#I don't like turning older but I like that I can celebrate for a day

[lilacmingi]

OPPOSITES ATTRACT

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with ne ir any of my works.

Pairing: Gryffindor!Jongho x Slytherin!fem reader

Word count: 4,408

Note: Final installment in the Hogwarts AU series! If you don’t know, the Hogwarts imagines for the other members are linked at the end! Reminder that this is an imagine from my Wattpad from 2023 so there will not be extra parts or continuations

Jongho wizzed through the air, holding the Quaffle close to him as he zoomed towards the opposing team's hoops, successfully tossing the ball through the goal, scoring yet again for Gryffindor.

"Yes!" You cheered only to quickly clamp your hand over your mouth afterwards, your outburst earning you some glances from your fellow housemates.

Maybe next time you should sit with the Gryffindors—then again, you'd stand out like a sore thumb. It was hard not to cheer for Jongho. He's the best quidditch player on the whole team, watching him is enough to put you on the edge of your seat. Yes, you two are from opposing houses, but you're the best of friends and you don't let old rivalries stop you from hanging out together.

The game came to a close and Gryffindor took the victory as expected. You had to keep your excitement at bay as you exited the stands to meet with your friend on the ground, holding it in long enough to part ways with the rest of your house.

Jongho approached you looking oh-so-handsome as usual, a thin layer of sweat on his face giving him a post-victory glow.

"That was awesome!" You squeaked.

"It was nothing." He huffed.

"Nothing? Every time I watch you play I'm on the edge of my seat. Honestly, there was a couple times I wasn't sure you'd score, but you pulled through every time."

His warm laughter filled the air as his cheeks turned pink, though that could have just been from all the activity out on the field.

"You act like I'm the best player on the team."

"You are!" You said enthusiastically, giving him a light punch on the arm. "We should celebrate your victory."

"By doing what?"

"We could go to Hogsmeade and grab a butterbeer." You suggested. "My treat."

Jongho's eyes lit up.

He loved butterbeer. You could remember the first time he tried it, the fond memory replaying in your head.

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

That heart-melting gummy smile of his broke out on his face as he nodded.

"Sounds good."

You and Jongho had been friends from day one, literally. You met on the train to Hogwarts and he was nervous as ever. He had only just recently found out there was magic in his family lineage and wasn't sure what to expect at Hogwarts as he had only found out it's existence a few weeks prior to the start of he school year.

"I don't know anything about this place and I'm nervous to be away from home for so long."

"There's nothing to be nervous about. You'll have fun, trust me." You told him. "I've been looking forward to this for a whole year. My older cousin told me they have entire feasts at Hogwarts. There's all sorts of food lined up on these really long tables that stretch across almost the entirety of the room."

"Wow. That sounds much better than instant ramen."

"Instant? Muggles have instant ramen?" You asked with wide eyes.

"Oh. It's not instant, it's just made in a shorter amount of time. We don't have magic so we have meals that can be made easily."

"Ooh. How long does it take?"

"Usually about three minutes unless you want to add extra stuff or cook your noodles longer."

"Three minutes is still really quick." You responded. "That's amazing."

"I guess it is." He chuckled.

Jongho thought so-called "muggle" things weren't special. After all, it's just how he goes about daily life, but seeing your reaction was amusing to him.

The both of you became friends very quickly during the duration of the train ride. You even sat together at the sorting hat ceremony, where you briefly explained what would occur.

"I hope we get into the same house together." You remember Jongho saying.

Unfortunately, you got sorted into different houses, you in Slytherin and him in Gryffindor, but that didn't bother you, nor did it stop the both of you from spending time together.

You and Jongho signed up to take a muggle appreciation class together where you paired up with each other since the professor wanted muggles or half-bloods to pair with purebloods. That was one of your favorite classes. You enjoyed learning about how muggles got through everyday life without magic as well as some of the things they had that you didn't, like pens, you found those to be quite fascinating. Your professor had a few and allowed everyone to try them out to see what they thought. You loved the pen and wondered why the school never used them instead of quills.

"You did so good at the game yesterday." You told Jongho.

He smiled, looking down bashfully. "Thanks."

"You're the best quidditch player at Hogwarts." You continued praising him.

Jongho was visibly holding back a bright grin, doing his best to keep it concealed as he fiddled with the packaging of his chocolate frog he purchased from the candy trolley.

"I get so caught up in the game. I'm sure my housemates want to kick me out." You chuckled.

He had seen you cheering him on many times before, even when Slytherin was against Gryffindor. It warmed his heart that you always cheered for him despite being in opposing houses and seeing you in the stands always gave him an energy boost during quidditch games, but he would never say it aloud.

Once you arrived at Hogsmeade, you couldn't contain your excitement, rushing Jongho off the train. He was fairly excited as well, but he wanted to keep his cool, putting on a calm exterior as he followed behind you through the metal archway with the town name on it.

Jongho's eyes glimmered in wonderment as he gazed at all the shops like it was his first time seeing them.

"Here we are." You announced, looking up at the sign for The Three Broomsticks.

Jongho was quick to step ahead of you and hold the door open. It was a small gesture but it made your heart flutter. Stepping inside the tavern, the both of you made your way to the bar, seating yourselves on the wooden stools that lined it. Someone came around shortly and took your orders before grabbing a couple glass steins, filling them with the sweet amber liquid you and Jongho came for.

"Two butterbeers." The barkeep said, setting the glasses down.

You rummaged in your bag and placed enough coins on the tabletop to pay for the beverages.

"Hey." Jongho frowned in disappointment, his hand halfway shoved in his pocket from trying to dig out money to pay himself.

"It's my treat." You smiled, lifting your stein up. "We're celebrating your big win, after all."

Jongho raised his large mug as well, clinking it with yours before taking a few large gulps of the butterscotch-flavored beverage.

Jongho let out an ahh sound, setting his glass down on the bar top. You chuckled softly at the foam that clung to his upper lip which made him look even more adorable than usual.

"What?" He inquired.

"You've got a little something here." You gestured on your own face.

"Oh." He laughed, his ears turning a light shade of pink as he grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth.

"You got hit pretty hard by that one chaser on Slytherin. I thought you were going to get knocked off your broom. Are you alright?"

Jongho instinctively rubbed his shoulder while thinking back on the moment he got rammed in the side by one of Slytherin's chasers the day before.

"Yeah I'm fine. A little sore, but he didn't hit me that hard. It's nothing I can't handle."

You shook your head and stifled a laugh.

Jongho was a tough cookie and a strong person both mentally and physically, but that didn't stop you from checking up on him.

"So, should we shop while we're here?" You inquired before taking another drink of your butterbeer.

You could see the faintest hint of a smile playing at Jongho's lips. He loved Hogsmeade and always seemed so entranced by what it had to offer. Even after all these years you can still see how mesmerized he is by everything.

"We could... you know since we're in town." He responded.

"Alright. We can go wherever you want."

His face lit up at your offer.

Once your glasses had been emptied and your craving for butterbeer had been satiated, you and Jongho set off into Hogsmeade to browse the shops and see what grabbed your attention.

"Could we go into Spintwitches?" He asked you in an almost unsure manner, but you could tell by the gleam in his eye that he really wanted to go.

"Of course. Like I said, we'll go wherever you want."

As soon as you stepped foot in the sporting goods shop, you could see Jongho's face brighten, his eyes darting to all the different displays inside.

"Check it out." He marveled, scurrying over to one of the brooms on display.

Your eyes moved to the card set up with the name written across it.

"Hogwarts House Broom." You read aloud.

"It's enchanted to display the house colors of the owner." Jongho informed.

"Woah."

"Yeah. It's pretty awesome, isn't it?"

You nodded.

Though you were a pureblood wizard and Jongho was muggle-born, he seemed to have much more knowledge on quidditch than you. He knew anything and everything about types of brooms and what they do, whereas you didn't.

"This one can go up to seventy miles per hour." He pointed. "It's called the Silver Arrow. You see how the broom itself is made to look like an arrow?"

You nodded.

Honestly, you could listen to Jongho talk about brooms all day just to be able to see the enthusiastic expression on his face. Often times you find yourself thinking back on the day you first met him and how nervous he was to be attending Hogwarts. Now, he fits right in.

Jongho continued spouting off facts about each broom while you both perused the store for a few more minutes before deciding to move on.

"Where to next?" He inquired.

"How about Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop?"

He nodded and you both made your way in that direction.

Upon entering the quaint shop, the scent of parchment and ink reached your senses, a content smile settling onto your features. Displayed on the shelves were different quills that ranged in appearance. Some had fluffy, white feathers while others were flat with patterns on them. Your attention was drawn to a stunning peacock quill, the vibrant array of colors piquing your interest.

You had always been drawn to the captivating quill ever since you enrolled at Hogwarts years ago. Though with its flamboyant appearance, you had passed on buying one, not wanting to cause a distraction during class.

"I never really cared for quills." Jongho commented. "They're difficult to use and you have to keep dipping it in ink."

"Yeah, I can't understand why the school would still want to use them when there are things like pens."

"Ah." He chuckled, thinking back on when your professor for muggle appreciation class allowed everyone to try one out. "You were mesmerized by those things."

"How could I not be? They're much more convenient than a quill. You don't have to constantly dip it in ink."

"Stopping to dip your quill in ink seems like a waste of time if you think about how many times you have to do it during one class period." Jongho mentioned.

"Exactly!" You pointed. "I didn't even think about that."

A small laugh of amusement slipped out of Jongho as he shook his head. Seeing you getting fired up about pens versus quills was entertaining to him.

Moving right along, you started browsing the parchment and notebooks stacked on a shelf. One in particular had caught your eye and had you walking over to it, picking it up from the stack. You ran the pads of your fingers over the intricate embossed design in the leather of the notebook, tracing the swirls and curls on the cover. You enjoyed journaling and writing down good and exciting things that have happened to you, even sometimes writing down bad things just to vent your emotions. The pages in the current notebook you owned were only halfway filled, so there was no need to purchase the one you held in your hands, but it sure was pretty. Maybe you'd come back for it later when you needed a new journal.

You proceeded to the next display, perusing the items for a few moments before noticing Jongho's absence. He was standing with you when you first entered the store, but now you weren't sure where he had wandered off to.

After searching the shop for about a minute, you found Jongho looking at an inkwell filled with rainbow ink, turning the small glass jar around in his hand with a confused pout on his pretty lips that had your heart doing front flips.

"Do people actually use this?" He asked once you were close enough to hear him.

"Only for fun or pranks. It's not really suitable for classwork."

"Ah." He placed it back on the shelf. "People here seem to love their jokes. Prank quills, prank socks, a prank shop."

"Yeah." You chuckled. "Some people do. You'd be surprised how good business is at Zonko's."

"Are you ready to go?" Jongho asked, looking to see that you didn't have anything in your hands.

"Yeah. I didn't find anything."

"Alright. Moving on, then."

Your day at Hogsmeade was a lot of fun. You had stayed in town so long that you decided to grab lunch. Unfortunately, you weren't quick enough and Jongho had paid for your meal, which you shyly thanked him for. At the end of the day, you each left town with a bag of sweet treats from Honeydukes and a new piece of clothing from Gladrags. Jongho found a nice jacket and you managed to snag a pair of pants you had your eye on for a while.

"Thanks for taking me out today." Jongho told you on your walk back to the school.

"It was nothing. I wanted to celebrate your big win, plus I needed a day out. Can't be focused on studies all the time."

"Right." He chuckled.

Once inside the castle, the both of you parted ways to head to your respective dormitories, Jongho standing in the hallway for a moment, watching you walk away.

I should have said something. He thought to himself. It would have been the perfect opportunity. He let out a short huff of disappointment.

Maybe next time.

Jongho took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He had gone over everything at least a hundred times.

"Just say what you need to say. It's no big deal."

Gryffindors were supposed to be courageous and brave, but Jongho was currently lacking that trait. He wanted so badly to confess his feelings to you, but all he could think about was the many ways you'd reject him:

"I only see you as a friend."

"I like someone else."

"I'm sorry. I don't feel the same."

"I don't date muggles."

He groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. It shouldn't be this big of a deal.

If only he had something that could help him out, give him that little boost of courage he needed.

Then, suddenly, a lightbulb went off in his head. A bravery potion. That's it! He knew how to make that. He just learned it a few weeks ago in potions class. Pulling out his cauldron, he went through the ingredients he remembered were used in the concoction, pulling them out and lining them along the desk.

Less than an hour later, he held a glass bottle in his hands, swirling the liquid around inside while examining it. He had never taken a potion before and was a little nervous, but he needed this. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to confess properly unless he had just a little bit of courage.

"I hope this works." He murmured before downing the potion.

You were walking down the hallway when Jongho came around the corner with a little pep in his step. It was evening and classes were over for the day, so you assumed that's why he appeared so chipper.

"There you are, pretty."

Your body stiffened, your heart leaping at the unexpected nickname.

"Pretty?" You whispered under your breath.

As soon as you were within reach, Jongho took hold of your hand and rubbed his thumb affectionately across your knuckles.

"I'm glad I found you. We need to talk."

"We do?" You questioned. "About what?"

"Follow me."

Jongho led you down the stone corridors of the castle until you arrived at a somewhat secluded area of the school that was, for the moment, free of any students or teachers.

"Is everything alright?" You asked, mildly concerned that he needed to discuss something serious with you.

"You're so beautiful." He sighed out, ignoring your question. "Have I ever told you that?"

Your eyes widened as a faint warmth touched your cheeks. "No."

"You are. Y/n, you are so stunning."

What's with the sudden compliments?

Jongho gazed at you dreamily. "You make my heart race every time I'm near you and when I see you in the crowd at quidditch games cheering for me, it makes me feel so giddy I can't even explain it. Sometimes I wish I could run up to you after a successful game and kiss you. I'd lift you off your feet and spin you around just like in the movies."

"Jongho." You uttered in disbelief.

"I love you so much, Y/n."

You could see the look in his eyes and tell by the way he was sputtering all of these confessions that something wasn't right.

"Are you okay?" You asked him.

"I'm fine." He giggled. "Better than ever."

You pressed your lips together in concern, cupping his cheeks to examine him.

"Please kiss me, Y/n."

You gasped softly at the request, your cheeks set ablaze. Oh how you wanted to give in. You wanted so badly to lock lips with him right then and there, but this wasn't right.

"What did you do, Jongho?" You asked.

"My name sounds so nice coming from your mouth, pretty." He sighed out.

"Jongho."

He giggled in response.

"What did you take?"

He reached into his bag and pulled out an empty bottle, handing it to you. You brought it to your nose, sniffing it, the scent of bubblegum reaching your senses.

Babbling Beverage.

"Jongho." You groaned. "What have you done?"

"It's a bravery potion, Y/n. No need to worry." He smiled almost drunkenly.

"This isn't a bravery potion, this is a Babbling Beverage. It makes you speak nonsense."

He scoffed in offense. "I'm not speaking nonsense."

"Come here." You brought him over to the corner of the secluded hallway, so you'd have a little more privacy.

"Are you mad at me?" Jongho asked.

"No, but why did you do it?"

"I wanted to confess to you but I was too scared. Isn't that silly? You told me Gryffindors are brave, and I usually am, but not today." He rested his head against the wall. "I needed something to help me so I brewed a bravery potion—or at least I thought it was."

"You... wanted to confess to me?"

"Yes. I like you so much, Y/n. You're so beautiful and funny and kind and you made me feel so welcomed on that very first train ride to Hogwarts. You were the first friend I ever made."

Your heart swelled with adoration at his words. Though he was under the influence of a potion, his words seemed genuine.

Jongho took his bag off, letting it fall to the ground as he stepped closer to you.

"I want to kiss you so badly." He murmured.

"I'm not sure that's a good ide-" Your sentence went unfinished as he gently took your chin between his thumb and index finger.

Staring into his captivating eyes, you found yourself wanting to give in, your gaze darting down to his pouty lips and imagining how soft they probably felt. Having his face so dangerously close to yours had you wanting to throw caution to the wind.

"Can I?" He asked.

The tone of his voice was so soft yet temping at the same time. Without mulling it over any further, you nodded.

Jongho didn't let another second pass before his lips landed on yours—and yes, they were soft. Right away, you reciprocated his actions, kissing him back with just as much fervor.

His fingers released your chin, moving to the back of your neck to pull you even closer, the action also causing your lips to press further into his. You could feel every dip and curve of his mouth, the sensation making your closed eyelids flutter. Your hands, which had been balled into fists at your sides, latched onto his shoulders, staying there for only a few moments before your fingers slid into his hair. Jongho's arm snaked its way around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. You gasped at his action, noting how strong he was and how tightly he was holding you against him with just one arm.

It was clear Jongho was starting to get comfortable as his kisses got more heated and somewhat sloppy. He began nipping lightly at your bottom lip, letting out quiet sighs when your nails grazed the nape of his neck.

"Keep doing that, pretty." He exhaled against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine and a rush of butterflies to your abdomen.

You boldly grabbed a handful of his hair and gave it an experimental tug, a quiet groan from him vibrating against your lips immediately after. His hand that was cupping the back of your neck dropped to your waist, squeezing your hip tightly. He then took a step forward, backing you against the stone wall behind you.

"You have no idea how long I've dreamt of this." He murmured, placing a kiss on your jawline

Heavy breaths escaped your lips, your chest heaving up and down while attempting to catch your breath. You had no idea Jongho could kiss so passionately... or boldly, and you were pleasantly surprised by this discovery.

"You're not the only one." You confessed.

He lifted his head to meet your gaze.

"I'm not?"

"No."

Jongho knew when you kissed back that it more than likely meant you felt the same about him as he does you, but hearing you practically confess had him reeling. He wanted to hear more.

"It's probably obvious at this point, but I'm head over heels for you, Jongho."

Still under the influence of the potion, Jongho blurted the first thought in his head.

"I love the way you say my name."

His lips were on yours again, hot and heavy. His kisses were desperate and fast-paced, making you weak in the knees. The Babbling Beverage made one speak nonsense and didn't have an effect on how they kissed, so this was all Jongho.

Your fingers curled around the collar of his robes, fisting the fabric in desperation while he practically devoured you.

It was at that moment, your foot bumped something on the floor which caused you to part ways. Glancing down, you found Jongho's bag that had been discarded only a few moments earlier lying on its side with something sticking out of it.

"What's this?" You asked, reaching for the object that had fallen out of his bag. It was wrapped in brown paper with twine tied around the it, a sprig of lavender tucked into the bow knotted neatly in the middle.

"Oh." The look on his face told you that it was something you weren't supposed to see.

The effects of the potion seemed to be wearing off as he dropped his head into his hands, letting out a groan of frustration.

"I was supposed to give that to you first, before I confessed." He grumbled, his voice muffled by his palms.

When he lifted his head, he saw that you were smiling.

"You got me something?"

"Yeah, but I messed it all up. I had a plan. Give you the gift, then confess. That stupid potion." He muttered the last part.

He only wanted something to give him a tiny boost of courage and instead he made the wrong thing and made himself babble like a fool. Then again, he did have an incredible makeout session with you, so did everything really go wrong?

"Here." He picked up the item and handed it to you.

You carefully took the gift from him, running your fingertips over the lavender.

"You wrapped it yourself?"

He nodded, holding his hands behind his back and rocking back on his heels.

Plucking the sprig of lavender out of the twine, you undid the knot and pulled back the wrapping. Inside was the leather-bound journal you were admiring at Scrivenshaft's just a day ago.

A quiet gasp left your lips. "How did you know?"

As far as you were aware, Jongho had been looking at inkwells when you were perusing the journals.

"I saw you eyeing it in the shop." He responded, holding back a grin, clearly proud of himself.

"You didn't have to."

"I know."

"Thank you." You embraced him in a one-armed hug. "Also, don't worry about how things went today. I think everything turned out perfect. And if I'm being honest, I really enjoyed that little kiss we shared."

"Little?" He raised a brow.

"Okay, not so little."

"I'd be happy to do it again." He grinned, leaning forward only for you to press your finger to his lips, halting his actions.

"Maybe later. I heard some voices down the hall a few seconds ago. Don't wanna get caught."

He pouted, his pillowy lips pressing against your index finger. Unable to resist his puffed out cheeks and pleading eyes, you let out a short sigh, caving immediately.

"We can go to the library. We're less likely to get caught there."

Jongho nodded vigorously in agreement, taking your hand and pulling you down the corridors towards the library, eager to lock lips with you once again.

Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yunho ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny [tag list closed. check availability on my pinned post]

#jongho x reader #choi jongho x reader #jongho x you #choi jongho x you #jongho x y/n #choi jongho x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez hogwarts au #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios

[linagram]

all bday illustrations! i feel like something changed in my art style but it's probably just the lineart (+ shading and lighting)

#don't you think it's wild how riku was still 17 when he was first introduced and now he's gonna be 19 this year. #like it's crazy man aimi just turned 17 and akio is still 17 as well DUDE STOP GETTING OLDER!!! #and asahi is gonna be 13.. omg... #fun fact about how time works in linagram: idk how it works in canongram but here the prisoners actually do get older #but i also see it like this: to them it feels like literal months or even years have passed. they're getting older. they're celebrating- #their bdays or other holidays. but when it comes to the outside world its probably been like three days or more. like maybe a week #so when or if they manage to come back i think their bodies will go back to their pre-milgram age. sort of like they went to an alternate- #reality in some way?? #if you're wondering the only reason why i decided it won't be as long in the outside world is not bc of their families or friends #SOME OF THEM HAVE PETS. AND THEIR PETS LOVE THEM A LOT. NAOMI LIVES ALONE WITH HER CAT AND THERE'S NO ONE WHO CAN TAKE CARE OF HER #(maybe some family members but do we trust naomi's family. especially her mother) #casually dropping some lore in the tags and leaving byeeeee #👑prisoner 001: miyagawa akio👑 #🌸prisoner 002: hanasaki aimi🌸 #💔prisoner 003: ishizu shun 💔 #🌿prisoner 004: chiba naomi🌿 #🍓prisoner 005: sanada kei 🍓 #💎prisoner 006: yoshioka eiko💎 #🍬prisoner 007: yano asahi 🍬 #🎀prisoner 008: maruyama yurika 🎀 #🎸prisoner 009: kuroki riku 🎸 #🎭prisoner 010: himura reina🎭

[awearywritersworld]

tell me you don't want me

gojo satoru x reader summary: gojo adds falling in love with his dead best friend's little sister to the list of things that keep him up at night w/c: 1.8k tags/warnings: angst to fluff. gojo takes care of reader when they have a migraine. they watch shark week together, so shark haters beware. arguing, but nothing super harsh. protective!gojo. reader is referred to as a sister but there are no pronouns. gojo is around 27, reader 23. curse words. no out right smut, but a heavily suggestive ending so lets say 18+ a/n: i've been writing purely fluff for gojo, so it seems about time to return to my angst/fluff roots. today's epi made me had me feeling some type of way. may write a part two to this? idk lemme know what you think! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

after you arrived at jujutsu high as a first year, everyone wore the same expression when they looked at you, their eyes full of pity and apprehension. you really couldn't blame them though. after what happened with suguru, you were left a shell of yourself, paranoid that you were destined to the same fate as your older brother.

however, the boy that suguru called his best friend held something different in his gaze whenever his eyes fell on you. understanding, maybe? gojo knew that if there was anyone in the world who missed suguru as much as he did, it had to be you.

for most of the year, the two of you really only talked in passing, dancing around a discussion neither of you were brave enough to initiate. then your brother's birthday rolled around and you found yourself drenched in rain, sneaking into the boys' dormitory to knock on gojo satoru's door.

he wasn't surprised to find you standing there.

"that idiot always refused to let me celebrate his birthday," you blurted out, damp hair sticking to your forehead.

he laughed. it was just a breath, but it was still genuine. "right? he couldn't stand being fussed over for one day."

and as you both stood there, rain pattering against the window, you felt months of unspoken tension melt away. "well, come in. i bought cake."

after that day, gojo took on the roll of your older brother and he really leaned into it. flicking your forehead to annoy you, threatening anyone he thought had a crush on you, giving you advice whenever he deemed you needed it.

you weren't sure if he was aware, even after all these years, that he'd saved you— pulled you away from the brink. you became like the little sister he never had, while he tried his best to fill the hole suguru had left in your heart.

gojo spends more time in your apartment than his own, so it's no surprise when he barges in one afternoon, singing out your name (rather terribly, one might add).

"i have a migraine, 'toru," you groan from the couch, pulling the blanket up over your head as the bright light from behind his figure worsens your discomfort. all of your blinds are shut, the curtains pulled together. "can you please close the door?"

he hums, stepping inside and pulling the door shut quietly. "you seem to be getting them a lot lately."

"probably because i spend so much time with you," you whine facetiously.

he gasps, hand clutching at his heart. "i come all the way here to visit you, only to be ridiculed. my devastation is untellable."

after grabbing a washcloth from the linen closet, he pads over to the kitchen sink. you peer at him from under the blanket as he runs it under cold water, noting how the veins in his forearms become more prominent once he wrings it out.

you're laying across the entirety of the couch, but you scoot away from the edge and he situates himself in the space beside your hip, his body facing you. the corner of his mouth is turned down, evidence of the worry swirling in his chest. he presses the back of his fingers to your forehead before folding the cloth neatly and laying it there.

"you should mention the migraines to shoko," he suggests earnestly.

"they just flare up sometimes, you know that. it's really not a big deal."

"yeah, maybe.. but i still worry about you."

you can't help but notice how close he is and while it feels casual, it also feels... intimate? the cold cloth does bring some relief to your head, though you'd have preferred it if his hand had remained there instead.

"have you eaten?" he questions after a moment, pulling you from your thoughts.

"not yet."

"then i'll go pick up some food," he offers, rising to his feet. "do you need anything else-"

"no," you say a little too quickly, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. "i mean.. can you just stay?"

he suddenly looks very smug. "oh, what's this? are you sure spending more time with me won't make your head feel worse?"

you attempt to roll your eyes but the movement sends a sharp pain through your skull, causing you to grumble. "don't make me hurt you satoru. i was joking."

"i know," he smirks, decently self satisfied. "but you do have to eat, so-"

"there's leftover egg drop in the fridge, can you just warm that up for me please?"

"'course! anything for you, (y/n)-chan!"

his tone makes it sound as if he's teasing you, but he knows it's the truth. he's painfully aware that there isn't a thing you could ask of him that he'd deny. he tries not to think about that though, because he can't bring himself to admit what it all means.

once your soup is ready, he joins you on the couch. you move to sit up and while that makes plenty of room for him, he still lifts your legs, sitting so that they lay across his lap. one of his hands is resting on your shin, the other on your knee.

"shark week?" he suggests as you reach for the remote.

you nod eagerly. "yes."

the two of you have never fought before.

well, maybe that's not entirely true. it isn't uncommon for the both of you to argue over video games, the latest chapter of a manga, or other things of that nature. but you and gojo have never had a genuine disagreement.

that is, until you mention wanting to challenge a decision made by the higher ups. he's well aware of how they deal with people they deem troublesome, so he can't help the vexation that bubbles up in his chest at your words.

"absolutely not," he tells you. his voice is low, not one hint of amusement to be found.

the tone leaves you narrowing your eyes, and you sound a bit misbelieving when you ask, "what do you mean 'absolutely not'?"

after everything that happened with geto, the higher ups have been wary of you. honestly, they're probably just looking for an excuse to pull another stunt like the detention center and he can't risk that. he can't risk losing you.

rather than express any part of that sentiment, however, he just goes all stone faced and vague. it's weird, so naturally it's followed by a bit of back and forth that goes nowhere, the conversation growing unreasonably volatile with each passing second.

why can't you just listen to him? why can't you give him the benefit of the doubt? he's earned that by now, hasn't he?

"i don't understand!" you hiss, your chest heaving with indignation. "why are you acting like this?"

because i love you. because i need you. because you mean more to me than everything else in this world put together.

he can't possibly say that though.. can't lay his shame bare for you to see.. can't bring himself to admit the feelings he has for you.

he's in love with dead best friend's little sister and it's wrong. it keeps him up at night. claws away at his self respect.

"i'll take care of it," he promises, sounding a bit defeated. "just please stay out of it."

"quit treating me like i'm a child, satoru. you're not my father."

your assertion makes the air in the room shift, and the feeling that forms in the pit of gojo's stomach is not unlike a cord being pulled too taut before snapping.

"so what am i then, huh? what am i to you?" he interrogates, taking a step toward you.

his eyes burn with intensity and the conviction in his voice is dizzying, especially since it's meant only for you. he immediately notices the way you stiffen, suddenly unable to meet his eye.

he swallows thickly, any restraint he has left ebbing away once he hears your small, nervous voice. "'toru, w... what do you-"

you're cut off when he takes another step in your direction, your back meeting with the wall after you attempt to maintain the space between the both of you.

one of his palms presses to the wall beside your head, though the other remains at his side. he doesn't want to trap you there, not when he still doesn't have a clear idea of how you're feeling.

his breath fans across your face, your mind struggling to process what was happening. you whisper his name, unsure of how else to respond.

"i want you." he nearly chokes on the words, the pain of admitting them evident in his voice. "want you more than anything."

and he does. he wants you more than the sleep he never gets. more than he wants to honor suguru. more than he wants to be a good man.

his head dips down, your breath catching in your throat when his lips find the spot on your jaw just below your ear.

"please, tell me to stop," he begs, sending a shiver down your spine.

your hands move to his chest, the rise and fall of it uneven and sporadic. god, you make him so fucking weak it's almost pathetic.

his lips shift to your cheek, closer to your mouth, and his hand reaches up to cradle the other side of your face. he sounds irrevocably desperate now, "tell me you don't want me."

your heart's beating so loudly in your ear drums, you can hardly hear yourself speak. "satoru, please."

"please what?" he asks, and for a moment you're unsure of the answer.

you try to open your mouth once more, but the words are lodged in your throat. confusion and frustration rattle around in your head, making it difficult to string together your thoughts. finally you just give in, grabbing his face between your hands and pulling his lips against your own.

he let's out a strangled noise, some unknowable mix of pleasure and relief. his hands land on your hips at once, greedily pulling your body against his own.

his lips are chapped, but they're perfect in the way they move against yours. the kiss isn't clumsy, nor is it unsure. it's ardent and comfortable, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

you pull away first, each of you holding the other's gaze. you're both hazy eyed, your mouths curved into giddy, lovesick grins.

gojo doesn't hesitate when you glance down at his lips, your words easing that bitter self loathing he'd been enduring for longer than he cares to admit. "if you want me... then make me yours."

taglist: @torusmochi @moonmalice

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

#writeblr #this is a mashup of like 3 dates i accidentally went on lol #by that i mean that i was out with a woman on a date in 2 of these situations #and a man just. joined us. and we were too awkward to say anything while he tried to ''date'' me #& one was a longterm friend that i was like. you what???? #like he's nice he's a doctor and my mom was SO happy she was like raquel think about it #''it's a perfect love story you grew up together and reconnected as adults and like the same things and he's friends with ur brother #and his sister is one of ur close friends!!!'' #yes but alas. he is a boy . she only likes girls. can i make it any more obvious #anyway im tryna write about like the force of male attention being actually incredibly ingrained to women like we are SUPPOSED to like it #it's seen as the only important thing #even if ur gay #and it's a nuanced thing idk #and while rn i i.d. as lesbian #like .... it wouldn't be UNTRUE to say i am probably like ''cusp bisexual'' bc i CAN experience attraction to men bc like . #sexuality is fluid... #don't tell straight ppl tho bc they do not understand the concept that ppl don't necessarily need a solid everlasting label #they're like GET in the BOX #if ur gay & in boston i'm 30 and pretty please come kiss me. #(i usually only date older ppl sorry in advance tho)

[landograndprix]

Birthday boys ✾ l.n

summary: reader celebrates the boys by personal messages, some might enjoy it more than others

requested: yes!

follow up (sorta) from this post

☆☆☆☆☆

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by danielricciardo, heidiberger, landonorris and 7,824 others

y/nusername happy birthday to the one and only love of my life! Honestly feeling bad for the people who don't get to have a best friend like you– i'm so happy we got to grow up together and terrorize the neighborhood and everyone in our way. I love you babes even though you set me up on a date with your weird coworker. also thanks for the job, sorry you got fired before me ❤️

tagged: @/danielricciardo

view all 826 comments

dannyricric lando & heidi who? I only know daniel & y/n

tifosiredbull the first and the last picture 😭

leclerccc_ the last one is too cute!!

danielricciardo can't wait for your birthday babes, got the pictures ready

y/nusername shaking in my boots right now

teammclaren 😂 😂 😂

landohnorry the first one is doing it for me tbh 🤣

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y/nusername

liked by alex_albon, mercedesamgf1, georgerussell63 and 8,723 others

y/nusername don't be down and turn that frown upside-down. Happy 30th birthday to the most British man I've ever met– crickey, you're getting old. Best wishes from one bad bitch to another bad bitch 🎂

tagged: georgerussell63

view all 812 comments

grussell63 what is this and why is this the best thing I've ever seen? 😭

georgerussell63 why are you like this?

y/nusername I ask myself that question at least ten times a day 🥰

maxiel13 put this on my grave please :')

mercedesamgf1 truly iconic 🙌

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by isahernaez, carlossainz55 and 9,076 others

y/nusername older? yes. wiser? debatable. Some things are better with age, too bad you aren’t one of them. Happy birthday to my favorite spaniard 🌶

tagged: @/carlossainz55

charlos55 ah yes I love the Jonas Brothers

y/nusername joe is my favorite obviously

charlos55 asjklsas i love you!

scuderiaferrari thank you for perfectly capturing our chili 🌶

gaaaslyyy happy b-day to Carlos and let's thank y/n for her services ☺

carlossainz55 I can't wait to see you on the track this weekend

y/nusername is that a threat?

carlossainz55 keep your eyes open

sainzie my goal in life is to be as close with every driver as y/n is 😭

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, alex_albon and 8,003 others

y/nusername happy birthday to the guy who can never do anything wrong in his life, the guy who became the little brother I've never had, thanks for being such a great time. (Don't be fooled, I still like your girlfriend more.)

tagged: alex_albon

view all 307 comments

maxmaxmax he truly can't do wrong, protect this men at cost!

🤺🤺🤺🤺

alex_albon thanks y/n, it's okay I too like my girlfriend more than you 😀

alebonooo like you should 😇

lilymhe hey could you intruduce me to this guy, he's cute

alex_albon 👋👋

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y/nusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 10,897 others

y/nusername Smart, funny, beautiful..but enough about me, happy birthday to monaco's (and my) favorite. Here’s to another year of questionable fashion decisions. Happy birthday queen. ♥

tagged: charles_leclerc

sharllekler not charles questioning his life in these pictures 😭

lestappen_ I would too if my team was ferrari 💀

leclerc16 bestie the least thing you could've done was take those pants away from him

y/nusername friend if this man wants to embarrass himself, who am I to stop him?

charles_leclerc thank you queen ❤️

checooop don't known if I want to be charles or y/n

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 9,726 others

y/nusername Happy birthday to the guy who always knows how to make me laugh, who matches my weird, to the most good-looking guy I've ever met, to my best friend, to my person and to the one I love. I hope i get to spend many more birthdays with you..anyway, who needs a gift when you have me? Love you always, muppet 🧡🧡

tagged: landonorris

view all 910 comments

norris4 the difference between the birthday post of the other guys and lando's one is insane 😭

mercmartin the last picture will always be my favorite, thanks for sharing it once again

landonorris love you, muppet ❤️

Bottassv will I ever get over the muppet thing? Probably not

danielricciardo best friend?

landonorris people change their minds, daniel

scottyjames31 feeling rather betrayed right now

y/nusername guys please, I can't stand y'all equally. No need to fight.

#lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #charles leclerc x reader #alex albon x reader #george russel x reader #carlos sainz x reader #social au

[jiminrings]

fail-safe (3)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 14k

glimpse: you hear everything you've ever wanted, but you don't know if it's too late.

alternatively, yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ still angst (but u can breathe now bc it’s the finale), brother’s best friend AND single dad au, jealousy, yearning from all angles, did i say angst alr (mom-wise and brother-wise), fluff, redemption ]

notes: this is it for the chronological series of fail-safe :-) from the bottom of my heart thank you so sooooo much for reading n loving!!! sharing fs with the lot of u is an experience (and era) i'll never forget!!!

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Your trip back home isn’t as rough as you expected it to be. 

Somehow, there’s a huge difference between coming home alone and coming home with Jungkook. There’s an irreplaceable weight in your chest that still flares even at the mention of Yoongi, the anger you have towards him mixing with the trepidation of holding everything in you, not just him, for another three days. There’s an angry rash around your fingertips just waiting for you to pick on your nails until they’re raw because atleast in that way, you get to forget the way Yoongi’s hand picked up yours in the dark.

There’s an ache in you that not even Yoongi and Hyewon could undo by never having met in the first place. It’s long been there, perhaps even older than Haneul. The ache of unfulfillment in you is bred by everything significant in your life — all from your first argument with your mom because of your lack of direction in life, to your latest heartbreak that keeps manifesting into your first ever.

You're no longer angry recounting the fact that you weren't destined for greatness. Namjoon turned out beyond great, world-renowned even, despite living in the same home that you did. Maybe it's not your environment or your lack of a passion that hindered you — maybe, it's just you alone.

Maybe, some part of you had ached too much from reaching (read: loving) too far up, you're doomed to live the rest of your life unfulfilled. Yoongi's never been yours, but the way your heart withdraws from him is as if he's always been.

You've done your share. You've completed your fill. You've worked yourself to the bone to make anything (not something, and certainly not everything) out of yourself that even if you're not decorated in sports like Namjoon nor celebrated in music like Yoongi, you have a fail-safe to fall back on.

You're earning more than the white collars you could recognize from your old yearbook and even if it's to look after someone, to look after Jungkook and his craft, and neither use your actual degree nor make a name out of yourself — a part of you feels fulfilled.

If being fulfilled meant being in the shadows as a manager; if it meant caring for someone in a professional context yet in a way you've always known with practice, with love, through the years– you'll take it.

You'll take the peace of being fulfilled without a trophy than to be listless trying to compete for first place.

You're fulfilled now to be sitting at the passenger seat of your own car because despite having never been to your place anymore, Jungkook fought with you in order to get his hands on the wheel.

You're fulfilled now, even if you only took Jungkook's silly suggestion (read: insistence) of fake-dating him just so you wouldn't have to face your family and Yoongi alone. You're fulfilled despite having no real place in neither men's lives.

Oddly enough, Jungkook wants to be both. He wants to be fulfilled and compete for first  place in a position in your life that he can't even say to your face.

Jungkook holds you right in the middle of the living room, his eyes wide and grin sparkling as if the director had already said action! and the task for him was to act out what being in love looked like, right in front of his female lead's family in her childhood home. (Read: he isn't acting at all.)

“And he’s…?” your mom lets the question hang in the air, eyes trailing from Jungkook’s face, to his bicep, to how his forearm fits snugly against your back and his hand curls around your waist. Your mom visibly looks surprised, although you don’t know if it’s about the fact that you actually came back despite everything, or if it’s because her favorite actor is in her kitchen while she’s sweaty in an apron, or if it’s because said favorite actor leaves no space between the two of you.

“Jeon Jungkook, ma’am. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he greets politely, a little jittery now that he’s face-to-face with her. He’s only heard of the woman she is from you and as much as he tried to picture her from memory, your stories don’t do her much justice. Jungkook’s always loved your kind eyes and your sweet smile, but he knows now where you’ve got it from; in fact, if he turns around right now right after shaking her hand and bowing profusely, you’re showing exactly those to him — that, along with a pair of gazes he can’t place.

Those gazes aren’t kind at all. One is confused and dumbfounded, and the other harbors nothing but hostility and anger.

“Sweetheart, I know you. Who doesn’t?” your mom’s at a loss for breath, mouth still agape as she keeps flickering her eyes between the two of you. She knows that you’re his manager, but what she doesn’t know is why the Jeon Jungkook is in her humble kitchen of all places. He has the most expressive and sincere eyes ever — he can’t possibly mistake your childhood home as a filming set and your waist as a hand rest.

You finally placate her thoughts when you speak, the loaded silence between the three of you (it’s buzzing with tension if you account for the other two) breaking. You actually giggle, your laughter taking the load off her shoulders because you’re happy; you don’t feel an ounce of guilt even if you’re lying to her face. 

“We’re dating, mom,” you grin. “Jungkook’s my boyfriend.”

Jungkook smiles automatically, feeling your hand snake towards his own. His palm’s much bigger than yours yet it’s warmer than you’ve ever imagined, the envelope both of your hands make putting you at ease.

Your mom’s gasp bounces across the walls. Namjoon’s head that’s only been lowered the entire time you’ve been back suddenly whips to look at you and Jungkook. The fridge even lowers its hum to make way for the theatrics aimed at you, yet your eyes are fixed on your mom’s and Jungkook’s alone.

You came home for her and with him. You’re not here for anyone nor anything else because it’s merely a play for your survival, only this time, Jungkook’s hellbent on increasing your odds.

Yoongi freezes evidently, hand tightening around Haneul’s bottle as if it would do anything to release the red from his vision. He staggers silently, breathing suddenly ragged as he stares down at the offending steel cylinder. It’s small. Compact. If anything, he figures it would hurt if he were to throw it at anything. Anyone. Someone, even.

“Wow, that’s.. that’s amazing!” she embraces the both of you, making you and Jungkook share a gaze you only laugh through because he actually looks honored.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to let you know personally,” he apologizes meekly for a mistake that isn’t even one in the first place, the humility in his tone making your ears perk. It’s Jungkook onceagain with the apologies towards you that he shouldn’t be making at all, and yet, even in front of your family, he persists.

Jungkook apologizes even for the things he hasn’t done, not because he plans on doing them, but because a large part of him wants to be in the actual situation wherein those mistakes were merely possibilities.

“It’s no problem at all. You’re busy getting all these awards, I know how that’s like,” she jokes, unable to stop smiling. “I’m just glad someone’s taking care of my baby.”

“And I don’t plan on missing a single day, ma’am.”

“Stop that,” she chides, shaking her head eagerly. “You can call me mom.”

Yoongi lets the bottle clatter to the sink.

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep last night.

He’d woken up in a cold sweat hours before his alarm was supposed to go off to cook dinner for everyone, even if it was only yourfavorite. The anxiousness that bubbled in his veins when he was asleep was going to burst and while Yoongi thought nothing of it initially, he realizes in panic that it was actually pointing to something. 

He woke up next to Haneul and he was placated momentarily, but the knot tied around his heart tightens twofold when he sees Hyewon on the same bed.

On your bed.

The guilt that filled Yoongi then was enough for the bile to creep up into his throat, making him stagger outside to find Namjoon pacing right outside of his own bedroom. His personal phone’s tucked in between his ear and his shoulder, his hands preoccupied scrolling through whatever it is on his work phone. Yoongi momentarily stops his panic to inquire why the hell Namjoon’s panicking and why did he just see a glimpse of your social media accounts pulled up to the screen, your following list staring your brother in the eyes.

“What? What happened? Is it Y/N?”

Namjoon only looked at him with nothing but pity and guilt, the resentment he had for himself bleeding through the way he shifted his gaze to him.

“She saw you and Hyewon.”

Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep since.  

He didn’t even blink when Hyewon thanked him and said her goodbyes. He wasn’t even fazed when his ex-wife kissed Haneul goodbye and his son only resumed playing with his blocks. Yoongi hadn’t even tended to himself throughout the entire night, surrendering himself to be awake in your couch in the far event that you’d come home.

Yoongi wanted to follow you home, except almost exactly similar to the past, he had chased you out of what’s supposed to be your own home in the first place. The difference now was that he didn’t mean for Hyewon to be on your bed at all, let alone your room, but in the back of Yoongi’s thick skull — he figures that it won’t be enough for you.

Yoongi waits for you all night throughout the morning like a loyal dog waiting for its master, his chest rising up and down in hope yet his chin down in despondence. You do end up coming back home though, but your presence is neither unaccompanied nor for him.

With you is Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend.

If only Haneul hadn’t asked for his bottle to be brought upstairs because he’s watching cartoons on Yoongi’s laptop, he would’ve collapsed on the floor then and there, uncaring of the way everyone else would be looking down on him.

If only Namjoon’s gaze wasn’t flitting to him to gauge his reaction because it’s the first time he’s, or by everyone else rather, hearing that you have a boyfriend, Yoongi would put his hands on his head and curse until his piercing migraine suddenly disappears.

If only your mother wasn’t here, frozen in the kitchen mostly because of what you just revealed and who you came home with, and partly because she’s waiting for him to finish washing Haneul’s bottle, he would’ve thrown up right in the sink.

Yoongi gathers all his pain and keeps it shut within himself until he gets you alone, catching you by the staircase when everyone else has dispersed.

“I’m sorry. Namjoon told me what you saw and-…” he stops himself when you look up at him with an innocent yet empty gaze, the weight of it (or lack thereof) startling him. “Let me explain why Hyewon was there in your bed.”

“I don’t want to listen,” you enunciate clearly, keeping your voice down because both Jungkook and Haneul are a few steps away. You do it for their sake and not for Yoongi’s, the bitterness in your chest physically restricting you to think about his state.

Yoongi pushes on, breath already catching in his throat when you’re still stiff as a stone. You haven’t even made a break for it yet; he only unconsciously held onto you out of fear that you’ll be out of his sight. “She was in the area because her parents are old and they don’t know much about selling their house here a-and well, she knows that I did the same for my parents when they sold ours. Nothing happened. I just helped her with the sale! S-she was playing with Haneul in the living room while I napped a-and, I just… when I woke up, they were right next to me. Y/N, I swear, nothing-…”

You shake your head fervently, the innocence of his reason doing little to break the seal in your stomach. You feel it dropping once again and even if Yoongi’s right, even if he’s saying the truth, the sight alone of him appearing to be a part of a happy family jogs up all the pain.

“I don’t want to listen and you don’t have to explain either.”

“But I hurt you. That’s why I want to explain,” he stutters. Yoongi’s eyes are so glassy, you could see your reflection in them.

“Oh. So you know,” you whisper, teeth harshly digging into your bottom lip. “I hate Hyewon for a lot of things but not for being the mother of your child. That’s out of my reach. I get it. She’s his mom and that’s that,” you admit, the vacancy in your chest and on your ring finger reminding you what Yoongi had never given you the chance for. “What I hate is that you let her sleep in my room. Seeing Haneul in there is good. You and him? That’s okay because I let you sleep in there,” you heave, voice close to breaking because of how you force it to be tamped down. “I hate how you let her sleep in my room, Yoongi. I-I, I fucking hate it because it’s just like that time I caught you practically fucking her in my room.”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-…” Yoongi sniffles, tears already pouring. The staircase in your house is far too narrow to hold the both of you, let alone your history. “I didn’t think. I didn’t notice, a-and, I didn’t think. I didn’t think at all, Y/N. I thought it was okay for a split second because we looked like-…”

“A family,” you finish for him. “I get it. I do,” you nod your head fervently, your own hand snaking to your lips to stop the sharp inhale that pains you from the inside. “Almost everyone loses their sense of reason when it comes to family.”

“I didn’t notice she already entered the room. But I-I woke up,” Yoongi still swears up and down, adamant on his truth that you aren’t open to entertaining because he’s hurt you far too many times before. “Hyewon and I… we’re not. We’re co-parenting.”

“Still a family.”

“But-…”

“What the hell do you want to hear from me, Yoongi?” you snap, voice finally toning down when you notice faint footsteps coming from the second floor. “Do you— do you want me to agree with you and say that the three of you aren’t a family? And for what, s-so that could somehow excuse you for everything you’ve done? I don’t even know what family’s supposed to mean at this point!”

From upstairs, Namjoon suppresses a sob.

“My mom doesn’t know a single thing about all of this. I-I can’t even cry to her because I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of protecting you, your son that she looks to as a grandson, a-and even your mom who’s her best friend,” you break into tears, ignoring the baby towel that Yoongi keeps on his person all the time that he offers to you. You sound far too defeated, and maybe you actually are, that Yoongi lets you push past him. “Meanwhile, my own brother probably knows everything but his first instinct is to protect you. Not me, his actual sibling. You.”

.

.

.

Namjoon had been waiting for you upstairs. He’s been barricading the door to the bathroom because he knows you can’t go to bed without your nightly shower, and because he knows that out of every space in the house, it must be the only one left wherein you can be truly alone with no hint of Yoongi.

“We have to talk,” he gets out as soon as you make eye contact with him, the towel that’s slung on your shoulder almost falling at the urgency to which he pulls you aside.

“It can wait.”

“I need to apologize,” he pleads once again, gripping your wrist gently like he had always done when you were kids to get you to listen to him.

“And I said it can wait. I can’t stand you right now,” you grit, the tears on your cheeks barely being dried up when Namjoon, unsurprisingly, decides to apologize to you within the same timeframe as Yoongi. They hadn’t planned it at all — the guilt and remorse weighed far too heavy for them to actually communicate.

“Where will you sleep?” he asks instead, exhaling heavily because you’re insistent on not crying again in barely your first night back, again. “Where will Jungkook sleep?”

“We’ll sleep together in a hotel.”

“Hotel?” Namjoon asks loudly, eyes bulging in shock. His voice is far too loud that everyone in the house (and maybe even your neighbors) must have heard him. “That’s nonsense. This is home, Y/N. You don’t have to book a hotel.”

“It is?” you seethe, your closed fists tightening on themselves painfully. “Did you also say the same thing to Hyewon? To Yoongi in the first place?”

“It’s my fault for-…”

You’re unaware that you and Namjoon are neck to neck until your mom chimes in out of nowhere, her gentle eyes asking more questions than she’s actually uttering. “What’s going on?” she switches her gaze between you and him. “Are the two of you fighting?”

“No,” you answer in unison, unable to fit a relieved sigh in between the terse silence.

“It’s nothing, mom,” Namjoon puts a hand on your shoulder, his smile tight and tense. “I was just telling Y/N that she doesn’t have to book a hotel.”

“Why would you book a hotel?” she gasps incredulously, her tone being the exact copy of Namjoon’s just a second ago.

“It’s just crowded in here, mom. That’s all,” you muster a sheepish smile, your posture slouching the more you realize that there’s no way out.

“I can ask Yoongi and Haneul to transfer to Namjoon’s so you can-..”

“No-!” you interrupt her in a hurry, breath hitching at the mention of him. “No, no. That’s unnecessary. I don’t want to sleep in my room.”

There’s a loaded pause between all of you, even between the door that Yoongi has his back on as he listens in.

“You and Jungkook can take my room instead,” Namjoon insists, his offer only barely scratching the surface of the apology that you truly deserve.

“Great. Thanks,” you conclude, already halfway into the bathroom when the sudden thought strikes you, your curiosity (and limit, by extension) getting the best of you to ask Namjoon while your mom’s still here. “How… how much longer are they gonna stay here?”

“I… haven’t asked yet,” Namjoon admits, the animosity you have towards Yoongi not going unnoticed by your mother.

“You need to ask then,” you quip. “This house is too small to have everyone and anyone.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook woke up in peace from sleeping in a bed that isn’t his.

Even before you actually got to shower (and not just sit on the toilet seat whilst trying to compose yourself) since you forgot to retrieve your clothes from your suitcase, Jungkook was already starfished in the middle of Namjoon’s bed. It’s a touching sight atop your own blanket and bug spray that your brother put in for you.

The two of you are far from okay. As a matter of fact, the only people you’re truly okay with in the house is your mom and Haneul; despite knowing that fully, Jungkook still dived in head-first in the middle of your situation. You’ve tried to dissuade him all throughout the five-hour long car ride, and not once did he even budge.

He’s here for you and no one else. He’s snoring in the middle of your sibling’s bed whom you aren’t in good terms with. He’s at ease with you in a province that he’s never stepped foot in, all because he felt compelled to protect you somehow and wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

Jungkook cares for you, enough to write a note and place it beside him just before he went to sleep, telling you that he’s a messy sleeper and to either jolt him awake to move or just manhandle him to the side so you could also sleep on the bed.

You go for the latter, trying to pry him as gently as you could (but even if you just hauled him like a sack of potatoes, he still wouldn’t wake up because he’s at ease too much; it’s you, of course) before finally calling it a night.

You may have lied awake mulling over the perpetual ache in your chest, but you didn’t cry at all.

Eventually, you fall asleep to the sound of Jungkook snoring.

.

.

.

Jungkook may have slept earlier than you, but he makes sure that you stay in late. (read: he physically tucked you into bed so snugly, you probably can’t even shift your shoulders by a centimeter). He wants to pull his weight around a house he hasn’t even been in, even if you hadn’t asked him to — you’d never do, because even as a manager and not as a fake-girlfriend, you don’t let him lift a single finger. Simply put, Jungkook feels this massive pull, not to perform for you, but serve you.

He finds himself quietly going down the stairs, still in his socks because you had stolen his house slippers just last night and he doesn’t have the heart to ask you to give them back. He’s quickly figured out the kitchen, getting a soup started before he allows himself to sit on the dining table by himself.

It turns out that Jungkook’s not alone at all.

“Hi.”

His ears perk at the soft voice that comes from the side of him, eyes immediately setting on the toddler who’s still dressed in his pajamas and has a similar case of bedhead to him.

“Hey buddy. Nice bangs,” Jungkook chuckles invitingly, pulling out a chair for Haneul to which he gets up on easily by himself. 

“My appa cut them for me,” he answers with a smile, shyly pointing to Jungkook’s forehead with an eager finger. “You have bangs too. Who cut yours?”

“My girlfriend. I think she can be a hairstylist one day,” he hums, not feeling guilty over lying to him when it’s only a half, easily-corrected lie. You may not be Jungkook’s actual, real girlfriend, but you did cut his bangs when he asked you to. He couldn’t be bothered going to the salon and you didn’t have the energy to argue with him otherwise, so that’s how he ended up with choppy, viral (it only became viral because he has them) bangs that gained him a few dozen articles or so.

Jungkook doesn’t have kids of his own, but what he does have are several nephews and nieces. He’s the youngest of four children, and that’s perhaps the reason why he could empathize with you. He’s never been through what you have, and although you would never wish for him to do so, a part of him wants to know what it’s like — not because he seeks the pain, but because he wants to know how he could empathize with you better

With Jungkook being Jungkook, it’s perhaps the reason why he’s one of the gifted few people who could strike up a sensible conversation with a toddler and make them laugh without doing anything at all.

Something about Jungkook makes Haneul laugh so loudly, he wakes up almost everyone in the house in peace. Even Jungkook’s attempt at lame jokes tickle Haneul more than the way Namjoon’s ever tried in earnest to make him laugh.

You’ve already slinked past the two of them on the dining table, tending to the soup and the few hundred side dishes Jungkook started on but paused just to talk to Haneul.

“Haneul, don’t believe your uncle-…” you chime over a playful dig that Jungkook makes in your expense, the giggles that had only been filling your ears just seconds ago instantly ceasing when you notice Yoongi standing near you.

“Uncle?” he raises his brow at you, turning his attention to his son. “Haneul, what did I say about talking to strangers?”

“But he’s not a stranger. I saw him in that movie!” he frowns, the immediate awe that slips out of Jungkook’s lips not helping his case in the slightest.

“Still a stranger,” Yoongi smiles tightly, his exhale dragging out as he mulls over the eerily domestic sight of the three of you.

“But he’s Uncle Kook,” Haneul reasons with him, pointing his finger at you. “He’s auntie’s boyfriend.”

.

.

.

Yoongi’s softened a little bit since breakfast.

He was never mad at Haneul in the first place (more like halfhearted because he still stands by his lesson of not teaching him to talk to strangers, even if they’re a worldwide-famous actor, but those are not his words at all) but what he is annoyed about is the scene that he walked into.

It looked far too natural for you to look like Haneul’s mom and for Jungkook to look like him, maybe even better as a dad despite not having children at all, that he thought he was seeing red.

Haneul’s lying on his shoulder as they rewatch Bluey for the second time in the living room, the shadow of your alleged boyfriend walking past him until he registers the accent, later doing a quick turnaround that makes Yoongi ultimately irritated and Haneul more than happy.

“Oh cool. I love Bluey!” Jungkook says sincerely, inviting himself to sit on the lone sofa chair to watch the episode.

“Wow, you’re just so… quirky,” Yoongi mutters under his breath with a roll of his eyes, his snarky remark making Jungkook’s ears tingle. The latter scoffs slyly, making him finally acknowledge Jungkook, albeit sarcastically. “So what do you do, Jungkook?”

Even before he could answer though, Haneul does it for him with an excitement that only comes out whenever he’s talking about his favorites.

“We watched his movies in the cinema, appa! Remember?”

“Did we?” Yoongi narrows his eyes, playing his huff into a cough. He repurposes the tinge of embarrassment that he feels into snark, running a hand through his hair cockily. “I’d for sure remember an actor if they were good.”

( ♡ ) 

“Where’s your brother? I need him to do the heavy lifting.”

Your mom asks you with an urgency that parents only past the age of forty could possess, her lips already parted awaiting your response towards a question she asked just two seconds ago. 

Even if you weren’t engrossed on an episode of Bluey (Jungkook and Haneul put you into it and you get their laser focus now) just now, you still wouldn’t know about your brother’s whereabouts. Yoongi saves you this time, his response piquing both yours and Jungkook’s interest.

“He’s in practice. Joon took Haneul with him so he could learn too.”

Jungkook looks up from his phone sharply, eyes wide in eagerness. He and Yoongi haven’t even looked at each other since yesterday yet their coordination (read: competitiveness) syncs with the other at the exact second, their insistence on tagging along a menial task making you jolt.

“I’ll come with, mom!”

“I’ll come with, auntie.”

It’s not a competition, yet Jungkook jumps up to stand so quickly, his head almost brushed the ceiling. “Let’s go, babe,” he holds out a hand for you, making you clear your throat as you’re still trying to gauge the situation.

“But what about Yoongi? Poor thing, he’ll be left alone,” your mom awes, her pout only deepening when Yoongi pretends to look crestfallen at being overlooked. He doesn’t have to pretend that much because despite not being the biggest fan of grocery-shopping, especially in your area because it always smelled of eggs despite barely carrying any eggs, he’ll jump at any task to impress your mom, and you by extension.

“I don’t think you should worry-…” you start, already being interrupted in an instant.

“Oh come on, Y/N. Two pairs of hands are better than one! They really have to do some heavy lifting because I forget to tell you about that one time your aunts hounded me for-…” she trails off while telling you a story about your supposedly huge extended family, blissfully unaware that there’s two men fighting to open the door for the both of you.

Yoongi’s driving his car as the most spacious option, making Jungkook snicker under his breath as he blames himself for not bringing his SUV which is clearly more expensive than whatever Yoongi’s driving, even if you elbow him lightly by the ribs because you didn’t ask him to do that.

“Mom, what are you doing here? Go sit in the front,” you nudge her, unwilling to sit next to Yoongi in an enclosed space.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I was just used to you always taking shotgun whenever Yoongi’s driving,” she squeals, fondly clapping to herself as she revisits the memory. “Do you remember that, sweetheart? You’d always fight with Namjoon because Yoongi got his license first.”

It may only be your mom who’s leaning against the center console to look at you in the back, but it doesn’t mean that Yoongi’s ever taken off his attention from you.

“I remember,” Yoongi smiles, looking at you from the rearview mirror. “I never forget.”

.

.

.

The grocery store hasn’t changed one bit. 

It still smelled of eggs, the lights still aren’t as bright as they should be, and there’s still trinkets that you’ve always been swayed by being displayed near the register.

You’re taking it all in after not having been back for five years, whereas Yoongi strolls right in, but never ahead of you, as if he’s visited multiple times already since he left your town. 

Your mom and Jungkook are side by side as he asks her a question you can’t even discern, only getting to know his actual agenda when you hear his sneakers skidding against the floor as he runs towards the pushcarts. 

Yoongi, without even knowing the full context, runs after him because he didn’t want to come in second place for whatever it is that Jungkook’s challenging him to.

“I’ll steer the cart,” Jungkook presents definitively, his hand raised mid-air as if he’s being graded for eagerness alone. He looks like he wants to prove himself even if it’s only you and your mom present; no director, no producer in sight who sizes him up. 

“No. I’ll do it,” Yoongi argues out of nowhere, his bruised hands reclaiming the cart under Jungkook’s grasp. He’s not even looking at your mom because his gaze is only fixed on Jungkook who’s just two tugs away from actually spitting at him.

“I said it first,” your pretend-boyfriend forcefully pulls the hunk of metal away from Yoongi, the latter coming along with it for the briefest of seconds before he does the same, this time with Jungkook gasping.

“What, are you method-acting for your next role as a cart-steerer?” 

Your mom’s a little perplexed at the scene before her, lips parting in both concern and amusement because for a pair of people who haven’t met each other before, Yoongi and Jungkook are oddly competitive. They want to provesomething, anything, and maybe everything so bad, they neglect the fact that they look ridiculous fighting over a pushcart. 

“We actually need two,“ she says to no one in particular, thinking out loud as she goes through her grocery list. “I think maybe even three because-…”

“I’ll get it,” Jungkook rushes out in panic, almost bumping into you in the process. You were only gone for a minute to retrieve your phone from the car and yet he already looks breathless, the knot between his eyebrows untangling when he realizes that it’s you. “Oh. Sorry, babe.”

“I’ll get it, Koo,” you murmur, catching the tail end of what your mom said about the pushcarts. Jungkook’s cheeks are tainted pink in frustration and you can’t help but to be concerned, the back of your hand already flitting against his forehead before you know it. “Are you okay? Sorry, the AC in here is not like the AC in the city.”

“Huh, what? Oh no, it’s okay. I just got into this heated cart argument,” he waves you off, eyes rapidly moving between you, your mom, and Yoongi who’s mirroring his exact actions, except for the glaring hint of annoyance with the way he’s standing so close to you.

“Cart argument? What’s-…”

“We need meat.” 

You barely even have a chance to digest what Jungkook’s saying to you before you see him glitch right in front of you in a hurry, the only words to register clearly in your mind being your mom’s. She’s absent-mindedly talking herself through her grocery list (as she always does) and yet the two men right next to her hang onto her every word, the speed they take off on giving you no clue to why they’re acting as such.

“I’ll get it, auntie!” Yoongi gets out even before the wheels of his cart could cooperate, momentarily tripping over himself. Jungkook sputters at that, the laughter that builds in his throat being interrupted because he realizes that the other guy is ahead of him and he simply cannot bear that. 

“Beef. We need beef, right, mom? How many kilos. Like… ten? Okay. I’ll get it!” Jungkook dashes even if he’s never been in this grocery store before; even if your mom hasn’t said a single word to either of them.

You’re left dumbfounded in the middle of the store, your gaze unable to locate the distinct sounds of both of their sneakers skidding against the floor. 

“I didn’t even say anything,” your mom mutters in confusion, eyes flitting to you with a wonder you can’t place because even if the both of you are lost, she seems to have a better idea than you do. “Are they… competing over you, sweetie?”

“Competing? Me? Why would you even say that, mom?” you huff, leaning against the cart as you snatch her list to get the things she’s actually looking for.

“I don’t know,” she lulls, shrugging carelessly before nudging you. “Jungkook’s your boyfriend and well, I assume Yoongi’s always wanted to be in his position.”

“How did you even come to that conclusion?”

“Small town. Few people. Cute girl, cute guy,” she places, the end of her hypothesis being accompanied by a chuckle. When she says it like that, it sounds far too easy — it sounds far too seamless, you almost wish it was exactly that. “I didn’t even take the news that Yoongi was going abroad seriously because I thought it was a joke. I thought he could never move on from here or Namjoon,” your mom pouts, tilting her head when you freeze. “Much more, he could never move on from you.”

“He did,” you answer through gritted teeth, the grip you have on her list making the paper crumple underneath your hold.

Your mom doesn’t know everything. In fact, you don’t even know if she knows anything at all. You don’t despise her for her lack of involvement because you want to keep her from the chaos of your burdens, and you’ve always wanted to keep it that way.

But the way she speaks now, so full of conviction and faith, you find yourself despising it. She speaks as surely as the way Yoongi speeds past the both of you, weaving through aisles to get items she didn’t ask for, competing for and against a higher power (read: you) that Jungkook himself seeks. 

She says it so surely, it’s as if she knows about every waking thought that Yoongi’s ever had in your absence.

“It doesn’t look like he did.”

You ponder over your mom’s adoration for Yoongi, most of which you can’t decipher if it’s misplaced or not. You know he’ll always have a special place in her heart and in her home because she’s known him even before he was born because she’s best friends with Mrs. Min. 

Yoongi has a place in your life, no matter if it’s in your own or in the lives of the people you love. He probably has a modern penthouse in Namjoon’s life, the decoration in it improving over time. On the other hand, Yoongi probably occupies an ancestral cabin in your mom’s life that’s been well-maintained for longer than he’s ever been alive, the decor in it being handmade and resilient through the years. 

In your life, however, you can’t tell how and if Yoongi occupies it in the first place. For the longest time, his place in your life had come in the form of a mansion that not even a single architect nor engineer could ever think of. For a moment too, Yoongi’s place in your heart came in the form of a little house on a vast farm overlooking the mountains and the sea. Throughout all the houses that Yoongi’s shape-shifted to in your life, you doubt now if he could ever turn into them again.

When you think of Yoongi, all you see is your room. 

When you see Yoongi, all you could remember is your childhood house and its shortcomings in your life, especially when you needed to come home to it— to him, the most.

“I’ll pay, mom,” Jungkook snaps you out of your reverie, his whine making your ears ring.

“What? No, Jungkook. This is all too much,” you refuse vehemently, trying to fight him from extending his black card any further.

“It’s not. This is for your family anyway. I, I might have even grabbed extra portions for myself because mom said she’ll repeat tomorrow what she did for lunch today,” he grins, momentarily losing himself to the sight of you that he doesn’t even notice he’s in the process of being one-upped by Yoongi.

“Jungkook, baby, I’ll feel-…”

“I paid for it, auntie,” Yoongi announces, making your lips part and Jungkook’s jaw drop.

“You shouldn’t have, Yoongi,” you scold him softly, a whine already building at the back of your throat but he waves you off easily. Your mom’s thanking him profusely in the background, and while Yoongi’s pleased with the attention, his gaze remains on you.

“But I wanted to,” he insists, pursing his lips. “I should.”

“You’re not family,” is what you want to say.

“But I want to be,” is what he wants to scream.

Wordlessly, Yoongi puts a plastic toy ring he bought from the register into your bag. It’s pink and it’s star-shaped, its mold still the same from all those years ago.

.

.

.

You barrel into your mom’s room just to see Namjoon.

You bit at the chance of giving him the stuff he’s asked for from the grocery as per your mom, taking advantage of her focus on organizing the groceries downstairs to have a one-on-one with your brother.

“You have to make Yoongi drive into the city tonight. Either that or he flies to the US. The reunion is already tomorrow,” you seethe, crossing your arms as he sighs in defeat.

“It’s already late. Yoongi’s driving with Haneul, a kid, alone,” he emphasizes, running a hand through his hair as he himself is troubled by you being in a bind over everything. “And he can’t book a flight back on such short notice.”

“Short notice? What, did he just happen to book a one-way flight and not a round trip one?” you snort in amusement, shaking your head in disbelief. The thought actually cracks you up because out of the three of you, Yoongi happened to be the one more adept to websites despite your limited materials back then. Namjoon remains silent, and with how serious he looks, your face falls.

You can’t believe Yoongi at all.

“He did? You’ve gotta be kidding me, Joon,” you groan, throwing your head back. “What, does that mean Yoongi gets to stay in our home while we’re in this godforsaken family reunion?”

Namjoon delivers yet another blow, his revelation making you more enraged than the last.

“Mom invited them.”

“What? Why?!” you exclaim, chest rising in frustration. “Yoongi’s not family, Namjoon. Atleast not for me.”

He doesn’t miss your added remark at the end of your sentence, the underhandedness of it making him look down on the floor. 

Namjoon feels guilty, he really does, but he can’t seem to make it right. He couldn’t even fight you in insisting to apologize that night.

For each day that you try to delay the inevitable of confronting him and letting him taking the fall, of letting him apologize, Namjoon feels more like a big failure for an older brother than he already is. 

“But he used to be,” he says under his breath, looking up at you with a stubbornness you can’t place. “Your lifetime versus those five years — which one amounts to more?”

( ♡ ) 

Everyone gushes over Jungkook.

In an altitude higher than the mountainside that you’re in now, the aunts, uncles, and cousins you didn’t even know you have squeal over your fake boyfriend. By the fifth relative, you’ve already got your routine down of letting them hug you and kiss your cheek before holding Jungkook’s bicep, acting as his bodyguard to make sure they don’t squeeze him too hard or not at all.

“Oh my god, Y/N. Jeon Jungkook is your boyfriend?!”

“I knew it, I knew you were gonna have a partner who’s famous! I dreamed about it when you were-…”

“If that’s your boyfriend, then who’s he?” your cousin (?) whispers to you, cutting himself off as he turns his gaze to Yoongi and Haneul. They’re most certainly not your family, meaning that they’re unrelated to everyone present, so what your relatives (some more nosy than others) can’t wrap their heads around is the fact that there are strangers in your family reunion.

It takes one, two times for your mom and Namjoon to explain who they are and what they’re doing here in the first place, the chorus of nods eventually signaling that they’ve moved on. Some of them could even recall Mr. and Mrs. Min from the neighborhood, and Yoongi could only nod.

It’s not that he doesn’t belong right now — he actually feels the opposite. Yoongi feels that he has a place amongst a barrage of relatives he’s not affiliated to by neither blood nor paper, and it pains him; not because he’s scared of belonging, but because you probably don’t think the same way.

Haneul runs to him underneath the umbrella he’s isolated himself at, his son grasping an assortment of cash, food, and juiceboxes Yoongi most certainly did not pack in Haneul’s backpack from the night before.

“Auntie’s family is really nice, appa. Look what they gave me,” he shows everything that his hands could carry, breathing heavily in excitement as he explains that your relatives told him to come back once his hands are empty.

“Oh dear. They really think you’re adorable,” he laughs, pocketing Haneul’s cash (he swears he’ll give it back) and hiding some of the snacks he’s been given so he wouldn’t give himself heartburn eating too many at once.

Yoongi’s smiling from ear to ear, sitting Haneul in his lap as he overlooks the view of your town from above. Everything looks so small and delicate, you’d almost think none of what laid downhill ever even mattered. He didn’t get views like these in New York. 

Yoongi didn’t get people like you in New York.

“Mama’s family isn’t this nice,” Haneul speaks out of nowhere, his thoughts uttered out loud directed more-on to himself than it is for his dad. Yoongi stops in his tracks in trepidation, shoulders tensing over what his son just said. “They never play with me like this. Not like auntie.”

He knows Hyewon’s relatives, albeit not that well. Her family members in the US were not this kind, not this warm, even to a child who’s actually related to them.

Yoongi’s stuck in his thoughts the whole time Haneul sips on his juice, finally being snapped into his reality nowwhen you approach their direction. His son waves at you excitedly even if you’ve just crossed paths minutes ago.

“Here, Haneul,” you hold out a container to him, the gentle smile on your face limited to only him yet Yoongi, for a lack of grace, pretends it’s also for him. “I tried my best to make it look like Bluey,” you chuckle, pointing to the mini sculpture made out of the marshmallows and blueberries that your relatives set aside for him.

Haneul beams at you, thanking you profusely. If only he wasn’t sat on Yoongi’s lap and therefore grounded, he would’ve launched himself at you to hug your legs.

Yoongi takes the hat right off his head, putting it on you while you’re crouched next to his son.

“It’s hot,” he explains, his heart continuously speaking beats the longer that you linger beside Haneul and the longer that he giggles in excitement. “I know you get headaches easily.”

( ♡ ) 

Despite being reachable, Yoongi still yearns for you.

He yearns for you even if you’re only within arm’s reach, sitting near you but never close enough at the long table because with you, he feels safe. He laughs in the background like it’s a sitcom to every joke and every episode of banter thrown around him. He doesn’t feel out of place with your family — he feels out of place with you.

He’s never been a wickedly jealous type. Even when he and Hyewon were still together and she cheated on him, Yoongi felt more resentful than he was jealous. He didn’t feel this type of way; he didn’t feel inferior. He didn’t feel like he was nursing a loss in his life because he has no choice but to. Yoongi had managed to divorce Hyewon because it didn’t work out between them, and that was that.

Yoongi can neither divorce you nor pull away from you because you’ve never been with each other. He harbors no resentment for you and that scares him, not because he wants to hate you so badly, but because he feels as if everything you’ll do to him, he’ll take it.

Yoongi will take it even if you set a plate for Jungkook despite unconsciously forgetting what he’s always disliked eating when you were still kids. He’ll take the serving tray from your hands still, uncaring if eating the tiniest bite of the food you’ve passed gives him an allergic reaction because you were the one who offered.

He’ll take it even if you hold Jungkook’s bicep in a hurry when there’s a bug that’s getting awfully close to your drink. Yoongi would walk to where you sit and dispose of it wordlessly because even Jungkook himself is scared of bugs. He doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him, because atleast now when he looks at you from a distance, you’re sitting in relaxation and you no longer have to hold your boyfriend.

He’ll endure the jealousy that burns through his throat more than the poorly-made, highly-alcoholic vodka your uncle made himself. He’ll hold onto the poison that is yearning and how he’ll feel like his throat would close up because if you were still young, in this setting of free rein, except you were still in love him like you used to be and he’s in love with you like he is now, neither you and Yoongi would be hurting.

Yoongi will take it. He’ll take the nothing that you give him and give you the everything that you don’t ask for anymore.

Five years versus the rest of your lifetime that you spent being in love with him is only miniscule. The suffering that he’s going through now is only a speck of the years you’ve spent in an unrequited love.

Unlike you, Yoongi’s weak. If he were to say it outloud to you, you’ll never agree because you’ve never regarded yourself otherwise. You’ll go on this tangent that you’ve always been weak, influenced by the times that Yoongi had chastised you for your lack of a passion. 

To you, Yoongi had been right in a way.

To Yoongi, he’s always been in the wrong.

He’s crying to you now that the both of you are alone, overlooking the small town he used to be keen on getting out of. Now, more than ever, Yoongi wants to stay in it. He wants to stay with you.

“Why is everything with you so hard?” Yoongi whispers, his tears stinging badly from the corner of his eyes to the point that he can only make out shapes. He’s unkempt and frantic as if his life flashed before his eyes and there’s nothing he could do about it, voice strained like much of the times he’s drank himself to sleep.

He resembles Haneul at the moment. He’s always had because there’s not one bit of Hyewon in his son’s features or personality, but he looks especially like him now that he’s crying. The back of his hands harshly dig into his face, sobs bursting right from his throat. “Why do I make everything so hard for us? Why can’t I— w-why can’t I make it right for once?”

There’s a tremble to your chest that you ignore earnestly, the presence of it enough to scare you because it’s familiar; too familiar. Seeing your past play out in front of you in the form of a seemingly content family sleeping on your bed is one thing, but it’s another to see its patriarch crumble in front of you. It’s different to see your past pleading in front of you for just the slightest bit of your attention.

As a matter of fact, it’s different now because you resemble Yoongi the most. 

“You never tried,” you seethe, jumping the gun before you even try to decipher what’s in the barrel. It’s a bullet you fire haphazardly that comes from your pocket that you’ve always held onto. It’s a misplaced, misshapen, old bullet that you force into a gun that Yoongi passed onto you.

Right now, Yoongi doesn’t resemble Haneul, and neither does he resemble his ex-wife. 

He resembles you with the way his eyes are clearly swimming in hurt while you avoid looking at his, just to relieve the painstaking feeling of guilt and longing compacted into a sob.

“I never tried?” Yoongi exhales shakily, his quivering hands running through his hair to tug on them.“I never tried?”

You hear yourself clearly even if it’s his voice. The tremble and the anger, even all the way to the blind hope.

“I kept trying to reach out to you every single time. Every single birthday, every single Christmas, every insignificant holiday I could search up!” Yoongi cries — he actually thrashes with the way he sobs, shoulders shaking violently. “I didn’t try? If I didn’t try, try looking at every page of my passport to see all the stamps there are whenever fucking Jungkook was reported to be in another country,” he spits his name like poison, the vitriol behind it, however, never catching up to what he feels about himself.

You resemble Yoongi the most because you stand untethered, eyes blurring and lips quivering, yet you only watch him lose himself before thinking of uttering a single word.

“I’m selfish, I’m an asshole, and I’m fucking insufferable. I can’t even apologize to you correctly,” Yoongi lists, chest rising up and down too heavily, he feels like it’ll give out. “But I love you, Y/N. I-I might be every bad thing in your life right now and I own up to that. I’m still trying to be the best for you.”

Not only does Yoongi resemble you — he’s actually become you.

“You can call me the vilest names ever but you can’t say that,” he grits, teeth chattering not from the cold he’s put himself in, but because he can’t stop mentioning your name in between. “You can’t say I never tried because I always have. I’ll never stop becausethat’s what it takes,” Yoongi mutters; because, he says, not if.

“I love you,” he says it far too clearly for someone who’s drunk; far too sincerely for someone who had spent the better part of his life putting it through your head that he can’t return your affection. “I’ve always loved you.”

( ♡ ) 

You don’t feel good.

There’s a fever that’s starting to bloom from the base of your skull all the way to your toes, the abnormal warmth you feel in your chest making you unable to interact with everyone else outside of your room. Jungkook had left with your uncles before dawn to go fishing in the nearby lake and never would you think to inconvenience him; to tend to someone like you for something as minor as a fever, or for anything at all.

You already have a system down for taking care of yourself when you’re ill. It started when neither your mom nor your brother were home with you, and it was finally perfected when you had to live completely alone in the big city. All you had to do was gather all the energy you have, spend it at the start to get everything you could possibly need and put them all at the side of your bed, and rest until everything no longer hurts.

The major flaw with your system now is that you don’t have the energy at all. You can’t build up the strength to get up, walk across the hall and interact with your relatives, and rummage through groceries to get what you need without being questioned; you can’t build up the sense of importance you have for yourself to ask for help.

Namjoon comes into your room before you could dance around the idea of asking him to get you water, all because he has this innate sense of guilt in him and you could utilize it to your advantage. Your brother gets ahead of you before you could even register that he’s here with you, his eyes sullen and pleading.

“Can we talk?”

“I can’t exactly storm off right now,” you rasp, your voice fading out into a low chuckle.

“Do you want to talk when you’re able to storm off?” he asks sincerely with a small smile, his hand fixing your hair as gently as he could without making your migraine ring further. “If you do though, then you probably might never hear me out again.”

You stay silent because he is right, but Namjoon feels otherwise. He feels as if he hasn’t been doing anything right at all and you existing separate from him is a constant reminder. His career is at its peak but he thinks he could go higher; his relationship with you is deteriorating and he doesn’t think it could possibly be worse.

“I’m sorry for being a shitty brother,” he apologizes, the first thing out of his mouth being the last thing that floods his mind before he goes to sleep at night. “I should’ve never defended Yoongi, even Hyewon by extension.”

The heat behind your eyes isn’t all from your fever. The tears that prick your eyes aren’t because of the pressure in your head, but because of the fact that you haven’t heard Namjoon apologize to you in a long time; you haven’t talked this sincerely for even longer

“I should’ve put you first,” he sniffles, muttering apologies in between his pauses for finding the right words that would make it okay; that would somehow undo all that he’s been an accomplice to. “I should’ve been this reliable, sturdy man of the house. I-I should’ve been more of a father figure to you-…”

“Don’t,” you interject sternly. “You never filled in his shoes and you should never will. You’re only mom’s son and my brother, Namjoon. It’s never been your job to raise me.”

Even after everything, there’s a gentleness to you that Namjoon’s always loved but hate the most now. He hates that even if he’s the one who’s apologizing, you’re the one who’s saying sorry for the things you didn’t even inflict on him. Neither of you wanted to be raised by only a single parent, yet you absolve him of the guilt he’s always felt.

“But I could’ve been better. I wish I was already better from the start.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think how hard life was for you growing up. I-I would’ve given up football if only-…” he trembles, unable to get the last of his sentence out because you shake your head in earnest.

“Stop.”

“But I mean it. If only I-I didn’t get into football, I could’ve been there for you and mom much often. I could’ve been better and-...”

“But I grew up to be okay, didn’t I? You’re the best at what you do. We’ve managed to retire mom early because we put in the work,” you whisper, the shrug of your shoulders feeling more heavy that it should feel because the words don’t come out easily from you. 

“But okay shouldn’t have been enough for you,” Namjoon tears up, bottom lip trembling as you try to take in his words that you’ve always wanted to hear at the back of your mind; you hear them now when you’ve already grown up. You hear them now after you’ve already endured the grief. “I— we should’ve given you the fighting chance to grow up more than okay.”

.

.

.

It’s not Jungkook who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because you’ve temporarily banned him from the bedroom. He only pouted in complaint when you called him, but he didn’t fight you that much either because you’ve called him out for the excitement in his voice to go hiking for the first time.

It’s not Yoongi who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because Haneul asked him to teach him Go (he’s not even that good at it and being the ever unable to show incompetence and have pride especially when Jungkook’s watching father, he discreetly asked lessons from your mom) so he’ll be able to play with your cousins.

Instead, it’s your mom who visits you. Even if Namjoon hadn’t tipped her off that you were feeling under the weather, she’s already had a feeling this morning.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, her hands full of everything you could possibly need and more before plopping them at your side. She makes you sit up even before you could complain, handing you a drink with some medicine you didn’t even know she carried

“Just a little fever,” you answer, getting back into your cocoon. 

You don’t even attempt to make conversation because you fear that you don’t have it in you to have a heart-to-heart talk with your mom just minutes after you’ve had one with Namjoon.

You don’t even say anything to her except your thanks. Namjoon didn’t even tell her about your conversation, even if he approached her with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes while saying that it was just allergies.

Your mom feels the guilt spring to her chest even if you don’t utter a single word. She feels the remorse in her eyes when you don’t ask her for anything more. She feels the guilt the most in her hands when you don’t ask her to stay.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like there wasn’t enough space for your burdens growing up.”

“What?”you scramble to get up in a seated position, eyes hazy from how quick you do it. “Mom, you scared me. Where’s this coming from?” 

She shakes her head at your cluelessness, eyes stinging when you genuinely look at her innocently. You don’t know what she’s talking about, even if the thought has plagued her for so long.

“You’re not really okay, are you?”

“It’s… just a fever,” you mumble, your breathing already trembling at the way she looks at you.

She’s looking at you like you’re still a kid; ever so fragile and innocent, it’s as if she wouldn’t let a single thing in this world harm you. She doesn’t know a single thing about your feud with Namjoon and your long drawn-out conflict with Yoongi. What your mom does know is that she doesn’t know a single thing about the heartbreak you suppress, and that thought alone makes her hiccup in tears.

“You’re right, you know? Our house is small,” she says, distinctly recalling the tensioned conversation you had with Namjoon back at home. “It’s tiny but it was far too big for you growing up alone,” she inhales sharply, trying not to sob in front of you. “He wasn’t in the picture. I was working a hundred jobs left and right. Namjoon was trying to make a name for himself,” she shakes her head, so much so that the necklace she’s had since you were children, the same one with yours and Namjoon’s birthstones on it, rattles. “I’m sorry for making you feel that you can’t come to me.”

In just a full day, you’ve heard everything that you’ve ever wanted. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted during the school plays where you had no one from your family, except Yoongi, to watch you become an extra up on stage. He’d always deny that he did show up for you and just say that it’s because he was genuinely interested in a play about a poet he didn’t care about in reality, but you take it nonetheless.

It’s everything you’ve ever prayed for watching Yoongi live a life far too advanced for you as he held Hyewon’s hand after school. It’s what you wanted to hear when you begged him not to leave you behind.

“I-I’m okay. I’m really-…” you stutter, looking away before your tears fall in the fear that they’ll never stop.

Your mom only hugs you tighter.

“I’m here if you want someone else to carry your burdens,” she whispers. “I’m here now.”

( ♡ )

It’s the last day of the reunion when you fully recover, and it’s hours ahead of everyone when Jungkook has to leave by himself.

Without even asking for it, Jungkook grants you another week’s worth of break. You didn’t even plan on asking, yet Jungkook’s willing to give you a month if only you do. 

You’ve already arranged for his personal driver to pick him up and take him back to the city. You’ve already packed his bags, along with the multiple containers of food that your relatives (and especially your mom) insisted for him to take. You’ve arranged for your substitute to take care of him for his schedules throughout the week, along with the insistent reminder to call you whenever Jungkook needs you. (Read: he does, with or without a schedule.)

Everything is set for Jungkook to leave except for his driver who’d been roped by your mom to be filled with breakfast first, yet with the remaining minutes left, Jungkook’s still with you on your bed. 

He lies on your lap even if there’s plenty of space for him to lie parallel to you on a pillow — and you let him.

“Have you ever thought about kissing me?” he asks in the middle of you texting your substitute, the randomness of his thought already being familiar to you. This time, unlike the few thousand times he’s ever asked you something straight off his mind without refining them, is different.

It’s different now because your pretend-boyfriend asks you if you’ve ever thought about kissing him, while looking like he really wants to kiss you.

“Where’d that come from?” you giggle, looking down on him on your lap. 

Not once does Jungkook ever look away from you.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, pointing up at you. “Your lips are close to bleeding and it’s bothering me.”

“Sorry for turning you off,” you snort in laughter, wiping at the tiny specks of blood. Jungkook tuts when you rub at them, feeling for his lip balm out of his pocket.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he stresses, going a little cross-eyes when he applies them for you. His eyes keep goading you, the smile he has on his face widening the more that you look at him incredulously. “Sooo… have you?”

You don’t want to lie to him at all.

“If I answer yes, Jungkook,” you toy around with his hair, setting your phone face-down because you can’t focus on anything else now. “We can never come back from that.”

Jungkook laughs in glee so loudly, Yoongi (who was only passing by; he really, really swears he didn’t just happen to eavesdrop in your room because Jungkook’s driver is all done eating and wants to beat traffic) actually flinches.

Jungkook strains to be closer to you, unconsciously training you to lean down. His lips are far too soft — far too close to you, you could see every line and every nuance in them. He whispers, eyes practically crossing at your proximity.

“And is that such a bad thing?”

( ♡ ) 

You’re back at home when Jungkook texts you that he’s made it back safe, and that he wants to kiss you again.

You’re back at home when Yoongi asks you if he could use the bathroom first because Haneul spilled milk on him during the drive. You’re in your childhood bedroom when you let him clean up first, and you’re sitting on your childhood bed when you volunteer to put Haneul down because he’s cranky and for some reason, wants to be held by you.

You’re back at home too when Yoongi and Haneul are knocked out for the night, and your mom calls you and Namjoon down for all three of you to talk at the dining table.

You’re back at the home you were raised in, sitting on the dining table that’s creaky when more than two people lean their weight into it, in the space you’ve roamed around alone waiting for them to come home, when your mom talks about wanting to sell it.

“You want to sell?” Namjoon’s eyes widen, exchanging a glance with you who’s as equally surprised as he is.

“Yes. It’s under my name, y’know? Not that… man’s,” she snorts, the off-hand mention of your father making you and Namjoon laugh unexpectedly. Your mom looks at ease as she talks about selling your house, the smile she has one her face being shaped with experience and grace. “I doubt the both of you would want to keep this, and besides, the offers I’ve kept for years now are high. You already know that big-shot companies have been buying out houses here for years now because of the growth potential and whatnot. Who knows, maybe our block will be turned into a mall!” she shrugs, the happiness in her tone infectious. 

For someone who’s decided on letting go the house she’s both struggled and strived in, your mom’s beyond excited.

For two adults, who were once kids, who’ve seen the amount of sacrifices your mother’s put into the place by herself, you and Namjoon don’t have any objections.

“Also, consider this as me asking for permission to go on a vacation, even if I’m grown, because some people get so paranoid when I don’t answer calls,” she digs at you and your brother, immediately inciting coughs because you two, in fact, are guilty of worrying over your mom too much. “I’m going on this worldwide trip with Yoongi’s mom,” she grins, pulling out one last surprise. “We’ve talked about it since we were young. She’s earned her stripes working abroad, I managed to raise two amazing children as a single mom. We’ve earned it, I think.”

You and Namjoon share a glance once again, this time more definite than the last. You’ve made up already as far as your mom could tell, and that confirmation is what she needs before finally selling the house you all grew up in.

“You’ve earned it more than anyone.”

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s packing up for their flight tonight when you go into your room to pack up the life you’ve lived there.

“You’re coming with me and Haneul?” Yoongi jokes when he sees you pulling out your own luggage, the tone of his voice highly suggesting for you to become serious. He gets you to smile and that’s big enough of a win as is, the remainder of it more than substantial to hold onto when he’s away from you. Again.

“No, unfortunately. I’m packing up the room and eventually… the whole house,” you answer with a chuckle, voice trailing off when you see the crestfallen look on Yoongi’s face. He looks like someone who’s just absorbed the largest pain to man as he’s trying not to make it obvious. “We’re posting it for sale two weeks from now.”

Yoongi nods tightly, inhaling sharply as he tries to maintain his steady tone. “Then why are you packing up already?”

You could do this tomorrow. As a matter of fact, you could do it tonight because you don’t have to drive them to the airport. You have all the time in the world within two weeks to do this, yet you go into your room now when Yoongi’s still in it.

When Yoongi still hasn’t left, and neither of you know when you’re gonna see each other next.

“I have to get a move on. If I don’t move now,” you trail, voice close to trembling as you open cabinets you’ve never even given the time of day before. “I’m scared that I’ll keep holding onto this house.

Yoongi nods, even if he fully understands — even if he doesn’t want to swallow what you’re saying.

“You want out?”

“We want out — me, mom, Namjoon,” you explain, looking at him properly for the first time since he told you that he loved you. “For the longest time, we’ve held onto this place because we became this house at one point. Namjoon’s this world star, my mom’s traveling the world with your mom-…”

“Oh, they’re finally doing it?” Yoongi interrupts, a smile finally coming to his face at the news. He hasn’t talked to his mom in a month from how busy he’s been, and although he’s always missed her (even if they’re on much better terms than he and his dad could be), he’s happy knowing that your moms have each other atleast. “How about you? What will you be doing?”

“I’ll just be… living day-to-day. I’m not doing anything extremely special, but I’m happy and busy doing it,” you laugh, looking around your room that hasn’t appeared this clean, this warm, since you last stayed in it. “No one’s going to be around here anymore.”

As if on cue, Haneul runs to Yoongi’s arms to be picked up. He knows what the luggages mean and because he’s largely in denial that they have to leave later (as referenced by him crying to your mom and Namjoon), Haneul keeps pretending to sleep so that their trip gets delayed.

Yoongi’s about to put him on your bed even if he knows his son’s antics already, but in the fear that he’ll actually get to sleep and they don’t get to leave (which he isn’t opposed to at all), he keeps him in his arms.

You, on the other hand, take Haneul from him when his arms outstretch for you.

There’s the sentiment of you not having to do it that’s resting at the tip of Yoongi’s tongue but he holds himself back, the image of you and Haneul completely fitting one another, he wants to burn a copy of it to his retinas and designate it to be the last thing he’ll see if he ever goes blind.

Without putting Haneul to sleep on your bed, he goes to sleep in peace in your arms.

“Do you regret it?” Yoongi asks throughout the silence between you, sitting next to you at the edge of your bed. “Do you regret ever liking me?”

“I do,” you answer truthfully, rubbing circles at the Haneul’s back. “I regret knowing you.”

Yoongi takes the responsibility fully, even fuller than the way both your hurt and happiness could make or break him.

“I can’t take back all the hurt I’ve caused you,” he admits just as honestly, turning to look at you. He becomes surprised to learn that you’ve been looking at him the whole time. “But what I can promise you is that I’ll never do anything to hurt you again.”

“I have my share of faults too.”

“Eh. Mostly mine.”

“Mostly yours, yeah,” you laugh easily, nodding to yourself as you continue. “But I held onto you as much as you didn’t hold onto me. That’s my mistake.”

Yoongi stays silent at that, not because he agrees, but because the bias that you’ll never be wrong in his eyes overtakes your humbleness.

“Do you think he’ll remember the entirety of the trip?” you ask, gesturing to Haneul who’s already sleeping like a hibernating bear in your hold. “Or will Haneul just remember that time the power went out because he cried a lot?”

“Oh, he’ll remember everything alright. He’s good with retention and people in general,” Yoongi waves you off. “Even if he didn’t come along the trip— even if we didn’t crash the whole thing, Haneul would remember you.”

“Who am I to him?” you ask in curiosity, lips turning into a straight line before they curve in the slightest. “Appa’s friend, I bet.”

“Not really. You’re a lot of things to me,” Yoongi chuckles, looking at the way Haneul grips you as if you’ll float away if he lets go; he’d do the same too. “More like my first love.”

Yoongi loves you quietly.

He loves you quietly with the way he draws the curtains downstairs when you sleep on the couch, tired and stressed over a solution you couldn’t understand. He loves you with the way he’ll scoop the warmest, freshest, least-burnt portion of rice to your bowl without you even asking for it. He loves you with the way he’s willing to let you walk all over him.

He loves you quietly in the way that not even distance nor time could disrupt him.

Yoongi loves you quietly, it might have been too much.

“Is that a lottery ticket?” he asks suddenly as he spots the familiar face of it inside your luggage, tucked into the discreet pocket where your mother’s letters of encouragement when you went to the big city were also kept

“Oh, it’s still there,” you answer, in surprise yourself because even if this is the same luggage you use whenever you go out of the country with Jungkook, you’ve never noticed that it was still there. “I bought it when you left for the US.”

Yoongi stops in his tracks in retrieving the scratch ticket from the pocket, looking up at you in curiosity. “Why did you buy one that day?”

Haneul stirs in his sleep in your arms, waking up right at the middle of you and Yoongi being lost in each other. He mistakes the silence as a signal that they’ll be leaving already, making a mess of himself as he quickly goes down the stairs to look for your family there and cling to them instead.

You and Yoongi are alone again.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, grasping the scratch ticket you used to spend hours looking. “I guess I just needed some proof that fate was against me that day.”

“But how would you even know that?” Yoongi asks, pointing to the card that’s still covered. “You didn’t even scratch it.”

You answer honestly, the reason burnt to the back of his mind.

“Because I knew I would lose my mind if I actually lost.”

“Try,” Yoongi swallows, nudging the ticket closer to you with a gaze that mirrored yours when he left. “Try again. Please.”

You have nothing else to lose.

Yoongi isn’t yours to lose.

You retrieve the same old coin Yoongi gave to you on the same day that he bought you your first scratch ticket, the appearance of it from your luggage making his heart skip a beat.

He doesn’t speak and neither do you, gaze only fixed on the way you scratch the card almost hesitantly, as if you’re still scared of the results of something that you should’ve known five years ago. (Read: you still are.)

When you get to the last digit, you freeze. You comb through the pattern over and over again, yet you still can’t believe it.

You’ve won the highest possible prize.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” you parrot Yoongi, looking up at him as he can’t believe it either.

“You won.”

“I won,” you repeat, running a hand through your hair. You actually laugh, the lump in your throat subsiding. It’s a welcome, albeit loaded, feeling of happiness that comes in between the two of you. “I thought I would lose,” you mutter bitterly, shaking your head. 

You didn’t lose. Fate wasn’t against you that day, and yet you still lost yourself thinking subconsciously what the proof of it would’ve been.

“Who would’ve thought, right?” you sigh, eyes drifting to Yoongi. “If only I took that chance years ago, I would’ve won.”

Yoongi smiles tightly, breath faltering in recollection.

“I’m familiar with the feeling,”

Yoongi doesn’t get to finish packing for him and Haneul and neither do you with your whole room, the shift in the atmosphere suddenly making him stand.

He’s breathless and he doesn’t know what for, the rapid beating of his chest making his voice louder than necessary. “Hey, what do you say you take a break? I’ll pack up your room. I have to stay alert anyway for Haneul."

You thank him before leaving him alone in your room.

Yoongi can’t find the strength in him to pack. The only power he has left in him is for him to think of taking everything out from his luggages, the thought of leaving again, this time worlds different than the last when you were begging him not to — he feels like throwing up.

Yoongi’s merely an amalgamation of you. He’s only a compilation of your every word, every feeling you’ve implanted in his heart. He’s filled with nothing but your every triumph and shortcoming; every late night hanging out with you as you attempt to study while he keeps you company, every minute he spent going out of his mind trying to look for you when you ran away from home.

Yoongi loves you silently to the point that he gets out of your room without accomplishing a single thing he said he’ll do just awhile ago.

In the grand scheme of things, Yoongi realizes that he was wrong. He was as wrong as you were right that the moment he leaves home, he’ll spend the rest of his life looking for it. 

Even if you left your home like he did, even if neither of you could come home anymore the moment your childhood house gets sold, Yoongi would still search for it. He’ll still search for you. You’re no longer where you were, but you are everywhere that Yoongi is.

He looks for you in Namjoon’s room, to the dining table, and all the way outside, just to ask if he and Haneul could stay for dinner.

Yoongi finds you and Haneul eating sundaes on the pavement outside, with you on the ground and a scrap cardboard underneath Haneul so it wouldn’t be hot for him.

Fate hadn’t been against you five years ago. And even if he’s much too late, Yoongi could only pray that fate isn’t against him now.

He walks over to where you and Haneul are, grabbing another scrap of cardboard to put underneath you.

Yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.

#WHEWWWWWW HOW R WE FEELING!!!! #yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi series #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader

[twice-inamillion]

Bunny Nayeon

Fluff, Smut (sex, penetration, creampie, bunny suit)

Chapter 229

1500 Words 

(The both of you go on a small trip together to celebrate Nayeon’s Birthday and having some quality time. Like always, this leads to a bit of fun and some fluff.)

You're taking a few days off to Jeju island with your girlfriend, Nayeon, for her birthday. She's been hinting at visiting the island for the past few weeks to take the first, and luckily, you caught on and reserved a short trip with her. 

During the first two days, both of you enjoyed some sightseeing around the island. That night after the second day, you and Nayeon enjoy dinner at the house. You both enjoy some barbecue and beers to celebrate her early birthday. 

“I love spending time with you alone, babe.”

“Yes, it’s been a while since we spent some time outside.” 

Nayeon shyly presses her chest against your arm and says, “How about having some fun together?”

“What did you have in mind?”

She gives you a small smirk, “you know…”

“You mean…”

“Yeah… I even brought a small surprise that I think you’ll like.” She continues to press her chest against your arm and can feel your dick waking up from its nap. She looks down and sees a small bulge. “Our little friend here seems to have woken up,” and she presses her hand on it. 

“You're being proactive today,” as you caress your hand under her chin.

“It's just that we're here alone. There's no one to bother us,” as she continues to stroke her hand on your bulge. She can see your member slowly wake up, “Wait here. I'll be right back.”

You get up, put the dishes away in the sink, and clean the tables down when you hear Nayeon shout from the upstairs room, “Can you come up here?” 

You’re mid-way to the hallway when you see Nayeon, and your jaw drops. “What do you think? Do you like it?” 

In front of you is Nayeon, wearing a white bunny costume. The outfit leaves little to the imagination: a one-piece suit with a bunny tail and an earpiece. Nayeon turns around, shows you her nice thighs, and shakes her small butt. She tells you to come over using her finger, and you drop the towel on the floor and rush upstairs. 

Nayeon runs towards the master suite, yelling because you are chasing her. You climb onto the bed to get to the other side, but Nayeon stops you. She places a finger on your lips, “It’s my birthday, so I want to unwrap my present that’s hiding under those pants.” She bites her lip, teasing you. No other words are needed as you start to take off your shirt and then your pants, leaving you in boxers. 

You’re now sitting on the corner of the bed with Nayeon sitting on your lap. She kisses you, twisting her long tongue throughout your mouth, even sucking on it. You grab her hips, smacking her ass which makes her yelp. She pushes you down and begins to grind on you. “Do you like that? Do you like it when I dry hump you?”

Your cock is starting to pitch a tent under your boxers, and Nayeon sees it, “You’re going to be mine tonight.”

”Yes, I’m all yours.”

”How does it feel not being the one in charge?”

”Hot. I love it when Noona rides me,” teasing her.

”Hey, who told you to call me that?”

“Just want to tease you.”

“You’re making me feel old.”

”How does it feel fucking someone younger?”

”I’m not old; we’re only a few months apart.”

”Haha, you’re still older.”

“Shut up,” and Nayeon pushes you down, attacking you by bitting your shoulder with her bunny teeth. She lifts her head and looks at you before going back and nibbling on your shoulder. 

After a while, she sticks out her tongue and licks where she just bit you. When she's done, you get up and see the area where she but you are completely red and wet from her drool. 

“You left me a mark.”

“Didn't give me much of a choice; you were making fun of me and calling me old.” 

“Sorry, baby.”

“Just don't do it again, and I won't bite you.” You nod, agreeing with her. She then starts to ride you again with her thin fabric rubbing against your groin. 

Nayeon looks at you with hungry eyes and bites her lip, “I'm going to eat that carrot of yours right up,” and moves the fabric that's covering her cunt. You see a thick amount of nectar drip and cover your stomach. She moves your pants and places your cock between her wet lower lips. Nayeon slowly rides you, her pussy lips coating cock with her nectar, “How does my pussy feel? Do you like it?” 

“Yes, it feels so good; it wraps around me so perfectly.” 

Nayeon smiles at your compliment and puts more of her weight on your cock. You place your hands on her ass cheeks and give them a good grab. 

She continues to tease you for a few more minutes until she feels your cock throbbing. “Oh no, you can't now.” 

She lifts herself up and grabs your cock with my hand, and aligns herself to her entrance. You watch as she traces her folds with your cock before penetrating herself. 

“Oh fuck… you're so big, I missed this feeling,” as the tip of your dick spreads her pussy open. She tries to adjust herself to your length, but you can't wait any longer. You grab her by the hips and pull her down, impaling her with your large cock. 

“Ah fuck!” Nayeon’s whole body spasms; her cunt clenches on your cock as she has her orgasm. You see her body shake violently, squirting you with love juice. Nayeon drops her body onto you as you hold her tight in your arms. 

You don’t give her a chance to rest as you begin to thrust inside of her. “Babe, I’m still sensitive, wait…” she whines out loud. She places her hands on your abs and tightens her thighs around your waist as you fuck her. “Fuck… you’re tightening your walls.”

”Ahh…ahh…just like that… keep on going.” 

It doesn’t take too long for you to reach your peak, “I’m going to cum, Nayeon noona.”

”I told you not to call me noona!” Nayeon tightens her walls, gripping your cock to the point of no return, “where should I…”

“Inside, breed me like a bunny!”

“If that's the case, then take it all!” 

You feel the hotness in your core disperse as you flood Nayeon with a large wave of thick cum. She arches her back, feeling your baby batter invade her hungry womb. The more you pump your cum inside her, the more her walls milk you. 

“Fill me up, mark this bunny pussy as yours, and let's have some bunnies,” as she digs her nails into your chest.

After having her womb filled with your cum she slips off your cock and onto the bed, rubbing her face on your chest. The two of you enjoy your time together before cleaning up and getting ready for bed. 

Coming out of the bathroom, she jumps onto the bed, “You filled me so much that I had a hard time cleaning up.”

“You told me to do it inside, so I did, haha.”

“I noticed you came more than usual. Did me telling you about making some bunnies turn you on?” 

You try to hide your expression, and you can see her smiling. “Haha, you do! Hahaha.” She rubs her face on the pillow and turns to face the opposite side of you, imagining the idea of having children with you. 

You lie on your side, embarrassed, and cover yourself with a blanket. After a few minutes, you feel a tap on your shoulder, “I wouldn't mind having your children, maybe sometime in the near future. As for right now, we can try having all the sex we want; I'll even let you put your cock inside me whIle we sleep” teasing you. She pulls her shorts down and spreads her cheeks, giving you a view, and sticks her butt out. 

“Do you want to put it in?”

You don't even need to respond as you take off your own shorts, grabbing your flaccid cock and pulling Nayeon closer to you. With one hand, you spread her cheeks a bit more and insert your cock inside her. 

She wiggles her butt and moans as she feels your cock, “Hmm… it’s not even hard, but it’s reaching deep inside.” Nayeon continues to grind her butt on your pelvis, making you hard and feeling you grow inside of her. 

“Ahh…so big.” 

She places her hand on her belly and rubs the small bulge on her pelvis, “You’re so big that it wants to poke out.” The two of you slowly fall asleep, embracing each other throughout the night. 

#twice smut #kpop smut #male reader #twice #twice fluff #kpop fluff #nayeon fluff #twice nayeon #nayeon smut #im nayeon #nayeon #idol x male reader #girl idol smut #reader x idol #kpop idol smut #kpop male reader #kpop reader #TM smut

[starillusion13]

Yes, Noona?

Request: "Hyuck as bf with a noona!! but he's dom in bed and a sunshine in front of others hahaha"

Pairing: bf!Haechan x f!reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut, romance

W.C: 1.5k

Warnings: Explicit themes, DOM!Hyuck, sub!reader, Noona gf and younger bf, nipple play, kissing, crying, begging(not literally), Hyuck being sarcastic as usual and Mark as third wheel lol.

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Enjoy a little fic on my Hyuck.

MINORS DONT INTERACT UNDER THE CUE! 🔞

His Noona.

You have been always referred as his noona. He has always been a nerdy and bright student all his life and you are always standing proudly beside him with a bright smile on your face for his success. Well whatever he achieves, his first intention is to go to a bakery shop to buy a cake and then your favorite flowers and hurriedly make a run to your apartment to give you the news and celebrate.

You have adored him, well also admired him a lot since then. His bestfriend or his only hyung, Mark Lee who was your classmate made it possible to you to meet him first time. one day when you were hanging out with in Mark's house. Haechan also came who bought some snacks and when he entered the door, his eyes locked with yours.

First he was so awkward and smiling at you timidly but the moment you smiled, as if something inside him shifted.

"You are so pretty, Noona." He sat beside you and leaned back into the sofa. When you felt his presence beside you and his compliment made you smile, you turned towards him, his eyes were already on you.

"Aw...Hyuck, thank you. I'm glad to get such a compliment from my little one."

He smirked at you and you already know that something stupid was going to spit out his mouth. Before he could speak a single word, you pushed a slice of pizza into his mouth.

He grumbled at your action while chewing it and you laughed at him loudly.

The thing you didn't notice was that his lustrous eyes with a little smile in the corner of his lips were staring at you.

He is a bright sunlight in the trio of you, him and Mark. The younger one is sometimes so cocky and sarcastic that he won't let anything to get slide without making a stupid remark.

You have babied him a lot. You always look after him like he was your little brother and when you gradually became his bestfriend. You both were like inseparable ones. You also got to know about his clingy side. Him whining for your attention all the times and then when you push him away jokingly, he would give you a hurt look.

Sometimes you are really surprised with his sudden change in mood.

"Don't tell me you are sulking because I didn't take you to the cafe." You raised your brows at him from across the room.

As soon as he nodded, your eyes went wide.

"Mark was busy yesterday and when I thought to go to your place, you were not there."

"You know my place?"

"Yeah. I have once followed Mark." He stayed proudly, leaving you in disbelief.

"Don't say anything more. You are creeping me out."

He laughed when you cupped your cheek and turned towards the laptop.

Even if he is making up the fact that he got to know your address being a stalker behind Mark. He is actually more than that. To your oblivion he has been all around you for a while. He knows everything about you, things which you yourself is unaware of.

As the days went on, you both grew closer together and Mark got to get a hold of the tensions between you both. He is always being aware of Haechan's feelings towards older girls and he was quite shock when you two get along with each other and started being best friends.

He didn't know about you and seeing you were so friendly with younger guy surprised him but when one day you both confessed to each other and of course keeping the older one as third wheeling in between. He was sure that both of your life was going to take a turn.

Even though Haechan is younger but you can still feel his possessiveness and dominance over you. You didn't mind the sudden change of his moods and you used to shrug it off as a way of ignoring but this sparked an intense energy in him.

"You didn't tell me that you are going to attend the party. I could have come along with you. Or are you just keeping something secret?"

You frowned at the thought, "what secret? And it's just a reunion party with my friends. What to tell you about it, nothing."

"Y/n." After you both have started dating, he calls you by your name but still he uses the word Noona very often but hearing your name in this sudden tone made you gulp. "Is Renjun coming to the party?"

And you know why. You nodded slowly when he suddenly smirked and cockily walked away.

His actions and other activities were still similar from his teenage days and let's add his possessive tendencies over his girlfriend and that's you.

If he is laughing with his friends group, of course he is the mood maker of the group and the one to annoy everyone with his sassy little comments. But a single remark about you will snap him out. He won't show it in front, maybe he will.

One day he grabbed Renjun's collar when he addressed that you could be his girlfriend instead and it would have been better. He snickered when he saw the reaction on Haechan's face.

Apart from the bubbly Haechan, the sunshine. There's something else to notice about him that is his other side, Hyuck.

Just the opposite to his appearance in public.

Even though he looks like a lovely guy when hanging out with you or spending time with you in the living room. You can't really match the two persons —- Haechan in public and Hyuck behind the closed doors of bedroom.

"Haechan—"

"It's Hyuck...noona." He chuckled when he hovered on top of you. Your throat already being rough with earlier activities and hearing him calling you Noona made you clench around nothing.

He was enjoying the sight of you being so impatient and your hooded eyes staring at him, literally begging at him.

"Aw...Noona...won't you scold me?" He flicked a nipple making you moan and squirm under his hold. You shook your head as your hands were already tied to the headboard.

"Use your words." He leaned forwards and whispered in your ears, "Noona..." he breathed out the word, goosebumps spread over your body and you whined for him.

His breaths hitting against your heated and over sensitive skin and getting bruised by his attacks with hickeys and kisses.

You previously like earlier days in the relationship were a lot nervous about him in sexual activities. Even if you are the older one but you can't take control over him because you are so shy about having the intimacy with him. But, don't worry because the menace was waiting for this exact opportunity to get hold of and finally he got it when he got to know that his only Noona who is daring to everything is nothing but a shy and sub to him.

"Hyuck...please I can't." Tears slid down from side of your eyes and he kissed the tearline before putting his attention on the breasts. Your body arch into his warm and torturous mouth but filling you up with the pleasures.

"Have patience, Noona...don't wanna get punished, right?" He snuggled his face down into your chest.

You shook your head roughly and soon you felt him teasing your entrance but he quickly pushed down your hip still to the bed and laughed at your whines.

You cried with the unbearable pleasure and his laughter filled the room.

"Please..." you mumbled something after it but his rough kiss muffled the words into his mouth. The intense yet a sweet kiss filled with passion, love and longing made you yearning for more when he broke it apart, saliva lining both your lips.

When you will be distracted, he would take it as the chance to finally enter you and push himself inside of yours into every corner, stretching every inch of your skin until you are begging and crying for him to stop.

It makes you wonder sometimes how he is the younger one and you the older one.

"No more Haechan please...please..."

"Yes, Noona?"

He will act as if he can't hear you but oops he is not having any intention to stop when he got the taste of you and feeling so good when you are tightly wrapped around him.

And he will repeatedly call you 'Noona' to make you come for the nth time that night.

>>>> <<<<

I hope you liked it.

>>>> <<<<

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn [open!]

#cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #nct #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct haechan #haechan x reader #haechan smut #haechan fluff #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct dream hard hours #nct 127 hard hours #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 au #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct 127 imagines #haechan imagines

[ellastone-olsen]

can you write a smut story where reader had to wait the entire ceremony (Golden globes) before she could take the gorgeous dress off of Lizzie. And Lizzie’s been just teasing her so when they get home reader rips the dress and takes Lizzie please 🙏🏻 I love your writing <3

Wicked game | Elizabeth Olsen

★Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x fem!reader

Summary: your girlfriend has gone too far with her teasing. that's what it says in the request

★Warnings: SMUT 18+, teasing, dirty talk, overstimulation, sex toys, strap on usage, praise, aftercare, fluff

★Word count: 1.8k

★AN: I have some kind of creative block, but I'm alive. I spent 5 days on this little thing instead of the usual 1.

The car slowly cut through the road, drifting between streams of the same iron boxes on wheels. The interior of the black SUV was spacious, but you and Elizabeth still sat shoulder to shoulder as the pad of your thumb stroked her knee through the fabric of snow-white dress. "Am I look good?" such a simple question with an obvious answer, but she still needed your confirmation. You cupped her cheek with your hand and turned her head towards you. “You are always beautiful my love” You give her a quick kiss on the lips and then look into her big green eyes. An idea just came into her sweet head, otherwise you can’t explain the sudden change in mood. She takes your hand and places it on her chest. “Then can you show me how much?”

A shiver runs down your spine and you nervously look at the driver's seat, noticing how the man is looking at you through the rearview mirror. As soon as your gazes intersect, he immediately turns his eyes back to the road. “Oh don’t worry dear, he will have to pay dearly if he spills the beans about what he saw.” Elizabeth whispers in your ear, you hope that by pay she means money. She moves your hand further, under her dress so that you touch her bare breasts and moans softly in your ear, making your core begin to pulsate. "Babe." You're warning her not to start something she can't finish. Her teeth bite your earlobe and you want to pull her away by hair, but you remember about styling. "Elizabeth." Your stern tone and the full form of her name still have an effect and she moves away. You don’t respond to her sweet smile, the car is just stopping.

The Golden Globes look spectacular, but boring. You are absolutely not interested in the speeches all these people make when they receive an award. People you don't know say words of gratitude to people you don't know again. The waiters obligingly drift back and forth, serving glasses of champagne and appetizers that are inedible to your taste. You just stand on the side and look around while your girlfriend talks to other celebrities or gives interviews. When you finally sit down in your seats, you cross your legs and lean back, unable to sit up straight. Elizabeth sits in such a way that the Queen of England would envy her if she were alive.

Time passes and you drink your second glass of champagne when it seems to you that something is touching your leg under the table. You don't pay attention to it until the action is repeated. The head turns to your girlfriend, but it looks like Robert Downey Jr.'s award ceremony is the most interesting thing she's ever seen. However, where her hands are says otherwise. Elizabeth's right hand triples on your thigh, red nails lightly scratching through the thin fabric of your pants, sending shivers down your spine. You stare at her, but the older woman doesn’t even think of turning her head. "Stop it." Your irritated, harsh whisper flies past her. As a sign from above, the bell rings, signaling a break, and without wasting any time, you grab Elizabeth’s hand and drag her away towards the toilets.

She sighs when she suddenly finds herself pressed against the wall, of course you can be rude, but first cover the back of her head with your hand so that she doesn’t get hurt from the blow. “What games are you playing today?” A hot whisper near her ear makes the woman hold her breath for a couple of seconds. Her answer doesn't keep you waiting. “But you like it, don’t you?” Elizabeth puts her hands on your waist, touching you through your thin shirt and tilting her head to leave small, light bites on your neck. “If you continue, I’ll push you into the toilet, lock the common door, bend you over the counter and...” You lose your breath from the stronger bite. “And what, dear?” The bell rings again, signaling everyone to return to their seats. You stand pressed against her for a few seconds, then push yourself off the wall with your hands and rub your neck where Elizabeth’s lips were, erasing non-existent traces of lipstick. The two of you go to your seats and no one seems to notice your disheveled state.

The ride home is quick and quiet, for two reasons. The older woman realized that you would ruin her for all her antics as soon as she set foot on the threshold of the house. She was in anticipation and silently looked out the window, imagining all the options for the development of events. The second reason is what you said to the poor driver when you got into the car. “You have 10 minutes to take us back, Elizabeth is terribly tired.” The black car brought you home in exactly 10 minutes. You gave the driver a tip for being in a hurry, even though it was not customary. When the front door closed behind you, what the older woman expected and desired happened. You grabbed her hand and quickly led her to your bedroom. When the door to the room closed, in one motion you threw Elizabeth onto her stomach on the plush blanket of your large bed.

Your hands pushed her hair back, exposing her slender neck so you could kiss and bite it. The woman's hips shot up, but you blocked the movement by straddling her. “If you think that you will get what you want quickly, don’t hope.” The zipper of the white dress was pulled down, almost breaking the zipper. Her dress and panties disappeared from her in record time, and you somehow managed not to tear them.

When you took a few steps back admiring the picture in front of you, your gaze caught on her wet shiny folds. She had definitely been looking forward to this all day. Elizabeth turned her head to the lack of action on your part to check the situation and saw you taking out from the nightstand the black compact vibrator that she loved so much. There were two scenarios in her head: either now she would get the best orgasm of her life, or she would die from overstimulation, but she really hoped for the first.

You returned to your girlfriend and moved her hips closer to the edge of the bed so that she rested her knees on the plush pile of the carpet and exposed her ass to your view. Your hands stroked her soft thighs, you couldn’t resist and leaned towards her dripping center to run your tongue along the entire length, tasting her. A shaky sigh escaped the woman's mouth above you and you repeated the action, gripping her hips even harder (there might be bruises there later). A mixture of pleasure and slight pain made her unconsciously lean back for closer contact. In what seemed like such a simple and innocent action, your palm landed on her ass with a loud slap. "No, no, don't you dare move." There was the first warning, which caused a groan of pain to escape from the older woman.

After you were satisfied with her taste, two fingers slipped inside her so easily, stretching the velvet walls. The second hand pressed the toy’s power button and you set the speed to medium, bringing it to her pulsating clit. "Hold it." Elizabeth reached underneath her and grabbed the silicone object, holding it in place. “If you disobey me, an even worse punishment will follow. You understood?" The older woman's mind was clouded with pleasure, but she hummed in agreement anyway. Her thoughts were confused by the way you moved inside her, pressing on a sensitive spot. Another slap to her ass. "Use your words." Her back arched and she was ready to swear that she would cum from such rough treatment. “Yes, I understand...please Y/N.” With every thrust, you felt her walls squeezing tighter around you. Elizabeth could no longer find words and shouted curses into the emptiness of your house. “Fuck...I'm going to cum...please can I?...” You cut her off. "No. Take it away."

She obediently removed the toy from her throbbing clit, stopping any stimulation. You were still moving inside her, but it wasn't enough to make her fall over the edge. “Oh fuck...fuck...so good...please can I continue?” You were silent for a minute before you gave her permission, making sure she didn't cum instantly. The woman's hips jumped as the stimulation began again. You pounded into her at a fast pace and after a couple of minutes you felt your orgasm approaching again. "Elizabeth stop." Oh how she didn’t like it when you called her by her full name, it never meant anything good. She put the toy away again and you pulled out.

The woman heard the chest of drawers open again behind her, the sounds of the harness, and then the cold tip of the faux cock pressed into her dripping entrance. You spread her natural lub along entire length and pushed the thick toy into her in one motion. Your girlfriend’s mouth opened in a silent scream, her hands grabbed the sheets as if they would tear them. "OH FUCK ." You returned her hand with the vibrator to the right place and pounding at her at a fast pace. “Do you like my cock baby? Mmm? Is this what you wanted all this time? So that I could fuck you like the whore?” Your dirty words turned her on even more. "Yes! Yes! Y/N can...can I cum?” She was ready to cry from overstimulation and you took pity on her. You leaned down to leave a kiss behind her ear and whispered. “Cum for me baby.”

Almost immediately, the woman fell over the edge, screaming your name mixed with curses into the softness of the mattress. You continued to fuck her through her orgasm until a small whine was heard from her. You pulled out and took off the strap, throwing it somewhere deep in the room, thinking that you would take care of it later.

Your arms grabbed Elizabeth and you helped her climb onto the bed, lying on her back. Her knees were red from standing on them for a long time and you gently rubbed the skin in the hope of relieving the pain. "My good girl, Lizzie." The lips began to pass everywhere you could reach, starting from the neck and ending with her cute tummy that you loved so much. When you looked up at her again, you noticed that the woman had begun to fall asleep.

“Baby, don’t sleep, you need to take off your makeup.” A hand covered her cheek and the pad of her thumb gently rubbed her cheekbone. “Mmmmm but I’m so tired, it can wait a couple of hours.” She mumbled sleepily. You gave in and covered her naked body with a plush blanket, setting the alarm for 3 hours. When the light in the room went out, Elizabeth had already fallen asleep and hugged you, breathing steadily into your neck.

Your fingers played with her blonde hair until you fell into the realm of Morpheus after her.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff imagine #wandanat #wandanat x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda x you #natasha x reader #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader

[magics-neptunes-things]

Impossible Love Resists Best

Hi guys ♥

First of all, can we talk about this gif please?

It’s from this request that I received like an eternity ago, sorry?

Summary : How to survive when your super-protective-intrusive older sister aka Patri Guijarro discovers that you have an affair with one of your teammates.

TW : Swearing, !GuijarroReader

Enjoy and tell me what you think about this one :)

______________________________________________________________

We can’t really say that Patri is the one you better get along with between your other brothers and sisters. Even if you were born two years after her, you don’t have quite the same tempter. You were four children in the family and the only thing that brought you and Patri together was football. You never liked seeing her meddle in your affairs or wanting to control every parts of your life.

So when she found herself playing at FC Barcelona in 2015, you were pretty relieved. You chose Atletico Madrid some months after her departure, just to stay in Spain but not follow her steps. Your call to the Spanish national team, however, more or less forced you to play together from time to time. When your contract with Atletico ended and you had to make a choice, you hesitated for a long time before accepting the offer from Barcelona. Seeing your sister every day honestly made you hesitate a lot. It was one thing to support her at family celebrations, but it was another to have her in everyday life.

So, before you agreed, you asked Alexia Putellas for advice. You play together on the national team and she knows Patri very well. You knew Alexia would take your opinion into consideration and think about the well-being of her team before anything else. After much discussion with her, you finally agreed and arrived in Barcelona in the summer of 2022.

And finally, everything went rather well. You didn’t spend too much time with your sister, preferring to train with Salma, Ingrid and Mapi or Lucy. Unlike Patri, you went to the World Cup in Australia and even though it caused some tense discussions between you two, it never changed your way of seeing things.

Apart from the ideals and your desire to change things, you had to admit that there was something else that made you want to fly to kangaroo country. I mean, someone.

This someone who wakes up gently at your side, opening her delicious chocolate eyes.

You and Ona met during your first selection for the Spanish adult team. It wasn’t until after Euro 2022 that you got together. A sweet way to console yourself for your defeat. But, concerned about your sister’s reaction, you decided to keep this relationship hidden. When Ona was still in Manchester, it wasn’t too complicated. You talked a lot by messages or by Facetime and since the Federation used to always make the same pairs for hotel rooms, you took the opportunity to find yourself at those times.

You were afraid that Ona’s arrival in Barcelona would change things, but not at all. The beautiful brunette took an apartment five minutes walk from yours, finding you the excuse to carpool very often. Nobody suspected that if you came together sometimes, it was because you spent the night together. In truth, since Ona is in the same city as you are, you have trouble spending time away from her.

"Holà" Ona mumble before turning in her back to stretch her body.

Her movement brings down the sheet on her body and you don't hesitate to let your eyes slide on her. When you go up to her eyes, she arched an amused eyebrow and you offer her a guilty smile.

"Don’t start like this, or we will never get there on time"

"I’m not even sorry"

You give her an angelic smile that makes her laugh and you get closer to her to curl up against her, your head on her chest. The regular beating of her heart makes you doze again, unless it's her nails that massage your skull. You hums and close your eyes, getting yourself comfortable.

"Do you have anything to do today? After training?"

"Pina is planning to kidnapp me to go shopping"

You roll your eyes as Ona giggle. You hate shopping. You hate looking for something for hours, only to realize that what you liked is no longer available in the right size. You hate people in stores who go half crazy and having to lug a dozen bags to your parked car 20 minutes walk away makes you want to kill someone.

"And you?"

"Nothing, maybe I'll go see my parents"

You hums one more time and begin to stroke Ona's arm. This is maybe your favorite part of her body, you have a thing with her arms and hands. You both stay like this for twenty minutes, before you need to prepare yourself for training. Like many other times, you arrive together in the car park and go together to the changing rooms. But, in order not to draw the attention of your teammates to your relationship, you and Ona decided to spend as much time together visually as with others. Because outside of FC Barcelona, it’s clear that Ona is the one you spend the most time with.

********

Celebrating a team victory at a local bar, you find yourself stuck between Mapi and Lucy. Usually you refuse this kind of party, knowing that Patri is there almost every time. And besides, Ona has a reputation for leaving early, so she can discreetly join you at home without it appearing strange. The only time you left one of these parties together, you were surprised by Alexia while you were kissing in Ona’s car, unable to keep your hands to yourself after restricting yourself all evening. The blond was looking for you to give you back the jacket you had forgotten.

This makes her the only person who knows about your relationship and she promised not to get involved, even though she advised you to talk to Patri before she found out for herself.

You were drinking alcohol-free cocktail, not wanting to have a headache tomorrow morning.

"I'm booooored" Mapi whines, letting herself go of the backrest. "I need an occupation. Why don’t we find you someone, Mini-Guijarro?"

You grimace at the nickname you hate, seeing Ona tense on her chair a few meters from you. Not wanting to be the second Guijarro, you actually go with your first name on your jersey for example.

"Go dancing with your girlfriend, you dork" you answer smiling at Mapi, sipping your drink.

"Are you annoying my little sister?" Patri ask sitting on the free chair in front of you. "That’s one thing I have reserved for myself, you know?"

Mapi laugh as you roll your eyes. The blonde sits more upright and leans on the table explaining her action plan to Patri.

"I thought we could find someone for your sister."

"Are you joking? She’s a baby" Patri replies coldly, killing the fun.

"What are you talking about? She’s not a 12 years old anymore"

Your frown and take a quick look at Ona. She's looking at you too, but like some other girl around your table. Mapi had raised an eyebrow and Patri was about to respond to her before Lucy does it first.

"Why don’t you stop talking about her like she’s not here?"

Both decided not to add anything, at least for the first few seconds. This gives you time to shoot a look and a smile to thanks Lucy, who answers you with a wink.

It’s exactly for this kind of thing that you never talked about your relationship with Ona to Patri and for which you never talked about your love life with her. She knows you have a preference for women, but that’s all. She never even knew the name of one of your girlfriends. Not that you’ve had dozens, but still.

"Do you know she’s a footballer and not a nun, at least?"

Mapi comes back, getting your sister’s attention and you sigh.

"What do you mean?"

Looking kind of angry, Patri crossed her arms on her chest and looks at Mapi with a bad air. Mapi seems determined to change her mind and let you have a sentimental life, perhaps imagining that Patri’s opinion has already prevented you from doing something.

"She’s young, pretty hot and I’m sure that if she wanted to she’d walk out of here with several phone numbers."

"Just because you used to sleep around at the time doesn’t mean everyone does. And don't go there or I'm sure Ingrid would love to learn that you call one of your common friend hot."

Mapi’s amused look becomes a black stare and you decide that the line had been crossed. You get up from your seat, glaring at your sister, raising your voice maybe a little too much than you hopped.

"Enough. Can you stop two minutes of disrespecting people, Patri? I do what I want, when I want, with whom I want. It's not for you to say what is good for me, as if you were interested enough in me for that, other than to remind me all the time that you do everything better than me. You’re just so pathetic. Leave me the fuck alone."

Moving away from the table, you realize that Ona is no longer in her seat but you find her leaning on the bar, in the company of others of your teammates. Going through the dance floor, you intercept Ingrid and advise her to go and get her girlfriend before her and your sister kill each other. Then you finally join the bar and settle down next to Ona.

You meddle in the discussion a few minutes before discreetly shifting your attention to Ona. Your hand found her fingers under the bar and you clenched them discreetly to draw her attention to you.

"Are you okay?" you ask her gently.

"Yeah. The comment about your sentimental possibilities was a little too much"

You make a grimace, frustrated not to be able to take her in your arms to reassure her properly. You stay immersed in her eyes for a few more moments and you realize that you no longer want to stay. You want to go home, your sister’s behavior has greatly annoyed you and you want to talk about it to Ona, too.

"As soon as someone leave, we're leaving too" you decide.

Ona nods and she had the time to finish her drink before Lucy and Aitana decided to leave. You jump at the chance and tell the others that you’re coming home too, followed by Ona. The four of you go out after saying your goodbyes, yourself carefully avoided your sister’s gaze, and it is with great relief that you breathe fresh air from the outside. Ona and you said goodbye to the two others women and went to your car.

"My sister is the dumbest person on earth" you groan angrily, barely the door of the car closed behind you.

Ona smiled sympathetically, but said nothing. She didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, knowing how tense your relationship with Patri has been since you were little. It’s not the first time you’ve complained about it and you’ve already told her a lot. But the way she’s behaving with you makes you half crazy, not to mention she’s even starting to talk badly to your mutual friends now. Mapi and Patri being apparently still in the bar when you left, you imagined that Ingrid’s intervention must have been saving the night.

You relax a little when you feel Ona’s hand on yours. She searches for some seconds on her phone a playlist that will suit you both and the rest of the trip is done in silence. You obviously notice that your girlfriend is also lost in her thoughts, but you prefer to wait until you are at home to question her.

When you arrive home, you both go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water before making a jump in the bathroom to shower before returning to your bedroom. There, you draw Ona against you and you let a new silence settle. You shiver when you feel her draw random shapes on the skin of your belly and even if the feeling is more than pleasant, you decide to attract her attention by raising her chin in your direction.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I was just wondering what would happen the day Patri heard about us" Ona said, shrugging.

"You saw what she said earlier, it’s clear that she will take it badly."

You sigh and gently shake your head. She’s your sister, she’s supposed to want your happiness, right?

"Yes, that’s, okay. But us?"

"I don’t understand your question Hermosa"

Eyebrows slightly gathered, you watch Ona sit on your lap and you automatically place your hands on her thighs.

"I’m going to ask you the most selfish question in the world." Ona looks embarrassed, but you smile at her and beckon to continue. "If she tells you to stop our relationship, what would you do?"

The answer seems obvious to you, but you quickly realize that in Ona’s mind this is not necessarily the case. Perhaps it comes from the fact that his parents and brother have never behaved in a way other than that of a loving and supportive family.

"I'm not going to listen Ona, obviously. This option isn't even a possibility."

"Really?"

"Really."

With this you smile and draw her against you again to put your lips on hers. The shyness displayed on your girlfriend’s face squeezes your heart and you resent Patri a little more to impose this kind of doubts. During the kiss your hand is placed on her cheek and you caress her tenderly with your thumb when you speak again.

"I don’t want to lose you, Ona"

"Me neither, Princesa"

********

The next morning, it’s with a better mood that you wake up. When you look at your phone, you realize that your sister tried to call you last night, but you decide to ignore this information for now. You put on an underwear and a t-shirt of Ona, trying not to make any noise and not to wake up the pretty brunette who still sleeps peacefully. You know she usually wakes up quickly once you’re out of bed, but you still have hope that you can make her breakfast before she joins you.

You rummage through your kitchen, realizing it might be time to go shopping, but you end up finding everything you need. The avocado toasts are ready and you were finishing your scrambled eggs when Ona startles you by jumping on your back. The cry you utter is far from advantageous to you, but you cannot hold back your smile when you hear Ona’s laughters.

"Don’t scare me like that!"

"Sorry" she laughs again before putting a kiss on your cheek and coming down from your back.

You cast an amused glance at her before turning in her direction with a plate in each hand.

"Mrs’s breakfast is served"

"It’s Miss until I’m married, thank you" she smirks, taking her plate from your hand.

"Watch out, Batlle."

She stick out her tongue at you and you roll your eyes before following her on the sofa in the living room, where you have the habit of having breakfast, with a music channel on. The discussion between you two is easy and playful, plans to go to the beach being even made since you have the day off. As a local, Ona knows exactly where to go to avoid the world. And doing a little road has never been disturbing for you. You love your trips with your cars, make with laughter and songs of your adolescence shouted out loud.

Your plates and glasses finished, you turn to Ona.

"Have you eaten enough?"

You ask while looking at her, lazily stretching. The dishes will wait a little while before being made.

"Not really" said Ona in a dreamy way. "I think I wouldn’t mind a dessert"

You barely have time to realize what she means that she jumps on you (literally) and you find yourself lying all along on the couch, your hands stuck in Ona’s above your head.

"Oh. This kind of dessert" you laugh, although your laugh get stuck in your throat when you feel her lying on you to deposit open-mouth kisses in the hollow of your neck.

She knows exactly what to do and you feel waves of shivers and heat running through your entire body. You lose your feet when you feel her add bites to her kisses, not enough to leave marks, but enough to set your skin on fire.

You finally manage to free your hands and this manage to satisfy your need to feel Ona’s skin on yours. The t-shirt she was wearing found itself carelessly thrown on the ground somewhere, soon followed by yours. The warmth of her body against your skin gives you incredible sensations and you let her body slide between your legs to feel her even closer to you. Grabbing her head with both of your hands, you kiss her, trying to show her all the emotions she makes you feel. Judging by the moan she lets out, it must be pretty convincing.

Your living room being the first thing visible once the front door of your apartment is passed, it would have been almost impossible to try to hide somewhere. You know you would have tried anyway if you had realized earlier that your front door was opening. Yet you and Ona just have time to turn your heads to find out that the intruder is no one but your sister. To whom you had the stupidity to give the double of your keys, on the insistence of your mother.

Your first reflex is to roll Ona behind you and sit in front of her to hide her nakedness, not particularly wanting your sister to see your girlfriend like that.

"What are you doing here?" you ask.

The number of times Patri has set foot here is counted on the fingers of the hand. That she passed without even taking the time to warn you is surprising, but the one who is the most surprised of the three is probably Patri herself. Wide-eyed, she seems about to drop the paper bag with the logo of the local bakery.

You take advantage of her shock to pick up your t-shirts and get dressed and that’s where Patri restarts. You even wonderif she realized in the first instance that the person with whom you were exchanging a kiss qualified Pegi 18 was actually Ona.

"What the fuck is going on here?!"

She’s angry, of course. The bag of the bakery is thrown on a piece of furniture and when you hear her raise your voice, you get up from the sofa to be at her height. By an alignment of the stars you are taller than her by a few centimeters and you thank the nature of this gift, knowing how impressive Patri can be when she's angry.

"Don’t yell at me, you’re at my house, not yours"

"Shut up! You’re so stupid. Just to stand up to me about last night you had to take someone home? And one of our other teammates?"

The statement is so unexpected that you find yourself speechless for a few seconds. You never imagined for a second that your sister would think that you and Ona were just a one-night stand. But it's especially the fact that she imagines that it turns once again around her that annoys you.

"Out of all the girls in the bar you chose Ona? How can you be so immature?"

"And I'm the immature one now"

You’re laughing, nervously of course. You are so angry that you feel your hands shake, but you manage to keep a certain degree of calm when you feel Ona gently settling her arm on you. Over your shoulder, you look at her. You would have preferred to announce your relationship to your sister in better conditions, but since we were there…

However, it's Patri who speaks before you, speaking directly to Ona.

"What about you? Are you crazy or what? My little sister? Let go of her Ona or I swear that you will regret it"

Yeah, you know you’re not doing the right thing either. But the tone she speaks to the woman you love is even worse than the one she spoke to Mapi last night. And that’s all it takes to get you started.

"Don't you dare talk to her like that" you said to her sharply while bypassing the coffee table to face her.

"I came to apologize for speaking badly to you last night, but I would have been better off getting hit by a car apparently"

She keeps screaming and it starts to get on your nerves.

"This idea is tempting to me" you spit

You try to maintain your anger by talking to her coldly, teeth clenched. You feel Ona moving behind you, standing without really knowing what to do. Her presence, however, allows you to realize that it would be better to continue to try to explain yourself rather than respond to Patri’s provocations. So you take a deep breath before speaking again.

"Look, listen to me. It's not what it look like, I k-"

"Yeah, like you two weren't about to fuck on your couch."

Two seconds of astonished silence followed her sarcasm, while you realized that you correctly understood what she just said. And, so suddenly that neither Ona nor Patri had time to realize what was happening, you grab your sister by the collar of her t-shirt to get her out of your house.

"Get. Out."

You raised your voice too and push her out of your apartment with all your strength. You slam the door in her head, then grab her damn bag of croissant, open the door again to throw it in her face and slam it one more time. The neighbors will be happy.

********

Lying on the couch in Ona’s apartment after an intense workout, you’re both watching your new passion series on Netflix. You haven’t looked at your sister or spoken to her for more than a week now and you still as mad at her. You and Ona informed Alexia of the turn of events and after a long discussion with her, you decided to gradually let your teammates know about your relationship.

Most were surprised to learn this, but after seeing the different pieces of the puzzle put together, it didn't seem improbable to them. For her part, Lucy laughed, saying that she already knew and that you were not very discreet when it came to ogling the other. And Mapi slapped you in the back, certifying that you had very good taste. It made you roll your eyes and laughed Ona, but overall you are rather relieved of everyone’s reactions. Even management and the team committee were briefed and made no comments.

There was only Patri.

"I knew he was cheating on her. What a son of a bitch" grumbles Ona, eyes fixing on the screen while lying against you.

You smile and slide your lips into her hair while shifting your attention to the screen. Despite your respective fears, Patri’s behavior didn't distance you, quite the contrary. Your way of doing things hasn't changed during training or matches, both wishing to keep a distance between your professional life and your personal life.

"Language, young lady" you sing before kissing her scalp again.

You are interrupted in your viewing by your phone which starts to vibrate on the coffee table, attracting your attention. You decided not to answer, before the name of the person trying to reach you appeared. "Papi". You frown, extending your arm to grab your phone. Your dad’s not one to call, just texting with dozens of emoji every text.

After putting the episode on Pause, Ona turns on you so that she is lying on her stomach to be able to look at you. Your concern must be seen since she's also frowning.

"Holà?"

"Holà mija" your father calmly answers you, as if you were calling each other every night.

"What's happening?" you asks, not wanting to lose time.

"Nothing, I just wanted to hear you. It's been a while."

"Do I have to remind you who I got my poor lying qualities from?" you ask while bowing an eyebrow.

At the other end of the line, your father laughs softly and this makes you smile despite everything. Always a little lost, Ona questions you with a look. Unable to give her additional information at the moment, you shrug and replace tenderly one of the strands of her bun.

"Maybe, but you have your football skills from me"

"Sure. So, what's up?"

"Well... Patri called."

"Oh."

Here we are. You roll your eyes and put your phone on speakers, allowing your girlfriend to listen to the conversation. After all, she was as involved in the story as you.

"What did Lady Patri say?"

"She said that you had a fight about a random girl and that you threw her out of your apartment. And that since this day you weren't talking to her."

"Ona isn't a random girl for fuck's sake. She's my girlfriend!"

"Language young lady!"

Hearing your father take you back as you did previously almost make laugh Ona and she hides her face in your belly. It’s time for you to keep your seriousness and you bite your lip before resuming more calmly.

"She showed up at my apartment without telling me, even if we had a fight the night before and found me with Ona."

Needless to say what you were doing.

"She started yelling at me and calling me immature and she spoke to her badly, I wasn’t going to throw flowers at her anyway, was I?"

"No."

Your father’s silence lasts a few seconds and you imagine him perfectly thinking while rubbing his chin. No wonder he called you, your mother has always sided with Patri over the years. Your father is different, being the youngest of four boys, he suffered during his childhood with his big brothers. He understands perfectly your point of view and your feelings regarding Patri and her way of wanting to manage your life.

"So you have a girlfriend?"

"Yes"

Ona look back at you and you smirk, wrapping a strand of her hair around your finger.

"Since when are you both together?"

"Since the Euro, when we lost against England."

"So it's quiet serious then"

"It is Papi. I didn't want to talk about it to Patri though it's like she doesn't want me to be happy."

"I wouldn't say that, Muñeca."

You shrugs and another silence passed.

"When you say Ona, it's for Ona Batlle, verdad?"

You hums, still playing with Ona's hair.

"Oh that's good. I met her dad last summer in Australia, did you know he likes to go mushroom too?"

"I’m so glad to know you’ve got something in common with my stepfather, Papi" you laugh with Ona.

"Have you ever met him and her wife officially? I hope you made a good impression on them"

You roll your eyes one more time before giving him your answer, Ona chuckle a little before laying down on you. You relieved about this conversation, even if Patri has once again interfered in your life by mentioning your couple to your parents before doing it yourself. Your father doesn’t seem against your relationship, and he more or less informed you that your mother didn’t either. As for your other brothers and sisters, they don’t seem to care much, but that doesn’t surprise you. They were never for gossip.

********

"Can I have my kiss now?"

Smiling, you were chasing Ona along the corridors of the stadium where you train. The rain having invited itself to the party, the training ground quickly turned into fields of mud, and after a training match you found yourself thrown to the ground following a tackle of your girlfriend. That explains why your body is covered in dirt, mud and grass.

"No!" Ona laughs at you as you try to draw her against you by grabbing her by the bottom of her shirt.

She manages to escape you and starts running. Having been assigned to store the equipment, you are the last to join the changing rooms. All the others rushed to enjoy a good hot shower.

"Come on baby, at least a lovely cuddle?"

"Y/N get of of me!"

Ona isn't really running, if she wanted to escape you it would have been a long time before she would have lost you. Her speed is no longer a secret to anyone. Ona was still laughing and you grin, feeling her slap you on your hand so you drop the piece of her cloth.

"Why? It’s your fault if I’m in this state anyway"

You end up grabbing your girlfriend’s arm and pulling her against you to kiss her tenderly. Willingly letting it happen, Ona puts her arms around your neck and responds to your kiss. Knowing that no one will bother you, you gently wedge her between the wall and you. You didn’t think it could be cold and when you feel her take off quickly and shiver, you laugh softly.

"Sorry" you smile mischievously.

"More kissed and you’ll be forgiven" she whispers against your lips

You oblige easily at her request, putting your lips on hers again. Only to be interrupted by an embarrassed cough. Turning your face in the source of the sound, you discover your sister. Sighing, you take off a little of Ona, without releasing her completely.

"This is the second time, Patri. What do you want?"

"Mom would like to know if you are coming back to Palma this weekend" Patri whispers without looking at you.

You glance at Ona who is also looking at you, before answering her. The team you had to face this weekend cannot receive you because of administrative problems, the game was moved later during the season. You usually go home to your parents when you have a whole free weekend. Except this time, Ona's family invited you for Ona’s mother’s birthday and there’s no way you’re not going.

"I have already said no. Ona and I already have plans."

Patri plays nervously with her fingers before answering you. You don’t know what your mother said to her, but she seems determined to try and patch things up between you.

"Look, if it’s because of our argument…"

"Oh my God Patricia… you never learn from your mistakes?"

"What?"

She look at you, confused, and you sigh. You don't really want to talk to her, but you know that she will never let it go if you don't explain yourself.

"Not everything is about you! I can't go because we're going at Ona's Mom's birthday. Mama already knows that, are you both saying that I'm a liar now?"

"No, of course not."

"So, end of the conversation."

Without any word, you grab Ona by the hand and drag her with you in the locker room. You really need to take this shower now and forget about the interaction you just had with your sister.

********

"Are you thinking about making up with your sister or not?"

Another day, another match and you find yourself in a four-man position with Ona, Alexia and Salma. If Salma plugged in her headphones and listened to music, Ona fell asleep on your knees, leaving only you and Alexia awake for the moment.

"What do you mean?" you ask your captain curiously.

"I know you’ve never been best friends in the world, but she’s still your sister. When my father passed away, my sister and mother were my biggest support and I wouldn’t be where I am now without them."

You bite your lip thoughtfully. You have already met Alba several times and you appreciate her, she is a cheerful and devoted person to Alexia. Proud of her older sister, she doesn't mask her admiration. But what struck you every time was the way Alexia put her little sister on a pedestal. No jealousy, no unhealthy competitiveness.

"The relationship I have with Patri has nothing to do with the one you have with Alba" you point out gently.

"She's still your sister. And I know she's not perfect, but she's really trying to make the things better between you two."

You shrug your shoulders and shift your attention to the window. The train journey is long today, the opposing team being located in the north, you have almost the whole country to cross.

"If she comes to apologize, I might think about it again" you end up answering by glancing at Ona, peacefully asleep. "And not just at me."

Alexia nods with a satisfied little smile. She seems sure it’s going to happen, you’re much less so. You’ve never heard your sister apologize to anyone since she was 10, when your parents stopped asking her to apologize when something was wrong.

********

It didn’t take long for Patri to approach you and attempt reconciliation. The discussion you had with Alexia made you think a little, realizing that you may have been a little too closed to the discussion with your older sister. But you’re still hoping she’ll apologize to you first, before you tell her that maybe she was a little too cold.

You talked to Ona about it, of course. After you arrived at the hotel, you had a few hours to settle in and immediately raised the subject with your girlfriend. The latina, lulled by the love of her older brother from a young age, is obviously not against a reconciliation with Patri. She was never even angry with her, rather sad to see you tear yourself apart in this way. The catalan is definitely for family peace.

After your game, as you walk around the stadium to thank your fans and take some pictures with Lucy, you see your sister sneaking up on you, making sure she’s far enough away from the audience to talk to you.

"Would you like to come drink something with me afterwards? At the hotel restaurant?"

Surprise, you hesitate a split second by biting your lip. But when you see that Patri is about to beg you to accept, you end up nodding with a simple nod.

It’s a little nervous that you come down from your hotel room to find Patri after Ona kissed you tenderly, telling you that she is sure that everything will be fine. For your part, you just hope that no scream will ring between you two.

When you arrive, Patri is already there and beckons you to join her, which you finish by approaching with a face as relaxed as possible. You barely have time to sit down when someone come to take your order and after ordering a Coke Zero you shift your attention to your sister.

"I’m not sure where to start" Patri said, frowning.

"Maybe because of what made you ask me to come here?" you answer with a shrug.

"I don’t want to fight anymore. I know we never got along perfectly well, but it’s never been so strong"

You nod and bite your lip thoughtfully. You have to take it upon yourself to choose the right words and not provoke an argument. Because deep down, you also want things to relax with her. As Alexia said, she’s still your big sister and the same blood is in your veins.

"I’m sorry I reacted the way I did about your relationship with Ona"

You look up at her, waiting for the rest. There’s so much to discuss that you actually don’t know where to start either.

"Like you said, my first reaction was stupid and realizing that you hid your relationship for over a year because of me… First I was hurt and then I realized how stupid I was. All I wanted to do was protect you."

"I’m not three anymore, Patri. And even back then I was pissed that you wouldn’t let me do the big swing, just so you know."

A slight smile appears on your face and it is also born on the face of Patri when she realizes that you make a small touch of humor.

"I chose the wrong way. I’m sorry."

You nod again, sincerely happy to hear these words coming out of your big sister’s mouth. It's certainly time for you to tell her what you think about your behavior.

"I certainly didn’t react in the right way either. But seeing you intervene in my life regularly took away a little more patience each time. And the story with Ona was really the one thing too many, and you talked to her so bad that it drives me crazy."

"I can understand. I'll talk to her to."

Patri’s simple answer suits you once again and you relax a little, letting yourself go against the back of your chair. The night has long since fallen outside and you feel tired of the training and the match of earlier, during which you played the entire time.

"So... You and Ona, it's serious?"

You shift your attention once again to her, taking a few seconds to ensure the substance of the question before answering her.

"I’m in love with her, Patri. We managed to be close to each other when she was in Manchester but since she’s in Barcelona it’s even stronger. She’s just… I don’t know. I just know it’s her."

Patri smiled and nodded gently, before changing the subject of conversation. After about thirty minutes, without having exchanged any argument, you decide to go back to your respective rooms. You are surprised by the hug she offers you before entering her room, but you answer it nevertheless gladly.

When you arrive in your room, Ona is waiting for you, sitting at the edge of her bed. Well, one of the two beds you have glued so that you can sleep together without taking the risk of falling. Even if you always end up in each other’s arms, it remains more comfortable.

"How did it go?" asks you immediately the Catalan, her head tilted to the side to be able to better observe you.

"Good" you just answer, hoping your smile speaks for itself.

After closing the door, you approach her and sit by her side. It doesn’t take her long to grab your hand in hers and intertwine your fingers. Talking to Patri about your feelings for Ona made you realize or recall how much you love her. And how lucky you are to have her by your side. Ona is perfect for you and you love everything about her.

"What did you talk about?"

Ona’s curiosity makes you smile, but you respond willingly. After all, you never hid anything from her and you always had full and blind trust in her. That is not going to change today.

"About our childhood, the different way we see things…"

You shrug your shoulders, trying to pick up the conversation you had. It was intense but clearly necessary. You really hope that everything would be better since now.

"And about us, too" you add with a small smile.

"What did you tell her?"

"That I’m crazy about you"

Your smile gets bigger when you see Ona blushing. She also smiles and you don't waist time to break the distance between your two faces to put a kiss on her lips. It's the pure truth, even if you have never had the opportunity to reveal to her the strength of your feelings for her with simple words. You always felt like they weren’t strong enough to express how you feel about her.

"Well I hope you told her that I'm crazy about you too?" Ona smirks after the kiss.

"You can tell her later. She want to excuse herself to you too"

Ona nods, distracted by your fingers running along her hips. You didn't let her answer anything else, kissing softly her jaw and her neck, determined to celebrate your victory with her and your possible reconciliation with Patri.

********

2 Years Later

"Oh my God Patri, get out!"

A pillow flies through the room and you hear your sister laughing before she quickly closes the door. You don’t know what kind of power it is, but your sister always manages to interrupt you and Ona when things start to get interesting.

Realizing that the atmosphere is dead, you sigh and roll on your back while you were previously lying on Ona for an intense making-out session. Returning to Palma de Mallorca, to your parents for your brother’s birthday, you naturally took Ona with you. Your father loves her and your Mother seems to like her too. The bond between your families is also very good, your fathers having both quickly clicked on the many points they have in common.

"Next time we take a hotel room" you nag, making Ona laugh softly.

Smiling despite yourself, you gently lower her t-shirt that you had raised on her stomach before looking at her when she rolls on her side.

"Or we could take a small apartment here. I really like this place and if we want to change from Barcelona some days we would just jump on the plane. Not even an hour and we’re here."

"Why not" you smile softly.

She smiles back at you when you stroke her face tenderly, drawing imaginary features between her freckles. More than three years have passed and you will never get tired of her. The little box containing the ring you planned to propose to her with tonight is neatly hidden in one of your pairs of socks and you’ve actually booked a room in a local palace for the night. It's indeed out of question to celebrate your engagement in your parents' house, with your sister’s weasel or your nephews and nieces ready to land at any time in your childhood room.

"Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?" you innocently ask Ona.

"I’d go anywhere with you" smiled Ona and you kissed her one last time before you got out of bed.

You discreetly take the box and the ring, sliding it in the pocket of your jeans before joining Ona who awaits you in the corridor.

"I forgot my phone" you’re just answering her questioning look.

You take a look at it and Patri’s message informs you that everything is in place. She’s supposed to take your proposal in photo and video, so that you have a memory of that moment. All Ona has to say is yes. Despite your stress, you know her answer will be positive.

Walking hand in hand, you got lost in your thoughts and Ona is quiet too. But a glance at her informs you that she is smiling and relaxed. Her gaze on the sea returns to you and she addresses you an interrogative glance.

"Are you all right?"

You just nod with a smile, busy remembering the speech you prepared. Despite your certainty, you feel that anxiety is gaining ground and you are happy to see that the place you have designated to Patri is finally there.

"Actually, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about" you start, interrupting your walk.

In the distance, hidden behind a rock, Patri draws her camera when she sees you stop. The video is already on and your big sister is as stressed as you. If she misses what you asked her to do, she could be banned from marriage.

It's with a tender smile that Patri watches the questioning read on Ona’s face, followed by tenderness when you make your statement to her and surprise when she sees you kneeling, the famous ring presented in its case. The following photos contain the moment when you pass the ring on her finger, the one where the latin jumps at your neck and the last is that of your first kiss as fiancées.

Ona said yes, of course.

Because You and Her are forever.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #patri guijarro #patri guijarro imagine

[just-more-pr0mts]

You have probably seen all the aus like danny gets adopted by batfam, Danny as damiens twin/older brother, Danny dating a member of the batfam, Danny part of the justice league, Danny as a gotham superhero and more.

But have we seen Danny Fenton as Batman.

Danny Fenton who was taken in by the original Wayne family, with Marta and Thomas Wayne. Taken in when Martha was not yet pregnant. They treated him as their own and raised him as such. When they discover that Martha is pregnant and go out to celebrate. When they take a short cut and danny is just a few seconds too late to save them.

The boy who lost his parents when he failed to stop Dan and for all he knows his sister is dead gone. Who was lost in the infinite realms for so long. Who got stuck in a foul city where the weak are crushed so only the strong prevail.

Danny, Who stumbled into the warm arms of the Wayne family. Who slowly opened up to them. Who never used his powers so he could have a shred of normalcy with them. Who realized they loved and cared for him as thier own. Danny who accepted he loved them in turn. Danny,the boy who lost another set of parents on one fateful eve.

Danny who lost-

Danny who

Danny

Bruce.

Bruce who takes in these lost stray children because he wants to look after them. But he doesn't know how to because he never had a normal childhood.

Bruce who puts up a front to protect himself as well as his family. Who lies to face of powerful beings to protect his family. Bruce who trains long and hard to protect his family from said beings, so much so that he ends up locking away his emotions, so that his children don't have to loose another parent -not knowing that they already had so long ago

Bruce who's so proud of his children, but just doesn't know how to show it. Who is so scared, so terrified they might fight the same battles as him...or something even worse.

BRUCE WHO WANTS to kill the joker. Who wants to hurt him like he hurt his CHILD and leave him there to die, but he knows better than that... he knows what a cruel joke it would be, the irony. He knows that it will just more horrible things to his children knowing they'll never be able to stop him. That's why he brought him back.

Bruce who as much as he tries is always two steps behind.

And now when his new dimension is at stake because of the very beings he left behind, he must choose between the life that he built for himself here or the one that he left behind.

A carefully weighted scale. With the future on the horizon, and choices to be made.

Will the scale stay true or will the choices made unbalance it all.

________

Hii my beautiful creatures of the day and night.

I sorta forgot about tumblr but if you like this piece let me know! Also I love hearing how I can improve and make my writing better.

Ps. If you have any suggestions on what I should write about feel free to ask! I'm so excited to hear about it

Ps.ps. if you have any cosplay blogs dm me! I'm trying to get into cosplau

#danny phantom #dp x dc #just a promt #dc x dp #feel free to add \correct anything #please tag if this ever gets made into a fic #dpxdc #cartoon #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #sad danny phantom #danny phantom angst #danny is bruce #danny fenton as bruce wayne #hes just traumatized #he needs a hug #hes trying his best #but its not good enough #danny was Danielle #but now he is bruce

[number1jeonginstan]

Hiyaaa! Hope you’re doing well:) i was wondering if you could be open to writing a virgin!chan oneshot where youre his best friend who he’s crushing on and he wants to lose his virginity to you? Reader could be a dom so he’s turned on by that lol but he’s also a sensitive subby boy. - anon 🦋

A/N: This is actually the first time I’ve written a sub!reader, so I hope it’s good. Thank you so much for sending in a request and I really hope you liked it, I really enjoyed writing it because it was kinda cute in the beginning, also something about the game night Chan agenda is really my favorite for some reason! Also, welcome to the anon list 🦋

WC: 2.1k (oops!)

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: idol!Chan x idol!(afab)Reader

Warnings: loss of virginity (chan), but not, protected sex (for the first time ever!?!?), blow jobs, aftercare is a must!, subby!Chan

You walked into the dorms for your and Chan’s weekly game night. It was a tradition the two of you made when you two became friends after you first debuted. Your friendship was quite spontaneous, you were walking around the music core backrooms, trying to find your manager and you ran into Chan. You both bonded over your love for anime since he saw that you had a Rukia phone case at the time. 

He eventually helped you find your manager, offered you his phone number, and told you to text him if you ever had any questions. You happily took it, not thinking much of it. The first time you texted him was three days after they won an award for their new song.

Chan was taken aback when he first got your text. He thought you were so sweet, offering to take you out to get ice cream to celebrate their win, and you happily obliged. From then on, the two of you have been stuck together like glue, or as much as you can be with your jobs. 

One thing you guys made a tradition of was doing a game night. Sometimes it would be with the other members, sometimes it would be just the two of you, it all depended. “Hey, you are finally here!” he beamed, running over and giving you a tight hug. 

“I’m only a minute late, you miss me that much?” you giggled. You both went to his room, the other members were back home for vacation, and since Chan’s family was back in Australia, and yours was back in America, you guys couldn’t visit them.

“So, what are we playing tonight?” you asked, sitting on the floor of his room. You always loved Chan’s room, the aesthetics were so nice, not to mention his bed was comfortable. Sometimes you would sleep over, or just take a nap while he worked. You never understood why he worked himself to the bone, but you knew he wanted to express his emotions through his music, and you were never one to stop him.

“I was thinking, Felix got me this game thinking it would be fun,” he said, pulling out a box of Jenga from his stack of board games. 

“Wow, Jenga, so original” you rolled your eyes. “It’s not your typical Jenga, it has truth or dare questions”

“Wait, that will be fun, I wanna know all of your secrets Channie,” you said pinching his cheeks. Sure he was older than you, but you loved treating him like he was a baby, it was fun seeing him all flustered.

“Do you want to set it up while I bring us some snacks?” He asked, putting the box on the floor and standing up. “Yeah sure, do you guys still have my favorite chips?” you asked, he simply nodded, heading out of the room as you took the pieces out of the box, stacking them up.

He came back in, holding two bottles of water as well as a bowl of chips. He popped one in his mouth, sitting on the floor facing you. “Okay, you start” you grinned, taking the chip that was in his mouth and eating it. 

“Yeah yeah, just don’t cry when you lose” he grinned. You just glared at him, there was no way in hell you would lose. 

“What is the most embarrassing moment you’ve had in front of others?” you read out loud, it was your turn and you had yet to lose. “Ummm, I think it’s the time I was changing into an outfit for one of our performances, we don’t know what happened, but I guess my boobs were too big or something because the shirt ripped as soon as I put it on, and it wasn’t like I gained weight or anything because it was loose at the stomach.” 

You started laughing at yourself, reminiscing the way your stylist and you were both in shock. What you didn’t see was the blush on Chan’s cheeks and how his ears got a bit red, thinking of how you looked without your shirt on. 

Before he could imagine it more, he coughed, taking out another block. “Where is the craziest place you’ve had sex?” you said, looking over the stack to read out the block. 

Chan’s voice became an octave higher “How can they ask such a question?” he asked, a bit bewildered. “Come on Channie, you have to answer it!” 

“I can’t” 

“Why not?” you whined, wanting to know

“I’ve never done it” 

“What!” you screamed out loud. Chan just covered his face embarrassed, he didn’t need you to think he was a virgin. “I mean there is nothing wrong with it, but that’s so crazy to me. Like you are obviously a really attractive dude, with a great personality, and you have a great body and smile” you kept rambling on, causing him to blush even more.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, a bit perplexed. “Yeah, of course, I mean have you looked at yourself in a mirror? Like you are one of the most attractive dudes I’ve ever met.”

“Can I ask why though?” 

“I just came here at a young age, as you know, and I just didn’t find anyone to have sex with” he shrugged, calming down from his previous state of embarrassment. He took a swig of his water as you asked him a question.

“Oh, do you want to have sex with me?” you asked nonchalantly. Chan choked on the water unsure of where your ask was going. “WHAT!” he shouted, not trying to hold back his surprise. “I mean, only if you feel comfortable, I just don’t think you want to die a virgin” you shrugged, taking a sip of your own water. 

“Okay, yeah” he whispered. It was at that moment, the atmosphere changed. The air around you had become more sultry as you climbed into his lap, knocking down the Jenga tower in the process. “Oops, guess you were right, I did lose” 

Before he could even reply, you captured his lips in a kiss. He groaned in your mouth as you began to slowly grind your hips into his. “Why don’t I take you to the bed?” you asked, pulling by his collar. 

He just moaned as his back hit the bed, you began to straddle him, your knees around his hips as you rubbed your clothed pussy on top of his covered cock. “Be a good boy and take off your shirt” you said, kissing his lips again. 

He groaned again as he removed his shirt showing off his abs. “Fuck” you groaned, running your finger on them. “I should have asked to do this sooner” 

He just whimpered underneath you, feeling overstimulated. It had been weeks since he touched himself. He had never felt this way, he couldn’t fathom what was happening. The feeling of your pussy rubbing on his cock was getting to be too much. “Fuck, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum in my pants” he moaned out loud. 

“Aww baby” you brought your hand to his face, “maybe I want you to.” You grinned, getting off of him and taking off your shirt and the shorts you were wearing. His cheeks blushed red as he saw you in your underwear and bra. The accentuated every single curve and mark on your body and he loved it. 

“Be a good boy and lift your hips for me” he simply nodded, allowing you to take off his shorts and boxers. His cock slapped his stomach, the red tip already covered in his pre-cum. He moaned feeling the cool air hitting it. “Wow, you are so big, can’t wait to suck on it” 

Chan’s eyes opened in suprise as you took his cock in your hands, slowly sucking at the lip, given it kitten licks “Fuck feels so good” he whined beneath you. You ignored him, going back to sucking cock. 

You needed to stimulate yourself as well, so as you kept sucking his cock, you took one of your hands, removing your underwear, and began figering yourself. You continued to suck, adding a finger in at a time, knowing you wouldn’t be able to take his thick cock without stretching yourself out. 

He looked down at you, moaning at the sight of you fingering yourself as you continued to take him down your throat. The moans eliciting from his mouth made you wetter, moaning on his cock as your fingers were thrusting faster inside of yourself. 

You began to take him deeper, your nose beginning to hit his pubic bone as you bobbed your head up and down. You could feel him twitch in your mouth, and his moans were getting louder. “Fuck feels so good, omg, I think I’m going to cum” 

Just before he was going to cum, you took your mouth off his cock with a pop. He whined at the loss of your mouth on his cock. “Please, I was going to cum, why would you do that” 

Tears began to form as he felt bottled up, barely being able to take it anymore. “Oh baby boy, don’t cry” you said, wiping the tears off his face. “Just wanna make you cum in my pussy, is that okay?” 

He nodded, feeling eager to feel your wet cunt on him. “Baby, do you have a condom” you asked, kissing his lips once again. He nodded, pointing to his dresser, “The second drawer, Han bought me a box as a joke, never thought they would come in use” 

“Well tell Han thank you, now go rest your back on the headboard, I want to ride you” He simply nodded, sitting up and pushing his back onto the board, allowing you full access to him. 

“You are so beautiful, I’m so excited to have your cock inside of me” you giggled, rolling the condom onto his dick. He moaned at the sight of your small hands wrapping around his throbbing cock. “Fuck” he groaned out loud, causing you to giggle again. 

You rested your knees on both sides of his thighs, running his cock in between your slit, allowing your wetness to cover it. Before he could even think, you slammed the entirety of his cock inside of you, moaning at how well he fills you up.

“Oh my god” you moaned out loud, his cock already hitting that one spot inside of you “it’s like your cock was made for my pussy, I don’t think I’m ever going to let you go”

You kissed his lips again, moaning as you began to move up and down on his dick. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good, it’s clenching me, I don’t think I can last long” he moaned again, feeling your walls clenching him. It was all becoming too much.

You knew he was close, but you were too, the thought of corrupting Chan was took much for you. You began to move faster on his dick. “Fuck, I’m going to cum, please let me cum” he moaned.

“Don’t you want to be a good baby and let me cum, or are you selfish?” you asked, not stopping your pace. “Rub my clit baby” you said, gliding his fingers down to it, and showing him what pace you wanted it at. You moaned feeling his thick fingers rubbing it as you continued to move on his long cock. 

“No, want to be a good boy, want to be such a good boy for you” he moaned again. That was all you needed to cum, your walls spasaming around his dick, your pace didn’t falter, wanting to ride out your high and cause him to cum too “Please let me cum, please I’ve been such a good boy” 

“You have haven’t you? Cum baby, cum in my pussy” that was all he needed, you rode out the both of your highs.

As you came down, you rested your head into his chest, feeling over-exerted. “I hope that was a good first time, sorry if I was too rough” you said, kissing his lips again. 

“If you want me to go, I totally can” before you even said anything else, he kissed you this time. 

“You aren’t going anywhere, you are mine now. We are going to go take a bath and eat whatever you want” You looked at him puzzled, "Was my crush on you not obvious???" You just giggled, "I don't think it was, maybe I need another kiss to reassure me"

He placed another kiss on your lips, this time it was soft and sensual and not lustful like before. He picked you off the bed, took you to the bathroom, and filled up the bathtub with hot water and bubbles. 

After it was filled, you both sat in, your back pressed against his chest as he massaged your shoulders. He kissed your shoulder, whispering in your ear “Thank you for the best first time ever, but for this second time, do you think you can be my good girl?”  

#stray kids #skz #straykids x reader #skz smut #ju <3 answers #skz x reader #straykids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #straykids #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #bang chan x reader #bangchan #bang chan #bang chan fluff #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #ju <3 writes #ju's <3 anons

[partycatty]

older!johnny cage > overheard

you're caught in the act of swooning over your boss

notes: i'm not even fuckin playing i just woke up from my nap in a cold sweat with this idea haunting my mind so here i am. i truly honestly genuinely cannot stop thinking about dilf johnny and his thick fucking arms and how much i want him to [REDACTED]

[ masterlist ]

• during your break from training, you managed to squeeze in a meal break with one of your closest friends. it was just the two of you, laughing and for once breaking the stoicism implanted into your demeanors from training ruthlessly.

• "jesus, commander cage really kicked our asses today," your friend whined, rolling her shoulder. "i get we're fighting against demons and elementals, but did we really need to run twenty miles?"

• "it wasn't all bad," you shrug, poking at your food. "we've done worse, i feel."

• "oh hush, you had the time of your life," your friend groaned, lightly pushing into your shoulder with a smirk. "you and johnny cage got to run beside each other in formation." your friend was sure to say his name in an announcer voice, wiggling her fingers as she pretended to read a large sign.

• you huff, planting a fist on the table as you try to conceal your embarrassment with faux anger. "oh my god shut up..."

• your mind wanders to earlier in the day. johnny decided to wear only a tank top instead of a long sleeve with a vest, giving you a delicious view of his arms as they pumped during the run. while you two didn't talk, he shared panting encouragements by your side, telling you you were doing so good and how much further you had left. it made running feel almost impossible as each word and grunt knocked the wind from you.

• "jesus, look at you," your friend laughs at your dreamy expression as you replay the memory. "you're down bad, girl, anyone and their mother could tell."

• "is it that obvious?" you murmur, burying your face with your hands. "i'm doomed."

• "nah, you might have a shot," she insists, pulling your hands from your face. "he might be into younger women, most celebrities are."

• "but he's not just a celebrity, he's our superior," you whine, rolling your head back. "i just watch his movies and pretend i'm the love interest."

• "oh, it's bad bad," she laughs, looking past you for a moment. her smile falters.

• "can you blame me? ugh," you rake a hand through your hair. "he's all muscle, he could just pick me up and snap me like a twig! normally i'd settle for height alone but holy fuck he's built like a brick fucking wall!"

• your friend falls silent.

• "and don't even get me started on his age," you point an accusatory finger. "he is 50 something and so fucking fine i can't even bring myself to focus on literally anything ever. i watched some of his old movies, and he literally aged like the finest fucking wine any vineyard has ever even dreamed of making! thank god his daughter is the commander because if he stood around and told me what to do i'd behave so much like a dog it would embarrass me. he is the god damn devil in disguise and i sure a shit don't have a single chance of him even looking in my direction with any more than a smile because at the end of the day i'm just a sad little recruit crushing on a guy who probably has a massive di—"

• "i'm fifty-nine," you hear a low, horrifyingly familiar voice in your ear. you can't even bring yourself to turn around, smile dropping and eyes widening. the only thing you can bring yourself to do is stare across the table at your friend, who's as equally still. maybe if you were still enough, he wouldn't see you. like a dinosaur.

• "lieutenant," you breathe out after a long silence, drunk on the smell of his cologne. "we were just... t-talking about you."

• "oh yeah?" his voice is rumbly, a teasing inflection making you want to burst out in tears. you had a faint suspicion he was behind you the entire time, something he confirmed before you could muster the strength to speak. "sounded more like it was just you."

• "well," you wonder if you can outrun him, stammering as you try to talk yourself out of this. "you know..."

• you finally get the courage to spin in your chair, turning around to face him. he's towering over your sitting form, a shit-eating smirk on his lips.

• "i'm sorry, sir, i'll... i'll do extra push-ups, i'll go overtime on training, scrub the toilets, anything to—"

• he holds a hand up, waving it away as he shakes his head slowly.

• "don't stress it," he stands up straight, crossing his arms. oh my god his arms. "but, uh... just a word, in my office, when you have the chance." you almost miss the wink he sends at you, but you caught it just as he spun on his heel and walked out, a cocky sway to his hips.

• you spin back around, slack jawed at your friend, who's red from holding in her scream of excitement.

• "he's totally gonna bang you on his desk," she finally spits out, covering her mouth immediately after. you just lower your head, hitting it against the table in defeat.

• who knows what he's gonna do to you in his office?

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk11 #marley writes ☆

[aphrogeneias]

no more tears — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's halloween night, 1986. you want to celebrate your favorite holiday after the year you and your friends just had, but after being dumped by your, now ex, boyfriend a week before puts a damp on your plans. eddie munson, however, has a different plan for you.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentions of a past bad relationship, petty vengeance, protective!eddie, eddie being a sweetheart. eddie in a corset, eddie in leather pants (those are worthy warnings). drinking, smoking. implied smut towards the end.

author's note: happy, very early, halloween <3 i started writing this last year and originally, it was supposed to be a four-part series, and it became this one-shot. because of that, i'm sorry if it seems rushed, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Hawkins' suburban streets were a dull blur of white picket fences and houses that looked all the same, passing through the open windows of your car, despite the cold autumn wind blowing in. Even on Halloween night, where the air was full of childlike wonder and mischief, those same houses lit up with the same old seasonal decorations, the children going trick-or-treating, your school friends going out with the best of worst intentions. It all still felt dull to you. 

Perhaps because you felt that dullness deep inside of you, dead to the world around you. Fitting for such a morbid holiday — your favorite holiday, completely ruined by someone else's decisions.

Your self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by the curly-haired freshman who was currently inspecting the tapes piled in your glove compartment. You watched with interest from the corner of your eye as Dustin clicks the radio to a stop, without asking, and inserts your Blizzard of Ozz tape in the cassette player.

As the first chords of I Don't Know started echoing through the car, you teased, "Since when do you like these?"

"Since when do you care about what I listen to?"

Most days, you could deal with the kid's presumption, it was quite endearing, actually. That night, though, all you managed was to sigh as dramatically as you could.

"You've been hanging out with Munson a little too much." You pointed, "What's next? You're gonna grow out your hair like Mike is doing?"

"Mike isn't growing his hair out because of… Oh."

"You used to be more observant, Dusty."

You smiled at his silly expression, blue eyes wide with realization. It was the first time they could bring out a smile from you that evening, and you could tell that the teens in the backseat could feel the tension lift a little bit. 

The accidental mention of the metalhead made your mind wander once more. You wondered if you'd see him tonight, even if just for a moment, and if you'd be able to look and, perhaps, melt at one of his lazy smiles and cute dimples without feeling guilty for the first time since you met him. 

If being able to reciprocate Eddie Munson's lingering stares was the reward you got after being suddenly broken up with a week before Halloween, then you could start seeing an end to your current misery.

You didn't let yourself hang on to false hope, though. You were still nursing a broken heart and delusion wasn't going to help with it — but going home to a warm blanket, cheap wine and a bunch of horror movie VHS tapes that your Family Video friends had graciously delivered to your house after a very persuasive phone call.

After years of friendship, Steve Harrington still couldn't resist your pouting, even from a distance.

"Don't be mean. You're being awfully mean today, did you know that? Loosen up a little." Dustin snapped, but with little bite to his words.

You turned to him again, "Can you blame me?"

"Leave her alone, butthead." From her place in the backseat, Erica Sinclair, in her meticulously pink Barbie costume, interjects. "She's already doing us a favor and you're trying to be a smartass?"

Her older brother and Max Mayfield completely ignored Erica and Dustin's following little back and forth, stuck in their own little teenage love affair — and if, for only a moment, you were jealous of the easy, uncomplicated way they talked and held hands in the small space between their bodies, you shook it off just as quickly — as you winked at the youngest Sinclair from the rearview mirror.

You'd never tell anyone, but Erica had always been your favorite.

Their conversation was once again forgotten, overshadowed by your racing thoughts and eagerness to get home as soon as you could, until you parked in front of Steve's house, where your younger friends would enjoy their official party of their High School years. There had been a long time without any ragers at Harringtons', not since Steve became one of the losers, but after the events of last Spring, he thought we could all use some innocent (probably not that innocent on his side, god only knows that boy needed to get laid), spooky fun.

You'd thoroughly agreed before your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, put an end to all of your plans.

"Listen," you started, shutting the door of the driver's side of your car a little too violently while the kids gathered up outside, "if you get in any kind of trouble, call me. If you're gonna drink, or do any kind of drugs…" You're interrupted by groans and whines of 'really?' and 'we're not going to!', "don't do it alone, okay? And drink lots of water! Better safe than sorry, babies."

Most of that advice was just to mess with them, you knew they weren't anything like you when you were their age, but you cared too much about those miscreants to pretend that monsters and secret government organizations were the only obstacles they'd have to face in their teen years.

It's all a flurry of rolling eyes and quiet mumblings of "okay, whatever, we weren't gonna do any of that anyway" before they leave across the street to find the host of the party that was slowly, but surely, starting to fill in, groups of people coming into the house from both sides of the street, music echoing through the walls and into the evening air. Your heart clenched, heavy in your chest, wishing you could let go of the ache that was pulling you down and allow yourself to feel alive again, maybe just for one night.

You just about missed the pair of warm, brown eyes that watched you slouch back into your car and drive away.

On the other side of the street, Eddie Munson stood on the pristine front yard of the Harringtons' house, taking a long hit of his cigarette and rubbing the back of his hand over the eyeshadow spread on his eye, cursing and coughing when he realized the black stain it left behind on his skin.

He was uncomfortable and bored, listening to the deep bass line of Blondie's rapture coming from the house behind him, Debbie Harry's soft voice lulling him into a steady rhythm. He knew he was pushing it, coming to a place full of people, of people who half hated him at worst, half mistrusted him at best, even after his name was cleared. Worst of all, none of them understood his costume, which, to him, was the biggest insult of all.

Not knowing who Alice Cooper was supposed to be was one of the biggest treasons in his own, personal, Munson doctrine.

Now, he stood there, regretting every decision he had made that night, his leather pants pulling a little too tight on his legs and feeling a little too tempted to scrub the black eyeshadow from his face, thinking about a way to let his friends down gently when he bails on them.

His discomfort lasted until he saw your car pull up, and suddenly, leaving felt like a very, very bad idea.

Eddie was used to admiring you from a distance. From when he saw you for the first time, that fateful night at Reefer Rick's boathouse, it was all he could do without making a fool of himself. He didn't know how to carry himself around you, too caught up on your beauty, on your wit, or on how absolutely unattainable you were, to actually become close to you.

He watched you as one would watch the midday sun, high in the sky, with a hand in front of his eyes, protecting himself from being fully consumed by your light.

When you exited the car — Henderson, Mayfield and the Sinclairs following close behind — he noticed two things: your lack of a costume (or, rather, the fact that you were wearing something that was probably your pajamas, and looked incredible while at it), and the lack of a douchebag boyfriend beside you. 

Before he could walk over, perhaps use the kids as an excuse to talk to you, you left. Eddie was left halfway through the yard, a hand limp to his side as his cigarette laid long forgotten, and what must have been a ridiculous, confused expression on his face.

It didn't take long until Dustin and Erica found him, while Lucas and Max entered the house. 

"Hey, uh… where's Y/L/N going? Is she not… Is she not staying?" He swore he tried to act casual, but he knew from the expression on both his friends' faces that he wasn't doing a great job.

"Does it look like she's staying?" Erica crossed her arms, looking as intimidating as a little girl in all pink and glitter could look like. All he did was raise an eyebrow, and got one eyebrow raised right back at him.

Dustin was more understanding, in his Luke Skywalker costume, orange pilot suit and all. "She's not feeling well, man. Steve asked her if she could drive us because Nancy was already driving Mike and the Byers, but she went home."

"Oh." Again, he tried, to no avail, to hide the disappointment in his voice. Eddie Munson was, by no means, a good actor. "Do you know what happened?"

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but Erica beat him to the punch. "You know, I think she could really use some company tonight. No one wants to be alone on Halloween night, don't you think?"

She pulled Dustin away and towards the front door, eyes wise beyond her years giving him one final look before disappearing inside. 

Eddie knew she couldn't hear him as he screamed "I owe you one, Sinclair!" and rushed to the end of the street where his old van was parked, a sliver of hope and renewed excitement rushing through him like a live wire.

Scratch about what he said about regretting leaving his house that night, he had forgotten all about that as he sped to your place, a heavy guitar riff thundering hot on his trail.

You heard him before you saw him.

There was a horror film playing in your television, a blonde teenager running from a serial killer rolling on the screen, her terrified shrieks and the crescendo of the soundtrack filling the living room — not that you've been paying attention, you haven't been paying attention since a little after the beginning of the movie. You were too busy drinking your usual, cheap red wine straight from the bottle and stuck in your own thoughts, lying on the couch with only a blanket and your cat for company.

It approached slowly, the sound of his van's stereo. Then, it grew and grew, Quiet Riot's "Metal Health" seeming to echo through the entire neighborhood. It made you tumble out of the couch, feeling the effects of the alcohol rush to your head all at once, and running to the nearest window. You're still a tiny bit dizzy when you see him, after he stopped the engine and the music stopped, skipping out of the van and towards your front door.

You'd barely caught a glimpse of Eddie before you ran from the window, afraid to get caught. A million questions surged in that moment, the seconds between recollecting yourself and answering the loud ring of your doorbell, knowing who was waiting for you outside. How did he know you were home? Wasn't he busy tonight? What made him want to come to your place of all places?

All thoughts were cut short when you opened the door and saw him.

Under your front porch light, stood Eddie Munson, looking like every wet dream you had ever had.

Dressed in a tight, black tank top, a latex corset wrapped around his slim wait, and even tighter leather pants. Pale chest bare, it was the first time you were seeing his tattoos after visiting him at the hospital, months ago. He leaned in your doorway as soon as you opened it, a gentle smile in his full lips, brown eyes lined with a smudged layer of dark eyeshadow. Your legs might have given out if you didn't hold on to the wall. 

"Hey, Eddie." A greeting comes out as a gasp, letting out the breath that was stuck inside your throat. You hoped he couldn't tell how flustered you were, but if he did, you would blame the wine. "Is everything okay? Are the kids okay?"

It dawned on you that that must have been the reason he came all the way over to your house. You tried to bury down the wave of sudden anxiety when you watched his face fall slightly, before he replied “No, no, everything is fine. Uh… I just wanted to check on you, actually.”

The expression on your face — eyebrows pinched together in confusion — must have said it all, because then, he explained himself. “The littlest Sinclair said you might be needing some company tonight, but didn’t say why. I figured that if none of them were staying with you, then I might, if that’s okay.”

Eddie’s demeanor was uncharacteristically shy. He avoided your gaze, looking at the floor while speaking, but that only made you fonder — even then, he was still as sincere as always. Your heart did a little flip in your chest, warming you from the inside out, as you opened the door enough to let him pass, silently welcoming him in.

“Erica said that?”

“Yeah. Got me worried there for a second.” He eyed you with mirth from under his wild bangs while he toed off his combat boots and left them beside the other shoes on the floor near the door. That sweet, domestic sight didn’t go unnoticed but you had other things occupying your mind, such as a reminder to thank Erica for meddling in your Halloween night plans.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Just not in the mood to party, that’s all.”

“See, that doesn’t sound like you, Y/N.”

“How do you know that?”

“I guess I just know more about you than you’d think.”

You were still both standing in the small hallway that led to your living room, now staring at each other. Eddie felt out of place, next to the cream and beige shades of the wallpaper your mom chose when you moved there, in his all black ensemble, all leather and spikes and wild hair, but at the same time, you felt like he could belong there, if he stayed long enough.

You wished he would.

“I don’t know about that,” you sighed, “but if you want to stay and watch some movies, that would be more than okay.”

He smiled and leaned back, looking taller and impossibly handsome, dark eyes shimmering. You almost melted on your spot, but again, you wanted to blame it on the wine. 

“Lead the way, babe.”

At some point during the night, between one gruesome film and another, and a couple of bottles of wine being passed back and forth, you had scooted closer and closer together on your couch, until you were almost pressed flush against each other. Eddie was afraid to move and break whatever spell you seemed to be under, because he hadn't felt comfortable like that in a long time.

It was easy being around you. It hadn't been easy for Eddie to be around a lot of people, not since Spring Break, but with you, it took absolutely no effort to just be. To let go, to let his mind rest, to just focus on how warm the skin of your thigh was under your sweatpants, almost touching his, to make you laugh with his witty commentary of the awful movies you'd chosen to watch, to watch how beautiful you looked under the blue light of the television whenever you looked away from him.

He had it bad, that much he knew. Been smitten for a long time, enamored with the girl just out of his reach, but close enough to admire without guilt, but he wasn't about to let his feelings be known quite yet. Not when you were so close, so perfect, so… approachable, for the first time ever.

Eddie had never liked your boyfriend, from the first time he met him — just another Hawkins rich boy, swim team star, on his way to some fancy college out of state, and worst of all, he got to call you his. Unlike Steve Harrington, who managed to sway his usually unshakable opinion, Andrew just proved him right every time he had the unfortunate opportunity to meet him.

The first time he saw him was right after the dust had settled. He had just walked out of the hospital as a free man, mysteriously forgiven by the law enforcement that just a few days earlier was set on kicking him while he was down, and was received by his friends back at his trailer, a small committee complete with a handmade "welcome back!" sign and a cake baked by you. 

You, who welcomed him back with open arms and never stopped fighting for him, even if you'd only officially met a week before.

You'd spent that afternoon in his bedroom, along with his friends and his uncle, all sitting around his bed and reminiscing, happy to be there, happy to be alive. Still recovering from your wounds, seen and unseen, leaning on each other like a lifeline. He remember holding your hand that day, acutely aware of the ring on your finger, but doing it anyway — your hold never faltered, instead, you ran your thumb across the skin of his hand and smiled.

Was that what bliss felt like?

Later that day, you were the first to leave. Andrew came to pick you up, Dustin announced as he was the one to answer the door. A frown made its way to your face, if only for a second, and that was enough to make Eddie decide he didn't like the guy. Not only that but he insisted on walking you to the door, ignoring the protests coming from all around the room.

Walking slowly, as much as his still fresh bite wounds would allow, he let you lead him to his front door, a gentle hand on his back, guiding him. He didn't let himself feel bad for using his battered state to let you touch him without guilt, he could do that later, after the comforting warmth of your touch had stopped branding his skin. 

When you opened the door, that's when Eddie saw him. He knew Andrew hadn't been there during Spring Break, away with his family to some tropical destination, far from the horror they, you, had to endure. Eddie could tell he didn't care much either, letting you tend to your also still fresh wounds, both physical and mental, by yourself most of the time after he got back, only calling you when he needed something.

Eddie tells himself he would never let you out of his sight, if you were his girl, but there's also a lot of other things he likes to think about when he considers that scenario.

He watched you say goodbye, squeezing his shoulder before leaving and descending his trailer's stairs, down to your boyfriend's nice car and cold arms, leading you away from him, but not before leering him down at his own doorway, a condenscending, degrading look Eddie knew a little too well by now.

Not a word was spoken between the two, but there was no need, Eddie already made hating him into a new hobby.

With that sudden rememberance, your soft giggles bringing him back to the present, Eddie couldn't help but ask.

"What happened to your boyfriend?"

Without missing a beat, you chuckled, and responded without looking at him. "He dumped me."

"He what?" His question sounded a lot louder and high-pitched than he had intended. Eddie thought it would be easier for you to have dumped him other than the opposite.

Who would be stupid enough to let you go like that?

With a long sigh, you clicked the remote to pause the movie, and turned around to face him fully. He tried not to show how disappointed he was to lose the physical contact you had at that moment, but his hand clenched almost involuntarily, eager to reach out and pull you back. Where you belonged, his traitorous mind added.

"Dumped me, yeah." You sat with your legs crossed and he did the same, turning to hear you. "Last week. Unceremoniously, might I add, through the phone, even. I heard through the grapevine he's already dating someone else, but that might be just rumors, or maybe not, honestly I expect anything from him at this point."

Eddie's mind was reeling. "Was that why you didn't want to go out tonight?"

"That's part of the reason." You nod. "I just really don't wanna risk seeing him and Halloween is my favorite holiday, I don't want it more ruined than it already is."

The urge to punch the guy in the face was strong, stronger than it was when he was still recovering, when you were still together. It made him restless, fidgeting in his seat. The hand that lied limp at his side finally reached out, sitting on your knee and squeezing it only slightly. "I'm sorry. I know that it's not worth much, but I really am. You deserve better."

A weak smile formed on your lips, but it didn't reach your eyes. Eddie desperately wanted to make your face light up again. A brief idea struck him, then.

"Do you know where he might be tonight?"

"Benny's, probably. I don't know. I don't want to know." Despite your distress, you looked adorable with your nose scrunched and your head down, picking on your already chipped nail polish. Unable to help himself, Eddie finally reached out, his first unmistakably purposeful display of affection towards you — a little unsure, a little clumsy, but it still felt right — bringing his curled index finger below your chin, gently tipping your head up, making you meet his eyes.

"You might wanna know about what I'm thinking."

His voice was soft, but his dark eyes were full of mischief.

It was late when you got to Benny's. Not that anyone there would mind, the music inside was blasting loud enough that it could be heard for miles, and the people who were outside were all too intoxicated to mind your presence.

The basketball team, and seemingly every other jock affiliation at school, had a different party happening on Halloween night. They must have not gotten their big suburban house for themselves this year, Eddie thought. He would usually try to crash these parties, make some money out of the only few times these jocks didn't abhor his mere presence to his advantage, but things had changed for him, and for all it's worth, he had better things to do tonight.

Getting your ex-boyfriends back from what he did to you was his first priority. The second was making you forget all about him.

You and Eddie must have looked like quite a pair. He was still in his full costume, standing out from the more boring looking costumes the popular crowd opted for that evening, and you had put on the first outfit you saw after he'd told you his plan and whisked you away in his van. An old black sweater and ripped jeans, he saw your mismatched socks before you put on your boots, the ones that were already near the door. 

To him, you looked perfect, but he could tell how uncomfortable you were with all the people around you. Your ex's friends, he assumed. Eddie wondered if you were ever at these parties, and if Andrew even cared about how you felt about them. He doesn't want to think too much about it or he could feel himself get mad again.

"Hey," he brought a hand to your back, moving it up and down in a soothing manner, "we'll be in and out of here, 'kay?"

"Yeah, I know." Your smile was small, but Eddie was relieved to see it anyway. He promised himself he'd make convincing you to leave your house worth it, and he'll keep his promise.

"So… which one is his car?"

He watched you point to a tan-colored Jeep towards the end of the improvised parking lot. Silently, he grabbed your hand and led the way towards it. It wasn't a very well thought out plan, the one came up with whilst he seethed thinking about an asshole like that dumping a girl like you. It demanded serious action, in his humble opinion.

Property damage, more like it.

Eddie had been trying to stay out of trouble since the events of last March. He'd been officially cleared of all charges, something to do with the reappearance of Chief Hopper and his connections with the government. The details were foggy, he barely remembered signing all of those documents, still in his hospital bed and hazy from the medication. Wayne probably knew more than he did, but Eddie never asked too many questions.

He tried to go on as normally as he could, working odd jobs here and there as his body recovered, doing his best to heal his mind too. He stopped selling, graduated in May, spent more time with his new found friends — his new found family — and his old ones. Started dreaming about a girl who belonged to someone else, foolishly hoping that someday she would be his.

Not so foolish now, those dreams seemed.

Keeping out of trouble was surprisingly easy after you'd barely escaped life in prison, or worse — Eddie discovered there were far worse things than getting locked up, or living up to his family name. After all that, a minor misdemeanor was worth it if it was going to make you smile, at least in his eyes.

When you approached the Jeep, he could tell there was something going on in there. If he noticed, you noticed it as well, inching closer to it, slowly, trying to not get caught. The car was not empty, there were two people in front seats, making out — your ex and a girl Eddie did not recognize.

The first thing he felt was your grip on his hand tighten, and when he turned his body around to look at you, you looked away. Heartbroken, a dejected look on your pretty face, lips turned into a frown. It was almost like you didn't want to be seen at that moment, trying to hide, but Eddie couldn't let you. His own heart breaking for you, but willing to do whatever it took to mend it.

He took your face in both of his hands, urging you to look at him. "You don't need to get any closer, all right? Let me handle it, it was my idea. We won't spend more than five minutes here, I promise. Then I'll take you home, or we can go wherever you want. Far away from him, okay?"

"Okay. It's okay. I trust you, Eddie." 

The chill he's been feeling having foregone his jacket is readily forgotten as he takes in how sweet your eyes look in the low light of the street. He runs his thumb over your cheek just briefly before letting you go, going over to Andrew's car.

Thankfully for the height of the car, it was easy for Eddie to crouch and quickly grab the butterfly knife he usually kept on the inside pocket of his jacket — for safety measures, especially after being almost eaten alive, he didn't feel well without a weapon within close proximity. Call him crazy, but maybe there's always demobats to be fought, or asshole ex-boyfriends to screw over.

He cringed as he noticed the car starting to shake slightly, and prayed that you'd kept looking away. Eddie made a quick job of it — light on his feet, he slashed each of the four tires, and as he watched them slowly deflate, he ran towards you. You looked at him, covering your mouth to hide your nervous laughter, and he put his finger to his mouth, signaling you to keep quiet.

Together, you ran. Eddie didn't know who grabbed whose hand first, but when he came to himself you were running in the direction of his van, and you were giggling openly, making him smile until his cheeks hurt in turn. When you stopped, panting and still laughing, none of you let go.

"I can't believe we did that."

"I did that. You just watched, sweetheart."

Rolling your eyes, you pulled him a little closer by the hand you were holding. "Still, you're my hero, Eddie Munson."

"Couldn't stand thinking about what that dick did to you. He never deserved you in the first place."

He thought he'd said something wrong when you didn't say anything right away, but he was pleasantly surprised when you finished closing the distance between you, capturing his bottom lip between yours in a delicate kiss. He stood there, shocked for a second, before bringing his hands to your waist, drawing you to his chest.

Your arms around his neck, his traveling to your back, the sound of the deep bass coming from the inside of Benny's drowning everything around you. You were all he could feel, your soft lips melding with his, taking in all the little noises you made when he touched you just right. Feeling you under his touch was kind of surreal, like he couldn't believe it was happening just yet.

He swallowed the sigh you let out, just before drawing away, looking for air. "What was that?"

"Just a thank you, for now." You pointed with another peck to his lips.

"For now? What's for later?"

"Take me home like you promised and you'll find out."

"Baby, you don't need to…," not even he expected the pet name, or what followed, "you know, thank me like that. Or at all! I wasn't expecting anything from you…"

Before he could say anymore, you silenced him with another kiss, this time sucking on his bottom lip and letting him deepen it, taking the opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth, getting lost in the taste of you. Eddie walked you back until you hit the side of his van, his hand covering the back of your head, softening the impact.

He couldn't bear to hold himself back any longer, and you didn't seem to want him to slow down either, pulling him impossibly closer by his hair, making him moan into your mouth.

"I know you weren't, but I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head, running his hands under your sweater, feeling your warm skin under your shirt, "Not longer than me, I'm sure."

"Wanna bet?"

The rest of the night was a blur. When Eddie woke up the next morning, naked on your bed, all he could remember was spending through the streets, dividing his already thin attention between kissing you and the steering wheel, drinking wine on your couch until you started taking your clothes off, and stumbling up the stairs while he removed his.

You slept peacefully beside him, your hair like a halo around your head, faint purple hickies on your neck. Though his mind was foggy, and his head ached with a hangover he was sure to blame your cheap wine, he didn't regret a thing he did the night before.

Later, when you woke up, after he spent looking at your ceiling and wondering how did he get so lucky, you got under the sheets and thanked him some more.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Hi! Im not sure, feel free to completely ignore! But I love your writing and I saw this tiktok and it made me think about reader being exited for trick or treat but not a lot of kids come by so Bucky does something special? Or they go out to give out candy?

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMjtSWwmp/

Thank you so much in advance if you decide to write something related to this!

Have a nice day/night

Trick or Treat.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings - none!! just bucky being a sweetheart in love

Word Count - under 1k

Author's Note - thank you for this request, it's so lovely!! seeing as we've just passed halloween, thought i'd write something short and sweet. hope you enjoy.

Masterlist. Inbox.

You've been sat on your front steps for hours.

Bowl of candy in hand, goodie bags made up, decorations hung and ready. You've always loved Halloween, for as long as you can remember. Now you're older, the highlight is getting to see all the neighbourhood kids dressed up as they trick or treat.

Not this year. You and Bucky moved apartments last year, and you were ridiculously excited to get to give out candy on your new block. Turns out, no one really passes by your place.

"Baby," comes a voice from the front door behind you. "You're gonna catch your death. It's freezing."

Bucky sits down next to you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

"You wanna come inside? We can watch those old Disney Halloween movies you love."

You rest your head on his shoulder, revelling in his warmth.

"Not yet, Buck. Just gonna wait a little longer."

It's breaking his heart seeing you so defeated. You've been looking forward to the holiday for weeks, and it certainly hasn't turned out the way either of you hoped.

"Do you think there just aren't any kids around here? I've literally seen none."

"I don't know, baby. I'm just as confused as you are."

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, arms tightening around you.

He is confused. In your old apartment, you'd have dozens of kids come by, eager for candy and the cookies you'd make. You and Bucky would sit out on the front steps and give out goodie bags for hours, striking up conversations with parents and celebrating all of the costumes.

"Maybe we should go inside," you say quietly, starting to shiver. "We'll have to ask Sam tomorrow if he got any trick or treaters. Maybe it's going out of style."

Sam.

Bucky has a sudden eureka moment, jumping up from his spot next to you.

"Wait here, baby. One minute."

He runs inside, leaving you disorientated on the steps. He's back within thirty seconds, your bag in his hand.

"Come on. We're going out."

"Where?"

"It's a surprise. You'll see."

You pile into the car as Bucky loads all the candy into the trunk, trying to be as subtle as possible. He climbs in and presses a kiss to your knuckles before holding your hand for the entire journey, humming along to the radio as he drives.

You suddenly begin to recognise your whereabouts, more confused than ever.

"Why are we in Sam's neighbourhood, Buck?"

He winks.

"You'll see."

As soon as you pull up to Sam's house, he's striding out of the front door and towards you.

"Thank God you're here. I can't do it anymore. Why didn't we just do this in the first place?"

"Do what?"

"I remember Sam telling me about the, quote on quote, 'obscene amount of trick or treaters' that he gets at his house every year. And he hates Halloween -"

"It's true!" Sam interjects.

"- so I thought you could save him from his misery, and you get to give out candy like you wanted."

You're grinning at him from ear to ear, practically bouncing on the soles of your feet.

"You're a genius," you whisper, leaning up to press your lips to his softly. "I love you."

"I love you too," he smiles, stealing another kiss or four.

"I'm gonna head upstairs and watch the football game. You guys have fun out here!"

Sam throws you a thumbs up before retreating inside, closing the door behind him. You and Bucky bring all of your goodies from the car and set up on the porch, ready and waiting.

Before you know it, there are dozens of groups of kids on the street, all of them adorned in spooky costumes. They practically skip up the pathway towards you, excited and giddy.

"Trick or treat!"

"Woah, you're all super scary... I like your makeup! And your wig! Hey, your shirt is super cool!"

You're placing candy in their bags, so you can't see Bucky beaming behind you, light radiating off of him in all directions.

He'd find a way make it Halloween everyday if it meant he could see you smile like this.

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fluff #bucky x reader fluff #marvel fluff #marvel x reader #marvel x reader fluff #marvel halloween #bucky barnes halloween

[norrisleclercf1]

Could you come up with something around this subject? Fernando not wanting to celebrate his birthday because it means he on paper will be even older than his baby girl, and he might be a bit worried she will find someone younger😅

Happy birthday to Daddy Nando 😏

A/N: I love him, I really do he just screams Daddy ughhh

Warnings: Age gap, fluff

"What do you mean you don't want to celebrate your birthday?" Shocked as Fernando refuses to take the cake from the Aston Martin mechanics. "Fernando, take the damn cake." Lawerence gruffs, shoving the cake into his friends arm.

"Happy birthday old man." Lance teases patting Fernando on the shoulder, leaving with his father. "Nando, it was sweet of them. You should say thank you." You whisper, nudging him with your shoulder looking at the mechanics.

"Thank you, this really does mean a lot. Just, I don't celebrate my birthdays often. Thanks, for accepting me and making me a part of this team." Fernando smiles, before walking away leaving you to apologize for him. "Nado, wait." You call out rushing after him.

The rain having picked up, you groan covering yourself as best as you can. "Nando! Fernando!" You cry, chasing him in the rainstorm. Skidding to a stop, he turns and pulls you up into a dry area.

"What is wrong with you? It's your birthday and everyone did something very nice. Why are you acting like this?" Wiping water off your face, trying to hold onto your anger. It just smokes out, seeing Fernando's distressed face.

"I'm old." He mumbles, the sound of the rain hitting the metal roof drowns it out. "What did you say?" Making a noise in his throat he chuckles. "I'm old dammit! I'm old, a fucking old man. 42. That's how old I am did you know that?" Fernando spits, not from anger but...something else.

"I know how old you are Nando." The comment meant nothing to you, but to him, it's a sore topic. "Exactly." He breathes, dropping his head on your shoulder. Pulling you in, the sound of the rain dulls the steady beat off your heart. He hates it.

"I'm old, Y/n. Much older than you. I don't want to celebrate, because it just reminds me of our age difference. And..and how you might leave me one day for someone younger." Biting your lip, you try hard not to laugh at his stupid comment.

"Date a littel boy? I highly doubt it. I prefer my men older, they know how to handle me and how to please me. That's you Nando. No one, can change that." Lifting his head, he just blinks and you. "Made you run in the rain." He huffs hating when you get cold and wet.

"Well, how about we go somewhere private and you can show me just how old you think you are?" Grabbing your hand he kisses your wrist, right where the vein that leads right to your heart is. "What do you mean-" He stops, seeing your mischievous grin. "Oh? Oh." Dragging you back to the rain rushing to a better area.

Fernando definitely proved he wasn't old.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 scenario #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #fernando imagine #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso one shot #fernando alonso blurb #fernando blurb #f1 blurb #fernando alonso fluff #f1 fluff #f1 x you