a slightly annoyed look. He doesn’t bother hiding it either. Jungkook likes to tease and he likes the little attention you give him as well. He’s caught you once or twice stealing a glance at him when he’s going shirtless during practice.

It’s cute. You’re really cute.

It’s almost a month of this. Stealing glances, your pretty smiles he barely gets glimpses of and even faux irritated eye rolls he finds absolutely adorable. Lingering gazes from across the ways and brushing against your touch in between passes down the halls. It gets jam packed sometimes as students are struggling to get to class but he doesn’t mind the struggle that much. Not when Jungkook purposely squeezes up against you and he fucking loves to see your small and gorgeous self trying not to melt under his stare from above as he passes through, oh so slowly. And it’s not until a random Thursday evening does Jungkook finally hear your lovely saccharine voice that sounds like his forever favorite song.

“You know, it’s quite rude to stare.” Having caught him watching you once again from the entrance of the studio you're currently practicing in, you slowly walk your way up to him, crossing your arms.

“I was admiring you, pretty things should always be appreciated.” His lips curl into an attractive smile and the sight of him leaning against the door frame with muscular bare arms crossed over his broad and buff chest nearly has you in awe of how fine of a specimen he absolutely is. He’s glistening with sweat, hairline, neck and chest. No doubt having just finished his own dance practice. The white tank he’s clad in sticks to his upper body almost like a second skin and the gray sweats hanging low on his hips just add on to the flutters in the pit of your stomach and traveling down south.

You bite back a smile, keeping a neutral look as you level him with a narrowed stare. There’s no need to be getting flustered or nervous in front of a guy like him. Although you absolutely are on the inside, but of course he doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, was that really what you were doing?.”

As you come to a stop in front of him, you say with a raised brow in questioning. His gaze falls to your glossed pink lips, looking so soft and scrumptious. Jungkook can only imagine how they’d feel against his own and he licks his lips at the mere thought of such. The apples of your cheeks have a dusted pink to them he thinks looks cute on you. The light glam makeup you’re wearing is pretty but it’s not needed, he thinks. You’re effortlessly gorgeous, he could stare at you all day long and never tire or be bored.

“You know it can be pretty creepy, especially coming from a stranger.”

He doesn’t move an inch nor does his unwavering gaze with you falter, piercing into your being like he’s trying to dig deep into your soul.

“Is that so?. Hmm.”

Jungkook pushes himself off the door frame so suddenly and steps up to you as you have. He’s so close that it prompts you to take a step back, but he’s quick to follow closely once more and the intensity of his stare pins you to your spot, unmoving. His aura and the dominance he exudes is overpowering. Your own resolve is waning, cracking at the seams. Fuck, do you not have it together anymore like you initially thought and you’ve barely even met the guy.

“I know you like it when I watch you, princess.” The corners of his lips tug up into a full blown teasing grin and he tilts his head, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he watches you for a moment. As if he’s got you all figured out.

“When I have my eyes on you. I see the way you smile to yourself when you think I’m not looking and don’t think I don’t notice the little shows you put on for me when you do your stretches. Especially when you do them with your partner.”

A breathy hitch escapes you, heart rate spiking and feeling a bit embarrassed at being called out like this, but you both know it’s true. You’re not exactly subtle yourself when you give him something extra to look at when he’s watching.

Jungkook takes another step closer, this time fully invading your space as he leans in to whisper in your ear for you to hear his next words very clearly. The whiff of his sweat mixed with a light fresh jasmine musk(most likely his cologne) fills your nostrils and oh how you can’t help but to slightly inhale how nice he still smells, even after practice.

“I’ll have you know, I can stretch you out the way you need in more ways than I’ve seen these past few weeks, princess.”

The deep velvety tone of his voice sends tingles down your spine and he starts a heat below you almost can't think straight. Nearly moaning at the words he speaks and Jungkook catches note of the tiny whimper you tried to keep inside. He smiles widely, licking his lips at the sweet sound of it.

It excites him and strokes his ego a bit to know you’re affected by him just as much as he’s affected by you and what you do to him. Pretty doll like you will be the death of him. Oh how he knows it.

Your heart is beating rapidly and it just might burst out of your chest with how hard it pounds. You think he might be able to hear it with how close he is to you.

The sudden bell ringing throughout the studio has you startled and you back away from him immediately. Jungkook takes his sweet time walking his way backwards and watching you a bit longer as he does so.

He likes the sight of you a cute flustered mess and he thinks he should make you one more often for all the teasing you’ve been doing.

“Well, you should probably get to class and by the way, I’m Jungkook. Nice officially meeting you princess.”

With one last smile he turns around and enters the hall, mixing in amongst students getting to their next class.

The second he’s gone you exhale a deep breath, hand on your forehead rubbing at your temple with your mind still running a mile a minute trying to process what just transpired between the two of you.

The both of you finally talked. The new and cute dancer you’ve been silently crushing on upon his arrival called you pretty. His name is Jungkook and he may be into you just as much as you’re into him?.

“What the absolute fuck…”

౨ৎ — hope you enjoyed! let me know your thoughts as well, I’d love to read them 🫶🏻

#angllicjk #jungkook fics #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #dancerjungkook #jungkook fanfics #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x female reader #romance #future smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #bts x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x you

[littledollll]

Ok but manipulative obsessive ballet teacher larissa keeping her star student after hours so they can focus on her technique in more ways than one

AND YOU JUST KNOW SHE’LL HAVE HER HANDS ON HER STUDENT AT ALL TIMES

It’s to help your form she says, definitely not just to see how flustered you can get

Private lessons

Ballet teacher!Larissa x ballerina!reader

A/n: is this becoming a thing? I think it’s becoming a thing. I’m kinda obsessed, could be a little AU for us?👀 also I’d like to note that while I’m not gonna specify age in hopes of inclusivity, reader is around their mid 20’s.

HAH I wrote that back when I thought I was gonna have the ideas and motivation keep writing. Anyways, this is my last draft. Hope you enjoy!!

Warning: unhealthy teacher/student relationship, touching, sexual undertones, little bit of mean Larissa

_______________________________

“I will say this once and only once. At this level none of you should not need me walking you through every little step like the girls from baby ballet!” Larissa spoke loud enough to fill the room, before signaling the pianist to begin playing.

Everyone ran to form a line across the back of the room, you ending up fifth in line for the exercise. Perfect spot. Only four in front to watch, and be done quickly.

“However you’d like to start, give me four pique turns to the center, four changing fouettés, pas de bourree and close with a triple.”

One by one each student went. Some being sent back to start from the beginning if they messed up, some going without comment, very rarely did she praise anyone.

Your turn came, you started in a simple fifth position, spotting towards the diagonal which just so happened to be exactly where Larissa was standing. You had no trouble keeping your eyes on her.

“Thank you!” She said in a very clearly annoyed tone. “Finally someone who knows how to spot correctly. The rest of you should learn a little from this starting position. Go on, my dear. I apologize for interrupting your start.” You gave a short nod and began your sequence. Everything was going perfectly until the final part, where you failed to complete the third turn, but saved it by landing on fifth.

You quickly got up and were about to scurry back to the beginning but Larissa spoke up. ���No need. You were perfect till the very end and at least saved it. Back of the line.”

You smiled, Larissa smiled back, giving you- a wink? Oh you must have been seeing things. She wouldn’t. What an odd thing it would be for her to do. Regardless, you nodded, looking down as you walked past her only for her to stop you in your tracks and tilt your chin up with her pointer finger. “A ballerina walks proudly. She floats with a straight back and gentle steps. Chin up, my dear.”

Surely she could see the dark red blush covering your cheeks, she nodded you off to continue walking, a smile still on her lips.

When she turned to continue the class, her smile fell, and the strict teacher was back.

When everyone was done with diagonal, she called back to center. “That will be all for today. Applaud yourself for the effort and I will see you all tomorrow.” She locked eyes with you as she spoke, before turning to talk to the pianist while everyone packed up and left.

“You. Stay back, my dear.” A few girls looked back, but she was very clearly talking to you. Her direct tone made it seem like you were in trouble, making your heart race.

“O-okay. Should I keep my pointes on?” You spoke as you stopped in the middle of untying the ribbon. “Yes, please do.”

“Is something wrong, ma’am?” You asked softly as you noticed her staring, watching you. She shook her head with a smile. “Nothing at all, darling. You’re a great student, I’d just like to give you a few pointers.”

By the time you finished tying your ribbons back on securely, and stood, walking over to her, everyone else was already gone, even the pianist. And Larissa had closed the door with the last one out.

“I’ll start with how you failed that triple turn. It shouldn’t be much of a difficult thing for someone of your level…” she mutters.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” You said, lowering your head.

Larissa stepped in front of you, so close you could practically feel her breathing as she once again tilted your chin up. “What did I say about ballerinas, sweetheart.”

You blushed at the closeness, this woman was beyond beautiful, and talented. Having her this up close felt like an honor. You felt so small next to her. “They walk proudly.” You answered.

“Good girl. So you do listen.” She stepped back and you immediately missed her presence so close to yours. “Fortunately for you, I do know what happened.”

She rounded you. “Get into fourth, give me a clean double.” You did as told, a clean double pirouette, finishing back in fourth position.

“Good. Now give me a triple, this time focus on what you’re feeling.” Again, you did as told and just like last time fell on the last turn.

“Do you see the problem?” “Yes- I think so.” She nods. “Tell me.”

“My heel is on the floor by the time I’m in the third turn.” She looked at you proudly for a moment. “Very good. You’re dropping your heel. When you do a double it’s no issue because you’re still high on pointe. But you’re turning in demi at the third. No dancer of mine turns in demi at this level. That’s for the little girls. Tell me miss, are you a little girl?”

“I- well- no of course not.” She hummed, bringing a chair in front of the mirror, centered in the room. She pointed at you to move to the center as well as she sat down, crossing her gorgeously long legs.

Any dancer would die for those. You’re sure she was the envy of the whole school back when she was just a student. “You’re acting like it. You turn like it.” Her voice brought you back in the moment.

“Anyone can do a simple turn. I’m sure the damn pianist could come do one for us. Anyone can do a double too. Any one of the juniors at this establishment could. You’re failing, at this age and this level. I mean you can do it, but you don’t do it well.”

“I can. I promise you I can. I’ve done it before!” You rushed to prove yourself to her. She was the last person on earth you wanted to disappoint.

“Well of course you have. You wouldn’t be in this level if you couldn’t pull off a simple triple turn. So what is it? Are you finding the easy way? Is this you being lazy, in my class, miss?”

You wanted to cry at just the idea of disappointing her.. and this was how she saw you? Some lazy brat in an advanced class while she was God herself to you? That wouldn’t do.

“I’ll help you, my girl. You dance beautifully, you move and project emotions the way no other can. But you’re falling at the basics. All the talent and emotion in the world won’t save you if you can’t pull off a good turn. Try to think of any important role to dance which doesn’t turn.”

“There’s not many..” you said quietly. You wanted to bring your head down again, truly, you felt shameful. You could do it, both of you knew that. But you weren’t, why is that? Larissa wondered.

“Not any, my dear.” She sighed, walking behind you. “I want you to try for four turns with me here. I will spin and support you. Just keep that heel up.” You nodded, getting into fourth, and doing a plié before starting your turns.

Larissa’s hands moved quickly around your waist, guiding you through every turn and stopping at the four count. “You’re very capable. You can spot well, you could turn ten times with me here, I bet. But I trust you know that there won’t always be a pas de deux in every show or every dance. There won’t always be somebody to help you turn.”

“Yes I know, ma’am.” She smiled. “Of course you do. You’re a smart girl, my dear.”

“You trust that I won’t let you fall, yet you’re not trusting yourself.” She said, squeezing your hips lightly as she kept her hands in place. “You have the strength to stay up, no doubt. Trusting yourself is just as important.”

“Let’s try to balance on pasé for a few, hm? Get your body comfortable with staying up for a longer time.” She stepped back.

Her eyes were racking over your body. You could feel it, it only made your blush grow deeper. “Slowly. Take your foot from the ground up to your ankle first.” You moved as she spoke, she seemed to approve of that.

“Up your calf… and above your knee. Do not rest it, now hold.” You were perfectly still once she told you to hold position, settling all the shaking in an instant.

“Your breathing cannot interrupt you. I want it to look like you’re not even breathing. Keep that rib cage closed tightly and focus. Imagine there is a string going straight through the center of your body, pulling you up toward the ceiling.”

You breathed slowly, barely. Not even thinking about uttering a word at this moment. “Turning is much easier than balancing. You have more momentum to stay up, and as long as you don’t move and exaggerated amount you can get away with not being perfectly in center with your body. Though you should be.”

You felt the warmth of her hands again. You could see her blurry in the mirror, trying to keep your face straight. You stared right into your own eyes.

Her hands were under your breasts for a moment, pressing down on your rib cage gently. “Tightly closed. Very good, my darling.. very good.” She whispered.

Larissa’s hands caressed your thighs before reaching your knee, spreading your leg a little more open. “I should be able to see you in one line if I were to look at you from the side. Keep your knee aligned with your shoulder.” She spoke softly, having no need for loud words as she was practically pressed up against you.

Your balance shook as she adjusted you, but she didn’t let you fall. Instead helping you find your balance once more before moving on. “You’re focusing too much on me. I’m not even here. Now rest.”

You sighed in relief as she gave that command, letting your pointe trail down your leg the same way it trailed up, until you reached fifth position and got off pointe, allowing yourself to rest.

“That was very good.. I would’ve been a little disappointed had you not done that. Half the girls would rush, out of sheer desperation but you.. you did that stunningly. A very good girl, you are.”

“Thank you, ma’am.. I’ll be honest, I do my best to impress you…” Larissa quirked her brow. “Is that right.. Well, lovely girl, you do a good job at it. Let’s get those turns right and I’ll be even more impressed, proud, even.” Larissa hummed as she traced down your spine with her long fingers, and then reached your skirt.

Shamelessly, she began untying it, removing the garment from your body and throwing it next to her chair. “That thing only makes seeing the things I need to see harder.” You nodded in agreement, feeling your skin heat up as she held your hips for a few moments much longer than necessary.

“We will work on your left side another time. For now I want to focus on getting that left heel to stay up.” She stepped back, moving around you to be in front now. “Give me a triple pirouette.”

You took a deep breath in, breathing out slowly. You moved into fourth position, doing a deep plié before you started.

This time, you stayed up longer, but let your heel fall by the end. Larissa sighed. “Again.”

It went on for some time. Each time you would get closer to doing it right, finally. “Again.”

“Let’s try something. Think about doing four. Set your mind, we’re doing four turns, but remember you’re closing, cleanly, on the third.” You nodded, feeling anxious about how many tries this has already taken. No doubt you felt Larissa was tired of this.

With the thought cemented on your mind, you went for four. Just keep the heel up for four.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three, close it!” You landed it right as she finished speaking, closing on a tight fifth position, your arms rounded and lowered around your bellybutton.

“Absolutely perfect. You did perfect, my dear. That was the cleanest I’ve ever seen you turn.”

“Why’d you count?” You said in a whiny tone and Larissa couldn’t help but chuckle. “You all hate it when I count. But it helped you, didn’t it? I’m just guiding you, my beautiful girl.”

You smiled, “yeah it did help..”

“Come, sweet girl.” With hurting legs you walked to her, standing in front of her with little idea of what exactly to do. But she grabbed your hand and pulled you towards herself, wrapping you in a soft hug.

It was certainly an odd thing to do, but her warmth was something you seeked.. and God, was being in her arms delightful.

She rubbed your sides gently, caressing over your soft leotard. “You did very well, my star. I want to see this progress shown in the next class, yes?” You nodded, nuzzling yourself against her neck without even thinking about it. And breathing in.. she smelled expensive, a little woody but also floral. You wanted to bathe in whatever perfume it was she wore.

“Very good, my girl. It’s time for you to get home.” You almost whined as you pulled away from her, and Larissa hushed you. “Change out of your pointes, and don’t forget your skirt. I have to close up here soon.”

You nodded, going over to your bag and quickly changing into your street shoes and some shorts. “Um, thank you, ma’am. For helping me and everything.”

“It’s a pleasure to help such a delightful student like you, always.” You blushed, waving a quick goodbye before practically skipping out of the room.

Larissa smiled as she saw it written clear across your face, she had you wrapped around her little finger. What a good girl you truly were.

#larissa weems #wednesday larissa weems #larissa weems x f!reader #gwendoline christie #larissa wednesday #larissa weems wednesday #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa

[jisungsdaydreamer]

Anti-Romantic | CHAPTER ONE | 18+

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

THE LOVE FRUIT

“Mangoes. A criminally overlooked aphrodisiac. People call it the love fruit, you know.”

«SERIES MASTERLIST»

Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Genre: Non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of emotionally abusive ex, controlling friendships, heavy fantasizing, masturbation (m and f) graphic sex fantasy sequence (includes descriptions of intercourse), sitophilia (food play) Word Count: 16.3k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

“What is love?”

Hyunjin looks out at the expanse of eager minds in front of him, everyone blurring together in the darkened auditorium. He can’t see any of their faces, but it doesn’t matter. He’s only been on the stage for approximately thirteen seconds, but he already knows that they’re watching him in that familiar, delicious awe, quietly clawing at the sides of their seats in unbridled enthusiasm and desperation. And he can never blame them— Hyunjin’s kind of a catch. 

He tucks his hands into his navy bespoke Armani trousers, appreciating the feeling of the silky inner lining against his fingertips. Even with such a casual gesture, he’s the picture of elegance; tall, devastatingly handsome, and movements fluid yet calculated, like a prima ballerina. Hyunjin is the kind of beauty that poets waste their lives over, pining over the perfect arch of his cupid’s bow to the aristocratic slope of his nose. As classic as an Italian prince, as unique as the moon herself.

“No, but seriously. What is love?” Hyunjin repeats his question into the mic, once more gracing his enthralled viewers with the rich, seductive notes of his voice. “Is it an emotion, that signal in your brain? A cliche? A cult?”

The audience ponders his words with bated breath, and Hyunjin takes the opportunity to continue.

“Or maybe it’s all just… lust.” Hyunjin whispers the last word while holding eye contact with an unsuspecting victim in the front row. The girl trembles and blushes under his heated gaze, looking down at her shoes in an attempt to hide her frazzled smile. 

With a deliberate smirk, Hyunjin moves on to his next target in the audience. It can be anyone, yet another to fall for his endless charms. No one is immune. The cute reporter in the second row who will interview Hyunjin after he finishes his long awaited TED Talk. A wink. A lady in a big fur coat, old enough to be his grandmother. A beguiling smile. And even the stern looking security guard standing in the back. A brief, but loaded glance. Yep, Hyunjin doesn’t miss Guillermo’s cheeks turning red, even in this atrocious lighting.

A hesitant hand amongst the crowd slowly creeps upwards, bursting Hyunjin out of his momentary flirt bubble. “I think that love isn’t real.”

A smaller spotlight is immediately shined onto the timid speaker. It’s a boy in his early twenties, probably a junior in college, judging by his trendy sweatshirt and the freshness in his features. But that typical hopefulness is absent in his eyes, replaced with despair. 

Heartbreak. 

Hyunjin shoots the student a knowing smile. Because of his passion for the human mind, he had studied psychology in his own university days, before obtaining a doctorate and specializing in counseling— specifically, relationship counseling. He wears many different— and designer— hats: certified dating coach, therapist, and even researcher, when love needs to be approached as a neurological phenomenon in a laboratory setting. But his personal favorite role is being an expert on broken hearts. Something about being able to fix people satisfies the urge in Hyunjin to be the best, to be the brightest. What’s better than giving some of his light to someone who needs it?

“What’s your name?” Hyunjin steps closer to the edge of the stage, now fully focused on this poor fellow. Everyone else in the audience follows Hyunjin’s actions, curiously turning to get a better look of which lucky individual has been able to score a coveted interaction with Hyunjin. 

The boy clears his throat nervously. “It’s Jeongin.”

“Jeongin,” Hyunjin tests, liking the playful feeling of the syllables on his tongue. He decides that the name fits the young man perfectly. “Why do you think that love isn’t real?”

“Because if it can come and go so quickly, it can’t be real.” Jeongin squares his shoulders before sitting up, a new fire in his voice. “If love dies before it’s even born, it must be a joke.”

Well, well, well. 

Not only is this a broken heart, but this is a bitter broken heart— Hyunjin’s kryptonite, in the best possible way. Jeongin’s heart was soaring and then subsequently shattered, becoming one that Hyunjin is now dying to piece together, because there’s nothing he savors more than a challenge. 

“I’ll ask you this.” Hyunjin slips his right hand out of his pocket, running his fingers through his hair. In one smooth motion, the dark, tousled locks fall back into an alluring set of eyes. “Do you want to be happy?”

Jeongin shakes his head, visibly frustrated. “What?”

Hyunjin isn’t deterred. “Love isn’t limited to just one person, Jeongin. Not even people in general.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Love is simply what makes us happy. It’s our unscratchable itch. Our insatiable need. Our comfort in crisis.” Hyunjin takes out the tiny metal laser pointer in his pocket and directs everyone to gaze at the massive screen looming behind him, flipping through the presentation that he prepared himself. Most of the high profile speakers at TED throw that task over to their personal secretaries, but then again, Hyunjin isn’t most people. 

A bowl of soup. A plate of pasta. A dish of chocolate cake. A stacked tower of choux pastry puffs. His audience, as Hyunjin calculated, is bemused with his choice of slideshow content, although Hyunjin is infamous as a loveable eccentric. These are all pictures and no words at all. 

“Is your passion cooking? Could you do it for the rest of your life? Will you just combust if you can’t whip up this croquembouche right this moment? That’s love.” Hyunjin lingers on the image of the French confection. “Love is what makes our cold nights warm again, the very driving force that pushes us to be the greatest possible versions of ourselves.”

If Hyunjin was any other speaker, the same onlookers would burst into laughter and walk away, muttering that he had lost his marbles. Who would try to make a point about the most confounding concept in all creation— the very entity that even the Stanford Encyclopedia of Psychology hesitantly attempted to define— with a series of pictures that belong in an episode of Chopped, not freaking TED? No one except Hyunjin, and rightfully so. It’s the reason why they all keep their backsides glued to the velvet upholstery, respectfully silent and anticipating being enlightened. 

“Love can be platonic, love can be romantic, love can be anything in this whole universe. Love is what makes us human. It reminds us that life is worth it, that after all, maybe there’s something left to fight for.” Hyunjin gives Jeongin a small, but sincere smile. “It’s why I’ve committed myself to helping people find it, to protect it.”

Jeongin sits back in his seat in acceptance, and Hyunjin knows that even though the inferno has just subsided, not been completely put out, the flames probably aren’t so scorching anymore. Maybe he’s scored himself a new client. 

Satisfied, Hyunjin turns back to the rest of his audience hungrily waiting for his eloquent scraps. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin. But you might know me as the Love Doctor.”

There are only so many episodes of Celebrity Wedding Disasters you can binge on Youtube before you begin to feel sick of yourself. Yes, watching freaking Brad Pitt get dumped at the altar makes you feel better about your own hopeless situation. But does it actually help your hopeless situation? No, it does not. Because watching other people suffer the same life as you does not solve your own problems. They’re all still there, at the end of the day, when you come home to an eerily quiet apartment, or in the morning, when you stretch out on your bed just to feel like you’re being swallowed up by the empty space next to you. 

And now? The sound playing from your computer speakers starts to melt into a drone, and the artificial lighting of the videos on the screen blurs your vision, augmenting the sagging under your eyes. You haven’t gotten up from your little space in the corner of your living room in eight hours, resorting to hunching over your computer and surrounding yourself with snacks in case you got hungry. You’re clad in an old pajama set that’s too small for you and wrapped in a blanket that should have been put into the washing machine weeks ago. For the time since you gave up trying to work, you’ve been huddled in a fetal position on your couch, staring at your computer screen with no aim, no purpose.

Bashful rays of light peak through the gaps in the curtains drawn closed over the windows, and the air conditioner sputtered and shut down hours ago, after months of you putting repairs off. And your computer has died, but you’re too lazy to reach over to the outlet and plug your charger back in. It’s a beautiful Saturday morning, and every other healthy young person is probably out doing something productive or fun, definitely not being cooped up in their apartments after a myriad of trashy videos. But you count your blessings that you aren’t in the worst circumstance, because anything is better than dealing with—

The telltale trill of your cellphone knocks you out of thanking your stars, a cruel coincidence to the appreciation you harbored just moments earlier for the divinities above. The only people who would call you at a time like this— your time— would be the only people who you really, really didn’t want to see right now. You don’t even have to check the caller ID before you’re answering the phone, your signature snark prepared to lash out at any unwelcome dialogue. 

“What?”

“Good morning to you too, Y/N,” Irene chirps, irritating you even further. “Lovely weather today. I’m with Sana and Mina.”

First, she interrupts your quality time brooding on your own, and second, she has the nerve to be cheerful about it. You try not to lose it and just scream at her to fuck off. 

“Let’s skip the small talk, Irene. Can I help you?”

You don’t hate Irene, nor Sana and Mina, for the matter. You’re just tired of their presence in your life. Once upon a time, you were enthralled by these three pretty, wealthy, and perfect girls, letting them take you in and guide you through your youth. A tight-knit group since they were in diapers, the girls wouldn’t let just anyone into their circle, so the fact that they chose you to join them made you feel special. Being a part of them felt like being welcomed into a genuine friendship, a sisterhood. There were horror movie marathons snuggled together in your dorm rooms, gossip and advice sessions on the phone, late night drives with the music blasting on the stereo. 

But that admiration and belonging turned into exhaustion, over time, and they became no better than a stereotypical high school clique. They were suffocating you, filling you with regret of ever meeting them at all. They couldn’t respect that you were your own person, with your own emotions, and that you solely were entitled to governing your actions. Little things built upon each other, and you slowly began to detest them. You truly found out how eroded your relationship with Irene, Sana, and Mina was almost two years ago. You were heartbroken, but all they had told you was to patch up and move on. Showing feeling and falling apart was unacceptable to the “Golden Trio,” as you came to call them, because it was “unhealthy” to them. Complete and utter happiness was always the goal, and you couldn’t bog yourself or the others down. Rest, rinse, and repeat. You came to realize that you would rather reject the good parts of the relationship rather than have your imperfections be dismissed and your life be controlled.

Before replying to you, Irene is quiet for a moment, and you swear you can hear her whispering to the other girls. “Are you still in bed?”

“No.” Technically, you aren’t lying— you’re on the sofa. 

She sighs, seeing straight through your bullshit like she always did, the unspoken ringleader of the whole entourage. “It’s nearly ten in the morning, honey. Why don’t you come out to brunch with us in an hour or so?”

You roll your eyes. You hate when Irene calls you “honey”— it sounds sweet but has the most condescending undertone. “I’m busy.”

“Busy doing nothing. We need to talk to you. Please, Y/N. It’s important.”

Although having yet another fussy and feathery brunch with the Golden Trio is the absolute last thing you believe to be important, you know you have no other option. Irene will keep pestering you until you relent, so it’s better to save yourself the time and just get it over with. Balling up your fist, you reluctantly respond. “Fine.”

“Great! See you soon!” Irene trills, ending the call before you can even say goodbye. Not that you even wanted to, anyway.

With an enraged groan, you flop off of your stomach and open the windows, letting in some fresh air and sunlight. As you gaze outside of your window, observing the city slowly wake up, all you want to do is wallow in your self pity and frustration. For the longest time, you’ve told yourself that you’re fine with being alone; love just isn’t in the cards for someone like you. So you threw yourself into your job, struggling towards achieving your dreams, but as of late, the path to your passion has become another burden in your life. 

Sighing, you shake away your thoughts and tidy up the living room, already put off by the microscopic chip crumbs on the coffee table and the way the throw pillows are strewn about on the rug. After everything is back in place, you make your way over to your room, silently noting that your sofa stay at least meant that you didn’t have to make your bed today. You take a shower and don yourself in your typical uniform of straight jeans, sneakers, and a boxy blazer. Cute, practical, and unassuming. 

Quickly, you scarf down some toast and orange juice, because you definitely will not be able to afford even half of the menu items at the usual restaurant that the Golden Trio dines at for brunch. Before you lock your apartment and leave, you check yourself out in the mirror in the small corridor that houses the entrance.

“Just in and out,” you say to your reflection. “Breathe.”

The drive to brunch is less than fifteen minutes. However, you make a few unnecessary turns around the block in your second-hand Subaru, not ready to face the Golden Trio just yet. 

At exactly eleven, Irene’s profile picture— a headshot taken by a professional photographer— pops up on your phone screen. You ignore it and swiftly find a parking spot among all of the luxury cars, muttering to yourself. The Terrace is an upscale eatery that the Golden Trio frequents for weekend brunches, and you’re unfortunately roped into their plans more often than not. You walk into the restaurant, dodging a businessman in a costly-looking suit and a group of renegading TikTok influencers trying to take pictures. You take your time greeting Keeho, the hilarious UCLA student who hosts at The Terrace during the weekends. And then you scan the outdoor dining patio, as if you don’t already know the location of the Golden Trio’s preferred table by the edge of the patio, the one with the perfect view of the Hollywood sign in the distance.

“Y/N!” Sana gasps in faux surprise as you take your seat next to her. “So nice of you to join us… thirteen minutes late.”

You clench your jaw and force a smile. “Oh, well, you did just call me an hour ago, so.”

Sana returns your sarcasm with an aggressive beam, showing off all of her perfectly aligned, blindingly white teeth. Mina watches the venomous exchange in amusement, while Irene just rolls her eyes.

“Let’s get to the point, ladies.” Irene leans forward, and the other two follow suit, like they always do. 

You stay put in your chair, comfortably leaning back, like you always do. “I’d love to know why you called me to brunch, Irene. You know this isn’t my scene.”

“Nothing besides your damn computer is your scene,” Mina retorts, sipping on her mimosa. Irene purses her lips to hide her grin, while Sana openly cackles.

You glower at them, saying nothing. The Golden Trio sat around the array of gourmet dishes like hens around a feeding hopper, craning for the best cuts and chances of picking on you, as usual. 

“Can you just stop wasting my time and tell me why I’m here?” You take a swig of water, already counting down the minutes until you can make up an excuse and leave early.

The girls exchange knowing glances before Irene zeroes in on you. Even though she’s the oldest out of all four of you, she still looks the most stunning, with her cherry lips and elegant features.

“Y/N, we’ve been thinking that it’s time for you to find someone.” Irene reaches across the table and grasps your hands, making you cringe in surprise. 

You raise an eyebrow at Irene, already dreading what path this conversation is taking. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Irene delicately cuts into her vegetable omelet, taking a small bite. “We just want you to be happy. And we know that it’s been hard, ever since Jisung.”

At the mention of your ex-boyfriend, you wrench your hands out of Irene’s grip. “Don’t you dare bring him up.”

Mina smacks her lips, nonchalantly reapplying her magenta lipstick. “I told you that she’d be angry.”

Irene sighs, massaging her temples. “Be reasonable, Y/N. This is for your own good. You’ve been alone for too long.”

“That is not for you to decide.” You nearly want to laugh out loud at this point. “This is my business. Not yours.”

But then again, the girls have never been able to respect your own feelings. You are their puppet to string along and their doll to dress up. To them, you’re not a real human being, capable of making your own decisions— both good and bad.

Two years ago, you were dumped by your first and last boyfriend, Park Jisung. It was a traumatizing relationship, to say the least. For all your life, you’ve struggled with romance and just the whole idea of intimacy, of getting close to someone and truly letting them see you. Jisung had taken your fragile heart, the one you had so cautiously extended to him, and shattered it on the ground. 

The months you were with him were so full of emotional abuse on his part, that by the time you caught him cheating on you, you weren’t even surprised. You’d pathetically begged him to stay, crying that you’d forgiven him, but after his initial apologies, he’d left you. What made you the angriest wasn’t the anguish he had caused you. It was how he’d gotten the last word, breaking up with you and leaving you behind to rot. You swore that you would never let someone do that to you again. Everyday, you go to bed alone and wake up alone. Every single day, and you don’t have any intention of changing that.

“Of course not,” Sana says, stabbing viciously at her eggs and making you wince. “But you know, appearances matter.”

Irene shakes her head. “Honey, this lonely, mopey look doesn’t suit you. Johnny says that people are talking, saying that you’re some sort of recluse.”

You scoff, blood boiling at the thought of Irene’s fiancé. He grew up on his father’s bottomless wallet and was no better than any stereotypical rich playboy. All he did was run his mouth and on occasion, his damn country club that you couldn’t even afford to step inside.

“She kind of is a recluse,” Mina interrupts. “Like, just get a life, maybe?”

Mina’s words sting, like they always do. But you refuse to give her the satisfaction, instead answering Irene. “I couldn’t care less about Johnny Suh and what his useless friends at the club are saying. I’m fine how I am.”

Sana dabs at her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smudge her makeup. “You’re not, though.”

Irene glares at Sana, shutting her up, before turning back to you. You recognize the look in her eyes; that soft, cajoling pull that makes anyone do her bidding. That look is why you had not left this toxic company yet, but you’re starting to feel the effect of it slowly wear off.

“Y/N. Just hear me out.” Irene sorts through her violet Kate Spade tote bag, before pulling out a business card and handing it to you.

In spite of yourself, you take the card, feeling the thick, rich quality of the paper, and the gold lettering.

“Dr. Hwang…” You read out loud. “‘The Love Doctor?’ What the hell?”

“He’s a relationship therapist and dating expert. He also runs a matchmaking service and coaches his clients.” Irene explains.

“I have eyes. I can read the card, Irene,” you spit out, turning the paper around in your fingers. “And I definitely don’t trust anyone recommended by you. Especially not some corny weirdo called the ‘Love Doctor.’”

“Oh, get over yourself, Y/N. I know a billion trainwrecks that Dr. Hwang has fixed.” Mina shudders in thought. “He’s pretty good, you know?”

“No, actually. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this stupid Love Doctor.” You grind your teeth, desperately trying not to slap some sense into Mina. “I’m not going to trust a stranger with all of my thoughts… my fears, my hopes.” 

“This is such a waste of time,” Sana whines, getting up from her seat and smoothing out her dress. “I’m going to go talk to Chris. BRB, girls.”

Sana flounces away in the direction of the hot bartender mixing and pouring drinks for patrons. Mina rolls her eyes, picking at her acrylic nails.

“She literally has a boyfriend,” Mina huffs, before getting up and following after her. 

You turn back to Irene. “Is that how you want me to be? Both Sana and Mina are in relationships, except one pretends to not have a boyfriend, and the other is too bitchy to care about hers.”

“You’re not wrong.” Irene lets out a hearty chuckle, tracing the rim of her champagne flute. “But no one outside of our circle really knows about what’s going on with them, behind the scenes. They’re still perfect.”

“Why does it matter so much? Being perfect? Why does it matter so much to you if I am?” You question her, at a loss.

“I care about you.” Irene folds her hands in front of her plate. “You’re my friend.”

Friend.

That word takes you back to a few years ago, when you weren’t able to find a date to the frat party Johnny threw when you were all in college. You failed to follow Irene’s instructions, and as the expected result, Irene didn’t bother saying anything to you. You felt her anger through her silent treatment, as you stood by the door, feeling like a loser. You watched the rest of the Golden Trio giggle with their own dates, and Irene— no matter how big of a crush she used to have on Johnny before they became an item— was staring at you all night, soaking in your shame and unhappiness. You should have realized back then that the Golden Trio was just gilt. At least, you have now.

You snort in wry amusement, grabbing your keys and slapping down a fifty on the table, your general portion of the meal you didn’t even partake in. “I don’t know what I am to you, but I’m definitely not your fucking friend.”

Ignoring Irene’s pleas hitting your retreating back, you leave The Terrace, vowing never to go back.

On the weekends, you usually either work from home or aimlessly surf the internet. Either way, you’ll be staring at your computer until your eyes hurt. Today, however, you’re determined to prove that you can take a day off and enjoy it. It’s why you walk out of the luxury salon after being scrubbed, steamed, waxed, plucked, and primped all over your body. You don’t even want to think of how expensive it all was, completely disregarding the shiny $200 acrylics adorning your nails. 

You spend the rest of the day browsing a vintage bookstore on the Los Angeles marina, devoutly avoiding the romance section like you always did. After splurging on a set of horror novels by the latest trending author, you decide to go home and relax— just because you aren’t outside doesn’t mean you’re moping around, unlike what the Golden Trio believes. 

Who needs some hotshot Love Doctor when you’ve got Stephen King?

Sitting back on your couch with your book, you kick out your legs in front of you and attempt to unwind. But of course, you’re one line into the first page when your thoughts get the better of you. You glance across the open-concept layout of your apartment and over at your handbag, which is haphazardly strewn onto your bed; the business card that Irene gave you seems to be an incessant force in your mind. After a few seconds of trying to fight the urge to not let your curiosity best you, you give up, rolling off the sofa and rummaging through the bag to find the card.

Palming the small piece of paper, you settle onto your bed on your stomach, dimming the lights and logging into your computer. You type in the website address listed on the card into Google, impatiently tapping on the mouse. Finally, the page loads.

Your vision is blessed by a soft palette of pinks and beiges, a sparkling layout, flashy buttons and graphics, all designed to reel in even the most technologically inept grandparents. But that’s not what you’re enticed by: a giant picture of the most beautiful man that you have ever laid eyes on is pasted onto the main cover of the website. Immediately, you read further only to find out that this total babe is the Love Doctor that Irene couldn’t shut the fuck up about.

You zoom in on the bio printed below the image, devouring it like the King novel you should be reading instead right now. “What the…?” 

Dr. Hwang Hyunjin is a lot of things: a relationship therapist, intimacy expert, dating coach, psychology researcher, and etc. But the title that truly encapsulates his essence is: the Love Doctor, the savant who leads his clients through the pains and triumphs of life, loss, and of course, love. 

After graduating from Columbia University summa cum laude and obtaining his doctorate in psychology at Stanford, Dr. Hwang founded SeoulSpark, a practice dedicated to providing guidance and opportunities for any with those special ailments of the heart. The rest of Dr. Hwang’s credentials and outstanding achievements are listed below. In his freetime, Dr. Hwang loves to write poetry, go horseback riding, and take long walks on the beach. 

Appointments must be reserved through the ‘Bookings’ page. Dr. Hwang and his associates may be requested on the basis of availability. 

A few minutes of getting sidetracked in an internet stalking session alerted you to how in addition to overseeing his own private practice and working there as a therapist and coach, Dr. Hwang also operates a clinical trial on the neuropsychological approach of studying the nature of love at the National Institutes of Health. And to top it all off, he comes highly recommended by Selena Gomez in her latest Vogue interview— turns out, he’s the one who helped her move on from Justin Beiber and find a more gratifying partner— and has even met with Michelle Obama over tea on NPR’s Life Kit podcast to discuss the psychology of relationships. He’s a public figure, a celebrity of sorts himself, but has graciously rejected the title in favor of a more private life.

“Wow,” you murmur. “So he’s hot and smart.”

Irene and her sidekicks are wrong about a lot, but one thing they are right about is that you’re just absolutely lonely. Growing up, you were a hopeless romantic who constantly dreamed of a fairytale romance, romanticizing every aspect of your interactions with others. But a lifetime of being unlucky in love taught you that there is no such thing as true love. 

First, there was a series of unfortunately unrequited crushes in high school, all ending in you watching the boy you liked ride off into the sunset with someone else— usually a popular, pretty girl. Then came Holland, the cute boy in your calculus class who seemed like he actually returned your feelings. You both flirted for a while, before Holland ended up secretly coming out to you as gay. And of course, there was Jisung, the dirtbag who told you he loved you and then proceeded to break your heart. Love obviously isn’t on the cards for you.

Therefore, you’re now an insufferable pessimist when it comes to romance. You make fun of every couple you see in public, religiously watch wedding fails on Youtube, and absolutely hate romantic comedies. You stonily ignore the Tinder app that Mina once pressured you into downloading, even though it’s burning a hole into your phone.

You try to fill up that void in your heart by throwing yourself into work or participating in those idiotic “girls nights” that Irene throws, which usually just entail grinding up on drunk trust funders on someone’s yacht. 

But on a night like this, you’re bound to confront the truth: you are alone, and deep inside, you know you don’t want to be, no matter how much you pretend you don’t care. Which is why you let the computer cursor hover over the various appointment time slots, considering registration.

Wait, what? You shoot up from your previous position, sitting straight as every ounce of lethargy exits your body. You cannot actually be thinking of this guy’s services, especially when the recommendation came from Irene. But then again, do you really want your decisions to be determined by her? Do you care enough about spiting her that you’ll prevent your own happiness? What if this Love Doctor actually works?

With a groan, you go back to scrolling through Dr. Hwang’s bio once more, weighing your options, when you notice a link at the bottom of the page. You click on it, and it takes you to a video uploaded on Youtube. The bold, glaring red letters and the dark, dramatic backdrop alert you to a TED talk— and a very cherished one, too, with how thunderous the applause is when welcoming the speaker.

Intrigued, you sit forward, promising yourself that your assessment of Dr. Hwang’s TED talk will determine whether or not you’ll see both his physical and evidently intellectual gorgeousness in real life or not. However, from the very first question that he utters, you know your decision.

“What is love?”

You’re sweaty. You’d like to blame it on the unforgiving Los Angeles heat, but you once read that seeing a therapist is like owning your truth. You want to start being honest even before you meet Dr. Hwang, so you accept that the dampness under your arms is due to the fact that you are just really fucking nervous.

After tossing and turning in your bed all night, you tried your best to look presentable. You showered, blow-dried your hair, and put on minimal makeup reserved for special occasions. But the pretty yellow sundress and sandals that you chose— in the spirit of being symbolically optimistic— feel elementary right now, especially now that you’re setting foot inside the most glamorous office you have ever encountered. 

Upon observing the magnificently dripping crystal chandelier adorning the ceiling, marble flooring that you’re afraid of scuffing, and a jazz rendition of “Clair de lune” playing in the background, you’re convinced that this place is much too luxurious to be a shrink’s company space. Hell, it’s on the ninth floor of one of the ritziest buildings downtown. But, then again, you definitely weren’t expecting the person that Irene recommended to be this otherworldly adonis, instead of some kind of Karen ready to lecture you about having a “healthy love life” or “putting out”— yes, you do watch too much TV and have quite the imagination, so you try to keep your judgements and lofty expectations to a minimum. 

After signing-in with the receptionist— this sweet guy with freckles, sunny blond hair, and an even sunnier disposition— you sit down on the white leather sofa in the lobby. According to the brochure you swiped at the front desk, this place is so big that it has separate wings, like the freaking Hogwarts castle: one for therapy and coaching— or “guidance”— one for matchmaking services, and one for “health,” where clients and employees alike can rewind and socialize. Following a few minutes of rapidly swiping through the home screen and apps on your phone, trying to look occupied and definitely not intimidated by everything, the receptionist calls your name and directs you to Dr. Hwang’s office.

You know you’re incredibly lucky to have scored a session with Dr. Hwang, who’s obviously the most sought-after on the full list of all who work at SeoulSpark. Last night, when you were scouring SeoulSpark’s Yelp reviews (all of them were five-stars), people were raving about Dr. Hwang. Yet, as you walk through the luxe little corridor that leads you to the guidance sector, you can’t help but feel the regret that unfurls in your stomach. Perhaps you were subconsciously following Irene’s orders, that natural instinct to follow and not think still manifesting. Perhaps you were just enticed by Dr. Hwang’s visuals and repertoire. Or maybe, you just wanted to do something with your damn time for once, instead of constantly thinking about how sucky your life is. Either way, this all feels like a mistake, but it’s too late to turn back now, especially since the woman that you assume is Dr. Hwang’s assistant has spotted you.

She gets up from her desk. “Hello there! You must be Y/N.”

“That’s me!” You exclaim, in a way that probably seems too enthusiastic to be genuine. Your eyes trail to the name badge pinned to the lapel of her stylish cream-colored pantsuit. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Jang.”

“Likewise,” she says with a friendly smile that just accentuates her flawless features. 

Is everyone who works here just ridiculously attractive?

“Dr. Hwang is all ready for you.”

You quickly thank her, wiping your sweaty palms on your skirt and praying you don’t look scared. The last thing you want to do is freak out your potential therapist with your horrendous love life, even though his literal job is to deal with basket cases of romance. Taking in a deep breath, you warily place your hands on the grand pair of frosted glass doors adjacent to Ms. Jang’s desk and push them open. 

A cool gust of air welcomes you into Dr. Hwang’s office, and the first thing you notice is the blinding natural light flooding from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The one time you ever visited a therapist was immediately after the whole ordeal with Jisung; the cramped little room filled with wilted potted plants and dim light from a depressing yellow lamp had made you want to never see another therapist again. This place, however, looks more like one of those glitzy workspaces straight out of a Manhattan legal drama. You can practically see the dollar signs stamped onto everything here, from the panache but tasteful L-shaped sofa to the sultry modern art adorning the blush-colored walls. But the impeccable interior design is not what has got you temporarily incapacitated—

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

A voice as smooth as his honeyed skin and perpetual charm. A fresh breath of air in the merciless Californian heat that constitutes your entire life. A tidal wave upon the drowsy coastline of your heart. Absolute sin in your undeserving ears. You ponder what language even is, if you’ve never heard anyone articulate their entire aura like this in a mere jumble of words. Dr. Hwang smiles at you warmly— a sight that should remind you of a toasty cup of hot chocolate, but instantly spreads a raging, insatiable wildfire through your nerves. 

You speechlessly stay rooted to the spot like a damn oak tree as Dr. Hwang approaches you, with the controlled movement and dripping allure of a jaguar. As he nears you, you have to blink multiple times to adjust to how truly dazzling he is, and how the pictures of him online cannot even compare to his person. You would not hesitate to believe him if he claimed that he walked here straight off the runway, but his beauty is rapturous, less of an airbrushed model and more reminiscent of a Botticelian masterpiece. 

Maybe Charles Dickens was wrong— you see everything you want in the glittering multitude that makes up Hyunjin’s eyes. Big, soulful, contemplative. A gaze like a midnight reverie. A radiance like black diamonds encased in velvet. They reel you in like you’re silk thread and he’s a needle, like you’re an astronomer and he’s the entire galaxy. You take in the mole under his left eye, and it reminds you of a stray splatter of dark paint on an ivory canvas. It’s enchanting, like a lone star in the night sky.

“You’re good.” You barely manage, now focused on his lips that are just begging to be kissed. A delicate pink, like the lingering stain after eating cherries. Full and inviting, soft with the promises of a good time. On your own lips. On your skin. On your neck. 

Those pretty lips curve into an enigmatic smile, Cheshire-like almost. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

The way he pronounces your name so eloquently sends a spark straight through your body. You never thought much of your name, but with how Hyunjin says it, it might as well be one of those irresistible words that Pinterest logophiles save. It sounds lovely, ethereal, sublime. Just like him.

“And you as well, Dr. Hwang.” You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down, but instead, you get a breath full of his scent; he smells like a rainstorm over a field of jasmine. Tantalizingly petrichor, with a slightly floral and sensual edge. 

“Please, call me Hyunjin.”

“O-okay, Hyunjin.” A bewitching name for an even more bewitching man.

Hyunjin gestures for you to sit down on the sofa and positions himself on the chair behind his desk, a smoke-cracked glass piece arranged in front of a transparent wall that provides breathtaking views of downtown L.A. You can only imagine what the views are like at night— the city lights, of course. Definitely not of Hyunjin pushing you onto his costly desk and doing you in the dark.

“So, Y/N, darling,” Hyunjin begins, spreading his hands out on the desk in front of him. 

Darling?! Ohmyfuckinggod.

You cough. “Sorry?” 

“Tell me anything. Impressions, ruminations. Just be honest.”

That’s new and different. You thought Hyunjin would dole out the usual pleasantries, like “how are you” or “the weather is nice,” not ask you to “be honest.” What kind of person expects blatant candor after knowing them for literal seconds? Well, a therapist, probably. And a very eccentric one, at that. So you blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind. 

“Everyone here seems so… happy. It’s weird.” The hot receptionist, Hyunjin’s secretary, and even the janitor wiping the floors in the lobby.

Hyunjin lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes squinting into a crescent moon shape that you find very endearing. “Well, they seem happy because they are. Happiness isn’t rare.”

“Feels like it most of the time,” you mutter, your thoughts flashing over to work, Irene, and all of the times that you eat dinner alone. 

“That’s why you’re here, no?” Hyunjin folds his hands. “Talk to me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asking me questions? And I answer them? Isn’t that what most therapists do?”

“I’m not like most therapists. This is how it begins.”

Of course you aren’t. 

As you hesitate, Hyunjin keeps quiet patiently while letting your thoughts unfurl. Maybe it was Jisung, or maybe it was being constantly let down by the people around you, but somewhere along the way, you lost trust in others— you wouldn’t ever let them see who you really are. Ever since, you’ve put up your guard walls, harboring a testy, stormy attitude that scares anyone away before they can ever leave you behind. You put up with the Golden Trio’s nonsense because although they practically used you for their own enjoyment, at least they had never withdrawn for you. You don’t hate yourself, but you don’t feel content with who you are. You never knew if you really would be. 

And you don’t know Hyunjin. To you, he’s the man whose photos you pored over on Google, the one who you held a sparse conversation for a matter of mere minutes. You shouldn’t want to be exposed in front of him, but you know you already are, with the way his piercing gaze seems to see right through you. For the first time, you don’t hate the feeling of being vulnerable. You don’t know if it’s the kindness in his bedroom eyes that haven’t strayed from you, or if it’s the warmth that even someone as regal as him exudes, but you embrace the feeling of security that his presence wraps you in. Like your inhibitions are drowning in the distant crevices of your mind. You don’t know what it is that compels you to tell this beautiful stranger anything, but for once, you don’t question it.

“I’m just so tired of my damn life.”

The words come out of you in a rush, a sob, almost, because it feels so good to finally say it out loud. You’ve kept your dissatisfaction inside of you for the longest time, just pretending that the grumpiness is part of your personality, not your sadness, because you’ve always been afraid of what people would say. But when you peek up at him, Hyunjin’s expression betrays nothing. Placid, and waiting for you to go on. So you do.

“Nothing seems to be working. I try, try, and try to do better at work, but lately, even my dream job feels like a burden. I don’t really have any friends. I’m single. I act like I’m fine, but I’m really not. I don’t want to feel like this, like I’m trapped. I don’t want to give Jisung that much power over me, but unfortunately, he does have it all.” A huge weight has been lifted off of your drooping shoulders, but the bitterness still remains on your tongue.

Hyunjin takes a moment to finish up whatever notes he’s jotting down in his cream-colored journal, before looking up at you. “And Jisung is your ex?”

You freeze. You didn’t even realize that you brought up Jisung, and even worse, you completely overlooked how he probably knows a lot more about you than you think. After registering for an appointment, you were redirected to fill out this short quiz filled with questions about your romantic history, your job, and basic information. Like a slightly intruding business dinner in the form of a questionnaire. You couldn’t finish the form without getting slightly tipsy on wine, because of how gut-wrenching it was reliving everything. You forgot that your coach would have access to your answers, after brushing it all off as a silly formality. And you really thought this would all be genuine.

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief and skepticism. “You already know, Dr. Hwang. Why bother asking me? You have my questionnaire results. You think I’m hopeless. You’re just being polite.”

“Hyunjin,” he corrects, undeterred by your words. “And I actually don’t. I look at the results after I meet with my clients. I would rather garner my first impression of you on the person you really are, not through an online quiz.”

“Then how did you know that Jisung’s my ex?” 

Hyunjin’s eyes crinkle with tenderness. “It wasn’t very difficult. He hurt you, I can see it.”

You swallow harshly, overwhelmed both by the thought of Jisung and the way Hyunjin’s looking at you right now. Compassion, gentleness, understanding. A complete foil to the constant indifference and borderline aversion Jisung treated you with. Right now, you don’t feel ugly, even with your scars so raw, open. You feel seen. You realize that Hyunjin has a way of getting you to open up by saying very little.

“He was my first boyfriend. First love, first kiss, first… well, you know.” You pause, blushing at the words that have escaped your mouth, but continue in spite of your shame. To hell with it. “He made me feel wanted, for once. I mean, I’ve literally been a fake date for my gay ex-situationship, and the first time I tried to get into a real relationship, which was with my former neighbor, he ghosted me after two dates. And then he moved away. Jisung… he gave me everything I thought I needed.”

You look up at Hyunjin, unsure. The tears are already shining in your eyes, threatening to spill out. Hyunjin nods encouragingly, pushing you on. 

“We were together for almost a year. And the entire time, he gaslighted me into doubting myself. He always kept cheating on me, I knew that. But I finally caught him screwing his assistant in my bed, right before we broke up.” You close your eyes. “No, before he broke up with me. God, my friends were right. I am so pathetic.”

Hyunjin sets his pen down firmly on the glass table, making you open your eyes. His starry gaze is intense, like that all-too-familiar inferno settled inside of you. “Darling, those are no friends of yours. There’s nothing pathetic about believing in someone, for putting your faith in them. Don’t ever say that again.”

“Right. Because I didn’t tell him over and over again that I forgave him. I didn’t beg him to stay, when he said he was tired of me. When he wanted new things.” You let out a dry laugh. “When it was over, everyone acted like I fumbled. Hell, he works at SM Technologies. Rich, handsome, well-connected.”

“Fuck that hack. That’s not why you loved him, though,” Hyunjin insists, his explicit language surprising you. Even in this way, he seems more poised than you ever could be. “You loved him because he made you feel loved. He accepted you. You lowered your standards for him, and he used you.”

You turn your head away from Hyunjin, not wanting him to watch you cry. But you know he’s already seen the tears streaming freely down your cheeks. “So, are you supposed to help me move on from here? Find someone new? SeoulSpark has matchmaking services, right? I mean, it’s been two years, and I’m still not over it. Sorry I’m a fucking antiromantic.”

It’s Hyunjin’s turn to shake his head. “Darling, you’re misunderstanding me. I don’t help my clients find relationships. I don’t care if you walk out still single or if you’re polyamorous. I care that you’re happy, satisfied with who you are, romantically. I’m here to guide you through that. Let me help you.”

The tears that had dripped so effusively onto your skin dry as Hyunjin holds your gaze, studying your features and saying nothing. And then your stomach chooses that inopportune moment to grumble, and very loudly indeed. In that astoundingly mortifying moment, you swear to never, ever skip breakfast again.

Hyunjin clears his throat, rising from his seat. “Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink? Or eat, maybe?”

“Um, a mango?” You don’t know why, or how, but your brain just zeroes in on mangoes. You don’t even like the damn fruit. Who the fuck would specifically ask for mangoes, instead of something reasonable, like coffee, or tea? You glare up at the ceiling, cursing your emotional dry spell for making you act so embarrassingly. 

But Hyunjin just smiles. “Mangoes. A criminally overlooked aphrodisiac. People call it the love fruit, you know.”

You gulp. Now you’re imagining Dr. Hwang— er, Hyunjin— chopping up a bunch of whole mangoes like he’s in Fruit Ninja, before erotically eating each slice, licking at the flesh, juice slowly dripping down that chin sculpted by the gods. Two seconds ago, you were crying about your evil ex and now you’re dreaming about Hyunjin starring as some sort of a seductive sensei.

What the fuck?!

“Oh. Yeah, I didn’t know that.”

Hyunjin is unfazed by your awkwardness, simply walking over to the pink-pastel minifridge in the corner of his office and bringing out a paper bowl of unfortunately pre-cut mangoes that you accept gingerly. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you.” You cautiously place a cube of mango in your mouth.

Your eyes suddenly widen at the sweet yet tangy explosion of flavor on your tongue. Creamy yet juicy, refreshing yet indulging, just succulent on your lips. Hyunjin giggles at your amazed reaction to the fruit. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” You chew on the tart skin of the mango and swallow. “Do you know where your secretary might have bought this?”

“Wonyoung didn’t buy it, I did.” Hyunjin grins, sipping on his own glass of water. “5-Star Grocery. I went just today, actually.”

You finish off the rest of the fruit in no time, swiping the mango residue on your fork clean with your lips. When you’re done, you look up from the bowl to see Hyunjin gazing intently at you. You were probably taking forever to eat, and he was waiting for you. “Oh, sorry about that. This was really good.”

Hyunjin shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, it’s not that.”

You curiously tilt your head at him, wondering what’s got him so worked up. “Did I say something, Dr. Hwa- I mean, Hyunjin?”

“No, you didn’t.” Hyunjin stands up and takes your bowl, throwing it away in the disposal for you. “Let’s get back to our conversation.”

You nod, your thoughts fluttering back to Jisung, the ache replacing the lust that reigned inside of you, moments earlier. “I have tried to see other people, but it’s been hard.”

“How so?” Hyunjin clicks on his pen, putting it in a position ready to write.

You toy with the hem of your dress, your face heating up. “I tried using Tinder. I even matched with this one guy, San. We got dinner. But later that night, when… when we were about to um, have sex, I just couldn’t. San was really nice and understanding about everything, but I felt so bad. I’ve only slept with one person before, Jisung, and I don’t know. It’s so humiliating.”

Hyunjin frowns. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. First, it’s normal to be wary of intimacy after a long-term relationship. And second, we all have varying levels of sexual comfort. You’ll find your own pace. Our sexuality is essential to our health, and there’s nothing humiliating about it.”

“It’s not like I’m not experienced, though,” you say quickly.

Hyunjin looks up from his notepad and raises an eyebrow at you. You sputter over your impulsive words and try to explain. “It’s just that I have trouble being vulnerable with others, both physically and emotionally. There was only Jisung. And he wasn’t that good at it, to be honest. But I thought it shouldn’t stop me from finding out by myself what I like. That’s all.”

For a second, you think Hyunjin will make fun of you, but he just solemnly nods. “Absolutely. I always tell my clients this. There’s nothing wrong with masturbating. It’s incredibly healthy, whether or not you’re in a relationship.”

You exhale shakily, your cheeks aflame. You know it’s his literal job, but you can’t help but feel both admiration and jealousy at how straightforward Hyunjin is while talking about sex. His whole aura seeps with confidence, like it comes easily to him. Your self-consciousness could never. “Right.”

He sighs in thought, scribbling into your notepad as you restlessly wait for him to say something, fidgeting in your seat. Hyunjin then sets his notepad aside, logging into his sleek Apple iMac computer and rapidly typing into it. “I have something for you to do, darling.”

You immediately tense at the thought of more work, especially if Hyunjin is going to be your grader. “Like, homework?”

Hyunjin laughs. “No. Think of it as a fun little task. Remember, nothing I ask you to do is obligatory. You choose to be here.”

“Alright, let’s hear it.” You square your shoulders like a soldier. Whatever your assignment is, you’re going to knock it out of the park and impress Hyunjin. Definitely because you look up to him as a person, not because you want him to rail you into the next century.

Hyunjin leans forward, like he’s about to indulge you with a delicious secret, and you find yourself doing the same. “I want you to write down on paper one thing you love about yourself every day of the week, starting today. Bring the sheet to me when we meet again next week.”

You sit back, your heart sinking while your mind wakes in panic. And of all things, the assignment has to be this. You could fib your way through it, of course, jotting down the stupid, trivial aspects of yourself that aren’t so bad. But considering it all, asking yourself that question would really make you face the ugly truth: do you even love yourself?

“Wait, what do you mean? Like, what does it have to be? Physical? Emotional? Professional? Personal? I don’t think—”

Hyunjin smoothly cuts you off. “Like I said, this is your choice to complete. And it can be anything you cherish about yourself. Anything. This is your opportunity to show-off.”

You shake your head, frustrated. “But why, though? I don’t get the point of this.”

“I need to be able to get an idea of what specific path will best fit you, whether it’s solo therapy to help your mindset and esteem, matchmaking to get you connected with individuals who complement you, or coaching to provide you with guidance in potential relationships. So for now, I want to get to know you. ”

“If you wanted to get to know me, you’d ask questions like, ‘what do you do,’ or ‘what’s your favorite color,’ Hyunjin,” you say, irked. “This is just going to be another thing I fail at.”

“Darling,” Hyunjin says, firmly but gently. “Your profession and favorite color, while intriguing, isn’t knowledge I need to work with you. The most important service of all is helping my clients’ self-perception and confidence in romance, and I need to know what level you are on. Take it slow, it’s okay. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

The familiar warmth spreads throughout your body. Compassion, gentleness, understanding. You harbor so much insecurity that it affects so much of your daily life. You don’t go out. You work yourself down and out. You wallow in your misery. You’re a pessimist who doesn’t believe in true love. And you receive endless judgment for it, because really, who wouldn’t be disgusted by someone like you? But being with Hyunjin feels different, because he is accepting you for who you are and promising you the guidance you’ve always needed. 

“We can assess what aforementioned action to take next week, when I’ve had time to assess you,” Hyunjin declares as you agree, ripping out a piece of paper from his notebook and writing down the task on it for you to take home.

And then you’re pulled back into reality. You’re well-educated and smart. You have a good job that pays well. You like to read Scientific American in your freetime, because sometimes, you would rather face the facts than meld into opinions. And you know exactly what’s happening right now. It’s barely been your first session with Hyunjin, and you’re already getting attached to him, because he’s giving you the kind of care and attention that you’ve been craving. It’s a phenomenon called transference, you know that. The butterfly garden flitting in your stomach is a mere sensory illusion, you know that. But you also know that you are feeling something. 

As Hyunjin hands you the slip of paper, his hands brush yours lightly, and you can’t help but exhale sharply at where his skin has made contact with yours. Maybe you’re touch-starved, but you can’t help but feel like a longing character in a Victorian romance novel. You look down at his hands as he retracts them. Large, smooth palms, and long fingers decked in silver rings. 

“But that will be all for now, darling.” 

God, he’s sexy.

“Really? Is that all?” You glance at the rose gold clock hanging on the wall behind you. It’s barely been thirty minutes. “We’re done so soon?”

Hyunjin grins at you, flashing those crescent moons once again. “I didn’t know you were that eager to stay here.”

You clear your throat, furiously blushing. “I mean, I thought the session would last longer. So I’ll come back next week then.”

“This was a diagnostic, darling. And yes, I’ll see you next week. You should make an appointment with Wonyoung before you leave.” 

Hyunjin beams at you pleasantly while you reluctantly grab your purse, and you briefly wonder if he looks just as lovely when his partner pleasures him— if he has a partner. But then again, there is no way someone as good-looking and sweet as him is single. The thought of Hyunjin fucking someone simultaneously sparks envy and turns you on, and you quickly shake it away.

“Thank you so much, Hyunjin. And um, I’m sorry if I came off as kind of coarse, it’s… I’m working on it.” You tilt your head towards him, hoping he gets what you’re trying to convey. You’re not amazing with words, or controlling your emotions very well, and any product of that today was not meant to hurt him.

“You did nothing wrong. I’m glad you decided to come here, Y/N.” Hyunjin walks you across his expansive office.

“And I love your nails, by the way.” Hyunjin states, his gaze pointed down at your hands. “Pink’s my favorite color.”

You flush a pink that’s deeper than the object of his compliments. Pink, huh? You wonder about what other pink things that Hyunjn may like. Pink roses? Raspberries? Flamingoes? You’d bring them all to him if he asked.

Hyunjin graciously opens the door leading to the corridor for you, and you shoot him a small smile, as he returns it. His hand skims the small of your back as he leads you out, and you pray that you don’t look like a lustful maniac. Unaware of your internal frenzy, Hyunjin waves goodbye to you as he lets in his next client waiting outside and shuts the door behind him.

Wonyoung asks you a plethora of questions about your availability next week, your mind stays on Hyunjin while you schedule your next appointment. You don’t waver even when you exit the SeoulSpark and unlock your car in the visitor parking lot, collapsing into the seat in a daze. Even when you find yourself plugging in directions on Google Maps to find the quickest route to 5-Star Grocery, your thoughts don’t stay from Hyunjin. Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin.

You take your time strolling through the multicolored aisles of 5-Star, blankly gazing at all of the overpriced foodstuffs while daydreaming about the way that Hyunjin’s hand had accidentally brushed against you, even if it was inadvertent. You want his fingers on your body. In your body. In your mouth. Anywhere, and everywhere. 

You brighten up as you near the produce section and spy the hefty crate of what you came for: very expensive imported Indian mangoes. But without a second thought, you place a generous pile of the fresh fruit into a plastic cover and put it into your cart. And you swear you can catch the lingering scent of Hyunjin from when he was here earlier today. Rainstorms. Jasmine. Danger. You practically combust at the thought of Hyunjin scouring the baskets of mangoes for the very best picks with those crescent moon eyes, wishing it was you instead that he could have been gazing so purposefully at. On the way out, like some kind of a divine coincidence, you notice that a local florist has set up their stand at the entrance of the grocery. As you approach, the overflowing clay pots of jasmine crowd your sensations.

The drive back home feels like it lasts hours, when in reality, the store is only a few minutes away from your place. As soon as you’re inside your apartment, you throw open all of the window shutters, dismissing the ominous weather forecast on the radio. A much bigger tempest brews somewhere else. The late evening breeze through your windows is like a pirate sailing into your mind, hoarding your sanity and coaxing in all of your disgraceful thoughts. And you welcome the ship like a safe harbor because it’s been far too long since you’ve ever felt this outrageously alive.

The tiny light in your kitchen provides some leeway for you to work, as you stow away your groceries in the fridge and bring out the glass cutting board that your menace of coworker gave you as a gag gift; you would burn the whole house down before cooking anything, and he knows that. Yet, you kind of feel like goddamn Gordon Ramsay as you cut through the mango dexterously to produce those perfect cubes that Hyunjin presented you with.

With a sigh, you collapse into one of the mismatched chairs at your dining table. You once slaved away into late nights at this table, blue light glasses perched on your nose while you were engrossed in lines of code. Nowadays, you sleep late for less productive reasons or just because you are in a destructive mood and planning your future world takeover. But you have a feeling that might change soon.

Slowly, you put a piece of the sweet mango in your mouth, savoring the saccharinity and longing for it to pervade all aspects of your life beyond your palate. You find that it tastes a little less delectable because Hyunjin isn’t here with you, but you finish the entire bowl of fruit nevertheless. Still not satisfied, however, you bring out a second mango, still searching for that spark you had felt earlier.

This time, you don’t even bother cutting the fruit, instead breaking the skin of the mango with your teeth and allowing the juice to leak onto your tongue. A little better, but you wish you were biting down on Hyunjin’s plush lips instead. You feel like you’ve been hexed by the Love Doctor, because there’s no chance that a romantic Scrooge like you is fantasizing about the emotional and physical reincarnation of Aphrodite. 

Yet, he must have shot you with his quiver of arrows, rendering you clinically insane, because as you reach for your third mango, you feel your free hand trailing down to the place between your thighs that’s begging for your touch. You spread your legs so that your knees are facing out on either side of you, and your dress has now ridden up to your hips, exposing your now wet cotton panties for no one to see. 

But you imagine that he’s watching, stroking himself and getting off along with you. Not even bothering to slide them off, you push your panties to the side and finally press your fingers against your aching cunt. Chewing on the delicate skin of mango, you slide your fingers through your drenched folds, thankful to finally get a chance to relieve yourself. As you concentrate on the fruit’s taste, you wonder what Hyunjin would think of your own, sucking on his own fingers after fucking you with his pretty hands. He’d push you down to get a complete taste, attaching his mouth to your pussy to get both an idea and a release.

Moaning out loud, you circle your clit, enjoying the flickers of pleasure coursing through you. Not minding the juice now dripping down your chin and onto your collarbone, you pull down the front of your dress, freeing your breasts. You gently pinch your nipple with your left hand and let out a small gasp, craving for Hyunjin to be the one inducing such sinful pain into you.

“Just like that, darling.”

“Oh God, Hyunjin!” You call out his name and squeeze your breast, now fucking yourself on your fingers while simultaneously grinding the heel of your palm against your clit for that delicious extra friction. 

“So good for me.”

Waves of ecstasy wash over you as you ride out your high, sloppily thrusting and circling your hips on your soaked hand. You come to the final thought of Hyunjin pushing a slice of mango down the valley between your breasts, tracing and cleaning the sticky juice with his tongue. And there’s the spark, igniting a whole flame of fulfillment deep inside of you.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you fix your dress and get up from your chair, taking out a paper towel to wipe the mess of your arousal and fruit juice on the seat. Your cheeks burn with the after effects of your release, and yet, you don’t feel any shame. Instead, there’s a strange sense of liberation that you are starting to come to terms with.

Clipping up your hair, you make your way over to the desk in your bedroom and take out a fresh sheet of paper. Armed with a glass of freshly puréed mango juice and accompanied by the tantalizing scent of your jasmine plant, you pull out a pink gel pen and let the words pour out.

“So, Y/N. Were you able to do what I asked?” Hyunjin cocks his head expectantly.

You reach into your handbag and pull out the paper, passing it to Hyunjin with trembling hands. “I did it.”

You came to SeoulSpark straight from work, deliberately skipping your usual jeans and blazer combination for a skinny pencil skirt paired with a powder-pink button down that matches the walls of Hyunjin’s office. Slightly transparent silk stockings disappear under the skirt, which skims the top of your knees. 

When you were pulling on your barely-worn cream slingback pumps in the morning, you had wondered what this entire outfit was for. You had stood up and gazed critically into the mirror, and all you could feel was empowerment. Because for the first time, it felt like something you were truly doing for yourself. You weren’t proving a point. And you knew you weren’t dressing for Hyunjin either, but rather, because of him. He made you question if you were treating yourself right, and you wanted to answer it well. The pink blouse was a playful touch that you couldn’t help.

Hyunjin takes his time reading through the paper, and this time, you’re the one observing his every reaction, from the quirk of his brow to the way he occasionally licks his lips to wet them. The latter action sparks a memory of one week ago, when you indulged yourself in absurdly fantasizing about those very lips all over you. You press your legs together, ignoring the dull throb in between, and try not to think of it, focusing on the unsexiest things your mind can come up with. Climate change. Warts. Donald Trump.

“This is a good list to start with.” Hyunjin looks up at you, eyes twinkling. “All true, right?”

You nod, feeling a shy smile erupt on your face. “Yeah, I was kind of surprised with how doable-ish it was.”

“May I ask how? If I recall, you were quite opposed to this task last week.” Today, Hyunjin sits on the sofa with you instead of at his desk— too close, yet so far. 

You finger the one of the buttons on your blouse, mind already on the truth. But of course, you would never tell Hyunjin how masturbating to the thought of him made you feel aligned with your own body and sexuality, and maybe a little more willing to dare to think of what you like about yourself. Now that would be inappropriate.

“I just did some thinking,” you finally say after much deliberation. 

Hyunjin crosses one of his long legs over the other. “Interesting.”

“I guess.”

“If I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly?” Hyunjin lightly taps on his notepad with his pen, waiting for you to speak.

You give him a suspicious look. “Depends on the question.”

“Are you happy with yourself?”

His question confounds you, and yet, in a way, you also know why he asks it. A basic list of things that you like about yourself isn’t enough to turn over that table of insecurity and stagnant mindset that has hurt you for too long. It makes you understand that everything wrong in your life is because of an intrinsic cause, that ugly voice inside of you. Not because of something else… or someone. 

“I don’t think I am.” You bite your lip. “But I want to be.”

“Can you tell me why?”

You groan. “It stems from how I feel so undesirable right now. Like, I don’t want to be lonely, but I am. I mean, I’m kind of a shooting star for everyone. A fleeting moment of love, of comfort. I really wish I could be the fucking sun.”

Hyunjin leans forward swiftly, grasping your hands and startling you with their warmth. “You’re not a shooting star. And you’re not just the sun either. You are the whole solar system, honey. Please don’t ever think otherwise.”

Damn. The solar system? 

You hate when Irene calls you “honey,” but on Hyunjin’s tongue, it sounds loving, sweet, not like a patronizing ridicule. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, trying to ignore the way your heart is hammering in your chest. “But you’ve known me for, like, two seconds.”

If you don’t know any better, you would say that Hyunjin almost looks taken aback. But his features smooth over quickly. “Darling, I’m a professional. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You have a good heart. There is no reason why you can’t have everything you want.”

You try to focus on his words and take them in, but Hyunjin— simply the sexiest thing you have ever set eyes on— has deemed you beautiful. It’s both flattering and heart-fluttering, to say the very least. “Well, why don’t I? Why don’t I have everything I want, then?”

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “You just haven’t met the right person for you.”

You inhale at the husky tone of his voice. “And you’re going to help me with that, Hyunjin?”

“Yes. You don’t need therapy, definitely. The first step I take with my clients is acceptance. That comes with therapy, but you were able to identify the problem and acknowledge it. I say we address it now.”

“What do you recommend we do, then?”

Hyunjin clears his throat and flips to a new page in his notepad. “I’ll be your dating coach.”

You quirk your eyebrow at him. “What does that entail?”

“We need to fortify your self-esteem, first of all. So, confidence coaching. You’ll be getting weekly sessions with me in which I provide you with tips and guidance, almost like interactive lectures. In due time… you can be set up in our matchmaking office, if you’d like.” Hyunjin scribbles into his trusty notepad. “You made a good start with the list. Let’s get better.”

And you do. The next few weeks are like a bandaid on your wounded heart and mentality. Hyunjin helps you through building up your confidence, never once pushing you to run, only walking by your side. You expect him to give you information on pickup lines, how to dress, appropriate forms of touch, the science of love, and anything else that may improve your dating prospects, but much of his coaching is simply focused on you. You get one-on-one seminars from Hyunjin on the art of conversation, in which he guides you through being yourself, instead of being who you think you need to be. Hyunjin structures elaborate role-playing scenarios and critical thinking exercises in which you are coaxed out of your shell. And most significant of all, he teaches you that the most important relationship you can have is the relationship with yourself. 

You have always known that Hyunjin isn’t just any regular relationship therapist— or dating coach, or intimacy expert, or whatever other fancy moniker he adopts— but throughout your meetings, you come to feel like the boundaries have become blurred. Since the first time you saw him, he was able to read you like one of the glossy magazines stocked in the main lobby. But you slowly notice the fine details about him as well, from the neverending stack of classic poetry books on the white oak wall mount to how he bites his nails when he’s deep in thought.

The fascination you harbor morphs into a full-blown schoolgirl infatuation, resulting in you stalking his Instagram page and being totally invested in all of his old interviews, scouring for information on his dating status (no, you couldn’t find out if he is single or not). You’re completely enamored with Hyunjin and how free you feel around him. But one thing that doesn’t change is your burning desire for your unattainable guide, and the way you have to relieve yourself with your vibrator as soon as you rush home after your appointments.

You are sure that every single time you see Hyunjin, you’re being embarrassingly obvious, but he maintains his professionality, betraying nothing about himself except for a disarming smile. So you stay quiet, keeping your Hyunjin-affliction to yourself. But even in the face of your inappropriate struggle, for the first time, happiness doesn’t seem so foreign to you.

In spite of the honeymoon phase of your crush, in which you have blissfully daydreamed about Hyunjin, you still have your job to get to— gone is the racy maroon lingerie set you bought to spice up your solo sessions. However, your boring work suits and blazer-and-jeans combinations have been pushed to the back of your closet, in favor of you walking into the office wearing tight sheath dresses and skirts that show off your curves. You always believed that getting dolled up was strictly for special occasions or your man— when you thought you had one— but lately, you’ve been loving dressing up for yourself and enjoying the feeling of being sexy and liberated.

“Y/N! Get your ass over here!”

Your carefully curated mind bubble is rudely burst open when your boss yells for you from his office, not minding if the peace of the rest of the workers is preserved or not. You tie your hair up and dust off your skirt, making your way over to your boss’s office for what feels like the millionth berating you know you will receive.

“Yes?”

Mark Lee— your boss, who in your opinion, makes Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada look like a saint— turns around in his cushy Arhaus swivel chair, raising his eyebrows at your harried stats. Most people know him as the eccentric but lovable CEO of NCT Corporation, one of the world’s most prolific venture capital firms. However, you know him to be a truly two-faced monster that takes a sadistic pleasure in seeing the people beneath him crushed.

 “Is something wrong? Because there shouldn’t be.”

You force a smile. “You called me here, Mark.”

He lets out a mirthless guffaw, slapping his thigh. “Right.”

You roll your eyes as he shuffles through the papers on his desk and produces a small Manila envelope for you. Mark holds it out to you, and you take the packet.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Curious, you tear open the envelope and pull out a thick piece of stationary paper, an invitation to a networking event for tech entrepreneurs. Your pulse immediately begins to pick up, and you even dare to begin to dream of attending this golden opportunity. “Is this for me?”

“Kind of.” Mark clasps his hands together. “You’re planning this party!”

Your hesitant smile melts away. “What? I’m not your assistant, Mark. You already have one.”

“I know…” Mark trails off, popping a gummy bear into his mouth as he starts to spin around in his chair. “But no one is more passionate than you here, so you should do it.”

“But I’m busy with my actual job. I should be going to this party, not planning it! You know that.” You feel the frustration rise up in your chest like a tsunami, and you struggle to keep it at bay. “Come on, Mark. What the hell?”

Mark narrows his eyes at you, chewing on his fifth gummy. “No profanity, please.”

You nearly ball up the invitation and throw it onto Mark’s face. “You literally just screamed at me to get my ass in here.”

“I know, I’m hilarious.” Mark snickers, crumpling up his gummy bear packet and attempting to shoot it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. When he misses, his expression sours and he glares at you. “You should really check out the instructions I sent you and get to work. Even some SM Tech officers will be in attendance. For example, the director of the Dream division.”

Your heart drops. “What?”

Mark smirks malevolently, leaning closer towards you. “You know him, right? Jake, was his name? Or was it Jisung?”

You grind down on your teeth, fuming. Mark is just trying to rile you up, and it’s really working. He knows perfectly well that Jisung is your ex-boyfriend, as both Jisung and him are golf buddies at their exclusive course in Pasadena. However, he loves to play dumb to get a reaction out of you, and you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

You swallow back all of the disgusting insults you wish you could hurl at him, if you were braver and not hanging on to your job by a thread. “Don’t recall. I’ll take care of the party.”

You turn on your heel and march out of Mark’s office, purposefully slamming the door hard on the way out. You hear Mark’s cackling behind you, but you don’t dare to look back, because you don’t know what you’ll do. You slide into your cubicle once more, and have to resist the urge to turn over your whole desk like Wreck-It Ralph.

Years ago, in your final year of college, you founded ITEM Technologies with one of your classmates for your senior project. You hadn’t expected your professor to be so impressed that she submitted your portfolio to California’s biggest entrepreneurship competition, and you definitely didn’t expect for it to win first place, which meant you got access to a whole network of potential investors for your start-up. You had already accepted a job offer to be a software developer at NCT, but the thought of becoming your own boss through ITEM pulled at you like anything. Securing funding for ITEM through SM Technologies would be the final key in the system of locks keeping you from your dream, and the exclusive invitation to CODA— Silicon Valley’s biggest annual networking lunch for start-ups— was the ticket.

However, the day before the event, Jisung had broken up with you, and you had forgotten all about CODA, instead sleeping in after a whole night of crying. Later, after you woke up and realized what you had done, you found out that SM’s latest investment would be in Dream, a growing media company headed by none other than your new ex, Jisung. In twenty-four hours, he had both killed your dreams and your heart. And in due time, without proper funding, ITEM Tech would eventually fail, like many other promising but ill-fated start-ups.

And now? Jisung is living it up in your dream job while you’re groveling in the footsteps of your nightmarish excuse of a boss. Just touching a keyboard once filled you with so much joy, but now, you would rather smash it into bits before pressing a single key. Now you have to map out some stupid party for other start-ups. You’re a developer, not an event planner. You glare up at the ceiling, as if asking a higher power for an explanation for your crappy life. A moment later, your computer pings with a new email.

Like he’s a telepathic deity, Hyunjin has sent you a GIF of a baby llama waddling around a small pen, with text below that reads, “keep calm and llama on.” In spite of yourself, you laugh to yourself, and without thinking, you type in a response thanking him and ending in a winking emoji. Right after you send it, you fill up with regret. Was that inappropriate? The emoji? Too much? With an exasperated sigh, you stand up from your desk, shutting down your computer and heading over to the elevator, punching in buttons for the next floor. However, as soon as you open the door to the office of the one person who could probably talk some sense into you right now, you regret it. Afterall, he’s your part-time friend and full-time menace of a coworker.

“Fuck… don’t tease me like that when I’m not there,” Minho groans, before sighing wistfully into his phone. “I’ll be home soon.”

You silently gag, mentally slapping the shit out of yourself for walking in on a phone sex session, of all things. Minho hadn’t answered when you knocked on his door, so you had just assumed that he needed to be woken up from one of his notorious naps.

“I love you too. I’ll see you in a little bit.” Minho ends the call and turns around in his seat, happily humming to himself with a lovestruck expression on his face. He nearly falls out of his chair when he sees you hovering over him with a smirk on your face. “Jesus!”

“Seriously? Here? Now?”

“Shut the fuck up. I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Suuure.”

Minho rolls his eyes at your silly expression, unamused and crossing his arms. “Can I help you, Y/N?”

You rub one of your nails, thinking of how Hyunjin once complimented them. “You’re like my only friend.”

“I know.” He watches you collapse into one of the chairs in front of him. “But what happened to those Golden Bitches?”

“Golden Trio,” you correct, although Minho doesn’t miss the hint of a grin on your face at his intentional mistake. “And I’m done with them. Finally.”

You put your head down on Minho’s desk as he reaches into one of his desk drawers, pulling out a pack of Twizzlers and tossing them to you. “Talk.”

“It’s, um, kind of bad, though.” 

“I’m listening.”

Everything comes spilling out of your mouth: brunch at The Terrace, your new unpaid party-planning gig, and of course… Hyunjin. Your explanation is much more censored than the real thing, of course, because there’s no way you’re going to talk about your whole mango expedition with a married man. That is a whole new level of breaking boundaries, and you’ve crossed enough to know.

“Well… that’s basically it.” You swallow nervously, and suddenly, your throat feels very dry. “Mark sucks, and I’m thirsting after my therapist slash dating coach.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Minho says gently, a color that you weren’t even sure existed for him in public. His teasing persona always overtakes the tender one exclusively reserved for his other half. “The whole Hyunjin thing is probably just temporary. You’re still adjusting to considering romance as a possibility again.”

“Okay.”

“The right person will come along. It’s long, and it’s hard, but that journey will be worth it.”

“Says you. You and your wife are literally perfect. I mean, college sweethearts? If your life was a music soundtrack, it would be one of those cheesy love playlists that annoying couples make together.”

Minho just chuckles. “We had our ups and downs. But yeah, we kind of are perfect. She is perfect.”

He softly smiles to himself, gazing at the beautiful portrait of his wife that’s framed on his desk. He’s in his own world now, and you pat his shoulder. “Thanks for the help, Minho. You should go home.”

As you exit the NCT headquarters, you can’t help but feel your heart squeeze even tighter in your chest. Witnessing such a wholesome moment should have given you hope, a glimpse of a future you could have. Instead, it reminded you of what you can’t have right now— who you can’t have. 

You appreciate Minho’s efforts to make you feel better, but he just doesn’t know the full truth. Because your chat with him pushed up something very unpleasant that you’ve been avoiding for a while now. Your pink-loving, classic novel-reading, luxury-shopaholic dating coach is more than just the object of your explicit fantasies, all unbeknownst to him. You’ve started to love the person you become when you’re around him. You love how much more confident and happier you’ve become because of him. Hell, you have genuine feelings for him.

You are so fucked.

Spanning his entire career as a relationship therapist (and all of the other job titles; for God’s sake, he’s the Love Doctor), Hyunjin can’t really come up with any thorns in the rosebush. Sure, there have been a few snags, like that time his clients literally brought divorce papers to one of their meetings (he managed to convince them to take a romantic vacation to Bora Bora and bond more as a couple; it worked). Or when another client confessed to committing adultery with the family’s nanny halfway through a session (after persuading the wife not to murder her husband in the middle of his office, Hyunjin set them up with recovery counseling; that also worked). Life was predictable, but enjoyable. Just the way he likes it. 

Every single day used to begin the exact same way. He woke up at exactly five-thirty, before doing his favorite low-impact yoga routine in his home gym. Hyunjin liked being up early enough to watch the sun rise from the balcony of his West Hollywood penthouse, while drinking a cup of loose leaf Darjeeling tea, of course. His post Sun Salutation breakfast consisted of two slices of whole wheat bread topped with two organic scrambled eggs and extra virgin olive oil. He’d shower and spend a while wandering his walk-in closet, deciding what killer outfit to wear for work, his third favorite place after South Korea and the Taj Mahal. And then he drove to SeoulSpark in Cami, his beloved baby pink Cadillac that he splurged on after getting on Forbes 30 Under 30. 

Every single day used to end the exact same way. He’d leave work by six, after finishing up the last of his meetings. He’d browse on his MacBook for a nice recipe before cooking his dinner while jamming to Mariah on his Spotify Premium, and change the station to classical while eating. He took another shower, but taking more time to do his special avocado hair mask and full skin-care routine. Then Hyunjin liked to cozy up in his Versace bathrobe while catching up with the latest episode of Love Island and cuddling with his paw-dorable shih tzu, Princess Diana. Oh, and, he couldn’t unwind without kicking his feet back and downing a glass of pink champagne. And then he went to bed by eleven.

That was all before you, of course.

The day he met you, he was reminded of the sun. Yes, the way you roughly turned your chin to the side or rained down on him with your sharp words was more evocative of a thunderstorm. But then there was that dress, a pale yellow fluttering above your knees, and how your wide eyes had so expressively taken in your surroundings when you stepped into his office. The slightly awkward way you greeted him, when you harshly avoided his gaze when you were embarrassed. And the way you looked at him, your pretty lips pulled into a stubborn pout, but really, he could see the soft curiosity in your gaze. You were so mad at the world around you, all he wanted to do was take you onto his magic carpet and show you a new one.

He also really, really wanted to just rip that dress off your body and fuck you senseless. And when you started to eat that mango? He had to scramble to think of a list of unsexy things to avoid a boner right then and there. Chipped nails. Gonorrhea. Andrew Tate.

The following weeks weren’t any better, either. He felt like an inexperienced, horny teenager once again, lusting after the tiniest flash of skin. In your last meeting, Hyunjin had fixated on the tiny rip on your stocking that barely exposed the soft skin of your thigh. You hadn’t even noticed, but God, he was trying not to go crazy in his seat. 

Usually, other people are the ones who are seduced by Hyunjin’s charming nature, but ever since you, the once calm, elegant, and poised Hyunjin has been prone to being seduced by irrelevant wardrobe malfunctions. And the absolutely inappropriate thoughts of you that have now flooded his brain are constantly floating around, disturbing him. Yesterday, he slept-in, so he had to skip his morning yoga and was nearly late to work. Later, he fell asleep while fisting himself under the covers, forgetting to turn on his mood lighting and 528 Hz nighttime music. And today was an even bigger disaster, because he’d zoned out during his marketing meeting, thinking of bending you over his desk instead of advertising SeoulSpark. Ever since you, none of his days have been the same. Tonight is no exception.

Hyunjin turns the steel knob, cranking up the heat for no reason at all. Maybe he needs to feel the burn of the scalding water on his skin, shocking him back into reality, or perhaps, he needs to hide from his sanity in the steam, too ashamed to look out and into the bathroom mirror. 

The water pours down Hyunjin’s back as he steps under the steady stream, dousing himself and trying to forget about you. But it’s to no avail, because he feels his hand already moving down, roving over his Pilates-strengthened abs and slipping down to the one place that’s pleading for his attention. 

Hyunjin tilts his head back in the bliss of succumbing to temptation, slightly leaning his cheek against his shoulder as he strokes his hardened length slowly. He sucks in a sharp breath as he squeezes himself, deftly curving his wrist for a more impactful angle. Hyunjin is no stranger to a good lover, but right now he’s resorting to touching himself with the familiarity that only he is entitled to. Although, he would love to teach you about more than just confidence, giving you lessons on how to pleasure him, watching you work like the sexy aficionado that he believes you to be.

In his mind, he isn’t in the privacy of his bathroom, jerking himself off. No, he’s in his office, lying down on his luxe handwoven rug with you on top of him. You’re completely exposed except for the place where your yellow frock is scrunched around your waist, because you were so eager to have each other that Hyunjin hadn’t even bothered with completely undressing you. 

Hyunjin tightens his fingers around his cock and speeds up, pumping himself aggressively. He bites down on his lip and screws his eyes shut, as low, breathy moans escape him. He’s leaking already, flushed and throbbing under his palm. Hyunjin pushes a hand against the shower wall for support and whimpers at the thought of you riding him while slurping on that goddamn mango. He’s so delusional for you that you hadn’t even bothered with getting a knife to cut into the mango, instead holding it in your hand and biting into it while bouncing on his cock. 

Hyunjin lets out a groan as he strokes himself even faster, and he feels his orgasm rapidly approaching but refrains from releasing. He doesn’t deserve to come, not yet. He imagines your legs spread and your tight walls around him, instead of his own fist. Your cheeks are a deep red now, as Hyunjin pounds up into you, claiming you and making you his own. The juice from the mango is dripping all over your gorgeous breasts, trailing down even further and mixing with your own arousal. Hyunjin wonders about how you would taste. Were you as sweet as that mango you had eaten so damn seductively in front of him? No. You probably tasted even better. 

His soft moans have turned into harsh pants as Hyunjin’s hands begin to lose rhythm, unsteadily working his length. Hyunjin listens to your pretty sighs as you look down at him, pleasure and amusement contorting your features. 

“You want me so bad, don’t you?” 

“I do!” Hyunjin chokes out as a cry as the pressure rises in his core. He’s so, so close, the pearls of sweat rolling down his neck and becoming one with the water. 

“Hyunjin…”

Hyunjin’s name slips out of your mouth as easily as he flips you over onto your back, fucking harshly into you. He anchors his hand to your waist, gripping tightly, as you gaze up at him through your half-lidded eyes. Your bare chests are pressed together in a sticky haze of both your sweat and the juice of the mango you have now abandoned for something more satiating. Spurred on by the fucked-out smile on your face, he brings his free hand to your lips and you obediently suck on his fingers, wishing it was his cock instead. But you’re still in control, directing him with your eyes and whispering sweet praises to him. And then you’re clenching around him, your body shuddering underneath Hyunjin’s as you reach the peak of your ecstasy. 

“I need you to come for me, Hyunjin.”

Your final command makes Hyunjin convulse and tense, his back arching as he finally chases after his release. Hyunjin thrusts into his hand, overcome by the thought of you judging him while he comes. Hyunjin’s knees go weak as he strokes himself through his orgasm, violently spasming against the Carrara marble walls of his shower. His release shoots out in hot spurts, painting his trembling thighs and the walls a thick white. 

Breathless, Hyunjin opens his eyes and washes off his shame, but there’s only so much that water and coconut body wash can do. The moment he prepares to step out of his steaming shower, Hyunjin feels anything but cleansed— his situation is quite the opposite. The unholy thoughts that he had touched himself to had done anything but subside, struggling behind the dam in his mind that contains his last shreds of dignity. As he opens the door leading to his bedroom, the shock of cold air conditioning against his damp skin is a harsh reminder of reality. 

Hyunjin’s relationship with you is strictly limited to his office, the place where he did not get to fuck you in. Any discourse with sexual content is limited to your personal romantic endeavors that he has no role in whatsoever. You have zero idea about his filthy fantasies involving you, and see him merely as the person who would help you find happiness with someone else. Not him. He’s your therapist, and in clinical terms, you could be his patient.

The mirage of you standing in front of him disagrees, however. 

“You’re technically not my therapist—  more like my counselor.” 

Hyunjin watches with wide eyes as you bound over to him. Smirking, you playfully toy with the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist.

“But I am feeling kind of sick, though, Dr. Hwang. I’m all hot and aching, just for you.”

“Go away! You can’t be here.” Hyunjin shakes his head, quickly walking over to his closet and getting into his silk batik pajamas. “I’m going crazy…”

Princess Diana nips at Hyunjin’s ankles, prodding him to go back to his normal self and snuggle with her while they watch reality TV. 

“I just can’t right now, Diana,” Hyunjin exclaims exasperatedly. She gets the hint and slinks away, leaving Hyunjin alone in his bedroom.

He hadn’t even bothered with turning on the lights, the glimmering Los Angeles skyline past his expansive windows casting a pale glow in his room. If mindreading was a real thing, Hyunjin would be done for, because the thoughts that had transpired today would ruin him, shrivel up his reputation and business. If this went beyond the confines of his home, continuing to force itself into his daily life, he could lose everything. His job, his name, his purpose. Nevertheless, Hyunjin feels his hand sliding down once more, like a sinful memory of the past. It’s going to be another long night, and what happens tomorrow is variable. But Hyunjin knows one thing to be true.

He is so fucked.

«NEXT CHAPTER» · «GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

That was the longest thing I've ever written for one piece. AND IT'S ONLY CHAPTER 1 LMFAO. Anyway, hope you liked it, loves! I'll be hiding under my blankets tonight and screaming about my first published smut scene EVER. Please leave your thoughts, I don’t mind if you leave a whole essay ;) -Dreamy

TAGLIST

@skzfelixlove @army-stay-noel, @hwangjuhong, @chizumiyoshi @hyunjinswifeee @geneziesm @sherryblossom @yeetfellx @bennetbutton @chillseo @hyuneyeon @seosalad @nhyunn @hyunjinnie2000 @ajxreads @n2tl4na @yeahsspider @8makes1scream ***The users that I could not tag are written in pink***

If you'd like to join the taglist, click here!

📢 ©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kflixnet #k-labels #straykidsland #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #anti-romantic #stray kids fic #skz fic #hyunjin fic #stray kids #skz #kpop imagines #skz au #kpop fic #stray kids au

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

BALLERINA - Chapter Fifteen (Epilogue)

A Jake Kiszka AU

Physiotherapist!Jake x Original Female Character

Previous Chapter.

Story Masterlist

A/N: Hi everyone! This is the final chapter of Iris and Jake’s story. Honestly, I never thought I'd be able to finish my very first chaptered fic, but here we are, finally. I'd like to thank everyone who enjoyed this little story. A big thank you goes to those who supported me and encouraged me throughout the writing of this fic. You know who you are😉

I really hope you like this!

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings for this chapter: angst, nerves, feelings.

_________________________________

Paris, a year later.

Those mirrors along the walls were reflecting her every move and she kept seeing mistakes that didn't even exist.

Iris had been dancing and practicing for almost ten hours now. Her muscles burned but she didn't really care. She wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

It was getting dark outside, signaling to her that it was almost time to go home. The next day was going to be her day. The most important one in years.

She practiced a few more moves and then packed her bags and walked the short distance separating the ballet school from her flat.

Her little rented flat, right next to her sister's, was tiny, in true parisian fashion, but it was wonderful. From her small balcony she could even see the Sacré-Cœur; its pearlescent white stones were shining even brighter with the full moon.

She tried to calm her nerves by admiring the beautiful basilica from afar, but it was useless. She was so nervous she couldn't stop her hands from shaking and her heart from hammering in her throat.

The next day was going to be a big step for her. It was the day in which she was going to dance again in front of a crowd after a year and a half.

And she couldn't stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

After tossing and turning for a while, she managed to finally turn off her brain and rest.

~

The next day, she woke up early. After a quick breakfast, she checked if she had everything she needed in her bags and left for the Opéra Garnier.

It didn't matter how many times she saw that theatre. Every time her eyes landed on its golden statues and white columns it was like the first. Little tingles travelled down her spine every time.

She showed her badge to the security at the entrace and reached her dressing room backstage.

She placed her bags on the floor, changed into her ballet shoes and started rehearsing again, trying to stop overthinking and fighting the urge to run away from there and never come back. It took her a while to finally silence the insufferable voice in her head that kept telling her that she was going to miserably fail but, eventually, she managed to do so, drowning that insecurity under the music of her choreography.

Before she knew it, her time was up.

Looking at the clock on the wall, she realized that her turn was quickly approaching.

The buzzing of her phone startled her.

She wiped her sweaty trembling hands on her leggings and read the text she had just received.

It was from her sister. She was telling her that the theater was packed and wishing her good luck using the French word “merde” like a true Parisian.

She smiled but her heart was threatening to jump out of her chest at any moment.

She finished getting ready and, when there were only 20 minutes left before her turn, she exited her dressing room.

Her heartbeat was deafening in her ears as she walked towards the stage.

She felt like a robot.

She wasn't even paying enough attention to her surroundings the closer she got to the stage so, when a pair of cold hands wrapped around her waist and dragged her behind the heavy velvet curtains, she was positively scared.

She gasped and thrashed around to escape, but a whisper in her ear made her stop abruptly.

“Iris”

Jake.

He was there.

Tears started flowing freely down her cheeks and she immediately relaxed in his grasp.

She quickly turned around and kissed him passionately, feeling his comforting presence in every cell of her body.

He cradled her face in his hands and caressed her cheeks, tenderly wiping away her tears with his thumbs.

“You told me you couldn't make it" Iris whispered.

“I told you I wasn't sure of it. I managed to arrive last night” Jake whispered back, a little smirk of mischief on his beautiful face.

“And you didn't tell me?!” She exclaimed, incredulous.

“I didn't want to distract you with my presence. But, as soon as I got here, I kept thinking about the fact that you were so close to me and I really couldn't stop myself from needing to see you, to touch you, to kiss you.” he said truthfully, blushing slightly and lowering his gaze to the floor.

She grasped his face and kissed him like it was the first time and almost lost herself in the kiss.

“Thank you” she whispered on those plump lips that she had come to know so well.

The sharp call to the stage made them both flinch and jump.

They shared a last kiss and a look full of love, before parting with a whispered “I love you.”

The moment she reached the stage the nerves were still present but she felt a lot less upset than before.

She could still feel the warmth of his presence on her lips and fingertips and that helped her immensely.

The air was cool all around her but her heart, so full of love, burned like a pyre in the night, lighting up everything with its orange glow.

The applause of the crowd filled her with joy and energy and when, finally, the first few notes of the music echoed in the room, she felt her feet start to move on their own accord, following the lead of her ever-present passion for dancing.

Throughout the performance she only ever had eyes for him, letting his calming presence guide her mind into a state in which nothing could hurt her anymore.

She had forgiven him two weeks after she had left for Paris and had abandoned him on the curb in front of her house, on that stormy morning of June, with teary eyes and a broken heart.

She had finally come to terms with the fact that life without him was simply unbearable.

She had mulled over the whole predicament so much she had given herself so many headaches, but, eventually, she came to the conclusion that, in his shoes, she would have probably done the same to protect her sister.

She realized he hadn't even meant to fall for her. It had happened. And she was so glad she felt the same and was ready to share her life with him.

When she had called him the first time, he hadn't answered and it scared her to death.

He had called her back in the middle of the night saying that he was in surgery when she had first called and asking if she was alright. He sounded extremely worried.

They had switched to a video call almost immediately and they had cried, laughed and talked for four entire hours.

The next weekend they were finally together. They had dinner in a cute little restaurant near Montmartre and then they went straight to her flat because they couldn't keep their hands off each other any longer.

He had flown to Paris a few more times while she attended the internship there and, every time, they went to visit museums and galleries together. They were always connected in some way. Her hand on his bicep, his arm around her shoulders, their fingers brushing when they walked. It was as if one was afraid to lose the other at any given moment.

Deafening applause brought her out of her thoughts abruptly.

Everyone in the room was on their feet praising her for her beautiful piece.

But three smiles were the only ones that she had eyes for.

She couldn't stop her tears from spilling while looking at them.

Her sister was standing between a very proud Jake, who mouthed a little “I love you” and Josh, who winked at Iris when he saw she was watching him and sent her a little kiss.

Their eyes were shining and their smiles beaming with love for her.

And it was all that ever mattered.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading!❤️

Taglist: @gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jessicafg03 @doodle417 @hellowgoodbye @ejoygvf @jaketlover @jakekiszkasbabymama @objectsinspvce @indigostreakmorgan @witchofendora @myleftsock @gretavanshmeat @gretasfallingsky @giraffehippy @jennasometimesreads @katiegvf @sinarainbows @laney_gvf @themorningbirds @starcatcherchords @lipstickitty @meetingthestardust @joshskittytickler @livkiszka @twistedmelodies @ignite-my-fire @gvfmarge @writingcold @brujamagik @edgingthedarkness @gold-mines-melting @mindastreamofcolours @blacksoul-27 @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mapelsyrup07 @klarxtr @takenbythemadness @peaceloveunitygvf @lyndz2names @jazzyfigz @its-interesting-van-kleep @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @jakekiszkasbuttsweat

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #gvf fic #greta van smut #jake kiszka #fanfic #jake kiszka smut #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader

[atinyjules]

MY BALLERINAS - JENO

Pairings: Dad!Jeno x Female oc

Genre: fluff, established relationship, dad au.

Warnings: none

Characters: Jeno, Jaemin, Haechan, Si-ah (4), Soo-ah (2), Chaein (3), Chaeyeon (2), Bomin (4), Haerin (2)

An hour after Jeno had taken a time out from decorating the backyard with pink mesh drapes, everything you would possibly need for a tea party and a lot of pink decor he woke up with a groan, rubbing his eyes. Letting out a sigh as he stretched his body and yawned.

Being the sole male of the household was hard work, especially when both his daughters loved hosting tea parties. But he wouldn't have had it any other way. He was in the process of preparing one such tea party. The girls would be back home in an hour from their cousins place so he had to finish getting everything ready. And it did not help that his wife was in Paris for a performance.

"Okay, I'm done!" he exclaimed in victory and looked at his masterpiece with pride.

And as though on queue, the familiar sound Jaemin's cars pulling up in front of the house caught his attention as Jeno went out to greet his two princesses.

"Daddy!" He picked up Si-ah who ran to him and engulfed her in a tight bear hug.

"Hey Princess! You had fun?" she nodded at that as Jaemin got out of the car with Soo-ah fast asleep in her baby carrier on his right and Haerin in her carrier on the other side.

"Hey Bomin!" Jeno greeted his nephew who hugged him and greeted him.

"Hi uncle Jeno!"

"I hoped they weren't a menace to you." Jeno asked as he took Soo-ah's baby carrier from Jaemin's hand.

"Of course not! They were well behaved like Princesses, just like their mama right Si-ah?" Jaemin said to which Si-ah agreed almost instantly.

"Okay, that's great." Jeno said as Jaemin gave him a smug smile.

"I mean they do get it from their mama's side of the family." he said earning a sigh from Jeno.

"If you say so." Jeno said as they laughed it off and went in.

"Woah...I'm impressed." Jaemin said looking at the set up as Si-ah and Bomin gasped.

"Daddy! It's amazing!!" Si-ah exclaimed and hugged her father who grinned proudly.

"It's sooo....Pink!" Bomin exclaimed earning a loud chuckle from his father.

"It's a tea party Bomin." Jaemin told his son who only groaned in response.

"But I'm a boyy!"

"Shut uppp it's beautiful! It's just like my mommy! Elegant and cheek!" Si-ah said as Jeno chuckled.

"Chic, Si-ah, chic." Jeno said as she nodded.

"Oh!"

"Am I going to be the only boy?" Bomin asked Jeno who shook his head.

"You have me and your dad!" Jeno replied as Jaemin nodded his head when a car pulled up in front of the house.

"All hail the Princesses of the Lee Empire!!" They went out to see Haechan putting out a red carpet towards the door.

"What in the world-" Jeno was cut off by Haechan.

"Shush! Its a royal tea party! Chaeyeon come over here with your sister!" he said as a toddler clad in a poofy blue ball gown came out of the car with her little sister who were a matching blue gown.

"HII!!" Chaeyeon exclaimed loudly and went to hug Si-ah, Soo-ah, Bomin and Haerin.

"Shh! Baby, Haerin and Soo-ah are sleeping!" Haechan whispered to his daughter.

"OH!!" She exclaimed loudly causing everyone to flinch.

While the kids were going about their tea party the fathers were all watching them with loving eyes from the kitchen.

"Aren't they adorable~" Haechan cooed as Jeno and Jaemin agreed while snapping pictures.

"Too bad Eunbi has work, she would've totally loved this." Jaemin said referring to his younger twin and Jeno's wife.

"Yeah...she wanted to be present for this but there's always next time." Jeno said as Haechan chuckled.

"I bet Bi chose the girl's outfits." Haechan said as Jeno chuckled.

"Yup, I thought you wouldn't notice." Jeno said as Jaemin snorted.

"They're literally wearing pink matching ball gowns with a swan tiara...the whole look screams Eunbi." Jaemin said as Jeno looked at his daughters trying to mimic their mother's dance steps with love and adoration.

"Yeah, it does...gosh I love them so much." Jeno confessed as Haechan chuckled.

"Look at us, fatherhood turned us into goddamn softies." Haechan said as Jaemin smiled looking at the kids.

"I'm not complaining though, fatherhood made us happier even though the circumstances were out of our control." He said and looked at Jeno whose eyes were fixated on his two princesses.

" I definetly am a lot happier with the three of my girls." Jeno said as they continued watching the kids try ballet with the sound of Si-ah and Soo-ah's music box playing in the background.

Whether the circumstances were out of his control or not Jeno knew for sure that he won't regret nor plan on doing so anytime soon. Whether it meant having to be surrounded by pink his whole life and organizing tea parties, if it meant that he gets to be with his Ballerinas for the rest of his life he was willing to do it for eternity.

#nct dream dad au #nct dream fluff #nct dream masterlist #nct aus #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct mark #nct jaemin #nct haechan #nct chenle #nct jisung #ballerina #nct dream young dads #nct dream

[rrazon]

"What does my prince want?"

Will Cipher x Reader SMUT STORYYYYYY🌶🌶

Both are in a established relationship and are adults, both are shy in their on way and most important, both are in love.

🌶

Notes:

Will Cipher is in his human form.

In this AU, he was a slave of the Dipper siblings, but YN freed him and kind of ruin the plans these evil monsters executed in Gravity Falls. So in the process of this war they fall in love, and after finding some peace, Will with the love of his life, YN, have been working on a Coffee Shop of their own, while also trying to live the life they both want.

So one night Will shows an interest on a fancy restaurant that he wants to visit for a date, but Will is not human after all so he tends to suffer of heat suddenly, a nature of wanting to breed and have kids in his species✌️🖤

A hairgel.

He didn't like to use much of it, because of the stickiness.

So he came out of the bathroom, kind of bothered after fixing his hair, that was causing him problems so much now that it was already long; the length that he could no longer manage, and he had to use more gel than usual.

He entered the room, that you both shared together comfortably after all the mess that the evil siblings made him pass months ago in town, and with the bottle of gel in his hand, he stood stiffly looking at you.

Some part in his soul knew...

"But you didn't show me the dress..." He said surprised watching you get out of the dresser.

"I think it's fine, really..." You said unsure. "I have tried a lot of these today, don't worry" You motioned your hand.

He doesn't know much about girls, but not showing him the dress you were buying was weird. But maybe you were tired, both of you were, actually running a coffee shop is not that easy as everyone say.

"By the way, we have to get dinner, I know you're hungry" You said palming his chest softly and kissing him on the cheek before going to the cashier.

Know he knows... that thing you bought with a pout last week, was gonna be a madness.

Dark blue dress with sparkles clung like a glove to your waist.

Loosening slightly on your legs, almost dancing around them and caressing their softness, starting to tease that part of his brain...

Too naughty.

Making him think bad things... things that good boys don't do... Things like imagining those legs on his shoulders.

So beautiful. So pretty. So innocent, you didn't even know how good you looked on your cute rounded ass putting your heels on.

Plus, the revealing breast cut made enough effort to show off your boobies.

The ones he bitterly cried on at the end of the day when you were comforting him after someone yelled at him for messing up an order, the ones he likes to sleep on when he's tired just before dinner, the ones he likes to play mindlessly with when he's on his phone playing a one hand-game with a frown because he's losing, the ones he likes pressed on his chest hugging and kissing you after putting a bikini on... the ones he loves to suck and stick his tongue at... the ones he watches bounce when your whimpering on top of him... the ones you put around his dick while you...

"Mm... I don't know... but I think I'm done?"

You say, finishing arranging your heels in the same blue as the dress and the thin bows that reached to the calf accentuating your little feet like a fairy.

You turned in front of the mirror to see if the heels still matched the dress, checking the front... checking the back... And after twirling like a ballerina, by the face you made, he knew you weren't satisfied with the look so you got closer to the mirror.

"Haa.."

He murmured just to fill the silence. You didn't hear him and checked your eyebrows.

"My love, are you ready mmh?"

You asked softly with a puff after the effort of putting on your heels, making Will wake up from his trance remembering that he still had the bottle of gel in his hand.

"Haa..." He exclaimed surprised looking at the gel.

"Oh yeah heh..." He laughed looking at you briefly then to the dresser.

You just smiled to him and returned to the mirror.

He took a step to put the gel on the dresser, that always had more of your products than his, endearing of you...

But you moved in the corner of his eye, and he stopped his track slowly again.

You were now touching the thin chain straps on your shoulders with that precious "french" manicure ( as you liked to say) that you did yesterday.

And with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

You were thinking that this dress was decent enough for your so planned date, at that restaurant that Will wanted to try after seeing that many well dressed couples came to enjoy themselves quietly and sit on the roof to talk while having a drink.

"Umm..." He murmured in the same spot, trying to say something, grabbing the bottle stronger and wondering what you were thinking.

And actually, you were thinking that you had planned a more 90s style but with those little chains and the makeup you had already put on, you really didn't know if THAT was what you really wanted to wear.

But anyways... you were having a date with your beautiful boyfriend in a fancy restaurant that you were able to afford and that was enough.

So you put on your blueberry flavored lipgloss.

"What did you say baby?" You asked getting the remaining lipgloss out of your lips, and moving your hair back to its place to look at your man.

He was in awe.

"Uh..." He said with mouth almost wide open.

Then he came to his senses with a smile and rolling eyes.

"Stop giving it a thought, you look so pretty..." Smiling and shaking his head.

"Listen..." He laughed quietly.

Finally lifting his hand from the bottle, he pointed jokingly with that boyish voice you loved.

"I almost dissolve seeing you after coming through the door... And I imagine you are making a whole comparison pic with the mirror!"

"Hahaa stopp-" You wheezed.

He laughed a little with you. Then he put his hand on the bottle again, and his smile faded. A more "serious" expression on his face.

"But you look so pretty, angel..." He finished quietly.

Always shy, but he always said what his heart meant.

"Mmph.." You smiled and blushed, feeling your body warming to his beaitiful thoughts.

"Thank you..." You said with a smile and now shy but jokingly fluttering your eyelashes looking away briefly making him laugh.

Then you smiled bigger, setting your eyes on him. Now focusing.

"But what are talking about? YOU, you look so handsome" You squeaked after seeing the elegant outfit and hair style your boyfriend had prepared while you were getting dressed.

So you walk to him and changed your excited expression to a more mischievous one in a joking way.

"Who is this man?" You said taking a step.

"What is this precious angel doing in my home?" You continued looking at him with a bigger smile.

He was already smiling from the first comment, but to this, he first blushed and laughed.

"Stop, I don't," he said, rolling his eyes and smiling, then he looked down and realized that the gel was still in his hands.

"yes you are..." You say now more quietly and near him, getting to look at the way his shirt was fitted in his body too perfectly.

He hurriedly walked the short distance to the table and left the gel in its respective place.

Meanwhile, your hand started to caress his forearms.

And after forgetting about the existence of the gel.

He slowly grabbed your waist with one arm while the other reached for a cloth to remove the gel residue that the cap had left on his fingers.

"Hum, so are you readyy?" You sang, now caressing the fabric on his shoulders and raising your hands to his neck.

Stopping your fingers on his ears and chin.

Appreciating with your eyes the absolute appearance of your boyfriend.

Long eyelashes that you envied.

Lips making a small pout.

Thick eyebrows.

Marked jaw but with puffy cheeks that you always liked to kiss and hold.

Finally the hairstyle that put so much effort into it, even so, a few small rebellious hairs came out on his forehead.

"Um, yeah..." He said after putting the wet wipe somewhere on the table, while you kissed his cheek as you did every time he got ready.

He smiled. Showing his bright teeth.

The smile that he tried to hide when he first met you.

This always seemed funny to him.

But you kissed him for thay tiny detail. To watch him blush and smile.

He didn't know the reason, but he knew that part of you very well in his routine.

Whenever he finished changing his clothes or getting ready.

You would approach his hair carefully and kiss him on the cheek, even if he was far away you would take his jaw and kiss him to tell him to be careful in a joking way.

Because you said he looked so handsome.

He smelled really good.

And many girls would want to take him from you where no one knows, while he was laughing at that.

All of this you liked to say, while you caressed or hugged his shoulders and pressed your body towards his. 

"So do I look good?" He asked innocently, looking into your makeup eyes as he caressed your back with that tension of his hand and strong fingers that you like and miss when you are alone.

His eyes strayed to your lips, which he soon wanted to kiss.

"Of course" you said smiling and caressing his cheek.

"As always..." you approached him to give him a small kiss on the lips, a blueberry flavored one.

" You look THAT good" you said and both laughed softly.

"Stop too much teasing" He said playfully and gently pushing your arms away with his hands.

In fact, for him it was being so much that his member was making an appearance in his pants. And the least he wanted was to ruin them before the date.

So he separated you a little from him.

While you hadn't realized the effect you had on this man. Because you were also thinking about eating your elegantly wrapped hottie. You would give your life for him it was proved.

But the meal you had prepared for 2 weeks, and obviously you didn't want to miss the much planned dinner with you two being busy on weekdays.

"Baby..." You asked with a flashy smile. "and what time did you make the reservation?" hoping very deeply that you would have time to do something evil.

"At 7:30 pm," he said looking for the keys he had left on the nightstand after closing the cafe late the day before.

"Humm... ok" you said smiling going to look for your blue purse that already had your things inside.

While he looked at you after having picked up the car keys, fidgeting with them in his hands trying to ignore your perfectly shaped back that the dress showed so freely.

"I'm ready" you said putting the purse on your shoulder and fixing a lock of your hair.

"Then let's go, princess..." he said meeting your eyes with an excited smile, but in reality he didn't want to go out yet.

His body too hot for his own heart.

Fire igniting in his hands and eyes. His breath trying not to release a whimper.

Wanted to enjoy your outfit that you had worked so hard to look good because you were going out with him.

Your makeup although your face was already beautiful without that. Your legs that your dress rubbed mockingly at him. Your heels that in the same way mockrd him on how fast both of you were going towards the door. And finally your lips, that damn shining gloss smiling at him with lust.

You looked so pretty and he didn't want to turn back to look at you.

cuz he knows he's too weak for many things and you are on the top of that list.

You are that list.

"Oh wait." You said stopping suddenly, out of your own trance too.

You were thinking of taking his hand. Just before going out of your house and telling him with a huff innocently how you wanted him right now.

But you remembered one detail.

"I have to check the kitchen" you said running to check if everything was turned off because earlier you cooked.

One time Will let the fire on and almost burn the kitchen, because he was boiling water for a noodle soup and you got in the shower after a lazy afternoon, so he tried to follow your directions on boiling the water but too distracted on watching the tv that he forgot the stove.

But right now, there is another fire spreading in Will.

Your scent, the smell of your delicious perfume, is making his chest so heavy.

The thought of taking your dress off making his member a furnace. His breath like a dragon. And his hands so twitchy.

Will turned around, and wait for you.

You had this man on a chokehold with your abscence.

Wanting nothing more than get close to you, make you sit in his lap while you tell him how good he feels...

Thinking about clothed sex, he doesn't wanna ruin the outfits, but he knows that's not an option either.

As soon as your little steps were heard his heart accelerated.

And as you approached he gave a second look. To the way your whole existence looked in that dress.

He was decided.

He checked the watch. It was 5:30pm.

"OK baby let's go" you said softly while the perfume you put on went stronger to his nostrils, that was it.

He placed a hand on your bare shoulder gently to apply strength.

And pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you, as your soft chest and his pressed against each other.

He was never rough, he has always remained gentle, in fact, both of you have been.

But Will had difficulties controlling his heat when it always came that hard.

And the idea of making you mewl in or out of that dress was a mission for him now.

As you stood there, wrapped in his arms, he couldn't resist the urge any longer.

"Will... Do you- mph-" You tried to say caressing his chest.

But with a sudden burst of passion, he pressed his lips against yours, tasting the sweet blueberry flavor of your lip gloss again.

"My baby, I'm feeling..." His hands roamed eagerly over your body making the dress fold with every motion of him.

While he kissed you, leaving your back.

"... so hot..." tracing the curves of your waist.

".. right..." and sculpting your hips through the soft fabric of your dress.

"... now... mmph" He said opening your mouth with his, and sticking his tongue to touch your bottom lip.

As you felt his arms enveloping you, a shiver ran down your spine, igniting a fiery desire within you.

You tried to play strong, but yeah you weren't immune to Will's charming nature.

His touch, always gentle, now held a hint of urgency, a longing to possess you completely playing with your hips trying to get closer as if it was possible.

"But love..." you said separating a little.

Maybe THAT season was starting.

With your bodies pressed against each other, you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, matching the intensity of your own desire.

"Will..." you whispered his name "Baby, ..." your voice excited with need as you tilted your head back, exposing the curve of your neck to his hungry gaze. "the dinner..." His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing hot kisses along its length, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Mphh... my lovee"

"Princess..." he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire as he nipped and sucked at your neck, marking you as his own. "Mmph babyy..." you said melting, your hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and flex beneath your touch, driving you wild with desire.

"There's time..." He said, while his lips moved hungrily against one soft spot in your clavicle, exploring every inch as if it were the first time.

Those hotties were looking like marshmallows so soft so he palmed your breasts through the dress while his tongue was still on your body. "My love..." you said, touching his face and with hazy eyes from all the lust you felt. "My love, let's go to the bedroom" you said bringing his lips to yours.

With a swift movement, he lifted you up without separaring your sweet mouth to his, carrying you effortlessly towards the bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, craving the feel of his body against yours.

"My precious princess..." He moaned, as he laid you down on the bed. "The way you look so good..." he whined. His hands began to explore every inch of your body, worshipping you like a goddess. "This dress..." He laughed sweetly looking into your eyes. "You didn't want to buy it"

Both were so lost in lust. "Baby... hehee" You laughed with him and kissed him. "So, I guess you liked it"

"Mmph... more than that" He said, his cock straining in his pants. "Princess..." He said taking your fragile hand to his cock.

"What do you want baby mmph?" You said kissing and licking his cheek. He sat down and he pushed you to him. "What does my baby want mmph?" You said getting closer to him straddling his lap.

"Princess..." He felt the bedroom too hot, as he always does when you are looking at him like that.

Everything was hot, his body and yours, the air, the bed... "Please..." he said

That was it for you. You open his pants, take them off, you kissed him and trail a lot of kisses to his neck and stomach after opening his shirt, cuz you knew Will liked when you were all made up like that, because deep inside he thought pretty girls like you would never be bobbing your head like that for him but there you were doing exactly that and moaning.

"Oww angel..." Your pussy was throbbing when this man moaned that sweet. "Ah... please more" His breath shivering. Your tongue teasing and exploring every inch of his dripping cock. His moans filled the room, echoing off the walls as you almost brought him to his peak.

"Angel..." he mewl watching you through hazy eyes, the way you kept bobbing your head and moaning

"Will..." you said taking his cock out of your mouth and licking from the bottom of his dick to the top, the take it again with a reverbating moan.

"Baby..." he said through his teeth. Your mouth feels so good with the way you are on your knees and moaning for him like his some sort of a divine lollipop. "You know..." You took all his cock to the back of your throat while touching his balls "ahhmphh..."

"What?..." You said looking innocently through your lashes. "What does my prince want?" You try to articulate while you take the massive and giant lollipop your sweet boyfriend has in your pretty lips.

He almost came again.

So he pushed you off his cock slowly and sweetly, trying not to come in your pretty face, and with the left force "I almost came..." he brought you to his lips. "Baby? Mmph.... " He whined, giving you another kiss. "U taste so good mphh..." He kissed you and you both moaned. "You smell so good..." He said reaching for your hand in the most delicate way to get you closer to him and for you to sit on his lap again. "You are so good... to me..." He whined and you moaned loudly at the idea of you being too good for him after saving him from those horrible people.

"No, you are" You closed your arms behind his head bringing him impossibly closer while your mouths were dancing and biting each bottom lips.

Then he exhaled and he smiled, feeling your heat caressing his member as you got closer. "We both are..." Murmured separating himself from you to kiss your jaw, neck and clavicle.

And while you were panting, his lips trailed down your chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the swell of your breasts, before putting some of the fabric of the dress aside and capturing one of your nipples between his lips, sucking and teasing until you moaned with pleasure.

"Owww baby..." you said while hands tangled in his hair, urging him on as he worshipped your body with his mouth, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your sensitive flesh.

The sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you as you arched your back, offering yourself to him.

But the dress was still on.

So he started to take it off from the bottom of your body to the top, while you positioned yourself on his lap again.

"Wait princess..." He lifted you off from the hips while you hug his shoulders obediently, so he can lay you down and take your panties.

But he always made it slow like admiring a statue or a paint, fascinated by the shape of your hips and the softness of your waist.

"Babyyy... mmph" You moaned desperately, taking his hand to your panties to take them off. He laughed and kissed you taking your hands to lift them up away from what he was doing.

"Yn we were going to eat something" He said mocking you jockingly while taking your very wet panties off of you with kisses in your stomach while you mewl.

"But I'm gonna eat u instead angel..."

With a growl of hunger, he moved lower, trailing butteeflies down your stomach and baring you to his hungry gaze. You mewl wildly as his lips found the apex of your thighs, his tongue flicking out to taste your arousal.

"Will..." you moaned his name, your voice trembling with need as he buried his face between your legs, devouring you with a hunger that left you breathless.

"My love..." You clutched at the sheets, your body writhing with pleasure as he worked his magic, his tongue slipped through your wet fold while his hands stabilized your hips to his mouth.

"Beautiful baby..." You said exposing yourself more to Will.

"I know..." He said after giving it a lick and just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as he stripped off his clothes, revealing his throbbing length.

With a groan of anticipation, he positioned himself at your entrance, his gaze locked with yours as he slowly, agonizingly, pushed inside.

"You're mine only mine..." He said taking your hips gently but possesive. Only you know how Will can be such a needy man when he looks too innocent.

The sensation was overwhelming, filling you completely as he began to move...

"Only yours..." "Oh baby..." "My Will..." "My sweet boyfriend..." You said with each thrust driving you higher and higher towards the edge of oblivion. While he prays "Yn..." "My love..." "So good... so good..."

You clung to him desperately, it was hot really hot and lost in a haze of pleasure he drove you both towards climax.

You both felt that good on each other, you felt too tight and he felt too enormous, and in the middle of everything you were making a lot of noise and juices. With a cry of a release, you shattered, your body convulsing around him as he followed you over the edge, his own release crashing over him in waves of ecstasy. He felt on you, and for a minute, together, you lay tangled in each other's arms, breathless and sated.

Then you laughed, and he turned his head to you with a smile.

"What time is it?" You asked caressing his hair now all messed up.

He laughed. "I think we can still go there..." He said giving you a kiss. "Right?"

"Yeah I think so..." You said smiling to him, but pouting after feeling the sweat on your face. "After washing ourselves..." You said panting still, now your lungs recovering from the workout

"Very quickly..." He said with a mischievous smile, grabbing his hair, throwing the little rebellious strands out of his face and panting a little recovering too.

"Yes baby" You said with a big grin.

Now you both know why the couples in that restaurant always were so touchy and smily before entering.

#will cipher #Willcipherxreader #Will Cipher x Reader #bill cipher #bill cipher x reader #will cipher x reader #gravity falls #sloppyblowjob #tongue #bath #sloppy deepthroa #muscle #Human Will Cipher x Reader

[telltale-vixen]

That Which the Eye Admires, the Heart Desires <3: Imperial Ballet AU

Thrawn x Female Human! Reader

Rating: 18+ in general, especially moving forward.

Warnings: None for this chapter, I am sure.

Plot: You are a soloist for the Grand Coruscant Ballet. What happens when you get pushed into the principal ballerina’s role suddenly and catch the eyes of a certain Grand Admiral?

****************************************************

Chapter I: The Opportunity of a Lifetime Pt. I

5 days. We have 5 days to add the finishing touches to our production. 5 days until Empire Day. This will be the biggest show of the year with the most important people in the galaxy attending. The Emperor will be here, you thought bitterly. A shiver of apprehension went down your spine at the thought.

*in rehearsal*

“Let’s make those steps more consistent, shall we? Lena, you are meant to be gliding like a fairy down the aisle, not staggering like a Noghri!” The shrill voice of Miss Hillswine, your ballet master, rang out. Lena looked like she might burst in to tears from her embarrassment.

You felt for the younger girl. Lena was trying her best with the steps, the problem was she would get caught up in her anxiety. When she looked in your direction, you exchanged an empathetic look with your fellow ballerina and her face brightened just a bit. She would get the hang of it. Luckily, she was in the ensemble, so she could sort of blend in with the other dancers a bit. That should calm her nerves a bit, you thought internally.

Rehearsal went on for another three hours, the monotony of practicing the steps started baring down on you. You just had one more solo to rehearse and then it would be break-time. The dramatic symphony of the violin began to play, shaking you out of your thoughts. Miss Hillswine is observing from the wings of the stage, her steely Bonegnawer eyes shining with scrutiny. Here it goes…Three chassées down the aisle, toes pointed, leading into a pirouette, and one arabesque later, you have concluded your solo.

Before you have a chance to right yourself from your final pose, Miss Hillswine is already within inches of you. “Y/N”. “Yes Mistress”, your calm voice responds. “That was…” For a moment the worry lines creased in her forehead and her eyes narrowed. You managed to keep a serene expression, but anxiety trickled through in your mind. What could be wrong? “Mist”- “Exquisite.” she cut you off without the crack of a smile. So she was searching for what words she wanted to use. Mistress is obviously not used to complimenting her students.

She actually looked annoyed, but she always has a stern espression. You internally sighed with relief, but your face gave way to surprise. This was the nicest you’ve ever seen her, not that she had ever been too nasty towards you. It was the ensemble dancers that experienced her wrath. “Th-thank you, Mistress” the stuttered reply barreled out. She waved her hand dismissively and gave a light scoff, “Now no need for pleasantries Y/N. I want to see that consistency every rehearsal and especially for our Empire Day debut. No excuses. You may go. All ensemble and soloists dismissed for now! We will reconvene in an hour. Do. Not. Be. Late. Miss Anya will you come here please?” Her reply turned into a screech towards the end. There it was, back to business as usual. You curtsied and turned to exit the stage when Anya passes by and gives you her signature saccharine smile “Wonderful job Y/N! Never give up hope for a better role though.” Her confidence unwavering as she walks onto the stage. You roll your eyes and keep walking, finally making it to your dressing room.

****************************************************

A/N: This is my first real go at a long-term fanfic. 😊 I am super excited to be world-building a bit. Obviously not with the Star Wars material. I don’t own that, but any o.c.s or details that I can add in, sounds fun! Right now I am in love with Thrawn, although I have not read the books. I will do that though!

Everything I gathered about him so far has been on here for the most part, so I want to do him justice. I promise he will make his entrance soon, and sorry in advance I broke the first chapter up in to two parts. 🙈 I just wanted to get it set up a bit. So this might be a bit slow. Anyway, happy reading! I hope whoever comes across it enjoys! 💖

#grand admiral thrawn #female reader #thrawn x reader #romance #slow burn #fanfic

[starrclownshazbinblog]

Your first (semi) hate anon, congrats! /hj (by the way you handled that amazingly! 10/10)

Anyways- how are you? Hope you're doin' good!

Teeny-tiny (kinda) request, may we, your humble fans, have some more facts on/about the emo ballerina herself, Valerie?

Take your time with it, y'know go at your own pace. Au revoir until next time :]

Hi rewriter! This is a mural of mine! I'm fine. If that's the extent of hate comments then this is gonna be easy. Bro didn't even show his name.

Sure! I need to work on Valerie anyway.

Okay so I think I've done facts on Valerie before so let's do what we did for Madame Pentious, general information.

Valerie would have fallen in hell sometime in 2014. Somewhere AFTER the extermination. She would be very surprised and disgusted to finally the bodies all around town square. Her new appearance would also catch her by surprise. She looks almost like she did when she was alive. Besides her eyes feathers, she's now permanently on her toes, she can't speak, and she has giant black wings. It's a shock to her.

She would walk around for a little bit, trying to find someone to help. She's wondering why she's even in hell anyway. She wasn't the best person but she definitely wasn't the worst. She didn't even remember dying, her head just hurts alot though.

Eventually Valerie would stumble upon a newly built building, the entire building isn't even finished yet. Outside she sees... someone. They look almost human, but they're not. They have horns and a tail and hooves. Valerie stops. She remembers the descriptions of the devil in Church. Horns, hooves, and a tail. Is that Satan??

Valerie, while trying to run away trips and falls. Considering she's a porcelain doll her arms shattered on the ground. Surprisingly it doesn't hurt as bad as you would think. Obviously the Demon hears the shattering. Before Valerie can even blink, the devil is right beside her.

AND THAT'S ALL YOUR GETTING REWRITER! HAHAHAH!

Asks are always open, art is always here, commissions are open, help people if they fall.

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

#hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel rewrite blog #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel criticism #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel lore #hazbin hotel valerie #hazbin hotel charlie

[unfilteredaj]

Save me a Dance:

Pairing: William Afton X Employee!reader

——

Synopsis: The reader is an employee at Circus Baby’s Pizza World, stationed in Ballora’s Dance studio and Gallery. The reader’s admiration of Ballora inspires them and they catch the attention of their boss, William Afton. (Set in a Movie and Sister Location combination AU where Afton never got caught and Spring Bonnie is still a featured character. Also this is FLUFF CENTRAL. You have been warned.)

——

You watched as Ballora spun elegantly on her tiptoes around the group of children, who screamed with glee and tried to imitate her graceful movements. Ballora stopped slowly, clasping her robotic hands together gently.

“You’ve all done so wonderfully! Unfortunately, Circus Baby’s Pizza world is closing soon. I��ve had so much fun with you all today, my little Ballerinas. I’ll see you again very soon.” She lilted.

The kids all filed out of the studio, and soon you were alone, and the pizzeria was closed.

You began to clean up the various party hats, noise makers, and various other trash from Ballora’s area as she mechanically spun back to her stage and settled into a pirouette on her charging dock.

You swept, tidied up, and mopped the Dance Studio until all that was left was to wipe down Ballora herself.

Things usually never got too bad as far as Ballora herself went. Perhaps a smudge from small grease or pizza sauce stained hands. At the worst, a little girl had tried to share her cake with Ballora once, but even that ended up being alright. Your boss, the man who designed Ballora and all of the other Animatronics, designed them to stay easy to clean.

You finished wiping Ballora down, and took a moment to admire her beauty and elegance. All the while, she stayed dormant. All of the animatronics went dormant until fully charged each night.

You imagined her asking you to dance.

“Why, Miss Ballora!” You exclaimed in mock surprise, “Dance with you? Oh, what would they all think! It’ll be a scandal!”

You giggled contently, gently taking her hands and pressing yourself to her. You spun around with her, all the while staying anchored to the charging dock.

Spinning in circles, you hummed.

“Why do you hide inside these walls, when there is music in my halls? It’s so fun to sing and play..to-“

“-to dance, to spin, to fly away…” A deep voice echoed through the large room, almost giving you a heart attack.

You jumped away from Ballora as if she’d burned you. But your face was the only thing burning currently. Your wide eyes met the eyes of your boss, William Afton.

He looked… amused. He was still in his Funtime Bonnie suit, complete with a purple star covered vest and Large bow tie, but he had taken the head off. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Mr. Afton, I… I’m so sorry! I meant no harm, honest!”

Your rambling was cut short by a gentle laugh.

“No harm done, (Y/N). I’ve seen the way you admire her. How you started wearing more blue, and more stars since being moved from Foxy’s auditorium. You like being in the Dance Studio, and you like Ballora. …She is beautiful, isn’t she.” He said gently, smiling up at you and Ballora.

He came up onto the stage to stand next to you.

He ran his now ungloved hand gently across Ballora’s cheek.

“I made her to be beautiful. To be graceful, and elegant. A mechanical homage to femininity and beauty.” He said wistfully. His eyes scanned you for a long moment. “…Plus I hear she’s an alright dance partner.”

“Not as good as having a real partner…” You murmured.

Mr. Afton grinned at you, looking far younger than he had when you saw him in meetings during the day.

“Well then… may I have this dance?” He held a hand out.

You stayed frozen for a long moment, unsure of what exactly was going on. Surely your boss had NOT just offered you a dance.

“Come on!” His quick wave radiated warmth, as did his smile. “Come on, come on.”

Maybe it was the fact that he was grinning like a loon, or maybe it was the yellow and purple bunny costume, but you took his hand.

You ended up in the middle of the dance floor, standing on two large yellow rabbits feet.

He fished around in his vest pocket, pulling out a small remote. He pressed a button, and the lights dimmed, and soft music started playing.

Your face blazed even more as he spun you both around, his hands on your hips. You looped your hands around his neck, the large suit forcing you to press yourself closely to him.

“How are you so swift, even in this huge suit?” You asked him as he dipped you.

“I’ve had loads of practice wearing it I guess.” He replied bashfully.

“Mr. Afton…” You whispered.

Your stared into his bright eyes for a long moment.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked.

“You’re like me. You see the beauty where others just see novelty. You have that spark, that quiet passion burning inside of you. I can see it.” He smiled again. “And you’re a much better dance partner than Ballora.”

The two of you shared a small laugh, and you pressed your forehead against his.

“Promise me this isn’t going to be a one time thing. Promise me you’ll always save me a dance.”

“Whenever, Wherever. Always.”

#five nights at freddy’s movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf sister location #william afton #ballora

[lesbianfakir]

this may be none helpful i fear but i would like to say thank you for getting me out of my art block tongiht, albeit thru yours(;-;)!! your post about perfectionism made me go "oh i do that... i should stop" and put out a piece i may or may not hate tmrw about the beloved ballerina show... so basically thank u for existing and posting, you made a tangible difference in my life tonight and im better for it :^)

Hi thank you!! This is such a sweet ask and it really did make me feel better!!

Perfectionism is a bitch. It’s easy to recognize but hard to reel in. I’m so glad that hearing about someone else’s experiences with it was enough to inspire you to fight back. I always think about how it’s extra hard to make things when you have perfectionism because you have to do all the regular work of making the thing and then you have to fight off your brain telling you it’s not good enough and you should just quit the entire time. And that takes real energy to get through!! All of that to say I’m super proud of you, even if you’re not happy with the finished product, even if you only were able to work on it for a little bit. I’m proud of you because you said you know what? This voice in my head IS bullshit and I’m gonna fight it. And that takes real courage.

Anyways I was super curious and I went through your art tag and oh my god!!!!! The roleswap au with raven duck and fakir is gorgeous!!!!!!! The way you render the raven feathers + light catching on the dark fabric is absolutely beautiful. Anyways please fight off that mean voice in your head because I want to see what you made. If you do end up posting pls send it to me!!

#lea talks #asks #seriously thank you!! #was feeling real shitty last night and I saw this and I was like wow I had a positive impact on someone #and that put everything in perspective #like sure I’m struggling under the weight of perfectionism but being open about it HELPED someone #that means something

[bluemoon-fever]

i just wanna see you shine | chris evans fic

pairing: choreographer!chris evans x black!ballerina!reader (all can read)

summary: your company's new choreographer puts you through extra lessons.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: MINORS DNI, sexual tension, light angst, workplace relations, smut, slight D/s dynamics, semi-public sex, bratty behavior, brat-taming, dirty talk, degradation kink, unprotected semi-rough p-in-v sex (wrap it before you tap it!), nipple play, spitting, pleasurable pain, edge play, after-care, pet name (dove), not beta'd (all mistakes are mine!)

notes: hello! this is my first writing in almost a year! i actually have a full fic series planned out with choreographer!chris. (this scene wouldn't happen exactly the way it does in that fic) let me know if you'd like to see this AU!

Extra lessons. That’s what you’ll need. 

That’s what he had announced to the entire company, embarrassing-scratch that-humiliating you after another strenuous rehearsal. He thought it would do you good to do private one-on-one lessons with him. Despite the anger flaring up inside of you, you kept your composure, gave him a painted smile and agreed to it before he continued to subject you to another excruciating run of a complicated combination he came up with.

A month prior, your company announced they were putting on a product of Giselle. You were excited, eager to prove to the directors that you were Giselle. You had been a soloist for years, and you were anxious to rise to principal ballerina. You worked your hardest, stayed late practicing your technique and coming in early. Your dedication did not go unnoticed, and when you auditioned, you were chosen. It was the best news of your life. Performing as Giselle was your dream, and it would finally come through.

And then came Chris Evans. He was hired as your company’s new choreographer, a good friend of the director. He was attractive and everyone was swooning over him, yourself included. But you kept things professional… well at least you tried to.

The tension between you and him was undeniable. Every time he touched your body, a jolt of electricity went through your body and into his. When your partner wasn’t performing to his expectations, he performed the romantic pas de deux with you. He touched you like you were the most delicate flower. You craved to feel him close to you, even something as minor as lifting your chin up after you finished a routine. 

But aside from the physical tension you felt with him, you also butted heads. You had exchanged a few sassy, passive-aggressive quips to one another. It was enough to make the room go silent. As much as he made you swoon, he could drive you absolutely crazy. As demanding as he was, you were just as stubborn.

You were sure you had pissed him off a couple of times. If he changed a minor step that you felt shouldn’t have been, you insisted on performing it. You had done it so many times you were surprised he didn’t explode on you. But after the last time of defying his wishes, he recommended extra lessons.

And that threw you over the edge.

You were surprised you kept your composure that well. You needed to let out your anger and frustration. You needed a physical release, and you needed that fast. Eventually, you did when you found yourself being split open by his cock in the studio later that night.



“You can be such a fucking brat,” he said as he seared into you. Your bodies were pushed up against the mirror, indenting the combined form of you into the mirror. Both of your clothes strewn across the studio floor seemed frenetic as if you were racing to see who could get the other naked quicker.

“But you love it. I can see it. You love being a brat, huh?” He gripped your chin as he pounded into you. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head at the sensations you felt. His electric touch radiated through your body from the strong grip he had on your hips and chin and the feeling of fullness from him inside you. It was so good, so overwhelming, so, so…

“Look at you. Falling apart on my cock,” he growled into your ear. A small smile crept into your face as you saw your form. You were so fucked out. This man drove you absolutely wild, and you absolutely loved it, every single second of it.

His hands slowly and softly slipped down to caress your breasts. He ran his fingers over your nipples softly before pinching them. You moaned softly, leaning your head back against him as he continued to show attention to your breasts. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” he said, switching his voice to a sweetness that made your knees weak.

“Uh huh,” you managed to squeak out, enjoying the pleasurable pain he was causing you at that moment. “Don’t stop, please.”

As you locked eyes with him, you saw a devious smile grow on his face. If he had the means, he would take you apart whenever he saw fit. As he had you, he felt like he found the piece of the puzzle that finally fit him. He believed it when he saw you, but this right now confirmed it.

He moved his hands down, slipping into your wet folds. Your moans grew louder as he found your clit and began giving it extra attention. Your legs began to shake, and your breaths grew more rugged. He was bringing you to the edge, and you were ready to dive over.

“Chris, please,” you moaned. “I’m so-so c-close.”

“You cum when I tell you to, brat,” he said, switching back to the stern persona he was moments prior. That same stern voice that led you into an argument over his treatment of you. The stern voice that called you out on your willful defiance. The same stern voice that said you were driving him crazy.

“You can be so fucking difficult!” he shouted. Your back was turned to him as you took a sip of your water. Going over this combination had made you sweat, but he was making you heated.

“And you can be so unreasonable!” you retorted, turning back to him. “You humiliated me in front of the entire company! Telling me in front of everyone that I need extra lessons. Do you know how that made me look? How that made me feel?”

“What is the big deal? You needed this lesson. Do you not want to look perfect?” he countered.

“You just don’t fucking get it,” you said as you began to grab your belongings. “I’ve worked my ass off to get here. You don’t know what they say about me, what they think of me.”

“Who cares what they think!” he shouted.

“I do! I fucking do! Because this has been my dream since I could remember and despite being so close to achieving it, I still don’t feel good enough because of them and now you. You don’t have to tell me, but I can feel it. I can feel what you think of me. You don’t think I’m good enough.”

“You don’t know what I think,” he said as he inched closer to you.

“Oh really? So what do you think of me? Enlighten me.”

“I think of you all the time. You drive me absolutely insane. I think of you when I wake up, when I go to bed, at all hours of the day.” Your breath hitched. “I think you are one of the most beautiful dancers I have ever seen and no one else in this building can hold a candle to you. I think you have so much potential, but you don’t see it in yourself.”

“Chris-”

“Be quiet and listen to me, for once. When I recommended these lessons, I did it because I wanted to perfect this piece with you. Or at least that is what I convinced myself. But really, I wanted to spend time with you. I wanted to be able to see you, without bounds, in your true form without judgment.”

You stood still, struggling to process what he was telling you.

“But you wanted to be a brat. And you know what I think? I think you love being a brat. I think you need it tamed out of you. And I think you piss me off to tempt me into fucking it out of you.”

Hearing him be so brash with you snapped you out of your daze. You knew his words were true, and your pussy was growing wet as he eyed you like a predator finally cornering his prey. 

“Am I right?” he asked. You gave me a coy smile. In seconds, he was on you.

“Please, please let me cum,” you whined. Chris’ assault on your pussy and clit had sent you over the edge, but every time you got close, he pulled back. 

“Not yet,” he said. Chris enjoyed seeing you so fucked out. Seeing you in your full naked form was his kryptonite. As much as you thought he had you under his spell, you held him under yours. 

“Open your mouth.” You complied, leaning your head back and angling your open mouth for him. He spit down your throat before capturing your lips into his. Their softness was a drug to him. 

The dam within you was beginning to break, and Chris could feel it. Your pussy was squeezing the life out of him, and tears were beginning to spill down your eyes. “You can come, dove. Come for me,” he commanded.

Your body felt like it was reborn over and over again. Your orgasm overwhelmed you. Chris held your body tightly as you shook and creamed over his length. After a few more pumps, he shot his load into you, jumping over the edge like you. Both of your orgasms felt like they lasted hours and when you both came down, he softly lifted you off the mirror and laid you on the cool floor. You whined at the contact, and the loss of his warmth.

Chris returned with a wet towel, cleaning you up, before handing you a water bottle. When you looked up, he was half-dressed. You stared at your reflection, your curls wildly springing out for the sleek bun you wore everyday. You thought you looked like a wild woman. 

“You’re beautiful, dove. I hope you can see that,” he told you as he softly kissed your lips, the tip of your nose, and forehead. “I just wanna see you shine like the star you are on that stage. Because you are one. You are my star.”



feedback is much appreciated!

#chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans rpf #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans female reader #black!reader #chris evans #chris evans au #chris evans imagine #chris evans fan fiction

[snabulous]

below the cut is a hint of the meg/christine fanfic i've been working on for a million years. none of it is edited or revised at all, so it's pretty rough! it's a fake dating college AU, i hope y'all like it ;)

In the morning, Christine woke up with a headache. Meg felt fine, but she listened to Christine complain and offered to bring her something back from the dining hall for breakfast. When she returned, a styrofoam container of scrambled eggs, greasy sausage links, and slightly undercooked pancakes cooling in her hand, Christine had showered and was tending to her curls.

Sitting in the window with her hair tossed over her shoulder and a placid look on her face, Meg thought Christine looked like a painting. When Christine looked up and smiled at Meg and her gift of crappy dining hall food, Meg felt then, with a sharp feeling in her heart, that she looked more like a dream. Oh, Christine…

.

.

They spent the day in their dorm working on homework. Meg charted out the blocking for a new dance piece she was choreographing for a class, imagining what the moves would look like in a big open space. She could even almost hear the sound of the imaginary dancer’s feet hitting the ground after every leap and spin.

Christine used to be a dancer, too. Before she found something better in singing, that is. She had been a gorgeous ballerina, her body forming graceful flowing lines that looked effortless. Meg sometimes missed ballerina Christine, just because they were like twin flames, rising to meet each other and giving off the same light. But the Christine Meg knew now was even brighter as a singer, and they played off each other in a way Meg couldn’t have understood if Christine had remained a dancer.

Still, sometimes it felt like Meg was choreographing with Christine in mind, imagining the way her body would form each move, the lines and the curves. It was how Meg felt now, seeing Christine pirouetting daintily across the darkened stage of her mind, plotting each step the moment before her satin-shoed toes landed them.

“Meg.”

Like breaking the surface of water, Meg came back to reality. “Huh?”

“I asked if you would read this paragraph and tell me if it makes sense.” Christine held her laptop over her head to hand it to Meg from the floor.

Meg took it. “I don’t know why you’re asking me,” she said. “You know I’m terrible at writing.”

“Yeah, but you’re not terrible at reading.”

As Meg read her work, Christine grabbed Meg’s sheet to look over her choreography.

Christine hummed. “I like this. The series of steps right here,” she pointed to a set halfway through, “is going to be gorgeous.”

“It’s not done yet,” Meg said, snatching the papers out of her hands and hoping she wasn’t blushing.

She turned around on the floor to face Meg. “I can’t wait to see you dance it. It’ll be beautiful.”

Now Meg knew she was blushing. It felt so hot all of a sudden. She grumbled out a thanks and pushed Christine’s laptop back to her. “It sounds fine. Are you going to clarify the part about the leitmotif in the next paragraph, though? There wasn’t anything about it in the paragraph before, so it kind of felt like it came out of nowhere.”

Christine reread her work. “You’re right. I’ll add a little intro in the paragraph before, but I’m going to keep talking about it in the next part.”

“As long as you do that, it’s perfect,” Meg responded, shuffling back into her working position.

Christine, however, snapped her laptop shut. “I’m done for today.”

“We’ve only been working for like an hour,” Meg said, shooting her a quizzical look.

“And it’s been the longest hour of my life.” Christine rolled to her knees and stood, stretching. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Meg looked at her half-finished homework. Well… this choreo wasn’t technically due until Wednesday. So she had time.

#god i hope i finish this fic someday #it's going to be long so i don't want to post it until it's either done or almost done #i first started writing it in 2021 though so it might still be a long time #crying emoji #the phantom of the opera #megstine #meg giry #christine daae #meg/christine #POTO

[georgiapeach30513]

Back to Work

Summary:  Zephyr meets teacher

Pairings:  Zephyr/Veda/Rosie X Story/Carter

Rating:  mild

Warnings:  mentions of a drug overdose, drinking, mild language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.1K

Zephyr Baizen Masterlist

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

“Good morning,” Zephyr walks into the kitchen, handing Rosie over to his mom, and sits Veda onto a stool, before sitting down beside her.  “Ooh, Gimpa is making pancakes,” with a little giggle, Veda reaches over to her dad, wanting to get in his lap.  

“Rosie Osie, are you hungry?” Story asks her youngest granddaughter who moves her hand up and down over her belly.  “Okay, okay, Gimpa is finishing up.  Z, I was wanting to talk to you about my old dance studio.  You can say no, but I think both girls could benefit from taking dance.”

“Dance?  Or ballet?”

“I wanna be a ballerina!  Gaga got me tutus, but she won’t let me wear her tiara.”

Zephyr smiles at his mom before blowing raspberries on her neck, “That’s because she’s saving that for when her daughters get married.  You’re asking to wear the wrong tiara.  That one has real diamonds on it.”

“Gaga, can I be a ballerina?” Veda’s little legs wiggle around, and Story was just happy that Veda’s mother hadn’t been brought up yet.  

“Of course.  I can always make sure you get to practice, but I was also informed they want to do some renovations, and…I might have volunteered you,” Zephyr sighs knowing there was more to this random conversation than his mom originally made it out to be.  “You can always say no.”

“No, I can’t.  You’ve already volunteered me.  So I’ll go and get it renovated, and you’re going to put me on display hoping that some dancer scoops me up.”

“Hehe, daddy, you’re funny.”

“It sure beats going out every Friday night,” she smiles over her mug towards Zephyr, while Carter plates up the pancakes, giving his wife a cheek kiss.  “I’m just saying, you should…”

“Daddy, when is mommy going to call?” Using her two pointer fingers, Rosie pushes them together, mouthing ouch over and over again.  “Daddy, I’m sorry.  I just…I’m sorry,” he gives his daughter the sweetest kiss on her cheek.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Z,” Carter says calmly, “You’re going to eat breakfast with your daughters.  Then you can go to work,” with a single nod of his head, he sits there quietly, but withdrawn.  “Now, Veda, after breakfast, we’ll get you dressed up, and find you a less expensive tiara, okay?”

“Okay, Gimpa, I’m sorry.”

——

Zephyr stares at his daughters asleep in his bed.  He only had an hour or two before Veda would be up, wandering around the castle looking for him.  It was his only time alone.  There were always people running about, but this time of night, everyone had retired to their bed.  Walking downstairs, he stops when he sees his dad at the bar cart pouring two glasses.  

“Sit.”

“Dad, I really don’t want to talk.”

“Sit,” Carter repeats, holding a glass up to his son, and pointing to the plush couch.  “Your mom is asleep in the bed with Audi and Fauna, and you have a baby monitor in your pocket.  We’ve got time to spare.”

He takes a sip of the straight bourbon, and looks out at nothing.  Clenching his teeth for a moment, “You’re pissed off at Piper because she gets to go on and do whatever she wants without consequence.”

“I’m pissed off at Piper because I came home to my baby crying and hitting her mother who passed out.  She had a rash because she hadn’t been changed all day.  I couldn’t find Veda, and when I did she wasn’t moving.  Rosie was still crying, and Veda never moved.  Dad, I thought my daughter was dead.  I thought Piper was, too, and I didn’t care.  The only thing that mattered was my daughters.  Yeah, I’m fucking pissed off that she doesn’t have the decency to get clean and ask about Veda.  Rosie is traumatized and refuses to speak.  We’ve got her signing because of something her mother did to them.”

“Son, I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through.  What I do know is you’re a good dad,” Zephyr sniffles, and lifts his cup up, completely downing the expensive bourbon.  “But while you’re worrying about your girls, can we not still worry about our son?”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.  You’re working late hours.  If Veda brings up Piper, you are ready to run away.  You go out every Friday and Saturday night, and…”

“I’m just drinking.  I’m not having sex with anyone.  Ask Illiana and Iclynn.  They always come and pick my drunk ass up.  I just need space.  That’s it.  I need time for me to be alone.  But drinking alone is sad, so I go to a bar.  I sit there, I sometimes talk, sometimes I just drink my beer.  Is it so bad that I want time for myself?  I work, I come home, I’m a dad, I’m a big brother, I spend time with my daughters, I get them ready for bed, I lay in the bed and talk to them, and I get mad that Rosie is two and doesn’t even say daddy.  I need,” Carter stands up, and sits down beside his son, wrapping his arms around him.

“I know what mom is doing, but…I can’t date.  My daughters need me.”

“She’s not asking you to date.  She’s wanting you to get out and do something for yourself.  Your mom only wants to see her babies happy.”

“I’m not.  Dad, I screwed up.  I knew what Piper was doing, and I still wanted another baby.  Do you think…what if it’s more than what happened with Rosie, what if…Piper wasn’t good.  She wasn’t clean.  I even tested Rosie, because I didn’t think she was mine, and…dad, I’m just as guilty.  I should have taken Veda and came home.”

Pulling out of his embrace, he holds Zephyr’s face in both of his hands, wishing he was his always dirty little boy again, “We wouldn’t have Rosie.  She’s making sounds out of her mouth.  She’s happy, and she’s perfect.  You should have seen her today with your mom.  Dance will be good for both of them.  Rosie liked her tutu, and didn't even wanna take it off.  Zeph, everyday is a new day.  Quit dwelling on that ugly past.”

“Veda has anxiety.  She’s five.”

“Yeah, well, that could be a Baizen thing.  I had anxiety at that age, too,” a crackle in the monitor makes Zephyr pull it out of his pocket, and then he hears the whisper of Veda.

“I’m counting to ten, daddy.  I need you to keep me warm.”

“Go to sleep, Z.  Remember, we’re only here to help everyone.”

He runs upstairs before Veda starts wandering through the house.  Story steps out of the bedroom, and walks over to sit beside her husband.  Her hand rubs over his chest, while she leans on his shoulder, “I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you when I first met you.”

“My Queen, there’s no way in the world you remember the first time you met me.”

“I do.  I remember looking at those pretty eyes, Baizen.  You needed me, and I needed you.  Our adult children’s problems are so much worse than our babies.”

“You can’t compare our sons to our daughters.  Otto is thirty.”

“And won’t leave the Hampton house.”

“Shh, just hold me for a minute.  I don’t want to talk about our two sons that never come home.  At least Otto calls.  Brookie…Carter I just got a bad feeling about all that.  He’s up there alone since Annie broke up with him, and…” Carter shushes his wife, and pulls her in closer.  There was nothing they could do about the breakup, or Otto’s resistance to home.  The only thing he could do was hold her right now, and that’s what he wanted to do for the rest of the night.

“Come on, I know two little princesses that are going to be rolled all around that bed.”

——

You pace back and forth in the studio, wondering if it was going to be a good idea to have the little class when the practice room is getting some upgrades.  An alum of the studio had volunteered her son to renovate the space, all for lessons for his daughters.  The Baizen’s.  You had heard about them throughout most of your life.  Boston royalty with enough kids to make a baseball team.  

With a clearing of your mother’s throat, you look towards the door to what you assumed was the grandmother, and two of the cutest little girls, “I’m Story,” she holds her hand out to you, while the toddler in her arms had her fingers crossed, and touches each side of her nose, “And this is Rosie.  She’s non-verbal, but she’s really good at signing, aren’t you, baby?” With a sweet dimpled smile, she nods her head.

“And this is Veda,” the little girl didn’t want to come from behind her grandmother’s leg, but she peeks out from behind it.  “She’s only a little shy.”

“My daddy is going to be here the whole time?”

Looking up at the grandmother, you squat down to the little girl’s level, “Is your daddy the one that’s working on the studio?” She gives you a little nod, using her pointer finger to rub over her nose, “I bet if you listen, you can hear him working.  You see this mirror?  On the other side is another room, your daddy is over there.”

“So if I want him, I can go get him.”

“I hope you have so much fun you won’t even think about him,” she gives you a scowl, and looks up at her grandmother.  “But sure, if you really get to missing him, we can go get him.  But since you and Rosie are here in your leotards, why don’t we go to the barre and warmup.  It’s just us during this class, okay?”

Looking up at Story, Veda drops her hand, and Story puts Rosie down on the ground, and they follow you over to the barre.  You mother and her walk out, and you spend your time teaching them positions.  Getting Veda completely distracted until she hears the hammering.  “Can we go check, just real quick?  I wanna make sure that’s my daddy.”

“We can take a three minute break to check,” Rosie looks up at you with her pouting blue eyes, making grabby hands at you, until you pick her up.  Heading towards the door, Veda grabs your hand in her own, and follows you in the room.  “Remember, it won’t be safe for us to walk in, so we have to stay at the door.

“Okay,” she was an adorable little girl.  Her demeanor had changed when she realized she was going to see her daddy.  Bouncing in her step, and when she spots him, she squeals, “Daddy!  I just had to check and see if it was really you.”

You gulp as the man walks closer to you.  He was huge, tall, and handsome, and had a dangerous smile.  “Hello, my darlings. Have you been doing the toe pointing like Gaga?”

“And the hands.  Daddy, this is teacher.”

“I’m sure it is,” you try to look away, but he had those piercing blue eyes just like the little girls.  He had no right to look this handsome, and you felt guilty for clinging to his daughters, while you were checking him out.  “Daddy has a lot of work to do, so go back with teacher.  When I’m done we’ll go home, okay?”

“Can we get Biscoffs?”

“Yes.  Now, behave Veda.  Muah,” he gives Rosie a kiss, before leaning down to give one to Veda.  He smelled too good.  Way too good, and too expensive.  He had two kids.  He had baggage.  You had no business looking at him.  Or even worrying about who he was.  You were too young for a baby, much less two children, and yet, you wanted to know all about this man.  “Teacher, they’re all yours now.”

“Right,” he smiles at you, and even he had a dimple.  You needed to get back into the room.  “Okay, ladies.  Let’s go back, and do some dancing.”

“Thank you, teacher!” He calls to you as you walk away.  Don’t look at him.  Don't mention that he wasn’t wearing a ring.  Don’t do anything but get back into the studio.  You couldn’t look at him anymore.  But when you looked at his little girls, you saw his exact eyes staring back at you.  Someone in this family really spread the love with their genes.  Shaking your head, you get back into first position.  There was nothing some ballet couldn’t take your mind off the tall thick man.  

“Alright, ladies, back to work,” both girls giggle at you as they try to copy your movements.  It was sad that you had to tell yourself the exact same things.  Back to work.  Put the man out of your mind.  Back to work.

Next

Masterlist

#desperate lives #desperate lives au #da au #dau #desperate verse #zephyr baizen #rosie baizen #veda baizen

[maranull]

Thank you @bimbomcgee for the tag! <333

~

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

39. Like 10 of them could had been blended into one though.

2. What's your total A03 words count?

131,586.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I'm actively writing only for Elden Ring right now. But I've written for like 8 other fandoms.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Laughing - 213 Silver and Gold - 213 Rebirth - 158 Hellish Rebuke - 152 Father and Daughter - 111

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

99% of the time. The very rare times I didn't I just blacked out on what to say. I always try to now, even if it's a lil heart.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The Journey Back. The original ending was actually worse cause I had planned to incorporate the Rot much more. Finlay was supposed to take off her needle and give it to Malenia, and immediately be consumed by the Rot in front of her. But it was a hard fic to write as it was, having the Rot be active would had been a bit too much to handle, writing wise, for me.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Gods, that's hard. Um... Hellish Rebuke? Ballerina Metalhead? After the (E)nd? One of those.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

None so far! I think I'm lucky in that my fics tent to not be that popular, therefore the ugly side of fandom doesn't really find them.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Nope. Tried it once when I was new to fandom. I never was able to actually write the smut part of the fic. I was drawing blanks and I just don't like smut in general. Though I do see it kinda as a writing challenge so... never say never, I guess?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No, but I have been thinking about a crossover among the souls games, for a coffee shop au.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I'm up for it if anyone's willing though.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Ouihaw (Ashe and Widowmaker from Overwatch). I know, shitty game, but these two were the first ship I sailed and the one that will forever be in my heart.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

An "ancient" (2yo) WIP about a first date between Symmetra and Sombra (from Overwatch again). I no longer write or interact with this fandom (apart from Ouihaw), cause a) game's gone to shit and b) Blizzard is also shit. So I'm never finishing it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Fluff and small soft moments.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Developing romance, I think. I can do pretty well with established relationships, but actively developing it? I need practice. And following a plot. The rare times a fic started and ended with the plan I had from the start, it was a battle all the way.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done it before, but only with small sections of the dialogue. Like, having Amélie (Widowmaker) say "yes" in French, cursing or stuff like that. A whole line of dialogue in a language different than the main body of the fic feels like it would be too distracting. If I have to, I'll just write it in italics.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Nier: Automata.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Hellish Rebuke.

#tag game #my writing #this was neat #ty for the tag again! #<3 #i think all fic-writing moots of mine have been tagged so no tags from me

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

BALLERINA - Chapter Four.

A Jake Kiszka AU

Physiotherapist!Jake x Original Female Character

Previous Chapter

A/N: This is chapter four of the story about ballet dancer Iris and physiotherapist Jake. This is quite short, but I promise you, the next one is longer. Next part will be out on Friday. Consider this a little sweet present to cheer you up and help you get through tomorrow. I hate Mondays. Again, this is a slowburn, but I promise, it will be worth the wait.

P.S. The wait is almost over.

Please, feel free to let me know what you think about this!

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings for this chapter: 18+ ONLY for brief mentions of masturbation and oral sex, talking of physical rehabilitation and medical stuff (I am not an expert, I apologise for any inaccuracies), poor mental health, fluff, verysoft!Jake.

If you are interested, you can join my taglist here.

_________________________________

The week proceeded well and on Friday, the doctor who had operated on Iris, Dr. Allen, came into her room to talk to her and check her leg.

He told her he was very happy with the work she had been doing with Jake and that he was positive that after three more weeks she would be dismissed from the hospital.

Iris was both happy and sad.

She was so happy to finally go back home but, at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to think about what her yet so miserable life would become when she won't be able to see Jake anymore everyday, for the usual rehabilitation sessions.

She had gotten to the point where she needed him like air. She even dreamt about him at night, when she could sleep and she wasn't plagued by nightmares.

One night she had jolted awake from her sleep thinking he was in the room with her. His presence in the dream had been so overwhelmingly real that she felt the touch of his hands on her body and she felt like crying frustrated tears when she discovered she was alone.

The only thing that allowed her to find a bit of relief was slipping her trembling hand in her panties underneath the covers and finish what he had so skillfully started in her dream with his warm tongue and callous fingers.

She was ashamed of herself at the beginning, but at that point, she honestly didn't care anymore.

Every time he came into her room it was becoming more and more difficult for Iris to suppress and ignore the dull throbbing ache between her legs.

On Monday morning he arrived and she told him rather sadly that she would be dismissed in three weeks time.

"Why are you wearing such a pout, Iris? Aren't you happy to finally go home?" He asked her, curiously.

"Well, yes" she replied and then confessed to him "but I am sad because I won't see you anymore."

He looked at her with a puzzled expression and then bursted out laughing.

She didn't understand what was happening. Her confused expression made him laugh even harder.

After he caught his breath he told her, still snickering "Oh my God, darling, I am absolutely not abandoning you like that."

And then he grabbed her hand.

"When you will be at home, we are going to continue with rehabilitation with the same schedule we kept here. That means that you are stuck with me everyday for at least three more months. And when we are done with ordinary rehabilitation we can start something more specific, like trying to get you back to dancing, how does it sound?" He said all of that while smiling proudly.

Iris was mesmerized by his words.

Their meaning was slowly sinking in and she felt hot tears start to form in her eyes.

She didn't think she could be this happy again.

Iris didn't know what to say so she threw her caution to the wind, grabbed his shoulders and hugged him as tight as she could from the bed.

He didn't expect this and neither did she. His back muscles felt so strong but soft at the same time under her touch.

He returned the hug just as tightly as hers, pressing her even more against his chest. Her face rested in the crook of his neck and so did his in the crook of hers.

It was almost too much for her sanity.

His hair was so soft on her cheek and smelled wonderfully like vanilla shampoo. She inhaled deeply like he was her own personal drug.

Iris wanted to overdose on him.

Then, she felt him shift so he could speak right in her ear.

"You won't get rid of me so easily, darling, you have my word." He whispered, his hot breath on her skin making her head feel dizzy.

She shivered at the feeling of his lips so near to her skin and he noticed.

She saw the little smirk on his lips when the hug broke and she had to look away.

That only made his smirk deepen.

He spoke again, his voice, deep and raspy, intruding Iris's thoughts like never before.

"So, I think it's time to help you put some clothes on. I've had many complaints from some of my patients on your same floor about a girl walking around in just a shirt. And, since among my patients you are the only one under sixty years old, I assumed that you are the girl they are talking about." He said that in such a serious tone that he almost made her believe in what he was saying.

Seeing her confused expression, he clarified with a toothy grin.

"I am messing with you, I didn't have any complaints" he laughed and, finally, she did the same.

"But I thought that you might want me to help you to figure out how you can put some pants on when you are cold without hurting your healing leg." He said sincerely.

She had to admit she had thought about asking him to help her do exactly that but, of course, he beat her to it.

He showed her how to do that, using a pair of joggers of his that he kindly lent her. He insisted on her keeping them even though she had her own clothes and she finally gave in, blushing deeply and caressing the soft black fabric of his joggers with her sweaty fingers.

His hands never left her body, steading her constantly when she needed him.

"So you told me that I am your youngest patient here, really?" Iris asked him curiously after a while, when they had finished and she was in her bed again, the skin of her legs warming up thanks to his joggers.

"Yes, you are and you are even the least handsy one." He said, laughing, a bit embarrassed.

"What do you mean?" She asked and he laughed, again.

"I mean that among my patients, well, my female patients, I have some crazy admirers. Last year, there was a lady in her nineties who needed rehabilitation because she had broken her femur. And every time I helped her stand, she would inexplicably grab my ass, and not even that subtly. She wasn't only touching, she was genuinely groping me. Every time, when I asked her not to do that, she kept telling me that she had done that because she had to steady herself or she would fall down" He told her sheepishly, a light blush covering his cheeks.

She couldn't believe what he was saying and she couldn't stop laughing but, in all honesty, she couldn't blame the lady, at all.

"And I am not finished. Once she also tried to sneak her hands to my front. Her husband was so jealous that once he pulled me aside and told me to stop hitting on his wife or he would hit me." He finished his sentence with a wide contagious smile.

"Oh my God, you have even gotten a real threat." She told him, still laughing.

"I do a very dangerous job" he told her with a wink.

Her eyes landed on his forearm and she noticed again the scars he had there.

"These scars on your forearm were caused by one of your patients?" She asked him, laughing.

"No, that is an injury caused by my very own little brother who thought that jumping off the roof when I was on the porch was a good idea. He didn't even have a scratch on him after, because he landed directly on me and on my arm. And this is what I got" he said, smiling despite the painful memory.

"Well, now every time you look at them you are reminded of your little brother" she told him.

"Have you got brothers or sisters?" He asked her, curiously.

"I have got a younger sister, she is studying in Paris now. We are very close. Sometimes when I can't sleep I call her and we talk until one of us falls asleep. But she has exams now and I don't want to bother her" she told him and he listened, attentively.

At that moment, he reached for his back pocket, fumbled with his phone and handed it to her with a new contact page open.

"If it's ok with you, we can exchange numbers so when you can't sleep you can call me instead of tossing and turning around uselessly. I mean it, Iris" he said, his eyes were so brown, sweet and honest that she wanted to cry.

Iris tried to tell him that she didn't want to bother him but he quickly dismissed her excuses. "You won't bother me, I am here almost every night till late, so don't worry. Before being your physiotherapist, I am your friend and friends always help each other." He was serious.

She blushed, but she did as he asked and thanked him.

After the usual rehabilitation he left her.

In the evening, she received a message from a new contact.

Unknown:

Are you running around half naked again? I am hearing some commotion from your floor. ;) J.

She laughed alone in her room and then answered him.

Iris:

No, it's not me. I am completely tucked under the blanket you sent me the other day (I have never thanked you properly. Thank you!) Are you sure the commotion is not caused by your ninety-year-old grabby friend? ;)

She quickly saved his number and got a reply almost immediately.

J:

I am happy you like the blanket. And thank God the lady is at home now.

Iris:

I love it. Thank you again.

J:

Goodnight Iris. Sleep well. See you tomorrow.

_____________________________________

She smiled stupidly at the screen and slept peacefully for the first time in weeks, thinking about his sweet calm brown eyes glimmering in the soft morning light.

Next chapter

Taglist: @why-ami-on-here @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @jessicafg03 @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @doodle417

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van smut #gvf fic #fanfic #jake gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader